Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“A crow arrived from the FarLands, apparently they’ve been having more trouble with Pillagers, they’re requesting more men and weapons.” Lady Puffy pulls a letter from the stack of papers in front of her, gently placing it into the middle of the table.

“I’ll speak to Sir Jack, see if the KingsGuard can spare some supplies, I'll also have someone sent over to the Border to write a formal report on their situation.” King Philza replies, from his seat at the head of the large table. A royal blue cloak sits around his shoulders, and a golden crown rests on his head. Puffy nods in agreement, shuffling back through the papers before her. She pulls out another letter, carefully unravelling the papers, these, she frowns at, looking over them as she speaks.

“I’t also seems that Lord Quackity is still seeking to expand Las Nevadas’ territory. I've heard that he’s trying to persuade Kinoko Kingdom to merge with Las Nevadas.” Prince Technoblade reaches out a hand from opposite her, she passes the letter to him, watching his narrowed eyes skim through the words. “I’d imagine there’s a lot of bribery and promises of gold and resources involved.” She adds, with an eye roll. Philza huffs out a laugh.

“Most likely.” He replies, tiredly.

“Perhaps Lord Quackity and Lord Karl should be invited to L’Manberg for the upcoming festival where we might be able to discuss this issue directly with both parties and come to a fair agreement?” Puffy suggests, raising an eyebrow. 

“Wilbur, how far have you gotten regarding the festival guest list? Is there room for our friends in the South?” Phil asks his son. The table turns to the other Prince, who sits with his chin in his hand, brown curls falling over his face as he paints invisible patterns into the spruce wood of the table with his finger. “Wilbur? Wil!” 

“Pardon?” He says, looking up at the other three tiredly. Philza sighs, rubbing his temple in exasperation.

“The festival invitations; are Lord Quackity and Lord Karl on the guest list?” 

“Oh. Well, I’ve written to Lord Karl, and I suppose there are spare guest rooms for Lord Quackity if he must be invited.” Wilbur replies, scowling not so subtly.

“I'm afraid he must be.” Puffy says, smiling sympathetically at the brunette. Wilbur sighs, leaning back in his chair and pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up his face.

“Okay, I'll send a crow to Las Nevadas tonight. Now may I be excused?” He asks, already standing. “I left Fundy with Niki, and she’s supposed to be preparing a three course dinner right now.” A nod from his father is all he needs before he’s turning and stalking out of the room, hearing some other dull conversation beginning as the door closes behind him.

Wilbur paces through the sunlit hallways of the Castle. The old building was huge, with twisting hallways, endless rooms, and turrets reaching higher than almost every building in the entire Antarctic Empire. From where Wilbur stood, the clouds almost seemed closer than the city below. He reaches the end of the stone hallway and steps down the spiral staircase, onto one of the main floors, from there he walks for five minutes to the opposite end of the castle and down another set of narrower stairs, past the servants chambers and finally towards the kitchens. When he enters the main kitchen, he immediately spots familiar bright orange hair. His son is resting in Niki’s arms, his legs around her waist and his head on her shoulder. He’s sucking on a wooden spoon of what looks to be cake batter, while Niki moves about the kitchen, ordering people this way and that. She turns and spots him, smiling sweetly at him.

“Hey Wil.” She greets.

“Hi Niki, I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.” He says, walking over.

“Oh, not at all, he’s the sweetest.” She replies.

“There’s my little King!” Wilbur says, opening his arms to Fundy, who smiles, making grabby hands towards his father.

“Papa, look, cake.” He says, thrusting the spoon to him.” Wilbur takes the boy from his friends arms, hugging him tightly.

“Woah, aren’t you a lucky boy.” He says, using a finger to wipe cake batter from his face. Fundy grins, sticking the spoon back in his mouth.

“How was the meeting?” Niki asks, to which Wilbur groans.

“Same old, discussing festival plans, working out how to deal with Lord Quackity and such.” He says.

“He’s still causing problems?” 

“It appears so, still intent on making Las Nevadas an independent nation, separate from the rest of the Antarctic Empire.”

“He really believes he can win?” Niki asks, bewildered.

“The man’s smarter than most give him credit for.” Wilbur reluctantly admits. He turns back to the little boy in his arms. “What do you want to do, little man? We could go up to your room to play, or we can go to the gardens?”

“Dragons!” Fundy says, excitedly. “You said when I five I see the dragons!” He says, accusatorily, holding up five fingers and pouting. “It was whole week ago I turn five.” Wilbur sighs, dramatically before smiling at the boy.

“Okay, I suppose you’re right.” He relents, taking the spoon from the boy and passing it to Niki, who watches them fondly. “Say thank you and goodbye to Niki.”

“Thank you Niki, we go see dragons now.” Niki laughs.

“Goodbye Prince Fundy, have fun, I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Come on then.” Says Wilbur, leaving the kitchens. They walk back down the servant quarters, Fundy greeting and waving at every servant they walk past. Soon they reach the basement stairs and Wilbur puts the boy down, taking his smaller hand in his own. Fundy stares down at the previously forbidden area of the castle, seeming hesitant. “Ready?” Fundy turns to his father, nodding nervously. They descend down the cold stone stairs, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim lighting. Fundy’s eyes widen as they reach the bottom of the steps, walking into the open room, there are beams across the ceiling, lined with cobwebs, and flickering torches are hooked along the walls. And there, along the right side of the long hall, are the dusty, ancient bones of dragons.

“Woah.” Fundy says, gently running a hand along the closest skeleton. Wilbur watches, remembering his own fascination with the remains of the giant creatures when he was young.

“This one was your grandmother’s.” Wilbur notes, looking at the skull which, even void of flesh and scales, stands inches taller than his lanky form.

“What it’s name?” 

“Clara.” Wilbur says, “Named after the God of the Moon and the Stars. Your grandmother always told us how she and Clara would fly to space.”

“Space!” Fundy exclaimed, eyes sparkling with wonder. Laughing, Wilbur replies.

“She couldn’t really fly to space, silly.” He teased, ruffling Fundy’s hair. “But she could definitely go higher than any other creature.” He recalled his father telling him and Techno the same stories when they were teenagers.

“To the clouds?” Fundy pondered. Wilbur nodded, amused at the spark in his child’s eyes.

“Clara was the last dragon, her and your grandmother fought in battles together, and they both died protecting the Arctic Empire against Exdee.” Wilbur says quietly. Fundy looks back up to his father, head tilted to the side.

“What she like?” He asks.

“I was younger than you when she died,” Wilbur starts, “But I know everyone was very fond of her. She would go into the city to see our people, to bring them food and sing to them. I remember she would sing to me and your Uncle Techno, too, every night to help us sleep. Her and your grandfather loved each other very much.” Fundy recalls the portrait in the main corridor leading to the assembly hall, of the pretty woman with dark hair and a kind smile, pale hand petting the young dragon resting its head on her legs. He would have liked to meet the warm looking lady that made his father smile to think about.

“What Exdee?” He asks next, a question he’d asked Techno and Niki before, but had failed to receive an answer on. Frustratingly, Wilbur tenses at the question, his smile melting.

“A story for another day.” Is what he says, and Fundy wonders how old he will have to be to unlock that mystery. “Come on, let’s get ready for dinner.” 

On his way to bed that night, he glances at the door of the forbidden bedroom beside his own, another of the mysteries he has clearly been deemed too young to know about.

“Yes.”

“Issa.”

“No.”

“Daor.”

“Fly.”

"Sōvētēs."

“Fire.”

“Dracarys, why are we doing this? I know all this stuff.” Tommy complains, slouching in his chair. Dream sighs, as though speaking to a small child.

“We haven’t revised it in a while, I just want to make sure you still know all this.”

“I’ve been learning for years, these words are basically as familiar to me as the common tongue.”

“I feel like we always have the same conversation, Theseus. Maybe Old Esempii is easy for you to learn but clearly listening to me is too difficult.” Tommy looks down at his hands, cheeks burning at the lecture. Dream scoffs, “When you treat me with such little respect I wonder why I bother to take so much time out of my day keeping you company and trying to help you.”

“I’m sorry, Dream. I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

“I know, and I understand why you’re frustrated so I'll go light with your punishment. Don’t expect any dinner tonight, but tomorrow’s lesson I don’t want to hear a single complaint, or huff or sigh. Understood?”

“Yes Dream.” The older man’s face softens, watching the blonde’s regretful face.

“Go,” He says, gently, “You’re dismissed, for today.”

“Thank you.” The boy says, face relaxing. He swiftly stands up, moving to the front door and leaving without another word, for fear the man may change his mind. As he walks down the dusty path of the small village their clan resides in, Logstedshire, he spots Sapnap, sitting under the shade of a tree on the outskirts. Dream’s friend has his head leant back, resting on the rough acacia bark, and he has a half eaten loaf of bread in his lap. Walking to the clearing, Tommy hesitantly calls out.

“Hey!” Sapnap looks up and spots the boy.

“Theseus.” He greets, patting the patch of dying grass beside him. Tommy sits down. “Want some?” Sapnap asks, holding out the bread. Tommy shakes his head.

“Can’t.” He says, turning to face forward and watch the orange sunset over the sandy dunes in the distance. He can feel the man’s stare burn into the side of his face.

“I won’t tell.” Huffing out a laugh, Tommy replies.

“It’s fine, really.” Shrugging, Sapnap rips off a piece, chucking it in his mouth. Tommy ignores the small grumbling of his stomach. They sit in silence, staring out over the sandy horizon. Sapnap finishes his bread and brushes the dirt from his trousers.

“I’m going to spar for a while before the sun sets, want to join me?” The man asks, standing and  holding out a cracked, hot to the touch, hand. Tommy takes it, unaffected as usual by the heat, and allows Sapnap to pull him effortlessly to his feet. As they walk further from Logstedshire, towards their usual sparring area under the shade of a few trees, Sapnap takes one of the two swords strapped to his back, passing it to the younger. The handle glows an orange colour from where Sapnap’s fingers had clasped the handle, but the rare netherite sword is ultimately unaffected by the hybrid's unnatural heat. 

“Come on then, Kid.” Sapnap says, sword outstretched and a smirk on his face. 

“I’m 17, you fuck.” Tommy says, before lunging towards him and clashing their swords together.

Chapter Text

Tommy groaned, opening his eyes. He slowly sat up from the mattress, glancing around the bare room. Sunlight streamed in through the barred windows, leaving striped shadows across the wall opposite. Distantly he could hear murmuring from the people outside, and the creaking of Dream moving around the rooms above him. Standing up, he pulled the thin blanket back over his bed and stretched his arms up above him, wincing at the familiar pain in his shoulders, a side effect of sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Not that he would complain, when he’d been younger, and tried to ask for something more comfortable, he’d left the conversation with a bloodied nose. 

Tommy quickly changed into some clothes, a white tunic and brown trousers tucked into his boots, and ran a hand through his hair. Dreams footsteps soon sounded from down the hall, and Tommy waited patiently. Soon enough he heard the clicks of each lock opening and the door swung open. 

“Good morning, Theseus.” The blonde man said, donning his usual green cloak and porcelain mask. 

“Good morning Dream.” Tommy replies, smiling. 

“There’s breakfast on the table for you, we’ll start today’s lessons in an hour.” With that he turns and leaves the room, Tommy swiftly following. Sapnap and George stand beside the table when the two enter the room. Sapnap gives the boy a wave. 

“Hey Theseus. Haven’t seen you for a while, how’ve you been?” George remains quiet, not even sparing Tommy a glance, as usual. 

“I’m well, thank you.” Tommy says, taking a seat in front of the plate set at the table. 

“How is everything this morning?” Dream asks his friends. 

“Good, a group left for Pogtopia to get supplies this morning, they should be back in a day.” George says, emotionless as ever. 

“And how are-” Dream starts, but George cuts him off with a sigh. 

“The same as every day. No change, exactly like they were the day we got them.” As daring it is, Tommy understands his frustration, often feeling it himself. Dream decidedly ignores George’s attitude, continuing. 

“Theseus and I have lessons today, but it’s been a while since we have visited them, so we’ll head down later. I also have some letters I’d like you to go through, if you don’t mind, George.” He opens up a drawer from the end table beside the door, taking out a bundle of letters held together with twine, passing them to George. “I’ll see the two of you later today.” He says, walking the pair to the door. Tommy pushes his plate away, already finished the little food on his plate. Dream claps his hands together, ignoring the way the boy flinches. “I have a couple of errands to run, I’ll be back in a little while. I’d like for you to clean this place up a bit.” 

“Yes Dream.” Tommy replies. The man leaves Tommy alone, without another word. 

Tommy carefully rolls up the scrolls on the table. One contains a detailed map of Esempii, another is of the Antarctic Empire, and the last, this map is the largest, containing all of the lands that have been explored. Esempii sits in the middle, to its left, across the sea, is the Antarctic Empire. The Nether is to the right of Esempii, smaller than its neighbouring countries, and yet the most deadly, universally declared the ‘forbidden land’. A few islands, smaller countries, are dotted around. Tommy always enjoyed learning about the Antarctic Empire and it’s cold weather. He secretly wanted to see the intricate capital city, L’Manberg, and experience the excitement of Las Nevadas. He could only imagine the endless fields and mountains of luscious green grass. And the white layers of snow that so commonly settled across the country. 

“One day you’ll be able to see the country for yourself.” Dream reassures, watching Tommy eye the map. “We’ll take back the Antarctic Empire from the tyrants who cast you out, and rule side by side, Prince Theseus.” Dream said, walking towards the teen and resting a hand on his shoulder. Tommy smiled, trying to imagine him and Dream, ruling the Antarctic Empire together. “Well, let’s go before it starts getting dark.” Tommy’s smile drops a fraction and he follows Dream out of their house. As they walk down to the path, the men they pass nod at Dream in silent respect, the small smiles embroidered onto their cloaks matching the one on Dream’s mask, uniting them all under their leader. Tommy brings up a hand to brush against the identical mark carved into the skin of his bicep. Soon enough they reach the small, shed-like, structure. The door, much like Tommy’s, contained three large locks. Dream pulled out the chain of keys from under his cloak, selecting the correct key for each lock with ease. Soon enough, he was pulling open the door, gesturing for Tommy to go in. The heat of the room hit him like a ton of bricks and he blinked to stop his eyes from watering. The room had no windows, and every possible weak point had extra wooden planks holding it firmly in place. There was a roaring fire on the opposite side of the room, flames curing up and licking the air. There were candles around the room and expensive looking blankets lining the floor. In the middle sits the table, chest sat open atop of it. In the chest are yet more blankets inside to cushion and protect its main contents. Dream walked over first, after shutting the door behind them, reaching into the box with care and gentleness Tommy had never seen him show anything, or anyone, else. The man cupped his hands around the middle of the three items, laid side by side. He lifted it from the chest and held it with a possessive and longing spark in his eyes. He looked up from the large, scaled egg to meet Tommy’s eye.

“Take it.” He instructs, holding it out to Tommy. Frowning, he takes the egg, holding it in front of him, awkwardly.

“I don’t know what I'm supposed to do.” Tommy says flatly. Dream sighs at the boy disappointedly.

“You are of Dragon blood Theseus, you should know what to do. Just think.” The man encourages. Tommy holds back a frustrated groan. “Queen Kristin was your age when her dragon was born.” Tommy ignores the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach at the mention of his blood family.

“Yeah well these eggs are almost twenty years old, Dream, whatever was inside them is probably dead by now.” He argues, putting the egg back in the chest. “Why do we need Dragons? We have an army, why can’t we just go to the Antarctic Empire now? There haven’t been dragons for years and plenty of wars have been fought and won. We have each other, we don’t need a couple of useless dragon eggs.”

“You don’t understand, Theseus. You’re just a child, you couldn’t possibly understand.” Dream snaps, a voice in Tommy’s head yells for him to shut up, but he ignores it, letting out the words he’d been holding onto for so long.

“Well, George is a grown man and he feels the same about them.” Tommy's head suddenly snapped to the side, pain shooting through his cheek. Dream runs a hand over his bruising knuckles, staring at the boy and breathing heavily. Tommy knows he shouldn't have mentioned George, aware that the subject of Dream’s close friends is a touchy one.

“What do you have to say to me?” Dream asks, darkly. Tommy shrinks in on himself, a hand hovering over his swelling cheek

“I’m sorry, Dream. I shouldn’t have shouted, I’m just tired I guess.” Tommy says, quietly, speaking the words he knows Dream wants to hear. They stand in silence for a moment, before Dream moves, opening the door.

“Come on.” He says, wrapping his fingers around Tommy’s arm and yanking him out of the shed. He lets go of the boy to relock the door, but his grip returns, just as tight, and Tommy stumbles to keep up with him as they walk back to the house. Dream throws open the door, barely stopping as he pulls the boy through the living room and down the corridor, opening Tommy’s bedroom door and throwing the boy in. Tommy falls into a heap on the floor, looking up to watch Dream slam his door shut, rattling the room. He hears the click of each lock before Dream’s angry footsteps disappear back down the hall. Shutting his eyes, Tommy tries to keep his breathing steady, ignoring the warm tears dripping down his face.

The room was quiet aside from the scrape of cutlery against plates. King Philza sat at the head of the long table, Technoblade on his right, pink hair pulled into a messy bun atop his head, and Wilbur on his left, Fundy beside him.

“Technoblade,” Phil began, breaking the silence, “I understand Sir Jack Manifold received that report we asked for?” Techno turned to look at the man, gold jewelry jingling at the movement.

“Yes, it said that a lot of groups of pillagers have been caught trying to climb over the border in the past few months, and two watchers travelled into the FarLands two weeks ago and are yet to return.”

“They think the pillagers have something to do with that?” He asks, curiously.

“It seems so.” Technoblade replies. “I was thinking I might travel down to the border and assess the situation myself.” Wilbur and Phil sit up, surprised.

“What? But the festival is in two weeks.” Wilbur protests.

“It’s been years since any issues in the FarLands have needed to be brought to us. I’m concerned that something bigger is going on.” Technoblade says, defensively.

“Can it not wait?” Asks Wilbur, angrily stabbing a carrot. Techno rolls his eyes, earning a glare from his older brother.

“I trust your judgment, Tech. If you think it's worth going down yourself, I'll allow it.” Philza says.

“This is favouritism at its finest.” Wilbur mumbles. “Now I have to endure an entire festival by myself. And you made me invite Lord Quackity.” He complains.

“I am sure you’ll manage, Wilbur, it’s just one month, and I'll be there. Though, if you’re complaining already, I'm not sure how you’ll handle the responsibility of an entire kingdom when you inherit the throne.”

“Father, I don’t even want to be King, why can’t Technoblade do it?” He whines.

“Yeah, no thanks.” Technoblade says.

“This is so unfair.” Wilbur slouches in his chair, pouting at his family. “I despise being the eldest.”

“I’ll be King!” Fundy exclaims, Wilbur and Philza bursting into laughter. Technoblade smirking at the energetic boy.

“Of course.” Wilbur says, ruffling his hair. “One day you’ll be the best King the Antarctic Empire has ever seen.”

Chapter Text

A whole day, Tommy had been shut in his room for an entire day. He understood, he supposed. He remembered visiting the eggs when he was younger, and the anticipation Dream would show when he and Tommy would hold them. He would tell Tommy of the immense size a dragon could grow, of how they could set cities on fire, and burn anything down to ashes. He would tell stories of adventures and dragons, and war. And he would describe how one day they would have three dragons of their own. But the years went by, and the eggs remained still, lifeless. Dream insisted that one day they would hatch, but Tommy would watch George hide snide remarks and frustrated sighing, and catch whispered conversations between Dream’s men. And his own hope gradually diminished. In that sense he believes maybe he understood George, at least a little. The man never spoke to Tommy directly, but Sapnap would tell him funny stories of the mischief him and his two friends had caused, and he could tell that that relationship was strained now. Dream refused to give up on the eggs, and neither Tommy nor George could understand it.

Tommy’s cheek throbbed, and his stomach ached, and his whole body was heavy. He’d collapsed against the wall in the corner of the room soon after Dream left, and hadn’t moved since. Day had turned into night, and had turned into day again. It was nearing the evening when his door was finally unlocked. He tried to move, but his stiff body refused, so he stayed, and watched the door swing open. It wasn’t Dream, Sapnap stood there. He stared at Tommy for a while, eyes flickering to his discolored cheek, face scrunching up as though he was in pain. 

“Hey.” He said, offering the boy a tight smile.

‘Hi.” Tommy croaked, he coughed, clearing his throat. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s okay.” Sapanap replies, he steps into the room slowly, looking around. There’s a plate in his hand, and Tommy’s stomach rumbles at the whiff of food. Not finding any surfaces in the room, Sapnap hesitantly reaches down, placing the plate onto the floor, sliding it in Tommy’s direction. The food on it is minimal, a pile of rice and a plain slice of bread, but Tommy can only feel happy he’d gotten anything at all. Sapnap looks like he’s about to say something else, but the words seem to get stuck in his throat. He visibly slumps, looking at Tommy, who is yet to move from his corner. 

“Thanks.” Tommy says, quietly.

“You're welcome.” He replies, despite the both of them knowing Tommy had only gotten the food because Dream had decided it. “Eat up and get some sleep, okay?” He shuts the door behind him as softly as possible, fastening each lock slowly before leaving the house.

Tommy waits until his footsteps disappear before pushing himself away from the wall. He stretches, wincing as his joint cracks uncomfortably. The food is gone in seconds, and Tommy moves the empty plate beside the door. He listens to Sapnap’s words and gracelessly flops onto the mattress, passing out almost immediately.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” Wilbur groans, arms crossed.

“Wilbur, quit whining.” His father scolds. Technoblade ignores them both, busy saddling up his horse, Carl. “We’ll miss you, mate.” 

“I’ll write to you.” Technoblade reassures, turning to face his family. Phil steps forwards, wrapping his arms around his second eldest.

“Be safe.” He says, quietly. Technoblade nods. He moves to Wilbur, who still hugs him as well.

“You better write.” Techno huffs a laugh at his older brother. 

“I will.” 

And then he’s putting a foot on the saddle and pulling himself up onto Carl. He picks up the reins as Carl shifts from foot to foot, impatiently.

“You have food?” Phil asks.

“Yup.”

“And water?”

“Yup.”

“And mone-”

“I can look after myself okay? I’ll be fine.” Phil sighs.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you guys soon okay? It’ll be six months at most .” He promises, and turns to nod at the guards manning the gate. Slowly the large metal gate rises, and Technoblade leads Carl out of the Castle grounds. He glances back, smiling when he sees Wilbur waving vigorously. Shaking his head fondly, he continues on, down the paths of L’manberg. People smile and call out, reaching out a hand to stroke Carl as he passes, recognising the pink haired Prince. He’s not exactly hard to miss with his long, braided hair, deep red cloak and excessive amounts of golden jewelry. Technoblade soon made it to the front of L’manberg, passing under the archway and riding out into the plains. He looks back at the capital once he reaches the top of a hill, staring as though trying to burn the image of the charming city into his brain, in case his promise to Wilbur is broken.

After wandering the castle halls for half an hour, Wilbur still feels restless. It had barely been an hour since his brother had left, and yet his home felt so much emptier. He couldn’t find Niki, and his Father and Lady Puffy were attending a meeting of some kind, so Wilbur trekked down the halls, briefly entering his room to grab his guitar, before heading to the library. He opened the large wooden doors and immediately the comforting sound of his son's voice reached his ears. The room was huge, with bookcases so high you needed a ladder to reach the top, and the glass skylight brightening up every corner. There was a painting of the Antarctic Empire stretched across the floor, intricately labeled, and a window seat along one wall that overlooked the gardens. Fundy sat surrounded by royal blue, silk cushions, next to his tutor. A table had been pulled up to stand in front of them, and a large history book sat, opening on top. Fundy read from the book aloud, using a finger to follow the words, stumbling over the pronunciation every now and then. His tutor mumbled quiet encouragement, cutting in with little corrections every so often.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Wilbur says, making his presence known.

“Father!” Fundy exclaims, jumping up and wrapping his arms around Wilbur’s legs.

“That’s quite alright.” The tutor reassures, after bowing to the prince.

“I was hoping I could take Fundy from his lesson a little early today?” He asks, the tutor smiles, softly closing the thick book.

“Yes, that’s fine, Fundy did very well today, I think he’s earned an early finish.”

“Thank you.” Says Wilbur, “Enjoy the rest of your day.” The tutor nods and Wilbur turns to his son. 

“What are we doing?” He asks, curiously. They begin walking out of the library.

“I was thinking we could go into L’Manberg for a while.”

“Really?” Fundy questions, grinning, excitedly.

“Uh huh, I realised it’s been a while since we last left the castle.”

“It’s been forever !” The five year old replies, dramatically. Wilbur laughs as they walk down the halls hand in hand.

“What did you learn in your lessons today?” 

“I found book about FarLands! That’s where Uncle Techno is going.” Fundy says.

“Oh yeah? What did you learn?” Wilbur asks.

“The border is really really tall, and no-one knows how it got there! And in the FarLands it always snow. And one thousand years ago there were monsters with white eyes that tried to take over world!” Wilbur laughed.

“The hostile war?” He asked, to which Fundy nodded. “That’s just a legend, Little King.” Wilbur reassures, pinching the boy’s cheeks.

When they arrive at the gate Technoblade left through a mere hour ago, Wilbur spots a familiar face.

“Purpled?” He calls. The young man turns around, startled, before dipping into a bow.

“Your highness.” He greets, respectfully, with wide eyes. His armour clatters gently as he moves, looking too big on his smaller frame.

“Fundy and I are going to visit the city, would you like to accompany us?” The boy smiles, nervously.

“Yes, Prince Wilbur, I would be honoured.” Wilbur smiles, amused at the restless adolescent. He’s a good kid, he’d been training under Technoblade for a year now and Wilbur knew the boy had potential and could, one day, become a valued knight in their ranks. 

Purpled called out to the guard on gate duty and once again that day, the gate rose.

Yet another day passed before Tommy was let out of his room. Dream had not said a word, but simply gestured for the boy to follow, which he did so immediately. He followed the man down the corridor and into the kitchen, where two full plates of dinner were set on the table. Dream pointed at Tommy’s usual seat, pulling out his own chair, opposite. Tommy quickly sat in his chair, hands clenched together in his lap while he nervously stared down.

“Eat.” Dream spoke, lacking any real emotion for Tommy to decipher. 

At least he doesn’t sound angry.

Tommy picked up his cutlery and hesitantly stabbed a piece of chicken. Dream was already digging into his own dinner, and as much as Tommy wanted to inhale the food, he also didn’t want to upset Dream with bad table manners when he seemed so calm. He’d finished half his plate when Dream spoke again.

“I understand why you were frustrated the other day.” He says. Tommy swallows his mouthful of food, throat suddenly feeling dry. “I’m sure you already understand that I won’t tolerate the way you spoke to me.” Tommy is quick to nod in agreement. “And so I've decided to forgive you.”

“Thank you, Dream.” He replies. Dream barely acknowledges him. 

“I’ve come up with the perfect solution to the problem we seem to have.” Tommy freezes, old scars suddenly aching, as he waits for Dream to tell him which punishment he will suffer. “I think maybe you need some more time with the dragon eggs. I’ll take you to see them again tomorrow.” Tommy tilts his head in confusion, but Dream simply continues his meal, and so he does not question it. He tries to focus on the relief of a light punishment like this, rather than the longing for the familiarity that comes with a kick or punch.

Chapter Text

The streets were crowded, people walking this way and that. Wilbur greeted almost everyone they passed, recognising a lot of their faces with how often he liked to go into the city. Fundy said his own polite hellos, looking timid under all the attention the pair received. L’Manberg was a beautiful place, with tall wooden buildings, bridges over the river which passed directly through the town’s center, lean alleyways and arches between buildings adjourned with flowers and ivy.  In the main square was a water fountain, and mosaic tiles spread across the floor depicting the history of the Antarctic Empire, of Dragons, armies and battles. They walked through the market, briefly stopping at a fruit stand and purchasing some apples from a wide eyed woman. Purpled did his job well, ensuring the two didn’t get completely swarmed. 

They soon reached their main destination, the orphanage, and pushed open the door to see groups of young children playing and laughing. The floor was dusty, wood splintered and there were more children squeezed into the room than beds. In one corner was the collection of old books the royal family had donated to them a few years back, covers worn but clearly treasured. 

“It’s Prince Wilbur!” Their excited shouting came, and soon the children were crowded around the Princes. Grinning, Wilbur said hello to them all, ruffling one little boy's hair. Fundy was immediately dragged off by a group of little boys, giggling and whispering to each other.

“Music!” Cried out a young girl, hands clasped together in front of her, excitedly.

“Okay.” Said Wilbur, smiling, and pulling his guitar over his head, moving to sit against the wall. The children all sat in a crowd in front of him, silence falling as they awaited his music. As he struck the first chord on the instrument, an excited murmur broke out, the children recognising the familiar folk songs. Six songs in, and the children were singing along, dancing in little circles in their old and tattered clothes. 

After bringing the last tune to an end, he looked up at the children, standing. “Prince Fundy and I need to head back to the castle now.” There are mutters of disapproval around the room and Wilbur smiles sadly. “We’ll come back to see you all again as soon as we can.”

Fundy walks over to his father, taking his hand. The group of kids follow them outside and Wilbur turns to them again.

“It’s about time for supper, don’t you think?” The children all look at him, confused, he walks over to a bread stand, asking for three baskets of the loaves. He hands the man some coins, insisting he keep the change, and turns back to the orphanage. Wilbur passes the baskets to the eldest children in the group, “Here, share this between you all.” He says.

“Thank you, your highness.” One of the girls says, turning to kneel before the children, passing around the food. Wilbur and Fundy soon have to leave, after waving goodbyes to them all.

“It’s important that we visit our people, Fundy.” Wilbur says, softly, as they head back to the castle. “As royals, we will always have power, but power is not everything. To be a true and loved ruler, you must gain the respect and trust of your people. Our citizens are living in the country we’re responsible for, therefore their wellbeing is our responsibility. They make up our armies, and they will fight for who they believe in.” Fundy blinks up at his father, taking in his words. “I learnt these things from my own parents, one day they will help me, and I hope they will help you too.”

The following day, Tommy was led to the shed. Dream unlocked the door and gestured for him to go inside.

“The eggs are valuable, Tommy. We need them. I know you don’t understand, but you will. When we take back your throne they will be our strongest weapon.” He shuts the door without another word. Tommy’s eyes slowly adjust to the dim lighting and he turns to look at the chest. The eggs lay there as they always have. 

Tommy doesn’t think he will ever understand Dream’s obsession with the Dragons. They have ships, they have an army, they have weapons and supplies. They have each other. Why isn’t that enough? Tommy clenches his fists, angry tears collecting in his eyes. The bruise on his face is still there, and it aches. He glares at the motionless eggs.

Letting out a shaking breath, he angrily reaches into the box, hands wrapping around the egg in the middle, brown with deep splotches of maroon. He clutched the thing in his hands, frustrated tears slipping down his cheeks. He was well accustomed to the heaviness of the thing, and the warmth emanating from inside. Glancing up, his eyes lock onto the crackling fireplace. Tommy slowly stands, hands trembling, as he walks to the bright orange blaze. He stares at the swirls of fire for a moment longer, holding his breath, before thrusting his hands forwards. The angry flames engulfed his hands, wrapping around the egg. He watches, hands unaffected by the fire, and waits for the stupid egg to burn and crumble.

He falters as he feels a sudden movement inside the object. There’s a moment in which he thinks maybe he imagined the feeling, but then it moves again. Tommy watches in wonder as the egg rocks slightly, before there’s a dull thud, and a loud crack as it splits. A slit now running down half of it. He sees the shell moving, before a shape reminiscent of a claw pokes out, fracturing more of the egg. The finger-like appendages grip onto the dark egg and force the parts to snap away and fall, forgotten, into the fire below. Tommy gasps as the thing makes a croaky squawk like sound, reminiscent of a crow. Smiling, he watches the little creature force its way out of the egg and into the world. When a little, scaly head pops out, big yellow eyes looking up at him, he giggles, to which the thing squarks again in reply. Soon enough it clambers entirely out of the shell and onto his wrist, Tommy lets the shell fall into the fire.

“Hello.” He whispers to the dragon crawling up his arm. It cries out again, the sound reminding Tommy of a baby. It reaches his shoulder and nuzzles his warm head into Tommy’s cheek. A deep rumbling sound, reminiscent of a cat purring, echoes around the small room. He brings up his other hand and gently strokes its head. “I think I'll name you Henry.” Tommy whispers to the small red and brown dragon. When he can finally pull his fascinated gaze from Henry, he looks back to the chest, the dragon squeals, as if in agreement.

Chapter Text

The morning after he’d left L’Manberg, Technoblade awoke beside a dead fire, heavy cloak wrapped around him. Birds chirped in the trees above him, a light breeze blowing green leaves across the forest floor. He sat up and dusted off his clothes before relighting his small fire. His long hair was in tangles and it took a lot of combing before his fingers could run through smoothly. He watched a deer wandering a few yards ahead of him while he braided his hair. The snare he’d set up last night had successfully caughted a rabbit, which he was quick to take back to his temporary camp and cook over the fire. Soon after he’d eaten, Technoblade untied Carl and continued his journey. When he reached the edge of the forest, he looked up at the bright sky. Squinting, Technoblade brought Carl to a halt. He tilted his head, staring up at the phenomenon in the sky. A comet, he realised, streaked across the blue expanse. He wondered if Wilbur had seen it yet, Fundy would probably find it exciting.

He passed through a quaint little village, calm and quiet, with friendly civilians who smiled politely as he passed. While he purchased an apple for Carl, he overheard a group of teenagers discussing the object in the sky.

“My grandmother said it means the white eyed monsters are coming.” Says one boy.

“The white eyed monsters are just a tale made to frighten children.” A girl replies. 

“My mother said it means good luck.” Adds a third.

“Well, mine said it’s a bad omen.” Another boy remarks.

“My father said it means a dragon has been born.” Speaks one more. Technoblade huffs a laugh.

“But dragons have been extinct for almost twenty years.” One of the girls states.

Technoblade leaves the village with a happy Carl. They walk on, through fields and forests, over hills and rivers. The air around him gradually grows colder the closer he comes to the Border. He knows he will reach his destination by tomorrow, a place he has heard stories about and admired paintings of, but never seen for himself.

Wilbur wakes up suddenly, to a heavy weight on his chest.

“Father!” shouts an excited voice. Goraning, Wilbur peels open his eyes. He squints at the sun pouring through his balcony and blinks up at his son, sitting on top of him.

“Fundy, what do you want?” He asks, groggily.

“You have to see!” He claims, sliding off the man and holding his arm, attempting to tug him out of bed. “It’s in the sky.” Intrigued, Wilbur sits up, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Okay, okay.” He follows the energetic little boy, over to his balcony, where his white curtains sway gently. The stone floor is cold against his bare feet, waking him up a little more, but he still winces when he first looks up to the sunny sky. 

“Huh.” He says, looking back down to his son, who stares at the red comet with a bright, childlike wonder.

“The book I am reading with my tutor says it mean the start of the Hostile War.” Fundy says, matter of factly. Wilbur laughs.

“Does it, now?” He picks the boy up, swinging him around. “Well I heard that it marks the start of the tickle war!” Fundy laughs, squirming in Wilbur’s arms as the man begins to tickle him.

“No it doesn’t!” He pants, between giggles. Wilbur stops briefly.

“Really? I’m sure I read it somewhere.” He replies, pretending to think. Fundy barks out another laugh when Wilbur’s tickling begins again. “I’m going to win this war!” He shouts, dropping the boy on his bed. Fundy is quick to grab a pillow, beaming.

“I’m going to win!” He shouts, attacking his father with the pillow.

When Dream unlocks the door, hours later, Tommy is sitting against the wall beside the fire, three dragons surrounding him. One, with brown and blue scales, resting in his arms, another, with brown and red scales, perched on his shoulder, and the last, with brown and yellow scales, attempting to climb onto the boy's head. Tommy laughs, looking up at Dream with a happy smile.

“Dream?” The man stands perfectly still, face unreadable under the porcelain mask. The room is eerily silent. Tommy’s smile slowly falls. “Dream?”

Dream turns to face George, who stands behind him, mouth open in shock.

“Get the cages, George.” He orders, George closes his mouth, nodding and quickly leaving the room. Dream stalks towards the boy on the floor.

“Wait! What?” he reaches towards the dragon in Tommy’s arms, but Tommy flinches away. “What are you going to do with them?” He asks, worriedly.

“Give them to me, Theseus.” He instructs.

“Why?” Tommy questions, clutching the little creature close to his chest, the dragons cry in confusion. Dream tenses.

“Theseus, do as you’re told.” He says, reaching out to grab the little blue dragon in Tommy’s arms. Scared, it snaps at the man’s hand, sharp teeth drawing blood from his fingers. Dream curses under his breath, reaching out again and grabbing the dragon by his throat. Screeching, it flaps its wings, attempting to escape Dream’s relentless grip.

“Stop!” Tommy shouts. “You’re hurting him!” He sticks out a hand, but Dream moves out of his reach, just as George re-enters the room, balancing three small cages piled up in his arms. Dream uses his spare hand to pull the top cage off of the pile, George wobbles on his feet. The little blue dragon, which Tommy had decided to name Shroud, is carelessly shoved into one of the cages. “Dream, stop! They’re just babies, they’re harmless and you’re scaring them.”

“They’re monsters, Theseus. Monsters should be kept in cages. Give them here.”

“Dream, you can’t do this, they're mine.” Tommy snaps, standing up and holding the other two dragons close to him. Henry lets out an angry shriek, stretching out his wings as much as he’s able to, in what Tommy’s assumes is an attempt to intimidate the man. The other dragon, brown and yellow, shrinks against Tommy. He’d decided to call her Clementine - or Clem for short. Shroud squeals hysterically, rattling around in his cage in a futile attempt to break free.

“Theseus. This is your last chance.” Dream says, menacingly, towering over the boy. With nowhere to run, Tommy sinks down to the ground, tears dripping down his cheeks as he shakes his head. He curls around Henry and Clem. Dream sighs disappointedly.

Tommy lets out a yell of protest when Dream grabs him roughly, yanking his head back by the hair and grabbing his wrist in a death grip. He practically wrestles the dragons out of the boy's arms, ignoring Tommy thrashing around desperately, and the petrified animals biting at him. Clem lets out a pained squawk that tears through Tommy’s heart as Dream violently wrenches her from his protective hold. She beats her small and fragile wings in desperation, but it's no use against his iron grip, and she’s quickly stuffed into the cage George holds open.

Tommy sobs, wrapping both arms around Henry. He flinches when Dream turns back to him, and throws out a kick when he lunges, catching him in the chest. Dream coughs, winded, before throwing himself onto Tommy. The boy’s head smacks the floor, and he barely recovers before his arms are gripped, Dream trying to prise them from around Henry.

“No!” He cries. “Dream please.” His arms ache from the strain, trying to fight against the man and keep Henry safe, but the days of limited food have kept him particularly weak. Dream momentarily lets him go before a fist lands on Tommy’s stomach. He gasps, heaving out coughs, another hit lands hard against his eye. Dream takes advantage of Tommy’s shock and pain, quickly yanking the boy's arms again, leaving enough room for him to grab the scaled creature. Letting out another cry, Tommy tries to grab at Dream, the man is faster, kicking his chest and sending him to the floor again. 

Tommy feebly pushes himself up, as the two men lift the dragons’ cages. He can do nothing but watch. They start to haul the crates out of the room and Tommy’s eyes widen in panic. “Wait!” He croaks out, they ignore him. “Please.” He begs. The door shuts behind them and he uses his remaining strength to shakily stand. He hobbles towards the door on unsteady legs, collapsing against it. It doesn’t budge. “Please, please, please.” Tommy wails, fists beginning to pound at the door. He can still hear his dragons crying out for him, distantly. “Dream!” He tries to shout, throat raw. 

There’s a commotion on the other side of the door, voices shouting over each other in mixtures of emotion, but none of them answer Tommy.

Chapter Text

As he’d predicted, Technoblade reached the FarLands the following day. He could see the border from miles away, the unnatural wall stretching well over 700 feet. It was a breathtaking sight, looking almost like a cliff face, with greenery and snow sprinkled over it like a blanket. The air was colder in the south, biting at Technoblade’s skin, and freezing over the lakes. At the foot of the border, he could see the main fort, smoke billowing from chimneys. Technoblade rode on, eager to get into the warmth. There were guards standing in the towers either side of the gate at the fort. They were dressed in thick winter clothes, swords at their hips.

“Who goes there?” One of them called out to the man.

“Prince Technoblade of the Antarctic Empire.” He replies. They share a few looks Technoblade isn’t close enough to decipher, before raising the gate. The place is quiet, and dull. The only sound from the clash of swords as recruits train. People turn to look at Technoblade as he walks Carl around the courtyard and hands him off to a stuart maintaining the stables. He feels out of place wearing such a vibrant cloak against the black uniforms donned by everyone else. A door opens on one of the buildings, and a figure steps out.

“Ah, Your Highness.” The man calls, he wears golden armour over his dark green clothes, a welcome sight compared to the monochrome appearance of the fort. “We’ve been expecting you. I’m Sam, Lord Commander of the Border. Please, come in.” Technoblade walks up the wooden steps and follows Lord Sam into the building. The room he leads him to appears to be an office, with a desk at one end, papers scattered across it, ink and quill to one side. There is a bookcase on another wall, filled with thick books covered with a thick layer of dust. Aside from a rug stretching across the floor and candles spread about, the room is fairly empty. Sam sits at the desk and motions for Technoblade to sit in the chair opposite. 

“I hope you had a safe journey here. We’re a long way from L’Manberg.” Sam says, leaning back in his chair.

“It was fine.” Technoblade replies. “I hear you’ve been having trouble over here.” Unaffected by his bluntness, Sam nods.

“Yes. The Pillagers have been caught multiple times attempting to climb the border, some of my men have gone missing in the FarLand’s, and just two days ago a village a few miles along the border was attacked.” Technoblade frowns.

“Is there any explanation as to why this is all happening now?” Shaking his head, Sam replies.

“Some of our men believe it’s some kind of uprising, but that doesn’t make sense, they’d have more luck trying to attack us all together. We questioned a Pillager we managed to capture, but he wasn’t helpful.”

“So something bigger is going on.” Technoblade says, watching the other man’s face. Sam frowns, glancing out of his window at two of his men clashing their swords together.

“I believe so.” He confirms, looking the Prince in the eyes.

After leaving the office, the two walk side by side, around the snowy courtyard. Lord Sam points to the opposite side of the fort.

“Sleeping chambers are this way,” He says, leading the man up the steps, “The dinner hall is to the left.” He gestures in the direction before turning right, walking past the entrance to the sleeping area. “The armoury is just down this hall, and here…” They turn the corner, to the row of buildings along the side against the border. “This is the lift.” Technobalde looks at the structure fixed to the wall, there chains and cogs connected to a large wheel, beside this is a wooden box-like structure, the frame stretches up, and up, and up. Technoblade cranes his head, following the odd construction up the border, to the very top. “That’s how we get up, we always have guards on watch up there.”

“What for?” Technoblade questions.

“Pillagers.” he says, simply. Technoblade furrows his brow.

“And how would they alert us down here? I imagine this contraption takes a while to get all the way up and back down.”

“That’s what the bell is for.” Sam replies, “Any serious problem; an attack, Pillagers climbing over, we can alert everybody here immediately with it - as well as in the surrounding villages.”

“Is it rung often?” Sam looks at him, grimly.

“Not until recently.”

Tommy sat curled up against the wall of his bedroom, hugging his legs to his chest and resting his head on his knees. Outside it was raining heavily, for the first time in months. Usually Tommy would stick a hand through the bars of his window and feel the droplets run down his arm, but this time he felt too miserable to even stand. He didn’t know how long he’d been in the shed, had passed out not long after Dream left and awoken, maybe hours later, to two of Dream’s men that he didn’t even know, who had taken him back to his bedroom. That was yesterday. It was better to be in his bedroom, and yet worse. He knew where his dragons were, could hear their cries through the wall he leant against, but he was helpless. 

Dream went in and out of their room often, he couldn’t hear anything that was said, only his muffled voice, but Tommy hoped he was bringing them food. However, the way his children’s squawking got louder, and how Dream’s muted voice would raise in volume, told him otherwise. During those times, he could do nothing but clamp his hands over his ears. He’d tried calling out reassurances to his dragons, but it only served to make them more restless. He finally gave that up after Dream started thumping angrily on his door, yelling for him to shut up. He’d also tried pleading to Dream when he could hear the man’s footsteps grow close, but he would continue past as though he couldn’t even hear the boy.

Tommy jumped to alertness as the sound of the locks on his door clicking open. He breathes a sigh of relief, seeing Dream standing there.

“Come on.” He said to the boy, who scrambled to his feet, rushing towards the man. When he realised Dream was only headed to the kitchen he paused, staring at the door beside his own. The dragons were quiet, likely exhausted, but his need to be there for them was still just as fierce. Dream, realising Tommy wasn’t following, glanced back at him. Tommy was expecting him to snap, but Dream simply sighed. “You haven’t eaten, Theseus. Let’s have dinner and then you can see them.” Surprised, his gaze snapped back to Dream, eyes wide.

“Really?” He asked, doubtfully. Tilting his head, Dream replies.

“Of course, did you think I would keep them from you?” He asks, accusingly. Tommy pales.

“No, I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry.” He replies automatically, despite the words feeling like a lie. Dream walks up to the boy, resting a hand on his cheek.

“I forgive you.” He says, the hand leaves. “Well, let's go and eat.” He follows Dream into the kitchen. They sit in their usual seats.

“Your lessons are going to be off for a while now that the dragons have hatched. I've got more important things to be doing, is that okay?” Tommy nods, solemnly, knowing he couldn’t argue if he wanted to. “I’ve begun training the dragons already, and-”

“What? But you told me that it takes time before they can start to actually learn. You said it was like trying to teach a newborn to speak.”

“There’s no reason we can’t begin teaching them early,” Dream snaps, defensively “It’ll do them good to start hearing the words and phrases now.”

“But-”

“Enough!” Dream interrupts. “Stop fighting me on this, Theseus. Do you want to see the dragons today or not?” Tommy immediately falls silent. Just then, Sapnap opens the front door.

“Some more letters have arrived, Dream.” He informs, waving the papers in his gloved hand that are sealed with blood red wax, a smile embossed on each.

“Put them on the counter.” The man says, Sapnap following the order and walking past the duo sat at the table. 

