Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Somnolentus Empire.

A fair kingdom, living in peace for years to come. It was a rich kingdom, wealthy in many ways, and known for its kindness.

The Empire was built up many years ago, and many generations had come into the crown and passed down the said crown, generation after year, son after son, daughter after daughter until it landed upon the head of one fair lady.

Her name was Hestia, named after the fair goddess of love and hearth, of family and home. Her reign was one of care and carefulness, she successfully secured many allyships for the Empire, and was genuinely loved by the people. Not only was she blessed with kindness and compassion, but she was also blessed with wings. Appendages that stretched from her back, each with a wingspan of three meters, usually tucked neatly against her back, however. Each wing was a perfect shade of black, almost purple, even, that somehow seemed to get deeper and darker the further down the feathers got. Each day, she carefully preened them, each with care and gentle hands.

One day, at a glamourous ball, she met a young man.

His name was Kauri, a fierce warrior. He fought valiantly for his kingdom and captured her heart, just as she captured his. Months of courting became years, and soon, they were wed.

The king and queen lived happily, ruling the Empire together, and one day, on a warm day in Spring, as the sun graced the fair kingdom, an heir was born.

A rather loud infant, he came into their world screaming. His lungs were the biggest part about him, however. A small boy, with a few tufts of bright blonde hair, and big, light blue eyes caught the hearts of everyone that looked at him. Tommy, they named him. The kingdom rejoiced at this new baby, and he was showered with love, and he steadily grew and grew. He grew up into a troublemaker, quite a loud and

It wasn't long before the young prince was gifted a baby brother, who Kauri and Hestia named Wilbur. His hair was a deep brown, along with his eyes, matching his mother. He was quieter than Tommy, but Tommy loved him nonetheless. Wilbur grew up with a way with words, often being able to persuade those around him with no sweat. Tommy and Wilbur, the two princes. They grew up together, and along with Tubbo, the son of one of the castle staff who may as well have been a brother to Tommy, just a slight bit younger than the eldest prince, causing their fair bit of mischief. There were ups and downs, tears and laughter, but at the end of the day, they were all best friends.

Hestia was 4 months pregnant with their third child when Wilbur made an unexpected friend at 5 years old.

A young piglin hybrid, who Wilbur informed them had no family. His name, Techno, his hair bright pink, littered with scars, and caked in dust and mud. They were visiting a market when Wilbur approached his parents, with a three-year-old piglin in tow, insisting that he simply must come home with them! The poor child looked embarrassed behind the young prince, nervously glancing down at the hand wrapped around his small wrist, avoiding eye contact with the royals.

Naturally, Wilbur managed to sway their parents, and Techno was brought home with them.

The months passed slowly. Techno was a lot quieter than the two princes, showing excellent knowledge in both sword fighting and reading, despite his young age, which was surprising, to say the least. Techno awkward tiptoed around the family, not too involved, usually distancing himself both literally and metaphorically, not wishing to interfere.

This all changed when the fourth brother was born.

A baby, with light blonde tufts of hair, and bright blue eyes, a small little thing who cried pitifully when he first arrived, but regardless, welcomed with open arms. Techno stared down at this little baby, sleeping against his mother's chest, wrapped in a blue blanket, and some would say there were stars in his eyes. Techno felt the world go away for a minute, and it was just him and this baby. His brother, Phil. His family.

And just like that, their family was complete. Hestia and Kauri, the queen and king, and their three sons. Their troublemaker, Tommy. Their incontestable speaker, Wilbur. Their bookworm, Techno. Their baby prince, Phil.

The world was fair.

The Gods were kind.

Chapter Text

"Tommy, don't push your brother like that!" Their mother called out from her place under one of the many trees in the gardens, braiding Techno's hair, which was extremely long for that of a four-year-old. Tommy, now a scruffy boy of eight - although, the crown prince would noisily dispute this by insisting that he was nine next week - huffed in frustration.

"I'm okay!" Wilbur raised his head from where he was lying face down on the grass, waving at their mother and brother as he did. He got to his feet, stumbling slightly, and grinned. Almost instantly, Tommy tagged Wilbur, leaving the six-year-old squawking in offence as the eldest ran away, screeching with laughter. Techno pulled his legs to his chest, watching his older brothers run around in the sunlight, Wilbur's hair shining in the golden glow, and Tommy's hair looking like a bright halo. Only one thing could make this day better, Techno thought to himself.

"Teh!"

A small squeal brought him out of his thoughts, as he saw their father walking towards them, with a small child in his arms, almost as though he had conjured up his baby brother right there and then.

"Phil!"

Techno gently shook their mother's hand out of his hair, and stood up, grinning as he hurried over to Phil and their dad. Smiling, the king knelt down with the young boy, so that Techno could properly greet the youngest. Barely one, Phil could hardly walk, much less speak, so his non-verbal communication mostly just shouting random noises at whoever walked past, just as he was now.

"Ba, ba! Buh! Teh!" Tiny arms reached out to Techno through the babbling as the trio sat down under the tree, once again joining their mother in the shade. The king placed Phil in Techno's lap and immediately turned to the queen, as beautiful as the day they met. Concern overtook his features, but Techno stopped paying attention then, as Phil had decided to start yanking at his hair. Techno grunted, trying to gently untangle the tiny fingers from his hair, but no such luck, the baby in his lap had such a strong grip. Tiny wings fluttered against his sides, fluffy with immature down, having inherited his mother's beautiful wings. He sighed and turned back to his other brothers, who were still shouting and running around, although Wilbur seemed to be noticeably more worn out than Tommy, the blonde had so much more energy than both Wilbur and Techno combined.

"You know you can't be outside, dear."

Techno's ear flicked as he picked up on the conversation behind him. He tried to not make it noticeable that he was listening and instead turned his head back down to Phil, who was still grabbing at and playing with his hair. He decided to run a hand down Phil's feathers, which seemed to work, as the tiny boy's grip loosened, and Phil cooed. Black wings, black as their mother's, specked with white.

"I know. But it is such a wonderful day, and Tommy and Wilbur begged me to come out with them, and watch them play. Either way, Techno gets horribly lonely, he doesn't enjoy running around as much as the other two, so he's usually alone."

"I understand, but you're meant to be resting."

"My love, I'll be alright for one day. Don't fret."

Their conversation was cut short by Wilbur and Tommy trudging over, Wilbur grumbling and more sweaty than Tommy, who was grinning ear to ear. Wilbur sidled over to their parents, quietly plonking himself down next to her, between the king and queen, and huddling up to their mother, exhausted. Tommy plonked himself onto the grass next to Techno and Phil, clearly quite tired out himself.

The whole family sat under the shade of the tree, talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Boys, sit still."

Tommy shifted his weight from where he sat between his parents. He hated sitting still, and doing it in front of a random painter was even worse. He fiddled with the small crown in his hands, intricately designed, engraved with marvelous patterns with emeralds and sapphires embedded into it. His brothers had similar ones, but they were reserved for when they were older and mature enough to not break it. Either way, the five-year-old Techno, and two-year-old Phil would not enjoy carrying a crown on their head at this age. Wilbur, perhaps he would have.

Their mother cleared her throat. "Come on, now, smile and sit still for the painter!"

They ended up having to redo a significant amount of times, on account of Tommy insisting Tubbo must be in the picture as well, or Wilbur and Tommy messing around. In the end, the picture they finally landed upon was beautiful. Tommy, sat center, grinning down at the crown in his grasp, with his parents on either side of him. Their father smiling through blonde locks, holding Phil in strong arms. Said prince was staring longingly at Techno, mouth open in a form of a smile as Techno was frozen in mid-wave to the youngest, who sat next to their father. On Tommy's right, their mother sat, with one arm on Wilbur's shoulders, and one wing outstretched behind her family, reaching out to the king and younger sons. Wilbur was grinning ear to ear, the only prince actually looking at the painter. Tubbo sat next to Wilbur, more focused on Tommy, giving a soft smile as he sat neatly, hands in his lap, looking much smaller than the child already did.

The painting was hung up in the throne room, and every family member couldn't help but smile when they saw it.

The market was very busy, even more so today than usual. Hestia had decided to not allow Tommy to go away from her, as the adventurous boy had already gotten lost twice. Luckily, it was very easy to find him again, considering he was the prince. Techno and Phil trailed behind them, holding hands and trying not to fall too far behind. Phil had a habit of stopping and waving at random folk.

A few guards accompanied them all, more out of pure habit than actual fear of threat. Wilbur and Kauri weren't too far behind them, last they checked-

They were nowhere to be found.

"Wil? Kauri!?"

The guards saluted, and immediately started searching for the lost king and prince, townspeople hearing the commotion and assisting in the search as Hestia hastily told Tommy, Phil, and Techno to stay near her.

Eventually, the king and prince were found, at a stall selling candies. The king gave a guilty smile as Wilbur sucked on a lollipop, unaware of the commotion that had just been caused. The queen glared at her husband, who thought his life was flashing before his eyes.

"He wanted candy-"

"What if we go in from the left door?"

"No, that's stupid. The right door is clearly superior."

"No! We need to go through the left door! We're closer to the tin!"

"But there are always more people on the left! The right door has a lot fewer people most days."

Tommy and Tubbo sat on the floor, bickering among themselves. Tubbo was technically supposed to be performing his duties, but let us just say Tommy relieved him of them early.

Okay, fine, Tommy may have snuck Tubbo away without asking anyone.

"I literally work there most days."

Their latest scheme? Get to the cookie tin and sneak a few cookies away before dinner.

Not their brightest plan.

"Fine. We'll do your stupid idea!" Tommy huffed, crossing his legs.

They got caught, and Tommy took a nice sip out of a tall glass of, "I told you so".

Techno was a fighter.

Since the age of 6, he had always been interested in watching the guards. He admired them, always saluting them whenever he saw them, copying their posture, he thought they were amazing. So, when the king and queen noticed this and decided to ask Techno if he wished to train under the captain, he was over the moon. Of course, he would not be allowed near any sharp metal weapons, not for a long while, and the captain would adhere to this rule by allowing the both of them to use only wooden swords, unable to do more than a bruise.

The captain was harsh, but not cruel. She struck with force but always allowed Techno to get up.

Time and time again, over and over, Techno was knocked down, but it was clear he was improving, learning from his mistakes, each time he was felled. Every time he fell, he bounced back up, grinning, smirking even, ready for the next battle. Every bruise was a victory mark to him.

Some days, Techno would spend hours in the library, making notes, reading about strategies from books of old. The captain endorsed this, always bringing extra books. She absolutely loved how much effort Techno put into his training.

"Tech!" A high-pitched voice squealed as Techno loosened his grip on his wooden sword. He glanced to his left and saw a small boy running onto the training grounds.

He dropped the sword and opened his arms as Phil launched himself into the hug. "Hey, bud!"

"Wan' train with you! Wan' fight!" the three-year-old boy babbled, reaching towards the sword Techno had discarded in favor of his baby brother.

"With all due respect, young prince, I do not think it would be appropriate for you to join in." The captain coughed awkwardly. She so hated to deny the youngest prince, but it was not really her choice.

"Gotta agree with her there, bub. You could get hurt." Techno put a hand on the boy's head. Phil took offense to this, clearly, if the way his face morphed into a frown was anything to go off.

"'m big now! Wan' fight!" He shouted indignantly, stomping a little foot as well as if that would help prove his point. Techno could tell that if this continued for too long, they would be in for a long tantrum.

"Hey, none of that! Look, I don't want you getting hurt. When you're older, you can train with me, okay?"

Phil sniffled, tears welling up in his big eyes. "But I wan' train now!" A couple of tears slipped out, and Techno sighed as Phil wiped at his eyes.

"Okay, how about this. You can watch me train?"

Blinking away tears, Phil nodded, giving a small smile.

"Alright. Go sit over there, by that tree." Techno smiled back, having defused the situation.

Every day, Phil would sit under the shade of the same tree, cheering and chanting, "Technoblade never loses!", as Techno grew stronger and stronger.

Hestia may have been bed bound, but that was not going to stop her from bonding with her sons.

She probably should have listened when the doctor told her that having a third child would have severely impacted her health. However, she and Kauri had another baby regardless, and as it turns out, the doctor was correct.

Whether it be Wilbur singing her a song with his guitar or Techno reading a story to her, she wouldn't allow an illness to stop her from being present in her sons' life.

"Like this?"

"Yes, Phil, run your hands down the feathers gently."

Phil sat on their bed, in front of her while she was propped up on a bunch of pillows. The young boy had one wing opened fully, and was combing through it with one hand. Hestia was helping Phil with the back of them, running her hand through the messy feathers.

"Okay, so if you feel any that should come out, just pull them out gently, okay? If you tug them and they don't come out, leave them, they're still good feathers."

It usually took a while to fully preen Phil's wings, as they were usually very messy. The prince did not enjoy doing it routinely.

At the end, their preening session was cut short as Hestia was launched into a coughing fit, that winded her so badly that she just couldn't find the energy to do anything but sleep.

"You're growing up so fast, Toms."

"Yeah, I'm quite the big man now, aren't I, dad?"

Tommy smirked as he and his father looked over the town. The market was bustling and busy, and the sun shone high, despite the cold breeze. Tommy leaned on the stone railing of the balcony, grinning as he looked down to the courtyard, seeing Wilbur sitting underneath one of the larger trees. He was picking up the brown and orange leaves that lay around him, crushing them in his hands or ripping them from the stems. Techno and Phil were sparring, wooden swords in hand. You could hear loud chuckles and laughter coming from the youngest.

"Yes, quite the big man."

Kauri smiled softly, joining Tommy in looking over the other three.

"Tommy, you know me and your mother won't be around forever."

"Woah, where is this coming from?"

"You already know that there's tension rising with the Aries kingdom, and I fear it will keep brewing into a full-on war. You're almost 16, now, Toms."

"Wow, this is a really heavy conversation."

The king chuckled.

"I am aware. But, I know no matter what happens after we're gone, you'll do what's best for this kingdom. Just... promise me that no matter what happens to me or your mother, you'll take care of your brothers. They'll need you."

Tommy blinked, looking down. His brothers shouted and laughed, unaware of the conversation going on above them, although Wilbur did look up from his position underneath the leafless tree. He could vaguely make out a smile on the brown-haired boy's face, followed by a wave. He smiled softly, waving back down at his brother.

Those were his brothers, no matter what.

"Yeah. I promise, as long as you promise me not to get into any wars."

Their father let out a chuckle.

"I promise to not get into any wars."

Some promises were meant to be broken.

"You promised! You can't go!"

"The armies need me, Toms."

"No, I'm not accepting that! You can't just leave!"

"Hey, calm down. I promise you I will be back."

"...Don't break this one, please."

"I won't. Take care of your brothers and mother, alright? I'll be back before you know it."

Another broken promise.

Months passed without a word from their father. Their mother only got worse, and Tommy celebrated his seventeenth birthday without either of his parents.

As if by fate, the night they heard the news was the night their mother died, just an hour or so before.

The war between the Aries empire and the Somnolentus empire was already over. They had successfully pushed back most of the Aries troops, but on the way back, a rogue platoon successfully ambushed the army. They killed quite a large amount of their army. Among them was their father, killed by an arrow in the head.

Two rulers lost in one night.

At the age of seventeen, Tommy was to be king.

At the age of fifteen, Wilbur wished to play for his father again.

At the age of thirteen, Techno was a hardened soldier.

At the age of ten, Phil missed his mother.

Chapter Text

It was cold.

Tommy felt a shiver run through him as he sat on the cold steel bench, but he couldn't find it in him to drag himself back, all the way up the stairs and into his bed. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the warm comfort of his room, but he couldn't.

"Fuck..." He breathed out. It was raining, it wasn't too heavy, but heavy enough to make Tommy believe he might wake up with a cold tomorrow.

He was cold. He was wet.

He was... numb.

He wanted to say he was upset. He wished he could say he could scream and sob and shout to the gods for taking his mother away, taking his father as well. He so wished he could tear down every flag, every picture, every drawing of them, and burn them all to the ground. He so wished he could say he thought he was going to die, that his heart was going to shatter and splinter his very soul at any moment, but...

He couldn't.

He couldn't even shed a tear.

"Isn't someone supposed to be sleeping, your highness?"

The bench creaked under him, as he looked to his left.

Tubbo held a grin full of remorse, pity, and empathy.

"Don't. Just... don't."

Tubbo sighed. The smaller boy placed a hand on the to-be king's shoulder. "What's eating you?"

"Fucking everything, Tubbo."

"You can always rant at me." Blue met blue as their eyes locked.

"You don't deserve to be yelled at for shit you can't control."

"And you don't deserve to bottle shit up."

Conversation dwindled to a halt and both boys sat in the rain, soaking up each other's company - as well as the torrent of water the Gods sent them from above, just to add to the mood a little bit. Tubbo glanced up at the flag that was usually proudly displayed over the kingdom, clearly lowered to half-mast, despite the dark of night. The same flag that he often found himself grinning up at, sometimes he would give it a silly little salute, causing Wilbur and Tommy to break off into laughter, and then they'd run off to go back to whatever game they were playing whilst Tubbo was supposed to be fulfilling his duties.

"I just... Why am I not sad?" Tommy's choked voice offered, breaking halfway through, breaking Tubbo out of his reminiscence.

"What do you mean, boss man?"

"I can't cry about this, I'm not happy, of fucking course I'm not. But, still. I can't cry as Wilbur did. I can't scream like Phil. I can't even lock myself away like Techno. I just can't do that, can I? I have to be strong because I'm the oldest brother." The elder's voice was low, hoarse, and so unlike him, that it genuinely scared Tubbo just to hear him speak. "But... I still feel weaker than ever."

Tommy leaned back against the bench, feeling cold metal through his thin nightwear, and the weight of a thousand emotions on his back, most of which he could not name, even if he was given a thousand years to do it.

"Just because you're going to be king, that does not mean you have to lock away your emotions. Regardless of anything, you're still a person, Toms."

"When did you become so fucking wise?"

"Shut up and listen, man. Everyone grieves in different ways, okay? People just react differently to tragedy."

"What if I disappoint them?"

"They love you for who you are, not who you pretend to be. They're your brothers, Tom."

Silence was louder than anything the two could have said. The unspoken sentence rang between the duo louder than the church bells that had tolled earlier.

This wasn't about his brothers.

"I think I should go to bed."

"Absolutely, it's two in the morning. Come on, boss man, I'll walk you up."

"Sal, I-I don't know what to do..."

Tear stains wrecked Wilbur's face as he sniffled. It was late, cold, and raining, but he didn't care. He wiped his face, as the maiden next to him took his other hand.

"Oh, Wil..."

Beautiful red hair went down to her back as he buried his head in her shoulder. Sally rubbed at Wilbur's back as he sobbed, not even caring how muddied and dirtied his clothes were getting. The only sounds were the harsh sobs as Wilbur shook, and the flowing of the river, water tossing and turning against the rocks. The trees shook from the cold wind overhead.

"I want to go back-" Wilbur choked out, muffled. "I want to go back to before he left- To when we were all together."

"The river keeps flowing, love. Life will go on, and we can't go back, as much as we want to."

He looked up, eyes shining with tears yet unshed.

"We can only move forwards. It's not going to be easy, but all the pain will heal eventually."

She cupped his face with her hand, offering a soft smile. Tears slipped down his already damp cheek, but Sally just wiped them away with her thumb.

"It's going to be a long journey."

She kissed his cheek gently.

"And I'll be with you for all of it."

"Gods, what did I do to deserve you?" Wilbur started crying all over again, but this time, smiling as he did. "Just... please don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere as long as you aren't."

"No, I'm not leaving, I swear to you, I won't leave. Gods, I love you so much."

The couple spent the rest of the night gently talking, whispering small comforts and sweet nothings to each other, happy to be there, in each other's company.

Techno was roaming the empty halls of the sleeping quarters when a shriek cut through the silence.

His footsteps thundered through the hallways as they echoed off the hardwood floors. He skidded to a stop in front of the room the awful scream had come from, several of the castle staff standing anxiously outside the youngest prince's room.

"What is the situation?" Techno's gruff voice startled most of the staff.

"He locked himself in there hours ago, and we keep hearing thuds and shouts." A man in a neatly ironed suit fiddled with his hands. "We've tried to get him to open it, but to no avail, sir."

Grunting, Techno walked up to the door.

"Leave us."

"Sir, I don't believe that's a good course of action, considering-"

"Move, or else I shall force you." Techno whipped his head around to face the staff member who tried to defy him, glaring daggers. They bowed their head as an apology before the small crowd quickly dispersed to whatever business they would attend to instead.

Sighing, the pink-haired teen turned back to face the wooden door between him and his little brother.

"Phil, it's just me now. They left. Can you let me in?"

It was almost silent, with the only noise being soft sniffles, muffled by the thick door, but then a lock clicked. Techno opened the door slowly, wincing at the long squeak of the door. But, as he looked into the dimly lit room, his heart shattered just a little bit.

Phil had obviously been on a rampage. Books and clothes were haphazardly tossed everywhere, shelves clean of whatever items they used to hold as they were all now on the floor. A couple of pieces of furniture were overturned as well, and the pillows and sheets off Phil's bed also lay on the floor. There was almost no space in the room to freely stand, but that wasn't what hurt him most.

What made his heart break just that little bit more was the sight of his baby brother, curled up against the foot of his bed, obviously sobbing into his knees, wings shaking behind him.

Techno was never good at this whole comfort thing.

He closed the door behind him, slowly approaching the young boy.

"Hey, come on now..." He knelt down. "Shh, don't cry, okay?" He didn't miss how Phil gripped his arms with his hands, digging his nails deep into the skin.

"Hey, hey, don't do that." Techno gently pried Phil's hands from his arms, instead opting to hold them. The poor boy was shaking, body wracked with sobs, face tear-stained and puffy from obvious hours of sobbing.

"I-I wan-wan' ma..." He hiccuped out, sending himself into another fit of sobs. He looked up at Techno with wide, watery eyes. "Bri-bring ma back."

Techno choked back tears of his own. "I can't, Phil. I'm sorry, I can't."

Phil whimpered at that, knocking his head back harshly against the wood of the bed.

"Woah, no, none of that, don't hurt yourself. If you need to hit something, hit me, okay? Don't hurt yourself." A moment passed when Techno said that, as the younger avian blinked up at Techno hesitantly. But then, Phil started screaming, barrelling Techno's chest with small fists, battering at him as hard as he could. Techno, at this point, had undergone many years of training, he could handle a few weak punches, but it still made him want to curl up and sob, seeing Phil like this.

"Br-bring them back, bring papa and mama back- I- I want them back!" Phil cried out, shouting and begging, all he wanted was his father to take him into his arms, his mother to gently kiss his head, why weren't they here, it didn't make sense, they always came when he was sad-

"I can't, Phil."

The punches stopped, but the sobbing didn't. Phil hiccuped and gasped for breath, and Techno could do nothing more than hold him.

