Chapter Text
Tommy had been left in the dark for a while. So long that he thinks that any smell other than the mildew scent that clings to the walls will send him into shock. So long his ears will bleed at the noise of anything other than the soft scurrying of the rats that live in the dungeons and the light patter of soldiers making their rounds. Most of his life has been spent in the same two rooms. The same strict schedule. Around the same few people.
He had only talked to a few guards in all the time he had been here, and even then most of the time it was not a pleasant conversation. A few of them were nice, but even then he was pretty sure that was just because they just didn’t treat him like dirt beneath their boots.
A cuff sits heavy on his wrist, sending a small shock through his body as he begins to fade, forcing his body to become solid again. Even long after he had accepted that he would never escape the cold cell, his subconscious still tried. Desperately trying to use his phantom abilities to get out. It never worked. The cell was lined with a strange metal that made him feel woozy. And he could see the dim lights that shone just under the exit, promising him third-degree burns if he ever tried to leave. And the consistent shocks just serve as a reminder of it all.
The cuff rubs against his skin, almost hiding the mark that lies on his wrist. A monochrome guitar with a disk in the hollow hole. The colorless guitar felt as if it were mocking him. An easy reminder of how alone he really was. The thing never had color, for as long as he had been alive to remember it. His other half had died far before they even had a chance to meet before Tommy was even alive.
The one person who was supposed to become Tommy's family, who was supposed to always be around, had left before he was even there. Leaving a hollowed-out hole in his chest as he thought about what could have been. He could have had an older brother or sister, maybe a father figure or mother. But that had ended before it could even come to exist.
He had never had the chance for anything other than the cold cement floor that made his skin crawl, or the strange-looking mold that grew in the corner. He had been in here for far too long. Knowing little more than the walls that surrounded him. But he remembered a few little things, the way the moonlight seemed to dance across the grass. How the night breeze seemed to talk to the trees as it gently swayed their branches.
Tommy likes to imagine what life would be like if he never got caught, if his soulmate never died. No more tears to collect in tiny bottles. No more tasteless meals. No more being nothing more than a quick way to get potion ingredients.
They could live in a tree house or on a mountain's edge! They would teach Tommy how to ride a bike or play catch or have a movie night, whatever families did together they would do. They could teach him how to fly. His bone wings fluttered at the thought. Tommy would never say it out loud but he always imagined his soulmate would be a father to him, or maybe an older brother if he pushed his mind enough.
It doesn’t matter; however, as it was never going to happen. He was destined to be alone. The black and white guitar just drilled it into his head. It seemed to freeze his skin, turning his blood to ice as cold as his soulmate six feet under.
He had seen others with bright colors shining from their wrist, a few soldiers had them. Some didn’t as well, Charlie was the soldier who usually delivered him breakfast, had a clean wrist. Eventually, Tommy grew the confidence to ask him about it and the slime told him that most people didn’t have soulmates. Carefully Tommy pushed the man further, wondering if Charlie felt the same aching loneliness that he felt.
He didn’t. He said it with a smile on his face as well. Tommy knew he didn’t know better but it still felt as if his heart broke in two. He and Charlie were the same, and yet he drew the short end of the stick.
Jealousy crept in like a vine, squeezing at his heart every time he looked at Charlie. And yet shame seemed to light the vine on fire every time it snuck in. Charlie was his favorite knight, he was kind to him and Tommy repaid him with greed and resentment.
A growl from his stomach echoed off the cold walls, telling Tommy it was close to breakfast. His stomach, while not the most reliable source, was really the only way to guess the time without windows or clocks.
Footsteps ring through the dungeon, right on time. Tommy squeezes his eyes shut as the door opens, light floods through the room. Every time the door opens fear hits him hard, forcing him into the farthest corner of the room. He knows the light won’t reach past his barred fourth wall, but the paranoia is rooted deep.
The door shuts with a heavy thud, and Tommy's eyes open slowly. A green man stands by the door with a tray in his hand. He is dressed in a suit of armor even though he seems to fit it like a liquid slipping through the cracks a bit.
“Hello, Tommy from nowhere!” Charlie chirps out his usual greeting. Tommy gives the man a small smile and wave before he comes closer to the cell door.