“Hey Theseus, how’ve you-” He stops, eyes flitting over the bruising across the side of his face. “Been?” He finishes, quickly, turning away from the pair to put the letters down atop the pile growing on the counter.

“I’m fine.” Tommy replies meekly, looking down at his plate.

“You can go, Sapnap.” The man looked hesitant, but nodded and left the house without another word, all the same. They ate the rest of their meal in silence, Dream still appearing to be upset at the boy. When they stood, Dream simply motioned for him to follow.

Tommy could barely keep still while Dream opened each lock, shifting on his feet and wringing his hands together. Eventually the door swung open, revealing a dark room. Tommy squinted, stepping past Dream and into the room immediately. There was a rattle, looking down, Tommy saw his dragons, curled up together on the floor, a chain from each of their necks attached to the wall. When they realised it was him, the three creatures untangled themselves, scrambling to get to him. The chains stopped them halfway, but Tommy was quick to walk the rest of the distance, kneeling down and letting them crawl onto his lap. He checked them over, noting that aside from where the shackles rubbed against their necks, they appeared to be unharmed.

“Shh,” He cooed to them, stroking them gently. “It’s okay.” Then he turned to Dream, who lingered in the doorway, staring down at the four. “Why are they chained?”

“It’s a precaution.” He answers, simply. Tommy looks over to where the window should be.

“Why is the window boarded up?”

“Theseus-” He starts, in a warning tone.

“You’re locking them away like slaves. Look at them, they’re terrified, Dream. Please.” He says. “Can’t they stay with me?

“Stop being ungrateful, Theseus. I let you see them and you’re already asking for more? Remember your place.” Tommy frowns.

“And what is my place?” He asks. Dream straightens, surprised. “You keep saying we’ll rule the Antarctic Empire and yet you are the only one of us with any power. No one does as I say. No one listens to me .”

“Because you’re young, Theseus. I’m controlling things now because you can’t yet.” He answers, in that patronising tone Tommy has always loathed.

“And when can I? I’ll be eighteen in less than a year, how old do I have to be?”

“I’m just trying to protect you, okay?” Dream yells. The dragons shrink against Tommy, who stills. Sighing, the older man continues, more softly. “I already lost one brother to them . I don’t want to lose another, Theseus. That’s why we’ve stayed in the shadows for so long, that’s why we need the dragons. When we sail to the Antarctic Empire, we’re going to need all the help we can get, because if we’re not prepared, we could lose everything. We could lose each other.” Tommy looks down, guilt creeping through his body. 

“I’m sorry.” He responds, shakily. “You’re right, you were right. I’m really sorry Dream, I shouldn’t have doubted you.” This time, his apology feels less like a lie.

“I’ll let you stay here for a while.” Dream says, “I have some things to do, but I'll be back in a couple of hours to take you back to your room.”

“Okay, thank you.” The room falls dark when Dream shuts the door, locks clicking shut once again. Tommy turns to look at the dragons curled up in his lap. Henry’s yellow eyes blink up at him, head tilted to the side. The cold chain attached to him rattles, echoing about the room. Tommy’s stomach churns uneasily.

Chapter Text

Voices echo about the main hall as people weave around each other, carrying boxes and decorations this way and that. Men stand on tall ladders, stringing royal blue bunting about the room, around pillars to balconies. Maids sweep cobwebs from the corners of the room. In the middle of it, stands Wilbur, instructing people this way and that. Rubbing a hand over his forehead, he glances around and breathes a tired sigh. He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and turns to see his father, blue cloak trailing behind him.

“It’s certainly busy down here.” He exclaims, amused. Wilbur gives him an unimpressed look, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, I know. I’ve been here for hours .” Philza smiles, straightening the collar on his son's expensive shirt, ignoring Wilbur’s feeble attempts to brush him off.

“And you’re doing a great job.” He says, sincerely. Wilbur scoffs.

“Really? I imagine I'd feel much less stressed if I was.”

“You are .” Phil insists. “You still have a few days before our guests arrive, that’s plenty of time, alright?”

“Oh, don’t even remind me of our guests, I might actually commit murder.” Phil rolls his eyes at Wilbur’s antics. 

“Always so dramatic, Wil.”

“Oh, come one, you’re dreading being stuck with him for a month as much as I am, admit it.” He replies, in a hushed voice, glancing to make sure no-one is eavesdropping.

“I don’t know who you’re referring to.” Claims Phil, hiding a smile. Wilbur narrows his eyes.

“If you’re going to keep patronising me you can leave. I have other, better things to do than talk to you.” Phil laughs.

“Aww, you know I'm just messing with you, Wil.” He ruffles Wilbur’s brunette hair, causing the younger man to swiftly duck out of the way, glaring. Some men with crates of fruit and wine walk over to Wilbur, asking where to take them. The Prince points them to the left door at the back of the hall, directing them to the kitchens. They thank him, and continue on. Wilbur turns back to his father.

“Have you heard from Tech yet?” He asks, changing the previous subject. Phil exhales, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You know I would tell you.” He reassures, “He probably only arrived a day or two ago, he’s likely still settling in, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just weird that he’s not here. We’ve never spent very long away from each other, and now he could be gone for months.” 

“Techno is going to be fine, he’s a talented swordsman and knows how to defend himself. He’ll be back here with us before you know it.” Wilbur turns away, not looking reassured in the slightest.

“Yeah. You’re right.” He says anyway, throwing his father a half-hearted smile. One of the decorators makes a noise of frustration from the top of his ladder, having dropped their bunting. Wilbur uses the opportunity to escape the conversation, walking away to scoop the bunting from the varnished spruce floors and pass it back up. Before Phil can catch him, he leaves the room.

Technoblade sits at one of the tables in the dining hall, shovelling tasteless food into his mouth. At other tables, conversation flows, but at this one, it is quiet. Those around him avoid even making eye contact with the Prince. 

Once everyone appears to have finished, Lord Commander Sam stands, the scraping of his chair alerting everyone.

“As you all know, we have recently been joined by Prince Technoblade.” Eyes look over to the pink haired man, flicking away when he notices them. “Word of the troubles with Pillagers have spread, so he is here to help us get to the bottom of this. He is going to help with training while we prepare a group to send out to the FarLands. Training will begin at sunrise tomorrow.” There are disapproving murmurs around the room as people stand and leave. Technoblade quickly follows after Sam, the two walk in silence through the snow, back to the man's office.

“They’ll warm up to you.” He says, as if reading Technoblade’s mind. The Prince laughs.

“Are you sure about that? They really don’t seem to like me.” He sits down in the chair by Sam’s desk, pulling his cloak around him in an attempt to keep the biting air at bay. Frost crawls up from the corner of the windows as the snowfall picks up.

“None of these men come from wealth, some of them are criminals, some of them are here to escape their old lives, some of them had no other options. They’ve built up a routine, they trust one another, understand one another. Things have been the same here for years, but now it's begun to change. You’re an outsider, Prince Technoblade, you can never understand them in the way they understand each other. But you can build trust with them. It’ll take time, but it can happen.”

“I don’t know, sounds like a lot of effort.” Technoblade says, jokingly. Sam smiles, pouring out two goblets of ale, he passes one to the Prince.

“It’ll happen.”

“Sapnap!” Tommy calls, jogging over to the man standing beside George, under the shade of a house.

“Hey,” Sapnap replies, smiling and ruffling the teens hair, “What’s up Dragon Boy?”

“Shut up.” He groans, shoving Sapnap.

“What? It’s cool.” He says, “You own the first dragons that have lived in twenty years.”

“I suppose so.” He says quietly, smiling lightly.

“Have you named them yet?” Sapnap asks. He suddenly realises that Dream had never bothered to ask.

“Umm, yeah. Yeah I have. Henry, Clementine and Shroud.” Sapnap chuckles.

“I like it.” He replies, still giggling. Tommy frowns.

“You’re a dick. Did you know that?” Sapnap laughs again.

“You’ve told me a few times.”

“Good.” They stand in silence for a while, George as untalkative as usual. Unable to handle the quiet, Sapnap speaks again.

“You know, I was thinking; I'm basically a dragon.” Tommy laughs.

“How?” 

“I can make fire too, it’s not that special.” He lifts a cracked and charred hand, creating a little spark that flickers and bursts in his palm until its a rippling flame. Tommy stares in wonder for a moment, not often able to see the hybrid using his powers. “Just like a dragon.” He states, nodding to himself. Tommy reaches out and puts his hand over Sapnaps, smothering the flame. 

“Sure, can you fly too?” He asks, sarcastically.

“My ancestors could.”

“Your ancestors weren’t exactly human.”

“ I’m not exactly human.” He retaliates.

“I’m closer to being a dragon than you are.”

“You can’t create fire.”

“But I'm immune to it.” Tommy retorts.

“So am I!” Shouts Sapnap.

“Not exactly.” He looks over Sapnap’s cracked and split skin, red heat burning underneath.

“Mostly!”

“Oh my Gods, shut the fuck up.” He says, exasperated. “We could go on forever at this rate.”

“Fine.” Sapnap groans, nudging Tommy.

“Thank god.” George mutters. The two snap their heads towards the bored looking brunette.

“He speaks!” Says Sapnap, jokingly.

“ He’s leaving .” The older man replies, abruptly turning on his heel and walking away. Tommy watches him go, furrowing his brow.

“Why does he hate me?” Sapnap sighs, lowering himself to the floor by the wall. Tommy follows.

“I’ve told you before. He doesn’t hate you, he just misses Dream.”

“And he blames me.” Says Tommy, leaning his head back against the wall.

“It’s not your fault.” The hybrid stresses, turning to look at the boy.

“But he thinks it is.” Tommy insists. Sapnap rubs his temple.

“Dream is a complicated man, but what changed him was the death of his brother, not you.”

“My family killed him.” Tommy states, clenching his fists.

“They executed him.” Sapnap corrects, as if that’s somehow different. “And your family's actions don't make you a bad person. Look, don’t worry about George okay? He’s just grumpy.” Tommy huffs out a laugh, leaning into Sapnap, who carefully drapes an arm around his shoulders.

“Okay.” He says, quietly.

Chapter Text

Wilbur stands beside King Philza, Fundy on his other side. The three of them don their crowns and signature royal blue cloaks, despite the heat of the sun. They stand tall at the end of the courtyard by the bottom of the steps that lead to the castle entrance, while the carriages pull in. Lady Puffy stands a little ways off, talking in a hushed tone to Sir Jack Manifold, who wears his full knight attire, shining armour with a blue sash and his sword at his hip. They’ve already greeted several guests who are being shown to their rooms at the guest quarters. A carriage rumbles against the gravel, halting before them, two familiar faces step out.

“Lord Jacobs.” Philza greets, with a smile. Karl and his companion bow respectfully, smiling at the three royals.

“Your Highnesses,” He replies. “It’s an honour to have been invited to this event.” He glances up at the grand castle towering into the skies behind them.

“Nonsense, Kinoko Kingdom may be a new settlement, but I’m sure it’ll become a strong addition to the Antarctic Empire.” Says Philza.

“You’re very kind, my King.” Karl replies, pulling at his yellow and purple embroidered clothes in subtle nervousness.

“I haven’t visited yet myself, but I hear the architecture is beautiful.” Says Wilbur, smiling kindly. 

“That’s all thanks to Foolish,” He replies, gesturing to the emerald eyed man beside him, dressed in golden robes.

“Yes, I remember you, you used to serve under the KingsGuard.” Phil recalls, Foolish nods.

“I did, many years ago, your Highness.” They turn at the sounds of another carriage coming to a stop behind Lord Karl’s, led by two dark horses. The door opens, and Lord Quackity steps out. The man grins, extending his arms and walking towards the group, another man trails behind him.

“Hello, my friends.” He exclaims, “Your Grace, Wilbur, Prince Fundy.” He ruffles the little boy's hair, Wilbur quickly pulling his son back and attempting to keep a scowl from his face. “And Lord Jacobs as well, I'm glad to see you here for this year's festival.” He tilts his head down in respect, and Karl smiles in return, sheepishly.

“Thank you, I'm grateful to be here.”

“Well, I believe you’re the last of our guests to arrive, shall we?” Philza gestures up the steps, sending a swift warning look to Wilbur, who stares daggers at the Lord of Las Nevadas. Jack walks beside the royals, and Puffy follows alongside Quackity and Karl, making polite conversation about their journey and the weather. The main doors at the building’s entrance are made of a thick spruce wood, with black iron hinges, and floral designs carved into the surface. The doors tower over ten feet and lead directly into the throne room. Their footsteps echo about the large room as they pass through, Karl looking up at the long glass pane windows and mezzanine overlooking the room. Quackity’s gaze lingers on the stage at the head of the room, or more precisely, on the large golden throne atop it. Wilbur looks back at him, with narrowed eyes. They pass through corridors with fresh flower arrangements in the windows and bunting lining the walls, they stop once reaching the guest quarters. A maid hurries over to them, hands clasped in front of her and bowing in respect.

“We’ll leave you to get settled into your rooms. An evening meal will be served in the main hall in a few hours, and a servant will be sent to escort you.” Says Philza.

“If you would follow me,” the maid says, stepping forwards, “I’ll show you to your rooms.” The groups bid their farewells, Quackity and Karl beside each other, following the maid, and their companions behind. Wilbur is quick to take Fundy’s hand and walk away, weaving back through the halls of their home.

“I’m sick of him already.” Wilbur mutters.

“I want you to help me with the dragons.” Dream commands, seconds after stepping into the room. Tommy looks up at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” Sighing, Dream crosses his arms.

“They won’t listen to me, I think they might listen to you.” Tommy stands, and follows the frustrated man into the next room. Smiling, he moves towards his dragons, crouching down to pet them. They make happy, chirp-like noises.

“Here.” Dream says, and Tommy turns to see him holding out a dead mouse. “See if you can get them to make fire.” Hesitantly, Tommy takes the dead animal, looking back to Henry, Shroud and Clem, who eye the food hungrily.

“When did they last eat?” Tommy asks.

“I don’t know, a few days ago?” Replies Dream, impassively.

“What?” Tommy stares at the man, shocked, a simmering anger building inside him.

“I thought it would be a good motivator.” He justifies.

“Starving them? They’re a week old, they need food.”

“And they’ll get it, if they earn it.” Dream states, firmly. “Go on, try.” Fighting against the pit in his stomach, Tommy places the mouse onto the floor in front of Henry. The creature looks back at him, awaiting permission.

“Dracarys.” Tommy whispers. Henry looks down at the mouse, opens his mouth, and makes a small hissing noise, smoke rising into the air. Then, all at once as though he’d run out of breath, it stops. He squawks, and looks back up to Tommy, proudly. “Good boy, Henry.” Tommy praises, picking up the dead thing and throwing it closer to the three dragons, who tear into it greedily. He feels Dream’s rough hand on his shoulder.

“Why did you do that?” The man asks, angrily, pulling Tommy harshly.

“He tried , but they’re still too young. They haven’t even learnt to fly yet, Dream.” Tommy responds, raising his voice. “You’re being too impatient.” He snaps, pulling out of the man's grasp.

“Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realise you were an expert.” Dream says, sarcastically. “Well, what would you have me do then?” Tommy stares at the angry, masked man, warily. “No, go on, tell me! I’m all ears, Prince Theseus.”

“Dream, I wasn't saying that!” Tommy says, standing.

“Oh, you weren’t? What were you saying then?” Dream yells.

“I just- they’re clearly weak, they haven’t seen the sun, you haven’t been feeding them. I’m just trying to help, I promise!” Dream scoffs, stepping towards Tommy and looming over him menacingly. Bracing himself, Tommy awaits more yelling, or maybe a hit or two. What he doesn’t expect is a yelp of pain, from Dream. The blonde boy looks down to see Henry, jaws biting into Dream’s ankle. Shroud and Clem screech at him angrily. Dream shakes his leg, dislodging Henry, and kicks the little dragon. He furiously steps towards them, cornering them against the wall. Tommy shouts, leaping forwards to grab him before he can hurt them, but Dream strikes him across the face, hard. Stumbling back, Tommy barely catches himself on the opposite wall, warm blood trickles from his nose. He prepares to lunge at the man again, but another voice interrupts them.

“Dream.”

The two pause, staring at George, who stands in the doorway, eyes flicking between the two. Dream straightens himself out, glancing back to the dragons, who grumble threateningly.

“Yes George?” He says, finally.

“You have a meeting.” The brunette replies, uncomfortably.

“Right.” Dream brushes off his cloak, sending Tommy a sharp look, “Take Theseus back to his room.” He walks out of the room, dumping a bunch of keys into George’s hands on his way. They listen to Dream’s footsteps fade down the hall, and hear the slam of the front door. Neither of them look at each other. The dragons break the tense silence, whining softly. Tommy slowly moves over to them stroking them soothingly. George watches the interaction for a moment, face unreadable.

“Come on.” He mutters. Tommy sighs, but stands, leaving the room behind George. His dragons cry out as the door closes, leaving them in darkness once again.

“He hurts them.” Tommy says. George looks up, meeting Tommy’s eye with a troubled expression. “It feels wrong, but he hurts me too and… I don’t know.” He trails off. George tears his eyes away from Tommy, stepping past him towards the teen’s bedroom door. “One time I asked Sapnap if anyone ever hit him when he did something wrong, but he wouldn’t answer me.” George pushed open Tommy’s door, looking at him but not meeting his eye. Quietly, Tommy asks “Is Dream a good person?” George stiffens, face twitching.

“Theseus, you should get in your room.” He says, quietly.

“George-”

“It’s getting late.” He interrupts.

“George, please.” Tommy begs, eyes stinging.

“Just get in your room.” George says, more firmly, hands clenched tightly.

“Or what?” Tommy starts, tentatively, “Will you- will you hit me?” George’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back, shoulders hiking up.

“No.” He snaps, in an offended tone. Tommy takes in a shaky breath, feeling the distressed tears building in his eyes. “In your room.” George says, “Now!” Tommy moves, walking into his bedroom and flinching at the harsh slam of his door. He hears the jingling on the keys as the locks are hastily fastened, and George’s footsteps recede very quickly. A lump builds in Tommy’s throat, and he sinks to the floor in the middle of his room, furiously wiping the stray tears dripping down his face.

Chapter Text

Technoblade stands to the side of the courtyard, snow gently falling around him while he observes the two men clashing swords before him. A group of men watch, awaiting their turns. Lord Commander Sam stands off to the side, surveying them.

“Your stance is all wrong.” Technoblade says, stepping in and moving them into better positions. “Here, standing to the side a little makes you a smaller target, and gives you more directions to move. Turn your foot like this to help your balance. Yeah, there you go.” He instructs. The kid, Ponk, he thinks, nods. He shifts his feet slightly, and lifts his sword again. He advances on his partner, getting in a few more strikes before managing to knock him down to the floor. “Good work.” Says Technoblade, walking over and offering a hand to the kid on the floor. “Okay, next pair.” They switch, two different men preparing to fight.

“How are they doing?” Sam asks, walking up to Technoblade.

“Some of them have potential.” He says, glancing over to Ponk and a few others. “Some decidedly do not.” Sam huffs out a laugh.

“That’s not surprising. Most of them are good men, but none of them ever really expected to be preparing for anything more than capturing a few stray Pillagers.” Technoblade nods in understanding, watching the men before him flail about uselessly. “Tomorrow we’ll start forming a group to head out there.” Sam says.

“Okay.” He agrees.

“Did you want to send a letter to L’Manberg before you leave? We have plenty of crows.” Lord Sam suggests, the Prince pauses, looking away.

“No.” Technobalde decides. “Wilbur will only worry if he knows I’m going past the border, I'll wait until we get back.” Sam nods.

“Hey, Theseus.” Sapnap calls, Tommy looks up to see the man waving and walking over to him. He sits down under the shade of the tree beside the boy. “What’re you doing all the way out here?” He asks. Tommy shrugs, staring at the dusty ground in front of him. Sapnap frowns. “Not you, too. George is weirdly quiet today as well.”

“George is always quiet.” Tommy mutters. Sapnap huffs in amusement, he looks out over the sandy plains.

“Well, what’s up with you then? You’re definitely not one to be quiet.” The hybrid jokes, not receiving any laughter.

“Nothing.” Tommy claims, leaning his head back and staring up at the bright sky.

“Alright then.” Sapnap replies, doubtfully, peering back at him with suspicion. “Did something happen?”

“Look, I really don’t want to talk right now Sapnap, okay?” Snaps Tommy, standing and starting back towards their village. Sapnap pushes himself up, quickly catching the boy's wrist.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I won’t push.” The man relents, loosening his grip. “I bought some apples, want to share?” He offers, sliding his bag from his shoulder, he rifles through it and pulls out a bright green apple, holding it out for the boy. “Quick, before I burn through it.” He adds. The corners of Tommy’s lips twitch upwards, and he takes the fruit, huffing a laugh at the burns in the shapes of fingers on its skin. He slumps back down next to Sapnap, and takes a bite.

“It’s good.” He mumbles, between mouthfuls. Sapnap smiles.

“I’m very excited for the main feast, this year. It’s such a lovely idea to share a meal with the entire city. I have a delightful time every year without fail.” Says Lady Alyssa. All of the guests sit at a table in the main hall. Fresh candles line the walls, and flags of the Antarctic Empire fall from each pillar.

“Ah, yes.” Philza replies, from his seat at the head of the long table, “The main feast is one of my favourite traditions.”

“It’s a great way to end the festival too,” Says Wilbur, “It brings people together, just like my mother always strived to do. That's the reason we created the festival in the first place.”

“That’s such a wonderful tribute to her.” Adds Lord HBomb, leaning forwards.

“Indeed it is,” Quackity agrees, “Didn’t you propose the first of the annual festivals, Wilbur?” The Prince, fights a sarcastic comment, plastering on a fake beam.

“I did, yes.”

“I’m sure the Queen would have been so proud to see you celebrating her life in such a generous and admirable way.” Quackity responds. Wilbur can’t find a proper reply, disappointedly watching the oblivious people around him give Quackity over-fond looks. 

“To Prince Wilbur.” Karl toasts, kindly, raising his glass. Everyone else follows, chanting his name and taking a sip of wine.

“To Queen Kristen.” Wilbur replies softly. And the table repeats, respectfully. Philza gives him a warm smile, raising his cup towards his son. 

“I have some?” Fundy asks, innocently. Wilbur chuckles, his previous frustration fades as he holds his glass out of reach from his son's grabby hands.

“I’m afraid not.” Fundy pouts, and everyone breaks out into laughter.

Tommy slowly blinks awake, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. His room is dark and quiet. He rolls over, to go back to sleep, when a muted jingling sound reaches his ears. Quickly sitting up, Tommy’s gaze snaps to his bedroom door. He hears the noise again, before the click of one of the locks on his door. Confused, he stands up, walking around the edge of his room. He glances away from the door, looking for some kind of weapon, despite knowing he would come up empty. The second lock opens. And the third. Tommy presses himself back against the far wall as the door slowly and silently opens. George stands in the doorway to his bedroom, hand slipping off the door handle.

“What?” Tommy rasps, voice croaky from sleep. “George what are you-”

“Shh.” The man replies, walking towards him, arms out as though he’s approaching a scared animal. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“What?” Tommy stares at George, bewildered. “W- what?” George continues towards him, pulling off the brown cloak he’s wearing and moving to wrap it around Tommy.

“Dream lied to you, okay?” The older man says, quietly.

“What?” George begins ushering him to the doorway.

“Your family didn’t give you up, Theseus, Dream took you.” Tommy pushes George, stumbling away from him.

“Stop!” He pleads, hands reaching up to his head, tangling themselves in his hair. George does stop, reaching out and gently tugging the boy's hands down.

“You have to be quiet.” He says, calmer this time. He ducks his head to meet the teen’s eyes, “I know this is a lot, Theseus, but we have to go now.”

“I don’t understand.” Tommy whines.

“You were right before, about Dream. He’s suffered a lot in his life, and I vowed to always stay by his side, but he shouldn't be hurting you, or the dragons. It’s wrong.” George explains, voice shaking. Tommy stares at the man he barely knows, wide-eyed. “I should have done something sooner. I thought I could just ignore how Dream was treating you and pretend he was still the same person I was best friends with, but I can’t anymore.” The two look at each other, both with red-rimmed eyes. For the first time ever, Tommy thinks, George smiles at him. It's a sad and pain filled smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Okay.” Tommy answers unsurely, still trying to process what George was saying. He follows George out of the room, watching him quietly fumble with the keys. Tommy notices the three little cages Dream had put the dragons in before, stacked up by the wall. George holds up a key, eyeing up the locks on the next door.

“You have to keep them as quiet as you can, alright?” Tommy nods. George makes quick work of the locks, despite his quivering hands. The door opens and they hurry into the room. The dragons lay on the hand floor, curled around each other. Henry snarls, as they enter, a growl building in his throat, but he calms once he recognises Tommy. He lowers himself to the floor and they nuzzle against him, making tired, purring noises, unbothered as George carefully reaches towards them to unlock the chains around their necks. Clem makes happy little chirp noises, and Tommy quickly hushes her. Once they’re free from their chains, Tommy lets them clamber onto him. They walk back into the hall, George crouches down to open the cages. Shroud makes an uncertain whimper, his claws gripping onto Tommy.

“It’s okay.” He whispers to them, ushering them into the cages. Carefully, George stacks Henry’s cage onto Clem’s, lifting them up. Tommy grabs Shroud’s cage, muttering quiet reassurances to the nervous dragon. They tiptoe through the house, towards the propped open front door. Stepping out into the warm night, Tommy notices Dream’s horse, Spirit, tied to a fence post. He follows George over to the white beast. “Are you sure about this?” Tommy asks. George doesn’t reply, busy fixing the cages to the back of the saddle with leather straps, he wordlessly takes the last cage from Tommy, covering all three over once they’re secure. George helps Tommy onto the horse, walking around Spirit to grab a pile of things from the floor. He passes the boy a sword, and hefts a sack onto Spirit.

“What’s that?” Tommy asks.

“Things you’ll need.” He answers, grabbing Spirit’s reigns and leading them to the edges of Logstedshire. They duck behind a building when they hear voices approaching, two of Dream’s men patrolling the outskirts. Tommy focuses on keeping Spirit as quiet as possible. One of the men holds a bottle of alcohol, passing it to the other, who takes a swig. They laugh over some joke Tommy didn’t catch, continuing past them. George breathes a sigh of relief, waiting for them to disappear from sight again, before leaving the shadows. Tommy stays silent as the roads come to an end and they step out into the open. The desert stretches for miles, disappearing into the dark night. “You have to go now.” George says. “Don’t look back.”

“What? You’re not coming with me?” He asks, panicked. George hushes him, looking apologetic.

“I can’t.” Tommy goes to argue, but George speaks again. “Please, Theseus. Go, find a way back to your family. Your real family. Dream will start hunting you as soon as he realises you’re gone so you can’t stop moving, do you understand?” He wants to argue more, but the sheer desperation in George’s voice stops him. “Do you understand?” He shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Okay.” He whispers. George smiles up at him, squeezing his hand.

“Go!” He encourages.

So Tommy leaves.

Chapter Text

It was midday, and Fundy was bored. Their guests had been settling in for the week, and tonight the start of the festivities began, his father was busy preparing for tonight’s event, as was Niki. He aimlessly walked down the quieter halls of the castle, running a hand along the cold brick. This corridor was empty, one side was an open balcony, the other contained their family portraits. The newest were at his end, the closest was the most recent, painted a few weeks before his fifth birthday, in the other, he was just a baby in his fathers arms. There was one where Wilbur and Technoblade stood beside King Philza, looking to be in their early teens. And another where the two were even younger. Fundy paused at the next, in this one his father and uncle must be around his age. Queen Kristen is in this painting, standing beside Philza in a beautiful blue and black dress, their children on each side of them. In her arms, she holds a baby. Fundy had asked his father on multiple occasions who the baby was, but Wilbur would always change the subject.

“What a lovely painting.” Fundy jumps, quickly spinning around. Lord Quackity smiles down at him.

“Oh, hello.” He replies, shy. Quackity moves to stand beside him, looking up at the picture. “Do you know who baby is?” He asks.

“Well, that was Prince Theseus Minecraft.” The lord answers. Fundy’s eyes widened, looking up at the man.

“Who that?” Quackity meets his eye, titling his head at the Prince. A look Fundy can’t decipher creeps across his face.

“You don’t know about Prince Theseus?” He asks, crouching down to the boy’s level.

“No, father doesn’t tell me.” Fundy says, frowning.

“Well that’s not very fair.” Says Quackity, “You deserve to know, he would have been your uncle, afterall.” 

“You tell me?” Fundy asks, hopefully.

“Oh, I’m not sure if it's my place…” Quackity says apologetically, moving to stand.

“But father will never tell me!” Fundy exclaims, reaching out to grab the man’s sleeve. Quackity’s eyebrows furrow and he breathes in deeply. Finally, he lets out a sigh.

“Okay.” He says, Fundy grins at him. “But only because I think it’s your place to know about this. You’re definitely mature enough.”

“I am.” Fundy agrees, nodding. 

“And don’t tell your father I told you.” He says.

“I won’t!” Fundy promises. Quackity smiles, moving to sit up on one of the balcony walls, he pats the space beside him, and Fundy quickly jumps up to sit next to him, with a little help from the man.

“Theseus was born during the war with Exdee.” He starts. “He was barely a few months old when the war ended. Your grandmother, Queen Kristen died during the war- I’m sure you must know about that?” Fundy nods. “I remember there was a funeral for her after the war, the King, your father and your uncle Technoblade were there, so was I, with my family. They left Theseus back here, at the castle. It was the next day that we got the news that Theseus was gone.” Fundy gasps, “Yes, it was sad, clearly he didn’t have enough security watching him, so somebody was able to break in. Your family was very sad, and they searched the entire Empire for him. After a year, they finally declared him dead.”

“He really dead?” Fundy asks, quietly.

“Yeah. He is.” Fundy looks back to the painting, frowning.

“Why my father didn’t tell me?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” Quackity admits. “Maybe your family still feels guilty for letting it happen.” He ponders. They sit in silence for a while, both looking at the little blonde baby in the painting. “Hey,” The man says, nudging him gently. “How about we go down to the gardens for a while?”

“Okay.” Fundy agrees. Giving the man a small smile.

Technoblade sits atop Carl, watching the gate before them rise. He looks up at the border, that stretches up and disappears into the foggy morning sky. The men around him mutter quietly, with apprehension. Technoblade was well aware of their objections towards following him. He looked over to Sam, who stood tall, giving him an encouraging nod.

“Be safe out there.” He says to them all.

“Always am.” Technoblade mumbles. He walks on, his group hesitantly following. They walked through the tunnel built into the border, dark and damp. The gate closes behind them, drowning them in momentary darkness, before the gate ahead creaks, and lifts. The horses' hooves crunch in the thick layers of snow, twinkling and untouched. Ahead lies a thick forest, layered with white, that stretches on for miles. He looks back at his men, who stare back wearily. “We’ll keep moving till the sun begins to set.” He says, “Then we’ll set up a camp for the night. Keep an eye out for any traces of the men who went missing.” He waits for the mutters of agreement, watching awkwardly while the group look to each other, having wordless conversations he can’t understand. Eventually they look back to him. Technoblade holds back a sigh, “Okay then.” He grumbles, walking on with Carl. The others follow, so he assumes they don’t completely disagree with his plan.

Wilbur watches the rows of benches fill with people eagerly awaiting the first event of the festival. King Philza sits up on a large wooden chair, chatting idly with those around him. Glancing about, Wilbur tries to spot his son. Furrowing his eyebrows, he shuffles past people, to his father.

“Have you seen Fundy?” 

“No, he’s not back yet?” Wilbur shakes his head. He looks around again, slowly sitting in his chair beside the King. Philza rests a hand on his shoulder.

“The show hasn’t started yet, I’m sure he just lost track of time playing somewhere in the castle, a guard will bring him soon enough.”

“Yeah.” Replies Wilbur, watching everyone begin to settle into their seats. The competitors of the jousting lead their horses up and down the track, armour clattering with each step.

“There he is.” Philza says, pointing over to the red haired boy. Wilbur breathes a relieved sigh. Fundy weaves through the people still milling around, making his way to his seat, there’s a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him. Wilbur tenses.

“Lord Quackity.” He greets them, stiffly, once they’re near. His eyes flick to the hand still resting on Fundy’s shoulder. Quackity nods at the man in greeting.

“Well, Prince Fundy,” he says to the little boy, “I liked your company today, enjoy the show.” He walks by the royals, towards a seat near Lord Jacobs, waving back to Fundy, who waves in return, enthusiastically.

“Sit, Fundy.” Wilbur says, patting the chair beside him, the boy’s face drops, he avoids his father’s eye as he climbs into the seat beside him. “I don’t want you talking to Lord Quackity, okay? We can’t trust him.” WIlbur says, softly.

“Why not?” Fundy retorts. Wilbur straightens, confused.

“He’s not a good person.” Fundy’s face scrunches up, not replying. Wilbur looks back to Philza, who watches his grandson. 

“Look Will, Quackity is disrespectful and sly, I know.” He starts, in a quiet tone, “But he’s been here a whole week and nothing has happened so far, and it doesn’t seem that anything will. You should stop worrying, what’s the worst that he can do here ?” Wilbur grits his teeth in frustration.

“You don’t understand.” He stresses, “I grew up with Quackity, I've seen how he works. He understands people, and how to treat them and use them to get what he wants. I don’t trust him, and I don’t want him anywhere near my family, because I don’t know what he can do.” Phil sighs.

“I know you’re struggling without Technoblade here, but everything’s okay-”

“That's not-” He interrupts, but Phil continues.

“You’re smart, Will, but the only thing Quackity is trying to do is get under your skin. And you’re letting him.” Wilbur slumps down in his chair, running a hand through his curls.

“Yeah.” He says, looking out as the trumpets start, a smiley man stepping out to welcome everyone and introduce the first event. His eyes flicker to Quackity, who whispers to Lord Karl, the latter giggling at something said.

The desert was quiet, not a single sound aside from Tommy’s gentle breathing, and the occasional grumble of one of the dragons curled up in his lap. Despite the silence, Tommy stayed on alert, glancing about every once in a while. He’d managed to find a cluster of trees, and set up a temporary camp between them for the night, but they were still out in the open. He daren’t leave the fire burning all night, afraid the light could attract unwanted attention. 

He was sure it had been about a week since he’d left. They’d been walking for days, and even Spirit was exhausted at this point. He’d discovered that in the sack, George had packed a blanket, some food and water, but they were running out, being under the heat of the sun every day was taking its toll on them all. He knew he’d have to stop off at a village soon, but the fear of his dragons being discovered and taken from him had persuaded him to steer clear of them for now. 

As the sun dipped behind the hills, Tommy gently nudged his dragons awake. He had been setting up snares each night, recalling Sapnap teaching him one time, and had managed to catch some mice and rabbits for them. And they were growing quick, with the regular meals, now each around the size of a cat, maybe larger, already. Their weight made Tommy’s legs go numb, but he was hesitant to move them until he absolutely had to. They protested in small, tired whines as he carefully scooped them into his arms and shuffled over to their cages. Thankfully it wasn’t too much trouble to get them in, the creatures used to the cages by now. Tommy had ripped off parts of the blanket so they each had some in their cages to snuggle into, it never got very cold in the desert at night anyway, so he didn’t miss it too much. Looking about him once more, and still finding no one in sight, he smothered the little fire and decided to curl up on the floor in between his dragons and Spirit, and get some sleep.

Chapter Text

Tommy holds his breath, hand tightening on Spirits' reigns as he leads the horse through the crowds. Anxiously, he glances back at the blanket his dragons are hidden under, watching the people around him walk straight past, oblivious. The village of Pogtopia is poor and overcrowded, homeless lining the walls, beggars moving from person to person - Very different than the tense atmosphere of Logstedshire that he was used to. Tommy keeps a hand on his pocket, aware that the fortune inside is likely more than most of the people here have seen in their lives. He keeps his head low, eyes locking onto every green cloak he spots with cautious eyes. A man with greying hair and brown teeth, stops him, grabbing his arm.

“Fine lookin’ horse you got there, boy. How much for ‘im?” Tommy shakes his hand off, stepping back.

“He’s not for sale.” He mutters, quickly continuing along. He stops at a market, purchasing some food for himself and Spirit. He’s refilling his pouch at a water pump when shouting reaches his ears. Tommy quickly tightens the cap, searching for the source of the yelling. He spots the commotion down the street.

“Thief!” Men scream, chasing after someone. The culprit is short, with an old tattered shirt swamping his skinny frame, and grown out, brown hair falling about his face. As he nears, Tommy catches a glimpse of the boy’s panicked face, a loaf of bread stuffed under one arm. People move out of their way, creating a path towards Tommy. Some men step forwards to try and catch the thief, but the boy roughly pushes past them, barreling straight for Tommy. The blonde jumps onto his horse.

“Hey!” He yells, the boy glances up, looking ready to change course, but Tommy extends his arm. “Come on!” He says. The boy looks behind him as he runs, at the group hunting him down, he looks back and locks eyes with Tommy. Tommy stretches out as far as he can, feeling a hand grab onto his. He swiftly helps the brunette onto Spirit, who immediately breaks into a sprint. The boy yelps, grabbing onto Tommy as they move back through the streets. He shouts out, alerting people, who stumble out of the paths. Keeping a tight grip on the horses reins, they dodge the market stands, barely missing people. Tommy keeps riding, until the buildings thin out, and they’re back in open land. He only brings Spirit to a stop when Pogtopia is small in the distance. 

The brunette slides off the horse first, collapsing to the floor and breathing heavily. Tommy twists in his seat, gently hushing the whines coming from the cages. Once they’ve settled, he carefully dismounts Spirit, standing over the boy.

“Holy shit.” The boy breathes, carding his hands through his hair, adrenalin filled smile on his face. “That was so close.”

“You’re fucking welcome, for that.” Tommy says, sharply. The boy finally looks up at him, composing himself.

“Thanks.” He huffs out, smiling gratefully.  “Why’d you help me?” He asks.

“You looked like you needed that bread.” He replies, quietly “I know what it’s like to be hungry.” The boy nods, glancing at the loaf that lays on the floor beside him.

“I’m Tubbo.” The boy, Tubbo, holds out a dirty hand.

“...Tommy.” He responds, reaching out to shake Tubbo’s hand. Tubbo smiles again, Tommy smiles back. “Well then.” He says, yanking the brunette to his feet. “How about we find somewhere to eat that bread?”

Wilbur stands at a balcony overlooking the lush gardens of the castle. His eyes follow a certain pair, who walk the paths, under arches and around trees. Though he’s too far to hear the words spoken between them, Karl’s laugh can be heard, even from here. He scowls, watching Quackity help him over the little river stepping stones. 

“It’s a fine day.” Says Lady Puffy, walking over to stand beside him. Wilbur hums in response. Puffy follows Wilbur’s gaze. “We’re spying now?” She asks, amused.

“I’d hardly call it spying, I can’t even hear what they’re saying.” He mumbles.

“Well whatever they’re talking about seems to be funny.” She replies, Wilbur glances at her, unimpressed.

“He’s already got Karl wrapped around his finger.” He grumbles.

“Well, we both know he can be charming when he wants to be.” The woman says, rolling her eyes.

“He was with Fundy the other day.” Puffy straightens, eyebrows furrowing.

“He was?”

“Yes.” Wilbur says, tensely, “And Fundy’s been quiet since.”

“You think he hurt him?” Puffy guesses, apprehensively, Wilbur shakes his head.

“No, quite the opposite actually. Fundy got quite upset when I told him to stay away from him.” 

“Where’s Fundy now?”

“Helping Nikki in the kitchens.” He turns away from the two men in the garden, facing Puffy directly. “Would you help me keep an eye on him, make sure he and Fundy are never alone together? I don’t want him turning my own son against me, who knows what lies he’s been telling him.”

“Of course, your highness.” Puffy says, giving him a reassuring smile.

The group slowly trekked into the still village, weapons at the ready. Snow silently fell around them, their boots crunched through the untouched whiteness. Technoblade peered through the window of an empty house, the door left ajar.

“Where is everyone?” Ponk whispers, as if afraid to break the hushed atmosphere.

“Raiders maybe?” His friend, Antfrost suggests. Technoblade shakes his head.

“The people who were here seem to have left in a hurry, but there’s no blood, no destruction.”

“So, what? They were running from something?” Antfrost guesses, confused. Technoblade doesn’t answer, continuing through the small cluster of houses.

“Night’s falling.” One of the men notes, the group glance up to the orange and grey sky. “We could set up in these houses, it’s not like they’re being used.” There are noises of agreement.

“No,” Instructs Technoblade, “We’ll keep moving for a while and set up a camp further away.” 

“In case the villagers come back?” Asks Ponk, confused.

“Or whatever they were running from.” Technoblade adds. The men don’t argue, glancing between each other nervously, and quietly follow the prince out of the abandoned settlement.

“Lord Quackity!” Someone whispers. The Lord turns confused, spotting Fundy’s young face poking around the corner.

‘Oh, hey kid.” He greets.

“Shh.” Says Fundy, motioning for the man to follow him. Quackity does so, an amused look on his face. They walk around the corner into an empty corridor, and Quackity crouches down to his height.

“What’s going on, Little Prince?” He asks the boy.

“Father won’t let me talk you so we have to be quiet.” Fundy tells him.

“Oh, why not?” Quackity questions, looking confused.

“He doesn’t like you very much.” Fundy mumbles.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t really know.” The boy answers, looking upset.

“That’s a shame, I‘ve always liked your father, I thought he was a good man.” Fundy stays quiet, frowning.

“I want to talk you still.” He says, suddenly. Smiling, quackity replies.

“That’s good, I still want to talk to you too. I’d like us to be friends, Fundy.”

“So would I!” The boy exclaims, happily.

“We probably won’t get to talk often if your father won’t let you, though. I wouldn’t want him to find out and risk you getting into trouble.”

“But we could use the tunnels!” Fundy suggests. Quackity tilts his head, intrigued.

“Tunnels?”

“Yeah, there’s secret tunnels everywhere in the castle.”

“You don’t say?” Replies the man, smirking. Fundy nods.

“They take you almost every room and out of L’manberg.” He adds.

“Wow, you’re very smart to have found them.” Quackity responds, Fundy smiles at the praise.

“Come on, I show them you and we can meet more.” Says Fundy, grabbing Quackity’s hand and tugging him away.

“Lead the way, Little Prince.”

Chapter Text

“Prince Wilbur,” Wilbur turns to see Foolish behind his chair. The man’s serious emerald eyes stare into his own, “I was hoping to talk to you after today's affairs.” Foolish mutters to him. Wilbur glances at the crowds around him, all focused on the striking of swords from the two competitors in the arena. He looks back to the man.

“What about, Sir Foolish?” Wilbur asks. He watches Foolish’s eyes flicker to Lord Karl, sitting a few rows down, beside Lord Quackity, as usual. The two cheer, calling out encouragements to those fighting.

“I would prefer not to say until the two of us can speak alone, this is a conversation that should be had away from prying eyes.” Cheers ring throughout the stadium, as Purpled disarms his third opponent in a row. The Lords and Ladys stand to clap. Wilbur does as well, smiling down to the young knight, who bows in the royals’ direction. He sits again, turning back to Foolish.

“We can speak later this evening, once the festivities have finished and the castle has settled down.” He agrees, as the drums begin, marking the start of the next duel.

“Thank you, your highness.” Foolish says, nodding to him before disappearing into the crowds. 

“Tommy?” Tubbo asks, the following day, Tommy hums for him to continue, “What’s in the cages?” Tommy freezes, glad to have been facing away from the other.

“Umm, cats?” He blurts. Looking back at Tubbo who sits beside their small fire, he waits for suspicion, but the boy makes a face of understanding. 

“Oh, can I stroke them?” He asks, hopefully. 

“They’re not very friendly.” Tommy says, amused. Tubbo slumps and Tommy almost feels bad. He carefully loads the cages onto Spirit, checking his saddle and gently petting him.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, I don’t really know, I think there’s another village a few miles from Pogtopia, I might go there. Did you want me to drop you back to Pogtopia on our way?” Tommy questions.

“Uh, I don’t really have anything to go back to in Pogtopia.” He replies, looking across the sandy hills. “Could I- could I come with you for a while?” He asks, hesitantly. Tommy stops, surprised.

“I… I suppose so.” He says, shrugging. He glances at the cages on Spirit, nervously, aware he was probably making a mistake. But Tubbo smiles at him, and he can’t help but return it.

“Thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t be too much trouble.” He says, standing up and walking towards Tommy. Tommy flinches back, shocked when Tubbo’s arms wrap around him. Hesitantly, he hugs him back. The closest to a hug he’d ever gotten before, was an arm around the shoulder from Sapnap. Soon enough, Tubbo pulled away from him, grinning. “Let’s go then, boss man!” He shouts, tugging on Tommy’s arm excitedly. The two climb onto Spirit, and they continue on.

“So where are you trying to get to?” Tubbo questions.

“I’m going home.” Replies Tommy, grip tight on Spirit’s reins.

“So,” Tubbo starts, attempting to pick from the numerous questions he has, “Where is home?”

“The Antarctic Empire.” Tommy says, simply, looking back at the brunette, who just looks more puzzled.

“How are you going to get across the seas?” Frowning, Tommy turns away.

“I’ll work something out.” He mumbles. 

“You have money.” Tubbo observes. Tommy’s head snaps to look back at him, warily. “Well you have a horse, and three cats, and enough food for all of you to survive, so I’m guessing you have money from somewhere.” He defends quickly. “Unless you stole it?” Tommy tenses at the questions. “I won’t judge if you did, that would be sort of hypocritical.” The brunette rambles, laughing to himself.

“It’s complicated.” Tommy interrupts. Tubbo’s eyebrows furrow. “Look, there are people after me, I took something from them. I can still drop you off at Pogtopia if you want.” He states, anxiously awaiting the other boy’s answer.

“No.” Tubbo decides, smiling reassuringly at Tommy. “You helped me out, so I can help you.” Tommy huffs a laugh.

“How are you going to do that?” He asks.

“I’ll work something out.” Tubbo says, grinning. Tommy rolls his eyes, fighting a smile.

The forest grows thicker, the further they travel, and the snowfall picks up. The shelter of the trees now barely protects them from the harsh winds. The sky is dark, despite it still being day, dark clouds stop any light from falling upon them. Technoblade ushers the group onwards, hoping for somewhere they can set up for the night.

“Hey!” Antfrost shouts over the storm, “Look over there.” Technoblade looks over to where the man points through the trees at their left. Squinting through the snow, he sees movement. They carefully pass the trees, and step out into the small clearing. Caught in the trees are the remains of a tent, sheets whipping about in the wind, torn on the jagged arms of the trees. Branches lay discarded across the floor and the burnt out embers of a fire barely poke through the thick snow. Ponk moves to where the tent must have been, digging through the snow and pulling out a sack. He rifles through it, taking out some equipment and stale food.