"It's okay... you're okay... it will be fine... I love you." Techno rocked Phil as if he were merely a baby again, as if they were back in the garden all those years ago, back before all the heartache and tears and screams.

If a few tears slipped from Techno himself as he fell asleep holding his baby brother, that was for him and Phil to know.

Tommy was turning eighteen in a week. The kingdom could wait a week.

Next week, Tommy would be king.

Next week, everything would go wrong.

Next week, the family would shatter once more.

Chapter Text

The eve of Tommy's eighteenth birthday would be one for the ages.

Ninth of April, the middle of spring.

The weather brought a warm breeze, despite the darkening day. The sun slowly set over distant hills, glowing hot.

Tommy fiddled with his collar once more; a vest of bright red, lined with gold accents. It was tight-fitting, and he found it a little difficult to breathe in, but that was fine. He would only have to wear it for a few hours.

"Your majesty, we await you in the great hall." A guard bowed to him - oh, Tommy hated when he was bowed to - before leaving to said hall, although it was more of a church. The plan was very simple.

Walk through the town from the castle, enter the church, ignore all the prying eyes on him-

He was to complete a very rehearsed speech, hold the orb and scepter, accept the crown, and make his way out of the church and then onward to the main town, walking with his brothers behind him, oldest to youngest. At the end would be a park.

A rather large patch of grass, usually forbidden to be trodden upon, but this was the exception. In that patch of grass, surrounded by small stone steps, were flowers and bushes, trees and hedges. Each one was chosen specifically by a past heir, a past ruler, once in power, now nothing more than a memory. Flowers of blues and yellows and whites and pinks, trees bearing both fruits and nuts, each nurtured carefully as if they themselves represented the memories of the deceased rulers.

Tommy himself had chosen a bunch of bright red freesia flowers, small petals, but hopefully, they would stand out amongst all the paler colors - there were not many colors as bold as the flowers he had picked.

He huffed, he had been preparing for this moment for many years, yet he could still feel his heart pounding out of his chest.

Despite many years of just accepting, yes, he would own essentially every square inch of this kingdom, but now, now that he was pure moments from facing this fact, from being in charge, he could not help but doubt himself. His many years of preparation may end up being in vain, regardless.

He cracked his knuckles slightly, ensuring his bright vest was as wrinkle-free as possible, and turned to the door, taking a second breath, not liking how constricting the vest was.

Only a few hours, he thought. Then he would be free.

"Stop whining." Wilbur couldn't help but hiss at his youngest brother as Phil complained once again about his outfit - a green vest, highlighted with red fabrics. The young boy couldn't seem to stay quiet, although they were supposed to stand as still as they possibly could, no messing around. His cleared his throat, anxiously toying with his red tie. He too donned a vest, his own being brown, highlighted with dull yellow. The church was... full, to say the least. Many citizens gathered to watch their beloved prince take the throne. It made Wilbur nervous, even if he was not the one they would be here to see.

Techno, ever the soldier, stood neatly, diamond sword glinting in the orange-red light that reflected through the glass windows, along with his armour, recently polished, yet still dented. He stood to the left of the priest, as opposed to Wilbur and Phil, who stood to the right. Music played through the hall, played by a band, and Wilbur vividly remembered helping to create that, writing each note out with care and precision.

They stood a good few steps above everyone, which made Wilbur uneasy. Why should they be above them all?

Suddenly, Techno's gaze snapped one way, following the high-pitched creaking of the grand door, and Wilbur and Phil both followed his gaze.

Tommy.

The light behind him framed him in such a magnificent way. His golden locks had clearly been wrestled with a comb, but obviously, it was in vain, as they still tumbled around his face. He looked confident, but don't be fooled. Wilbur saw straight through this facade, straight through the brave face, into Tommy's very soul.

Tommy was fucking terrified, and so was Wilbur.

Tubbo followed behind Tommy as they walked through the hall, both trailed by guards. Tommy tried to ignore the faces standing in the pews, having risen to his entrance. He tried to look past the stares, all of the pity and sorrow, all of the smiles. He just needed to do this. Then he could go back to his room.

As the prince and the servant boy reached the front of the church, Tubbo took Tommy's hand briefly. It was a rushed gesture, but the gentle squeeze made Tommy smile slightly. Tubbo smiled, before splitting away from Tubbo, walking to their right and taking up a position next to Techno, who simply nodded, the hardened stare never leaving his face.

Tommy took a deep breath and stepped up, one, two, three. He was just a step below the priest, an older man. Tommy caught Phil waving at him, grinning ear to ear. Tommy hadn't seen Phil smile like this for ages, and he gave a tiny wave back. Wilbur's head snapped down, and he gently slapped at Phil's hand. The youngest glared at Wilbur but didn't protest anymore. Tommy heard a barely stifled snort come from Techno.

"Sir, is your Highness willing to take the Oath?"

Right. He was here to be crowned.

He could do this.

"I am."

His voice cracked immediately, but he feigned confidence.

"Will you solemnly promise to govern and reign the Somnolentus Empire, and to do all within your power to defend its inhabitants from the forces of evil?"

Oh Gods, did he promise? He wanted to, but would he even be able to do such a thing?

He knew the answer, he had been preparing for this his whole life, but it was so much easier to just imagine it.

"I solemnly promise."

"Do you promise, here, in the view of the Gods above, to uphold the laws of the Gods? Will you promise to practice discipline, government, and worship accordingly?"

He used to dream of the day he said these words, used to hopefully await the day he himself would be able to rule this very kingdom he was born in.

"All this, I shall promise to do."

If only he had known how easy it was to dream.

The priest nodded slowly, reaching onto the altar, and picking up the pillow that held a scepter and orb. Each was decorated in emeralds and sapphires. The priest held the pillow out to him. He may have fumbled around a bit, struggling to pick up the scepter with his left hand and orb in his right. He knew exactly what to do, turning around and forcing himself to face the crowd. Each had stayed standing, and he hated whenever he made eye contact.

"It gives me the greatest honor to present, King Theseus of the Somnolentus Empire!"

Tommy tilted his head up a bit, wincing at the name, feeling the weight of a crown being placed upon his head. He took a shaky breath as the room burst into applause, smiling. The hard part was over, at least, as he slowly turned around to place the scepter and orb back on the pillow. He subtly readjusted the crown. Catching another glimpse of his brothers, he saw Techno smiling, a stark contrast to the harsh glare he donned earlier. Wilbur clapped with a soft smile, while Phil squawked, wings flapping happily.

The next thing Tommy knew, he was walking down a wide path. It was as if a sea of people had parted specifically for him. Citizens and travelers alike had gathered on the streets, each hoping to get a glimpse at their beloved prince- King (the phrase felt strange to him still). King Theseus.

Gods, his first order would be to make absolutely no one call him 'King Theseus' ever again, it did not sound good at all. He was King Tommy, not King Theseus.

The freesias were awaiting him at the small park.

Tommy was closely trailed by Wilbur, who flashed smiles at anyone who he noticed looking at him, although he was noticeably scouring the crowd for a specific maiden. Techno marched close behind, scouting the area for any possible danger. Last, but of course not least, was Phil, who followed along happily, waving and chattering to the crowds. Behind Phil were the castle staff, Tubbo leading them. Guards were positioned on either side, and before and behind, but that was less for security. Tommy smiles as he walked the streets. Nothing could be better than this, as he walked through his kingdom.

His kingdom.

The sun was setting, he had his three brothers and his best friend with him. It was all perfect.

Until it wasn't.

Techno heard it before he saw it, clicking of a crossbow.

Phil was none the wiser.

Tommy saw it as he looked to his right, freezing in place. A man dressed in a black robe, Gods knows how he managed to sneak that crossbow in here, Gods knows how no one noticed it, but oh Gods, he was staring right down at a bolt-

If only anyone had reacted like Wilbur did.

Wilbur gripped Tommy's shoulder, pushing the newfound king out of the way, sending him and the crown tumbling onto the floor, just as he heard the trigger click-

Pain blossomed in his neck, and he crumpled to the floor.

Everyone was silent for a minute before it was truly registered what was happening. Screams erupted around Tommy, and he scrabbled to his knees as he scrambled to Wilbur, clutching his brother.

"Wil? Wil, hey- Oh fuck- Wil?!"

It was not particularly bloody, but that didn't make Tommy feel any better as his brother writhed in his arms, eyes blown wide open and glassy with tears as he tried to gasp for air. A small trickle of the red liquid slipped down Wilbur's neck. Tommy didn't register when Techno started barking commands, when Phil started shrieking and sobbing, when Wilbur started shaking. Wilbur grasped at his tight vest as well as he could, panicked and horrified, choking on blood and tears. Tommy was quickly yanked away from his baby brother-

"Wait, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"Come on, we have to go-"

Tommy barely remembers arms pulling him back, there are screams and shrieks around him, but he remembers Tubbo whispering in his ear. The only thing keeping him grounded.

"Come on, Toms, we have to go back in- He'll be fine, I know he will-"

Tommy wasn't listening.

He remembered Techno dragging Phil away, kicking and screaming.

He remembered guards forming a tight circle around his brother, obscuring his view.

He remembered Tubbo talking.

He remembered stumbling back to their palace.

He remembered gates closing.

He remembered Wilbur being rushed away.

The crown lay forgotten on the concrete streets.

The freesias lay trampled on stone stairs.

Tommy didn't want to do this.

Was it stress? Was it cowardice? Was it... selfishness? Selflessness?

He didn't know. He didn't even care, frankly.

What he did care for, though, was the cost of his staying.

That man was aiming at him for a reason. He was supposed to die today, yet Wilbur, selfless, selfless Wilbur, had taken the bullet for him, even if it cost him his own life.

Phil had been quickly put to bed after the entire... ordeal, the ten-year-old having screamed and cried his little throat raw until he could no longer keep his eyes open. Techno had stayed in Phil's room that night, devoting himself to keeping guard of the little boy, but he had since fallen asleep. It was just Tommy awake now.

He couldn't sleep. Not now. Not yet.

One piece of paper under Phil's door.

One under Techno's.

One under Tubbo's.

He stopped at Wilbur's.

Wilbur was not there, and he hated it.

He had gotten the news before Phil or Techno would.

Wilbur died, mere hours after he was shot.

It had not been quick in the slightest. The bolt had pierced through his airway and through at least one artery. Wilbur was a dead man the very second he made the decision to push Tommy. The king - well,he supposed he wasn't a king anymore - hadn't shed a single tear, and he hated it. Why could he simply not cry? Sob? Why could he just not be upset? The thought of his younger brother being in so much pain made him sick to the stomach, but he could gauge no emotions. No sorrow. Just regret and disgust.

Regardless, Tommy creaked open a door to an empty room.

He felt his stomach turn to ice, this room that once held so much joy and music and spirit, was now cold and dark and doomed to be empty for months longer.

He took a shaking breath, placing a folded piece of paper on Wilbur's nightstand, uncaring that Wilbur would never get around to reading it.

With that, Tommy took one final glance, as if he was trying to commit every little detail to memory before closing the door. He would not be seeing this room for a long time if he had his way. And the king was a very stubborn man. Except, Tommy was not a king, for kings stayed when their kingdoms needed them.

Come morning, Tommy was gone, leaving only four notes as a clue to his whereabouts.

Tubbo wept onto his, staining the paper and smearing the ink, and making the paper unreadable.

Techno burnt his in the fireplace, and if he could, he would burn the ashes again, and he would burn those ashes as well.

Phil ripped his in half, yet still kept both torn pieces.

Wilbur's remained untouched.

It was never opened, not until the day that they died.

Chapter Text

To say that Techno was pissed would be an understatement.

"Twenty whole parties, searching the entire kingdom." He snarled, turning to glare at a deputy. They shrunk under his gaze, but Captain Technoblade did not care.

"Twenty. Parties. And you could not find one person?" The deputy calculated their words carefully. Anything could set Techno off, and there was no one in the entire kingdom who wanted to deal with the aftermath of that.

"With all due respect, sir, the kingdom is large. We could not get a face match for the culprit, either, and finding a single faceless person, it's like searching a haystack for a single needle. There's no telling how long the search could take, and the chances are that we won't even find them." The deputy answered, while she still had the nerve to answer back to the fuming prince.

"I don't give a DAMN how long it takes!" Techno roared suddenly, slamming his hands on the table, and only two of the ten commanders flinched.

"That bastard killed my brother - no, let me rephrase that. They killed your prince." His eyes sparked dangerously as he glared around the table. "I don't give a shit what you have to do. I do not care how long it takes, I do not care how many men it takes, you will search every inch of this kingdom. Am. I. Clear?" 

Red eyes scanned the table for anyone who might dare to defy him, preparing to go on a tirade of spite and anger and misery, but none. Every single person around that table was stiff, some nodding, while others were too scared to even move. Techno coughed, standing up straight, nodding. "Good. Back to your duties." He watched as each person around that table filed out, not wasting a single second, and Techno supposed that he could not blame them. He certainly had not been the best to be around, especially not since...

Techno huffed, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down. He slumped in his seat, something he would never do during a meeting. He was alone now, though, so it certainly wouldn't hurt anyone.

The pinkette's mind wandered. He didn't know what the hell he was doing. Grimacing, Techno tapped his hands on the oak table in front of him.

Barely a week had passed. A week. There had been no news on what would be happening in terms of the heir. Techno was thankful for that.

Techno could not believe it had barely been a week. It feels so fresh, so new, so raw to even think about; yet it felt so old, so distant like it was an old memory that he didn't want to remember.

He would never forget the moment that he looked into Wilbur's brown eyes, and saw them blown wide open, glossy with pure fear and strife.

The captain swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He could not cry. He simply couldn't. He was the oldest, right? It was not for him to throw a fit about.

Gods, Techno wished he could shield Phil. He wished he could whisk his baby brother away to some far-off land, away from all the pain and betrayal and loss. Perhaps a much more peaceful life. 

He and Phil always used to play at being normal people. Of course, they never hated their lives, at least not back then. It was rather silly, now that he looked back at it. They used to play at being average civilians, just people in a far-off countryside, one constantly cloaked in gentle layers of snow. They had two small houses, linked with a bridge, surrounded by spruce trees. Phil would always claim that the 'forest' was magical, and would protect them from bad guys with a magical cloaking spell.

What Techno would not do for a cloaking spell to protect Phil right now.

There were a good few memories that Techno could live without.

One of them was having to be there are Phil was told the news.

The young boy had woken up less than an hour ago, Techno at his side, as they asked for the status of Wilbur. Both boys were already numbed and angry, dried tear tracks on Phil's face.

Techno remembered being told, very clearly. The words escape him, but he knows for a fact that he stiffened. He did not cry. He looked down at Phil, and the poor boy did not understand. His head cocked to the side, blinking in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Techno would trade everything he owned to forget the moment that Phil realized.

He would do anything to forget the way that Phil froze, the way his breath hitched, the way his voice wavered as he asked if it was true, he would trade any life, his own, maybe even T-

Techno grunted, shaking his head. 

He should stop before his thoughts get... too unfriendly.

He flinched as the door creaked open, hand automatically reaching for his blade, when-

"Hey, Blade."

Oh. It was just Tubbo.

"Hi." He halfheartedly greeted the teen, relaxing his arm and placing it back on the table.

"Weird Gods Guy told me to come and grab you, big man." Tubbo leaned against the doorway. He was wearing the typical Empire servant attire - just a fancy semi-suit, nothing too fancy - yet he clearly had scrubbed and scrubbed to get stains out, which proved a failed effort as they were still visible. The boy's fluffy brown hair was scruffy as ever, and there were clear bags under his eyes. Despite all of this, the boy still managed to crack a smile and make a joke. 

Techno truly envied Tubbo.

"'Weird Gods Guy'? You mean... Do you mean the priest?"

"Yeah, that guy!" Tubbo nodded, standing up straight, only to rock back on the balls of his feet. "He seems properly pissed, though."

"Well, that's the priest for you, he's always grumpy about one thing or another." Techno snorted as he stood up. Tubbo chuckled. "Yeah, one time he got pissy because I was eating an apple. It wasn't like I was littering, either! There was a bin right next to me, I was going to throw it away!" The servant boy reached his arms over his head, stretching with a little pop, before spinning on his heel. "Alright, I'll lead the way!"

The duo took a slow walk through the palace. "You don't exactly have to escort me there, y'know." Tubbo turned to him, grinning. "I know, but I like spending time with you, even if you're not exactly a talker!" The brunette did finger guns.

Tubbo did have a point. For all the years that Tubbo had worked here, and all the years that Techno had been raised here, they had not had a single meaningful conversation. Their interactions would frequently result in Techno simply listening (he was much better at giving commands and listening than he was talking) while Tubbo would always manage to fill the silence with jokes, or random thoughts that would come to mind.

It seemed that it would not work that way this time, though, because Tubbo was not rattling off any thought. Instead, he was staring at him with curiosity, and if that was pity, Techno was going to punch Tubbo in the face.

"So, how have you been, big man?" 

it fell to silence, Techno biting his lip, the only sound being the soft thuds of their footstep and gentle clanking of Techno's sword against his armor.

"How do you think?" He said after a minute, causing Tubbo's face to darken.

"I know, but sometimes it's better if you say how you feel, even if it's already a bit obvious."

Techno huffed in amusement. "When did you become a therapist? Also, you should ask yourself the same question. He may have been my brother, but he was your friend."

Tubbo blinked, a small smile crossing his features. "I'm... I'll just assume you're talking about Tommy." A halfhearted grunt proved him right. "Well, he... I know this might seem weird, but I still consider him my best friend."

"Go on."

"He... I know he left for a reason, there's no way he would have just... abandoned us for no reason."

Techno couldn't agree.

"He left Phil, you, and me to grieve alone when we all just needed to be a family. I don't care for his reasoning, to be honest. If I saw him again, I think I'd punch him."

Tubbo's face hardened, gaze fixed to the floor. "Technoblade, I know you're upset, and you pretty much have every right to be, but don't forget that whatever you're going through, Tommy is probably going through that as well. Alone. Wilbur was his brother as well."

Conversation dwindled to an awkward halt as the sun glared through large windows. How was it this sunny outside? How was the world smiling? How could the world grin and smile down at them as they grieved?

"Sorry, sorry, I... fuck, I shouldn't have said that. You have every right to be pissed off with him, big man. Guess I'm a little pissed off as well, shouldn't have, y'know, lashed out and all that." Tubbo hunched his shoulders as Techno sighed softly

"It's fine. Gods know I've been doing that too." 

Tubbo turned back to smile at him, and Techno managed a half smile back. "Guess we both have some shit to sort through, huh, big man?"

The prince nodded, and the duo fell back into silence, but this time it was comfortable.

"Welp, we're here." Tubbo gestured to the door in front of them, leading to the great hall. "Gods Guy said he didn't want me in here with you two so, I'm gonna bounce. Good luck!" Tubbo patted Techno on the shoulder, having to reach up quite a bit, before happily walking down the hall to do whatever other duties he needed to do.

Techno turned back to the great oak doors in front of him, before taking a breath and pushing them open. 

There, he saw Phil, sitting on one of the thrones, obviously bored out of his mind. The 10-year-old looked up at him briefly, eyes dark, before turning back down to tracing the swirls and patterns carved into the throne's arm. 

The priest stood in front of him, turning to face Techno at his entrance.

"Sir." The priest nodded his head in respect, and Techno felt his heart clench. "We have come to an agreement in regards to the heir."

Techno took one shaky breath, and then another, before walking to take his place, standing to the right of the throne, resisting the urge to run a hand through Phil's soft hair.

The princes looked towards their priest expectantly. "Well?" Phil questioned, drawing his legs up on the throne, and gods if that didn't make him look smaller than he already did. A stern stare from the priest made him almost instantly take his feet off the throne, though.

"Well, the council has made their decision."

Techno glanced down at Phil, but his body language gave nothing away. Techno wished he could curl up right now. He didn't want to be king. He thought he was going to drop dead, with how his heart was clenching in his chest.

"We have decided that Prince Technoblade shall not be the next ruler."

The wave of relief that washed over Techno felt like heaven, and he thanked every God he could think of for that. He always knew he was never cut out for being a king. Perhaps it was the talking, maybe it was the fact that everyone seemed to worship you, Techno didn't know. All that he knew is that he was happy to just work for the guard. 

However, it was now that Techno realized one thing.

"Wait, hold on. If I am not to be the next ruler, then who is?" 

Phil finally looked up, and went stiff as he realised the priest was looking directly at him.

"Prince Philza will be the next ruler."

Techno launched into an objection, "What?! He turned ten less than two months ago! You can not do that! He is just a child!" Phil's wings puffed up around him, forming an almost shield, and Techno's heart broke.

"The scriptures state that the heir must be of blood." The priest stated blankly, staring through Techno. The piglin hybrid grunted. "Oh, of blood, my ass!"

Techno could do nothing about this. The priest's word was final.

At the age of merely ten, Phil was to be king, and Techno felt sick.

"Why can we not wait until he turns eighteen, at least?" Techno would at least bargain for time. 

"Prince Technoblade, the kingdom simply can not wait that long."

"They waited a year for Tommy." Phil whispered out, but everyone heard him.

The priest sighed, more annoyed than anything. "There are no ifs or buts about it. Philza will be king, whether either of you wants it or not."

Techno decided from there that he hated the priest.

As the oldest prince looked back at his brother, his heart shattered. Phil looked so tiny, so fragile, and all Techno wanted to do was whisk him away from this cruel reality. He was still but a child, he should not have to worry about an entire kingdom. The boy should be living his life, playing pretend, whatever else! Anything other than this!

"The coronation will be within the next fortnight."

The priest turned to leave, and Techno scowled behind his back. He muttered an awful sentence and then turned back to face his brother.

"Phil-"

The boy burst into tears, reaching out to him, and Techno ran in, scooping his baby brother into his arms. 

"I don't want this!" The blonde boy sobbed into Techno's arms, and the elder could do no more than hush him and rub his back comfortingly.

He was still just a child.

Chapter Text

Technoblade knew anger.

He had three brothers - four if you counted Tubbo. Of course, he knew anger.

Techno knew anger from when Wilbur would spit poison at him, yelling and biting in one of their silly arguments.

He knew anger from when he would shout at Phil for taking one of his possessions without asking and carelessly breaking it.

He knew anger from when He and Tubbo would play a joke that went a little too far.

However, what he was feeling now was a little more than anger.

Anger was a puddle, no, actually, anger was a river, a stream that narrows only to widen yards later, home to little creatures, regret, sadness and guilt, never a lot, but enough to make tiny splashes and ripples in the flowing water. Anger was small pebbles and dirt being kicked up by the force of the water rushing through, it was him and his brothers throwing little twigs in from a bridge, only to race to the other side and see who's twig - identifiable only from an extra leaf or a few branches protruding off of it - would be the first to pass under them. It was him and his brothers playfully fighting as their parents watched from afar, it was when He would get a little too rough and push Wilbur a little too hard, causing the younger to fall and land with a splash into icy cold water. It was their parents rushing over in concern, ready to console their second son, it was the giggles of a sopping wet child as he stood up shakily, laughing and shaking his hair out, only to drag Him in as well. It was Them laughing as He playfully punched Wilbur, as Techno and Phil watched from the sidelines, not really ones for getting wet, but still being able to laugh along.

