"Please-" Ranboo begs, but his mind is empty – he doesn't know who he's talking to or why, only that it hurts and that his begging might stop it from hurting even more. There are hot tears streaming down his face that he only feels because his hands are clasped over his eyes, nails digging painfully into his scalp.
There is a whistle of something raised quickly, and the next thing Ranboo knows, there's a loud crack in his ribs.
He wakes up choking on his own scream and flinging himself off the bed. The pain of the fall doesn't register. All Ranboo can feel is the flaring agony in his chest. He tries to stand up, but blankets get tangled around his legs – his breath stutters and he scrambles backwards until his back is pressed into the bedframe.
Ranboo frantically jerks his shirt up. He searches his ribs – the one that's broken, the one that's killing him – but all he finds is smooth, healthy skin. No swelling, no splash of bruises ranging from plum-purple to ugly yellow, no blood dripping from the shards of glass stuck in his abdomen. The scars are here, still; a map of life that Ranboo doesn't remember – but the freshest of them are marked with a period of three-four months.
A sigh of relief echoes across the room. Ranboo massages his chest, taking in a few more deep breaths, every new one less shaky than the previous, until the phantom pain disappears completely. Little by little, the sickening-bright images in his head creep back into their den, and his mind gets clear enough to register that he's still in his room, inside the Imperial palace.
Ranboo remembers feeling exhausted yesterday. Despite Tubbo's insisting on helping him get dressed into a nightgown, he went to bed with the same clothes from the ball. Fancy button-up shirt that was picked out for him by his friend turned into a crumpled, battered mess. Ranboo would be glad to get rid of it now, but a glance at the window and the sun just barely tilting over the horizon confirm that it's too early for Tubbo to show up yet.
Ranboo stands up on his unsteady feet. The leather journal on the bedstand stares at him tauntingly. None of Ranboo's memories are pleasant, but this is one of the few that he really debates not writing down at all. Phil always insists he does, though, so he flips the cover open with a quivering hand.
Paper rustles as he skips to the latest record. "Sibling?" is written in bold letters and underlined multiple times at the top of a yellowish page. Before Ranboo can reach for the quill, a knock on the door forces him to walk up to it and peek out tenderly with one eye.
There's a woman waiting in the corridors. She seems vaguely familiar, but Ranboo can't quite put his finger down on where they met, until she says, "Her Majesty has sent me to invite you for breakfast," and he remembers that the woman is one of Niki's ladies-in-waiting.
Ranboo considers declining the invitation. He really doesn't feel like talking to people right now. The remains of the nightmare still cling to him, cold fingers grasping his throat. The lady seems impatient, tapping her foot on the floor, and Ranboo feels dread churning his insides at the thought of angering someone. The broken rib long since healed throbs dully.
"You can't just simply say no to a noble of a higher rank", he remembers Tubbo saying, "And especially not to royals. A lot of those barons and marquises would give anything to be in your place and get that closely acquainted with several monarchs."
Niki has been really nice to Ranboo last evening, shielded him from the rude gossip and undeserved insults. As glad as he was to get away from the dense crowd and join the queen at a table with delicious pastries, he felt bad for taking up her time. Ranboo owed Niki, even if she insisted otherwise, so with a crooked smile, he mutters, "I'll be ready in a minute."
Once he splashes his face with cold water and finds some fresh clothes to put on – a lilac-colored shirt, and a jacket of a darker color to match – he joins the woman, and she leads him all the way to the Western wing. There are still more places in the palace that Ranboo hasn't explored yet; with narrow corridors and empty halls changing each other more rapidly than he can grasp them, he wouldn't be able to find these huge birch doors even after a week's worth of exploration.
Ranboo reaches to twist the gold-gilded handle but the lady gives him an odd look, and he halts, retracting his hand. Right. Another of the weird palace rules that he can never get used to. An uncomfortable feeling twists his stomach as the lady-in-waiting peeks into the room and announces his presence, "Your guest has arrived, Your Majesty."
"Let him in."
Ranboo can never understand the necessity of having this many dining rooms in the palace. None of the walls or the carpets are ever the same yet there's a clear pattern with the depictions of wings and birds wherever his eyes fall. The stained-glass puzzle of the huge windows breaks sunlight into shades of pink; amidst of it, Niki, with her hands resting on the skirt of her pastel-green dress, looks like a tenderly blooming rose.
The lady-in-waiting sits down in a pointed curtsy. Now that he is reminded of formalities, Ranboo bows. It's too fast and clumsy and he almost bangs his head on the table that turned out to be closer to the entrance that he anticipated – but to his luck, Niki saves him the embarrassment and just smiles.
"Take a seat," she gestures at the empty chair to the opposite of her, and then turns to her lady-in-waiting. "Now, we wish to have some privacy."
Unlike Niki, who doesn't even look to make sure that the woman complies and pours water into tall glasses, Ranboo watches her leave with his head fully turned. A prideful tilt to her chin, yet utter attention and obedience to Niki's every word – she disappears with a step and a soft click of the closing doors.
From what Ranboo understood so far, ladies-in-waiting are a tight-knit circle of female servants of a queen. A few times he had seen Niki before the start of the celebrations, she was surrounded by ladies in colorful dresses, chatting with them idly; their chuckles and playful exclamations sounded like silver bells ringing on the wind, bringing an absent smile to Ranboo's lips.
He likes the institution of ladies-in-waiting way more than what he had seen so far in the court of Antarctic Princes: a grim group of guards that looked like they are wardening Wilbur rather protecting him, and a whole army of Theseus' servants that were almost as emotionless and prideful as him.
