Chapter Text
All-enveloping silence reigned as the room’s inhabitants grappled with the turn of events.
Tommy stared, eyes glued to the red locks fanned out against dark floors. The vivid color, second only to the even darker red steadily staining more and more of the previously pristine fabric as the seconds trickled by.
A choked noise unwittingly escaped Tommy as he tore his eyes away from the corpse — gods, the corpse — in search of the one safe harbor in the unexpected havoc.
Wilbur alone, remained standing. Pale-faced and stiff as a board, the hand that had been holding Sally’s just a moment earlier still raised. He wasn’t looking at Tommy, wasn’t even looking at Sally, all he seemed to have eyes for was the murderer. The murderer who was watching Wilbur back just as intently, lips quirked in a mockery of a smile.
With a howl of loss, the Admiral threw himself towards the fallen body.
As if released from a spell, the room erupted into pandemonium. Wedding guests screamed, garbled words and distressed exclaims drowning each other out in a cacophony of noise. Swords were drawn as people alternated between throwing themselves towards and away from the threat. Some even clambered over their fallen neighbors in their desperation to get away.
Tommy sat frozen in his seat. Unable to look away from the weeping Admiral cradling his daughter’s lifeless form. A hand grabbed ahold of his upper arm and with a harsh yank, Tommy stumbled to his feet. He looked up, but whatever comfort he might’ve felt at the sight of his dad all but evaporated as his expression fully registered. Because beneath the fury and hostility was an emotion that was as unfamiliar and terrifying as the madman who had caused it.
Fear.
Wilbur didn’t as much as glance at him. Gaze still fixated on the rows of people with an almost fervent intensity. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who kept his undivided attention amidst the chaos, but Tommy couldn’t bring himself to confirm it. Suddenly, there was a stutter in the panic, almost as if everyone had collectively missed a step and then regained their footing. Hysterical voices reached an entirely new crescendo and reflexively, Tommy turned as far as the grip would allow and quickly realized why.
There was no mistaking the eerie flash of steel in the dimness, nor the accompanying figures stepping out of the shadows.
The madman was no longer alone.
”Pirates!” Someone shrieked, loud enough to overpower everything else, and without looking, the man once again raised his gun. Yet another deafening crack sent parts of the room ducking for the cover as a second body hit the ground.
Tommy began to shake, air escaping him in small, panicked breaths. If people hadn’t been panicked before, they sure as hell were now. Mindlessly, they tried to flee the swell of armed attackers. Tearing through flower arrangements and wedding guests alike with a glee that Tommy could only describe as animalistic.
At the center of it all stood the man. Slowly — as if to make a show out of it — he lowered his gun and stepped further into the room. Unconcerned. Unhurried. All while he maintained unflinching eye contact with Wilbur.
The grip around Tommy’s arm turned vice-like, and with a yank, he found himself pulled away and past the Admiral and towards the corner of the room. Another harsh tug placed him closest to the curtain-decorated wall, and then he was spun around to face Wilbur. Hands clasped around his shoulders steadied him as he looked up, eyes wild with terror. He wanted Wilbur to say something — do something, but the helplessness written all over his face made the desire impossible to voice.
Wilbur nervously wet his lips, opened his mouth and then promptly shut it, seemingly at a loss for words. Something far more terrifying had replaced the horror. Something that looked far too much like grief. Tommy could only stare. Uncomprehending and yet knowing.
”Dad?” He tried, far too softly for the word to realistically carry through the noise, and yet as if he’d been heard, Wilbur stiffened.
Abruptly, the grip tightened into a painful squeeze, and then Tommy was shoved against the wall. He braced for impact but instead of crashing against a sturdy surface like he’d expected, there was only the swirl of fabric uselessly parting around him as he fell. Belatedly, Tommy’s reflexes kicked in as he grasped for purchase, only just barely managing to catch himself from crashing to the ground.
Disoriented, Tommy glanced around and realized that he hadn’t in fact fallen through the wall, but rather into a small space between. It was narrow, so narrow that Tommy could feel his heart start to race at the realization that it’d be a tight fit, even if he stood sideways. He turned to face Wilbur who had moved as close to the opening as he could, one hand keeping the curtain parted. Dark, unblinking eyes drank in every detail with an air of desperation that put Tommy on edge.
”Once you’re out, go landward and don’t look back.” Wilbur ordered harshly.
”What about you?” Tommy asked, shaken and suddenly panicked at the thought of—
”You can’t leave me,” he sobbed as he realized what Wilbur wanted. ”Please don’t leave me.”
A maelstrom of warring emotions flashed across Wilbur’s features. Wordlessly, he reached out, a calloused palm cupping the side of Tommy’s face. Tommy closed his eyes and greedily soaked up the warmth as a thumb gently brushed away a stray tear. The touch lingered, and like this Tommy could almost believe that things would be alright.
And then it was gone. The softness was replaced by the stony front that was all Wilbur Soot, the Empire’s Hero, and by design, not Tommy’s dad. With a small head shake, Wilbur drew back. His dark eyes lingered on Tommy right up til the moment they weren’t as the heavy curtain fell back into place.