“This is from the border.” He says, showing the Antarctic Empire embodiment stitched onto the bag.

“Where did they go? Why has this all been left behind?” He hears Antfrost question. Technoblade doesn't hear, distracted by a dark crimson patch on one of the tree trunks. Walking towards it, he reaches out a hand, some of the dried blood chipping away under his fingers. He quickly retracts his hand, looking back over the small camp. Antfrost and Ponk look over at him as his eyes scan the place. Looking up into the trees, he peers at the ripped sheets in the trees again, noting the matching, dark red stains of blood. Distantly, he hears the crunch of snow near him.

“Is that…” Ponk starts, eyes wide. Antfrost nods beside him, breathing deeply. White puffs of air escaping past his lips.

“Blood.” He whispers. From the corner of his eye, Technoblade sees the man turn to face him. “They’re dead, aren’t they.”

“Pillagers?” Ponk asks, nervously. The other men are moving over to them, glancing through the trees, as if waiting for something to jump out and attack them.

“Where are the bodies?” Says Technoblade, gruffly. Everyone looks around, despite knowing they won’t find them.

“The fuck is going on?”  

“What did you want to discuss?” Wilbur asks, shutting the door behind Foolish.

“This is about Lord Quackity.” He replies. Wilbur pauses, eyeing the man sceptically. He walks over to the table on the opposite end of the bedroom, pouring out two goblets of wine. “From my understanding, you don’t trust him.” Foolish says, accepting the rink offered to him, and taking a sip.

“Where is this conversation going, Sir Foolish.” Wilbur queries, carefully.

“Lord Karl has agreed to merge Kinoko Kingdom with Las Nevadas.” Foolish says, bluntly. Wilbur grits his teeth, shutting his eyes and taking a quick breath. “I think we both know why that’s a problem.”

“I’m going to need you to be more specific.” Wilbur replies, calmly, turning to smile at the man.

“I built Kiniko Kingdom beside Lord Karl, from the ground up, with my own two hands. I don’t wish to see it go to a person like Lord Quackity.” Answers Foolish.

“How can I trust that you haven’t been sent by Quackity?”

“With respect, your highness, I served under the Kingsguard. I am loyal to the throne.” Foolish defends himself, seriously.

“You also left the kingsguard.” He reminds the man. “What have you come to me for?” Wilbur asks, still doubtful.

“I’ve tried to talk to Karl, but he trusts Quackity. He won’t listen to me because all I have is suspicion, no solid proof of his deception and ill-meaning. If we worked together, your highness, we could-”

“Sir Foolish, I appreciate you coming to me, but I can’t accept whatever you’re about to offer.” Says Wilbur, before he can be convinced otherwise.

“What do you mean?” Foolish asks, looking defeated.

“Lord Karl is your friend, if you’re telling the truth about Kinoko Kingdom becoming a part of Las Nevadas, then I can’t trust you either. I’m sorry, Sir, but I can’t risk my family's safety for a chance at out-witting Lord Quackity. I hope you can understand that.” Foolish frowns, but nods, a look of understanding passing over his face.

“Of course.” He replies, placing down his drink. “You’re a smart man, Wilbur. I hope it’s enough.” Wilbur watches him leave, before letting out a deep sigh and slumping onto his bed, hoping he’d made the right decision.

Chapter Text

“What your home like?” Fundy asks, voice echoing off the tunnel walls as he leads Quackity to the gardens, a glowing lantern in his hand.

“Las Nevadas?” Asks the Lord. Fundy nods. “Well it’s never quiet, not even at night, like it is here. We’ve got a water fountain bigger than the one in L’Manberg square, and buildings almost as tall as this castle. It’s a great place, you’ll have to visit sometime.”

“Woah, I wanna go there now!” Fundy says, with wide eyes. Quackity laughs, glancing about as the tunnel comes to an end and the young Prince squeezes through the gap, pushing aside the vines covering it. They step out into the fresh night air, making sure no-one is around before walking into the gardens.

“Quackity?” Fundy calls, hesitantly. The Lord turns to look at the boy, giving him an encouraging smile, “Do you know who was my mother?” Fundy asks. The moonlight shines down on them as they pass through the empty gardens.

“Wilbur hasn’t even told you about your own mother?” Quackity asks in disbelief.

“Not much.” The boy mutters in reply. Quackity rests a hand on his shoulder.

“Well I'm afraid I can’t tell you much.” Says Quackity, “Your birth was a surprise to the whole country. Prince Wilbur was only seventeen and it's said that your mother died while having you. It’s likely she was lowborn, since no one knows her identity.”

“Oh.” Fundy walks over to the pond, sitting down at the edge and watching the fish floating around. He brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, and places his chin on his knees. “I wish I could meet her.” Fundy whispers.

“I know.” Quackity says, quietly, sitting on the grass beside him. “I was young when I lost my parents, you know. They were travelling to Esempii but their ship was caught in a storm, I barely remember them. So I understand how you must feel. But to know that your own father is keeping things from you.” He says, Fundy’s face scrunches up in a mixture of emotions. “I can’t imagine how angry that must make you feel.”

Fundy humms, moving a hand to pull at the grass beside him.

“It’s okay for you to be angry, Fundy, and you don’t have to forgive him. There are other people that really care about you. Like me!” He says, smiling and nudging the boy. Fundy’s lips twitch upwards and he meets the man’s eyes.

“Okay.”

The forest was now in the distance behind them, the group pushed forwards, through the snowy plains. The storm was so strong they could barely see ahead of them. Technoblade was keeping an eye out for a cave, longing to get out of the relentless blizzard. Ponk stands beside him, rubbing his hands together and blowing them, desperate to warm them up, gloves doing nothing against the biting cold that turned them blue. Carl struggles too, the strong horse battling through the snow. Technoblade was glad he’d brought enough cloaks to be able to cover his horse at least a little.

“Hey!” Says Ponk suddenly, freezing in place. Technobalde stops, glancing back at him. Ponk doesn’t look at him though, busy squinting through the snow at something in the distance.

“Pillagers?” Asks one of the others, nervously, fumbling for the iron sword at his hip. Technoblade stands in his place at the front of the group, watching the shape move towards them. 

“It’s not a person…” He observes, looking at the mass too large to be a human. He watches it advance on them, realising it’s some kind of animal.

“No.” Says Antfrost, voice shaking. “That’s a ravager.” 

“We should run!” One man shouts, edging backwards. Antfrost shakes his head.

“We’ll never outrun it.” He states.

“There aren’t any pillagers with it.” Ponk says, determinedly “we can take it down.” They can hear the thing grunting now, as it pounds towards them.

“Swords out.” Technoblade commands, pulling out his iron sword. “Get in line.” Everyone is quick to move, breathing heavily as the beast nears them. Technoblade looks on in confusion when he gets a proper look at it; flesh rotted down to the bone in some places, one of its horns missing, and eyes whiter than the snow. “Go!” He shouts, charging towards the ravager. He gets the first strike, dodging it’s large head and biting teeth, and slicing it across its side. Unaffected, the beast skids to a stop, turning and roaring. 

It looks more skeleton than animal, bones showing through the rotted skin. It’s a wonder the thing is still alive. It bashes its head into two men, sending them flying backwards, pushing up onto its back legs and crashing down into the snow, racing forwards to attack Ponk. Technoblade moves towards it, Antrost following, and cuts into its leg. Not making a sound of pain, the ravager opens its jaws snapping in Ponk’s direction. Antfrost is quick to tug him to the side, just barely missing it. 

Three more men run at it, cutting and stabbing wherever they can. One man is knocked to the ground, shrieking at the gashes in his shoulder from the monster's claws, blood soaking his clothes. It swings its head, catching another man across the face, and tearing into his cheek. He stumbles to the ground, hand pressing against his face in a futile attempt to stop the pouring blood. Technoblade watches him choke on his blood, eyes wide. Narrowing his eyes at the ravager, he yells, changing towards. With a cry, he shoves his sword between its eyes and into its skull. 

Stepping back, he waits for it to fall. It doesn’t. He watches in disbelief as it turns to him, roaring angrily. It’s white eyed gaze pierces into him and it opens its mouth. Technoblade swiftly reaches over his shoulder, pulling out his netherite sword. Spinning to the side, he plunges the sword into its body, and waits for the beast to lunge once again. However this time, it shrieks, stumbling on its feet, before dropping to the ground with a thump that rattles the floor beneath him.

Everything is silent. Technoblade stares at the beast, half expecting it to rise again. Thankfully, it stays down. When he turns, he meets the wide eyes of Ponk. Antfrost still looking at the ravager, sword clutched in shaking hands, stance tense. Technoblade moves to the two injured men. The poor man who was caught in the jaw lays still, already dead, but the other gasps in pain, two men pressing their hands to the sticky wound.

“We have to find a cave so we can start a fire and cauterise the wound.” He says, quietly. The man nods, quickly lifting their friend, who shouts out in pain. He walks back to the ravager, pulling his dark netherite sword from its body, and they continue the way they were headed, urgently searching for any sign of a cave or shelter.

“Dracarys.” Tommy whispers, watching proudly as Henry stares at the dead rabbit and opens his mouth, fire escaping and burning the animal. Clapping quietly, Tommy praises him, watching as Henry eats the thing. Clem and Shroud fly in circles, above Tommy’s head, under the stars, still a little wobbly having only recently learned the skill. Tommy calls them down and they land beside him, making little purrs and rubbing their heads against his arm in greeting. He pulls out two more rabbits, ready to try and practise with them, but their heads snap up, looking to Tommy’s left. Glancing over Tommy freezes. Tubbo walks around the side of the mountain, in the middle of rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and yawing.

“What are you doing up, Tommy?” He croaks out, lowering his arms. He blinks at the boy in front of him, eyes narrowing. His eyes open and close very slowly, and he suddenly looks horrified. Tommy jumps to his feet, standing in front of his dragons.

“Tubbo-”

“What the fuck?” Tubbo shouts, taking a step back. He looks from the three opened cages, to the dragons behind Tommy’s legs.

“Tommy… they’re not fucking cats.” He breathes, eyes wide.

“I know!” Tommy says, slowly. “I know, Tubbo. It’s okay.”

“They’re- they’re fucking dragons, Tommy. Why do you have fucking dragons?” Tubbo yells, grabbing his hair and finally meeting Tommy’s eyes.

“They’re mine, Tubbo. Please, calm down!” He begins walking towards the boy. Tubbo doesn’t flinch away, so he grabs his arms. “You have to breathe, man.” He says. Tubbo nods, hastily, sucking in shaking breaths. He finally begins to calm down, arms dropping to his sides.

“I thought all the dragons were dead.” Tubbo whispers.

“They were.” Tommy replies, smiling lightly. “But not anymore.” He looks back to Henry, Clem and Shroud, who stare back. Tubbo huffs out a laugh.

“Have you had them all this time?” He asks.

“Yeah.” Tommy says.

“I’ve been with dragons for four fucking days and I didn’t even notice?”

“...Yes.” Tommy says.

“Holy shit.” Tommy chuckles at his friend.

“Do you want to meet them?” Tubbo stays quiet, looking down at the dragons. He gulps, nodding. Tommy gently grabs his hand, tugging him towards the small creatures. Sitting, he motions for Tubbo to do the same. “They won’t hurt you.” He says, lifting a hand, and smiling as Henry steps forwards and brushes against it. “This is Henry.” He introduces. The dragon makes little clicking noises, tilting his head at Tubbo. He steps towards the teen, cautiously, glancing at Tommy for reassurance.

“Hi!” Tubbo squeaks, shoulders drawn up and mouth dry. Henry squawks, reaching down to nudge Tubbo’s knee with his head, he looks back up at him. Tubbo slowly smiles, reaching out with a shaking hand. Henry moves towards it, and Tubbo pulls back slightly, but relaxes when the dragon nuzzles his hand. 

“I think he likes you.” Tommy says, while Shroud clambers onto his lap. Tubbo laughs, eyes sparkling with wonder.

“You aren’t listening to me, Phil.” Wilbur says, frustrated.

“I am Will, I don’t know what you want me to do!” Replies Philza, Puffy looks between the two.

“Okay, we can all agree that Lord Quackity is up to something.” She remarks, looking at the two men. “He now has control over Kinoko Kingdom, which obviously makes him more of a threat. He spoke with Fundy at some point and clearly something happened.” She notes, “But, we’ve been keeping Fundy away from him, and we only have to put up with him for two more weeks.” Wilbur is silent, glaring angrily at the table. Phil sighs, sitting back in his chair and readjusting his crown. “For now, all we have to do is keep an eye on him until then.” 

“Okay, you're right.” Wilbur says. “I’m just worried, I still have no fucking clue what he said to my son. Fundy’s been avoiding me like the plague lately, and I've been so busy I haven’t had a chance to talk to him properly.” He adds, solemnly. 

“Focus on talking to Fundy, Will. Puffy and I will watch Quackity, okay? I’m sorry I haven’t been taking this more seriously, I didn’t realise how much it was bothering you.” Phil apologises, reaching over to place a hand over his son’s. Wilbur looks up at him with tired eyes.

“Thank you.” He says. He pulls his hand away and stands, walking to the council room door. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight, your highness.” Puffy replies, giving him a warm smile. He slips out of the room. Phil turns to his advisor.

“How much of a threat do you believe Quackity to be?” He asks her. She sighs, running a hand through her white hair.

“Well, I think Wilbur is right to be cautious. Quackity likes power, and over the years he’s demonstrated just how good he is at getting it. I mean, just ten years ago Las Nevadas was a small village, and now it's one of our most heavily populated cities. I can’t tell you exactly how much of a threat he is, but I know that right now he’s one of our largest.” She says, seriously. Phil rubs his hands down his face, sighing.

“Don’t talk like this to Wilbur, yet. I want to focus on getting this festival finished, then we can work out how to regain some control over him.” Phil declares.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Wilbur walks down the empty halls, nodding to the occasional guard. He crosses to the opposite side of the castle, ascending the staircase and walking back down the royal quarters. He stops outside Fundy’s door, remembering his fathers words. He breathes in and out, raising a fist and gently knocking on his son’s door. He waits, and waits, but only silence reponds. Deciding Fundy must be fast asleep already, he turns and continues down to his own room.

Chapter Text

The storm rages on outside, winds whistling through the cave. Carl rests in the corner, looking peaceful for the first time since they’d ventured into the farlands. Technoblade sits against the cold wall beside him, listening to the crackle of their fire and the ragged breathing of the wounded man on the floor. They’d cauterised the wound and wrapped it, but with his pale face and incessant shivering, Technoblade had a feeling he wouldn’t make it through the night.

“That wasn’t normal, you know.” Ponk says, sounding borderline hysterical, the first voice that had spoken in hours. No-one needs to ask to know what he’s referring to. “You put a sword through its skull and it didn’t fall!” Still, no-one replies. Technoblade finally looks up, seeing Ponk staring straight at him with wide eyes and chattering teeth. Antfrost stares at his friend with a troubled look on his face. “We shouldn’t be here, this land is cursed.”

“We have to keep moving.” Technoblade says, “We were sent out to find out what’s happening out here. We can’t run at the first sign of trouble.” He looks around, everyone avoids his eyes. “Maybe this isn’t what you thought you’d signed up for when you came to the border, but it’s your job. Whatever that was? It’s causing Pillagers to abandon their villages. They clearly think the only way to escape it is by going over the border, which is a dangerous feat in itself.”

“If it’s safe over the border, why don’t we just go back?” One man shouts at the Prince.

“There are people living out here, they’re in danger. The FarLands are technically a part of the Antarctic Empire, those people are our responsibility.”

“The Pillagers are all savages. Whenever they get over the border they raid the villages, kill our people. We have no obligation to save them when they would slaughter all of us in a heartbeat!” Technoblade stares at him, watching his heavy breaths leaving his mouth in puffs of white air.

“If you want to leave and retreat back to the border, you are free to do so, but we have a mission, and I’m staying to complete it with or without you.” The cave falls quiet again, each man lost in his own thoughts and fears.

“I still can’t believe you’re a Prince.” Tubbo says, from where he’s leant back against a boulder. Tommy laughs.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Tubbo.” He replies, stroking Henry.

“Wait, I should be calling you ‘Your Highness’!” He says, with wide eyes.

“Do not start fucking calling me ‘Your Highness’.” Tommy pleads, pointing a finger at him. Tubbo smirks.

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Groaning, Tommy rests his bed back against the rock behind him while Tubbo giggles. “I still can’t believe you’ve actually been alive this whole time and nobody knows.”

“Yeah.” Tommy answers quietly. “I still can’t believe everyone thinks I'm dead. My family thinks I’m dead.”

“Well, from what I've heard, King Philza searched the entire Antarctic Empire for you despite everyone telling him you’d probably been killed.” Tommy smiles sadly. “Exdee’s group were pretty ruthless,” Says Tubbo, “they’d burn any traitors alive and string their bodies up as warnings. They’d torture and kill their prisoners and send the bodies back to their enemies. I remember the kids in the orphanages telling each other stories about it.” 

“Dream always told me we were on the good side. But it turns out everything I thought I knew was a lie.” Henry whines, rubbing his head against Tommy’s cheek. “He would’ve had me go to war against my own family. And I would’ve followed him.”

“But you know the truth now, and you’re going to find them.” Declares Tubbo, looking determined.

“ If I can find a way to get out of Esempii.” He replies, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

“It’s like you said, ‘we’ll work something out’!” Tubbo exclaims, enthusiastically. Tommy gives him a sceptical look.

“What if we don’t?” He mutters.

“We will! You’re Prince Theseus Minecraft of the fucking Antarctic Empire.” He shouts, throwing out his arms. “The Unburnt, the Father of Dragons ,” He lists, Shroud shrieks loudly, as if in approval. Tommy laughs.

“Father of Dragons?”

“What? It sounds cool.” Tubbo insists. “You can’t stay hidden forever, you’ll need to know what titles you want to be introduced as, when the time comes.” He points out.

“Okay, whatever.” Tommy says, shaking his head fondly.

“I just don’t know how to talk to him, Nikki.” Wilbur says, angrily mixing the dough Nikki had given him. “Fundy’s never been upset with me before, not like this anyway.”

“Have you tried to actually talk to him yet?” Nikki asks, looking over his shoulder to inspect the dough. He passes her the bowl.

“I’ve tried, but we always get interrupted, I can’t find a moment of peace lately.” Wilbur groans, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

“Well you’ve managed to find the time to come to me and complain about it.” She points out. Wilbur glares at her. “He’s your son, Wil. You know he’ll always love you, but the longer you put this off, the harder it’ll be.”

“Yeah,” He says reluctantly,  “You’re right, I know.” She gives him a smug look.

“For now, you can help me with this cake, but tomorrow you will talk to him.” She says, seriously. “And if you don’t, you won’t be getting any leftover desserts anymore.” Wilbur gives her a betrayed look, but takes the next bowl she hands him, immediately, getting to work on mixing the batter.

Technoblade wakes to shuffling noises and groaning. He blinks his eyes open and peers across the dimly lit cave. The orange fire is smaller, but continues to burn and crackle. Whoever had been nominated to watch over the group during the night snores away near the cave entrance. Technoblade rolls his eyes, cracking his neck. The groaning catches his ears again, and he looks over to the source. It’s the wounded man on the floor near the fire. His skin is a deathly white, blood streaked across his face and clothes torn. From his appearance, Technoblade would have assumed the man to be dead, but from the twitching of his fingers and head, and the low moans, he clearly isn’t. He watches the man shift, waking up. Carl clambers to his feet, shifting backwards and whinnying nervously. Technoblade moves to stand and check on the man but pauses as his eyes open. 

His eyes are white.

Chapter Text

The white eyed man slowly sits up, his head turns, eyes lock onto Technoblade. The Prince stills, staring back at him. Letting out another low groan, the man stumbles to his feet. Carefully, Technoblade stands as well, sucking in a sharp breath as it matches towards him. He moves to reach his sword, but he’s knocked to the floor hard, a hand coming to wrap around his throat. Gasping, Technoblade struggles for air while attempting to pry the thing’s unreasonably strong grip from around his neck. The commotion awakens the others, who look around, disoriented. Antfrost is the first to move, grabbing onto its shoulders and trying to pull it off him.

Thankfully, Its hands release Technoblade, but instead it stands to push Antfrost into the wall. It opens its mouth, as though ready to bite the man, but Ponk appears, pulling out a dagger and plunging it into its neck. It doesn’t bat an eye even as dark blood trickles from the wound. Another man runs forwards with his sword out, yelling out as he swipes, cutting the thing's arm clean off. Unfaltered, it continues to attack whoever gets too close. 

Technoblade moves to grab his netherite sword. He turns back in time to see Antfrost kick it in the chest in desperation. It stumbles, tripping backwards and falling onto their fire. It lets out a loud, inhuman screech, causing everyone to wince and cover their ears. The fire quickly catches and the rancid smell of burning flesh wafts about the cave. They all watch as it screams, eventually succumbing to the relentless flames and falling still. The fire crackles and burns, its orange glow flickering about the cave.

“He had eyes of white, just like the ravager.” Antfrost whispers, barely audible over heavy breaths and the sizzling fire.

Technoblade catches a movement from the corner of his eye, at the same moment one of the men abruptly shouts. Technoblade looks down to see the monsters cut off hand clawing at the man’s leg. Panicked, the man shakes his leg, flinging the arm onto fire, where it burns with the rest of the body. 

“This is fucked up.” The man cries, staggering to the mouth of the cave. “I’m going back to the Border.” He states, grabbing his things and hurrying away. Everyone watches him leave, some looking torn, as though debating whether to follow. Another man gives in, dashing after his friend with a mumbled apology. Technoblade lets them leave, sinking back to the floor, a hand ghosting over his bruised neck.

“It’s just like the legends.” Antfrost remarks, sitting beside Technoblade, Ponk following. “The Hostile War; It was the harshest winter the Antarctic Empire had ever seen, the sun didn’t shine for months. It’s said the dead rose as white eyed monsters and stormed through the lands, slaughtering every living thing in their path.” 

“Just stories.” Declares another, shaking his head in denial.

“What if they aren’t just stories?” Ponk suggests, staring at the blackened body in the middle of the cave. 

“In the legends,” Another man starts, hesitantly, turning to Antfrost, “How does the war end?”

“King Eret sacrificed himself in front of the Gods.” Technoblade answers, recalling the stories he’d read when he was younger, “In return the sun rose in the south, breaking through the storm and melting the snow, with it, the monsters began to burn. They retreated to the north, and a great wall rose from the ground behind them, shutting them away for a thousand years.” They’re all silent, taking in the implications of the story. 

“Okay,” Starts Technoblade, in the firmest voice he can muster, “let’s move his body outside and bury him, we’ll get some rest and head back to the border at first light.” Everyone nods, automatically getting to work, helping each other to carry the charred remains of their friend. They relight the fire and eventually some of them manage to fall into a restless sleep. Technoblade keeps watch for the rest of the night.

***

Stalls of every kind line the decorated streets of L’Manberg. There are games, food, drinks and market stands. Children rush about, laughing happily and freely. In the square, a band sets up on a stage before the water fountain. Guards are stationed at every street corner, overseeing the event. 

Trumpets erupt over the noise and everyone falls silent, looking over to them.

“King Philza Minecraft, Prince Wilbur Minecraft and Prince Fundy Minecraft of the Antarctic Empire!” A guard introduces. The crowd cheers and claps, clearing a path for the royals. Guards follow close behind them as they step down the cobbled roads. Wilbur stands a little behind his father, waving and smiling to their citizens, he reaches to put a hand on Fundy’s shoulder, but the boy moves out of the way, speeding up to walk the other side of the King. Faltering, Wilbur attempts to continue smiling to his people. The three walk over to the fountain, stopping before it. Philza holds up a hand, and the crowd hushes.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you each and every one of you for being here on this day. We have been celebrating for these past weeks, but today marks the day we officially won against Exdee, restoring peace to our Empire. It also marks the day we lost one of our greatest warriors. Queen Kristen was an inspiration to the whole world, and she gave her life for each and every one of us to be here today, eighteen years later. Today’s celebration is for each and every one of us to enjoy, today we are all equal. Today we will dance together, drink together and remember together . Let the festivities begin!” The band begins to play as everyone cheers. 

Fundy immediately leaves, a guard hurrying after him. Wilbur moves to follow him, ready to finally talk to his son, but quickly gets swarmed by citizens. The guards keep them at bay as he tries to brush them off and push past, but by now Fundy has vanished. Groaning, he prepares to search the streets.

***

Squeezing through the crowds, Fundy spots the person he’s looking for.

“Quackity!” He calls. The man turns, revealing Lord Karl stood beside him, who smiles widely.

“Prince Fundy.” He greets, joyfully, bowing his head.

“Hey Little Prince, where’s your father?” Quackity asks, glancing around.

“Don’t know, I ran off.” Fundy answers. Quackity laughs, keeping an eye out for the other prince.

“Are you enjoying the festival, Your Highness?” Lord Karl asks, obliviously. Fundy nods.

“What you doing?” The boy questions.

“We were just talking about Kinoko Kingdom.” Says Quackity. Fundy looks at Karl curiously.

“I want to go there, Quackity said there are big mushroom buildings!” Quackity laughs.

“They’re not actually mushrooms, Your Highness, they just look like mushrooms.” Karl says, giggling and nudging Quackity.

“Oh, I still want to see.” Fundy says, smiling. Quackity’s face turns more serious.

“Your father’s over there, kid. You’d better go.” Fundy turns to look, despite not being able to see past anyone.

“Oh,” He says, “I find you later!” He waves to the two, who wave in return as he weaves away through the crowd.

***

“Purpled!” Wilbur calls, waving over to the knight standing on duty.

“Prince Wilbur.” The young man says, bowing, armour clattering as he moves.

“Have you seen Fundy?” He asks. Purpled glances around, shrugging.

“I haven’t, doesn’t he have a guard with him?” Wilbur sighs.

“He did . Fundy managed to shake him off though.” Purpled chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’ll keep an eye out, Your Highness.” He responds. Wilbur smiles, gratefully. He moves to leave but stops, turning back to the knight.

“Oh, I wanted to say well done, as well.” He adds. “Your performance in the events this year has been incredible. I can’t wait to officially have you as part of the KingsGuard.” Purpled winces, looking uncomfortable. He shifts on his feet, looking away from Wilbur, as though searching for an escape.

“Actually.” He starts steadily, “I’m not going to join the KingsGuard.” Wilbur looks at him in confusion.

“Why not, I thought that was your dream?” He asks the blonde.

“Lord Quackity gave me a proposition. He said if I travelled back to Las Nevadas with him at the end of this month, I could become a General in his army.” Wilbur can’t stop the scowl on his face. Purpled smiles awkwardly, it looks more like a grimace. “He said that if I prove worthy enough, I could even become the Commander of all his forces…” Wilbur’s disdain couldn’t go unnoticed by anyone, “Your Highness, I hope I haven’t-”

“No no, I mean how could you refuse an offer like that?” Wilbur responds. “I wish you the best of luck in Las Nevadas, Purpled. Now please excuse me, I need to find my son.” He stalks away before the other man can get another word in, frustration building up inside him. 

***

“Fundy! There you are.” Wilbur says, breathing a relieved sigh and walking up to the little red haired boy. He’s down one of the alleys, hidden away from the bustle of the crowds. Fundy doesn’t look at him, staring at something on the wall. Wilbur cautiously walks towards him, turning to see what his son found so interesting. 

“Let’s go somewhere else, my Little King, I need to talk to-”  He begins, uncomfortably.

“Who’s that?” Fundy asks, looking at the large mural and pointing at the little blonde haired baby in Queen Kristen’s arms. Wilbur startles, not expecting the question.

“Come on-” 

“You never was going to tell me!” Fundy snaps, head spinning up to stare at his father, angrily. His face is turning red with anger.

“Fundy!” Wilbur says, surprised by the outburst. He steps forwards, but Fundy takes a step back in return.

“He was my uncle.” His eyes tear up, as he stares at his father, hands clenched into shaking fists by his side. Wilbur can feel his own eyes watering.

“How do you-” He starts, quietly, voice quivering, “Who told you?” The boy doesn’t answer, just glaring at Wilbur. “Fundy-”

“You never was going to tell me. You’re a liar, I hate you!” Fundy shouts. Realisation dawns on Wilbur.

“Did Quackity tell you this?” Fundy tenses, mouth snapping shut. It’s an obvious answer to Wilbur. “What did he say to you?” Wilbur asks, trying to hold down his anger.

“He told me the truth. He’s not a liar, he’s my friend.” Fundy insists, sniffling.

“Fundy,” Says Wilbur, softly. He reaches out to his son, but Fundy glares, stepping backwards before turning on his heel and sprinting away. “Fundy!” He calls, arm outstretched and shaking. The little boy disappears around the corner.

***

Wilbur storms back through the busy streets, breathing heavily. He spots Quackity standing with Karl, near one of the stalls, and heads towards them. People move out of his path, staring curiously.

“Wilbur-” Quackity starts, noticing the man. Wilbur grabs a fistful of his shirt, shoving the Lord backwards into the stone wall.

“It’s Prince Wilbur.” He growls, finally correcting the man, after weeks. The people around them fall silent.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, looking confused, hands pulled up in a sign of surrender. Wilbur snarls at him.

“I know what you’ve been doing.” He snaps, “I know what you’ve told my son.”

“I don’t know what you-”

“Don’t lie to me,” He says, pushing him again, Quackity winces, shoulder blades digging into the wall, “I know you told him.”

“Prince Wilbur,” Quackity says, slowly, “I had no idea that he didn’t know. I promise.” Wilbur narrows his eyes at the man.

“What else have you told him?”

“Your Highness, please!” Karl begs, nervously, reaching out, but hesitant to touch him.

“Prince Wilbur!” Someone grabs his arm, Wilbur turns to see Jack Manifold in his full knight attire. “Let him go.” The man mumbles to him, widening his eyes in a warning and subtly motioning to the crowd that has formed. He glances around at the civilians watching nervously, muttering amongst themselves. With another glare, he relents, letting Quackity go. The man collapses against the wall, hands flying back to catch himself. Wilbur catches his eye again.

“He said he hates me. I know you’ve been feeding him lies.” He says to the Lord, stepping back, “I swear to you, if you talk to Fundy again I’ll kill you.” He finally lets Sir Manifold usher him away. The crowds quickly part, letting the two pass.

“The fuck was that?” Jack grits out as they hastily walk back towards the castle. Wilbur scowls, not caring about the many faces watching.

“I’ll kill him.”

Chapter Text

Philza stands at the arched window, looking over the city, he can still hear the rumble of crowds and music below. He runs a hand through his hair, turning to Wilbur and shaking his head.

“What were you thinking?” He scolds, walking over to the table and sitting in his chair at the head.

“He’s been talking to Fundy!” Wilbur shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“You threatened Lord Quackity.” Phil says, seriously. “In public!” He adds.

“Fundy said he hates me!” Phil looks at the anguished expression on his son's face and sighs.

“He could never hate you, Wil.” He says. Wilbur sits down at the table before them, head in his hands.

“You found Fundy, right?” He asks, looking at Jack, who stands by the door looking very uncomfortable.

“Uh yeah, he’s been taken back to his room.” He replies, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Wilbur nods, looking back down at his hands. Puffy cautiously speaks up.

“Did you find out what he said to Fundy?” Wilbur stiffens as Philza glances up, realising he’d forgotten to ask in his frustration. Wilbur sighs, expression somehow becoming even more pained.

“He told Fundy about Theseus.” All the air seems to get sucked out of the room, Phil sucks in a sharp breath. “I told you he was a problem.”

“I know.” Philza says. “But there wasn’t much I could do without reason.” Wilbur glares at him.

“You let him do this.” Wilbur growls. Phil tenses, glaring back.

“I didn’t let him do anything Wil-”

“Stop. We can’t fight right now, we need to work together.” Puffy says, looking at them, sternly. “I don’t think Quackity would have done this if he didn’t think he might gain something from it.” 

“Maybe he just wanted to turn us against each other?” Wilbur suggests.

“Even if that’s the case, why?”

“Perhaps there’s no other reason except to mess with us.” Wilbur grits out.

“But what if there’s more to it?” Puffy proposes. “We know that Quackity is smart, we should be aware of any possible motives.” They fall silent, each pondering the statement.

“What’s the worst reason he could have for turning us against each other?” Wilbur begins.

“Putting us against each other would make the crown weaker.” Phil notes, rubbing his chin.

“And if we’re weaker, then the crown is more vulnerable.” Wilbur continues. Jack hesitantly speaks up.

“What, you think he’s after the throne?” He asks, half joking. The four occupants of the room look between each other, tensely. “Seriously?”

“What do you want to get?” Tommy asks Tubbo, the two scanning the market stands.

“Hmm,” Tubbo tilts his head, staring at the limited selection of foods. “There’s oats? Or cheese? What about carrots? I haven’t had a carrot in like two years.” He rambles. Rolling his eyes, Tommy reaches into his pocket, pulling out a couple of golden coins.

“There, go crazy.” He says, flatly, passing it to the other teen. He watches his eyes light up before he runs off to the stands. Sighing, fondly, Tommy turns back to Spirit, smoothing him gently. 

He idly scans the crowd, watching people move about their daily routines. He catches someone’s eyes from a little ways up the street. A group of women pass in front of him, so Tommy moves to the side, peering past them. The same man stares back at him. Tommy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and then he notices the deep green of the cloak around the man’s shoulders. Eyes widening, he takes a step back, watching the member of Exdee lift a hand to wave at him. His throat goes dry.

Tearing his eyes away, Tommy turns back to the market stands, searching for the familiar head of brown hair. He spots Tubbo by the carrot stand, eagerly looking over the collection of orange vegetables.

“Tubbo,” He calls, voice shaking, “Tubbo!” His friend doesn’t hear him over the bustle of the crowds. Tommy turns back to where the man was, and sees him pushing through the mass of people, eyes never leaving Tommy. As the blonde turns back to Tubbo, he spots another man with a green cloak heading his way. “Tubbo!” He shouts again, panicking. The people around him look in mixes of confusion and agitation as Tommy begins pushing his way past people, Spirit right behind him. People complain loudly, and Tubbo turns his head to see what the commotion is about.

“Tommy?” He asks, tilting his head at the fearful look on his friend’s face.

“They found me, we have to go.” He says. Tubbo’s eyes go wide, and he drops the bag of carrots in his hands, immediately rushing over to him. Tommy looks around, tensing when realising how close the men are. Following Tommy’s line of sight, Tubbo sees them too. The men smirk as they near them, as if knowing there’s no way the two boys can get away.

“Come on!” Tubbo yells, gripping Tommy’s arm. The blonde snaps out of his fear, clambering onto Spirit and pulling Tubbo up behind him. The people around them are quick to move, jumping to the side and letting them by. They pass by two more men in green cloaks, and they’re close enough to see the little smiley face embroidered into each of their cloaks. 

Tommy speeds up as they come out of the main area, less and less people around. They twist and turn around corners, nearing the edge of the settlement. “We can make it, I think we lost them already.” Declares Tubbo, looking back behind them as Spirit gallops down empty streets.

Suddenly another horse sprints out from an alley ahead of them, one of Exdee’s men sitting atop it. Spirit abruptly rears, sending the two flying off of him and onto the dusty path. The three wooden cages come loose, crashing to the floor. The dragons squawk fearfully from inside. Groaning in pain, Tommy pushes himself onto his elbows, cringing at his scraped and bloodied palms. Tubbo sits up, dazed, a hand coming to his head and brushing against the cut on his forehead. He winces, looking over to Tommy. The sound of heavy footfall nears them and Tommy glances up to see green cloaked men surrounding them, six or seven at least.

“Theseus.” One man greets, stepping forwards and smirking. “Dream’s been looking everywhere for you.” 

“Fundy, open the door. Please!” Wilbur calls for the thousandth time.

“Leave me alone.” Comes his son’s muffled response. Wilbur sighs, head thumping on the door in defeat. He turns away, glumly walking down the quiet corridor. He stops at the bedroom door beside Fundy’s. Layers of dust sit on the untouched handle, the remnants of cobwebs hang in the corners of its frame.

He glances to the small table beside the door and walks towards it, lifting the vase atop it and picking up the rusted key underneath. He stands in front of the door, slowly lifting the key to the lock, but pauses. Quickly retracting his shaking hand, he clenches the key, slipping it into his pocket. He draws his eyes away from the door, forcing his legs to move him away.

Hurried footsteps bounce off the walls from the next hall, and suddenly Nikki appears, looking disheveled. She visibly relaxes when she sees Wilbur, striding over to him.

“Wil, are you okay?” She asks, peering at him worridely. He looks at her, confused.

“I’m fine, Nikki, what-”

“Everyone’s been saying you got into a fight with Lord Quackity!” She exclaims. Wilbur huffs a laugh.

“It wasn’t a fight, I barely touched him. Just threatened him a little.” Rubbing a hand across her head, she lets out a relieved laugh.

“Why, what happened?”

“I found out that he told Fundy about Theseus.” Nikki closes her eyes, sighing.

“Oh.” She whispers, giving him a sympathetic look.

“But I know there’s something else. The way Fundy reacted… I just know there’s more to it, Nikki. Please, I know it sounds like i’m overreacting, but I know my son-” He pauses, taking a breath. He looks around, checking they’re alone, and lowers his voice anyway. “We think Lord Quackity is after the throne.” Nikki considers his words, eyebrows furrowing. She nods to herself, looking back up at him.

“Wilbur,” Nikki starts, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love Fundy like a little brother, I’d protect him like he’s my own. I’m on your side, Wil. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it. ” Wilbur smiles, relaxing.

“Thank you.”

Tommy scrambles to his feet, backing towards Tubbo, who nervously grips the back of Tommy’s shirt.

“Come with us and we won’t kill your friend.” One of the men says, not so subtly reaching for his sword. He has a deep scar across one cheek, as well as various other cuts. Tommy shakes his head.

“I’m not going back.” He states, hoping they can’t hear the tremor to his voice.

“Tommy.” Tubbo whispers. Tommy’s mouth goes dry as he desperately tries to think of something. 

“You four, get the dragons.” The scar man commands, “You, kill the kid. I’ll get the Prince.” Tommy stumbles back, a hand gripping Tubbo’s. Fear spikes through his chest as he watches the four men gather around his dragon's cages, their squawks growing more distressed by the second. Scar man, who seems to be in charge, walks towards Tommy, another following, watching Tubbo with a taunting smirk. 

Turning to run, Tommy comes face to face with the man on the horse, who blocks their path. Tubbo yells as his arm is grabbed and he’s yanked backwards into the man’s chest, a knife at his throat. His wide eyes stare at Tommy in a silent plea.

“Come with us now or he’s dead.” Scar man says. Tommy freezes, eyes flicking over to his friend. Tubbo visibly gulps, but then his face hardens, he takes a deep breath before elbowing the guy holding him in the gut. The guy shouts in pain, grip loosening enough for Tubbo to pull away.

Tommy takes the opportunity to charge at scar man, punching him across the face. Scar man quickly recovers, hitting Tommy back, twice as hard. He grips Tommy’s thin wrist, smiling patronisingly as Tommy desperately tries to pull free, his kicks to scar man’s chest almost seem to have no effect. He’s pulled back against the man, a large hand covering his mouth. Scar man pulls him backwards, shouting over to some of the others about getting rope. Tommy looks down to see Tubbo on the floor, the other man over him, knife inches away from his face. The brunette’s breaths come in short and fast, face flushed with effort as he tries to keep the sharp blade from impaling him.

In a last ditch attempt, Tommy stomps on scar man’s foot, biting his hand. They stumble, falling in a heap on the floor, Tommy scrambles to his knees, just as scar man is back on his feet, advancing on him again. Scar man reaches out, snarling, Tommy brings a hand to his hip where the sword George gave him rests. The man grips his shoulder at the same moment Tommy pulls out the sword, thrusting it forwards.

Letting out a choked gasp, scar man’s eyes widen. Tommy stares up at him in shock as he tries to suck in a breath only coughing up a crimson liquid. Blood splatters across Tommy’s face as he struggles for air, heaving in gargled breaths. His face turns white and his eyes gloss over before he slumps on top of Tommy.

Head spinning, he desperately pushes the body off of him, pushing himself away. A shriek reaches his ears, and Tommy quickly falls back to awareness, seeing his dragons’ cages held by green cloaked men. They stare at Tommy in surprise, before snapping back into action, two dropping the crates to rush at Tommy. Henry cries out for Tommy, loud and afraid. The prince stops, looking down at the cages, recalling that word.

“Dracarys.”

The wooden cages suddenly burst into fire, the men carrying them shouting out and stumbling away, slapping red flames from their clothes. Henry breaks out of his cage first, shooting into the air. He swoops down, large wings stretched out, and opens his mouth, fire showing down on two of them men, who scream in agony, as their skin begins to burn. Shroud roars angrily, stepping out from the burning cage and setting alight the man before him. Clem immediately zeros in on Tubbo, flying over to them and sinking her claws into the man above him. She pulls him off the teen and he scrambles backwards, screams cutting off as he goes up in flames. Tommy slowly stands, watching the man on the horse escaping down the streets. He lets him leave. The shouts die out, leaving charred bodies behind.

Henry flaps over to Tommy, landing on his shoulder. The dragon is heavy, about the size of a dog, and Tommy can feel the heat emanating off him. Henry screeches, stretching out his wings, showing off his razor sharp teeth. Tommy smiles, bringing up a hand and smoothing down his dragon's neck. Henry lets out a low, content rumble. He looks over to Tubbo, who stands, hands on his knees, panting.  Tommy offers a bloodied hand to Tubbo.

“Let's go.”

Chapter Text

Everyone stares as Technoblade and the others come through the tunnel, gate slowly lowering behind them. The chimes of the bell atop the border, signalling their return, gradually die down. The snow lays thick on the ground, gently falling around them. It’s a relief from the storm they had been battling for weeks. After leading Carl over to the small stables, he turns to look at Lord Commander Sam, who stands at one of the balconies, overlooking the courtyard. Sighing, Technoblade moves to the stairs, snow crunching under his boots. He follows the other man to his office. Neither speak until the door shuts behind them and they sit at the wooden desk, opposite one another.

“What happened to the other four who were with you?” Sam asks, immediately.

“We lost two, one to a ravager and another…” He trails off, unsure how to approach the unusual circumstance.

“And the other two?” Sam questions.

“They never made it back?” 

“Obviously not.” Sam narrows his eyes, sceptically. “Well, what did you find out there?”

“Something’s happening.” Technoblade says. “The ravager we fought looked dead, had white eyes, not even a sword through its head took it down. It took out one of my men, injured another. It only fell when I got out my netherite sword. We treated the injured, but he didn’t make it. He woke up with white eyes and attacked us, we eventually took him down. Two left after that, said they were coming back here. Seems they didn’t make it.” Sam stares at Technoblade for a moment, before leaning back in his chair.

“So what are you suggesting is happening out there?” He asks, slowly.

“You’ve heard of the Hostile War, Lord Commander?” Technoblade returns, staring back at the other.

“I’m confused, are you trying to tell me the monsters from legends are our problem here?” He gives Technoblade a scrutinising look.

“From what I've seen, I’m starting to get the impression they might be more than simple myths.” He stares at the other blankly, awaiting his response.

“You seem like an honest man, Prince Technoblade.” Sam says. “I can’t think of any reason you could have for lying.”

“I’m very aware of how this sounds, even after seeing it for myself it was hard to believe, but I fear if we don’t take this threat seriously it would be a big mistake.” He states, bluntly. For a moment Technoblade thinks Sam might laugh or yell, but the man remains collected.

“And what would you suggest we do?” 

“I think we need to go back out there and talk to the Pillagers.”

“And would you come back with four less men again? Our numbers at the Border have depleted over the years, I can’t afford the lives of the few men we have on some rumor of white-eyed monsters.” Technoblade grits his teeth.

“We spent weeks out there and didn’t come across one Pillager. Whatever’s out there, monster or not, it’s hunting them and once it’s finished with them, what’s stopping it from hunting us? The men here pledged their lives to the Border, I don’t want them to die, but this is their responsibility. I’m risking my life as much as they’re risking theirs. Once we get some solid answers and evidence, we can send crows out and request backup and more men, but right now the men here are all we’ve got.” Sam is quiet again. “We’ve learned that whatever the threat is can be killed with netherite and fire, so the next time we go out, we’ll have more men and we’ll be more prepared.” He awaits the man’s response.

“Okay. In a week's time I’ll send out a larger group, but this time I'll be with you.” Technoblade nods, standing. “Oh, a crow arrived from L’Manberg a week ago, if you wanted to send a reply, we have crows.” Technoblade takes the letter, mumbling his thanks and quickly leaving.

“Wil!” Philza calls, catching up to his son. Wilbur stops, turning to him. Extending his arm, Phil passes him a letter.

“It arrived just minutes ago, I thought you’d want to read it straight away.” Wilbur looks at the red seal embossed with a crow.

“It’s from the Border?” Wilbur asks, wide eyed. Phil nods with a small smile. The Prince quickly unravels the paper, eyes eagerly skimming over the words. “He’s been in the FarLands for weeks.” Wilbur mutters. “And he doesn’t know when he’ll return to us.” Slumping, Wilbur grips the letter tightly, face scrunching up.

“Wil.” Phil starts, reaching out a hand. Wilbur moves back.

“Seriously, that’s all we get?” He complains, “He’s gone for over a month and all we get is one little paragraph?” Phil sighs.

“He’s busy, Wil.” He defends, going to take the letter back, but Wilbur pulls it close to his chest. Phil relents, letting his son keep it.

“Yeah, well so are we and yet we can still find the time to write to him.” Wilbur says, more quietly.

“Wil-”

“I have things I need to do, I’ll see you at supper.” He quickly hurries away, leaving Phil alone in the empty corridor.

“Oi.” Tommy complains, “Quit splashing me.” Tubbo‘s head breaks the surface of the water, looking over to Tommy, whose hair drips with water. He stares at the brunette, unimpressed.

“But it’s so refreshing!” He says, lifting his arms up and spraying more water over Tommy. He laughs as Tommy goes back to scrubbing blood from his shirt. He glances up at the dragons playing in the air. Henry suddenly swoops down towards the rives, flaring his wings out at the last second, claws dipping into the rushing water. He pulls out a fish, pushing himself back into the air. He flicks the fish into the air, catching it in his jaw. He throws it back up, shooting fire at it before catching it in his mouth again to eat. Tommy sighs, looking back down to see Tubbo looking at him.

