The guests started arriving at the palace, and Tommy never has been as busy.
Summer Solstice is one of the biggest events of the entire year. Annually, apart from nobles in the Empire itself, delegations from neighboring countries are invited to take part in the celebrations, including a few royals. With all the advisors, secretaries, servants and other close subordinates, the number of people in each court can go up to half a hundred individuals. Needless to say, trying to fit this crowd into the palace without accidentally offending someone or causing any discomfort is a huge headache for Tommy – he almost went mad trying to assign chambers for Queen Niki’s ladies-in-waiting.
One of these days, Tommy works in his office, when a secretary comes bowing and puts something on his desk. Dimply, his gaze focuses on a white envelope. It smells of roses, and the handwriting is too familiar for him not to recognize, all neat lines and an occasional tiny swirl. Before Tommy knows it, he is already opening the envelope and carefully pulling out the letter inside.
I’ll be home tomorrow.
One line, four words, but to Tommy, they feel like everything. Techno’s coming, Techno will be home , his mind cheers. He feels like bouncing back and forth on his feet from excitement, until he remembers where he is, and that the secretary’s eyes are still on him. Tommy presses his lips into a thin line. “Thank you for delivering me the pleasant news.”
Hours have been ticking by very slowly since then. Suddenly all these months Tommy and Techno spent apart turn into nothing in comparison with a single day. Fortunately, or not-so, the crown-prince has too much work to think about often. Even to his walk in the gardens the next noon, Tommy brings a pile of documents. In the end, all his efforts are in vain, because no matter how much he stares at them, pinned to a bench with random stones he found in the grass, the words continue to dance around the page and don’t make any sense to his fog-clogged brain.
Five minutes , Tommy thinks, rubbing his eyelids. I can allow myself a quick break.
If Tommy sat down, he would probably end up falling asleep for good, so he finds a tree to lean against instead. Closing his eyes and throwing his head back, he relishes in the feeling of sunlight gently brushing his skin.
He doesn’t get to enjoy his rest for more than a minute when his instincts suddenly burst screaming that something is wrong. Tommy’s eyes snap back open and scan the area in search of what could’ve set off his senses. A bee lazily buzzes by, and a dry leaf crunches in his hands as he squeezes it subconsciously - but other than that, it’s quiet. Too quiet.
Tommy leaps away from the tree. He doesn’t make it a foot away before a strong arm pins him to someone’s chest, and something cold pressed to his throat . A dagger, Tommy breath hitches.
Everything that comes next Tommy does on pure instinct. He grabs at the hand holding the blade and jerks it abruptly with all the force he can muster. The arm slips away as he twists his way around the hold. Tommy tries to pin the attacker’s arm to their back, but is swiped along when they duck into a roll.
The knife glints sharply past him. Tommy, still flying forward, grabs at his own belt. Colors burst in front of his eyes as they land, and he blindly throws his weapon forward.
A strong hand grabs his wrist. When Tommy can finally see clearly, he finds himself on the ground, the knife in his hands inches away from the attacker’s throat. His breathing is heavy; adrenaline kicks in lately, burning his veins and speeding up his heart uselessly while the other person’s chest rises and falls in an even, calm rhythm. With the attacker’s face so close to his own, Tommy can see each minuscule feature despite the long shadow of a hood – and what he sees is not aggression, not fear, but a bizarre combination of curiosity and boredom, an expression that only one person in the world could bear.
“You’re dead,” Tommy says.
Unlike what most people think, Techno’s eyes are not red, but a very light shade of blue, surrounded by a thin ring of darker color. Depending on the lighting, its tone can vary from pink to crimson. “Are you sure about that?” Techno says, and as he raises a brow, his eyes have a dull purple glint.
Tommy looks at his own chest. There, pressed perfectly between his two ribs, is a delicate thin stiletto. Techno holds it still, halted abruptly a flick of a moment before it could plunge into his beating, living heart.
That's one way to start their first conversation in almost half a year. Any other person would have panicked, or started screaming by now, but all Tommy does is let his head fall back on the grass, silently admitting his defeat.
Internally, Tommy is happy. To see Techno, that is, not to get tossed around like a ragdoll, but it’s an obligatory extension that comes with having General Technoblade as his older brother.
There is an understandable concern rising within any country whenever twins are born into the ruling family. History has shown that the closer siblings are, the bloodier they’re going to fight for the throne. Power struggles rarely end well; while the heirs are busy trying to tear each other’s throats, they fail to notice how the country goes up in crimson flames.