Minutes go by in comfortable silence and click of silverware, sometimes interrupted by an off-hand question by Niki: about how he is enjoying his stay at the palace, has he visited the capital and whether he made any friends yet. There is a miniscule furrow of her brows when he mentions Tubbo, but it's gone faster than he can raise his eyes, so Ranboo writes it off as a flick of his own imagination.
"What do you think of Prince Wilbur?" she asks suddenly.
Ranboo flinches. It's not an odd question, not really, but the events of the last night come back to him at once. After Wilbur left, Tubbo acted strangely for a while: put his ear against the door and gestured for him to stay quiet. And after a long minute of painstaking confusion, he whipped around to face Ranboo.
"What's happening?" Ranboo then asked.
"Ranboo, please reconsider your plans," Tubbo said, and the steel seriousness in his tone made shivers run down Ranboo's spine. "It's not just rude to lie to royalty. It's a punishable crime."
Ranboo frowned. "But Wilbur said it would be okay."
Tubbo only seemed to grow more frustrated at that. "Whatever Prince Wilbur says, whatever he does, do not trust him. Especially if it's something about Prince Theseus."
Tubbo didn't elaborate. Ranboo could only blink at him in confusion and mumble out an unsure agreement, and Tubbo went back to acting like nothing had happened at all.
The queen stays unperturbed by Ranboo's reaction. "Is there something weighing down your mind, Ranboo?" Niki asks, touching the edge of her lips with a napkin. "Perhaps if you share what's bothering you, I could come to your aid."
Niki has the same kind smile, the same open expression from yesterday, and it's not long before Ranboo decides that he can trust her.
"You and Wilbur have known each other for a long time, right?"
"That is correct," Niki confirms. "We've been friends since childhood."
"What is Wilbur's and Theseus' relationship like?"
Silence. It grasps the room in a tick of a moment, and Ranboo's anxious exhale is the only sound that dares to break it. Niki's hand freezes from where it was holding a knife over a piece of omelet. She doesn't put it down.
"You've asked the same question from the servants, haven't you?" Niki says.
Ranboo swallows down thickly. Niki wasn't there, so how can she know that?
It occurs to him that even though the lady-in-waiting closed the door, he never heard the sound of retracting footsteps.
"Yes?" he says, but Niki doesn't need his answer, already nodding to her own, inner thoughts. The knife finally returns to its place besides other silverware with a loud click that has Ranboo shuddering against his will. The impassive look on Niki's face turns softer, though there's still something else crawling in subtleties of the delicate lips and brows that puts Ranboo on edge.
It reminds him of a picture he saw in one of the books that Technoblade helped him to pick out in the library. Myths and legends, and amongst them – stories about mermaids, creatures of unparalleled beauty, who used to lure children and stray travelers with their sweet words only to then drown and devour them.
"The Antarctic Imperial family prefers to keep to a tight circle of family members and trusted subordinates. They do not tolerate people peering up too close to their personal affairs," Niki says, and even though she appears relaxed, glancing lazily at the clouds drifting past in the window, it sounds as though she gives Ranboo a warning. "You couldn't get out a word from the servants because they value their positions."
"But what about you?" Ranboo asks carefully. "I mean, you are a queen."
"Which means the stakes are higher for me than for anybody else," A glass twirls in Niki's hand. When she puts it down abruptly and gazes at him, Ranboo can't help but recoil.
"Royalty is not all about wealth and power and doing whatever you want. Our every move and word could be a step on the path of impending doom, damaging the relationship between our countries. No kings or queens – or princes," she clicks her tongue, staring at Ranboo intensely, "live without this burden. The Imperial family doesn't let go of mistakes easily, even of one of their own."
Ranboo's head pounds. Yesterday, he saw Phil talking to Theseus. He wasn't close enough to hear what exactly they were saying, but the prince rushed away afterwards as though he had wolves chasing after him. Wilbur said that Theseus would be fine – but Tubbo insisted that he mustn't believe Wilbur, and Ranboo wasn't sure whose side he was leaning to; even more so with new information Niki bombarded him with. He cracks his lips open, "Are you talking about Theseus?"
Niki doesn't neither confirm nor deny. She only leans forward and looks at Ranboo closely.
"Could I give you a piece of advice, Ranboo?"
"...Sure."
"There are a lot of commoner families in the capital that would love to take in a bright young man like you. Emperor Philza cares about you – that much is apparent – and he'll let you go if you ask."
It feels as though thunder explodes in Ranboo's ears.
"Let go?" he asks, barely above a whisper.
"I'm only saying this because I wish you well," Niki says, clasping her hands together. She looks almost sad, now – like pitying a baby rabbit caught in a hunting trap. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, or otherwise you'd thank me for warning you in time."
Ranboo stands up, chair screeching against the floor. Niki stays sitting even as he backs away from the table.
"I really doubt that," he says, twisting the handle and stumbling out of the room.
Ranboo's shoulders spike up to his ear as several ladies cut him off from the exit. He takes a step back – and another, and the third one – and jumps when Niki appears behind him, soundless as a fog slithering over the lake surface.
"Keep in mind that Theseus is as much my friend as Wilbur is," the queen says, flicking her hand. The women part to two sides, freeing the exit; Ranboo feels their eyes on him as he bolts.
***
Ranboo doesn't want to leave the palace. He understood it once he returned to his room, threw himself into a corner of a closet and reread his journal with a narrow slit of sunlight that sipped through. That simple word, "Sibling?" made his heart throb and wrench.
A few days ago, Ranboo woke up from a nightmare, standing in front of a one-story building with a sloped roof. It wasn't the first time that he wandered off to different parts of the palace while sleepwalking, but he has never reached the stables before.
