Chapter Text
The Winter Court is as terrible as it is beautiful. As many stories there are of a glorious castle sculpted out of ice alone, of rulers wise and powerful, and hidden treasures brimming with magic; there are just as many of the inhabitants’ cruelty and darkness towards mortals. Their hearts are colder than the ice surrounding their home. They love only those of the Winter Court.
None who climb their mountain have ever come back.
“I’m just saying, both of us are at fault here.” Tommy said, ducking under a branch laden in snow. “If you hadn’t picked the path that went next to the cow pen, we would have left hours ago.”
They had set out bright and early that day to go to the market in the next town over to trade for supplies. As cozy as their little cottage was, the blizzards had been more and more fierce this winter and they were running low on supplies.
Tubbo shaded his eyes, checking the sky again and readjusting his backpack. Already dark clouds were beginning to roll in and the breeze was bitterly cold. He shivered, pulling his fluffy parka tighter around himself.
“Sorry for not considering your need to befriend every cow we see can’t be outweighed by the need to get home before a blizzard comes down.” Tubbo said drily.
“I’m glad you see it that way.” Tommy said. Tubbo punched his shoulder, making the taller boy yelp and step further away. “Ow! Look, all we need to do is take the path through the pass! That’ll get us home way quicker.”
“That path. The one said to be haunted by the Fey. The one with the many stories of people disappearing on it.” Tubbo said, staring at him. “The one even I usually stick to reading books about?”
It was rumored that the path marked the beginning of the Winter Court’s territory. Beyond it, up the steep mountain slope to the very top where clouds hung as an eternal shroud, was where the Fey lived. And they despised trespassers. Those caught trespassing would be frozen solid, eternal ice sculptures to warn away the unwary.
Tubbo shivered at the thought. He didn’t want to be an ice sculpture.
Tommy shrugged, glancing up at the clouds. “I’d rather take that chance than a 110% chance of getting trapped in a blizzard. If you’re too chicken, I can go by myself and be nice and cozy at home while you're freezing your butt off in a cave somewhere.”
“You wouldn’t.” Tubbo groaned as Tommy stepped off the path, heading for the break in the evergreens that marked the entrance to the mountain path. “I’m gonna need so much hot chocolate to get over it.”
“Make some for me!” Tommy yelled over his shoulder. “Because I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
Tubbo jogged after him. As terrifying as the stories were, the path through the pass was inviting. Evergreens had shaded the pathway so the large snow drifts hadn’t built up quite yet and provided a break from the wind that had been digging their steps.
It would be okay. He told himself. Tubbo had his red bandanna and Tommy’s jacket was red. As long as they were quiet and drew no notice from the Winter Court, the protective magic should work. It was weak protective magic, wearing the color red, but it should be enough.
Still. He didn’t feel good about this.
They were still a mile out from their village when the wind suddenly increased. Tommy stopped, glancing up. “Is it just me, or are those clouds moving a lot faster now?”
“Don’t be silly.” Tubbo said. “Clouds can’t move that fast. Oh. Wait. Yeah, they can.”
The dark clouds spread across the sky like ink spilled from an inkwell, blocking out the weak sunlight in moments. Tommy snagged Tubbo’s jacket sleeve, nearly pulling him off his feet.
“Run!”
And then the snow hit.
Tubbo pulled his snow goggles down, squinting through the dense snowfall in front of them. “Head straight!” He yelled, trying to raise his voice over the wind. “Don’t get turned around!”
He heard Tommy yelling something back, his friend’s words ripped away by the wind.
And then the grip vanished on his sleeve.
Tubbo stopped, bracing himself against the howling wind. “Tommy?” He yelled. No answer. “TOMMY?”
He gritted his teeth, holding his arms wide as he trudged forward, trying to see Tommy’s brilliant red jacket through the snow. “Tommy!”
“TUBBO!”
Tubbo broke into a sprint, chasing after the voice. He didn’t care if he got lost. He needed to find Tommy. They could figure out how to get home together, he wouldn’t go home without him.
Tubbo yelped as his boots caught on something, sending him face first into the snow. He pushed himself back up, and nearly screamed at the sight of crimson red in the snow.
Oh. It was his jacket. “Tommy!” Tubbo yelled, scrambling forward to brush away the snow and pull Tommy up.
Tommy didn’t answer, his blue eyes vacantly staring at the snow. Tubbo pressed into his side to keep him sitting up, wincing as the snow began to soak through his thick socks. “Tommy.” He repeated again.
Slowly, Tommy looked up at him. Tubbo frowned, looking closer. Were his eyes shining in the dim light? Human eyes couldn’t do that. Tommy glanced away quickly.
“Tubbo?” Tommy whispered. Tubbo had to strain to hear him with the wind.