Tommy’s older brothers were spared from that fate. Techno never showed any interest towards politics and diplomacy and practically any part of a prince’s daily routine. While Wilbur eagerly participated in every social event held in the palace, Techno was ready to lock himself into a tower and throw the key out of the window if it meant he wouldn’t have to talk to another person in his life again. Between them two, it was obvious who Emperor Philza chose as his heir.
It wasn’t until the twin princes started their physical training that Techno found his true talent. Talent is nothing without hard work, and no effort can compensate for a lack of talent; Techno, however, has a scary amount of both. It’d be easier to move a mountain than to stop him when he decides on a new goal – stubborn and competitive, it’s like he breathes and lives with a single purpose – to conquer, to improve and to perfect .
The stiletto pressing into his ribs disappears. Tommy didn’t even blink, and Techno already hid it away to- where? His sleeve, belt, boot – Tommy wouldn’t know. If he had to place a bet, he’d say that there are three different weapons hidden somewhere on Techno’s body.
“That’s unfair,” Tommy says, sheathing his own weapon. “My knives are for throwing, not for close-combat defense.”
Techno straightens up and offers Tommy a hand. “The problem isn’t in your weapon but in your reflexes. You’re just too slow. If there’ll ever be another assassination attempt, you’ll be dead before you realize what attacked you.”
“It’s been three years,” Tommy says.
Majority of the countries on the continent have a certain symbol to represent them. For Esempi, it’s a dragon, for Kinoko kingdom – a white rabbit; historically, Antarctic Empire was associated with a blue-eyed crow.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Looking upon the flapping flag, Techno squeezed eleven-year-old Tommy’s hand tighter. “We’re the rotting body now, and everybody else is a hungry crow.”
Problems started arising in the Empire less than a week after Wilbur’s disappearance. Everybody felt the shudder of the imperial family, a crack that ran through the very heart of the country. Unwavering, formidable Emperor Philza suddenly turned into a simple man, broken with the loss of his wife and his child. Every rat lurking in the shadows took its chance to strike; two conflicting barons burned each other’s villages down, other kingdoms challenged their rights for border territories, and bandits huddled up together in organized structures, terrorizing traders on smaller roads.
Techno took his sword and left the capital to reestablish order in the Empire. He couldn’t have predicted that enemies would wriggle their way into the palace. If Tommy didn’t burst into the Emperor’s office that fateful day, the country could’ve been left without a ruler: the mercenary – Punz, as they later learned – got distracted by the prince’s appearance, and instead of plunging a knife to Philza’s heart, threw him out of the closed windows.
Tommy still remembers it vividly. The explosion of colored glass and a scream full of horror – Tommy’s own scream. By the time he ran up to the broken window, Father was already on the ground outside, his eyes closed, and the grass beneath him quickly turning red.
He- he doesn’t like to remember that very much. Tommy closes his eyes, chasing the image away, and takes Techno’s hand.
Techno pulls him into a quick hug. It’s a greeting and an apology all the same. Despite a heavy stink of sweat from Techno’s clothes, Tommy lets himself tuck his head under his brother’s chin, relishing in the feeling of security and safety – Techno’s here now, and nothing can threaten him anymore.
Tommy pulls away as soon as he hears steps on the gravel path – affection, even between family members, is only acceptable in private. A servant strides up to them, opening an umbrella in the process.
“I’ll be taking that,” Tommy says. “You’re dismissed.”
The servant looks like they’re about to protest, but one synchronized glare from Tommy and Techno, and it’s like they never have been here in the first place. Tommy holds out the umbrella over his brother’s head. Techno nods gratefully and throws his hood down.
As a child, Techno was nicknamed the Snow Prince. It’s hard to find a country more fitting for a prince with albinism to be born into than Antarctic empire. When he walks through the curtain of light snowstorms, Techno looks like an illusion, a mirage of Winter itself. Most of their childhood, Tommy remembers his skin not as white but red, from the constant burns that littered every inch of his skin that was exposed to the sun for too long.
“You’re usually not this terrible,” Techno says. Tommy would’ve winced; but coming from Techno, it can almost count as a compliment. “How many hours of sleep did you get last night?”
“Eight.”
A lie, and a very bold one at that. Tommy feels almost guilty as Techno eyes him critically. “Theseus, I’ve seen corpses that look more alive than you do. I need a truthful answer.”
“Five?” Tommy tries.
“Theseus .”