“Hi Charlie, the usual for breakfast?” Tommy asks, grimacing as the mush food is placed in front of him.
“You know it big man,” Charlie says as he slides it through the small hole in the bars. Tommy lightly pokes it with his spoon, as if to make sure whatever the thing is, is dead. He sighs as he brings the spoon to his mouth swallowing the gross thing that is called food.
“So any new gossip?” Tommy asks, his mouth still full of food. Charlie's face turns sour at the sight of the already gross looking food chewed up.
“Did no one ever teach you manners, what were you raised in a stable?” Charlie accuses in a light joking tone.
“I mean a stable is like a horse jail right?” Tommy asks. Charlie gives a small nod, eyebrows scrunched together at the strange question. “Then yeah kind of,” Tommy responds, shuffling another spoon full of the paste in his mouth. Charlie gives him a small light-hearted glare before he opens his mouth.
“Well about the gossip, there have been a few rumors floating around.” He starts glancing around as if to make sure no one else is in the barren room. “Talk of a takeover has started, and from what I have heard the king already has the first bargaining chip,” Charlie explains.
“And? Do you know what it is?” Tommy asks. Charlie just shakes his head making Tommy sigh.
“I’m not even supposed to be talking to you, let alone queuing you in on the local gossip.” Charlie tells him. Tommy can feel the guilt wrap around him again. He knows this. He knows that Charlie could lose everything if someone caught him talking to Tommy, and yet he still pushed for more. He was horrible.
“Sorry,” Tommy mutters, his head bowed in shame, his wings fluttering with nervousness as his body tenses. Preparing for a hit that he knows won’t come. Charlie’s too nice for that, but the lessons from the other guards don’t go away so easily.
“It's fine Tommy, don’t worry about it. But I do have to get back before they send someone looking for me.” Charlie explains. Tommy nods, waving goodbye as the man leaves. The quiet surrounds him again, and he welcomes it like an old friend, settling down for a quick nap.
~~~~~~~~
Screams echo through the hall, jolting Tommy out of his nap. The sound is grating and full of struggle. Grunts of pain followed the enraged yell. It's a horrible sound that he can only pray will be over soon.
Tommy's face lights up in shock as the door opens. He can only watch in horror as another phantom is dragged toward the cell block next to him. No one else had ever been down here in all the time he has been here. Isolation is better for Tommy they say, makes it easier to not waste tears.
The phantom the guards are dragging has brown curly hair and large leathery wings. He is digging his feet into the concrete trying to slow the guards. Swearing up a storm as he wriggles around like a snake.
But the thing that really shocks Tommy is the fact that nothing is happening to the man. The guards aren’t even giving him a light punishment for his protest. Usually, if Tommy is even just a bit slow he gets shoved to the floor. But nothing like that is happening. It's strange. What makes this phantom different? Are they just going easy on him because he is new, or is there something more?
Tommy watches as the man is shoved into the cell directly across from him. “Fuck you all! Soon my father will be here for your lives and I hope he makes your death painful as fuck! You deserve it, bastards!” The man screams even after the guards have left the room.
Tommy hides himself in the darkest corner, observing the man. The same metal cuff that wraps around his own wrist is also attached to the others. His clothes are nicer than any Tommy has ever seen, even on the guards. A scowl is present on the man's face as he mutters profanities to himself.
He has still yet to realize that he is not alone in this place. But it doesn’t take him long to raise his eyes, meeting Tommy's own.
Tommy can feel his heart begin to pound as the man looks at him. He knows that nothing can happen as they are both behind bars, but the fear of someone new doesn’t leave quickly. Tommy hasn’t interacted with anyone outside of the usual few soldiers for years.
“Hello, who are you?” The phantom asks. Tommy just pushes himself further into the corner. His breaths came in faster as he stares at the man with wide eyes, waiting for the shoe to drop. Something bad has to happen. This is new and the fear of it all strikes him harder than any blow.
“My name is Wilbur,” The man tries. Tommy stays silent, making the man huff. That just causes Tommy to tense more. “I can’t imagine how a kid ends up somewhere like this.” Wilbur mutters under his breath, but in the silence, it sounds as loud as thunder.