For a moment, Tommy just stood there. Dumbly staring at the curtain as some desperate part of him hoped that it was just a joke, that any moment now it’d be pulled apart to reveal Wilbur again. But as the seconds trickled by, accented by the somewhat muffled screams and clang of steel against steel, did the realization that this was real hit.
The immediate burn of tears was as unsurprising as it was humiliating, and Tommy had to swallow repeatedly just to force down the heaving sobs. He didn’t want to leave — not without Wilbur — but the longer he lingered the more his thoughts began to race. The fear of being discovered, of an unfamiliar arm reaching in to grab him, suddenly impossible to ignore and so he took a small step further in. Then another just in case they could still reach him. Then a third, and a fourth, and a fifth…
Coward, Tommy’s thoughts hissed as he began to shuffle further along the crevice and away from the screams. Coward, coward, coward…
Dust clung to him, and every now and then he felt his clothes get caught on the uneven surface as he blindly fumbled along the wall. The sounds grew weaker the further he got, and then they were gone completely. Either because of the distance or… Tommy immediately dropped that line of thought. He tried not to think about the room he left behind. Of the people he’d grown up surrounded by and what their fate might be. At the same time, he tried not to think about where he was. As a child, he’d always preferred hiding behind walls or bushes over enclosed spaces like closets or beneath his bed. Something about getting stuck with walls pressing in on him… Tommy let out a trembling exhale, squeezed his eyes shut, and continued, only for his hand to make contact with something unyielding.
He froze, panic swelling as he jolted to attention. Another wall. With a trembling hand, Tommy began to pat down the wooden surface. ’Once you’re out’ Wilbur had said, but where was out? The space was too narrow for him to carelessly turn around and far too dark to see in.
In the aftermath, Tommy wasn’t sure how he came to notice it.
Fixed to the wall at an awkward hip height, was a small clasp. The metal hook firmly latched shut, and Tommy ended up taking a small step back to even properly reach it. Between the unwieldy metal and his own trembling fingers, it took a few anxiety-filled moments of fumbling to properly get it loose.
He immediately put his entire weight against the door, suddenly desperate to get out. For a moment it seemed hopeless, with the dust stinging his nose and the increasingly painful ache in his shoulder as he rammed it against the blockage.
Tommy’s thoughts began to race. Maybe the clasp he’d unlatched hadn’t been the only one. For all he knew, a corresponding, perhaps even sturdier clasp could’ve been built on the other side. Maybe he was stuck. Stuck in the dark, between the walls, with nothing but the dusty air to choke on— and then the blockade caved.
The door swung open with such momentum that it almost sent Tommy along with it. The rush of relief was almost intoxicating. A small laugh escaped Tommy through the trembles as he was reached by the weak but warm, candlelight and breathable air.
Only for the relief to vaporize as he recalled the reason why he’d been traversing the narrow path to begin with.
Tommy leaned out through the opening, wild eyes fearfully eyeing the new area only to pause in surprise. The path through the wall had led him straight to a hallway he easily recognized. The servants’ quarters, built at the very opposite side of the manor and blessedly, full of easily accessible ways out.
With his heart beating loudly in his ears, Tommy slowly inched out through the opening, only to moments later find himself stumbling into a run. Down the hallway, past the maids’ rooms, clumsily tripping on the uneven carpet and shoulder-checking corners, and straight into the chilly night.
The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he bolted across the patio.
It was stupid. Running like this — without a thought, and without a plan, straight across the wide open area, and into the enclosed garden, but Tommy couldn’t bring himself to care, couldn’t think clear enough to care.
All that mattered was getting as far away from the horrors as he could.
Only once he’d reached the garden and stood sheltered with its perfectly trimmed bushes and hedges, did he dare turn around. Heart pounding and his breathing labored, Tommy looked at the manor.
A few windows on the upper floors had been smashed. Shards of glass and smaller pieces of furniture scattered on the ground, but other than that, Tommy couldn’t see any substantial damage. He ducked behind one of the hedges.
A nagging sensation that sounded painfully like Wilbur insisted that it should’ve been worse. That if the attackers really were what he thought they were, then the manor should’ve been partly burnt down at the very least. Tommy tried to listen for any sign of fighting but all he could hear out here — on the opposite side of the manor and a good distance from town — was the sound of the cicadas.
He stumbled to his feet. It was too quiet. So quiet in fact that hadn’t it been for the fact that Tommy could still hear the echo of gunshots, could still feel Wilbur’s grip and see the carnage whenever he closed his eyes, he might’ve thought he’d dreamt it all.
Had anyone even realized that they were under attack?
Suddenly, he realized what he’d been unconsciously missing. The one thing that should’ve had half the town already up in arms and the military storming the mansion to its defense.
There was no warning clang from the bell.
The first thing Wilbur showed him upon their arrival to town, had been the bell tower. Even now, he could vividly remember being carried up the spiraling staircase, as well as the bronze bell waiting at the top. Designed to be easily reached and maneuvered, because as Wilbur had repeatedly told him, an early warning could easily be the difference between a few casualties and an entire town wiped off the map. Even today, years after the last raid, the bell was still serviced, assessed, and manned. And yet, despite all those precautions, something had gone wrong. Because the manor had been attacked and yet there was no bell clang.
