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There's something peaceful about violence.
At least, to him there is.
Something about the way his sword screams a melody when he swings it, or how his arrows whistle a little tune when his fingers release the taut string of the bow. It's beautiful. Every note of a battle makes his heart swell and his feet bounce in a dance that sang of demise.
Every fight had a song. Even this one.
But every note fell flat. The instruments were out of tune, blaring and screeching. The music falls apart the longer Dream's sword is to Tubbo's neck.
Gloved hands gripped shaggy brown hair in a vice. A thin red line marked where glimmering black metal was pressed against it too hard. Tommy's own hands burned from where he was holding his best friend's hands, just moments ago.
Tommy's heart pounded along to the decrepit song, skipping along with a key that doesn't exist. He feels like he can't breathe. There's no air down here; nothing in his lungs. Dream is counting down, taunting him. His broken mask hid nothing about the deranged smile that graced his lips.
The boy is begging, in his mind. Begging and hoping that he'll hear the portal behind him activate; praying that he'd hear footsteps flood this prison and voice shouting to keep him alive.
But there's nothing. No sound but the slamming of piano keys, desperation in every note. Dream breathes out the final number, laughing. Finally, Tommy moves. He races back to Tubbo, not even three feet away from holding him in his arms again. So close to protecting him.
But he falls short.
There's a sick sound of flesh being cut open, and everything stops. Dark red warmth splatters across his shoes, staining old white sneakers. A puddle slowly curls around him, filing his nose with the scent of burning copper.
He stares down, looking into dead gray eyes. Old scars and overgrown hair that mark aging. A small, forgiving smile on his lips. His Tubbo, on the ground. He prayed that Tubbo would shoot up, some trick up his sleeve to get them out of this. But there was nothing.
Tommy reached down, gathering Tubbo's body in his arms. His light, his life, his friend. A hand curled around his arm, before it stilled and fell to the ground. Tommy breathed, and stood.
He's frozen, arms curled forward, hugging nothing but air. He can hear laughter. Wheezing, happy laughter.
Tommy turns his head slowly, staring into the eyes of every nightmare he's had in the past half year. His life had been haunted by this man since he set foot in this hell. Traps, tunnels, pranks. Isolation. Death. Dream had taken his discs, his home, his commander. Now, his life. His final remaining reason to keep going. He knew why Dream was laughing. It wasn't the thrill of killing or insanity taking him over.
No.
Dream had finally taken everything from him. That was why he laughed. He was happy. Happy to win the game he insisted on playing with Tommy.
Tommy had felt many things in his short life. He'd felt pain. Explosions, swords, bows, poison. He'd felt joy. Music, laughter, hugs so tight he wheezed. He'd felt anger. So much anger towards everything and everyone.
Now, he felt nothing. Nothing but Heartache.
The snap in his chest wasn't akin to an explosion. It wasn't a tight heat behind his eyes, or a swelling of his heart. It wasn't music tearing it's way out of his throat in a sob.
It was a simple, quiet snap.
He didn't know when the sword made it's way into his hand, or when he had Dream suddenly skewered into the wall, but he couldn't find it within himself to care. The sword stuck out of the man's chest, glittering pretty like a chunk of diamond nestled in mossy stones. Hands grabbed at the sword, screaming as they tore the sword out of the body they were attached to. Rookie mistake, Tommy thinks. Perhaps Death would've been slower, kinder, if he had just left the sword alone. Then, dust exploded, sweeping the corpse away, the sword falling to the ground.
Tommy stared. It was much to quick a death for someone so vile. But that was okay. This wouldn't be over for a good long while.
The dust knitted itself back together in a bust of red sparks, pulling Dream back into one piece.
The man's head snapped up, clutching his stomach. Fear filled those eyes that Tommy hated so much, and he felt like laughing. Dream was scared of him. The tormentor becoming the tormented. Tommy thought that maybe, he'd feel that warm feeling of pride. But there was nothing. Just cold, unwavering ice where his heart should be. Ice stitching his broken heart back together.
A whimper brought him back to his senses. A pathetic sound from a pathetic being. Tommy tossed the sword to the side.
Suddenly, Dream was under him. His hands found their way around the mans throat, squeezing until the skin bulges out around the gaps in his fingers. Tommy pulls his head up, and quickly slams it back down, causing the monster beneath his to release a choked scream.
Thick hands scratched at his in a desperate attempt at escape. Long legs kick and flailing behind him, trying to slip away. Tommy tightened his hands, relishing in the desperate cries that spelled his new masterpiece. His newest symphony, where the instruments would be from the corpse of this world's god. A symphony that will not be left unfinished.
Dream's face tuned a sickening purple as he tried harder and harder to breathe. Tommy could feel his throat clenching as it tried to suck in air that would never come. He felt the man's windpipe snap; watched as green eyes rolled back into his head. The body twitched; life clinging on in hopes of some miraculous come back. Then, nothing.
Dream had stopped moving, stopped screaming. But Tommy's song was not finished. He still had hundreds of pages to write.
He stood, kicking the body as it faded into ash. It wouldn't last long. His hands ached, scratched raw and bloody from those withering hands.
Tommy picked up the long, black sword from the ash. It was still stained with the blood of his fallen friend. There was little that betrayed the way he impaled his foe, sans for the small specks of dust dancing in the thick red liquid. Soon though, it would be stained with much more.
