Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Just two decades ago the world was full of magic. 

Faeries and dryads lived in the woods, sorcerers and merfolk walked among ordinary humans. Some even claimed to have seen a dragon’s tail disappear into the mists above the mountains. 

All of them were gone now. Twenty years of repeated raids and merciless executions had wiped out every trace of magic in Essempi - anyone that survived had gone into hiding, fleeing to other kingdoms for refuge where they could. 

All of them were gone. 

All of them but me, Tubbo amended miserably, staring at the capital’s walls as the sun rose, painting the sky orange and pink and gold. It would have been beautiful if it were any other city.

He clenched his letter of recommendation tightly. The captain had meant well when he told Tubbo he’d found him a job at the castle, but he didn’t know. Nobody knew. The castle was a death trap for someone like him. 

But this way I might at least survive the winter when it comes. 

Taking a deep breath Tubbo started the last mile of his journey. 

–oO0Oo–

By the time Tubbo made it within the walls the sun had settled properly into the sky and the city was buzzing with people going about their lives. Tubbo blended in with the masses passing through the market as he made his way towards the castle, stopping at the gates to ask himself what the f*ck he was doing one last time. 

Then he presented his letter to the guards and was promptly whisked away by the housekeeper, a slightly rattled-looking woman with brown eyes and grey hair pulled back into a bun. 

I wonder who she turned in to get this job. Who did she betray in order to prove her loyalty?

“The kitchens are down the hall and to the left - the workshops are beside the stables, but you shouldn’t need to worry yourself with that too much. Servant passages can be found in almost every room, you’ll get the hang of spotting them pretty quickly. Most of the servants sleep in the attic dormitories, but a few - you included - are in rooms…”

Tubbo zoned out, opting to take in his surroundings instead. The hallway had a thick carpet running down the center and the stone walls were covered in tapestries and paintings of nobles he’d never heard of.

The whole situation felt a bit… surreal. Even the captain’s house hadn’t been this grand - it wasn’t filled with an air of majesty that made everything seem huge. 

And made Tubbo feel very small. 

He held his satchel tightly, feeling as though the whole place was pressing on him. He was nervous - more nervous than he cared to admit. If he got fired here he would never find another position, at least not a ‘safe’ one (safe for someone without magic anyway - which as far as anyone knew, was exactly what Tubbo was). 

In seventeen years - eight of which were spent learning how to polish and mend and serve - Tubbo had figured out how to survive while being what he was. How to hide in plain sight, how to smile and bow his way into people’s confidence. How to walk into any situation with his head held high, like he belonged there, despite knowing he’d be dead the moment he let a spark of magic dance across his fingers. 

Maybe I should have learned when to cut my losses too. 

The housekeeper pushed open a door, ushering him inside. 

Tubbo blinked. This was most definitely not a servant’s bedroom. 

The woman pushed open a door hidden behind a curtain. “This is your room… Tubbo, was it? Get settled, if you have any questions find someone to answer them. He’ll be along to meet you sooner or later.”

And with that, she bustled out of the room. 

Tubbo stared after her. 

Oh f*ck no. 

I’m a manservant?

Prime, what the f*ck have I gotten myself into?

Dropping his satchel onto the floor, he sat down heavily on the bed, the absurd urge to laugh bubbling up inside him. 

He’d gotten into a number of scrapes in his time, but this -

How am I supposed to blend in when someone is always going to want to know where I am? How can I disappear into a crowd if I’m always following some nobleman around?

Who am I going to be following around?

Tubbo stepped back outside of ‘his room’ and surveyed the room. 

It was… opulent, to say the least. Pale blue and gold accents everywhere, a bookshelf filled with books that were probably worth a year of his salary each. A desk stacked with parchment, two wardrobes, and, of course, the unnecessarily massive bed against the back wall. After some investigation Tubbo found it had layers of blankets and sheets which meant trying to wash everything and get it back on the bed was going to be, at best, a time-consuming task . 

Hopefully he’s not the fussy sort. 

He crossed over to the desk. The documents were in some language he couldn’t understand, so he opened the desk, surprised to find the whole thing a mess - quills and blotting paper scattered about at random, random coins - some of which weren’t even Essempian - and apparently, someone had spilled an entire ink bottle in there at some point. Tubbo snorted and closed the lid.  

Nightmare scenario one eliminated. 

“Uh - who the f*ck are you?”

Tubbo spun around to see a well-dressed boy about his age behind him, blue eyes staring daggers. 

“I work here. Who are you?” he said defensively, heartbeat quickening. He’d not done anything wrong - not that he knew of at least - but you never knew when it came to nobles -

“You work here?” The boy raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“I just started.”

“You just started?”

Tubbo nodded. “Mhmm. I moved in… I think fifteen minutes ago?”

The boy blinked at him. “Oh.” He scanned Tubbo, looking skeptical. 

“You’re my new manservant?”

Ah. 

Suddenly, clarity slammed into him. 

I know who this is. 

He’d seen him before, hundreds of times, in a painting in the captain’s hallway. 

He was standing before - he was working for Prince Thomas Innit, Crown Prince of Essempi. 

Sh*t. 

Honestly, f*ck this day.

They stared at each other. 

Tubbo knew what he was supposed to do - what he would have done had he known who was about to walk into the room. The prince was probably waiting for him to bow and lower his gaze, apologise for his rudeness and scramble to follow the long list of orders he was bound to receive. 

But…

What would be the point? 

He’s already met me now - the real me, not the persona. Might as well carry on, at least this way I’ll have nothing to - well, I’ll have less to hide. 

I really don’t want to fawn over this d*ckhead anyway. 

This boy, with his pressed outfit and filled cheeks, didn’t care what he’d done to Tubbo’s kind - to Tubbo. His father was the reason Tubbo didn’t have one. The laws he’d approved were the reason Tubbo had spent his whole life hiding the part of himself that should have been his greatest joy. The prince’s life had been seeped in luxury, gilded with gold, while the small flecks of gold deep in Tubbo’s eyes were the reason he’d never truly be able to relax.

Tubbo hated the royal family. He hated Prince Thomas. 

Why should I show him respect he doesn’t deserve?

“Looks like it,” he shrugged, meeting the prince’s stare head-on. 

He looked taken aback. “Uh - right. You - what’s your name?”

“Tubbo,” Tubbo said flatly. “You’re Tommy, right?” 

The prince stared at him blankly. “Tommy?”

“Your full name is Thomas, right? Don’t people call you ‘Tommy’? Y’know, as a nickname?”

“A - a nickname? I - most people call me ‘your highness’ -” 

Tubbo shrugged, leaning back against the desk, pushing down his laughter as the prince’s eyes practically fell out of his head. “That takes too long to say.”

The prince blinked. “It - it does?”

“We’re going to be working together for a while -” - and trust me, I’m much more upset about that than you are. “I can’t waste time saying ‘your highness’ every two minutes. Those seconds are precious.”

The prince nodded, looking dazed. 

Tubbo yawned, partially because he was tired and partially because f*ck you. “So. What needs done first Tommy?”

“I… pardon?”

Oh for Prime’s sake - “How long have you been without a servant?”

“Uh - a few weeks? Maybe more?”

“Okay. So the floor probably needs swept at least - has anyone cleared the fireplace lately? I should probably take out your laundry if you have it - maybe change the bedsheets too. Also if there’s any plates or glasses hidden around here I’d rather find them now…”

“I - alright? Go ahead - why are you telling me this?”

Tubbo grinned. “Because you’ll probably want to clear out of here, I’m about to tear your room apart.”

–oO0Oo–

The castle had a whole army of people in the laundry room, much to Tubbo’s immense relief. Laundry was one of his least favourite tasks - when he was training as a kid he’d gotten tangled up in cold, wet sheets more times than he cared to admit. 

He trekked back up to the prince’s room, carrying a fresh set of bedsheets beneath one arm, thanking Prime that someone had thought to label the doors in the servants passage so he knew which room he was walking into. 

The small corridor was dimly lit and Tubbo’s magic, still buzzing with delight from messing with the prince earlier, desperately wanted to spring out and bathe the place in light. 

His magic, in its purest form, was light. Beams and bursts and small sparks that flitted across his fingertips. He didn’t know if that was true of all sorcerers - he’d never met someone like him and he suspected he never would. There were no sorcerers of any kind left in Essempi. Tubbo was alone. 

Maybe, before the kingdom turned on them, he might have had a chance to actually learn how to do the things people whispered about. They said sorcerers could make objects float, project images of things that weren’t really there, transform stones into food, heal wounds and cure illness…

They spoke of all those spells with disgust. They were - Tubbo’s magic was - wrong , impure and unnatural. 

Tubbo didn’t see how something he was born with could be called unnatural. 

He hadn’t had a chance to use his magic in a while and it itched to escape but he shoved it down. Not yet. Not here. 

He stopped outside of the prince’s door, listening to the voices on the other side. One he recognised as Prince Thomas. The other was unfamiliar. 

“There’s a hunting trip next week. I expect to see you there.”

“Yes, of course.”

The sound of papers shuffling. “Have these memorised before it begins, so you don’t embarrass yourself like you did last time.”

“Lady Hannah said she didn’t mind -”

“Lady Hannah, is too generous sometimes,” the voice said harshly. “You’re seventeen Thomas. Time to pull it together.”

“Y-yes Bastian.”

“I’ll have dinner sent to you here, no need for you to come to the dining hall tonight.”

“I-... thank you.”

“Goodnight.”

“G-goodnight… Bastian…” the prince said as the door clicked shut. 

Tubbo pushed his side against the wall, emerging into the prince’s bedroom. The prince was sat at his desk, shoulders slumped as he leafed through the documents the person - Bastian presumably - had left there. 

He lifted his head as Tubbo entered before lowering it once more. 

Tubbo placed the basket of sheets on the floor and put his hands on his hips, assessing the mound of cotton on the bed. 

Okay. 

Where the f*ck do I start?

Chapter Text

Tommy. 

Hearing that name - the name he still used whenever he thought about himself, the one he thought of as his - said aloud still sent him reeling. 

Tubbo sent him reeling. 

It had been three days since he’d met Tubbo and he still didn’t know what to make of his new manservant. He was so… casual. He hadn’t bowed once so far, he didn’t wait for permission to do things. Honestly, Tommy was beginning to feel as though his room was as much Tubbo’s as it was his. Not to mention that the things he said were borderline rude sometimes. 

I should fire him. Really, he can’t treat me like this and…

Tommy. 

Tubbo was unusual. There probably wasn’t anyone else like him in the world. No one else in the world would act that way. 

(No one else would smirk when he said something stupid, cover a snort with a cough when he tripped, respond to him in kind rather than rolling over deferentially. No one else would swear profusely at the task before them under their breath when they thought he wasn’t listening. No one else would roll their eyes behind Bastian’s back).

No one else would call him Tommy. 

–oO0Oo–

Tommy scanned the bookshelf. West Essempi… coasts of West Essempi… Rivers of West Essempi…

The was a loud thud and Tommy turned around to see Tubbo placing his head on the pile of books he’d just dumped onto the table behind them. 

To be fair to his servant, he might have been picking the heavier copies of the books he needed - and maybe he didn’t need every volume of the West Essempi atlas…

And yet…

“Dramatic today?”

Tubbo didn’t lift his head, instead just turning it to face him and giving him a withering glare. “You try carrying half a bookshelf around a library,” he shot back. 

“I don’t have to,” Tommy smirked. “I have a servant for that.”

Tubbo bristled. “At this rate? Not for much longer.”

“You’re going to quit on me?”

“My arms are going to drop off.”

“Well then I’d have to fire you.”

“I don’t think that would be right - y’know, morally.”

“You care about morals?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw you destroy that spiderweb on the ceiling yesterday.”

“It. Was. A. Spiderweb.”

“It was a home . ”

“It collects dust .”

“I told you not to touch it!”

“And I ignored you,” Tubbo said flippantly, hopping up onto the table to sit beside the stack of books. “Do you seriously need all of these?”

“Of course,” Tommy lied. 

Tubbo grabbed the first book and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “ ‘Wildlife and Habitats’ - isn’t your report about irrigation?”

“It is,” Tommy conceded - although that one he did genuinely need. “There’s been a petition by some farmers -”

“To lay down new piping, I remember,” Tubbo said dismissively, waving a hand.

Tommy blinked, surprised that Tubbo… knew that. He’d ranted about it from his bed as Tubbo washed the windows, but he hadn’t expected Tubbo to have actually paid attention.

“I - right. Well, I need to ensure it won’t interfere with the habitats of any endangered creatures.”

“Like the -” Tubbo cut himself off, seemingly abandoning whatever he was going to say, a strange expression flickering across his face before disappearing as though it had never been there at all. He flipped the book open and rolled his eyes. “F*ck, this looks boring.”

Tommy plucked the book out of his hands. “What would you read?”

Tubbo leaned back, swinging his legs. “I don’t know - what are my options?”

“Whatever’s in the library.”

“How would I know what’s in the castle library?”

“Go look?”

Tubbo’s eyes lit up and he slid off the table. “That sounds like a great idea!”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll see you in a few hours!” Tubbo grinned over his shoulder, already heading down the nearest aisle.  

“Hold on -”

“Sorry, orders are orders!”

“That’s not what I -”

“I am gone! I am no longer within ‘giving orders’ range!” Tubbo called and, sure enough, his voice was coming from a few rows down.

I should go fetch him - he shouldn’t do things like that. If anyone saw - if Bastian saw me let him get away with that sort of disrespect…

Tommy rolled his eyes, pulled ‘Lakes, Ponds and Pools, a guide to still freshwater in Western Essempi’ from the shelf, and got to work.

–oO0Oo–

Tommy groaned as he pushed back from the desk he was using. This - was not going to be easy. With magic-users still popping up every now and then to wreak havoc, he felt more pressure than ever to protect Essempi against the internal threat. 

Maybe I should sign it off… the people might need extra rations if they’re attacked…

Or it could act as a target…

He drummed his fingers on the table - a habit he couldn’t seem to break, no matter how many times Bastian reminded him not to be annoying.

He stilled his fingers.

I wonder where Tubbo went?

He abandoned the books where they were and started down the aisle, looking for his servant more out of curiosity than anything else. 

After scouring the entire library he wound up back where he started and his servant was nowhere to be found.

“Tubbo?” he shout-whispered - it was a library after all. “Where the f*ck did you go?”

“I’m right here.”

Tommy turned in a full circle, gesturing to the empty space. “No you’re not.”

“Look up .”

Tommy craned his neck upwards. 

Tubbo beamed at him from where he sat, perched comfortably on top of the bookshelf. 

“How the - what - how did you get there?!”

“Climbed,” Tubbo grinned. 

“Why?”

  “It’s dusty up here.”

“And you’re dusting?”

“No, I’m reading. I’m just telling you that it’s dusty.”

“What am I supposed to do about it?”

“You could tell someone to dust!”

“I’m telling you.”

“That’s not in my job description.” 

“And disrespecting castle property is?”

Tubbo laughed. “I’m gonna be honest, I haven’t even signed a contract. I just walked through the doors and got whisked upstairs. No one told me I was going to be working for you.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Most people would consider that a lucky break.”

Tubbo snorted. “I am not most people.”

“Then why are you still here?” Tommy retorted.

Tubbo stared at him flatly. “I need to eat, don’t I?” He swung his legs out over the edge of the bookshelf and lowered himself to the ground with surprising ease. “Why does anyone do anything they don’t want to?”

“I - I don’t know,” Tommy said honestly. He didn’t. Being the prince was his job now, being the king would be his job when he turned eighteen next summer. There had never been a choice, not for him, but he’d never resented the responsibility his birth had granted him. It was a burden and an honour in equal measure. 

Tubbo gave him a long look. “Must be nice.”

Tommy swallowed and pulled at a loose thread in his tunic sleeve. What am I supposed to say to that? 

A maid’s head appeared from behind a bookshelf. “Your highness? Archduke Bastian wants to see you in his study.”

Tommy breathed a silent sigh of relief. “I’ll be right there,” he replied, letting the girl scurry off to deliver her message and turning back to Tubbo. “Can you clean up? Take the books on the right to my room, the others can go back on their shelves.”

Tubbo sighed heavily. “I can try.”

“Thanks - I have to go,” Tommy said quickly, already hurrying out of the library. Bastian hated to be kept waiting.

–oO0Oo–

Tubbo shoved the book back into the shelf, wondering whether he’d somehow made a mistake and was trying to put it where it didn’t belong. He placed the books pressed against his body on the floor, freeing his other hand. It just did not want to fit. 

To be fair, I imagine it doesn’t come out of there all that often. Maybe it doesn’t want to be forgotten for another three decades.

“Tough,” Tubbo snapped at it. “We can’t all be winners.”

“Most people would consider that a lucky break.”

Tubbo’s heart clenched and he slammed the book into place, resting his forehead against the shelves. 

A lucky break. 

Maybe it would be. If I was someone - some thing else. I could do worse than this. If - If things were different, if I was different…

Tubbo twisted around, crossing the aisle to stare at himself in a mirror that hung against the wall. Brown hair, pale skin, every inch of him an ordinary human except for the streaks of shining gold in his green eyes. 

If I wasn’t a sorcerer…

Would this be ‘the best thing that ever happened to me’? Would working in the castle be something I could take pride in rather than… whatever cruel irony this is? 

Would the prince be more tolerable? Would his ignorance be less grating?

Would I be happy here?

The prince wasn’t all bad. Tubbo had to admit, he could be more of a prick, given the circumstances. He had total power over him - Tubbo was only too aware of the line he was walking here, even without the magic in his veins - and yet he hadn’t actually stopped him from saying the things he said. He got annoyed, sure… but Tubbo didn’t feel threatened by it. 

It was a surprisingly nice feeling. 

Could I be happy here?

Tubbo smiled bitterly, letting a little magic pulse through him, watching as his ‘unnatural’ irises flashed gold. 

Something shimmered in his perirpheral vision and Tubbo glanced up as the light faded from something curved over the top of the mirror. 

His heart skipped a beat. 

Checking the aisle for witnesses he took a deep breath, releasing a little more magic and watching as symbols shone bright on the mirror’s edge.

Is that - magic?

Here?

He stared in disbelief as the light faded again, the symbols becoming a part of the ornate frame once more. 

“What the f*ck?” he breathed, reaching out, placing his hand against the mirror.

Tubbo jumped back in shock as the wall swung inwards, revealing a spiralling staircase leading downwards into darkness. 

Magic. 

A secret passageway, opened by magic - magic like mine.

Here. 

He almost wanted to laugh.

In the heart of Essempi, magic is still right here.

It wasn’t a victory.

It still felt like one. 

Tubbo reached up, tracing the runes carved into the gold. He couldn’t read them - there was no one left to teach him the things he should have been learning from childhood. Nothing left but traces like these, a tradition lost to time in just twenty years. 

A pang of loneliness stole his breath for a moment.

He’d never seen another sorcerer. Even at executions. They’d been one of the first races to be attacked, hunted to extinction. Tubbo knew he must have had parents at some point, maybe even a village, but he didn’t have any memory of those things, other than his first name. His life before the orphanage was a haze of warmth and blistering heat, soft voices mingled with the sound of screaming. 

He didn’t have a family now, that was certain. There was no one left like him. 

He didn’t even have a single person he could call a friend. Being a sorcerer made friendship dangerous - he was a liability to them if he was caught, they were a danger to him if they realised what he was. It was better to be alone.

No matter how lonely - how unsure and unsafe - he felt. 

Elsewhere in the library someone coughed and Tubbo snapped back to reality. Magic is here in the castle, I just opened a secret passageway with magic, I am so f*cked if anyone comes along right now -

Working quickly he used the edges of the mirror to tug the wall back into place so that he left no trace of his presence and - more importantly - his magic. 

Grabbing the books on the side table he hurried away.

But the loneliness remained, heavy in his chest. 

Chapter Text

Tommy slowed Clementine down until he was next to Tubbo. “You really suck at this.”

“I told you, I’ve never been hunting before,” Tubbo ground out, narrowing his eyes at his horse’s head. “I’ve barely ridden a horse.”

“You still haven’t, I think that horse is the one in control.”

“Hey.”

Tommy grinned at him. “Maybe we should go riding more.”

“Prime no.”

“Don’t you want to get better at your job?”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t last a day as a servant.”

Tommy shrugged. “Luckily I don’t have to.”

“Why don’t you go speak with the nobles or something?”

“Don’t want to.”

“And what, speaking with me is so much better?”

Yes. 

Conversations like this were so f*cking rare before you came along. Do you have any idea how hard it is to have a normal conversation when there’s hundreds of spoken and unspoken rules and expectations to follow? How hard it is to be sincere - to find genuine people - when you know that everyone around you wants something? That they’re probably only pretending to like you - that the moment they get what they want from you they’ll turn on you whenever it’s most convenient?

Do you know how weird it is that you’re not pretending at all?

Tommy must have stayed silent for a little too long because Tubbo’s lips parted before tightening, eyes returning to his horse. “Isn’t that supposed to be the point of this?”

Tommy sighed, nodding.

It was. Bastian had made it very clear that he was expected to behave properly today… which probably meant talking to the nobility, not his servant. 

A small part of Tommy dreaded turning eighteen and taking the crown. He didn’t want to go into the world of fake smiles and poisonous words. Even with Bastian at his side…

Well, I will have Bastian. 

Tommy smiled at the thought of his guardian. Bastian had ruled the kingdom in his stead for thirteen years now and he was the closest thing Tommy had to a father, since he couldn’t remember much about his own. Bastian had done most of the work involved in protecting Tommy and his kingdom from harm, finishing the war against the magic-users, establishing strict anti-magic laws, burning ancient spellbooks and artifacts. Even now he handled the majority of the workload, only handing Tommy what he thought he could manage. 

Tommy squeezed Clementine gently and she trotted forwards, stopping beside Bastian. Behind him Tubbo did the same, trying to stay behind him despite his confusion about how to control the animal he was riding on. 

Bastian was talking. “...and if everything goes to plan we should have the midsummer hunt at the end of the month, when the moon is full.”

The nobility around him cooed and nodded. Tommy recognised most of them - Hannah, a women with red hair who constantly smelt like flowers, George and Sapnap, close friends of Bastian’s who spent more time in the castle than out of it, Alyssa - actually she was a surprise, she didn’t usually attend events like these…

As though she could feel his eyes on her, Alyssa turned to him. “Will you be attending?”

“Of course he will,” Bastian said. Tommy nodded in agreement. “It’s his last summer before he turns eighteen.”

“Seventeen already? My, time flies, you’ll be king soon.”

“Too soon,” Bastian laughed. “He’s got so much to learn still.”

“Oh, of course.”

“He’ll have to rely on me for the first few years I imagine, won’t you Tommy?”

Tommy nodded. 

Alyssa smiled at him. “You’re lucky to have such a caring mentor.”

“I know,” Tommy replied. “I am.”

Bastian nodded down at him. “It’s a pity you’re so young. A few more years and a little more experience would do you some good.”

Tommy clenched Clementine’s reins. “I - I know. But… I’ll have you, right?”

Alyssa laughed softly. “Bless his heart, you must be quite the advisor Bastian.”

Bastian inclined his head. “I certainly try.”