Cold ground burned Ranboo's bare feet. He knew he should return back to his bed, but the lights of the palace in the distance seemed foreign and unwelcoming. Shivering, Ranboo listened to the sound of horses huffing and snorting softly in their sleep. He was tugged by the familiarity of it, by the warmth of the animals' bodies and their movement in the dark. Ranboo creeped inside, blindly climbed into the first stall he found and dropped into prickly hay, bringing his knees to his chin.
The smell of dry grass lulled him into a peaceful drift of somewhere between dreaming and being awake, up until a wave of warmth washed over his cold cheeks, and his eyes snapped open.
A giant horse stood over Ranboo. He held his breath as a chestnut muzzle pressed into his ear, tickling it. Ranboo reached out and carefully stroked the dark mane drooping from the horse's elegant long neck, and received a soft huff in return.
The stall door creaked open. Ranboo shrank back into a wall. Technoblade stood at the entrance, one hand holding a bucket full of water. If he was surprised to see Ranboo, he didn't show it; only put the bucket down and raised a brow.
"Hey, kid," he said. "What are you doing here?"
Ranboo's tongue felt too thick in his mouth, unable to form a single word. He only spoke to Technoblade once before, in the library; and even then, it was an exchange very brief and awkward, limited to the prince snatching books from shelves and putting them down into the shaking boy's arms. The general terrified him with his appearance alone: he could crush Ranboo's neck if he squeezed it hard enough, he could break all his ribs with one punch, he could –
Crouch down in front of him with a concerned expression?
"Are you alright, kid?" Technoblade asked. Ranboo swallowed down and shook his head.
"Do you want me to go look for Wilbur?"
"It's fine," Ranboo mustered out.
Technoblade shrugged and picked up the bucket again. He turned it over into the water trough. The horse turned around in the stall, careful to keep its hooves away from Ranboo, and craned its neck to drink.
He waited for Technoblade to say or do anything - perhaps punish him for sleeping in his horse's stall. Ranboo had no doubts about who the animal belonged to from how lovingly he patted its back. The general didn't look all that threatening now that he was pulling out a piece of apple from his pocket and feeding it to the horse.
"His name is Carl," Technoblade said all of a sudden, throwing a glance at Ranboo from the corner of his eye.
Ranboo straightened from where he was pressed into the corner. His heartbeat was evening out; his voice coming back to him after one hard swallow.
"He's beautiful," Ranboo muttered.
"Do you want to help me clean him?"
Ranboo nodded, standing up with the tenderness of a newborn deer. Technoblade walked out of the stall and returned with two circular brushes: one of them was offered to Ranboo.
"To shake off the dust, you need to move it like this- huh. You already got it."
Ranboo stared blankly at his own hand that started moving before the prince finished his sentence.
"Have you done this before?" Technoblade asked.
"It's my second time in the stables." Ranboo shook his head.
"Then maybe it's one of your older memories."
Violent flash of colors before his eyes, screams and whimpers of pain exploding in Ranboo's ears - the brush fell out of his hand, and Technoblade caught it before it could reach the ground.
For a long moment, there was silence. And then Technoblade's fingers wrapped around Ranboo's wrist, bringing his hand up to Carl's mane. The rough texture, the warmth and heaves of bristly skin grounded him. Absently, Ranboo picked up a few strands, his gaze focusing on the long braid swung over the prince's shoulder.
"Did you remember something?" Technoblade asked, sympathetic.
"I'm not sure," Ranboo shivered. "I think- I think I might have had a sibling. I don't know what their name is or what their face looked like, only that we were separated, and it was scary."
Technoblade made a sound of understanding - though Ranboo was not quite sure how he could understand any of what he was feeling, when both his siblings were safe and sound in the palace. He lost track of time they spent without saying anything to each other, until he blinked and suddenly Carl's mane was braided identical to the prince's hair.
"You're welcome to come to the stables at any time," Technoblade said, stepping away and taking both brushes into one hand. "We'd like to have you here. Both Carl and me."
"Really?" Ranboo's eyes widened. For the first time since the start of their conversation, Technoblade's indifference cracked into amusement. Ranboo felt blood rushing to his cheeks. "Thank you, Prince Technoblade."
"It's just Techno for friends," the prince said, and left.
Ranboo took upon the offer and was visiting Carl every day. He wants to continue doing it: helping Techno in comfortable silence, trail Wilbur to different events, explore the palace with Tubbo and learn writing with Phil. None of that will be possible if he leaves, and it's not like he has anywhere to go to. The only memory about his family that Ranboo has is about losing it, and everything else is vague flashes of blood-freezing fear. What if that's what awaits him outside of the palace? The source of all his scars - cuts on his hands, slashed lines along his back, traces around his ankle shaped too much like a tight metal cuff - might be just behind the palace walls.
Three out of four main Imperial family members want Ranboo to stay, and only Theseus is against it. More so, the crown-prince despises his entire existence, and there's an entire country's worth of nobles backing him up. Ranboo thought that Niki was on his side - but after today's morning, he wasn't so sure anymore.
As far as Ranboo could understand the power standings, the odds were not in his favor. His mind brings back to Wilbur's suggestion. Ranboo was doubting if he should follow through with it or not - the idea of lying didn't sit comfortable with him - but now it felt like he had no other choice.
Which brings him to the present, where he shivers under the intense stare of a knight in front of him. Ranboo hunches more and more as the ember eyes grow dark and heavy. His heart hammers against his ribs and it takes all his courage to keep his eyes looking forward and not at the sword resting against the man's hip.
"You are Prince Dream's letter friend?" the knight asks.
Ranboo pushes down his anxiety and opens his mouth to confirm, but then there's a voice from inside the prince's chambers:
"Sapnap, what are you waiting for? Let him come through."