This wasn't that.

No, this was an ocean. This was a storm like no other, pitch black clouds descending upon their small boat, lightning being their only light as bright flashed showed the way for precious seconds, their deck slippery and unstable with each step Techno took. This was the boat listing over too far to one side. This was Wilbur grasping for dear life to something, anything, but not finding anything, and getting thrown into the deep, black water below, and gone as soon as they could blink. This was Phil and Techno screaming, and Him taking the only lifeboat there, turning to stare at them one last time, blonde hair flattened against His head, His sky blue eyes full of nothing. So much nothing. This was Techno reaching down as Phil lost his footing, barely grasping onto his small hand. This was Phil's black, inky wings flapping desperately, hoping to boost him up to safety, up to the warmth of Techno's embrace, and this was a wave a little bigger than the others knocking Techno just far enough off balance for the pair of them to fall into the dark water, arms wrapped tightly around Phil's shaking form, this was Techno catching one last glimpse of Him, growing smaller and smaller, no longer looking back at them and leaving them for dead before he hit ice water.

So yeah. Techno was livid.

He was livid as he watched Phil hunched over some book - he didn't know what it was about, and he doubted Phil did either. Did it matter? 

His brother looked so tired, so exhausted. His legs barely reached the floor from his chair, light barely filtering in from the glass windows, the early hours giving an orange glow. Phil should not have had to be up at this time.

"And what is one little birdie doing up at this time?" Techno grunted, armor clinking gently as he approached his brother's small form, tilting his head as he looked over Phil's shoulder at the page. Some history books. He saw Phil's wings twitch as he groaned. 

"Some advisers told me I should read up on some history, some Do's-and-Dont's, they said." Phil's voice was barely above a whisper, and he swung his leg gently as he turned a page. 

Techno blinked, before recognizing the tension in Phil's shoulders. He reached out one gloved hand, placing it awkwardly on Phil's shoulder.

"You're worried."

"No fucking shit."

The elder prince frowned, grunting. "Language. You're ten."

"Suck a dick. I'm going to be king anyway, I might as well not be ten."

That explained it. Less than three days to the planned coronation date, Phil was already planning on throwing away his childhood.

"Absolutely not." Techno grabbed onto the back of Phil's collar, the young boy chirping in surprise as Techno lifted him out of the chair, and planted the boy on the ground.

"Do I even weigh anything to you?" Phil looked up and crossed his arms, he was frowning, but Techno easily saw the glint of amusement in his eyes.

"No. It's like holding a couple of grapes." Techno snorted, crossing his arms right back at the much shorter boy. "Anyway, Philza Minecraft, we have somewhere to go." With that, Techno dragged Phil by the arm, ignoring his squawks of protest, and pulled him out of the room.

"What the fuck."

"Language." Techno reprimanded gently, before shaking the toy gently. "Look, it's your best friend!"

What Techno was referring to as Phil's best friend, was a stuffed crow that Phil barely remembered owning.

"Techno. I'm ten. Not three." Phil deadpanned, staring at the little toy. He remembered it, alright, but it hadn't exactly been his first priority since everything. He honestly thought it was gone by now.

Techno rolled his eyes and shook the toy again. "C'mon, it doesn't matter! He's still your friend!" Then, as if Techno couldn't get any more embarrassing, he raised his pitch just a little bit, and said in the most ridiculous voice he could, "Hi, Phil! It's me! Brian!"

Despite the slight embarrassment Phil could feel in his chest, the ridiculousness of Techno's usually deep voice being a few octaves higher overpowered it enough for him to giggle and take the little crow toy from Techno's hand. 

Techno seemed satisfied by this, before digging back through the box, only to pull out a polar bear toy. "And here's Steve!" Another dive back in providing a little, wooden white horse. "Oh, I thought we lost this ages ago! Phil, it's Carl!" he exclaimed, tucking the polar bear under his left arm, and inspecting Carl's white exterior. 

"Is that all?" Phil asked, turning Brian in his hands curiously. The toy had lost an eye in its time out of Phil's care. Maybe he could repair it.

Techno grinned deviously, showing his two sharp tusks, and nodded. 

"Where to?"

"The gardens, of course!" Techno announced, once again dragging Phil through the halls. 

"Wait- The Arctic Commune?"

"Yep."

Phil spluttered, "What? We haven't played that game in years! I'm not six anymore, that won't work!"

"No harm in visiting, right? Plus, someone needs to feed the animals, don't they, hm?" There was a glint in Techno's eyes as he spoke, looking back at his brother, and he knew he had won when he saw the childlike joy in Phil's eye.

"Fine! Just for a bit!" Phil laughed, no longer needing to be dragged on his feet as he now went much more willingly.

They didn't get far.

"What on earth are you two doing?"

The duo froze, slowly turning around to face the priest. He stood there, frowning in a way that Techno thought made him look a little like a troll. He may be biased, however.

"We were going to the gardens." Phil answered quietly, attempting to hide Brian behind his back, but no such luck.

"The gardens? I recall asking you to study, prince Philza. Not to parade around with childish toys." The priest raised a brow, reaching a hand outwards. "Hand it here."

"Woah, hold on, you have no right!" Techno exclaimed, gripping Steve and Carl just a little bit tighter. The priest fixed him with a strong glare. 

"Actually, I do. Until the coronation, I am, legally, your guardian. So I do have such a right." He looked back down at the smaller boy in front of him, who in turn looked down guiltily and turned over Brian.

"You can not just take that from him." Techno snarled angrily, daring to push forwards a bit. "Give it back."

"He's going to be king in three days! He can't just march around with these childish endeavors!"

"He is a child!"

Phil whined between the duo, covering his ears with his hands, but no one paid attention to him.

"You are a terrible influence. I do not want to see you anywhere near Phil until after the coronation. Now put those toys back where you found them and fulfill your duties! You are a prince, so act like it." The priest spat before placing a firm hand on Phil's shoulder. "Come along, Phil." He commanded, still holding Brian in his other hand as he quickly guided Phil back down the hallway. Phil looked back sadly before he was herded back through a great oak door, and Techno stood as it slammed closed.

Techno was left standing in the hallway, clutching a polar bear toy and a wooden horse, just big enough for him to hold.

Techno was fourteen, and yet he felt no older than the day he was first brought into the palace.

Techno did not see Phil until the coronation.

The boy looked so small walking down the church's aisle. It was oh so similar, the blonde hair that had been wrestled with a comb, the blue eyes that were full of fear. 

Phil walked forwards, eyes to the ground, hands folded neatly behind his back.

Tubbo trailed once again, smiling softly, yet a bit more watchful than before. 

It felt like forever before they reached the front of the church, but Tubbo brushed his hand against Phil's, smiling comfortably before he had to take his place up front again, once again standing above the kingdom, but this time, on the opposite side of Techno.

One, two, three steps, and he was in the exact same spot He was in not two weeks ago.

It was all the same, the audience standing, the music that was slowly fading out, the look of comfort from Tubbo, and a small smile from Techno.

The priest looked down on him, and Phil felt so much smaller.

"Sir, is your Highness willing to take the Oath?"

The voice of the older man boomed through the church, and Phil wanted to lift his head and announce with pride that he was willing more than anything.

"I am." 

Instead, what came out was little above a whisper, and it was wobbly with tears that he had yet to shed and the lump in his throat.

"Will you solemnly promise to govern and reign the Somnolentus Empire, and to do all within your power to defend its inhabitants from the forces of evil?"

"I do."

"Do you promise, here, in the view of the Gods above, to uphold the laws of the Gods? Will you promise to practice discipline, government, and worship accordingly?"

"I promise."

Gods, He was so much better with his vows than himself.

Once again, the priest turned to the altar, lifting the pillow and holding it down to him. It felt so intimidating, the way the priest was standing slightly above him, was this how He felt?

Phil sucked in one breath and awkwardly picked up the scepter and orb. He swore he could have felt His hands on his own, telling him, "Steady, now, bird boy, don't drop it". He puffed out his chest a bit, turning to look upon his soon-to-be subjects, and he almost fell over from the sheer realization.

Holy shit, he was becoming king as they speak.

He barely noticed the weight of a crown that was almost too big on his head.

"It gives me the greatest honor to present, King Philza of the Somnolentus Empire!"

Once more, the room burst into applause, but somehow, it did not seem as lively as it was weeks before. The room was full of smiles, but they were sad, and pitiful.

What would He do if He were here?

Walking through the town was depressing.

There were many more guards this time around, Phil was surrounded on all sides, his brother right in front of him. Directly behind him was Tubbo, who Phil would sometimes lock eyes with before their moment was broken. Techno's eyes flitted nervously around the town, glancing at every single person at the sides of the roads.

He made it to the end of the path with no trouble, which was further than He had gotten. He was in new territory now.

The old Captain presented Phil with his flowers of choice, a bush of pink gardenia.

Techno ended up having to help dig the hole, Phil was too shaky to properly use the shovel he was provided.

The winged boy planted the bush in the ground, and covered the hole back in, patting it down firmly. His addition to the garden blended in quite nicely with all the pale yellows and whites and pinks.

The applause of the crowd seemed so unnecessary, so undeserved, and Phil just turned around, hoping to just proceed back to his room.

But just as he was about to step down from the garden, Technoblade awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Before we conclude this, I... I wish to make an oath."

Phil whipped around in alarm.

Oaths were binding.

Techno turned to his younger brother, stood just to his right, and held out one hand to take Phil's smaller, softer one in his own.

"I, Technoblade, do swear that I will well and truly serve you, and do right by you."

Techno then dropped to his knee, pink hair falling in front of his face that he did not bother to fix.

"I do swear to protect you, and keep you safe from all harm that may come."

Phil's eyes brimmed with tears as Techno smiled up at him.

"I will do right to all manner of people after the laws and usages of this realm, without fear or favor, affection or ill-will. May the Gods help me with this."

With this, Techno bowed his head once more, and lead Phil's hand to his lips, kissing it, making Phil giggle nervously. 

The crowd seemed to love this, and applause more deserved erupted once more. Techno stood at this, letting Phil's hand go and bowing instead, and then fixing the crown on Phil's head that was a little bit askew.

"For you, the world, my king."

And with that, the duo turned back, and began the walk all the way up to the castle once more, Tubbo trailing behind, followed by the entirety of the guard.

Phil had been dreading it since he was first told weeks ago, but it was a little easier with his brother here.

Maybe...

It would be a little better if He and Wilbur were here to see him now.

His last thoughts as the gates closed behind him on his kingdom, his new subjects, the smiling faces of the people he was meant to lead?

Would Wilbur and Tommy be proud of him?

Chapter Text

Just over twenty-four hours into his reign, Phil stared up at the painting that he had spent so much of his childhood staring at with wonder and pondered on why not he felt such despair looking at it.

It was not an emotion he could easily describe. He just knew that he didn't like it.

The painting was not bad by any means. No, it was amazing. It was hard to tell that it was even a painting! Their parents had wanted the best - but not because they were conceited. Perhaps they knew that one day that was all they would be to their children. A painting on the wall. Perhaps that was why they insisted on such a finely detailed artwork. Was it so he could remember their faces? How could they think he would ever forget? He was too young to remember most of the process of the portrait's creation, but he'd been told that he'd squirmed and cried for Techno for the many hours that they had to sit still. You never did like cuddling unless it was Techno, I always knew he was your favourite brother , Wilbur once told him with a laugh on a stormy night, when the four brothers were staying up well past their bedtimes, in a moment that felt very nearby and yet a hundred years away. Wouldn't even let me hold you when you were a baby, you had cried so loudly!

Phil wishes he had let Wilbur hug him more, now.

Still, the king with a crown bigger than himself could not explain why seeing it felt him with such... grief? Anger? Despair? What was it? He couldn't quite name it, but he didn't like it.

Perhaps it was that Wilbur looked so happy, so carefree, and so pleased with the life he had, so blissfully unaware of the terrible fate that would await them. So unaware of the betrayal, the anger, and the loss.

Perhaps it was the way his mother seemed weaker. She smiled and held onto her family, yet her eyes held a dullness that he could never have noticed at his young age at the time, and the way her skin was just a little too pale made him feel sick. Perhaps it was that the painting was too life-like, the way it managed to frame his mother's illness, his father's concern, and Wilbur's happiness and naivety.  

Or perhaps it was within the fact that Phil was noticing for the first time just how much he looked like Him.  

The same blue eyes and blonde hair, the only difference is that His hair was bolder, more bright and boisterous as it bounded off into almost every direction, while Phil's hair seemed sad and dull, flattening against his head in a droopy, sad fashion. Phil's black wings twitched against his back as he stared into the face of someone too much like himself.

He had the eyes and hair of a traitor.

"Phil?"

The boy flinched, but when he realised it was only Tubbo, he let his feathers flatten again. "Good morning, Tubbo."

"What are you doing, big man? You've been staring at that picture for a while now, is everything alright?"

Phil turned his head and stared. What sort of question was that?

"Right. Yeah. Sorry," Tubbo nodded hastily, wringing his hands together. The servant boy was just over seven years older than Phil, and yet he was only a little bit taller. An inch or two, at the very least. It was rather bizarre, the idea that Phil could possibly overtake him at some point. The king who had been crowned far before his time had known Tubbo since the day he had been born and he had always considered the older boy as an authority figure of sorts. He was only slightly ashamed to say his relationship with Tubbo was not quite that of an older brother, but it was something close enough in concept.  

The duo fell into silence. For Phil, this was fine. He was thinking, anyway. For Tubbo, this was uncomfortable and tense. He wrung his hands together as well, wishing he had some little jobs to do to pass the time until the night. He coughed awkwardly and finally found the nerve to ask the question which even lead him to seek out their new king.  

"Well, I came here to ask if you needed anything done?" That wasn't even a lie. Tubbo just knew he was thinking too much. Thinking lead to doubt. Doubt lead to guilt. And guilt was no good in this situation. He was always better at doing, not saying. "I already asked Techno, but he didn't want anything done for him and he cussed me out, so I thought I'd ask the big man himself."

Phil considered Tubbo for a brief moment, a silence that could have stretched infinitely. It was true that Techno had been a little irritable. But that was just how Techno had always been. A short fuse, in most cases.

  However, he could not name anything that he needed to do right at that instant. Most of the chores had been taken care of, no doubt some of which by Tubbo himself. So, what on earth could he get Tubbo to do?

As the young king pondered this, his eyes slowly glanced over the painting that was taller than he was.

He squinted at the portrait.

"Well, I can't think of anything off the top of my head, Tubbo-"

"Oh, that's fine! I was just curious, y'know?" Tubbo rocked back on his heels as he grinned nervously. "I just wanted to know, no big deal!"

Tubbo followed the king's gaze.  

"I mean, you really want to do something for me, Tubbo?"

"...I mean, within reason, obviously. I say this as a friend and as someone who has known you since birth; I am not going to hide any dead bodies for you, big man, king or not."

"Take down the painting."

...

"Pardon?"

Phil turned to stare at Tubbo, and the servant boy felt chills. Two shades of blue met, and Tubbo could find no emotion behind his decision. Phil was staring at him like he was about to deliver a murderer's death sentence.

"Take it down. I don't care what you do with it. Keep it in your quarters, put it in storage, burn it, for all I care. Just take it down and order a new one to be painted."

"What? Why? I'm not trying to be rude here, I just genuinely don't understand," Tubbo asked, tilting his head. Phil's brows furrowed. "Why take it down? It's... It’s a nice portrait."

The fact that it was the last remaining remnant of their old rules aside from the crown that adorned Phil’s head the previous day laid unspoken.

Phil blinked, and then cast his forlorn glare back to the painting.   

"I can't stand to look at him."  

With that, the young king turned away from both Tubbo and the cursed portrait, stalking off down a hallway bathed in the deep orange glow of the sun setting over distant hills, and Tubbo was left alone with a picture of a family that was lost.

So, Tubbo did as he was ordered, as he always did, and always would until he died.

He took the picture down, and stored it in some old cobweb-ridden room somewhere with a small crow plush that was missing an eye, a polar bear toy and a wooden horse barely big enough to fit in the palm of a fourteen-year-old and immediately set about scheduling a new portrait to be painted.

It didn't look right.

Once again, it was not to say that it was a bad painting. It was relatively simple; the king sat on his throne, the general standing beside him, one hand placed on the king's right shoulder, and their servant boy, standing dutifully to the king's left. Each brush stroke defined the wrinkles in the young general's frown, the misery in the king's ocean blue eyes, the furtive sorrow in the servant's eyes when one looked too closely. To anyone else, it would look like a normal painting. It hung in a golden-brown frame, the throne room in place of the previous one. Tubbo did not like to look at it.   

Phil and Techno did, however, for now, it was a painting. A painting free of traitors and ghosts.

It was only after he had ordered the painting be made and hung up that he realised something.

I can't stand to look at him.  

Tubbo never quite found out whether the boy meant Wilbur or Tommy.

“I can’t believe you’re actually fucking here!”

"...Oh my god... I'm not dreaming, am I? You are here, aren't you?"

"What- Holy fuck, Tubbo! I'm real- I- holy shit, I missed you so much!"

"I need to go, Tubs."

"...Why? Why can't you stay, boss man?"

"...It's not for you to worry about. I'll be back soon."

"Fine."

Days seemed to bleed into years. 

The prince who was crowned before his time was something of a fairytale, a story often told to the young toddlers who were born within the next seven years. Whispers would fill the markets every now and then whenever someone would mention the royal family, and then it would fall silent, like a blanket of despair and pity for the youngest child draped over the kingdom.

By this point, the royal family barely made appearances. Except within the first year of the reign of King Philza, there were few instances where the king in question would be seen. Citizens who got the chance to actually interact bowed clumsily, unsure of how to properly be physically below a child of only a few feet in height. However, he did not grow in height as he got older as much as he did in mind, now a boy bordering on adulthood. Not a single person ever missed the sadness glowering in his eyes as he smiled and conversed, for that was only proper of him, wasn’t it?

He was never seen without Prince Technoblade, who had grown from a scrawny fourteen-year-old to a tall, broad man of nineteen who could best any soldier who dared defy him. He was often seen three steps behind and two steps to the right of Phil, head darting around, red eyes staring at anyone who was talking to the young king, a warning to watch what they would say next. A warning to stay metres away. A warning to keep their hands open and clearly in view.

Perhaps their servant boy, Tubbo, no longer a boy barely reaching into adulthood, but an adult of twenty-four - that number was so harsh to anyone, much more when it was in regards to him - was the one who made the most appearances. Perhaps he was the one to inspire happiness in the kingdom, what with the way he seemed to dance around the ballrooms and great halls of whatever upper-class assembly they were at that day or evening, what with how he seemed to charm every single person he came across. Not a single person who had met Tubbo felt downcast by the end of their conversation. That was fine, Tubbo thought, it was easy to hide the pain hiding behind his smile, as long as the people were happy. Wasn’t that what mattered at the end?

However, it was very hard to hide the exhaustion lingering in his sad, blue eyes. 

Many rumours spread around the reasoning behind their absence. Some had said that the eldest prince and captain of the guard had become increasingly hostile, apparently abusing his brothers and forcing them to stay in the castle. Some had said that the king had fallen ill, and the castle was closed off to prevent the spread. Some had even said that the servant boy had attempted to poison the king and captain over dinner and was being held in the prison cells right at that moment. 

These silly rumours seemed to just be ways to entertain themselves. “Where is the king?”, they would ask. “Is he well?”, they would say in conversation.

Though, not many people ever thought that the reason for the royal family’s lack of show was for safety rather than grief.

Chapter Text

Unto his Majesty, King Jay-Schlatt of the Aries Empire.

King Philza and Royal Captain Technoblade send greetings from the Somnolentus Empire.

We have received reports of a large gathering of your soldiers rather close to our borders.

As a result of these reports, we are inclined to ask; Is this to be deemed a threat to the safety of our kingdom?

If it is not, we shall have no issues in dismissing this letter as nothing more than a misunderstanding of your intentions.

We ask that you respond by giving your parchment to the crow that delivered this letter to you. He will know where to go.

We have the honor to be your obedient servants.

Yours faithfully,

King Philza

Royal Captain Technoblade

Techno thought Phil was a little like a grounded baby bird.

Of course, the boy-turned-king had grown over the years, he was no longer a child, nor was Technoblade himself. 

But as he watched as Phil leaned against the balcony, the gentle breeze blowing his hair that had grown longer over the years as he frowned, wearing a tight, dark green tunic and with his black wings spread open wide as to catch the breeze, he could not help but feel remorse.

He wondered what Phil would look like if he flew. He liked to think it would be the most divine spectacle if it were to happen. However unlikely that was.

It was likely that Phil would never fly.

Baby birds couldn’t fly without their parent's example. Much like a young human could not learn to walk without assistance from their parents, and much like how baby deer struggled to stand properly without proper support. Their father could teach them to walk, not to soar. Their mother was too ill to teach Phil. Avians weren’t exactly common due to… certain variables.

If it were up to Technoblade, he would freeze this moment, capture it in a canvas of oil paints, and he would frame it on the wall. He would do anything to preserve this moment, the way the light shone down upon his king, his brother, as he stared off into the nearby distance with his hair tousling. Techno could almost pretend that Phil's lips weren't strung into a straight line with worry, his gaze shifted towards their borders in the far distance.

"Sir."

And the moment was gone.

His king flinched, his wings snapping shut with a barely stifled yelp. Just with one word, Phil's entire relaxed persona was gone, his posture snapping straight and head held up.

"Captain. Have we received word?"

He despised it when Phil called him Captain, acting as if he was simply a soldier when they were brothers, but all anger he may have held melted away as the king turned his head towards him, gazing at him over his shoulder. The ghost of a smile etched upon his lips.

Oh, how he hated to break that.

"Yes, we have. The crow returned less than a half hour ago."

Phil's brows furrowed again. "And it's not the good news of their intentions," the king stated, all traces of happiness stolen away from his expression. It was not a question, but a statement. "Am I correct?" He asked for good measure.

"I'm afraid so." Techno nodded. "He refuses to withdraw his troops. I fear an invasion is afoot. I suggest we rally the soldiers and prepare ourselves for conflict." Of course, Techno would rather do anything else. But in a situation such as this, what more could be done?

Phil's head snapped towards him at this, and he spun around to face the captain. "We will do no such thing." Ocean blue eyes glared at him with the finality of an obsidian wall. The king stood rigid, his wings flaring behind him, and as the sun framed the sixteen-year-old boy with a golden outline behind him, Techno felt his breath hitch for a moment. 