He’d lost count of how many times Wilbur had told him to run if he ever heard the warning clang. Of the spots, he’d been forced to practice hiding in, far away from the ocean and any potential attack.
But none of Wilbur’s scenarios had ever included a silent bell.
The bell clang ceasing for some reason? Yes, Wilbur had replied when prompted, that to be expected in the heat of battle when every able-bodied would be called to arms. Everyone except Tommy, that was according to Wilbur. The only thing Tommy was supposed to do in the event of an attack was to run and hide.
Nervously, Tommy wet his lips as he turned in the direction of the bell tower. He knew exactly where it was, even with the manor blocking his view. The state-sanctioned bell tower— a mandatory structure in every seaside town, had been built at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, near the foot of the slope where the manor stood and at a good halfway point to the town.
Wilbur had said that it was the duty of whoever first saw the attack to warn everyone. But it didn’t seem like anyone else had made it out of the manor.
Only Tommy.
A soft exhale escaped him.
Tommy wrestled himself out of the stupid jacket the occasion had forced upon him. The white undershirt wasn’t much better in terms of camouflage, but at least it allowed him to move properly. He threw the deceivingly silent manor one last look and then he was off.
Getting off the premises wasn’t a problem but halfway down the slope, Tommy found himself hesitating.
The bell or the town? Most would turn to the harbor when alerted of an attack, what if they realized too late? But then again, Tommy thought with a lump in his throat, it might already be too late for the guests in the manor. He had already forsaken them by fleeing like a coward, the least he could do was give the town a fighting chance to avenge them.
He continued towards the tower that stood looming in the distance. Its white-painted bricks were almost luminous against the gray backdrop.
A thick fog had rolled inshore, obscuring a large part of the view Tommy otherwise knew by heart. What little he could see, left him feeling oddly unsettled. Small waves lapped almost gently against the beach, and that too, felt wrong. The ocean had been stormy for a large part of the week. A turbulent surface of foam-tipped waves for as far as the eye could see, but now it seemed almost pacified.
Tommy shook himself out of the daze. He didn’t have time to waste when every second mattered. This close, he could see parts of the rickety ladder constructed on the side of the building. A last resort escape route that was never utilized when the stairs inside the tower were so much less hazardous. Following his line of thought, his gaze settled on the wooden door.
Tommy froze.
The wooden door which had been left ajar.
Tommy closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing as he wrestled down the swelling panic.
… He was such an idiot. He knew something must’ve gone horribly wrong and yet thought nothing more of it.
Tommy felt his stomach clench as he bitterly eyed the little steps leading up to the entrance. He could all too easily see himself run up to that cursed door without a second thought, and straight into the arms of whoever was left behind to prevent just what he’d been planning to do.
Just how far had they thought ahead? Tommy couldn’t help but wonder as he continued to stare at what could’ve so easily been his doom. Were they waiting near the town as well?
He’d had grown up with tales of pirates. Had heard firsthand accounts of their savagery, of the towns that no longer existed, and the thousands of officers that would never return to their families. He thought he understood devastation and its lasting impact whenever he walked past the portrait of the Admiral’s late wife.
Never had he been so wrong.
The realization was daunting. Daunting and infuriating, because how dare they.
Fear had never been something Tommy found overly familiar. Anger, on the other hand. That was an old friend he’d use as kindling to light the fire that would chase these bastards out of his town.
He sunk down onto his haunches and began to creep closer. His eyes remained fixed on the dark windows, hoping that he’d see any attackers before they’d have the chance to spot him.
Tommy moved closer with his heart in his throat but as if to spite him, the world remained unnaturally quiet and calm. The windows, dark and empty as Tommy clumsily climbed the steep hill and made it to the tower.
The ladder looked worse in person.
An entirely new kind of anxiety curled in Tommy’s stomach as he uneasily eyed the painted-over rust and loose-looking bolts. He gripped the side rail and with a small prayer, stepped onto the lowest rung and began to climb.
The ladder shook and rattled but otherwise stayed blessedly in place as a nervous Tommy reached the halfway point. He took sporadic breaks, partly to give himself a breather but more importantly, to tensely listen for any sign that he’d been noticed. A sudden gust of air had Tommy cling to the metal as the ladder offered a dissenting rattle. After a few seconds of anxiously waiting for the metal to give up entirely, Tommy slowly unwinded his pale-knuckled grip from the rung and continued upwards.
He had barely made it three-fourths of the way up when he was forced to take another break. Tommy’s teeth ached from how tightly he clenched them. His legs and arms shaking from exertion as whatever energy he had left was steadily depleted.
The ladder shook as Tommy tiredly pressed his forehead against the metal, closed his eyes, and forced himself to breathe.
He climbed an additional rung.
And another.
And another.
All the way to the top.
The Tommy that reached the tower top was a sweaty, trembling wreck. Drenched reddish curls laid plastered against his flushed forehead, and he didn’t need to look to know that his clothes were in an equally sorry state.