Alyssa laughed again and flicked her reins, catching up with the rest of the group. Tommy moved to follow her, but Bastian held out a hand. “Thomas.”

“Y-yes?”

Bastian sighed. “Can you stay out of my way? Please?”

Oh. 

“I - s-sorry - I didn’t mean to - I thought you wanted me to -”

“You thought wrong,” Bastian said sharply, cutting him off. Then his voice softened. “Sorry, I’m just… stressed. It’s a lot of work.”

“I know,” Tommy said guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

Bastian nodded. “Good. Now… just try to stay quiet, alright?”

“Ye-” Tommy cut himself off, nodding instead. 

“Good boy.” 

With that Bastian trotted away. Leaving Tommy behind. 

Tommy swallowed and forced a smile onto his face. It wasn’t a big deal. Bastian was busy and that was normal. He hadn’t come out here expecting attention or special treatment. He was showing the court that he knew how to act, that he could behave in the manner a king should. Him being… lonely was the smallest of Bastian’s problems, not when ruling in his stead was probably very stressful and Tommy still didn’t pull his weight, even though he was more than old enough.

Tommy glanced to his right, eyes locking with Tubbo’s for a split second before his servant’s head lowered, hands tight around the reins. 

Tommy’s heart sank, though he didn’t know why. He hadn’t expected anything from Tubbo, from anyone . What reason did they have to feel sorry for him? He honestly didn’t even know if Tubbo liked him all that much. He suspected he didn’t.

And then Tubbo’s gaze rose to meet his one more.

To Tommy’s shock he offered a small smile. 

It wasn’t a mocking smirk or a fake beaming grin. There was none of the usual laughter behind his expression. Just a… genuine smile, almost close to a wince. Sympathetic?

Tommy stared at him for a moment before hesitantly smiling back. 

–oO0Oo–

He opted to skip dinner that night, working in his room instead. Bastian was right, he wasn’t ready to be king and he only had a year left before he turned eighteen, Prime - 

He flicked through another history book, trying to absorb any of the information inside it. It was from a few hundred years ago and Prime was it weird reading about magic being used on a battlefield as though it was nothing. As though those sorcerers wouldn’t turn on them centuries later. 

The door swung open and for a deeply confusing moment Tommy thought Bastian had come to visit him - who else would enter without knocking? - before remembering that his f*cking baffling servant had given up knocking two days in. 

He didn’t bother glancing over as Tubbo’s footsteps padded across the room. They’d settled on mostly ignoring each other whenever they both had things to do that didn’t involve the other - unless Tubbo needed information or Tommy needed a task done, they let each other get on with their jobs.

Despite Tubbo’s… less-than-conventional-attitude, he was surprisingly good at being a servant - to the point that if Tommy had been searching for a reason to fire him he would have struggled. Even the occasional bickering that erupted whenever they did have to interact was…

It was a large part of the reason Tommy wasn’t searching for a reason to fire him. 

He sensed a presence behind him and looked up just in time to see Tubbo placing a plate down on his desk. 

Tommy stared at it. It was full of pastries - pastries he knew were being served at dinner that evening. The dinner he was not at. 

“What’s this?” 

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “You know what pastries are.”

Tommy shook his head. “I - why are they here?”

“I carried them here. I’m good at carrying things, I’d consider it one of my core skills.”

“Stop being - just explain yourself,” Tommy sighed, but he couldn’t bring himself to inject any venom into it, not as Tubbo suddenly looked… incredibly awkward. 

“I… you skipped dinner,” Tubbo said by way of explanation. He looked deeply uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact and pushing his nails into his palms. “I thought you might be hungry? And…” he swallowed. “Yeah. Hungry.”

“And you… what, stole desserts from the kitchen for me?” Tommy asked, ignoring the way his heart warmed at the idea. He’s just your servant, he’s doing his job - albeit unusually attentively, for him - but still. It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Steal is an ugly word…”

“Took without the chef’s knowledge?”

“Yep,” Tubbo shrugged, sticking his hands into his pockets. “I brought you dessert.”

“Oh.” 

Tommy looked down at the plate. There was at least half a dozen pastries on there, ranging from eclairs to tarts. Far too many to eat himself. 

“Do you want a couple?”

Tubbo blinked. “Do I what?”

Tommy indicated the plate. “You snuck them up here, you should take some. I can’t eat seven pastries, I’m not a bottomless pit.”

“Could have fooled me,” Tubbo muttered, but he took a pastry - some round raspberry thing Tommy couldn’t remember the name of (yet another thing he still had to learn) - and nibbled it experimentally. “Oh! That’s - mrph - that’s really good.”

“You haven’t had one before?”

Tubbo gave him a withering look and Tommy blushed. “Guess not.”

Tubbo swallowed his mouthful and laughed. “Prime Tommy, where do you think I would have gotten hold of one of these?”

“Well… you did steal them.”

“It’s not stealing if I’m giving them to you.”

“And yet you just ate one.”

“And you haven’t yet. It’s almost insulting to the effort it took to sneak them up here.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and took a bite out of a tiny apple tart. “You took the main corridor, that was your own fault.”

“Only because the servant's passage is full of people at this time of night.”

Tommy took another bite. “Thank you - I wasn’t hungry, b-but you didn’t - I mean I’m glad you did, but it wasn’t in your contract - I know you don’t have one but -”

Tubbo waved a hand, cheeks red. “It’s fine. I just wanted an excuse to eat desserts.” He peered over Tommy’s desk. “What’re you doing anyway?”

Tommy turned back to the book. “Just catching up on some history.”

“It looks very dull,” Tubbo commented. “Is it all just army reports?”

“It’s not dull! You just need to understand the context.”

“And what is the context?”

“Long. And complicated. But I guess the short version is that Mushroom Kingdom - it’s called Kinoko now - got into a civil war and these -” he tapped the page in front of him - “were the troops we sent in to assist.”

Tubbo brushed a finger down the list of battalions, stalling at one halfway down the list. Sorcerers. 

Tommy sighed, flipping the page as Tubbo lifting his hand. “I know. Hard to imagine now, isn’t it?”

Tubbo blinked. “Y-yeah. I had no idea we used to - I mean, I didn’t know we…” he exhaled slowly. “We used to work together.”

Tommy stared absently at the window above his desk, the dark sky making his own reflection look back at him, Tubbo’s blank face in his peripheral vision. “We don’t talk about it. There’s no point in scaring people. Magic-users are gone now, that’s all that matters, we simply didn’t know any better in the past.” 

“We… right,” Tubbo said. “We didn’t know… about them.”

“We know better now - better than to make mistakes like that.”

“I… yes. Mistakes.” Tubbo folded his arms. “I guess you never know who you’re dealing with huh?”

Tommy squinted at the plate of pastries, a small smile forming on his face. 

“No. I suppose not.”

Chapter Text

Tubbo made his way through the hallway as quietly as he could, trying not to alert anyone to his presence. He did have an excuse ready, he could always claim Tommy had sent him to grab a book from the library for him, but if word actually made it back to the prince…

Well, if he was honest, Tubbo wasn’t one hundred percent certain that Tommy wouldn’t back him up. The prince seemed to have a surprisingly high tolerance for whatever random bullsh*t Tubbo decided to do. He knew for a fact that most masters wouldn’t put up with the disrespect he showed. Even walking into the room without knocking, not asking permission to start a chore when the prince was in the room, not bowing when it wasn’t absolutely necessary, calling him Tommy whenever no one else was around… all of those things were grounds to be disciplined, if not outright fired. 

So, Tommy might stop him from getting into trouble, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t ask awkward questions. 

And somehow Tubbo didn’t feel that explaining he was sneaking around to explore the secret passageway in the library that opened via sorcery would end all that well. 

Tommy was unexpectedly tolerable. Nice even - sometimes Tubbo forgot who he was speaking to. 

And then the conversation shifted towards magic and reality came crashing down onto him. The person he was speaking to, laughing with, was a part of - one of the upholders of - the system that forced him to keep his magic hidden, that had killed thousands across the kingdom. Their lives were so different - their problems and worries so far removed from each other as to be polar opposites. 

Tubbo bit his lip. 

The prince did seem to have a fair share of problems. The protector of the crown pushed him to work harder and harder with each week and nothing Tommy did ever seemed enough to win his approval. It made something in Tubbo’s heart ping, but he tried his best to ignore it. The incident with the desserts was… a one-off.

Tubbo shook his head, dismissing the memory of the prince’s surprise at such a simple act of kindness. It wasn’t - it didn’t mean anything. 

“Tubbo?”

Ah.  Well sh*t.

Tommy stood still in the hallway, eyes reflecting the candlelight around them. 

“What’re you doing here?” Tubbo managed, scrambling to put his thoughts into some semblance of order. 

“What are you doing here?” Tommy replied, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were asleep?”

“I - I heard a noise,” Tubbo said without thinking, his mind somehow autopiloting into his old excuse when he lived in the orphanage and had to slip out at night to release some of his magic. “I… thought I should investigate.”

Tommy blinked. “A noise?”

Tubbo nodded. “Y-yeah! Like… clanking or something? Stuff banging together?”

Tommy frowned. “An intruder?”

Tubbo shrugged. “Maybe.”

“And you didn’t think to tell a guard?”

Tubbo shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It was probably just a rat.”

“But what if it wasn’t?”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it was. I can’t even hear it any-”

Clang. 

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up. 

Prime, why do you hate me? What did I do?

“What was that?”

“A noise,” Tubbo said bluntly. “It doesn’t mean -”

“And what if it does?”

Tubbo sighed. “It doesn’t.” 

Tommy frowned at him. “Don’t tell me you’re scared Tubbo.”

“I’m just not an idiot. This is a castle, things go bump in the night all the time! There’s a storm outside!”

“And if we all wake up dead tomorrow?”

The kingdom could heal.

Magic could return. 

Life would go on. 

“At least I’d have a day off.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Come on, you know your way around this place - where could someone get in?”

“You don’t?”

Tommy folded his arms. “I… don’t really have time to explore.”

“And I do?”

Tommy shrugged. “All I know is servants seem to have some sort of secret passageway system and you never get lost.”

Tubbo snorted. “I just have a superior sense of direction.”

Tommy rolled his eyes again, smiling slightly. “Just tell me where someone could get in.”

Tubbo sighed. “I guess the kitchen has an outside door?”

Tommy turned and stalked down the corridor. 

Then he stopped and turned back around. “Aren’t you coming?”

Tubbo blinked. “Me?”

Tommy grinned. “Don’t tell me you’re a coward Tubbo.”

Tubbo made a face and jogged down the corridor after him. 

–oO0Oo–

“Do you even have a sword?”

Tommy turned to look at him with a deadpan expression. “Why would I have a sword on me?”

Tubbo shrugged. “Well I don’t know, do I?! You still haven’t told me why you were awake in the first place.”

Tommy ignored him, turning back to peer around the door to the kitchen. “I don’t think there’s anyone in there.”

“I know, I told you -”

Tommy twisted back around. “Tubbo, has anyone ever told you you have no idea how to sneak?”

Tubbo almost wanted to laugh. 

“You told me to come!”

“That was before I found out you don’t have a quiet bone in your body.”

“I am much quieter than you.”

“That’s just a blatant lie.”

“It is literally my job to be quiet.” Unnoticed. Unseen. Inconspicuous. Hiding in plain sight. 

“And you do it badly,” Tommy said flatly, turning around again and carefully stepping into the kitchen. 

“And yet you keep me around,” Tubbo muttered. 

“I heard that.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes, leaning against the doorway as Tommy began opening and closing drawers. “What the f*ck are you doing?”

“Looking for a knife or something.”

Tubbo huffed a laugh. “And you think we keep them in drawers?”

Tommy folded his arms to glare at him. “I wouldn’t know!”

Tubbo pointed at the enormous knife block in the corner. “They’re in there.” He had to admit, he was a little surprised that Tommy had thought to get a knife - for some reason he kept forgetting that the prince was smarter than he seemed. He could speak multiple languages, he knew the kingdom’s history, he knew how to fight, how to direct armies, he knew how to navigate the web that was the royal court. He wasn’t the empty-headed, sheltered fool Tubbo had assumed he’d be.

Tommy raised his eyebrows as he pulled a knife out from one of the slots. “Good. Now we’re armed.”

“You’re armed.”

“You could be armed too if you came over here.”

Tubbo shrugged. “I’m not sure I’d know what to do with a knife.”

“You can’t fight?”

“Funnily enough it wasn’t a part of my training,” Tubbo returned, walking towards him. 

At that moment a window flew open, the wind whistling its way into the room as the window frame’s edge slammed into the wall with an earsplitting bang. Tubbo jumped and Tommy sezied his arm, tugging him backwards and placing himself in front of Tubbo, holding the knife out before them. 

The adrenaline faded. 

Tommy lowered his hand, the knife falling to his side and turned back to face Tubbo. “Maybe you’re right, it’s just the…” he trailed off. 

Tubbo knew he was staring. But he couldn’t help it. 

He just…

Without hesitation. Not even for a split second. 

“T-Tubbo? Are you okay?”

Tubbo shook his head, blinking. “Y-yeah! I - I’m fine, just… the, uh, window. It scared me.”

Tommy blinked. “The window?”

Tubbo folded his arms. “You were going to use a knife on it, don’t act like I’m the stupid one.”

“I’m not!”

“You were going to make fun of me.”

“I wasn’t!” 

“You were, I know you.”

“You know nothing because I wasn’t.”

“Then prove it and don’t .”

“I won’t!”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They stared at each other for a long, awkward moment. 

Tubbo looked down. “D-do you want a cup of tea? Or something?”

“Wh-what?”

Tubbo crossed his arms. “I know it’s technically your kitchen or whatever, but you can’t make tea and I can so… do you want some?”

“At one in the morning?”

“Just answer the question. Do you or do you not want tea?”

“I - I don’t know?”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Well I’m making tea.”

“Then I’ll have some? I guess?”

Tubbo nodded and crossed to one of the smaller fireplaces, used for making tea and coffee to be brought to rooms all over the castle. Grabbing a tinderbox he lit it and placed a kettle of water over the flame, aware of Tommy’s eyes on his back, watching him work as though he was doing the steps to an elaborate dance he’d never seen before.

“Why tea?”

Tubbo shrugged and opened a cupboard, searching for the tea leaves. “It just feels right, doesn’t it? Having tea after something exciting.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Tubbo pulled the jar out of the cupboard and fished around until he found a teapot. “Aren’t you a prince?”

“Does my life seem particularly exciting to you?” Tommy snorted. 

“No. It doesn’t.” Tubbo admitted.

“You see?”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I would argue my life is more boring.”

Tommy waved a hand. “You can leave whenever you want, right? You haven’t always worked here.”

“It’s not that simple, y’know. I need like… references and stuff. And I’m not likely to find a job better than this one.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “You don’t act like someone who cares much about this job at all.”

The kettle whistled, saving him from having to respond to that, thank f*ck . Tubbo lifted it off the fire and poured it into a teapot, watching as the tea leaves seeped into the water. 

He carried over to one of the benches in the centre of the room. “There’s a jug of milk in the fridge over there.”

“That’s great.”

“Go fetch it.”

Tommy laughed. “You’re giving me orders?”

“You’re drinking tea in the kitchen at one in the morning with me?”

“...good point.”

By the time he’d found the milk (which took a stupidly - and hilariously - long time) Tubbo had found everything else and they could sit across from each other, drinking in relative silence. 

To Tubbo’s surprise, Tommy broke it first. “What do you do when you’re not… doing this?”

Tubbo laughed. “Not drinking tea in the middle of the night? Well usually I’d be asleep.”

Tommy shook his head. “No you idiot. I mean like… when you’re not working. In your free time.”

“Are you really making small talk with me right now?”

“That’s what you do over tea!” 

Tubbo laughed and Tommy flushed. “Just answer the question.”

I find somewhere private and I try. 

I don’t have any books, I don’t have parents or a teacher to help me, the way I should. 

But if I’m really the last sorcerer in Essempi I have to try. I owe it to everyone to keep practicing magic, no matter what the law says. 

To keep working on controlling it so I can stay safe. Stay alive. 

Practising magic was the only thing that kept him sane in a world where everyone around him hated what he was. When he began to believe the words he heard about him - his ‘kind’ - he watched his magic dance around a dark space and… he found he couldn’t believe them. 

But no one could ever know. No one could ever see him do that. 

Especially not Tommy. 

“Not much. Honestly I don’t have much free time."

Tommy nodded in agreement as he sipped from his mug. “Yeah. I… I know what you mean. If I did have more free time…” he blushed and ducked his head, staring at the table. “If - if it wasn’t impossible - I’d like to see outside of the castle a little more.”

Tubbo felt his eyebrows lift. “What?”

Tommy blushed harder. “I - it’s pretty dumb but… I can like… outside. In the city I can hear all these noises, especially at night, and I just… I want to see what’s going on out there?” He huffed a laugh. “Probably nothing interesting - and nothing they’d want me to join in with - but I’m curious.”

Tubbo blinked. “So… let me get this straight. You want to go into town?”

To see what the ordinary people are doing? People like me?

Well… more like me.

Tommy shrugged. “I mean… I’m the prince right? I should know what their lives are like.”

Tubbo said nothing and Tommy sighed. “I know. It’s stupid right?” He drained the last of his tea and stood up, smiling sheepishly. “I’ll see you in the morning Tubbo.”

“I - goodnight,” Tubbo managed. 

He washed the mugs without concentrating on the task at hand at all. 

Tommy was more than tolerable. More than nice . 

He - is it possible he’s a good person?

Tubbo didn’t know what he’d do if that turned out to be true. 

Chapter Text

The stables were a surprisingly peaceful place in the castle, generally being empty of people unless there was a hunt or tournament taking place. Tubbo stretched out a hand and let Clementine sniff it experimentally. He giggled and she looked at him offended. “I’m sorry, but you look funny doing that.”

She nudged his shoulder. 

“I don’t have food on me.” He tried to push her head away playfully and she nosed closer. Tubbo laughed as she rested her head on top of his, reaching up a hand to pat her nose. “You are a good girl, aren’t you?”

Clementine huffed her agreement and Tubbo smiled. “Have you seen your owner’s sword anywhere?”

Clementine snorted. 

“I know, he’s an idiot right? But he’s probably going to be in a lot of trouble if I can’t find it, so could you tell me if you see it?”

Clementine didn’t budge. 

Tubbo sighed. He’d heard that some sorcerers could talk to animals and Prime would that be useful right now. He really did want to find Tommy’s sword, partly because… well he was an imperial servant with a master and a job to do. Doing well was par for the course. 

It was also worrying Tommy. Tubbo suspected he was more nervous about it that he was letting on. 

Strange for a prince close to adulthood to feel like that. Most nobles, especially young ones, were careless with their things to the point of wastefulness - it had felt almost insulting the way they threw things away without thought, as though the servant they were ordering to dispose of their tunic wouldn’t have to save for months to afford something like that.

Tubbo ducked out of Clementine’s hold and frowned at the room around him. Tommy had had his sword on him when they returned from the hunt, so where was it now?

He headed into the livery room, ignoring the presence of a couple of young-looking knights in the corner as he looked through Clementine’s tack. 

No sword. 

How is it possible to lose a sword ? Tubbo took a step back and bit his lip. Shouldn’t it be f*cking obvious where an entire sword went?

A hand landed on his shoulder and Tubbo jumped out of his skin. “Ah! F*ck!”

He turned to see the knights he’d noticed earlier had appeared behind him. “Excuse me?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes - something that was surprisingly hard to do now - Tubbo bowed. “Sorry sir, I didn’t realise you were behind me.” 

He looked up and realised that he’d been wrong. These weren’t knights, they were squires. 

He’d never met a squire that wasn’t on a power trip. Something about having someone your age bow to you, act in subservience to you - it made knights-in-training grin in a way that had always made Tubbo uncomfortable. In a way Tommy never had. 

“Sir,’ the black-haired one smirked. “I like that.”

Tubbo exhaled slowly. “Can I help you sir?”

The other one - who was clearly attempting to grow a beard and failing miserably - scanned him. “I don’t know, can you?”

Tubbo dug his fists into his palms. “Do you need anything?”

“No ‘sir’ this time?”

“It gets awkward after a while.”

“Does it now?” 

“It does.” Tubbo folded his arms. “If you don’t need my help then I’ll get back to work.”

He was pushing his luck, he knew that, but f*ck he couldn’t help it. The way they were treating him - the way they treated all servants, presumably - made his skin f*cking crawl. 

He turned around.

Only for a hand to seize his arm and fling him back around to face them. 

“Who the f*ck do you think you are?”

Tubbo wrenched his arm out of Ugly-Beard’s grip. “Leave me alone.”

“No, no, answer him. Who exactly do you think you are? Don’t you know your place?”

Tubbo swallowed. His heart was threatening to punch its way out of his chest. “I don’t want any trouble, just let me -”

“Well you’ve found it, b*tch,” the black-haired squire snarled. 

A hand seized Tubbo’s collar and he was slammed into the wall, head bouncing off of the stone. He flinched despite himself and reached up to grab the hand holding him, trying to shove the squire away. 

It was almost pathetic how futile it was. 

Tubbo glared at them both. “What the f*ck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know how to act around your superiors?” 

“I know,” he ground out.

“Go on then. Apologise. Maybe we’ll be lighter with your punishment.”

Punishment. Like they f*cking owned him. 

“Show me a ‘superior’ first.”

The squire with the poor excuse for facial hair stepped back, rolling up his sleeve and shaking out his fist. “You need to be taught a lesson.”

Tubbo took a steadying breath. And another. It was hard when he was being pulled up so high he could barely stand on his own feet, being strangled by his collar.

Either he fought his way out of this or he took a beating. Nothing that hadn’t happened before, but one option was much more appealing than the other.

Sadly it didn’t seem to be the likely one. 

He pressed into the stone, despite the ringing in his head and the bruise already forming there. He knew better than to let his head slam against the wall again when the fist inevitably collided with his face. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, only to receive a backhand to the cheek.

“Look at us. Go on, where’s the f*cking disrespect now? Scared? ”

“F-furious actually,” Tubbo hissed. He hoped the wobble in his voice was taken for anger and not fear. 

He hoped it was anger. 

His cheek stung. It was about to get a whole lot worse. 

The fist collided with his face and pain exploded across his right eye. Tubbo gasped in pain, hand flying to press against the ache already building there. 

“What the f*ck is going on in here?!”

Tubbo felt the hold on his collar release, dropping him onto the stone floor as the two squires whirled around.

Tommy was standing in the doorway to the livery room. 

And he looked livid. 

Tubbo had never seen him look that way before, an expression of shock and boiling anger on his face, hands clenched into tight fists. 

“What the f*ck are you doing to my servant?” Tommy growled. 

“Uh - Y-your highness - we - we didn’t -”

“You didn’t what?”

The squires fell into nervous silence as Tommy stalked closer. 

He looked at Tubbo and back at them. 

Then he pulled his fist back and punched Ugly-Beard square in the face. 

The squire cried out in shock as blood began gushing from his nose. Tommy didn’t even look fazed. 

“Get the f*ck out of my sight,” he spat. “Both of you. Now.”

They squires didn’t even hesitate, scrambling to get out of the room without so much as a glance in Tubbo’s direction.