“What?” He asks.

“Are you okay, Tommy?” The prince frowns down at the water.

“I killed someone, Tubbo. How are you okay?” Tubbo wades through the river, plonking down on the ground beside his friend.

“They were going to kill me. And take you. And them.” He squints up at the sky, where the dragons playfully tackle each other under the warm sun.

“I just- I don’t want to be a bad person.” Tommy says, scowling down at the shirt in his hands, the dark, crimson stains that won’t come out.

“It doesn’t make you a bad person, you did what you had to do to survive. You were protecting all of us!” Tubbo remarks. “And it was pretty cool too.” He adds, quietly, earning a small smile from Tommy.

“Thank you.” He whispers. Tubbo grins, reaching to take the shirt from Tommy and help him to clean it.

“I think there’s another village an hour from here,” Says Tubbo, changing the subject. “We could head there and I'll take spirit, get some new cages for the dragons, some food, maybe some cloaks so we can blend in a bit better. And then we can find somewhere to lay low for a while.” Tubbo suggests. Tommy hides a fond smile. Nodding, he looks back up to his dragons.

“Okay.”

“Lord Quackity.” Wilbur calls, drawing the attention of everyone in the gardens. Wilbur stalks along the gravel paths, head held high. Lady Alyssa and Lord HBomb watch curiously. The man in question turns away from Lord Karl to look at the Prince, surprised.

“Your Highness.” He greets, bowing respectfully. Wilbur smiles, nodding to Lord Karl, who stares nervously. “What can I do for you?” Quackity asks.

“I just wanted to apologise.” Says Wilbur, “The way I acted at the main festival was completely unreasonable, and I am so deeply sorry for my actions.” He places a hand on Quackity’s shoulder, squeezing. “I hope that you can accept my apology and find room in your heart to forgive me. I would hate for this absurd little dispute to affect our friendship.” Quackity’s eyes narrow for a split second before he recomposes himself, returning Wilbur’s look with a tight lipped smile.

“Of course I can forgive you, Your Highness.” He replies, hiding a wince under Wilbur’s tight grip on his shoulder. Wilbur sighs deeply in relief.

“I’m so glad we could sort things out,” He says. “And please, call me Wilbur, we are friends after all.” He claps Quackity on the shoulder. Lord Karl smiles at Quackity, reassuringly. “Well, I’m needed elsewhere, thank you for your time.” Wilbur nods at the two before turning to walk away. He catches Foolish’s eye from across the pond, bravado slipping momentarily, but he quickly looks away, standing tall until he gets back into the familiar halls of the castle, slumping with a sigh.

“Well done, I’m surprised you held it together so well.” Puffy comments, appearing around the corner. Wilbur rolls his eyes, glaring.

“Is everything sorted for the main feast on Friday?”

“Yes, it’s all done.”

“Good, I just want it over with now.” He says, rubbing his hands down his face, and leaning back against the wall.

“We just have to put up with a few more days, and then Quackity will be gone and things can go back to how they were.” 

“I can't wait!” Wilbur exclaims, over-dramatically. Puffy laughs as they head down the halls together.

Chapter Text

Technoblade walks to the food hall, hearing loud conversations coming from inside. As he steps through the doorway, people turn to look at him, muttering amongst themselves. Some laugh between each other. He moves to sit in a free spot beside Ponk, who is seated opposite Antfrost. He gives a sharp look at the people on his other side, who immediately stop whispering, looking away.

“No one believes it.” Ponk says, in a hushed voice, looking around and hunching in on himself.

“Of course they don't, I wouldn't if I were them.” Technoblade replies, shovelling food into his mouth. Ponk frowns at his bowl.

“They’ll see for themselves soon enough.” Adds Antfrost. The wind rattles the windows, white snow building up along the bottom of the frames.

“Are there usually this many storms out here?” The other two turn to the windows, watching the angry swirls of snow whipping about the courtyard.

“No, it’s been a lot heavier this year. Border usually shields us from the worst of it.” Antfrost answers. Ponk shivers subconsciously, looking back to his half-warm food.

“If it’s like this now I dread to know what it’ll be like come winter.” He murmurs.

“I miss the grass.” Antfrost complains. “The snow never completely melts here.”

“I wonder if it’s sunny in L’Manberg.” Says Ponk. Technoblade dips his head at the mention of his home, hand tightening around his spoon.

“Most likely, the snow doesn’t usually start falling there till the very end of the year, even then it’s never like this.” He recalls, remembering the few weeks of snow they’d get, where Wilbur would drag him out to make snow angels. And when Wilbur finally grew out of the need to play in the snow, Fundy began dragging him out instead.

“By the way things are looking I think winter will come to L’Manberg a lot sooner this year.” Antfrost says.

Wilbur stares off the balcony of his bedroom, looking over the city. Down below, he can hear the commotion of the main feast, as castle staff rush around trying to finish their tasks before the guests begin leaving the castle. Turning back into the room, Wilbur checks himself in the mirror, straightening the collar on his shirt and pulling his cloak a little closer around him, lastly he picks up his circlet, placing it atop his head. He stares at his reflection for a moment longer, frowning. There’s a knock at the door, and then he hears Puffy’s muffled voice call through to him.

“Your Highness, are you ready? Everyone’s about to leave.” He hurries to the door, pulling it open in time to see Puffy jump back, surprised. He smiles down at her.

“Ready.” He replies. Closing the door behind him, he spots Fundy standing beside King Philza, patiently. The boy looks up at him for a second before looking away, unsubtly. Sir Jack comes up the stairs, stopping and bowing.

“All the guests are ready to leave, are you ready to be escorted?” He asks. Phil nods, and the group start heading down to the final event of the festival.

The trail of tables begins in the main square. One table sits on display before the others in the square, seats along one side only. The royals sit in the middle seats, the Lords and Ladies on either side. In front of them, more tables, with long benches to sit on, wrap around the fountain. These tables branch off down the larger streets. Practically the entire city is at the event, crammed onto the benches, any without spaces finding seats at the nearby taverns. The street to the side of the main table is stacked with rows of crates containing foods and drinks.

Everyone greedily devours the appetizers laid out down the tables. Much of the food brought to the feast is supplied by the crown themselves over the years, but it had become tradition for the Lords and Ladies of each village to contribute to the meal. Lady Alyssa had brought the boxes of fruit that were set on the tables currently, and Lord Hbobmb had supplied cheeses. They’d even been gifted three pineapples, from the BadLands in Esempii, as tribute to the festival.

A hand touches Wilbur’s and he ceases the tapping of his fingers against the table, turning to look at his father. 

“Just relax, Wil.” He says, sending him a reassuring smile. “Enjoy yourself.”

“All the time he’s still here, I can’t relax, father.” Wilbur replies, looking over his son’s head to where Lord Quackity sits, a few seats down.

“Well you could at least try to look like you're having fun.” The man suggests. Wilbur rolls his eyes, glaring at Puffy who sits on the King’s other side, smirking.

“Fine, I'll try.” He gives Phil a wide, fake smile. Philza chuckles, shaking his head. Nikki comes up behind them, from where she stood with the other staff. She quietly greets them, before nodding over to a wagon loaded with crates.

“Everything’s set up for the first meal, should we start passing it out?” She asks. Glancing around, Philza nods. Nikki walks back to the other staff, pointing and ordering them about. Two men begin leading the wagon of food, staff following to help, as Phil stands. Puffy picks up a spoon knocking it against her goblet. Everyone gradually falls silent at the noise, all turning to look. While the first meals are handed out, Phil begins his speech, the one Wilbur has heard every year since the first festival. He tunes it out, turning to Fundy, who sits staring at the empty plate before him with a bored expression. Wilbur gently nudges him, freezing momentarily at the sharp look from his son.

“Everything okay?” He whispers. Frowning, Fundy looks away, resting his head on his hand.

“Mhmm.” The boy mutters. Wilbur sighs, hands clenching into fists. He stares down at the table.

“Fundy, my Little King.” He starts, Fundy tenses, shoulders hiking up. “Later, when we get back to the castle, can we talk?” The boy remains silent. “Please. I'll explain, okay? I’ll tell you everything.”

“Really?” Fundy asks, meeting his eyes. Wilbur smiles, sadly.

“Really.” His son gives him a doubtful look.

“You promise?” He whispers.

“I promise.” Wilbur confirms, shakily. They’re interrupted by the crowd clapping, as the King’s speech finishes. Sitting back down, Phil flashes Wilbur a questioning look, but Wilbur smiles, brushing him off. The food is passed down their tables, their drinks refilled, and the city eats together.

Fundy finishes his smaller plate of food first, and fidgets in his seat for a moment. Wilbur notices the boy turn to him from the corner of his eye. He looks down to his son, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Umm, I finished, can I go to talk to Lord Quackity?” Smile dropping, Wilbur looks over to the other man, who’s laughing with Lord HBomb and a few others.

“I don’t-” 

“Of course you can, just make sure you’re back before the next meal.” Philza interrupts. Fundy smiles, slipping out of his chair and wandering along the row of seats.

“Why did you let him?” Wilbur hisses.

“Wil, there are plenty of people around right now, and besides everyone’s leaving in two days. There’s no harm in it, do you really want to upset your son any further?” Phil points out. Grumbling, Wilbur slumps back in his chair, relenting.

“Hello.” Fundy says, capturing the attention of Lord Quackity and Lord Karl.

“Prince Fundy, how are you liking this year's feast?” Karl asks, shuffling his chair to allow room for the boy to stand next to him and Quackity.

“It’s yummy.” Fundy replies.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Karl says, giggling. Quackity looks over to Wilbur.

“Is your father okay with you being here, Little Prince?” Quackity asks. Fundy nods, grinning.

“They said it okay.” He says, “I eated all my food.”

“Well I hope you didn’t fill yourself up, we still have another two meals, remember.” They move aside a little to give room for the staff to collect their plates and refill their drinks.

“You leaving soon?” Fundy asks. Quackity smiles at him.

“Well this is the end of the festival so I’m afraid we’re all leaving in two days.” Fundy frowns, earning laughter from the two men.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Don’t worry, Fundy, I’m sure we’ll see one another much more in the future. Especially now that Kinoko Kingdom and Las Nevadas are merging.” Says Quackity, ruffling his hair and smiling over to Karl.

“Yes, I’ll invite your family over to stay at some point, you’ve been wanting to see the mushroom buildings right?” Karl says, enthusiastically. Fundy nods.

“Yes please!”

“Ooh, is that the next meal?” Karl asks, looking over to the large pie being carried by three of the cooks. They watch them stagger about trying to keep it from toppling over. Quackity smiles, amused, picking up his goblet. As he’s about to take a sip, Fundy turns to him.

“What your drink?” Quackity lowers the cup.

“This is wine, Little Prince.” He answers.

“I try?” He asks, with a grin. Karl giggles.

“I’m not sure what your father would say. I’m already on thin ice.” He says, chuckling awkwardly.

“Please? Just a little bit.” 

“I don’t know.” Quackity says, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

“I won’t tell.” Fundy says, pouting. Quackity sighs.

“Okay, just a sip though.”

“Q!” Protests Karl, giving him an amused look.

“Oh come on, a sip won’t hurt him.” Karl shakes his head, but doesn’t argue further. Quackity passes the goblet to Fundy, who takes it with both hands, red liquid sloshing around inside it. He lifts it up, drinking some. He pulls a face immediately, pushing it back to Quackity who laughs, putting it back on the table. “I said a sip!” Fundy rubs a hand over his mouth, face scrunched up. Karl laughs.

“That’s gross.” Fundy complains, crossing his arms.

“It’ll taste better when you’re older.” Quackity replies, sitting back in his chair.

“I think they’re about to serve the pie, that’ll get rid of the taste.” Karl assures, smiling. Fundy frowns suddenly, feeling a tight pain in his chest. He coughs, gaining Quackity’s attention, who pats his back. “Your Highness, you look pale, do you feel okay?” Karl asks, eyebrows knitted in worry. Fundy shakes his head, regretting it as his vision spins. Quackity’s eyes widen, a hand brushing under Fundy’s nose and coming away bloodied. He stands quickly, chair crashing to the floor. 

Wilbur turns to the commotion, eyes widening as he watches Fundy stumble, falling. He stands as Quackity catches the boy, lowering him down to the floor. 

“Fundy!” He shouts, running over and shoving Quackity aside. He collapses to the ground, cuping his son's grey face. Fundy’s eyes flutter shut, a trail of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Fundy, it’s okay, you're going to be okay. Fundy, look at me!” He pulls his son onto his lap, a hand carding through his hair. Distantly he can hear people shouting for the doctor, and his father’s voice trying to speak to him, but he ignores it. He can feel his face growing wet, a tight pain in his chest as he heaves in panicked breaths. One of his hands moved to Fundy’s chest, only feeling slight relief at the faint rise and fall. Blood drips onto Wilbur’s white shirt. He looks up through blurry eyes, throat tight, screaming for help, pulling his son’s still body close to him.

Chapter Text

“They’re going to be too big to fit in these cages soon.” Says Tommy, a hand stroking Henry’s scaled neck. The dragon hunches in his cage, head bent at an awkward angle to reach Tommy. He makes a frustrated noise when the blonde retracts his hand and carefully closes the door, tying it shut.

“What are you going to do when that happens?” Tubbo asks, folding their blankets. He squints at Tommy past the bright sun.

“Well I guess they won’t be a secret anymore. I just hope they’re strong enough to handle themselves now.” Tubbo moves to help him lift the crate and strap it to Spirit with the other two. The horse huffs at the weight, shifting on his feet.

“They definitely are.” Tubbo assures “Besides, I think Spirit’s sick of carrying them around.” He adds, amused.

“Well he won’t have to for much longer.” Replies Tommy. “We should make one last trip to a village and then we can ditch the cages.” Tubbo nods in agreement, climbing up onto Spirit, behind Tommy. 

“Seriously, who’s going to mess with us when we’ve got three dragons?” Says Tubbo, Tommy rolls his eyes, ignoring the spike of fear through his chest.

Wilbur stares down at his son’s pale, sweaty face. He grips his small hand, tight. Orange beams of sunlight shine through the window as the sun slowly sets, lighting up the quiet room and shining across the boy’s still face. The doctors had left an hour ago, and now there was nothing else they could do but wait and hope. He listens to the barely audible sounds of Fundy breathing, finding relief in the rhythmic noise. 

There’s a gentle knock at the door and it slowly creaks open. Philza pokes his head in the room, staring at him before stepping inside. Wilbur catches sight of Puffy standing in the hall behind him, a concerned look on her face. Phil shuts the door, with a small click, and walks over to Wilbur, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“How is he?” Wilbur grits his teeth, shrugging. Removing his hand, Phil walks around the bed and sits in a chair in the corner, leaning back and sighing like it was the first rest he’d gotten all day. “Lord Quackity’s drink was poisoned.” He confirms. Wilbur doesn’t answer. “Wil… Did you-”

“Did I what? Poison my son?” Wilbur snaps, looking up at him angrily. Phil stares at him silently until Wilbur slumps. “No, okay? It wasn’t me.” He finishes, sinking back down and returning his gaze to Fundy.

“Okay.” Phil whispers. “I believe you, but I should warn you, the current opinion doesn’t seem to be in your favour.”

“Everyone seriously thinks I tried to murder him?” Wilbur asks, bitterly, yet sounding slightly amused.

“Well you did threaten to, last week.” Philza says, giving him a pointed look.

“Yeah but making a threat and actually carrying it out are two very different things.” He shifts in his seat, muscles cramping from his time sitting in the uncomfortable chair.

“I don’t think you understand the weight of our current situation, Wil. You're the biggest suspect right now and that gives Quackity the perfect reason to declare war against us.” 

“You’re joking.” Wilbur says, flatly. Shaking his head, Phil rubs a hand over his forehead.

“I wish I was. But Quackity has enough allies, he can if he wants to.”

“So, what? Do you want me to go and fight a war while my son dies alone?” He snaps, giving Phil a sharp look.

“Don’t say that, Will. I’m not asking you to leave him right now, I’m just warning you.” He says, slowly, holding his hands up placatingly.

“I don’t need your warnings, I’m the one who’s been trying to warn you this whole time. I told you something was going to happen and you didn’t listen.” Phil’s eyebrows crease in hurt.

“Wil, no one could have predicted-”

“Don’t. Don’t make excuses because you know this is your fault.” He interrupts, turning away and clicking his tongue.

“I know you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Wilbur replies, standing up. “I need some air. Don’t leave him alone.” He orders, turning to leave the room before Phil can speak. The door slams behind him and Phil leans his head back until it connects to the wall with a muffled thump. He brings his hands to his face, groaning quietly.

“Lord Quackity.” Wilbur mutters, spotting the man at the end of the corridor looking out at the starry sky, and walking towards him. A soft glow illuminates the city, and you can just make out the foreboding silhouettes of the hills beyond L’Manberg. Dim torches flicker along the walls, casting shadows in every corner.

“Your Highness.” He replies, without turning. “How is Fundy?”

“Don’t talk about him.” Wilbur hisses, coming to stand beside the man, looking over the quiet city. Quackity scoffs.

“Come on Wilbur,” He starts, in a mocking tone, “Don’t act like this was my fault.”

“It is your fault.” He insists. Wilbur can see Quackity rolling his eyes without turning to look.

“Your son wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you hadn’t tried to kill me.” The Lord points out, turning to face the other, with narrowed eyes.

“It wasn’t me,” Wilbur says, more calmly, “But maybe if you weren’t such a prick nobody would want to kill you in the first place.” He sneers, head snapping to meet the man’s glare.

“Perhaps it wasn’t you,” Quackity says, as though pondering the possibility. Then he shrugs. “But right now, not a lot of people seem to believe that.” The man turns, beginning to walk back down the hall. “I’ll be praying for Fundy’s safe recovery. I really do hope he makes it, such a sweet young boy, he doesn’t deserve to get mixed up in our… What did you call them? Absurd little disputes?” Wilbur’s grip on the balcony railings tighten, fingers turning white. He listens to the man’s steps fade into the darkness, before letting his exhaustion take over, turning to face the empty hallway and lowering himself to the cold stone floor. Goosebumps rise on his exposed arms as the frigid night air brushes against them. He reaches a hand up and clutches his golden circlet, gently resting it on the floor beside him. He listens out, ensuring there’s no one about, and brings his head to rest on his knees, hands gripping his hair as he takes shuddering breaths.

“I heard when dragons are full grown, their heads can be the size of a carriage.” Says Tubbo, as they stroll along the streets, under the scorching heat of the sun.

“Or larger.” Tommy replies, smirking at the awestruck look on Tubbo’s face.

“Can you imagine how much fire they could make?” He exclaims, with a grin and sparkling eyes. Tommy pulls a mildly concerned face.

“What the fuck, Tubbo?” Tommy splutters as Tubbo chuckles.

“You can't tell me you haven’t thought about it.” He retorts, defensively, giving him an accusing look. Tommy raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t reply. “How long does it take for them to reach their full size?” He ponders, tilting his head in thought.

“Tubbo, you're freaking me out man.” Tommy dismisses, walking faster. Tubbo jogs to catch up to him, kicking up clouds of sand behind him.

“I was just wondering; it’s unrelated to previous questions.” He declares. Tommy narrows his eyes.

“You should stop talking before I leave you behind.” He says. Tubbo smiles.

“You couldn’t leave me.” He states. “You’re too clingy.” Crossing his arms, He tilts his head up, confidently.

“What? I am not clingy, you’re the clingy one.” Tommy insists. Tubbo goes to reply, but gets interrupted by shouts from a little ways behind them.

“Freak!” People are yelling, at a hooded figure pushing through the crowd. Tubbo watches in concern, noting the group of angry men chasing after the figure. One even appears to be waving an axe about.

“We should help.” Tubbo says, lightly gripping Tommy’s arm. The blonde just watches with wary eyes. Surprised, Tubbo watches Tommy shake his head, turning away from the scene heading towards them. Tubbo moves after him, reaching out to stop his friend and protest, but gasps as a force knocks into him, sending him to the floor.

“Tubbo!” Tommy shouts, letting go of Spirit’s reigns and shooting forwards to help him up.

“Sorry! Sorry!” The hooded figure says, stepping backwards fearfully. He glances towards Spirit, and Tommy’s eyes widen.

“Wait!” The blonde yells, letting go of Tubbo and moving forwards.

“I’m sorry.” The person says again, quickly jumping onto Spirit. Tommy reaches out a moment too late. The hooded man, along with Spirit, and the cages the horse carries, take off down the street.

Chapter Text

Before Tubbo can utter a word, Tommy is moving, pushing people aside. He struggles after his friend, muttering frantic apologies to the frustrated people around them. Tommy rushes right up to three horses tied to a fence post, immediately beginning to untie the knots.

“Hey!” A guy protests, moving towards Tommy angrily as his horses come loose. Tubbo is quick to stop the man.

“Sorry, here, take this!” He says, pulling coins out of his pockets and shoving them towards the man, who fumbles to catch them. “Tommy.” He shouts, turning his attention back to Tommy in time to see him jump on one of the horses. The Prince doesn’t even seem to hear him, already speeding away. Hurrying to another horse, Tubbo chases after him, heart thundering in his chest. 

He can hear Tommy shouting at his horse to hurry as he tries to catch up to Spirit, Tubbo desperately tries not to lose them. The three wind down street after street, and soon they’re back in the open desert. Tommy’s horse gradually gets closer to Spirit, until Tubbo can see him reach out, trying to grab the reins. The hooded figure desperately attempts to escape Tommy, but to no use. The Prince carefully pulls his feet up, until he’s precariously crouched on the horse. 

Tubbo gasps, watching as Tommy jumps from the horse, onto Spirit, himself and the figure tumbling to the floor. The horses gradually come to a stop, whinnying upsettingly. Tommy pushes himself up, standing over the figure and drawing his sword, pointing it down at them. The dragons cry out from their crates, distressed. Tubbo hastily stops his horse, sliding off and stumbling over to his friend. 

“Tommy.” He shouts, coming up beside the boy and staring down at the hunched figure, hood still covering their identity.

“Show us your face.” Demands Tommy. In the distance they can hear faint shouts. Back at the edge of the village, the group of men appear once again, heading towards them.

“Let’s take him with us and go before they catch up.” Tubbo suggests, quietly, pulling on his sleeve gently.

“We don’t even know why they were chasing him, Tubbo!” Tommy snaps. “Show us your face or we’ll hand you right over to them.” He threatens. The hooded figure trembles fearfully.

“Tommy!” Tubbo complains. Tommy ignores him.

“Five… Four…”

“Please.” The man says, desperately. “They’ll kill me.”

“Three… Two…”

“Okay! Okay.” He relents, gloved hands shakily reaching up to his hood. He grips the fabric and slowly pulls it down.

“Oh.” Tommy mutters, shoulders untensing.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tubbo asks innocently, in concern, staring down at the person, half of their skin snow white, and half coal black. The man shrinks in on himself, staring up at them with terrified green and red eyes.

“Tubbo!” Tommy shouts, smacking him on the arm. “That’s fucking rude.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be! I’m sorry.” He shouts, holding his hands up in surrender.

“He’s a hybrid, not a fucking monster.”

“A what?”

“You know, a cross between different species.” He turns to the two toned man. “You’re part enderman, right? And part something else, by the looks of it.”

“Y- yeah.” The ender hybrid answers nervously.

“I didn’t know hybrids existed.” Tubbo admits. “They were just scary stories made up to get kids to do as they’re told.”

“We’re rare.” The ender hybrid mumbles.

“Wait so they’re after you just because you’re a hybrid?” Tommy asks, bewildered, glancing at the nearing group of men. The hybrid looks down uncomfortably, nodding. Tommy sighs, putting his sword away and holding out a hand. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.” The hybrid's head snaps back up, confused.

“What?”

“Look, we haven’t got all day, and I’m not going to leave you here to get killed or some shit for no good reason.” Tubbo looks at Tommy, smiling lightly. The hybrid tentatively reaches out a jet black hand, grasping Tommy’s and letting himself get pulled to his feet. The two friends stare up at him, mildly surprised at his height, looking to be almost seven feet tall. 

“I’m Tubbo,” Tubbo starts, smiling. “That’s Tommy.”

“Ranboo.” The ender hybrid replies, offering them a small, grateful smile. The shouting grows nearer. So the three quickly get back on the horses, Tommy relieved to be back on Spirit. He mutters reassurances to his dragons, who continue to whine, disorientated. Tubbo and Ranboo take the new horses, and the three continue on into the deserts.

Technoblade slams open the door to his room, crumpled letter tightly in his hand. He rushes out into the moonlit night, hurrying down the snow covered steps. He crosses the yard towards the stables, Carl huffing a greeting, as he enters. The wind howls outside as he fumbles with Carl’s saddle, voices in his head screaming at him. Hearing the crunch of snow behind him, he turns, coming face to face with Antfrost and a shivering Ponk.

“What are you doing?” Antfrost asks. Technoblade turns back to Carl.

“I have to go.” He can hear Ponk spluttering in confusion.

“What? What do you mean?” He barks, a hand reaching for Technoblade’s sleeve, attempting to slow his movements.

“My nephew’s hurt. I have to go back to L’Manberg.” He grunts, pulling his arm free and beginning to walk Carl out of the stables.

“Is he okay?” Antfrost asks, eyebrows furrowed, worried.

“He was poisoned, but he seems to be stable for now, he didn’t ingest much.” He answers, moving to Carl's side, preparing to clamber onto him.

“Wait, you can’t leave!” Antfrost states. Technoblade glares at him.

“You can’t stop me.” He notes.

“But what about everything that’s happening here!” Ponk shouts, throwing his arms up in frustration. “You understand how serious the situation in the FarLands is, no-one believes us! What do you think it’ll say about everything we’ve claimed to be out there if you just leave?” Technoblade stops, looking away, letter still grasped in one hand.

“Fundy-” He starts, frowning.

“Is stable.” Antfrost interrupts, breathing heavily. “We’re heading beyond the Border tomorrow. It’s our one chance to prove that there’s a real threat. A potential threat to the entire Antarctic Empire. We need you here.” Technoblade looks down at the letter, creased from his tight grasp, clenching his teeth. Dead men with white eyes flit through his mind and he sighs, turning on his heel and leading Carl back to the stables. Ponk and Antfrost are silent as he removes Carl’s saddle, handing it back on the wall and shutting the horse back in. “Thank you.” Antfrost mutters, as he walks back into the snow. He walks straight past them, without a word, stomping back up the steps and heading back to his chambers. 

The whole room seems to rattle with the force he accidentally shuts the door with, likely awakening the whole place. He collapses in his chair by the dying fire, carefully opening up the letter and looking back over the hastily written words, signed ‘King Philza Minecraft’ at the bottom. He’d reply tomorrow, to inform them that he could not return yet. 

They travel for an hour, mostly in silence. The dragons thankfully calmed down before Ranboo was aware enough to ask questions. The desert begins getting grassier as it becomes the savanna, ground gradually turning a little greener and more solid. After they finally feel like they’ve gotten far enough, Tubbo points out a cave on the side of a rocky mountain. Tommy is quick to unstrap the dragon’s cages, setting them on the floor beside Spirit, they begin whining again, anxious to get out of the crates. Ranboo stands at the mouth of the cave, as Tubbo takes both their horses, in a mix of nerves and awkwardness. Tubbo begins getting their bags from Spirit, pulling out their blankets and checking through the supply of food. He glances at Ranboo, settling a blanket on the floor.

“Come sit down while I start a fire.” He says gently, gesturing to the makeshift pillow. Ranboo does so, silently.

Tommy attempts to hush his dragons, undoing the tie on Henry’s crate first and trying to get him to calm. Henry pushes at the door with his head, crying. As he moves to get one of the bags containing spare food for the dragons, Henry gives the door a shove, catching Tommy off guard, and manages to slip out of the cage. He rushes forwards, almost reaching the same height as Tommy does sitting on the ground. Before Tommy can protest, he nudges the blonde’s cheek with his nose, emitting a low purring sound. Tommy gives in, stroking him. He remembers, too late, the other person in the cave and turns, meeting the wide heterochromatic eyes of Ranboo.

“Try anything and he’ll burn you alive.” He threatens, Henry screeches loudly, wings flaring out behind him.

“Tommy!” Tubbo scolds, he turns to Ranboo, who sits frozen. “They won’t hurt you.” He reassures the boy. 

“You were all for burning everything in sight earlier.” Tommy grumbles, glaring at the hybrid, before turning back to Henry and patting him on the head. He moves to the other two cages, letting out Clem and Shroud. 

Shroud tilts his head at Ranboo, blue scales shining in the light from the setting sun. Ranboo slowly begins crawling away, but Shroud walks forwards, tail flicking side to side. Tubbo and Tommy watch, amused as the dragon stalks towards the hybrid, until Ranboo is backed against the wall. Tubbo absently pets Clem while watching, glancing at Tommy who bites back a laugh. Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut, back firmly against the wall, Shroud makes a questioning screech, nudging the boy’s leg. Snapping his eyes open at the contact, Ranboo back. Letting out a low rumble, Shroud rests his head on Ranboo’s knee expectantly, staring up at him with yellow eyes. The ender hybrid stares back at the calm dragon, slowly relaxing. He glances at Tommy and then to Tubbo, who smiles reassuringly, before reaching a shaking hand towards Shroud. The dragon squawks, making Ranboo pause momentarily, but eventually his fingers brush against Shroud’s head.

“How do you have dragons?” Ranboo whispers, tensely stroking Shroud. His fingers twitch, and he blinks slowly, not believing the situation he’s in.

“They’re mine,” Tommy starts, “And it’s kind of a long story.” Ranboo nods slowly, eyes never leaving the creature before him.

“I never thought I'd get to see a dragon, they’re all supposed to be dead.”

“ I never thought I’d see a hybrid.” Tubbo affirms.

“They’re really that rare?” Tommy asks, still perplexed at the discovery.

“Well yeah, I didn’t even know they existed.”

“Most people don’t.” Ranboo adds.

“Do you have any abilities? The blaze hybrid I lived with in Logsted could control fire.” Says Tommy.

“Seriously?” Tubbo gasps, eyes wide.

“Well I’m allergic to water?” Ranboo says, shrugging.

“I read that enderman hybrids could teleport.” Says Tommy. Ranboo shakes his head.

“I’ve never been able to.” Tommy nods in understanding, he glances out the mouth of the cave, spotting the sunset dipping behind the hills. Tubbo notices the oncoming darkness as well, crawling over to where he’d started setting up a fire. Tommy looks around, grabbing a couple more small sticks and passing them over. As soon as Tubbo moves his hands away from the little pile, Clem lets out a hiss, fire pouring from her mouth and engulfing the sticks in a bright orange flame. She looks back up to Tommy and Tubbo for approval, making happy little chirping noises when Tubbo strokes her golden speckled neck. “Do you want to stay with us for a while?” Ranboo turns to Tommy, surprised.

“I suppose so. If you explain how you came about three dragons.” He bargains, looking at Shroud who rumbles contentedly, curling up on the floor beside the hybrid. Tommy smiles.

“I guess it’s a deal.”

Wilbur snaps awake to a knocking at the door. Fundy lies on the bed in front of him, still unconscious and shivering despite the many blankets they’d laid over him. He glances to the window, squinting at the blinding light of the sun high up in the sky. The knocking comes again, so Wilbur pushes himself up, rolling his shoulders with a groan. He twists the door handle and pulls it open, letting in a rush of cold air. Before him stands Foolish.

“Oh.” He mutters, surprised. “Come in.” He steps aside, and the man cautiously walks into the room. He looks down to Fundy with a frown.

“How is he?” Wilbur falls back into his chair.

“Well he hasn’t gotten any worse. Apparently that’s supposed to be a good sign.” Foolish nods.

“I’m sorry this happened. I just wanted to see how he was doing before we left.”

“Do you know who poisoned Lord Quackity’s drink?” Wilbur asks, tiredly. Foolish shakes his head, solemnly.

“If you're asking if it was me, it wasn’t.” He says, sincerely. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. It made me realise I can’t possibly be loyal to both the crown and Karl. I’ve thought about it a lot and you were right, I can’t play both sides. Karl is one of my closest friends so...” Wilbur nods.

“Okay, I understand.” He forces the man an awkward smile, which the man tries to return.

“We’re about to head back to Las Nevadas with Quackity.” 

“Okay, I’m sure my father will want me to come down to see you off.” Wilbur says, rolling his eyes. Foolish huffs a small laugh.

“I really do wish you the best of luck, Your Highness.” He says, seriously.

“I appreciate it, Sir Foolish.” Foolish dips his head in a half nod, half bow. “Are you heading down now?”

“I am, I believe our carriages are being prepared as we speak.”

“I’ll join you.” As they leave the room, Wilbur asks the doctor sitting outside the room to watch his son while he’s gone, and they begin their journey out of the castle.

They split paths once reaching the steps into the courtyard. Wilbur walks down towards Puffy and Phil who spot him and quickly wave him over. The atmosphere is tense, as the visiting Lords and Ladies say their goodbyes, no-one is subtle in their suspicion of Wilbur, and it takes everything in the Prince not to yell out there and then. Lord Karl and Lord Quackity are the last to leave, walking over to them together.

“Thank you for attending this year's festival.” Philza begins, “Lord Karl, it’s been a pleasure having you around, I hope you’ll be here next year.” Karl nods stiffly.

“Yes, well… we’ll see.” He replies.

“And Lord Quackity, again I’m so terribly sorry for what happened. If I find the individual responsible I can promise they’ll be punished accordingly.” He says, sincerely. Quackity frowns, hands wringing together as if troubled, he looks to the ground and then to Karl, whose eyes seem to soften, leaning closer to the other.

“I should hope they are.” Karl says, eyes flickering to Wilbur, warily.

“Let’s go.” Quackity mutters to Karl, who nods.

“Well, goodbye Your Grace.” He says, tensely, before leading Quackity away, the two clamber into the same carriage. Foolish gets into the one behind, along with Purpled, who gives Wilbur a betrayed sort of look. They watch them leave through the open gate, wheels rolling on the gravel, leaving an empty courtyard behind.

“Well,” Philza sighs, turning to Puffy, “Find Jack and meet me at the council room and we can begin.”

“Begin what?” Wilbur asks. Phil turns to him with a deep frown.

“Preparing for war.”

Chapter Text

“We don’t have much money left.” Says Tubbo, tipping their pouch of coins into his hand and counting through it. He turns to Tommy, who picks up another bit of meat, chucking it to the dragons. Henry catches it, Shroud squawking and grabbing the other end, tackling his brother in the air attempting to steal it for himself. Tommy leans back, just barely missing getting smacked in the face by Henry’s spiked tail.

“Shroud.” He calls, holding out a different bit of meat for the dragon. He leaves Henry alone, crawling towards Tommy and heaving out a breath of fire that engulfs Tommy’s hand. He hears Ranboo gasp in shock and smirks. The flames die down revealing the charred bit of meat in Tommy’s unburnt hand. Shroud reaches out with sharp teeth, snatching the food from Tommy and swallowing it whole. “We have enough food to last us a week, we can work something out by then.” He replies, Tubbo frowns.

“Tommy, we have to come up with a real plan, we have Ranboo now as well, I don’t know if the food will last that long between the three of us.” Tommy sighs, frustrated, running a hand through his tangled hair.

“Wait, so you’re trying to get back to the Antarctic Empire, right?” Ranboo asks. Tommy nods. “So somehow we need to get a ship.”

“Wow, you know what I didn’t realise that, Ranboo . Thanks for pointing it out.” Tommy says, sarcastically.

“I’m just trying to think.” Ranboo mumbles, leaning back against the wall. “Well once people see you with dragons I think they’ll definitely believe that your Theseus Minecraft. You could probably head to one of the major Esempii cities and get let in easily. I think anyone would be eager to house a Prince.” He proposes. Tubbo smiles, nodding.

“Yeah, and then we wouldn’t have to worry about food and clothes, we could just focus on getting across the sea.” He adds.

“I suppose.” Tommy relents.

“Listen up.” Sam shouts, over the group. The gate rises behind him, wind howling over their heads and echoing down the cave. Technoblade clutches the handle of his sword, face almost emotionless. “I’ll be leading this expedition. I don’t know how long we’ll be beyond the Border or what we’ll encounter, but those who ventured out last week claimed there’s a larger threat than that of the Pillagers. Supposedly this enemy can be killed by fire or netherite, which obviously proves difficult with the rarity of netherite. If this proves to be true, it’ll be crucial that we put any differences aside and work as a team.” Some of the men look between each other, rolling their eyes, amused. 

“They’ll see.” Antfrost mutters under his breath.

“Does anyone have any objection to this expedition.” Many voices complain quietly to each other, but none speak up. “In that case we’ll head out now.” The large group head forwards into the dark cave, gate lifting at the other end. Ponk glances back at the fort a final time, before heaving in a determined breath, looking to Antfrost, who pats him on the shoulder, reassuringly. Soon enough they’re back in the thick untouched snow of the FarLands.

“Holy Prime, Nikki!” Wilbur shouts, after opening the door to find the woman standing on the other side. He breathes in deeply, a hand over his racing chest.

“Sorry, Will.” She apologises, meekly. Peeking around him she looks at Fundy, who’s being looked over by the castle’s main doctor. Her face crumples with emotion. “I’m sorry I haven’t come sooner. Is he okay?” She asks, voice cracking as she holds back tears.

“He came down with a fever last night.” Answers Wilbur, “He woke up briefly but didn’t really understand what was going on. It’s not looking good. The doctors say if he makes it through the fever he’ll recover. I just hate not knowing, and not being able to help him. It’s my fault this happened.”

“No, it isn’t.” Nikki insists, silent tears beginning to slip down her cheeks.

“It is. I should have kept a better eye on him. And now I don’t know if I'll ever get to apologise.” Wilbur chokes out, pressing his head into his hands. Nikki let out a strangled sob, bringing her arms around him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” She whimpers, tears soaking into his shirt.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.” Wilbur croaks, he can feel Nikki shaking her head on his shoulder.

“But I do. This is all my fault, I just wanted to protect you.” Tensing, Wilbur pulls back from her, looking over her tear streaked face with fear.

“What?” He whispers, throat tight. He pushes her back, shutting the bedroom door behind them.

“I’m so sorry, Wilbur!” She wails, reaching out for him. He smacks her hands away, a choked breath catching in his throat.

“Nikki,” He stammers. “What did you do?” She brings her hands up to her mouth, muffling her sobs. “No.” he shakes his head with wide eyes. “Nikki, no. Tell me it wasn’t you.” He demands, voice raising.

“Please, Will. Fundy’s like a little brother to me, I never meant for him to get hurt!” Wilbur heaves in panicked gasps, a trembling hand pressing against the door behind him as he shakes on his legs.

“Why would you do that without telling me?”

“I didn’t want to get you involved, I thought it would be better if you had no part in it.” She reasons.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve started?” Wilbur hisses, “If Las Nevadas goes to war with us, I don’t know that we’ll win!” He watches Nikki collapse to her knees, wailing miserably, stammering apologies. “You have until first light to pack your things and leave the castle.” Nikki’s head snaps up.

“Wilbur-” She whispers, trying to process his words.

“You’re dismissed from your duties, if you aren’t gone by then I’ll have you arrested for attempted murder and treason. I’m sure you know the penalties for those charges?” She stares at him in shock, eyes red and puffy.

“Will-”

“Go!” He bellows, tearing his eyes away as she slowly gets to her feet.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, before turning and slowly walking down the hall, shutting her eyes and holding back sobs.

Wilbur releases a breath, listening to her footsteps become more and more distant. He opens Fundy’s door, stepping back into the bedroom. The doctor glances up from where he lays a fresh wet towel across Fundy’s forehead.

“You can go.” He mutters, holding the door open. The doctor goes to protest, but shuts his mouth from the sharp look Wilbur sends him. He nods, leaving the room with a quick bow. Walking over to his son, Wilbur sits on the edge of the bed, brushing a hand through the boy’s hair. Slowly leaning forwards, he rests his forehead against Fundy’s, tears slipping down his face. “Please Wake up.” He begs.

Tommy leans his head against the wall of the cave, eyes slowly slipping closed. He absently strokes the dragons curled up around him, Henry using Tommy’s leg as a pillow, Shroud and Clem using Henry as their own pillow. Across from him, Ranboo lays on a blanket, snoring quietly beside the fire which slowly grows smaller. Stretching his arms out, Tubbo clambers to his feet.

“I’ll get some more sticks for the fire.” He mumbles, walking to the mouth of the cave and into the dark night. They’d broken up the dragons’ cages and had resorted to using them as fire wood. Tommy’s eyes were gradually drifting shut when he heard a yelp from Tubbo and the sound of sticks clattering to the floor. He shifts slightly, peeling his eyes open again.

“Tubbo?” Calls Tommy, tiredly. Henry blinks awake, yawning and lifting his head up to peering at the cave entrance. Tubbo walks back into sight, hands held up in surrender, a sword at his throat. Henry emits a low growl and Tommy tenses at the sight of a familiar smiling mask.

“Hey Theseus.”

Chapter Text

“Hey Theseus.” Dream steps further into the cave, Tubbo stumbling with him, hissing as the blade digs into his neck. “It’s been a while, I’m surprised you managed to run for this long.” As more members of Exdee move into the cave, Ranboo stirs awake, looking around in fear. Soon enough a sword is at his throat as well, George staring down at him, warningly.

“Dream.” Tommy whispers, trying to hide the shakiness to his voice. Henry growls, threateningly, standing in front of Tommy.

“I see you’ve been taking in strays.” Dream taunts, looking between Tubbo and Ranboo.

“They’re my friends.” Mutters Tommy. Henry grumbles, baring his teeth. Trails of smoke escaping his mouth and drifting upwards. Dream huffs, looking down at the three dragons.

“I saw what they did to my men. It was pretty impressive, I must admit.” The masked man says. “But that’s not going to work today.” He looks over his shoulder, and Sapnap steps into the light, cracked skin glowing. Henry heaves out a breath, smoke and sparks weaving towards the blaze hybrid’s hands. Tommy grits his teeth, they briefly meet eyes, the hybrid giving him a tense look.

“What do you want?” Tommy hisses, staring back at Dream’s masked face.

“Well first off, I was hoping you could answer the question that’s been bothering me since you ran away.” He starts. “Who helped you escape?” Tommy stays silent, refusing to break eye contact. “My bets were on Sapnap, but he’s insistent that it wasn’t him.”

“Because it wasn’t.”

“I’m guessing you won’t tell me who it was?” The man sighs, disappointedly, shifting. Tubbo tenses as the cold blade brushes his neck. “Shame. Well, I’ll find out eventually, but right now, you and your beasts are going to come with me.”

“No.” Tommy stammers, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to have to hurt anyone.” Dream continues. “I don’t know what lies you’ve been told, Theseus, but I’m not the bad guy here. Just come with me now and we can forget this ever happened.” Tommy narrows his eyes.

“You’re the one who's been lying to me . You took me from my real family and made me believe that they don’t care, when really it was you that never cared about me.” He barks, hands curling into shaking fists. Dream just sighs again, tilting his head, patronisingly.

“I thought we could do this the easy way, but clearly that’s not going to happen.” He waves a hand, and some men step forwards, chains clattering in their arms. “Get the dragons.” He orders. They step towards the dragons, who screech angrily, rows of sharp teeth bared threateningly. The men flinch at the ear splitting cries, faltering. “Theseus, come here.” Dream says, warningly.

“Tommy, don’t.” Tubbo says, muffling a whimper as Dream pushes the sword forwards a little, a small trail of blood beginning to trickle down the side of his neck, soaking into his collar. Tommy steps past the fire, ignoring the nervous mewl Henry makes, and moves towards Dream. As soon as he’s in reach, the masked man grips his arm, tugging him closer.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He mocks blade lifting from Tubbo’s neck. The brunette visibly relaxes, a hand coming to press against the thin cut along his skin. Tommy hears the rattle of chains, looking back to see his dragons cowering against the wall, surrounded by Dream’s men. They make useless, smoky huffs in an attempt to save themselves. Sapnap’s hands flare with power as he drains their fire. “But I can’t let your little trip go completely unpunished now, can I?” Says Dream, drawing his attention back. His eyes widen as the man lifts his sword again, looking at Tubbo. Tommy moves to stop him, but hands wrap around his arms, holding him back.

“Dream, please!” Tommy screams, tugging against the grip on him. Tommy looks to George, who holds his own sword at Ranboo’s throat, keeping him in place. The man avoids his eyes, eyebrows pinched in what looks like guilt. “Please, he didn’t do anything, Dream! I’ll come with you, I won’t run again, just let him and Ranboo go.” He pleads, desperately. Tubbo’s eyes are wide, he looks at Dream helplessly, as the man holds the blade up.

“I’m sorry, Theseus, but you need to learn that your accidents have consequences.” He replies, not sounding sorry at all. Tommy shouts as Dream brings the blade down, staring at Tubbo’s pale face through misty eyes. His friend gives him a wobbly smile, and Tommy’s face crumples, tears slipping down his cheeks. The yellow light of the fire reflects off the blade as it cuts through the air. There’s a blur of movement beside him and a loud clang reverbarates around the cave. 

Dream flinches backwards in shock, staring back at Sapnap, who pushes his sword against Dream’s. Tommy stares at the man with wide eyes.

“It was you?” Dream guesses, Sapnap just stares, wordlessly. Dream is silent for a moment as they break apart, as if only now processing the thought of his friend actually betraying him. They’re interrupted by harrowing screams, Tommy turns, shielding his eyes at the bright flash of light. Henry stands before his siblings, spraying the men around them with fire. The man gripping Tommy lets him go, drawing his sword and rushing to help.

“Theseus-” Dream starts, stepping towards Tommy, who moves back behind Sapnap. The blaze hybrid gives him a reassuring smile.

“I’ve got this, get your friends.” He says. Tommy nods, moving to a perplexed Tubbo and gripping his wrist, gently. The two head for Ranboo, as the clash of swords begins again. George blinks at Tommy, eyes flicking to Sapnap and Dream, before slumping, the hand holding his sword to Ranboo dropping to his side. Tommy stretches out a hand, pulling the ender hybrid to his feet. He gives George a thankful look.

“Come on,” He says to his friends, rushing past Sapnap and Dream, who clash swords. Sapnap is a good fighter, but Dream is better, and the blaze hybrid is clearly struggling to hold out against him. The trio step out into the night, but their path is blocked by two more members of Exdee. One smirks at Tommy, looking ready to make a snide remark, when they hear an angry screech and Henry shoots past. The dragon smacks into the man’s chest, knocking him to the floor. The other man steps back, turning to run when Clem and Shroud fly out of the cave, fire shooting from their mouths and engulfing the man. Tommy winces at his pained screams as he drops to the floor, rolling in futile attempts to put out the flames licking at his skin. 