All of it was instantly forgotten as his eyes landed on a body.
It was difficult to make out any details in the darkness but there was no mistaking the uniformed upper body of an officer. The man lay sprawled halfway out the trapdoor, his arms lifelessly spread over the stone.
Just a few steps short of the bell.
Tommy stared at the red uniform jacket and locks of hair, softly moving in the wind, before he resolutely looked away. He stepped around the body and grabbed ahold of the rope attached to the bell’s clapper with his trembling hands.
”Thank you.” Tommy said haltingly to the corpse because the man must have tried. ”…and I’m sorry.” He added after a brief pause.
Because he was. Because it should’ve been over. Like it’d been over for the past ten years.
He rang the bell.
Up this close, the bell clang was almost deafening. To the point where Tommy felt like his head was about to explode from the sheer volume. And yet he continued to pull at the rope like a madman as he saw the dark and sleepy seaside town bustle to life. Newly lit lanternlights filled the streets as bells in town began to clang in response. Then, and only then, did Tommy let the rope slip from his grip as he sunk to the floor with a sob.
Exhausted tears burned as Tommy rubbed at his eyes. Above him, without Tommy to prompt its continued movement, the bell fell quiet.
Quiet enough for Tommy to hear thundering footsteps coming up the staircase.
…Shit.
Tommy hadn’t thought this far ahead.
He stumbled back to his feet, exhaustion all but forgotten as he stared at the trapdoor with pure unadulterated horror.
He could hear voices, he realized. The words were too muffled to properly discern, but it’s not like he needed to. The tone and what little he could pick up of what he suspected to be an accent, made it crystal clear that these were no duty-bound officers arriving to his rescue.
Shitshitshitshitshit—
Tommy stumbled into a run for the ladder only to realize that he’d never make it down in time. He could hear swearing now, furious voices snapping at each other. Getting closer and closer.
An idea suddenly struck Tommy.
A plan so absurd and idiotic that it shouldn’t even have crossed his mind.
He ran for the side that faced the sea and leaned out over the wall. Far down below him, the water lay still and inviting.
Ten years ago, Wilbur had stood exactly where he was now, six-year-old Tommy propped up on his hip as he showed him this very drop. Tommy’s heart beat so fast it almost felt like it’d burst straight out of his chest, and yet he could still hear Wilbur’s soft voice whisper cautions in his ear like it’d been yesterday.
It was an insane idea…
There was an enraged growl from the trapdoor as a third voice joined in to swear over the corpse blocking their path.
…but it’d be far more insane to take his chances here.
Tommy shut his eyes, took a deep breath—
and leaped.
He had no clue if the pirates had reached the top. If they had seen him or if they’d be left to wonder if the man they’d killed had somehow bested them from beyond the grave.
Not that any of it mattered as the world whistled past him in a flurry of colors.
Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to ignore how the wind tore at his clothes and whipped through his hair as he plummeted through the air.
He broke the surface feet first.
The salty seawater whirled around him as the momentum carried him downward.
He felt his aching body unwind. A sensation of weightlessness set in. It was dark, just as fucking dark and unbreathable as the stupid path through the wall. It should’ve been equally if not more panic-inducing, and yet—
This was right, something deep within him whispered.
This is where you belong.
.
.
.
Tommy began to drift. Lost in the soft caress of a current flowing past him.
A shift.
Tommy’s eyes flew open. Darkness encompassed him. An impenetrable, all-consuming darkness. He couldn’t see, but even without his sight, he could tell that he wasn’t alone.
Something was down here with him.
Tommy stared into the abyss. Vast and incomprehensible.
He wasn’t supposed to be here, the silver of his remaining rationality insisted. He wasn’t supposed to see this. Because even if he couldn’t see see, he was clearly seeing something.
Something brushed past his legs. Tommy reflexively kicked at the foreign touch, only to meet nothing but the typical water drag. A sudden spike of fear pierced through him only to almost instantly die down into something far more muted and simmering. A second brush — this time to his flank — had him belatedly swirl the other way. The fear, while still muted was more palpable now, breaking through the muddled confusion and daze.
A hum, deep and distorted filled his ears — his head, all around him — and hadn’t Tommy known better, he might’ve thought it was laughter.
The panic set in anew as Tommy began to frantically kick towards the surface.
Something wound around his legs but before Tommy could do more than look down in horror, he found himself yanked downwards. A soundless scream escaped him in a cloud of bubbles. He tried to twist and kick — the terror making it hard to even think, but the force was unrelenting.
The water distorted around him. Pulling and curling around both itself and Tommy as he helplessly spun to the tune of something endless and other. And then it ceased. The foreign presence gone as suddenly as it had appeared.
Disoriented, Tommy took a stunned moment to just… process as he drifted down to the seabed. The sensation of disturbed sand whirling past his skin was almost too much.
He needed to think— needed to breathe—
Something new and impatient snagged ahold of his arm. Riding the fresh wave of panic-fueled energy, Tommy immediately began to claw at the new threat. The grip was unrelenting, just as unrelenting as that fucking thing had been, even though Tommy mercilessly dug his nails into— a human hand?