Tommy dropped to his knees, his facial expression morphing from one of hatred to one of concern so fast it sent Tubbo reeling.

“T-Tubbo? Are you okay? Holy sh*t - I didn’t - Prime -”

Tubbo nodded. “I - I’m fine. I…” he trailed off, wincing as he peeled his hand away from his eye. “Is it bad?”

Tommy grimaced. “I… you’ll live?”

Tubbo rolled his eyes, cringing as it made the ache behind his eye crescendo in a fresh wave. “Thanks, I presumed that.”

Tommy shifted, hands raised without touching him, as though he didn’t know what to do with himself. He probably didn’t. “I - a-are you okay? F*ck…”

Tubbo nodded. “I am.” He stared at the floor. “Uh - th-thank you.”

Tommy clenched his fists. “No need to thank me. That should never have happened in the first place.”

Tubbo blinked. 

Yes. That’s a given. 

Well… not to them maybe. Not to most people.

F*ck Tommy, why do you always insist on being so f*cking… abnormal. 

Tommy stood up and extended a hand. Tubbo stared at it. 

“You need ice for that eye. Come on.”

His tone didn’t leave any room for debate.

Tubbo took his hand. 

–oO0Oo–

Tommy couldn’t look at his servant. Every time he did - every time he glanced over to see him perched on the edge of his bed, a block of ice wrapped in cloth pressed to his rapidly-forming black eye - a new spike of anger erupted. 

Not at him. At them. 

“Absolute f*cking bastards,” he ranted, pacing back and forth across his bedroom floor. “How f*cking dare they - what the f*ck were they thinking?”

Tubbo shrugged, watching him wear a hole into the floorboards. “Some people are just… awful.”

“Awful? They’re - that was f*cking appalling - they’re supposed to be knights someday! They can’t just - they shouldn’t behave like that. Shouldn’t do stuff like that.”

He looked over at Tubbo. Like that - hand pressed to his face, mouth tight with pain - he looked so unlike himself. More vulnerable than he ever had looked before. 

Tommy hated it. He hated the image he’d stumbled upon when he went looking for his servant after finding his sword - his father’s sword - under the bed. Tubbo backed up against the wall by two people much bigger than him, a red handprint on his cheek, choking against the hold someone had on his collar. 

Tubbo on his hands and knees after he was deposited onto the floor, so… small compared to the squires above him. Tubbo was short, but to Tommy he’d never once seemed small until that moment.

It was vile. It wasn’t - it was the opposite of everything Tubbo was, being in a position like that was so totally beneath him that it made Tommy’s skin crawl. Nobody should ever be treated like that. Nobody .

“I - I’m going to have them dismissed I swear to f*cking Prime - I’m so sorry Tubbo, f*ck, that should never have happened. I can’t believe - what the f*ck is wrong with…” he paused to take a breath. “That was f*cking sh*t of them.”

Tubbo smiled slightly. “Sometimes people just suck.”

“Sometimes?” 

Tubbo shrugged. “Maybe a lot.” He paused. “But… thank you. Seriously.”

Tommy tilted his head. 

It was odd hearing Tubbo speak without a trace of sarcasm or disdain. No humour in there. Just simple honesty. 

Thank you.

He hadn’t been thanked in a long time. Especially not with sincerity. 

He stared at his servant. 

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Being beaten up in the stables? Not exactly.”

Tommy shook his head. “No. I just meant…” he waved a hand. “That. The way they were acting. Is that normal?”

Tubbo shrugged, looking down at his feet. “I… I guess?”

Tommy wanted to scream. He wanted to shriek and throw things and just f*cking - 

That’s not right. That’s not fair. 

“Has it happened here before?”

Tubbo shook his head. “No. It…” he swallowed. “It’s not that big a deal Tommy. Thank you for getting me out of it, but -”

“It is a big deal,” Tommy insisted. 

Tubbo blinked. “It - you’re not going to like this conversation if it’s gonna surround how common that was.”

“I don’t like that it’s common,” Tommy muttered. “That was f*cking terrible.” He paused. “Why didn’t you tell them you worked for me?”

Tubbo squinted at him. “Huh?”

“Why didn’t you tell them you work for me? They would have left you alone if they’d known.”

Tubbo shrugged, looking down. “I guess it just didn’t occur to me.”

Tommy sucked in a breath. “Tubbo, what would you have done if I didn’t show up?”

Tubbo said nothing. 

“Would you have told me?”

His servant’s nails dug into his palms and Tommy stared at him, lips tight. “Tubbo, what were you going to do?”

Tubbo stood up abruptly. 

“Thanks for the ice,” he said, too quickly, too coldly . “I should get back to work.”

“Tubbo -”

Tubbo met his eyes, gaze filled with sudden chill. “See you later.”

And then he was gone, the door closing just a little too hard. 

Tommy stared after him. 

What did I do wrong?

Chapter Text

The prince’s worried eyes wouldn’t go away. 

Tubbo strode down the hallway without paying much attention to where he was going. 

F*cking Tommy and his f*cking concern and his - 

Just everything about him. 

F*ck him. 

F*ck him, f*ck him, f*ck him, f*ck him so much. 

Tubbo clenched his fists, resisting the urge to slam them into a wall. Why was he so… angry?

He’d didn’t like the prince. He couldn’t care less what he thought, how he saw him, what he made of Tubbo’s life. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care what Tommy thought. He didn’t care whether…

He didn’t care whether Tommy cared.

“Would you have told me?”

Why would I? So you could laugh at me?

Tubbo bit his lip.

He was being unfair. Tommy… wouldn’t have laughed. Even if he didn’t have the confirmation he had now, Tubbo knew Tommy wouldn’t have laughed at the sight of him bruised and bloodied. He - he would have - 

He would have been furious. You know he would have hated it. 

Tubbo glanced out of a nearby window and sighed. It was dark outside. He should probably head back to the prince and prepare the room for night but…

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t want to look at the person he should hate and…

And not hate him. 

He shook his head and carried on. 

He wasn’t really heading in any particular direction, but he found himself walking past the shelves in the library and, before he realised what he was doing, he found himself at the mirror.

He reached out and ran a finger over the runes hidden within the frame.

Who did this? Who left these here? Does anyone else even know these exist?

He snorted bitterly, letting his hand fall. 

This would have been melted down if anyone knew about it. 

He glanced around carefully.

Then he raised his hand and let a little of his magic escape, crackling in his fingertips as it leaked into the world, activating the runes.

Tubbo gave his heartrate a moment to return to normal. 

Then he slipped behind the mirror.  

–oO0Oo–

With the entrance behind him firmly sealed the whole passageway was plunged into darkness. 

Tubbo took a deep breath and held out a hand.

His magic - the core of his magic - was fueled by positive emotions. All he had to do was think of - 

Tommy’s laughter as Tubbo struggled to get his horse to walk in a straight line. 

Tommy’s smile when Tubbo laughed at a joke he had made.

Tommy’s eyes as he asked if Tubbo was alright…

Something warm sparked in Tubbo’s chest and before he knew it he was a holding a small orb of soft white light. 

He tried not to think about the memories that had formed it, instead focusing on growing it until it was strong enough to light his path. 

Life would be so much easier if I could use this in front of other people instead of lanterns… 

He eyed the small ball hovering above his palm. 

How could anyone call this evil? 

Holding his hand out in front of him he began descending the staircase. It might have been a servant’s passage at one point, but if that had ever been true it was certainly forgotten now. There was a thick layer of dust everywhere, the stairs were crumbling in places and there were cobwebs so old the spiders that had spun them were dead.

It took a long time before Tubbo reached the bottom. 

He found himself in a corridor with a bunch of branching pathways. Hoping he wasn’t about to get himself lost where no one would find him - where if they did find him he wouldn’t be any better off anyway - he picked one and started walking.

After he’d been walking for either fifteen minutes or five hours something glowed, gold against the grey stone. 

Tubbo hurried over to it, the runes, the same ones as before - shining in response to his magic. 

As he watched, the wall slowly swung towards him, revealing an empty dungeon. 

Tubbo peered inside, thanking Prime there were no guards around to see this. No matter how many squires Tommy punched in the nose for him, he didn’t think the prince would do anything to protect his servant if he was caught practicing magic within the castle dungeons. 

The light in his palm flickered. 

Tubbo pulled back, pushing the wall back into place before continuing back down the corridor. 

There was an entrance to another cell a few paces away. 

And another. 

And another. 

Tubbo stopped checking them. Every time he did it just put his life at risk, and there was nothing to see on the other side beyond a grim reminder of where he’d end up if he was caught. 

Eventually he came to the end of the hallway, which opened out into a larger space - not any less dark, but much more… lived-in. Piles of parchment and books were stacked around the room and on tables, empty urns and strange-looking instruments balanced on top of them. There was less dust down here too. 

His footsteps echoed in the darkness as he walked to the desk closest to him, picking up the first document he saw. 

‘A Brief History of Magic in the Third Century’

Tubbo’s heart tightened and he let the parchment fall from his hand. 

What is this place?

He picked up another.

‘What is Sorcerery? A guide for non-academics’

Tubbo’s eyes widened. 

‘There is much confusion over the difference between a sorcerer and other types of magic user, in large part due to the privacy the community maintains around their culture and practices. In this short article I am hoping to help clear some of mist and explain the distinctions between each group and what it is that makes sorcerers a particularly prime example of the term ‘magic in the blood…’

‘...Sorcerers are, in many respects, closer to fairies than they are to most magic-users, able to use magic due to their heritage rather than the use of runes or other artifacts (although they have found a use for many of these and, as a whole, continue to expand…’

‘...Every sorcerer is born with both an affinity for a particular element and a deep well of potential for other uses of the magic in their veins. With the correct spells a sorcerer can…’

Tubbo scanned the parchment in his hands, heart racing. 

What the f*ck is this? 

In only twenty years has a whole section of the castle been forgotten? 

A whole section full of - full of - 

He turned around, gazing at the space around him. 

A whole room full of magic?

He closed his eyes. 

When he opened them again, nothing had changed. 

This is - 

How?

How is this real?

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Spinning back to face the desk he leafed through the piles of parchment, finding paper after paper on magic - paper after paper on sorcerery. 

‘How to raise a magical child as a non-magical guardian.’

‘A History of Healing - from potions to spells.’

‘Sorcerers and Secrecy.’

‘Elemental magic in sorcerers’

‘Witches and Wands versus Sorcerers and Staffs - why the difference matters.’

‘Are sorcerer eye colours hereditary?’

‘A complete census of magical families, 1210.’

Tubbo paused at that last one. 

Heart in his throat he ran his eyes down the list until he reached ‘U’.

‘Underscore. Sorcerers, Seventeen of census age, Northern Essempi.’

Tubbo felt tears sting his eyes. 

There it was, in black and white. 

The only evidence Tubbo Underscore had ever had a family. 

The orphanage had called him ‘Smith’ when they found him, but Tubbo had figured out his true last name a few years ago, in a dusty book hidden in the back of some library his old master had been raiding. He’d seen the mention of a sorcerer family close to where he’d grown up and he’d just… known. Tubbo Underscore was his true name, his head and heart both sang with the truth of it. 

He’d thrown that book into the pyre a few minutes later, destroying it. As far as anyone knew, there were no Underscores left. There were no sorcerers left. 

I wonder if they had light magic, like me. 

I wonder if they had green eyes and brown hair, if their irises shone gold when they cast a spell? I wonder if I had any siblings, or was it just me? I wonder if both of my parents were there. I wonder if my grandparents were still around before - 

Before…

A teardrop trailed down his cheek and he brushed it away. It wasn’t the first time he’d cried for the family - the people - he’d never known. It probably wouldn’t be the last. 

He gently placed the parchment back down on the desk and crossed the room to the other table, which was obscured by stacks of books - most of them on history and genealogy, a few on sorcerers and their cultures, one very odd one on shapeshifting that looked more like a conspiracy theory than a compilation of useful knowledge. 

He did his best to put everything back where he’d found it to keep track of what he’d seen and what he hadn’t. The book at the bottom of the very last pile had no name. No title, no author, just a rather beautiful leather cover and golden-edged pages. 

Tubbo opened it carefully. 

The cover contained an inscription he couldnt understand - as was the case with quite a few of the books on the desk which he hadn’t bothered touching after seeing the titles on their spines. He prepared himself for disappointment and turned the page. 

Tome of Spells

The Sorcerer’s Grimoire 

Tubbo gasped - and f*ck, he really was crying now.

It can’t be. 

It - it can’t.

But it was.

It’s a spellbook. 

Tubbo sank to the floor, clutching the book - the spellbook - tight to his chest. 

Prime, a spellbook - 

“Thank you Prime,” he whispered, voice cracking. 

He didn’t care how it had gotten here. He didn’t care why it had been left abandoned, he didn’t care if he was touching the property of someone long dead. 

He had a spellbook.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeated. He didn’t know whether he believed in Prime, but in this moment he could believe in miracles. 

Spellbooks were meant to be gone. Destroyed. Tubbo had seen the pyres in the town square as homes and libraries were raided. He’d watched, too young to really understand what he was looking at, as centuries of knowledge became nothing but smoke and ash.

But now a spellbook was here.

A spellbook in the castle. 

A spellbook in the castle . 

Well, it’s about as unlikely as a sorcerer in the castle, Tubbo reasoned, huffing a watery laugh.

Prime, I never thought I would find something like this here. 

I didn’t think I would find half the things I have since I arrived. 

He pushed himself off the ground, still holding the book close, as though letting go of it would make it disappear. He was almost afraid that when he went to sleep he would wake up to find all of this had been a dream. 

He was about to leave, head back upstairs to the library and the castle that felt like a world away, when he noticed something strange at the back of the room. 

A large black… mass, crumbling around the edges, sat against the wall.

Picking his way past the chests and stray scrolls scattered across the floor, he approached the… thing.

He peered up at it. It looked almost like a doorway without a door. Now that he was close enough he could see it had been carved from obsidian, with large cracks running up the sides. He reached out to run a hand down the length of one. 

He hissed and snatched it back.

It burned. 

Tubbo stared at his hand, which was red where it had made contact with the stone. 

What the f*ck is this thing?

He swallowed and turned away, hurrying back towards the library. 

Light and darkness didn’t mix well. 

–oO0Oo–

Tubbo tucked the tome away behind a shelf of books that hadn’t been touched in so long dust had gathered on top of them. He hated leaving it behind, but he’d have to pass by Tommy to get to the safety of his room. He’d be better off coming back for it later, when he knew Tommy wouldn’t be around. 

The royal family had separated him from his heritage for years after all. What was one more night?

He sighed and headed into the centre of the library. He didn’t want to go back to Tommy, not yet. He didn’t - 

He didn’t know what to do .

Why do I care so much? Why does it matter what he thinks of me?

He couldn’t just dismiss it as anxiety about losing his job. It was more than that. He wanted - he wanted - 

He didn’t know what he wanted.

He wanted to hate Tommy. But he couldn’t. 

Did he want to hate Tommy?

Tubbo froze as he emerged from the row of bookshelves. 

Tommy?

The prince’s back was turned to him. He had one hand inside of a book, saving the pages, the other rapidly moving across the parchment in front of him.

Tubbo glanced up at the clock that hung over the library’s doorway. 

It had just gone midnight. 

Tommy had a meeting before breakfast. 

Why the f*ck is he still awake?

He could keep walking. He should keep walking. Tommy’s choices shouldn’t matter to him, it wasn’t his business - wasn’t his place - to question them. To try to change them.

Since when have you cared what your place with him should be?

Tommy certainly didn’t. Tommy didn’t seem to mind whenever he ignored the barriers between them - the walls of formality that should exist but somehow did not. 

Tommy had helped him. 

Was there really a reason he couldn’t help Tommy now?

If you admit you care there’s no going back. 

Would that be so bad?

He didn’t know. 

Tubbo had always lived his life as safely as possible. His very nature was a risk to his life, he didn’t need to bring anything else - any one else - into that mess. Another person was a weakness he couldn’t account for, an variable he couldn’t predict. A danger to the life he was so desperately clinging to. 

A fist swinging to protect him, not to hurt him. 

He was so sick and tired of being alone. 

Would it really be so bad to care about someone?

Would it really be so bad to have someone care about him?

Tubbo took a deep breath and stepped into the light. 

“Tommy?”

Tommy started and turned to face him. “T-Tubbo? What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Tubbo lied, though there was a grain of truth to it. He could have kept moving, slipped out another way, but instead he was here. He didn’t have to be, this was beyond the call of his duty as an imperial servant. 

But whatever they were had been beyond that for some time anyway. 

Tommy blinked as Tubbo approached him. “Me? Wha - why?”

Tubbo shrugged, shifting a stack of parchment to the side so he could hop up on the desk, legs dangling over the side. “You’re not in bed.”

Tommy looked down. “I - I have work to do.”

“At this time of night?”

Tommy’s fingers found the cuff of his sleeve. “I - there’s always more to do.”

“Says who?"

“Bastian,” Tommy said simply. “I - I need to work harder, he already does so much -”

“So do you,” Tubbo said softly. “You’re always working Tommy.”

Tommy opened and shut his mouth, struggling for something to say.

“How often do you stay up late for this?”

“I…” Tommy swallowed. “Most nights.”

Tubbo shook his head. “That’s too much. You - you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

“But - I’m just trying to -”

“No buts,” Tubbo said firmly. 

Tommy looked up at him. “What is this about?”

Tubbo took a deep breath.

No going back now.

Time to cross the line. 

He resisted the urge to smile at the thought.

“I - I wanted to apologise.”

Tommy blinked. “Tubbo?”

“I shouldn’t have snapped earlier.”

Tommy waved a hand. “It - it’s fine, I… I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m sorry.” 

Tubbo gave him a slight smile. “Thanks. It’s okay, you were just trying to help.”

“I was,” Tommy agreed carefully. “You - I…” He glanced down, suddenly seeming incredibly… small. Nervous. 

“Go on.”

Tommy gulped. “Y-you can tell me. If anyone threatens you. I don’t want you getting hurt - y-you’re the closest thing I’ve got to a f-friend here, so…” 

Tubbo gasped. “I’ve never been so insulted.”

Tommy’s eyes lifted, staring at him. Tubbo smiled slightly, letting a spark of humour into his expression. Letting Tommy see what he really meant.

They looked at each other for a long moment. 

Then a smile spread across Tommy’s face. 

“Friend. You’re my friend.”

Tubbo grinned. “That’s more like it.”

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up to find the curtains already open and Tubbo placing a cup of tea on his bedside table. 

He blinked. “You’re up early.”

“You’re up early,” Tubbo responded airily. “I’m just making sure you don’t miss your meeting after you stayed up until stupid-o-clock last night.”

“So did you!”

“Because I was talking to you!” Tubbo rolled his eyes. “You could have ordered me to go to bed at any time.”

“Would you have listened?”

Tubbo considered that. “No, probably not.”

“Then why-”

Tubbo put his hands on his hips. “Just drink your tea.”

“You didn’t have to get up.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “It’s sort of my job Tommy.”

“Since when have you cared about that?”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “I will dump your teacup over your head.”

“Then you’d have to clean the sheets again.”

“I’ll wait until you are out of the bed.”

“That sounds a lot like a threat.”

“It might be,” Tubbo shrugged. “If you don’t shut up and drink your tea you’re going to find out.”

Tommy chuckled, pushing himself up so he didn’t spill the tea everywhere - he didn’t want to hear another of Tubbo’s rants about how annoying it was to change the sheets of his ‘f*cking obnoxiously massive’ bed.

Tubbo had never brought him tea in the morning before. He wondered whether this had anything to do with the pre-breakfast meeting of advisors he was being forced to attend. 

Or maybe it had something to do with their conversation last night. 

Tommy smiled. He had a friend. 

Friends were not something he was able to make, not even with other nobility his age - Bastian had made it very clear that he didn’t have the time. Or the position. Princes - kings - didn’t have friends and the other nobles, the squires his age (f*ck squires) - none of them seemed interested in befriending him - at least not sincerely. Not like Tubbo. 

Tubbo was the most truthful person Tommy had ever met. 

–oO0Oo–

He was still stifling yawns as he entered the councilroom, reminding himself that he had no excuse for how tired he was - not when he’d stayed up so late despite knowing he had this meeting in the morning. He slipped into his seat at Bastian’s right hand, a little disappointed that his guardian wasn’t already there - sometimes Bastian would talk to him before meetings began if they both arrived early. 

Though Tommy cheered up when he realised this meant Bastian would know he’d made it to the meeting in good time. 

He sat, back straight and eyes ahead, trying to resist the urge to pull at a loose thread on the sleeve of his tunic, as the advisors talked amongst themselves in little huddles of three or four, some leaning back to whisper something to a neighbour. None of them acknowledged him, although that wasn’t anything unusual. After all, Bastian was the one doing most of the work.

The door opened again and the whole assembly stood as Bastian stepped into the room. Tommy kept his hands tucked behind his back and his head high as he felt Bastian’s eyes sweep over him, determined to show that he was strong enough for this - a meeting before he’d eaten anything - before he was supposed to have consumed anything , were it not for the tea Tubbo had brought him earlier. 

Bastian sat down and indicated for the assembly to be seated also. Tommy obeyed and tucked his hands under the table so Bastian couldn’t see the way his fingers tugged at his sleeve. 

“You all know why we’ve gathered together so early,” Bastian began, putting an elbow on his armrest as a wave of nods swept through the advisors. “There have been rumours of a surge of magic users in the south.”

Heads turned towards Councillor Mercier, who Tommy knew was responsible for the southernmost part of Essempi. The man in question nodded. “Yes. There have been a number of incidents that point towards the use of magic.” He shuddered as he spoke the final word and a number of people joined him. Tommy managed to resist the urge. “Dams and bridges have been destroyed, buildings burned and it even seems like trees have simply disappeared overnight.”

Bastian pursed his lips. “The destruction of dams and bridges does sound like the work of water spirits - or perhaps a more worrying creature, such as a kelpie. Have there been any disappearances - children, for instance?”

The councilman thought for a moment before shaking his head. “I haven’t heard of anything like that.”

Bastian frowned. “I see. Keep an eye on that. As for the disappearing forests, those could be dryads…”

Another councillor raised his hand. “Could it also be a group of ‘living trees’? After all, if they can move on their own…”

Bastian gave him a withering look. “Lambert, you would do well to remember the difference between real evil and horrors that can be found in myth.” Lambert shrank back under his gaze and Bastian continued. “The burning buildings may be coincidence, or they may be a part of this picture. Personally, having seen the brutality of magic-users, I am inclined to believe the latter.”

Tommy nodded with the room in silent agreement. He was lucky enough to have been young during the height of the Cleansing, but he’d heard the stories of what the world had been like before they’d ridded the world of the vast majority of magic-users. Chaos throughout the kingdom, ordinary people terrorized by creatures who could defy the natural order of things. Magic-users were cruel and, most disturbingly, they weren’t even human. Even the ones shaped in human form, like witches and sorcerers, were intrinsically bound up with magic - bound up with evil. Inhuman and monstrous. 

But still, despite his age Tommy still hadn’t escaped the savagery of magic-users. After all, they were the reason he was seated next to Bastian and not his father. They were the reason all he had left of his father was a sword and a crown he was too young to wear.