Drawing his eyes away, Tommy’s shaking hands find his friends’, and he drags them over to where their horses are tied. Ranboo and Tubbo clamber onto the same horse while Tommy climbs onto Spirit. He looks back to the mouth of the cave, watching Sapnap dodge a swipe from Dream, panting heavily. 

“Sapnap!” He shouts. The hybrid glances over for a moment before turning back to block Dream’s sword. Henry appears again, flying towards Dream with a loud squawk, claws scratching at him. The masked man swings his sword through the air to keep the dragon at bay. “Sapnap, come on!” The man lets his sword fall to his side, hesitating. Thankfully, he moves towards them, getting on their other horse. Without a word, they leave, dragons soon swooping after them.

“I’ve been reaching out to our allies, and including the Kingsguard, we’re looking at around twenty three thousand men.” Jack informs the table, from his seat beside Lady Puffy. “Lord Quackity has already rallied a lot of the southern cities.”

“And how many men would that bring him to?” Asks Philza, reluctantly. Jack winces, looking down at the table.

“Almost nineteen thousand.” 

“There’s no way.” Wilbur rejects, shaking his head. “How?” Puffy speaks up.

“Quackity has spent a lot of time building Las Nevadas up. It was purposely meant to appeal to everyone. It’s not surprising so many are so quick to join him. Not to mention, his army alone is made up of eight thousand, ten thousand including Kinoko Kingdom’s.” She says, gravely.

“It’s like all this time he’s been waiting for the excuse to declare war against us.” Jack mutters.

“And he knew exactly how to provoke it.” Wilbur growls. “It’s like he told me; it didn’t matter whether it was actually me that did it, as long as someone did he could always pin the blame on me. He was aggravating me deliberately to make me look more guilty when something happened.”

“I still can’t believe it was Nikki.” Whispers Puffy, looking down at the table solemnly.

“That information can never leave this room.” Philza says, sternly. “If the public ever finds out it was her I don’t want to imagine what could happen to her.” The others nod, wordlessly. 

“So what do we do about Lord Quackity?” Wilbur asks, breaking the tense silence.

“Well since Quackity’s army has grown so large, we’re going to need some other advantage against him, we can’t just rely on our army alone anymore.” Jack declares, mouth drawn in a thin line.

“Any ideas?” Philza sighs. No-one answers, faces pinched in frustration.

“Let’s take a break,” Puffy suggests. “Think about it for a while and see what we can come up with. Sitting here and moping is not going to help right now.” She jokes, lacking any real enthusiasm. Philza nods, dismissing them with the wave of his hand, the sound of their chairs scraping across the stone floors fills the room.

Three horses travel across the dry plains, under the pitch black of the night sky. Tommy rides Spirit, Henry curled up in front of him, head resting atop the horse’s. Ranboo holds the reins of his and Tubbo’s horse, the brunette asleep behind him, head on his shoulder as he snores lightly. Shroud and Clem fly in the dark overhead, silent except for the beat of their wings. Sapnap leads the group, a little ways ahead. 

“You let Dream believe you helped me escape.” Tommy says. Sapnap sighs, tilting his head up to the sky.

“Yeah.”

“You know it was George.” He surmises. Sapnap huffs, almost sounding amused.

“Course I do, he’s one of my closest friends, I could tell the moment I saw him.”

“What about Dream?” Tommy asks, quietly. Sapnap frowns.

“As soon as he realised you were gone he came straight to me, screaming and blaming me. I didn’t know what was going on. Once he realised I had no idea what he was talking about he layed off a bit. Dream didn’t even suspect George.” He summarises. Sapnap looks back at him. “He’s not going to stop coming after you, Theseus, you’re his biggest advantage against the Antarctic Empire.”

“What about my dragons?” Tommy questions, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“There was no guarantee he’d be able to control them, that’s why he tried to keep you on his side, so he could control them through you if needed. But he needed you no matter what, you were a hostage, Theseus, something he could hold over the Antarctic Empire if it came down to it.” Tommy tenses, frowning to himself.

“How would he know they’d even care? They don’t know me.” He mumbles.

“You're still their family, of course they’d care.” Sapnap replies, smiling faintly. Tommy tries to mirror it.

“Let’s stop here. I think we all need some rest.” Suggests Sapnap. The Prince mutters his agreements, yawning, and pulling Spirit to a stop immediately. Ranboo stops beside him, gently waking Tubbo and helping him down from the horse. The group quietly set up a makeshift camp, Ranboo and Tubbo passing out beside each other moments after. Tommy sits down next to Tubbo, frowning at the cut on his friend's neck. Thankfully it wasn’t too deep, and seems to have closed up already. He turns to Sapnap, who peers back the way they’d come from, cautiously.

“Where are we going to go?” Tommy asks him, wearily. The blaze hybrid doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“The BadLands.” He answers.

“Why?” Sapnap sighs, tiredly.

“The BadLands are civil with the Antarctic Empire, and Dream doesn’t have many men there, it’s our safest option right now.” Tommy nods in understanding, looking down at his hands. Henry settles next to him, quickly falling asleep. Shroud and Clem flap to the ground near them, wiggling their way between Ranboo and Tubbo. “They call you Tommy.” Sapnap notes, looking back at the sleeping teens. “Didn’t I call you that once?”

“Prefer it.” Tommy answers, ducking his head timidly. Sapnap huffs, amused. “Theseus is too… formal.” He decides.

“Yeah, I think you suit Tommy. It sounds like a gremlin child's name.” Sapnap jokes.

“Fuck you!”

“Do you know where Nikki went?” Puffy asks as the two walk down the empty corridors. Wilbur sighs.

“She’s still in L’Manberg.” He states, confidently. “She’s lived here all her life, she loves this city. I don’t think she would leave.” A fond smile crosses Puffy’s face as she nods in agreement.

“You’re right. She cares about L’Manberg and its people too much to go far.” She adds, chuckling. “And she cares about you and Fundy too much.”

“I know.” He answers, quietly. Puffy rests a careful hand on his back as they come to a stop, ready to part ways.

“Get some sleep, Your Highness.” She says, turning and continuing down the hall. Wilbur turns to the corridor beside him, walking past his room, and heading towards his son’s. He brings a hand to the cold handle, quietly opening the door. Stepping inside, he cringes at the creak as he shuts it behind him, before turning to the bed. He freezes, breath catching in his throat as he meets the wide, confused eyes of Fundy.

Chapter Text

“I don’t think we're going to find anything out here.” One man grumbles, as they trek through the valley. The ground beneath them is white with snow, boots falling through the fresh layers as they stumble along. Mountains loom over them, pointing up to the cloudy grey sky. 

“There are no people, let alone monsters.” Replies another, frustratedly.

“We’ve only been out for a week. We’ll come across something.” Lord Sam says, from the front of the group. Antfrost gives Technoblade an apprehensive look.

“I kind of hope we don’t.” Ponk mutters, tripping over his numb feet.

The valley eventually opens up into a large clearing, the untouched ground sparkling in the light. Far ahead they can make out a tall structure, Sam immediately leading them in its direction.

“It’s a pillager outpost.” Antfrost realises, as they get closer to the wooden tower.

“It looks abandoned, like all the villages were.” Says another man.

“Have your weapons out, just in case.” Sam instructs. As they near it, they can hear the wind whistling through the empty building, banners silently waving in the breeze. The door to the structure is wide open, so Sam steps in first, floor creaking under his feet. He scans the room, sword drawn, before turning and gesturing for them to follow. He sends a group of five to check the higher floors, while he stays at the bottom with Technoblade, Antfrost, Ponk and a few others.

“Look, they left all their supplies here.” Antfrost says, rifling through some dusty crates.

“Do you think they’re coming back?” One of the others asks, glancing out the window nervously.

“Not if it’s been left like this. Something must have happened.” Technobalde answers, gruffly, looking at Sam.

“Woah, check this out!” Ponk exclaims, from beside a crate near the door. They move over to him, watching the man pull dark coloured weapons from the box.

“How did the Pillagers get netherite weapons?” Antfrost wonders aloud, puzzled.

“These are ancient,” Says Technoblade, “Look at the carvings, this is Ender, an old language. I studied a book on it when I was younger.”

“Can you read it?”

“I recognise some of the symbols, but I couldn’t tell you exactly.” Technoblade replies, examining an old dagger, scraped and dirtied with time but still sharp and strong.

“We’ll take it all, it’ll come in handy.” Sam says, Ponk nodding and immediately filling one of their sacks with the rare items. 

“Every settlement we’ve come across is abandoned, how long are we going to stay out here?” One of the others asks, Sam sighs.

“Until we find somewhere that isn’t abandoned.”

“Hey!” Calls Sapnap, riding over to the trio sat at the camp. Tommy stands to greet him and helps him tie his horse, while the hybrid removes his cloak and rifles through his bag. “Here.” The man says, chucking clothes to Tubbo and Ranboo, who catch them and hold them up.

“I think this is the most expensive thing I've ever held.” Tubbo jokes.

“I used up the last of my gold on that so keep it clean.” He says, “We’ll need to look presentable when we get to the BadLands.”

“Did you see my dragons while you were out?” Tommy asks, sitting beside Tubbo and looking through the pile of clothes.

“I didn’t, but the rumors are spreading, there have been more and more sightings.” Says Sapnap, taking a seat opposite them and unscrewing the cap on his pouch of water. He takes a sip, offering it to the teens, who gladly take it.

“That’s… that’s good.” Tommy mutters.

“It is good. I know you're worried, Tommy. But the sooner we introduce you and your dragons to the world, the safer it’ll be.” Sapnap reassures.

“How much safer?” The prince mumbles. 

“Safer than we are out in the open like this.” Sapnap replies, firmly. Tommy frowns, sceptically, but doesn’t argue further.

Wilbur grips the balcony, frowning down at the commotion at the castle gate. He can hear the angry shouts, despite his distance. The townsfolk rattle the gates, spitting insults and throwing things at the guards who attempt to break it up.

“I heard Fundy woke up yesterday.” He spins around to see his father walking towards him, smiling softly.

“Yeah, for a little while, I got him to have a drink and then he was out again.” Wilbur responds, turning back to the protest outside. “He seemed better though.”

“That’s good.” They fall into silence, and Philza looks at his son, whose gaze remains on the crowd below. “Wil, you don’t need to watch that.” He says, quietly.

“They’re there because of me. They want me arrested.” He grits out, angrily.

“Wilbur-”

“I’ve always done everything I can to help our people. One of the main purposes of the festival is to help them . And now they hate me.” He complains, throwing his hands up and turning around to lean back against the railing.

“Wilbur, you’re never going to have everyone on your side. That’s not how it works. Think about Exdee,” He starts, Wilbur’s breath catches in his throat at the name, “they started off as a little crowd just like that.”

“And then they grew into a full on rebellion and killed mother and Theseus.” Phil freezes at his bluntness, a pained look washing over his face.

“Okay, that wasn’t my point.” He stutters. “What I'm trying to say is that you can never possibly have everybody on your side, you just have to remember that there are still so many people who adore you. All those children you’ve visited in the orphanages, they’ll grow up remembering that. The homeless you’ve given food to, the people whose stores you’ve bought from, they’ll always remember how you helped them.” Wilbur’s shoulders droop, as he sighs. “You can’t just give up because of the opinions of a few, Wilbur.”

“I- I know. It just makes me so angry that they would lose faith in me so quickly.” He chokes, frowning. 

“Some people need a villain.”

“I wish they’d pick Lord Quackity for that instead.” He grumbles, making Phil chuckle.

“Word of a war travels fast, the people down there right now are afraid. It’s their homes Lord Quackity means to invade. They’re scared for themselves and their families safety. Scared people lash out, and you’re the closest option right now.” Phil says.

“Well Quackity won’t be invading any of their homes.” Wilbur replies, Phil turns to him, raising an eyebrow. “I have an idea.”

“How do the rich survive in these clothes?” Tubbo complains, rubbing the sweat from his forehead and pulling at the collar of his shirt.

“I know,” Ranboo replies, staring up at the cloudless sky, and squinting at the bright sun. “This is awful.” 

“How do you think I feel.” Tommy groans, trying to push Shroud from where he balances precariously on the teens shoulder. Clem is curled up before him. “They’re getting too fucking big for this.” Tubbo giggles, as Tommy pushes the dragon from his shoulder, who squawks in protest, flapping his large wings to regain balance, claws hooking onto the Prince’s shirt. Tommy scowls, muttering curses to Shroud, who grumbles in return. A heat wave ripples across the dry sand ahead of them, Sapnap squints across it, before speeding up his horse.

“Here, look.” He stops before a wooden post stuck into the ground. “50 miles to the BadLands,” He reads, “we can get there in two days.”

“Thank fuck.” Tubbo shouts dramatically. Ranboo watches him, smiling in amusement.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tommy asks once again. Sapnap looks back at him.

“It’s the only idea we’ve got.”

At the sound of rustling, Wilbur jolts upright, blinking back to awareness. He watches Fundy’s face scrunch up, the boy yawning as his eyes slowly peel open. He shuffles forwards in his chair, one hand gripping the boy’s, and the other gently cupping his cheek.

“How are you feeling, my Little King?” Wilbur asks, softly. The boy coughs, pushing himself into a sitting position and glancing around the empty room.

“What happened?” He croaks.

“There was an accident at the feast.” He replies, passing him a glass of water. The boy eagerly drinks it all. “How do you feel?” He asks, again.

“Head hurts.” Fundy mumbles. “But I’m okay, I think. Is Lord Quackity here still?”

“No, he went back to Las Nevadas.” Wilbur replies, slowly.

“Oh,” Fundy says quietly, face scrunching up, he looks down at his bedsheets in thought. “At the feast, you said we was going to talk. You said you would tell me everything.”

“We can talk about that later, you should get some more rest.” Responds Wilbur.

“Not tired, I want to talk now.” Wilbur opens his mouth to argue, but stops at the deep frown on his son’s face. He sighs.

“Okay.” He whispers, glancing out of the window at the overcast sky. “What do you want to know?” Fundy shifts, eyes widening as if in disbelief.

“Umm.” He starts, quietly. Wilbur smiles faintly.

“How about I just start from the beginning?” He says, heaving in a deep breath. Fundy nods, slowly, shuffling into a more comfortable position. “Your grandmother, Kristen, was the Queen before Phil became the King.” Wilbur begins, choosing his words carefully, “She was a great Queen and everyone loved her- almost everyone. You’ve heard of Exdee before, haven’t you?” Fundy nods once more, wordlessly. “It started off a few months before Kristen fell pregnant with a third child. They began as a small group of people who didn’t like the way she was ruling, she didn’t bring too much attention to it in hopes they would just get bored. But slowly they became violent, attacking guards, setting fires and such. So the KingsGuards were sent out to find them and arrest them, but we slowly realised there were more of them than we’d thought.” He explains, carefully. Fundy silently listens, hands fidgeting with his covers.

“The more we caught and arrested, the worse it got, they started killing innocents and leaving threats to the crown. It was awful. I can remember Techno and I being stuck in the castle at all times with guards watching over us. Kristen eventually declared Exdee an enemy of the crown. I think there was an event of some kind, Kristen and Phil went through the streets when they were attacked by a group of people wearing white masks and green capes. They were killing everyone in sight. And then another person with a mask reading ‘XD’ appeared, he shot down two of their royal guards. It was clear that he was in charge.”

“For weeks after, villages were being attacked, people were murdered in the streets, guards were going missing and their butchered bodies were turning up at the castle gates weeks later. I can remember looking out of the castle windows and seeing the streets of L’Manberg empty, people were too afraid to leave their homes.”

“The Kingsguard were eventually instructed to clear through every house and every street of L’Manberg, and capture every member of Exdee they could find. L’Manberg was shut off completely, no-one was allowed in or out. They had patrols down every street, guards at every possible entrance. Exdee set up a camp just past the forest, so we officially went to war. Because Kristen was pregnant she couldn’t fight, so we lost the advantage of having a dragon. Clara would never let Phil ride her, only Kristen, she was stubborn like that.” The faintest of smiles flashes across his face, recalling how Phil would tell them so fondly of Kristen and Clara’s deep connection with one another. The smile quickly drops.

“Theseus was born near the end of the war, and as soon as Kristen was able, she went out on Clara. They burnt Exdee’s camp to ashes, no mercy. But Exdee survived. He’d gotten his hands on a giant crossbow, the ones used hundreds of years ago when dragons were common and fought all of our battles for us. He managed to shoot Clara out of the sky. The fall wounded Kristen, but she still picked up a sword and fought. She put up a good fight, but Exdee overpowered her... He put a sword through her stomach. Exdee was too distracted to notice Phil had found them. Phil killed him. Kristen’s injuries were fatal, and she was already weak from the pregnancy; she died minutes after, while Phil held her. Clara didn’t make it either.” Wilbur takes a breath, face pinched, but he continues.

“A few days later Phil was named King, a few days after that we had a funeral. We were all so distraught and we couldn’t deal with a screaming baby, so we left Theseus here at the castle, three guards at his door and a nurse watching him. But somehow, someone broke into the castle,” Fundy’s eyes snap up to stare at his father as the man’s voice cracks, tears shining in his eyes. “They killed twenty royal guards and the nurse. Theseus was- Theseus was gone. A smiling face was drawn on the wall with blood.” Wilbur quickly wipes the tears slipping down his face, sucking in a sharp breath and turning away.

“We were all so sad for so long after that.” He sobs. “And then you were born and it was like the light finally returned to my life. I thought I was protecting you from all the hurt, by keeping this from you, but it looks like I just made everything so much worse.” He laughs bitterly, sniffing. He turns to see Fundy staring at him. “I’m sorry-” He starts, gasping as the boy throws himself into the man’s chest. Wilbur’s arms wrap around him tightly, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I love you.” Fundy whispers, Wilbur holds back a sob.

“I love you too, my Little King.” He replies.

“You know I'm starting to wonder if maybe we are crazy.” Technoblade turns to Ponk, raising a questioning eyebrow. The other man sighs, shuffling the log pile in his arms. “I mean, it’s been almost two weeks and we haven’t seen any of those… things.”

“Well no-one has died yet either.” Technoblade counters, continuing to pick up logs and sticks. Sam had tasked the two with collecting more firewood while they were near a forest, as the others set up a base for the night.

“I’m just sick of everyone treating us like idiots.” Ponk mutters. “Doesn’t it annoy you?” Technoblade shrugs, unbothered.

“I really don’t care. We know what we saw, and one way or another they’re going to see for themselves. Then we can finally work out what we’re going to do about it.” He replies, bluntly.

“Why did you come to the Border?” Asks Ponk, abruptly. Technoblade pauses, looking over to the other.

“I’ve always hated sitting in that castle.” He says, slowly. Ponk silently waits for him to continue. “I have these voices in my head, shouting at me, constantly, always demanding blood.” Ponk’s eyebrows furrow, looking mildly disturbed. “So I started training to become a part of the Kingsguard, learning to fight. It worked for a while, but it wasn’t enough. When I heard that they were having trouble at the Border… I guess I thought it might finally be enough.”

“And is it?” Ponk questions, apprehensively. Technoblade sniffs, turning away.

“Not yet.” They continue on in silence, Ponk glancing over to the stone faced Prince every now and then. Ahead of him a twig snaps. He stops, peering through the undergrowth. Hearing nothing else he moves again, grabbing another twig. This time, when the bush near him rustles, he looks up immediately, shoulders tensing. Behind him Technoblade draws his sword, carefully stepping towards him. Another snap comes from behind them, and the pair quickly turn, Technoblade’s sword held out defensively. Three crossbows point back at them, held by men in thick brown clothes. More people appear from the trees surrounding them, some armed with crossbows, and others with axes. Technoblade heaves a frustrated breath, lowering his sword.

“Looks like we found the pillagers.”

Chapter Text

“We’re not looking for any trouble!” Ponk blurts, hands raised in surrender. His eyes flick to Technoblade, who slowly lowers his sword.

“We came into the FarLands to talk to you.” Technoblade explains, staring directly at the pillager who appears to be in charge. “The rest of our group are just over that way-”

“How many?” The pillager interrupts, crossbow aimed at the Prince’s face. Technoblade narrows his eyes at the interruption.

“Twenty.” The small group of pillagers share brief looks, before turning back to the pair.

“Put your weapons on the ground.” The pillager instructs. Ponk looks at Technoblade, who doesn’t move. “Put them on the ground.” Ponk flinches as an arrow wedges itself in the tree beside him. 

“We’re not going to do that.” Technoblade grits out, though he slides his sword back into his scabbard. “We didn’t come out here to fight, we came to talk.” The pillagers mutter amongst themselves, sceptically.

“What about?” Asks the pillager, crossbow still aimed at them.

“About corpses arising with eyes of white.” The crossbow lowers a fraction, identical looks of understanding passing across their faces.

“And why would you want to talk to us about that?” 

“I’m led to believe that it's these corpses that are causing your people to flee over the Border and raid our villages, and that's a problem.” The pillager glares at him. “Do you have a leader?”

“Why?”

“We were hoping to discuss this... situation, and perhaps come to some kind of alliance with your people.” Ponk looks to Technoblade, questioningly.

“An alliance.” He repeats, doubtfully. “How stupid do you think we are? Your people come into our land and kill us and you want an alliance?” Ponk shifts, nervously.

“I know our people have had trouble for a long time, but if you know what I’m talking about I’m sure you’re aware that this is much more important than any of that.”

“We’ll take you back to our group, the Lord Commander of the Border is there, maybe-”

“No.” The pillager says, “We’ll bring you to our King. The two of you, no more.”

“Okay.” Technoblade agrees. Ponks stares at him in shock.

“Are you serious?”

“You can go back to the others if you want, but this is our one chance. I’m going with them.” Ponk grumbles uncertainty, before sighing.

“If this gets me killed I will come back to kill you.”

Tommy looks up at the tall sandstone walls surrounding the BadLands, they stretch for miles in each direction across the desert. One of the largest kingdoms in Esempii. Ahead of them lies a large wooden gate. Guards are stationed across the top of the wall, each armed with a bow, thankfully they’re not pointing them at the small group. Tommy counts that as a positive sign. On his left stand Tubbo and Ranboo, a little behind him, Sapnap on his right. Clem and Shroud play on the ground before them, kicking up dust. Henry latches onto Tommy’s back, clawed back feet gripping onto his shirt, front claws digging into his shoulder as he pokes his head over the Prince’s shoulder.

Tommy stiffens as the gates ahead open up, with a loud groan. Clem and Shroud cease their squabbling, looking over and making curious clicking noises. Sapnap rests a warm hand on his shoulder, careful not to burn a handprint through Tommy’s shirt.

“You’ve got this, Tommy.” He whispers. A group heads towards them, two wealthy looking men with five guards on each side. They stop a safe distance away, eyeing the three dragons cautiously. The first man wears a long black cloak edged with crimson red, a hood over his head. The second smiles eagerly, dressed in vibrant blue robes adjourned with sparkling diamond accessories. One of the guards steps forward, jumping slightly as Clem squawks. He quickly composes himself.

“You stand in the presence of Lord Bad and Lord Skeppy of the BadLands.” He steps back immediately after, Tommy can hear Tubbo snickering quietly and fights the urge to smirk.

“I am Prince Theseus Minecraft of the Antarctic Empire. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, my Lords’.” Tommy responds, clasping his hands in an attempt to stop their quivering, before bowing. He ignores Henry’s annoyed grumbles.

“Prince Theseus, you say? Forgive me but the last I heard, Theseus of the Minecraft family was killed eighteen years ago.” Lord Bad remarks.

“It’s a complicated story, but I am alive and well, as you can see.” Tommy replies, stiffly.

“And with three dragons, if my eyes do not deceive me.” Says Lord Skeppy, barely containing his wonder.

“They’re mine, and I see no reason for them to pose a threat to you or your Kingdom. It’s to my understanding that my country and your kingdom are on good terms, I was hoping you would be gracious enough to allow me and my companions refuge within your walls.” The Lords turn to each other for a moment, a silent conversation passing between the two.

“We would be honoured to have you stay with us, Your Highness, we have only one request.” Lord Bad says, smiling. Tommy holds his breath.

“We’d like to know the reason as to why the world seems to believe you’re dead.” Lord Skeppy finishes. Tommy releases his breath.

“Of course, you deserve an explanation.” He answers, smiling. Lord Bad smiles back, stretching out his arms.

“Well then, welcome to the BadLands, Prince Theseus.”

Wilbur weaves through the crowded tavern, hood pulled up and head held low. Jack Manifold walks a little ways behind him, also hidden under a plain cloak. He spots the man he’s looking for sitting alone at a table in the corner. Wilbur grabs a chair from another table, placing it down and taking a seat opposite him. The brunette looks up from his ale, a look of surprise passing over his face before morphing into a more confident look.

“Your Highness.” He greets, mock bowing his head. “What brings you to a place like this?”

“Connor.” The prince replies.

“You know me?” Connor asks, smiling and leaning back in his chair.

“Your reputation precedes you, you’ve made quite the name for yourself these past few years.” He glances down to the man’s right hand, of which his index and middle finger are missing. The man frowns, pulling his hand back and resting it on his leg under the table. “With the crimes I’ve heard you accused of you were lucky to have been let off with the punishment you got.” Connors cocky smile falls.

“What do you want, my Prince? You know it’s dangerous for you to be here after the crime you’ve been accused of.” Wilbur chuckles.

“You’re said to be very good at what you do. And I’ve heard you have a lot of connections.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.” Wilbur reaches into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of parchment and sliding it across the table to the other man. Connor eyes him wearily before picking it up. He unfolds it and skims over the words. 

“I was hoping you would be able to get these things for me.” Says Wilbur, watching the other carefully.

“These are rare items, some might say impossible to come upon.”

“Can you get them or not?” Wilbur challenges.

“Supposing I can, what would I be getting in return?” Wilbur places a pouch onto the table, gold clattering inside.

“And, of course, another after I receive those items.” Wilbur says, “As well as a pardon for your previously accused crimes.” He smiles at Connor, who reaches for the pouch, opening it to check its contents, once satisfied he looks back to Wilbur.

“And how can I be sure this isn’t some elaborate trap?” He asks. Wilbur heaves an exaggerated sigh.

“Connor, I have much more important things to be dealing with than petty thieves at the present.” Connor peers at him for a moment, before slumping back in his chair.

“Give me four weeks.” He says.

“One.” Connors eyes harden.

“Your Highness, these are difficult items to come by-”

“Two.” He watches Connor grit his teeth, frustratedly.

“Done. But I'll need another one of these to cover the costs.” He says, waving the pouch of gold.

“Done.” Wilbur mirrors. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” He holds out a hand which Connor hesitantly shakes.

“Where can I find you once I've gotten what you’ve asked for?” Connor questions, as the Prince stands.

“I’ll find you .” Wilbur replies, turning to head back through the tavern, Jack trailing close behind. Connor watches him leave, eyes flicking back to the list which he carefully folds back up and tucks into his pocket.

As Wilbur walks back along the street a familiar voice catches his attention. He glances around to find the source, freezing when he spots her. Behind one of the bakery stalls is Nikki, conversing with an old woman. She takes some money before handing the woman two fresh loaves of bread. The woman thanks her, tucking them into a basket, before walking away, Nikki watching her leave with a fond smile. She goes back to her stall, talking to another customer, when her eyes flick up. She falls quiet when she notices him. Nikki gives Wilbur a small sad smile, which he doesn’t return. Remembering the customer in front of her, she quickly turns back to them apologising. By the time she looks back, Wilbur is gone.

Tommy slowly walks around his room, taking in the abundance of decorations. The room is large and spacey, with all sorts of ornaments and trinkets scattered around. Upon opening the wardrobe, he finds a row of expensive looking outfits made of fine silks and jewels. The bed is larger than Tommy has ever seen, and the comfiest, he discovers, after flopping onto it. At the opposite end of the room, a large balcony overlooks the city that stretches for miles, separated from the room with white, silky curtains that wave in the warm breeze.

There’s a knock at the door, and a familiar voice calls out. 

“Tommy?” He walks over to the door, twisting the handle. Tubbo and Ranboo push past him, into the room. Tommy rolls his eyes, closing the door. 

“How are your rooms?” Tommy asks. Tubbo turns to him, smiling. 

“Pretty much the same as this.” He replies, spinning in a circle and walking to Tommy’s balcony. The prince nods, in relief. 

“Everything looks so expensive, I’m terrified I’m going to break something.” Ranboo says, nervously. Tommy laughs. 

“I can’t wait to sleep in this bed. Holy shit it looks so comfy. I didn’t think our rooms would be like this.” He says, running a hand down the soft sheets.

“Well you are royalty, Tommy.”

“I know. I just never really realised it would be like this. Back in Logsted my room was so small and empty. I mean I didn't even know beds could be this big.” Tubbo and Ranboo glance at each other, sadly. “And there are no locks on the doors, we can go wherever the fuck we want.” He says, throwing his hands up and flopping back on the bed, looking up at the patterns painted across the ceiling. He looks back up when his friends don’t reply. “What?”

“Tommy…” Ranboo says slowly. Tommy glares. 

“Oh, don’t give me any of that pity shit.” He complains. 

“It’s not pity, Tommy.” Tubbo insists. “We’re just sad for you.”

“Sounds like pity to me.” He mumbles. “Well you don’t need to be sad for me or whatever. It wasn’t that bad with Dream.”

“I know you always avoid talking about Logsted, but you can if you want to, Tommy.” Tubbo says. Tommy groans, frustrated.

“Oh my Gods! Seriously man, there’s nothing to talk about, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Okay.” Tubbo relents, with a sigh.

“Can we go and explore or something? This place is fucking huge.” Tubbo narrows his eyes at the change of topic, but agrees. Tommy quickly jumps up, grabbing Tubbo and Ranboo’s hands and dragging them out of the room.

Chapter Text

They walked deep into the night, the pillagers hopping over roots and rocks with practiced ease. Ponk stayed close to Technoblade, eyes flitting over their dark surroundings.

“Umm-” He stammers, “How far away is… wherever we’re going?”

“Far.” Answers one of the pillagers. “Why? Are ya feet hurting?” She teases, skipping over a fallen log. Ponk doesn’t reply, glancing at Technoblade uneasily. The Prince stares ahead, a hand firmly wrapped around his sword’s handle. As the moon begins its descent, they reach the edge of the forest, coming into an uneven terrain of mountains. For the first time in hours, they stop.

“Climb up and check it’s clear.” One pillager mutters to another, who nods and scurries off towards the nearest hill. The rest sit down, leaning back against the snow covered trees and rocks.

“Want some?” A pillager asks, gruffly, pulling skinned rabbits from a tattered looking sack and offering one to Technoblade and Ponk.

“Shouldn’t we start a fire first?” The others turn to the prince with grave faces.

“I thought you said you understood the situation out here.”

“The smoke would give away our position.” Another man explains. Technoblade nods in understanding. He turns to watch the pillager they’d sent off, who climbs up the side of a mountain expertly. 

“How much do you actually know about the White-eyes?” The pillager asks, while tearing into one of the rabbit carcacases. 

“White-eyes?” Ponk questions.

“That’s what we call ‘em.”

“Not much,” Says Technoblade, honestly. “Just that only fire and netherite will take them down. We’ve only encountered two.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting involved in. If I were you I’d have stayed on your side of the border.” The pillager says, earning a few dull chuckles.

“How many of them are there?” Asks Technoblade.

“Tens of thousands, more.” Ponk’s eyes widen.

“All this time, they’ve been building up their army. The occasional person disappearing turned into groups of hunters never returning, and then whole villages of people would vanish. Two summers ago the King in the FarLands started rallying every clan and village he could to start preparing.”

“All of you are working together?” Ponk questions, surprised.

“Well, some refused, of course. Different clans share different morals and beliefs, but for the most part, yes. We put aside our differences to focus on the real threat.”

“And that’s where we’re going? Straight into the centre of a huge Pillager camp?” Technoblade says, flatly.

“We’re not all savages.” One of the Pillagers defends. “We have families there with children.”

“The blame for the bloodshed and violence between our people and yours is not solely on us.” Says another, glaring at the pair.

“Your people have been climbing the Border and raiding our villages!” Ponk growls, Technoblade raises an eyebrow at him. “I’ve seen the aftermath. They’ve killed families and children.”

“Maybe they see no other option, your people have never given us a chance! Tell me, if we came right up to the Border and asked politely for refuge in the Antarctic Empire, would you let us in?” The Pillager shouts.

“How could we ever trust Pillagers in our land after all of our people you’ve slaughtered?”

“So you’ll punish all of us-”

“This argument isn’t going to get us anywhere.” Technoblade interrupts. They all fall quiet, though continue to glare. Eventually Ponk sighs.

“You’re right.” He says. At that moment the Pillager they’d sent off returns, boots crunching in the snow.

“It’s clear.” They say.

“Then let’s go.”

“So you're saying that all these years, Exdee have still been active?” Lord Bad asks, from the head of the table.

“Yes.” Tommy murmurs, shifting to let a servant fill his cup and thanking them quietly.

“And you,” Skeppy says, turning to Sapnap, “You were one of them?” The blaze hybrid winces, slowly placing his fork down onto the table and clenching his fist, smoke emanating from his cracked skin. Tommy eyes him, concerned.

“He’s not anymore.” He interjects.

“How can you be sure?” Lord Skeppy asks him.

“I trust Sapnap.” Tommy snaps, defensively. “He’s a good person.” The chair beside him scrapes across the floor, Sapnap gets to his feet and hastily leaves the room. Skeppy and Bad glance at each other.

“Dream was going to kill me.” Tubbo speaks up, from opposite Tommy. “Sapnap saved me. And he helped us get here.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo says, hesitantly, “He wouldn’t have helped us get all this way if he was on Dream’s side. We all trust him.” Tommy smiles at them gratefully as Skeppy nods, seemingly accepting their response.

“So I suppose you’re trying to get back to the Antarctic Empire?” Bad asks.

“Well, eventually, yes.” He replies, quietly.

“You can stay in the BadLands as long as you need.” Bad says, smiling warmly.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, as you said, the BadLands and the Antarctic Empire are on good terms, in fact we just sent over a shipment of spare weapons to aid them in the upcoming war.”

“War?” Tommy asks, confused.

“You didn’t know?” Skeppy asks. “Prince Wilbur was accused of the attempted murder of Lord Quackity of Las Nevadas. They’re going to war.”

“Did he do it?” Skeppy tilts his head.

“Do what?”

“Try to kill him?” 

“He’s denied it, but no-one knows for sure.” Tommy nods, ignoring the concerned glances from Tubbo and Ranboo.

“I’m going to find Sapnap.” He mutters, standing and leaving through the same door the blaze hybrid had. He finds Sapnap easily, the man is at one of the balconies, not far from their rooms.

“Hey.” Sapnap mutters, as the boy sits on the bench beside him.

“Why did you leave earlier?” Tommy asks. The hybrid leans back against the wall, looking over the peaceful city before them.

“I’m not a good person, Tommy.” He mutters, a deep frown on his face. Tommy tilts his head.

“What? Of course you are.” 

“I’m not.” The hybrid insists, wrapping his arms around himself and turning his head the other way.

“Is this seriously just because of what Lord Skeppy said?” Tommy scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve known that Dream wasn’t a good person for a long time, and I just stuck by him. I ignored it.”

“But he was your friend,” Tommy stresses, “you used to tell me all those stories about the cool things you and Dream and George would do.”

“That was before.” Sapnap says, “We were maybe fifteen when Exdee died, after that Dream changed. He was so angry, and then he just vanished for days. We got a message telling us to meet him at the docks one evening. When we got there he was wearing a smile mask and a green cloak, he had a bag containing three dragon eggs and a baby in his arms.” Tommy stares at Sapnap, stomach churning uneasily. “We knew who you were, the news of the missing prince had travelled fast, but we still got on the boat with him.” Sapnap shakes his head, bringing his hands up to grip his hair. 

“We went along with it, and we pretended things were fine for the first few years. We focused on helping build Exdee back up, and then I found you outside crying one day, you must have been five or six, your face was all bruised and your nose was broken. I spoke to George after I'd helped you and got you back to your room. I said that Dream had hurt you but George refused to listen. So I confronted Dream, we got in a huge fight, he started talking about his brother, blamed everything on his grief. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you again and he didn’t for a few months. Things seemed alright again, between me, George and Dream. And then he started hurting you again, and I just tried to pretend it wasn’t happening because everything else was good! And then George, the one who refused to acknowledge what was happening, helped you escape before I did anything.” Tommy watches in shock as tears slide down the hybrid's face, quickly evaporating under the heat of his skin. “I am a bad person, Tommy.”

“I don’t care!” Tommy says firmly. Sapnap turns to him, sniffling and looking confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, so you think you're a bad person, you’ve made mistakes or whatever. But you’re helping me now. If you hadn’t done anything back in that cave, Dream would have killed Tubbo and probably Ranboo and he’d have taken me and the dragons. But you helped us, and you got us here.” Spanap chuckles, a small smile playing at his cracked lips.

“You’re so stubborn, you know.”

“I’m amazing.” Tommy grins as the hybrid rolls his eyes, fondly.

“Okay, whatever you say.” He mocks, knocking the teens shoulder, who nudges him back. “Come on, let’s head back inside.” He stands, offering a hand to the teen. 

“You know, I’m glad you brought us here.” Tommy says. “Bad and Skeppy are a little strange but they’re nice.”

“They are a bit strange.” Sapnap agrees, laughing as they head back down the bright halls.

“Do you know who tried to poisoned me?” Fundy asks abruptly. Wilbur looks up, spluttering.

“Fundy, no-one tried to poison you , they were trying to hurt Lord Quackity.” Wilbur explains, a hand squeezing his son’s.

“But they poisoned me .”

“Well… Yes they did. But it was an accident.” Says Wilbur, softly.

“Who was it?” Asks Fundy, again. Wilbur pauses, staring at him, sadly.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone else.” He relents.

“Why?” 

“Because they could get into a lot of trouble.” Fundy’s face scrunches up in confusion. “It was Nikki.” Wilbur whispers. Fundy opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it again, looking down at the bedsheets in bewilderment. “She was trying to do the right thing, you know she would never hurt you on purpose.”

“Nikki tried to kill Quackity?” Fundy says, quietly.

“Fundy, I know you liked Lord Quackity, but he’s not a good person.” Fundy nods, silently, still looking torn over the situation.

“Where is Nikki?” He asks, eventually.

“I sent her away.” Wilbur replies, firmly, staring his son in the eyes.

“Okay.” Fundy whispers, looking down, solemnly.

“Fundy…” Wilbur says, leaning forwards, arms open. The little boy springs forwards, hugging him tightly.

“I miss her.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The group march across the frozen land, through the light snowfall. Technoblade suppresses a shiver as a bitter wind sweeps past them. In the distance comes the rumble of thunder from the dark clouds above. The Pillagers glance up at the sky, nervously. Technoblade pauses, watching them, brow furrowed. They all turn as the wind picks up, whistling through the mountains ahead of them while the sky seems to grow darker by the second.

“What is it?” Technoblade grunts. None of the Pillagers answer, eyes flitting around as they shift closer to one another.

“What’s happening?” Asks Ponk, shivering as the temperature seems to plummet. The snowflakes grow larger, whipping about in the howling winds. There’s a sudden flash in the clouds above them, quickly followed by the roar of thunder.

“Over there!” One of the Pillagers calls, she points over to the mountain on their right, a little ways away. Before Technoblade and Ponk can question further, they’re moving, running, to the mountain, heading for the first cave they find. It’s only shallow, but they all hurry in.

“What’s going on?” Technoblade demands. The man nearest the cave entrance hushes him, peering outside. Moving over to him, Technoblade tries to find whatever he’s looking for. Through the harsh snowfall he makes out movement. The man steps back, gesturing for everyone to stand against the walls. However Technoblade leans forwards, watching the dark shape across the plain slowly move. He notices more shapes behind it, and more. What looks like a large group of people silently stumble through the snow. A hand on his shoulder urges him to step back into the shadow of the cave.

“What is it?” Ponk hisses. Technoblade looks at the Pillagers, who look back, grimly.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” He asks. Their silence is answer enough. Tiptoeing forwards, Ponk stares at the approaching group, now looking like at least a hundred, growing nearer and nearer. They can make out their torn clothing and rotted skin. They fall to the back of the cave, holding onto their breath. The dead bodies trek forwards, blank white eyes staring ahead. Their skin is grey, bone poking through, clothes hanging onto their thin frames like rags. Some of them are just skeletons, skin completely rotted away. Technoblade can see a few ravagers within the herd as well. He ducks back into the cave as the first ones walk past, just a few feet away from them. The wind howls, stray snowflakes blowing into the cave. They watch, almost in a trance, as the thousands of dead march on. They freeze, eyes wide in dread as some of the rock breaks free from the wall behind one of the Pillagers, tumbling to the floor with a clatter that echoes about the cave.

A White-eye outside stops, head slowly twisting to the cave. With a low groan, it turns moving towards them, a sword dragging through the snow beside it. Technoblade’s hand reaches to his side, where one of the netherite daggers they’d discovered sit. He presses himself back against the stone next to the entrance, glancing to the others who stare back, fearfully. Hearing the footsteps grow closer, he looks back to where the White-eye steps closer. It stumbles into the cave, growling threateningly as it sees them. Stepping forwards, it begins to lift the hand carrying the sword. At that moment Technoblade turns to step in front of it. He lifts his hand, bringing the knife under up through its jaw and into its skull. It grumbles a little, dark black blood dripping from its mouth, before going limp, Technoblade grabs a fistful of it’s clothes to keep it from falling. One of the Pillagerss swiftly comes forwards, helping Technoblade pull the body into the cave, careful not to make a sound. After laying it down, they collapse against the wall, sighing in relief. Thousands more  White-eyes continue on, outside.

Chapter Text

As they reach the top of a snowy hill, the frigid oceans come into view, stretching off and disappearing into an eerie mist. Below them sits a large camp with tents and wooden shacks spread about and Pillagers moving this way and that. An impressive wall made of thick logs and tree trunks stretch around the settlement, protecting those inside.

“We’re here.” One of the Pillagers announces, stepping past Technoblade and heading down the steep hill.

“You two coming or not?” Ponk and Technoblade glance at one another before following the group towards the camp.

“A ship arrived from the BadLands, it had supplies to aid us in the war, weapons, even some food.” Wilbur looks over to his father who just nods, continuing to sort through the pile of letters before him, likely already aware. “They brought a lot of rumors, have you heard them?”

“I’m busy, Wil.” Philza mutters.

“They say someone claiming to be Theseus Minecraft is residing in the BadLands, along with three young dragons.” Wilbur says, attempting to appear nonchalant.

“Wilbur,” Phil starts, more firmly. “We have other things to worry about than rumors.”

“But father-”

“Things like this always come up, over the years many people have claimed to be him. It’s a rumor, nothing more.” He barks, staring at his son, warningly. Wilbur pays him no mind.

“But what about the dragons? No one knew about the dragon eggs that were taken.” He argues, stepping closer to the man.

“Wil, please.” Phil chokes out, running his hands down his face.

“What if-”

“Wilbur!” Wilbur jumps back as the man slams his hands down onto the table and stands. “That’s enough, okay? Any day now this war could begin, I have been here all day responding to letters, and I’m receiving even more every hour. I have a meeting with Sir Jack in an hour to discuss strategies, and then another with Lady Puffy to decide how we're going to supply food to all twenty one thousand men in our army as well as the rest of L’Manberg and our other cities and villages. And all the while Lord Quackity and his army are setting up a parameter just thirty miles south. And you disturbed me to discuss a rumor?” The room falls still, only the sound of the man’s harsh breathing after his outburst. Eventually he slumps back into his seat, a hand reaching up to straighten his crown. Wilbur looks down to the floor, gritting his teeth.

“My apologies, Your Grace, don’t let me distract you.” He snaps, turning on his heel and stalking to the door, he slams it behind him with more force than he means to, but can’t find it in himself to care. Harsh footfall echoing down the halls.

As they follow the others through the camp, they receive looks of suspicion from each Pillager they pass. Technoblade pointedly avoids looking at anyone, more focused on the tent they seem to be headed towards in the centre of the settlement, larger and clearly better built. From the corner of his eye he catches Ponk slowing, blinking at one of the Pillagers in confusion. Following his gaze, Technoblade does a double take. The woman stares back with icy blue eyes, she has snowy white hair and what appear to be fluffy white ears poking through, like that of an animal. As she shifts, he catches sight of a matching tail swishing by her legs.

“Why are you staring? Never seen a hybrid before?” A Pillager asks, pulling Technoblade from the unusual sight. He glances around, catching sight of a little boy running about, small horns peeking through his hair, and a burly man carrying logs with the ears of a polar bear. Ponk shakes his head in response, still staring at the fox girl in fascination.

“Don’t get them on your side of the Border?” Questions another, seemingly surprised at the information.

“Didn’t know they existed.” Technoblade responds, a hand tugging at Ponk’s arm, who finally snaps out of his daze. They continue on walking, soon reaching the tent. One of the Pillagers pulls back the fabric, allowing the two inside. The interior of the tent is surprisingly warm compared to the outside, a small fire crackles in the middle, logs set up around it like seating. There are some chests around one side, and what looks like a poorly crafted wood table othe other. Atop the table, beside other small trinkets, sits a crown, broken in places and dirtied with age, but golden underneath and embellished with multi-coloured jewels, clearly once a priceless possession. 

“Your Grace,” Says one of the Pillagers, the only one who had followed the pair in. “These men are from the Antarctic Empire, they said they came here to speak with you.” Technoblade watches the tall man opposite them, back turned to the three as he stares down at the orange fire. 

“Thank you, you may leave.” He replies, in a voice deep enough to rival Technoblade’s. The Pillager nods before turning and scurrying out. The man before them slowly turns around. Ponk gasps, taking a step back, and Technoblade’s hand flies to the sword at his hip as they meet the white-eyed stare. “You don’t need to be afraid.” The man reassures, holding up his hands placatingly and offering them a smile. Technoblade relaxes, hand slipping back to his side.

“My apologies, Your Highness, I hope we didn’t offend you.” He starts, bowing his head.

“No, not at all.” The King says, moving towards them. “I’m Eret, King in the FarLands, or King Beyond the Border, or whatever name you may have heard.” He holds out a hand, which Technoblade shakes first.

“Technoblade.” The Prince replies.

“I’m Ponk, it’s an honour to meet you, Your Majesty.” Ponk adds, bowing quickly. The man smiles, offering his hand to Ponk, who hesitantly shakes it.

