Who the Ever-Loving F*** Made Me A Prince!? (Rewrite)

by sherashalala

Summary:

Tommy wakes up in a book he's read once before, now casted as an infant prince named Theseus-- that would have been fine if this infant isn't destined to die at the age of fifteen by the hands of his own royal brother.

Tommy as Theseus will not have that.

He'll be changing a few things in here. For one, he will not be called Theseus. That's such a gaudy name. Who the hell chose that-? Oh right.

The brother who is going to execute him.

 

---

OR The SBI Who Made Me A Princess AU we all needed.
OR OR Tommy gets stuck inside a book and he has to use childish charm to change fate.

(The Rewrite)

Notes:

• Inspired by [Restricted Work] by sherashalala (Log in to access.)

Chapter 1: The Prince of Song? More like prince of ****!

THE PALACE COURTIERS ARE FLUTTERING ABOUT. Much like worker ants preparing their mess of a hive, the courtiers work in an organized ruckus. They are preparing an entire palace, after all, one that had been just recently abandoned. Now various individuals are flooding through the entrances trying to fit in narrow, dusty, and rusted passageways. Maids, swordsmen, culinary artists, courtiers and the like are preparing for something seemingly grand.

“What do you think we’re rushing for?”

“The third prince, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“There’s a third prince?”

The courtiers finish their duties, executing what is expected of them in perfection. Soon enough they line up along the entrance, postures fixed and eyes staring ahead. Yet their minds wander in thought of the reason for their sudden orders. What had happened? 

They stand in wait along the entrance, waiting before the grand doors of this old palace that had just been refurbished all but a minute ago. It was said to the servants that it had been the direct orders of the Imperial Prince, though no one knew for certain and that had them buzzing in intrigue. 

Servants line the hall in attention. Being assigned something this grand, this was surely a privilege for them all to witness the reason. The third prince, they said. The third prince clearly must be loved as to have an entire palace prepared for him. Though it was no secret. No royal is unwanted in this country, after all.

It might seem like they could not possibly look any more proper to face and greet royalty, yet when the grand doors recently oiled by the hinges click and creak as it opens wide they achieve an even more flawless execution of posture.

Almost ridiculously flawless, even.

As the door opens, however, there are no escorts. There is no grandeur, nor ceremony. There is no one who announces even the name of the new arrival.

And so intrigue overrides protocol as, one at a time, the servants turn their heads curiously towards the door. Normally such impudence would be greeted with a scolding, but they knew that maybe it would have been worth it.

So it was. 

Before them is the esteemed swordswoman, a Captain of the Imperial Army who might as well have served as the index finger of the Emperor himself. That much is a rumor, yet such a rumor is proven true by the fact that in her arms is a bundle of fabric that signifies her true station above any of them. She is assigned a task far more precious and important than any of them who gawk. 

Though despite her station she stands haggardly at the forefront of the palace, clothes rumpled, hair frazzled, tired and weary but clutching the bundle in her arms like a lifeline. 

“Captain Puffy,” One of them breaks away from the line and looks at her with a confused expression, one that grows to concern when Puffy’s eyes drag itself slowly to look at them. “Captain, I apologize for the impudence but… may I ask what we are here for?” 

The woman recognizes him. He’s the younger brother of a noble from the North who had come here to serve the Imperial family. Of course he would have been more brave in asking his questions, Puffy had once been a family friend of theirs, after all. 

“We are brought here upon the orders of the Emperor,” She watches as the faces of courtiers shift from shock, to awe, and finally, dread. The Emperor, they realize, not the prince– “to raise, protect, and care for the youngest Prince.”

The Captain looks down at the bundle.

“The Third Prince, Theseus.”

 

AND THESEUS HAD LOOKED UP AT HIS OLDER BROTHER. His jeweled blue eyes, sapphires, cold as the Blood Prince’s heart.

“You will never understand the love I have for my brother, Imperial Prince.” Theseus speaks his truth, with nothing but poison and hatred for the older brother whose warmth he once sought for. “I would rather die than attempt at his life.”

The eldest prince looks down at Theseus.

“How fortunate. You have sought to do both.”

Before the public’s eye—and that included an incapable and inconsolable William, their Imperial, ruthless, Blood Prince drew his sword. He raised it mockingly against Theseus’ cheek. “Greet mother for me. At the very least, she will be pleased to meet you.” He says to Theseus, yet no one but themselves are able to hear.

And he had withdrawn his sword for a moment. William was relieved—had his twin reconsidered this act, perhaps?

The hope kindled for a moment. Had his songs reached his brother? William’s pride swells in his chest, yet if only for the briefest moment–

The sword dropped to Theseus’ neck.

 

“Theseus,” A nameless woman with a maid’s headcap coos at him, the baby who is notably not supposed to be called Theseus and is instead Tommy. “What a precious boy,” she continues. “I really have no idea what to do with your brother.” The woman laments.

Tommy attempts to swat at the woman, but the act isn’t quick nor is it anything nearly as fatal. “Screw off!” He tries to say, but it  only resulted in regular garble. The sneer he attempted to make looked nothing intimidating, and merely adorable.

She smiles back at him, blissfully unaware of his attempts at her life or at her self-esteem.

“She would have loved you.” She says rather ominously.

Tommy thinks it’s dumb. Everyone loves him, obviously. He doesn’t have need for affirmation. 

But more importantly, he’s not supposed to be here.

Prior to waking up as a mere infant, Tommy was falling. From where? He has not the slightest clue. He remembers it vaguely, but he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be dead right now. Tommy remembers losing consciousness (and in turn, possibly dying) in something cold, because the impact from the fall was apparently not enough to kill him in one go. He only needed to freeze a little before finally succumbing to the sweet, supposedly everlasting embrace of death.

He had really felt content in it.

It was nice, warm, and comfortable. 

If that was eternity, he would have loved it. And it should have loved him too.

But death had let go of him all of a sudden, and now here he is. He’d awoken from his supposed eternal sleep like this: a child.

A child with a cursed name—Theseus. Tommy doesn’t like that name. He doesn’t particularly remember how such a name slighted him so, but he does have such distaste for it. Not to mention, there’s a lot of tragedies aligned with people named Theseus. Not only was he a dick in his mythology, his name was also aligned with a very concerning tragedy.

For some reason people just loved to write tragedy after tragedy about men named Theseus. He knows all of two tragedies, the myth, and a book.

Theseus was also the name of a prince with a similar background as himself– not that it matters anyway. He was an insignificant fictitious prince. Theseus had been the name of the youngest prince in a novel Tommy once loved to read. 

It’s safe to say that Tommy knows very little about a Theseus who lived a long and happy life, he however intends to change that.

He doesn’t want to be like the other Theseus-es. Poor fucks.

“Theseus, darling, are you hungry?” His caretaker asks, breaking him out of his lament-filled stupor. 

Tommy frowns, lifting his arms and shaking it across instead of up and down. He can’t shake his head, annoyingly so. His neck muscles are still too young. “No!” He answers as an act of rebelling, but all it releases is a vague sound of multiple vowels and a pop of his lip.

This leads to his next lament.

Couldn’t he have woken up as a more mobile kid? Isn’t there a thing where toddlers don’t have any real sense of consciousness or sense of self?

Did he have to wake up as a fucking infant?

The woman frowns for some reason and then looks up at the grandfather clock that serves as his only companion most of the time.

He tries to look at it as well, before giving up. His neck barely works the way he wants it to. He tries to tilt it up and he ends up curling. It’s maddening. He’s a weakling. He’s admitting it to himself but not to anyone else. He’s a little squishy weakling, and he abhors it with a passion.

She looks back down at Tommy with a smile. “I’ll be calling the head maid, okay?” Is all she says before walking away and out the door.

Tommy stays, because where else would an immobile infant go? To the End? (He hopes. Maybe he’ll have a better time there than here).

The maid returns, but this time there is someone else with her. Puffy, he recognizes his ram-horned companion by those really cool looking eyes, slits lying horizontally. A goat’s eye or a ram’s maybe. She’s unique to a lot of the servants he’s seen around here for that reason alone. It’s not very atypical to Tommy though, since these features have been normalized since long ago. He finds it odd how he sees less of them around here than when he’d been in his original body– maybe it’s a world building thing.

Oddity in this society aside, he does like Puffy. She treats him properly, with the slightest belief that Tommy is at least a fraction smarter than a typical child his age.

Which is good because he’s sixteen.

“Hello there, Theseus!” Puffy greets him with a smile. “Have you been troubling the maid?”

Puffy is the Head Maid, but the way she holds herself and the way that the people act around her makes Tommy suspect that she’s actually more than that. Is it because she’s got horns and ram eyes? He’s yet to find out what, exactly, he does however  know that she’s got some form of power over the others that frequent around the place.

Tommy babbles, practicing his speech and hoping that one day he’d get it right—to no avail of course, because he’s an infant.

Despite the obvious lack in ability to do so, Tommy attempts to say Obviously.

She smiles. “Okay, can you do the thing you did when you were asked if you were hungry?”

Tommy shakes his hands left and right (embarrassingly not in sync).

“Are you bored?”

He pauses a little, feeling fatigued from all the shaking she was making him do, before now shaking his hands up and down. All the while babbling. Ugh, this game is so embarrassing, but at least she knows he’s not just some mindless baby. She talks to him like he could understand her, and he does! The other maids just hasn’t gotten the memo yet.

Puffy nods, before taking Tommy into her arms. “He isn’t hungry.” She explains, finger poking at his palm. Tommy scowls when his fingers curl in reflex around her finger, but Puffy seems none the wiser regarding his disdain. In fact, she seems to be amused by the act– both the palmar reflex and the scowl on his face. “He’s bored.”

Internally, Tommy feels himself sag in relief. She may be taking advantage of his cuteness, but at least she takes him seriously.

Finally, someone who gets him.

That was until he felt his stomach grumble. Tommy feels himself blush. Oh that’s cringe. That’s so cringe.

“Or he was lying.” Puffy teases.

Tommy abhors this infant body. He just wants his cool, totally muscular one back.

 

 

Life in the palace is infuriating easy as an infant. There’s not much that Tommy has to do other than babble and act cute in hopes that maybe they wouldn’t treat him like shit at the side of the road.

It’s been an uneventful few months since he’d been rudely woken up and shoved into this infant body. Now he is at least able to crawl. He sits up, and he exercises regularly. Crawling doesn’t take much to learn, but it did take a while to finally gain the muscles required for the act. Being an infant was such hard work, he doesn’t know why so many people hope to be one again.

Tommy sits on Puffy’s lap. She is pointing images to him and assigning them things.

He’d long since learned about that and would push each book he didn’t like off her hands until he finally got something of interest. Damn it, Puffy, he doesn’t need to relearn what a fucking pig is.

To Puffy’s credit, she’s patient enough to last until Tommy finally settled on a book that piqued his interest.

Politics.

He doesn’t know how Puffy managed to pick this up among the choices of bloody fucking baby books and alphabet textbooks, but he shouldn’t discredit her. She seems to trust his judgement and believes that he is smarter than he seems.

“Your lineage, Theseus.” She said when she’d settled with this book. “I think this would be of interest to you, do you agree?”

Fortunately for him, and especially fortunate for the tired Puffy, Tommy does agree. He pulls at the book rather than shoving it away, prompting Puffy to giggle. “Alright, Theseus, we’re reading this.” She says.

And so Puffy takes her time pointing out the political system, and she explains it so concisely, as if she doesn’t expect Tommy to understand what she was saying.

He does though, so he learns a lot.

So, their country of residence was the Empire of Ice (eerily familiar, Tommy had thought.) and Tommy is known to be the Second Prince. Puffy shows a picture of the emperor.

He’s an odd thing for an emperor. The portrait shows sapphire jewel eyes that glitter in the light in such a majestic manner—as if his eyes were actually made of the finest riches of the world. Something about the weird description is eerily familiar to something he’s read before, but he doesn’t dare think about it. “Philza is an odd emperor,” Puffy snorts fondly, as if what she’s saying could not at all be considered treason punishable by death. 

“He’s not here often. No one knows why, but he came back once before– we have to believe he’ll do it again. People still call him the emperor despite the active ruler being your brother, the Imperial Prince.”

Tommy listens as he observes the portrait. The man is youthful despite his age—apparently centuries old as it is, totally not an abnormal fact and definitely not something he should take note of—He’s got golden hair that reaches down his shoulders. His eyes are a glittering sapphire, as mentioned a while ago, and Tommy has no clue if it’s an artistic depiction or not. The crown is crooked on his head, as if it was placed there haphazardly, but the air of confidence and charisma screams royalty to Tommy.

He babbles as he slams on the photo.

“Yes, Theseus, that’s your father.” She laughs, guiding his small hands to the portrait.

He frowns. That’s not what he meant.

In reality, what Tommy was saying was “You bastard, leaving your kid here all alone without family to care for me.” He speaks. “A proper shithead.”

Puffy turns a few pages, and Tommy sees how it skips the portrait of a brunette woman with brown eyes, and another brunet with sparkling blue eyes–there it is again with those eyes. That has to be some sort of artistic way of painting or something. He doesn’t mind her skipping the pages, because if Puffy skipped it then he likely doesn’t need to know much about them.

She stops at another portrait, and it’s a man with pink hair cascading over his shoulder in a neatly done braid. Some locks of hair have escaped the braid, framing his face. He notices how even compared to Philza, his crown was fancier, and dare he say gaudy.

But what really catches Tommy’s attention are his ruby eyes. It has the same jewel effect as Phil’s and Tommy’s starting to think that these weren’t just stylistic decisions and more alike to reality than he thinks.

“That’s your brother, Theseus.” Puffy points. She moves to the name labelled underneath it, and Tommy, an adult in a child’s body who has long learned how common speak functions, had already read it. “No one really knows his true name, other than Philza himself.”

He drowns out everything Puffy is saying, as he realizes his imminent doom. The words. That can’t be a coincidence, can it? That name, that damned name.

“And the name labelled here isn’t his true name, rather his preferred title. We don’t know of its origins either, but well, it struck the fear of the Empire’s enemies–outside or within.” She laughs, as if Tommy wasn’t looking at the source of his eventual demise.

“His majesty, the Imperial Prince of the Antarctic Empire Technoblade! Your older brother.”

It is then when Tommy’s gut sinks. He stares at the picture.

 

The Prince of Song.

It was an unassuming title of a book that not many of Tommy’s peers had read before-- not that the lot of them were interested in that sort of genre. It was a novel centered on a character of noble heritage, and it wasn’t a very fond topic for many of his friends and kin. Monarchy and Empires weren’t favorable for many of the people Tommy was acquainted with, and even the political system in the novel was far-fetched and not like the ones he’s seen before.

But Tommy had picked it up.

There were a lot of things Tommy would like to say about it.

For all the odd descriptions of its form of extreme ‘Monarchy’, Tommy had found himself at the very least liking it. It had adequate writing (which is a lot to say for his standard of literature, because Tommy was raised on Greek mythos and his literary fanatic brother), the world-building unique and fantastical (with creatures of odd origins and magic that are beyond the regular old enchantments), and the story was acceptable. 

It was centered on a cruel and lone prince in an Empire of Ice (uncreatively titled the Antarctic Empire. He personally thinks it’s lame and would prefer the Empire of Ice title) and his estranged twin brother, who had gone missing from birth.

The estranged prince had gone to the palace undercover to dethrone the Imperial Prince, yet upon arrival he found himself becoming fond of his brother and instead settled on the decision that he should instead change him. The estranged prince had been met with many dilemmas of royal life. It was centered a lot on humanitarian ways and a lot on the grey morality that one has to have when handling politics concerning millions upon millions of subjects.

He didn’t think it odd how it only briefly mentions an Emperor, and how it seemed like the acting ruler of the Empire was the eldest prince instead. He also didn’t think it odd how the familial dynamic was also very much implied and mentioned repeatedly and incessantly.

So far in the book, the only important characters had been the twins—one raised in riches, and the other in rags. The Prince of Blood, Technoblade, and the Prince of Song, William– the prince who pretended to be of common folk, rising up in the ranks without the use of the blood that runs in his veins. The true hero of the story.

But they weren’t the only children of the Emperor (as absent as he may seem). The emperor had  three children. The twin princes, and a youngest, unloved prince. The canon fodder.

For the sake of plot progression however, whoever the author was had decided to just off the poor kid.

His only purpose in the plot was to drive the estranged prince who loved him into finally overthrowing the Imperial Prince who had ordered the lone prince’s death.

Tommy had some semblance of sympathy when he read that part. He recalls that much. It was sad, but really if Tommy was in the unloved prince’s place, he would have been louder, more demanding, more assertive of the truth.

Unloved or not, he was a prince, for Prime’s sake. Act like it.

The execution was really nothing beyond a moment of sympathy. It was nothing special, nor was it something that he should really mind. The story was fictional, after all, even if he’d formed a little bit of attachment for the poor kid. He had paused for like five minutes after the youngest prince’s execution, before continuing.

The plot continues with the estranged twin brother overthrowing the Imperial prince, and thus ruling the empire instead of him. Due to some plot armor, the Imperial Prince was never killed and was instead trapped in an undisclosed location that even the readers weren’t privy to knowing.

And voila, happy ending, the aggressive ruler is replaced with a kind ruler, and that’s it.

Tommy had closed the book, left it on his bookshelf to be forgotten forever and went on with his life that concerns very little amounts of monarchy,chaos and execution.

It had been nothing special, truly.

 

 

So why is it that Tommy finds himself in the body of this unloved prince? Tommy pauses at that, letting the information sink in and sponge into his childish brain. He firmly places his hand on either side of the book, making sure that Puffy doesn’t move it until he’s made sense of his situation.

He looks up to Puffy, and points at his eyes—which only resulted to Tommy smacking his under eyelid with his fingers. It hurt, but this was a very important question that he hopes Puffy would understand. He really needs to confirm something. It was impertinent that he sees this– how has he never seen this before? He’s never seen himself before. To further show the importance of his question, Tommy babbles.

And thankfully, for whatever reason the deities that sent him down here had, she did understand.

“Oh! I realize that you’ve never seen your reflection, have you?” She laughs, before fishing something from her pockets. She brings out a little pocket-mirror, something small and convenient that folds into two so it can fit a pocket.

She opens it and turns it to Tommy. “That’s you, Theseus!” Puffy says with a smile and chipper tone. “Look, you look just like your brother.” She says it like it’s a good thing.

He sees himself, and he sees blond hair (much like the Emperor’s), and glittering, blue, jewel eyes.

Oh fuck.

Oh shit.

Tommy’s frustrations had finally spilled from his small, infant-sized body.

He outright bawls, sending Puffy into a panic because Tommy rarely ever cries, much less a full out bawling.

Tommy’s pride wouldn’t let that happen of course, because he’s not a kid.

But this situation calls for it.

He’s going to get executed for fuck’s sake.

Chapter 2: The Bloody F***ing Prince

Theseus was seven years old when he first met a member of his family. The boy, prior to this meeting had not really cared for the lack of kin in his surroundings, but his caretaker told him all about them. He did not care about those stories though, because why would a seven-year-old child long for something so trivial as family? Why would he, when he has other concerns in his own Palace?

He had been in the garden after having wandered around for too long. There was very little that he could do in his spare time, after all, because other than his tutors who were unwilling to educate him , the maids had no interest in mingling with the unloved prince. His toys have been taken already, the maids had  told him that he was past the age for petty toys.

In reality though, they had stolen these treasures and sold them for riches.

Little Theseus had not minded, because this was what little he could offer to the people who were doomed in serving such a prince. He is belittling to be with, is what he was told.

Yet he had a shift in paradigm the moment he laid eyes on the first prince, his eldest brother, Technoblade.

Theseus had been lost, and had unknowingly crossed the border between the Emerald palace and the Sapphire palace. So, when he saw his elder brother’s large and confident stride, the glimmer of his ruby eyes that commanded respect, the way that everyone withered away at the side of his brother, Theseus could not believe himself.

He was related to this man, the Imperial Prince.

And for the briefest moment, a moment that Theseus would never forget in his life, the Imperial Prince had locked eyes with Theseus. Forever felt like a second. Just for the briefest second.

The little prince had felt his heart stop, as if it had also taken a moment to fully believe this moment.

The Imperial Prince, his brother, had only ignored the little prince.

But that moment was everything for little Theseus.

 

 

Tommy finds himself cringing at that particular memory regarding Theseus. He’s in the body of this wimp? What happened to ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’? This Theseus kid saw his brother and decided to dedicate his entire life to this image, only for him to get slain by his idol because he got accused of killing the brother who actually loved him?

Trash. Trash novel. Trash ‘family dynamic’. Trash. The lot of it.

Will Tommy change it? No, not much, because Theseus was the canon fodder. He wasn’t vital to the plot. The Imperial Prince could have killed anyone after being pissed off and William would have still called him out on this bullshit, and then dethrone him.

He won’t be changing the plot. If anything, he’ll be speeding it up because whichever poor fuck gets accused of killing William will take less steps until the execution. Less people will protest–not that there were much in the first place, but some people had tried if he remembered the novel correctly. So, he won’t be changing anything at all with his genius plan.

Which was to book it the fuck out of there.

The infantilized Tommy-slash-Theseus crawls around, ignoring how his knees might burn. He’s building resistance while he plots. Tommy ignores how Puffy, who had resigned to being the constant companion of Theseus after Tommy had decided not to deal with inadequate caretakers, looks at him fondly as he circles around on the carpet.

He babbles as he moves. He has to take oral note of his plans, after all.

The Imperial Prince, more informally known as the Blood Prince, and personally known as Prince Technoblade. He is a cruel prince and the acting ruler of the Antarctic Empire, the Empire of Ice. Even so, many acknowledge his atypical method of ruling as effective. The novel had taken great care in explaining why he’s been on the throne for as long as he has. The empire thrives, yet it thrives at the cost of a bloodshed of its own greedy people. Necessary evil, it had so kindly been pointed out.

That leads to the other name of the Sapphire palace, which was the Ruby court. With color alone, one could associate bloodshed with its origins. Which is correct. This had been the palace where tyrant dukes were called over, and where the Prince Technoblade killed them all off.

(Tommy personally hates this logic. Sure, dickhead, drop your youngest brother in your slaughterhouse. Pig bastard.)

The people of the Empire pride themselves on thinking that corruption is no issue in their country.

Tommy however thinks that it’s bullshit.

Corruption is definitely an issue here, because it’s a monarchy damn it. To think that despite the complaints of the palace court, the pig bastard had out and murdered his own brother.

Of course, Little Theseus did not know that.

At the age of seven, Theseus will have his presence known by Technoblade. Tommy does not want that. He doesn’t know if Technoblade in the novel had remembered that moment, or if it mattered at all to Technoblade, but Tommy does know that the best way to survive is not existing in Technoblade’s mind. Zero. None at all. Theseus who? This would make his plans of escape easy.

So far, he has a simple set of plans. A through C.

1.   Acquire enough riches and stash them. Make sure not to be known. Escape at the ripe age of Nine. This will make escape easier because they won’t know that he’s missing in the first place.
2.   Acquire enough riches and stash them up to the point where William appears into the story. That way, he won’t have any monetary problems and his disappearance would be overshadowed by the fact that William is there. They’ll focus on his presence!
3.   Appeal to the Imperial Prince just enough that he wouldn’t kill his youngest brother.

Tommy pauses and blinks in consideration at the last option.

He then ends up laughing. That’s not even an option.

Scratch what he said earlier. He’s got two plans. Plans A and B. Plan C is stupid and dumb and is probably from whatever is left of Theseus in him.

That part had better die because Tommy has no plans being executed. These Technoblade and William characters can screw off and find their own canon fodder to blame, execute, then mourn over, thank you very much. Too bad for them that Tommy found autonomy and decided to fuck off.

This leaves another issue though. He looks up at the top of the shelves, and finds that the sparkling, bejeweled trinkets are all missing. The first time he noticed his things disappearing he thought it was just his imagination, but when he witnessed a maid pocketing his golden rattle first-hand, Tommy had caused a riot and wailed.

Puffy had caught that maid and further investigated the issue. In the end, a lot of maids were discharged from duty due to theft, and without any further punishment left the palace. That was dumb but the fact that they were even stealing in the first place was even dumber. If he remembers the system of the palace’ court, the members are of fucking nobility. They have their own fucking money! They’re children with no other responsibilities since they’re not heirs, and they’re not particularly special. Nobility alone are able to take any sort of role in the fucking palace, which is to say– these fuckers were rich in the first place. Puffy intervened and maybe ruined their credibility, but…

It did not remove the issue, though.

His wealth is dwindling. These peasant-noble-bastards were stealing all his gold!

So here he is, practicing and exercising his muscles so he could walk. He’s going to hoard so much shit before it all gets stolen. It’s his. These people owe it to him! He’s literally destined to die! The audacity of them.

Truly, Puffy is the only one he could trust.

Tommy tilts his head up, now looking at her. She notices him, and she smiles. “Hello there, Theseus.” She coos.

Puffy, who mind you was previously the captain of the entirety of the Empire’s Naval Forces, second only to the command of the Royal Family. Truthfully, Tommy had not minded much about Theseus’ origins, but Puffy had been a character who caught his eye solely because she was badass.

She was the captain of the Empire’s Naval Forces, the one who acted on the orders of the Emperor before he left, but she had let go of her title in order to take charge of Theseus’ welfare. The novel had mentioned that the reason why Puffy had let go of such an important title was because she had children of her own in the North. She had sympathy for the little Prince who was going to be alone in the Sapphire Palace (once the Ruby Palace, which had been basically the royal slaughter house).

So she serves as both Tommy’s bodyguard and as his nanny.

Truthfully, Puffy was the only one that Theseus could trust, and by extension, Tommy as well. Her loyalty to prince Theseus who she raised had caused a ruckus for the latter parts of the story. The novel had mentioned that she had been beheaded after causing a failed rebellion for the youngest prince’s freedom, only to have her work be picked up by the Second Prince– the Prince of Song himself.

Fly high, Puffy—or not. Tommy will be leaving before that happens and he won’t be the reason for people’s execution. Puffy will be spared by Tommy’s choices. Really, he’s a martyr over here.

Tommy was planning on thinking of more plans though. There should be moves he could take, right?

Before he could come to a new plot, Tommy finds himself distracted by a golden ball rolling past his way. It looks legit. Something straight out of a bloody fairytale. It is rich.

Plan A is a go.

First things first though.

He is not going to be called Theseus.

 

 

 

“Prince Tommy,” the maid sighs. Tommy recognizes her as one of his nannies—Clara, of the house Moonlock. She was of noble blood, as were all of the other servants of the Royal Family. Tommy trusts this one because she’s young and new and she wasn’t one of the dumb fucks who wanted to steal his shit early on. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to give you chocolate—”

“But please!” Tommy whines, eyes wide. The crystal illusion placed in his blue orbs had created an effect that made his eyes look bigger and wider, and thus making him cuter. He knows his wiles. He’s a genius after all. Everything is within his calculations. “I was good today. I promise!” He insists.

Clara’s stern façade withers away rather easily before her shoulders fall. “Alright.” She says, looking left and right for anyone who might come across their hidden exchange. “But if anyone asks, you didn’t get it from me, okay?” She says, placing a finger in front of her lips in a hushing motion.

Tommy raises a fist in celebration as she pockets out a small bag of confections. “Thank you, Ms. Clara!” he exclaims in a loud whisper voice. “You’re my favorite!”

The maid raises her eyebrow, amused. “Even above Puffy?” She asks teasingly as she hands the boy the bag.

He opens it when he holds it, and he pops one of them in his mouth. Satisfied, he grins. “Clara,” he starts in an adoring voice– then in deadpan, he says: “let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” before running off in the opposite direction.

She gasps, running after him. He giggles as he runs ahead, making steep turns in the hallways so he could lose her easily.

“Prince Tommy!” She calls after him.

 

Prince Theseus, informally known by the Sapphire Palace’s courtiers as Prince Tommy, is now four years old. He’s well-known by the court members of the Sapphire Palace. He’s gained the respect of these courtiers because of his charms.

Believe it or not, Tommy does have charm.

People find him annoying at first, but his golden heart seeps through the seemingly spoiled façade as the time passes. That’s how the palace courtiers end up loving him.

Of course, Tommy had planned that. Theseus was an insignificant and unremarkable thing. Tommy, however, is all charisma. He’s lovable, and cute. He takes advantage of his baby talk, and short legs. He stumbles sometimes, which is what led many of them to finally remove the cursed hallway carpets. Those are dumb and stinky and sometimes he finds that the courtiers of the Sapphire palace don’t clean them at all.

“Prince Tommy!” Tommy giggles as he rushes across the halls of the Sapphire Palace. He goes through the hidden passageways that he’s long since figured out, straining his ears for any footsteps that could alarm him of a stealthy maid chasing after the youngest prince.

Eventually Tommy finds himself barefoot in the palace a lot of the times.

Tommy is loved, and spoiled, and incredibly smart.

He’d been curious of other languages when he was one and able to gain motor senses in his hands. Common speak was the same as the language they speak here, which doesn’t even have a name due to how widespread it is. That’s one difference he can take note of, at least. Common speak is a lot more common in this place, which is to say it is a lot more convenient for him because he doesn’t have to relearn an entirely new language or system of writing. Which is to say, easily he’d begun writing when he was one just to see if his hands could handle it.

“Puffy” Tommy wrote on a piece of paper. It was shaky at first due to his dumb lack of motor memory, but it is at least a bit legible. He got up from his seat and showed it to Puffy.

Who in turn had stars in her eyes when she saw that he was writing. Tommy was honestly a bit offended. Did she think that all the times they were effectively communicating before were just baby whims?

And so that even led Tommy to starting his education earlier than most children his age. Being an adult in a child’s body, he easily advanced through a lot of his own studies. That resulted in higher education at his young age upon her insistence, but Tommy is nothing if not persistent. He’s going to show them that he’s not supposed to be executed so easily, be it the command of the damned Imperial Prince or not.

He’s got three plans after all. If plans A and B have failed him (which is highly unlikely for reasons he will later tackle), he will surely do plan C with a breeze (not, but the extra education and the praise will probably make it easier.) It’s all better safe than sorry.

And so, four years later, Tommy is now very much familiar with the Sapphire Palace and its surrounding gardens. He’s also smart and sneaky enough to be well-acquainted with the secret passageways that not even the adventurous courtiers dare enter. The problem is that he still hasn’t gone far enough to know where exactly the boundaries are. He hasn’t encountered civilization beyond the damned palace, and based on what he remembers from the book, he’s as far away from the main palace as he could possibly be. He’s safe.

Eh, not like it matters. This place is huge and he doubts that these little feet could lead him far enough to go somewhere perilous.

“Prince!” The maid’s voice echoes through the hallways, but Tommy has long since gone.

Stealthily, he rushes to his bedroom. Upon arrival at the place, Tommy takes some bags from under his bed and carries it in his arms.

Inside these very heavy bags are pure gold trinkets and jewelry that can be found all over the palace. Tommy has them stashed in every hidden place in the palace.

Unfortunately, they were about to do a thorough cleaning of the Sapphire Palace, so Tommy had to find someplace else to stash them. Damn, he’s gone so far that they’re actually doing their jobs now. Serves them right. Fuck needless nepotism, they’re all here to freeload when in reality Tommy is the only one here with the right.

Their fucking audacity.

But at least they do their fair share of work, now that he’s established some bloody fucking respect in this house. Sure it made things like keeping his stash of gold around a bit hard, but it’s better than outright neglect. 

Fortunately, however, Tommy had found a place under the trees in the gardens. He digs them in locations only he could remember. It was very effective, in his opinion. He’s a genius, after all.

He leaves through the balcony, climbing down the tree and running to the palace garden where the trees were more abundant and thicker.

Tommy has been doing this for nearly a month now. This means only good things for him, because this means he’s stashed a lot of his goods and treasures away through the four years that he’s had proper mobility.

The boy stops at a tree, deciding that it will be nice for a new location of treasure digging.

He leans over to begin his dig, but he gets distracted by a sudden flash of light that shone to his eyes. Tommy pauses, and he turns towards it, seeing nothing but brightness in that direction.

Tommy looks down to his decided location, before looking back up at this bright thing.

In the end, his curiosity won over. He brings his heavy bag with him as he goes to explore. It’s a bit heavy, but it’s nothing that a strong boy like him can handle.

Without a doubt, Tommy believes that this is the best decision he’s ever made. This is solely because he has struck literal gold.

The thing that shone in his eye earlier? It was the reflection off of golden statues the size of his head. They were small figurines of muscular people seated on marble stools, staring at the sky longingly. 

Meanwhile, this golden child was staring at all these gold longingly.

Then he’s a bit skeptical. Are these things real gold?

Well, he can certainly check.

Tommy moves to the statues, specifically to a short one. He leans over, and bites it to see if it leaves a mark. He has to check if it’s real and if it’s not just some cheaply painted marble.

Admittedly, he struggles a little. He can’t reach much, which is why he’s biting the ankle of this random statue.