Tommy wished he had the sword with him right now. It was always a reassuring presence at his side, the silent reminder of why they were doing this - maintaining the peace his father had fought and died for. Carrying on his legacy, erasing the traces of evil left in his kingdom, bringing it out of a long period of darkness. 

Bastian pressed his fingers together. “If this pattern continues we can send more troops into your area. The last thing we need is instability so close to the Crown Prince’s coronation.”

But, since his father was gone, he was lucky to have Bastian, someone who cared about him that much. 

Councillor Dupont tilted his head. “Sire, is it not possible that all of these things could be caused by one magic-users, rather than a group of a few different kinds of creatures?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… it is known that sorcerers are able to -”

Bastian held up a hand. “Allow me to stop you there. It is common knowledge that sorceres were amongst the first to be wiped from the soil of Essempi.”

“But what if one of them -”

Bastian raised an eyebrow. “Every village was burned and every sorcerer on the census has been accounted for - even children. No trace of them has remained. There are simply none left.”

The councillor nodded, looking relieved. “Yes sire.”

Bastian pushed himself up. “You are dismissed. Please keep a close eye on your territories and report any major incidents directly to me. There is no mercy to be found for the corrupt in our kingdom.” 

The rest of the room stood up, filing out fairly rapidly. Tommy had hoped that Bastian would hang back and speak to him, but his guardian swept out without a word in his direction, heading to the breakfast taking place in the dining room. 

Tommy stepped outside and was surprised to find Tubbo in the hallway, hands behind his back and eyes lowered as the councillors walked past him. Tommy followed them… Tubbo probably had his own reasons for being in this hallway, right? Maybe he was going somewhere else - it probably doesn’t have anything to do with - 

“Where are you going?”

Tommy blinked as he turned to face his servant. “Breakfast?”

Tubbo glanced down the now-empty corridor and brought his hands out from behind his back in order to fold them awkwardly over his chest. “I… I told the kitchen to send it to your room.”

Tommy stared at him and Tubbo went pink. “Just - to give you a break after…” he waved a hand, “...all that. I know I wouldn’t want to deal with more courtiers while I’m trying to eat breakfast.”

Tommy smiled. “Really? You think I should hang out in my rooms with you instead?”

Tubbo rolled his eyes and started off down the hallway without looking at him. “Don’t get a big head. I’m just looking out for you.”

Tommy grinned as he jogged after him, catching up to his servant before he was able to turn the corner, walking with him side-by-side.

Chapter Text

‘Reformidant’
Requirements: Low
Components: None
A popular spell among the traveller, ‘reformidant’ causes an object to shrink in size.
Directions for casting: The sorcerer typically touches the object they wish to make smaller and speaks the spell clearly, imagining the size they wish for the object to become and allowing their magic to work. After enough practice a sorcerer can point rather than touch the object and some particularly skilled individuals can even use the spell non-verbally. 

Tubbo took a deep breath. “Alright. Okay.” 

It had been a few days since he’d first acquired the grimoire, and he had spent every night combing through it, trying to figure out what he would be able to do - and what, his magic weak from lack of challenge - would be too difficult. 

This seemed simple enough - and useful too. If he could make the spellbook smaller it would be much easier to hide - he could even put it in his satchel whenever he left the castle and put his mind at ease. 

He pressed a hand to the pages, swallowing the bubbling excitement and fear, trying to concentrate on shrinking the large tome to the size of a pocketbook. 

“Reformidant.”

Nothing happened and Tubbo’s stomach dropped. 

Is - is my magic crippled? 

Can a lack of use do that?

Prime, no -

He could have cried. The Cleansing had taken everything from him - it couldn’t take this too - could it? It couldn’t - it couldn’t -

He swallowed and tried again. “Reformidant.”

Still nothing. 

Tubbo clenched his fists, resisting the urge to drive them into the floor - he didn’t need broken fingers on top of everything else. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” he asked aloud. 

The catacombs didn’t answer. There was no one left to answer him anyway. He didn’t have a master to guide him, he didn’t have a teacher or a grandmother or even a helpful familiar, the way many witches had - or… used to have.

He just had himself. 

And this room. 

There must be a reason this isn’t working. My magic is just fine, I would know if it wasn’t - it would be like having a leg missing. So there must be another reason.

Tubbo went back over to the desks, leaving the spellbook on the grounds and sifting through a stack of parchment. I could have sworn… aha!

His eyes fell on a paper entitled ‘Why isn’t my spell working?’

He scanned it quickly - compromised or incorrect components… a lack of practice at low-level versions… pronunciation? 

“Well how the f*ck am I supposed to know if I’m pronouncing it wrong? It’s a different language-” Tubbo cut himself off with a start and grabbed the dictionary lying on the desk. ‘Old Essempi – Kinokian’. 

He didn’t speak Kinokian, but he didn’t need to. All he needed was - 

He flipped the book open, turning the pages to ‘R’ as he hurried back to the grimoire, crouching down beside it as his eyes fell on precisely the word he was looking for.

‘Reformidant’ (r-eh-form-ih-daunt)

“That’s not how it’s spelt at all,” Tubbo muttered, heart filling with relief as he placed his hand on the spellbook once more, sending a prayer to Prime that this would work. He didn’t know what he’d do if it didn’t.

“Reformidant,” he breathed. 

For a split second, nothing happened. 

And then the book began to shrink under his hand. Tubbo pulled back and watched as the massive tome condensed until he could easily hold it in one hand. 

When it stopped changing he picked it up carefully and leafed through the pages. The large writing the grimoire had had originally meant that now it was like reading a normal - albeit deeply illegal - book.

Tubbo felt the realisation sink into his bones. 

I just did magic. 

I just did magic. 

He sprung up and whooped with joy, lifting his achievement to the ceiling in excitement. 

“I did it! I f*cking did it!” 

He spun around gleefully, grinning as he squeezed his eyes shut. I did it. 

I can do magic. 

Tubbo sank back to the floor, pulling the book close to his chest and staring at the ceiling. Worry and sadness mingled in his stomach but he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about what should have been, what this could mean for him.

He just wanted to stay in this moment for a little longer. Just a little longer. 

–oO0Oo–

“It is not called that.”

“It is, I’m telling you!”

“That’s a weird f*cking name!”

“I’m not denying that it’s weird. I’m just saying, that’s what it’s called!”

Tommy chucked the lichen at his servant’s head. “And I don’t believe you.”

Tubbo picked the lichen up from the forest floor and held it back out to him. “I’m telling you, we call it ‘old man’s beard’. Take it or leave it.”

“And I am telling you, no one in the world has called it that, ever.”

Tubbo groaned in frustration and stuffed the lichen into his satchel. “When we get back to the castle I’m finding a botany book and proving you wrong.”

“Good luck finding a book that says anything like that.”

“I don’t need luck because the first one I grab will say that.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“Would you bet on it?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“If the first book you pick up calls lichen, ‘old man’s beard’, I will cook for you.”

“Do I want that, Prince-who-can’t-find-the-milk?”

“Hey! I’m an excellent cook!” Tommy squawked. 

Tubbo smirked. “I’m sure you are.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, still smiling. He didn’t strictly have permission to do this - take a walk in the forests surrounding the city without his guards - but he much preferred the way Tubbo acted when no one was watching them. And he didn’t ask… it’s not like anyone had technically told him he couldn’t…

Tommy put his right hand over his father’s sword. Besides, if anything happened I’d protect us. Protect him. 

As though on cue there was a rustling from the bushes. Tommy tensed, until the bushes gave way to a small child, who stumbled into view, drawing a small knife as he noticed them. 

Tubbo stopped in his tracks and Tommy removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. No need to scare the kid. 

“S-s-s-stay back!” the boy squeaked, brandishing the knife clumsily. “Stay away from me!”

Tommy swallowed. “Hey - are - are you okay?”

He could practically feel Tubbo rolling his eyes as he stepped forwards, crouching down. “What’s your name? Are you lost?”

The boy snarled, darting back further. “Get away from me!”

Tubbo winced. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“You - you - get away!” The boy scrambled further back and Tubbo drew himself back up, exchanging a glance with Tommy. 

What the f*ck do we do? 

I don’t know! I’m no good with kids!

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. Yeah, I noticed. 

Not the point.

Tommy turned back to the kid, holding out a hand. “Look, if you’re scared we can help you.”

The kid paused, looking at his outstretched hand cautiously. Tommy took a few steps forward, Tubbo at his side. Just a little closer -

Suddenly kid grinned and took a step back. Tommy frowned in confusion. Why is he -

He tried to follow him.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even drop his hand, frozen in place. Glancing to his left he saw Tubbo come to the same realisation, eyes widening in shock.

This is magic. 

Tommy felt his heart begin racing. A young child had just trapped him in some sort of - some sort of spell. They were surrounded by - encased in magic. Magic. 

A young one - I knew they were powerful but this - what can we do? How do we get out of this? 

How do I get Tubbo out of this? 

The boy lifted his hands to his mouth to shout. “I did it!” 

There was rustling and suddenly a much taller boy - maybe even a man - emerged from behind a tree, scooping the young boy up and swinging him around. “I’m very proud of you,” the taller boy said, pressing his forehead to the child’s. “You were very brave.”

“I was! And I didn’t give them any clues!”

“You didn’t,” the older boy smiled. “You did very well.”

Tommy attempted to open his mouth and was relieved to find that he could. “Who are you? What have you done to us?” 

The older boy placed the child back down and turned to face them, face hardening. “I’ve been on the run long enough to know not to give my name to strangers.”

“What are you?” Tommy demanded. 

The boy clenched his fists. “I’m a normal human, same as you two.” He gritted his teeth. “More’s the pity.”

Tommy laughed. “Human? And yet you did this?”

The boy nodded. “Anyone can learn basic runes . Those work whether you have magic in your veins or not.”

Tommy frowned. 

That… can’t be right. 

Humans shouldn’t be able to do any form of magic. They were too pure, magic too corrupt. They were antithesis to each other, polar opposites, there wasn’t… there wasn’t crossover. There shouldn’t be crossover. 

“He’s the one with magic,” the older boy continued, indicating the boy clinging to his leg “We’ve been on the run for years, all because my kid brother was -” he cut himself off, laughing bitterly. “But hey, who’s counting?”

Tommy stared at the boy. Now that he looked closer he could see that the child’s eyes were closer to purple than blue. “He’s not human.”

The boy bristled. “I’m a human!”

His brother placed a hand on his head, glowering at Tommy. “He’s as human as the rest of us. It’s not - it’s not his fault. None of this is his fault.”

Tommy tore his gaze from the brothers, looking anywhere but into the child’s wide eyes, anywhere but his brother’s furious glare.  

Bastian’s voice rose unbidden in his head. 

You have to remember Thomas. They’re not human. No matter how they look, no matter how they appear - how innocent they pretend to be - they are monsters in our form. Corruption and cruelty walking among us, liars, manipulators by nature. 

Don’t extend them sympathy they don’t deserve.

“You’re a human,” Tommy tried. “You should be on our side.”

“I’m on my brother’s side,” the older boy snarled, his brother detaching from his leg and walking closer. “Besides, you wouldn’t want me on your side. Not as long as I know how to use runes. As long as I’m corrupted, isn’t that right?”

“We don’t mean you any harm,” Tubbo cut in. “Please let us go and we won’t cause you any trouble - hey wait, d-don’t take that!”

As he spoke the small child pulled his satchel down from his shoulder, handing it to his brother who turned from them as he searched through it. 

“Please - please d-don’t -”

Tubbo’s eyes were wide with panic and Tommy felt a pang of guilt. He’d forgotten how terrifying this must be for his servant, to be trapped by magic-users, totally defenseless. 

He had to get Tubbo out of here. He had a duty to every one of his citizens. 

And besides…

It was Tubbo. 

Tommy’s chest felt hollow at the mere thought of returning to the castle without his servant - his friend - by his side. 

The older boy paused in his searching, closing the satchel without a word. He gave Tubbo a long look. 

Tommy’s stomach dropped. What is he going to do to him?

He had to - he had to -

Not Tubbo - not like Father - not Tubbo too -

“I’m Prince Thomas!” Tommy blurted.

Everyone’s attention snapped to him.

Tommy swallowed. “I - this is my servant, Tubbo. I - if you’re on the run you could u-use me f-for protection or something… r-right? You - Tubbo’s not any use to you. Just let him go.’

Three pairs of eyes weighed heavily on him. 

Tubbo broke first. “Tommy I - I can p-protect myself -”

Tommy shook his head - or he would have, if he could have. “This is the best way.”

The older boy stared at them both. “Y-you’re serious? You - you a-are?”

Tommy looked into his eyes. “I am Prince Thomas. Let my servant go and I promise I will surrender to you without a fight.”

The two brothers exchanged glances, birdsong filling the silence of the forest. 

The older boy nodded. “I - o-okay.” He stepped forwards, taking Tommy’s sword from it’s sheath and tossing it, along with Tubbo’s satchel, to the floor close to Tubbo’s feet. “Don’t - don’t try anything.”

He produced a long coil of rope and, with a foot, he disturbed the runes holding Tommy into place. Tommy felt his body flood with movement in the same moment he had his hands wrenched behind his back, tied tightly with rope as he was hauled away from Tubbo - Tubbo -

Tommy twisted back to look at his servant. “Wait! You - the agreement was to free him -”

The older brother raised an eyebrow. “It’ll rain sooner or later, the runes will wash away. He’ll be fine.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

The boy locked eyes with Tubbo, giving him a look Tommy didn’t understand. “I’m sure he’ll find a way out of there himself.”

Tommy didn’t see how.

But, he supposed, as the rope dug into his wrists, he had his own share of problems to worry about. 

Chapter Text

Tubbo attacked the binds holding him with his magic, lashing out with coils of light. If he had his spellbook - if he could move to turn the pages - he could have found some way to escape this by now. 

They didn’t mention it.

Tubbo’s heart had leapt into his throat when the older boy had started searching his satchel, knowing that at any moment his eyes would land on the spellbook buried beneath layers of cloth. He would know - he would know what Tubbo was. He would use it against him - he would tell Tommy - oh Prime, Tommy…

F*cking self-sacrificing idiot.

Tommy had - had handed himself over. For him. 

It was insane. It didn’t make sense - Tommy was the heir to the kingdom, he was someone important. 

Tubbo was… no one. Nothing. No book would mention his name, there would be no records of his existence after he was gone - except perhaps in old castle records of past employees. Even then they wouldn’t represent him. No one would ever tell his story the way they would Tommy’s. 

If everything goes to plan, of course.

Tubbo shuddered. The thought of being written into history as a threat, a liar - a villain… an evil that had ‘disguised itself as human’ and ‘infiltrated the castle’... 

He didn’t want that to be his legacy. He’d rather not have a legacy at all. 

You aren’t human though, are you? Not by Tommy’s standards, a small voice in his head hissed. You heard him. If he knew, he’d fear you - he’d despise you -

Tubbo swallowed the twinge of… something he felt at the thought. The way Tommy had spoken to the brothers - they way he thought of them…

It hurt. In Tommy’s eyes he wasn’t even a human being he was - corruption, plain and simple. The embodiment of wrong, the antithesis to goodness. Hearing his views - the views of most of the kingdom, in fact… hurt in a way it hadn’t before. 

And he wasn’t even saying it to you. Can you imagine what he’d say if he knew?

Good thing he won’t find out, Tubbo thought firmly.

At this rate we might not see each other again anyway. 

Noble f*cking d*ckhead.

How can he be both at once? How can he hate magic and sacrifice himself for a sorcerer all in one breath - even if he doesn’t know it? 

How can he be harsh and caring all at once?

It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t make sense. 

And now he’s in danger. Because he’s an idiot. 

It wasn’t that he believed the brothers would hurt Tommy - at least not more than was necessary. They weren’t evil, no matter what the world wanted to believe. But Tommy was without his sword or proper protection in the middle of the forest, which was filled with wild animals and rogues and Prime-knows- what -else. And with every moment he took another step away from the castle - away from safety. 

Besides, what am I supposed to do? Go back to the castle without him?

Tubbo rallied his magic again. Come on. Think - happy thoughts. Come on. 

Shrinking spell. Using the spellbook. Finding the spellbook. Come on, these are just simple runes, you’re a sorcerer, these should be easy to break - 

Happy thoughts. Right. 

Happy thoughts. 

Uh - Tommy trying to find milk in the kitchen. Tommy drawing his sword to protect me from a closing window. 

He felt the magic around him loosen and fall away, as though he had been bound by ropes that had been cut. Feeling rushed back into his body and he sank to his knees, drawing a deep breath as he did. Thank f*ck that worked. 

He scrambled to his feet, snatching up his satchel and slinging it over his shoulder as he grabbed Tommy’s scabbard, strapping it around his own waist as quickly as he could. After a few moments he decided it was secure and pulled his spellbook from the bag over his shoulder. 

Then he plunged into the forest, frantically flicking through the pages as he ran to catch up with the prince.  

–oO0Oo–

Tommy took his promises seriously. Big and small.

Awww - I promise I won’t hurt you, little bug… just come here…

Yes, I promise I’ll have that report done by the morning Bastian. 

I’m sorry, I promise it was an accident, I’ll fix it - I’ll do it better this time!

I promise I won’t ask again, I - I shouldn’t have asked at all.

He meant every one of them. A knight's word was his bond, after all, and while he wasn’t a knight he would be the leader of the king’s guard one day. Bastian said he had to be even better than the knights - he had to be perfect. The perfect example for them to look to.

So, even though he recoiled at being stuck in the hands of magic-users, he didn’t fight as he was led through the forest, the brothers walking close by, the rope binding his hands tied to the older one’s belt. 

He glanced to the side only to meet the eyes of the older boy, who quickly looked away, directing his attention back to his indigo-eyed brother who was running through the forest ahead of them, attacking weeds with a stick, beating back nettles to clear a path for them. The older boy smiled and ruffled his hair. “Good fighting.”

His brother grinned from ear to ear. “I’ll protect everyone from the weeds! I hate weeds!”

“Me too. You show them who’s boss.”

The boy saluted and dove ahead of them, whacking the stinging plants with fresh vigour. 

“We could just take the path,” Tommy murmured. “It would probably be faster.”

“No we can’t,” the older boy said tightly. Tommy hadn’t even realised he’d been listening. 

“Why not?”

“We’re in hiding. We can’t afford to take that risk,” the boy explained. A hint of tiredness crept into his tone. “We… we have to stick to the forests, even if it’s slower. We barely had time to set that trap for you and your servant before you showed up.”

Tommy gulped. Tubbo. 

It was fine. It was fine. Tubbo would get out of there and run back to the castle for help. Soon the castle guard would be on the hunt for him and he’d be back where he belonged. 

He ignored the stab of worry he felt at the thought. He could already hear the questions, Bastian’s reprimands, he could practically feel the new presence behind his back, the fresh guards Bastian would order to shadow him, for his safety. 

Would Tubbo still call him Tommy while they were listening? 

“I see,” Tommy said simply. He looked at the boy in front of them. “How old is he?”

“Ten,” the boy sighed. “He’s ten.”

“And you?”

“Nineteen. I was fifteen when we started running.”

“And he was… six.”

“Yeah.”

They’re not human, Tommy told himself sternly. They’re not, they’re not, they’re not. 

But the older one is a human. He uses runes, but he’s human. 

“What… I mean - what can - what does he…”

The boy’s shoulders dropped. “He… sees the future. Sometimes. Usually in dreams, although sometimes he starts spouting obscure prophecies during normal conversations. I - I try to keep him away from other people, just in case.”

Tommy blinked at him. “How long has he been doing that?”

The boy flashed a sad smile. “His whole life. It - I think it was some kind of long-lost family trait that sprung up at the worst time. Our grandmother said her mother could do it too.”

“Where is she now?”

His eyes hardened. “Gone.” 

“Gone?”

“Dead,” the boy said dully. “Our parents too. House fire. No prizes for guessing who set it ablaze.”

Tommy swallowed. They’re not human. 

And yet they were born to a human family. 

And yet they lived peacefully among humans for generations. 

And yet the grief in his eyes…

It looked incredibly, painfully , human. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“You’re not,” the boy said bitterly. “It’s like you said, right? They were on the wrong side.”

Tommy opened his mouth to reply - with what, he wasn’t sure - when the sound of rustling and snapping twigs made him turn his head just as a - something - burst out of the bushes. 

It had a beak and feathers talons and wings, and yet its hind legs looked like a lion’s - it even had a tail. 

Whatever it was, it didn’t look friendly. Tommy reached for his sword only to be hit by the memory of it being taken from him, left at Tubbo’s feet -

Prime I hope this thing didn’t find Tubbo - he can’t even move to escape - 

Beside him the older brother had drawn his sword, holding it out in front of him, towards the creature. “Purpled!” 

The small boy answered the call, hidden from view by the thick plants around them. “What?!”

“Run on ahead!” his brother shouted, voice tight with disguised worry, eyes fixed on the creature in front of them. “I’ll catch up!”

“Okay!” the boy - Purpled? - said cheerily, the rustling from his spot getting fainter and fainter as he fought his way further into the forest. 

Before them, the beast was still there, eyes travelling between them. 

Tommy’s heart beat wildly in his chest. I don’t have a sword - I don’t have anything - if - if it comes for us - if it - oh Prime - 

The blade in the hands of the boy beside him was shaking. His form was poor, his stance weak, his grip too loose. He was nervous . Thinking of the brother running away, who would be expecting his big brother to catch up to him, to protect him. 

The big brother that didn’t have a chance against this - thing. 

The beast lunged and Tommy leapt to the side, the rope linking him to the older brother’s belt going taunt as he did so. Tommy sucked in a breath as the creature’s talons sliced the tether clean through.

The brother stumbled back in alarm. Their eyes met.

The older brother looked back at the beast, then back at him.

And then he spun around and sprinted into the bushes, crashing through them like a plough through soil, racing to catch up to his brother. 

Tommy swallowed as the creature turned its head to him, curved beak glinting in the sunglight that streamed in through the leaves above them. F*ck. Sh*t. I’m going to f*cking die.

He didn’t have his sword, didn’t have a shield, didn’t have so much as a dagger to defend himself with. His wrists were still tied together. 

He was beyond f*cked. 

He backed up until his back hit a tree, holding out his hands, trying to placate the thing in front of him. “I - I - I d-don’t mean you any harm - just… go - go somewhere else…”

The beast cocked its head and Tommy suddenly got a strange feeling it could… understand him. 

He swallowed again. “I - uh - I’m not going to a-attack you… a-and I don’t think I would taste very good - so  - so you can just go about your day and we can - we can pretend this never happened? Right?”

A long, slow blink. Tommy decided to take it as a good sign. “Or - or we can just stare at each other, if you want. That - that’s also fine.”

The beast gave a low huff and took a step forwards. Tommy pressed himself against the bark but didn’t dare move, even as his chest heaved, betraying his anxiety as the creature shuffled forwards another step. 

Then, without warning it huffed again and turned around, heading back in the direction it had come from, disappearing into the foliage with surprising ease.

Tommy stayed where he was, flattened against the tree trunk as though he had been pinned to it, mind whirling as it tried to catch up with his new set of circumstances. 