"We have to at least try to reason. If we jump immediately to senseless violence, what shall other nations think of us?" Phil's head tilted, making him look even more bird-like. "That we attack upon first threat? That we do not even give an attempt to a concord before ceaselessly jumping to the sword? War helps no one, Captain Technoblade." He had slowly approached the captain and was now staring up at him. Being a head shorter than the pink-haired nether-born boy, he had to crane his neck backward a fair bit, but somehow the cold stare within his eyes was enough to make Technoblade sweat.

"We, of all people, should know that after what happened to father."

Techno's blood went cold, and he nodded, his throat suddenly too dry to respond verbally, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

Phil blinked and then stepped back. He turned back towards the sun in the distance and sighed.

"I will draft a response to this letter once I have read it. Please have it in my study. I will be there shortly." 

That was a dismissal if Technoblade had ever heard it, and he bowed his head. "Of course, your highness."

He did not intend for it to come out as sharply as it sounded, and never did he intend for Phil to stiffen and his breath to hitch in response, yet venom seeped into his words at the dismissal as if he were no more than castle staff from the streets.

Without waiting for a reply, Techno turned and went to do the command of a king too small for his crown, and ignored the bitter dread coiling in his stomach.

King Philza and Captain Technoblade,

I am not His Royal Majesty, Jay-Schlatt, sadly. I am his son, Prince Dream of the Aries Empire.

I am writing this in his stead as he is occupied.

It is my sincere duty to report that we shall not be withdrawing our troops from your borders.

Sending my regards and best wishes,

Prince Dream of the Aries Empire.

One would think the king's office would have some level of warmth and light. 

Phil's, however, was very dull, despite it being the room he spent most of his time in. It had one huge window in the north wall, out looking the kingdom from the same angle that the balcony would have given. Aside from that, there was nothing quite majestic or spectacular about that room. It was simply a room with a large desk, and multiple different drawers, all full to the brim of paperwork that Phil had most likely elected to ignore until further notice. Phil would either spend days in this room at a time, or he would simply avoid it. 

However, this was one thing he could not ignore.

So, here he was. Hunched over at his desk with multiple spreads of parchment, he scribbled away, thoughts wandering as he wrote a response to this Prince Dream. He had never heard of this prince, but he had also not heard of the Aries Empire. It would seem things just had a habit of appearing, lately.

For example, the cawing that was happening outside the window.

Phil looked up, and was not alarmed to see a small gathering of crows sitting on the window sill as if waiting for an invitation to enter. 

He sighed, and then clicked his tongue once. "Come on, guys, you can come in."

With that one bit of permission, each crow dropped their patient demeanor, and each started flapping. They swept in, each finding a suitable spot to perch and watch their king work. All in all, there seemed to be about eleven in total. They all cawed and hopped about aimlessly - one poor corvid fledgling that seemed to barely be able to fly by itself got very unlucky and landed in Phil's half-eaten soup from earlier that day. The young crow screamed in response to the unpleasant texture of the cold food, the panicked fluttering of their wings spraying droplets of soup every which way, to the dismay of multiple nearby crows, who each voices their own displeasure.

"Careful, mate." Phil huffed with amusement, grimacing as he reached into the bowl of soup with both hands, pulling the shaking bird out of it. He deposited it on the far right end of the table. The crow tilted its head, looking guilty as it dropped soup all over Phil's desk - and the letter that Phil had been writing.

"I'll clean it later, don't worry. For now, you should go get cleaned up in the bird bath, okay?" Phil smiled, wiping a few splashes of soup off his desk, and grabbing the paper he had been writing on. He crumpled it in his hands, compacting it into a tiny ball, before throwing it a little harshly into the bin beside his desk.

The souped crow cawed again, and flew out of the open window. Others followed his example, most likely wanting to get involved with whatever bird bath-based shenanigans would be unfolding soon. They never did stick around one, their attention span shorter than anything Phil could ever know.

Only one remained, a crow that always seemed a little bigger than the others ones, with a little orange ribbon around his neck.

"Why stress?" The orange-donned crow cawed, fluttering himself up to nest himself in Phil's hair. Once he was comfortable, he began plucking gently at Phil's hair, combing his beak through each individual strand, a meager but welcome comfort.

Phil wasn't sure why he could understand this crow and none of the others. Maybe it was his bird genetics. Maybe he was just crazy. Perhaps it was the bond they shared.

Their story goes a little something like this;

A twelve-year-old boy, with the weight of a kingdom on his back, takes a walk in the gardens.

A crow, who flies wherever he wishes, fails to land safely.

The boy takes the injured crow into the castle, and nurses it back to health.

Weeks later, the boy brings the crow back outside and expects him to fly away.

The crow does.

And then he comes back the next day to perch in Phil's hair, just as he was now.

Phil sighed in contentment at the memory, yet exhaustion lay in his eyes as he looked down at his cluttered desk.

"Peace negotiations, and such. It's hard." Phil shook his head gently as Ian fussed his hair still. "They didn't give us an answer, and I have yet to work out a compromise."

"Be peaceful," the crow cawed, clearly getting bored from its perch on Phil's head as it fluttered down in front of the king. "War kills. Find compromise, fledgling! Compromise!" The crow banged its little head against the jar of ink, pushing it gently towards the stressed king.

Phil smiled, picking up his pen again. "I suppose you'll be staying, then?"

"Yes! I can help!" 

The king let out a chuckle at the way Ian waddled over to the side of his desk, and dragged over a fresh piece of paper to the waiting blonde.

Ian, in fact, did not help write the letter, but he still got some freshly cooked, still warm bread from the kitchen for his journey to the allied soldiers of the Aries Empire by the borders, unaware that he would not see the fledgling again after that moment.

Unto His Royal Highness, Prince Dream of the Aries Empire,

I fail to see where we have provoked such action against our borders.

Unless you have anything else to say that can quell my concerns, we, as an Empire, shall consider this an invasion.

However, it is within my best interest as the representative of our country to avoid conflict.

So, instead I ask; What are your demands?

We shall do what we can to meet them at a compromise, and I hope this skirmish does not escalate further than necessary, for the good of all parties involved.

I have the honor to be your obedient servant,

King Philza

Red was a harsh colour.

It was the colour of strawberries that were perfectly ripe and sweet.

It was the favourite colour of the traitorous king.

It was the colour of Techno's eyes.

It was the colour of the blood staining the letter and the wood of the table in front of them.

Tubbo and Techno waited with bated breath for Phil's next move. Anger or tears, perhaps.

There was nothing.

Phil lifted his head, face level, and stern as he fixed the letter with a death stare. He picked up the bloodstained ribbon, more red than orange now, and he held it as if it were the most precious heirloom in the world.

The bloodstained parchment mocked him as he thought.

"Well. I suppose that answers my question." The king spat, Tubbo wincing and Techno's thousand-yard stare not wavering. Phil turned to the general. "I suppose I should have listened to you." The captain did not respond.

Phil glowered at the show of indifference and instead turned to the servant boy, whose face fell into dread as he saw the expression on the king's face.

"I want you to draft a conscription. All able-bodied citizens over the age of twenty-one are to fight. After my extensive research and... recent news, it's clear their soldiers know what they're doing. We will need everybody." 

Tubbo tried to quell the shaking of his hands as he swallowed.

"We haven't done everything," he protested, shaking his hair out of his eyes as he stammered, "We- We have to do something else! We have to try peace again and again, I know they aren't- I know they aren't listening now, but with due time-!"

"In due time could be months," Techno snarled, whipping his attention to the servant boy. "We may not have months. Hell, we might not even have a week. What else can we do?"

"We haven't tried to properly reason with them!"

"These people can't be reasoned with." Phil snapped, the room feeling cold and bitter as both pairs of eyes went back to him. "You know exactly what they're capable of. Techno, start to prepare the drafts."

"Are you kidding me?! If we know what they're capable of, what chance do we stand to fight?" Tubbo cried, one hand gripping at his hair and tugging as he threatened to boil over in an emotional outrage. "We aren't warriors, Phil! We're barely soldiers! We export fruit and gems!"

"Miners are strong, they should make decent warriors." Techno pointed out.

"That's not the point! The point is, that we're dragging innocent people into a war that doesn't need to be!"

He went ignored as Techno and Phil began to file out. In his frustration, he shouted something he might have lived to regret.

"What the fuck would mother and father think if they saw this?!"

The king and his captain stopped, as if someone had frozen time right there.

"What would Wilbur say?!"

"I suggest you pick your next words very carefully." Techno growled, turning back to face Tubbo with a glare that would cause even the hardest soldier to cower.

Tubbo was not deterred.

"What would they think to see you turning to violence like this? What about To-"

"Don't even say that name!" Techno barked, slamming his hands on the table. All rage seeped out of Tubbo, and he swallowed. He'd really put his foot in his mouth, now.

Techno tilted his head dangerously. "You speak of wanting what's best for the kingdom, yet you still say that traitor's name with such respect and care. He abandoned you, Tubbo. He abandoned all of us when we needed him most!"

"He had his reasons!"

"What reasons could he have?! He left you, he left me, he left Phil! He didn't even show up to Wilbur's funeral!"

"You know that he would have shown up, was he able to!"

"Gods, what do you know? He was my brother!"

"He was my best friend, too!"

The room fell silent, and Tubbo could not help it any longer. He felt his eyes start to burn, and a sob wracked his body as he gripped his hair even tighter.

"I know you don't see me as a brother! I get that, and I know! But he was still my best friend! Your mother and father cared for me when no one else did, and so did he, and so did you, so forgive me for wanting to keep you all from getting hurt! But now mum and dad are gone, and Tommy left, and Wilbur's-" He couldn't even say it, and instead of speaking he just let out a broken sob. "I know he's not my brother and he was yours, but I'm still hurting! You aren't the only ones grieving, y'know?!"

It was then that Tubbo's knees gave out, as if the pressure that had been accumulating over the last six or seven years had only just begun to weigh him down, suddenly all too heavy as he fell forwards. He only just caught the table in time, his arms being the only support as he cried his heart out, sobs that hurt to hear wracking through his body as he finally let his burden be heard for the first time since Tommy left.

"It's just so hard! I know I'm the oldest, and I know you're both just kids, but how can you not see that I love him too?"

Technoblade flinched, and then stared, considering his options. Should he comfort? What could he even say to all of that? In their own grief, they had been neglecting their own brother, and no amount of words could excuse that. Instead, he bowed his head in shame, swallowing down the guilt, and he reached one hand across the table to rest upon Tubbo's.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, unsure if Tubbo even heard him over his tears. "I'm sorry I never saw you were hurting. I should have seen this, and I know you loved him too. It's only natural that you still do. We all love him." His voice was so soft, so smooth as he spoke, and Tubbo looked up at him with watery eyes.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be- I'm such a mess and I- I need to prepare the drafts, and-"

Both boys looked up and noticed that Phil was no longer present.

He had gone to do the drafts himself.

The letter taunted the boys that remained in the room.

Philza of Somnolentus Empire,

I give my deepest apologies for not being able to respond to the last letter personally. However, I have been very busy.

We do have one demand; Stand down, and forfeit your kingdom.

We assure you, resistance will do you no good. King Kauri attempted the same thing.

I assume you are aware of how that worked out for him.

My best advice is that you surrender.

It would be easier for all of us in the long run.

Also, you need to train your bird better. It may as well have bitten my ear off.

What a little nightmare.

Don't worry, however. I have ensured that you will not have to deal with its annoying clamoring anymore.

Good luck, little birdie.

Technoblade was right about one thing;

In due time was not long.

It was not months.

It was not even a week.

It was three days.

The Aries Army was already at their gates. They hadn't even had time to inform the people of what was happening. 

They were caught off guard, and there were thousands of them. 

The Somnolentus Empire may have been rich, but they were still small in comparison.

"There has to be something I can do!" Phil shouted as he was herded into his bedroom chambers.

"Absolutely not! If you die, who will lead?"

"You!"

"I'm not blood related." Techno growled, checking his limited potion supply.

"Enemies are outside our gates as we speak, surrounding our lands, and you expect me to sit here like a caged canary whilst our people die out there!" Phil cried, wings flaring out behind him as he glared at Techno. "What is a king if he does not fight with his people but a coward?!"

"Fine, you want to help?" Techno looked up from his belt, which held two healing potions. He reached behind him and pulled off his quiver. "You're a good shot, I've seen you when you used to train." The captain shoved the quiver and his own bow into the arms of the young king. "Fire down from up here. And stay safe."

Phil didn't look particularly pleased with this response, but he knew any more time arguing would be detrimental. The king looked up at his brother, and Techno's heart melted at the glossy shine of tears.

"Stay alive. Please, I can't lose you too."

Techno didn't want to promise anything. If he were to die, it would shatter Phil more.

"I made an oath, correct?"

A nod.

"I will follow through to keep you safe, as I have sworn. Stay here, and do not leave unless you hear my voice specifically. Do you understand?"

Another nod.

"Good."

The room went silent as Techno took in one last breath, one last glance over Phil's small frame, perhaps the last time he would ever see him. And he smiled.

"If I am to die today, know I shall die happy, as I have known the purest angel to exist in the universe," Techno held Phil's face in one hand, placing a soft kiss on the king's forehead as he had done many times when he was but a babe, and held on for a second longer.

Then he was reminded of the harsh war raging outside and pulled away. For fear that any words said would convince him to stay, would force him to abandon his people, he turned.

He left the young king in his room by himself, bow in hand.

Tubbo had never had to wield a weapon before.

Of course, he had basic hand-to-hand combat training when he was younger. Should he be alone with any of the royal family and a threat appeared, it would have been upon him to defend them, as it would be the responsibility of any castle staff. Tubbo always thought he would be able to do it just fine. Stab in a weak spot, such as the arm or leg, and take the princes, and get out of there, easy and done.

Sometimes, he had daydreams of fighting, of defending the land he called home. He used to dream of the glory that came with defending the royal family, of defending those who couldn't fight for themselves. Of being a hero. A soldier. More than just a servant boy.

But now, as he stood in the center of the Empire, standing unsure as he held two twin daggers amidst the bloodshed and screams of innocents and soldiers alike, he wondered if it was closer to heroism or murder.

He had never hit someone before.

That changed with a swing of his fist.

He had never drawn someone else's blood before.

That changed with a slash of his blade.

He had never killed someone before.

That changed with the plunge of his dagger into a beating heart.

He still heard the screams of the Aries soldier that attempted to grab him from behind. He felt their hands on his neck, and could feel their sinister eyes burn into him as he stood frozen amidst the carnage. He whirled around, blade raised with purpose. It hit its target, slashing open the man's face, from the left side, all the way over his nose, to the right side. The man fell back, crying out as he went, dropping his sword and shield. Adrenaline coursed through Tubbo's veins as he yelled something that he could not recall, before he plunged both daggers down into the man's still-breathing chest.

He supposed, as he tried to ignore the way the warm blood clung to his hands and stained his sleeves, making it cling uncomfortably to his skin as he pushed down harder, that if he had not done it, someone else would have. Alternatively, the man would have lived to kill him, or maybe some other civilian that did not deserve it.

It did not make having to hear the man's dying gurgles as he turned his back any easier.

It was alarming how easily Technoblade fell into the pattern of battle.

It was almost a dance.

Almost too easy, as he slashed the neck of an Aries soldier.

Almost too easy, as he stabbed someone clean in the stomach and left them to bleed.

Almost too easy, as he murdered.

Adrenaline almost acted as a chorus in his head, a melody of bloodshed and anarchy as soldiers and innocents alike fell around him. He followed the rhythm, moving his feet delicately over recently dead bodies, as he waded through puddles of blood that lay upon tile that he had once walked down with his brothers, as he gracefully impaled enemy soldiers who got too close.

It was alarming how natural it felt.

Body by body fell, both sides losing hundreds. Techno couldn't be sure if he saw this correctly, but he would swear to anyone that would listen that he saw an arrow fly down from behind him, impaling an enemy soldier directly in the neck. It might be twisted to say this, but Techno felt oddly proud as the body crumpled to the floor.

Retribution was a bitch.

It was then that he spotted the cause of all this death, bloodshed, and violence.

A human-ram hybrid stood, surrounded by soldiers on all sides. The crown atop his head gave no room for a mistake on who he was, yet he still wore a simple black suit, with a red flower in the front pocket, which unnerved Techno to no end. Was he aware of how many were going to die? Did he show up in such an outfit anticipating it to be a blood bath? As if he knew it was to be a mass murder, as if he were attending a funeral?

But, as Techno looked closer, his blood boiled.

King Schlatt has adorned his suit with a blood red freesia.

His blood felt hotter than boiling water, but it went cold almost as quickly as the anger came.

King Schlatt had met his eyes.

It felt a lot less like he was looking at a tyrant king and a lot more like he was staring the devil in the eyes.

The king's wine-red eyes gleamed, and he smiled at Techno.

He muttered something to his soldiers.

He turned to the boy next to him, who seemed to be a young adult. He wore a green hoodie, that was stained red in what was undoubtedly the blood of Techno's own soldiers. The boy - Prince Dream - followed Schlatt's gaze, a blank smile on the mask he wore to hide his face, a cowardly move in Techno's opinion. 

Then, both broke their attention on Techno as a soldier fell next to them, an arrow sticking out of their forehead. The Aries Prince raised his shield quickly and took it down revealing an arrow sticking out of the fine wood. The two royals looked up, and that was when Techno broke away from his daze as another enemy soldier made an attempt on his life.

When he had taken one more life, he turned back.

The king and prince were missing.

Technoblade made a beeline for the castle.

Phil had seen his fair share of death.

He'd been ushered out of the room screaming and crying as their mother breathed her last breath.

He'd been pulled away from Wilbur as he choked on his own blood.

He'd held Ian's bloodied body as he wept in his chambers three days ago.

But never had he seen this amount.

He was certain he would be haunted for as long as he shall live.

Still, he remained fearless. He notched an arrow, raised his bow with perfect accuracy, and fired.

The first arrow buried itself in the neck of an Aries soldier.

Ironic, wasn't it?

Dutifully, Phil drew back the string, sending arrow after arrow flying downwards.

He watched Tubbo's first bloodshed.

He watched Techno's tango through death.

He took many lives himself.

He was always looking out for a flash of pink hair, a green, sloppily buttoned tunic, and reassurance that his remaining family was alive. Every time he searched, he would hold his breath, heart pounding in his ears. Every time he found his targets, he would sigh in relief, before sending down another barrage of arrows. This cycle repeated, and he didn't want to think about how many lives he'd taken in the course of the battle.

Phil wasn't sure if it was hours or minutes of this, but then he saw him.

The King of the Aries Empire, in all his glory, with his son by his side.

Phil did not hesitate. He notched another arrow, pulled the string taught and released.

It sailed downwards, and the prince pulled up his shield just in time to prevent it from hitting its target.

Dream looked down at the arrow sticking into his shield. Had he not raised it, there was a likelihood the projectile would have struck him or Schlatt directly in head. The two royals looked up, and Phil saw a wicked grin spread across Schlatt's face.

The Aries King shouted something, and a large group of soldiers around him immediately turned to his attention before they followed his gaze. And then, the king unsheathed his sword, and pointed it skywards.

Directly at the young king.

Fuck.

Tubbo knew that he had to do something the moment he saw a flash of silver pointing skywards.

So, against his better judgement, he made a dash for the Aries King. If he got lucky, he thought to himself, he could end this all here. He could kill Schlatt right now, he could end this war and the heartache and the bloodshed before it even began because he knew that if he did nothing, this would be only the beginning of what would soon be their downfall.

If he stood idly, he could lose everything.

Tubbo never did have the best luck.

A soldier clad in a white headband whirled around, shoving an elbow into his stomach. Tubbo wheezed but managed to remain upright by sheer willpower. He wasn't sure if the panic was overriding all sensible thinking, but Tubbo was very certain he felt his ribs crack.

Ignoring the sharp pains that came with breathing, he raised his daggers, swinging down in an attempt to kill the man, but by that point, it was certainly too late for him to do anything effective.

The soldier gripped his arms, and in one swift motion, managed to twist Tubbo above his head and send him crashing onto the hard concrete behind the man.

Laughter filtered through Tubbo's ears as he blinked blearily from his position on the floor, the breath knocked on of him and chest aching with every second.

"Well, that was a little easy," a British voice filtered through. "Is this kid even a soldier?"

"No." Another voice, more harsh and American broke through. Tubbo realized, with widened eyes, that he was staring into the eyes of King Schlatt himself. "It's the king's little servant boy." Another chorus of chuckles.

The Aries King grabbed Tubbo by the collar, and in a surprising show of strength - probably aided by the very clear height difference between the two - pulled Tubbo to his feet.

"I think you could be fun to have around," Schlatt grinned, and Tubbo grimaced, his bruised abdomen protesting any movement. "Sapnap, George, you two take care of things down here. Dream, you come with me. We have one little bird to put in its place." 

Tubbo grunted and writhed in Schlatt's grip as the masked prince nodded. With that, Tubbo was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, landing with a grunt as the king and the prince stalked away towards the castle. 

"Alright, kid, make this easy on us here and we won't make this hurt more than it needs to." Sapnap said, gripping Tubbo's left arm. George copied his movements with his right, and they hauled him upwards, before dragging him in the opposite direction of where Schlatt and Dream were walking, away from where Phil was hiding away.

Tubbo saw a flash of pink hair run past, and he felt his worries subside.

Good, he thought, Techno would take care of them.

It didn't really occur to him until much later that he may have just been taken as a prisoner of war.

"Phil! Fuck- Phil! You've gotta go!" Techno shouted as he slammed his fist desperately on the door. It opened quickly, and he dashed in, sure to slam it shut as he did.

"Schlatt and his men are coming up here-"

"I know. I saw them."

"You need to leave, now. I'll escort you out, and you run to the nearest village. I think it's called Solus? I don't know, but you need to run there. They should take you in. It's a two-day trip on foot, so if you're fast and don't get distracted, you should be able to make it." As he spoke, Techno threw various items of clothing into a satchel. They didn't exactly have time to think about what was going in, and what was being left behind.

"No."

Techno stopped in his tracks, turning to face Phil with the leather bag still in hand. "Pardon?"

"I said no." Phil tilted his head in that way again, the way that makes him look so much older than he was. "Kings can't run, Techno."

"If you stay, you'll die." Techno deadpanned.

"I know. But, I don't think I mind."

"Don't say that!" Techno spat, dropping the bag in favor of gripping his brother by the shoulders. Oh, how he wanted to shake Phil until he realized how stupid of an idea that was! "You don't get to say that! You aren't throwing your life away for some throne you didn't even want in the first place!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Phil spoke quietly. He looked Techno in the eyes, and Techno felt his heart shatter at the dull acceptance in his eyes. "If I run, I'm a coward. I'd be no better than him. If I stay, I shall die. A king stays with his Empire until the end, Technoblade, whether he lives or dies."

Techno froze as his mind raced through various options and things he could say. How could he change this? How could he convince Phil not to throw his life away? By the Gods, he was only sixteen, was this family cursed? Only the ones who run shall live to adulthood?

Techno let go of Phil, and stood up straight. "You're right."