"Whatever you say," the knight - Sapnap - glances at Ranboo with clear disapproval, but opens the doors, revealing a bright spacious parlor. Amongst dark-green cushions, swept off the couches and scattered across the floor into an uneven circle, is Prince Dream.
It seems that Ranboo's appearance has caught Dream at the time of rest. He wears simple white robes, flowing down from his shoulders and onto his knees to where he sits on the floor cross-legged. The sinister smiling mask that unnerved Ranboo every other time he had seen the prince before now sits innocently on a low table.
"Make yourself at home."
Upon Dream's wide, welcoming gesture, Ranboo joins him. It takes him some time to figure out the less awkward position he could take, and in the end, he just ends up sitting on his knees and resting his hands on top of them.
"So, you're the one I've been exchanging letters with?" Dream asks. A vine-shaped golden earring hanging from his earlobe trembles as he tilts his head.
Ranboo nods. He thinks that Dream would be asking him for a proof and recited internally what Tubbo had told him about the letters' content, but instead, the prince frowns.
"Are you sure?"
"What?"
"I would be very happy if you were my letter friend, but if not..." Prince Dream leans forward, his eyes flashing with a new, chilling shade of green, "I'd be so disappointed that I don't know what I'd do."
Gone were the polite words and soft smile, replaced by a scowl of a perching bird of prey. If the tone with which Prince Dream talked didn't make the threat apparent, then his expression certainly did, to the point where Ranboo feels the sweat beads forming at the back of his neck.
Tubbo's warning looms over him like a grim omen; the possible consequences of a lie seem to thicken and clot with each moment that Ranboo thinks about it, but he pushes down all the last bits of doubt he has and says, "I'm the one you've been looking for, Your Highness."
***
Banquet attendance usually dropped by the third day of the celebrations. It wasn't prioritized like the first or last day, and everyone wanted to enjoy themselves in the city or socialize with the people they had befriended. That had been the pattern ever since Tommy has been responsible for the Imperial Palace; it lasted three years, until today.
The hall was stuffed with chattering and gossiping groups. A few hours prior, a new rumor has gone through the palace that Prince Wilbur is taking Ranboo in as his aide, mixing with the news about Tubbo serving him. Not only was that enough to eliminate the disturbance that Tommy's words had caused yesterday, but it stirred up sharp curiosity towards Ranboo; the high society that was quick to dismiss him like a piece of stone in a jewelry box now picked him right back and surveyed him once more. With Ranboo being the first servant Prince Wilbur appointed to himself in years, it's only natural that the attention towards them both spiked.
"This is utterly unacceptable," Marchiness Beau declares instead of a greeting.
Until the last moment, Tommy debated talking to the Emperor personally to make sure that he was allowed to attend, but no message was delivered even after the sunset. That was easy, that was familiar; if his father was pulling the silent treatment on him, then Tommy will continue to act like nothing has happened at all, even if instinctively he knows that this visual calmness is the precursor of a brewing storm.
"What happened?" Tommy asks.
"Remember the rumor about Prince Dream looking for the recipient of his letters? Well, last evening that peasant pest came forward and admitted to exchanging letters with somebody anonymously."
Marchioness Beau fans herself furiously as she talks. Her rant works all the more to distract her from the grim silence on Tommy's side. The crown-prince bites down on his tongue hard enough for it to hurt and bring him back to reality - and the reality is that Ranboo decided to impersonate him.
Of course Ranboo may not necessarily know who he is impersonating, but it doesn't ease Tommy's anger when he sees Ranboo entering the ballroom together with Prince Dream. Apart from rightful fury, there's something more to the heavy feeling in Tommy's chest. He has known Prince Dream for a little more than a week. Their conversations were brief and short of words, but Tommy finds himself looking forward to each exchange with a buzzing sort of eagerness. And now that Ranboo flocks around the crown-prince of Esempi, Tommy couldn't force himself to approach even for a proper greeting.
First it was the Emperor, then Prince Wilbur and Queen Niki... And now, Ranboo has Prince Dream acting all attentive and friendly towards him. Tommy has learned the hard way that there are no coincidences in high society, and all the more his suspicions towards Ranboo grows. How many more daggers are hidden behind this demeanor of an innocent bystander?
Prince Dream introduces Ranboo to Sir Sapnap, and for a moment, the ember eyes of the knight flick towards Tommy. He looks away, only now realizing that he had been staring at them the whole time. He needs to focus; find something else to keep himself busy with, so he turns his attention back to Marchioness Beau.
The gossip in the court about Ranboo has eased; people preferred to choose their words with more cautiousness now that it was possible that he'll be serving one of the Antarctic princes. Beau either didn't get the memorandum or decidedly spat at it, because for the rest of the evening, Tommy listened to her rant about how insulting it is that a lowly commoner would serve a prince. She was right, of course; but Tommy didn't contemplate the lady's words as nothing but small talk, right until she says, with a dead-serious look in her eyes, "It occurs to me that Your Highness has a poor wit."
"Pardon me?" Tommy almost chokes on air, but fixes his expression from surprised to indignant.
"It's a known fact by now that your former aide is serving someone else now," Marchioness Beau says, and even though Tommy winces, he is glad that she didn't poke him with any names. "And overall, Your Highness has too little help for the position he occupies. I've been trying to indiscreetly nominate myself as your assistant for the past hour, not more nor less, but you failed to pick up on any of my hints."
Tommy blinks. It's not prohibited for princes to have female aides, just as princesses usually have males serving them along with their ladies-in-waiting, but it's certainly not common enough for Marchioness Beau to be so bold and confident about it. Tommy in particular never had any ladies in his court, mostly because he is wary of them - wary, mind you, not afraid. Growing up with Princess Niki made Tommy cautious of getting on women's bad side.