Sometimes, Tommy feels as though Techno came up with his name just for the sole purpose of scolding him like this. “Fine, three,” Tommy sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “But I’m feeling okay. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about the state of border walls. Did you manage to-”
Techno’s sheathed sword swipes Tommy’s legs from under him. He doesn’t have the time to do as much as yelp as he loses his balance and falls. Techno grabs Tommy’s arm before he could hit the ground and yanks him back to his feet.
“No work talk for you until you get some rest,” Techno declares, wrestling the umbrella out of Tommy’s fingers, “and that is final.”
Tommy sways. His head won’t stop spinning. He takes a few deep breaths and wipes away the sweat on his forehead. “I’m afraid that won't happen. The delegacy from Esempi is arriving in about an hour. I have to greet them personally.”
“You do that, and I’ll go talk to Father in the meantime,” Techno hums. “And as soon as you’re finished, you’ll take a nap. Am I understood?”
“Deal,” Tommy says.
***
Kingdom of Esempi is the second biggest country on the continent after the Antarctic empire. Like a rare flower of far, far north, it bloomed despite all hardships and odds – including, but not limited to, ten years of King Schlatt’s tyrannical rule. He was dethroned in the result of a rebellion and a civil war. His sister, Queen Caroline, took the throne and quickly built the kingdom back from its ruins. Tommy faintly remembers seeing her once, when he was younger, but the larger part of his life Esempi was ruled by her first son, Foolish, who continued to strengthen the country after his mother’s death.
King Foolish wasn’t married, and neither he had any children – meaning that his younger brother Dream is the next in line for the throne. This year will be the first time the crown-prince of Esempi visits the Empire. As a procession of carriages and armored knights’ marches through the front gates of the palace, Tommy fidgets with a button of his shirt from nervousness and curiosity alike.
Esempi is a seaside country, with the third of its territory split between far-away islands, but its national colors are green and gold. A richly decorated carriage with a flag flapping in the wind stops right in front of the stairs.
The first person to exit it is a black-haired man in his twenties. He jumps out of the carriage with cat-like agility, stretching his shoulders with visible delight. Somebody less informed would’ve been confused about the man’s identity, but Tommy has done his research and recognized Sir Sapnap from the molten amber of his eyes. He is said to be Dream’s personal knight and closest friend who the prince never leaves his estate without.
Sapnap’s eyes fall on Tommy, scanning and analyzing and curious. Tommy got weaned from people staring at him so openly, but doesn’t cower and glares back with a lofty frown. Sapnap looks away and bows, “Your Imperial Highness, greet prince Dream from the kingdom of Esempi.”
The carriage sways slightly as another figure steps out it. For a second, Tommy gets blinded by a flash of reflected sunlight. When he finally blinks away the colored spots, he comes face-to-face with Dream.
There are a lot of different rumors going on around about the crown-prince. People describe him as sinister and ruthless – a person who can plunge a weapon to your heart with a smile on his face. Anybody who crosses Dream’s way, ends up dying in odd circumstances; they say that his latest victim was a marquise who supposedly plotted against King Foolish’s rule, and died shortly after his servants found him under a heavy rain, covered in severe burns.
A strange case indeed, and Tommy isn’t the one to blindly believe in rumors, but now he sorts of understands where they could be coming from. A mask stares at him. Thin black curve of a smile drawn under two dotty eyes, smooth and covering over Dream's entire face, sends a shiver down his spine.
Tommy knew that the crown-prince will come wearing a mask; it's a custom for members of royal family of Esempi, and king Foolish always had one on during his visits to the Empire. Made entirely out of gold, it was a purposefully rough and too-symmetric depiction of a face with giant emeralds where a normal person's eyes would be. Admittedly, Tommy expected Dream's mask to be as pompous, and the simplicity of a porcelain oval the prince wears had taken him by surprise.
Nevertheless, he dips his head, "Prince Dream. It's a great honor for the Empire to welcome you on its land."
“It’s an honor to meet you as well, prince Theseus,” Dream says.
His voice sounds clear and loud despite the mask. Tommy tries not to stare, keeping his gaze locked politely at around Dream’s chin level. “I’m sure that you’ll find the Imperial palace to your liking. Now, let me show you the way to your chambers-”
Tommy spins around and walks up the stairs. Prince Dream and his knight exchange a quick glance and follow him into the palace.
***
Tommy mastered every single aspect of noble life except for small talk. He always manages to make it awkward, trying to fill uncomfortable silences with rapid rants about the first thing that comes to his mind. While Empress was still alive, it was considered endearing, but after that, the nobles made it more than clear that his habit is annoying.