He’s so focused into his golden endeavors that he does not realize the looming shadow that approaches him from behind as he’s biting this golden figure of a man.

“What is this filthy bug doing in my palace?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he turns around quickly upon the sudden presence behind him.

In his shock, he dropped his bags of treasure. The gold and the jewels scatter at his feet with a rattle of metals against the ground and against each other. Tommy’s body has tensed, as he tries to hide the bite that he’s made on the heel of what he suspected was tawdry gold (which was in fact, genuine).

He looks up at the unexpected company, and sees a man with rose-tinted hair, tied loosely into a ponytail. The stranger is directly against the sun as he stands tall before Tommy. Not much of his features could be seen other than the—

The eyes.

His eyes are like rubies that glitter. Tommy would have said that it was beautiful, that it was astonishing. He would have said that those eyes were clearer than any gemstone that he’s ever seen in his lives. He would have said so many things, had he not recognized the sheer danger that those eyes held when it looks at Tommy like the young boy is a mere cretin that deserves to be executed for existing.

So, Tommy is frozen while those ruby eyes stare him down. His eyes are sharp– not as a compliment. It radiates fucking danger.

This goes on for what seems like hours before recognition seemed to finally flash in the older man’s eyes. “Ah, I recognize you.” He says monotonously as a smile is placed across his lips.

The smile is nothing close to comforting. It sends chills down Tommy’s spine as he looks up at the man who could very well kill him. It’s sinister, going along nicely with his sharp ruby eyes and shadowed expression due to being against the light.

“You are Theseus.”

The sound of Tommy’s name on the man’s lips sounds foreign– no, that was polite. Foreign indicates that it was simply strange and new. This one doesn’t run new. It sounds disgusting on the man’s tongue. Theseus sounds like filth when he speaks it.

On a normal day Tommy would bark back at him. “Technoblade is not any fucking better.” It is at the tip of his tongue held back only by whatever sliver of restraint and self-preservation he has.

Tommy could acknowledge what he says, but he doesn’t know if speaking would get him killed. In the Prince of Song, so many had been killed for much less. He won’t try his luck here. He could reply, or respond in any way, but he’s afraid to confirm the fact that he is Theseus—the very same Theseus who this man is destined to just execute for false, unproved allegations of murder.

He doesn’t speak, and he thinks that it’s a very wise choice on his part because the man before him is the Blood Prince. The Imperial Prince. Technoblade.

The boy watches helplessly as Technoblade’s eyes finally look away from Tommy and settles instead on the floor where the ringing of gems and precious metals had been heard just a moment ago. He sees how Technoblade regards it for a moment, and looks at something behind Tommy.

The man’s lips quirk a little. “An ankle-biter.” He says humorously to himself, “Of course. Achilles’ would be damned to meet you.” He jokes, but this only confuses an already internally-panicking Tommy who is seriously considering outright running away at this moment.

Technoblade crouches, eyes returning again to the small four-year-old’s eyes as if he was studying the poor child. “You’ve grown since I last saw you.” He comments.

Tommy considers that maybe Technoblade is considering slaughtering him right now for being bigger than he was last perceived. Fuck, when was he even last perceived? 

There’s a confused bit of relief when Technoblade goes up on his feet again, then that relief promptly turns into panic when Technoblade’s hands reach out towards him.

The boy does not dare move. Not even flinch.

Only for the man to carry him in two hands, as if he was weightless.

“Odd.” Technoblade hums. “You’re rather light.” He comments monotonously as he looks over the kid again. What, is he going to get berated for eating less? He’d assumed it’d be in Technoblade’s favor to have less able competition. His eyes rest on Tommy’s face once more as he asks his question. “Alright, kid, what are you doing in my palace?”

That’s where Tommy bluescreens. Oh, no wonder he doesn’t recognize this place. 

His palace?

Oh, he’s fucked up.

Notes:

My personal favorite bit is that Tommy named his plans A-C but listed it in numbers

Chapter 3: Like Eating My Goddamn Shoe

To be fair, Tommy does not really know to what degree he’s messed up at. As it is, he is now seated across Technoblade who looks at Tommy with boredom–he’s pretty sure Technoblade hasn’t killed anyone for boredom’s sake. Better safe than sorry. Between them is a table full of sweets and milk and small savory snacks, with a teacup arrangement placed neatly before Tommy and Technoblade each. There is only Tommy and Technoblade with them in the room.

They continue this staring contest for a bit. It’s continuous silence. Tommy has no idea what to do other than smile politely at Technoblade.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t speak.” Technoblade comments blandly. He’s uninterested. Tommy’s not sure if he should just shut up and continue to be insignificant in the eyes of the bloody fucking prince or if he should answer and get it over with. His plan of living undetected and unnoticed has gone off the rails and become impossible.

That is unless he could just pass off as a kid about to piss himself from being glared at. Tommy’s pride can’t handle that much injury but he is seriously considering breaking out into tears.

Then he remembers that Technoblade isn’t above killing children for being a nuisance.

Tommy gulps a little at that.

“This is getting boring.”

Tommy’s mind screeches to a halt and suddenly his mouth runs off before his mind could start up again. “Tommy is able to speak!” Tommy says with a smile. Look polite. Look polite. Surely that isn’t too hard—

And oh fuck, he said Tommy, not Theseus. He’s messed up.

Technoblade finally looks interested again. Tommy doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. “Oh,” is all he says for a long while. “Why’s it taken you this long to speak?”

The boy doesn’t know what to say, to be honest. “My nanny says that talking to unfamiliar people should be thought hard about.” Mentally, Tommy wishes Puffy good luck. He’s shifting the blame on her poor soul. Fly high Puffy, you were a great mom and a great scapegoat.

Pun intended.

“And who is your ‘nanny’?”

He hesitates on answering. Tommy could opt to save Puffy, right? He could say it was a nanny he doesn’t know. But then that could mean that the whole maid populace of the Sapphire Palace could get punished (or executed, he’s setting the bar low for his bloody brother).

Then he decides that maybe Puffy will survive. She's a badass. If anything, she could lead a maid rebellion with all this royal mistreatment going on. “Captain Puffy!” He answers gleefully, being as naïve as he can possibly be.

His brother does not snarl, nor does he look angry or vindictive. Instead, he’s smiling, as if he found that answer humorous. “Ah, I suppose that makes sense for Puffy to say that.” He comments instead. “When she said she’d resigned to raise a kid, I assumed it’d been for her own kids.” The ‘not you’ goes unsaid. Tommy feels a pang. That had to be some sort of backhanded insult right? The type where he had to read between the lines to get? The typical political noblesse-fuck-you language?

Tommy and Technoblade continue to sit in silence. How’s Tommy supposed to take that? Hell, he barely even remembers that Puffy had kids of her own. On the bright side, Puffy will not be flying high. 

“Are these confections not to your taste, Theseus?” Technoblade asks. “I had asked them to serve things that kids normally like.” Again, there is that carelessly impulsive dangerous glint to Technoblade’s eyes as he speaks. “I suppose I should have them replaced.”

Oh, he does not like the implications of that. This is definitely a double-meaning thing. Self-interest or not, Tommy would hate to have innocent fucking lives be ruined because of some slip-of-tongue. The blood of those poor fellows who were ordered to make sweets might as well be on his hands.

Tommy immediately takes a fork, stabs it into anything small and edible, and stuffs it into his mouth. “Mmm!” He says with a cheerful tone, barely able to taste the confections. It tastes like sand in his mouth– not that he has eaten sand. Ever. Never ever has. No. “Tasty!” Tommy continues chewing, eyes crinkling at the corners in the best disguise ever– cute glee.

Technoblade (thankfully) looks to be satisfied. No royal chefs will be murdered on his watch.

“Captain Puffy.” He says out loud, pondering Tommy’s words. “She’s told you of her past occupation then I suppose?”

The boy hums and nods as he swings his feet, swallowing the sweets. It was true. He’d asked before why some of the maids had called her Captain despite fully knowing the reason why. He has credibility.

Thinking he was in the clear, he takes a fork-full of cake. This time he manages to actually taste it, and tot he credit of the royal chefs that were likely almost beheaded, it is actually good.

As Tommy eats his share of desserts, Technoblade watches carefully. It is getting painfully difficult to swallow the stuff he’s shoving into his mouth while the bloody prince has his eyes on him. 

“And who is this ‘Tommy’?”

Tommy chokes a bit on the piece of cake he was eating when he was asked that. He drinks milk to clear his throat. He does not dare meet Technoblade eyes while he clears his throat.

Secretly he might be hoping that the piece of cake kills him before his own brother does. Maybe that’d be less painful.

It won’t be Puffy flying high today, rather the odds are against Tommy’s favor and has decided that maybe it’s easier to send a four-year-old child flying instead.

Once his throat is clear, he beams. “I’m Tommy!” He declares cheerfully, pretending to be unaware of this stupidly dire situation that he’s in. “It’s my nickname!”

Technoblade blinks slowly. God, he’s like some sort of slow fucking cat or something. “Were people so dissatisfied with your name.” Technoblade then starts, and there is a dangerous glint in his ruby gem eyes as he regards Tommy, “that they’ve settled to call you a commoner’s name instead?”

His heart sinks deep into his stomach, likely joining the cake in a pool of acid. Ugh, this is horrible. “N-Nope!” Shit, a stutter slipped. “It’s a nickname for me, because The-se-us was hard to pronounce when I started speaking.” He lies. 

Tommy mentally pumps his fist. He’s such a good liar. Fuck yeah.

Technoblade raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the answer, and not pissed off (yet his mind supplies). “You’re rather eloquent for a boy who finds Theseus hard to pronounce.” He remarks, sounding awfully close to doubt. That’s no good.

“I spoke reeaaally early!” Tommy exaggerates, trying to hide the shake of his hands with big movements. “I started formal education when I was two years old.” He can’t help but brag. Surely that could mean that he’d second-guess murdering him if he found out that he’s a smart prince who is not useless and wimpy.

Okay, less sure right now because Tommy has somehow caused the room to be even more quiet than it had been before they’d begun speaking. Technoblade seems more present in the room now, which was odd for Tommy. Rather than the aloof air he was giving a while ago, it seemed like the man was now fully there.

Again, Tommy does not know if these things were good things to have considering Technoblade is an enigma even to his own courtiers.

Tommy doesn’t dare break the silence. He doesn’t want to disturb any thoughts of his just in case it’s anything good or anything that considers not publicly or privately executing him.

Fortunately (to some extent), the silence is broken by Technoblade.

“Do you know who I am, Theseus?” Technoblade asks slowly.

Tommy really, really considers saying no. He considers it for many reasons: he could have deniability and pretend to be dumb—but no he can’t do that because he’s already foolishly bragged that he’s a genius. He can pretend to be a dense genius maybe? But that’s going to be a disgrace for royalty.

There’s also the fact that Tommy’s been acting impudent for a child who has just basically declared himself a genius for starting formal education at two years old. Tommy acting all childish in front of the man who might as well have been the emperor for the entirety of Tommy’s life in the empire could be a crime punishable by death. 

Shit, he’s contradicting himself isn’t he?

Who is he kidding? He’s FOUR YEARS OLD. He can have deniability, right?

“You must be thinking real hard.” Technoblade breaks Tommy out of his internal dialogue.

“The Imperial Prince!” he declares with pride, and for plus points he adds a knowing grin and a few more words. “I learned about you when I was two!” He brags. That’s a lie considering that Tommy has known who he was ever since he was a year old and able to see pictures, but really, who’s counting? What’s he going to do, ask Puffy herself? Fuck no. Even then he still wouldn’t have recognized such a bitch.

Then he realizes the unimpressed look on Technoblade’s face.

And that’s it.

He’s dead.

He’s gone.

He’s got to find a way to salvage this. How did he get the intrigue of this man earlier? Based on his interaction, he has been amused more than pissed off. He was amused that he bit at gold! He was also amused when Tommy had made a fool of himself by talking about himself in third person.  There has to be something, right? Any form of endearment that William, the favorite brother who is yet to arrive, had used for Technoblade before? 

So there is a clear formula to this. “And!” he declares, “Your name is Technoblade!” he tests, adding an accent, making his tongue heavier and stiffer as he declares the name of the fucker who is so very very close to declaring him dead and gone.

Still no reaction. Not a single twitch in that irritating face. Fuck. Okay, he’s going to have to lower his pride a little bit if what he’s thinking is right.

Ah, right, a flashback or something.

“Aand!” Tommy adds in similar cheer, acting unfazed by Technoblade nonchalance. “You are my big brother! The bestest! The strongest! Brotherblade!” He finally exclaims, channeling all his charm and appeal into sucking up to his older brother with endearing adjectives that makes no sense. Primes above, Brotherblade. Couldn’t he do better than this? Still, he keeps a cocky facade, confident with the fact that this should be the right answer. This was what won William over to Technoblade the second time. A call back to the past. A little reminiscent thing to keep them going positive.

Basically brute-forcing that family dynamic into his head like a reverse-killswitch of “please do not fucking murder me I just called you my brother”.

 

 

 

It was a mundane ending to the meeting, but Tommy was sent back to the Sapphire palace carried by one of the royal guards. Upon his arrival, Puffy had recognized the poor confused man who had been sent to collect the internally nervous wreck that is Tommy.

He’s green, for one. Green scales on his skin and cheeks and creeping around from the nape of his neck down to his arms. The sclera of his eyes are black and dark contrasting with bright green irises and white pupils. He is clad in the uniform of an Imperial Guard. 

Technoblade had rung a bell earlier today, and the man had entered the tea room. He had looked shocked, but somehow he recognized Tommy. 

“Bring him back to his palace.” Technoblade had declared, not uttering another word to Tommy. That was all he said before he stood and left the room without any other remark. Just an order.

“Sam?” Puffy rushes over the guard who had approached the Sapphire palace grounds, the fact that she recognizes him makes him important. Tommy makes sure to remember the guard as Sam. He might be important in the future. “Tommy!?” There is disbelief and relief on Puffy’s face when she recognizes the child the man was holding.

Only then did Tommy realize that the maids were a mess everywhere, scattered around as if they were looking for something. Most of them had paused with Puffy’s shout of his name, and had turned away from wherever they were searching to watch them.

Puffy takes Tommy from Sam’s arms and cradles the boy. She looks up at the man with curiosity. “How-?”

“I’ve been told by the Imperial Prince that he would like to meet prince Theseus again.” He announces, serving also as an answer to whatever Puffy had said, and as a revelation to Tommy who is already dizzy with nervousness and anxiety and a barely missed death sentence.

“I’m sorry?” Puffy asks, not processing the words Sam had just spoken. “W-What do you mean again?” She chuckles nervously, clutching at Tommy tighter. Tommy would complain, but he really needs the hug right now. 

He’s not sure if the one shaking is him or Puffy. Either way, Tommy is just glad to be out of danger.

Sam, to his credit, does not comment on the shivering of either of them who clutch at each other. Tommy buries his face in Puffy’s hair, trying to hide the fact that his eyes are watering in both fear and relief. “Look, Puffy, the kid was alone in the room with the prince talking over tea and biscuits and cake. I had no idea he was even on palace grounds until the Prince called for me.”

She holds Tommy tighter, if that were any possible.

Tommy appreciates the company the very least. He’d like a hug before he ultimately invites death to enter through his fucking door.

Chapter 4: The Worldbuilding Was SH-#! Too

Puffy walks alongside Tommy on the way to the palace. There was no one waiting beside the doors, no ladies in waiting, no guards save for a few by the entrance of the palace. The insides were nearly desolate save for a few who would clean the place.

Tommy thinks that it’s rather odd, because if these were the royal grounds, then why are there so few people running the household? There are the dukes, running their own things in their own duchies, sure, but how about the palace scribes? Auditors? Secretaries? Heads?

The thing is, this isn't counted as solely a household. This is a palace where affairs of the country is run, yet there are barely any officials to make any of the running happen.

He decides not to leave it to assumption. Tommy tugs on Puffy’s hand, prompting her to look down to pay attention to Tommy.

“Puffy,” He calls in a small, childish voice. “Why aren’t there many people around here?” He asks.

“Well, there are? The maids are—”

He shakes his head. “No!” Tommy again looks at the surroundings, a confused expression still clear on his face. “I mean, where are the important people?” he asks, looking over those who he knew were passing maids holding linens, attending to flowers. He doesn’t know where the people he was expecting were. “The people who are important to the big guy. The scribes! Auditors! Courtiers for the treasury!”

That was why he dressed up, actually. He’d expected to meet potentially impressionable higher ups that he could get on his side in the occasion that his murderous brother suddenly felt like publicly executing a prince who is very easily framed (not that he will be. He knows what happens. He will not be framed, not if he can help it. He’ll have to frame someone else if he has to. Every man for himself down here in hell.)

Puffy looks down at him, before looking around. “Ah, right, you don’t know how the Emerald Palace works do you?” She asks. Tommy shakes his head. “Well, not a lot of business goes around here, save for one vital person.” She says. “This place used to be brimming with life and people but…” She trails off. “Anyway, the people you’re describing all work in the capital now, not in royal grounds.”

That’s odd. He distinctly remembers that in Prince of Song, there would be so many people around working like bees in this place. Everyone worked tirelessly to do what they had to do with as much haste as they could ever afford. 

It clicks, just a little. Prince of Song begins in a time of peril for the Empire, which is probably when the Royal Grounds opened its gates to the people of the Capital. Right now, it’s early into the timeline and maybe those dilemmas haven't started happening yet. Well, props for continuity he guesses.

He could help out a lot with the prevention, if ever.

Not that he will. He’s changing this story, damn it. If he can change how people address him, he damn well can change his future– fuck being involved. He’s going to live an easy farm life with so many cows and women and zero deaths.

The two of them come to a stop before a large door. Tommy thinks it’s rather pretentious. There’s no reason for a door to be this big or this tall. 

This is dumb.

He squints, seeing the frame glint in the slight shift of light. It’s golden too. What an obnoxious prick.

Puffy waits in front of the door, not making much of a move in making their presence known to whatever or whoever is beyond this gaudy, gold rimmed door. Tommy waits as well. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing here.

That guard before that had escorted Tommy back to the Sapphire Palace had said it, sure, but based on whatever nonsense ‘first meeting’ he and the pompous pig prince had, Tommy had no reason to intrigue Technoblade. He gave simple answers that resulted in mundane and unnecessarily tense responses.

(He blames it on Royal Language Etiquette. That shit is dumb too. Whatever happened to conciseness? Which princely fuck decided that flowery words and poetry is a better medium of discussing war or politics?)

There was not as much as a creak in the large doors as it swings outwards slowly. Tommy was, thankfully, not at all shocked at seeing two people leaving through the doors. It was a man clad mostly in gold. He stands tall and broad, looking just as gaudy as the godawful doors that he came out from. His skin shimmered with a luminescent glitter, something green in some angles and something gold in others– damn, pick a color already. 

The man’s eyes were of a bright green, like emeralds, glittering almost like Tommy’s own but with a more human sheen to it rather than looking like literal gems. His hair was a dark brown, but honestly Tommy only really knew that it was brown because of his eyebrows– otherwise he wouldn’t know if he were bald or not. The man had his hair covered in a – guess the color? Golden cloth over his head with blue and green stripes at the linings of it. 

Did Tommy fail to mention that he was big? Like, not just tall lanky asshole big, but huge. Goddamn biceps the size of Tommy’s entire head. What the fuck? Is that a man? Is this allowed? He’s larger than Technoblade (the prick) and he’s pretty sure his genetics having that audacity should have him beheaded. 

Aforementioned big man pauses as he is on his way out, with the door already nearly closed behind him.

As Tommy studies his worth based on his stance and his clothing, which honestly says a lot considering the fact that the rings on his fingers easily outweigh Tommy’s entire fucking thigh, the man stares back. He is, for some reason, just as dumbfounded as Tommy himself.

It takes the man a single glance at Puffy before his eyes flick back towards Tommy with recognition glimmering in his eyes. Thankfully, he is the first to speak.

“OH! Uh, apologies for my insolence, your Royal Highness.” He bows his head respectfully while rushing to place four fingers and one folded thumb down to the flat of his chest on the side where his heart lies. “Glory forever to the Blood of the Antarctic Empire.” It is the Empire’s bow, one used when a person of lower birth greets someone higher than them. The amount of fingers is the degree of separation one has. He vaguely recalls a different version of that greeting when it isn’t directed to royal blood though. Maybe he needs to recall before he fucks it up sometime in the future. “I hadn’t recognized you. Sorry– Err, forgive me.”

Tommy blinks. “It's no matter, Sir.” He replies, just as he had practiced in his head when he imagined meeting a famous person. “I understand.” He hadn’t taken a moment of hesitance to reply.  

“I am very much grateful for your generosity, your Royal Highness.” He says, and lowering his hand and straightening his head again—well, as straight he could get it without having to look like he’s sneering at the young Prince. It’s difficult to be unimposing when he’s the size of the fucking continent. He turns his head slightly towards his company and remains to be silent for a moment. Is he, like, intimidating Puffy or something? It feels like a stare-down.

Well, they certainly know each other because Puffy is staring back at him with the same amount of mixed emotions.

Quite frankly, Tommy thinks it’s rather awkward. He does not recognize who he is, and he does hope that if he’s important that he’s given a right first impression of himself.

He would have spoken up had another moment passed, but finally a conversation strikes.

Not between himself and this stranger, no, rather between a mother and a son.

“Foolish.”

Tommy snaps his head at Puffy’s words. Pause. What? Did Puffy just outright fucking insult the guy?

“Pops—I-I mean Captai—Lady Puffy!” He stutters, and the image of an intimidating man shatters into pieces. 

And damn if Tommy’s view of him didn’t go any warmer than earlier. He’s an awkward little bean despite being maybe as big as fucking atlas. Guy’s biceps could lift the city.

Puffy, to her credit, does not laugh at the greeting. She does sound humored as she acknowledges him though. “Foolish, there’s no need to be formal. You're my kid after all.” She grins, and that’s the type of grin Tommy recognizes as her being ready to spill embarrassing facts for whatever poor thing she’s targeted. “You act as if I wasn’t the one to soothe you while you cried over a—”

She’s cut off by a groan coming from what was once an intimidating figure, who had his hands likely covering his already veiled face in embarrassment. “Not your kid.” He sighs. “Ward. I was your ward. And please, not in front of his Royal Highness—”

“Oh it's fine.” Puffy rolls her eyes. “Surely you don’t mind, do you, Prince Tommy?”

“I don't mind. You seem like an alright fella.” He agrees with a grin. “But I also don't want you to cause discomfort for…” Tommy trails off intentionally, eyes widening to feign childish, belated realization before he turns to the newcomer. “For Sir..?” He tilts his head curiously.

“Oh, apologies I forgot to introduce myself, yeah, uh, I am known as Foolish.”

Tommy doesn’t comment on how odd of a name it was, because his brother’s name is Technoblade (even if everyone knows that’s not his real name) so he has no room to judge. Though it’s… quite an odd choice of a name. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” The man says lightheartedly. “Why’s his name like that? Well, I quite like it. Makes for an excellent conversation starter.” Foolish grins, and primes damn is that a golden canine? Maybe the name does fit the bearer. “Sorry for uh, speaking out of turn.”

“It’s alright, Sir.” Tommy grins. “We can keep this hush hush between ourselves, a friend of Lady Puffy is a friend of mine!”

And that’s when Tommy knew he got the jackpot. 

Leaning a bit forward, a clear show of interest. The humor and lightness in his voice is real, and that’s on a man who is easily fooled and flustered. Hell, his name is Foolish for fuck's sake!

Even so, his stature does not waver, showing his reign on power. This is a powerful man, if he’s come from the throne room with a lone audience of the Imperial Prince, which makes Tommy wonder how such a powerful man was unable to help his mother in a rebellion.

No matter. There won’t be a rebellion where he’s concerned.

 

Another man exits from the door, this time wearing the royal guard uniform. He is a man with green hair and neon eyes all the way to the sclera. It’s Sam, Tommy recognizes.

“Your Royal Highness, your Grace, Lady Puffy.” He greets, and Tommy only nods to grant him permission to continue. “The Imperial Prince requests the presence of Lady Puffy… alone.”

Puffy looks a bit confused, but she takes it in stride. “Foolish, kiddo, can you please accompany Prince Tommy for now?”

Foolish nods. “Course!” Foolish beams, and turns his attention towards Tommy. “If his Royal Highness will allow me.”

“I do not mind.”

“And that’s settled!” Puffy says in a cheerful tone, now entering after Sam who had opened the door for her. “I’ll be back quick.” She winks at Tommy before the door closes.

Well.

Now what?

 

 

Silence. That’s all. It’s just awkward silence between a powerless, charming, child prince, and a powerful, gap moe, veiled… whatever he is. Actually, maybe Tommy can ask that? Break the ice a little.

“Who are you?” Tommy does ask.

To which Foolish had looked back down towards the child in what Tommy could only assume as shock. “I, well, my name is Foolish, your Highness.”

“Oh, yeah I know your name is Foolish.” Tommy nods. “Foolish is a fun choice of name, by the way.” He can’t help but comment. He’s shooting his shot in the dark and he doesn’t really know what he’s doing especially now that he’s faced with a man who seemed just as bewildered as Tommy– he’s probably lugging a lifetime’s expense worth of gold on his pinky alone, but Tommy is just hoping for the best to be honest. Really, what impact will a side character interacting with a side character do anyway? “What I mean to ask is who are you in the kingdom? What are you doing here?” He asks, trying his best to sound innocently curious despite the way he’s questioning the man.

The man tilts his head curiously, and the only way Tommy knows that he did do that is because of the shift in the cloth that veils his face.

“Oh, I’m the current Duke of the Northern region of the Empire.”

Tommy blinks. Oh, well. Connections are good. This could bode well for him if he’s got this guy as a permanent friend. “Oh! Isn’t it cold there?” Tommy asks like he doesn’t already know for certain that it’s the place where summer and spring lasts the longest.

“Nah, on the contrary, it’s one of the warmest places in the Empire.” Foolish replies. “Our spring season is also the best among the rest of the duchies, second of course to the Empire’s capital.” Tommy already knew that, but Tommy knows how happy people tend to become when they explain things to a child.

“That’s cool!” Tommy says. “Tell me more about it?” Again, the boy already knows, but he is prepared to indulge in pleasant conversation (at least, pleasant for the other party).

 

Tommy remembers vaguely why he kept reading that awfully dragging and inconsistent book, The Prince of Song. It was for its mind-boggling politics that the author did a real good job gaslighting him that it made sense to run. It would have made sense if specific realistic issues were non-existent or dealt with using foreign methods bordering on inhumane in his humble opinion. But, it works–in theory that is.

(Tommy isn’t known to be very smart, but he does appreciate it when people put some thought into their fiction.)

(Honestly it makes him feel a bit smart for getting it too.)

Tommy knows a lot about the Empire. Not only is it something he was forced to learn due to Puffy’s call for his early education, nor is it only because of the cursed book, but it’s also something he needs to know if he’s going to be escaping. He certainly cannot reside in the capital, where the people may know him personally and could bring him easily to the Palace.

Everyone, the whole world, knows that the Empire is the most powerful place in the globe. It takes up roughly a third of the world, all within the South, while the rest of the kingdoms scramble over what’s left of the world before the Empire takes that lot as well.

The Empire is split into five large regions, with the largest of it all being the Capitol, the Central Empire. This is where the business centers, population density in this region is the highest among the duchies, as well as where the Embassies are located for the other countries who are in a peaceful agreement with the Antarctic.

Other than the capitol that takes up around fifty percent of the Empire’s total landmass, the rest of the Empire is split into four Dukedoms, or as the people would rather call it, the Duchies.

The Southern Duchy is rich as fuck, but also cold as fuck. So that’s a no go for him considering he’s not exactly got the constitution to survive there. It’s also where William hailed from because some rich asshole thought about emotional blackmail to get his ass on the throne.

The Eastern Duchy has got good greenery and agriculture, and he could survive as a farmer maybe, but unfortunately it’s the bloody prince’s favorite Duchy and so Tommy might as well give Technoblade his head on a silver platter after a little field trip.

The West is the youngest piece of the Empire, and Tommy does not want to go to a place where people would very much like to take his head for having the same bloodline as Technoblade, the man who conquered that region in the first place.

Last but not the least, there is the Northern Duchy, closest to the equator of the globe and with mixed climates and biomes. He heard there’s a desert somewhere there. Somewhere in the middle are very tropical. Many people prefer it there for the warmth and for the seaside view. The ruling Duke is known publicly as the duke Foolish, (and quite frankly Tommy is unsure where all these names are coming from. Are they titles? Aliases? What is the point of all of this?) and is known for spearheading a lot of the modernization of architecture all over the Empire.

And he currently is pandering hard to the Duke of the North by giving the man an opportunity to mansplain politics to Tommy who already knows his shit, so honestly he zones out when Foolish starts talking about some of his builds.

His only thought is that Foolish could do with a lot more cobblestone in his builds.

Not an hour later, the door opened revealing Sam yet again. By then, Tommy had already established a (hopefully) positive relationship with Foolish (who insisted on being called Foolish, because the Sir was bothering him for some reason– technically Tommy outranks him, but it’s so odd not being wanted to suck up to someone physically older).

Tommy looks up at Sam, curious as to what brings him to the other side of the door that’s (protecting) separating himself from his murderous and bloodthirsty older brother. Internally, Tommy wonders if he could manipulate this guy into turning against Technoblade during Tommy’s timely demise.

“Your Highness, the Imperial Prince Technoblade requests your presence.” He greets with the Empire’s bow.

He nods his head then turns to Foolish with a smile. He bows his head slightly as Foolish does the weird Empire courtesy thing. “See you later, Foosh!” He says with a beam, and he watches Foolish grin at the sound of the nickname.

“See ya, your Highness!” He replies giddily despite Tommy insisting to be called Tommy the same way Foolish insisted to be called Foolish. Hypocrite.

Tommy walks ahead, with Sir Sam tailing after him. The older man opens the door for him and presents the prince to the man on a throne, in a courtroom that is as obnoxious and gaudy as the door that hid Tommy from it. It is ridiculously long as well, with Tommy having troubles with traversing over dumb long rugs that lead all the way to the throne.

He has to admit, of course. Tommy knows he looks cool and princely before an imaginary audience consisting of one hundred imaginary people and three actual humans (with one of them being less human for, cough, you know, KILLING HIS OWN BROTHER). Tommy has his shoulders stretched, back straight, head held up evenly, and looking as graceful as a prince should.

What ruins the moment of course is the stupid, gaudy rug.

Tommy’s foot catches on a fold on the rug, and this causes him to stumble.

The guard behind him is not close enough to catch him, and Puffy is a long way ahead of him, right in front of the throne that is just mocking him at every waking hour of his day.

So, having no one to catch him, Tommy stumbles, then falls, then lands on his front. Luckily, he does not land on his face. He’s quick enough to catch himself at least.

And here he is, making an absolute fool of himself.

The whole room is quiet, which isn’t much of a feat considering that this ridiculously large space has only three other people occupying it.

Tommy brings himself up before Sam could make a move to help him up.

“Are you alright, your Highness?” He asks, clearly concerned over a prince who had disgraced himself over his trigger-happy brother.

“I am alright! Sorry. I missed the crease on the rug!” He tries his best to say it lightheartedly, despite being at the verge of a full-out breakdown for sabotaging his own image.

Plan C is dumb anyway. Tommy thinks that he should have enough riches stocked for his escape.

Tommy dusts himself, and looks up ahead for the reaction of his brother—

Who does nothing? It’s the usual blank look on his face while he sits straight on his throne. Tommy knows that Technoblade is present mentally, though, because his eyes are zeroed in on his and Tommy could see unreadable thoughts behind those red things. It would have frightened him more if Tommy was a wimp.

But he’s not Theseus. He’s not a wimp. He’s a bloody prince and he is going to own that title.

Tommy continues walking on his own, until finally arriving beside Puffy.

 

And it’s quiet again.

Fucking hell. Tommy would absolutely love to break this silence if it didn’t mean that it would cost him his head. Life over pride, Life over Pride. Life. Over. Pride. 

 

“Theseus.”

Tommy almost didn’t recognize the name at all.

“Brother!” He greets back cheerfully while doing the Empire's bow. Four fingers, and one folded thumb placed over his chest.

“What made you fall earlier.” It wasn’t a question, really, and more of a demand. Tommy is irritated at how Technoblade has to ask despite clearly witnessing it. Doesn’t he have eyes? What an arrogant pig bastard.

Tommy answers, of course, because he doesn’t want his head on a golden pike. “I tripped over a crease on the rug.” He answers. For extra childish points, he points at the very vague direction of where he tripped. “Right over there.”

He only hums. Tommy feels the urge to shut him up with a quip. 

Technoblade crosses his legs and moves into a more relaxed position on his seat. “Have you been well, child?”