Prime - that was - that was close - 

He cautiously lifted his still-tied hands up and pressed them to his forehead, letting out a weak laugh of relief. This day has been too f*cking long.

To go from thinking he was going to die - being trapped between a tree and a creature - being trapped with magic-users, being separated from Tubbo -

Tubbo!

As though he had somehow summoned him, his servant suddenly came careening into the clearing, clutching his satchel tightly and looking like someone had dragged him backwards through a hedge. “Tommy!”

“Tubbo?!” Tommy exclaimed. “What - how -”

Tubbo scrambled over to him, looking him up and down. “You’re okay right?! They didn’t hurt you?!”

“I - I’m fine,” Tommy said, as reassuringly as he could. “Not a scratch on me - aside from the rope burn.”

Tubbo grabbed his hands and began picking at the knot, brows furrowed in concentration. “Prime - f*ck they tied this tight -”

Tommy laughed softly. “I didn’t expect you to care this much.”

Tubbo’s hands stilled, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah. Well. Neither did I.”

Tommy snorted at that. “That’s more like what I was expecting.”

Tubbo went back to wrestling with the binds on his wrists. “Well I didn’t expect you to hand yourself over for me.”

Tommy felt his own face warm and he silently thanked Prime that Tubbo’s attention was focused on his hands. “I - I couldn’t let them hurt you. You seemed scared.”

“I - I wasn’t scared -”

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being scared! Just that you were!”

Tubbo glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want me to untie you, or do you want me to take you back to the castle like this?”

“Untie me,” Tommy said at once.

Tubbo laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He tugged on the rope and it loosened, falling into his hands. “There you go.”

Tommy rubbed his raw wrists. “Thank you.”

Tubbo nodded, sighing. “I can’t wait to hear what the castle has to say about this one…”

Tommy’s heart sank. “You’re… going to tell them?”

Tubbo paused, halfway through unbuckling the scabbard around his waist. “You… aren’t?”

Tommy swallowed. “I - why cause a fuss? You know - it would be a lot of… drama.”

He could hear Bastian’s lecture already. 

“You need to stop being such a reckless, moronic, fool! Why were you in the forest without proper protection? And what were you thinking, handing yourself over for your manservant? There’s a dozen exactly like him Thomas, he’s replaceable! You are not - although Prime knows if you were, the kingdom would swap you for someone with more brain in his skull in a heartbeat. You’re seventeen . Stop acting like a child.”

He - he didn’t want that. He didn’t want the lecture that would happen if Bastian found out, no matter how much he might deserve it. 

And…

‘I - I try to keep him away from other people, just in case.’

The brothers didn’t pose a threat to people. Right? They - they were staying off the path, keeping to themselves… there was no need to send out a search for them, the way Bastian inevitably would, always overprotective of his ward. He’d deploy a whole legion of guards to chase them down - a waste of resources. 

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “Drama?”

“Yeah, drama,” Tommy said, pulling himself together. “C’mon. It’s getting late. We should head back.”

Tubbo nodded slowly, handing his scabbard back to him. “If you say so.”

Tommy strapped the leather band back around his waist, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding as he placed his hand on the hilt of his father’s sword. “I do say so.”

Tubbo gave him a long look. Tommy didn’t understand why, but he had the oddest feeling he’d just passed some sort of test. 

He jerked his head back the way they’d come. “Are we going?”

Tubbo nodded, falling into step next to him. “Do you think we’ll have time to get into the library when we get back?”

“Why on earth do you want to go to the library after all this?!”

Tubbo grinned. “Because I have a point to prove involving a prince and some old man’s beard .” 

“Oh f*ck off!”

Tubbo laughed and Tommy smiled despite himself. Bastian’s voice in his head might be right about him - about everything - but there was one thing it got wrong. 

Nothing and no one could ever replace Tubbo. 

Chapter Text

“Euen Kobs, you have been found guilty of crimes against the kingdom of Essempi. Being guilty of possession of magical texts, and of being a magic-user, you have been sentenced to death by the word of Protector Bastian and the royal name for which he stands.”

The guards pulled the man forwards, half dragging him towards the block. His legs looked like they’d given out, his face pale and drawn as he was lowered to his knees, the officiant still reading out the charges. 

Tubbo couldn’t bring himself to listen. He could hardly bear to look. He stood frozen behind Tommy, hands folded neatly behind his back. Like a good servant. Unnoticed, unseen. Invisible. Every inch perfectly forgettable.  

He couldn’t afford to be visible, noticeable, seen. If people looked too closely - if someone stared into his eyes for a moment to long - they would see the strangeness, the magic that crackled and popped in his veins, the spellbook hidden under his pillow. He was playing a dangerous game, one he couldn’t afford to lose.

Not when the consequences were so clear - and so deadly. 

The man - Euen… he has a name, even if no one will dare to speak it again - lowered his head onto the wooden block, wobbling a little, balance thrown off by his hands beng bound behind his back, the thick chains with enchantments engraved into the iron pinning his wrists together. A stillness fell over the crowd as the executioner raised his head to look at Bastian, waiting for his signal. 

Just get it over with, Tubbo begged silently. Please. Don’t make this longer than it has to be - don’t make him suffer longer than he has to -

No matter how many executions he saw, it never got easier. Seeing someone’s life end before his eyes left something heavy in his heart, whether they went quietly or with tears and begging. Tubbo hated every moment of them. He wouldn’t attend at all if it wasn’t a part of his job as Tommy’s servant. 

If refusing to attend wouldn’t raise suspicions he couldn’t risk.

Instead he watched people just like him die. Whether they were magic-users or not, whether they were truly guilty or wrongly convicted, they were people just the same, victims to a cruel law that doomed them all in the end.

Tubbo remembered all their names. To keep them alive, just a little longer. 

Euen Kobs. 

It could just as easily be me up there - one slip and it will be. I’m sorry it’s you. I won’t forget your name, I promise. This isn’t the end, at least, not yet. 

Bastian lifted his hand and the executioner raised his axe. 

Tubbo couldn’t look. He lowered his head, the way he did for most people, being a servant and all. But this was different. This was special. 

This respect was deserved. 

He didn’t hear the axe land, he didn’t hear the head fall into the basket. The crowd's cheers drowned all that out, applause breaking out across the courtyard. 

Tubbo felt sick. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. I’m sorry. 

He hoped death was kind.

–oO0Oo–

Tubbo stepped into the servants hall, heads turning towards him as he sat down at the long table, one of the scullery boys serving him a bowl of stew. He nodded his head in thanks. The boy had brown hair and sea-green eyes - if Tubbo squinted he could almost see himself as he had been at eleven, training to become a servant, learning to be silent and quiet and slip by without a trace. 

He could only hope this boy was only learning those things as part of the job - not as essentials for survival. 

One of the maids leaned forwards, strands of honey-blonde hair falling onto her forehead. “Did you see it?”

“See what?” Tubbo blinked.

The maid laughed lightly. “The execution!”

Tubbo’s heart clenched and he hid his wince by looking back down into his stew. “Y-yeah,” he said quietly. “I saw it.”

There was a long moment of silence. Tubbo stirred his stew slowly, watching the steam rise in little curls. 

“Well - go on,” the maid prompted. “What happened?!”

Tubbo glanced up and realised he had an audience - almost everyone in the room had turned their attention to him, aside from a couple of people near the wall. Sure, it wasn’t the first time all eyes had settled on him - he was the prince’s manservant after all. At first he’d been surrounded by people, all desparate to hear royal gossip, to discover what their masters were up to when they weren’t watching. 

But Tubbo knew better than to speak about his masters behind their backs. He was a good servant, that meant being reliable, trustworthy. The mass of curious servants backed off once they realised they weren’t going to get information from him - that he preferred to keep to himself, be it shyness or smugness. He didn’t much care what they thought.

This wasn’t the same. This was… executions were… different. He - he had to…

He swallowed hard, shrugging. “He was executed.”

The maid rolled her eyes, laughing brightly. To Tubbo it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “Did he cry?”

“No,” Tubbo said flatly. “No, he didn’t cry.”

“Good,” one of the older butlers grunted. “No right to cry.”

“I don’t know - it’s freaky when they don’t cry,” another one said thoughtfully. “Like they don’t have emotions or some sh*t.”

“Well they don’t, do they? They’re not human.”

“Even dogs feel sad!”

“What’s your point?” 

Laughter rippled around the room at that and Tubbo swallowed the bile rising in his throat, gritting his teeth. He - he had to - to be normal, to be one of them - he forced his face to be neutral, not to grimace as he said “yeah - he didn’t cry. Didn’t even flinch much.”

“Bo-o-o-oring,” the maid who had first spoken groaned. “Guess I didn’t miss anything worthwhile.”

Tubbo clenched his spoon so hard his knuckles turned white. A man is dead - a man is dead - “Yeah.”

She leaned away again, turning back to her friends, leaving Tubbo to his meal. His appetite, which had already been the seize of a grape following the scene that afternoon, was gone completely, the thought of eating anything making his stomach turn. 

The only people still watching him were the two at the far wall - a groundskeeper Tubbo was pretty sure was called Sam, and a woman named Niki, who was a baker, or a pastry chef, or something like that. To the rest of the room they probably seemed boring, maybe ‘old-fashioned’ or soft. Weird. Wrong.

At the moment they were Tubbo’s favourite people in the room. 

Not that he could tell them that. Ever. Especially not with this - not when not asking about an execution was his reason. 

He stared into the wooden bowl before him, halfheartedly pushing a piece of carrot back and forth. I wonder why they didn’t say anything?

Maybe they were just… good people. Warmhearted, sympathetic - people who understood magic-users were people too, just like them. Who saw the executions for what they were, senseless murders of innocent people, who couldn’t stomach watching, hearing, thinking about the atrocities happening all around them. 

Or maybe - just maybe - they were like him. 

Not sorcerers, obviously. But magic. Magic and hiding. 

If they were, it wasn’t like Tubbo would know. They probably thought he was the prince’s haughty servant, too proud to spend time with the ordinary servants, except when he had an opportunity to let them mock some poor soul’s death.

Which was fine. It was the image Tubbo maintained, to keep himself safe. He didn’t mind if people hated the false version of himself - it was infinitely preferable to the disgust that would fill them if they knew what he was. Less than a dog, apparently. 

He pushed his bowl away and got up, striding out of the room without glancing back. 

Let them think what they want. Your life is on the line. 

Tubbo hated executions. He hated the loss of life, he hated the resignation, the tears, the panic - whatever form the end took for the man, the woman, the child up there. He hated the cheering crowd. He’d hated every part of each and every beheading and hanging and burning he’d ever seen.

But he couldn’t be ungrateful for the harsh reminder of the fate that awaited him if he f*cked this up.

–oO0Oo–

A hand fell on his shoulder and Tommy stilled. 

“Thomas.”

“Bastian,” Tommy said carefully, not turning around. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Bastian said, circling around to Tommy’s front as he spoke. 

“Do you - I mean - why are you…”

Bastian laughed lightly. “Thomas. Do I need a reason to check in on you?”

Tommy flushed. “I - I g-guess not.”

Bastian motioned for him to follow and began walking down the corridor. “What did you think of the execution this morning?”

Tommy scurried after him. “I - uh - what did I think of it?”

“Yes, what did you think of it?”

What did I think of it? 

What does that even mean?

There wasn’t anything to think about when it came to executions. What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to think?

“It - uh - it went smoothly?” Tommy said hesitantly. That sounded right.

“It did,” Bastian agreed. Tommy let out a breath of relief. “Surprisingly so, even.”

Tommy lifted his eyebrows. “Surprisingly?”

Bastian shrugged. “Don’t you find his lack of tears odd?”

Tommy paused. There was a right answer to this. He just needed to remember what it was. 

“They - they’re not human,” he said slowly. For some reason the words felt like ash on his tongue. “So - it’s not that… odd. Right?”

Bastian’s eyes met his. “I suppose not. We have no need for false tears.”

“False sadness. E-exactly.” Tommy nodded even as something strange twisted in his gut. It felt almost like he was…

Like he was lying. 

Tommy’s chest tightened. He’d never lied to Bastian before - he’d never been able to lie to Bastian before, Bastian always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. Exactly what he’d done. 

He’d learned not to lie to Bastian. Certainly not about this - about magic . He - he’d never had to lie about magic before, everything he’d ever said about it he’d meant . 

Until now, apparently. 

It was just - 

He couldn’t get the brothers out of his head. The younger one, Purpled, was just a kid… the thought of the fate that would befall him if he was caught, what would happen to his older brother who just wanted to keep them both alive…

It pricked something sharp in Tommy’s heart.

What the f*ck is wrong with me?

Chapter Text

‘A sorcerer’s elemental core is the source of their power. The most common cores are fire,  water, earth, and air, while rarer cores include nature, music, art, or even - most unique of all - light itself. They are always connected to the sorcerer’s emotions, and are therefore both the most powerful and most volatile area of their magic. Because of this a young sorcerer may struggle to control their magic, particularly when emotions are high.’

Tubbo snorted. You’re telling me. He had no idea how he’d survived the purges as a small child, too young to understand how much danger he was in. Perhaps there simply wasn’t enough sources of joy to force me into losing control. 

Of course, once he understood what was going on he was able to teach himself how to suppress his magic - his emotions. Enough to keep himself safe, enough that he could release the pent-up power buzzing beneath his fingertips when he knew he was alone.

He turned back to the spellbook. ‘However, the popular belief that a sorcerer’s core element influences their personality holds no real credibility. For instance, a light sorcerer is not born naturally optimistic and a fire sorcerer is not necessarily hot-headed - although the amount of times they are treated as such may well explain why they seem that way!’

Tubbo supposed that made sense. He certainly didn’t consider himself an optimist - there was a reason he had never been adopted, after all. He didn’t have that… sunshine quality about him, ironically enough. Maybe he had, once, before he found out how cruel the world could be - how quickly it would chew him up and spit him out if he allowed himself to be that naive. Nature versus nurture and all that.

‘It is their elemental core that makes sorcerers such a unique and powerful kind of magic-user, linking significant emotion to strong display of magic, as well as allowing them to do magic involving their core element without the need to study it, unlike witches, warlocks and most other magic-using peoples. It is also a particular weakness, as being cut off from their emotional source makes the use of magic impossible - for instance, a water sorcerer who is harbouring a significant amount of anger may find it hard to cast even simple spells.’

That Tubbo certainly understood. For f*ck’s sake, why did my magic have to rely on joy? How many sources of joy are there in this kingdom right now? There were times when it felt as though his magic had been placed into a well - he could see it but not reach it, not haul it up and out into the world. 

Those times were usually right after executions, or book burnings or - or… 

He swallowed, looking back down at the pages. That wasn’t a helpful line of thought to pursue right now. 

‘It may take a new sorcerer a few sessions of relinquishing tight control over their magic in order to establish a baseline, and a few more to discover what they can do when emotions are high. Many sorcerers find it useful to write down the best memories they have for their emotional source. The greater the extent of feeling, the more powerful their magic will be, so it can be helpful to have a wide variety of memories to call upon depending on the amount of power a sorcerer wishes to use in their spell!’

And the section ended. Tubbo sighed. Do I even have enough memories to fill a page? 

He placed the book on the stone floor and flexed his hands in front of him, hyper-aware of the tendons pulling and stretching as every heartbeart sent magical blood flowing into them. 

The thought of letting go - releasing control, just for a moment … 

It scared him. 

F*ck, it scared him. It was one thing using his magic deliberately, carefully - crafting balls or beams of light, being in control, being in charge of where his magic went, what it did, what form it took. He could snuff it out easily, he knew what was going on - it was as safe as using magic could possibly be in Essempi. 

Letting go….

He swallowed, resting his upturned palms on his crossed legs as he tried to think of good memories - good things. Things that brought him joy. 

He started small.

Freshly baked bread. Sneaking desserts from trays when no one will notice. The way a room smells after you refill the vases -

Magic crackled and buzzed beneath his skin and Tubbo flinched despite himself, curling his hands into tight fists. 

No no no no no, you can’t let go - you can’t, you can’t, someone will see, someone will catch you, kill you - execute you, in front of everyone  -

Tubbo gasped out a shuddering breath, fighting his instincts as he coaxed his muscles to unclench. It’s okay - it’s fine. No one can see me down here, no one can even hear me. This place is abandoned. 

He closed his eyes, shutting out the world around him - even though that world was only the stone floor and walls of the catacombs, they were still part of the castle . 

He unfurled his hands once more, taking a deep breath, holding it for a few moments, and then gently releasing it, trying to slow his heart rate. It’s alright. Everything’s going to be fine. Nothing - nothing will happen. 

Lying in a field and doing nothing. Going into town on a day off - oh, payday!

Magic rose to his fingertips, bubbling beneath the surface. 

Tubbo exhaled slowly.

And let go. 

He felt himself do… something, he just wasn’t sure what it was. It - it didn’t matter. He was safe. 

He kept going, focusing on the memories he drew to the surface and allowing his power to do as it pleased, which only made the warm feeling his chest grow. If his magic could speak it would have been cheering with joy.

Tubbo smiled slightly. Polishing a mirror and seeing it become shiny again. Getting into bed after a long day. Butterflies - bees! Writing with a new quill… realising a nightmare was only a nightmare… the cool side of the pillow. 

And, of course, using magic. 

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes.

He was greeted by a soft glow as dozens of floating balls of light filled the air around him, like fireflies in a forest. 

Tubbo’s breath hitched. I did this?

It’s - it’s - 

Prime, it’s f*cking beautiful. 

He pushed himself onto his knees and reached out, gently touching one of the orbs with a finger.

It burst in a shower of sparkling light, the remains hovering in the air like glittering dust. 

Tubbo laughed in surprised delight, touching another, which responded exactly the same way, exploding like a firework the moment his finger made contact with it. 

Holy sh*t…

He - he’d always known his magic wasn’t the ugly, hateful thing most people in Essempi made it out to be. He knew that just from the nature of his power, the emotions it drew on. But he’d never realised… he’d never taken the time to step back and see…

Prime…

My magic is beautiful . 

And yet he didn’t have anyone to share it with.

The thought sparked a twinge of sadness in his chest, a few of the orbs around him popping of their own accord. He didn’t have anyone to show - he didn’t have anyone that would look at his power and not see something twisted. His only friend in the world supported the ideology that made the vast majority of people see his magic as a bad thing. 

Tubbo sighed, pulling his magic back into himself, coiling it up and stuffing it back into his chest, where it couldn’t give him away. 

It was pointless to hope, he knew that. He wasn’t an optimist, life had taught him better. 

And yet…

Somehow, he couldn’t help wishing there was a world where Tommy would find his magic beautiful too. 

–oO0Oo–

Tommy tipped the butter into the bowl. “Is that everything?”

“Almost. You just need to add two eggs and then mix it all together.”

Tommy gave him a long look. “Please don’t make me search this whole kitchen for two eggs.”

“They’re not in the kitchen! They’re in the pantry!”

“That’s incredibly unhelpful and you know it.”

“Seems like a you problem.”

“Do you want cupcakes or not?! You have to help me!”

“I’m not the one who lost a bet,” Tubbo smirked, leaning back where he sat, perched on one of the worktables. “I’m doing you a favour by telling you the recipe.”

“You begged me to let you help,” Tommy grumbled, ducking into the castle’s pantry.

Tubbo laughed. “I believe my exact words were ‘I want them to be edible’. ”

“F*ck you!”

“If you’re going to make me food I might as well have good food!”

“Maybe they’d be better if I - found them, f*ck you Tubbo! - let my creativity run wild!”

“I can’t think of anything more terrifying,” Tubbo snorted as Tommy emerged triumaphantly from the storeroom, brandishing two eggs above his head. “Now crack them into the bowl.”

Tommy crossed back to his mixing bowl and blinked down at it. “Uh - how?”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Tap it on the side of the bowl until the shell splits.” Tommy obeyed. “Now you dig your thumbs into the gap and just kinda… pull it apart!” He mimed the action as he spoke, laughing aloud as he saw the look of horror on Tommy’s face. 

“You want me to what?”

“Just do it! It’s only an egg!”

Tommy reluctantly dug his fingers into the egg, yelling in surprise as it came apart, dripping raw egg onto his fingertips. “Urgh, what the f*ck?!”

“And the other one!”

Tommy glared at him, tapping and cracking the egg with such fury that pieces of shell dropped into the mixture. 

Tubbo could have cried with laughter as he said “You’re going to need to scoop those bits of shell out.”

“I’m getting a spoon,” Tommy declared at once. 

“You can’t! You’ll spoil the integrity of the mix!”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Tubbo laughed as Tommy grabbed a spoon from a drawer, fishing around in the bowl to scoop out the shards in his mixture. “You’re acting awfully squeamish for someone who always has a raw egg in his bath.”

“I - someone who - Tubbo what are you talking about?”

“You always have a raw egg in your bath! You’ve seriously never noticed?”

Tommy’s eyes looked ready to pop out of his head. “You - you put what in my bath?”

“An egg!”

“You don’t.”

Tubbo did not. 

“Of course I do!”

Tommy looked green. “Why?!”

“It’s good for you!”

“How?!”

“It’s good for your skin!”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is! If it can grow a chicken…”

“It can what, make me grow feathers?!”

Tubbo was actually shaking with suppressed laughter. “It keeps your skin healthy! All the best imperial servants know this!”

“I - I - I… Tubbo, I have never been closer to firing you than I am in this moment.”

Tubbo grinned. “You wouldn’t.”

Tommy smiled and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

That warm feeling lit in Tubbo’s heart again. It was more effort than normal to stop his magic from bubbling up and overspilling at the feeling. Tommy likes knowing me - he likes my company, my words, my humour - he likes me. 

Tommy threw down his spoon and grabbed a dishrag, wiping the raw egg from his fingers. “I hate eggs.”

“You have them for breakfast practically every day.”

“Never again. They’re dead to me.”

Tubbo laughed and handed him a wooden spoon. “Mix.”

“Why do I have to -”

“What part of ‘you lost the bet’ is hard for you to grasp?”

Tommy huffed and took the spoon, pouring all his energy into viciously stirring the cake batter. “I still can’t believe it’s actually called that.”

“You should just listen to me at all times,” Tubbo grinned, hopping down from the worktable and opening the cupboard of trays, pulling out a cupcake tray along with the pile of waxed paper circles he had overheard a few of the bakers - Niki included - claim would ‘revoutionalise baking’. He wasn’t really a baker - beyond a simple sponge cake he was pretty much clueless - but who was he to question royal chefs?

Huh. That was a weird thought. If he did start claiming the prince took a bath with a raw egg, would he start a trend? Would people respect his opinion as an imperial servant too?

He shook his head, dismissing the fantastic idea from his mind and lining the tray with the little wax circles as Tommy mixed. “My wrist hurts.”

“Switch hands then.”

Tommy did so, for about four seconds, before immediately switching back. “Feels weird.”

“I’ve seen you praticse swordplay with both hands - I’ve seen you write with both hands!”

Tommy shrugged. “My right hand is my favourite.”

“But you can use both!”

“I can use both for fighting because that’s just good sense - what if I lost a hand in battle? And I can write with my left hand because… well sometimes my right hand cramps up and I don’t have time for a break. You know how it is.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “Y’know Tommy, I’m not sure I do.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Being a servant is such a cushy job.”