“Yes.” Tubbo said. This didn’t feel right. Tommy was never ever quiet. How long were they separated by the storm? It had felt like only moments, even with the agonizing panic clouding his thoughts. “Yes. Your Tubbo. I need you to stand up. We can’t stay here.”
“They won’t be happy if I leave.” Tommy said, looking out into the snow. Tubbo froze. “But. My Tubbo.”
“Who?” Tubbo said, feeling numb. But Tommy was standing, forcing Tubbo to stagger to his feet as well. “Who?”
“It’s straight from here.” Tommy said, ignoring Tubbo. “I think it’s straight from here.”
Tubbo chewed his bottom lip. Maybe it could wait until they were in their warm cabin, instead of out in a blizzard. “Maybe.” He said. He didn’t move out from Tommy’s arm. It felt like the wind would snatch him away again as soon as Tubbo let go. “I can make hot chocolate.”
“You fucking better.” Tommy said, having to crane his head awkwardly so he could talk into Tubbo’s ear. “I’m fucking freezing.”
“Maybe we could have it with marshmallows.” Tubbo said. Unease still churned in his stomach but that got him a real Tommy smile. “I think we still have some in the cabinets.”
He never felt more relief then when they saw the window lantern through the snow.
The cabin itself was a bit rundown looking, the outer walls hastily reinforced with wooden planks to stop up the cracks in the walls. Tommy and Tubbo had been drifters before, skipping from town to town until they stumbled over an abandoned hunter’s cabin in the woods. They had spent all summer feverishly working to get it ready for the winter and now it was their home. Tubbo smiled at the memories.
It had never seemed more perfect. Except for maybe when they finally staggered inside, scattering snow over the carpet.
Tommy beelined straight for the cabinets. “Fuck yes!” He yelled. “We’ve got marshmallows!”
Tubbo hung behind, peeling his sodden backpack and jacket off. “Hey, Tommy?” He said. “Can I ask you something?”
“No, I’m not giving up the marshmallows. You practically promised I could have them.”
Tubbo giggled a little before stopping. “No. It’s just. Who were you talking about? What happened when I lost you?”
Tommy frowned, juggling the marshmallow container between his hands. “Nothing.” He said. “I lost my grip and then tripped. And then you found me.”
“But-“ Tubbo began. Why was Tommy laying in the snow then? Why say those strange words?
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it anymore.” Tommy said, an odd glint in his eye. “Also, I’m gonna take this as you don’t care about having marshmallows and I get to have all of them.”
“Hey!” Tubbo yelled, lunging forward.
But the memory still lingered, unshaken by hot cocoa, unpacking the loot, or when they finally went to bed. In fact, it still felt new when only days later, Tubbo woke to a freezing cold bed.
Across the room, the curtains billowed in the freezing cold breeze. Tubbo frowned at it. He distinctly remembered closing that window and locking it tight when the blizzards began.
“What the fuck?” Tubbo muttered, sitting up. Did someone break into their house? Tommy murmured sleepily from his side of the bed.
“It’s too early for talking.” He groaned into his pillow. Tubbo prodded him. “No.”
“Tommy. The windows open. I think someone broke into our house.” Tubbo said. He yelped as his feet hit the cold floorboards. “Some asshole who thinks it’s funny to let the freezing cold air in.”
“Nobody broke in. I opened it.” Tommy said, lifting his head off his pillow.
“Why the hell would you do that?” Tubbo said, wincing as he walked across the floor. He pushed the curtains aside, nearly swearing when a blast of cold air hit him. Grey dawn light filtered through the window, making Tommy groan again. Good. Now he can suffer with him.
“Got warm.” Tommy said. “You’re too warm. Blankets too heavy. Bed got too fucking hot and I couldn’t sleep.”
“Too warm?” Tubbo echoed. He shut and latched the window again, turning to stare at Tommy. “Usually you’re practically on top of me like the clingyinnit you are.”
“‘M not clingy. You’re the clingy one.” Tommy said sleepily. “Clingybo. And I dunno. Too warm. Cold air felt good.”
Tubbo walked across the floor, leaning over the bed and brushing the curls of Tommy’s forehead. He pressed his palm against it. “You’re freezing.” Tubbo said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you caught a cold.”
Tommy batted his hand away. “Your hand is too warm.” He complained, rolling over to press his face back in the pillow. “I’m going back to bed. Fuck off.”
Tubbo frowned down at his hand. His hand was still numb and chilly from touching the freezing cold window.
He had a bad feeling about this.
That bad feeling only grew worse.
Every morning, he was awoken by freezing cold air coming through the window. Tommy had grumpily made a pallet on the floor, claiming that he didn’t want Tubbo to get sick because then he’d be whiny.
But it was a pallet with one only thin quilt, a worn thing they didn’t throw out because Tubbo had been planning to make it into cleaning rags. Tubbo had tried to sneak more blankets onto it, only for Tommy to shove them off in his sleep.