Tommy went limp from relief.
He broke the water surface with a gasp for air, spitting and coughing as he blindly followed the unrelenting lead of his rescuer. His waterlogged boots clumsily scrambled for purchase against the sandy seabed as he was dragged backward.
The grip was warm, almost searing against Tommy’s chilled skin. Calloused fingers dug into the flesh of his upper arm through the drenched fabric, but Tommy had no mind to complain. All he cared about was the crisp night air filling his aching lungs and the sting of salt in his scratches.
”I presume the bell was your work.”
Tommy recognized that voice.
He spun around, ignoring how the water splashed at his clumsy stumbling, all thoughts of thanking his mysterious savior gone.
The man — the madman, the murderer — watched him impassively.
For a moment Tommy could just stare at the man in flabbergasted silence. His mind struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. The realization that this was real, that his luck was really this fucking shitty, hit like a cannonball straight to his stomach.
”Fucker! Bastard! Scum—!” He screeched in a mixture of terror and fury as he began to pull at his captured arm, one leg fruitlessly trying to kick at his attacker. ”Let go of me!”
The man stared incredulously at him.
”… Forget I asked.”
And then the fucker continued to pull Tommy along!
”I said let go!” Tommy shouted as he began to pry at the iron-clad grip with his nails.
”You know—” A pained hiss cut off the madman’s almost petulant drawl, ”Kinda stupid of you to antagonize someone you just saw murder in cold blood. Idiotic, one might even say.”
Unrepentant, Tommy dug his nails harder into the flesh. Hoping that he didn’t look as terrified as he felt.
The madman heaved a frustrated sigh, and Tommy figured that this was it— that this was how he’d die— when a sharp tug sent him tripping over his own feet. The bruising grip around his arm was the only thing keeping him from fully submerging in the waist-high water. The man continued towards land, dragging Tommy’s fallen body through the water.
In a desperate attempt to slow their pace, Tommy dug his heels into the seabed, mind racing. But no matter how he twisted and turned the situation, it felt like he’d finally reached the end of his rope. The harsh grip only reinforced the realization that there was no slipping out of this now.
The sheer disregard the man showed for the lives he’d ended made Tommy’s stomach churn. Why hadn’t he just let Tommy drown? Why bother rescuing him and dragging him to land? Tommy had nothing to offer! Nothing, except—
An entirely new fear washed over Tommy, this time closely accompanied by shame. The stinging in his eyes was no longer just because of the saltwater.
Did he know?
No, he told himself resolutely. No, if the murderer knew then surely he would’ve made sure he’d stayed submerged.
He turned around, desperately hoping to spot anything he could use, only to realize why the man was so insistent on getting to the beach.
Tommy felt his heart drop as he watched a gathering of men quietly observing them from the beach. Everyone appeared to be armed to the teeth, with guns, and swords strapped to every hip, knife handles peeking out boots and vests. A few were holding lit torches and lanterns. Next to them, stood five dinghies pulled up high on the beach.
But that wasn’t the only light source on the otherwise dark night.
Tommy stared. Beyond the men, beyond the edge of the looming coastal cliff, was a sight he knew he’d never forget.
The manor was in flames. Giant, horrible flames that shone bright against the dark sky.
Stunned, Tommy twisted his head to the side, ignoring how the water lapped at his face. In the distance, almost as if to mock him, was the white bell tower.
It was an impossible distance. Tommy had free-fallen straight into the ocean. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to just drift while submerged. Not that far. Not when the sea was this calm.
He turned his panicked attention back towards the beach. They were getting closer. Close enough for him to see the splatter of nauseating red staining some of the men's lighter fabrics.
No.
No, Tommy refused.
His struggles resumed with renewed vigor as he twisted like a fish on a hook.
The asshole didn’t break his stride. He merely adjusted his grip and continued onto the sandbank, dragging Tommy’s struggling body along with him.
”Prepare the dinghies.” The madman ordered. Tommy paused, breathing heavily as the men scattered to a chorus of ’ayes’.
He watched as they obediently began to drag the beached dinghies towards the ocean, caught somewhere between feeling terrified and stupidly enough, affronted at being so blatantly disregarded. He glanced up, only to flinch at the dark eyes calmly observing him in turn.
Something about the man felt vaguely familiar, but instead of wasting his time trying to figure out why, Tommy twisted his expression into something he hoped looked more threatening than scared.
”Do you have a name, child?” The man asked, unfazed by Tommy’s glare.
”Fuck you.”
The man let out an amused huff before turning away, instead casting his gaze upon the burning manor. Seemingly perfectly fine with just standing around on the steadily emptying beach in silence. Tommy shuddered at the sheer satisfaction gleaming in the ember-reflecting eyes. Hadn’t it been for the grip trapping his arm halfway over his head, Tommy might’ve thought he’d been forgotten altogether.
”Why?”
Tommy winced at his own unbridled question. The man inclined his head in Tommy’s direction but didn’t fully look away from the fire.
”Why what?”