“Says the one who freaked out over cracking an egg.”

“Listen…”

Tubbo laughed and shoved the tray towards him. “Pour the batter into these. I can’t wait for you to do the dishes, I really can’t.”

“Hold on! That wasn’t part of the deal!”

“Cleaning up is a part of baking! Besides, do you really want to explain why all this sh*t is just… lying around to someone tomorrow morning?”

“...no.”

“Well then!”

“I am never doubting you again.”

It took half an hour of scrubbing dishes and obsessive oven-checking and waiting for the cakes to cool before they were finally ready to eat. Tubbo had to admit, they looked good, having risen right out of their cases while in the oven. “I get first pick.”

“I made them!”

“And I won the bet! You’re still struggling the with that concept?” Tubbo shot back, reaching out and selecting the cupcake with the most powdered sugar scattered over the top. 

“I hoped you were going to respect the effort I put in!”

“I will respect you when you are correct.” Tubbo laughed at Tommy’s offended expression and took a bite from the cupcake in his hand. Sweetness spread across his tongue and Tubbo chewed slowly, analysing the texture, which was surprisingly airy and moist. 

Tommy snatched up the cake closest to him, biting it in half in one, his eyes widening in appreciation. “Hey! I - it’s good!”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Oh c’mon, they’re good, admit it!”

Tubbo sighed and smiled. “Fine. They don’t… completely suck.”

Tommy beamed. “I’ll take it!”

“I take the credit, I told you the recipe!”

“If you even try to take credit for these I will… spill tea on my bed. On purpose.”

Tubbo gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Tommy asserted. “These are my creations!”

Tubbo put up his hands. “Fine! They’e yours!” He let his face soften slightly. “They are pretty good man. Well done.”

Tommy blushed and shrugged. “It was kinda fun.”

“Oh?”

Tommy ducked his head slightly. “I’ve - I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Believe me, I noticed.”

“Shut up,” Tommy chuckled, rolling his eyes. “It was new and I liked it, that’s all.”

Tubbo opened his mouth, probably to mock the prince for enjoying a servant’s job, when he paused. 

Has Tommy ever admitted to liking something before?

The prince was certainly good at many things. He could defend himself as well as any knight, he could speak, read, and write in at least four or five languages, he could joust, hunt, even dance…

But he’d never admitted to liking any of those things. They were just things he could do, was meant to do - like the tournament in a few weeks time. It had never registered with Tubbo until now that Tommy had never said he was looking forward to it. It was just something he was expected to do. Expected to like .

Tubbo closed his mouth and then reopened it, suddenly finding himself saying: “We could do it again if you want.”

Tommy blinked. “We could?”

Tubbo shrugged, pretending not to notice the way Tommy’s eyes had widened in badly concealed excitement. “If you want. It was kinda fun to be the one giving you the orders for once.”

Tommy spluttered and Tubbo laughed. 

Being in the castle was dangerous. Every day he survived there was nothing short of a miracle. 

And yet Tubbo couldn't imagine ever quitting. Not because of the mone, or the lack of job prospects if he was to leave. 

But because, somehow, he didn’t think he’d be able to bring himself to leave Tommy behind. 

Chapter Text

Guilt was gnawing at Tommy. 

He - he lied to Bastian. He never lied to Bastian. He couldn’t lie to him - right? Bastian always - he always said he knew when Tommy was lying, so Tommy rarely even tried.

But now he was lying to Bastian daily - lying when he smiled and said everything was fine, lying whenever he nodded in agreement to the latest lineup of executions… he was lying to Bastian. 

And he didn’t even know why. 

He’d always felt a little nervous around Bastian - and who wouldn’t? Bastian was… amazing. Tommy was just… Tommy. Thomas. He was used to the way his heartbeat would pick up as the man entered a room, his fingers itching to twist at his tunic sleeves - although thankfully he usually managed to resist that urge when Bastian’s eyes were on him.  He was used to being hesitant to enter a room that contained his guardian, he was used to a bolt of - ridiculously unnecessary - alarm shooting through him when the man’s hand fell on his shoulder. That was normal. 

This - this pit in his stomach was new. The sinking feeling he couldn’t explain, a twinge in the back of his mind that whispered that something was wrong wrong wrong.

But why? 

What’s wrong?

Some part of Tommy couldn’t help suspecting he’d been charmed or cursed by one of the brothers - that was when this whole mess began, after all. When he’d lied to Bastian by omission, neglecting to tell him about the - the… he couldn’t bring himself to say dangerous… the brothers in the forest. And the magical creature that had, however indirectly, saved his life. 

F*ck, why was this all so confusing? 

What he wouldn’t give to go back to just a few weeks ago, before anything changed. Before he - before the chasm in his gut had opened up, all the surety he had felt before slowly but surely trickled away into it - to the point that he was lying to Bastian about simple things - things that had once felt so obvious. 

What is wrong with me?

He was being - he was being so ungrateful. Who was he to disagree - however unwillingly - with Bastian’s decrees - no, with universal truths. He was letting Bastian down, letting the country down - what would people say if they knew the prince was falling apart like this? For that matter, what would Tubbo say when he found out he was feeling… feeling s-sympathy for the people that had threatened his life?

He had to make it up to him - to all of them - somehow. 

Which was what had led him here, the desk in his bedroom when it had long gone dark outside. He was determined to keep working until the candle to his right burned out, even as his eyelids drooped and his vision became blurry, head pounding as he forced himself to concentrate. He - he owed this to the kingdom, to Bastian. He was falling short and he knew the only way to be better was to work. 

He… he didn’t know how to do anything else. 

A door creaked and Tommy ignored it. He - he had to do this. Nothing else mattered. 

“Uh - Tommy?”

Tommy lifted his head, his neck protesting violently as he did. “T-Tubbo?”

Seeing Tubbo out of uniform was… a little strange. He was wearing a simple, comfortable tunic and trousers, clearly meant for sleeping in, a small candle in his hand as he blinked at him. “Why - I mean - I - why are you awake?”

Tommy shrugged, wincing. “I - I’m working.”

“Working?… Tommy, it’s almost two o’clock in the morning.”

“It is?” Tommy said, barely stifling a yawn. “I - I hadn’t noticed.” He honestly hadn’t.

Tubbo set the candle down on a dresser and folded his arms. “You’re overworking yourself.”

Tommy shook his head, ears ringing. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are. Prime’s sake Tommy, night is for sleeping!”

“Not when - not when stuff still needs done.”

“ Everything can wait until the morning. Please - would you find it strange if I was working at this time of night?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“You see the double standard, right?”

Tommy swallowed. “I - I g-guess.” He felt a pang of guilt even as he spoke - what was he saying? Surely - surely it didn’t matter, not when it was him, that was what Bastian had always said. His kingdom came before him every time. 

But -

Tubbo was looking at him so earnestly. There was no other answer he could give, not like this. 

“You need a day off,” Tubbo said after a moment’s pause.

Tommy swallowed. “I - I d-don’t know how.”

Tubbo blinked. “Huh?”

Tommy flushed red. “I - uh - I don’t know how to… have a day off.” He felt Tubbo’s stare on him and hastened to reassure his servant. “It - it’s okay! I don’t need one, so - so i-it doesn’t matter. It’s fine,” he finished, forcing a smile on his face. “Really.”

Tubbo shook his head slowly. “No… no no no, no Tommy, that’s - Prime…”

“I don’t have time for a day off anyway,” Tommy chuckled, though it rang hollow even to his own ears. “You know what my schedule’s like.”

“A night then,” Tubbo said stubbornly. “All nights, but especially tomorrow night.”

Tommy frowned in confusion. “What’s happening tomorrow night?”

“You’re having a night off,” Tubbo said firmly. “And you’re going to sleep now to prepare for it.”

A fresh wave of pain rose in his head and Tommy squeezed his eyes shut against it, abandoning any attempt to figure out what his servant meant by that . “I - I’m fine,” he said weakly.

He could hear the raised eyebrow in Tubbo’s voice. “You’re sleeping now, even if I have to lift you into bed myself.”

Tommy huffed a laugh. “I think I can manage it.” 

“So you’ll sleep?”

“I guess,” Tommy sighed. It was hard to say no to Tubbo sometimes - even harder when he secretly wanted to agree. “You’re rather bossy for a servant.”

Tubbo shrugged and smirked. “I have to be, my master is an idiot.”

Tommy yawned, stumbling his way over to his bed and flopping onto the sheets, sinking into the smooth quilts and furs, sleep already tugging at him. 

Or maybe that was Tubbo tugging at his shoes. “You are not sleeping with shoes on.”

Tommy grumbled, but let Tubbo pull his shoes off and cover him with a blanket. He hadn’t been tucked into bed since he was very small - since he was eight and Bastian had executed his nanny. At the time Tommy had been distraught, although now he understood that repeating stories of faeries and dragons was no doubt a worthy cause for execution when the mind she was attempting to poison was that of the crown prince. 

He understood that now. That the care and gentleness meant nothing, that deep down she was cruel and hateful and - and… evil. He understood why Bastian did what he did.  

Didn’t he?

He was so distracted by his own thoughts that it didn’t occur to him to say anything until Tubbo was almost out of the room, and he suddenly found himself saying: “Why are you awake?”

Tubbo paused, the candle in his hand casting soft shadows on his face. “None of your business.”

Tommy found he was too tired to argue with that as his eyes slid shut once more and he slipped into sleep. 

–oO0Oo–

“Put these on,” Tubbo ordered, throwing a bundle of cloth at him. 

Tommy unwrapped it and was confronted with a tunic and trousers, not unlike what Tubbo was wearing - the sort of clothing ordinary people wore, the way he had seen villagers and country peasants dressed when he passed by in a carriage or on horseback.

“Uh - why?”

“Doesn’t matter why. Just do it!”

“Explain yourself first.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “So stubborn.” 

“Explain yourself! That’s an order!”

“I will! Once you’ve put them on!”

“You’re impossible.”

“I know,” Tubbo beamed. “Now hurry up, time’s ticking away.”

“Fine,” Tommy grumbled, ducking behind a screen and exchanging the clothes he was wearing for the ones Tubbo had give him. “This better be good.”

“Oh, it is.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“And yet you keep me around.”

“As an act of mercy. No other noble could possibly deal with you, you’d be fired within minutes.”

“You’re so gracious.”

“Anything to keep unemployment rates down.”

Tubbo laughed. “The kingdom’s in good hands then.”

Tommy shrugged, emerging from behind the screen. Prime I hope so.

Tubbo looked him up and down. “Much better.”

“Glad it’s to your liking. Now can you please explain what you’re planning?”

Tubbo grinned. “Remember that night you decided a window was attacking us?”

“You were scared too!”

Tubbo laughed and continued. “Do you remember what you said you’d do if you had more free time?”

Tommy felt his eyes widen as the realisation dawned on him. “You’re not - you don’t -”

Tubbo bounced on his toes. “Come on, it’ll be fun!” 

Tommy looked down at his toes. “I - I - Tubbo…”

Tubbo lowered his voice. “You said you wanted to, remember?”

“Yes, theoretically.” What if we got attacked? What if I’m recognised? What - what if Bastian finds out?

“Well now you get to test your theory!”

“And if something goes wrong?”

“Then we leave!”

“What if something goes seriously wrong?”

“We’ll be fine!”

“And if we aren’t?”

“We will be.”

“You - you can’t guarantee that!”

“And you can’t be sure something will go wrong!”

Tommy sighed. “You’re far too set on this.”

Tubbo’s cheeks grew pink. “I - I’m just… you need a break Tommy. Not just a nap, not just a moment to sit down - you need a break from all the work, you need a chance to have fun.”

Tommy met his servant’s earnest green eyes. “I - I…”

“Just try it,” Tubbo smiled. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

He was right, he would. 

F*ck Tubbo, why do you always have to be right?

Tommy took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

–oO0Oo–

Tubbo snuck him out out of the castle through a servants passage, smiling to the guards and ushering Tommy along casually until they were in the open streets. 

“They trust me,” Tubbo explained as they walked, keeping his voice low. “If I wanted to harm the royal family there are much easier ways to do so as the prince’s manservant.”

Tommy snorted. “They really shouldn’t trust you.”

“It makes sense from their perspective.”

“I suppose.”

Tubbo stopped before an open door, light and loud conversation spilling from the building inside. Tommy glanced up to read the sign over the door. “Las Nirvana.”

“I know, it’s a weird name for a tavern, but Quackity says it has something to do with heaven.”

“A tavern?”

“You wanted to know what people do on evenings off, right?”

Tommy nodded. F*ck it. “Sure.”

Tubbo grinned. “Then welcome to the best tavern in L’Manberg Tommy.”

They stepped inside and Tommy blinked, eyes adjusting to the light as Tubbo pulled him over to an empty table by the wall, sitting across from him. “What exactly makes this the best tavern?”

“Cheapest ale,” Tubbo said by way of explanation. 

“I’m not sure that’s a sign of quality.”

“I don’t drink anyway,” Tubbo shrugged. “I just like the atmosphere.”

“You don’t?”

“Don’t like being out of control.”

That made sense, Tommy supposed. Tubbo was stubborn and strong-willed to the last degree, he didn’t see his servant risking losing control over his inhibitions. “Fair enough.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment. Tommy looked around the tavern in awe - it was like nothing he’d seen before. Groups of men and women sitting or standing with tankards in hand, throwing their heads back and laughing without caring who saw them. A game of darts appeared to be going on in the corner - and it seemed the people watching cheered for both players, regardless of who they wanted to win. In the centre of the room was the bar itself, a cheery - if slightly drunk himself - barkeeper with dark hair pouring drinks and leaning over the bar to chat to those on the other sides, or tell off customers that had gotten a little too rowdy. 

This - this was certainly a new definition of fun. It wasn’t reserved or organised, there didn’t seem to be any protocols to follow - or at least not strict, formal ones, the sort Tommy was familiar with. 

He - he kind of liked it. 

Tubbo nudged him. “Wanna people-watch with me?”

“People-watch?”

“Look at someone and make up a story for them. For example, see the man sitting on his own at the bar, but without a drink? I bet he’s waiting for someone - maybe he’s waiting on a date or a friend who was supposed to meet him here.”

Tommy blinked. “Oh, I get it. So…uh - I bet the people in the corner over there are a couple?”

Tubbo looked where he was and snorted. “Tommy he’s kissing her, I think you’ve made a statement of fact?”

“I’m a beginner!”

“Okay, okay. Well look, she has a wedding ring and they’re probably quite young. Maybe they’ve been together less than a year.”

“Or - or maybe it’s been longer - much longer - and they’ve only just gotten married.”

“Interesting. Maybe they fell in love as teenagers?”

“And their families disapproved, so they ran away to the capital to tie the knot!”

“Now you’re getting the hang of it. Next one - the man over there by the window, with a drink.”

“He looks strong,” Tommy commented. “Maybe he’s…”

“An assassin!”

“An assassin?”

“The stories don’t have to be realistic!”

“Fine. An assassin who’s waiting on his target - that’s why he bought a drink but drank none of it, he’s trying to blend in.”

“Good one! But who would he be trying to assassinate in an ordinary pub?”

“You made him an assassin!”

“You said he was waiting for his target!”

Tommy drummed his fingers on the table. “Maybe he’s waiting for a… a moneylender, or maybe a corrupt tax collector - someone who cheated his own family out of money years ago!”

“I like it - so he wasn’t hired, this… this is personal,” Tubbo whispered dramatically. 

Tommy laughed and nodded at an older woman, who was watching the game of darts intently. “I reckon she was a famous dart player once - national champion.”

“And she isn’t anymore?”

“Wrist injury ruined her chance at fame, so now she’s searching for a talent to train - she’s going to coach someone else and fulfil her dreams that way.”

A sharkish smile spread across Tubbo’s face. “Why don’t we make it you?”

Tommy blinked. “What?”

Tubbo stood up determinedly. “Come on! You versus me?”

Tommy raised eyebrows. “I’ve never played before.”

“And you think I have?”

“Have you?”

“...yes.”

“This won’t be a fair game!”

Tubbo smirked, lowering his volume. “Why does it matter? There’s no shame in a prince losing to his servant, is there?”

“Or a servant losing to his prince,” Tommy shot back. “Maybe I don’t want to humiliate you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Tubbo scoffed. 

Tommy stood up, placing his hands on hips. “Alright.”

Tubbo grinned gleefully and seized his wrist, dragging him across the room. Tommy couldn’t help jolting as he did so - although, strangely enough, not in fear. He found himself laughing, espeically as Tubbo forced someone called ‘Schlatt’ away from the board, claiming he’d been ‘on there long enough.’ 

He was handed three red feathered darts, Tubbo taking the green-tipped ones for himself. “I will allow you to go first - since you’re a beginner and all.”

“No, by all means, take the first… throw,” Tommy retorted. “You’re going to need the advantage.”

“No no, I insist.”

“I insist."

“Tommy, of the many times we’ve argued, how many have you won?”

“Many!"

“None. You have won none of them. So cut out the middleman and throw your dart!”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but stood in front of the dartboard nonetheless, blinking at it in slight confusion. It had a bullseye, like an archery target, but that was surrounded by segments, like slices of pie, each with a number attached. He had no idea what any of it meant. 

He shrugged. Who cares, as long as I get the centre - that’s probably where the goal is… right?

He took the tiny dart between his fingers, feeling a little ridiculous as he sized up the target - a feeling not helped by Tubbo giggling to his right. “Shut up.”

“I can’t help it! You look so serious!”

“I am serious.”

“Just chuck the dart before I lose it completely,” Tubbo snorted.

Tommy obeyed, sending the dart soaring through the air and landing roughly at the centre of the dartboard. He followed it up with the other two in quick succession before crossing over to take them back, Tubbo doing the admittedly-confusing work of totting up the scores. 

“Sixty-eight” Tubbo concluded. “Not a bad score… for a first time” 

“What’s the maximum?”

“One hundred and eighty.”

Tommy frowned. “Only sixty-eight?! I got all three close to the centre!”

“You got two twenty-fives and one eighteen. That’s sixty-eight!”

“Those cannot be the rules!”

“Those are the rules! Right Quackity?”

“They are,” the barkeep, who had apparently been listening the whole time, chimed in.

“Thank you.”

“You know him, of course he’s going to side with you!”

Quackity laughed. “Well, tell me your name and then we’ll know each other.”

“I - um - it’s T-Tommy.” Prime, it felt strange to introduce himself as Tommy, rather than Thomas, no matter how right the name felt in his head. F*ck, actually it just felt strange to introduce himself as anything other that Prince Thomas. 

“Alright Tommy, now that my potential bias has been resolved, I can confirm that Tubbo is only following the rules of darts - and adding up to a pretty respectable score.”

Tubbo nodded smugly. “Exactly.”

“Don’t get too cocky, you haven’t gone yet,” Quackity chuckled. 

Tubbo squared his shoulders and threw his darts. Tommy had to admit, he threw about as close to the centre as he had - not that that mattered apparently. 

Tubbo inspected the scoreboard carefully, before turning around, scowling. “Sixty-two.”

“Yes!” Tommy whooped. 

Tubbo scowled, but there was no heat in it. “Beginners luck.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Then play me again,” Tommy challenged. 

“You’re on.”

They played for hours. At some point, Tommy didn’t know when, they stopped keeping track of who had won the most and began to just play for fun, trading insults and grudging praise back and forth until the tavern grew quiet, most of the patrons long since left for home. 

As the pitch-black darkness outside gave way to dawn, Tubbo brought them back to the castle, slipping by the guards as easily as he had the first time and leading him back to his bedroom through the servant’s passages. 

Tommy yawned as he emerged into the familiar room. In retrospect, staying awake all night might not have been one of the smarter decisions he’d made. He knew what Bastian would call it. Stupid, selfish, foolish choice - you didn’t think at all - idiotic boy -

“Get some sleep,” Tubbo said softly. “You need it.”

Tommy blinked. “I - b-but -”

“I’ll clear your schedule for you,” Tubbo smiled. “I’ll say you got sick - ate a bad prawn or something.”

“B-Bastian won’t like that,” Tommy said hesitantly.

“F*ck Bastian,” Tubbo said, so flippantly it sent Tommy reeling. “I’ll find a way round him , don’t worry about that.”

“Th-thank you,” Tommy whispered. 

“No problem,” Tubbo said, voice warm with sincerity. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“I - I guess,” Tommy shrugged, swallowing. “Um - th-thank you Tubbo. Tonight - I - I needed that.”

“I know,” Tubbo said softly. “That’s why I did it.”

And f*ck, if that didn’t make Tommy fall apart - didn’t break down every wall he had, every brick crumbling to dust. Tubbo had seen he needed something and just… did it. Saw a problem and solved it because he - he -

He cared. He cared, more than anyone had before, his care was more real than anyone else’s. He didn’t want anything from him, he didn’t want fame or fortune or a valuable connection. He didn’t want a promotion or a pay rise, he treated his job like a formality - like his real job was to be Tommy’s friend, to be Tubbo, before anything else. He had done nothing to endear himself to his master, nothing to ensure his security or rank. 

And yet Tommy knew he would rather lose every other person in the castle than lose Tubbo. 

Even - even Bastian .

It felt like blasphemy to even think it, but that feeling was there nonetheless, inescapable and true, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it.

He - he cared about Tubbo more than Bastian. He loved his servant more than his own guardian . 

Tommy blinked, choking down a laugh of shocked horror and delight. Holy sh*t. 

Tubbo tilted his head. “You okay?”

Tommy swallowed. 

And suddenly he was stepping forwards, wrapping his arms around his servant. 

“Thanks. S-seriously Tubs. Th-thank you.”

Tubbo had gone still, arms tense by his sides. Tommy pulled back, blushing beetroot red with embarassment. What the f*ck was that? What was that?! Where did that come from?! What was I thinking - what the f*ck?!

Tubbo’s eyes were wide with confusion, a strange expression on his face that Tommy couldn’t quite place - somewhere between thoughtful, baffled and… touched? “Y-you’re welcome.”

Tommy nodded, feeling incredibly, deeply, out of his depth now. 

“G-get some sleep, okay?” Tubbo smiled, heading to the door. “I’ll go deal with… things.”

Tommy nodded again, all too aware of his still-red cheeks. “Will do. Th-thank you again.”

“Anytime Tommy,” Tubbo smiled, dipping his head in the weakest imitation of a bow before slipping out of the room. 

Tommy flopped onto his bed, kicking off his shoes and burying himself beneath the covers, yawning as he did.

Tubbo was weird. He was confusing and strange and unconventional and - 

Perfect. Perfectly, unapologetically, Tubbo. 

Tommy wouldn’t have him any other way. 

Chapter Text

Tubbo stepped back, looking him up and down. “Perfect.”

Tommy shrugged, armour clanking as he did so. “It’ll do I -”

Tubbo narrowed his eyes, waving a rag at him threateningly. “Think very carefully about how you want to finish that sentence. ”

Tommy sighed, though there was no bite in it. “I… appreciate it. Happy?”

“Delighted,” Tubbo smirked. “I didn’t spend Prime-knows-how-long polishing all that for you to be anything less than grateful.”

“It - it is your job -”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Even though you get to spend the whole day at the harvest festival?”

“I suppose there are a few minor job perks,” Tubbo smiled. 