“Likewise.” Eret says. “Technoblade,” He mutters, “I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere.”

“I’m a Prince of the Antarctic Empire.” He explains, carefully.

“Ah, that must be it.” He says, nodding to himself. “We don’t often get a lot of information concerning your side of the Border.” He walks back over to the fire, taking a seat and gesturing for them to follow. “What’s a Prince doing this far North?” He asks, once the pair are seated opposite him.

“Your people have been causing problems on our side of the Border. I came to check it out.” Technoblade responds.

“And what have you discovered?” He questions, tilting his head curiously.

“That we may have a larger problem than Pillager raids.” The King nods to himself.

“So the two of you have come to me.” He concludes “Where are the rest of your men? I assume you didn’t make it this far alone.”

“When your people found us we were separated from the rest of our group. They were hesitant to meet the others, understandably so.”

“So, what exactly was it you wanted to discuss with me?”

“The White-eyes,” Ponk begins nervously, “We’ve seen them.”

“I see.” Eret says, gravely. 

“They’ve killed two of our men.” He continues.

“Just two? You should count yourselves lucky.” The King replies, flatly.

“It’s not uncommon for our men to go missing beyond the Border, that number could be greater.”

“We saw their army on our journey here. Tens of thousands.” Technoblade cuts in, Eret stays quiet, clearly already aware. “They’re a threat to your people, and with numbers of that size and limited ways to kill them I believe that also makes them a threat to mine.”

“Are you proposing an alliance?” Eret guesses. 

“I was getting there.” Technoblade grumbles.

“Our people have never exactly been friends.” The King mentions.

“This isn’t about friendship. This is about life and death.” The Prince argues in return.

“Even so, it was hard enough for me to band together all the FarLanders that I have, if I ask them to join your people as well, I could lose that.”

“How did you get them to band together in the first place?” Ponk asks.

“Most of them were able to see the bigger picture.”

“Well there’s an even bigger picture.” Ponk snaps, exasperated. The King sighs.

“Look, we can discuss this further tomorrow, for now I'll have a tent set up for you.” He says, getting to his feet.

“Thank you.” Technoblade replies, standing and glancing at Ponk, who gives him an anxious look.

“We won’t get murdered in our sleep, will we?” Technoblade huffs, in amusement, turning to follow the King out of the tent.

“We’ve been here for five days, how long do you think we’ll stay?” Tubbo asks, as the three friends walk down the hall, morning sunlight pouring through the windows.

“Well I can’t just ask for a ship, I have nothing to pay them back.” Tommy replies.

“I think we’re safe here for a while,” Says Ranboo, “Lord Bad and Lord Skeppy said we can stay here as long as we need. We have time to come up with a plan.” 

“Don’t you want to leave as soon as you can, Tommy?” Tubbo asks, “Your family is at war.”

“No, it’s a bad idea to go now.” They look over to him surprised. “Well, if I go to the Antarctic Empire now, Dream and his army will follow, I’ll just make things worse. They’re fighting one war, they don’t need another.” He explains, shrugging.

They pass two guards who mutter amongst themselves, hushing when they notice the trio. Ranboo slouches uneasily as they stare at him with looks of disgust. One of them whispers something to the other, earning a snicker. The hybrid ducks his head, clenching his hands. 

“Is there a problem?” Tommy asks, looking at the guards. Eyes widening, Ranboo hesitantly pulls at the soft fabric of Tommy's shirt.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He whispers.

“No, I’d like to know too.” Tubbo interjects, stepping forwards. “ Is there a problem?”

“Your Highness,” One of the guards stammers, turning to Tommy. “We didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I believe it’s my friend, who you’ve offended.” Tommy says, giving them a tight lipped smile. “And I think he’d appreciate an apology.”

“Of course.” The guard says, glancing to his friend quickly before bowing his head, the other following suit.

“Tommy, it’s really not a big deal.” The ender hybrid hisses.

“Of course it is!” Tubbo says, “We’re their guests, we deserve to be respected.”

“Our apologies, we didn’t mean to offend you.” The guards squeak.

“Thank you.” Ranboo mumbles. Tommy smiles, triumphantly.

“Ranboo is my companion and friend, he also happens to be a hybrid, not that that should make a difference. If you have any future problems concerning any of my companions I would prefer you discuss it with me, than insult them in the halls.” Tommy says, before turning on his heel and walking away. Tubbo and Ranboo hurry after him.

“Did you see their faces?” Tubbo giggles. “That was hilarious.”

“That felt fucking great!” Tommy cheers, beaming. Ranboo smiles.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He says, as they round the corner, heading for the main hall. They can hear the muffled voices of their hosts. Tommy smiles back at him as he opens the door, jumping as Lord Bad yells.

“Skeppy! Did- did you put salt in my wine!?”

Wilbur opens his son’s bedroom door to be faced with an empty bed and a brief wave of panic. But looking around the room, he soon catches a glimpse of the boy’s bright orange hair through the archway to his balcony. Relieved, he shuts the door, moving towards him. 

“What are you doing out of bed, my Little King?” He asks, gently, ruffling Fundy’s hair. He shivers at the biting air of the morning, rubbing his arms to gain back some warmth. The boy is looking down at the stone floor before him.

“Look.” He replies, pointing down. Wilbur glances down, seeing nothing except the stone.

“What?” The boy crouches down on shaking legs, reaching a hand towards the ground.

“The puddle is icy.” He pokes the small layer of ice, causing it to crack and break, floating across the cold puddle. Wilbur huffs, crouching down beside him, and wrapping an arm around him.

“So it is. That’s unusual for this time of the year.” He hums, “Now come inside, you’re still recovering, we don’t need you to catch a cold, do we?” He leads the boy back to his bed, pulling the covers up around him, and moves to the chair beside. 

“Is Lord Quackity going to war with us?” Fundy whispers, peering up at his father.

“You don’t need to worry about that?” Replies Wilbur.

“But is he?”

“He is.” Wilbur confirms, watching his son’s face carefully.

“He said he was my friend.” Frowning, Wilbur reaches out a hand, squeezing Fundy’s smaller one.

“Quackity is a liar, okay? When we were younger his family would bring him to the castle with them during visits. We got along at first, he would drag me into his mischief, but I could always see how he would trick people and twist things until he got his way. It went further than just children playing about. So I started avoiding him when he was here. Once he picked up on that he changed his way around me. It started with little snide comments, and then bringing up my mother or Theseus because he knew it upset me, and then making insults about Technoblade or even Phil.”

“Really?” Fundy whispers. Wilbur nods.

“He’s a smart man, you shouldn’t blame yourself for falling for his lies, everyone does.” Fundy nods, slowly.

“If he wins, what will happen to us?”

“He won’t win. I’ll make sure of it.” Wilbur says firmly, mouth set in a thin line.

“How?” He asks. Wilbur’s face breaks into a devious smile, leaning forwards and lowering his voice.

“Have you read about the Nether in any of your lessons?”

Chapter Text

Tommy wakes with a gasp, a scream dying in his throat. He shoots into a sitting position, breathing heavily as his gaze sweeps around his room. The room is still, soft morning light shining through the balcony. The only movement comes from the three large dragons curled up around each other in the corner. He sighs, heart slowing back down. Henry blinks up at him tiredly before emitting a content grumble and settling back down, eyes slipping shut. 

Pushing back the soft covers, Tommy swings his legs off the bed, feet touching the cool floor. He stands, stretching, and quietly moves about the room, pulling on fresh clothes and brushing his hands through his hair. Once ready, he walks to the door, carefully pulling it open and shutting it behind him. At this time of the morning the sandstone halls are empty, savefor the occasional guard patrolling. For the first time since they’d arrived, Tommy heads down to the palace entrance. Once he’s out in the fresh morning air, he walks along the wooden path, past the decorative pools and stone statues. He walks through the open gate, guards bowing as he passes, and heads over the bridge.

“Sapnap?” He calls, walking towards the hybrid, who sits on the bridge, legs hanging over the edge. The man glances up.

“Hey, what are you doing awake so early?” Tommy shrugs, stopping beside him and looking out over the city.

“Couldn’t sleep.” The man nods, getting to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“Into the city, what does it look like?” Sanap rolls his eyes.

“On your own?” He asks. 

“Well, yeah.”

“Not anymore, come on, let’s go.” He replies, walking off down the bridge.

“You don’t have to.” Tommy says, jogging to catch up to him.

“Yes I do.” The man counters, “You can’t go out alone anymore, it’s dangerous now that people are aware who you are.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He grumbles, nudging him as they wander to the end of the bridge, onto the dusty sandstone paths of the city.

Phil stops at the end of the hall, watching in confusion as castle staff up ahead of him walk to and fro, disappearing down the dungeon steps with crates and barrels and reemerging again empty handed. Furrowing his brow, he passes the staff, heading down the stone steps. Wilbur’s voice soon becomes apparent, and he spots the curly haired prince further in the crypt, pacing up and down, hands on hips as he surveys the rows of barrels and crates. He’s talking with a man wearing scruffy commoner's clothes. Phil walks past the giant dragon skull of Clara, making his presence known.

“What’s the meaning of all this?” He asks, causing Wilbur to turn to him sharply, a proud sort of look on his face.

“I told you I had an idea.” He says, stretching out his arms. “This is my idea.” Phil suddenly recognises the man standing near Wilbur. Connor, a man who has stood before the throne with shackled wrists on numerous occasions under multiple charges of stealing as well as possession of illegal items, and suspected black market trading.

“And what is he doing here?” Phil asks. Connor’s eyes widen suddenly and he quickly leans forwards into a bow. He opens his mouth to speak, but after a sharp look from Wilbur, he thinks better of it, opting to remain silent.

“Have a look.” Wilbur says, simply, gesturing to the barrels. Phil gives him a suspicious look, but moves to the barrel close to him, pulling off the lid. The soft glow of blaze rods illuminates his face. Phil clenches his jaw, quietly moving to the next, which opens revealing a nasty smell. Wincing, he puts the lid back on, sending Wilbur a questioning look.

“Fermented spider eyes.” Connor blurts, shrinking under another look from Wilbur.

“These things are from the Nether, these are forbidden items.” Phil says. Wilbur scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You think that stops people from daring the journey?” He replies, chuckling.

“Even so, what are you doing with them?” Phil asks, accusingly, by now most of the staff have cleared out.

“We needed an advantage in this war, I got us one.” Wilbur says, simply, gesturing at the countless barrels.

“What will people think when they see us using forbidden items in a war?”

“Well they don’t need to know where we got it.” He replies, as though its obvious, “Everyone already believes I tried to murder Quackity, this isn’t any worse than attempted murder.”

“That’s not-”

“People used to use this stuff to fight wars all the time. I don’t see what the big deal is.” He challenges.

“Connor, I think you should leave.” Phil says, turning to the thief. The man shifts on his feet, looking at Wilbur, who sighs dramatically. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out two pouches, passing them to Connor who nods his thanks, quickly excusing himself. Phil waits until his footsteps fade away, before speaking up again. “This isn’t a good image for us, Wilbur, this is technically breaking the law.”

“Okay, but it’s hardly as if we’re going to get arrested, we literally make the rules.”

“Wilbur, you need to take this seriously.”

“You think I’m not? Quackity has already hurt Fundy once, and our odds in this upcoming war aren’t looking promising. If there’s something I can do to give us a better chance, I’m going to do it. I've already lost most of the respect I had, it doesn’t matter now. All that matters to me at the moment is keeping my son safe.” He stares at his father with stern eyes, gritting his teeth. Phil shifts, turning back towards the stairs.

“I want all of this gone by tomorrow.” He demands, voice echoing off the cold walls. Frowning, Wilbur watches him leave. He slowly walks over to the barrels, running a hand along the wooden containers. He makes his own way up the steps, turning to see two castle staff members awkwardly standing off to the side.

“Get them to bring the rest in, and some tables, benches and such.” He says, they nod before scurrying off down the halls leading to the back exit of the castle. Wilbur glances back to the staircase, lips twitching upwards.

As the sun gradually rises, more and more civilians emerge. People whisper to each other as Tommy and Sapnap walk through the streets, some even bow. Children chatter excitedly, following behind them. It’s overwhelming, and Tommy finds himself secretly glad Sapnap had come with him. 

“I didn’t think so many people would recognise me.” Tommy murmurs to Sapnap. The man doesn’t reply, busy surveying the crowds around them, it makes Tommy want to roll his eyes. “Though I think you give it away, your hybrid traits aren't exactly the subtlest.” Sapnap gives him a half hearted glare.

“Theseus!” People call out, hands raised in the air to catch his attention. He tries to smile at everyone he can, keeping his head held high, despite the instinct to curl in on himself. A woman walks right up to Tommy, causing him to stop in his tracks, she carries a basket of colourful flowers in her arms. Sapnap moves closer to Tommy, protectively. 

“Please,” She begins, holding out a red rose for him, “Please take this gift, Prince of Fire.” She pleads, thrusting the delicate flower towards him. 

“Oh,” He hesitantly takes it from her, “Thank you.” She bows her head, beaming and backing into the crowds, from that point, more people come towards him, voices overlapping and hands reaching over to pass him gifts. He attempts to refuse, brushing people off, but soon enough his arms are full of all kinds of trinkets. One lady even empties a basket of bread onto her market stand, offering it to him to hold all his gifts. Sapnap tries to keep people at bay, but there’s only so much he can do without accidentally burning people. 

The hybrid soon wraps an arm around him, pulling the Prince close to him and pushing his way back through the crowds, shouting for people to move. Some thankfully get the hint, moving aside to let them through. They hurry back to the palace, chants of ‘Theseus’ following them all the way. Once they make it to the bridge, everyone stops following them, though the chanting and waving continues. He briefly turns back to wave, but the gates shut behind them, as a precaution, and Tommy releases a breath. Soon people are rushing out of the palace to meet them, maids moving to Tommy and taking the gifts from him.

“We’ll bring these to your chambers, Prince Theseus.” He just nods, too out of breath to form any words.

“Is everything okay?” Comes the frantic voice of Lord Bad, followed closely by Lord Skeppy. Sapnap speaks up for him.

“We’re fine, just got a little overwhelmed.” He reassures, turning to Tommy and offering him a small smile.

“Oh thank goodness.” Bad says, viably relaxing.

“You’re pale, come inside and we’ll get you something to eat, Your Highness.” Lord Skeppy says, the pair moving to gently lead him back into the palace.

Technoblade swings down, the axe slicing the log in two, he adds it to the growing pile. He picks up the next log, placing it on the block and hefting the axe into the air again.

“Prince Technoblade.” The axe lands itself in the block, wedged in beside the log. He looks over to where Ponk scurries towards him. “King Eret is holding a meeting.” The Prince nods, letting the axe go and pushing his pink braid over his shoulder.

“About time.” He mutters.

“Yeah, it’s been three days, the others probably think we’re dead.” Ponk adds, as they move towards Eret’s large tent. The mumbling from inside promptly stops as the two enter, Pillagers watching them with various emotions. It’s easy to tell they’re all members of different tribes, some looking more aggressive with markings painted on their faces or necklaces decorated with bones, others look more like regular civilians, there are a few hybrids amongst the group  as well. Eret stands in the middle, the crown Technoblade had spotted before sits atop his dark brown curls, glowing white eyes watching everyone. 

“Come in Your Highness, Ponk.” He says beckoning them forwards, before addressing the whole group. “I’ve asked you all here to discuss the White-eyes.” He begins. “Technoblade and Ponk have come from the Border, they want to discuss an alliance.” The Pillagers glance between each other, all wearing similar looks of distrust. Technoblade steps forwards.

“I am Prince Technoblade Minecraft of the Antarctic Empire.” He says, “Our people aren’t friends, we might never be friends, but I’ve witnessed the White-eyes myself and I know that friendship doesn’t matter. This is about living and dying. All of you here have joined each other because you know that that’s the only way you can ever stand a chance against the White-eyes. But if you don’t make it past the Border, you’ll all be dead. If you pledged your loyalty to the Antarctic Empire, we could allow you refuge pass the Border.” He proposes. There are grumbles of disapproval, people shifting defensively.

“We don’t need to bow to you to get over the Border.” A man hisses. Ponk turns to him.

“What about all the children here, all your families?” He looks around the group. “You would rather they risk their lives climbing a 700 foot wall than pledge yourselves to the Antarctic Empire?”

“Why do you even care whether we live or die?” Asks another.

“There are hundreds of people in this camp, if the White-eyes get to you all, that’s hundreds more of them . Together we have more of a chance against them, more of a chance to beat them.” Technoblade responds.

“Beat them?” A Pillager scoffs, “Even if there are more of us than them, we only have a small handful of netherite to go around.” People murmur in solemn agreement.

“There are ways and means of acquiring more netherite.” Technoblade says, Ponk glances at him, questioningly.

“As far as I’m aware the Nether is forbidden, and difficult to survive anyway.” Another Pillager voices.

“It’s not impossible. Besides, I think under circumstances such as these, that particular law no longer really applies.” Technoblade huffs.

“What about the Lord Commander of the Border?” Eret says, abruptly. All eyes turn to him. “Wouldn’t you need his permission to allow us past the Border?”

“I can talk to him, or if not I can send a letter to my father, the King, and get a written statement from him allowing your safe passage past the Border.” Technoblade offers, staring at Eret, who stares right back.

“We’ve all lost people we cared about to your people.” A woman speaks up. “How are we supposed to trust that you will keep your word, that we’ll be safe on your side of the Border?”

“In the same way we’re trusting you.” Ponk answers, hesitantly. “We’ve lost people to you as well, we’ve seen your people climb the Border and slaughter entire villages! But the White-eyes are coming, and you can’t stop them, the Border can’t stop them, the KingsGuard can’t stop them. We need to put our differences aside for the sake of those still alive, those we care about, we need to work together.” They fall quiet, pondering his words.

“My people will join you.” One speaks up.

“So will mine.” Says another. One by one each tribe and clan slowly agrees. Eret nods to himself, looking around.

“When you leave you’ll be given enough supplies for your journey back to the Border. We’ll be awaiting your return.”

“Thank you.” Technoblade replies.

Tommy sinks further into the warm bath, bubbles tickling his chin. He holds a little wooden dragon out in front of him, one of the gifts he’d been given when he and Sapnap had gone into the city. He smiles, fingers running over the scales carefully carved into the wood. He shifts a little, water splashing against the sides of the golden bathtub. The day after he and Sapnap had gone out, Lord Bad and Lord Skeppy had called Tommy down to the gate, showing him a pile of even more gifts, left by the people of the BadLands. It almost looked like a shrine. Each day more things were being delivered to his room. It was strange, but Tubbo and Ranboo enjoyed looking through his growing collection of gifts and he let them take some of the things they liked. He’s startled from his thoughts by a knock at the door.

“Prince Theseus.” Someone calls, he carefully puts the wooden dragon onto the edge of the bathtub.

“Yes?” He replies.

“Supper will be ready in an hour, will you be ready by then?” They ask. Tommy quickly sits up, clambering out of the tub and moving across the steamy room.

“Yes, sorry, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He calls back, grabbing a towel and robe. He picks up the little dragon before he leaves, floor feeling cold under his bare feet. He quickly leaves the room, heading across the hall to his bedroom, opening it to find a set of red themed, silky clothes laid out on his bed for him.

The corner of the room his dragons had claimed is empty, they’re likely off finding their own meal. Tommy puts the wooden dragon on his nightstand, happily getting changed into the outfit. He pauses while pulling his shirt on, catching sight of the little smile carved into his arm in the mirror, but he hears Tubbo and Ranboo’s voices in the hall and smiles. He tugs the shirt over his head, pulling the sleeves securely over his arms, before rushing to the door, calling out to his friends and catching up to them.

Chapter Text

Wilbur rushes down the halls, past shaken looking staff and guards. “What happened?” He asks, hurrying over to Phil, Jack and Puffy.

“Quackity attacked the camp we set up a few miles away, killed over half the men we had there.” Phil replies, gravely. Wilbur stares for a moment, trying to process the implications of what Jack is saying.

“How many is that?” He asks finally, eyes wide.

“Three thousand.” Sir Jack answers, “The rest have retreated here, we’re preparing for an attack any day now.” Wilbur’s throat goes dry, he looks out at the city below them, watching all the guards rushing about on the walls surrounding L’Manberg.

“Okay.” He says, slowly, turning on his heel. He begins walking back down the halls, automatically heading for Fundy’s room, and stops outside the door. Resting his head on the wood, he takes in a few steady breaths. 

“Hey my Little King.” He mutters as he opens the door. Fundy is sat up in bed, a book layed out in front of him.

“Hello.” He replies, barely glancing up, clearly invested in whatever he’s reading about. Wilbur walks over to sit beside him, reaching out a shaking hand and brushing it through Fundy’s hair. “My tutor did bring me a book about the Nether!” The boy says, pointing at the page he’s open on, filled with curly handwriting and rough sketches of the rocky, burning terrain of the forbidden country.

“Wow, what have you learned?” Wilbur croaks, eyes stinging. He sits up, moving to sit on the bed next to Fundy, wrapping an arm around him.

“All the land is red, and there are pools of lava, and the ocean around it is so hot it can burn you!” He listens to his son’s excited voice, holding him close and shutting his eyes, quickly wiping away the few stray tears before the boy can notice.

Technoblade sits under the dark night sky, stars blocked by black clouds. Muffled conversation drifts across the camp from inside the tents, or the occasional people walking past. Despite the cold, almost no fires are going, as the camp attempts to remain hidden. Technoblade rests his netherite sword over his leg, running a whetstone down the sharp blade, illuminated only by the soft light of a torch outside one of the tents near him. The telling crunch of snow, announces someone nearing him, and he glances up to see the white glow of Eret’s eyes through the dark. The King takes a seat beside him.

“If we’re going to be on the same side,” The man begins, “There are some things you should know.” Technoblade continues running the stone along the sword, a metallic sound ringing through the air.

“What things?” He asks, in a low voice.

“The White-eyes are led by a human.” He stares forwards, face tense. Technoblade stops, expression hardening. “My brother, Herobrine.” The King explains. “I was ruling on the Antarctic throne, my brother was messing with potions and magic. He discovered a lot of spells and such, he was obsessed with it. He’d spend weeks shut away working on something new. It was when he started having dead bodies brought to his room I decided to intervene.” Technoblade listens silently, thinking back to the King Eret that he would read about in old books. 

“He eventually convinced me to help him with this last spell, and promised he would stop after that. And so I helped him. We were there for hours, reading Enderian words, carving symbols into a dead man’s body with a netherite dagger. A snowstorm began outside, even though it was the middle of winter. The winds grew stronger, the sky darker, and then the man began to move.” The King stares down at his lap, eyes wide. 

“I remember a flash outside, so bright my vision went white. And when I could see again the man was sitting up. My brother’s eyes were white, so were the man’s. But he’d done it, brought a man back from the dead. The man didn’t speak though, barely moved, he wasn't the same. He was still dead, just not completely. I told Herobrine to reverse it but it was like he was in a trance, all the magic had destroyed what was left of him, his eyes started to glow and then I began to hear the screams of my people. He’d awoken all the dead, everywhere. The magic had destroyed him, and it would destroy everything else.” Eret pauses, taking a breath.

“How did you stop them?” Technoblade asks.

“I cast a spell, begging for the sun to rise. It took hours to break the clouds, but when it did they started to burn. They retreated North to escape the sun, and I cast one last spell, the ground split and a wall rose. My eyes turned white, but it worked. There were a few survivors, some of whom came with me over the Border. I vowed to stay here for the rest of my life to ensure Herobrine would never return. But clearly spells don’t last forever.” They fall quiet, wind howling in the distance. “That’s everything.” Eret says, standing. Technoblade quickly stands as well, calling after him.

“So if we kill this Herobrine person, will this all end?” Eret turns to him, white eyes staring into Technoblade’s own eyes.

“I hope so.”

The balconies at the back of the palace overlook the sandy dunes. Tommy sits on the floor of one of these balconies, watching Clem and Shroud playing in the sky. Henry lays beside him, his large head resting on his legs. He strokes a hand over the dragon's head, along the spikes down his neck. His tail flicks happily as the teen pets him, the two content to listen to the playful squawks of the other dragons. Tommy pauses his movement, glancing down at Henry, who is easily becoming bigger than Tommy, growing more as each week passes. Henry grumbles, nudging Tommy’s hand in a plea for him to continue stroking. Tommy huffs, rolling his eyes, but begins running his hand down the dragon's neck again.

Behind him, footsteps near, he turns to see Ranboo and Tubbo hurrying towards him, wearing matching frowns. Tommy quickly stands, to Henry’s disappointment.

“What is it?” He asks, glancing between them for some hint.

“There’s been a fire in the city.” Ranboo replies, turning and gesturing for him to follow. Tommy sends Tubbo a questioning look, but follows after them, quickly pacing down the twisting halls. They lead him to a balcony on the opposite side of the building, and Tommy doesn’t have to search to see the fire, black clouds of smoke billow up from a building in the distance. He can hear the panicked shouts from the civilians below.

“What happened?” He whispers, watching the raging flames consuming the building.

“It was an orphanage.” The three turn to Sapnap, who walks towards them with a grim expression on his face. His eyes flick to the fire, he gulps hesitantly. “Yesterday, there were multiple sightings of men in green cloaks.” Tommy blinks at him, processing the information.

“What?” He finally snaps, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There’s no guarantee this is related-” Sapnap starts.

“Of course its fucking related, Sapnap!” He yells, turning back the fire with a sick feeling building in his stomach. Sapnap stares down at the ground.

“I didn’t want to worry you. I knew as soon as I told you you would demand we leave.”

“And if we had this wouldn’t have happened.” He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Shit.” He curses under his breath, burying his head in his hands.

“Tommy, you can’t just keep running, that’ll only make things worse.” The Prince looks up, glaring.

“So, what? I should sit here in this pretty fucking palace and relax while Dream hurts innocent people?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Sapnap hisses, firmly. The cracks along his skin glow with heat, wisps of smoke leaving his mouth as he speaks. Tommy sighs, shaking his head and steadying himself against the railing.

“I told Bad and Skeppy that I trusted you. And then you kept something like that from me?” Sapnap visibly flinches back, skin paling as much as a blaze hybrid possibly could. Tubbo and Ranboo stand to the side awkwardly, Tubbo’s hand slipping into Ranboo’s and squeezing tightly. “If you ever fucking do something like this again you can go back to Dream for all I care.”

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” Sapnap says, sincerely. Sighing, Tommy walks past him, back into the building. Sapnap, Tubbo and Ranboo glance at each other, before following after the Prince. Soon enough they can hear Lord Bad and Lord Skeppy, in hushed conversation with a few palace guards.

“Prince Theseus.” Lord Skeppy greets.

“This is my fault.” Tommy says, stopping before them. “We’ll leave right away, I won’t put your city in any more danger.”

“Your Highness,” Lord Bad starts, eyebrows furrowed, “You don’t need to leave, you came to us for protection, we were aware of the risks when we let you into our city.” Skeppy nods, smiling sadly.

“We’re sending out more guards to patrol the city, night and day, we’ll find the members of Exdee, they’ll be arrested and face appropriate consequences for their crimes. We’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.” He reassures the teen, placing a careful hand on his shoulder.

“But-”

“Go and freshen up, tonight's meal will be served in a few hours.” Bad interrupts, leaving no room for discussion. Tubbo gently slips his hand into Tommy’s tugging him away.

“How’s Fundy?” Phil asks softly, as Wilbur walks into the room, flopping onto one of the couches near the crackling fireplace.

“He’s okay, went to sleep a few minutes ago.” He replies, looking out the window at the starry sky. “Any word from Techno?” Phil shakes his head.

“I received a reply from the Border three days ago, they said he’s in the FarLands again.” Wilbur nods, looking dejected. He reaches over to the end table, pouring himself a goblet of wine. The door quietly opens, and Puffy slips in, taking a seat on the spare couch.

“You two should get some sleep.” She advises, eyeing Wilbur, who takes a generous sip of the red liquid.

“I don’t think I could sleep if I tried.” He jokes dully, sitting back in his seat and stifling a yawn. The three jump to alertness at the sudden chiming of bells. They shoot up from their seats, glancing between each other, wide eyed.

“Is that...”

“Quackity.”

Chapter Text

Wilbur slams open the door to Fundy’s room, rushing inside. The boy is standing at the balcony in his night clothes, looking over the panicking city. The civilians rushing through the streets, shouting to one another, locking doors and shutting their windows. The soldiers harsh footfall as they march to their stations. And the chilling toll of the bells, reverberating across the cold, dark night.

“Fundy!” Wilbur shouts, running over and practically dragging him back inside. He turns as Puffy rushes into the room.

“What’s happening?” Fundy asks, eyes wide and fearful.

“You're going to go with Puffy, my Little King.” Wilbur says, crouching down and pulling him into a tight hug. He pulls back, shooting the boy a shaking smile and brushing his hair back from his face. Puffy steps forwards, offering Fundy a hand.

“I want to stay with you!” He shouts, arms wrapping tightly around his father. Wilbur prys the boy off of him, and pushes him in Puffy’s direction, who leans down to pick him up.

“I have to go and help, Fundy. I’ll see you when this is all over, okay?” Fundy shakes his head, fidgeting in Puffy’s hold. Tears spill from his eyes.

“Don’t leave me!” He wails.

“I have to, I need to protect our home.”

“No.” The boy whines.

“This will all be over soon okay?” Wilbur says, weakly.

“We need to go, Fundy.” Puffy begins, softly, ignoring Fundy’s shouts. “You’ll see your father soon.” She looks to Wilbur, who nods his thanks, before leaving the room. Wilbur listens to his son’s cries fade, glancing out at the gloomy city, bells still ringing away, warning them of their impending doom.

“Okay.” He whispers to himself, running a hand through his hair and taking a few slow breaths before moving, heading down the hall to his room. He spots a royal guard at the end of the hall, calling out to him. “Help me with my armour.” The guard nods, following him into his room.

Through the dark, Phil can just make out the glow of torches moving through the darkness in the distance beyond L’Manberg. Lord Quackity’s army were advancing on the left side of the wall as predicted, but had decided to attack in the dead of night, which they had not predicted. Archers rush by him, moving to their positions along the wall. The KingsGuard stand in line along the outside of the wall, horses whining, distressed. Inside the rest of their army stand waiting in rows down the streets, mumbling to each other in apprehension.

“Father.” Wilbur calls, striding along the wall towards Phil, who's dressed in shining gold armour, a royal blue cape on his back, matching Wilburs.

“Archers!” Jack calls, as the army charges towards them, the thunder of boots growing closer and louder. “Draw.” The archers along the wall draw back the strings of their bows in sync, awaiting the command. 

“Wait.” Wilbur says to Jack, before turning and nodding to a royal guard near him who in turn nods to the others along the wall, each moving to the catapults along the wall. Phil had barely even noticed the objects until now.

“Wil, what are you-“

“Hang on,” Wilbur mutters, eyeing the approaching mass of soldiers. Phil glances at Jack questioningly, who shrugs, eyes flicking around nervously. 

“Ready.” The guard says to Wilbur, the Prince turns back to the opposite army, before shouting. 

“Fire!”

One by one the catapults launch the barrels, which sail through the air silently. Everyone holds their breaths watching nervously as the objects fly across the field. The barrels impact the ground just before the army with an awful clatter of broken wood. Shouts begin to ring out almost immediately after, liquid splashing everywhere and a red smoke wafting into the night air. The soldiers at the front of Quackity’s army scream in agony, clawing at their faces and falling to the ground, those behind stop in their tracks, eyes wide and fearful. But soon enough their adrenaline-fueled confidence returns, and they rush past the fallen men, angry war cries ringing out as they charge onwards, through the darkness and the pain. Phil turns to Wilbur, the younger doesn’t know whether to expect shouting, but the man simply gives him a firm nod. Jack regains his composure first.

“Archers,” He shouts again, pulling their attention from the scene. “Loose!” All at once the snap of bows resounds and arrows pierce the air, raining down on the army. Wilbur watches as men drop, arrows piercing flesh. “Draw.” Jack yells again, “Loose.” More arrows fall upon the army closing in on the wall, who draw their swords, nearing the KingsGuard.

“Look out!” Someone shouts. Wilbur looks over the approaching army confused, and notices more arrows, instead flying at them. He can hear the whistle as they grow close to them. Someone immediately grabs Wilbur’s sleeve, roughly pulling him to the ground beside the wall. Jackinstinctively lifts his shield, blocking him and Phil. The thumping of arrows soon reaches his ears, below he can hear the shrieking of horses falling and the muffled shouting of injured men. He looks to the side, meeting the eyes of one of their archers. Wilbur gasps as an arrow plunges into the man’s neck, he watches with wide eyes at the blood dribbling from his mouth and down the side of his armour before he slumps to the ground before Wilbur. 

As the arrows stop, he’s pulled to his feet again, and forces himself to look away from the fallen archer. Below, their cavalry charge at the opposite army, who have formed a defensive line, shields up and spears poking between. He watches, with bated breath, as the horses make impact, animals and men alike making sounds of pain. But soon enough they break the barrier, pushing through the shield wall. The metallic clang of meeting swords reverberates throughout the dark night. Wilbur watches soldier after soldier fall in a blur of silver and red. Soon enough most of their horses have fallen, leaving men fighting one on one, running this way and that. 

The patch of land between the armies and L’Manberg’s wall soon fills with Quackity’s men, working together to carry ladders through the messy fight behind them. Wilbur turns at the sound of a thump, seeing the top of a ladder resting against the top of the wall. Below them, men begin climbing their way up, all along the wall more ladders join the first. Some of the KingsGuard below desperately try to stop their attempts at infiltrating the walls, but Quackity’s larger army are soon overpowering them. Along the wall, men bring out their spears, trying desperately to stop those climbing towards them. Some succeed, two men even managing to push one of the ladders back from the wall, sending it, along with three of Quackity’s men falling to the floor. One of the archers near him yells in shock as his spear is yanked, and he loses his balance, tumbling over the edge, plummeting to the ground below.

Before he can think twice, Wilbur is barking orders, pointing people towards the large chests containing the glass bottles of potions he’d spent weeks brewing. Men move without question, pulling the glass objects from the chests and moving back to the wall. They throw the bottles swirling with green liquid over the wall, listening to the smashing of glass and the screeching of men as the effects take hold. He’d read that these potions cause nausea and excruciating headaches and stomachaches, the symptoms lasting anywhere from minutes to hours. It’s enough to hold them off for now.

“We need to get the rest of our men out there.” Jack shouts over the noise, looking at Phil who nods firmly.

“I’ll lead them, you stay up here.” He turns on his heel, walking to the spiral staircase leading back to the ground. Wilbur storms forwards, grabbing his arm.

“You can’t go out there, it's a bloodbath.” Phil shakes his arm off, giving him a stern look.

“I have to Wil, just make sure the gate closes behind us.” He orders, turning around and stalking towards the stairs, cape billowing behind him. Wilbur glances back at Jack, who watches the King leave before his face hardens and he looks back to his men, barking out more orders. Wilbur follows Phil down the steps, legs trembling as the cries of dying men echo behind them. 

Once they reach the ground, a guard rushes to Phil’s side, checking the straps on his armour. Wilbur looks out over the groups of men shifting on terrified feet, listening to the muffled sounds of battle on the other side of the gate.

“Men! Stand in line.” He yells. The soldiers glance around anxiously, murmuring to one another. “In line!” He tries again. He glances at Phil, who stares grimly, before turning back to the soldiers and clearing his throat. “I know that the rumors have been spreading, I know it's widely believed that I brought this war upon us, and I could stand here and defend myself, but at this point it's no longer worth it. Lord Quackity has brought an army to our gates, it’s not just my home he means to invade, it’s yours as well, your cities, your villages. Your families he’ll slaughter. So no matter what you choose to believe, don’t fight for me, fight for yourselves and your homes, fight for the people you care about. Let’s fucking kill them!” The men nod to each other, seeming to gain back some confidence.

“I’ll lead the attack.” King Philza adds, stepping towards Wilbur and resting a hand on his armour clad shoulder. He smiles at him proudly. “All in line, we charge the minute the gate opens. Are you with me?” The knights cheer, weapons raised in the air. “Open the gate.” Phil shouts, two men moving to lift the block of wood barricading the large wooden gates. They quickly heft it to the side and push the doors open, revealing the carnage on the other side. The lines of men charge forwards, led by Phil. Wilbur moves to the side, watching with a racing heart as his father cuts down the first man he sees, pushing out into the field. The men pour out of the safety of the city, swords swinging this way and that. 

As soon as the last man leaves through the gate, Wilbur waves two KingsGaurd soldiers over, who grab onto the iron handles, using all of their weight to heave the gates shut again. Wilbur tries to block out the sounds of their men dying, running to help them close the heavy gates. He ignores the part of his brain whispering that he’s shutting all their men out to die, his father included, instead ensuring they’ve sealed the entrance. He moves back to the staircase immediately after, willing his legs to walk him up. As he reaches the archway back onto the wall, his eyes widen. The chests of potions are long since empty, and blood-covered knights pour over the wall, overwhelming their archers who desperately fight for their lives. He stumbles backwards, reaching for the clean sword at his hip. 

An archer before him falls to the ground, one of Quackity’s men standing before him clasping a sword that drips with blood. There’s a manic look in his eye, face red and irritated, likely an effect of the potions. He locks on to Wilbur and snarls, moving towards the Prince and raising his sword. Wilbur desperately pulls out his own sword, blocking the quick strike with an ear splitting ring. The two are so close he can feel the other man’s ragged breaths. Wilbur huffs with the effort, pushing against the man in vain. Fighting had always been Techno’s thing, rather than Wilbur’s. He grunts, taking a step back with wide eyes as the man pushes forwards, smiling maniacally. Finally they break apart, Wilbur barely managing to keep from staggering. The man lifts his sword, ready to finish him, when he gasps, sucking in a sharp breath. He looks down, Wilbur hesitantly following his gaze. The two stare in silence at the sword poking through his chest. He coughs again, Wilbur recoiling as the sticky substance splatters onto his face. The man blinks, groaning in pain before slipping off the sharp blade and falling to the ground with a clatter. When he looks up he meets Jack’s eyes.

Jack gives him a brief nod, which Wilbur returns, swallowing dryly. The Knight turns back to the fight, slicing through their enemies, desperately.  Wilbur moves over to the wall, looking over at the fighting below. They seem to have effectively stopped most of Quackity’s men from climbing the ladders, but it’s still horribly unclear to him whether they can truly win this fight. He searches through the people, trying to spot the familiar royal blue of his fathers cape, but can’t tell anyone apart in the bloody mass. With a shout from Jack deeming them clear for now, he helps move the bodies of men to the side of the path, and push the ladders back from the wall down to the ground. There are only four of them left on this section of the wall, two remaining archers shakily moving back to their stations, and picking up their bows.

“What the fuck do we do now?” He whispers to Jack. The other man can’t seem to reply.

Chapter Text

The moon falls behind a cloud, a dark shadow settling over the city. The only sounds Philza can hear are the cries of the men around him and his own heartbeat, thumping in his ears. He runs across the muddy field, the once green ground destroyed under the hundreds of pounding feet. People stumble this way and that, tripping over bodies strewn across the ground. He cuts down every man that dares to swing at him, in an adrenaline filled haze. He hadn’t been in a battle like this since Exdee, but the motions come to him naturally. The King makes his way across the battlefield leaving a trail of bodies in his wake, barely feeling the minor cuts and bruises he receives. 

He turns at the thump of the ladders that had been along the wall plummeting to the ground, crushing people under their weight. Seeing a flash of movement from the corner of his eye, he spins back around, sword plunging through his attackers stomach before they can even land their strike. He shouts out, kicking them and pulling his sword free. The clouds part, and moonlight illuminates the battlefield once again. At the back of the fight, he catches sight of a hooded figure weaving through the crowd, and disappearing in the direction of the castle, two knights closely following, taking down anyone who comes near. He squints through the darkness, confused, before pushing his way after them, following the glimpses of a dark cape.

The crowd thins out as he rounds the wall, the castle looming ahead in the darkness. He stops as he turns around the next corner, puzzled when he finds it empty. He carefully walks along the side of the wall, running his free hand along the cold stone as he listens for any sound. Sighing, he moves to turn back, but pauses suddenly. The King slowly continues along the ivy covered wall, pulling away some of the thick vines and revealing the secret passages. Looking down the familiar dark tunnel, he turns his head, listening again. Sure enough, he hears the muffled echo of footsteps disappearing into the castle. Cursing, he squeezes through the gap and follows the intruders.

The tunnels are narrower than he remembers, and pitch black at parts, damp clinging to the walls and a musty smell hanging in the air. Soon he catches the glow of a torch up ahead, and slows, ducking back into the shadows, sword held close. When he reaches the end of the tunnel, he presses a hand up to the back of the painting concealing its existence. On the other side he can hear faint breathing. Holding his breath, he gradually slides the painting on its nail, soon spotting the armour of one of Quackity’s knights. The man notices the movement, spinning around only for Philza to put a sword to his throat. The knight’s eyes widen, hands lifting in surrender. Phil steps in the room, footsteps reverberating across the empty throne room. The painting slides back in place behind him. 

“Which way did they go?” He asks the guard, who shakily points to the door at the far side of the room. “Thanks.” He mutters, before pushing the sword through the man's throat. The knight's eyes widen as he makes quiet gurgling noises, a trail of blood dripping from his mouth. The King carefully lowers his body to the floor, turning to head after the other intruders.

Wilbur stands beside an archer, watching silently as he shoots down the unsuspecting men below. He turns as Jack comes up beside him.

“I think I saw the King.” He says, face serious. “It looked like he was following someone towards the castle.” Wilbur can hear the confusion in the man’s voice, feeling it himself. 

“Why would anyone go that way, there’s no way in-” His eyes widen, gaze snapping back to Jack. “But no one outside of my family and Puffy, Nikki and you know about the tunnels, right?” Jack grimaces.

“Lord Quackity did stay at the castle for a month, it’s possible he was lucky enough to discover them.” Wilbur shakes his head, a hand running through his hair.

“Or someone told him about them.” He whispers.

“Who would- oh, you don’t think…” Jack stutters. Wilbur shrugs, beginning to walk back along the wall towards the castle, Jack closely following.

“It doesn’t matter now. You stay here, someone needs to keep an eye on this, I’ll check it out.” He says. Nodding, Jack turns back to the fight as the Prince stalks off.

Fundy bites his lip anxiously, half listening to the murmurs of the staff around him. Lady Puffy sits on the floor beside him, a comforting hand running through his hair while she converses with the others. The room they’d shut themselves in was silent, no outside noise making it through the thick stone walls. Fundy stares at the door, waiting for the moment his father comes in to tell them it was all over, that they’d won and the city was safe. The door hadn’t opened since they’d shut it firmly behind them, an hour ago.

“-what do you say, Your Highness?” He turns to face Puffy.

“Huh?” She smiles softly at him.

“I said we should play a game to pass the time.” She explains. The boy shakes his head, gaze moving back to the door.

“I don’t want to.”

“Fundy,” She says, more softly, “Battles can last a long time, we can’t sit here and worry, we need to distract ourselves.”

“I don’t want to play a game. I want my father!” He snaps, pulling out of her hold and shuffling away from her. He draws his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. Frowning, Puffy sinks back against the wall, leaving him be. The servants hesitantly continue their conversation while Fundy stares at the door, trying to fight off the tiredness that pulls at him. 

Suddenly there’s muffled movement on the other side of the door. All conversation stops, eyes snapping to the sounds. Fundy sits up, hopefully, faintly aware of Puffy moving closer to him. They collectively flinch at the loud clang of something hitting the door. The Prince’s stomach drops. They stand up, Puffy gripping the boy’s shoulder and pulling him close to her, he catches the glint of a dagger in her hand. There’s another thump, and some of the maids whimper in fear, pressing themselves against the far wall. The next strike smashes through the lock on the door, and with a swift kick it flies open, smashing into the wall with a deafening bang. Quackity steps into the room, pushing his hood down and sweeping his gaze over them.

“Hello Little Prince.” He smirks. Fundy stares up at him, wide eyed. The man steps forwards, and Fundy feels Puffy’s grip tighten.

“Is it over?” She asks, hesitantly.

“Not yet,” He replies, “I just need you to come with me, Fundy, and all the fighting can stop.” He holds a hand out to the Prince. “Your father is out there fighting right now, just come with me and we can put an end to this war.” Fundy takes a careful step towards him, but Puffy pulls him back, stepping in front of him. 

“Stay away from him.” She threatens, pointing her dagger at him. He raises an eyebrow.

“I think Fundy can make his own decisions, Lady Puffy.” He tilts his head, looking past her to where Fundy stands. “You want to save your father, right?" The boy nods, glancing at Puffy, who still has an arm out in front of him.

“Fundy don’t move.” She pleads.

“I think he wants to come with me.” Quackity moves to step forwards, and Puffy lunges. The dagger catches the side of his face before he manages to grab her wrist, fighting to pull the weapon from her grip. They stumble backwards, Quackity slamming back into the wall with a grunt. He twists her wrist until her grip loosens, taking the dagger and shoving her back. She gasps, losing her balance and colliding with a desk before hitting the floor, hissing in pain.

“Puffy!” Fundy sniffs, trembling. Quackity marches forwards, rough hand wrapping around Fundy’s arm and tugging him to the door. He stumbles after the man out into the hall, coming face to face with Philza, stood over a dead knight on the floor. Quackity snarls, arm wrapping around Fundy, dagger pressing against his throat.

“Stay right there.” He warns. Phil glares darkly, there are red splatters of blood smeared across his scratched armour, the sticky substance pooling on the floor around the knight and dripping from the tip of the King’s sword.

“Let him go, Lord Quackity.”

“Bow down to me, surrender the Antarctic Empire over to me, and maybe I'll consider it.” He bargains. Shaking his head, Phil holds his hands up, placatingly.

“You know I can’t do that.” Quackity sighs.

“Well then, let us pass.” He shifts, and Fundy lets out a whimper, blade digging into his skin. Fear flickers across Philza’s face, and he takes a cautious step back. “Thank you-” There’s a loud clatter above Fundy, and Quackity cries out in alarm, shards of ceramic flying everywhere. His grip on the Prince loosens, and Phil runs forwards, gentle hands tugging him away from the man. Puffy weakly stands in the doorway of the room, arms still outstretched from where she’d smashed the vase over the Lord’s head. 

Quackity draws his sword, pointing it at Phil. Puffy stumbles over to take Fundy, pulling them behind Philza and collapsing against the wall. The Prince shrinks into her protective hold. Pulling out his own sword, Phil walks towards the Lord, trying to put some distance between them and the two on the floor.