"Do you deem yourself suitable for the position?" Tommy raises a brow. "Are you familiar with the ways of governance?"
"Due to my step-mother's poor health, I fulfill the responsibilities of Lady of the manor for our family estate," A pointed look. "But I'm sure you already knew that."
Oddly, Tommy wants to suppress a smile. A few days prior he asked Wisp to dig up all information he could find on a number of palace visitors. His personal knight never was an example of perfect stealth; this occasion didn't require Tommy to be indiscreet about his research.
"And you're not afraid of the rumors going on about me?" Tommy prompts.
"Even if you have a murder on your conscience, Your Highness, I would hardly care. At times I feel like I'm ready to order an assassination on my step-brother."
Tommy's smile dims just a bit. It's clear that Beau has made a search on him as thorough as the one he ordered on her, but he didn't expect her to dig up the rumors this old and short-lived.
Beau continues to swing her fan idly, as if she didn't just talk about potential fratricide. Tommy can only accept the fact that the marchioness is a straightforward person unlike any other he's met before. And, in a way, he appreciates that she wasn't trying to hide her true intentions. Beau belonged to a noble family that once was part of the Kingdom of Esempi. With their lands taken over during the war, the choice for them was to either swear their allegiance to Antarctic Empire or be subjected to slavery, as war prisoners; traitors of the crown and lifetime convicts usually are.
Despite choosing to bow their heads before Emperor Philza, they were in a clearly disadvantageous position in comparison to noble families that had their roots centuries deep in the Empire's history. That and the competition between Beau and her step-brother that was clearly not going in her favor, the lady made a smart choice of seeking power from a different source, and Tommy couldn't help but admire her for it.
"Your ascendancy started the first day that your name was said in the walls of this palace," Quackity said to thirteen-year-old Tommy, standing in front of the map of the Empire. "You maythink that your time as the crown-prince is just a preparatory phase for becoming an Emperor - but you must not waste it, and you must start making allies."
A crown-prince is a lot more than just a title, Tommy has learned. The crown-prince is the ruler's heir, his successor and shadow and hope but amongst everything else - his biggest rival. People would inevitably compare Tommy to his father in everything he does, and it's in his power to decide whether he'll continue Emperor Philza's legacy or build his own.
"Your father bears a halo of long years of earned trust. The nobles know that they are going to be treated with kindness and understanding for as long as they commit to their duties and don't step out of the line. Not everybody accepts that sort of treatment, though."
The tone with which Quackity said it made Tommy think that he was one of those "not everybody."
"You have to show the nobles that supporting you will give them something in return. What people truly want to achieve with power is safety, stability, peace - or simply wealth, that's common. Sometimes, there are individuals who crawled out of the pit the life has thrown them into, and now they're trying to reverse the roles."
"They are scared," Tommy said.
"Exactly, Theseus," Quackity's dark eyes flashed with something dark and sinister. "And they'll do anything in their power to get to the very top, where nobody could look down on them or threaten them again."
Tommy acts careful when choosing his servants. All of his personal attendants come from prestigious families; they affect his image and reputation as much as he does theirs. The Imperial family's wealth and influence is cast upon their loyal shadows; they act as bridges between them and nobility. That's been Tubbo, for the longest time, or Sir Sapnap to Prince Dream.
As good as was the impression that Tommy had gotten of Beau, he wouldn't appoint her right away. Instead, he invited her for an exclusive dinner held for the guests of the Special Banquet. The attendees change every year, and the aim of it is to get them all familiar with each other the day prior.
Tommy wouldn't be able to invite Beau to the Banquet even if he wanted to, as the guest list consists only of twenty people, and made by the Emperor himself months ago, but it was in the prince's power to bring along more people to the dinner if he desired so.
It seems like it wasn't only Tommy who used his host advantages to invite an extra guest to the table: upon entering the dining room Tommy and Beau almost bump into a tall figure in a ridiculous purple jacket.
"Theseus!" Ranboo exclaims. And when Tommy's expression turns askew, Ranboo puts an arm across his chest and bows. "Oops. I mean, I greet you, Your Imperial Highness."
Tommy glares at Ranboo, but doesn't answer his greeting. It brings him a grim sort of satisfaction when Beau follows his example and snarls at the commoner in distaste. Tommy walks past Ranboo and into the dining room, scanning it for empty seats.
At the head of the table is the Emperor. Wilbur occupies the seat to his right. Opposite to the Antarctic prince sits Prince Dream, his mask put next to his plate. Their eyes meet; Prince Dream smiles at Tommy and dips his head. Tommy would smile back if it wasn't for Ranboo popping up behind him, "Dream! Can I sit next to you?"
"Sure," Prince Dream shrugs. He continues smiling but Tommy sees the change in his eyes from bright and welcoming to mildly bored. Ranboo doesn't seem to notice, striding up to Prince Dream and dropping onto the empty chair.
By the sequence of titles Tommy would be expected to be as close to the Emperor as possible, but he doesn't want to sit facing Wilbur, especially when his brother is watching him expectantly, chin propped up on his hand, and a sly tilt to his lips.
Tommy notices two princes at the other side of the table. Fundy's eyes land on Tommy; he turns away from Wilbur and mouths, "Help."
"Uncle Theseus!" Fundy beams. One moment the boy swings off the chair, and the next one there is a hand grasping Tommy's sleeve and dragging him away from the Emperor and Wilbur. "Sit with me!"
Nobody can reason with the whim of a five-year-old child, and Fundy uses that to his full advantage. He keeps up his innocent smile but Tommy knows better than to trust this bright toothy grin.
