✏ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

→ CW; ANGST
 
   
  
   
   
“You are the prince, I am a servant.”

And Tommy would reply with a half-hearted yet simplistically pithy, “Fate divided, miserable twins”, casting aside a melancholy look over Tubbo’s shoulder. A bucket filled to the overflowing with water. Nary was a fib echoed throughout these statements but rather truth, and it stagnates in the air before Tubbo aerates the room with a simple push of the window shutters, twilight cascades in. It simmers in the oh too lavish bedroom. The scenery rolls in with the cloying scent of death.

Cobblestone paths are habitat to the proletarians, starving and without a wish to live, their blank eyes uncannily reminiscent of a dead fish. Filth permeates the town square like fear, and the reaper is most active around here for a reason that the servant is most cognizant of - Tommy through the proxy of Tubbo. Heads roll, and laughter steadily blooms like sunflowers and daffodils, and stains wildflower red. It’s a dire situation, and it galvanises his empathy into conceiving a plan to help their people but before he can complete that thought, he’s waved over by Tommy.

It’s a moment of undisturbed confiding, and the satiny rays of dying sunlight blankets the two brothers, leaving a crack of vulnerability only contemporary in dusk. “I’ll protect you, if it’s for that - I will even become evil.”

Twins split apart at birth, Tubbo would sacrifice anything from riches to souls to ensure that they’ll never part once more. If Tommy desired riches, Tubbo would filch from even the poor. If he covets for anything intangible, Tubbo would will it into existence. Hesitation is swiftly eliminated when it comes to the prince. Angst and greed are quickly discarded like lives, and Tubbo will heed no matter what it may be.

It’s his younger brother. How could he not?

Life’s caterwauls slip into a haze once more as Tubbo closes the shutters. “You’re so clingy.” The prince barks, voice conveying no real malice, and his servant reinforces his statement with a smile. “I know. Today’s treat is brioche.”

Tommy looks up from his mirthful contemplation, and innocently remarks, “Oh, It’s tea time.”

______________________
 

  
   
If Tommy wasn’t the slightest bit fazed by the wails and protests of people, Tubbo would’ve praised his impressive bravado. “This country may end very soon at the hands of it’s crazed people.” Tommy remarks, mist obscures his true emotions to a perfunctory gaze.

Fire scintillates like stars in the calm twilight, a time reserved only for tea and free from death now burnt with the protestors’ unmerited cries of justice and their blazing torches. The land was now roaring with cries as Eret, once a trusted knight, slithers off to the opposing side, prodding the restless crowds with his fangs to overthrow the government like the conspiratory snake he was. It was inevitable, but it still takes them by surprise when an informant so gracefully spits at his Highness shoes.

Tommy stands still, awaiting like he too had anticipated this perdition to one day arrive, but Tubbo won’t let it.

“If it’s said this is our punishment, I shall take it upon myself to oppose it.”

It’s another surprise for his brother, who weakly croaks out, “Wait, Tubbo, what?-”

Without a thought, he thrusts his cloak onto his brother’s arms, and retreats to a nearby chest to snatch a wig. It’s an ingenious design a tailor came up with, and the patent secured by the royal family through means not particularly legal, and it rests in between the bedroom walls.

Though he’d loved to ramble on about the wig, the revolution waits for no man, especially not the prince. Sovereignty are never spared in the peoples’ reclaim for freedom. He shoves it onto his head and tucks his hair into it.

In a gesture extemporaneously heartbreaking for the prince, Tubbo cusps Tommy’s hand, and bids him a warm smile that he so fondly greets him with every evening. “So basically; I’ll loan you my clothes, you wear them and escape immediately.”

Tubbo watches as Tommy’s world falls apart at the seams in slow motion, and it hurts. It fucking hurts.

Tommy’s facade falls apart as quickly as it does his heart. It’s fragmented and it’s reflected in his contracting pupils and trembling lips, unprecedented fear pervades through false confidence. The world seems to pause, and time ceases to continue to allow even further heartbreak on both sides. Sanity snaps and reverberates like a fine string pressed too hard, and though his mouth rests agape, nothing leaves his clever tongue. It’s like Tommy was the one who’s about to die.

With a hitch in his voice, his words bites down like the cold evening wind, every word enunciated with undying clarity.

“Tubbo, you can’t be serious-” A tear rolls down his cheek, but oh, he is serious. He wouldn’t attempt this if he wasn’t.

Tubbo wipes that tear away. It’ll ruin the disguise, would it not? “Eh. It’s fine. We look similar anyways. I guarantee no one will notice the difference.”

He’s evolved from a quiet whisper to a tempestuous storm, harshly barking with the tenacity that Tubbo’s come to know him for. “Dude, it’s not about that-! you’re my-”

“-Prince. I am the prince, you are a fugitive.”

Although unfair, Tubbo hoists him into a position where he has to acquiesce, and doing so, he resigns from his magnolia apparel and retires into the dirt green shirt Tubbo loves to wear. “Fate divided, sorrowful twins.” Tommy finishes, tears staining his cloak sable black. How pitiful the state Tommy had been diminished to; sobbing, crying and not even with his usual power to command Tubbo to not proceed with his plans. 

“If it’s said that you’re evil, then that same blood runs in me too.”

And they scurry off to their opposing sides. Servant and his prince. One free and the other destined for eternal prison. An axiomatic goodbye suffuses through the bedroom walls like the smoke in the castle grounds, and salty cheeks and quiet regrets.

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