Tommy’s glare sharpened. Fucking asshole.
”Why all this? Why now?” Tommy bit out through gritted teeth.
”Can’t it just be for fun?”
Tommy didn’t bother hiding his disturbed expression from the dark eyes openly assessing him.
”…You’re a sicker bastard than I thought.” Tommy snapped weakly.
”Relax,” the man snorted with a lopsided grin, but there was a silver of something undeniably cold in his eyes. ”I’m not that shallow. This is just good ol’ retribution.”
”Retribution?” Tommy echoed. ”Against who?”
The man adopted a deadpan look. A furious blush crawled up Tommy’s neck. Right—
”TECHNOBLADE!”
Tommy felt the blood drain from his face. Appearing from the darkness like a scene straight out of a nightmare, was Wilbur.
The navy blue jacket was gone, leaving the man in his previously pristine shirt that was now ruined by sluggishly bleeding cuts. A trail of red trickled down his arm and down his drawn sword. Brown locks stood on all ends, and Wilbur’s eyes were wild with something unfamiliar that almost made Tommy’s heart stop.
All that violent energy came to an abrupt halt as Wilbur’s gaze found Tommy.
The madman — Technoblade? — laughed, and with a harsh tug, Tommy was brought up from his knees to sway precariously on his own two feet. His legs trembled from the strain, but Tommy couldn’t bring himself to care. All he could seem to focus on was his dad’s crushed expression.
Wilbur took a step forward.
The grip was replaced by an arm wrapping itself around Tommy’s shoulders in a mockery of an embrace. He made a noise of protest as he collided against the murderer’s side, hyper-aware of how quickly the loose grip could turn into a choking constraint. The soft metal ’click’ of a gun being cocked had both him and Wilbur tense, his dad’s eyes immediately darting back to focus on the now-armed madman.
Tommy nervously wet his lips as his eyes flickered to the gun in the corner of his eyes. The fact that the barrel was aimed downward was irrelevant. They all knew how quickly that could change.
”That’s close enough,” the newly dubbed Technoblade ordered calmly.
Tommy flinched as Wilbur’s face morphed into something devastated.
Technoblade scoffed and took a step back, pulling Tommy along towards the ocean.
Wilbur made an aborted attempt to follow before freezing in place. The wild look in his eyes was back and Tommy couldn’t help but stare.
”Techno,” Wilbur almost whispered. ”Let go of him.”
Tommy let out a strangled noise as he was forced back yet another step. The water lapped against his heels.
”He has no part in this,” Wilbur insisted desperately as he carefully approached. ”Just let him go. He’s nothing to you.”
”No,” Technoblade agreed almost silkily, ”but it sure seems like he’s something to you.”
”Techno—”
”I’ll admit,” Technoblade continued nonchalantly as he took another step. ”I was skeptical when I heard that you were mentoring some human brat, but I’m starting to see how the pieces fit together.”
Wilbur looked stricken.
”Any contact with your mother, child?” The man suddenly addressed Tommy, eyes never releasing Wilbur from their scrutiny.
Something must’ve given away Tommy’s confusion because Technoblade merely smiled as if he’d gotten all the confirmation he needed. The water was now knee-height, and Tommy realized that Wilbur, alone, remained on the beach. Lingering right outside the water’s reach he watched them with the air of a man whose deepest fears had come true.
”He’ll be fine,” Technoblade comforted mockingly. ”Knowing the honorable Admiral’s methods, he’ll no doubt be better off with the other half of his ancestry.”
Hearing the Admiral be brought up with such blatant disdain almost distracted Tommy from the rest of the sentence.
”What—?” He somehow managed to squeeze out but the rest of his question was lost to Wilbur’s furious snarl. Tommy flinched at the almost animalistic sound while Technoblade merely seemed amused.
”Try taking him back then,” the man murmured with violent delight. ”Step into the water. Let’s see if your charms are strong enough to keep her at bay.”
Wilbur remained frozen in place, shoulders tense as his eyes flickered between Tommy and Technoblade.
The splash of a wave reaching up to his waist startled Tommy out of his confused daze. Wilbur and the man were at a standstill, regarding each other with an intensity that bordered on obsessive. A nagging suspicion had Tommy distracted enough to look away. A chill raced down his back as he realized that all but one dinghy had disappeared into the fog.
”Didn’t think so,” Technoblade concluded as he raised his gun to the sky.
A strangled scream escaped Tommy as the shot was fired. A hush hung in the air, but then, as if to respond to a summon — a sharp, whistling sound pierced through the air behind them. Tommy turned around, just in time to catch the burst of vivid red lighting up the sky.
He stared.
Giant shapes were hiding in the fog, their dark outline briefly illuminated by the fireworks. He couldn’t make out any concrete details, but there was no mistaking the general shape. Ships, all of them frigate-sized at the very least. The lone dinghy began to move, and only then did Tommy realize the full implications of its approach.
He tried to pull himself out of the tightened hold, his struggles only growing more desperate the closer the dinghy got.
”Techno, don’t!” Wilbur called desperately.
”Last chance, Wilbur.” Technoblade replied calmly, effortlessly keeping Tommy pinned to his side.