He finds that extremely patronizing, being called ‘child’. He is one, clearly, but what right does this pompous pig bastard have in calling him ‘child’? Tommy could taste the condescending tone all the way where he stands, which is a considerable distance from Technoblade to be fair.

As always, he sucks it up. Head on a pike. No head on a pike. Control your tongue you sod.

“Yes, brother!” he answers happily. So, like the child he is, he changes the topic. “I had a good meal earlier. Have you eaten yet?”

…

And another thing. Tommy really dislikes how it takes Technoblade a while to answer. It feels like Tommy is being scrutinized at every exchange or at every turn of words. Not only that, but it’s wasting his time. If he’s going to take this long, then why even ask for this dumb little meeting? Have a little consideration, prick.

“No. I suppose not.” He answers.

Before Tommy could get a word in, Technoblade’s eyes lazily shifts to Puffy who is standing beside Tommy. Despite the fear that anyone would usually feel upon the attention of the Blood Prince, Puffy seems… oddly at ease. 

Okay, that’s not the dynamic he recognizes in Prince of Song.

“I haven’t been able to pay attention to my youngest sibling because I have been focusin’ on runnin’ the Empire.” Technoblade starts. Tommy personally thinks that it’s a really badly made excuse for abandoning him. “Yet before me, Theseus has grown into a very healthy child.” Yeah, shut it. No need for hospitality for a kid who lives in a different palace from you and has plans to leave. Not to mention he commented on how light he was– how fucking rude. “You’ve done well raising him.” Technoblade comments, and Tommy is certain that it’s out of necessity rather than sincerity.

“Prince Theseus is a very smart and kind child.” Puffy says with unhindered pride. “I didn’t need to do much. He is very capable on his own.” Tommy resists the urge to snort. Yeah, no, he could beg to differ. Tommy might have been capable but by no means did he make it easy for all the lazy fucks he’d had to train in the Sapphire Palace.

Technoblade looks as if he’s carefully considering her words. “That credit belongs to you, still.”

Oh, fuck him. Compliment Tommy for once. He has some credit too for holding back on attempting an assassination on this political pig. He's grown up plenty on his own.

“Out of gratitude, you are relieved of your duties as Head Maid of the Sapphire Palace and are awarded with your duty to serve as Captain of the Royal Navy.”

Tommy’s heart stops at that for a moment.

Excuse him.

Has he been sold out?

 

Trying his best to hide his accusatory expression, Tommy looks at Puffy with wide eyes. He’s in disbelief. If Technoblade had any tone, he would have believed that he was joking.

And he would have believed it, truly, because Puffy had a humored expression on her face.

“Excuse me, your Imperial Highness, but is that a request or an order?”

“Up to you.” He shrugs nonchalantly, which is a jarring sight on Tommy’s part. Why is he so casual? “It’s your job we’re talking of here.”

Puffy crossed her arms with a grin on her face. Tommy feels nervous, but Technoblade doesn’t seem to mind at all for some reason?

She doesn’t seem to understand the severity of the issues at the moment. Technoblade will kill her one day, be it because of Theseus’ execution or the effect of Wilbur’s interference. Puffy having the audacity to confront Technoblade like this is, to be frank, frightening as fuck.

“Do I have to make a decision now?”

“You act like you don’t know me.”

Puffy laughs. “Yeah, yeah. You despise stalling.” The woman rolls her eyes. “Alright, you grouch!” She says with a grin. Instead of answering, however, she turns to Tommy with a smile. The woman goes lower, now on one knee, and looks at Tommy at eye-level.

Tommy is just frozen in his position. What does this mean? What is all of this implying?

Maybe this woman is just insane. This could be the reason why she dies in the novel, and not solely because of Theseus. She could be stepping on all the boundaries of Technoblade and got tired, had enough, held a revolution thinking she’d be spared. He is terrified of her audacity, to be honest.

“Tommy, I’m going to leave this decision to you now.”

“What?” It was just confusion over everything. He’s not quite caught up.

Puffy looks amused, but there’s also this look that a parent has when handing their child some sort of responsibility. She looks at him like he’s graduated and she’s a nostalgic parent. “As you’ve heard, and I know you’re perceptive Tommy, but I’ve been given an option to return to my duties in the Navy. How do you feel about that?” 

Tommy frowns.

They’ve spoken about this once, about how Puffy was a soldier of the naval forces before, a Captain, even. Directly under the highest command. He had expressed his awe about that, and he’d ask her why’d she drop such a task for Tommy. She said that it was a bit hard to explain, and Tommy let it be. After all, he wouldn’t be there in the royal palace for long enough for it to matter. He would be leaving, and whatever job she had would be returned to her after losing the ‘nanny’ title.

“I’m grown up, Lady Puffy!” Tommy says, lowering his voice so it can only (hopefully) be heard between them. “I’d be okay with either decision you make.” He insists. If anything, it would make escape easier if there were less eyes on him.

She tilts her head, though, looking at Tommy straight in the eyes. The woman nods and turns to the Imperial Prince who seemed disinterested in their little exchange. She stands, and she bows her head, placing four fingers on her chest.

“I accept the duty that Your Imperial Highness has given me.” Puffy says.

Tommy is honestly surprised, despite knowing that she wouldn’t refuse this offer. He doesn’t see much of her undying, motherly loyalty that was described in the novel. If anything, it seemed to him that she was simply handing off the Nanny Title. He’s too shocked by how easy it seemed for her to choose to be able to remember that the Captain Puffy in the novel had been by Theseus’ side for all fourteen years, while she’d only raised this kid for four.

Later on, he would be wondering how much he’s already changed.

“Of course.” Technoblade hums, disinterested despite his seemingly generous script. “It has always been yours. If it were up to me, it would have never been rescinded at all.” Technoblade's gaze shifts to Tommy, studying him.

Tommy feels a chill down his spine. He could read between the lines. Technoblade had thought that Puffy taking the years off of her duty as captain wasn't worth it if it meant it would be spent raising Tommy.

Fucking prick. Tommy's heart simmers in frustration. This is a target against him, clearly. This is meant to isolate him. 

“Will you be requiring time to transition between your roles?”

“A bit. I miss my children.”

And she has her own kids.

Tommy's anger cools into guilt. She has kids. Not just Tommy. He glances at Puffy who looks… relieved, if anything. 

Of course. Yeah, that makes sense. Tommy isn't the only child in her eyes now. 

He took those years away from her kids.

Still, she manages to care for him anyway. “A new maid should be reassigned to stay by Prince Theseus’ side.” Puffy says with an easy smile, lighter and brighter than he recalls. 

Does the idea of leaving him take away that much weight? “Do you mind if I pick?”

“Not at all. I don’t suppose it matters to me.” Technoblade says. “However, from now on I will be personally looking after the prince’s well-being.”

Oh, that makes sense-- wait.

What.

The eldest prince’s ruby eyes slowly shifted to stare right through Tommy’s sapphire. Both eyes glitter under the light, a sign of their noble lineage.

Tommy feels another chill run down his spine as the eldest prince’ lips curled into a smirk, subtle and mean.

Oh gods, just ignore me. Tommy thinks to himself, staring back at his brother. In his nervousness, he smiles back. I don’t understand. Why are you paying attention now? That gold statue is nothing!

“From now on, Prince Theseus, youngest of the Empire’s Royal Family, is to be truly treated as the Prince.”

And he declares that with so much confidence.

You killed me! You killed me! Just leave me be and you nor I get hurt!

Tommy smiles, with his teeth out and eyes glittering (due to his heritage, due to tears, due to faux excitement? Even he does not know.), and he bows with four fingers flat on his chest. “I am very excited to hang around with the bestest brother in the world!” He says, planned words spilling through his lips in an easy lie.

Children’s lies are easier to believe. That’s to his advantage.

Technoblade pushes himself against the chair, and he sits up. His eyes meets Tommy's, and there is something amused in those eyes. Something evil. 

It occurs to Tommy that children are easier to kill without a decent guardian. This is all to Technoblade's advantage, if he wants to get rid of Tommy for some cruel and arbitrary fucking reason.

Oh, he is mega-fucked.

Chapter 5: A Courtier's Interlude

The palace courtiers have very little to say of the prince that burdens them. The boy is small, and frail, and he does not have a single bone in his body that is aware of how much he weighs on their collective shoulders.

Connie herself has very little regard of the prince. For one, she isn’t as irritated by his naivete as the others, nor is she particularly fond of the prince. She is just glad to be within these palace walls.

Because at least here she can taste the slightest sweetness that royalty could afford. Her bunk-mate, Trabby, got to sell a few of the toys that the prince had. She was particularly glad about that, because Connie got a cut of the profits. She wasn’t proud of stealing from a boy, but at the moment there is very little prestige associated with working in these parts. 

She gets along well with Trabby. The girl is a cat hybrid, and Connie’s father had the Eagle’s eyes passed down to her, but despite their clashing genetics Trabby and Connie are good friends. 

She wouldn’t say that she’s particularly hateful to the prince. She just takes because she can, and because she could.

Connie herself has gotten a very pretty bracelet that she keeps hidden under her sleeve. She admires it at night, how it glitters. 

The others, well, they take from him, time and time again, because he disturbs them. How is he related to the empire’s royalty? Vida would badmouth the prince in the kitchen with no one with the gall to stop her– some thinking that it was true, some thinking that it was too much of a bother to. This is a disgrace. A shame. Vida would push her distaste for the prince into the dough she kneads. He was likely just a child with eyes that deceive, because they will never treat him the way they treat the Imperial Prince, Technoblade.

Why should they treat him with respect when not even his own brother treats him like a prince? 

Connie had been witness to some of these rants before. She doesn’t particularly agree, but she doesn’t really think it’s worth the trouble to debate with Vida. She also knows that a good portion of the servants don’t really hate the prince with the same vitriol as Vida, who was a proud servant of the Emperor since her youth. 

She honestly thinks that the Imperial Prince doesn’t even know Vida’s name, so honestly she thinks that the hatred is a little bit parasocial.

Though the fact remains that she does think that they might gain favor with what they’re doing. Vida is at least right in the train of thought that maybe the first prince despises the little prince. 

So if anyone asks– “The little prince Theseus, so shameful in nature. They abhor him. What a shame.”

Some say that he might not even be of blood relation. The Courtiers have never heard of the Prince being born, anyway. Connie tries not to entertain that train of thought out of self-preservation. Others seem convinced that surely this child was here under false pretenses that he was the son of the Emperor, one who has also left him to rot in this Sapphire Palace.

No, the Ruby palace. The servants here do not acknowledge the new name, changed so subtly and borderline-unofficially. This is the Ruby Palace through and through, where every corner of the palace has the aura of death and gloom and everything wrong with the world.

Connie, on that fact, tries to stomp down those particular rumors herself. Sure Vida’s seething hatred for the little prince could be known to the world, but the assumption that the little prince is everything but royal could very well be treason. Dislike is one thing, but libel is something that could get her tongue ripped out.

Or maybe her head cut off while they’re at it.

Though certain workmates would prefer to differ because while it is true that they fear Technoblade, there is nothing to fear with Theseus, so insignificant and so bland. He tries to act smart but they see him and his failures and his tears and his weakness. 

At the moment, to be assigned to him is social exile, at this point.

And they abhor him.

Oh do they abhor this child, who has ruined their lives, not even knowing why or how. They abhor how he looks at the with this pathetic face of begging, one unfit for a prince. He is no prince of theirs. He is a disgrace. A stain on the family. 

Maybe this is why no one outside the palace knows of his name. They are too ashamed to speak of this shameful job of theirs. 

If they skip his meals, he is too measly to complain. There is no one to complain to, because any higher power deigns to ignore him. It is a hassle to bother actual royalty with something so hated. 

Maybe he is the reason why Technoblade is in power, that Philza, their Emperor, had hated this child so much that he had to leave for so long. That their Empress had rather died than raise this disgusting child. 

If they barely touch his unkempt room, then that is not their problem. Who is he to complain to, when anyone with an ounce of power had been the one to impose this exile? If they ignore how he barely leave his room with the reason of illness, then who is he to whine? Why is he so weak, that a simple flu would take him down like this? Who is he to speak, when not a single voice had squeaked out of that unworthy mouth of his.

Sometimes they all wish that he had died, instead of the Empress.

The courtiers abhor that prince. He is no prince of theirs.

Connie, for one, doesn’t disagree.

 

~+~

 

The Sapphire Palace is in disarray. Everyone is in a frenzy, more so than usual and ever before. Connie very much remembers a day like this one, which ended with a boy in a cradle within a currently very dusty room, with Puffy sat at the side of his golden cage with a faraway look. 

Puffy is the sole lady who loves the prince unconditionally, so naturally this causes her to be… isolated by the circles within the Sapphire palace. Some hate her too but don’t dare express it– her children, after all, remain to be in power. Many do think it’s a shame that she decided to prioritize the estranged prince over her own children.

After all, adopted or not a peasant cared for would have had more power in his pinky than the prince.

Though that is besides the point. Connie knows Puffy for what she is– a captain remains as vigilant at home as she is in her station, after all. This time, Puffy is not as dazed or out of her mind with grief or conflict. No, at the moment she is frantic. 

“The prince is missing!” Trabby cries out. She’s a maid often delegated to the gardens, so she’s often found outdoors and lounging in the sun. Connie tilts her head, and she watches as Trabby frantically tries to alert anyone who would listen that their prince is missing.

Trabby is a cat hybrid, and she could see her hackles physically raise as she spreads the word and sends everyone onto their feet. Even Vida had been sent out of the kitchen to aid in the efforts to look for the prince.

Everyone is now on their feet looking for the Prince with that same frantic need as Puffy, because everyone had one goal in mind.

Do not let him meet the Imperial Prince.

Connie could tell that everyone had woken up. Reality had seeped into their consciousness and they’ve all realized how big of a deal it is to have lost a prince supposedly in their care is. Many things could go wrong.

For one, people could find out just how they’ve mistreated the prince. While in theory, people would mutter words like the boy would have deserved it anyway or he has no need for riches, the third prince. In practice, it is still treason. Trabby had always been worried about that, and had always attempted to suck up to the little prince with all her mothering-glory. The prince, dumb as he is, always does fall for it.

Vida, on the other hand, had no such worries. She does walk her talk, after all. “He’s likely gonna crawl his way back anyway.” She grumbles, but even as she does she still ends up pushing her way into passages some servants know of. Connie thinks that there’s some merit to her seniority at least. “Bastard Prince doesn’t know how to live a day without privilege.” Connie could predict the charges on the woman the moment they get caught losing the prince. 

“Lady Puffy,” Connie calls when she spots her near the exits towards the gardens. She is staring out. “My lady, where are you looking, have you spotted–?” She sees what exactly Puffy is looking at.

Connie sees it before Puffy does. The woman has meritable eyes, yes, but not as sharp as Connie’s who was bred to spot the finest.

In the distance, there is a man clad in golds and reds approaching their palace. Connie’s stomach drops when she makes the connection in regards to who exactly that man is.

There is very few creeper-hybrids who survive past twenty donning that uniform. 

In fact, there is only one. 

And he is walking from where the gardens to the Sapphire palace lay adjacent to that of the Emerald palace’s. 

Puffy runs before Connie could well up the tears in panic. They found out. They found out. They found out–! She runs after Puffy, instict, almost. 

“Sam?” Puffy rushes over the Warden who had approached the Sapphire palace grounds. Connie’s eyes zero in on the boy in the man’s arms, and she could only assume the worst. “Tommy!?” 

The palace courtiers follow after, drawn out by the sound of commotion. 

Puffy takes Tommy from Sam’s arms and cradles the boy, and in that moment the Warden’s eyes draw up towards her. There is something cold, something frightening in the gaze of the Warden when their eyes meet.

Something accusatory.

As ever, the demoted captain is unaware of her ‘friend’s nature.  “How-?”

“I’ve been told by the Imperial Prince that he would like to meet prince Theseus again.” He announces, and Connie’s mind races with all the accusations of Vida and her circle. The boy is alive. The boy is being welcomed back.

The boy is being welcomed.

Connie couldn’t stop her hands from cupping her mouth in disbelief, and the action does not go unnoticed by the Warden. Something glints in his eyes as he registers her reaction. 

Something dangerous.

And she does not have the faintest clue if she should be relieved about this, but Connie could see with clear eyes that it was not just her that the Warden was reading. No, she could tell that the Warden’s eyes, sharp, sharper than hers, was taking in every face in the area. 

How should she act? Should she care for the prince? Should she be cruel? What does this mean, to be welcomed back by a man who was so fickle and arbitrary?

Connie could not process the rest of the two’s conversation as she opts to tear her eyes from the Warden and throw it at her feet. Improper. She should not have stared at the Warden, as he easily outranks her. 

She instead shifts her gaze to the prince before her, and she could see it. The boy is clutching at Puffy, and he is clinging. What does this mean? What could make him so fearful?

The prince may be dumb, but Connie knows that he at least has a semblance of self-preservation contrary to Vida’s cruel remarks. 

He had come from a meeting with the Imperial Prince for reasons that Connie is yet to find out, and his reaction is difficult to read nor is it of any matter. A child’s view of things is unreliable, and she could not possibly find an answer to the state of her reputation in the eyes of the Crown from his reaction alone.

But there is one thing peculiar about the way the boy watches and listens despite clinging at Puffy’s neck with desperation. 

He’s shaking.

What does this mean for him?

What does this mean for her? 

 

~+~

 

Puffy has returned to her post once again as Captain in the Western Duchy. The Imperial Prince had decreed it so in gratitude for taking care of the third Prince, Theseus. In her place in the Sapphire Palace, Clara had taken position. Connie is a bit relieved at that. Clara had never been witness to Connie’s personal misdeeds in the Sapphire Palace but she has been privy to Vida’s thoughts. 

Since then, everyone had been walking on eggshells. Clara had never been a famous sort, nor is she the type to linger in one place. Connie herself couldn’t get a read of Clara prior to now, not even on a spectrum of Puffy to Vida’s sort of opinion on the third prince. This uncertainty makes everyone nervous.

Everyone, save Vida.

Vida who honestly cannot get her mouth shut and getting everyone into trouble all for the sake of her pride and superiority. She would not bow to Prince Theseus, nor would she bow to Clara of all people. The young upstart noble woman who could not get a husband.

“How unfortunate, darling.” Vida had crooned once before, and Connie would have high-tailed it out of there if it weren’t for the fact that her need and want for gossip easily outranks her priority to keep her image straight. “You are so young. You do not need to be so burdened over the Prince.”

Clara remains steadfast and loyal in her image. “I do not understand what you mean, Miss Vida.” Clara says with a calm and polite expression as she prepares the plating for the Prince’s afternoon meal. “It is a great honor to serve the Prince.”

“Oh you do not need to be so insincere, Clara.” Connie is tempted to run now, but she finds Vida’s dense nature to be hilariously tragic. “Come, you do not need to be so prudent here among friends–”

“Apologies, Miss Vida, but I must attend to the prince.” Clara cuts her off curtly. “He is to meet with the Imperial Prince Technoblade later this afternoon, and I must see to it that he is promptly fed a fulfilling meal. May we continue this conversation another time?” 

“Ah, sure.” Vida waves off. “But I’m tellin’ you, you don’t need to waste all this energy. The Imperial Prince will be off with the brat eventually.” 

Connie isn’t sure if she should be looking forward to Vida’s downfall.

Since the incident of Prince Theseus disappearing, Connie herself has been more attentive to the Prince’s status. They’ve had frequent meals together, and walks in the garden were often. Still, Theseus hasn’t been reported dead. 

Hell, she hasn’t seen Theseus at all since he began being summoned more frequently at the Emerald Palace with Clara.

Later today they are to have an outing with the Prince. 

She hopes nothing changes. 

Notes:

Fun fact:
Connie, Trabby, and Vida are lazy character names for a filipino word "Kontrabida" which means antagonist. I just thought it'd be fun to put that in like I did with other Filipino references in the og fic.

Chapter 6: Jokes on You, I Know How To Swim

The Imperial Prince looks down at the child who was approaching him, holding that irritatingly disinterested look in his eye. As all members of the Imperial faction do, the youngest prince bows down respectfully before his older brother. Contrary to the rest of the faction, however, the number of fingers Tommy places on his heart doesn’t matter. In fact, being Technoblade’s blood relative should be something that disqualifies Tommy from even having to bow to this fucker.

But you know how it is. Just because they were related by blood does not mean that they are of equal footing. Tommy knows that- has always known that. Tommy hadn’t even known that he wasn’t supposed to greet this guy like this until Clara pointed it out in passing, gushing over how adorable and needlessly respectful he was to the prince the few other occasions he’s done this.

“Glory forever to the Blood of the Antarctic Empire.” He greets.

He takes great care in enunciating his greeting properly. 

Clara’s behind him but he could still hear her gushing over his manners.

Though despite his rather adorable presentation of trying to sell himself as an overachieving suck-up of a little brother, there is no prompt response. Tommy lingers in his bowed position, waiting for at least an acknowledgement so he could get up.

It takes a moment longer than usual for the Imperial prince to acknowledge the greeting. Tommy is certain that he’s doing this on purpose--when others greet him, he is quick to acknowledge them. Tommy knows he’s doing this to spite Tommy.

Technoblade finally hums an affirmation before Tommy could finally be at ease. 

 

This is their third time together after their meeting in the throne room. It was at least going better than the previous encounters, with Tommy having to catch up to the man’s pace as they walked together (silently) through the gardens.

Curse these short legs, Tommy had repeatedly thought with irritation before he rationalizes that he is not the problem. No, my legs are normal, he’d reason with himself, because his own mind made for more conversation than with Technoblade, It is the Blood Prince’s knees that must be cut down. 

Of course none of his plight had been voiced out. Tommy may have been tired by the quick walking he had to follow Technoblade with, but he was certainly capable of catching up. He’s been training, after all. Training for the very likely event that he would have to run for his life on the occasion that Technoblade suddenly decides to off his (currently known) only brother.

He’s been running with self-made ankleweights after all (pouches full of gold tied to his ankles). Tommy has been able to run with those fuckers without a sound!

Thankfully, none of the hardships of the previous meeting had been present for this encounter--so far, at least. He’s willing to give that.

Why, you may ask?

Because in the garden where the two princes met is a very enticing lake, with an equally enticing boat. 

Tommy’s eyes sparkles at the sight of the floating boat, as small as it is. It is made of wood, as per Tommy’s knowledge. Wood, with engraved gold off on its sides, and seats with velvet cushions that Tommy knows is going to be softer than it looks. 

It catches Tommy’s eyes for multiple reasons--for one, there is a seat. He would rather sit today than have another session of leg work out with his brother. The training at his own gardens with his gold is training enough. 

Another thing is that there are a few trinkets that Tommy could potentially nab off the boat without anybody noticing. Small items of gold and gems hanging off as decoration--surely no one will miss it.

But most of all, the biggest reason why Tommy’s already sparkling eyes glitters at the sight of a boat on a lake is because he… he wants something familiar. There was a time before all of this when he would sit by a chair he made himself. He used to live by the sea at some point, and there was no shortage of venturing in the oceans.

And while the lake is nothing to the vast waters of adventure, it was the closest thing he could get.

It’s been a while, he realizes. He wonders if his family has realized that he’s gone..

Based on their last encounters… Tommy would have to say that they’re likely to be doing better now. It’s not like a disappearance would mean anything to them. Tommy has been gone from their lives longer than he’s ever been in it.

While lost in his thoughts, he fails to notice that Technoblade had been watching the little prince as his gaze lingers wistfully towards the boat. The older of the two speaks up. “Are you interested in the lake, Theseus?”

Really, Tommy is more shocked that Technoblade had instigated the conversation. Where was all this initiative when he had needed it last week?

“Yeah!” Tommy is quick to answer. “I like boats, and the lake is pretty.” He adds, because he notices how Technoblade prefers it when Tommy speaks more.

That, or it makes him think less of killing him and more of shutting him up.

“...” He is quiet for a moment, as if considering his options. Tommy could never get used to this silence. “Prepare the boat.” He says, and the surrounding servants silently scurry around in an oddly organized manner to accommodate to Technoblade’s command. “We may ride it briefly.”

‘We’, Tommy notes. He had been hoping that Technoblade would indirectly attempt at Tommy’s life by letting him go alone. Maybe that way Tommy can prove that he’s smarter than he looks, for someone who is supposed to be learning how to count in Kindergarten.

 “Yeah!” Tommy cheers. “That is going to be so cool!” False, yet convincing glee. Tommy is quite adept at feigning joy recently.

 

The boat is already conveniently docked for anyone to ride it--anyone, being the Princes. All that has to be done is get on it-- which serves as a predicament for Tommy because he is considerably short. He looks up to Technoblade, wondering if he should find a way himself or if there is a preferred method.

Only to find the pink haired man looking back down as if again considering things. He’s been doing this a lot lately. Considering things. Maybe if he does this more often he can consider not killing Tommy when the time comes for a royal execution.

“You’re gonna need to be carried to get on the boat, Theseus.”

Tommy nods. That is an astute observation. Better than a stool where he could easily overbalance off, or getting on by lifting himself up. The boy looks behind for the chaperoning guard, Sam, to lift him, but he finds that he is not moving from his position in the back. The guy’s just watching him with an unreadable expression. The fuck?

He looks up again at Technoblade who is looking at him expectantly.

Oh, he realizes with very well hidden despair. It seems like Technoblade will be the one to carry him up.

Tommy wordlessly raises his arms to the side, for Technoblade to easily carry him by the armpits. Technoblade reaches down, and Tommy stops breathing, preparing himself for anything to happen.

This is it, Tommy thinks. Do or die. Technobalde could drop him and try to drown him, or perhaps strangle him where he stands, and the guard nor the trailing servants behind him will be unable to do anything unless they risk being accused of treason or something. He doesn’t know, politics in this fucked up country is weird. Seriously, in what world is judicial killing without due process acceptable in this huge-ass country?

Tommy holds his breath as he is lifted off the ground. His bones could break, maybe? The prince could just toss him over and Tommy’s limbs would be crushed. He could still strangle him. Dislocate his shoulders where he is being held from. Probably could attempt to squeeze Tommy’s ribs to break it and puncture it.

None of that happens, and instead he is placed safely on the velvety cushioned seat, and he finally breathes.

Live to die another day, maybe.

Technoblade swiftly moves over the ledge of the boat, and sits comfortably on his own seat right across Tommy’s.

Tommy, upon being seated, scooches over to the side when the boat started to move without anyone from behind pushing it. They’re a bit far from land, now. “Where are the oars?” Tommy ends up blurting out, because it was silent for too long and he has to distract his brother from any homicidal thoughts. 

“There is no need for oars.” Technoblade answers. He glances at the side where Tommy is looking, and returns his gaze on the kid once again. “I am surprised you know what oars are. They are for the commonfolk without access to magic.”

Tommy internally freezes. Is it? He only knew oars from his past life. All boats had oars, no matter the size. He doesn’t think he’d remember Puffy or anyone else mentioning the economic gap between a Prince and a commoner either. “It makes sense for there to be oars. How can the boat move then?” he asks dumbly.

Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t really ask. He knows, somewhat. It’s just odd to come face to face with it.

It being Magic. The world of the novel Prince of Song has magic in it, though it had taken Tommy a significantly large amount of focus into his read of Prince of Song to notice it. It was just something that didn’t seem very important. As far as Tommy recalls, it’s different from the regular enchanting table or perhaps even the funky way Endermen or zombies or redstone and potions work at home.

Home, he hasn’t thought of that in a while now.

Something about the instability of the waves of the water, miniscule as it may be, is so nostalgic as to bring up memories of a past that no longer matters to him. 

“I recall you mentionin’ that you started your classes early.” Says out of the blue, Tommy out of his thoughts.Yeah, he has more important concerns. He can think about home later, for now he has to focus on living long enough to see it. 

“Yup!” He affirms. And he’s pretty damn certain that the teachers never told him about not needing oars. He’s also certain that he can’t be blamed for being dumb about this topic seeing that details like these aren’t usually pointed out in written literature.

“And so where did you get the assumption that oars are needed for a boat-- especially the boats owned by the Palace?”

“...Physics?” he answers.

Because what the hell is he supposed to say? That he has a past life where oars are normal for a boat? He can’t exactly say ‘hey, where I’m from that is perfectly normal’ because in everyone’s point of view, he is from here. He would be executed for being accused of being insane. Can’t have insane royalty, after all. Look at what happened to multiple notable royalties in history– err, at least in the history he knows. He’s not sure history is the same here.

“Physics.” Technoblade repeats, sounding incredulous yet still maintaining that dumb monotonous drawl of his.

“Physics is a cool study.”

“Unnecessary for a kingdom of magic, do you not agree?”

“I don't suppose it is possible to control what you don’t understand.” Tommy retorts, tired of being ridiculed for both his lack and abundance of knowledge. “Magic is basic for everyone, yeah, but people don’t stop learning how to make wheels just ‘cos carriages exist.” It was getting tiring being treated like a fool, like a lower-life commoner. Tommy is a fucking prince, and even if before him is someone of higher standing, he doesn’t deserve the way he is being scrutinized. Being made to feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. Technoblade is of higher standing, but that doesn’t make Tommy less. “Which is to say, Your Imperial Highness, Physics ain't unnecessary just because somehow we found magical ways on how to skip the workload of learning how it works.”

In the back of Tommy’s mind, he feels panicked. Fuck, Tommy realizes late. He just rambled on. That troublesome mouth of his runs faster than he could run fucking thoughts! 

For what? For being ridiculed? It’s not even much of an embarassment in the first place! Magic genuinely is cool, but fuck it if this bitch believes that even the most basic Phyics has no application to their current state of living!

But Primes FUCK it is way better to suck it up than die, damn it. That’s what he’s been trying to implement into his life--his new life. Live. He needs to live, otherwise he will die from Technoblade’s hand.

Though really, what was a living Tommy if not a prideful one? His dignity and his integrity is being questioned and isn’t it right to react accordingly? He’s a fucking prince. Technoblade may see him lower than himself, but Tommy is a prince and must be treated better than the others. 

If Tommy dies, at least he doesn’t die weak.

So yes, while he regrets it, he also knows that he wouldn't have had this conversation any other way.

That doesn’t stop Tommy from anticipating Technoblade’s reaction. Technoblade is silent, and the boat’s little cruise has stalled just as the conversation does. 

Welp, Tommy killed it.

He had a good attempt. Better luck next time, if there is a next time.

At least if he dies this time, it just might stick.

…

 

Nothing happens other than the boat resuming to move again.

Tommy is nearly convinced that Technoblade is a bit more lax than he is in The Prince of Song. Maybe he isn’t as powerful or murderous as the story made him out to be. Maybe Tommy has finally duped Technoblade. He’d love to entertain the thought, but dropping his defenses now might as well equate to him dropping his own damn head.

He considers speaking up, but he is unable to due to a sudden jerking of the boat. It moves forward on its own, smoothly floating along the water surface--without oars. It feels like there’s a bump somewhere, but Tommy is too distracted to actively notice.

Technoblade and Tommy stare at each other--Technoblade with unreadable, ruby eyes, and Tommy with what he suspects is emotion he himself cannot really explain in simple words. Maybe it’s because it’s not just one thing. It’s mixed emotions after being proven about something, not necessarily being proven wrong nor right. Just. Something.

No other word. Just Something.

 

Even as the boat ride resumes, they do not continue with their conversation. Tommy feels the heavy atmosphere after having been proven something. He doesn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing,

And it frustrates Tommy without end.

Danger. There is so much danger, but he cannot do anything about it because while he knows the feasibility of that danger, he cannot physically see it. He cannot see the manifestations of Technoblade that he knows in the story, but at the same time he knows that there has to be something. It’s just different. So vastly different. It’s like being handed a manual but the manual is outdated and there have been very noticeable changes on the machine.

So whether or not he’s in danger,

He doesn’t really know. At least, not yet.

Technoblade is the first to part from their little stare-off. Tommy doesn’t bother to think why, nor celebrate his victory with one small thing.

He simply does the same, and does what he came here for in the first place.

Enjoy the view of the lake. 

And… it is effective, at least. It calms him down. It gives him a sense of relief, no matter how little time he has of this sensation.

In his small happiness, Tommy finds an ethereal looking flower. A lotus, not one he’s seen before. It floats serenely on the calm lake, and both the lake and the flower reflect the vague color of the sky. Its petals look soft, and welcoming. It was akin to looking at heaven through the mercy of a little flower. A peaceful, inhabitable haven for only the eyes.

It’s beautiful, he notes quietly, entranced by it. It is unnatural how something of nature could bring this much euphoric temptation to take.

And he is even more drawn to it as the boat approaches one of the flowers. It’s in the way, and Tommy thinks that the slight bumps along the boat ride might have been the same flowers.

He reaches out for it, knowing that it’s within his reach. Tommy takes his hand, and stretches as far as he could to reach the flower. 

His brother is very blatantly staring at Tommy, yet he does not comment. Not that Tommy cares at the moment.

Tommy doesn’t give a fuck if Technoblade is staring at him. He has other, more important concerns.