"You owe me," Fundy declares. Tommy can only hope that he'll be able to repay this debt with something as easy as sneaking him off his lessons. Some prudent servant brought a pillow for Fundy to sit on, because he was too short to reach the table otherwise. Tommy hoists his nephew up onto the chair.
"Aren't you a little too young to attend the dinner?" he asks.
"Dad said so too," Fundy says, swinging his legs, hands clasped between his knees. "But I asked uncle Techno, and he let me tag along."
Tommy's hum is both acknowledgement and a question. Techno usually skips social events that are not listed as mandatory, and Tommy didn't expect him to show up today either.
With how motionless his brother sits, he might as well be a stone statue. "We don't see each other often," he states as a matter-of-factly. "I thought it'd be a good opportunity to spend some time together."
"I'm sorry that I wasn't able to help you out with Carl the other day," Tommy says. Techno's words warm up his chest way more than they should have, and he can't help but feel guilty about it.
"It's fine." Techno shrugs him off.
More guests start arriving; soon enough, the table is filled with chattering people, and servants start bringing the first course. It's well into the middle of the long meal when a loud crash brings the entire room's attention to the head of the table, where wine drips onto a plate from a spilled goblet.
"You're being very disrespectful, Prince Dream," Wilbur says coldly.
"What's disrespectful about pointing out someone's mistake? If Ranboo is impersonating my dear friend, isn't it only natural that I'd try to protect their honor?"
"Prince Dream, watch your tongue," Wilbur warns.
"Watch your servant," Prince Dream fends off, and Wilbur's mouth clicks shut out of surprise.
Tommy can't help a satisfied smile that creeps up his lips. He knew that Wilbur was only spreading rumors about employing Ranboo to boost his reputation, not thinking whether it could come biting him later or not. He should've kept in mind that every action that a servant takes, his master also becomes responsible for.
Prince Dream's chin rests on his hand, his expression too bored and relaxed for a person in an active argument with the Imperial family.
"I'm feeling terribly offended," he sighs. "First Ranboo, then Prince Wilbur. Are you slighting me, or my kingdom?"
Ranboo's eyes turn as wide as the tea plate in front of him. Wilbur bites on his lip, watching Prince Dream with a furious, sharp expression.
"Or, perhaps,was it His Majesty's idea to use me?"
Fundy takes a large bite out of his cookie, and the sound of him chewing is comically loud in Tommy's ears. He doesn't feel like laughing, however, as such a serious accusation is put on the Imperial family. The Emperor, who only frowned and watched the argument passively until this moment, has no other choice but to get involved.
"Ranboo clearly told you that he had momentarily gotten the contents of the letters mixed up," he says in an even tone.
"And I clearly said that it's bizarre that my pen pal would get over half of the letters' contents confused."
"Not if the said pen pal has a history of memory issues," Wilbur interrupts.
Dream's recoils in annoyance, like a person who heard the same argument many times before; he slams his hands on the table and stands up. The dining room falls silent once more, the guests' attention turning solely to the prince.
"Everyone, am I the one odd one here?" Dream asks, raising his voice. "Yesterday, Ranboo said that he is the recipient of my letters, and I trusted him without an inkling of suspicion because I thought that a friend of the Imperial family wouldn't lie to me. But today, he doesn't know half of our exchange, and refuses to let me compare his handwriting to the letters I received."
Because he doesn't even know how to write , Tommy thinks grimly. He doesn't take any satisfaction in listening to people who agree with Prince Dream. He's glad that his pen pal was able to figure out Ranboo's lie, but this argument was nearing the dangerous borders of a scandal. Wilbur can easily stop it by punishing Ranboo- but he isn't doing it, and Tommy is growing uneasy.
He scans the situation around him. Fundy went through an entire plate of cookies, watching the scene like it was an entertaining show. Techno shows no sign of interest whatsoever, but the tall and broad man - even in comparison with the general next to him - has his eyes on Tommy. Duke Sam hasn't said a word since the start of the dinner, except greeting the prince's at the very start. He glances at the Emperor and then back at Tommy, expression neutral and unchanging. Is he hinting that Tommy should get involved?
"It's too much," Ranboo mumbles, head in his hands. "I recalled the contents of the letters exactly, but Prince Dream keeps insisting that I'm lying."
"Perhaps it's because Ranboo is not of a high social standing that Prince Dream is drawing a line," Wilbur instantly picks up.
If Tommy didn't stop himself in time, his mouth would've fallen open. Not only are they blatantly deceiving every guest at the table, Ranboo is also playing an innocent victim, twisting the story in a way that made Dream look like the villain. Tommy was used to that sort of treatment from Wilbur, and he could tolerate it - but as long as it was aimed at him and not anybody else. Not at a foreign prince. Not at a person who was kind to Tommy despite their brief acquitance, and who owned two wonderful pets that he got helplessly attached to. The friendship that Ranboo repeatedly claimed to be his was between Prince Dream and Tommy.
"I didn't want to get involved," Tommy stands up, "but it seems as though I need to clear up everyone's misunderstandings."
He proceeds to walk to the head of the table, keeping his pace slow, letting everybody feel his confidence and authority.
"Your Majesty, I know who the recipient of Prince Dream's letters is. It's not Ranboo."
Ranboo flinches. Wilbur fails to hide his surprise.
"Theseus, you shouldn't side with Prince Dream just because you hate Ranboo," The Emperor narrows his eyes at Tommy.
Before Tommy can defend himself and say that he's only on the side of the truth, Prince Dream's tall figure moves to stand in front of him.
"The Emperor seems to believe the words of one of his sons but not the other." He frowns, casting a look at Tommy over his shoulder. "How frustrating it must be for you, Your Highness."
"Prince Dream!"