Tommy shook his head, though he quickly straightened as the sound of trumpets came from outside, signalling Bastian’s arrival to open the festival - and, by extension, begin the tournament. 

Tubbo crossed the tent to peer outside through a gap in the flaps. Tommy stayed where he was. This was Tubbo’s first time at the annual fair, while Tommy had attended every one that had taken place in his seventeen years of life, and had participated in the opening jousting matches for three of those. The novelty had worn off years ago, the shine long faded away from hours of standing alone on the sidelines, accepting medals to the sound of half-hearted, polite applause.

“He’s doing the whole ‘opening-speech’ bit,” Tubbo said, turning back around. “Excited?”

“This’ll be my fourth tournament at this festival. I - I don’t really get excited for these things anymore,” Tommy shrugged. He tried for a smile. “I guess I’m kinda used to it now.”

“Do you even like jousting?” Tubbo asked, more softly than Tommy expected. 

He blinked. “I - I suppose? I don’t… dislike it?”

“That’s not the same thing as liking it,” Tubbo sighed. He sounded almost like he was talking to himself.

Tommy responded anyway. “Yeah, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I? It would be strange if the prince didn’t participate.” No matter how awkward I feel out there. 

“I wouldn’t mind not having to polish all that armour…” Tubbo joked. 

Tommy chuckled and shook himself. Come on, cheer up. There are worse things in the world than a jousting tournament. “I’d make you do it anyway.”

Tubbo opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment trumpets sounded, signalling the start of the tournament. Tommy straightened up and Tubbo walked over to the tent entrance, throwing him a grin. “After this is over, why don’t we go around the festival for a bit?”

Tommy blinked. 

Oh. 

That - that did sound… nice. He’d always thought the festival itself seemed like it would be enjoyable - all the food and games and shows and stalls filled by masters of their various crafts.

He’d just… never gone into it before. He - he’d never had anyone to go with before. 

“That - that sounds fun,” Tommy smiled. 

His servant smiled back before disappearing from the tent. Tommy took a deep breath before following him, approaching Clementine and giving her a pat on the neck.

“Good girl Clem,” he said softly. “No need to be nervous.” 

The mare shook out her mane, huffing, as if insulted by the very idea. Tommy chuckled and swiftly mounted the saddle, picking up the rains and nudging Clementine forwards, into the ring.

As soon as he entered their sight, the audience burst into applause. Tommy kept his back straight and head upright as he led Clementine in a circle around the arena, doing his best to look confident, intimidating, sure. He felt Bastian’s eyes on him, clapping as he slowly circled the ring, and he straightened even further, determined to show his guardian that he knew what he was doing - that he wasn’t going to let him, let the kingdom, down.

He stopped at one end of the ring, his opponent lining up across from him. Tommy let out a long, slow breath, allowing the noise of the arena to fade away as he focused on the knight opposite him, letting go of everything but the sight of the knight and his horse and the feeling of breath in his chest as it rose and fell. 

The horn sounded. 

He charged, lowering his lance and bracing himself for the blow. 

You stay on that horse. No matter what happens, you stay on that horse, as though you are bound to it. 

The other knight’s lance shattered into splinters across his chestplate as they collided. Tommy held fast to his own, sending his opponent spinning to the ground, their horse skidding to a stop as it registered the loss of its rider. 

The crowd applauded once more and Clementine trotted around in a lap of triumph. Tommy kept his head high, soaking in the victory even though his heart felt oddly… empty. 

They’re not applauding because they care. You know that. They’re applauding because they have to, because the prince won a round and it would be a faux pas not to. It’s not - it’s not because they’re on your side. 

No one is really on your side. 

Tommy was glad for the helmet. He wasn’t sure how his face looked in this moment, but it didn’t… feel like a smile. In fact it - 

“YES! GO TOMMY!”

Clementine let out a whinny of discontent as Tommy practically jumped out his skin at the voice, twisting around to see who had - who had - 

Of course.

Tubbo stood in the stands, eyes sparkling and hands cupped around his mouth. “SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE!!”

Prime everyone was staring. Bastian was staring at the teenage boy in servant’s clothing yelling at the top of his lungs. 

But Tubbo didn’t seem to care. 

A smile tugged at Tommy’s lips as he turned back to the arena. 

–oO0Oo–

Tubbo laughed as Tommy spun to face him, eyes sparkling. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah, I am,” Tubbo replied, a grin spreading across his face as Tommy turned back to the show. The prince’s enthusiasm was… shockingly infectious. Tubbo had seen quite a few performances of this kind in his time, at various festivals and town fairs, but there was something… electric about watching a performance with Tommy, sharing the experience with him, with the rest of the audience. Tommy was even dressed as an ordinary person once again, blending in with the crowd and, apparently, enjoying every moment of it.

“And now, for our next act, we need a volunteer!” one of the performers announced. The audience buzzed, a few hands sticking in the air as the juggler surveyed the group. Tubbo kept his hands firmly in his pockets. 

Which was a mistake. 

“How about you boy?”

Tubbo looked around to find the unlucky person chosen for… whatever this was going to be. 

Only to realise everyone was looking at him. 

Oh f*ck no. 

“Come on up!”

Tubbo folded his arms and shook his head. “Ab-so- lutely no-” 

A shove from behind him sent him stumbling towards the performer’s outstretched hand. The juggler seized one of his arms and hauled him up onto the stage. “A round of applause for our brave volunteer!”

Tubbo twisted around to see who had pushed him - only for his sight to land on Tommy, grinning like a maniac from ear to ear. His smile only grew wider as they made eye contact. 

“You motherf*cker,” Tubbo mouthed, eyes shooting daggers. 

“You’ll thank me later,” Tommy replied, beaming. 

Maybe I really will put an egg in his bath…

The juggler half-dragged him into the centre of the stage, while his companions surrounded him, pulling out - 

Lit torches. 

F*ck me, isn’t this supposed to be fun?!

“After three ladies and gentlemen! One… two… three… hup!” 

It took all eight years of Tubbo’s training in poise and stillness and steadiness for him to hold back his flinch as torches of fire flew past his face, inches from his nose. 

He took a deep breath. It’s okay. It’s okay. These are professionals - they’re not going to make a mistake. I’m fine. I’m safe. 

He flexed his fingers, exhaling slowly. And I could… if I needed to… I could always use my magic. 

He wouldn’t, of course not, not with all these people around, watching him, but… he - he could. If he had to. 

It was a strange feeling, being able to… rely on his magic. Not that he’d ever use it, not unless he had no other choice, but… it was an odd feeling, like one of the oldest tools in his toolbox had finally been sharpened enough to be useful. It was… nice. 

Tubbo let a small smile spread across his face as the jugglers performed their tricks and the audience clapped and cheered, Tommy at the centre of them. This isn’t so bad. It’s - it’s like a safe risk. 

Like using magic in the castle catacombs.

It’s… actually a little fun. 

A few minutes later, after Tubbo had received a round of applause at the juggler’s request - and a begrudging acknowledgement from Tommy that he had been ‘ shockingly brave’ - the performance ended and the crowd dispersed. Tommy immediately made a beeline for the carnival games in one corner of the festival, dragging Tubbo behind him. 

He pointed out a tent with a three stacks of tins set up at one end, payers hurling cork balls at them in an attempt to knock them over. Tommy threw his hand out in a dramatic gesture, indicating the sign above the stall - “ 3 gold for 3 attempts - completely knock over a stack and get two tokens for a refreshment stall of your choice!”

“I’m gonna try it!” Tommy said excitedly. 

Tubbo had to smile at his enthusiasm, even as he shook his head. “These things are generally rigged Tommy.”

“Or, or, you’re just bad at them!”

Tubbo held his hands up. “Hey, I won’t stop you! I’m just warning you!”

Tommy held his head high. “I shall destroy these cans easily.”

He marched over to the person manning the stall and handed over his gold, receiving three balls in return. Tubbo watched with his arms folded as he threw the first one into the tent, striking the top can and sending it to the ground. 

He sensed, rather than saw, Tommy’s grin. 

The prince threw another ball, this time striking the stack right in the centre. By rights it should have knocked the whole tower down. 

Instead the tower only wobbled slightly. 

Tubbo nodded to himself. As I thought. They’re glued, or pinned, maybe even both. 

Tommy had stopped moving, clearly taking in the physics-defying behaviour the cans had just displayed. His shoulders were slightly slumped now. 

For some reason it made Tubbo feel bad. 

It was just a carnival game, it wasn’t a big deal! 

Only…

It is to him. You saw his face when you suggested walking around the festival this morning, like you’d offered him the sun. You know this - this means something to him. 

He flexed his fingertips. 

I could…

No, what am I thinking?! I can’t, of course I can’t.

But - but I could…

Tubbo swallowed. 

Using magic to summon the griffin in the forest was one thing. Nobody could see you - Tommy couldn’t see you. This - this is - this is -

He wanted to. His magic wanted to, crackling under his skin, it wanted to make him… happy . It wanted to make Tommy happy.

Prime, he wanted to use his magic to help the person that hated it most of all! He wanted to use magic to help the prince!

Why?!

Tubbo didn’t even have to think before the answer reached him.

Because he’s not ‘the prince’ anymore, is he? He’s - he’s just… Tommy . 

Not the prince. Just your - your friend. Who likes cooking and laughter and works far too hard and deserves a day off and just wants to enjoy the fair. 

Tubbo took a deep breath, checking that no eyes were on him as Tommy lifted his hand, raising the ball up. 

As he threw it, Tubbo carefully extended a finger and whispered “Cadere.” 

The ball collided with the stack at the same moment Tubbo’s near-silent spell did, sending the cans clattering to the floor accompanied by the gasps of onlookers and passers-by.

Tommy spun around, beaming. “Did you see that?!”

“I did!” Tubbo grinned, heart full. I did magic! Look! I did it and it worked! I - I’m a sorcerer! 

Tommy bounded over to him and Tubbo met him in the middle, hugging him excitedly. 

It was so strange, to be celebrating the same event in such different ways, and yet share the joy anyway. It was such a little thing, but it somehow seemed to mean the whole world in that moment - the feeling of euphoria, ultimately insignificant, but somehow meaningful anyway. 

Tommy took the two tokens - with only a slight smirk on his face - and they set off once more, this time to the refreshment stands. Tubbo found that he was happy to let Tommy take the lead - he’d explored enough festivals for the novelty to have worn off. This was Tommy’s adventure. 

They eventually came to a stop outside of a toffee apple stall. Tommy bought two with his tokens and extended one to Tubbo. “Here.”

Tubbo raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t have to-”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Like you’d let me live in peace if I ate a toffee apple in front of you while you had nothing.” His expression softened. “Besides, I… I want us to eat them together.”

Tubbo smiled and took the stick. “Well, in that case, thank you.”

Tommy twirled his own apple around, looking mildly intimidated. “Uh… how do I… I mean… how do you…?”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow, trying to hide his smile. “How do you eat it?”

Tommy nodded, blushing indigantly. “It’s not - they’re not designed for eating!”

Tubbo laughed. “That is the entire point of a toffee apple.”

“Just help me,” Tommy grouched. 

“You just… bite it,” Tubbo said, tapping the hard shell. “The toffee layer isn’t all that thick, you can just… chomp through it.”

He demonstrated, the shell making a satisfying cracking sound as he bit through it and sugar exploded across his tongue. Prime, I forgot how good these are. 

Tommy looked skeptical, but followed suit, eyes widening as he took his first bite. “Mrmph-thith-isth-really-goodth!”

“I know!” Tubbo laughed. 

Tommy waved his stick around like a baton. “Toffee apples are the greatest fruit.”

Tubbo swallowed another bite before he could choke on it. “I - I don’t think they count as fruit Tommy.”

“Why not? They have a whole apple in them - I see no reason why they wouldn’t count!” Tommy said, taking another bite and glaring at him as he chewed.

Tubbo shook his head, still biting down laughter. “I don’t think you’re anything close to a toffee apple expert.”

“I don’t need to be, this is purely instinctual.”

“And yet just biting it wasn’t?”

“...shut up.”

Tubbo laughed and obeyed, letting them both polish off their toffee apples in a comfortably companionable silence. Tommy was just licking his fingers clean when his eyes widened and he paled. “Oh - P-Prime -”

Tubbo frowned. “What - what’s wrong?”

Tommy gulped, throat bobbing as he stepped backwards. “I - uh - B-Bastian - he’s looking right at me.”

Something sank in Tubbo’s gut.

There was something wrong about Tommy and Bastian. Bastian wasn’t - he wasn’t a loving guardian, not from the way Tommy spoke of him, not judging by the way he was reacting now. Tubbo had always made it a point to understand his masters as best he could in order to serve them better, and that meant knowing what made them uncomfortable. 

And Bastian made Tommy uncomfortable. 

Even if the prince understood what he was feeling - he didn’t seem to understand that it was wrong. That seeing your guardian, the man supposed to look after you, raise you, love you - seeing him at a festival wasn’t supposed to be a cause for fear. 

He didn’t like it when Tommy was afraid. 

Tubbo straightened. “Hide,” he said quietly. “Go behind a tent flap or something, I’ll cover you.”

Tommy frowned worriedly. “But -”

Tubbo bit his lip, avoiding eye contact. “Do - do you trust me?”

Tommy blinked. “I - y-yes.” He looked almost surprised after he said it, as though the answer had been based on instinct alone.

And that was making Tubbo feel emotions he did not have time for, so he pushed them down. “Then hide. I’ll cover for you, I promise. Now.”

Tommy hesitated for a split second before nodding to himself, having apparently answered whatever question he’d been asking himself. He ducked into the folds of the nearest tent, giving Tubbo just enough time to dispose of the two sticks he was holding before Bastian approached him. 

Tubbo bowed low, keeping his face neutral. He had hated the man from the moment he stepped foot into the castle, before he had any idea of what kingdom’s ruler was like as a person. 

His opinion had not improved. 

“Tubbo, isn’t it?”

Tubbo straightened, nodding. “Yes sire.” He kept his back straight, his head low. Every inch a perfect servant. 

“Have you seen the prince?”

Not my ward, not my charge, not Thomas or Tommy. 

The prince.

“He… retired to his chambers early sire,” Tubbo lied. “He mentioned being drained after all the excitement of the tournament this morning.”

Bastian stood in silence for a long moment. Tubbo did the same. He was an expert at staying still, remaining impassive and unbothered in the face of whatever f*cked up sh*t life threw at him. No matter how long Bastian thought he could do this, Tubbo could last longer. 

And sure enough, Bastian broke first. “I see. And why aren’t you attending him?”

“He gave me the afternoon off, sire. Said I should enjoy the festival.”

“I see,” Bastian said shortly. “Be sure he is up and dressed in time for the banquet tonight.” 

“Of course sire,” Tubbo said, bowing once more, feeling Bastian’s eyes rake over every part of him before finally leaving as the man turned away, walking back into the fair.

Tubbo knew he probably didn’t believe him - Bastian might be a b*tch, as far as he was concerned, but he wasn’t a fool. 

But Tubbo found that he didn’t particularly care. Tommy was okay, that was all that mattered. 

Speaking of Tommy - 

“You - you actually…” Tommy stammered as he stumbled out of his hiding place. “You - you lied.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Tommy shrugged breathlessly. “I - I don’t know, I just…”

Tubbo offered him a smile. “I’m on your side Tommy. I wasn’t gonna throw you to the wolves.”

Tommy smiled back, fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt sleeve. “Th-thank you.”

“Always,” Tubbo said with so much certainty it surprised him. “You - you can trust me.”

And he meant it. 

Prime he meant it. 

He could search his heart for any trace of doubt all day and night, and he’d still come up empty. There was none… all the resentment he used to have for the prince had somehow drained away without him noticing, leaving him with just… this. Affection. Care. 

Lying awake that night, one hand under his pillow, tracing the leather cover of his spellbook, Tubbo finally accepted what that meant.

He was - somehow, unbelievably - on the prince’s side. On Tommy’s side.

Alright.

So what the f*ck do I do now?

Chapter Text

“We’re lost,” Tubbo said for the hundredth time. “We are lost.”

“We’re not lost,” Tommy insisted, pulling out his sword to hack at yet another set of bushes. “We’re just… not with the rest of the party.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow as Tommy chopped at the closest hawthorne. “I think that means we’re lost, no?”

“No,” Tommy said flatly. ‘They’ve lost us, but we know where we are.”

“Do we?!”

Tommy sheathed his sword and pushed the massacred bush to the side, beckoning Tubbo to follow him. “Yes.”

Tubbo followed. “Then where are we?”

“...The forest.”

Tubbo laughed and Tommy shoved him half-heartedly. “Hey, like you know better!”

Tubbo pushed him back. “I’m not the one meant to be on a hunt right now!”

“We’re both meant to be hunting.”

“And yet no one gave me a bow and arrow.”

“You’ve got the supplies.”

“What am I gonna do, suffocate a deer to death with a blanket?!”

Tommy rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely at the sky. “Do you want to sleep in the forest alone, or do you want to help me find the rest of the entourage?”

Tubbo looked up, following the dying sunlight as it dappled the forest floor. “I’ll be honest Tommy, I don’t think we’re gonna get back to them before night falls.”

Tommy folded his arms and turned to face him. “What do you suggest we do then?”

“Settle down for the night? Try again tomorrow?”

“We can’t just sleep here!”

Tubbo tilted his head. “Why not?”

Tommy opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. “I - I - we - we don’t -”

Tubbo shrugged his shoulders, indicating the pack on his back. “We have bedrolls and waterskins and enough rations to last us tonight and tomorrow. I’m not saying it would be as comfortable as a tent, but…”

Tommy blinked at him. “I… what if it rains?”

Tubbo grinned, pulling his pack off and tossing one of the bedrolls in Tommy’s direction. “It won’t.”

Tommy caught it awkwardly. “You don’t know that - what’s this for?”

“That’s your bedroll, it’s for sleeping on.”

“And you’ve given it to me because?”

“I’m sick of carrying it!” Tubbo said cheerfully. He turned back to the forest, ignoring Tommy’s indignant squawk of protest. “C’mon, let’s go find somewhere to settle down.”

They walked until the sun had set, making their way through the trees in the faint traces of light left behind. Tubbo found he had to hold his magic back - apparently it really liked the dimness of dusk, longed to fill it with bright light of his own. He had to admit, he agreed… the forest would look beautiful filled with twining swirls of - 

Magic fizzed in his fingertips and Tubbo quickly dug them into his palms. Whoa there. Now’s not the time for that. 

But still, he couldn’t help smiling at the sensation. His magic was so… alive these days, as though it had been awoken from a long slumber. It felt good. 

Eventually they stumbled onto a clearing with a large oak tree in the centre, twisting branches creativing a canopy high above them.

Tubbo smiled. “This is perfect.”

Tommy gazed up at the tree. “Holy sh*t, it’s so… big.”

Tubbo laid his bedroll down against one of the roots. “We should be safe here for the night.”

Tommy followed suit, laying down on his bedroll and undoing his shoes as Tubbo dug around in the pack, searching for the bread he knew was in there. “This isn’t how I thought I’d be spending the evening.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Tubbo said, rolling his eyes. “You were expecting grilled hog and a tent, right?”

“...yeah, pretty much.”

Tubbo pulled out their bread, along with a hunk of cheese and few biscuits he’d managed to swipe from the kitchen. “Sorry it’s not quite what you expected.”

Tommy smiled at him. “This is better anyway.”

Tubbo threw the loaf at Tommy a little more aggressively than was perhaps strictly necessary. “Eat your bread, you git.”

“Uncalled for!”

Tubbo leaned back and began carving slices out of the block of cheese with his knife. “I wasn’t waiting for permission anyway.”

Tommy huffed a laugh, tearing a large hunk of bread from the loaf. “You never do.”

They exchanged items, and Tommy drew his sword, using the sharpened edge to slice the cheese. Tubbo laughed. “I would have given you my knife if you’d asked!”

“This was way more efficient,” Tommy said breezily, unstrapping his scabbard and placing it down beside his bedroll. 

Tubbo shook his head. “I didn’t get punched in the eye trying to find that sword for you to use it to cut cheese.”

Tommy’s eyes flashed. “Don’t. Too soon.”

“It was months ago -”

“Too soon!”

Tubbo chuckled. “I hope it was worth it, that’s all.”

Tommy leaned back, looking down at the sword with a strange expression. “It - it was my father’s sword.”

Tubbo blinked. Sh*t. Whoops.  “O-oh,” he managed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine,” Tommy shrugged. “I barely remember him.”

Tubbo swallowed. King Simon II. Killed by magic-users thirteen years ago. 

Allegedly. 

“He used to call me ‘Tommy’ too,” Tommy said quietly. “Most people don’t. Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tommy shook his head. “I just… it’s hard. Which is stupid, because I can hardly remember him - o-or my mother - but…”

“- you would have liked to,” Tubbo finished for him. 

Tommy’s eyes lifted to meet his, instant understanding crystallizing between them. You too?

Tubbo looked down at his knees. “Both dead. I grew up in an orphanage until I started training as a servant.”

Tommy swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Tubbo whispered.

Because it wasn’t. Tommy had been three years old when Tubbo’s family were wiped from the face of the earth. The blame couldn’t be laid at his feet, not logically. Not now that Tubbo knew him, knew what he was really like… someone not at all the way he had always imagined. The laws that killed his family weren’t Tommy’s laws any more than they were Tubbo’s. 

They were Bastian’s.

Even now. 

“Still,” Tommy said quietly. “It - it… sucks.”

Such a small word to describe the hole in Tubbo’s heart, the one he was sure was in Tommy’s. The hollowness where there should be people… or at least memories to patch the void. Instead there was only a distant ache, hard to understand and even harder to explain. Such a small word to express such a gaping loss.

And yet Tubbo found he knew exactly what Tommy meant by it.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “It really does.”

Tommy’s hand crept closer to his, an unspoken invitation. 

Tubbo took it in a silence that spoke volumes.

I know. You’re not alone. We’re in this together.

Tubbo held tightly to his best friend as the last strands of light disappeared from the sky entirely. 

And suddenly the tranquil forest around them roared into life. 

Light came spilling out of the oak tree they were leaning against and they broke apart, Tubbo shooting to his feet as Tommy lunged for his sword. “What the f*ck?!*

They stood together watching as dots of colour spread out around the glade, each no bigger than Tubbo’s thumbnail, whizzing around in a dizzying rainbow whirlpool. “Wha-what are they?” Tubbo breathed.

“I - I d-don’t know.”

“F-fireflies?” Tubbo suggested tentatively, only to receive a withering look. “It was just a suggestion!”

“A sh*t one,” Tommy replied, stepping forwards. He lowered his sword, eyes wide. “Tubbo I - I think these are faeries.”

“What?”

“L-Look at them - there’s so many… I think this tree is their… nest.”

Tubbo swallowed. Faeries - holy sh*t… 

This isn’t - this isn’t a place for Tommy to be -

He reached out and grabbed Tommy’s sleeve. “Tommy, we need to be careful here,” he hissed. “Faeries are… crafty, we don’t want to offend them or - or -” Or say you hate magic when creatures made purely from it surround us.

Tommy turned to face him. “I - I d-don’t think they are Tubs.”