 

He holds out for the flower, 

If only it was as close it seemed.

 

In his effort to hold the flower, Tommy topples over the side of the boat, falling into the water of the lake.

 

 

Awake. He’s awake. Yet that same sensation Tommy feels from his slumber remains the same. Is he really awake, if he feels so weightless? When he’s awake, he feels heavier than he should be--in all senses. His mind is foggy, but will awakeness be the one to cure that? His fingers are cold, and the daylight never could fix that. He is weightless, and he supposes that is a mercy.

But he cannot breathe.

Tommy gasps awake, but all he can breathe is water.

He can’t die. He won’t die. He will not die like this. Not like this, not alone.

So like every day, he fights death. He slams against it with every stroke of his palm against the water and every kick against the pull of gravity. He refuses it, as he keeps the breath that the water deigns to take away from him.

Tommy does not die. Not that day. He resurfaces over the water, taking in the breath that his lungs burn for. He floats above, winning every attempt at his life. If his enemies can’t kill him, neither can his friends.

And he loves the ocean, even as it hates him.

He swims to shore, which is thankfully not that far. Tommy claws against the sand as he finally reaches ground, and he coughs out the water that had intruded his lungs.

Tommy looks up to see what little he lives for, and wonders for the briefest of seconds if he shouldn’t have fought the embrace of the water.

But Tommy sees beyond that scrap of land and cloth he calls a house, and sees a home in his memories.

No. He will not die.

He cannot.

 

 

 

Theseus clings to reality as he realizes he is down here again. The water has always loved him a bit too dearly. He can’t blame it, to be fair. He is a very lovable person. 

Just as before, he swims to the surface. He kicks and shoves and drags himself upwards in a crawl against a descending pull towards the depths. Despite this, Tommy clings to life. He isn’t anything more than stubborn, and death can suck it up. 

He will not die.

Tommy fights against the pull that wants to sink him, but he knows it’s harder because of his smaller limbs. He doesn’t care. Tommy is Tommy, and if he won then, he will win now. He slams his closed palms against the water, pulling himself up and dragging the water down. He kicks it away, and propels himself upward.

To the surface.

Where the sky is blue.

To the surface where he will live.

Tendrils of his fate cling to his legs, but Tommy knows death, and he knows himself stronger than it. Tommy kicks against it, ignoring how it slithers. He doesn’t fucking care what hinders him--he wil defeat it, because he cannot die. He will not fucking alow it.

A slam, and a kick, and another, and another. He can see it. His lungs burn, but he can see it.

He breaks through the border between water and air, and takes in the oxygen from above. It inflates his lungs, helping him float with more ease.

 

Alive.

He’s alive.

 

Tommy looks around, trying to catch his bearings. There is no sandy shore. No tent. The water seems so big compared to him but Tommy knows the water for what it is. He loves it, and it loves him too.

But he will not allow it to have him.

Finally, his eyes rest upon ruby eyes. He stares at his red jewelled orbs defiantly, with rage in his own sapphire eyes. Tommy stares back, but not as the naive Theseus, but as a boy who has seen death far more times than any child should ever have.

Technoblade does not help, nor does he reach out.

Perhaps this man was hoping that death would take him in her favorite form--the water? The seas and the lakes and the great blues have taken more men than any war, so perhaps Technoblade was hoping that it would take him in the form of the serene lake? Tommy cannot judge him for that assumption. He has the form of a child, after all.

Yet forms do not deceive death, just as forms did not deceive Tommy.

Death will not take him.

Because he will not allow it.

And as anyone who succeeds after an adversary, accomplishing a feat such as victory, Tommy’s gritted teeth curl upwards into a grin. He watches, satisfied with himself and satisfied with the expression on his so-called brother’s face as it washes over in colors of astonishment while he stares down at the young boy who had just swam up to the surface of the lake. 

Astonishment is a hilarious reaction to having someone nearly drown before you.

The fucker hadn’t even moved from his spot.

Tommy knows that he should be acting more child-like. He should wail, and sob, and break into panic and feign innocence and incompetence, but could you blame him for wanting to flaunt such a victory? That someone who clearly wanted him dead had failed to let him die?

How, pray tell, should Tommy react when he’s already known death rather intimately? Maybe he knows death as something much more familiar than the very man who had merely stared him down? Rather than feign panic, the natural show of his true nature– cockiness, is much more entertaining.

(And what had tried to kill him crawls shyly on the bottom of the lake, defeated.)

“It’s a wonderful day for a swim, isn’t it, Brother?” Tommy chides confidently as he floats on the water, paddling and kicking to stay afloat.

Dumbly, in Tommy’s opinion, Technoblade responds: “I suppose it is.” He drawls out, but his expression betrays his tone. Who knew that shock would be the only expressive look on his ugly face? Regardless, this brings Tommy a Lot of satisfaction. The prince is not an immovable border. Some things can shake him.

The betrayal of expectation is only sweeter when those some things include Tommy's capability to deny death straight to her face.

 

 

Their session today ends unceremoniously. As Technoblade leaves without a goodbye, Sam frets over Tommy after witnessing the fall from the shores of the lake. Tommy doesn't really care. Technoblade can leave whenever he pleases--Tommy has had his fair share of his ghastly face anyway.

"I'm perfectly well, Sir Sam!" Tommy says lightheartedly, pushing away any of his fear--not that he has any. He's faced worse things before. "I am as right as rain. As drippy too!" He jests.

That does not ease the Warden’s worries however. Tommy doesn't expect it either. He merely has an image he wishes to maintain and he cannot really help that the knight is worried over his well being. (Contrary to his brother)

Sam unclasps his coat and covers Tommy. It's only then when Tommy realizes how cold he actually is. His shoulders sink into the warmth and he clutches the cloak around him.

"I should have warned you, Your Highness." Sam says, grieving over nothing. Tommy watches as he is conflicted with his own hands, not knowing whether to dry Tommy on his own or to let the cloak do its job. "The flowers in the lake are there to lure intruders of the palace."

Tommy blinks. That's new information.

"Many have perished in this lake because the servants do not know of its capabilities. Only select guards and members of the royal family are allowed to know of it." Sam rambles as he frets about Tommy. "The imperial lotus of the Antarctic lures anyone and kills anyone who is yet to expect death."

Sam proceeds to explain it in the simplest way he can. 

The lotus is a creature that lures people the same way an angler fish attracts prey. A light. A hope. A beauty. It catches whatever is off-guard, anything that believe themselves to be safe. And as they forget the possibility of death, it kills them.

Imbued with the magic of the soul, Sam had explained.

And really, this adds up.

It’s an angler fish of the unaware.

Technoblade had been staring as Tommy was lured by the lotus, and Technoblade had been shocked when he resurfaced without harm. It paints a very simple and straightforward image now that Tommy had, for the briefest moment, dropped the mask of a naive child.

He had been hoping to kill Tommy.

The thought runs circles around his mind as Sam leads Tommy back to his palace, telling him of what should be done to avoid any similar incidents. There are others that have the same magic in its system, but none that Tommy worries about at the moment. It’s important, but it isn’t as vital as the realization that he was right all along.

Tommy takes note of the dangers, as he always does, but right now is a greater adversary than the venus flytraps of magic and man. Technoblade requires no lure, for he is a predator hunting Tommy. And it thinks that Tommy has nowhere to run but within its own cave.

Technoblade had been hoping Tommy would die.

The realization that he was right all along is a comforting thought at least. He was right in thinking the worst of the man.

But he cannot help but think bitterly how he had proved right to himself what he had proved wrong to Technoblade:

“I don't suppose it is possible to control what you don’t understand.”

It is simple.

Tommy understands the water for what it is.

And jokes on Technoblade, he knows how to swim.

Notes:

I don't suppose this is much of a rewrite and more like I just added a bunch of words into the existing chapter.
Idk I just really like this chapter and I didn't want to touch it too much. Expect a lot of these when it comes to the Bedrock bro interactions!

Chapter 7: A Visitor

Notes:

double update incoming (i just really wanna get to the good bits, all this buildup remains the same ngl)

Theseus was not very famous among the dwellers of the palace, This was one thing that William noticed. Theseus is fourteen years old, and all of those fourteen years were spent being raised in the palace.

Yet Theseus seemed as much of a stranger to the inhabitants of the palace as himself, and William feels heartache for the boy he knows is his little brother. And it aches even more with the knowledge that the young boy doesn’t know yet either.

Because word of the Second Prince’s return is still unspoken, and not even the Imperial Prince had a clue. William would know. He goes by Wilbur for that reason alone. Theseus looks at Wilbur with glittering sapphire eyes, and William stares back with his own matching pair--except his eyes are hidden beneath a veil.

“Theseus,”

“Yes?” 

William doesn’t fail to notice how attentive he was. As if he had been waiting for the conversation to start. 

“Would you like some sweets?” William asks, endeared by the young prince.

And the young prince had seemed enthralled by the proposition, yet brought down by something that hindered his glee. “I’m afraid I must refuse, Sir William.” Theseus says solemnly. “I am on a strict diet.” The boy subtly eyes the surrounding courtiers who send side-eyed glances at the young, unloved prince.

William frowns, despite the subtle way that the boy glanced at them. The young boy is thin, why would he have a strict diet, unless it was to raise his weight gain--except the refusal of the chocolate would have been counterintuitive.

“I’m sure that one wouldn’t hurt, Your Highness.” William says with respect. 

He did not fail to notice how only a select few courtiers had done the same. He will change that when he reveals his identity. Theseus will be treated as a prince as soon as Wilbur claims his title. His rightful place between the three brothers of the Empire.

Theseus, however, smiles at the thought, as if briefly amusing the idea in his head. “I’m afraid that I will have to stick to my meals, Sir William.” Theseus laughs, and they sound like jingles in William’s ears. 

It inspires glee in William. Theseus, he thinks, should laugh more often.

“I understand.” William nods in faux compliance. “I suppose I shall simply keep these--oh dear, it appears that my pockets are rather full.” He blatantly lies.

Tommy catches that lie, and he grins back. “Would you like me to hold it for you?” He says out loud for the courtiers, and they bristle under the gaze of the duke’s ward.

William bitterly lets the anger simmer underneath his skin. He is not known to be of royal blood, known through the palace as a visitor with commoner blood running through his veins, yet he is garnering more respect than the loving yet unloved prince. 

But he smiles, because Theseus is playing along. There is a rare happiness in Theseus’ glittering blue eyes, and Wilbur thinks of how much more satisfying it would be to see those when Theseus finds out that they are siblings.

(It wouldn’t dawn until later on that Theseus would appear to him next with a sore throat. One he had to bear alone until Wilbur visited next.)

 

~+~

 

While it is true that Tommy can simply say no to death and survive, he cannot really control the functions of his body. He bitterly stares up at the ceiling of his room, feeling chills run down his spine as he tries to overcome his illness. He had caught a cold, and everyone knows that a four year old catching a cold is considered to be deathly. 

Babies are very fragile, after all.

The events after the incident at the lake had been a haze to Tommy as he gradually became ill. His old body was resilient to these conditions, but he had forgotten how fragile this baby body is. Suffice to say, he is quite frustrated over it.

At this point he wonders if the reason why he hasn’t been cured off his ailments by a wizard is because of all his talk about physics and magic. He should have sucked up to Technoblade. ‘Physics is important tooo~!’ Ah fuck off, poser. He really should have sucked up to Technoblade, went oh! That’s right, you’re so right, you’re always so right! Maybe he wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Though honestly, he can’t say it wasn’t worth it. The look of shock on that bastard’s face was worth almost dying then, and it’s worth almost dying now. Just as long as he doesn’t actually die, then all is good.

 

It’s been a day and a half since his last encounter with Technoblade, and tomorrow he will have to see his ugly face again. He’s not looking forward to another deadly encounter, thank you very much. Tommy abhors his brother. He cannot wait until he can run away.

In the back of his head, he is seriously considering starting the revolution himself. Out of spite. He could so do it. He knows how the Empire works, and he certainly knows who to connect to, who to appeal to, and how to appeal to them. 

If he dies doing that, well, at least it’d be less shameful than a public execution for being wrongly accused of murdering a good guy. If he gets executed in this life, well, he’s going to give them a good reason to try and kill him. 

Technoblade wants to kill him? Well, he’d better die in a blaze of fire. He’s not leaving without a fight.

…

Fuck.

He shakes those thoughts out. What the hell is he thinking?

 Fuck that. He’s not dying. He’s going to live, and if he’s going to have to be a wimp to do so, then so be it.

Tommy just wasn’t expecting how hard it is to suck up to such a tyrant pig. The baby killer. The pig bastard with creepy red eyes and admittedly badass pink hair. Pink is a manly color. Sue him.

That’s why he had to scratch off some plans early on. It’s impossible. Pandering to such a prick is going to lead to nowhere except tragedy for Tommy, and going down that route means he loses all form of integrity he has left in his stupid little body.

The aforementioned stupid body suddenly sends chills down his spine, prickling his skin with a cold that he knows is fake. It’s weak. He’s been through worse in his real body and now he’s keeling over because of some water and fucking wind. He’s been through snow in a t-shirt and jeans. Tommy didn’t survive nearly drowning only for him to die because he didn’t get a towel five minutes sooner!

How did he get rid of this before? 

He knows that overrated TLC has done nothing in saving his life– no, he lived out of pure spite (at least that’s what he likes to say, he would rather die than admit he lived for anyone other than himself). Love and care surely didn’t save him back when he was the biggest man in the universe, throughout history.

“Chocolate.” Tommy decides out loud. He knows that chocolate can fix this. As it did for a lot of other things. He’s so smart.

The child sits up, and even that was such a strenuous effort that it took him a five second pause to check in with himself if walking to the kitchen unseen is worth it.

It is, he decides, and proceeds to slip out of bed, not forgetting to place a pillow-theseus under the covers and his favorite golden bouncy ball as a head for extra measure. He takes one of the blankets layered on the covers on covers, and he wraps it around himself like an oversized cloak. It’s cold. He’s cold. He’s not cute, he’s surviving.

He walks out of his room barefoot–Tommy hasn’t needed any footwear within the palace recently because of the sudden attention the pig bastard has been giving him. Not that it was good news. No one really knows if it’s good news to have his attention, after all.

Point is that bad publicity is still publicity. Tommy can imply just about anything and there’d be consequences. No one can trust a child to lie, after all, and if word comes out that they had treated Theseus–blood relative of the Blade, Imperial Prince, the Prince of Blood, well, he might just live up to his name right in front of Tommy’s eyes.

Or right at Tommy’s neck, when he decides to swing his blade to end him himself. 

He scowls, clutching his blanket cloak to himself. 

He’s not going to die.

Even if it kills him–err, no that doesn’t sound right. Scratch that.

The point is, he will not be a dying man until death knocks at his door when he’s gotten grey hairs and crows feet.

 

Tommy finally reaches the kitchen. That took ages. That’s so dumb. He sneaks into it, picking a surprisingly easy lock into the place. It comes easy to him. He was such a skilled man in the past life, picking locks is child’s play to him.

Literally, in this situation.

The prince makes sure to shut the door behind him, and he walks to the inconspicuous jar placed around where the tea are stored. Tommy assumed that the reason why they did that was because Clara abhorred tea (which was the only thing he truly dislikes about Clara, really), and Clara was always the victim of Tommy’s chocolate schemes. Jokes on them, he knows, and he also quite appreciates tea, thank you very much.

He opens the lid of the jar, and spots his treasure. Jackpot. 

Tommy reaches out to grab a few, before something at the corner of his eye catches his attention. He blinks, and squints, not quite adjusting his sight to the dark enough to spot unfamiliar objects.

It’s something. It’s alive? What the fuck? Is that a rat?

Tommy quickly shuts his jar, with only three pieces of chocolate in his small hand. He doesn’t want a fucking rat going through his stash. There’s only room for one pest in here, and it’s this adorable blonde kid. He looks around for anything to convince it out of the kitchen and spots a convenient broom at the other side of the room. 

Before he could reach for a broom or something to chase it off, though, someone grabs his shoulder.

 

He screams.

 

~+~

 

He’s ill. A boy is ill, but no one is around to comfort him or to soothe his pains. 

Tommy writhes underneath thin blankets, outwardly whining and moaning in his distress. He’s not ashamed. He’s long accepted that there wouldn’t be anyone around to help him anyway. This is nothing. This is nothing.

He shuts his eyes tight, welling the tears away from his eyes because they render his sight useless anyway. Tommy curls in his bed, never really finding a comfortable spot. He’s alone. He’s never been alone before, but he knows he can survive this.

For them… 

He has to show them.

Tommy can’t show them anything if he’s dead. So easily, he decides to live.

Determination, of all things, doesn’t make things easier of course. It only enables him to choose the harder route, but it’s nothing in the face of the burning desire in his heart to prove them wrong. He’ll show them, he’ll show them that he’s not what they say he is, that he won’t end up a tragedy. 

And he’ll do it alone.

 

~+~

 

Tommy is sat on a counter, blowing off the steam of his hot chocolate while he swings his legs. In front of him is a familiar face that he isn’t necessarily glad to see, but he appreciates her company anyway.

It’s Puffy, the woman who raised him in his early years, and also the woman who decided to drop him– he doesn’t blame her, though, but it is kind of iffy for him to think of how little she cares for him compared to the Theseus in the novel. It’s a bit jarring, especially when he’s always had it set in his mind that the reason why he wanted to leave is to avoid a tragedy of everyone that was involved with Theseus.

She had come here all the way from the Western Duchy, and when she was a bit peckish, she spotted Theseus inside the kitchen. 

 

“Don’t tell anyone I’m here.” She said in panic, when Tommy had screamed and Puffy had covered his mouth with gloved hands.

He pulled the hand off of his mouth when he’d calmed down, “Why not?”

“... I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

Tommy doesn’t ask any more questions. 

 

“So, are you feeling better, Tommy?” She asks with affection and concern in her eyes. They had been talking while she made the hot chocolate, and when she asked him why he was dressed so weirdly with a blanket cloak, he spilled that he’s sick.

When he noticed her put a couple marshmallows into the cup she poured in, he knew that it was because she wanted to make him feel better despite making the decision to leave.

And don’t get him wrong, he could still very well appreciate Puffy’s love for him currently. But the difference between his expectation based on the novel and the changed reality he’s facing is so vast that he’d likely freak out if his head wasn’t addled by sick. 

He could see that she loves him.

Not that it matters. Love does very little for him even in the past life.

He hums a yes, still taking another sip of his hot chocolate. Truth be told, he isn’t immediately good, but hey, chocolate is good for the soul, he hears. If he managed to convince and gaslight Puffy into giving him this, surely he could gaslight his own body into getting cured. 

“It’s good.” He comments. 

Puffy laughs. “I’d hope so,” She says. “My youngest, a bit younger than you, adores hot chocolate over literally anything else. It’d be a shame if my practice suddenly falters.”

Oh. Right. She has kids. He can’t hold it against her for leaving. 

So Tommy hums another tune, occupying his hazy mind with something less bothersome, legs swinging a bit more than earlier.

“So, I heard what happened.” Puffy started out.

Ugh. Please don’t drag it out. Just ask it to him straight.

“What happened?” he asks softly, cup still near his lip, head tilted down, and eyes wide in curiosity. He practiced his cuteness in front of a mirror, he knows how to appeal to the ladies–albeit in a baby type of way, but still. 

Puffy frowns, “I heard you went swimming yesterday. I came as soon as I heard.”

Tommy nearly scowls, but he masks his expression into something curious, even excited. He’s supposed to be gullible. “Mhm! Big brother took me boating and the lake was pretty so I fell for it.” He says.

The woman snorts, but the concern is still clear in her eyes. “I think you took the figurative phrase a bit too literally.”

“It was a pretty lake, of course I’d fall for it.” 

“Don’t start falling for the garden.”

“Well,”

“Tommy!”

“Who else would fall for it then!”

Puffy lets out a sigh, and it turns into a laugh. “Gosh, Toms,” She says, and the way she says it makes his heart swell. Truly, he loves Puffy. He would say that she’s a parental figure, but he’s too old for those. She’s just… someone he wished he had before.

He shoves those thoughts out of his mind. Lingering on memories of the past is useful sometimes, but not these. These are counterproductive. Fuck.

So Tommy continues drinking, watching Puffy’s expression change while she reacts to the thoughts running around her head. He could almost read what’s going on in her head, but only because of the things she said, and the things that she knew. 

“How did you get out?” Puffy asked, “Of the water, I mean. It’s a pretty lake, it’s said to be really pretty that no one falls out of it.”

He blinks. This again. “Dunno! I’m a good swimmer.”

“Who taught you how to swim?”

“I’m just a gee nee yus.” He enunciates genius with a smug expression, and this causes Puffy to snort. Yeah, they love his antics.

Puffy wasn’t convinced though. “You’re really smart, Tommy.”

“Of course I am!”

“But you’re not- you need-” She inhales, trying to think of what to say. Tommy personally thinks she should give up explaining to a kid and talk to him like an adult, but alas, this was what he wanted. If he wants to be spared like a kid, he has to be treated like one. “Do you want your own guard?” She asks,

And honestly Tommy doesn’t know where she’s going with this. He lets out a hum

“Do you want someone like Sam to follow you around?”

He’s getting a vague image of what she’s implying. It’s hard when she won’t speak to him like an adult. It’s hard to understand things when they try to explain it to him like he’s a child–which he is, but he’s not a normal one by any means. 

“Clara follows me around plenty, Sam too, but only when T-, uh, brother, is around.” Shit. He almost slipped.

Puffy smiles, and it hides her thoughts more than he’d thought. “I meant to ask if you want your own Sam, someone to protect you at every hour of the day.”

Tommy blinks. Oh,“Like a Sam?” He asks dumbly, but he knows what she’s asking from him. A personal guard. Puffy wants to assign him a personal guard, someone who would never leave his side, even with Technoblade around.

He doesn’t want one.

He wouldn’t get the chance to leave with someone stuck to survey him. 

“Yes, Tommy, like Sam. Like me!” She smiles.

It’s not really hard to see what she’s implying.

Puffy is here in the flesh, here to check for Tommy herself. She’s come all the way from the Western Duchy to ask something as small as this. That wasn’t likely on its own. If she’s here herself, then she’s here to meet someone else too,

And it would likely be Technoblade.

He puts two and two together and deciphers what she’s trying to do–or what she’s trying to see.

Puffy is here with the intention to let go of her renewed status as Captain to come back to his side, after the seemingly irrational choice of leaving Tommy on his own. She’s seeing if Technoblade is unfit to watch over Tommy himself, and if she would have to reclaim her position at Tommy’s side.

And it goes against everything he’s trying to do, even if it hurts him. Because he loves Puffy, and as much as he wants her by his side like a…. Like someone he never got to have, he wants to change the story. Change her fate.

She has her own kids too. Foolish, and Moo, the one who was younger than him. She’d told him of their names once before, and he had been confused as to why she’d chosen him over her own children in the original story.

He doesn’t want to take anyone’s mother. He knows how it feels.

“Nah,” Tommy smiles, and it’s a genuine one. “I like how I am right now!” is all he says, and that was it. That was the only thing he’ll ever say about this. “Now, can you tell me about your cool job, Captain?” 

Puffy blinks, probably in whiplash to the change of topics, before she sees the sparkles in his eyes and she obliges in telling him all about it.

 

Tommy sleeps easier that night.

Chapter 8: Considering Ending It All By Coughing At My Executor

Notes:

Double update (I JUST WANNA GET TO THE GOOD BIT NGL)

“Prince Tommy!” He hears, vaguely. Tommy considers unhearing it. Actually, maybe he never heard it at all. “My prince!” Tommy doesn’t think he’s hearing right. Currently he’s facing a very kind looking astronaut. Yeah. An astronaut who is waving down at him from the stars. “Prince Tommy, you must get up!”

He shoots up, awake, because he remembers that astronauts do not exist in this world.

Instead he is faced with Clara. He blinks. He rubs his eyes and actually processes the look on his maid’s face. She’s panicking for some reason. “Clara?” He asks sleepily. “Is,” he yawns, “Is anything the matter?”

“His Imperial Majesty is requesting your appearance.” is all she said.

He blinks, and stares at the grandfather clock leaning against one of the walls of his room. It’s the ass hours of the morning, and the night before he had slept really late chatting it up with Puffy. Overall he’d say he got less than four hours of sleep.

Technoblade can suck a dick. He’s sleeping. If he decides to behead Tommy at the break of fucking dawn then he might as well enjoy a little more sleep. 

 

The prince slumps back on his bed.

Clara drags him out and calls for multiple maids to help prepare the prince.

Tommy makes it a point to show how tired he is, not that it’s an issue. He’s awfully small, after all. They could dress him up like a doll but it’d be harder for them.

He tries not to notice how some of the maids are just as begrudging as he is while he is being dressed up. Ugh. He still hasn’t converted those guys? No matter, that’s a project for another day anyway

He sleeps through the process out of spite.

 

~+~

 

Tommy is staring at Technoblade wearing his dumb look of glee despite feeling anything but. His cheeks are still pale, and his hands are clammy, and he is downright sick, but he’s here and Technoblade is being a right prick that he is. “Greetings, big brother!” He says, and he winces at the fact that his voice was a lot more nasal than he wanted it to be. 

He tries not to sniff, but he is timing his breathing enough so that hi snot doesnt fall past his noseholes. He could barely breath because his nose is leaking with mucus. His head hurts. His body is cold and not even the thick clothing he’s been stuffed into could help the way that his skin prickles with a cold that his body has been tricked into feeling.

This is dumb.

He has thoughts of flat out murder right now and really, that wouldn’t be Tommy’s fault. No. It’d be Technoblade’s fault for being a downright prick.

“How have you been since the last time we met, Theseus?” Technoblade asks, head perched on one hand, elbows on the arms of his throne. He looks downright cocky. It’s like he’s trying to force Tommy to admit that he was wrong for whatever reason.

Fuck him.

The last time they met, Technoblade had looked at Tommy with the intention to leave him to drown in the middle of a fucking lake. 

“I’ve been well!” He outright lies, and he makes it evident that he’s lying about it. No shit he hasn’t been feeling well. Look at the state of him damn it!

Technoblade stares at Tommy with jewelled ruby eyes and Tommy could sense that this man was trying to read through him. Jokes on him, though. Not a thought is beneath Tommy’s eyes right now because of the fact that he’s sick and his mind has been stumbling around from topic to topic in search of anything cohesive he could think about. To no avail.

“Are you ill?”

“Dunno!” Tommy shrugged. “I feel a tad bit cold, but I’m sure that’s nothing!”

Technoblade eyes Tommy’s fur stuffed clothing and scarf laying over his shoulders. Layers upon layers of clothing, as if it were winter. Tommy had insisted on wearing this, and Clara didn’t really disagree. As long as she and the maids get him ready to meet Technoblade, it would have been alright. Appearances aren’t as important, anyway.

“Your sense of self-preservation is astonishin’ to me.” Technoblade comments. 

“Thank you!”

“How are you even alive?”

Tommy blinks. “I’m very well taken care of, thanks to you, Brother!” He smiles.

Yeah, fuck no. He’s been doing well on his own, thank you very much. He just wants to make a point, to make Tommy seem like he thinks Technoblade has him in his best interests when in fact he couldn’t be more aware of his disdain for this toddler. Make Technoblade think that Tommy assumes that he is loved.

It’d make it easier, when there’s a faux loyalty ‘keeping him in line’.

Technoblade is silent. Tommy had prepared for any sort of remark but that. 

“So, what are we doing today?” Tommy asked.

He’s still quiet. “...” nothing. Nada. Zilch. It takes him a moment to decide on what to do, before he finally speaks. “Tea.” Technoblade says, and stands on his feet. He walks ahead of Tommy, and Tommy, like the dog he presents himself to be, follows after the man destined to end his life.

Tommy mindlessly follows, and where there’s usually one-sided chatter from himself, there is only silence. He doesn’t really notice how different he is, of course, because right now he’s occupied with such simple tasks, like placing one foot in front of the other and breathing right through one nostril because the other one is blocked. This is dumb. As much as he likes tea, he doesn’t want to overwork his body.

He’s starting to think that maybe gaslighting his body into getting a better immune system isn’t working. 

They sit in the middle of a garden, where a table full of delicacies lie. There is a cup of tea on both ends of the table, where the table has already been set for the both of them.

Tommy’s mouth nearly waters at the sight of the sweets, but oddly enough, he doesn’t feel peckish. He might have lost his appetite. He would like the tea, though. Might help clear his poor sinuses.

He watches Technoblade take a seat, and waits until Technoblade stares at him for a bit before he takes his own seat across the table. 

The little prince takes the tea cup, a pink sheen present in the liquid. It looks pretty, but unfortunately it isn’t as warm as he wanted. A shame. A cup of hot tea would have been nice for his poor body. Tommy takes a while, staring at his cup, and he doesn’t want to drink it unless it’s hot.

“You’re not eatin’ the deserts.” Technoblade remarks, eyes staring right through him.

Tommy scoffs internally (if he did that outwardly, then Technoblade would have likely beheaded him right then and there. He pouts, instead. “Sorry, I don’t feel like eating right now.”

“Are they not to your taste?” He glances over the confections with a disinterested stare, only for his red eyes to come back to Tommy’s blues.

“I love them!” He makes sure to make certain of that, because he doesn’t want any chefs beheaded for the sake of royal pride. Gods, this pig bastard is such a prick. “It’s just that I’m not feeling like eating.” Tommy says again.

“How about the tea?”

“... I was kind of hoping it’d be warmer.” He says honestly. Seriously, why would anyone drink tea cold?

… 

Actually, no, don’t answer that. There are many reasons, and Tommy’s pride as a British lad (despite Britain likely not existing in here) is on the line. He just didn’t realize how warm it could get in other places.

Technoblade wordlessly waves a hand, and the cup in Tommy’s hand grows warm–but not enough that it would burn. Steam starts to rise from the top of the liquid, and a vague scent of a flowers penetrates his nose.

Tommy widens his eyes, and grins. “Thanks brother!” He says with genuine gratitude, before sipping it slowly. Already he could feel the warm tea doing its work at his blocked nose. He can breathe, fucking finally. 

Honestly, a clogged nose is leagues better than drowning.

They sit in silence. Tommy is not in the mood for chatter, and Technoblade has never been one to initiate nor participate in conversation.

“You’re ill.” Technoblade notes, and Tommy could snort into his cup of tea right now if it weren’t for the fact that it would have snorted snot along with it. 

“Sorry?”

“I asked you if you were sick, earlier. You said you weren’t.”

Tommy blinks. Did he? No, he didn’t. He explicitly remembers saying that he doesn’t know. “I did?” He asks.

“Somethin’ along those lines.” Technoblade says, and Tommy feels his irritation rise. Is he trying to gaslight him? Primes, give him patience. “You’re sick, but you haven’t called for a physician.” He almost sounds accusatory.

Excuse you, asshole. “Dunno where to ask.”

“You’re a prince. You shouldn’t have to.”

And Tommy feels his irritation rise to indignance. Really? Because he was a prince five years ago when he’d been abandoned to an empty castle with a bunch of strangers. Forgive him for now knowing where his vague power out of a title could bring him. 

But he says none of that. 

“Oh!” He says instead, garnishing with a giggle. One of these days his facade is going to crack. “My bad.”

“We’re replacing your tutors.” Technoblade announces, and Tommy can’t save them. What a shame, really.

He changes the topic. “What tea is this? It’s nice.” Tommy asks, somehow getting enough energy to start a conversation. He feels the chills fade because of the warmth of the tea. That’s fortunate, he thinks. At least he can die with a clear mind. 

Technoblade hums. “Are you not goin’ to eat your sweets, Theseus?” He asks, still eyeing Tommy. He ignored Tommy’s question.

Tommy looks down, and finds that yeah, he does want to eat. But he doesn’t want to prove himself wrong from earlier. 

And also, he ignored his fucking question.

“No, I’m not really feeling it to be honest.” He says, taking another sip of the good tea. Good work, tea. He’s feeling better. Maybe a good replacement for chocolate.

Maybe.

Red eyes stare at him, as if he were considering something, but Tommy doesn’t mind. Technoblade did that a lot, through the three? Encounters that they’ve had. “What’s in the tea?” Tommy asks, just so he could ask the maids later about it. 

“Hmm, maybe you can guess. In exchange I’ll get the maids to prepare this same meal for later when you’re feelin’ up to eatin’.” Technoblade drawls.

Oh. A challenge. 

“Is there a hint?”

The prince is quiet.

“Is it floral?”

“Yes.”

Tommy looks around the garden. It’s a lot of flowers, a lot of them that could be processed into tea. From the distance there was the lake that he nearly drowned in, and he still sees that dumb oar-less boat. Besides from that, there is nothing else on the surface of the water. Not there, then. He looks away, and towards the bushes. 

“Rose?”

“Nope.”

He looks again, and sees an area dedicated to solely hibiscus flowers. “Hibiscus?” 