But Prince Dream already pulls out a sword out of his sheaths, and everybody at the table holds their breaths. The Antarctic prince freezes, his chin tilted up. Tommy can tell a real blade apart from a decorative one - if Prince Dream stood one step closer, the steel tip would slit Wilbur's throat open.
"I can't tolerate this anymore. Prince Wilbur, I'm challenging you for a duel!"
Princes of neighboring powerful nations. A duel between them wouldn't just fuel the rumors and mockery of royalty but could become a serious threat to the brittle peace between two countries. Moreso if Prince Dream kills Wilbur.
Duels are not always meant to end with death, but it wasn't rare that serious injuries were sustained in the process. Tommy's heart skips a bit at the thought of Wilbur getting hurt. He doesn't even consider the possibility of him overpowering Prince Dream; the art of sword was always Techno's fortè and Wilbur's greatest weakness.
Nobody sees Techno moving but everybody shudders at the sound of one sword clashing with the other. Prince Dream's blade is forcefully moved away from Wilbur's neck. He withstands the stare of Techno's eyes, a play of light and shadows on their reflective surface giving them a haunting blood-red glint. This gaze is not aimed at Tommy and never will it be, he knows, but it's not less scary to see the man transitioning from Tommy's older brother Techno to General Blade.
Tommy's oldest brother isn't skilled in politics and doesn't wish to participate in international affairs. He couldn't care less that Dream was in his full right to call out Wilbur's behavior. Techno will put a sword through his guts if he turns out to be a threat to their family's safety.
"General," Dream says.
"Prince Dream," Techno greets. "I accept your challenge in my brother's stead."
"This is between Prince Wilbur and I. It is not proper decorum to interrupt one's duel, especially when they have a rightful cause for it."
"If you wish to stay at the palace longer, you'll come to learn that I have little care for decorum."
Techno pushes forward, and Tommy can see the distinct blue of individual veins protruding on Prince Dream's hand. Too little is known about the heir of Esempi for Tommy to tell if he stands any chance against Techno, but Tommy has no doubts that there are people at the table who would wish to see the secretive prince in action.
"I'll take upon that offer some other time, Prince Technoblade."
Dream smiles and twists his blade out the way, clicking it back into its sheath. It's the sound of a key locking away the prince's secrets once more.
The clutches of panic ease their hold on Tommy; He clears his throat and turns to the table full of tense guests. The mood was already beyond ruined even before the swords were drawn. People had their handkerchiefs pulled out to wipe away occasional sweat. A lot of food and planning will go to waste but it would be unfair of Tommy to keep the guests sitting when the atmosphere is so uncomfortable.
"The dinner will end here. Thank you everyone for coming."
Tommy is one of the first people to leave, desperate for some fresh air to cool himself off with. Marchioness Beau follows him out of the dining room, stretching her arms and sucking in a loud breath.
"I couldn't stomach any food from how tense it was there," she complains.
Tell me about it , Tommy slumps against a wall.
"You won't forget to consider me for the position of your new aide, Your Highness?" For Beau, Tommy's closed eyes aren't enough of an indicator that he wants some silence.
"How can I, Your Ladyship?" Tommy sighs, cracking an eye open. With less dripping sarcasm and more honesty, he adds, "I hope we can chat some more tomorrow."
Beau leaves, and Tommy returns to his duty of seeing the rest of the guests off. Most of them have already left the dining room when Ranboo's figure blocks out the doorway; for a second or so, at least, before Tommy grabs his shoulder and drags him into a different hall.
Ranboo puts one foot after another automatically. It's not even amusing how little fight he puts as Tommy slams him into a wall. Techno taught him how to do it without risking breaking or cracking any bones - the worst Ranboo will have after this is a nasty bruise.
"Why did you lie to Prince Dream?" Tommy snarls.
Ranboo's face turns betrayed. Tommy hates that little part of himself that is still capable of pity towards Ranboo, the parasite that squirmed his way into the Imperial Palace. Now that he has seen that Ranboo is capable of deceit and manipulation, he can't let him roam around freely. The last thing he needs now is a second Wilbur - or Clara - breathing down his neck.
"I was only trying to help you because it seemed like you didn't want others to know about the letters," Ranboo says.
Yes, Tommy swallows down the tightness in his throat. That's why Tubbo was supposed to keep quiet about them. There was only so much damage that a knife in Tommy's back could make. It was time for him to stop clinging to the past and accept the fact that in every way possible, Tubbo has betrayed him.
Weeks worth of anger and holding himself back all come ablaze. Tommy doesn't try to hide his fury now, and Ranboo freezes, only his chest heaving with sharp inhales.
"I don't know what game you're playing at, Ranboo, but your position here is way more rickety than you might think. The Emperor and Prince Wilbur will get tired of you eventually, and then they'll toss you out to the streets, right where you belong."
"They wouldn't abandon me," Ranboo protests weakly.
"Oh, believe me, they would," Tommy gloats, though what he really wants is to laugh bitterly and cry. "If you stay out of my way for the time being, I'll consider packing you a meal for the journey."
Ranboo continues to stare at Tommy in disbelief.
"Why are you so mean to me?" he says, his voice shaking.
A little more to this conversation and Ranboo will drive him crazy. Tommy considers slamming Ranboo into something again and would proceed with it if it wasn't for the familiar pattern of Wilbur's footsteps. He lets go of Ranboo just at the right moment so that his brother would only stumble upon one lost boy and one annoyed prince standing a few feet away from each other.
"Why is Ranboo upset?"
Odd. Wilbur sounds genuinely concerned asking this question and pulling Ranboo into a comforting half-hug. Not so odd is that the suspicion in his eyes immediately targets Tommy. At least this time he deserved it.