Phil nodded. "I knew you'd understand-"

"So give me the crown."

...

"Pardon?"

"You- You're sixteen, Phil." You were ten when you were given that crown. You were nine when you saw your mother die. You were still just a baby and here you are. You had to grow up too fast. "You're still a child, and I'm not gonna watch you sit here and accept your death for some bullshit honor."

"Techno, we don't have time to do this!"

"Just trust me for once in your life!" Techno shouted desperately, knowing Schlatt and his men were on their way.

Silence reigned.

"I'd trust you with my life." Phil muttered. "I'm sorry if I ever made you think otherwise."

With that, the young king raised the crown from his own head, and Techno knelt into a bow.

He had to admit, this felt rather stupid. But if this would make Phil feel better, he would take it.

"Do you, Prince Technoblade, solemnly promise to govern and reign the Somnolentus Empire, and to do all within your power to defend its inhabitants from the forces of evil?"

"I shall."

"Do you promise, here, in the view of the Gods above, to uphold the laws of the Gods? Will you promise to practice discipline, government, and worship accordingly?"

"I promise."

"Then it is with my great honor to present," Phil's voice shook as he placed the crown upon the head of his brother as if he were passing down the burden to his own blood, "King Technoblade of the Somnolentus Empire."

There was no applause, and no festivities. There were just two brothers, who knew they were about to part ways.

"Thank you, Prince Philza." Techno smiled as he stood. They could have stayed like this forever.

Maybe Techno would wake up. Maybe he'd blink and be in his bed, and maybe he'd see Phil happily jumping on it to wake him up so they could play. Maybe he'd step outside and see their mother and father sitting happily under a tree. Maybe he'd go outside and see their older brothers playing chase in the morning light.

But the picture melted away. Their mother and father turned to dust. Their eldest brother turned away, leaving them behind. Wilbur turned to Techno with a smile, and then blood poured out of his neck.

They would never be the same again, and maybe Techno could start to accept that.

But if things wanted to be good again, Phil had to leave, now.

"Go now. Take the hallway to the right. Schlatt's men don't know this castle well, and they will likely use the main entrance. If you are caught, run into the courtyard and get lost in the crowd. You're small, and you should be hard to spot." Techno listed off as he shoved the leather bag into Phil's waiting hands. 

When Techno had left Phil in this room, he imagined that when they met again it would be either in celebration or in the afterlife.

Never did he imagine he would have to send off his own brother as he himself awaited the fate meant for Phil.

Techno expected argument, or shouting, but all he got was grim acceptance.

Phil barrelled into him, hugging him tightly. "I love you," the young boy rambled, "I love you so much and you're the best brother any child could ask for, and I know I might not see you again." He sniffled as the tears began to pour. Techno thought he was done, but still, the winged prince continued.

"I might not get to see you again after this, but at least I get to say goodbye this time."

Techno's heart shattered again. Their brothers, their parents, none of them had gotten a proper goodbye. And here Techno was, getting love and farewells before he possibly joined their ranks.

Somehow, that made him feel all the more guilty.

With one more smile, and a whisper of, "I love you more," the newfound king sent Phil on his way.

Techno bowed his head and bared himself to face his fate as his brother ran away from him.

Stay safe, angel.

When Schlatt and his men burst through the door, they were met with a blood-red cloak and bright pink hair.

"I apologise. King Philza could not be here." Technoblade drawled, as he turned from his position on the balcony. "I will be acting in his stead as he is occupied."

Schlatt growled at this, and Techno smiled as he drew his sword from his sheath. Schlatt, Dream, and the soldiers followed, and any old fool could tell his odds were low. There were approximately thirty soldiers and exactly one of him. This would certainly be impossible, for all skills.

It was a good thing that Technoblade loved a challenge.

"Well, a thirty versus one it is."

The dance begun.

For you, the world, Philza.

Chapter Text

Older brothers were a living nightmare .

They pushed you around, they stole your food from your plate at dinner when your parents weren’t looking, they shoved you out of their rooms when you wanted to play, and they even threw your toys in the garden bushes sometimes.

But they were also a saving grace.

If you fell over when they pushed you, they would help you up and hug you and apologize.

If you really wanted to play, they’d sigh and grab a toy and join you.

If you cried after they threw your crow plush in the bush, they’d get it back, clean it and apologize to it - and you, just to make sure they wouldn't get in trouble with your parents.

As the youngest of four, Phil knew this almost as well as he knew how to walk.

Older brothers took care of you, and older brothers made fun of you. It was a fact of life.

Older brothers also lied to you.

They lied about saying they would be there forever.

They lied about saying you would grow old together.

And apparently, they also lied about the fucking direction you were meant to travel in.

“ Stupid older brother, fucking- Two days on foot, my arse, ” Phil complained weakly as he trekked through the forest. Leaves rustled around him as the last of the golden evening light filtered through the canopy, he was too deep in the forest for more than a few rays to peek through the thick layers above him. Techno had said two days on foot, and it was day three. Had Phil taken a wrong turn? Was Techno simply wrong?

Logically, Phil knew he should be aware of where this village was. But, well, the thing is, he didn’t exactly rule over the villages in their territory. Yes, he had authority over them, but when it came to leadership, he was more of a figurehead. The surrounding villages handled their own trade with the capital, with their own mayors and leaders. Most law and economics among villages were handled on their own, which is likely why he wasn’t too aware of most of their locations.

Along with this, Technoblade had made himself responsible for monitoring the behavior of these villages. This led to Techno being gone quite often, with Phil left at the capital to finish whatever paperwork he didn’t feel like doing earlier on.

Regardless of this fact, it should have probably been in Phil’s priority to actually learn about the places he had authority over, as then he wouldn’t have been in this whole situation, to begin with. He winced. Techno wouldn’t have made this mistake. Techno would have been a perfect ruler.

His mind wandered back to his older brother, and he felt that extra dread creeps over him once more. The brother that he had just left for dead.

Would he be okay? Technoblade was a very capable soldier, from what little he’d seen - and Techno’s dance through the earlier invasion only seemed to reinforce that idea in his young mind, even if it did make him feel a little sick to think about. 

The memory of Techno dancing through a battlefield, blood coating his arms and tunic from where it had sprayed from the bodies of those he had left for dead, would likely stick with Phil forever.

Taking another nervous glance up at the sky, Phil saw the last light filter through, and he knew he should settle down to rest somewhere. However, he wasn’t too keen on another nap in a tree. He had taken one the previous night, and he’d very nearly fallen out of it in his slumber. So forgive him for being hesitant to do that again. 

Luckily, just as Phil was looking around the nearby trees to find a suitable perch that would hold his body weight, his prayers were answered by a campfire in a clearing.

Two freshly cut logs were set around the fire, the remains of the tree thrown haphazardly to the side. Aside from that, there was very little of note - no bags or supplies or people, simply an abandoned campfire in the middle of the forest.

Phil sighed a little, before he took a seat at one of the logs, staring into the still glowing embers of the charred twigs, leaves, and grass that made up the fire. This camp was recently abandoned if he believed the crackling sounds coming from the small flame. He’d have to estimate a few hours at most. 

At the latest? Mere minutes.

A flash of blue caught his eye as he turned his gaze to the log next to him. He grimaced a little bit as he took in the weird goopy substance slathered on the bark. It had the consistency of slime, dripping down the curved edge as Phil scooped some up with a finger. It darkened a little bit as he did so, and he blinked in confusion. Colour-changing slime? He frowned, before wiping it off his hand and back onto the log, not voicing his regret at the light staining it left on his skin.

Another sigh passed his lips as he resettled himself on the floor, nearer to the fire. A very light feeling of warmth washed over him as the weak heat died out. Well, it would certainly be a little bit warmer here than it would be in a tree. So, Phil lay on his back, wings outstretched, taking off his satchel as he did, before tucking it behind his head. The ground underneath him was rough and unsteady as they hadn’t had rain in a while, but he resigned himself to a final sigh of the day. Maybe he should keep a tally. It would keep things interesting.

Turning his head to stare into the dying embers of the abandoned fire, he let his thoughts wander until his mind slipped away, into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.

…

…

…

Snap.

Phil’s eyes snapped awake, but he did not move.

Crack.

“Shh!”

Shit.

Okay, he thought. Maybe it’s just some lost travelers. Maybe they’re just looking for a camp.

Crunch.

“Are you trying to wake him up?”

Okay, never mind. Scrap that hope, it was dead now, they were talking about him.

The embers of the fire had long died, and it was still pitch black. He’d have to estimate somewhere between three to four in the morning. Whoever was there was very clearly after him.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?”

He heard footsteps right next to his head and he slammed his eyes shut, and he could feel eyes on him. They were right above him.

“Wouldn’t it be easy to just… Y’know?” 

“Yeah, I know, but let me just get a look at him.”

“That’s so weird!”

“No, it’s not!”

He felt a rough, gloved hand turn his face to the left, and to the right. It took all his strength not to grimace.

“He’s so young. Look at him, barely looks older than twelve. Poor little birdie.”

The words stirred something in his chest as the hand left his cheek, and he snapped his eyes open, glaring directly into a white porcelain mask.

“Oh, shi-” The man did not get to speak as Phil slammed his head forwards. The masked assailant was not prepared for this assault, and fell backward, giving Phil the opportunity to duck under the arm of a black-haired man in a white bandanna. He scrambled to his feet and turned back around to see the masked man be helped to his feet by a shorter man in a blue shirt. The mask had a tiny crack in the forehead.

A raspy laugh made its way to his ears. The masked man shook the shorter one’s hand off his shoulder as he turned to Phil.

“Hello, your majesty.”

Phil’s blood ran cold as he stepped backwards.

“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t run off yet, we’re simply introducing ourselves. My name is Prince Dream.” The mask tilted to the side, the smile painted on it suddenly looking a whole lot more sinister with the action. “These are my right-hand men, Sir George, and Sir Sapnap.”

The Aries prince turned to his friends. Sapnap glared at him, and George simply watched, face neutral. “We were going to make this easy on you and do it quickly, but I see you are awake now. How do you guys feel about a game of manhunt?”

The two knights suddenly perked up at that, wicked smiles crossing their faces. The prince continued, “Me, George, and Sapnap shall be the hunters!” Then, Dream raised his hand, placing it on his chin as if in thought. “Oh, but we still need a runner. Who should it be, I wonder?” And then, the hand dropped, and the mask turned to stare at him. “Oh, I know! You can be the runner.”

With that, the two knights at his sides pulled their swords, their eyes glinting with malice, but the prince raised a hand.

“Oh, Sapnap, George, come on now. You know the rules!”

The hand dropped, and Dream turned to gaze at Phil again, his expression hidden by that cracked mask as he tilted his head again.

“The runner gets a head start.”

One last laugh passed his lips and was lost to the air.

“Ten.”

Phil took another startled step back.

“Nine.”

Oh shit- Oh shit, this was his headstart?

“Eight.”

His wings flared out behind him, the horror of the situation set in as they did.

“Seven.”

He turned on his heel, and sprinted.

“Six.”

He didn’t turn around to see if he was being followed.

“Five.”

He knew they weren’t following him.

“Four.”

Yet.

“Three.”

Somehow, despite all his running…

“Two.”

Despite all of the distance he had put between them…

“One.”

He could still hear every word the masked prince said.

“Have at him, boys!”

His feet thundered on the ground as his heart pulsed in his ears, his body aching and jolting at every little noise. Phil’s breath came out in wheezes as he pushed himself past his limit because it was that or die.

These people were after him, they were actively trying to take his life. And for what? For being forced into a throne he didn’t even want? For watching his brother die? For being left alone? He felt himself slow down, but he couldn’t stop. He could hear leaves and twigs snapping underneath him, but he could also hear chortles of laughter and whoops of joy as he ran. He took another right, ignoring the pit in his stomach.

They were enjoying this.

He considered his options. This was a forest, so it was largely trees. No rocks or buildings for shelter, as far as he could see. Climbing a tree was out of the question, most of the branches were too high up and those that had branches low enough for him to reach- Well, he’d probably get caught before he even tried to climb the thing.

His wings twitched against his back. What he wouldn’t give to be able to fly right now.

He squawked in surprise when his shirt was pulled, choking him for a moment as a hand grabbed his collar. A wicked laugh spread through his ears as Sapnap waved someone over. “I got him! I win, George, take that!”

Phil’s wings stiffened as he twisted himself around in the man’s harsh grip, swinging with all his might as he landed a punch against his assailant’s face. Sapnap let out a cry, falling back with his hand clutching at his face. “You bastard!” He yelled, but by the time he was able to scramble back onto his feet, Phil had already disappeared into the trees.

Phil heard Sapnap let out a frustrated shout but he was grateful for the break, no matter how short it had been. Now, he tore through the forestry, a few leaves falling down into his face.

Unfortunately, he was unable to see the root protruding from the ground ahead of him.

With a strangled shout, he caught his foot on the root and was sent sailing into the ground. His breath left his lungs in a rush, and he felt his ankle click. Fuck, stupid me! This is the most fucking cliche way to die! He thought angrily as he picked himself up, stumbling when he took the first step but still pushing through the pain. Fantastic work, Phil, you’re going to die because you tripped over a fucking root!

He heard a cackle behind him, way too close for comfort in his slowed state, but he turned around just in time to make out the silhouette of a person dashing away into nearby bushes. He gasped for breath, eyes darting around as he looked for any sign of his attackers. When minutes passed and he heard nothing, he let out a little breath of relief.

He leaned his weight on a nearby tree, trying to calm his racing pulse. It was then he realized he had left the satchel of his few belongings at the camp - and that he had no way back to it. With a frustrated groan, he turned his attention to his ankle. It certainly was not broken, maybe sprained, maybe twisted. Regardless, it would be a fucking nightmare to get anywhere on it.

Now, where could he go from here, he thought as he ran a hand through his hair, his tunic ruffled and caked in dirt from his scuffles. 

His assailants can’t have left him that easily, so he definitely had to think fast.

Getting to the village would be his only course of action, it seemed. The problem with that is, he couldn’t see jack shit. No way was he going to find his way there. Maybe if he could make it to the nearest village, regardless of if it was Solus or not. He needed supplies, food, and a place to wait out Techno’s arrival.

Oh, Gods, what if Techno was at Solus already? What if he was waiting for Phil and was worried sick?

That settled it. He would find the nearest village, stock up on resources, and then make for Solus the very moment he could.

What if Techno isn’t there? A voice in his head said. What if he’s at the castle, in the dungeons? 

What if he’s in the castle hallways, bleeding out?

What if he’s bled out already?

His thoughts were pushed out of his head when he himself was pushed down, the quiet rustling of leaves his only warning before he was face down in the hard dirt.

“Aw, come on, Dream, you didn’t have to do that to him! That was cruel!” George berated lightheartedly as he and Sapnap stepped out of the foliage. Their swords glinted dangerously in the minimum amount of moonlight that could filter in through the canopy above. Phil grunted as he writhed on the ground, but the prince above him just laughed, digging his knees into Phil’s back a little harder.

“Yeah, didn’t your father ever teach ya to not play with your food?” Sapna quipped with a sly smirk, pulling his sword out, only to place the point in the ground and lean on the hilt. Such disregard for one’s weapon would have certainly made Techno frown.

The prince in question scoffed. “Oh, come on, it was funny.” Dream turned his attention back to Phil. “So, who’s gonna do the deed?”

George and Sapnap stiffened, much to Phil’s surprise. He would have thought they would be jumping at the opportunity for his head.

Dream picked up on their hesitation, and whipped his head over to them. “Well?”

“Well…” George mirrored, pointedly looking away. 

Sapnap spoke for them both. “He’s a kid.”

“And?”

“Gods above, Dream, I know I’ve done some terrible shit, but I don’t wanna have to kill a thirteen-year-old!”

“Sixteen.” Phil let out through gritted teeth before Dream grabbed the back of his head and pushed it further into the ground, forcing the young king to groan. 

“Shut up.” Dream spat before turning his attention back to his knights. “If you’re so hesitant, why even accept this mission in the first place?”

Sapnap groaned, running a free hand over his face. “No offense, dude, but your dad is terrifying. If I say no, I’m losing my head.”

“And if you do not do this, the consequences will likely be the same.”

When neither of his appointed knights made a move, Dream groaned.

“Y’know what? Fine. If you guys really don’t wanna have this kid on your conscience, here’s an idea: We take something back to show the king and leave him here, and if we lose our heads, it'll be on you.”

George looked at the black-haired man. Sapnap frowned, but he still nodded. It was then that George mirrored his actions.

“Well, that could work,” Sapnap mulled it over in his head, taking his weight off his sword and swinging it around a bit. “But what are we taking?”

Phil could almost feel the wicked grin forming under the porcelain smile.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

A gloved hand tugged at one of his wings harshly.

“These!”

Phil’s eyes widened as stunned silence filled the forest.

“Think about it,” Dream reasoned, tugging out a single feather (Phil hissed in response) and twirling it between his fingers. “If we cut these off, it won’t take too long. And when we leave, let’s say… an animal smells the blood?”

“It’ll kill him.” George finished, looking between the boy and the prince.

“Precisely,” Dream said, dropping the feather beside them. Phil watched as it fell.

“Therefore, technically, his blood is not on our hands, since you two want to be babies about it.”

“What if he doesn’t believe us?”

“Sapnap, he will believe us. No avian would let their wings go without a fight. So, are you two finally gonna help me or what?”

Phil tried to send pleading looks to the two knights, but his hopes were dashed as they grimaced and sighed.

“Alright, fine.” “Okay…”

A disturbed trill left his throat as he thrashed, flapping his wings angrily as Dream grabbed at them. “Good. You two can hold him down.”

Phil didn’t even realize he had started crying until a distressed sob tore from his throat. When two hands left him and four more grabbed onto him, he thrashed once again, tugging himself each way as he squawked into the night.

“Gods, kid, calm down!” Sapnap snapped, freeing one hand to shove it against Phil’s hand and slam it downwards. 

“If you’re still, it will hurt less. Maybe it will be quicker.” George’s softer voice filtered through, though the way he pushed Phil down betrayed his gentle tone.

The metallic sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath and the feeling of warm leather grabbing his wings made him cry out once more.

“Don’t worry, kid. This won’t take long at all.” Dream said from above him, and he felt a cold metal touch against where his wings met his back before it was pulled away.

“It’s sharpness five.”

Shing!

His back erupted into pain as Phil felt the blood run down his back. Dream rolled his eyes, not that anyone could see, before grabbing onto the second one.

Phil’s back burnt in a way he had never experienced before, the sound of the sword slicing through his flesh and bone and muscle in less than a second replaying in his head and he made one last attempt to flee. “Please!” He cried out, tears rolling down his face as the two holding him down struggled to keep him still. “No! Not again! Stop!” 

“Holy shit, calm down…” Dream muttered, pulling the remaining wing taught and ignoring the blood that was already cascading down Phil’s right side. 

The echoing crunch of bone that followed his second swing was accompanied by a blood-curdling scream.

“There we go, over and done with.” Dream said, dropping the severed wing with little grace, before inspecting his bloodied sword with a grimace. “Gross. You two can let him go now.”

Sapnap and George obliged, releasing Phil and watching as the boy curled up on himself, trembling and sobbing on the ground. It was a sorry sight, the king writhing in pain with blood coating his back and clothes. The severed stumps twitched and moved, each jolt causing another flare of pain.

Dream finally sheathed his sword, seemingly unbothered about the blood of the sixteen-year-old on his gloves or boots. With no words, he leaned down, and grabbed the earlier discarded appendages from the ground, grunting at the weight.

“Damn, these things were big. It’s a pity you never got to use them.” Dream said, looking down on the sobbing child. The mask tilted dangerously. 

“Good luck, little birdie.”

With that, the three turned away and left him on the ground, happily joking about Dream’s father - as if the prince and the king had not sentenced a child to what might be his death.

With gasps and sobs wracking his small frame, Phil pulled himself to his feet, his clothes sticking uncomfortably to his body with warm blood. He took one step forwards, and then another, stumbling through the forest, no doubt leaving a bloody trail behind him.

It was almost a haze as he did this. He knew what he was doing, but he felt like he blinked and it was morning. It was as if sheer willpower was keeping him from collapsing from blood loss and exhaustion. He felt so heavy, yet so light. It hurt and yet he was numb.

The next parts came in waves.

He blinked and there was a town. Had he truly been that close to one? Mere hours away?

He blinked and he was at a doorstep.

He blinked and he was knocking desperately.

He blinked and the door opened.

He blinked and he fell into the arms of a young woman.

He felt safe.

He closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

The weather of the day betrayed recent events.

The sun bore down on the empire, a chill breeze passing through from the north. Leaves rustled gently and fell to the ground, and on any other day, children would be running and playing and laughing, tag or hide and seek, or other such games. Bakers would set out their bread and baked goods for the day, and stall owners would laugh and chat with marketgoers as they sold their wares. Parents would watch their offspring with a fond smile and chatter amongst themselves, idly gossiping and sharing tales of their young.

But this was not any other day.

Instead of all of this, Ranboo saw parents holding their young close to their sides, and the children would clutch onto the clothes of their mothers and fathers. The bakers shut their doors - and barred them for good measure. Only a few brave marketgoers and stall owners were out, others making the decision to stay home for fear. Even these brave souls were on edge and jittery, small talk feeling hollow and empty of meaning and sincerity.

All of this was because of the new emperor. 

It was the morning after the red and gold flags were being flown from the great castle in the kingdom’s heart. The old ones of green and blue and white had been burnt on a pyre, the embers floating to the heavens so that all could see the failure of their rulers. 

Ranboo turned to look at the soldier to his right, feeling a little out of place. With all of these armored soldiers, loyal to their emperor and his cause, he couldn’t help but feel a little out of his depth, wearing his fancy suit and dress shoes.

The ender hybrid sucked in a breath, following the battalion as they marched through the town. People pulled others out of the way, scurrying out of the path of the ruthless military unit passing through. Ranboo’s rail flicked. He hurried his pace, pushing past a few soldiers with muttered apologies before he reached the captain.

“Uhm,” He started, flinching when the armored woman stopped in her tracks and snapped her attention to him. “Captain,” he said, hands clasping together as he spoke, “Emperor- Uhm- His Excellency has requested that I fetch him some of the finest wine that I could possibly find.”

The captain looked him up and down, adorned in the golden armor of their nation. She stared at him for a moment too long, and Ranboo winced at the eye contact. However, she gave a curt nod.

“Permission granted. Be quick about it.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand before she quickly continued her march. The rest of the soldiers following her were quick to copy, and Ranboo was quick to stumble out of their way for fear of being trampled. He watched them disappear into the distance and jolted. If he didn’t want to be left behind, he should definitely be a little quicker.

He glanced around, tail lashing behind him as he squinted at the signs of the surrounding buildings and stalls.

When he saw a stall in the near-empty marketplace with bottles of the liquid he sought out, he let out a soft smile. Ranboo wrung his hands together as he approached, the stall owner having bent down to get something or other. He cleared his throat anxiously. 