“Not really.”

“Have you got a hint?” Tommy asks, and he fails to notice how his body isn’t as heavy as he thought. “It’s hard to smell it on its own.” and even if he was capable of smelling it, it’s not like he’s memorized the scent of every damn flower there was. 

“Are you ill?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. He’s asked that like, three times already? Why is he so insistent? “You told me I was.”

“I asked in present tense.”

He was about to say yes, he is ill, thanks for that inkling of concern, but no, he couldn’t. There is an evident lack of pains in his body, and the chills have fully gone. Maybe the last things that remain from his illness is just the remaining thick mucus that line his tracts, but even that was in the process of being washed away. 

“I… don’t think I am?”

Technoblade hummed. “Alright.” He said, and he’s standing from his seat. “Because you cannot guess the flower,” 

Oh fuck, was this a death thingy? Was he about to die? While it’s true that Tommy knew that he’s been overstepping a few boundaries and changed a fat chunk of the actual events of the original story, he also didn’t expect it to change that Technoblade would kill him this soon.

He’s not having it. 

Tommy was prepared to run. He slips off his chair, and stands on the ground with stable legs. He’s prepared to run, yes, but he’s also frozen somehow. Why? Well he’s got no idea either.

But he’s grateful that he didn’t run, because if he did that would have been incredibly suspicious for nothing. Technoblade merely walked past Tommy without much of an issue. “I’ll have the answer sent along with some things.” is all Technoblade says before they both head back to the castle in silence.

Tommy blinks. Relieved.

 

~+~

 

Tommy is no stranger to illness. He knows it like the back of his hand. Imagine a pampered life followed by one full of various peril. His body is basically meat for the bacteria and viruses to feast on. Not that he’d let them, of course. He’s too stubborn for that.

The boy remembers illness. It’s not quite like death, no. It is no friend of his, even when it used to.

Tommy used to love being sick. Being sick meant that he would be pampered and cared for. It’s like a break from his own body, and everyone else would be present to take care of it while he’s incapable or mentally in vacation.

But then came the time when he was alone, and the memories of loving sickness was replaced by searing hatred and disdain over it. 

He knows illness. It always goes worse before it gets better. 

Even more so when he’s alone.

 

Tommy sleeps, knowing that if he dies, he’d be too weak to realize it anyway.

He wakes up the next day anyway, because death is his friend and it seems like she dislikes sickness too. Turns out, that wouldn’t be how he dies.

Good.

 

~+~

 

He has no idea how this happened. When he left for the Emerald Palace, he had been sick to the point of contemplating ending his life by coughing straight at the prick who made him go there in the first place. He was seriously considering it.

But now he’s in the arms of Clara, and there is no heavy bone in his body, nor is there a chill. In fact, he feels really stuffy because of all the layers of clothing that he had appreciated just earlier on. Clara is carrying a few layers on her shoulder opposite of where she’s holding him, even.

When he comes back to bed, he feels better than he did when he left it earlier in the morning at the ass crack of dawn. 

He has a good night’s sleep.

For a few hours, that is, because like the day before, he wakes up with a ruckus. Clara is knocking incessantly at his door, and Tommy sits awake, eyes bleary from sleep. “Come in!” He calls, and Clara nearly stumbles when she opens the door. 

“Your Majesty,” She says, looking breathless.

“I believe that you are, uh, requested outside.”

 

It doesn’t take nearly as long to prepare him today as they had yesterday, so it was safe to assume that the reason Tommy’s presence was being requested isn’t because of Technoblade. Rather, it must have been for someone lesser, because he’s actually wearing something he deems comfortable. 

Clara carries him to the front doors of the palace, and the guards with unfamiliar faces open the doors for him. She lets him down.

He nearly hoped she hadn’t because his knees feel weak. 

“What-” He gasps, witnessing a league of new maids and guards bow in front of him. 

“Glory to the Sun of the Empire,” They all greet, and Tommy has to admit that maybe the chills that ran through his spine wasn’t because he had only just recovered from his illness a few hours ago. It was frightening, to have his identity be confirmed by so many people.

And it is infuriating, because damn it he has to manipulate so many people again! Technoblade, that asshole.

In front of the crowd of people, one familiar person with green hair steps forward with a smile on his face. “Hello, Prince Theseus.” Sam greets, and he approaches Tommy. 

“Hi, Sir Sam.” Tommy greets back, unable to summon his cute and instead reveals his real astonishment at the sudden display.

“Your brother has requested to have this sent to you.” Sam shows a flower to Tommy, and it takes Tommy to realize that it was in relationship to the little question game Technoblade did yesterday. The tea.

He looks at it, and while it does seem familiar, he can’t quite place where–

Oh.

That fucking prick.

Sam was holding a lotus flower, looking a little less ethereal than when he first saw it. Maybe it was because he was aware now that it’s nothing ethereal and more infernal, or maybe it was because it was literally plucked out of the lake where it lives and snipped from whatever murdery stem it came from. 

“Oh,” Tommy blinked. “Thank you.” He takes the flower, and the call of death was not as present as it used to be. Still fucking eerie, though.

Especially when he was made to drink tea made out of the essence of the monster plant.

The monster plant that nearly fucking killed him, none the less.

Oh, but that’s not the sole kicker, no. 

Because as he glares at the flower in his hand, the hand that could barely wrap around the stem because of how annoyingly short his fingers are currently, Sam takes position in front of him.

Tommy looks up, and he finds Sam kneeling in front of Tommy (and honestly, if Tommy wasn’t panicking with so many people witnessing this, he would have been peeved by the fact that even when kneeling he is taller than Tommy.)

But no, all he could think of in this moment is fuck. Because Tommy’s plans have taken a liking to the windowsill somehow and someone had just pushed it off the edge. “I, The Warden of the West, Protector of the Empire, am at your service.” He looks up from the ground he was looking at and smiles at the prince with such a dad look. He hates it. “I will be your temporary Royal Guard starting today, Prince Theseus.”

Fuck.

“I’ll have the answer sent along with some things.” 

His doom, is what that pig bastard meant. His plans have been, what’s the word? The word for being thrown out the window– Oh, right. Defenestrated.

Chapter 9: Death Flag #2, The F###ing Warden

Notes:

Behold, the Sammy chapter!

Tommy is completely and utterly fucked. While that is a crass and maybe tasteless way to start this, it’s also the simplest and most informative way one could express his grievances.

For one, he isn’t stupid. While it’s true that currently life hasn’t been as, you know, perilous as it usually is, with the entire ‘destined to doom’ thing Tommy has been handling, there’s only so much good that can happen for a while. That’s how the palace is. Tommy, in his four, almost five years of living in it, is aware that something is off.

It hasn’t even been a day when he’s been introduced to the new Palace Courtiers and his Personal Royal Guard, when Tommy realized that not only did Technoblade send over an entire platoon of palace servants, he had also done the courtesy of thinning out the population.

That fucker replaced his old maids!

Fortunately, all except Clara, but still! His hard work. He trained them not to steal his gold and now he can’t even trust these people to know anything about how he had trained the old servants to run this palace! Tommy doesn’t even have his old tools anymore. He’s older, so they can’t just pass anything wrong with Tommy as ‘simple childish whims’ anymore, not like when he was three and was testing out the languages and idioms that run this place.

But really, that was not what takes the cake. No. What takes the cake is that he had been given Sam.

Tommy had initially thought that this was something good. A peace offering. Something to tell Tommy that no, Technoblade is no longer trying to kill him, and yes, he is seen as actual royalty.

No, no, no. Tommy sees through this. He can see through the awed expressions of everyone around him while they see him and Sam interact and hold hands like this adorable pair of an old sibling figure and a childish baby.

Sam was a fucking ticking time bomb.

 

Day one into being guarded by Sam, and already he’s got this dog by his heels every damn time. He’s never alone. Not one second outside of his own bedroom. Tommy had not really thought anything wrong with Sam, at that point in time. He had been the one to bring Tommy home last time, when he had nearly drowned in a lake, and had wrapped him in his own cloak too. 

And the thing is, there’s no malicious intent. None! Every time Tommy turns around, he’d see Sam all polite and shit. He can’t get a read of this guy at all. What is this? What is this challenge that Technoblade set him up for?

Damn, he’s going to have to pander to this guy hard. 

Tommy stops in his tracks, and he pivots to turn towards Sam, who is stood straight by the time that Tommy had stared at him. “Sir Sam?” He calls,

“Yes, my Prince?” 

He knows that this is gonna be carved into this guy’s mind for the rest of his life, but Tommy needs to garner the points as early as now. He takes a minute to ponder, biting the inside of his cheek both to control the utter shame and embarrassment that he’s about to face and to present his hesitation as something cute and childish.

“Is there something the matter?” 

Tommy’s eyes flick up from the ground and he takes a practiced second before he raises his hands. “Up?” He asks, and he could feel the shame crawl up his face as blood pools in his ears.

Sam blinks, and he doesn’t move at all. Primes fucking damn it, he’s going to have to train this guy harder is he? Tommy slowly lowers his hands, now slightly a bit more embarrassed with the rejection.

Clara steps forward, expression fond. “Forgive me for stepping out of line, my Prince, would you like me to carry you..?” She asks, but Tommy settles his gaze on Tommy. 

“It’s alright Clara,” Tommy says, still staring at Sam expectantly. “I just wanna talk to Sammy while we walk!” He exclaims, and he rushes towards Sam and tugs at his pant leg. 

“Is there something you need to tell me, my Prince?” Sam asks politely, and fucking damn it he can’t get a read on this guy. 

“Yeah,” Tommy nods his head, ensuring that his curls bounce while he does so. Clara is melting into a puddle beside him, but fuck this guy is stone cold. “But I wanna talk, man to man.” He raises his arms up expectantly again. 

Sam, to his credit, does not burst into laughter. Tommy could see a little crack in his polite exterior. He sees it right there at the corner of his eyes as it crinkles, scales folding slightly as evidence that he is amused somehow. “Man to man?”

“We gotta be eye level.” Tommy says seriously.

“Ah,” Sam says, like it makes absolute sense. “I see, apologies, my Prince, for being slow.” He then takes Tommy into his arms and he places Tommy comfortably on his hip. 

He’s honestly surprised that the guy is good at this somehow. 

“It’s a forgivable fault.” Tommy says, “I forgive you.” For emphasis.

Sam smiles, and he begins walking. As he does so, he speaks. “Apologies for being insistent, but what exactly do we need to discuss, ‘man to man’?”

Tommy tries to harden his face, but he knows it’s to no avail. “Listen, you have to tell me straight. Did Lady Puffy send you here to me?” He asks, scraping off the question from the top of his mind, but a plan to set the record straight brews in his mind as he imagins of a way to make this a productive sort of nonsense. 

“I am obliged never to lie to you, my Prince.” Sam assures, “But if you don’t mind me asking, why do you ask?”

“Cos she’s really worried about me. All the time!” Tommy clarifies. “And before you and Clara, Puffy was the one who acted as both of you. She’d show off some cool sword tricks sometimes and honestly I think she’s worried that she won’t be around to swat bad guys around.” He expounds, trying to get a good message across.

I am protected by someone powerful. Do not test me.

Tommy lets him have a moment to digest his words better. Sam

“So I just wanna ask, did she ask you to step up?” Tommy asks. “You two are friends, right?”

Sam tilts his head. “No, no one is allowed to order me other than the Prince,” Sam pauses, “And of course, you.” He adds rather belatedly, which confirms something for Tommy. 

This guy is a spy, clearly. To be honest, Tommy didn’t really need the confirmation. It should be a given considering that this guy has always been tailing after Technoblade for the entire time he’s seen him. 

Tommy nods. “M’kay.” He says, and he leaves it at that. 

So that’s the first day. Nothing wrong. Nothing off. He’s just a new pair of eyes to look cute in front of, nothing more. If anything, this could build Tommy’s credibility if a spy were to report of his truly undying loyalty to the Blood of the Antarctic Empire. He could take advantage of this.

Not to mention, he could make this guy his bitch. He must have found himself a substitute for Captain Puffy from the novel, so Tommy makes sure to amp the cuteness meter to get this guy to be loyal to him rather than Technobald. 

Day two, much like day one, was uneventful too, but Tommy finds himself very much conflicted. Sam is a delight, truly. Tommy’s attention deprived subconscious preens under his attention (not that he would admit it. He would never admit to such a shameful thing.)

He can’t be alone, but he still needs to store his treasure, and he needs to do it soon because he doesn’t know what the new cleaning schedule is. So here he is, walking to his study where he’s to meet a professor to continue their lecture on politics. Normally Tommy would have this time free, because he’s given some leeway between lessons and when he has to move from the study to the ballroom or to the music room. 

Tommy’s been looking forward to it. He’s been carrying his gold on him so he could finally transport them to his hiding locations. 

So he moves to his Imperial Politics lecture with a skip in his steps and glee in his stride. 

 

~+~

 

“Greetings and blessings upon the Prince of the Antarctic Empire.” The professor, newly appointed a few weeks back, greets Tommy. Tommy bows his head gracefully, but not so much as to overly stroke the man’s ego. 

“Hi prof Henry!” Tommy says with a smile. “What are we discussing this time?” The child walks towards his seat. 

The man, Henry Arrington, blinks, still unused to Tommy’s casual air. “Prince Theseus–”

“Tommy” He corrects.

“Your Royal Etiquettes teacher would greatly frown upon your casualness when presenting yourself to someone lower.” the teacher warned, “Forgive my impudence but I think it would be suited for you to present yourself as the prince, not as,” he doesn’t seem to have the words, but Tommy knows what he’s implying.

The boy frowns, seating himself down. “Look, prof,” Tommy thrives in the uncomfortable air Arrington presented. “I know that I’m a prince. You know I’m a prince,” he exaggerates his movements when he points to himself, then gestures at the professor in front of him. “Is there really any need for unnecessary antics when we both know what position we both lie in in this hierarchical spectrum?” 

Arrington seems taken aback, but he regains his composure and grins. “Ah, of course you know how to use the words ' hierarchical spectrum’ in a sentence.” He muses, before shaking his head. “I wouldn’t say that it’s needless, Prince Theseus.”

“Why not? You know I’m higher, and I know that you aren’t to disrespect me.”

“Then that means, Prince Theseus,” Arrington adds, “That by the removal of formalities you’re also depriving the person you’re speaking with the clear definition, the line, between casualness and disrespect.” 

“And I’ll define it myself.” Tommy argues. “These needless rules are for posies who don’t aim to let themselves known, prof!”

“Then that would make the line between commoner and royalty vague–”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

Henry Arrington blinks for a moment, before laughing. “Right, of course,” He shakes his head. “I’ll probably add that to your course outline in the near future–in the time being, however, I think we have to discuss the current state of affairs of the Western Duchy.”

“That’s the place Puffy’s at!”

“Indeed.” Henry affirms with a smile. “Her role there is quite important to, so do your best to listen.”

“When have I ever failed?”

A raise of an eyebrow.

“Fine, sure.” It’s not his fault that he has the freedom to interject from time to time. Rather than a lecture, this feel more like a conversation. Henry is one of the few who actually acknowledges Tommy’s prowess without feeling the urge to flaunt it at everyone.

This is why he pays more attention to him rather than the rest of his professors. He feels safe in the fact that Tommy’s genius will be in the downplay for as long as he needs it to. Unlike other professors, his specialty allows him some more understanding. So he takes his notes happily, imagining being alone outside of the castle and being free and not having to pretend being this child prince. He wants his sparkle back. He wants his sass. He wants to slouch and be a kid, and lie in the grass and return to the maids who fret over him wondering how he got so dirty. They will never know how Tommy escapes the Palace, all of them strangers to the hidden passages of the Ruby–no, the Sapphire palace.

 

~+~

 

Class ends without a hitch, ending smoother than when it began. When he’s dismissed, the prince takes a peek outside of the room, finding no one waiting by the door. There’s leeway between his schedule, so he can take a quick run outside and make his shoes muddy.

Tommy sneaks to the nearest passageway, running in a way that didn’t cause the gold in his pockets to clink in its abundance. He sneaks to the crevice behind the wall and steps on a platform with a weight that triggers the slow and subtle movement of a door. Tommy climbs through the new hole, and lands to the other side with a wider passageway.

It’s dark in here, with only so little light coming from the well-lit halls of the palace. It’s enough though, because Tommy knows to navigate, and children’s eyes adjust well to the dark. 

He slides past another crevice in the wall, leading to an unnoticeable part behind the palace that exits to the garden he frequents at. It’s hidden by a pillar large enough to block people’s sight of a hole in the wall hidden with the help of stray vines and overgrown garden bushes.

Tommy enjoys the sight of the garden before his eyes, already zeroing in on the location of where he spreads and hides his goods. He’s got his gold, all he has to do is hide them.

The prince steps out of the bush, and sprints towards the trees that line around a plain full of evenly cut grass. Tommy could feel the splash of dew by his ankles when his leather shoes stomp over the grass. He has no mercy for the gardeners here for the grass they have to keep alive. The sapphire palace, after all, is safe from the cruel watch of the Imperial Prince Technoblade. They can take as long as they need to replace the grass, and it’s not like they have a lack for money to pay for more grass to plant.

Tommy huffs, leaning against the tree. The burning of his lungs made him happy, contrary to the tireless way he had to sit on chairs and wait as everything was handed to him.

Being Royal is such a pain.

He sets off to bury his treasures for him to collect another day–the day he leaves this End forsaken palace.

Tommy can work with change. He’s been working with it for nearly five years of this life constantly, he could learn to work with it for a couple years more.

 

~+~

 

Sam is a bit too odd to be a side character. He was foolish. Utterly foolish to believe that Sam would be good, albeit a bit clingy– his fault, really. Tommy had been setting his cuteness up to the maximum and somehow he’s overcooked the hypothetical chicken that is Sam. No, not a chicken really. A ticking time bomb is what he is. 

The realization begins during a walk, one where Sam had to accompany Tommy with. It was the third day, one where Tommy had the most free time in a week among all the other days. Tommy hadn’t really expected much of it, other than simple dilly-dallying. The servants have nothing to expect from it either, seeing that he’s a kid without much relations outside of the palace.

Foolish visited, though.

Don’t misunderstand. Tommy adores Foolish. He likes him more than anyone, knowing how little he mattered in the original plot of the story he’s living. The Northern Duchy had little to do with the plot of the Prince of Song, seeing as it was based off of the strife and the constant clashing of the Southern Duchy and the Capital where Technoblade resides. He’s formed that connection in hopes of removing himself swiftly from the picture of the Prince of Song, by gaining an ally who could house him when times get rough.

Not even to house, seeing as he wants no connection to ‘Theseus’. He just wants information.

So they’ve become pen pals since meeting the man. Admittedly, there hadn’t been many letters between them, but Tommy had since been insistent on dropping formalities and being casual. At some point the letters stopped being an exchange of “Hi, how are you” into doodles and pictures and commentary on those pictures. Tommy himself had some remarks on bits of architecture and Foolish would respond like those were valid criticisms.

So he’s got an attachment to characters who weren’t very vital to the plot, which was why he’d liked Sam for the first two days. A nameless guard. Someone who couldn’t be remembered.

But that changed when the man, the myth, the legend, Foolish, visited his palace. The Sapphire palace.

Tommy walked towards one of the cabinets in the palace– cabinets, apparently, is what they call the studies. Tommy is used to cabinets being like these small drawers and cupboards. That’s incorrect, and he’s long since been corrected on that matter. They pushed that aside as him thinking so little of the present studies, that they could be bigger, which is why they didn’t really make a fuss about his inaccuracies. Cabinets were private areas of the palace, littered in a considerable number of places in the palace, differing only for the type and number of people they were to meet privately in those cabinets. There’s an abundance of that, you know? There’s one in every corner, and Tommy has no idea why. It was probably because they had no idea what to do with all that space. 

Sam trails behind Tommy, and he walks so silently that Tommy had nearly forgotten he was there in the first place. He would have, actually, if it weren’t for Sam speaking up midway through the journey from his History study room to the ‘important people’ cabinet meeting place.

“Prince Theseus,” Sam hasn’t shaken out the formalities yet, but Tommy was getting there. “How do you know Sir Foolish?”

Tommy hums mindlessly, “I met him thanks to Captain Puffy, back when she, you, Foolish and I met brother!” Tommy answered honestly. He couldn’t get anything from lying about it, so why would he? Hell, he should consider lying, not when he doesn’t need to. “He was cool, so I exchanged letters with him. The last thing we talked about was a really cool concept of a house. I think he likes to call it a Pyramid? Can homes be triangles? I think?” Tommy babbled, because that’s what he does best. He has a lot to say all the time, of course. It builds character.

He continues to speak, from Foolish’s cool house plans, to the grass that effortlessly thrives in the Northern Duchy. Tommy also started to talk about cobblestone, since he’d asked about it in his last letter with Foolish but he’s yet to receive any answers. He talks about how excited he is that he gets to ask it live.

All the while, Sam seemed to be listening from behind Tommy. 

“I don’t understand why they don’t like cobblestone in the North, they should add it to all the architecture there. Did you know that the mossy types add character? That’s a fact, not an opinion” He turns to Sam, who walks behind Tommy without a word. 

When Tommy looks towards Sam, though, he notices something wrong. Call it an empath hunch, especially when the man is radiating with hate. Tommy stuttered from his ramble, and this brought Sam’s attention to him. 

That pure hate turned into something with adoration, and Tommy was nearly wordlessly gaslit into wondering if he really saw what he saw. It was frightening, what he saw. 

Stiff shoulders seemed wider for a moment, and his grassy green eyes nearly seemed toxic, like it had no right being somewhere near organic being. The expression on his face was cold, in dark contrast from his usual chirpy self when Tommy would usually see him.

“Sam?” Tommy steps back closer towards Sam, and he tugs at his pant leg.

“Yes, Prince Theseus?” And there’s not a tinge of that searing hatred that Tommy swears that he saw on that face. 

“Wow, you must hate cobblestone huh?” Tommy blurted out, and that made him want to shut up, keel over, and die. What was that? The man was ready to tear out some poor bloke’s throat and here Tommy is, taunting the right hand man of the man who is literally destined to kill him.

To his relief, though, the man laughs. He takes this opportunity to walk closer to Tommy. “No, no, it’s not the cobblestone, Prince Theseus.” Sam sounds placating as he corrects Tommy.

“What is it then?”

“How are you so excited about a man you’ve only met once?” Sam tilts his head curiously, “Foolish, of all people too.”

Tommy raises an inquisitive eyebrow, one that is his only indicator of his curiosity about why he specifically said ‘Foolish, of all people’. Is there something wrong with Foolish? Is there some history he’s not aware of? Backstory? Tommy doesn’t know, and he wants to know. “Well, he’s got a cool house, a Pyramid, in case you didn’t hear me earlier.”

Sam laughs, and Tommy smiles. “A Pyramid, huh?”

“He says that triangles are cool shapes!” Tommy exclaims. “And though I disagree, I think rounder shapes are a lot cooler looking after all, a triangle house? It’s certainly gonna be… uh, what’s the word.” He feigns thought. Unique. He’s baiting Sam to join into his train of thought. “Uh,”

“Unique?”

“Unique!” He claps. “Yeah!”

His personal guard chuckles amusedly. “Yes, I suppose he is.” Sam says, and there is this faraway look in his eyes that makes Tommy a bit curious. “His sort always are.”

The rest of the day was uneventful, with Sam constantly on guard beside him, and Tommy and Foolish just enjoying their time over tea with a conversation about nicknames (“I am not comfortable with you calling me that, Prince Theseus.” “Unless you call me Tommy I’m going to keep calling you Big Foosh and you’ll be able to do nothing to stop it!”) and horses (“Do you know a Carl?” “Sorry, a what?”) and siblings. (“Big brother Technoblade is cool!” “Yes, but my younger sister, Moo,--” “I can’t hear you, I’m the only good younger sibling in the world.” Tommy nearly gags, and that conversation ends quickly. He doesn’t want to suck up to Technoblade any more than he already has)

A few red flags, sure, but he’s handled worse. He can fix him.

It is later in the weeks spent with Sam that he figures that maybe he isn’t just a side character. The man would seldom leave his side, and in those occasions Tommy would think of ways to get this guy on his side. 

It’s come to his attention as of late that the reason why the courtiers were so distant was not because of him. They were hiding, he realizes, steering away from his path when he walks, away from the lighter areas where they can be noticed, away from where Sam and himself frequently walk. He asks Clara: “Is there something wrong?”

She doesn’t answer at first, but Tommy insists, saying that if he doesn’t know, then he can’t help. 

She gives in, if only for the fear that overtakes her priority to keep Theseus’ childishness and wonder in check.

“Some gardeners are being punished, Prince Theseus, for being sub par with their work.” Clara informs loyally, and the way she says it, the horror in her voice, makes him forget that he’s supposed to be four years old. 

“Huh?” Tommy asks dumbly, “They do an alright job. What did they do?”

“Truth be told, even I do not have a clue.” Clara says apologetically, but he could tell that there’s something more she wishes to say of the matter.

Tommy frowns. “What’s wrong, Clara?” He asks, and he tugs at her skirt to express his insistence and concern. “You can tell me, we’re friends.”

She purses her lips as if in deep thought. “My apologies for the… mean talk.” She says, “And please remember that it is always rude to talk about people behind their backs,” Tommy knows that much, but he’s going to be doing a lot of this during his time here anyway. Get to. “But your new friend has been very frightening for a lot of us.”

Clara then spills the secrets she’s been keeping from Tommy. He’s honestly a bit shocked that she has this much trust in a toddler but Tommy is reminded that Clara herself is rather young. Tommy thinks that if he counts his former years, he’d be older. 

Still, trauma dumping on a four year old? Cringe.

But this is a special case. 

Sam is ruining his image!

Tommy, accompanied by his maid, rushes to a scene to bear witness as familiar gardeners kneel in front of a very familiar man. It’s Sam, Tommy recognizes, and he’s holding a trident threateningly despite it being pointed at no one (yet, his mind supplies helpfully). 

His gut sinks with the recognition. A trident. It is a unique weapon in the Prince of Song that has only been wielded once, and it was by a man who dared to point a pronged weapon at the throat of a Northern Noble in front of William in Prince of Song.

Oh.

Oh Primes.

He knows Sam. He’s not just a side-character. He’s someone dangerous. A character that William in the story had only taken note of twice throughout, but both times had been of fear.

He was foolish in forgetting such a major small detail. The tail. The creeper. The Warden. That’s who Sam is. 

Good fucking Primes he introduced himself as the Warden of the West!

The extent of his grief? Well he’s already expressed some of it, but to reiterate:

Sam was a fucking ticking time bomb.

The revelation was jarring.

“Sammy!” Tommy calls, trying his best to keep his cheery, idiotic facade up. “What’s going on?” He tilts his head cutely, eyes wide. It works when he’s clearly afraid, he just has to shift fear to shock somehow in his expression. 

He’s used to it, being in front of Technoblade as his brother for a while now. 

Sam turns his head, and that fearsome face had disappeared in favor of one friendlier smile. “Prince Theseus, what are you doing here?” Sam glances up at Clara, and Tommy could feel how her breath stutters from his mere presence. His mere gaze.

Tommy would say that he’d do the same if it weren’t for the two lives that were at stake in front of him. “Woah, that’s a cool fork.” Tommy comments, reaching up to it in an attempt to try taking his attention away from Clara. 

Sam pulls it out of reach, and Tommy watches as the trident disperses into the air. With Tommy’s arms raised up, he takes up the opportunity to take Tommy into his arms. “That wasn’t just a fork, Prince Tommy.” Sam scolds lightheartedly. “Don’t go reaching for sharp objects.”

“M’kay.” He tilts his head. “So why were you pointing it at my friends?”

“I was showing it to them.” Sam lies, like the big liar he is.

Tommy’s mouth forms an ‘o’, before he shakes his head as if he realizes that he got himself ‘distracted’ and focuses back on Sam. “Anyhoo, I wanted to go somewhere more fun. I decided that it’s time to show you my favorite hiding spot!” Tommy explains, then his eyes turn towards the surrounding onlookers and victims, and he leans in like he’s telling a secret. “But no one else can find out. Sam!”

And it’s far-fetched, that explanation. It’s the first thing he could think of. It’s so specific but vague at the same time. He didn’t have time to make a story, after all. It’s got lots of holes in it– why did he want somewhere private? How could he notice the lack of courtiers in this area of the palace? There are more, he thinks, but in his nerve-wracked state, he’s focused on keeping like three people other than himself alive in front of this dangerous man.

“So, what are you doing here?” Tommy playfully places his hands on his hips, squinting, exaggerating the look of a parent who is suspicious of a kid. 

“I’m,” He eyes the two gardeners kneeling before him, “scolding some bad people.”

Tommy’s eyes widens. Bad. Bad. The gardeners do their job perfectly, excuse you! They’ve been keeping his shrubs plenty healthy and his grass plenty dewy! How would this guard dude know what’s the difference between good plants and bad plants, huh? 

It’s bullshit, utter bullshit, and he shouldn’t have pushed away the gut feeling from the start that this was something horrible in the long run. “What did they do wrong?” Tommy asks. “They’re the gardeners, right? They’ve done wonderful jobs!” Tommy cheers.

“The grass, your highness.” Sam points out. “They’ve been muddy since the day I got here, patchy with dirt like someone hadn’t cared for them. They needed to be corrected, since the gardeners were some of the few that kept their stations because they were supposedly from the North.” 

Tommy squints. The fuck? That’s it? That’s why?

Not because they stole anything?

Not because they, he doesn’t know, killed anyone? Attempted to kill Theseus? Sam is punishing these poor blokes for muddy fucking grass?

The fear is replaced with irritation.

Tommy inhales, and he furrows his eyebrows as he tells himself to deal with this very, very rationally. He tells Sam some stupid reasoning: “I like it that way! It’s very decorative. I think they noticed how sad I got when they started cleaning it up.” He raises a cheerful thumb at the gardeners, addled with shock at the exchange. “Very perceptive gardeners, kudos! Kudos!” 

Then he tries to make a grab at Sam’s trident, insisting that it looks cool and therefore it’s his now: “Is that why you were showing the pitch fork? Were you going to teach them how to use it the way you wanted to?” Tommy feigns ignorance. “Show it to me first!” He twists in Sam’s arms so he could point at a direction. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Fortunately, his insistence is enough to spare those poor guys for another day.

There is someone who is contending for Technoblade’s spot as his number one deathflag. 

Ugh. This is all Technoblade’s fault.

Notes:

I have 0 impulse control (i say as I update with 5k words when I swore to myself each chapter would average at 3k from now on). It helps that the original sam chapter was already fun to begin with, but adding a bit more involvement of the North in the plot adds a bit more flavor between sam and foolish's feud.

Guys I swear Sam isn't irrational

Ok, by the time I drop the next chapter all chapters would release at least once a week, this one i'd be strict on because starting next chapter onwards I'd be writing a lot more than just tweaking. We'd hit the 10 chapter mark by then so I think that's a good way to kick off the rewrite.

Next chapter is the courtier's interlude!

Chapter 10: A Courtier's Interlude

Notes:

squint, does this count as a double update?

Clara was fifteen years old when her mother, the Baroness, found her a job in the Capital. She is the Third daughter in a family of seven, and has no place better to be to serve her family some prestige. Clara had been nervous, but it’s not exactly like she’s been pampered back at her home in the East anyway. 

When she came to the Palace she had been starry-eyed and awed at the intricacies of wealth engraved into every piece of furniture. Even the walls told the tale of wealth, one deserving of the largest empire in the world. Her uniform was worth more than the gowns in her manor.

Hells, the servant’s communal area was larger than her own home’s ballroom.

But the thing is, her territory is not one that screams of wealth. In the East, the lands are fruitful, yes, but they are small and divided equally among the nobles. This is to say, the gap between Prince and Baron is… large. Larger than she could ever imagine prior to her arrival in this palace.

She has never graced her eyes before royalty, before. The head maid made sure of it, that the inexperienced folk never meet the Royal family based on schedules, routines, and rotations of assignments among one another.

Fifteen years old and still fumbling at the sight of gold, frightful to touch it. She’s not poor, by any means, which is to say that she knows that when one is fine and pure gold, even thumb marks could imprint into the surface. Clara is a small fish, and she has very little audacity, if none at all. 

Life in the palace, besides the fear of making a mistake in the middle of a very troubling time in the royal family, was relatively calm and peaceful.

Clara was there the day it changed. 

Company at the time was quiet, and everything was so still that even the faintest breeze could make a person turn their head in attention. The Emperor had gone, and the Prince, who had not yet been dubbed the Imperial Prince Blood of the Antarctic, was in despair. 

And the Empress…

She has never met her before, but she has heard stories. The Empress was beloved. She was kind, and despite the fact that she was not a noble before the ascension of the Emperor and her marriage, she held a grace that no one could deny. She was merciful, beautiful, and most of all, loved. So it was no surprise that her death had shook the nation even at its foundation.