Which Tubbo could deal with! Because other than the sudden change in sleeping habits and no, he definitely wasn’t missing cuddling for warmth, it was just a very practical desire to share body heat. Okay, maybe he missed it a little. But despite all of his hints and Tommy calling him Clingybo, the other didn’t seem to want to move back to their shared bed. Which, okay, Tubbo could deal with that as long as it made Tommy happy.
Because other than that, Tommy was still very much Tommy. He slept in, he complained about chores, and he laughed just like he always did.
Everyone knew weird things could happen to those who went through Fey claimed areas. Tubbo’s own grandmother claimed she could speak to chickens after visiting a haunted farm. Maybe Tommy needed to be a bit colder.
Tubbo clung to that until the day he woke up to close the window and his feet hit sodden carpet.
“Huh?” Tubbo muttered, still half asleep as he looked down. “Did it snow?”
Something sharp and cold slipped into his heart, weighing it down like a stone. Snow was scattered across the floor, forming messy footprints trailing to and from the window.
Tubbo whipped around, afraid of what he would see. “Oh thank God.” He whispered, seeing that Tommy was still tangled in his thin quilt, snoring softly.
But Tommy’s curls were plastered to his forehead, snowflakes catching the weak morning light. As if someone with snow still clinging to their hands had been combing through his hair, sitting by his friend while Tubbo slept across the room.
No. Nope. Tubbo was not happy with this.
“That’s it.” Tubbo remarked to hopefully empty air, striding forward to slam the window shut. “I’m not letting this continue.”
He let his anger keep him warm as he pulled on his parka and boots, not even bothering to change out of his pajamas. Fey touched was one thing. This was someone trying to steal or hurt his friend and Tubbo was not gonna let that slide. He had been far too optimistic before.
It was time for drastic measures.
“What the hell are you doing?” Tubbo yelped in surprise as his hand was pulled away from the window, scattering crimson paint across the snowy ground.
“Doing something we should have done a while ago.” Tubbo said, pulling his hand out of Tommy’s. Tommy was standing barefoot in the snow in only his pale blue pajamas, glaring at the paintbrush in Tubbo’s hand like it had mortally offended him.
“Stop that.” Tommy said. Tubbo pulled away when Tommy reached forward again.
“Why?” He said, smearing more paint over the windowsill. They should have repainted them a while ago, the crimson red had faded to a dull pink. Once the house was repainted, the Fey would be unable to enter their home, the protective magic strengthening as it was bound into the unmovable wood. At least, Tubbo was pretty sure that’s how it should work.
He frowned at the windowsill. Maybe he should paint the whole house to be sure?
“You’re wasting the paint!”
“Am I?” Tubbo said, looking at Tommy. “I admit, I’ve let this go pretty far! But Tommy, you’re freezing cold all the time, you keep complaining about being hot when you wear jackets or blankets, and this morning, I woke up to snowy footprints on our floor that led straight to where you slept! I can’t let this continue!”
Tommy wavered for a moment and Tubbo wondered if he had been a bit too forceful. Then Tommy straightened, a glint in his eyes. “I can’t let you do that.” He said. Tubbo’s heart dropped into his stomach.
He sounded exactly like he did in the blizzard. “Look.” Tubbo said gently, laying the brush down on the windowsill. “I’m not trying to hurt you. Once the windowsills and doorways have been repainted, the Fey can’t get in and we can figure this out together. I need to finish this.”
Please. Please, listen to him, he begged silently.
Tommy stared at Tubbo, his normally vibrant blue eyes dull. “But I need them.” He said. “They aren’t warm. They’re cold. I need it.”
“No, you don’t.” Tubbo pleaded, stepping forward. “Please. Just go back inside and let me finish. I’ll make you hot chocolate again and you can have the rest of the little marshmallows. All of them.”
For a moment, he thinks he broke through, as Tommy’s shoulders slump.
Tommy’s next words are like shattering ice: “They said I couldn’t trust you.” Tommy turns away, sprinting through the snow.
“No!” Tubbo howls, all instinct. He races after him, chasing him through the snow drifts. But Tommy is pulling ahead, slowly but surely, his longer legs eating up the ground.
Far too many times, Tubbo nearly loses him in the snow, the pale blue blending in. But then he’ll turn the corner and Tommy will be there, still running. His legs were burning by now, the cold air chilling every part of his body but Tubbo refused to stop.
Dimly, Tubbo knows where they are going. Knows how their path traces up through the mountain paths, higher and higher, where the snow never melts.
But he can’t stop chasing the blue of Tommy’s shirt through the snow.
It doesn’t mean he’s ready for what he sees when he finally staggers around a particularly steep snow drift.
“‘Ello, mate. You’re a stubborn one.”