"I asked him why he lied about being Prince Dream's letter friend," Tommy says with a smooth expression.
Wilbur pursues his lips. One hand massages his temples, the other one freezes at Ranboo's shoulder.
"Can't you just... overlook it?"
"Overlook it?" Tommy raises his voice. "Prince Wilbur, you tarnished the honor of Esempi's royal family and were challenged to a duel ."
"Don't blame Ranboo." Wilbur runs a hand down his face. "It was I who suggested the lie. I'm sorry, Ranboo, it was my mistake."
"It's okay. You had my best interest in mind."
Tommy can't believe his ears. It was Tommyand Prince Dream who were wronged yet Wilbur apologizes to Ranboo, who was a pawn in his game the entire time.
"I should be blaming you for the clown show earlier, then," Tommy interrupts with a sharp snarl and crossed arms. "Being a prince doesn't mean you can misappropriate someone's name and avoid facing any consequences."
"So what is it that you want?" Wilbur asks.
"An apology to Prince Dream. And for you to take responsibility for your lies."
Wilbur laughs, in a way that is the furthest from humorous. "No."
"Afraid of losing face? Well, maybe you'll finally know what it feels like."
"Doesn't stand even close to the shame of being kicked out of your own event."
Ranboo's eyes widen. Was punching Tommy in the guts like this was a part of their plan?
"That's enough." Tommy catches the sight of Techno's frown to his right. "Leave him alone, Wilbur."
"He doesn't care anyway, Tech," Wilbur says, but takes Ranboo by his elbow and leads him away. The damage, however, is already done. The twisting feeling in Tommy's throat only eases when Techno puts a hand on the back of his neck.
"I heard about what happened between you and Father."
"And what do you think of it? Tommy asks, suspecting that he already knows whose side will Techno take.
"I'm not Wilbur," Techno once said, and only later Tommy learned the true meaning behind those words. Wilbur used to share his irritation and resentment towards their father with Tommy; Tommy listened and tried to mitigate their conflicts as much as he could. He was confused, for the longest time, where all this hate and hurt was coming from; up until the roles were reserved, and it was Tommy who became a ghost in his father's eyes - or rather a poltergeist, the rebellious and bold young boy he was.
Tommy clenched his fists. "Maybe it's Father's fault that Wilbur left."
Steel clattered against steel. Tommy's head snapped at Techno, who picked up a sword from a stand - a real sword, not their training ones - and tossed it at his younger brother. Tommy had never sparred with one of these until that moment, so he stared at it with a mix of wariness and disbelief.
"The Emperor is a ruler before he is a father," Techno said in a tone that made Tommy think that he was suppressing his anger. "Don't you think that he's trying his best?"
Tommy's hesitation crumbled like a dry flower in a clenched fist. He was trying his best, and yet he wasn't allowed to be any less than perfect; but Father could make mistakes and Tommy was expected to just ignore them?
"He barely talks to me anymore," he gritted his teeth, picking up the heavy sword.
"Then he must have more important matters to attend to."
"More important than me?"
"You're acting like a child, Theseus."
Tommy lunged at Techno first, anger and grief mixing into his battle cry. Techno stepped away and let him fly past. Tommy almost lost his balance but kicked a foot in time to stop himself from falling face-first into sand. He whipped around for another attack and saw Techno falling into a fighting stance.
"It's unfair of you to make it all about yourself when it's Father who is struggling the most. You don't see him weighing down anybody with his own burden," Techno said, raising his sword.
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Tommy shouted.
"Find a different way to channel your anger and don't make others suffer because of your selfishness."
Tommy tasted blood on his tongue from how hard he bit down on his lip. He attacked, even knowing full-well that his fighting skills stood nowhere near his brother's. Blinded by the fury running like lava in his veins, Tommy burned his energy uselessly on heavy blows that never went past Techno's defenses. Metal blades clattered and rang against each other, their vibration passing to Tommy's bones. A few minutes in and his chest was heaving, and his hands trembled, and he struggled to keep the sword straight.
That's when Techno made his first offensive move. A short swing and a precise hit sent the sword flying out of Tommy's hands and to the other side of the training circle. Tommy glanced, exhausted, between his own empty hands and Techno slowly walking up to the blade.
"However angry you are at Father or at me," he said, picking up the sword and adjusting his grip on the handle, "It won't change the fact that we are your family, the only one you'll ever have in your life. Everything and everyone outside of it is temporary and unreliable."
Techno put the sword back in his hands and gestured at him to extend it. When Tommy complied, Techno spread his shoulders wider and fixed his stance by a light kick to his foot. The sword felt immediately lighter, tension shifting from the upper part of his arm to the tauter low.
When Techno's sword clashed against his again, Tommy was able to withstand it. Techno lowered his weapon and looked at him softly. "We're not perfect, Theseus," he said. "But everything we do, we do for you. Family would never harm you in any way."
Thinking back of it now, Tommy wants to smirk bitterly. He'd ask Techno whether his opinion has changed now that Wilbur tries to make his life miserable at every turn, but this conversation was not about Wilbur.
"Father didn't mean it," Techno says, just as Tommy has expected him to. "He snapped at you when you shouldn't have. He'll come around if you apologize first."
Tommy clears his throat. "Why would I?"
"Because he is your father. And, whatever way you look at it, your superior."
Doesn't mean he can't be wrong. Those words stay behind sealed lips.
"I'll try," he promises instead, looking away. "Tomorrow, after the Special Banquet."
"Good." Techno understands it, too; he doesn't press Tommy any further and pats his shoulder comfortingly. "And, one more thing, Theseus. Do you remember my warning? It's better if you stay away from Prince Dream."