“This ends now.” Philza growls. Gritting his teeth, Quackity holds up his sword, shifting into a defensive position. Phil smiles smugly, knowing this is a fight he can win. Quackity makes the first strike, which Phil easily deflects, stepping forwards and sending the other back a few paces. He swipes his sword back through the air, coming dangerously close to Quackity’s face, who desperately blocks the hit, an awful scrape pervading their ears. He cries out as he pushes the elders sword away, breathing heavily. The next movements are a blur to Fundy, who watches through tear filled eyes, holding Puffy’s arm painfully tight. The woman doesn’t complain, squeezing him in return, like a human shield, one hand pressing against her injured side. Quackity yelps as Philza’s sword cuts across his arm, dark blood spilling from the wound. He falls further back, dangerously close to the wall behind him, eyes wide and face pale.

“Your Highness-” He grits out, interrupted by Phil's relentless attacks, blocking his sword again and again. Soon enough his back meets the wall, the King looming over him, lifting his sword for the final strike.

“Phil, look out!” Puffy shrieks suddenly. The King turns too late, catching a flash of purple behind him and a sudden pressure in his stomach. Fundy screams, Puffy’s shaking hands moving to cover his eyes and pull him into her chest. Phil reaches a hand down to the wound, pressing around the sword sticking through him, blood spilling between his fingers. The pressure lessens as his attacker pulls the blade out, white hot pain shooting through Phil’s body. He turns, meeting Purpled’s eyes. The young knight staggers backwards watching in shock, Phil’s vision swims. The King collapses to his knees, vaguely aware of Quackity hesitantly stepping around him, the pair's footsteps scrambling away.

Wilbur hurries down the winding steps of the wall, stepping on the cold grass of the empty courtyard. He quickly hurries across, towards the castle entrance, running up the steps. The castle doors are cold to the touch as he pulls the large things open. “Father?” He calls, stepping into the throne room. Moonlight streams through the large glass pane windows. His gaze sweeps the room, soon landing on a heap strewn across the floor at the end of the room. Moving closer, he recognises the body as one of Quackity’s men, turning again and spotting the open door on the opposite side of the room.

“Father!” He calls again, running with a renewed fear. Feet pounding on the stone floors, he twists down the corridors, hoping for and dreading another clue. His feet lead him to the servants quarters, where he knows Puffy had taken Fundy and some of the castle staff, pleading that everything would be fine. As soon as he hears the piercing scream he knows it’s his son. A sharp stab of fear spearing through his chest. As he rounds the corner he freezes. 

His eyes first lock onto Fundy, who thrashes wildly in Puffy’s grip, he then realises the two are staring at something up ahead. Wilbur feels his stomach churn at the blue cape wrapped around the person laid out across the floor. He steps forwards on trembling legs, a hand covering his mouth. The strangled whine that leaves his throat draws Puffy’s attention.

“Wilbur.” She croaks, causing the Fundy to halt his movements.

“Father!” He wails, breaking out of Puffy’s hold and crashing into Wilbur’s legs with a force that almost knocks him to the ground.

“What?” He whimpers, ignoring Fundy and stumbling forwards. “No.” As he reaches Phil his legs give out under him. Fundy sobs, arms wrapping around Wilbur’s neck. “Father?” He gently shakes the man’s shoulder. 

His breath hitches as the man groans, eyebrows knitting in pain. He blinks up at Wilbur. Wilbur can feel blood soaking into his clothes as he shuffles closer to his father. 

“Fuck.” He mutters, “Okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Will.” Phil breathes, reaching up a shaking hand. Wilbur hastily grabs it, squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry, Wilbur.” He says, smiling shakily.

“No, it’s okay. I can make it better.” He fumbles at his belt, carefully unhooking a small glass bottle from it and pulling out the cork. “This is a health potion.” He stammers. “It’ll help.”

“No Will.” Phil says, pushing the bottle away. “It’s too late, okay? You did good, I’m so proud of you.”

“Just drink the potion, father.” Wilbur insists, disregarding his words. Phil reluctantly lifts his head, a trembling hand taking the glass. He carefully sips on it, coughing. Once the bottle is empty, he passes it back to Wilbur.

“You’re going to be okay.” Wilbur says, ignoring the splatters of blood the King coughs up. His head falls back to the floor, breathing laboured. “Just stay awake, you’re going to be fine.” He warbles, salty tears dripping down his cheeks.

“You’ll be a good King, Wilbur.” The Prince shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Promise me something, okay?” The man says, reaching out to take Wilbur’s bloodstained hand. “If Theseus is really out there, bring him home, okay?”

“We can bring him home together.” Wilbur sniffles. The King shakes his head sadly, hand pulling away to find Fundy’s.

“Keep-” He coughs harshly, “Keep you father out of trouble, okay?” He  mumbles, smiling. Fundy nods, rubbing the tears from his face. He looks down as he feels the man’s grip loosen, hand falling to the cold floor. Wilbur whines, leaning forwards and resting his head against Phil’s chest. A new wave of tears spill down Fundy’s cheeks, he looks up to Phil’s still face, a lump building in his throat.

“Oh.” Wilbur snivels, sitting up and staring at his father in disbelief. Fundy lets out a wail, throwing himself at his father again. Wilbur hugs him tightly, burying his face in Fundy’s hair, body shaking with sobs. Puffy watches from afar, making eye contact with Jack as he rounds the corner, taking in the scene. 

The bells outside begin chiming again as Quackity’s men retreat into the night.

Chapter Text

“Tommy?” Sapnap hesitantly calls, slowly walking over to the Prince who sits on the floor of the balcony. His three dragons growl, gathered around him protectively, the spikes running down their necks flaring. Tubbo sits on the boy's left, head resting on the blonde’s shoulder. Ranboo sits on his right, arm loosely wrapped around him. 

Turning to Sapnap, Tubbo offers a sad smile, running a hand down Clem’s back and hushing her reassuringly. The dragons settle back down, so Sapnap continues forwards, sitting to the side of the trio, leaning against the balcony railings.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” He sighs. Tommy shrugs, a deep frown on his face as he strokes Henry, the dragon purring contentedly.

“It’s not like I actually knew him.” The Prince mutters.

“He was still your father, Theseus. And you lost him.” Sapnap replies, Tommy doesn’t answer, face pinching in thought.

“So does Prince Wilbur become the King now?” Tubbo asks quietly. Sapnap nods, watching Tommy’s solemn face carefully.

“He’ll likely have his coronation after King Philza’s funeral.” He answers, softly. Shifting, Tommy lifts his head, dull eyes looking through the balcony railings, at the city below.

“But the war isn’t over.” He comments. They turn to face him.

“It isn’t.” Responds Sapnap, unsure if it was even a question. They wait in silence for a few more seconds before realising the Prince isn’t going to say anything else. Sapnap watches the two friends stare at Tommy sadly and sighs, standing up. “It’s going to get dark soon, come in for something to eat before then, alright?” Tubbo and Ranboo nod in understanding. The hybrid smiles at them gratefully before slipping away, back down the halls.

***

“So Eret is, what, over a thousand years old?” Ponk asks, following Technoblade through the snowy plain. 

“I suppose.” The Prince grunts, shrugging and hefting their sack of food higher onto his shoulder.

“How?” Ponk splutters, thick snow crunching under his boots.

“Well, I assume it was the magic.” He drawls, giving the other an exasperated look. Ponk shakes his head, still trying to get over the revelation, hundreds of questions on the tip of his tongue.

“Where are we even going?” He asks, instead.

“Back to the Border.” He replies, “We’ve been gone for a week, they’re probably back there by now.” Ponk nods.

“And how are we going to convince the Lord Commander to let the FarLanders into the Antarctic Empire?” Technoblade purses his lips, staring forwards.

“Well I guess we’ll work that out. And as I told King Eret, I can send a crow to my father if that doesn’t work.”

“I don’t know if Sam would appreciate that.” Ponk says, uncertainly. Rolling his eyes, Technoblade picks up his pace, wading through the snow.

“How do you like the food, Prince Theseus?” Lord Skeppy asks at breakfast, desperate to break the quiet atmosphere at the table. Tommy blinks up at him, tiredly.

“Oh, it’s very good, thank you.” He nods, forcing an uncomfortable smile onto his face. Everyone frowns at him, doubtfully. The silence returns. 

When a palace guard bursts through the door, the whole room jumps at the loud noise. The guard swiftly walks around the table, to Bad and Skeppy, leaning down between the two to whisper to them. Tommy can see the way their faces fall at whatever they’ve been told, he copies them as they place down their cutlery. 

“What is it?” He questions. The two glance at each other, sharing a silent conversation. 

“There’s been another incident in the city.” Lord Bad sighs, as they stand. Tommy’s face falls, he can feel Tubbo’s stare from beside him.

“Was it Exdee?” Skeppy nods, the words stuck in his throat. 

“You can stay here, continue eating-” Bad begins.

“No, I need to see.” Tommy insists, chair scraping across the ground as he stands. Sapnap places a warm hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t need to see it.” He murmurs.

“No, I do.” Brushing off his hand, he walks around the table, following after the Lords. They pace down the halls in silence, Sapnap following after convincing Tubbo and Ranboo to stay put. As they reach the gates, four guards join them.

As they walk down the sandstone streets, people bow their heads in respect, but they all wear grim expressions. Tommy feels guilt churning in his stomach. As they near the scene, the crowds part, letting them through. Some people whisper, some people shout, others cry. Though none of it is aimed at Tommy, despite him knowing it should be.

He blanches when he sees it, the blood draining from his face. Three bodies are strung up on the wall like puppets, clothes streaked with crimson blood. It’s a messy job, completed with no care. An old man, and two women.

One of the bodies, a young woman with brown hair, stares at him with empty eyes. He’s struck with the realisation that he recognises her - the lady who’d given him the flower. He muffles a whine, stumbling on shaking legs, eyes travelling down to the gash across her throat, still seeping with blood. And drawn in their blood, stark against the light stone, is a familiar smile. Beside Tommy, Lord Bad blinks away shocked tears, tearing his eyes away from the sight. 

“Get them down.” Skeppy orders. The guards quickly rush forwards and some of the townsfolk step out to help. Sapnap moves as well, face stiff as he helps to cut the ropes and set the bodies down as carefully as possible. People gather around the bodies, friends and family weeping heartbroken cries. Looking away from the scene, Tommy slowly scans the crowd. Anyone here could be part of Exdee. Anyone here could be their next victim. Tommy was the only one who could put an end to it. 

He flinches when Sapnap suddenly comes up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. The hybrid winces, apologetically, but Tommy brushes him off, turning away.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” He declares. As he begins walking back through the crowd, Sapnap hurries after him, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I said we’re fucking leaving. When we get to the palace, prepare the horses, pack our things.” Spluttering, Sapnap struggles to keep up with him.

“Tommy-” The Prince stops suddenly, turning to face him directly.

“I have to get back to my country.” The hybrid blinks in surprise. Tommy waits for him to disagree, but to his relief, the man sighs, nodding reluctantly.

“Okay. I’ll have everything prepared for our departure tomorrow.” Tommy nods, gratefully. The pair travel back to the palace in silence.

Wilbur ignores the incessant knocking at his door, continuing to stare out of his bedroom window. Soon Puffy’s muffled voice comes from behind the door.

“Your Highness? It’s been five days…” She trails off. “The funeral is in a couple of days, you can’t stay locked up in here forever.” Wilbur watches a crow soar through the sky, down towards the city. Distantly, he hears Puffy sigh. “Fundy hasn’t come out of his room either, he won’t let anyone in aside from you.”

Frowning, Wilbur tears his eyes from the window for the first time in well over an hour. There’s a shuffling outside his door, before the echo of Puffy’s retreating footsteps can be heard. Once the silence has resumed, he pushes himself up, stretching. He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, wincing and running a hand through his hair in a useless attempt to look more presentable.

Creeping up to the door, he gently presses an ear against the wood, listening for any sign of someone on the other side. Hearing nothing, he twists the handle until a soft click rings out, and pushes the door open. Peeking his head around, he double checks the coast is clear before slipping out. He recalls following the same routine when he was younger, sneaking out at night after a bad dream to crawl into Techno or Phil’s bed. Neither of them are here now. He makes the short trip down the hall to Fundy’s room, gently knocking.

“Go away Puffy.” The boy shouts. Wilbur huffs fondly.

“It’s only me, Little King.” He calls back. The boy doesn’t reply. Wilbur considers repeating himself, but then the door flies open, and an orange blur crashes into him. He grabs onto the door frame for support, his other hand resting on Fundy’s head, running through his hair. “Come on, let’s go inside.” He says softly.

Fundy pulls Wilbur over to his bed, clambering on and patting the space beside him. Amused, Wilbur sits beside the boy, who instantly snuggles into his side. He sighs, wrapping an arm around the young prince.

“I’m sorry.” Fundy mumbles. Wilbur turns to look at him, confused.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He responds. The boy looks up at him with teary eyes.

“But it was my fault!” He sniffles, “I told Lord Quackity about the tunnels.”

“Oh Fundy.” He pulls the boy closer, resting his head on top of Fundy’s, “It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is your fault, we all fell into this stupid trap.” 

“Okay.” He whispers. Wilbur frowns.

“I’m sorry for not coming to see you sooner. I never meant to make you believe I blamed you for any of this.” Fundy nods, but doesn’t reply. They sit in silence, the sounds of L’Manberg drifting through from the balcony. 

“Can I get sword fighting lessons?” The boy blurts, abruptly.

“Huh?” Wilbur turns to look at him, surprised.

“I want to learn to fight, so I can protect us!” He explains. Smiling, Wilbur ruffles his hair.

“It’s not your job to protect us, Fundy.” He responds, softly. Fundy pushes himself up, sitting in front of his father.

“But I want to. It’s just us now, we have to look out for each other.” Wilbur’s breath catches in his throat and Fundy falters for a moment, but Wilbur just reaches forwards, pulling him into a hug.

“Okay, I’ll sort out some lessons for you.”

“Thank you.” Fundy says, voice muffled. Wilbur leans his head back against the headrest, listening to Fundy’s quiet breaths, a yawn escaping him. He softly closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Tommy steps out in the sun, alongside Bad and Skeppy. Up ahead, he can see Sapnap with the horses, Ranboo and Tubbo nearby.

“Where are you heading next, Prince Theseus?” Lord Skeppy asks.

“I hear Manberg has an army of ten thousand for trade.” The Lords glance at one another, worriedly. 

“I’d advise you to be careful in Manberg, Your Highness.” Skeppy warns, “The Kingdom is known for its heavy involvement in the slave trade.”

“We’ve always tried to avoid interaction with Manberg. The Emperor can be a… dangerous man.” Tommy nods, recalling the earfull about Manberg’s history he’d received from Sapnap the night before. They continue along the path, watching as a guard pulls the rope that opens the gate.

“Where did the carriage come from?” Tommy asks aloud.

“A gift,” Bad grins. “And there’ll be a ship waiting for you at the docks.” 

“Thank you.” Above they hear a screech, and squint through the bright sky as Henry, Clem and Shroud swoop towards them. Clem and Shroud land on the wall, squawking and tilting their heads at the scene. Henry’s large wings beat loudly as he perches on the carriage, spooking the horses. He stares at Tommy with big yellow eyes, red scales glinting in the sun. Tommy looks back to the Lords.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Skeppy, Lord Bad, I’ll never forget your kindness.” Tommy says, bowing his head with a smile.

“It was no trouble, really. We’ve enjoyed your company.” Says Lord Skeppy.

“You’ll always be welcome here, Your Highness.” Lord Bad adds. Tommy turns to Ranboo and Tubbo who quickly bow to Bad and Skeppy.

“Ready?” He asks the pair, who nod enthusiastically, following him to the carriage. A group of BadLand guards walk towards them, pulling horses along behind them. Tommy looks at them questioningly.

“It’s a three hour journey to the docks, they’re coming to ensure our safe journey.” Sapnap murmurs to him in answer. Tommy looks back to Bad and Skeppy, who stop their quiet bickering to smile encouragingly. 

“Woah.” Says Tubbo, running a hand along the intricate carvings along the carriage before stepping inside. “I feel so important.” He whispers to Ranbbo who snorts, stepping in behind him. Looking up, Tommy rolls his eyes at Henry, who whines, stretching towards him in a silent demand for attention. He reaches up and the dragon nuzzles into his hand, emitting content clicks before leaning away, pushing off the roof and flying off to tackle his siblings. Shaking his head, Tommy steps into the carriage, sitting opposite his friends. Soon enough the carriage is moving, Tommy quickly leans out to wave to the Lords as they head over the bridge into the city. He watches the palace grow further and further away.

The two step out into the clearing, craning their necks to peer up at the Border that reaches up high above them. Ponk glances to Technoblade with a relieved expression, before they continue on, heading towards the gate. A bell tolls overhead as they’re finally noticed, likely the size of ants from all the way at the top of the Border. The gate lifts, sending up a cloud of snow, and the pair head through the dark tunnel. 

The first person they see on the other side is Lord Commander Sam, staring at them with a straight face from across the courtyard. The two walk into the open, gate closing behind them, and head towards the man.

“We thought you’d been captured by Pillagers.” Sam says doubtfully, once they reach him.

“We technically were.” Ponk quietly replies.

“A group of FarLanders cornered us, we talked to them and they agreed to take us to their King.” Technoblade elaborates, watching Sam’s face morph into something untrusting. Ponk shifts apprehensively, peering at Technoblade with narrowed eyes. “That’s where we’ve been for the last week.”

“Right.” Sam mumbles, tensely. “Well, we can discuss this in private later.” He glances around at the few people clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. Technoblade nods, turning away, when Sam taps his arm, holding out a letter. “And you should read this, it’s about the royal family.” He quickly takes it, and he and Ponk escape to the sleeping quarters.

“That was uncomfortable. I think we’re going to have a hard time convincing him.” Ponk mutters as they turn the corner into the dimly lit hallway. Technoblade hums in agreement, turning the letter over in his hands and brushing his thumb across the split seal. The door to the main room up ahead opens, and Antfrost steps out, eyes widening when he spots the two.

“Where have you been?” He asks, speeding over to them.

“It’s a long story.” Ponk responds, smiling at their friend who pulls him into a brief hug.

“Come inside, where it's warm.” Antfrost says, leading the way to the room. Technoblade stops, staring down at the letter he’s yet to read, a sickening feeling building in his gut.

“I’m going to my own room, I’ll see you both later.” He continues on before they can reply, slamming open the door to his room. The air is frigid, the fireplace unused for weeks. He shuts the door behind him and moves to take a seat in the chair. Carefully, he unfolds the letter, holding it out in front of him.

Chapter Text

The bay is small but bustling with people. There are market stands selling fish, breads and fishing equipment and more, sailors move this way and that, loud chatter comes from the taverns. Stepping out of the carriage, Tommy can see the sails of large ships peeking over the tops of the buildings. People stop and stare at the trio emerging from the lavish carriage, whispering to one another, wide eyed.

“Rumors really do travel fast.” Tommy mutters to Ranboo, who ducks his head at the sudden attention. Sapnap clambers off of Spirit, coming to walk beside them. The BadLand guards follow.

Tommy walks out in front, holding his head high and staring straight ahead. People shrink back when Sapnap’s gaze lands on them, and Tommy feels sort of glad for the hybrid's intimidating appearance, hoping Ranboo feels a little of the relief as well.

The dragons suddenly announce their presence overhead with a loud squawk. People yell in shock, looking up at the sky. Tommy smirks, watching them glide through the air gracefully. They turn down the next street and Tommy falters staring ahead in wonder.

“That’s the ocean?” He asks Sapnap, who nods, smiling lightly.

“It’s huge.” Ranboo murmurs, staring at the large blue expanse up ahead.

“You haven’t seen the sea either, Ranboo?” Tubbo asks.

“I don’t think so.” He replies. Tommy smiles back at his friends, who catch up to walk beside him. 

“Is that our ship?” Tommy questions aloud, looking at the large wooden boat floating in the docks. It’s large sail has the black and red flag of the BadLands painted on, and small Antarctic Empire flags of white and blue run down the ropes, waving in the wind. They step onto the creaking wood of the dock, Tommy striding forwards to stare out at the sparkling blue sea. Ranboo hesitantly comes up behind him, peeking over his shoulder nervously. 

“Let’s get on!” Tubbo shouts excitedly, walking to the ramp leading onto the ship. Henry swoops past them, flapping up to perch at the top of the mast, screeching loudly. Tommy follows his friend, stopping beside him. Tubbo smiles encouragingly, and Tommy steps onto the ramp, feeling the slight sway as the ocean rocks the ship. He marches to the top, turning to the other two with a grin. Ranboo steps up next, flinching as the water splashes below him.

“Come on man!” Tommy says, stretching out a hand. Ranboo jumps again as droplets of water spray against the side of the ship, reaching out for the Prince’s hand and running onto the safety of the ship. Tubbo quickly follows.

“You okay?” He asks Ranboo, who nods, smiling. 

“This is my ship!” Tommy says, walking across the deck and peering back over the bay. Tubbo chuckles, standing beside him. Shroud shoots down from the sky, plunging into the water with a loud splash, reammerging seconds later with a fish trapped in his jaw. Tommy huffs fondly, turning to Sapnap, who converses with the ship's captain while BadLand guards carry their chests of luggage onto the ship. Clem flies down and lands on the ship’s wall beside Tubbo, nudging his head with her own. Sapnap walks over to them.

“It’ll take two days to arrive at Manberg.” He says, “Are you sure about this?” Tommy looks back out at the ocean, a tight feeling in his chest. He tears his eyes away, instead looking down the coast they’d be travelling along.

“I’m sure.”

“Prince Technoblade?” The Prince turns to the door Ponk’s muffled voice comes through. “Antfrost told me about what happened… with your family.” Technoblade stares down at the cold fireplace, hands clenched tightly.

“I’m sorry.” Says Antfrost. The Prince remains silent, shutting his eyes frustratedly. He can hear the two whisper to each other before slowly walking away. Technoblade stands up, stepping on the letter he’d dropped to the floor as he walks over to his desk. He puts his hands on the cold wood, leaning forwards and taking a few deep breaths. Lifting a hand, he reaches for his netherite dagger, clasping the handle firmly and pulling it from his belt. He lifts it before bringing it down in a swift motion and planting it into the old wood of the table with a loud thump. He squeezes his eyes shut, a hand massaging his temples.

“Shut up.” He whispers, shaking his head. “No… no.” Technoblade grips his hair, tugging as he mumbles. Slamming a fist down onto the table he cries out in frustration, swiping everything off his desk in a desperate anger, the objects clatter to the floor loudly, he’s faintly aware of something smashing. “Shut up.” He begs, louder. A hand brushes his shoulder and Technoblade’s hand clasps the dagger again, pulling it from the table as he spins around, grabbing his attacker and holding the blade to their throat.

Ponk yelps, hands pulled up in surrender and eyes wide and frantic. Technoblade heaves in, breathless, slowly coming back to his surroundings.

“It’s just me!” Ponk shouts. Antfrost reaches towards Technoblade from beside them, hand hesitating in the air.

“Your Highness.” He says, carefully. The Prince slowly loosens his grip on Ponk’s shirt and the man stumbles back.

“Are you okay?” Asks Ponk, worriedly. Technoblade doesn’t answer, gritting his teeth and slipping the blade back into his belt. “Technoblade-” He whispers, gasping as the man pushes past them, heading for the door, cape billowing behind him. Ponk and Antfrost hurry after him as he stomps down the halls and back out into the courtyard. He storms across the snow and into the building again, heading straight for Sam’s office. He slams the door open with a force that rattles the walls.

“There are three ships at the base at the West end of the Border, correct?” He asks, gruffly. Sam furrows his brows, startled.

“Yes, why?” He blurts, standing.

“We need to travel there as soon as possible and head for the FarLander’s camp. If we grant them safe passage to our side of the Border and allow them to live peacefully here, they’ll aid us in the fight against the White-Eyes.” He explains. Sam walks around the table to stand in front of the Prince.

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you I spoke to Eret, their King, he agreed to help us if we let his people live in our territory.” 

“I’m sorry your Highness.” Sam spits, “You may be my Prince but I am the Lord Commander of the Border, I’m in charge here. I’m not going to jeopardize the safety of my men and those in the nearby villages. Our people come first, I’m not letting any Pillagers past the Border.”

“Your job is to keep the peace, not to shut them out to die!” Technoblade shouts through gritted teeth.

“I-” Sam begins, but Ponk speaks up from the doorway.

“I’ve been to their camp, Lord Sam, they have families there. Children.” Sam turns to him, sharply.

“They’re not my responsibility.”

“They’re people!” Technoblade yells, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“They’re not my people.” He grumbles. Technoblade narrows his eyes, opening his mouth to speak, but Ponk interrupts again, stepping into the room and standing between them.

“Please, Lord Commander, at least travel there and see it for yourself before you say no.” He pleads. Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning back against his desk. Technoblade impatiently awaits his response.

“Look.” The Commander huffs, finally. “I’ll go there and speak to this ‘King Eret’, but my priority is the people on my side of the Border. If I think the Pillagers pose even the smallest threat to us, they’re staying there.” He compromises. Technoblade almost argues further, but Ponk gives him a harsh look, which startles him enough to remain silent. “Tell the others to prepare to leave for West of the Border in two days.” Technoblade shuts his mouth, nodding.

“Thank you.” Ponk mutters, before leaving the room, closely followed by the Prince. Antfrost stands outside, eyes wide.

“What were you thinking!” He hisses to Technoblade, who ignores him, stomping past.

“We’re leaving in two days,” He repeats, “be ready.”

Manberg is a large city, not quite the size of the BadLands, but with a population much denser. Tommy looks up, from where he sits atop Spirit, to the looming golden gates. Flags wave at points all along the surrounding wall, and guards stand beside them, over the walls he can see the golden spires of Manberg’s impressive castle pointing high into the sky. 

“State your name and purpose for visiting Manberg.” A guard shouts down to them, monotonously, as if the dragons circling the sky above the small group aren’t clue enough. 

“Prince Theseus of the Antarctic Empire. I’d like to request an audience with the Emperor of Manberg.” Tommy calls back. Apparently that’s all it takes to be let inside, as the large gates slowly open up, revealing the city inside. Two rows of guards begin marching towards them, faces blank and spears held by their sides. Tommy can’t imagine their discomfort at wearing those black uniforms under the heat of the desert sun each day.

“Allow us to escort you to the Emperor, Your Majesty.” The guard at the front says. Tommy nods, and the knights immediately turn on their heel, facing the way they’d come from. Tommy leads Spirit forwards, closely followed by Tubbo and Ranboo, each on their own horse. Sapnap stays behind the three, tightly holding the reigns of his steed and eyeing the immense golden gates warily. He loosens his grip as the leather reins begin to burn.

Compared to the stark gold of their front door, Manberg’s actual city is much duller. The buildings are plain, made of stone and wood. People of all ages, who Tommy can only assume are homeless, sit at the sides of the streets, clothing dirtied and torn. Broken windows are boarded up and old planks of wood and other rubbish are scattered across the ground. The cries of a distressed baby come from somewhere in the crowds, the rough coughs of a sick man from somewhere else. People cower back at the sound of the harsh footfall of the knights, stumbling to the sides of the road to get out of their way. Some look up at the passing group staring at Tommy in mixes of fear and wonder. Ranboo and Sapnap receive a lot of frightened stares. At the screech of the dragons, who fly low over the rooftops, people cry out, collapsing to the floor and covering their heads. Tommy frowns, looking again to the lavish castle in the distance, and back down to the starving and scared citizens. An old man who can’t move aside fast enough is roughly shoved to the floor by a knight, no one moves to help him. Tommy just takes a deep breath and stares straight ahead.

Once they reach the castle, they dismount their horses, passing them over to a stable boy in torn clothing. He has sore marks around each wrist that Tommy recognises are from being chained. The boy keeps his head down and doesn’t say a word as he takes the reins of their horses and leads them away.

“This way.” A knight mutters, leading them up the pristine white steps and under a huge archway. At the top of the steps, it opens out into a large room with an open roof, sunlight streaming down and making the floor sparkle. At the end of the room, sits a large golden throne, and on it, the Emperor. The wealthy man sits back comfortably in his throne, a goblet in one hand and a large crown atop his head. He rests his chin on his hand as he watches the group enter, smirking. With the wave of his hand, a servant steps forwards.

“You stand in the presence of Emperor Schlatt of the Kingdom of Manberg.” The group bow their heads respectfully. Tubbo glances over at Tommy, who gives him a small nod of encouragement, before stepping forwards, hands clasped before him and head held high. 

“This Is Theseus Minecraft;” He begins, “the Unburnt, the Blood of the Dragon, Prince of the Antarctic Empire and second in line to the throne.” Schlatt leans forwards, peering at the Prince curiously.

“It’s an honour to meet the legendary King of Fire in the flesh, I’ve heard much about you. Welcome to the Kingdom of Manberg, Your Highness.” He drawls.

“Thank you, Your Grace, for allowing us to speak with you.”

“Well, how could I refuse the lost Prince who returned from the dead with three dragons and two inhuman companions?” Tommy barely stops from scowling. He catches Ranboo ducking his head from the corner of his eye.

“They’re hybrids, Your Grace, uncommon but just as human as you and I.” Tommy responds, forcing a fake smile onto his face. Schlatt’s smile grows and he leans back on his throne, downing the last of his drink as he eyes Sapnap and Ranboo.

“I see.” He holds his goblet out and the servant rushes forwards to refill it. “So, what is the reason for your visit, Prince Theseus?”

“As I'm sure you have heard from rumors, I’ve spent the first seventeen years of my life as a prisoner to Exdee, who were mistakenly believed to have been defeated. My aim is to return back to my home, the Antarctic Empire.” Schlatt listens silently. “But I cannot return without an army. My family is already fighting one war, if I go back, the army of Exdee will certainly follow.”

“And so you’ve travelled here.” Schlatt concludes.

“Yes.” Tommy replies. “I’ve heard you have an army for sale.”

“I do, ten thousand to be exact.” Schlatt brags, with a proud smile.

“That’s an impressive number.” Tommy says, raising his eyebrows.

“They’ve been in training for years and they’ve finally become the perfect army, completely loyal to whoever they serve. I’ll show them to you and if you’re still interested we can work out payment?” He suggests. 

“Lead the way.” Replies Tommy. Schlatt stands up from the thrones, moving down the steps towards them, confidently.

“Follow me, You Highness.” Tommy walks beside him, casting a quick glance at his friends, who give him unsure looks. They follow him back out of the castle and into the city, flocked by an excessive amount of knights. Tommy stares in shock as the citizens fall to their knees in a bow at the appearance of Schlatt, completely silent and shaking in fear. The Emperor doesn’t even spare them a glance, walking straight past. Tommy glares at the back of his head while he has the chance.

Soon they reach an empty street, walking to the end until it opens out into a large open area. It’s filled with rows and rows of knights. They stand completely still, at a glance they could easily be mistaken for statues. Schlatt leads them to the front of the knights. Tommy tries to meet their eyes, but the soldiers stare straight ahead.

“How many are here?” Tommy asks.

“This is just two thousand.” Schlatt answers, looking over the army proudly.

“Who are they loyal to?”

“Whoever owns them. Me currently, but the moment you buy them, they will be completely loyal to you.” Tommy watches as Schlatt’s men walk down the lines inspecting the knights. He cautiously looks at the whips they hold, their eyes searching for any excuse to use the weapon. Tommy swallows, throat dry.

“What can they do?” He asks. Schlatt grins.

“You,” He says, pointing to one of the knights, who immediately steps forward, standing to attention. “This way.” Tommy and the others follow Schlatt, along with the knight. They walk to the end of the square, under an archway and Tommy realises they’re in a fighting pit. At Schlatt’s command, the knight marches down the steps to the arena as they take seats around the edge. Tubbo cautiously reaches for Ranboo’s hand, the hybrid squeezing it comfortingly. A gate opens behind the knight, and two fighters walk out, one gripping an axe and the other a sword. Tommy clasps his hands to keep them steady as he watches the men walk towards the knight, immediately attacking. But with just a few swipes of his spear, the knight takes them both down in just a few seconds. Another three fighters are sent out.

“How do you get them so loyal?” Tommy asks, cursing his voice the slight quiver, glad that the Emperor seems too distracted by the fight to notice.

“Most of them were orphaned young, they have no one to care for, no one to return home to. No other purpose. With discipline and training, you can mold them into the perfect soldiers. Serving is their purpose.” Tommy looks back down to the arena, watching as the knight effortlessly cuts down more and more fighters. 

“Okay.” Tommy says, standing up. “I’ve seen enough, let it end.” He dismisses, trying to act indifferent. With a simple shout from Schlatt, the knight knocks his current opponent down and turns on his heel, marching back over to them as the fighters are dragged back through the gate.

“Tommy they’re not an army, they’re slaves.” Tubbo exclaims the minute the door shuts behind them. Schlatt had shown them to the guest quarters to give them some time to rest after their long journey. They were to discuss payment at supper.

“I fucking know that Tubbo.” Tommy replies, exasperated. Ranboo moves over to the window, looking over the city before wincing and looking away.

“I thought I could get on board with buying an army, but this isn’t just an army!” He yells, standing before Tommy. “You’re not seriously going to buy slaves are you?” He asks, quietly. 

“I'm not going to buy them!” Tommy assures.

“What?” Sapnap splutters, Tommy turns to look at him.

“I’m going to free them, all of them.” Tommy answers. “I decided that the moment we stepped into the city.”

“How are you going to do that?” Ranboo speaks up, looking at Tommy hopefully. Tommy shrugs, smirking.

“I have three fucking dragons and the family name Minecraft, I’ll work something out.”

Chapter Text

Tommy slowly walks down the dull streets of Manberg, Sapnap beside him and three of Schlatt’s knights close behind.

“Tubbo and Ranboo didn’t want to join you?” Sapnap asks, quietly. Tommy shakes his head.

“They preferred to stay in their rooms at the castle.” He replies, Sapnap nods in understanding. Tommy spots a young boy sitting at the edge of the street, a bruise around his eye and cheeks sunken, hair a matted mess. He carefully walks towards the boy, crouching down to his level. The boy looks up at Tommy with wide fearful eyes, arms half raised defensively.

“Here.” Tommy says softly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a shining gold coin. “Get yourself something to eat.” The boy’s mouth opens in surprise and he hesitantly reaches out a shaking hand. Tommy places the coin on his palm.

“Thank you, Your Highness!” He beams, clambering to his feet and giving the Prince a wobbly bow before running off down the market. Smiling, Tommy moves back over to Sapnap who tuts.

“Are you going to give away your money to every homeless person we encounter?” He mumbles. Tommy rolls his eyes, nudging the man.

“They need it more than we do, right now.” He replies.

“If you keep this up we won’t have any to offer Schlatt.” The hybrid scolds, gently.

“It’s just a few coins, Sapnap.” He mutters. “Clearly the Emperor doesn’t give a shit if his people are starving, but I do.” Sapnap glances back at the knights cautiously, throwing Tommy a warning look.

“Be careful, Theseus.” Is all he replies with.

“Your Highness?” Wilbur turns from where he’d been staring out of the window, to see Puffy smiling at him sadly. “Are you ready to go?” Wilbur sighs, looking down and straightening his cuffs.

“There’s still no word from the Border?” He asks. Puffy frowns, shaking her head.

“We haven’t received any crows from the Lord Commander or Prince Technoblade.” She confirms. Wilbur stares down at his hands angrily.

“Okay.” He replies, stiffly, “Let’s go then.” He follows Puffy out of his room, and they walk silently down the corridors. Stepping into the throne room, he sees Fundy standing beside a few guards and maids. Wilbur’s shoes click on the polished wood floors, alerting his son, who relaxes slightly, moving towards his father.

“Woah,” Wilbur coos, softly, “You look just like a king.” He reaches forwards to carefully adjust the circlet atop Fundy’s hair. Fundy smiles up at him, taking his hand as they walk to the castle’s entrance. 

In the courtyard sits a carriage pulled by two white horses, Jack Manifold opens the door for them as they make their way down the steps. Wilbur helps Fundy into the carriage before stepping in himself, listening to Jack calling out orders to the other guards. Soon enough the carriage rumbles against the gravel and they begin their journey into the city. For a while they’re quiet, and Wilbur just watches, amused as Fundy opens and closes his mouth, clearly debating whether or not to voice his thoughts. Apparently he decides to brave it.

“Is Uncle Techno going to be there?” He asks, and all at once Wilbur’s face drops, eyes squeezing shut. 

“I’m afraid not, it’s just going to be us.” He replies through gritted teeth, staring out the window at the citizens they pass by.

“Oh.” The boy deflates. “I miss him.”

“Me too.” He responds dully.

“It feels like he’s been gone for years!” Fundy continues. Wilbur turns away, hands curling into fists. “I asked Puffy and she said it's been over five months. So he should come back soon, right?”

“I don’t know, Fundy!” Wilbur snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose. The younger Prince blinks up at his father, surprised.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I have no idea if Technoblade is coming back because he hasn’t sent us a letter in months! I don’t want to hear about him anymore, okay?” Fundy nods, eyes watering. Sighing guiltily, Wilbur runs his hands down his face, opening his mouth to apologize, but the carriage comes to a stop and seconds after Jack appears at the door.

“We’re here.”

The ceremony is fairly short. It passes in a blur to Wilbur, who pointedly looks away from the corpse of his father in the middle of the church. Light streams in from the purple stained windows and Lords and Ladies bow their heads in respect to the deceased King. A priest mutters some words, prayers are said and repeated, and soon Jack is back at Wilbur’s side, gently nudging him back towards the church doors. Fundy sniffles quietly beside him, but when Wilbur rests a hand on his shoulder, the little boy pulls away, walking over to Puffy instead. Rows of L’Manberg’s citizens line the streets, watching silently as they leave the building. 

There’s a shrine outside the church, against one of the walls. On the wall a mural has been painted of King Philza, and below sit little gifts and tributes and blue ribbons waving in the breeze. Wilbur scowls at the sight, looking away.

Up ahead, they can see the carriage, and Wilbur picks up his pace pointedly staring ahead. At his side, Jack falters suddenly, looking at the crowds to their left, where a large group of people mutter to each other, throwing harsh glances at the Prince. Wilbur eyes them carefully as they get louder, snarling at him. One catches Wilbur’s eye, face twisting into hatred, and before the Prince can blink something is hurtling towards him. 

The object hits his shoulder and falls to the floor. It’s only a potato, the usual kind of thing to be thrown during a protest, and Wilbur raises an eyebrow at the harmless vegetable lying on the cobbles, but it seems that single action causes all hell to break loose. Jack jumps into action as suddenly more things come flying this way and that, the previous mutterings turning into shouts and screams. The guards immediately flock towards them, pushing people back.

“The carriage is just up ahead.” Jack yells, hand tightly gripping Wilbur’s bicep as he surges forwards. People run this way and that in a panic, the guards surround the royals, trying to keep the angered citizens at bay. Puffy cries out as something hits her, desperately trying to shield Fundy from the brawl. The younger prince clings onto her, eyes wide in fear.

“No king of mine.” Someone yells to Wilbur’s left. He catches all sorts of words, each seeming all the more absurd, trying to block it out as he focuses on Fundy up ahead.

“Sorcerer!”

“Murderer!”

“War bringer.”

He rushes forwards, scooping Fundy in his arms and shielding him from the shouts, a small rush of relief flowing through him. Jack ushers them towards the carriage but Wilbur halts as it moves, rocking back and forth before toppling over, horses whinnying in discomfort as thy’re dislodged. A group of people behind it cheer.

“I want to go home!” Fundy sobs in his ear. Wilbur holds him tighter and glowers at the citizens surrounding them, turning back to Jack.

“I want them all arrested.” He demands. Jack nods, turning and screaming to the guards desperately trying to control the angry mob. “Get us back to the castle.” A few guards rush ahead, knocking people out of the way. Wilbur quickly follows, pulling Fundy away from the hands that reach towards them, tugging at their clothes in attempts to get to them. Wilbur thanks the gods that the church is only a few streets from the castle as they fight their way back. The closer they get, the more guards find their way to them, and soon enough they’re ducking under the gate and into the courtyard. The angry shouts don’t stop, people bash against the gates and spit harsh words. Wilbur doesn’t truly breath again until the doors shut safely behind them in the throne room.

He slowly lowers Fundy to the ground, quietly checking him over. When he deems the boy to be physically okay, he looks over to the few guards with them, and Puffy, who heaves in ragged breaths. Her hair is a mess, dirt up her nice dress and a scratch on her cheek. 

“Go to the nurse, take Fundy.” Wilbur says, softly. Puffy just nods, gently taking Fundy’s hand and leading him out of the room. He turns to the guards who stand awaiting instruction. “I’ll be in my room, please inform me once those involved in the attack have been apprehended.” They nod, quickly leaving back through the doors. Once Wilbur is finally alone, his shoulders slump, and he drags trudges over to the throne at the end of the room, fingers hovering over the golden arm rest. He quickly draws them back, moving to seat himself on the floor beside the throne, leaning against the sturdy chair. Closing his eyes he tries to recall the feeling of his father brushing a hand through his hair, Technoblade on his other side, reading aloud some passage from a history book. Shaking his head, he closes his eyes, embracing the silence in the room.

Schlatt leans back in his chair, sipping his drink. “For two chests of gold I could possibly give you two thousand.” He bargains. Tommy shifts in his seat, smiling back at the man as he thinks.

“I have a ship as well.” He offers.

“I don’t need a ship.” The Emperor responds, bluntly. Tommy nods, glancing to the balcony.

“How much would you want for all ten thousand?” He questions.

“More than you’ve got I’m afraid, Your Highness.” The man tilts his head in mock sadness, reaching forwards for the jug on the table between them, to refill his drink. “You're not the only person interested, I’ve had a lot of other offers.”

“I see.” The Prince replies, gazing out at the blue skies through the large balcony. The room is at the highest point in the castle with a view stretching for miles, ocean on one side and land on the other.

“Although…” Schlatt begins, “There is one thing you could give me that no-one else can offer.” The man says, raising an eyebrow.

“And what might that be?” Tommy asks, turning back to meet the cocky Emperor's eyes. Schlatt grins widely.

“A dragon.” A silence stretches between them as he stares at Tommy intently, awaiting an answer.

“I’m afraid they’re not for sale.” The Prince says, eventually, flashing him an apologetic smile.

“That is a shame.” Schlatt sighs, “I really wish I could help you get back to your family, I hope you can understand why I can’t give you what you need. I can have a carriage and your horses prepared for your journey back to the docks.” The man moves to stand and Tommy jumps to his feet.

“Wait.” He snaps, the Emperor turns back to him, a questioning eyebrow raised. “Both chests of gold and a thousand men.” He bargains. Schlatt deflates, ever so slightly.

“It’s a deal.” He agrees reluctantly, holding out a hand. Tommy reaches out to shake it. “We’ll make the trade tomorrow morning.”

Wilbur follows Sir Jack along the rows of dimly lit cells. Men and women alike peer back at him through the bars, some scowling at the Prince, though others have enough sense to look afraid.

“These two.” Jack says quietly, stopping before two cells. “Killed three of our men.” Wilbur stares down at the men who meet his gaze with matching glares. One has the nerve to spit at the floor before the Prince.

“Keep them here for a fortnight as punishment for their crimes. Then, if they come forth to confess their sins in church before the gods, they may be released.” He commands. “And have those two executed on charges of treason and murder immediately.”  He growls coldly, feeling satisfaction building in his chest at the shocked looks on their faces.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Jack responds, bowing his head as Wilbur leaves.

The sun beats down on them as Tommy walks towards Schlatt, Tubbo and Ranboo following silently. He glances out over the identical rows of soldiers, hands firmly by their sides, backs straight and heads held high, before looking back to Schlatt. 

“One thousand men.” Schlatt says, gesturing to the rows with a smile. Tommy turns to Sapnap, and gives him a short nod. The hybrid quickly moves over to a wagon, reaching on and pulling off a heavy chest, lifting it up and carrying it to the Emperor, he walks back to retrieve the second, placing it down beside the other. Schlatt turns to one of his knights, Punz, Tommy recalls, who walks forwards and opens up one of the chests to reveal the gold inside. He opens his mouth to speak again, but a squawk rings out from above them, a dark shadow moving through the sky. Henry swoops down to Tommy, the large beat of his wings sending up clouds of dust. Schlatt and his knights splutter, blinking sand from their eyes.

“There you are.” Tommy murmurs to the dragon, who stands nearly as tall as the Prince, head brushing his shoulder in greeting. He turns to Schlatt who peers at the dragon with interest, a low growl rumbles from Henry’s throat as he stares back at the Emperor. 

“It is done then?” Tommy intercepts.  “They answer to me?” Schlatt reluctantly tears his eyes from the creature.

“It is done.” He confirms, eyes flicking down to the dragon beside the Prince once more. He moves to leave, knights following. Tommy waits for him to go, silently, watching as the Emperor whispers something to Punz, who nods and veers off in the other direction, disappearing into the city. Schlatt sends the dragon one last look before disappearing around the corner. He runs a hand along Henry’s brown and red toned scales, meeting Sapnap’s eyes, who stands tensely.

“Soldiers,” Tommy begins, loudly, turning to his new army, “March forwards.” They move as one, taking three paces forwards before coming to a halt the moment Tommy commands. “You have been slaves all your lives, treated as less than human. But from this day you are all free men, Emperor Schlatt no longer holds any power over you.” Henry flicks his tail, squawking.

“If you wish to leave, you will not be stopped, and no harm will come to you. You have my word.” Tommy declares, looking out over the soldiers and attempting to meet their eyes. No one moves. “But if you choose to stay and serve me, you would be treated well and protected. There will be no more punishments, no more chains, and should anyone harm you, they will answer to me.” The soldiers remain still. Tubbo and Ranboo share a nervous look. “Will you fight for me as free men?” Tommy waits anxiously. He catches movement from the corner of his eye, one of the soldiers reaching for his sword, Tommy holds his breath as the man grips the weapon, pulling it out with a ring and holding it out in the air. He hears another metallic scrape and turns to see another soldier doing the same and more and more, until all of them hold their shining swords out into the air, sunlight glinting off of them. Tommy watches with wide eyes before turning to Sapnap, who offers a nod and a small smile.

“At ease.” Tommy shouts, more gently. The soldiers lower their weapons. “For now, you are free to do as you please, I will call for you if I need you.” They falter at that, looking between each other awkwardly. “You are free men, your time is your own, you may send it as you like.” He waits for the first few men to disperse before turning and gesturing for his companions to follow. Henry pushes off into the air.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to buy them.” Tubbo immediately whispers to him.