“Excuse me?”

In a surprise, the stall owner bolted upright, a wide smile on his face as he clasped his own hands together in a welcoming manner. However, that jovial smile fell when he saw the unmistakable golden crest embroidered into the right breast of Ranboo’s blazer.

With a nervous smile, he pointed towards one of the stacked crates. “How- How much would it be for, uh, some of those?”

The man frowned a little, yet he still tried to keep up that friendly demeanor. “That would depend on how much ya want, sonny.”

Ranboo winced. “Uh… How much would eight bottles cost?”

The man raised a brow, already reaching towards a crate of bottles, beginning to package them into a long, narrow basket. 

“Five gold per bottle. Forty for eight.”

Ranboo looked to his right, at the sign that clearly said three gold per bottle, and said nothing as he handed over forty gold easily. It wasn’t coming out of his pocket, anyway. It was none of his business.

“I hope those aren’t all for you, son. You barely look old enough.” The man warned with a concerned look as he handed over the basket. Ranboo laughed awkwardly, waving a free hand. 

“Oh, uhm, no. No, sir, I’m legal. And either way, these, uh, they aren’t for me.”

“Let me guess,” The man drawled. “It’s for… you know who?” He gave a flippant wave of his hand towards the great castle looming in the distance.  Ranboo simply nodded, adjusting the basket to sit in the crook of his arm.

“That’s right, sir.”

“You’re awfully polite for one of ‘em.” The man continued, leaning forwards onto his arm and tilting his head. “We’ve had a few of those lot pass through, not all of them ‘ave been this kind. You’re a good egg.”

Ignoring the small spark of pride, Ranboo tilted his head dutifully. “Thank you, sir.”

With a smirk, the jolly-looking man stood upright. “You should run along now, son. Don’t want to be the reason you get into any trouble with you know who.” 

With a curt nod, Ranboo smiled. “Thank you, sir. Take care.”

“You too, sonny.”

With that, Ranboo turned, checking his purchases in the basket and glancing around for any sign of the soldiers that he arrived with.

However, he met eyes with a strange individual.

They were gone within the blink of an eye, and Ranboo had to shake his head to make sure he wasn’t going insane. The flash of red disappeared through an alleyway and was gone.

Now, a person with regard for their personal safety would turn away, and ignore whatever they just saw. 

But Ranboo didn’t fear death anymore.

So, he sucked in a breath, puffed out his chest a little, and followed the mysterious stranger through the alley.

It was narrow in there, and despite it being early morning, very little light managed to make its way through the dark alley. Ranboo felt the shoulder of his blazer scrape against the wall, and he winced, knowing it would have likely snagged against some of the brick jutting outwards towards him. The wine clinked within the basket as he crept through. He was about halfway through when something on the wall caught his attention.

A dark red handprint, wet and glistening in what little light made it through. Blood.

Ranboo bit his lip, and looked towards the exit of the alley.

“Hello?” He called, squinting and edging his way toward the light at the end. “Are you hurt? I promise, I’m not- I have no weapons, I’m not armed!” He continued down the dank alley, relief flooding his body when the alley opened up.

Now he was behind the houses, somewhere between the walls of the small village and the main town. Giant trees towered overhead, surrounding the quaint location and sheltering him from the sun. He glanced left and right, searching for the stranger he had seen beforehand. His search yielded no results, and he sighed.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He called once again, spinning around to face the back of the houses. Perhaps the stranger had crept back through while he wasn’t watching? “I just want to help.” Ranboo squinted down the dark hallway, focusing on the light at the end. Would it even be possible for someone to get through it that quickly? He himself had quite a slender build, and even he had grazed the arms of his blazer against those coarse, narrow walls.

The bottles clinked together as he turned on his heel once more, only to be face to face-with a blade.

Ranboo choked on a yelp, throwing his hands up violently and stepping backward, the bottles within the basket making a sudden clank as they were tossed around together. He had barely heard his assailant creeping up behind him, despite the dry leaves littering around him. He stared down the sharpened end of the blade as it glinted in the sunlight, mere inches from his nose. Swallowing, he looked past the looming weapon at the one wielding it.

Pink locks flowed down his right shoulder in a braid, though it was messy and unkempt. Ruby-red eyes matched the bloody smears on his white button-up shirt, almost disguised by the cloak in a similar shade of red. It billowed out behind him in the gentle breeze. The snarl on the bruised and scraped face showed two tusks, and the elongated ears hidden under that rose-pink hair twitched. A golden crown glinted upon the head of his assailant, embedded with jewels and intricately designed in a way that one would recognize.

It was unmistakable, as much as Ranboo was convinced he was dreaming.

This was the eldest living prince of Somnolentus. 

His awe was cut off when the prince snarled something, jabbing his sword toward his face.

“What do you want?” He growled, eyes drawn to the right breast of Ranboo’s blazer-

Oh.

“W-Wait! Wait, I’m not- I mean-” Ranboo stuttered through his first sentence, drawing his hands closer to his body as Prince Technoblade moved his sword down toward his chest. “I- Uhm-”

“Who are you?” The prince demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. With the prince’s blade mere inches from piercing his blazer and then his heart, Ranboo felt obligated to reply.

“M-My name is Sir Ranboo,” he said truthfully, for fear of death should he lie. “I am the ri-right hand man of… Emperor Jay-Schlatt?” His voice hitched at the end, and he flinched at the way the prince tensed up. His glare grew even more rabid and the end of the weapon ended up even closer to him.

“Who sent you?” Prince Technoblade demanded, but Ranboo couldn’t respond. Tearing his eyes away from the blade inches above his beating heart and past the fury in the prince’s eyes, he looked down. The prince was favoring one leg over the other. The right leg of his brown pants was torn and shredded, revealing a nasty-looking gash, steadily oozing blood. 

“I can help you.” Ranboo blurted out, lowering his hands just a little. Within seconds, the sword was back up to his face, the point poking into his nose. He hissed a little, drawing his hands back up again. He looked past the glinting metal, back into those ruby eyes.

“You’re hurt.” He explained, watching as Prince Technoblade tilted his head with a dangerous stare, like a predator staring down its prey. “I just want to help. If you don’t have any potions, I can get some. I promise that I’m not here to hurt you.”

The way his voice came out uninterrupted surprised him, but the prince across from him did not move for a moment. His blood-red eyes looked him up and down once, and then twice, his scrutinizing gaze making Ranboo shrink back a little.

With a certain nod, the prince pulled his blade away from the startled servant, sheathing it at his waist - though Ranboo did not miss how his hand hovered around the handle, ready to draw at even the slightest sudden movement towards him.

“Go.” The prince demanded. “Whether you run or come back as you have said, it does not matter to me.” With that, Prince Technoblade turned around - although his posture was still stiff - and walked over to a nearby tree. He threw his satchel down, before kneeling down with a grunt of pain. He dug through it for a few moments, before he whipped his head around and glared at the bewildered Ranboo.

Taking that as his cue to leave, Ranboo jumped into action, whipping around on his heel and darting back down the alleyway he came from.

The trip back into the town seemed much shorter as his mind was racing. As he stepped foot back into that deserted marketplace, he quickly eyed a stall - one selling the small red jars he desired.

His mind raced like a train as he bartered for two. It was like he wasn’t even seeing what was happening in front of him, he was acting on pure autopilot by this point; a haze taking over his mind as he swam through all of his deeds.

He thought back to all of those wanted posters he had been ordered to pin up, of both the oldest living and the youngest true heirs of this kingdom. He remembered the feeling of guilt curling in his stomach as he those papers onto walls, boards, and posts, feeling as though he was ordering the death of the people of this land.

Sixteen and nineteen. 

Far too young to be wanted dead or alive for merely existing.

The reward was hardly generous, either - one hundred gold for one. Were their lives simply worth that little to Schlatt? Merely enough for a few weeks of food, if stretched?

Sliding his new purchases into his woven basket, he bid a quick farewell and made haste back behind that alleyway. To anyone else, he must have looked suspicious, but Ranboo couldn’t quite find it in himself to care at that moment in time. People would say things due to his alignment, regardless of what he did. 

Besides, what did any of that matter when he had one of the Empire’s true heirs sitting in need of his aid?

Glancing around the forestry, he was more than a little surprised to see that Prince Technoblade was precisely where he had left him - sitting against a tree. This time, he was taking small sips out of a water-skin bottle. The prince’s deep red eyes snapped over to him, and Ranboo felt scrutinized once again.

“I didn’t- Uhm, I honestly didn’t expect you to be here,”

Ranboo said awkwardly, placing the basket down a few paces away from the prince and taking out one of the two potions. As he slowly moved over to sit beside the prince, he continued, “I really thought you were going to run away.”

“Nor did I expect you to come back.” Prince Technoblade said, but it was soft and amusing. Ranboo couldn’t help but smile.

“I guess we’re both full of surprises.” 

Prince Technoblade nodded with a sad smile.

“I suppose that we are.”

Ranboo patted at his breast pocket, reaching in before pulling out a deep red handkerchief - the golden embroidery of the Aries’ symbol displayed proudly in the corner, despite how Ranboo tried to hide it within his hand. 

Prince Technoblade watched as Ranboo gently pulled up his pant leg, and then watched how he poured a generous amount of the potion onto the cloth.

“This will definitely sting,” The ender hybrid warned before he pressed the red cloth onto the gash. Techno hissed as the potion crept into his bloodstream, but soon enough, he felt that familiar warmth seep into his veins. He looked away, feeling his skin and muscle slowly stitching together.

They sat in silence for a moment, neither making eye contact. And then, Prince Technoblade spoke.

“It’s unlikely of one of you to help someone like me,” He mused, more to himself than anything. Ranboo looked up as he spoke again, “I simply must wonder what your motives are.”

When Ranboo didn’t respond, the prince tilted his head back, a bitter smile on his face.

“Could it be that you wish to capture me? Gain my trust before crushing it and taking my life?”

Ranboo looked up, alarmed. “N-No, your highness, no! I- Prince Technoblade, I swear to you that is simply not the case!”

Prince Technoblade looked over at Ranboo, with a soft smile.

“No,” he said, “I didn’t think so. You don’t seem like the type.” With a soft chuckle, he continued to say, “Besides, even if those were your intentions, I’m sure we both know who would win out of the two of us. You don’t even have a weapon.”

Ranboo laughed anxiously, ignoring his shaking hands as he looked back down at the gash. It had closed considerably, now only oozing a lazy stream of red as opposed to the previous river.

“Well, if we’re doing questions, Your Majesty-“

“Just Techno will do,” the prince cut Ranboo off. “I do not possess the title of king, for that belongs to another.”

Ranboo gulped and nodded. “Well, Techno, I- I would like to know what happened to you?”

“Surely you, of all people, must know of Schlatt’s invasion?”

The crown upon his head glinted and Ranboo felt a pang of guilt spread through his entire body.

“Yes, your Highness.”

With a grunt of what might have been a disappointment at the use of such a title, the prince leaned backward, his weight against the tree as Ranboo continued to firmly press the handkerchief against his wounded leg.

“Then you should already know the full story.”

“You’re awaiting the arrival of the rightful king, aren’t you, your Highness?”

The prince shot upright, his eyes boring into Ranboo’s. The ender-hybrid panicked, his eyes flitting left and right to avoid the blood-red irises directed at him, trying to ignore how they glared into his soul.

“... Rightful? As far as I’m concerned, you would think that farm animal is the rightful king of this nation…” His narrowed eyes relaxed. He let out a sigh, brushing a hand over the top of his head - only to be stopped by the crown.

“I suppose the crown gives much away.” He chuckled, but it was hollow and dry. “King Philza is indeed supposed to meet me here. If he has followed my instructions correctly, then he should have been here already. However, I’m… I am clueless as to his whereabouts at the current time, I’m afraid.”

Ranboo pulled the drenched cloth away a final time, seeing how the wound had completely sealed, a thin white line stretching across the prince’s leg as a reminder. In silence, they sat after he pulled the torn pant leg down once again.

…

“I don’t support the Emperor.”

Two pairs of eyes shot up to meet each other in surprise.

Ranboo’s voice nearly caught in his throat. His tail twitch anxiously behind him as he covered his mouth, his eyes darting around as though an army of knights would step out of the shadows and forestry for even thinking such slander against the almighty emperor of the Aries Empire.

“Interesting.” Prince Technoblade mused, tilting his head a little bit. “Very interesting, indeed.”

Ranboo placed his hands in his lap, pressing them together, his frame stiff and anxiety-ridden as he took a breath.

“I… I wasn’t always a part of the Empire.

“I was a little kid, barely… I don’t know, eight? Nine? Maybe ten? I’m not sure. Regardless, I had… a family before all this. And now I can hardly remember them.

It was like he… stole their very existence from me. You might have heard of the Ender Republic?”

Prince Technoblade nodded. “I’ve heard. So you lived there?”

“At one point. We- We were happy and safe and wealthy, and then one day… That tyrant shows up and suddenly my home is wiped off the map.”

“...Did… Were you…?”

“I’m afraid I was the sole survivor from my family.”

The prince swallowed a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be. It’s… It’s been years.”

“The pain never goes away, though. Not really.”

“...You’re right, your Highness. You’re very right…

So, then the Emperor, finding little old me, scared for my life and alone, well… He takes me in. Decides to raise me to be a… a little page boy. He took everything from me.

And then he… he killed your king.”

Prince Technoblade’s grip tightened in the grass, his jaw clenching as Ranboo spoke.

“History is repeating itself, your Highness. I’ve seen it happen time and time again. And I’ve always stood idly by. But this time, I… I want to be on the right side.”

The prince reared his head. 

“What are you saying, Sir Ranboo?”

What was he saying?

The attendant of the emperor turned his head to the left, staring at the true heir to a throne that had been usurped.

“Let me help you.”

“What?”

Ranboo couldn’t help but jump to his feet, taking a few paces forwards as he spoke, waving his arms,

“Your Highness, with all due respect, I know Emperor Schlatt very well. I do believe I could be vital to your team! I’m not sure why we met here today, your Highness, but I have to assume it’s merely fate at work. I just...

I don’t want to sit idly by while another family gets destroyed. Let me help you break this cycle of broken hearts and broken crowns.”

The prince seemed to consider Ranboo for a moment, the internal conflict played perfectly in those deep-red eyes. The crown felt heavy on his head, a weight that he could not bear alone. How could he return it if he could barely lift its weight? 

Far too out of his depth and alone, abandoned by one brother, the second brother taken before his time and the youngest missing with little trace, Prince Technoblade, captain of the Somnolentus royal guard, had to admit one thing;

He did not have many options.

“On one condition.” 

Ranboo’s arms dropped to his side as the prince rose to his feet. He may have been taller than the royal, but that did not stop the shot of pure anxiety and dread that jabbed into his heart and ran through his limbs as he dipped his head into a quick bow.

“What would that be, your Highness?”

Prince Technoblade dropped his stern scowl for a smug smirk.

“You gotta drop that ‘Your Highness' crap. I already told ya, just Techno is fine.”

Ranboo’s jaw could have dropped to the ground.

“You’re… You’re serious?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?” The prince tilted a head to the side again, studying Ranboo. “You said it yourself - if either of us know the so-called emperor , it would be yourself. I certainly am in no place to decline any help, no matter the source.”

With a swift bow, Ranboo smiled. “Thank you, your Highne- Uhm. Techno.”

Techno smiled.

“I will remain here. It’s possible that King Philza has simply been sidetracked. I fear that if I relocate, I will miss his arrival.

Furthermore, I fear that I have wasted too much of your time.”

Ranboo’s tail dropped.

“Shoot!” He hissed, grabbing his basket once again, and tucking the handkerchief back into his blazer pocket once more. “They could be gone by now!”

Techno stifled a snort. “We shall meet here again. In three days' time. What say you? Do I have your word that we shall meet again, Sir Ranboo?”

Adjusting the basket on his right arm, Ranboo looked into the eyes of the true heir of the Somnolentus Empire.

“I swear an oath here and now, Prince Technoblade. I shall do everything in my power to aid you and restore King Philza to his rightful place on the throne.”

Techno nodded in dismissal.

A brave butler turned tail and ran, leaving a lonely prince behind, connected by the beginnings of a scheme between them.

Chapter Text

When Phil opened his eyes, he was in a room that he did not recognize.

He found that when he tried to sit up, a sharp stab of pain ran through his spine, forcing him to lay back down with a groan. Each movement sent another jolt through his body, and his movement was severely limited. Even lifting his arm to feel the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest under the shirt hurt with a dull ache - a shirt that was definitely not his original green tunic.

With that, he was confined to tilting his head to get a glimpse of the room around him. It was modestly decorated, not quite extravagant, nor was it filthy. It could never compare to the interior of the castle, but it was humble. Pretty. 

It was nice.

Of course, there was the bed he was laying in on one corner, a small desk with a chair parallel to him. Various shelves and storage units littered the room, stuffed with blankets, clothing, and different belongings.

However, this wasn’t to say the room was pristine. Not in the slightest. Phil couldn’t help but notice the paint that was peeling off the wall in front of him, the damp rot forming in the corner of the ceiling, and the thin layer of dust coating each and every surface.

Phil was distracted from his relatively boring hobby of room inspection when the door creaked open.

“Oh! You’re awake.”

His eyes widened as the woman walked up next to him, her dark hair parting perfectly to reveal those deep brown eyes. She wore a simple, modest purple tunic and some brown pants that were stained and dirty, and yet she still managed to be the most gorgeous thing Phil has seen.

“How are you feeling?” Her voice was nearly a serenade as she spoke, her soft tone rendering Phil speechless.

“U-uhm…” He stuttered stupidly, feeling the urge to facepalm at his stumbling. The woman did not seem to take it as an insult. Instead, she simply smiled.

“Oh, you must still be a little tired. Here,” she reached over to the bedside table, lifting up a cup of water, her other hand going behind his neck to lift it up gently. “Take a drink, alright? You must be thirsty, too.”

As she raised the cup to his lips, he couldn’t help but watch her. His face went red as she smiled softly at him. The cool liquid soothed his dry throat, and he sighed when she pulled it away.

“Who… are you?” He finally got out, once she had put the cup back on the side of the table. She turned her head, that gentle smile still splayed on her features.

“My name is Kristin. You collapsed on our doorstep last night, most likely from blood loss.”

Phil blinked.

And then his mind caught up to him.

“Oh, shit-” He yelped, hurriedly sitting up and going to hop out of the bed, only to collapse onto the floor as his back exploded into a world of pain.

Kristin jumped, hurrying to collect the crumpled king from the ground. “Oh, no, you shouldn’t move! I understand you’re panicked, but you need to stay laying down, Phil!” She said, leading him back into the bed. He did not question how she knew his name, as he doubted anyone did not know his name. Although, it was certainly a surprise that there was no honorific attached - a surprise, yet a pleasant one.

She must have noticed his confused look, and she backtracked, “Oh, I’m sorry, your highness, I never meant to be disrespectful.”

With a weak laugh, he lifted his hand; an action that sent another shock of pain shooting through his body. Grimacing, he waved it off as casually as he could.

“It’s fine,” he said, and then he coughed. “It is fine.” He repeated, a lot clearer this time. “I feel that I have forgotten how to respond to my own name.”

The beautiful woman leaned back a little bit, her gorgeous eyes brimming with both curiosity and concern. 

“We found you on the front steps, outside of our inn.” She informed him. “You’ve been asleep for about two days now. I… assume that’s the blood loss…”

Phil blinked, and it felt like all of the past few days had caught up with him at once.

Maybe it was the exhaustion that prevented him from reacting more strongly. If this were another day, he’d likely have screamed and sobbed and wailed in mourning for his lost wings - his pride and identity.

However, all he could do was keen pitifully.

Kristin looked upon him with eyes full of sorrow, placing one hand over his forehead and smoothing his hair out of his face. 

“I’m very sorry, your highness. You…” She trailed off, slowly pulling her soft hand away. Phil whined at the loss of the warmth. “You must be tired still. If you want to go back to sleep, please do. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

With that, Kristin turned away, going to exit the room. Before she left, she turned around with a gentle smile, before she slipped the door shut with a click. 

Phil sighed, leaning his head back against the pillows, and staring up at the ceiling once more. 

As much as he wasn’t sure if this was a trap set by Schlatt or that prince, he didn’t feel like staring at the ceiling for another hour. And, he had to admit, his eyelids felt like lead. 

So, with a resigned mumble, he allowed himself to slip into the embrace of sleep.

“You have who?!”

It couldn’t have been long before Phil was jolted awake by a shout from another room. He never considered himself an eavesdropper, but the conversation was so loud that he didn’t have much of a choice but to listen in.

“Oh, Scott, please don’t be upset!” A gentle voice, different from Kristin’s smooth tone, pleaded with another person. Then, Scott spoke up.

“I don’t know where you two get off thinking this was a good idea!” A heavy Scottish accent filtered through the walls. “In what universe does bringing the wanted king here make any sense, Niki?!”

Ah. So this was about him. Good to know.

Phil had to say that he has had just enough of people talking about him while they think he was asleep.

“What were we meant to do?” Another male voice slipped easily into the conversation. “Leave him to bleed out? He’s sixteen, Scott. The poor thing just had his wings severed from his own back!”

“I know that. I know, and it’s not fair! I get that!” Scott cut back in, only sounding desperate. “But if they find out he’s here, what then? Did you think about that one?! 

…Look. I understand why you two agreed to take him in here. But you’ve just inadvertently put us all in danger. We should just turn him in.”

“Scott,” the deeper voice cut in again, “I understand that you’re upset. But you have to understand that this is the king, one of the true heirs of this kingdom.

I know just how much you hate Schlatt’s reign. So do I, and so does Niki. So does everyone. But if this boy manages to get back his throne… we can change things for the better.

Don’t you always say that those who sit idly by while evil is happening are a worse kind of evil?”

There was silence. Phil waited as no one spoke for a few seconds. And then, he heard a sigh.

“Sparklez, sometimes I hate how you remember everything I say.”

There was a hearty laugh from the deeper-voiced man, whose name was apparently Sparklez, and a high-pitched giggle from Niki.

“Alright,” Scott conceded, voice full of a begrudging acceptance. “What room is he in? I want to see this for myself.”

Phil jolted as he realized that this Scott person wanted to see him, an action that caused another spark of pain to surge through his back. With a wince, he cleared his throat as he heard footsteps approaching the door to the room he was in.

The door swung open, and there stood two people - a girl with pink hair, and a boy with short teal blue hair. They couldn’t have been any older than seventeen and nineteen respectively.

The boy - who Phil had to assume was Scott, made eye contact with blue eyes, and Phil stared right back.

“Hello,” he said evenly. The girl behind the boy (most likely Niki) smiled, adding a little wave as she did.

However, the boy said nothing. Scott stared at Phil with an expression he could not decipher. Phil began to shrink a little bit under the gaze.

Suddenly, Scott turned around and walked down the hallway, and Phil heard him speak once again;

“He looks so small in my shirt so I changed my mind, Sparklez,” Scott called, “We’re protecting him with our life!”