Nowadays, Tommy prefers not to open his mouth at all, only passively agreeing or nodding when other people talk, unless a discussion is called for. He and Dream briefly exchange a few words about the current state of trades between the Antarctic empire and Esempi, but after that, it’s almost utter silence interrupted only by the sound of their steps. Tommy leads them to the very doors of guest chambers when Tubbo suddenly appears, rounding the corner, “Your Highness!”
Dream and Sapnap’s faces snap to Tubbo. With both men’s rich clothing, green and gold, and a mask on Dream’s face, it’s nearly impossible not to guess who they could be. Tubbo freezes and bends in half, “Please forgive me for interrupting, Your Highnesses.”
“What’s the matter?” Tommy asks, not without a tone of annoyance.
Tubbo straightens up and, keeping his head down, throws him a timid glance. “His Majesty wants to see you in his office.”
Tommy’s heart skips a beat. The only reason he refrains from letting out an alarmed ‘why?’ is the fact that the prince of Esempi is still standing there, listening to their exchange with his head tilted like a curious bird.
“I believe that we can find our way from here,” Dream says, gesturing at the door. “Thank you for your help, prince Theseus.”
“Please enjoy your rest before the Solstice ceremony,” Tommy replies, relieved.
As soon as Tommy disappears from prince Dream’s view, any thoughts that he might have had vanish all at once. Tubbo barely can keep up with him as he strides along the corridor with worry worming its way into his guts.
It’s been almost a week since their argument in the gardens, and Tommy hasn't been hearing anything from his father at all. Usually, The Emperor was firmly set on having both his sons and grandson joined together at a table at least twice a week. The sentiment of family dinners was long lost for Tommy; it’s fine if It’s just him and Fundy, chatting and jokingly tossing a grape or two at each other, but under Wilbur’s hawk gaze, the sound of a finger tapping on a glass pounding in his temples – no .
Tommy doesn’t feel comfortable turning his back on Wilbur, let alone relax in his presence. If it came down to a fight between two brothers, he wouldn’t want Fundy to get caught in the crossfire. This week, Tommy wasn’t called to any of the meals, however, and he doesn’t feel even slightly relieved about it, especially when Tubbo tells him that Ranboo dines either with Wilbur or the Emperor every day.
The Emperor is busy discussing something with his secretary when Tommy enters. They both falter as soon as they see the crown-prince, and the echo of their voices bounces off the high ceiling. Despite how big the room is, and the scatter of comfortable armchairs and couches around the corners, Tommy feels like the walls are about to close on him at any moment. It’s as if he is eleven all over again – unsure and small and terribly out-of-place wherever he goes. His hand stays on the door handle a little longer – cold metal under his fingers grounds him as his heartbeat spikes up.
“Did you call for me, Your Majesty?” he says.
The Emperor flicks his hand, and the secretary shuffles away wordlessly. The sound of the door clicking shut almost has Tommy sighing from envy – what wouldn’t he do to be in that man’s place. He forces himself to walk up to his father and freeze in front of his desk, head ducked – it’s not polite to look into the Emperor’s eyes, but more so it’s simply scary.
“How are our guests? Did everything go smoothly?” The Emperor asks.
“I believe so,” Tommy replies. “They seem to be tired from the long journey. I showed Prince Dream the way to his chambers.”
“Good,” the Emperor says. His praise, as small as it is, is a precious gem that Tommy stores away carefully. “I believe you understand how important these guests are.”
Tommy feels tension melting away from his muscles as he nods to the Emperor’s words. He was called to discuss business, and nothing more. Tommy was afraid that his father would bring up Ranboo again; afraid of emotions that are too strong for him to simply shove into a corner and forget about, but this – this is something that he can deal with.
“Prince Dream is said not to leave his home very often. Having him as a guest is a great opportunity for building diplomatic relationships,” he says. “It would be a huge waste for us not to use it.”
The Emperor nods. He leans back on his chair, face softening, just a bit, and through the simmered curtain Tommy sees a different person – with a kind smile and warm eyes. He blinks, but the stranger doesn’t go away. “I heard you’ve been working very hard as of lately.”
“It’s always this way when the Summer Solstice comes,” Tommy answers, because he doesn’t know what else he can say. Liar , his mind whispers traitorously. It’s always this way, celebrations or not. Tommy bites his lips and tells it to shut up, because the Emperor looks at him closely now.
“Are you feeling well, Theseus?” the Emperor asks, and he sounds like he actually cares . Is this some sort of test, or is he interpreting the Emperor’s tone wrong? His gaze flickers in search of an anchor, and when he doesn’t find anything more suitable, it settles on his trembling hands.