The Emperor had been so struck with grief that he disappeared.

The Prince hadn’t even been crowned heir.

For days, the Empire was cast into stillness.

Clara had been on cleaning duty in the kitchen when the orders from the head maid descended from the grape vine and passed onto her. The next rotation for the month has been assigned, and this time her designation was more permanent. She is to be a maid in the Sapphire Palace.

The Sapphire palace, informally dubbed as the Ruby Castle. She wasn’t here when it happened, but young as she is she still managed to learn about the events that occurred in that place. Those who conspired in the murder of the crown prince William had been called for an assembly within that palace and were slaughtered.

Still, duty is duty and Clara is afraid to make any mistake, especially one by refusal. So she set out from the Emerald palace.

That day, she finally got to see at least a piece of the royal family. Prince Theseus, the third Prince of the Antarctic Empire.

The boy was held in the arms of the esteemed Captain Puffy, once the left hand of the Emperor. She had worn nothing that was worth her station, instead dressed in a white dress-shirt and pants, and drenched in the rain despite holding the most precious thing in the entire palace. 

 

~+~ 

 

There is a tug at her skirts as Clara hangs linen along the lines under the sun. She recognizes the familiar act, one that makes her reminisce of her younger siblings back at home in the East. The maid glances to the side dramatically, “Hm?” She asks out loud and playful. 

Something short giggles from behind her. There is another tug at her skirt. 

“Huh?” She exaggerates. “Must have been the wind.” She shrugs, before she reaches up again to fix the linen hanging on the wire. 

“Clara!” The boy whines, and she breaks into a giggle at the sound. She finally looks down, and she finds the most precious treasure in the Sapphire palace. “Clara come, let’s play!” Prince Theseus insists, now with two small hands grasping at her skirts. 

She smiles at the act, “Play? But I am occupied, can’t you see?”

“No you’re not! You’re done!”

“Am I?”

“Claraaaa!”

Clara laughs, before she takes the boy and sits him in the basket. “Alright, off we go into our little ship then.” She says, before she lifts the basket with the Prince in it. The girl relishes in the giggles of the little boy as he acts like the captain of the Navy, much like the stories that Lady Puffy would tell the prince in his bed times. 

The boy is three years old, and so very smart. There is no doubt that he is royalty, contrary to the complaints and the accusations of the crass-sounding Vida. The proof is in his eyes, something that no magic nor foul play could replicate. 

His eyes are that of jewels. 

Clara herself has seen a fair bit of jewelry. It’s something that every noble is familiar with, if not for their existing riches then for the circles that expose them to the quality of gems that they don on their necks, wrists, and fingers. Prince Theseus’ eyes are easily pristine blue diamonds, if she were to compare.

It helps that his innocence and glee, and his loving nature that he surely inherited from his mother shines clear as day in those eyes of his. 

She twirls with the basket in her hands, and she hears Theseus’s giggles turn into full-blown laughter as she does so. “Clara! The ship! The ship is toppling over!”

“Trust your ship, Captain.” Clara slows down her twirls as she eventually stops. “You crew will always be with you to keep you upright.” She reassures, and she proceeds inside the palace.

There at the entrance stands Puffy, arms crossed but eyes fond as she watches the Prince approach in the arms of this lowly maid, third daughter of a Baroness. “Tommy, you’re disturbing Clara from her work.” She scolds, but it is without heat.

“It is no matter, Lady Puffy.” Clara says dutifully, before setting the basket down gently on the marble stairs. “I had just finished with my duties outside for today. Prince Theseus has not disturbed me from my work at all.”

“Yeah! What she said!”

Adorable.

“If that’s the case, then good job, Tommy.” Puffy takes Tommy from the basket, “You know how to read the room.”

“Course I do.” Tommy scrunches his nose as Puffy taps it playfully. “You taught me not to be rude.”

“If only most lessons stuck…”

“Hey!” Tommy scolds. “I’m plenty… uh, unrude!” He exclaims. 

Puffy grins, “Why, if you say so, My Prince.” She says, before turning to escort the Prince to his lessons with her. Clara watches the two of them from behind, satisfied with her station as someone who naturally lingers behind the Prince and behind those who were superior to her.

She turns the other way, because contrary to her reassurances, she does still have work to do. 

 

Work in the Sapphire Palace was an added load compared to her life in the Emerald Palace, but that was because the workforce was spread thin among those who actually were willing to do their jobs properly. 

Those in the Emerald palace had no such issues of responsibility, because if they lack of anything then they are sure to lose their jobs, if not their heads for being inappropriate in the face of royal blood. 

In here, it is contrary. There are people who do not believe the young Prince to be true, settling for the bare minimum only not to get caught by Lady Puffy who had fallen from her station as Captain and Duchess in the West. Those who are convinced would instead settle with subpar work because they do not see him as important. Because of either reasoning, they would mistreat the boy, belittle him for being beneath what he should be worth for their care.

Most have dared to steal from her.

Both mindsets baffles Clara, and she is sure that people are aware of her stance as someone who is loyal to royalty no matter their station. This mindset has isolated her and a few others from the majority, but it is no matter.

It brings her joy to serve the Prince no matter what.

Perhaps it is this sort of blind loyalty that Vida held for the previous empress, for her to hate the young prince so.

 

~+~

 

Clara is baffled when Lady Puffy stands before her with a confident smile that had never truly faded ever since she met her. People have assumed that Puffy would have become more meek ever since losing her station in the West, no longer the Captain, no longer a Duchess. She is contrary to such expectations, because Puffy had held that same integrity that she’s always had, Duchess or Captain or neither.

“I will be moving out of the Sapphire palace, soon.” Puffy announces, and those who had gathered behind Clara fall into a silence as their chattering dies down. The announcement had caught their intrigue.

“Pardon?” Clara asks out of turn, surprised at the sudden turn of events. 

People quitting from their duty is not strange, especially in the Sapphire palace. The thing is, out of anyone Clara knows within these gilded walls, Puffy would be the one she’d least expect to leave the Prince.

“I understand why you are surprised. This is related to the Imperial Prince’s present interest in the Third Prince, Theseus.” Puffy announces, “As a reward for caring for the youngest Prince, Prince Technoblade had rewarded me my stations back, declaring Theseus as old enough to have no need for me.” 

Clara feels a tinge of betrayal in her chest for the sake of her young prince. It’s unfair for the young prince. She is going to leave him to the maws of those in the Sapphire Palace? He has barely turned four, and already she decides that Theseus wouldn’t need her?

She could feel the eagerness in opportunistic minds unsettled behind her, shifting to proper, and alert like predators whose gaze zeroed into their prey– they could garner favor. They will be able to use the Prince, finally.

Clara feels sick with nervousness. Surely no one besides Puffy knows the extent of cruelty that these adults could present. People will take advantage of the fact that Theseus is young, and they will gain his favor and they will gain favor for their families and–

“The Imperial Prince has designated the care of Prince Theseus into Clara’s capable hands.”

It takes a second for that information to settle, before it sinks in with her stomach down to the ground. “Pardon?” She whispers once more, and Puffy’s expression is nothing but amused. Clara realizes that this has been the only thing she’s said since Puffy had called this small assembly.

“Clara is most suitable to be the caretaker of the Prince, as well as the head maid of the Sapphire palace.” 

She is the Third daughter in a family of seven, and has no place better to be to serve her family some prestige. This fact has become more true than ever, especially now that Puffy had pulled the girl into her old station as the caretaker of the young prince.

Her knees feel weak– soon enough, she falls to the ground in shock. 

So many things could go wrong. She could fail the young prince. He could fall into a tantrum and she could fall with blame. The maids, the maids abhor her and she is powerless compared to their far more impressive family. Puffy could have protected the prince for she had a child who is now a Duke of the North, but Clara is–

Clara is only nineteen years old.

“I understand that this responsibility is large, and sudden.” Puffy says empathetically, “But these are the orders of the Imperial Prince.” He doesn’t even know her! “Now his eyes will frequent at the Sapphire palace.” Puffy offers a hand for Clara to take for her to rise, and she takes it.

Only, she realizes that Puffy’s eyes are not on her.

It is settled firm on those who watch them from behind. 

Puffy is protecting her.

She wouldn’t have needed this protection if she did not receive this duty.

 

~+~

 

The Warden steps into the Sapphire palace. There is an abundance of servants that Clara once recognized as her co-workers from years ago. Servants of the Emerald palace, those who were considered her seniors. All of them trail obediently with practiced grace that had worn off from the servants of the Sapphire palace in the years of idleness and disregard.

At the forefront of them all stands Sir Sam, the Warden of the West. He stands tall and imposing at the front, eyes sharp and firm at anyone who would dare meet his gaze. 

Clara keeps her gaze at his feet, and she curtsies. “Good morning, Warden of the West.” She greets politely, trying to muster the grace of a noble that is taught to her by her mother. “If I may inquire the reason for your visit?”

“Cara had entrusted the care of the third Prince, and in turn, the Sapphire Palace to you, correct?” His voice is the only sound within the assembly hall besides the heart beat of those who sit still. 

“That is correct, Warden.” She keeps her head low.

“I have orders from his Imperial Highness. Collect every servant in this palace, along with their belongings.” The man orders. “Do so with haste. Tell them that they must vacate this palace, and ride into the carriages that have been prepared for them.”

Clara bows deeper, legs burning as she holds her position. “Those orders are received.” Clara says. “Apologies for my lack of intuition, but may I know if I am to be included among–”

“No.” The Warden cuts off. “Puffy trusts you, so you will be spared.”

Spared?

“Now go, attend to your duty.”

Clara bows her head once, and she rises.

She passes the message, and people’s eyes glitter at the sound of it. A switch, they cheer. They will return to the Emerald Palace! Finally, they will get their prestige.

The move quick, afraid to have their seats stolen and taken. 

There is not so much as a goodbye or a farewell as they leave through the servants’ exits and mount the carriages prepared for them, lined up in a long line.

Soon, there is only one person intricately familiar with the Sapphire Palace left in these halls. She returns to where the Warden waits. Behind him, the servants are like marble statues. It has been a while since she’s been witness to such attention.

“They are quick.” Sam comments, distaste obvious in his voice.

“They are.” Clara agrees. 

“Call the Prince, if you may.” The Warden orders, but this time he is softer, gentler. “His Imperial Highness has requested a message and a gift to be passed.”

Clara bows again, and she goes to fetch the prince.

Upon her return, she is faced with not the Warden, but a man. His smile is kinder, gentler. 

He kneels before the Prince, as he should.

Clara has never felt so out of depth more than now.

 

~+~

 

Much like the previous batch of courtiers, these ones have a lot to say about the prince they serve–the younger one, with youth in his stature but age in his gaze. There hasn’t been a single complaint, no, but there have been rumors upon rumors about the young prince.

It had been a week ago when they had barely heard of the child. Not even a name. His name, Theseus, had been but a whisper in the wind of the Emerald palace. Why would they worry about a prince without a face when they fear for their lives in the face of this older and more dangerous one?

But then the order came up, shortly after the blue lotuses from the largest lake in the palace had been ordered for permanent removal, where three fourths of the Emerald palace’s people are to be moved to the Sapphire palace. People were scared, at first, many daring to instead quit their jobs. No one was punished, but to quit from the palace is forever going to be on their ledger. A disgrace of not only the Imperial Prince, but to the empire. Shame on their honor for the rest of their lives.

The ones who stayed understand the sentiment of those who chose to leave. They were being migrated to the once-Ruby palace, after all. Who knows why, no one understands the Emperor. 

Then the courtiers meet him.

Prince Theseus. 

They do not adore him at first. In fact, they were…perturbed. Unsettled. The first time the courtiers saw him, the child was so small, standing on two feet beside a maid who stands obediently behind him. Some of them recognize the girl, Clara, so meek. She was a child when she was sent to this palace, and she has become the first hand servant of the Third Prince in those years. 

They bow, with the usual greeting of the empire. It’s customary. The ignorance of such a thing would be a crime punishable by death.

Especially when the Warden was within their midst.

No one will speak of it, but that day when the Warden walks up to the prince, they all hold their breath. Afraid to blow one wrong wind at the prince and have their necks be split at the center with a sword and the Wrath of the Warden. They know him. He, who the Imperial Prince kept by his side.

There are rumors of this Warden turned royal guard of the Imperial Prince, now royal guard of the third prince. People talk, after all, just never in front of their superiors. The Warden had been a prisoner of another kingdom. A prisoner who holds others in chains, without an ounce of loyalty in his bones and only duty in his veins. 

People say that even Technoblade could not kill him, so instead he trained him. They say that the reason the Warden is stuck to the Imperial Prince’s side is not for the sake of the prince, but for the sake of everyone in the kingdom.

So to see him, the frightening man with green hair, scales riddling his forearms and thicker and tougher than even the strongest netherite, eyes glowing a poisonous green, kneeling before prince Theseus? A mere four or five year old child?

If the Imperial Prince Technoblade had been terrifying,

What of this child?

 They do not know how to act before this prince so they instead act as they usually do with the first one. Ignorance, keep eyes low, lower than the Prince’s stature, survive by doing your job. 

The courtiers know how to act. They prepare every inch, every nook and cranny of the palace for any form of inspection. They notice how there is no rug in the Sapphire palace. They rush to replace it, afraid that this oversight would cause them their heads.

 

He is one of power, they realize, when a man with a veiled face had come for a mere visit to the Sapphire palace. Prince Theseus had been jumping from lecture to lecture that day, juggling every lesson from professors they only dream of ever learning from. If that hadn’t inspired awe and fear from the courtiers, imagine their shock when a maid comes running across the halls, announcing to every maid, butler, servant, that Foolish from the Northern Duchy had arrived.

They stumbled to prepare. There had been no preparation, nor any prior announcement. 

Clara, the head maid, nanny of Prince Theseus, had been the one to escort Theseus from his classes to greet the visitor.

“Prince Tommy.” Sir Foolish had said, and any maid within hearing distance could just hear the affection in his voice. “Greetings, Your Royal Highness.” He says with a bow, and Prince Tommy, had just giggled. Formalities thrown out the window.

“Foolish!” He said, launching himself to the arms of the veiled man. 

Anyone with reason had bowed their heads, afraid to see what was under that mask.

“What did I say about nicknames!” The child demanded. If there was freedom of expression, they all would have been gawking at the mere tone the child had when speaking to the older brother of the Northern Duke. “I got all your Northerner nobles back into the palace, and you treat me so coldly?!”

But the man laughs, “I understand, Tommy, but you can’t expect me of lower status to just drop formalities.”

“You said it yourself, you’re lower than me so you gotta adhere to what I say!”

“Alright, your highness.” Had that been a teasing tone? “I will make sure to keep that in mind, your Princely… childness.” That… that was awkward, many would admit.

Many would also find it… somewhat endearing though.

They spend the day being the lining to the walls, back stuck against the walls in preparation of anything the two people of Imperial Status would need–which was nothing. They had only greeted each other, spoken casually, and Foolish had set off to leave the palace grounds.

Foolish hadn’t even greeted Prince Technoblade.

What?

 

“If you do not mind us asking, head maid.” Ally asks, walking beside Clara as she departs from the Prince’s room. “And I hope you do not take this the wrong way, we all truly admire how you have risen so fast and so young to your station, but how exactly did someone as young as you..?”

Clara blinks, pausing in her steps to think of what exactly the question is meant to imply, before she smiles. “A good word,” She tells Ally truthfully. “As well as the mercy of the Prince.” 

“A good word? From whom?”

“Prior to myself, it had been Captain Puffy who was the head maid of His Highness.” Clara elaborates. 

“If that is the case, shouldn’t it be Vida?”

Clara frowns, and Ally feels like she’s misstepped. Shit, she didn’t mean for that to slip. It’s just that Clara is just so much younger than her that her thoughts easily pass through her lips. “Apologies, I didn’t mean–”

“No, I understand where you’re coming from.” Clara laughs, waving her distress away. “Even I was a bit shocked to be here, but the truth is that Vida had been rather… cruel.”

“Cruel?” Ally frowns. Who would dare? This is the precious prince they’re talking about. The Imperial Prince had sent all the servants of the Emerald Palace into this place, leaving little to none working in the palace anymore and spending more of his energy into maintaining that large palace by himself.

How could someone be cruel to royalty? “Cruel to you lot, right?”

Clara sends Ally a look. 

“Right?”

She turns away from Ally, and that only confirms the worst of her suspicions.

The rumors spread throughout the palace– maybe the young prince is not as loved as they thought.

That train of thought is easily remedied come the next day. 

Fear. It’s fear, they decide next. Fear the youngest prince, because he has everyone of high power wrapped around his little pinky finger.

The courtiers feared for their lives, when people witnessed Prince Theseus– no, Prince Tommy, trip and fall. Right before the Warden who had been trailing behind the prince as per his job. 

They heard a yelp, first. “Ack!” And it was innocent. A little child trips all the time.

And they witnessed the Warden pick him up, concern and emotion flashing through his eyes brighter than any other occasion. “Are you alright, Tommy?”

Tommy. The kid has made the Warden drop the honorifics as well. The kid’s influence is… concerning, to say the least.

“I’m alright, Sam!” He laughed, but when he paused, he glared at the rug that the courtiers had so painstakingly chosen for the prince. The child groans, and children do that all the time, but this one was frightening not because Tommy doesn’t act like a typical child, but because of how unaware a single utter from himself can be. “I hate rugs. I thought I asked the maids to get rid of it ages ago?” He pouted.

And anyone there to witness it had told everyone who had listened to never cross the youngest prince. Not because the prince was a threat. Not because the child is dangerous the same way as Technoblade had been. Not because he holds a silver tongue, nor because he wields a blade with fatal strokes.

No, because he hadn’t a need for any of that.

What Tommy had was something stronger, they said. Loyalty. People. 

And the child, they say, had been blissfully, dangerously unaware of the power he holds over their heads.

The story the maids had told everyone else was that after his light comment, that pout, the slightest disappointment in his eyes, the Warden smiled, and carried the boy. “I understand, Tommy.” He says, pulling Tommy’s head to the crook of his neck so the princeling wouldn’t witness the…

The striking danger of a promise gleam in his neon green eyes, staring down every courtier who had witnessed the event. “We will make sure to get rid of the rags.” 

Everyone who had been there had promised that the Warden stared down every single person present, as if remembering their faces, savoring the fear of everyone who had wronged Prince Tommy. 

But there were a few who had warned everyone against that fear. That what others say is a lie, an incomplete truth, omitting the most important part in that event.

Their prince, the prince who Sam had been willing to punish for, had pulled from the hold that Sam had, and stared him down. “That’s a shame, we can prolly make the pretty rugs into…curtains!” The prince had blinked, and if anyone hadn’t been so addled with fear, they would have called it adorable how he did that. Confused, even by his own thoughts. “Or clothes! Curtain rugs might be too heavy. Did you know that the last rugs were pretty, so I gave them away for the maids to make clothes and sell?”

The courtiers, and apparently the Warden himself, hadn’t known that. “No, I actually didn't.” And just like that, all threats had been washed away with a flutter of lashes and the ridiculous decision to make clothes out of rugs. “Does your brother know you did that?”

“Nope!”

He smiled. The Warden smiled with fondness!

Soon, the complete story took over the courtiers, and their perception of the little Prince is awe, and adoration. Gone is the fear and disturbance. Gone is the hesitation in being assigned to the Sapphire palace.

And maybe it wasn’t so bad that they got assigned to the Sapphire Palace. Tales of the Ruby Palace had been drowned out by Sapphire, and love, and the adoration for a little Prince named Theseus, called Tommy, and loved by everyone.

Notes:

Remember when I said I'd focus more on bedrock bros? Don't worry chatters it's coming, trust

Chapter 11: Of Carrots and Clovers

William kept a wary eye on the Blood Prince, yet ensured that he remained unnoticed in his position. He didn’t have a clue on how to read this stoic prince, especially when the entire future of the kingdom relied on how William did his mission. 

His mission is to replace the monarch and to get rid of the corruption that rots the foundation of this empire.

He tore his gaze away from the Blood Prince, trying to get rid of the thoughts of his incoming doom and instead focused on the matter at hand. William is officially here to fix the problems in the East, the prince’s favorite region. Supposedly, the prince is obsessed with progression with agriculture. William thinks it’s just something he fancies, despite all the reasoning and rationalization he brings up every time someone questions the man’s priorities.

Besides, it’s not like he can get any sort of information out of staring at the pseudo-emperor. 

He instead felt someone’s attention on him. He looked up to glance at the prince, only to find him occupied with documents. No, it’s elsewhere. He looked to the side, and he found the eyes of the Warden meeting his.

Toxic green orbs burn through his own, intense and sharp as if trying to dissect William with a look. He is openly dire, unrestrained accusation in his eyes.

While The Imperial Prince was dangerous in a way that no one can read him, the man beside him, his tail, was dangerous in a predictable manner as one would expect from a wolf with a loosened leash.

The man stared back at William who had been staring at the prince with an expression he didn’t think to control. He didn’t remember what expression he had on his face when he looked at the Prince, his brother, so he was unsure if he had sabotaged his intentions by displaying his heart.

But the man looked away, instead staring straight ahead, not saying a word. 

William sagged with relief, but he made sure not to ever drop his facade. Eyes would be on him soon.

He will never be able to drop his facade again, with all the people who would be watching him.

When William entered the palace, sometime in the future of that particular event, he had never interacted with the Warden until the end. Never an exchange of looks, of word, of touch or shove. No harm had come to William in his stay in the palace under the hand of the Blood Prince and his tail, but he was dangerous when William could not see him. It was frightening. 

He had never looked at those frightening eyes again, save for the end, when the head of the Blood Prince’s loyal dog rolls on the floor, poisonous green eyes staring at nothing, not anymore.

 

~+~

 

Tommy writes his memories into a book so he doesn’t forget important shit like this again. Sam, whose name was seldom ever mentioned, if not at all, was only ever dubbed the Warden by William in Prince of Song. ‘Sam’ was a name that Tommy never encountered at all until he started actually living the life of Theseus nowadays.

He takes this time alone in his chambers as a moment of recollection and to put his shit together. Everything up to now had been performed intuitively and at the spur of the moment, but now he has to start deliberately plan shit out now. 

For one, he has to make sure that when he runs, no one will be able to find him.

The thing is, back then he had hoped that people would forget he even existed. No one would even try to look for him since even his own brother had no idea who he even is. 

Now, things are different and considerably fucky and screwy particularly because he fucked up and ended up being known. Technoblade found out about Tommy all too soon. Actually, he had placed his hopes on the very fact that if Tommy had been careful, Technoblade wouldn’t even have had a reason to think about Tommy at all. 

It hadn’t been an issue back then either, even if Technoblade had somehow miraculously remembered he had a little brother. If Tommy remained insignificant then Technoblade would have been as dismissive regarding things involving Tommy. But no, 

Tommy is just too good to be ignored, isn’t he?

So, here is the plan. He is getting ready to run, and he has planted his connections within this very palace to ensure that he has an out no matter how this goes. 

Sam almost screwed that up by poking his three-pronged spear into those very connections. They were Northerners who Tommy insisted be kept during the time all his people were being moved out of the Sapphire palace. He got them back, fortunately enough, but the rest had dispersed elsewhere without proper reason. 

Fucking Technoblade. Of course he’d make it hard on him.

So here he plots.

In crayon.

…

Fucking hell.

His character studies of Puffy, Foolish, Technoblade, Sam. He maps them out on a page in crude drawings and a mishmash of Enchantment (the language, not the actual spell otherwise he’d be binding them all together somehow) and Common. Puffy and Foolish are on the same page, Sam and Technoblade on another.

He draws other characters in other pages, such as the Southern Archduke, the Duchess in the East, and a tower. He’ll plot out their importance in Prince of Song another day, for now he has to focus on the ones in his immediate vicinity.

First is Puffy. He’d changed shit for the worse by being too cute and too smart, so Puffy is no longer really on his side. He draws a mug of chocolate beside her face. She still visits sometimes and asks mundane things about how things are going in the Palace now that she’s gone. Evidently, she’s still concerned about him enough to jump between the West and the Palace. She is a Captain, and she dropped that title before to raise Tommy up ‘til recently so he shouldn’t really discredit her love towards him. 

But love alone is not enough. It isn’t loyalty. She could care for him, but so much that she would risk her own life for his. Not when she has other children to take care of. Tommy is certain of that much. 

Foolish is connected to her by a line of crayon. Family, he takes note. Foolish is Puffy’s ward, technically that means he’s her son. Tommy is trying really, really hard to suck up to this guy because he’s the Archduke of the North and quite possibly the only person who is willing to smuggle Tommy in, or out, when he runs away. He’s fun to get along with, especially when they converse about the most mundane things such as architecture.

Yeah, Tommy’s that good that architecture is considered mundane. Suck it.

Other than that, though, he has basically nothing. Tommy frowns, deciding to fix that soon. He has to form a more meaningful and permanent attachment with this guy if he wants to survive.

He moves onto the next page. His antagonists.

Technoblade. The Imperial Prince and the leader of this Empire. He is the guillotine of it all and if Tommy slips then he is just dropping that blade onto his neck. Tommy likes to believe that out of anyone in this Prime forsaken world, Technoblade is the one he understands the most. Prince of Song was all about manipulating the piece of shit anyway, so Tommy could just copy whatever it was that William did and try his hand at playing him like a marionette. 

Then there is Sam, the Warden of the West. The Prince of Song had only twice mentioned him, once in passing, and the other time when William literally beheaded the poor fuck. 

Ouch, but he sort of deserves it. He was in on Theseus’ execution after all.

Though contrary to that stance, Sam is… awfully tame. Tommy’s interactions with Sam so far consist of Tommy reigning him in with a fucking leash. Tommy remembers that slightly. William once described Sam as a wolf on a loose leash, and Tommy couldn’t agree more with that statement.

So Tommy is literally that man’s impulse control. 

Tommy scowls at his notebook, and he slams it shut. He’s completed his notes and he has done a good bit of reviewing of The Ancient Texts ™ (Prince of Song). He’s armed and ready for the coming week.

He stuffs the notebook under his bed between the mattress and the frame, and he goes to sleep plotting.

 

~+~

 

Tommy was supposed to meet Foolish today. The big man has become close friends with him and he even thought of bringing Moo, his younger sister who is around Tommy’s age. Foolish mentioned that they might get along, but Tommy honestly wouldn’t bother. 

Realistically speaking, he’s closer to Foolish’s age than he is with Moo, so clearly they would not be conversing at the same wavelength and thus it’d really, really boring for both parties. 

The thing is, Foolish cancelled on him. Now that is normally nothing of concern to Tommy. He gets that playtime with the prince is easily less important than managing household affairs. It’s not like they had to discuss anything of importance as of late.

However, the nature of this cancellation is abrupt and concerning.

Because Foolish had just strongly implied in his letter that one of his projects has been griefed by an explosion. By the looks of it, the event had been fairly recent but late enough for the cancellation of their tea time to be this sudden.

It also aligns with the span of time Sam was out of his post for days.

 

“I hadn’t seen you in a while, Sam” Tommy commented while Sam escorted (carried) him towards Tommy’s next agenda for the day, which is a meeting with the tailor. He’s been growing as of late, and he’s been outgrowing more clothes than he could have ever worn.

Sam had a small smile on his face when Tommy said that. “Did you miss me?”

“No.” Tommy said unhesitantly, before drawing back after realizing his slip of tongue. “Not at all. I’m a big man. Big men don’t miss people.” Okay, nice save.

The man takes his bluff and chuckles. “Of course, why would you miss me when you have your brother around after all.”

Tommy didn’t mention how it’s been a while since he’s been summoned by Technoblade. He didn’t want to raise it to the guy’s attention and watch him actively try to fix that ‘problem’. Instead, he shifted the topic to his original course “Where’ve you been?” Tommy asked. “Not that I’m curious. I’m not. I’m just being princey right now.”

“Handling a pest problem.” Sam said, and Tommy’s nose scrunched. That had to be a double meaning thing. “You shouldn’t worry though, you’re safe now.”

 

“I wanna meet my brother!” Tommy declares first thing in the morning as he’s getting dressed for breakfast. 

Clara pauses, and blinks. Then her eyes glimmer with adoration when she realizes how important this moment is for Tommy, who has previously only ever been summoned rather than actually wanting to go visit Technoblade himself. 

Surely Clara knows how much of a momentous occasion it is for Tommy to willingly want to go visit Technoblade. No matter how cute he seems, surely she knows how nervous they both are when they’re both being escorted by Sam to visit His Imperial Highness. 

Truth be told, he doesn’t really wanna go. 

Tommy is much happier being ignored and away from the presence of that dickhead. He hasn’t been summoned in a while, and Tommy would have been better off satisfied with that. 

This is all Technoblade’s fault. If he didn’t sic Sam onto him then he wouldn’t have to resort to drastic measures. 

Now he has to take a stand even when he’s a four year old physically. He’s already been through three separate situations where he had to calm down this guard dog of Techno’s from slaughtering the people in his house. Tommy is sick and tired of it! Tired, he says!

“After breakfast?” Clara suggests, “We should prepare adequately and notify the Emerald palace in a timely manner.”

Tommy purses his lips. He was hoping to get this over with sooner than later.

But yeah, sure. 

“‘Kay.” He pouts.

 

.

 

Ironically, the one to escort Tommy to his brother is the very subject of Tommy’s distress. Sam is smiling as he carries Tommy, sparing him the long trek towards the Palace. 

This has become a habit between the both of them, with Tommy tugging at Sam’s pant leg and Sam lifting Tommy without so much as a verbal request from the boy. 

“What are you so happy about?” Tommy asks, as if just earlier, Sam hadn’t nearly beheaded every courtier in the palace for fuckign rugs. Yeah, Tommy had quickly de-escalated that situation, thank the stars. Whatever rocker Sam’s head was on must have toppled over and burned. 

“I’m just happy that you’re getting along well with your brother, The Imperial Prince Technoblade.” He says, eyes crinkling.

Tommy nearly gags at the thought. That couldn’t be more far from the truth, actually. “I love my brother! Of course I’d get along well with him!” Tommy says, trying to refrain from putting Sam in a choke hold. He’s tempted. Sam is in a vulnerable position and he could very well choke the man.

Chances are though that he’d likely die before he could do any sort of damage other than emotional towards the green haired guardian. 

“That’s true,” Sam says, and there’s a warmth in that tone that Tommy would have likely trusted if it weren’t for the fact that he had highly suspected Sam of murdering innocent people. “Your brother has been very lonely, before you came into his life.”

The young prince thinks dully: When the man had abandoned his little brother, you mean? Tommy would have scowled, but the most he allows himself to show is a stoic sort of expression. Unreadable, one that looks like a kid processing what’s going on. 

“Why’s he lonely? He could always visit me, you know!” Tommy prods at it anyway. He’s curious, sue him. Why did he abandon Theseus? Why did he abandon him, a mere infant, and then kill him when he grew older and got the love he actually deserved. “Just like I’m visiting him now! I was sad cos I missed him, but now I’m not gonna be sad anymore!”

Sam had a forlorn expression on his face, and Tommy had the urge to wipe it out. What did this man do to deserve that look on his face, when he’s done nothing in the past? 

He doesn’t deserve to be lonely when he could have once subjected Tommy to that same loneliness.

“He carries a burden.”

“Is that why he didn’t see Tommy until now?” Tommy nearly spits, but the exaggerated childish intonation he stressed out seemed more like… childish disdain. 

The guardian holding him looks saddened. “I…” Come on, answer it. Answer it, hypocrite. “I don’t think I’m the right person to answer that.” Sam says instead. 

Tommy blinks. But oh, he’s the right person for Pest Control? Literally trying to rip Tommy from the only friend and ally he might have?

He’s grounded now, at least, knowing who these people really were. The type to murder on a whim, just like they got rid of Theseus in the original story.

He’ll have no part of it. He’s determined to live. Damn them.

“That’s okay! What matters is that Brotherblade likes me now!” Tommy says mindlessly, just to add to his unconditionally loving character. 

Tommy doesn’t notice the hurt expression on Sam’s face, nor did he notice how he worded that.

Even if he did, Tommy wouldn’t have rescinded that implication. It’s not like Technoblade would have loved him before.

 

~+~

 

There was a peculiar expression on Theseus’ face when the Imperial Prince allowed William to sit at the same table. William did not fail to notice how the crystal eyes seemed to dull a bit, shining a little less under the dull light that was further away from the center of the room, under the chandelier. He set it aside as the light. It did wonders on the complexion of a person, much more to the way light reflects off the eyes of all things. 

William has yet to test that, actually. Under the brown contact lenses he dons each time anyone other than his good friend Schlatt is within the premises, he has those exact same blue eyes. He hadn’t had much time to play with his features as of late, especially with how frequent visitors have been coming and going in the Southern Duchy’s estate recently.

Now he’d have more time to himself, without the contact lenses. He’s revealed himself to be of royal descent, after all. Obviously he’s to refrain from hiding it, lest he disgraces his bloodline by covering it up.