Niki giggled lightly before stepping in. “Hello,” she spoke gently, and Phil felt his heart melt as her warm brown eyes showed nothing but kindness. “My name is Niki.”

“I heard,” Phil joked a little bit as he leaned his head forwards. Niki went a little bit pale, her smile dropping.

“I’m not sure how much of that you heard, but I’m… I'm terribly sorry for what my idiot brother said.” She turned her head around, shouting out the door as she said the word ‘idiot’. A few moments passed before Phil heard a loud “HEY!” shouted from the other room. He couldn’t help but snicker.

“No, it’s okay,” Phil said when Niki turned back to look at him. “He was simply looking out for his family. I can respect that in a person.”

Niki seemed to relax at that, her shoulders slumping a little bit. “He can be a bit headstrong, but his heart is in the right place.” She admitted, another soft smile crossing her face. 

Phil looked down at his own hands for a second.

“I know the type.”

Niki let her smile drop a fraction. “I’m sure you do.”

Silence filled the room, and it quickly grew into something uncomfortable. Niki coughed.

“Do you… feel ready to try walking?” She asked, gesturing to Phil. “I’m sure you’d rather not stay cooped up in that bed all day - I understand that’s probably very boring.”

Phil bit his lower lip. He agreed that staying in this bed was boring - exceedingly so - but how ready was he to start walking again? The stumps on his back twitched as a soulless reminder of how he ended up bedbound in the first place. Frowning, he simply nodded.

“I think I can try.”

Niki walked up next to the bed, looping an arm around his lower back (he did not miss how she avoided where his wings used to be). With her assistance, he managed to slip out of the bed onto his own two feet. They took slow steps towards that door, him leaning his whole weight onto her side as they made their way through the doorframe. He would be the first to admit he may have been compensating for the new lack of weight pulling him backward. A lump formed in his throat as he thought about what he had lost, but he shook his head to clear them.

Not the time or place.

They worked their way through a hallway with minimal pain on Phil’s side, entering what appeared to be a tavern. There was a man dressed in red and black cleaning out some mugs and glasses at the bar, but he looked up when he heard the duo enter.

“Well, look who’s up and about,” The man spoke kindly - Phil quickly identified the voice as the one named Sparklez. Niki quickly helped Phil to a seat, her smile never leaving her face. “We thought you’d be bedbound for a little longer, but it seems like you’re recovering quicker than we’d imagined. Sorry about your clothes, they were beyond saving, so we just put you in some of Scott’s old stuff, I’m sure he won’t mind.” He continued. 

“I’d offer you a drink, but I don’t serve minors.” Sparklez joked as he picked up a different mug. Phil’s shoulders shook a little as he huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure you already know this by now, but my name is Sparklez. I own this tavern that you’ve been staying in. This is Niki, but I’m sure you’ve also been introduced to her.”

Niki smiled with a nod. “I work here part-time. Hey, Sparklez, where did Scott go? He was just here.”

Sparklez shook his head with a grin. “He went to go get Kristin. Maybe she’ll have some spare healing potions.”

Leaning in close to Phil, Niki whispered; “Scott’s his son, and Kristin is an apprentice of the local apothecary, Eret. I can introduce you to Eret later on, you’ll probably need their medicines.”

“I’m certain you have a lot of questions,” Sparklez continued, “So feel free to ask them. We’ll answer to the best of our ability.”

Phil frowned, wracking his mind for all of the questions he had. It was difficult to decide on just one , but he managed it somehow.

“Where is this place?” Phil asked, resting his elbows on the table in front of him. “I know I should already be aware. It’s… a little bit embarrassing to admit I do not.”

“This town is named Extorri,” Sparklez spoke again, leaning forwards as he did. “It’s pretty small and on the outskirts of the Empire’s boundaries. Not many pass through here.”

“How far is it from Solus?”

Sparklez grunted as he thought. “From here to there, on foot? You’re looking at about a week’s journey.”

“A week?!” Phil cried, standing up suddenly only for the world to tilt and his back to explode into pain. He choked on a yelp as Niki placed a hand on his back, gently sitting him down again.

“Woah, take it easy!” Sparklez looked alarmed. “You’re in no shape to be traveling anywhere, young man.”

“But I… I promised to meet Techno at Solus days ago.” Phil protested weakly.

“So that’s where you were fleeing to…” Niki muttered quietly. Sparklez ignored her.

“I understand you’re worried about him, but you’re in no condition to be going anywhere. You need to rest, you can’t help anyone if you run yourself to the ground while you’re still healing.

At least stay with us a little longer - just until you get better, and then we can escort you to Solus. If not for yourself, do it for our own ease of mind. I’m not sure how well I would be able to rest knowing I had just let the king walk out while he was still hurt.”

Phil lowered his gaze, staring at the wooden table. His heart felt so heavy. He could not dispute these words.

Niki placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” She spoke kindly, “We just want you to be safe.”

“Besides,” Sparklez’ tone dropped the gentle edge. “With all those posters up, you wouldn’t get far.”

Phil perked up at that. “Posters?”

“You don’t know?” Niki whispered. Phil’s gut twisted.

Sparklez hesitated before speaking gently. “You’re… Schlatt has announced both you and Captain Technoblade as wanted across all of Somnolentus, dead or alive.”

Suddenly, it was like he was about to throw up. He should have seen this coming, but it didn’t make it any more surreal to hear. 

“He’s threatened all of those who help you with execution. If people are not to report sightings, he’s counting it as treason.”

Phil swallowed.

“I wouldn’t even make it halfway without the guards finding me.”

Sparklez shrugged. “That’s my fear.”

Silence fell across the little room. They all sat, not quite knowing what to say to each other. 

They all flinched when the silence was broken as the door was flung open, their gazes whipping over to the intruder. The three of them relaxed when they saw it was the blue-haired boy, followed by the brown-haired lady, carrying a small satchel over her shoulder. Phil’s heart nearly melted as she looked at him and smiled.

“Welcome back, you two,” Sparklez greeted as Scott turned his gaze to Phil.

The two stared at each other once again, before Scott spoke;

“I’d die for you.”

Phil blinked as the other three in the room started laughing. Scott didn’t laugh, though. He simply glared at the other three.

“You’re all laughing but I see no joke here. I’d die for him.”

“Please don’t,” Phil pleaded, but Scott just shook his head.

“Nope. It’s too late. I’ve already decided. I’d die for you.”

Kristin laughed - the most beautiful sound Phil had ever heard. She moved forwards, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a glass vial. “Here, Eret said to put this in a drink. Should make you feel a little better,” She turned to Phil as she spoke, smiling gently. Phil felt his face grow hot before he coughed, turning away.

Sparklez took the little glass vial and poured a mug of what appeared to be water from the tankard behind the bar. Then, he popped the cork off the vial before tipping the red contents into the mug. He shook the mug a little bit to mix it in slightly before sliding it in front of Phil.

In retrospect, maybe he should have been a little more hesitant to take drinks from random strangers. But, at this point, he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he took the mug and gulped it down.

Within seconds, he could feel a strange feeling overcome him, and he panicked, assuming he had been drugged or poisoned, but it all trickled away when a familiar tingling spread through his body - warm in the way a hug was, warm like he was next to a fire. It was similar to when he was very little and scraped up his knees badly, and his older brothers had held him while their father had dabbed a cloth doused with a healing potion on his knee, ruffling his hair as he did.

A soft smile crossed his face as he thought back on these memories, even if they were soured by his situation.

“I don’t mean to be a bother,” Phil said. The four in the room looked at him in mild alarm, but he continued, standing up as he spoke. “If my mere being here could get you killed, then I should go. I appreciate your hospitality, but-”

“Sit down and shut the fuck up!” Scott rolled his eyes, leaning on the counter. “Like hell, you’re gonna be able to go anywhere in this state.”

“What my stinky brother is trying to say,” Niki cut in, sending Scott a sharp look as she did, “Is that it really isn’t a bother to us. If anything, this is our duty. Besides, you… just collapsed from blood loss two days ago. There’s no possible way that you can think it’s a good idea to walk for five days to find a village.”

Kristin nodded. “If it’s the guards that you’re worried about, they hardly ever come through here. There isn’t much to keep tabs on in a town full of outcasts.”

Phil stared back down at the contents of his drink before he took another sip. As the warm magic flooded his body once again, he felt his mind clear. 

“You may be correct.” He spoke. “I will remain here until I return to my full strength, however long that takes. Only then shall I depart for Solus.”

As the four in the room with him looked at each other with victorious expressions, Phil couldn’t help but feel content. Sparklez clapped his hands, declaring that he would start cooking dinner. Kristin, Scott, and Niki all dived into talking about what they should have, and when they turned to him for his opinion, he smiled. 

Maybe staying here wouldn’t be too bad.

After a dinner of steak - and another drink laced with a healing potion that took some of the last dredges of the pain out of Phil’s spine but still left him feeling rather weak - Sparklez led Phil back into the hallway. “I really hope we never have need of this, but if the situation truly calls for it, we do have a hiding place.”

Phil tilted his head as Sparklez stomped on the part of the wooden floor covered by a rug, a loud thud resounding as he did. “Under here is where I keep some stock - barrels of beer, food supplies, that category of items.” He continued, bending over to roll back the rug, revealing a trapdoor. “It’s not very big, but there are enough places that someone your size could hide. If anyone went down there, they probably wouldn’t give most of it a second glance.”

Frowning, Phil crossed his arms. “Someone my size? Care to elaborate, sir?” He asked, and Sparklez chuckled a little as he covered it all back over.

“Well, I simply speak the truth.” He said with a shit-eating smirk, walking over to Phil and ruffling the boy’s hair. Phil chirped in surprise and pushed Sparklez’s hand off his head with a laugh. “Piss off!”

“Watch your language,” The man reprimanded, but not seriously. 

The sound of footsteps brought their attention away from each other, where they saw Niki, Scott, and Kristin standing.

“So,” Scott grinned, putting one hand on his hip as he did. “What do you say about a tour of the town, Phil? If you’re gonna be here for a while, you should probably know where everything is.”

“Great idea, Scott!” Sparklez cut in. “Niki and Kristin can show Phil around while you finish up those chores you were meant to do.”

Scott’s jaw fell open for a second as the other two snickered. “What?! Oh, come on, dad, that’s not fair!”

“Don’t argue with me, you know what you’re meant to do. You should have thought about that before you ran off this morning.”

“But, dad-!”

“No buts, Scott. Faster you get to them, the faster they’re over with.”

Scott groaned as Niki and Kristin giggled behind him. “Don’t worry, Scott,” Niki said through her laughter. “You can always join us later on.”

Even Phil found himself chuckling at Scott’s absolutely devastated expression. With one last roll of his eyes, Scott followed Sparklez back to the bar, and after a quick change of clothes into yet another set of Scott’s hand-me-downs that were a little too baggy on him, Phil slipped out of the front door with Niki and Kristin.

As the trio walked away from the tavern, Phil couldn’t help but ask. “Are they… Pardon me if this is rude, but are they actually related? They sound and look nothing alike.”

Niki pursed her lips into a tight line. “Well, not really. Sparklez found Scott outside one night, all alone and by himself when he was fairly young. Since then, I guess everyone’s just become so used to referring to them as father and son that we kind of… forgot.”

Phil swallowed. “I apologize for intruding.”

Kristin waved a hand. “Oh, it’s fairly common knowledge. I doubt he’d be too pressed over it.” She smiled kindly. “Though, maybe don’t mention it to him.”

“Anyway!” Niki intervened, clapping her hands as though she was trying to get their attention. “This is the center of the village!”

It was not much to look at, but it had a charm that Phil couldn’t quite understand. A fountain lay in the heart of it all, surrounded by a few market stalls scattered around nearby. Surrounding the square was a few dozen houses, but that was about it. It was a simple town, looking at it now.

There were a few townsfolk milling around, including two young boys. They lugged along a parcel nearly half the size of them, laughing and chattering among themselves. Suddenly, the bigger one looked over at Phil, Niki, and Kristin before his mouth opened in shock. He near enough dropped the parcel, darting over to the trio. 

“Hey!” Shouted the smaller boy, dressed in a simple purple tunic, but the taller boy paid no mind, running right up to Phil and looking up at him.

“So the rumors are true!” The boy said. Phil blinked, looking back down at the small boy - he couldn’t have been older than nine. “Ayup, your highness! My name’s Jack! Good to meet you!”

It took Phil a moment to respond, but he did. “It is very nice to meet you as well, Jack - although simply Phil will do just fine.”

Jack sniggered. “You talk funny.”

The boy in purple finally caught up to Jack, tugging on his shirt. “Come on, Jack! Mister Skeppy said we need to do this delivery!”

Jack seemed to ignore the boy, simply wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in closer, pulling down his hood and ruffling his hair as he did. “This is Purpled, by the way!”

“Hey! Hey, let me go! Get off me!” The younger boy yelled, reaching up and trying to shove Jack off him with one arm, the other holding the parcel lopsidedly. He must have been about seven, no older.

“Yeah, we’re delivery boys for the bakery! Ain’t that cool?” Jack boasted proudly, not letting up his aggressive hair ruffle. Phil couldn’t help but laugh as the younger boy protested.

“Incredibly cool,” he agreed, ignoring the snickers of Niki and Kristin.

“Boys,” A voice cut through, and both boys froze as they turned around.

A demon stood with his arms crossed, but any pretense of anger was destroyed by the smile splayed out on his face. “I thought I told you two to take that to Miss Puffy?”

“Sorry, Mister Halo!” Jack said, releasing Purpled from his grip. The younger grunted, before pointing at Jack with his free hand, “I told him to hurry up!”

Mister Halo rolled his eyes with a fond chuckle. “I’m sure you did. Now, go on, boys, off you go! Stop torturing our visitor!”

Both boys turned back to Phil, each bidding their own version of goodbye, before darting off to one of the nearby stalls. Phil turned his attention back to the demon as he approached, looking a little nervous.

“I’m very sorry if they caused any inconvenience to you three - they can be agents of chaos sometimes, but they’re good boys at heart.”

“Don’t worry,” Niki waved it off with that kind smile she often wore. “They were no bother at all, Bad.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” The demon hybrid turned to Phil as he spoke, extending a hand. “Hello, I’m sorry for not introducing myself properly. My name is BadBoyHalo, but you can just call me Bad. It’s an odd name, I know.”

Phil smiled, taking Bad’s hand and shaking it. “I’ve heard stranger. My name is Phil.”

With a chuckle, Bad released his hand. “I’m sure you have. Well, I run the bakery over there,” he said, gesturing to a building behind him. “With my partner, Skeppy. If you ever feel like it, please stop by. The boys often help there and I’m sure they’d like to see you again.” 

With that, Bad turned around with a soft wave and walked back into the building.

“Yeah, we have a… lot of strange locals,” Kristin admitted as they moved on. “We should go and see Eret. You might want to visit her a lot since his medicine will help you regain your full strength.”

The trio resumed their journey through the small town, and every now and then Kristin and Niki would stop in order to exchange quick greetings with some locals. As they passed by one of the stalls, Phil saw the two boys giving the parcel over to a sheep hybrid - that must have been Miss Puffy. She smiled and thanked them, handing them a small sack of gold. The boys grinned at each other, thanked her, and tore off, running back to the bakery. Phil couldn’t help but laugh as they shoved each other on the way back, and he briefly wondered if they were brothers. 

He doubted such a notion, as they looked nearly nothing alike, though he and Techno certainly looked very different, and they were still brothers. Perhaps he would ask at a later date.

Kristin pushed open the door to a large building coated in vines and roses. Inside, there were shelves upon shelves decorated with differently shaped vials and bottles, each filled with a different type of potion - speed, strength, poison, and more.

Behind the counter was an array of chests - and an individual half hanging out of one, clearly searching for something.

“Morning, Eret,” Kristin greeted. The person in the chest hummed a greeting, standing up and turning around to greet them.

Phil didn’t miss how the individual’s kind smile dropped at the sight of him, and he squinted in response. As quickly as it disappeared, the kindness was back in their eyes and they leaned on the counter.

“Good morning, Kristin; Niki.” Eret turned to Phil as they spoke slowly with an undertone of danger. “And greetings to you, your highness.”

“Just Phil is fine,” Phil responded with a strained, even tone. He goes no one could hear the stress in his voice.

If Kristin or Niki did notice, they said nothing. Instead, Kristin smiled. “We just wanted to stop by. We’re giving Phil a tour of the town, and we’re seeing a few of the locals along the way.”

Eret nodded solemnly. “I see,” They said. Phil couldn’t read the emotion in their tone as Eret turned to stare at him, tilting his head downwards to look over their dark glasses.

Phil felt a chill run down his spine as blank eyes met his blue ones.

It was unnatural, a voice rang in his head. He had seen a lot of strange eyes in his life - his brother had blood-red eyes, and many of the blind he had seen had eyes clouded by cataracts - but none of these eyes had ever been completely blank, devoid of pupil and iris alike.

Eret reached a hand across the counter, and though their face remained soft, their eyes told a different story - Phil saw so many emotions swirling around in those blank, white orbs and none of them were kind.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Eret spoke curtly as Phil took their hand. “I have heard about your situation from Kristin. If you ever need any potions to cure your pains, please stop by. We have a wide range here, I’m sure we can find something that can help you.”

Niki smiled. “Thank you, Eret,” she said, turning to Phil as she did. She didn’t even seem to notice that Eret was still grasping Phil’s hand just a little bit too tight to be considered a mere firm grip.

Kristin spoke up next. “I think we should go,” she said. “We haven’t seen most of the town and I saw the sun going down as we entered.”

Eret nodded, withdrawing their hand. “I understand,” they leaned on the counter, tilting their head once more. “Please come and stop by again, you three. I would love to get to know our guest some more,” 

As Niki and Kristin bid their farewells, and Phil nodded his gentle goodbye, the trio turned around. Kristin and Niki exited the shop first, and Phil went to follow.

A hand grabbed his arm.

He squawked in shock, whipping around to face Eret.

They stared at him blankly, their mouth in a firm line.

“Listen to me carefully, King Philza,” they said, their grip firm. “These eyes do not deceive. I see things that no one else can see, your highness.

I can see good intentions and bad intentions. I can see the past and the future. I can see everything that most cannot see.

They have never failed, through the many things that they have revealed to me. They foresaw a ram trampling over red freesias. They spoke of an angel getting their wings stolen by a smiling man in the dead of night. They told me of a ghost wielding a blade. They showed me the apprentice healing one of a golden bloodline.

And what my eyes are telling me now, your highness?

Somebody is going to betray you.”

Their grip released, their face and brow relaxing. Phil’s eyes were wide, his breaths uneven. He felt his stumps twitch under the bandages, no doubt if they were still attached to him they would be flared.

As though nothing happened, Eret’s face relaxed. A small smile crossed their lips.

“Stay safe, your highness.”

With that, Eret turned their back with a non-committal wave.

Phil stared for a moment, taking a step back before he swiftly exited the shop.

Kristin looked at him. “What took so long?” She asked, her kind eyes melting his worries - but not by much. “You look pale… maybe we should head back for the night.”

“I’m fine,” he said a little too quickly. “I’m alright, I think I’m just tired. Perhaps we should retire back to the tavern for the night.”

The other two agreed, saying that they could continue their tour tomorrow, and they began their trek back through the town, back to Sparklez’s inn, where Scott was still finishing his chores. After another dosage of a potion, and a change of bandages and clothes - luckily, his wounds had mostly healed, despite his lingering fatigue - he collapsed into the inn bed.

But even as the king found safety among unlikely friends, thoughts plagued his mind.

Images of his only remaining brother, bleeding out and dead, tortured his slumber.

The eerie warning rang through his mind as he slept.

Chapter Text

Crow-speak was not a gift known by many, the crows had come to find it.

It was not one easily taught, either. Most hybrids and humans did not have the vocal cords in order to replicate the sounds and vocalizations properly, at least not past very few simple words.

Bird hybrids were typically the only ones that could ever correctly replicate this language. Whether that was down to instinct or something else was beyond their knowledge. Most avian hybrids didn’t make it through birth - less through the first few years of their childhood on account of their frail bones. Added to the fact that avians had been overly hunted throughout the centuries by those who desired their beautiful wings, they were quite a rare sight. 

They had only ever known one bird hybrid. 

And Emperor Schlatt had made him flee.  

It was quite simple within the minds of the flock - they had sent out a small patrol to search for their missing friend.

The rest of them would deal with this so-called Emperor.

They threw themselves against their hatchling’s window in revolt. “Murderer! Murderer! Bring him back!” They screamed and cawed and cried, a racket that nobody could ignore. “Get off his throne! Give our hatchling his home back!” 

And then the curtains were drawn, blocking them from sight.

Schlatt grunted. “Stupid animals,” He declared, simply turning his back on the window and sitting himself back down at the desk. He leaned back in the chair, sighing with a smirk. He raised his legs up and rested them on the desk in front of him, ignoring how his boots lay on top of some paperwork that may or may not have been important - not his problem, anyway.

“Now this is the life,” He muttered, reaching towards the golden chalice, taking a swig of the wine. He smacked his lips, looking at it in mild disdain. “Well, that could certainly be better,” Schlatt said in dismay. “No matter,” He shrugged, simply taking another gulp. He spoke to no one as he continued, “I’m sure I can buy the finest wine in the world with all of the gems this land will provide,” A wicked grin crossed his face.

Somnolentus was truly beautiful - both above and below. He had been planning on taking this for a long time, now. 

It was a wonder he was the first nation to conquer this one.

A knock sounded on the door. He groaned audibly, not caring whether they could hear it. “Come in,” Schlatt grumbled, taking another sip of his drink as the great oak door opened.

“Y-Your Excellency,” The servant dipped into a quick bow as he entered.

“Yes, yes, what do you want, Rainbow?” Schlatt did not even turn his gaze to meet who he was addressing, and he heard a shuffle.

“It’s Ranboo, Your Excellency…”

Schlatt rolled his eyes, his ear twitching as he waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I said. Now tell me what the fuck you’re here for, or get out.”

Ranboo swallowed. “I-It’s the prince and his knights, Your Excellency. They have returned.”

Now that certainly got Schlatt’s attention. He turned his head with a wicked grin. “I assume they have what I want.”

“I-I’m really not sure, Your Excellency, I couldn’t… I couldn’t see it.”

Schlatt took his feet off the desk, laying the chalice down again. “Very well. Escort me to them.” 

They walked through the long hallway together, Ranboo exactly two steps behind the Emperor as they traveled, his arms neatly tucked behind his back. His tail lashed as his heart picked up every time Schlatt threw a glance at him. Schlatt huffed out a laugh. It was always funny to see him squirm.

Guards bowed their heads mechanically as they passed by, advancing towards the throne room. Schlatt smirked as he saw the trio entering from the great oak doors. Ranboo diverted from him quickly as he took his seat on the golden throne, settling himself backward as Ranboo scurried to his place next to him.