“It’s quite alright,” Tommy murmurs. “Nothing could make me happier than serving the Empire and the crown.”
“Still. It’s important that you take good care of your own health. I’ve thought about it for a while and decided to assign Wilbur to help you with organizing the celebrations.”
Tommy’s heart sinks to his stomach. He considers arguing, considers protesting- the perspective of spending several hours a day with Wilbur makes him want to howl his throat raw.
But Tommy still remembers how the Emperor reacted when he questioned his request about Ranboo. Is he going to be as angry if the crown-prince tries to turn Wilbur’s help down?
The Emperor is still watching Tommy. His expression is genuine, his arms resting on the top of the desk and eyes locked on Tommy’s face. Father’s initiative comes from good intentions of relieving some pressure off him. He didn’t have to- these were Tommy’s regular duties, and he never complained about feeling tired, but it feels nice to think that the Emperor thought about him. That he cares about his well-being.
(Or cares about him at all)
With praise and concern so rare in the Emperor’s words, Tommy doesn’t want them to turn into disappointment. He hides his bitter wince with a polite smile. “Thank you for your consideration, Your Majesty,” he says.
***
Despite what Tommy had told Techno, he doesn’t raise his head from the desk until late in the evening, desperate to finish all work today on his own so that he wouldn’t have to meet Wilbur tomorrow. It’s an honorable attempt – and an unsuccessful one, too, because at some point the candlelight starts to hurt his eyes, forcing him to drop the quill and leave the office.
Wisp, a loyal shadow, follows him more closely than usual; he probably thinks that Tommy is about to collapse at any moment. To be fair, it did happen before, and not just a single time. Tommy is secretly thankful to his knight when he sways on his feet and an arm is wordlessly offered to him for support.
Prince is already waiting for him. One of the servants must have left the window open to let in some fresh air. Tommy shuts the door as soon as he sees the bird, perched on a chair, his eyes closed and chest rising up and falling down slowly.
Prince looks adorable, with his feathers all-fluffed up and snorting softly. Tommy sneaks through the room and kneels beside the chair. “Hi there,” he all but murmurs, and the bird opens his emerald eyes and blinks. “I’m so sorry for making you wait.”
Prince yawns. Here it is, that stupid smile again. Tommy can’t help it; his lips tug up and stretch on their own. He was keeping the smile reserved and firm on habit, but it turns into a wild grin when Prince trills at him and nudges his head into his hand. Tommy rubs him gently, his neck and his head, and suddenly doesn’t feel as tired as before.
“Do you have another letter for me?”
The parrot nods and eagerly stretches his leg. Tommy takes the letter, and still petting Prince with one hand, uses the other to unroll the piece of paper.
As your per request, the
Bird’s name shall be Prince.
“I think it fits you a lot,” Tommy mumbles, looking over the parrot. The crown-prince has seen a lot of birds, and they keep a handful of them in the royal aviary: crows, mostly, for carrying letters, and hawks for hunting, but never parrots or any other exotic birds. Not only Prince’s feathers are a bright, summer-warm shade of green, but they shine and look carefully cared of. The whole bird’s stance is straight, chest puffed up, wings folded comfortably – by all criteria, a regal creature.
“If you were a human, I bet you’d be a prince,” Tommy says, “or a king.”
Prince squawks out an agreement and glances at the letter, his wings hovering a few inches from his body, encouraging Tommy to keep reading.
I’ve arrived at the palace.
Can you guess who I am?
Tommy blinks. In the midst of everything, he almost forgot that Prince’s owner is a foreign guest. They could be anyone: one of Queen Niki’s ladies-in-waiting, born and raised on rich soils of Drywaters, a knight from the west who doesn’t know anything but the weight of the sword in their hands, or an old advisor of Grand Duke Sam.
'I don't know who you are', Tommy writes, and then pauses as a sudden realization strikes him. Prince’s owner could be a simple commoner, too; a well-paid servant who can afford to buy and raise such a beautiful bird. This assumption, strangely, doesn’t bring any disgust or irritation within Tommy like thinking about Ranboo does. And that is… odd. Tommy hates Ranboo because of his low birth – because he doesn’t belong in the palace, and his presence alone is an insult to their predecessors. That’s it- that’s the only reason, right?
The quill quivers in his hand, leaving an ink blob at the end of the last word. Tommy huffs, reaching to grab a new piece of paper, but Prince bats his hand away.