He watched once more as the dust came together again, reviving Dream. The man doubled over, coughing and holding his neck. Tommy felt the urge to roll his eyes. This was nothing compared to watch Dream had done to him; to everything Dream had taken.
Tommy took a step closer and Dream screamed, begged him, "Stop, get away, please." A harsh cacophony of meaningless words. He cocked his head, "Stop? You want me to stop?"
The green clad man nodded desperately, clasping his hands together and pressing them to his head as if in prayer.
Tommy smiled, "No."
The sword was a hefty thing, but it felt feather light in his hand. He swung for Dream's hand, soaking in the scream that tore it's way out of Dream as those clasped hands were hit. Shining metal stuck itself in stained bone. Tommy kicked Dream, tearing the sword from the wound. Before the man could move, he swung again, this time watching as bone splintered and tore muscle and flesh away with it.
Sobs escaped his disarmed opponent as his hand flopped away from him. Dream grabbed the stub of his wrist, straightening at the intensity the pain brought. Tommy swung the sword again at the exposed stomach. The sound of ripping fabric and a gurgling cry made their home in his sheet music, nestled between the sound of the air the sword disturbed and the sick splatter of intestines on the cold stone floor.
Thick, spongey pink tubing and pale muscle left nothing to the imagination. Tommy could see everything that made Dream spill onto the ground. Viscera and and viscous liquid staining the already black stone even darker. He could point out the stomach, the liver, even the ends of the lungs. Intestines' littered the ground. It was all so painfully human for someone who preached themselves a god. Absolutely disgusting.
Tommy dropped the sword and watched as the man withered away for the final time. Unable to move besides the spasms of muscle that brought even more pain. Tommy dropped down to his knees above the man, and took his face in his hands gently, as if he was a Mother with their crying child. Their eyes met and Tommy leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "This doesn't even come close to the pain you've caused me."
He dropped Dream's head, a dull thud against the floor, and he stood, staring. The light in his eyes died, and he stilled; Death sweeping his soul away.
There was no dust this time.
Tommy breathed out, closing his eyes as he listened the crescendo of violins that came about to end the battle. His body swayed side to side and his feet dances and spun him around as he drifted back to what was left of his life.
He dropped to his knees in front of Tubbo. He dipped his blood stained hands lower, carefully scooping the corpse into his lap. He turned Tubbo's face towards him, thumb wiping a small string of blood away from his lips. His friend's face was pressed into his now completely red shirt, fabric covering the open wound in his neck.
Tommy smiled softly down as him, rocking back and forth. He hummed his new song, dipping his head to press it against Tubbo's forehead. He gripped a cold scarred hand his his, thumb rubbing small patterns into the palm.
"I did it, Tubs." He whispered, "I won. For us."
He waited for Tubbo to blink those wide open eyes, to yawn and reply, "Good job, Tom. Let's go home." He waited for some complaint about being woken up. Some laugh to mark the end of a prank or a scheme. Some shout of victory that came from his clever tactic. He waited for Tubbo to do anything.
His hands tightened. Tears finally slid from his eyes, dripping down his chin and placing wet spots on that stupid green button on he made him. It wasn't even buttoned right.
Tommy carefully moved his hands to the buttons, slipping them out of the loops and straightening them out. Perfect.
He sat their for a moment, silent, staring down at the light of his life, his everything. Tommy was nothing with out Tubbo.
His mind felt like fog when he finally heard the blessed noise of a portal activating and the rush of armored footsteps. How he wished those steps came moment earlier.
He hugged his friend close as a scream echoed around the room. Tommy turned just enough to take in probably the largest group of people he's seen in one place.
The scream had come from Niki, who's face was now pressed into Jack Manifold's chest, muted sobs shaking her small shoulders.
Punz, front and center of the crowd, had dropped his sword, hand pressed over his mouth. Shock passed over the crowd like title wave. Tommy met eyes with Quackity, who had his arms curled around himself. The hybrid ducked his head and doubled over. Acidic vomit passed the mans lips, choking sounds mixed with the sobs that came after. Sam cringed, placing a large paw on the man's back, eyes clouded in hatred. But for who, Tommy could not see.
Sapnap was the first to step forward from the crowd, hands out and walking slowly as if Tommy was a wounded animal. Tommy stood, cradling Tubbo close, "You came."
Terror filled the group again. Tommy had been shielding Tubbo's body, hiding the wound that threatened to snap his head off. Eret gasped, "Oh my god," and rushed forward past Sapnap. Their hands were posed to scoop the body away from him, but Tommy stepped back, curling around his friend, screaming. No words, just pure sound. He breathing was raggedy and whistling as he held the corpse away. He didn't want his light to be stolen again. He didn't want to face reality.
Sapnap pulled Eret back, "Don't," he whispered. The monarch nodded sullenly, scooting back to where Niki had begun to fully meltdown. The black haired man was less than a foot in front of Tommy now. "Tommy."
He looked into his old friend's eyes, bright orange burning in concern. "Tubbo needs help." Sapnap whispered, "We need to go back, okay?"
Tommy could barely feel his head nod, too focused on fixing where his flinching had creased Tubbo's shirt. Sapnap's hand ghosted his back as he lead them forward towards the portal. He only stopped when he heard Punz's horrified whisper...
"What have you done..."
He snapped his head to stare at the mercenary, and then felt his smile stretch.
"I won."