When they were less than two meters from the throne, the two knights beside the prince dropped to their knees, heads bowed in respect. In a bold move, the crown prince made no such move, merely leveling the emperor with an unreadable stare, hidden behind that porcelain mask.

Schlatt leered down at the prince, eyeing the great sack he hauled over his shoulder. “Well?”

His cold glare must have stirred something within Dream, as after a few moments of silent debate, the prince bowed his head, pressing a hand to his chest in a stiff motion.

“Father,” he started. “I apologize for such inadequate behavior.”

“Yes, yes,” Schlatt rolled his eyes, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back. “Get on with it, then. Have you brought what I desire?”

The prince did not relax, but he swung the great sack he held from over his shoulder, dumping it unceremoniously on the ground before Schlatt’s feet. The emperor grunted, leaning forwards to reach for the sack. When he opened it, he very nearly recoiled.

There, sitting in it, were a pair of deep black wings.

He noticed, as he pulled them out of the bag, that they were slightly ruffled - a few feathers had certainly gone missing, but aside from that, they were near enough to pristine, a clean cut. A wicked smile crossed over his face as he inspected his prize. Wings such as this could only belong to one person.

“Well, well, it seems you have done as I asked,” Schlatt murmured, a hint of amusement and glee hidden in his voice as he took out one of the huge appendages. It was so large that he struggled to take it out. As he pulled it to its full span, he gawked. “Oh, yes! These will make a fine ornament!”

A choked gasp sounded from behind him. Both the prince and the emperor whipped their heads around, turning to stare at Ranboo. The enderman hybrid looked pale, but he pressed his lips into an uncaring expression.

“What, boy? You have something to say?” Schlatt snarled, and the page boy shook his head hurriedly, lowering his head and tucking his hands behind his back.

“No, Your Excellency,” He said almost instinctually. “I apologize for my insubordination.”

Schlatt huffed, and he paid the boy no more mind as he turned back to the prince and the knights, who still had not raised their heads.

“Rise, noble knights.” And rise they did, poised with their arms behind their backs. They held their heads high, their gaze was unwavering as Schlatt placed his bounty back into the sack. He dropped it on the ground once again, with such a loud thud that Ranboo felt sick. “You have both served me well.”

George bowed his head, but Sapnap did not. Instead, he leveled the emperor with a firm gaze. 

“When will the payment arrive?” 

Schlatt’s gaze narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Despite George’s desperate look to backtrack his words and forget this, Sapnap ignored him. 

“Such a job deserves payment, does it not, your Excellency?”

Slowly, the emperor crossed one leg over the other, slowly leaning forwards and clasping his hands together as he looked down at the knight, an aura of hostility emanating from him. Sapnap shrunk back, suddenly stiffening, sensing he had misstepped greatly. 

Dream looked away. George took a subtle step behind the prince. Both of them shifted their balance to the balls of their feet - should the Emperor's mood turn sour, they would be quick to flee.

“My mercy has run thin these past few days,” Schlatt spoke slowly, his eyes glaring a hole into Dream’s soul. “Consider your life your reward.”

His message was clear. Keep your friends in line, or else.

Sapnap stepped back, bowing his head in submission.

“Knights, you are both dismissed. Prince, remain with me. I wish to speak to you.”

Dream didn’t turn around to see his friends go. Their footsteps slowly faded away, along with the sound of George angrily whispering, berating Sapnap for his blatant disrespect.

When it was finally quiet, Schlatt groaned, putting a hand to his face.

“I truly do not know why you associate yourself with such… insubordinate savages who cannot do a basic job right.”

“Father,” Dream spoke slowly, “They are fine knights. They worked their way up the ranks faster than anyone I know.”

“Yes, Dream, I am well aware of their physical prowess. What they lack is decency. This is not the first time I have heard such blatant insubordination from that black-haired one.”

“His name is Sapnap-”

Schlatt cut him off with the wave of his hand. “That does not matter. What does matter is that you must rid yourself of such obvious nepotism.”

Dream tilted his head, looking aside. 

“I apologize, Father.”

“Yes, whatever,” Schlatt spoke dismissively, gesturing to the sack that still lay at his feet. “Take these away. Have the castle staff wash and groom them, I’m sure it would be an honor for them to wash their dead king’s prized wings.”

Once again, Dream stiffened, bowing his head and pressing a hand to his heart. “As you wish, Your Excellency.”

With that, the masked boy reached forwards, grabbing the sack and lugging the load over his shoulder once again. Schlatt and Ranboo watched as he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his head held high. As the door opened, they heard whispers - it was obvious that the two knights had waited for him outside.

Schlatt let out another groan as he leaned back in his chair. “What will I do with that boy?” He muttered to nobody in particular. Ranboo did not reply, for if he did, he knew well that he may have been punished. “Such blatant disregard for one’s position is shameful,” The emperor spoke with a frown. “That boy will learn that in due time.”

Ranboo didn’t like those implications, but he wasn’t given much time to dwell on them before Schlatt rose from his seat.

“You. Boy,” he spoke, turning to the humble servant - who quickly bowed his head. Schlatt laughed. “Now there’s someone who knows his position and treats it well. I like you, Rainbow.”

“…It’s Ranboo, sir-“

“Yes, yes, that’s what I said.” Schlatt’s gaze hardened for a second before he shook his head. “No matter. Accompany me. We have business to take care of.”

The walk was quiet once again, except for Schlatt’s quiet musings.

“What you are about to see will never leave this castle. Do you understand that?”

Ranboo twitched. “Why entrust me with this information, sir? Why not the crown prince - with all due respect, of course, sir!”

Schlatt sighed. “Understand this, boy - that prince would tattle to his friends. Regardless of my orders, anything that Dream knows, those knights will know too. I don’t trust those savages with such secrets.

But you, boy. I think you have earned yourself the honor of having my trust.”

If only, Ranboo thought bitterly, if only he knew where I was just yesterday. If only he knew everything.

Ranboo said none of this. Instead, he simply bowed his head as they approached a door. “Thank you for such a privilege, sir. I assure you that no one shall know of this.”

“Good lad,” Schlatt smirked, something wicked crossing his face as he opened the door. Behind the great door was a cold, stone staircase - descending deep into the belly of the castle. Ranboo had never stepped foot into it before.

They descended. Ranboo flinched as he brushed his hand past a cobweb, nearly tripping. The dim stairwell was illuminated only with half-burnt candles along the wall, a pathetic glow to fend off the darkness.

“These used to be abandoned,” Schlatt spoke lowly, his voice echoing along with their footsteps. “Those cowards who previously owned this place never saw the need to use these, apparently. They refrained from war like idiots. Perhaps that’s why they fell.

No matter. What does matter is that we have found a new purpose for these dusty old cells.”

They got to the bottom of the stairs, the grey, cold stone opening up into rows upon rows of cells - each of approximately five meters by four meters in size, a wall of iron bars and a giant metal door sealing them in. Most of these were unoccupied, with little more than a slab of stone for a bed inside.

However, at the end of the hall, there was a yelp.

Seven cells down to the left, there was a prisoner.

Ranboo rounded the corner, just in time to see a soldier kick a boy in the stomach.

The brown-haired boy cried out again, coughing. I already told you!” He choked out, pushing himself up as he did. “I don’t know anything!”

“That’s enough,” Schlatt spoke. The two soldiers in the cell with the boy stiffened, standing to attention.

“Sir!” They both shouted, saluting.

“You are both dismissed.”

An air of finality surrounded them. The two soldiers filed out quickly, leaving only Ranboo, Schlatt and the boy in the cell.

It was here the boy finally made eye contact - his bright eyes dark and yet shining with hate and pain and malice. His face was nearly covered in various cuts, bruises and scratches - Ranboo assumed the rest of his body was in much the same state.

“What do you want?” The boy spat, his voice hoarse, but still, his tenacious spirit showed.

“I think you know full well what I want, Tubbo.”

Tubbo shrunk back. Ranboo hoped the pity in his eyes showed.

“I will make this quick,” Schlatt said, towering over the boy. “I really don’t wish to get blood on my suit today. You tell me what I need to know, and perhaps I will give you the dignity of dying quickly.”

Suddenly, the boy whipped his head up, a sour look across his face. “I will never tell you anything, even if you were to kill me.”

Schlatt sighed, feigning disappointment. “Oh, well. I thought that with the… unexpected fates of your beloved princes, you’d be much more open for cooperation.” Schlatt shook his head slowly, before turning on his heel, gesturing to Ranboo. “I suppose we should take our leave then-”

“What?”

A wicked smirk crossed Schlatt’s face. “Oh, I’m sorry,” He spoke quietly, false sympathy dripping from his voice. “Did nobody come to tell you? Oh well, I suppose it wasn’t that important then. Perhaps I shouldn’t display those wings behind the throne, then. Perhaps no one would care.”

“What did you do to my brothers?!”

“I dispatched them,” Schlatt said, unwavering. Ranboo turned to look at him, but his cold smile told him everything that he needed to know. Schlatt was lying. Fortunately - or rather, unfortunately - Ranboo knew he was only half lying. “Just as I promised I would.”

Tubbo’s eyes widened, a gentle shimmer setting over them as tears welled up, his big eyes looking even bigger, somehow. His bottom lip began to quiver, and Ranboo could see the very moment the news found its place in his heart.

“You… You what?”

“I do not take my threats lightly, servant boy. You should have understood that by now, really.” Schlatt walked in circles around the boy as he looked down at his scraped hands. “You’re alone. You’re doomed to die, regardless of what you choose to do here. Either tell me where the crown prince has hidden or die in shame.”

Tubbo blinked, a few tears running down his cheeks, smearing dust and blood from his face. A sudden frown crossed his face as he whipped around to face the Emperor, teeth bared.

“I don’t know where he is!”

“Hm,” Schlatt pondered, stopping by the cell door. He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer. “That’s funny.” As he pulled his hand out, Ranboo could have sworn he saw Tubbo’s heart drop from his expression alone. There, held between two fingers, was a folded piece of paper. From what little writing Ranboo could see, it appeared to be smudged.

“This here says that you do.”

Tubbo lunged to stand up, but the bruises on his body ached too much. He simply fell in a crumpled heap onto the ground, glaring up at Schlatt with desperation.

“Where did you get that?!”

“Oh~ Just some poking around in the servant’s quarters. Now, don’t lie to me, boy. Where is the crown prince?”

“I already told you! Just like I told those soldiers! I don’t where Theseus is!”

“My patience wears thin. Where is he?”

“I don’t know!”

Schlatt did not reply for a second. Ranboo flinched, recognizing that fury that crossed his face for a moment. But surprisingly, Schlatt did not yell. Instead, he shrugged.

“Oh, well. He will join your brothers soon enough, regardless of if you help or not. Just know that your lack of cooperation will make his demise even more painful.”

With that, Schlatt turned out of the cell, leaving Ranboo and Tubbo inside. 

However, just in view of the bruised servant boy, Schlatt took the letter and held it up to a nearby candle.

“NO!”

Tubbo’s cry came too late as the flame licked up the crumpled paper in seconds, consuming the parchment. Schlatt held it there for a few seconds, letting it burn, ignoring Tubbo’s scuffle to try and stand, despite his aching body. Then, Schlatt dropped it, turning to Tubbo to flash the crying boy one last wicked smirk before walking away down the hall, whistling a merry tune.

Ranboo stood for a few seconds, waiting for the heavy footsteps to recede far enough that he wouldn’t be heard, although the sounds of Tubbo’s sobs and cries may well have been more than enough to cover his movements. The moment he was certain he wouldn’t get caught, he darted out of the cell, over to the burning parchment, stomping it out while hissing as quietly as he could. After a few good stamps, and making sure it was properly extinguished, the hybrid knelt down and scooped up the fragile paper, inspecting it.

His heart ached when he realized he had been too late to save most of the writing. His hesitance had spared just enough time for over half of the letter to be burnt to ashes, only a few lines remaining at the bottom of what was left.

Regretfully, Ranboo stood up, turning back and re-entering the cell. He knelt down in front of Tubbo and reached out for one of the shaking hands as the boy hiccupped quietly.

“Beware the wolf in ram’s clothing,” Ranboo muttered quietly, almost as if it were a prayer, “For he aims to deceive. Your brother is still alive.”

Tubbo looked up at him with wide, watery eyes. “My brother…? Wh-What do you mean brother? Are they okay- Why are you telling me this…?”

Ranboo lowered his eyes, pressing what was left of the burnt parchment into the boy’s hand, resisting the urge to scan over it. Those words were not for his eyes, though.

“I’m sorry that I could not do more. It is my duty, however, to tell you, that Captain Technoblade is still alive and well.”

Tubbo looked down at the burnt parchment. “Techno is… alive.” A soft smile spread over his face as he thumbed over the words on what remained. However, it dropped, and Ranboo dreaded his next words.

“But… Phil? He’s okay too, right?”

Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to talk.

“He’s… he’s really…?”

“I only recently found out.” Ranboo cast his gaze downwards, pushing Tubbo’s hand to his chest. “I regret to inform you that the death of King Philza has been-”

“Rainbow!” A booming voice called down, and both Ranboo and Tubbo jolted. “What in the hell is taking you so long down there?!”

“I’m sorry, Your Excellency!” Ranboo called back, quickly pulling away from Tubbo. The boy was startled as he did so, watching as Ranboo scuttled out, slamming the iron door closed behind him. 

“Wait, but- Why?” Tubbo cried, only wanting to know why, why are you helping me, why are you on my side? But Ranboo did not explain. Instead, he said four simple words.

“I’ll be back soon.”

With that, Ranboo slammed the latch of the iron door shut, and sending Tubbo one last look, he scurried up the stairs. Tubbo stared after him until he heard the wooden door at the top of the staircase slam closed, leaving him alone with his thoughts - and unpleasant ones they were.

Tubbo looked down at the slip he was left with, and it was here he finally let himself reread it. It was nothing new. He had read and read and read the letter until the words burned into his eyes, and yet his eyes still burned as he read - but this time with the tears of a loyal boy who had failed his king, and a brother who would never see the younger again.

No one was around to hear him weep that night.

Take care of Phil and Techno for me, alright?

And take care of yourself, too. I know what you’re like.

I’ll return the day after his coronation. You’ll know where to find me, Tubs.

Stay safe.

Forever your brother, whether by blood or not,

Tommy.

Chapter Text

The bushes rustled quietly as some nearby crows squawked. A gentle breeze flowed, and a rabbit scrounged through the grass, nibbling and eating its breakfast in the cold morning air. Unfortunately, it did not notice the arrow flying through the air.

It hit its target, killing the rabbit quickly and quietly.

“Did you get it?”

“What does it look like?”

The bushes rustled once again as a man stepped out, sheathing his bow and stepping towards the deceased rabbit, reaching down to pull the arrow out of its neck. Fortunately, the death seemed quick - and hopefully painless, though he would never be too sure of that.

“Oh… how sad.”

The man lifted the corpse, inspecting it. “Oh, come on. It’s good meat.”

“Yes, but it’s still a little bit… Upsetting to watch, isn’t it? It’s such an innocent creature…”

“Hey,” The man said, hauling his hunt into a bag. “I never see you complaining when I make that rabbit pie. What’s the difference here?”

“That’s different - it smells so nice, it always makes me wish I could actually eat it! That doesn’t mean I like seeing the poor thing shot dead!”

“You can always stay at the tent while I hunt.”

“But… it’s not the same without you, Tommy…”

Tommy let a soft smile cross his face, reaching a hand up to pull his cloak over his shoulders. “Never change, Wil.”

Tommy finally turned around, looking his brother in the eyes. Every time he did this, his soul shattered, for Wilbur was so very there, and yet so very not.

The spectre smiled sadly, wringing his blue-stained hands together. His yellow sweater shone, almost like it was the sun itself, and yet Tommy knew he could easily reach a hand through him if he so wished. A steady pool of blue pooled from a hole in his neck, a grim reminder of the wound that had caused this in the first place, and a waterfall that would never cease its flow, no matter how relentlessly either of them had tried.

As they started their slow journey back to their camp, Tommy whistled.

“So,” He said, turning back to the ghost, who jovially hovered a foot or less off the ground instead of actually walking. “What do you propose we do instead of just hunting?”

Wilbur suddenly went quiet, the light fading from his eyes. “Well… We could always… Don’t get mad, but I did see some nice bread at that bakery a day or so ago…”

Tommy clenched his jaw. “No.”

“But, Tommy-”

“We are not going to Solus. You know the rules, Wilbur - avoid villages unless absolutely necessary.”

“You go there all the time!” Wilbur cried, his form slumping.

Tommy scoffed. “I go there once a month, at most. ”

“I just… want to see people.”

“No one can see you anyway! Besides, what would happen if we got caught? I’d get killed, and then you’d be alone with no one else to tether yourself to.”

Wilbur went quiet at that. Tommy pursed his lips, and they walked in relative silence.

“...I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy sighed, raising one hand to his head. “No- No, I shouldn’t have said all that. It’s not your fault that you can’t… move on. I’m sorry.”

When Wilbur did not reply, Tommy smiled gently, turning to him. “Hey, I’ll make it up to you. We should go on another little camp-out soon.”

Wilbur’s eyes lit up. “With toasted marshmallows?”

Tommy couldn’t help but laugh at the childlike wonder in his brother’s eyes, something he had not seen for a while. “With toasted marshmallows,” He confirmed.

“Oh, perfect!” Wilbur called, doing a little happy wiggle as he hovered. Tommy shook his head fondly. “I know I can’t actually eat them, but they smell so good, it’s practically the same thing!”

“Okay, Wil.” 

As they came upon their small campsite, Tommy felt his heart clench. It was nothing special - one tent thrown up. A campfire that was currently put out. Nearby was a small stream of water, and of course, there was the small yew sapling growing.

Rare trees, they were, and Tommy had come upon this one in the first week that he had left the castle. Reminiscent of the one that towered over them in the castle courtyard, naturally he had settled nearby, and he had been there by himself ever since.

Well, he was not alone for long.

The ghost giggled, rushing forwards and dipping into the tent, only to re-emerge a few seconds later with a wooden guitar. “Tommy!” He called as he rushed back over, “Tommy, look! I want to show you- Oof!”

Suddenly, the specter was face down on the ground, having tripped on the small sapling. Tommy could not help but snort with laughter as the ghost peeled himself off the ground.

“Wil, seriously?”

“Well, it’s not my fault! I forget I can’t go through it!” The ghost pouted, much like a young child would, and Tommy felt a pang in his heart.

Once, Wilbur had been that pouting child. He had been very much alive and well.

Now, he was but a reflection of that child.

“Anyway, I wanted to show you a song I wrote!” Wilbur looked at Tommy with such wide eyes, full of childlike joy. 

“Another one? You work fast, I’m impressed.” Tommy dumped their catch on the ground, before taking a seat at one of the logs pushed by the campfire as he pulled out a flint and steel from his pocket, clicking them together as he looked at Wilbur.

“Go on, then, let’s hear it.”

The ghost wiggled happily. Instead of sitting on the log - for he may well have gone through it - he pulled his legs up where he was, hovering as he settled into position. Then, he started strumming on his yew guitar, an upbeat tune resounding.

As Wilbur started to sing, Tommy couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Three or so years ago, on one of his trips into the nearby town of Solus, he had spotted the guitar going for a very low price. After he restrung it and polished it, he gifted it to his brother. 

“That’s it, it’s split, it won’t recover…”

That guitar was made of yew. For some reason that Tommy could not place, and some reason that Wilbur did not seem to care to discover, that was the one thing that the ghost could touch. Anything else was like mere air to the spirit, and he would simply phase through with no issue. But three things were different.

“Just frame the halves, and call them brothers…”

Tommy’s sword - or more specifically the handle, that guitar, and the yew sapling.

Tommy remembered pouring hours of research and frustration into discovering why this was the case. But it was fruitless.

“Find your fathers and your mothers…”

In the end, Tommy just put it down to emotional attachment. The sapling that had grown in their courtyard had been there for generations - Tommy doubted he would see the sapling grow to fruition in his own lifetime. But as Wilbur sang, he realized that maybe that didn’t matter.

“If you remember, who they are.”

As the ghost finished strumming, Tommy smiled, beginning to clap. “It’s not finished yet,” The ghost warned, “But it’s getting somewhere!”

“That sounded really good so far, Wil. I’m sure it’ll be amazing once it’s done!”

The disgraced king dropped his smile briefly, his hands falling to his lap. “Wilbur?”

“Yes, Tom?”

“...I hate to ask, but… have you remembered anything today? Do you-”

“No, Tommy, I don’t remember who killed me. I keep telling you this because there’s no way I could have seen them in that crowd.”

The ghost’s tone took a sudden turn from happy to cold, and Tommy whipped his head around to look at his brother. The ghost was glaring down at his guitar, that anger seeming unnatural on his soft face. Tommy looked back down at the fire, poking it with a stick.

“I think… I think that you should let go.”

“What?”

Wilbur looked up at Tommy, his head tilted in sadness. 

“It was six years ago. You need to let go of what happened because I know you blame yourself for my death.”

Tommy did not dispute this claim. Instead, he pulled out his sword.

“You know, Wil, I… I wanted to make a new rule.” He said, laying his blade on his lap. Wilbur’s face warmed immediately, the previous subject seemingly forgotten.

“I wanted to make a tradition. As you know, Wil, every king, either at their coronation or on the eve of their eighteenth birthday if they were not yet, would be gifted a sword. 

Well, I wanted to change that. The pommel would have been made of yew wood - a sort of symbol of life over death. It sounds weird, but… I thought it would be cool. 

That’s why I commissioned this one to be made of such material. 

It just… reminds me of home.” 

Wilbur looked down at the sword. 

“Do you think I could use-”

“As long as I am around, you will have no need to even touch a blade.”

“But the flags- What if our brothers-?”

“I said drop it.”

Silence fell over the two as the ghost pulled his knees to his chest, guitar laying on the ground. Tommy took a deep breath. Of course, he had let his temper get the best of him again.

It was an ugly part of Tommy that had since reared up - a part of him that would snap if someone decided to speak against what he said. It was that part of him that raged on, that was so full of regret for not being able to remember the face of Wilbur’s attacker all of those years ago, even when he was right in front of them. This ugly beast would appear, and often times poor Wilbur would be the victim of its wrath.

How long until his brother grew tired of this? How long until he would be left alone?

Maybe, Tommy thought, it was a good thing that he left his crown all of those years ago, for only the Gods know what he would have done should this creature inside of him rear its head and snarl while he was in command.

Wilbur poked his head up slightly, looking at Tommy with big eyes - full of forgiveness and kindness that Tommy knew that without, he would not still be alive today.

“Can I help you make rabbit stew?”

Tommy smiled softly. “Of course, big man.”

So, the two abandoned their fire and entered the tent to prepare the rabbit meat with unspoken apologies between them, and both were blissfully unaware of the threats plaguing their kingdom and of the strife that their brothers were experiencing.

They would understand soon enough.