“Right, this is not a document,” Tommy chuckles. “It’s a letter to my pen pal- No? Why are you shaking your head?”
Prince lets out a disapproving squawk. Tommy is left to stare in confusion as the bird tilts his head with an expectant look in his narrowed eyes.
“Anonymous messenger,” Tommy tries again. “My faceless acquaintance or- my letter friend, perhaps?”
Prince nods eagerly, flapping his wings. The parrot’s flight feathers smack Tommy’s cheek on accident, and he lets out a yelp of surprise. Prince freezes instantly, eyes wide and apologetic, and Tommy bursts laughing.
Whoever raised a bird this smart and empathetic, can’t be a bad person. “I don't know about that one. We’ve only sent each other, like, three or four letters? I know nothing about them, and they know nothing about me-” Tommy falters, frowning. “At least I don’t think so.”
He is just one of the hundreds and hundreds of people living in the palace. Even Tommy doesn’t know every attendant and cook by their faces, and he is the one responsible for paying their salaries. He could’ve met Prince’s owner today, talked to them – but neither would’ve recognized each other from a few short letters with no distinct features but their handwriting and choice of words.
If Tommy stares at the letter long enough, he can imagine the hand that wrote it. His own dim reflection on the polished wood of the desk shifts and changes until it turns into an undecipherable figure. Tommy clenches the quill tighter, but doesn’t put it down; the reflection, however, raises its hand. Half-transparent, as if made from the fog blanketing the Antarctic Empire in early springs, it slides across the paper – an echo of other person’s presence, a bridge to their soul.
Tommy puts his hand on the desk. The stranger pauses, putting the quill aside, and presses his fingers against his. A shudder runs through Tommy’s body – and he recoils, thrown out of his strange trance.
Prince bumps his head into his arm. “Sorry. I’m feeling a bit floaty today,” Tommy shakes his head, and takes the quill again.
Do you know who I am?
***
The Antarctic empire truly lives up to its name. Even Dream’s feathers are not enough to shield him from the evening chill as he glides. If this is how the capital is in the summers, he doesn’t even want to think about how cold the northernmost parts of the Empire can get in the winters.
Dream hits the floor of his chambers, shifting into his human form, and instantly regrets not landing straight into the bed. “ Fuck ,” he grits out, “It’s freezing!”
He could’ve turned into a wolf- or a fox, or into whatever animal has fur thick enough to keep him warm, but shifting takes a lot of energy and he is already feeling terribly sleepy. Sapnap peeks in. He throws one look at his shivering form, and not even in the slightest surprised, tosses him a pile of clothes. “You went to the Imperial prince, again.”
Sapnap leans his back against a wall, arms crossed, while Dream pulls his shirt on. Both of his best friends know that he is exchanging letters with prince Theseus. Sapnap took it lightly, but George didn’t approve of the idea.
You’re playing a dangerous game , he said back in the Esempi. If someone suspects you, all of our plans will be doomed . Good thing that George had business to attend to in Kinoko kingdom, or otherwise Dream wouldn’t hear the end of his complaints.
“I needed to make sure that the kid is alright,” Dream says.
“The Imperial prince?” Sapnap glares at him incredulously, and Dream nods. “Hold on, are you sure that we’re talking about the same person?”
The question is not unreasonable. First time meeting Theseus as a human and not a bird made Dream wonder if the crown-prince has a secret twin he swapped places with. Theseus he saw today was exactly how rumors describe him to be: cold, indifferent, interested in nothing but state affairs. Perhaps the only thing that people got wrong was the shade of his eyes; Dream didn’t see the ‘ice that tears right through your soul’ or ‘summer storm at the seas’. They just looked dim, a stroke of cheap lazuli smeared over a grey background, too concentrated and dazed at the same time.
“Prince Theseus is impressively good at putting up a façade,” Dream picks up his mask, left discarded on the nightstand. Quieter, he adds: “I wonder how much longer it will last.”
The thing that first pushed Dream to look for prince Theseus was curiosity. Rumors that go around about the heir of the Antarctic Empire are almost as ridiculous as those about him, and he wanted to see what the prince is like for himself.
Dream was ready for anything. A spoiled brat, pampered by life in luxury; a power-hungry tyrant, building a staircase of heads to the throne, or a puppet on strings connected to the Emperor or his close circle. What Dream certainly didn’t expect was to find a lost, abandoned child, crying in a garden full of rotting flowers.
Something is going terribly wrong with that kid, and Dream would be damned if he didn’t try to interfere.