The Prince of Blood stares at the Warden wordlessly, but the guard looked as if he easily read the intentions of William’s blood brother. 

“The Imperial Prince would like to discuss things alone, with his Majesty, the Second Prince.” he announces.

William didn’t get another chance to witness Prince Theseus as he departed, the young boy having already bowed and turned. 

His attention did get called for, which takes his mind away from his pity for his little brother. He’s known just as late as Technoblade about their relationship with William. Surely he must feel something.

William sets that aside for later. He’s faced with a peril right now, and he can’t discuss this with his little brother if he doesn’t live long enough to do it.

He faces Technoblade. There’s something there, something salvageable. 

 

~+~

 

Tommy has no idea whatever the fuck William Soot saw in this fucker, because he’s halfway about to take a butterknife and feed it to him. Not that he has a butterknife within reach. He’s currently on a fucking walk with the man himself, Technoblade. 

A walk in towards a farm. 

A farm within palace grounds.

He is so fucking ridiculous that it’s hard to take him seriously.

“Woah! What’s this place?” Tommy asks out loud, intending to be as obnoxious as possible so that he drives Technoblade back indoors where the food and utensils were so that Tommy has the option to stab something or someone–not that he would, but the option would be nice.

Tommy has had his fair share of being driven crazy by nosy people butting into his business. He’s sure that annoying Technoblade with questions might drive him away from this place.

“You have eyes, Theseus.” Is all Technoblade says.

“Yeah, but I only ever heard of places like these in books!” Tommy gestures at the literal farm within palace grounds. “Do you raise these potatoes yourself?”

Look, he’s no stranger to farms. He’s been raised in one for a good chunk of his previous life, in fact! It’s just odd and really jarring to see this large chunk of mass dedicated solely to farming. Maybe it was normal, this entire farming thing in Imperial Culture, and Tommy does know that Technoblade is sort of fond of the Eastern Duchy, but he didn’t think that he’d made it a fucking hobby.

Technoblade doesn’t answer, but hey, Tommy’s got his suspicions and he’s technically the closest thing to omniscient in this world.

Tommy suppresses a huff, but let it be known that if he had the chance to let out a sigh without being executed for being deemed ‘snobbish to good and honest work’, he would definitely let out the largest, most disappointed sigh in the world.

He turns behind him somewhere at the end of the fence and he finds Sam and Clara both standing dutifully at the entrance. Both of them are looking at him and Technoblade like it’s the most adorable sight in the world. Tommy resists the urge to cringe before he turns back towards Technoblade to catch him by his heels.

The older prince doesn’t slow down nor stop in his pace to get to a relatively small storage house adjacent to the farmland. Tommy follows, but he’s really fucking tired of these short legs.

He hates this body. He hates how when he speaks, he has to put more care into how he enunciates his words otherwise he would be replacing all his ‘r’s with ‘w’s and ‘s’ sounds with ‘th’s. He slips, sometimes, but that’s not often. Every word he speaks is calculated unless he’s alone (which he very rarely is). He can’t wait to grow and get an actual working tongue.

Tommy follows Technoblade’s quick and large strides with smaller and very very quick tiny legs. He’s going to have to grow tall with long legs, otherwise he’s going to have to stab this man’s legs himself so that he can catch up at the very least.

Out of spite, Tommy begins a tirade of ramblings about what he knows about farming, being correct at some parts but adding a plot twist by inserting the most ridiculous conclusion to some points.

The boy very nearly bumps into one of Technoblade’s legs when he stops abruptly. 

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” Technoblade says, irritation clear in his voice as he concedes defeat to Tommy in the most indirect way. He turns sharply around to look at Tommy.

Which would have scared Tommy if he wasn’t more pissed than frightened. 

Tommy tilts his head, not understanding what Technoblade means despite having an extra sixteen year experience. “Convinced wha?”

“You’re here because you want something.”

“I wanna hang out with you!” The biggest fucking lie he’s ever said, and he has an inkling that Technoblade likely knows of it anyway. 

“It’s Sam, isn’t it.” It’s not really a question, Technoblade looked certain. 

And if Tommy wasn’t looking up at Technoblade who was against the light of the sun, glaring down at him (whether it’s Techno or the Sun glaring down at the poor child, Tommy would never know because he’s fucking blind).

“He’s clingy.” Understatement of the year. “But he’s nice. He reminds me of you sometimes.” He adds for good measure, knowing how irritated he is to be compared with someone in such a demeaning way.

Technoblade gives him a nearly hilarious look of confusion: “You’re-” He doesn’t continue that sentence and instead pauses.

Yeah, Tommy knows that he’s not really one to say. He’s seen as the super clingy younger brother in everyone’s eyes and he has a feeling that it’s exactly what Technoblade was implying despite him probably assuming that he’s faking the sincerity.

Tommy doesn’t know what to expect, to be honest. 

So, since he’s four years old and he has nearly nothing holding Technoblade back from making him fertilizer for the mini-farmland beside a PALACE (CRAZY FUCKER), Tommy instead opts to be cute. 

“You didn’t call for me for a while now.” Tommy says with a pout, digging his very fancy shoes that he got with Technoblade’s money into the loose soil under his feet. He stares down at the mud for extra damage. Fuck Technoblade’s money. “A lot of things happened while we weren’t hanging out together anymore.” He says disappointedly. “I had a few nightmares and a lot of things confuse me.” 

Technoblade tilts his head slowly, “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Dunno,” Tommy shrugs. “I just wanted to tell you!’

He hesitates a bit, keeping his head tired down while glancing upwards shyly, creating the illusion that he’s smaller than he is–and he’s already tiny compared to this monstrosity. “Er, that’s what brothers do, right?” Tommy did his best to sound unsure. “Puffy told me that her kids share a lot of stories together, about how their days go. I,” He pauses for a moment, “I can do that with you, right?”

Technoblade considers Tommy for a bit longer. Then he shifts his eyes away from Tommy and onto the plot of soil before him. “What made you think that you couldn’t?”

Tommy blinks. He was under the assumption that the man hadn’t even wanted to see him when he’d been abandoned. No matter, this should play into his aims anyway. “So I can?” He asks, not answering Technoblade’s question. If he had to answer honestly, it had to be the fact that Tommy knows his future.

But seeing this without the hindsight–er, future sight, he should have no reason to be hesitant around Technoblade. 

He’s been nothing but courteous, if not for that one time that Technoblade had literally left Tommy to drown.

Technoblade, as usual, takes a while to answer it. “Do what you want.” He says, unceremoniously crouching down so he could reach the crop before him. It’s a carrot. Ugh, he’s so not focused on Tommy right now.

“We don’t hang out a lot, do we?” 

“You intend to change that?”

“Sure! I can, right?” the ‘r’ borders on a ‘w’, and it goes to Tommy’s advantage.

“I don’t understand why you keep asking for permission, Theseus.” Technoblade says, slowly and lowly, but Tommy could vaguely sense that the heat in his words were not directed to him. “You’re royalty.”

“So are you, and since we’re equals, I gotta ask if you’re okay with it!” Tommy grins, winning. 

He’s leading up to the topic slowly, he’s going to get Sam to resign, and he’s going to win his privacy back from Technoblade and his green (bother) guard. “Sure.” Technoblade says, and Tommy takes that as an affirmation to snitch on Sam for being a bastard ruining his reputation!

In childish words, that is.

Something something like ‘My friends are being scared off by Sammy, but Sammy’s got good intentions. I think they’re scared by how cool he is.’ translates into ‘GET YOUR FUCKING DOG BITCH HE BITES’. 

Sometime in the middle of Tommy’s ramble, Technoblade pauses his tending of his plants and he leans backwards. “Theseus,” Technoblade calls, and Tommy shuts up then and there, both to see if Technoblade’s patience has worn too thin and to give his full attention to whether or not he should run away right this second.

“Techie?” 

“Come here.” He commands, and Tommy doesn’t sense enough murderous intent to disobey. 

He walks closer towards the crouched Technoblade and he crouches beside him. “What’s the matter?” Tommy whispers conspiratorally, as if he were a secret spy. 

It’s ridiculous, but it adds to his charm fucking damn it.

“Look at this plot of soil, what do you see?”

Tommy glances down, and faces Technoblade. “Dirt.” Tommy answers.

“Besides the dirt.”

“That’s a carrot, I think.”

Technoblade hums. “What else?” He demands.

Tommy looks down, and he finds nothing else. What the fuck? Is he on something? Well, this is the guy who wants to murder his own brother, clearly there’s something not right with him. 

He watches as Technoblade pushes past the stalk revealing more of the dirt under the leaves… are those clovers? Three leaf clovers smaller than some clumps of soil before him pop every now and then along the plot, and there are some stray grass that were not carrots. “Clovers.”

“What are clovers?”

Where the fuck is this guy headed with this?

“They’re plants too?” Tommy answers unsurely. He’s about to elaborate before Technoblade cuts him off.

“Weeds,” Technoblade answers for him. He reaches down and he pulls at it, takin’ it away from the plot of carrots. The harsh act takes away some of the soil. “They don’t look like much at first. Small. Harmless. Fresh little patches of green. But they grow fast, faster than the carrots. They tangle themselves in the roots, choke ‘em out before they ever get the chance to take shape.” He flicks the clover aside, eyes narrowing slightly. “It sprouts quiet, unnoticed. Takes root where people stop paying attention. And before long, what’s left of the good soil’s already been stolen.”

He digs a trowel into the earth, and Tommy thinks it’s frighteningly like stabbing. With a measured tone, “And the worst part? Once the weeds get big enough, people start thinking they belong there. They forget what the ground’s supposed to look like without them.” 

Tommy feels like this is supposed to mean something. He looks down at the patch of green, a clump of soil mixed with roots and mangled weeds tossed to the side where it could no longer grow. He doesn’t know what Technoblade is trying to get at, why he suddenly brought up vegetation into Tommy’s rants about Sam scaring away his friends.

Instead he defaults with a childish and simple response. Tommy grabs a piece of soil where the root of a weed clings desperately, and he brings it up to Technoblade with a practiced boyish grin. “But I like clovers.” He tells Technoblade simply.

There is a bout of silence now, as if Technoblade regards Tommy’s answer with a seriousness that even Tommy hadn’t attempted for himself. The constant exchange of quips between them earlier had lost its momentum now that Technoblade hasn’t given a response. Instead he looks at the field around them. “I’ll tend to the farm another day.” Is all Technoblade says. “Go back to your palace, Theseus.”

Tommy’s breath hitches when Technoblade goes to move, he walks around Tommy and ignores the kid even when he’s left behind a little. Tommy stands and rushes after Technoblade, not knowing what to say.

Did he say something wrong?

If he did, he wouldn’t be here standing and breathing, right?

The walk back to where the farm and the Palace meet is shorter than when they walked to the farm, for some reason. Maybe it’s because of Tommy’s lack of rambling, now that he’s unsettled with how Technoblade responded to his brave quips.

He’s instantly humbled. For a moment, he forgets what he came here to do in the first place. Instead, he’s worried that he’s done something to fuck up how Technoblade sees him. 

Tommy reunites with Sam and Clara who stand attentively at the door. Sam had just been a hair’s length away from carrying Tommy, who had his arms already raised up high so he could be brought up to his arms easier, when Technoblade calls for the guard’s attention.

“Warden. With me.” Technoblade says, before walking ahead into the palace.

There is a lag among them, before Prince Theseus is instead carried by Clara. Technoblade and Sam walk away and he spots Sam turn to look at the young prince with a concerned expression. Tommy’s head is situated above Clara’s shoulder and he waves at Sam.

Usually fear is accompanied by a quick heart rate, but how come he’s feeling his chest’s heart beat slowly, as if it was pushing viscous liquid?

Tommy doesn’t know if he did anything wrong.

 

The next morning, Tommy wakes up. He spends his day without Sam trailing behind him.

What happened?

Notes:

"I'll update once a week" I said, like a lying liar.
Technically this IS once a week.

Spoilers ahead I suppose

YK THIS IS ITCHINGNIN MY MIND because ill never write a technoblade POV until the epilogue but BASICALLY what technoblade means by his allegory is
Good soil = Technoblade
Weed = Tommy

Another meaning by this when technoblade directs that allegory to tommy is
Good soil = Tommy
Weed = The Chatters (courtiers)

When Tommy somehow accidentally clarifies that despite the courtiers being weeds to him (status, worth. Etc) he likes them, and theres no other reason to it. It becomes an option not to pluck them out.

This opens a lil epiphany: why is Technoblade letting Tommy grow at all?

So THIS is where the plot WILL thicken

Anyhoo, ty for reading so far! Next update is next week sunday my time

Chapter 12: Character Development My F###ing FOOT

Notes:

OKAY I FINALLY FIGURED OUT WHAT TO DO WITH PRINCE OF SONG, like the og plot of PoS remains the same HOWEVER its involvement with what happens in WTEFMMAP is going to change now. Bless.

Happy monday chatters, eat well.

Tommy approaches the door with the gaudy decorations. He strongly dislikes the door. It’s a dumb door, with gold etched in the frame and with the door being irrationally large. Why does it have to be so big? Is Technoblade a giant? 

No, he isn’t. In fact, Tommy is just about willing to bet that he’d be taller than the Imperial Blood Prince. He was in the past life, actually. Tommy was a whopping six foot three, taller than his father–

He frowns.

His father. Right. His family.

Tommy pauses in his thought, the memories that had slipped past his fingers returning to him again. To be fair,  he hasn’t thought about them in a while. He’s had more concerns, but that doesn’t mean that he completely planned to neglect his family. His real family. The one that he lost when he woke up as an infant one day.

But Tommy… Tommy is certain that he lost them long before he woke up as an infant anyway. Nowadays all he can wonder is if they noticed if he was gone.

His mind wanders to the lotus. Tommy kept it in a pseudo-aquarium with a crudely written “DO NOT APpROACH” in crayon on parchment tied to its stem (don’t fucking judge the fact that he forgot one P, he totally meant that so people look back). No one tried, based on the fact that no one tried to drown themselves in the bucket of water it got tossed in.

He wonders if he fails in his mission to survive in this life, will he come back to a world with them in it?

It’s a dreary thought, but the ache made him feel. It made him feel human instead of this revered toddler prince, treated like a child god among men. Innocent, without scars. Tommy doesn’t have scars now, sure, but he feels the phantom pain of an arrow in his shoulder, and burns from a conflict he had to resolve. 

He doesn’t have them now, but he had them, and that’s all that matters with scars. 

Tommy looks up at Clara, waiting patiently behind him. She looks at him with a smile, and eyes telling him to take his time. Clara isn’t family. Not even when she’s come to raise him alongside so many other maids and ladies and courtiers. She isn’t family when she’s not Tommy’s. She’s Thesesus’, but not Tommy’s. The thought upsets him.

It’s a privilege to feel lonely like this. The feeling of loneliness is worse when there’s nothing else to be worried about–

–Other than, of course, his impending doom lying behind two gaudy fucking doors. 

Reality returns to the forefront of his mind when he’s reminded that there is, in fact, no time to worry about a past where he isn’t welcome. It’s not like those fuckers back home would fight for him the same way he was even considering dropping all these riches and gold. They certainly left him behind for less.

Tommy scowls, focusing his attention on the golden handles of the door.

All these what-ifs are so fucking cringe. He has better things to worry about.

He knocks.

Which is pointless, by the way, because Clara opens the door for him. It was improper for a royal to open his own doors when there are people who are around to do that for him, apparently. He hates etiquette classes. He’s just a little dude. He’s not some god.

Well, he is a god. He’s god tier. So many women back in his old life. 

“Hi brother!” Tommy greets Technoblade, who is behind a desk full of paperwork. The man doesn’t raise his head from his work, and merely sends a glance to Tommy before proceeding with whatever writing he’s got to do.

Paperwork. He’s going to have to do paperwork one day. 

Hopefully he’s out of the castle before that. Prime forbid that he gets actual work. He’s good with learning (acting like he doesn’t know the things he already knows so they think he’s a fast learner when he ‘catches on’), sure, but he does not want to do paperwork of all things. 

Maybe he should go farming, or building. If he moves to the Northern Duchy, maybe he can introduce the holiness of cobblestone, or if he moves to the Eastern Duchy, he can farm all he wants, without a lack of food and without want for money.

He has no future in the palace.

“Theseus.” Technoblade finally acknowledges. He raises his head after finishing a page. It doesn’t take more than a look from Technoblade for Clara to bow, and leave the room. She shuts the door while she backs away with respect and reverence in her steps.

Technoblade pushes his chair back when he stands, the loud scratch of the wood against marble rings against Tommy’s ears, but he doesn’t mind it.

He moves around the table and walks away. Tommy follows wordlessly, as he usually does unless he’s wordlessly dismissed.

The Imperial Prince pushes the door open, and Tommy runs before the doors shut behind him. He’s right beside Technoblade, legs rushing to catch up to his long strides. Stupid body. He’s got half the mind to request for prosthetics or something. Those exist, right? Prosthetics to make legs longer. Tommy should have excellent balance, enough to walk without having to heave large amounts of breaths before he actually gets anything done.

It doesn’t help that the palace is stupidly large. Who needs this much space? It’s stupid.

“Where’re we headed?” Tommy asks.

Technoblade glances at Tommy and looks back straight ahead without a word.

Annoying prick.

Tommy has half a mind to ask Technoblade again before he hears a familiar voice greet him.

“Greetings and Blessings to the Imperial Princes of the Antarctic Empire.” Tommy recognizes—

“Sammy!” Tommy greets excitedly, with a smile on his face and a very wide and welcoming wave. 

Oh gods he was nervous for nothing! 

Sam looks to be in perfect shape, with the same uniform as before. Pristine and cheerful. At least he’s got that going for him. By the end of the day, Tommy guesses, he’s succeeded. 

Sure, Sam might have been an impulsive murderer and probably did vandalism (seriously, who would explode a pyramid?), but Tommy can’t help but be relieved that his first words that were intended to sabotage someone didn’t end up in a murder. He’d be a horrible person if he does that. That would suck a lot.

Technoblade keeps walking, a nod to show that he’s acknowledged Sam’s greeting. He strides past Sam, and Tommy half expects Sam to pick up the pace, but he falls behind until he is at the same distance as Clara.

Tommy looks at Sam confusedly, now falling behind slightly. He’s used to being at the same pace as Sam, even to the extent of Sam carrying him along. 

Sam seems to be able to understand Tommy’s confusion. The smile on his face turns sheepish before he bows. “I shall escort you two.” He says, before taking his place beside Clara.

Tommy blinks.

What?

He pushes that confusion aside and speeds up his walk to a jog so he could catch up to Technoblade who seems disinterested in actually walking beside Tommy. Christ, does he really wanna hang out with him or does he intend to torture him by walking at a pace he can’t follow?

Their destination finds itself beyond palace walls. Outside again. Damn, Technoblade must love it outside. Tommy looks down at his once pristine shoes, seeing them dirtied by, well, dirt. He must be a lover of mud, probably. Technoblade seems like a pig that enjoys mud. That’s a funny thought to distract him from the fact that this pig is in fact a fucking boar will all the capabilities of outright murdering a poor bloke.

Soon enough they reach a tea set, with sweets placed on the table in a beautiful manner. This is oddly reminiscent of when Tommy had been sick when his presence was called for. 

He hated it back then, because his nose was clogged, and he hadn’t had the appetite for anything. Technoblade takes a seat on his chair, and Tommy has to climb to his chair so he could sit on it.

His legs burned. This must be the reason why William thought that Tommy was sickly—he had burned too many calories just walking from one room to another in this palace, more than the food that he was even given in the first place.

Oh what he would do for a pair of legs like his old ones.

Tommy climbs his seat without the help of Sam or Technoblade, pushing for a cute ‘oh, he’s tiny’ image today. He plops himself on the cushion and grins proudly at Technoblade. 

As usual, he doesn’t look particularly excited.

Clara moves with grace as she pours the two royals each a cup of tea. Tommy sings a glad “Thank you!”

He sips, then grins when he notices that it’s not the same one that he had before. Thank fuck Technoblade hadn’t continued with the whole ‘here is your death flower, drink it’ bit. That was terrifying and Tommy wishes that it would never happen again.

Still, he finds himself asking. “What happened to the old tea?”

Technoblade raises a bored eyebrow. “Why?” He asks. “Did you want it?”

“Nah,” Tommy answers immediately. “I just wanted to know. I still got the flower you gave me in case you wanted to make more tea of it.” He says before he grabs some sugar and drops it into his tea. He sips when Technoblade takes his turn to answer.

“So you kept it.” Technoblade drawls. 

Tommy blinks, and he lowers the teacup. “‘Course I did.” Tommy says, then he hides the spite of his next words into a grin. “It’s the first gift you’ve ever given me!” He tries not to say it pointedly, tried to make it a subtle jab.

He could hear the way Clara’s breath hitches from behind him, and he could feel Sam staring at him with a pity that Tommy was quite honestly going for. 

Technoblade stares at Tommy with an unreadable expression, staring deep and likely trying to dig up any malice.

Fuck you, Tommy digs deeper and he buries it where no one can find it. He’s had decades of experience learning from the worst. 

“Is that what you believe?” Technoblade drawls, leaning back in his seat with scarlet eyes still zeroed in on Tommy’s own sky-blues. 

Tommy kicks his legs gleefully, feigning unawareness as he perks up. “Yeah! I’ll make sure to cherish every single gift you give me!” He cheers and takes a gulp of the lukewarm tea in his hands. 

Technoblade is quiet for the next while. Tommy knows what’s likely going on in that dumb pig head of his. Mimimi, I dont think I can punish the little shit for implying that I’ve been a neglectful sonnavabitch! Bruhhh I’m Technoblade and I hate this kid but I have no good reason to actually get rid of him! Oh he must be so irritated.

“The flowers went extinct.” Technoblade says instead. That doesn’t make sense.

“But we had a whole lake of it?” Tommy questions. “I have one left, if you need it. But it’s the one you gave me.”

“It is growing well?”

“I make sure to love it!”

Another bout of silence.

Ugh. This is getting so fucking old. He’s not taking any baits. He’s not getting angry. Tommy, for once, just would like to know what makes this guy tick so he can get a better understanding of where he actually stand with this bastard. 

Tommy continues to take another sip of his tea, when Technoblade speaks up: “Well?”

The boy snaps his eyes up to meet Technoblade’s red ones. There’s an expectancy in Technoblade’s eyes, nearly looking bored as he stared back at Tommy’s. Okay, so what does he want now? “Hm?” Tommy tilts his head, lowering his cup a little.

“Don’t you have any ‘stories’ you want to tell, Theseus?” Technoblade drawls a little, mocking what Tommy had said before.

Oh.

Oh.

Is this what this is about? 

A smile breaks across Tommy’s face, (one that Tommy fakes a lot, not that anyone would know) and he giggles. “You remembered!” Tommy says cheerfully. “I have a lot! Just you wait.” He does have a lot to say. He’s known to make small talk turn big, rambles that would bore the other party.

Oh won’t it be nice to be a bother to Technoblade, and the best thing is that he’d have nothing against Tommy that would be able to cause a whole execution.

“So, mud is my favorite thing in the gardens.” Tommy would have a lot of fun exaggerating facts and irritating Technoblade.

 

Tommy comes back to his room in the Sapphire palace that day with a smug grin on his face. 

He wins this time, dickhead.

The next day, Tommy wakes up at the crack of dawn yet again. Clara’s is the first face he sees.

“The Imperial Prince wishes to see you, Tommy.” There is a warm and happy look on her face.

They talk over tea that day.

Tommy doesn’t lose his head, but he does lose a bit of his sanity trying to push this guy with Tommy’s ‘childishness’. He’s not budging.

 

The next day arrives, and Tommy is awaken again by Clara. “The Imperial Prince wishes to have breakfast with you, Tommy.” She looks jubilant as she announces what is, to her, good news. Tommy doesn’t bother hiding his irritation at being woken up this early, because Clara of all people should know how toddlers get cranky when they’re woken up way too early.

Tommy felt a little bit unhinged that day, off the rails cranky at Technoblade and letting him know he does not appreciate being called so damn fucking early. It’s too early to be a fake.

For some reason, Technoblade positively radiated amusement.

He starts calling Tommy earlier than usual.

The fucking prick. 

 

“Good morning, brother!” Tommy greets, smile stretched wide. This was getting tiring. He’s been going back and forth between the two palaces with every meeting. Imagine the distance Tommy has had to walk during those times? It’s a bother! It’s a pain! It’s downright horrendous!

Worst of all, he doesn’t have Sam to bloody carry him anymore!

Sure, he could ask Clara, but he’s starting to outgrow her. He’s hefty now, with all the hefty meals that is being forced down his gullet every damn time he is meeting with the Imperial Prince, who would, quite literally, murder the entire kitchen staff if he did not finish his meals.

Fucking bastard.

“Theseus.” The same monotonous acknowledgement. He doesn’t blame him. It must get boring every once in a while.

But it’s worth it whenever Tommy sees Technoblade’s eye twitch, underlid nearly turning to bags with the amount of times that thing had twitched. Oh Tommy has been doing his work, alright. For the past week, Tommy has been exaggerating his stories and tales into childish renditions, only for Technoblade to correct every factual discrepancy so irritatingly. 

Tommy enjoys being a bother. It’s wonderful. It’s revenge for every mile Tommy has to walk just to get from the comfort of a chair to the comfort of another chair.

It's been a while since Technoblade implemented this daily schedule, where Tommy does not go a day without seeing Technoblade at least once.

And for that long, it has created nothing less than a headache for both the Antarctic Princes, and leg cramps for the younger and shorter prince.

He wonders how Sam and Clara, who was always trailing behind the two, copes with it. Do they have ankles made of steel? Soles that bounce them back up? He needs to know. This is the sole reason Tommy finds himself hesitating to even let Clara carry him anymore. He’s certain the poor lass is tired!

Tommy is lost in his thoughts when a reflex built upon weeks of being beside Sam resurfaces. He tugs on the nearest pant leg, once, then twice. 

It is when Sam’s voice calls from behind, with a fair distance, that he realizes his mistake. “Tommy,” Tommy turns around to look at him, horror sinking in when he remembers just whose pant leg he was tugging on. “You look tired. Do you want me to carry you there?” He asks with concern in his gaze. 

Sam, the Primes damned blessing he is, seems to understand that Tommy made a mistake. He tugged on the wrong fool’s pant leg. He really does just want to be carried by Sam.

He was just about to answer that yes, yes he is tired and he wants Sam specifically to carry him, but Technoblade takes a step closer to Tommy so that he’s beside the kid. Sam pauses, then he doesn’t move any further than he already has. 

Tommy looks up at Techno, who has a bored and unreadable expression on his face. “Twenty steps back.” Technoblade says,

And Sam, like the dog he is, takes twenty steps further from Tommy, and is literally a large distance away from Clara who is already a considerable distance away behind the two. There is a playful grin on Sam’s face, and Technoblade looks to be content with the distance. He turns to Tommy, who doesn’t really know what to expect.

“You wanna be carried?” He asks quietly enough for only Tommy to hear, and definitely not loud enough for Sam to hear. 

Tommy blinks.

What?

“Sure?” He says, unsurely. 

He doesn’t breathe when Technoblade lifts him, and especially not when Technoblade grunts under his breath: “You’re awfully light.” He comments, and takes Theseus into his arms. “You should eat more.” He adds while he lets Theseus on his chest, letting one of his arms be sat on by the small child and the other supporting the kid’s back.

Tommy blinks, 

What the fuck is going on?

With Techno facing the front, it’s easier for Tommy to look behind. He looks at Clara and Sam with a confused expression, hoping one of them would mouth him an answer to his wordless question: to which both of them respond with thumbs up (Sam just a bit further away than Clara is).

They go to tea that day without further fanfare, and Tommy hadn’t even needed to climb the chair because Technoblade had been the one to place him there. 

Tommy proceeds to go about his day prior to when he saw Technoblade in the morning. He tells Technoblade about things he learned in class today, about how his favorite professor is Henry Arrington.

For a moment, just a moment, Tommy forgets that this man is the one destined to murder him.

 

The next week arrives, and Tommy is sick and tired of being summoned to the main palace. He is going insane. He misses when Sam was newly brought into the sapphire palace and Tommy had weeks on his own without a single summons by Technoblade.

Which, surprise, has Tommy in front of a god-awful pair of doors. He abhors this place. It’s where Puffy resigned. He knows it’s this specific door because it’s the worst out of the lot. While it’s true that Tommy absolutely adores gold, he also does not really adore displaying his riches. It seems like a dick move.

This time, however, there’s a man waiting in front of those doors too. And it’s not Foolish. Tommy would have been a lot more happy if it were.

But honestly, is this place a meeting spot or something? Is this where the line starts in the meet-n-greet with His Royal Majestic Superioristic Goldistic Childishtic Cuteistic Prince, Theseus? 

Tommy is not complaining. Any connection is a connection worth dying for–err, living for.

There is a man with dark hair standing in front of the door, arms crossed and leaning as if he was boredly waiting for the room to be unoccupied. One side of his face is scared, from his eye down to his lower lip, and it had looked badass. Tommy wonders if he were to be scheduled for execution and manages to badassly evade the sword, he could probably get one as well.

It’d be a bitch to heal, but it’d be a badass tale to tell his many many wives.

When Tommy approaches, the man squints, but then his expression brightens up in recognition. “Prince Theseus!” He calls out cheerfully. “Oh, kid, I haven’t seen you in ages now!” There’s a gleeful disbelief in his eyes when he looks at Tommy.

Tommy blinks.

Who the fuck?

The man must have realized that he didn’t have a single ounce of recognition in his eyes, because he blinks and stands formally. “Ah, sorry, you wouldn’t remember me. I had two eyes the time I last saw you, kid.” Tommy is… refreshed with how casual he speaks to him. “I gave you that gaudy toy ducky.”

Tommy blinks.

He’s pretty sure he’s supposed to remember everything. He’s old, after all, but not too old. Old enough to remember shit and retain memories like a sixteen year old. He doesn’t remember being given a ducky,

But he does remember a golden ducky in his toy box (that he regrettably still has and is collecting dust in the shelves). 

And he doesn’t recognize the man by image, but he does recognize the description.

A man of short stature but with so much more confidence and wile in one pinky than a regular person would have in their whole body. A scarred eye, a tale of his loyalty to the country but never to royalty. Black hair and even darker eyes.

Alexis, Tommy recognizes. It’s Alexis, the man who set Theseus up accidentally. He didn’t mean it, no, but this man is destined to set his execution in stone. He was meant to poison Technoblade to secure the throne for William, but William, that unaware idiot, had drunk from Technoblade’s poisoned chalice.

And it was pinned on Theseus.

Tommy gasps, eyes positively sparkling with delight and recognition. Quackity, for the briefest moment, seems to reflect that same delight–

Before Tommy crushes that hope like glass under a steel boot. “Quackity!” Tommy pointed at him with a grin. “You’re Quacky’s mom, so you must be Quackity!” He makes fun of the man, and there’s not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes. Fuck him. Fuck him, because he’s the other reason why he has to leave the comfort of a palace. 

Clara clears her throat, but there’s an amused look on her face. She’s holding back a laugh. Tommy thinks she shouldn’t. “Clara! Clara look it’s Quackity!” Tommy enables, pointing at Alexis as if he was a creature from the Zoo. 

Quackity looks confused, and he looks at Clara for an explanation. 

“My apologies, Sir Alexis of the Southern Duchy.” 

“Alex is fine.” Quackity shakes his head with an amicable smile. “I just wanna know what’s up with ‘Quackity’.”

Clara looks to be trying her best to keep a normal, impassive expression, but there’s a smile on her face. At least it passes as ‘polite’ and not ‘you just got called names by a kid’ type of smile.

“Sir, Quackity is the mother of Quacky in Prince Tommy’s stories. He likes to create backstories out of certain toys of his.” Clara looks very proud at Tommy, and the kid turns red. 

“They’re not stories. They’re true. That’s Quacky’s mommy!” 

She sends him a stern look, one that never really works on Tommy because he does not see Clara as a mother figure. In fact, he scoffs at the thought!

Nevermind how he shies away slightly, glancing at something else that caught his miniscule interest.

Quackity looks at Tommy, “Oh, is that so?” and he kneels so he could go eye level with him. “Does that mean you can let me meet my kid one day?”

Tommy blinks.

He recognizes that in his eyes. Ambition. It’s what killed Theseus. 

This prick’s confidence is about to get squashed like a fucking bug. 

So Tommy frowns, and he crosses his arms. He steps forward, and he stomps. “You’re a bad momma! I won’t let you get cuhs-to-dy over Quacky! You gave him over to me! I was a baby!” He scolds. “Bad Quackity! Bad!” 

Tommy continues to make a ruckus, and Quackity stands from his kneeling position and backs away with hands raised.

The ruckus seemingly leads to the door being slammed open, and in the blink of an eye there is a trident pointed at Quackity’s neck.

Sam. 