Tommy couldn’t look away. Wilbur was almost hysterical, chest visibly heaving as his expression alternated from terrified to enraged back to terrified. The sword in his white-knuckled grip, shaking.
But he still wasn’t getting into the water.
”Technoblade!” Wilbur shouted again. ”Please!”
”Dramatic, isn’t he?” Technoblade muttered into Tommy’s ear. Tommy merely shuddered in response, but the man had already turned away.
”Try to catch up before we make it to the halfway mark.” The fucking bastard goaded. ”Make it in time and I might even let you keep him.”
An enraged howl that barely managed to sound human left Wilbur, but Tommy was too caught up in his own panic to register the sheer unnaturalness of Wilbur so profoundly losing it.
”Let go!” He snarled as the arm unwound from his shoulders. He screamed and kicked as he was lifted into the air by the back of his shirt, entirely new hands reaching out to pull him onto the dinghy.
”No!” He screeched, elbowing a bearded man with a golden nose-ring square in the face as he tried to twist out of their grips. ”Let go of me!”
But they weren’t letting go.
Tommy swore and kicked. Furiously screaming as his arms were wrestled behind his back by two men in an effort to contain his struggles. Technoblade muttered something under his breath before heaving himself over the edge and onto the dinghy. Tommy felt his breath quicken with panic. Frantic, he turned to look back at the beach where Wilbur remained.
”WILBUR!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, ignoring how it tore at his throat. Please, Tommy thought desperately as angry tears stung his eyes. Please, please, please—
Wilbur lurched forward—
And stopped.
The sword slipped from his grip, embedding itself into the sand. Tommy stared, holding his breath without really realizing why as the tip of Wilbur’s boots just barely touched the water.
On a surface level, there was no sudden change. The ocean remained calm, but there was a touch of… something hanging in the air.
Tommy felt as if he was watching someone play with gunpowder right next to an open flame.
Whatever it was, Wilbur seemed just as capable of picking up on it. He made no further move to get closer or reach for his dropped weapon. All he did was stare at Tommy, angry and hopeless.
Tommy had to look away, the shame suddenly suffocating because fuck—
He’d done this to himself, hadn’t he?
Any urge to call for help, to beg Wilbur to come and rescue him, all but died as the weight of his choice fully dawned on him.
If you harm him.
Tommy jerked as an eerie voice that just barely sounded like Wilbur’s whispered in his ears. Despite the distance and the fog, Wilbur’s eyes were an inhuman black as they glared hatefully at Technoblade.
From the corners of the world.
To the depths of her trenches.
Nothing will hide you from my wrath.
”That attached, are you?” Technoblade muttered, barely audible over the leftover ringing in Tommy’s ears.
His tone was even, spoken with the same kind of unwavering calm he’d displayed throughout the evening. And yet there was a cadence to it that sent shivers down Tommy’s spine. An underlying rage that felt more like an old, festering wound than something new and fresh.
Technoblade stepped over the dinghy’s built-in benches, his men swaying out of his way as he moved towards the bow. Tommy stopped caring as he stepped out of his line of sight. Instead, he watched with mounting horror as the beach and Wilbur grew more distant.
Tommy sat frozen. Trying to force himself to wake up from this nightmare.
When the last of Wilbur’s figure had been swallowed by the fog — his dad out of sight and gone, something snapped.
With a sudden burst of energy, Tommy twisted himself towards one of the men holding him and sunk his teeth into a meaty bicep. With a howl of pain, the man let go. Without wasting a single precious second on something as stupid as hesitation, Tommy clenched his free hand into a fist and rammed it into the other bastard’s face. The following crunch and splatter of warmth against his knuckles was so incredibly gratifying that it left him dizzy.
And then the last drop of his luck was truly spent.
Tommy had barely managed to look towards the water before strong hands latched onto his limbs and pulled. He cursed and struggled, but there was no use. Whatever opportunity he had truly gone as he was wrestled to the bottom of the dinghy by men three times his size.
”Fuckers!” Tommy screeched as he uselessly tried to bite at the hands painfully twisting his arms behind his back. There were some angry mutters, but no one seemed interested in engaging beyond that. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, teeth clenched so hard that they hurt.
”Bastards!” He continued to curse through the burning humiliation. ”I’ll kill you! I’ll see every singly one of you fucking hang!”
”Four full-grown men, and you can’t even subdue a single child?”
Tommy and the men froze.
Slowly, Tommy opened his eyes to glare through his red bangs.
Technoblade sat with his back to the bow, observing the proceedings with an insultingly bored expression. One dark brow was raised as if to wordlessly ask if they were really doing this.
Tommy, despite his sorry state and labored breathing, merely glared harder.
”Fuck. You. Fucking. Bitch.” He spat through gritted teeth. Each word punctuated with as much vitriol as he could muster.
”Captain—” one of the men blustered, only to fall silent as Technoblade’s eyes slowly moved from Tommy to pin him with a look. Once the man was satisfyingly contrite, the dark eyes returned their focus to Tommy.
Tommy wordlessly bared his teeth.