“Do you trust me?” Tommy asks, Tubbo gives him a look, but nods. “My plan is still the same, I’m not done with Manberg yet. I had to buy them or we would have been forced to leave. I meant what I said, if they wish to leave and be free, I won’t stop them.”

“They would never have left, Theseus.” Sapnap interjects, “All they know is to serve.”

“I had thought so, but they still deserved the choice.” Tommy says. “And that offer will never change.”

“So what now?” Ranboo questions.

“Schlatt is up to something.” Tommy replies, “And the moment he slips up, I'll be ready.”

Chapter Text

Tommy walks down the pristine halls of the castle towards Schlatt’s study. Outside, Punz stands guard. Rather than knock on the door and announce the Prince’s presence as Tommy expects, the man steps in front of him, blocking his path.

“The Emperor is in a private meeting right now, come back later.” Tommy can hear muffled voices coming from the room ahead of him.

“I can wait.” Tommy replies, flashing him a smile. Punz edges closer and Tommy takes a cautious step backwards in return.

“The Emperor will be engaged for some time, let me escort you back to your chambers.”

“I can get there myself, thank you.” He mutters reluctantly, sparing a final look at the door before turning on his heel and disappearing down the halls, glancing back at the General with narrowed eyes.

It takes him ten minutes to find Tubbo and Ranboo.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” He calls as he weaves through the garden towards his friends. Tubbo smiles, patting the ground beside him. The guard that Tommy had asked to accompany them stands loyally beside the pair. 

“What are you doing out here?” He seats himself beside Tubbo, watching as Ranboo pets Shroud, the dragon looming over the hybrid as he demands attention.

“I don’t know.” Tubbo replies quietly, “Schlatt’s guards were following us around everywhere, blocking off some of the halls. This was the only place we could escape them.” Tommy frowns, looking back over to the doorway back into the castle, where a guard stands, not so subtly watching them.

“I don’t like it here.” Ranboo mutters, shoulders slumped. “We’re not welcome.”

“I know. I need to wait for the right moment, I can’t just fucking invade the city without a reason.” He mumbles lowly, laying back on the grass and squinting up at the cloudless sky.

“Why not? You’ve got dragons, we could just threaten to burn a few buildings and bam! Everyone will bow to us.” Exclaims Tubbo, grinning. Chuckling, Tommy shakes his head, resting an arm over his eyes.

“Fucks sake Tubbo.”

“No burning buildings.” Ranboo scolds, pointing a finger at the brunet.

“But it would be so much easier.” Tubbo whines. Opening his eyes at the sound of footsteps, Tommy looks over to see Sapnap. He sits up, smiling at the man.

“Hey.” Tommy greets.

“We’re not safe here.” Sapnap says, speeding over to them.

“What? Did something happen?” Asks Tommy. The hybrid shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder at the guard standing in the distance.

“No. But something’s not right. We can’t trust the Emperor.”

“Well no shit.” Tommy replies, rolling his eyes.

“Have you seen the way he looks at your dragons, Tommy?” The boy’s face drops and he glances at Shroud, who has settled his large head on Ranboo’s lap, eyes closed. “All Schlatt cares about is power, he built Manberg up from a small village to what it is today, one of the strongest and most heavily populated kingdoms in Esempii. The only other thing that could possibly give him any more power-”

“Is a dragon. I know.” Tommy snaps, standing and brushing off his clothes. “He’s not getting one of my dragons.”

“Schlatt is not an honest man, he’s gotten to where he is today through manipulating and using the right people. He’s dangerous, Tommy, and there are only four of us.”

“One thousand and four.” Tommy retorts.

“We can’t stay here, Tommy!” Sapnap barks, raising his voice.

“I said I’d free Manberg’s people and I fucking meant it. We’re not fucking leaving until I’ve freed them all.” Tommy insists. “You’re supposed to be on my side. Why won’t you fucking trust me?”

“I just want to get you back home, Theseus.” Sapnap blurts. Scowling, Tommy looks down, hands clenching tightly.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. If George hadn’t helped me escape I’d still be locked in that shitty prison of a room and you’d still be Dream’s obedient little follower!” Sputtering, Sapnap stumbles as the prince shoves past him, looking over at Tubbo and Ranboo who avoid his gaze. He sighs, watching the Prince walk back through the gardens and into the castle.

“You should put more trust in Tommy.” Tubbo says quietly. “He’s not going to change his mind so the least we can do is stand by him.” The pair stand and slip away, their guard following, leaving Sapnap alone.

Wilbur stands tall, shifting a little under the heavy weight of the large gowns he wears. He can hear murmuring on the other side of the door and tries to block it out, breathing in deeply and trying to slow his racing heart. The sky above them is cloudy and there’s a chill in the air, early for the time of the year. Wilbur recalls Puffy mentioning predictions of snow by the end of the month.

He looks up as the doors begin to open with an almighty creak, plastering on a straight face. The throne room is packed, filled with anyone and everyone deemed important, who all fall silent, turning to look at him. Beginning to walk, Wilbur clasps his hands and pointedly stares forwards, eyes landing on the throne at the head of the room. His footsteps are dulled by the red carpet leading up to the throne, but he still makes the most noise in the room, everyone seems to hold their breath as he passes.

Behind him Fundy and Puffy follow, and Jack Manifold behind them, dressed in his finest armour. A circlet sits atop Fundy’s head, but Wilbur’s remains bare. He steps up to the platform containing the throne and turns on his heel, facing the audience. Fundy and Puffy move off to one side and Jack the other. Next to Wilbur stands a man holding a pillow, atop which sits a crown, King Philza’s crown. It’s golden and shining, with green emeralds to decorate. A priest stands beside him, who bows his head to the prince before carefully moving to pick up the crown, coming to stand next to Wilbur.

“By accepting this crown you vow to protect the Antarctic Empire and its people from all that may seek to harm us, to maintain the laws of the Gods and to guide our country through darkness and light. Will you promise to uphold these vows for as long as you may rule?”

“I promise.” Wilbur declares. The priest steps in front of Wilbur and the Prince bows his head.

“With the Gods as our witness, I proclaim Wilbur Minecraft King of the Antarctic Empire.” Wilbur feels the weight of the golden crown as it is placed atop his head. The priest steps to the side and Wilbur looks up at the crowds once again. “Long may he reign!” Wilbur takes a step back, sitting on the throne as the crowd claps and cheers.

“Long may he reign!”

It’s dark when Tommy wakes up. At first he isn’t sure what had disturbed him but then comes the click of his door shutting. Remaining still, he listens to the light footsteps of people moving around, heartbeat speeding up. 

The moment he feels a hand on his shoulder, Tommy’s eyes snap open. He sits up, throwing a punch. The man he hits stumbles back with a muffled grunt, cupping at his jaw. The two intruders wear dark cloaks, hoods disguising their faces. The second man lunges immediately, catching his wrist in a painful grip. Tommy desperately kicks off his bedsheets, pulling against the man’s hold. He opens his mouth to scream when the first intruder reappears, clamping his hand over Tommy’s mouth.

They quietly wrestle Tommy out of the bed, fumbling about gracelessly as they try to restrain him. He frees a leg and kicks the man in the chest, pushing the other back into the bedside table, which bangs loudly against the wall connecting his and Ranboo’s rooms. Tommy hisses as he lands on the floor, pushing himself back up in an attempt to make a run for it, stumbling to his feet and making a break for the door. The hall ahead of him is empty, with no sign of the guards that were supposed to patrol all night. There’s no one there. 

He feels a hand fists in the back of his nightshirt and he’s yanked backwards, palms hitting the stone floor. A hit strikes his jaw and he gasps, vision flying. Hands are grabbing at him again and he looks around for something to help, coming up empty. He tries to elbow the one behind him, earning a pained grunt, and kicks the other in the chin, but the attacks do little to deter them.

A hand grabs his hair, making him yelp behind the hand covering his mouth suffocatingly. He watches helplessly as they push his wrists together, wrapping rope around them. They dig in painfully tight, and only grow tighter the more he struggles. 

Suddenly the man in front of him grunts in pain, releasing his hold on Tommy.

“Let him go!” Tommy turns, melting in relief as he spots Ranboo, gripping a silver candlestick of all things, holding it out threateningly. “Step back.” The men snarl at the hybrid, one stepping towards him. Ranboo stays put, wide eyes flicking to Tommy.

“Come on then, freak.” The man says, pulling out a knife and grinning at Ranboo.

“Put your weapon down.” Sapnap commands, appearing at the door, skin glowing in the dimly lit room. Little wisps of fire flick from his hands. He raises an eyebrow at the man, who hesitates before lunging past Ranboo towards Sapnap.

The blaze hybrid catches his wrist and the man cries out in agony, skin burning away. Twisting his wrist, Sapnap forces him to the floor, blade falling from his hand, before striking him hard across the face and knocking him out cold. As Sapnap turns back to Tommy, the other man quickly draws his own dagger, pressing it to Tommy’s throat. The room freezes.

“You can’t kill me.” Tommy mutters. “Dream needs me alive, right?” Tommy waits, listening to the man's quick breathing. Another blade clatters to the floor.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” He swears, hands held up placatingly. Tommy releases his breath. Sapnap walks forwards to restrain him while Ranboo collapses in front of Tommy, helping him to untie the ropes bounding his wrists. Rubbing the sore skin, Tommy looks up to Ranboo.

“Thanks.” He whispers. Ranboo smiles, before reaching forwards and carefully wrapping his arms around Tommy, pulling him into a gentle hug. Tommy returns it, burying his face in Ranboo’s shoulder.

“How did this even happen?” Ranboo asks, aloud. “Where are all the guards?”

“I don’t know.” Sapnap replies, grimly. Tommy looks up, watching the hard expression on the hybrid’s face. “What can you tell us about that?” He asks the man he’s got pinned to the floor. 

“Dream struck a deal with Emperor Schlatt, we were told the halls would be clear of guards tonight.” He explains. Tommy scowls, standing up.

“Let’s get Tubbo and wake up our knights, we’re going to need them.”

Wilbur stands at the doors opening to the plain lands behind the castle. He watches with a smile as Jack and Fundy spar with wooden swords on the green grass. Wilbur shivers at the dropping temperature, sparing them one last glance before retreating back into the warmth of the castle.

“Your Grace.” Puffy says, walking towards the King.

“Lady Puffy.” Wilbur replies.

“I thought you were still in the study.” 

“I needed a break.” Puffy nods silently. “There’s a lot to sort through.” She walks alongside him as they head down the halls.

“And there’ll be a lot more to come.” She warns. Wilbur groans, running his hands down his face.

“Have we heard anything else about Lord Quackity?” He asks, tiredly. Puffy frowns.

“Very little since the battle, Your Grace, I can’t be sure whether that’s good or not.” Huffing, Wilbur replies.

“He’ll be planning, he can’t use the tunnels again, so he’ll need a new plan, a smarter one.”

“Hopefully that’ll give us some time.” Puffy says. “All the tunnels leading in and out of the castle have been blocked off, there’s no way he’s getting through that way again. Our food sources are running a little low but we’ve sent crows to our allies. The protests are under control for now.” She lists. Wilbur nods, tensely. 

They turn a corner and head up the stairs, footsteps echoing up the turret. They reach the top and Wilbur pauses in the doorway, hand brushing Puffy’s arm. She turns to him, questioningly.

“What’s the matter, Wilbur?” She questions, softly.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors from Esempii.” Wilbur starts. “About a Prince with three dragons.” Puffy tilts her head, watching him cautiously.

“I have.” She says slowly.

“And do you believe them?” Her eyes flick away, eyebrows furrowing. She eventually meets Wilbur’s gaze again, a sorrowful expression on her face.

“People seem very convinced that the rumors are true.” She speaks, eventually.

“But do you believe them?” Wilbur presses.

“Wilbur, you’re the King now.” Puffy says, Wilbur tilts his head questioningly and Puffy sighs quietly. “Right now you’re needed here. But there’s no need to put your trust in rumors, Your Grace, you have thousands of men at your command, with the flick of your wrist you could have them across the seas collecting whatever information you might require.” She gives him a small smile before turning and walking away. Wilbur reaches a hand up to his head, brushing against the heavy crown sitting on his head. He looks out of the window beside him, with a perfect view of L’Manberg, Puffy’s words sinking in.

Tommy stalks down the hall, Sapnap by his side, Tubbo and Ranboo behind and eight armed knights surrounding them. The bruise appearing on his cheek pushes him to move faster, anger pulsing through him. The golden glows of the rising sun poke through the windows they pass and Tommy squints as they reach a large balcony. Ahead of them stands Schlatt, his own guards flocking to him.

“Your Highness.” The Emperor exclaims, plastering a fake smile on his face. “How did you sleep?” Tommy grits his teeth, eyes narrowed.

“Not very well actually. But I’m sure you know all about that.” He responds, sharply.

“Prince Theseus, I don’t follow.” Tommy turns to his knights, giving them a curt nod, and the two members of Exdee are brought out, wrists chained.

“Do you recognise these men?”

“I don’t know them.” Schlatt replies, confidently.

“But you recognise their cloaks and the embroidery, right? Of course you do after accepting a private audience with Dream. Do you deny this?” Schlatt raises an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware that was a crime, Your Highness.”

“So do you admit that you met with Dream despite knowing our history, thus disregarding the safety of your own guests?” Schlatt splutters for a moment, before recomposing himself.

“When I invited him into my castle, I had no intention of causing you or your companions harm-” He jumps as Henry suddenly caws in the sky behind him, swooping down and perching on the roof above Schlatt, peering down at him with sharp yellow eyes. “Whatever may have transpired last night, I played no part in.” He assures, once recovered. Tommy tilts his head, gesturing to Exdee’s men behind him.

“It seems my witnesses would disagree, they told me you ensured the halls would be clear of guards last night, leaving them easy access to the castle and therefore, to me.” 

“You would listen to these lowlifes over the word of an Emperor?” Schlatt challenges, stretching his arms out.

“Then tell me where your guards were all night, because they certainly weren’t patrolling the halls.” Schlatt scowls, eyebrows knitting together in frustration.

“I don’t know the reason for that.” He bites out.

“So it was your failure to control your guards that was the cause of last night's events?” Tommy counters. Falling silent, Schlatt glares at the Prince,eyes flicking around as though searching for an escape.

“Emperor Schlatt, I deem you unworthy of ruling Manberg.” Tommy says, coldy, “Revoke your titles and claim over Manberg here and now and declare me as Emperor of Manberg, or suffer the consequences.” Tommy finishes, glaring at the man. Schlatt scoffs.

“Who do you think you are?” He snarls. “I will not bow down to you on false charges, boy.” Tommy simply nods.

“Very well. Then you shall die a coward.” Tommy replies. “Henry.” The dragon in question tilts his head, trilling at the Prince. Schlatt looks up at Henry, the large dragon looming over him, before snapping his gaze back to Tommy apprehensively. 

“Dracarys.” Tommy catches Schlatt’s eyes widening in fear, he steps forwards, head turning to yell at his guards before he’s engulfed in flames. Henry’s huge wings stretch out and the orange flames shooting from his mouth roar while the man before him begins to burn. His screams ring out loudly and his guards immediately draw their sword defensively. Tommy’s knights draw their own in retaliation. The Prince watches silently as the Emperor is slowly reduced to ashes, soon falling in a heap on the floor, fire still licking at his charred body. Henry steps back, screeching loudly, sharp teeth bared.

“Lower your weapons.” The guards don’t listen, shifting in fear, unsure what to do. Sapnap shifts closer to Tommy, cautiously. “You stand before the new Emperor of Manberg, lower your weapons.” Tommy repeats, more firmly. The guards look between each other. Ranboo and Tubbo glance at each other nervously. Tommy turns at the clatter of a sword being thrown to the floor. Ranboo and Tubbo squeeze each other's hands, watching in awe as the guards throw down their weapons and bend down to one knee, heads bowed. Henry pushes off of the ledge, flapping down and landing in front of Tommy, who pets the dragon's head with a smile.

“General Punz.” The man in question looks up at Tommy with an indecipherable look on his face. “Have your men arrest all the Lord and Ladies of Manberg. I want the chains struck off of every slave and all of the citizens gathered in front of the castle. No-one will be harmed. Do you understand?” Punz bows again.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” With the flick of his wrist the guards follow him out of the room. Tommy turns to Sapnap.

“Go with them.” He says, “Ensure they follow my instructions.” 

“I will, Your Majesty.” He answers, hiding a smile before leaving after Punz. Turning around, he comes face to face with Tubbo and Ranboo, who grin at him. Tommy quickly dismisses his knights, who take away Exdee’s men.

“That was amazing! You're the Emperor now.” Tubbo shouts once they’re out of sight. Chuckling, Tommy steps towards them, Tubbo reaches forwards, squeezing his hand.

“What if the people of Manberg don’t accept me?” He rambles.

“They will.” Ranboo says, confidently. Tubbo nods.

“You’ve got this, Your Majesty .” Tommy laughs.

“Thank you, my trusted counselors.” He replies, jokingly as they head back into the castle.

Technoblade stands near the front of the ship, staring across the frigid ocean at the familiar camp ahead. Distantly he can hear Sam shouting out orders. The loud clink of the chains sound as they lower the anchor. Technoblade recalls when they’d first boarded the ships, how they’d hauled the anchor up, covered in a block of ice and let down the sails, with which had fallen a heap of snow. The untouched deck of the ship was slippery with ice and snow, and it took three men to break the ship’s wheel from it’s frozen position. 

The air is still, the clouds dark, and yet there are no fires in the FarLanders’ camp. Once they’ve come to a stop, Technoblade helps the others lower the lifeboats. Lord Sam selects a group of ten to go with him to the camp. Technoblade and Antfrost go in one boat together, Ponk goes with Sam. They reach the makeshift dock and climb out of the boats, FarLanders watch them cautiously.

“Prince Technoblade.” A familiar FarLander greets.

“This is Lord Commander Sam.” Technoblade grunts, gesturing to the other man. There’s an awkward silence as the two nod to each other in acknowledgement. 

“King Eret is waiting for you, this way.” The group follow him though the camp towards the familiar tent. The FarLander holds back material, creating an entrance. Sam steps through and the others move to follow but he holds out a hand.

“I’d like to speak with him alone.” Sam grunts. Technoblade opens his mouth to argue when Eret himself appears.

“It’s okay, I think that’s a good idea. We have much to discuss.” He holds a hand out to the Lord, “I’m King Eret, it’s good to make your acquaintance.” Sam shakes his hand, staring into the others colourless eyes. Technoblade raises an eyebrow, turning to Ponk who shrugs. “Please, come in.” Technoblade watches the material fall back in place behind them.

“I hope this goes well.” Antfrost huffs. Technoblade spares the tent another look before walking over to a makeshift seating area.  Antfrost sits beside him, tilting his head at Ponk, who easily begins conversing to some of the FarLanders,.

“Ponk told me about the animal people, it’s weird seeing it in person though.” He whispers to the Prince.

“Hybrids have been described in the history books and lots of myths, it’s not that hard to believe.” Technoblade hums. 

“Not everyone grew up with reading lessons and enough books to last a lifetime.” Antfrost points out, earning a shrug from the Prince. 

A sudden shout catches their attention and they stand, looking around and spotting a crowd forming. Technoblade pushes past people to see what the yelling is about,and finds a bear hybrid and one of their own men arguing with each other.

“Hey, get back.” Technoblade interrupts, stepping forwards and pulling the man back from the FarLander. “What’s going on here?”

“Of course you’re taking the savage’s side.” He sneers. “You’ve brought us out here into the enemy’s den, on some cry of dead men walking. Your wild goose chase is going to get us all killed, Your Highness.”

“You haven’t seen them. This goes beyond whatever problems you have with the FarLanders-”

“FarLanders? You’re even talking like them.” He exclaims, Ponk steps out of the crowd.

“Look around man, they have children here. It’s our responsibility to help them.”

“What are you? The Prince’s lackey?” The man spits, pushing Ponk backwards. “You’ve been following him around like it since he got here.”

“I’ve seen the White-Eyes myself.” Ponk replies, “You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

“Back off.” Technoblade says, putting a hand on the man's shoulder and pushing him away from Ponk.

“Don’t think you can order me around just because you’re a Prince.” He snaps, pushing Technoblade’s hand away. “I don’t report to you.”

“Then step back and wait for Lord Commander Sam to come to his decision.” Technoblade retorts. The man glares, shoving past him and stalking off. Technoblade rolls his eyes. 

Thunder rolls in the distance, he looks up at the sky at the approaching back clouds. Small snowflakes silently drift through the air. Ponk heads back towards the tent, and the Prince follows.

At that moment Sam and Eret reammerge from the tent. Lord Sam turns to them, face as stoic as usual.

“Prepare the lifeboats, we’ll get the women and children to the ships first.” He says. Ponk breathes a sigh in relief, throwing Technoblade a smile as they head back to the docks. 

With encouragement from Eret, the FarLanders begin moving towards the boats, lifting children into them and dropping in supplies. Technoblade pushes off the first full boat, watching it sail across the cold waves towards their ships floating in the distance.

A sudden clap of thunder sounds overhead. The land grows darker. Beside Technoblade, a fox hybrid abruptly straightens in alert, her ears flicking about. He watches her face morph into one of worry as a frigid wind blows past them. She turns, peering across the camp at the hills past the wall, where a snowy fog builds. Another low rumble resonates in the sky while the fog begins to slowly descend the hill towards them. Others turn to the sound, falling quiet.

“We need to leave.” Eret murmurs, Lord Sam looks away from the fog, and turns to him questioningly.

“What’s happening?”

“They’re here.” Technoblade growls, a hand twitching towards the hilt of his sword. Through the fog at the top of the hill a dark mass grows. Technoblade can picture the skeletal figures standing in waiting.

“We need to leave.”

Chapter Text

“We need to leave!” Eret repeats, louder. 

All at once, a panic breaks out. The FarLanders make a dash for the small lifeboats, shoving each other out of the way. Technoblade tries to keep people back, but the terrified crowds push past, some even wading into the frozen waters. The thunder cracks again and Technoblade looks back to the mass on the hill. In an instant they begin pouring down towards the wall.

“If they get through that wall, we’re all dead.” Technoblade barks. Lord Sam looks between Technoblade and the undead army before his face hardens. He pulls out his sword, turning back to the docks.

“Men of the Border, with me!” Technoblade follows as the Lord Commander begins pushing through the panicked crowds, moving towards the wall. Another clap of thunder rumbles overhead. They storm back through the camp, weaving past the tents, the wooden wall growing closer. When they reach the wall, groups of FarLanders stand poised and ready, weapons in hand. Technoblade can hear the heavy footfall and inhuman growls on the other side of the wall. The gate has been secured but Technoblade fears how well it will hold against an army like this.

“Only netherite will kill them.” A FarLander mutters. Those wielding iron weapons shift on their feet nervously. 

“Cutting them apart will still slow them down.” Another reasons, face stiff. Technoblade keeps his gaze on the wall, blinking snow from his eyes, the little flakes steadily growing larger.

“They’re close.” Antfrost whispers. Ponk gulps, tightening his grip on his netherite dagger. The footfall grows and grows, until it's the only sound they can hear. And then the wall jerks with a loud thump, hundreds of bodies slamming up against the wood. It sways unsteadily, and they watch frozen in fear, staring at the gate, waiting for it to fall.

“Bows!” Someone screams. Technoblade glances up to see a skull ponking over the top of the tall wall, bony fingers scrambling at the wood as it heaves itself up. A FarLander shoots it down but two more appear in its place. 

“They’re breaking through.” Ponk warns, rushing forwards. Rotted parts of the wall break away as the army punches and tears through it, glimpses of white eyes peer through the gaps. Technoblade follows after his friend, nearing the wall and plunging his sword into the skull of a White-Eye attempting to climb through the hole it’s made. It’s body slumps back and another appears, Technoblade slicing through its decayed head. Arms break through the wall, FarLanders quickly cutting them clean off, leaving them to squirm on the ground. 

The first White-eye quickly makes it over the wall, falling into the snow in a heap, instantly picking itself back up and throwing itself at the nearest person. More follow, tipping over the wall like a waterfall. With a yell, Technoblade slices through the torso of a White-eye, abandoning the wall to help a FarLander. He yanks the dead being off of the man, pushing his sword through its chest with ease. Beside him, Ponk desperately plunges his dagger in the skull of a White-Eye. Their eyes briefly meet before he hears a growl beside him and turns away. More FarLanders join the fight. Around him people are ambushed by the White-eyes, FarLanders and their own men alike. Skeletal fingers scratch at skin and teeth tear through flesh.

“Fall back.” Sam bellows, realising how suddenly they’d been overwhelmed by the growing number of White-Eyes pouring over the wall. The wall creaks unstably as it slowly rocks back and forth. Technoblade stumbles back with the rest of them, crying out as he cuts through dead man after dead man. He moves expertely, taking most down with just one strike, others aren’t so lucky. 

He can hear Antfrost and Sam shouting, sparing a second to turn to them. Antfrost clashes swords with a White-Eye, blood dripping down his cheek. The monster swings its sword dangerously, teeth snapping at the man. Technoblade rushes towards him and yanks the collar of the dead man backwards, burying his sword into its rotted flesh. Antfrost nods his thanks.

“The wall won’t hold.” He says, Technoblade follows his gaze back to the swaying wooden wall. At that moment something large crashes up against it on the other side. The wood cracks and splinters, fragments flying into the snow. There’s another loud bash, and a horn pierces through the wood.

“It’s a ravager.” Technoblade realises, slicing through another White-Eye. He rushes past Antfrost, cutting down the dead in his way, heading towards Sam. The Commander breathes heavily, eyes wide in an adrenaline filled haze, his head snaps to Technoblade.

“We need to get back to the ships, this is a fight we won’t win.” The Prince shouts. There comes a crash and a deep roar, the pair turn to the wall that’s been torn apart by the ravager, with even more White-Eyes pouring through, clambering over each other in a frenzy. A swing of the beast’s head sends three FarLanders through the air.

“Retreat!” Sam barks “Get to the boats.” Those left turn on their heels, sprinting through the camp. Somebody trips, if the shocked yelp is anything to go by, Technoblade grits his teeth and keeps moving, even as pained cries echo behind them. 

Up ahead, there are still groups of FarLanders waiting for boats to the ships, some desperately risking wading through the frigid water. Something tugs on Technoblade’s sleeve, without a second thought he spins around, cutting the White-Eye in two. 

The camp is in ruins, tents torn down, undead storming every corner, dead collapsed in the snow. The deep crimson red of blood stains the once pristine, white ground. 

“We have to get to the boats.” Ponk shouts, appearing beside him. The two run together, nearing the docks. Technoblade can see Eret helping his people into the lifeboats. 

Near them a FarLander shrieks fearfully, a White-Eye tackling her to the ground. Her hands push at the dead thing’s shoulders as it snaps its teeth at her. Before Technoblade can say a word Ponk breaks off in her direction. He moves to follow but his path is intercepted by the rush of White-Eyes. He lifts his sword, swinging at the cluster of undead.

“Ponk!” Antfrost yells, from somewhere up ahead. The other ignores them, reaching the FarLander, lifting the netherite dagger up and plunging it in the White-Eye’s neck.

“Come on.” Calls Sam, realising the three had stopped. Ponk helps the FarLander up to her feet, pushing her forwards. Cutting down another White-Eye, Technoblade tries to get to them. 

The blade comes out of nowhere, slicing a gash down Ponk’s back faster than anyone could react. The man’s eyes widen as he stumbles. He pushes the FarLander forwards yelling for her to keep going. Antfrost is shouting something from behind Technoblade, struggling to keep up with the Prince. Ponk turns to them, face sickly pale.

“Go!” He cries, turning and barely blocking another strike from the White-Eye, dagger knocked from his hand. “Get to the boats!” He falls to the floor, the creature falling on top of him, teeth immediately tearing into his neck. Technoblade blindly continues towards him, but suddenly Sam grabs his arm, face stricken.

“We have to go!” He orders, harshly pulling Technoblade away. “That’s an order!” He says when the other doesn’t listen. The Prince blinks away from Ponk and tugs his arm free, storming towards the dock, face twisted into a deepfrown. Eret is moving away from the docks, towards them.

“Do you swear that my people will be let beyond the Border?” He asks Sam. The Lord Commander nods, taking down another White-Eye.

“I swear it.” Eret looks away, white eyes looking beyond them at the undead army.

“Get everyone onto those ships, I’ll do my best to hold them off.” He says, calmly.

“What do you mean? We have to leave.” Technoblade hisses.

“Go.” Eret replies softly, eyes beginning to glow. “Now.” Technoblade looks to Sam before the two move past Eret, Technoblade gives him a short nod, before breaking into a sprint again. They finally reach the dock, Antfrost already helping the last of the people into the boats. Technoblade clutches his sword, preparing to fight the oncoming White-Eyes when there comes a low rumble. Without warning spikes of earth shoot up from the ground, redolent of stalagmites, spearing through the undead and blocking their path to them. Back in the camp Eret stands with trembling arms outstretched, eyes glowing. 

All at once, as though following a command, the White-Eyes stop. For a moment Technoblade thinks that’s the work of Eret as well, but then ahead of the King, they step apart, and another figure walks forwards. He has brown hair and pale skin as white as his eyes. The outfit he wears is ancient and worn but reminiscent of once expensive leathers and fabrics. He stops a little ways ahead of the King. Eret slumps, arms lowering and body shaking as ragged, exhausted breaths leave him. The figure stares impassively. 

Behind Technoblade, the dock is nearly empty, each lifeboat filled with people. Lord Sam comes up beside him. He looks ready to say something but pauses, following the Prince’s gaze.

“Brother,” They can hear Eret call, “Stop this, let my people leave. Please.” A silence stretches out but then the figure's eyes start to glow. The White-Eyes heads snap to Technoblade and Sam, thousands of empty eyes staring at them.

“Fine.” Eret says gravely, raising his arms once again. All at once the chaos resumes. The stalagmites shaking and beginning to crumble as their powers fight against one another. The White-Eyes move, racing towards Technoblade and Sam who instantly dash for the boats, pushing off of the dock. The lifeboats rocks dangerously but thankfully stay afloat, drifting away from the shore. The White-Eyes stop at the edge of the land, and they breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Eret collapses to his knees, the glowing in his eyes dimming, the stalagmites collapse. The figure walks towards him, pulling a netherite sword from his belt. Technoblade watches helplessly as the blade slices through the air, watches Eret fall to the ground, unmoving.

The lifeboat slowly drifts away from the overrun camp. Herobrine weaves through his stationery army, stepping onto the dock and walking to the very edge. Technoblade stares into his white eyes, the figure seems to return his stare. He tenses as his eyes begin to glow again, arms raising as Eret’s had done minutes before. And then all across the camp, the bodies of their fallen men begin to twitch, and when their eyes open, all of them are white. 

The hundreds of dead bodies clamber to their feet. 

Herobrine's army grows.

Chapter Text

“Why don’t you speak on my behalf?” Tommy suggests, wringing his hands together nervously. Rolling his eyes, Tubbo nudges him, fondly.

“You can do this Tommy!” He replies, smiling widely despite the nerves thrumming through his veins. Ranboo nods encouragingly. The confused murmuring of Manberg’s people steadily grows as they fill the streets. Punz comes into view, walking swiftly towards the trio, closely followed by Sapnap.

“The city is gathered, Your Grace.”

“Thank you.” Tommy responds, stiffly. The moment the man turns away he deflates, frowning and looking towards the noise of his people. Sapnap approaches him, resting a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, stand straight, head up. You're an Emperor.” Tommy nods, rolling his shoulders and standing taller. “Dream was preparing you for this. You can do it, Theseus.”

“Yeah.” He says shortly.

“Come on, don’t keep them waiting.” Tommy reluctantly follows the man. He squints as the bright sun hits, and the huge crowd below comes into focus. He stands at the very top of the steps, overlooking the hundreds of citizens gathered before the castle. He watches them shift on nervous feet, peering up at him fearfully. His hand twitches, aching for the familiar presence of his dragons, the security they provide. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sapnap shift, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. With a small smile, he focuses his attention back on the crowd.

“My name is Theseus Minecraft, of the Antarctic Empire.” He begins, the moment he pauses the silence seems all the more loud. “People of Manberg, I speak to you all as your new Emperor. Schlatt is dead, I had him executed.” A murmur builds, people whispering to one another, it’s almost worse than the suffocating silence. Tommy wishes he knew what they were saying.

“He was a wilful ruler who earned his title through the demise and downfall of others.” He continues, “He had no regard for the safety of you and your families. He was unfit to be your Emperor.” 

“Under my rule, things will be different. From this day forwards, Manberg will no longer have any involvement in the slave trade. I have had all the Lords and Ladies of Manberg arrested on charges of slavery, they will be given the opportunity to defend themselves in court before the Gods, those found guilty of any such crimes will be punished as necessary. And those of you who wish will have the choice to come forward as witnesses.” 

“As your Emperor I vow to do all in my power to help and protect each and every one of you. I will stay here until I find another worthy to rule your city. If you will allow me to.” He waits with bated breath, under the scrutinizing gaze of the citizens. They glance between each other in what looks like confusion until a man at the front of the crowd lowers himself to his knees, bowing his head, and the woman beside him follows suit. 

One by one they drop to their knees, hands pressed to the dusty ground. Tommy turns to Sapnap who nods with a small smile, and then to Tubbo and Ranboo, who watch the crowd with matching frowns. Pursing his lips, he looks back to the citizens, all on their hands and knees, and descends down the steps.

Two of his knights raise their spears towards the people as he reaches the bottom. Tommy quickly gestures for them to stand down, and moves past them. He crouches down before a young girl, who meets his eyes fearfully.

“Stand.” He whispers, holding out a hand. She gingerly reaches out and grasps his hand, and he urges her to her feet. Turning to the man beside her, he offers him his hand. “Stand, all of you.” He pleads. Taking his hand, the man rises to his feet. A little boy carefully begins to stand. Tommy smiles warmly at him, stepping into the crowd and offering his hand to others. Gradually they all get back to their feet, crowding around him. Some reach out, gentle fingers brushing his shoulders. None make any move to hurt him. 

Someone pushes through the crowd, towards him, he walks barefoot and his clothes are torn, the skin of his arms and face are littered with scars, neck and wrists bruised. A slave, Tommy guesses. The man walks right up to him on shaky feet, coming to a stop directly before him. Tommy watches silently as the man reaches for him, hesitantly. He lifts his hands, and the man is quick to hold them on his own. He looks up at the Emperor with teary eyes.

“Thank you, Emperor.” He warbles.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me.” Tommy stammers.

“Thank you.” The man insists. The others around them move closer, nodding their agreement.

“Thank you!” They echo, steadily growing louder. Tommy allows himself to smile as people call out to him.

Holding his hood firmly over his head, Wilbur easily weaves through the bustling streets. The air is cold, the beginning signs of winter making themselves known in the frost creeping up windows and the grey clouds blocking the white sun. Slipping down an alley, Wilbur spies the place he’s looking for. He passes a young boy digging for scraps of food in the bins, flicking a shining gold coin his way and flashing him a small smirk before walking up to the rotted wood door. He stares for a moment, hoping he was in the right place, before forcing the door open with a few harsh shoves. 

The wood scrapes across the cold stone floor as he closes it behind him, and he looks around, eyes slowly adjusting to the dimly lit back room. He breathes in the familiar smell of freshly baked foods, a nostalgic feeling building in his chest. He hears the shuffling of feet and a familiar laugh as someone nears. Soon enough a familiar face walks through the archway and into the room.

The woman gasps, freezing in place. Quickly lowering his hood, Wilbur looks her up and down.

“Hello Nikki.” He greets, stiffly.

“Wilbur…” Nikki starts, softly, staring in disbelief. She gulps, mouth dry. “I’m so sorry about your father.” She rasps.

“Don’t-” He replies quietly, “I’m not here to talk about that. I came here to give you an offer.” Nikki’s eyes widen at his bluntness, at a loss for words.

“What do you mean?” She stutters.

“Do you want to come back to the castle?” He asks, sharply. She tenses slightly, face turning more serious.

“Yes.” She responds, her voice quivering.

“Then I want you to do something for me, to prove your loyalty.” He says, watching her nod hastily.

“Of course,” She replies, “anything.”

“I want you to take the next ship to Esempii.” She tilts her head, meeting his eyes, confused.

“Why?” She questions, quietly.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the rumors that Prince Theseus lives.”

“I- I have.” She confirms, nodding slowly, eyes softening.

“I want you to find him and bring him home.” Wilbur explains, “If you do this for me, I'll allow you to return to your position at the castle, all crimes forgiven.” He stares at her expectantly, clasping his hands tightly before him. Nikki straightens, meeting his eyes.

“I’ll find him.”

Technoblade stares out of the window beside him, watching the angry swirls of snowflakes whip about the courtyard. He draws his eyes away, tuning back into the conversation.

“There’s an abandoned village two miles from here, the Pillagers can start up a camp there.” Sam is saying.

“There won’t be enough space for all of them.” Antfrost mutters, slumping further into the chair he’s sat in.

“They can put up more tents, they’ve lived like that before, they can manage now.” Sam dismisses.

“We can’t just abandon them, they’ll need food, supplies.” Antfrost retorts, rubbing his forehead, frustrated.

“We already saved them, we don’t owe them anything else. There are more pressing matters to focus on than Pillagers.” Sam spits, frowning deeply.

“They’re our people now, part of your responsibility is to protect them.”

“What do you want me to do? We hardly get enough food here for ourselves!”

“They could find work in the neighbouring villages?”

“What villagers in their right mind would accept Pillagers in their village?” Antfrost falls silent.

“Then what do we do?”

“We can always send more of our men back into the FarLands to hunt in the forests.” Technoblade suggests. The pair turn to him.

“We can’t send people back out there!” Antfrost exclaims, “What if the White-Eyes got to them?”

“They wouldn’t go far, and we have people at the top of the Border, they can keep watch.” Technoblade says, 

“It sounds risky to me.” 

“It’s that, or let people starve. We’re not getting food anywhere else, the rest of the country is at war.” Sam is quiet, staring down at the floor as he thinks. “We could let the Pillagers stay at the old forts along the Border, they can help keep watch for the White-Eyes.”

“Will they help us?” Antfrost questions.

“They will, we’re all fighting the same war.” Technoblade replies.

“Okay, we’ll talk to them.” Sam agrees, tiredly. “Now we have to work out what we’re going to do about the White-Eyes.”

“What do you mean?” 

“An army that size could wipe out the entire Empire if they get through the Border.” Technoblade says, grimly. “So we have to start preparing for when that happens. Because it will.”

“If they get through that Border, there’s no saving us.” Antfrost murmurs, chuckling humorlessly. Sam frowns.

“We have to try.”

Fundy stumbles back, struggling to block Jack’s sword with his own. As the blades clash together loudly once again, Fundy’s is knocked from his hand, falling onto the frosty grass. Jack brings his sword to Fundy’s throat, smiling victoriously.

“And I win again.” He boasts happily, lowering his sword and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“This is stupid!” Fundy exclaims, crossing his arms, breathing heavily.

“What do you mean?” Jack asks, “You're getting better!”

“You’re stronger than me, I’m never going to win.” He snaps in return. Jack rolls his eyes.

“Do you want me to let you win? You think when you’re fighting on the battlefield your enemies will go easy on you?”

“We’re not on a battlefield now.” Fundy replies, scowling.

“Okay.” Jack challenges, sheathing his sword and crossing his own arms. “What if Quackity breaks into the castle again?” Fundy tenses. “Is that more realistic for you?”

“Shut up.” Fundy mumbles, looking away, eyes stinging.

“You think Quackity will let you and your father win?” He pushes.

“Shut up!” The boy yells, hands clenched tightly in frustration.

“You wanted to learn to fight, so pick up your sword and fight me.” Jack orders, spreading his arms. Fundy bends down and grips the handle of his sword before throwing himself at Jack, who quickly pulls his own sword, smirking as he blocks the Prince’s attacks.

Tommy runs his hands down the golden arms of Manberg’s throne, shifting in the plush seat. He shuts his eyes, enjoying the quiet while he can. The days that had since he’d become Emperor had passed in a blur of unending work and responsibilities. This was the first moment of silence he’d had in what felt like forever.

“Your Grace.” Of course, it couldn’t last forever. He opened his eyes to see Sapnap walking into the room, footsteps echoing around the bare hall.

“What is it?” He asks, sitting up straighter.

“Nothing,” Sapnap is quick to reassure. “All of today's matters are sorted, you should get some sleep.” Tommy sighs.

“What about all the homeless that will sleep on the streets tonight, yet again.” He mutters.

“You’re doing your best for them.” Sapnap insists, walking up the steps, towards the Emperor.

“It’s not enough.”

“These things take time, Tommy.” He replies. “Hundreds of the homeless have already gotten a meal today because of the food stands you’ve set up.”

“Maybe I’ll open up the throne room as a shelter.” He ponders, looking around the large room.

“We can think about that tomorrow. Come on, I’ll escort you to your chambers.” Reluctantly, Tommy moves up from the throne. As he stands, a wave of exhaustion hits him. Sapnap doesn’t say anything when the teen leans against him, instead resting an arm around his shoulders as they leave the room.

“You have everything you need, you know. Money, ships, an army… You can go back to the Antarctic Empire whenever you want.” Sapnap reminds him. 

“I know, I want to go, I do.” Tommy replies quietly. “But I made this mess, I have to fix it.”

“It’s not a mess, Tommy, you liberated the city!” Sapnap insists, “But I understand why you want to stay, I just- Dream’s still after you, and your family is at war…”

“I know. I know we don’t have time for this, but I couldn’t live with myself if I just left Manberg behind. Anyone could reclaim it. And they could be worse than Schlatt.” He rambles, frowning.

“Well, you don’t have to do everything alone, okay? Tubbo and Ranboo want to help you, all you have to do is ask.” 

“I’ve already dragged them into so much shit-”

“If they wanted to leave, they’d have left. They’re your friends Tommy, let them help you.” The two stop outside Tommy’s door. Sapnap sighs. 

“Get some sleep, Your Grace.” Tommy nods, giving the man a small smile, before disappearing into his room.

Chapter Text

“No Tommy?” Tubbo asks, walking into the room and taking a seat beside Ranboo. The orange glow of the morning sun pours through the window, the buzz of the waking city drifting through. The hybrid shakes his head in reply, pushing the food around his plate with his fork. 

“He said something about a meeting.”

“Right.” Tubbo mutters, leaning forwards to serve himself some of the food laid out on the table. “Did he at least have something to eat first?”

“I’m not sure, he was awake before me. I tried to ask him but-”

“He’s too stubborn.” Tubbo grumbles, rolling his eyes. Ranboo smiles sadly.

“He’s got a lot to deal with right now.”

“And we could help him if he’d just fucking talk to us!” Tubbo complains, slouching in his seat and glaring at his food. “I miss when it was me and him, no offence. We’d talk about finding his family together, just the two of us against the world. But now he’s always busy, he doesn’t have any time for us.”

“Tubbo-”

“I know it’s selfish, he’s a Prince - an Emperor now - I don’t know what I was expecting, I just…”

“I know, I miss him too.” Ranboo says quietly, “The best thing we can do is stay and be ready when he needs us.” He nods to himself. Sighing, Tubbo slumps to the side, resting his head on the taller teen’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” He mutters.

Wilbur stares out across the fields to the South. L’Manberg sits on a large hill, the castle being at the very top. Since he was a child he always loved how far in every direction you could see from the balconies. He shivers at the chill in the air, looking up to the grey clouds blocking the sun. He wonders when Quackity in the South will begin to feel the bitter air of the approaching winter. It’s predicted to be one of the coldest in years, the snows from the North could last for months. It’s not ideal for a country at war. There had already been countless discussions of food rationing. 

Shaking his head, Wilbur turns away, heading back into the warmth of the castle. As he shuts the balcony doors behind him, the sound of hurried footsteps reaches his ears. Lady Puffy is walking towards him, a letter grasped in her hand.

“A letter, Your Grace, from the Border.” She reveals, holding out the paper. 

“Thank you.” Wilbur says, accepting the letter and carefully splitting the seal. He tries not to let his disappointment show as he reads the first words, not recognising the handwriting.

“Is it from-”

“No, it’s from the Lord Commander.” Wilbur interrupts, trying to keep the bite from his voice. Puffy falls silent, choosing to stare down at her hands. She looks to be trying to decide whether to leave him to read it alone, or to stay in hope of finding out its contents. Ignoring her presence, Wilbur skims through the words.

Your Grace,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, though I regret that I write to you bearing unpleasant news. In our attempt to uncover the cause of the recent Pillager raids, we have discovered a more pressing matter. Though it may seem difficult to believe, an army more dangerous than any other has revealed themselves. The army of the White-Eyes are coming for us all, and the Men of the Border cannot stop them alone. This is no ordinary army, and no ordinary sword will take them down, I have seen it with my own eyes. From what we can gather, their army consists of at least a hundred thousand, and with each man they kill, their army grows. To defeat them we need all the help we can find. I hope that you will aid us in this war, and send whatever supplies you can spare.

Sincerely,

Lord Commander Sam

“This is nonsense.” Wilbur sniffs, folding the letter back up. 

“May I read it?” Puffy asks, hesitantly. Rolling his eyes, Wilbur passes her the letter.

“You may burn it, once you’re done with it.” He dismisses, turning and walking away down the hall. Frowning, Puffy let’s him leave, before opening up the letter and beginning to read.

Technoblade carefully walks the corridors lined with FarLander’s. The snow storm outside still hasn’t let up, forcing everyone into the cramped building. He doesn’t bother knocking when he gets to Sam’s office, eager to escape the crowded hall. The Lord Commander doesn’t complain, barely even glancing up from his desk.

“I’ve gathered every netherite item I can find.” He informs the man.

“What have we got?” He asks, glumly.

“Barely enough for all of our men, let alone the FarLanders.” Sam nods, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing at his eyes. He blinks up at the Prince tiredly.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any idea how we could get our hands on more netherite?” 

“There’s only one place we can get more. We have ships, but the journey would take weeks, we don’t have the time, let alone the food, to risk it. And we may not even survive, the Nether isn’t the easiest to traverse, from what I’ve read.”

“So we’re doomed?” Sam asks, rhetorically.

“Pretty much.” Technoblade huffs, smirking despite himself. 

“I’ve sent letters out requesting help, I’m not confident we’ll hear replies. Not only is our story a difficult one to believe, but the rest of the country is already occupied with one war.” Sam says, “I have no idea what to do now… What would- what would you suggest?” Technoblade shifts, meeting the Lord Commander’s tired eyes.