Tommy gasps, and Clara instantly takes the boy and puts him behind her. She tries to cover his eyes, but Tommy is stubborn. He shoves her hands off, and he takes a familiar position in front of his newly dubbed friend, Quackity. “Wait! No! Don’t hurt Quackity!” Tommy shouts at the top of his lungs, but his attempts to block Sam this time does not work as perfectly as when he did the same to the farmers.

Sam is instead cornering Quackity against one of the golden frames of the door, one hand at the neck of the trident, controlling himself from just stabbing the poor fuck, and the other holding back one end of the trident in hopes that it doesn’t pierce immediately through his neck. 

The name sinks in, and there is an added distance between the trident and Quackity’s neck. “Quackity?” Sam questions, almost hysterically.

There are two other people approaching the scene. There is a man with ram horns placed at the sides of his head, and there is the Imperial prince. Tommy registers faintly that they both watch the scene with different flavors of interest.

“Quacky’s momma!” Tommy pointed at Quackity, whose eye is darting from one person to another in hopes that someone would save him. “If you kill Quacky’s momma, I dunno what I’d tell Quacky!” He cries out.

Technoblade sighs, and turns his head to Clara. 

“Q-Quacky is P-Prince Tommy’s toy duck.” Clara said. “Sir Qua- I mean, Sir Alexis had been the one to gift it to Tommy so he– he assumed that Sir Alexis is ‘Quackity’, the missing Duck mom.” She explains. 

Tommy holds Clara’s hand away from his face, making sure that his eyes are stuck on the trident. Surely Sam wouldn’t kill in front of a child. He’s stopped this before. He can certainly do it again.

“And the screaming?” Sam growls, inching the trident closer to Alexis’ neck.

“Prince Tommy had assumed that Sir Alexis wanted to take Quacky away when he said, I quote ‘will you take me to see Quacky one day?’.” Clara blinks. “Something along those lines, at least. I apologize, your highness, your grace. It was too sudden and I-”

“Don’t kill Quackity!” Tommy shouts, cutting off Clara who seemed likely to overheat at the moment with the amount of fear she had in her voice. “Quackity might have left Quacky, and Quackity might be a bad momma but he’s still Quacky’s family! He’s still family!” Tommy shouts, bullshitting some childish reason as to why Quackity is under his protection of some shit like that.

“Warden.” Technoblade says, and the trident disappears. Sam assumes a less aggressive position, but still stands threateningly close to Alexis.

Oh, so that’s what happens. He hadn’t seen where Sam had hid that last time.

“Okay, what the fuck.” The man with ram horns complained. “You were about to execute my fucking ward because of a kid!” 

Ah, so that’s Schlatt. The duke of the Southern Kingdom. 

Looks like he has no chances of hiding in the South. He wasn’t counting on it in the first place anyway. Fuck them.

“This kid, Jay S. Schlatt,” Sam growls, eyes poisonous green. “Is a Prince of the Antarctic Empire. Watch your language.” There is threat in his eyes, and knives in his tone. 

“Warden.” Technoblade growls. “That’s enough.” He glances at Tommy, eyes red and like the fires of hell. 

Tommy cowers, and hides in Clara’s skirt. Oh shit. Oh fuck. He’s fucked up. He only wanted to make fun of them. He really only wanted to make fun of Alexis. He didn’t mean to cause this much. He didn’t mean to-

“This meeting has ended anyway.” Technoblade announces. “Theseus, inside.” He turns around, royal cape swishing in with his abrupt turn. 

Schlatt rolls his eyes, and he moves out. “We’re going, Quackity.” He pulls Alexis into the hallway.

Tommy doesn’t dare look back, despite feeling a stare go directly at his head. This was awkward. 

He lets go of Clara’s skirt, and follows Technoblade. Clara isn’t allowed to follow inside, and Sam doesn’t seem to be following either.

The door closes behind them. 

Tommy is frightened.

 

Technoblade drops his crown to his throne, and unclasps his cape. He pushes a curtain, revealing a bed right behind the throne.

What the fuck?

“Good job, Theseus.” Technoblade drawls monotonously, the sharp edge of his tone from earlier now melted into that familiar disinterested monotone. Tommy blink, feeling whiplash from the sudden change. “I was getting tired of Schlatt’s tirades. He’s too chatty for his own good.” Then he tosses the cape inside. 

Without a word, unceremoniously he turns and carries Tommy by the stomach, with Tommy facing downwards. Tommy is too shocked to react to this, but if it had been any other situation, he would have made some remark or something.

“Whuh?” He daringly asks out loud. 

“Morning meetings are the worst.” Technoblade says, still not answering his confusion. 

Tommy doesn’t grace that with a comment. He absolutely agrees– which is why he is suddenly very, very pissed. If he hates morning meetings, then what the fuck is with all the breakfast summons? Fucking inconsiderate bastard.

He voices none of that, though, because most of Tommy’s brain is still restarting. Technoblade sits Tommy down in the bed, riddled with so many pillows and stuffed blankets. 

There is the cape, with fur rim that was way softer than it looked. It must be why the man likes wearing it so much. “Sleep.” Technoblade says while he climbs in and lies down beside Tommy.

What the fuck?

Isn’t he mad? Infuriated? Hasn’t Theseus created a reason to be killed? Isn’t he disposable or something? 

“You’re thinking too much.” Technoblade grunts. “Lie down.” He placed a large hand on Tommy’s face, and pushes the kid to lie down on the surprisingly comfortable hiding place behind the throne room. “Sleep.”

Tommy’s fear turns into rage, because he doesn’t understand what the hell is going on. “I can’t sleep, it’s morning.” Tommy complains, but Technoblade’s hand is still on his face. He has half a mind to lick what he can reach or something.

“Then you can tell me about your day, then.” Technoblade drawls. “It will make me fall unconscious, surely, with how eventful your days are.”

“Not much has happened, it’s morning.”

Technoblade’s drowsy eyes slowly open wider, more awake and alert. Oh, Tommy dos not like that scheming bastardly look in his eyes. “Oh?” He hums. “Is that so? Then I suppose I can tell you a tale, hm?”

Tommy tilts his head. “You’re telling me a bedtime story?”

“If it can be called that,” Technoblade agrees halfheartedly. “It is an anecdote, if you understand that word.”

“It means it’s a real story!” Tommy chirps.

Technoblade’s smile looks awful on his face, especially when Tommy understands it as a scheming, mean face of his that intends to be cruel. Ugh, he feels like he’s going to regret this. 

“When I was in the West, before it was even considered our Western Duchy,” Technoblade drawls, and already Tommy could understand that this would be a horrible story. Technoblade was a war freak when he was out conquering the West! What the hell is he doing telling a story from those times? “I had learned countless methods in making people much more compliant to… persuasion.” Torture, he means fucking torture. “Sometimes there are some stories that people keep to themselves, and those stories are tales that I must absolutely know, otherwise some people fall to a very… deep sleep.” Technoblade continues, and fucking hell Tommy can’t stand this anymore.

He funnels his painful disinterest in learning about torture methods from the man who is destined to murder him into a single, childish pout. “Your story sounds boring.” He cuts off.

“Is it?”

“I can tell a better story.”

“Can you, now?”

He hates how he lets this fucker win sometimes. “Yeah! It’s a story about Clara, the Astronaut. Now, you don’t know that word because that’s a word from my fairytale! That’s how cool my story is!” He begins. “Now, Clara the Astronaut was a very lonely Astronaut. She lives in the stars, you see,” Tommy continues his rambles, telling a tale of the lonely astronaut from the stars who finds a friend in a raccoon, a cow, and a moth.

Tommy’s words eventually starts to form into pictures in his mind, and eventually he dreams of his stories.

Technoblade remains awake.

The kid has dozed off in the middle of what was once called a nest, falling asleep to his own ramblings just as was expected. Sam remains to be outside, listening in as Tommy’s words become breaths of drowsiness and sleep.

He hears Technoblade as he remembers a piece of his life before his eyes turned red with the blood of his hands. “I cannot seem to recall a time when I have ever allowed a leak into the palace walls.” Technoblade drawls, voice cold and sharp, in a tone that is not for the young, sleeping prince’s ears. 

His words are simple, but Sam understands it best this way. 

The intent is clear for the Imperial Prince’s steadfast Warden. 

 

~+~

 

William cooed at his little brother. “You like sweets?” William asked Theseus, who was savoring his hidden stash of sweets, sharing the limited pieces to his brother–not that he knows yet. He hasn’t had the proper opportunity to reveal his true identity. He planned to tell him soon, before he revealed it to the public and by extension Technoblade. 

It feels right, for Theseus to be the first to know.

“Yeah,” Theseus answered, stuffing the candy to the side of his cheek. 

William ruffled his little brother’s hair, “I’ll make sure to bring more when I come back.” He said with a grin stretched on his face, matching with Theseus’ cheerful ones. 

Theseus to William was like the sun. The closest thing to family William has had since he woke up as William Soot rather than the Imperial Prince William. It’s a shame he hadn’t been there for the earlier parts of Theseus’ life, but he’s here now, and he’d be here forever for his little brother. 

He’s not leaving. Not again. Not unwillingly. Not by choice.

Theseus will never be alone again.

He swears on the blood that flows through their veins.

Never again.

Never again.

He swears on ### ###### ########.

Theseus will never be alone again.

Chapter 13: A Prince, Raccoon, and a Bastard Walk Into a Bar

Tommy is back to his planning board. Nevermind the fact that his planning board is an overglorified notebook that had its earlier pages drawn in crayon and terrible artistic choices of scrapbooking. It’s planning board sans the red string, the pictures of suspects (he had to replace them with crude drawings), names of his victims co-conspirators (he can’t incriminate his allies!), and the actual plans (for fuck’s sake, he has to make it indecipherable!).

It’s developed a fair bit since then. Tommy has had time to plan around everything and everyone and since his measly attempts of escape were surely going to lead nowhere, Tommy has been thinking on his feet every step of the way. 

Tommy writes down in indecipherable glyphs of his own design,

 

Progress report on the No I Will Not Die plan: 

1. Technoblade somewhat poggers

One, Tommy’s relationship with Technoblade had maybe, somewhat, possibly improved just a smidgen, but he swears to anything holy, or to any god or prime up there that he’s still out to kill him.

Tommy scowls as he writes down a page number in his scrapbook planning board. Page 23, dated just a month before his fifth birthday. The page had a crudely drawn farming plot as well as a deadass fucking scythe. Tommy gets the entry immediately.

 

When Tommy was a month away from his fifth year, they were in what Technoblade calls his private garden, which, in contrast, Tommy likes to call the Royal Farm, where they farm a lot.

Tommy doesn’t go there often, which is curious because now it makes him wonder how often Technoblade actually visits this place. Around this time, Technoblade had been raising wheat rather than carrots. Tommy thought he would help a bit. After all, he was quite adept with farming in his past life, and seeing this made him think of home.

He hasn’t thought of that in a long time.

He decided not to think of it.

There was one small portion of the mediocre sized farm that Tommy dedicated his small self into. It’s the same one that Technoblade showed Tommy the first time they went here, and since then Tommy thought of it as his own little plot of land that he stole from Technoblade. 

Tommy tried to weed it out that day. It’s neglected a bit, compared to the potato farm just beside it. He weeds it in peace while Technoblade was fucking off somewhere else.

One moment, though, he was pulling at the leaf of the stubborn weed, and at the pull of the weed he stumbled back a bit.

Conveniently too, just in time to dodge something that his eyes couldn’t see, but his ears could catch– a rustling of grains, followed by silence.

And when he finally looked up, he noticed how the wheat was shorter than he remembered just a second ago where he was standing before he stumbled back. He looks up, and sees the perpetrator:

Technoblade, in his more casual attire (a loose white blouse, free from the ruffles and cravat and the golden trinkets that usually hang from his coat), holding a handful of wheat in one hand and a sickle in the other.

“Theseus,” Technoblade called. “Be more attentive.” He said, before proceeding to collect the rest of the wheat on that portion of the field.

He gulped, holding onto the weed that saved him for dear life.

What the fuck?

 

Tommy still shudders at the memory, but thankfully there was no other occasion where Technoblade tried his hand at personally and accidentally murdering the only brother he has (currently, Tommy is still waiting for William to return). He flips the page to the current day where he writes number two:

2. No sucking up

The message is clear to Tommy and Tommy alone. Technoblade at most Tolerates Tommy, but only when Tommy isn’t all too suck-uppy to Technoblade.

 

“Your etiquette classes seem to be lacking, Theseus.” Technoblade commented once. Tommy doesn’t even remember why he said it, but Tommy did know it was a long time coming. He might be getting too old for acting like a baby, which thank Fuck, honestly. 

And Tommy, who took it to heart, took his etiquette classes seriously. As much as he abhors the  prim and proper way of things, he makes sure to remember what shit he shouldn’t do. 

The next time he met Technoblade, he put his practice into action. Stood straight, never looking him straight in the eyes, head lowered always.

When they drank tea, Tommy didn’t speak unless spoken to. He was told that when someone of higher status invites them to tea, it is customary for the visitor to not initiate the conversation, seeing as they weren’t the one who took the initiative to send an invite in the first place.

It took the clacking of the teacup on the saucer for Tommy to take a chance and look at Technoblade’s expression, only to find that he did not look pleased.

He didn’t look angry, no, just a lot more irritated.

And what the fuck? Did he do anything wrong?

“Oh, is my, uh, my etiquette not to your liking?” Tommy asked, letting the nervousness through.

For some reason this irritated Technoblade a lot more.

“Well practiced.” Was all Technoblade said, before he stood from where he sat, looking down dangerously at Tommy. “Dismissed.” 

That moment, Tommy was mentally counting all the riches he’s acquired. He could run away, but he was five at that time and he certainly wasn’t a very good runner with his short legs.

Sam had been the one to pick him up that time, and while they were a bit estranged at the time, Sam seemed rather amused. “Prince Tommy, I think it’s because Technoblade doesn’t want you to treat him like a stranger.” He explained back then. “He’s become rather fond of you, to treat him like you’re of a way lower status than him implies that you’re widening the gap between you two.”

Ah.

So he’s being a prick is what’s going on.

When will this pig bastard make up his mind? 

 

He writes the third bit. He underlines it thrice, and he draws a smiling blond boy with blue eyes– him beside the third and most important point:

3. Slacking off— GOOD

Technoblade has been slacking on trying to kill him.

Thankfully, the lack of entries regarding Technoblade’s more personal attempts at murder is all of once, and it was with that stupid fucking lotus plant before. It’s still sitting outside his room in a gilded aquarium. 

He looks at his notebook, satisfied. His mission has been easier as of late, so Tommy’s been enjoying life recently despite the imminent threat of a sword approaching his neck the older he gets. 

Life’s been okay. Good even.

It’s been alright for the past two years. That means that he’s just a bit past six years old now and quite clearly living the Life ™ right now.

He leans back against his very comfy chair and absentmindedly reaches to the side towards a wicker basket. He needs his snacks. It’s one of his sole comforts in life, eating snacks while thinking about what could possibly go wrong with his life that would lead back to his prophesized death. 

Now he certainly knows what. 

Tommy scowls at an innocent wicker basket as if it had killed off his entire bloodline. It’s empty. For all Tommy cares, it might as well have. The fact that his snack stash is empty is an indication that someone has been stealing his food– someone that isn’t him. His secret stash of chocolates is empty. 

See, Tommy isn’t a material child. No, he’s a child of necessity. He’s a child of practicality.

But he draws the line here. He’s getting flashbacks of when he had to take out some of his good gold, currently still stashed in the roots of the trees that separate the garden of the Sapphire palace and the Emerald palace. Puffy was having a hard time running the palace so Tommy had to spread some of his riches around.

He’s not supposed to be in that place anymore. 

He’s being deprived of his goodies. Nevermind the bullshit they’re talking about his teeth rotting. It’s all a lie. He’s going to lose them anyway, it’ll fall off of his mouth easily.

Not only that, but he’s been checking at his stash of riches and he’s finding that it’s been dwindling. Someone has been stealing his gold, and whoever it is–they’re fucking lucky they found it because Tommy is not in the proper place to reprimand them for it, If they find out that he’s been planning on smuggling gold away, he’d be beheaded for being corrupt this early on.

But he can solve the prior problem, to make up for the issue of his dwindling wealth.

 

~+~

 

“Prince Theseus!” Some maids gasp as he runs through the rugless floor of the palace. “Please don’t run, my Prince!” Some courtiers begged but they did nothing to leave the position they’re in in the first place, only warning the prince from afar.

Geez. He’s six years old now. He’s got longer legs. He’s going to be fine. He’s got a well-grown set of limbs and he’s going to do all the running he damn wants. No wonder children like to run before they walk–cos the joy of longer limbs? It almost outmatches chocolate.

Tommy reaches his desired location, and spots that familiar gaudy little door handle installed in an equally, if not more, gaudy pair of doors. 

He reaches up to the handle, which was once impossible a year or two ago, on his tippy toes and at the edge of his fingers. Still there’s the satisfaction of being independent, no longer having to get one of the maids to open Technoblade’s door, or godforbid–having to knock. He doesn’t bother knocking on those gaudy doors anymore. He’s grown a bit, thankfully, but he still has a considerable height that he has to grow before he comes back to his full potential. By thirteen he’ll have at least half of his original power. His prowess. His ability to just book it out of there. 

Not that he needs it as much. He’s been doing a thing called Exposure Therapy where he’s stuck to Technoblade’s side like glue. The exposure therapy helped loads with the Tommy Tolerance he’s building up for Technoblade.

Especially with the fact that he no longer needs to knock.

It just ruins the element of surprise, you know?

He opens the door, and as expected, Technoblade is at his desk, with gold lining the edges of the table, and the corinthian legs of the table seem to have been intricately lined and decorated with gems and gold. Tommy hated that table, evidence being the small dents on the varnish where there shouldn’t be any–not that Technoblade gave a sign of noticing. 

“Hi Techno!” Tommy greets with a smile, one that’s especially saccharine. 

“You forgot to knock.” Technoblade notes blandly, not even raising his eyes to look at his little brother. Not that he’s bothered. If he should be bothered, it would have been about the fact that Tommy called Technoblade by a nickname rather than the formal brother. Not that it’s a large feat. He accidentally called Technoblade by Techno about six months into their daily encounters, and since then Tommy had taken to calling Technoblade by nicknames.

Tommy laughs it out. “Yeah, but you’re never gonna keep me out so why bother?” He says with a grin as he hops to Technoblade’s seat. He dramatically rests his body against Technoblade’s knee, and flops his back over his lap. 

As expected, Technoblade does nothing to punish him.

Instead, he stares down at him with a seemingly unimpressed look in his eyes. “What do you want?” Technoblade asks rather monotonously, still not looking at him, focusing on his papers. 

Tommy drapes the back of his hand against his head and sighs. “I am sad, and lonely, and you aren’t giving me attention–”

“Since when?”

“--And clearly you have

 leans on one of the arm rests, placing his head above the arm rest. “Do you want to eat sweets with me?” He asks.

“Don’t your maids feed you?”

At that, Technoblade meets Tommy’s eyes, and there is a specific danger in those ruby eyes. Tommy is familiar with that type of threat.

Usually that means danger. 

Just not to him.

“They do! I wanna eat with you though.” He pouts, and he’s happy how it still works at six years of age–not that it’s obvious, but Technoblade has somehow responded relatively positively to his antics, based on how his already horrible aggressive behavior turns worse when he puts on the formal mask and drops his eccentric behavior.

There’s a word somewhere out there to describe what he is, but Tommy doesn’t really remember what it is.

He blinks. Waiting. 

Technoblade then snaps his fingers, and Tommy knows through his lectures in Royal Etiquette (which he likes to call Palace Mechanics instead) that it triggers a magical line somewhere, tugging at a bell near the servant’s quarters.

Tommy grins, successful. “Yeah!” He whoops as the servants enter with carts full of desserts and beverages in large pitchers. He looks at the incoming sweets with excitement, practically vibrating at the sight of the desserts being placed on the table. 

“You seem really excited.” Technoblade drawls.

“Yup!”

“More so than seeing me.”

Tommy blinks innocently, forcing his gaze away from the cart of treats. “Whatever do you mean?” The six year old asks with a tilt of his head, knowing that his obviously adorable face could melt even this fucker’s stone cold heart. “I like seeing you-” he extends his hands upwards, stretching up, “this much!” he grins.

And that seemed to make Technoblade content.

When Tommy sits in front of Technoblade, a plate full of desserts.

He eats it, and looks at Technoblade.

He’s proud to say that he’s got some progress on the whole Technoblade Won’t Kill Me plan. 

As he snacks on the sweets, enjoying his decent amount of palace made delicacies, he’s called by Technoblade: “Theseus,”

He looks up, fork still in mouth. 

“No one has been bothering you, am I correct?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow.

Is anyone supposed to be bothering him? He doesn’t suppose that being bothered by Technoblade himself is going to be an answer that allows him to keep his head, right? “Not that I know of?” He thinks back, and he’s seldom exchanged letters with Foolish now, just a continuous and rather arduous chain of tales back and forth with long gaps in between. He also thinks back to Puffy, who frequents at the Sapphire palace at odd nights. 

“No, I don’t think so?”

There’s a satisfied look on Technoblade’s face. “Good.” He says, and leans back. “Eat more. You look scrawny.” He says, “When I was young, I see people break kids like you really easily.” There’s a cold look on his face.

Tommy, already used to the oddly balanced positivity and negativity in his older brother’s words, just smiles. “Thanks for worrying for me Techie!” He says, and eats. 

Technoblade looks satisfied.

He scowls internally.

Yeah, fucker, Tommy was gonna eat this with or without his dumb input anyway.

 

~+~

 

Tommy looks confusedly at the creature in front of him. It’s… vaguely a dog, but with thin hands. It looks like a rat, but it’s a lot more… round. Tommy tilts his head looking at the creature, and it tilts its head back at him. It’s… sorta cute. 

Fuck, okay, he knows what it’s called. There’s a name for this sort of thing, and it certainly isn’t ‘cat’. Tommy squints a bit. A bit more.

The thing squints back.

He’s currently in the Emerald Palace’s garden after Technoblade had to entertain some Nobles from the East.

For some reason, Technoblade had been against letting Tommy see these nobles, saying something about ‘bothersome’ or ‘annoying’. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know if he’s referring to Tommy or the Nobles, but he’s not gonna challenge that authority. 

Now, hiding in a bush where he’s got plans of looking for a place to stash his goods in the near future, he discovers this weird creature in front of him. It’s got gold fur, or brown, it seems very blond and shiny actually, so maybe it’s golden but nearer to the bronze side? He can’t… comprehend what’s going on with this.

Tommy gasps, and his eyes nearly sparkle at the realization. A raccoon! This thing is a raccoon!

He very nearly coos at the sight. It’s adorable! A raccoon! A baby one at that!

The prince reaches out to welcome the raccoon, and it tilts its head to the other side. It doesn’t approach, but it doesn’t run from Tommy’s palm. Tommy grins, it’s adorable, what the hell? “Here, do you want, uh” he checks his pocket, and puts out a shiny trinket. Its eyes sparkle at the sight. “Do you want a toy?” he asks, not that he’d give it. It’s his, and it’s his riches!

The raccoon titters, and it cautiously steps closer to Tommy with hesitant footing. 

Then it launches itself at Tommy, causing him to screech and drop his trinket. It doesn't make a sound when it collides with the dirt.

Wait. That thing didn’t make a sound.

The raccoon caught it!

It steps back a little, staring at Tommy with a hiss, and it takes the trinket into its mouth and scampers away.

Oh no. Fuck no Tommy is not letting that rat free! He chases after the thing.

“Come here!” Tommy shouts. “Give it back you rat!” He shouts at it, and it doesn’t even glance back at Tommy. It just keeps on going.

What a little shit!

It leaps into a bush, and Tommy follows. He catches its white? Bushy tail, and pulls it.

“AAH” A panicked voice yelps, jumping ramrod straight at the sensation of its tail being pulled.

Tommy blinks, and looks up at the stranger in a cloak. “Er, sorry?” He says, still astounded by the presence had seemed to have just emerged from the bush.

“C-Can you please let go of my tail..?”

“Oh! Right! Sorry, here.” He drops it, and looks up at the stranger, alarmed that there’s a weirdo in his palace grounds and that there’s no one out here who’s making sure that this weirdo isn’t out to murder him. “Er, who are you?” And what are you doing here? He wants to ask. The person doesn’t seem familiar.

The stranger blinks, and looks at their hand holding the animal Tommy’s been chasing earlier, scratching at air in hopes it gets to harm anything in its way. “Ah! I was, er, hunting?” the stranger sheepishly scratched at their nape.

Tommy observes the stranger.

The fucker’s tall. That’s one of the more noticeable things other than the odd dual tone hair. One side is white, specifically the left side, and one side is black. It’s not particularly odd. He’s seen horned people, people with wings, red eyed people, and he himself literally has crystalline eyes. He won’t judge.

But one particular thing he could blame this tall person for is their exuding aura of wimpiness. 

Tommy is instantly irritated by his presence.

“What for?” Tommy glares. “You’re holding my pet.” He points at the raccoon, trinket still in mouth. Upon being pointed at, the raccoon seemed to calm down, and it eyes Tommy.

It looks like it’s pleading Tommy for mercy. Does it think Tommy will give it a better fate than whatever this man is going to do to it? Hell no.

But… it’s cute.

He’ll decide on it later.

“Oh, well,” The tall person squints at the animal in their hands. “It’s not a very ordinary pet. You sure you wanna keep it?”

“Oh, what, just ‘cos it’s a blond raccoon?” He scowls. “What, are you gonna bully it ‘cause it doesn’t have the typical gray fur? Shame on you!” 

“N-No! Not that!” He shakes his one hand, the other still holding at the scruff of the raccoon. “It’s just that, er, it’s magical, and I think I need it?” He shrugs.

Tommy’s eyes narrow. “You think?” There’s an accusatory look on his face. 

“My memory isn’t that great. People tend to forget things when malnourished, it’s why I need it,” he mumbles under his breath. “Sorta need the emergency food…”

He takes a moment to digest that tidbit of information before– “Fucking FOOD?” Tommy screeches. He launches himself at the wrongun. “You don’t just eat other people’s pets!” Tommy scolded, climbing the freakishly tall man. Hell, even Technoblade could be towered over by this wimp. He’s that tall.

“Wait!” He tries to get Tommy off without hurting him, but he can’t do anything.

With a snap of his hands, Tommy is sent floating away and off of them, “What–” He looks at himself, and then at the stranger. “What the hell man!” He swings his legs and arms to kick at the stranger, but he can’t reach them.

Tommy realizes that he sorta looks like the raccoon just earlier. He exchanges a look with the raccoon held by the back of its neck, and they both look angry at the stranger. The raccoon titters angrily, and all of a sudden Tommy is falling.

The stranger, surprised, catches Tommy. In doing that, they had to drop the raccoon first.

It lands on the stranger’s robe, and climbs upwards until it reaches Tommy. When situated on his shoulder, the raccoon immediately bites at the stranger’s hand. 

Tommy drops to the floor, but now he’s got time to catch himself. “Hah! Major fucken L.”

The stranger squints, holding their bitten hand. “Are you supposed to be cursing?” He asks instead.

“I can curse as much as I very well fucking please!” He shouts. Tommy turns to the newfound ally on his shoulders, and raises a fist. “Fistbump little dude.” He says, and surprisingly, the racoon reciprocates the little fistbump.

He would coo at that, but he’s currently facing a creepy tall dude wearing a robe in the middle of his brother’s forest–err, garden.

They glare at each other for a while, he and the two-toned fucker, until the latter gives way to a look of recognition. “Oh! You’re odd!” He states, looking at Tommy’s eyes. “You’ve got jewel eyes!”

“Yes, bitch, I’m royalty!” He feels free finally letting his curses out his mouth. It feels like finally being able to scratch an itch that he was priorly never allowed to scratch in the public eye. 

This fucker doesn’t really count as public eye to Tommy though.

“Oh! You must be Phil!” Ranboo smiles. “Sorry, I didn’t get a heads up from Kristen–”

“Huh?” Tommy scowls. “No I’m not fucken’ Phil.”

He blinks. “Okay, ‘not Phil’, er, which one are you?”

Tommy thinks a bit. “I’m one of his kids?”

“Kids?” The stranger questions incredulously, as if unsure. “How long has it been?” He mutters under his breath. They stand still for a bit. Even the racoon on his shoulder seemed to be confused about whatever air there is right now. “Er, what year is it?”

Tommy blinks. “Er, 1114 I think?” Tommy says curiously.

The stranger whistles. “Oh, I’m doomed.”

“Why?”

“I’m late.”

Tommy snorts. Blond-hair and blue-eyed kid wearing blue, a weird talking thing in front of him telling him they’re late. “Alright White Rabbit, by how long?”

“Err, a hundred…” He says sheepishly.

Ah, okay. It makes sense, he supposes. People with scaly skin, horns, red eyes, jewel eyes, dual hair, and immortals. Well, William did get brought back from the dead somehow, so maybe this wasn’t too far fetched. Okay, this is sort of messed up. Should he be panicking? He seems sincere. “Okay, I have my raccoon now, and you have… whatever is going with you. Bye?” He steps back.

Domino rabbit blinks. “Uh, I don’t think we’re done.” His eyebrows furrow. “Look, okay, I sort of need to eat that.” They point at the raccoon, and it hisses at the offensive finger. 

“What the fuck!” He screeches, pulling the raccoon to his arms protectively. “You don’t eat people’s pets! How fuckin’ dare you?!”

“Look, that isn’t a normal animal!” He defends, “It’s not even an actual animal! It’s literally just magic taking a shape and form.”

“And an animal is flesh and meat! What the fuck is your point!?” Tommy screeches, and the raccoon titters in agreement. “You look at adorable little Clementine and you want to eat him!?” Tommy shouts at him, hoping that someone at least hears the ruckus he’s making. 

They look at him in disbelief, “You already named it–okay, look, that thing is going to perish eventually, when it does then can I eat it?” He asks, 

“He is not an it.” Tommy corrects. “Clementine.”

“Okay, can I eat it when it dies?”

“Clementine!”

“Okay! Can I eat Clementine when he dies?” He seems frustrated.

Tommy blinks, and looks down at his little pet. “Would you mind?” He asks,

The raccoon blinks, and Tommy, nods at it as if in understanding. “Alright, but what do I get from this?” Tommy demands.

“Er, a favor?”

“A favor?”

He groans. “Fine! I do some but not all. Okay?” He argues.

“Deal! That’s multiple. That’s at least two throughout my entire life!” Tommy says with a grin. 

“Fine!” The stranger says, then he blinks with some realization. “Err, what do I call you by?”

Tommy smiles. “My name’s Tommy! The third prince of the Antarctic Empire.”

“Ranboo.” He exchanges. “I’d say it was nice to meet you and Clementine, but–” He glares at the raccoon, and it hisses at him in exchange. “You’re alright. You’re a pretty nifty kid, I guess.”

“Thanks. You’re tall.”

“That’s… That’s not a compliment.”

“Take it as one, I dunno what else to compliment wronguns on–”

“I’m not a ‘wrongun’.” Ranboo scowls down at him. “I genuinely don’t know where you got that conclusion from, I didn’t even do anything to you.”

Tommy scoffs. “You were gonna kidnap my pet!”

“It wasn’t even your pet until I caught it.”

“Potato potahto!”

“I don’t think I like you very much, Tommy.”

The prince shrugs, and he grins down at his newly acquired pet. It didn’t like him at first either. So like an inside joke for literally every time he meets someone, he responds with: “Yeah, that usually changes.”

Notes:

Not much changes to this chapter and the og!

Now, I DID say that I'd update sporadically, the once a week thing is when I'd have the editing zoomies.
What happened was I've been brainrotting over dispatch recently.

Next chapter is one of my favorites though WHEEZE

Notes:

Ayup, Sera here after a year. Here's a rewrite! On Impulse too!

So I'm putting this out here because I really didn't wanna touch the other work anymore. It holds a lot of memories and I really treasure a lot of the comments and bookmarks there. A lot of my old friends commented on that fic with the context of liking certain characters, and even the bookmarks themselves hold a lot of memories.

I wanna preserve those so I'm putting the rewrite on another work instead. I'll try to revert what I changed in the other work but honestly I forgot what I changed besides trying to replace dream with foolish (which led to a lot of continuity errors in the future lmfao)

Some chapters also had a lot of importance with certain characters in it (Horsehead interlude and a lot of the later chapters). Prince of Song will remain the same but Wilbur won't be as prominent in the current timeline anymore. A lot of chunks will also remain the same but I'm gonna be putting a lot more emphasis on bedrock bros.

I hope you enjoy reading this, but at the same time I'm mostly doing this for myself because I lOVE ISEKAI OKAY?? I just ughhh dread writing certain characters.

Anyway! Have fun! Updates will still remain sporadic. You know the drill!

tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/serashalala

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Who the FUCK?