”Right,” the fucker muttered before uncrossing his arms. ”Hand him over.”
It was difficult to tell who was more stumped, Tommy or the handful of murderous scum keeping him pinned.
”What—” Tommy raged only to choke on the rest of the sentence as he was roughly pulled from the ground and forced forward. He snarled as he tripped, only to get caught before he could fall, and pulled into an unyielding hold. A stern grip engulfed his wrists and the back of his neck as he was wrestled into some kind of embrace. His left cheek smushed against a muscular shoulder, and his legs pinned by the fucker’s calves.
Involuntary, Tommy felt the burn of a fresh wave of tears.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t explain why he’d draw parallels between his dad and this, but all he could think of was Wilbur.
The sob that slipped through his pinched lips was humiliating, and that only made the tears flow faster.
”…I think I prefer your cursing.”
”Die.” Tommy choked out through the sobs.
The hand keeping Tommy’s head pinned moved to offer an awkward pat on his back. ”There, there.”
’There, there’?
’There, fucking there’!?
Tommy let out a wordless scream of rage.
”Yeah, definitely some kind of progeny.” The man sighed to himself as he hastily pressed Tommy back against his shoulder. Tommy merely snarled in response.
The anger was forced to take a backseat as the dinghy was suddenly overcast by a dark shadow. Tommy tensed, his eyes wide as he tried to free his head enough to see what had brought on the abrupt change, but Technoblade might as well have been carved out of stone— that’s how unyielding he was.
The men began to refasten the oars, talking amongst themselves in low voices. Some were taking shots at the sour-looking man whose nose Tommy had broken.
Tommy jerked as hook-tipped ropes landed in the water with a splash. Confusion quickly turned to horror as the men reached for the ropes, and began to attach them to the dinghy. Tommy made yet another attempt to slip out of the iron-like grip, breathing fast and shaky as the small boat gave a sharp jerk and was then hoisted into the air.
Gods. Tommy wanted off this damn thing!
He let out a strangled noise, pulling at his trapped arms in an attempt to curl them around his queasy stomach. Much to his surprise, the bastard let him. A squeeze, tight but not to the point of hurting, helped ground him as each harsh tug brought them higher in the air. Tommy shuddered, reluctantly opening his eyes just enough to look—
The hull of a massive ship all but loomed over the tiny dinghy. Galleon-sized and terrifying.
Terrifying because Tommy recognized that characteristic dark red hull. Had seen the Empire’s best artists’ most fervent attempts at depicting the three giant masts, and gold detailing that were as impossible as they were intimidating. Twenty-one gun-ports in total, Tommy recalled faintly as he stared into the snarling face of a gold-plated demon decorating the lid — now at eye-level with the dinghy's occupants. With a total of ten gun-ports on each side, and a confirmed supply of twenty 36-pound cannons and eighteen 24-pound cannons. It was a devastatingly powerful artillery that put most of the Empire’s flagships to shame. All of which didn’t even account for the impossible one, hidden in the figurehead’s beastly maw and supposedly powerful enough to blast warships to pieces with a single blow.
A ghost ship in every sense of the word.
The kind that were told with the intent to terrify, and held no consideration for the realm of reality.
Tommy’s breathing only turned more panicked as his eyes darted all over the imposing ship, desperately looking for any sign that this was a mere imitation, a cheap copy. That he wasn’t actually getting hoisted onto The Obliterator.
”Let go of me.” Tommy whispered, pale-faced and fucking terrified. Because if this really was The Obliterator, the legendary ship that struck fear in even the most experienced of officers, then that meant—
Technoblade— The Blood God scoffed and finally eased up on his grip. Seemingly confident in his ability to stop any potential escape attempts. It’s not like he was wrong. Tommy didn’t move, barely daring to even breathe.
”Did you figure it out?” The Blood God asked, sounding almost amused.
”You—” Tommy stuttered as he slowly inched back to stare at the nightmare. ”You’re—”
The grin he received in response was sharp, and this time there was no mistaking the sheer amusement dancing in the dark eyes.
The dinghy came to an abrupt halt, and even though every inch of Tommy screamed at him to keep his eyes on the biggest threat, he couldn’t resist turning to look. He blanched, eyes fearfully darting from one vicious-looking pirate to the next. The giant mast creaked, and the wine-red wood gleamed.
He screamed as he was suddenly hoisted over a shoulder. Technoblade rose from his seat and easily vaulted over the delicately carved railing. He turned to the remaining men and motioned them over.
Tommy was on the edge of hyperventilation as he was carried aboard. The man tipped forward to let Tommy stand on his own trembling legs and retreated. Leaving him alone. Encircled by the worst of the ocean’s scum, watching him like a wolf pack would eye a lone sheep.
The Blood God stood at the center of it all. Long hair blowing in the wind and jewelry gleaming in the thin streaks of moonlight that managed to pierce through the fog.
”Well then, mentee of my wayward brother.” One of the worst pirate captains to have ever sailed the seven seas drawled. ”Welcome onboard the Obliterator.”
Yes, Tommy decided, this was truly a nightmare.