Tubbo stalled. He’d been preparing to persuade and explain much more, use the stories that portrayed the fae as dangerous, unstable, tricksters… all lies to justify the Cleansing, of course, but if they kept Tommy safe Tubbo was willing to use them, just this once. “What - what do you mean?”

“I don’t… the stories said they were… nice, ” Tommy responded. 

Tubbo frowned. “When were you hearing stories about m-magic?” When were you hearing stories like that?

A brief flash of sadness crossed Tommy’s face. “My - my nanny, when I was younger. She told me - she said they were playful and kind… chaotic but ultimately good. They would help children lost in the woods, or heal sick animals, that sort of thing.”

Tubbo blinked as Tommy dropped his sword back onto the grass and held out his hands placatingly. “I - we don’t mean you any harm,” he said to the gathering around them. “We didn’t realise this tree was yours.”

A few of the dots of light - the faeries - bobbed over, drifting around Tommy as though sizing him up. Tommy chuckled lightly as a blue-tinged orb settled on one of his fingers. 

Tubbo stared at him. 

Tommy was - he was -

There was light in his eyes. 

The suspicion Tubbo had expected was absent, not a hint of hate or even fear there. Just… admiration. Delight even. 

“This - it’s… they’re… really pretty,” Tommy said, voice hushed in awe. 

Tubbo nodded, even as a jolt of surprise shot through him. Tommy said magic was pretty?

And he was right, it was - the different fae colours swirling in and out of one another, lighting up the whole clearing in reds and blues and yellows…

His magic wanted to join in really really badly. 

He pushed it down. Tommy not hating the faeries was an… unexpected development. But they were characters from his old bedtime stories, a childhood fantasy come to life - friendly, gentle creatures that posed no real threat. They weren’t a full-blown sorcerer with a spellbook and more magic in his fingertips than he could safely release right now.

He froze as one of the faeries - a greenish one - began to tug at the hair resting against his forehead, another joining in near his ear. Tommy raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing?”

“I think I’m being inspected,” Tubbo hissed. “I’m trying not to aggravate them.”

Tommy snorted. “Tubbo, they’re not bees.”

Tinkling laughter, like bells, rose around them and Tubbo blushed. “I just… I’m bigger than them! I want to be respectful!”

More faeries drifted in his direction, swirling around him. Tommy grinned. “I think they like you.”

“They like you too,” Tubbo pointed out. Tommy had opened his palms, allowing the orbs of light to settle there. Tommy nodded, turning back to the faeries in his hands with shining eyes. 

A few more faeries drifted over to Tubbo, all pulling at him - especially at his fingers, faint murmerings reaching his ears. He swore he could almost understand them. 

A light sorcerer! So rare! So unique, special, pretty!

Come, play with us! We want to see what you can do!

Show us your magic, please, play with us!

Tubbo swallowed, shaking his head. He hoped they understood why not - that he wanted to, he really did, he just - 

A ball of light escaped one of his fingertips - a pale yellow, just like all the rest of his magic. Tubbo gasped in shock, pulling his hands close to his chest, digging his nails firmly into his palms. No no no no no - I can’t lose control, I can’t. 

The fairies chimed in delight, batting at his tiny orb of light as though it was a ball in some game. Tubbo glanced nervously over at Tommy, who was still entirely engrossed in the fae near him. 

He breathed a sigh of relief and edged a little closer to the prince. For some reason being near Tommy made him feel more… stable.

Tommy turned to him. “Do you think we’ll be safe to spend the night here?”

Tubbo smiled. “I think so.” He carefully made his way back to his bedroll and sat down, leaning against the oak tree, Tommy following suit, settling down beside him.

Tubbo looked up. Prime the forest was beautiful like this, bathed in magical light, as though scores of colourful candles were floating in the air around them. 

“I… don’t want to sleep quite yet,” Tommy breathed. “This is… i-incredible.”

Tubbo looked over to the prince, whose eyes were still bright with wonder, watching the fae flit around their clearing tinkling laughter forming a sort of music that could never be recreated by human hands. 

Tubbo had never seen any human react to magic that way before.

“Me neither,” he lied softly. “We - we could stay awake. Just a little longer.” You can stay awake. You can watch them. Please keep looking at magic like that, even if it isn’t mine. Just a little longer.

“Just a little longer,” Tommy agreed, not tearing his gaze away from the scene surrounding them.

The trace of a smile was still on Tubbo’s face long after his eyes had drifted shut. 

–oO0Oo–

He awoke to the sound of crashing coming from the bushes, struggling to his feet the moment he realised where he was, Tommy beside him moments later, sword already drawn. 

Tubbo only had enough time to register that the faeries had returned to their tree before their lost hunting party emerged into the clearing, Bastian right at the head.

He felt, rather than saw, Tommy tense at his side, and he tucked his own hands behind his back. Guess the holiday is over. 

“Thank Prime,” Bastian exclaimed, hurrying over. “Where have you been Thomas?!”

Tommy gulped. “I - we g-got separated.”

Bastian gave him a harsh look. “I know that. How?!”

Tommy clasped his hands together in a gesture Tubbo recognized as being something the prince did when he was nervous but trying to keep his composure. “I - I’m not sure Bastian. It was… m-my mistake.”

Tubbo felt Bastian’s gaze turn to him and he stilled under the attention. 

“I’m sure,” Bastian said slowly. His gaze snapped back to Tommy. “And where have you been since then? Just… lying around in the woods?”

Tubbo’s gut twisted.

The faeries -

It was easy to get rid of faeries. Without their nest, a place to rest and restore their magic, the whole colony would die within a few days. It - it would be so easy for Bastian to dispatch a few men with axes to hack the oak tree down and burn it until there was no trace left. 

Tommy might find fae magic pretty. But did he care enough to protect the faeries from that fate?

Tommy glanced at Tubbo, meeting his gaze.

And it was dumb and stupid and exactly not the sort of risk he should be taking if he wanted to make it to adulthood. 

But he couldn’t help himself. 

“Don’t,” he mouthed - pleaded. “ Don’t.”

Tommy’s gaze hardened as he looked back to Bastian, back straightening.

Tubbo’s heart plummeted . F*ck - Prime, is he going to report me for that too?! I - I - he - he wouldn’t - would he?! I don’t - 

“Yes Bastian. We slept here and woke up as you arrived.”

Tubbo’s chest flooded with relief and gratitude, nodding in agreement as Tommy continued. “I - I’m afraid we didn’t catch anything.”

Bastian tutted disapprovingly and Tommy wilted. “Very well. We’ll discuss this later Thomas. In the meantime-” he turned back to the watching party “- it is time for us to return to the castle, thankfully with all of our members still present!”

Tittering laughter arose and the party began to move. Tubbo scrambled to collect the things they had left beside the oak tree as Tommy hurried to catch up to Bastian, walking by his side. His posture was still deflated, he didn’t look… comfortable. Then again he never did near Bastian. 

Tubbo fought to keep the smile from his face on the treck back to the castle. 

He saved them.

He - he listened to me. He…

He saved a little piece of magic.

It might not mean much to most ordinary humans, but to the fairies that tree was their entire world. 

And to Tubbo it was… hope . 

The prince might not be as opposed to magic as it appeared. 

Chapter Text

“Where exactly is this ‘thing’?” Tommy demanded as they ducked between the shelves. “And you still haven’t told me what it is!”

Tubbo threw a grin at him and kept walking. “You’ll see, we’re almost there!”

He rounded the corner, Tommy on his tail, coming to a stop beside the mirror that hid the entrance to the catacombs from view.

Tommy blinked at it. “Why are you showing me this?”

That… was a very good question. Tubbo wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing this - why he felt as though Tommy had to know about the secret passageway. Upon their return from their night spent with the faeries a few days ago he had suddenly felt this particular secret demanding to be told. For some reason, despite all the risks involved, he just - he wanted Tommy to know. 

Magic is still here. It’s in the castle. It’s all around us, it’s everywhere . 

It’s intertwined with the world, a part of it. 

How could something so natural be evil? 

Besides, he was so… tired. He was tired of keeping secrets - tired of lying and smiling and pushing down the brightest parts of himself, tired of hiding a spellbook under his pillow and sneaking away to practice magic in the dead of night. 

Something had to give. He was okay with it being this. Worst-case scenario he was hailed a hero for bringing a major stash of magical artefacts to royal attention, and therefore swift destruction. 

The thought made Tubbo feel sick. 

But he… trusted Tommy. He - he trusted the prince, as f*cking insane as that sounded. He - he didn’t think the prince would allow that. 

“Give me a second,” Tubbo hissed, placing a hand on the mirror. 

Tommy rolled his eyes. “And yet when I do that, you moan about having to polish my mirror all over again.”

“This mirror isn’t yours, so it’s not my problem,” Tubbo shot back. “And anyway, you have to put your hand on it for it to work.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Work?” 

Tubbo turned to face him, keeping his hand on the mirror as he spoke. “Look, it sounds crazy, I know, but I - I tripped over and grabbed it and I said something and - look, look you’ll see. ” 

It was a clunky lie perhaps, but it was the best he had managed to come up with to ensure that Tommy wouldn’t realise Tubbo’s magic was the thing activating the mirror. 

He wasn’t ready to give that secret away quite yet. 

“What did you say?” Tommy said sceptically. 

“I said ‘Prime’s-sake’,” Tubbo said, putting an appropriate amount of emphasis on the words - and at the same time letting his magic escape, spilling into the runes and causing them to glow gold. 

He removed his hand as the mirror swang inwards and turned to face Tommy, who was staring open-mouthed at the passageway. “Tada!”

“F*cking - holy sh*t - that’s - that’s a secret passageway,” Tommy spluttered.

“Told you it was exciting!” Tubbo said proudly. He bought it, thank f*ck. 

“I - y-yeah,” Tommy said slowly, taking a few steps forward to trace the outside of the mirror wonderingly. “Prime it’s - it’s like something out of a storybook.”

“It is a bit, yeah,” Tubbo nodded. “Do you want to come down?”

Tommy peered down the dark corridor. “Is it safe?”

Ah. Sh*t. He wouldn’t be able to use magic to light the way if Tommy was watching…

“Um… we’d probably need a light?” Tubbo said, a little uselessly. 

Tommy looked around for a moment before grabbing one of the candlesticks in a wall sconce, brandishing it in front of him. “You get the other one.”

Tubbo took it. “Every now and then you actually have a good idea.”

Tommy laughed. “Shut up.”

Tubbo pushed the mirror further aside and stepped into the passageway, ushering Tommy inside before closing the entrance. 

Tommy grinned at him, face lit up by candlelight. “Let’s go exploring.” 

–oO0Oo–

Tommy was practically bouncing off of the walls by the time Tubbo got them both down to the catacombs. The fact that the passageway had clearly been opened by some form of magic either hadn’t registered or didn’t matter to him, the prince had the same shining facial expression he’d had when they’d discovered the faeries in the glade. 

It made something lift in Tubbo’s heart to think of the prince finding magic… exciting. It was certainly better than disgust or hatred - in fact it was remarkably close to the way Tubbo himself felt when he tapped into his elemental core. 

A small part of him hoped that if Tommy was to ever see his powers he might feel the same way about them too. 

They stepped into the catacombs and Tommy gazed around. “What is this place?”

“I think it’s the castle catacombs,” Tubbo explained, leading Tommy over to tables at the back of the room. “And it’s - it’s…well, look.”

Tommy picked up the book closest to him, shock crossing his face as he read the title aloud. “‘Sorcerery: A Guide for the Curious’?!”

Tubbo nodded. “Yeah - they’re - they’re all magic books.”

Tommy stared at him. “No way.”

“I’m serious, see for yourself!”

Tommy turned back to the table, picking up book after book, leafing through piles of parchment. Tubbo watched over his shoulder as he read out the titles. “ ‘Sorcerers and Secrecy’... ‘Elemental magic in sorcerers’... ‘Basics of Magic’... ‘Basic Spellcasting for Sorcerers’... ‘Complex Cloaking’... ‘A Brief History of The Development of Wands’...”

Tubbo started at that one. “You can read Old Essempi?!”

Tommy shrugged nonchalantly. “It was part of my education.”

Tubbo stared at the back of Tommy’s head as the prince returned to his examination of the table. He hadn’t expected that somehow.

Maybe one day he could read the inscription on my spellbook for me. 

He shook his head. He wasn’t ready for that. Tommy wasn’t ready for that. 

But… maybe. One day. 

Tommy put down the piece of parchment he was holding, gazing around at the room. “What… is this place?” he breathed. It didn’t sound like a question this time - or at least not one Tubbo was meant to answer. 

He did anyway. “I have no idea,” he said honestly - he really didn’t know what this place was, or at least had been . A dead sorcerer’s study? A stockpile of saved manuscripts? A really weird shared hallucination? “But isn’t it strange that all this… magic stuff is down here? In the castle?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, nodding slowly. “It is.” 

He blinked. “And what is that?”

Tubbo followed his gaze to the…

Ah. Right. 

The f*cking… doorway-thing. 

“I don’t know,” Tubbo said. Quite frankly I don’t want to know. If something burns when you touch it then you leave it alone. It clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you. 

Tommy walked over to it and reached out a hand. Tubbo winced, opening his mouth to warn him, but Tommy’s fingers were already brushing it and - 

And…

Nothing. 

Well. F*ck me then. 

Either there was something special about Tommy, or there was something special about Tubbo. 

Sh*t. Is it selfish that I hope it isn’t me for once?

“I - I don’t recognise this stuff,” Tommy frowned, fingers still tracing the rough stone. “It’s not of Essempi, that’s for sure.”

“I’ve never seen it before either,” Tubbo said, glancing down to avoid looking at the doorway. The thing gave him the f*cking creeps . 

He stilled. 

That - what is that? 

He bent down. 

There was a… handkerchief on the floor. Knocked loose by Tommy’s inspection of the volumes on the table, crumpled white against the stone. Embroidered with something that looked a little like a face, or maybe it was a… skull? A blindfolded skull?

Tubbo picked it up to inspect it more closely. It was very well crafted - he should know, he’d made and mended plenty of handkerchiefs in his time. 

Maybe - maybe it belonged to whoever put this stuff here. Maybe it belonged to another sorcerer - maybe - 

He felt Tommy approach from behind him. “What’s that?”

Tubbo got up from where he was kneeling on the floor and held out the handkerchief. “I found an old - hey!”

Tommy had snatched the handkerchief from him and was staring at it intently. Tubbo was about to take it back - maybe while making a jab about how snatching was rude - when he saw the expression on Tommy’s face. The prince looked… dumbfounded. Staggered and confused, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. 

“...Tommy? Are you okay?” Tubbo asked tentatively. 

“This - this is - this is Bastian’s,” Tommy gasped out. 

Tubbo stared at the prince, mouth agape, his own expression reflected in Tommy’s. 

What the f*ck?!

“Are - are - are you sure?”  

Tommy nodded. “Y-yeah. This - this is his crest.”

Together they stared at the piece of cloth in Tommy’s hands. 

Bastian hates magic. He - he’d never be down here, not willingly - he’d never allow a place like this to exist, he’d never allow these manuscripts to remain unscathed. 

But he has. 

Why?

Tubbo looked up to meet Tommy’s eyes. “Then - but - why is it…” he trailed off. He - he couldn’t say it. It felt… unreal.

He’s been here. 

I thought - I thought this place was safe, I thought… I thought I was safe down here. Hidden, unseen. 

I should have known better than to think I could ever be safe. 

“Why is it here?” Tommy finished for him. “I - I don’t know. I… I don’t - I can’t understand it… this - any of this.”

“Why - why would - I mean… why would Bastian…?” 

Why would he let this place continue existing? 

Why would he come down here at all? 

Tommy swallowed. “I… I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”

–oO0Oo–

Tommy hurried towards Bastian’s study, handkerchief clenched tightly in one fist, mind spinning. 

Bastian had - he had - 

He had lied. By omission at the very least, although the strange sense of betrayal Tommy was experiencing felt as though it ran so much deeper . 

Bastian hates magic. He - he hates magic. He - he always said - he taught me it was evil. 

Why - if he knows that place exists then why…

He lifted his hand and knocked on the door. “B-Bastian? It’s me, To - Thomas.”

There was a long stretch of silence before the response came. “Come in.”

Tommy pushed the door open and stepped inside, taking a deep breath as he did so. No matter how many times he’d been in Bastian’s study it never seemed to become less intimidating, the desk that took up so much of the room never became any less imposing. 

Nor did the man seated at it. 

Tommy approached Bastian and held out the handkerchief. “I - uh - I-I found this. It’s yours.”

Bastian blinked and took it, giving him a strange look. “Uh… thank you I suppose?” He placed the handkerchief in a drawer without giving it a second glance, returning his gaze seamlessly to the work on his desk. “Was that all?”

Tommy clenched his hands together, body tight with nerves. “I - I - I f-found it in the catacombs.”

Bastian looked up sharply. “You what?”

Tommy fought the urge to shrink away under Bastian’s gaze. “I - I f-found it in the catacombs B-Bastian.”

“You shouldn’t have been down there Thomas,” Bastian said tightly. 

“I kn-know,” Tommy stammered - although there had never been a rule about that established, it had never even been mentioned - the thought hadn’t ever crossed Tommy’s mind until Tubbo had brought him there. “Why - why is there magic down there Bastian?”

Bastian’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Tommy’s heart felt as though it was going to beat right out of his chest. “I - there’s books and documents and they’re about magic and you - you knew,” he said, as forcefully as he could. “Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

Bastian pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Tommy…”

Tommy felt himself grow smaller. Now look what you’ve done. Always making his life harder. 

“Look, Tommy, there’s just some things you’re not… ready for yet. You’re not… mature enough to understand. I mean, look at the way you’ve reacted already!” Bastian exclaimed, gesturing at him. Tommy hung his head. “You’ve just proven how… reactive you can be. You’ll understand it better when you’re older.”

Tommy’s mouth opened before he could stop it. “How much older Bastian?”

Bastian tilted his head. “What?”

Tommy lifted his head nervously. “I - I - just - how much older do I have to be, Bastian? Until you start… telling me things? When will I be ready?”

Bastian’s head lowered, returning to his work. “When I say you’re ready,” he said dismissively. 

Something hot sparked in Tommy’s chest. “No - no. When will I be ready? You - you keep saying I’ll ‘understand when I’m older’ - I’m seventeen! I’m old enough!”

“You are not of age -”

“I will be soon! Less than a year now!” Tommy pushed back. “Bastian - I - how can I run my kingdom if you won’t tell me things? How can I understand if - if you won’t give me a chance?”

“I give you plenty of chances, you just keep proving you aren’t ready -”

“What more do I have to do?!” Tommy exclaimed. The spark in his chest was a flame now as Tommy remembered the way Tubbo’s face when his servant found him working late. He - he trusted Tubbo. Tubbo - Tubbo thought he was doing too much. “I - I work every day, sunrise to sundown - what more do I have to do Bastian?! Don’t I do enough already?!”

“Thomas,” Bastian said warningly. 

Tommy ignored him. “When will I be ‘ready’ Bastian? I - I just - I want to be a good king, you can’t keep on keeping secrets from me -”

“Thomas!” Bastian shouted, rising from his desk. “That is enough!”

Tommy swallowed and took a step back. “I - I -”

“I have had enough of your disrespect,” Bastian said hotly. “I raised you, I protected you -”

Tommy’s - when did they start shaking? - fingers found the sleeves of his tunic, but he pressed on, trying his best to keep his voice strong. “You - you don’t know me!” 

Not really. Not truly. 

Not like Tubbo does. 

“No-one knows you like I do!” Bastian spat. “I know you are an irresponsible, emotional, impulsive fool, who needs protection from things you cannot understand!”

“That’s not true -”

“Isn’t it?!”

“It isn’t! I-I don’t need protecting anymore! I - I need information -”

“You don’t get to decide that!” Bastian snapped.  

“Neither do you!” Tommy shot back, volume rising to match Bastian’s. “You’re not the king either!”

Bastian slammed his palm onto on the desk. “THAT IS ENOUGH! ”

Words stuck in Tommy’s throat as the adrenaline faded, as reality sank in.

Sh*t. 

F*ck. 

No no no no, what have I done?

“I have done so much for you,” Bastian spat. “And you throw it in my face.”

“I - I - I -”

“Shut up,” Bastian barked. “I don’t want to hear it. I try to protect you and you - you come into my study to yell at me…”

Tommy wasn’t allowed to speak so he didn’t, no matter how badly he wanted to. I’m sorry. I f*cked up - I just… 

“I… love you Thomas,” Bastian said, and sh*t, he sounded so tired now, sinking back into his seat with a weary sigh. “I only want to do what’s best for you, you know that, right?”

Tommy nodded hurriedly. I know, I know, I know you do.

Even if it doesn’t feel like it. Even though I feel more at home with Tubbo than I ever have with you. 

I know you love me.

“I… I don’t know what’s happened to you lately,” Bastian said wearily. “You used to be so well behaved…” 

Tommy swallowed. I wish I knew. I wish I could fix it. I never used to be so disobedient. 

I never used to keep so many secrets from you. 

“It’s… it’s all been since that… new servant started,” Bastian said slowly. 

Tommy felt his eyes blow wide. No - 

No - he can’t - he can’t fire Tubbo, he can’t get rid of Tubbo - he can’t. 

What would I do?

Prime, I’m so f*cking selfish - what would Tubbo do?! What - what would happen to him?!

“I don’t like whatever that boy has been putting into your head,” Bastian said thoughtfully.

Tommy felt his breath quicken. “N-no,” he gasped out. “No - it’s - it’s not him -”

Bastian silenced him with a look. “I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you,” he said softly. “Behave Thomas.”

Tommy nodded. “Y-y-yes B-Bastian.”

“And stop doing that to your tunic. You’re not a child.”

Tommy snatched his fingers away from his sleeves. “N-no Bastian.”

“Now please, leave me in peace. I have enough work to do without this sort of interruption.”

“Y-yes Bastian. S-sorry,” Tommy stammered, scuttling towards the door. 

He’d just placed his hand on the doorknob when Bastian said, “And Tommy?”

“Y-yes?”

“I love you.”

“I - I l-love you too,” Tommy said automatically. 

 It felt like a lie. 

He really was the f*cking worst, wasn’t he?

Chapter Text

Tubbo crouched down and plucked another sprig of wild lavender, the strong scent piercing the air as the stem broke. He brushed his hand over it. “Serva.” 

The plant stiffened as the enchantment settled over it and Tubbo smiled to himself, placing it in his satchel with the others. The spell was working just as well as he’d hoped - he’d be able to fill vases with fresh lavander without needing to find a way to transport the stuff back to the castle without it dying. Magic made life so much easier.

He picked another piece of the plant, casting the preservation charm and slotting it amongst the others, a sea of purple flowers. He didn’t really like purple, he was pretty sure Tommy was neutral to the colour too, but he wasn’t going to all this trouble for the colour anyway. 

There weren’t many books on herbalism in the catacombs, but there was one. It had mentioned that the smell of lavender was known to be soothing and that the plant was an ingredient in most sleeping droughts.

Not that Tubbo was going to be brewing potions anytime soon. He just hoped the plants would help. 

He bit his lip. 

Tommy wasn’t sleeping. 

The prince was working from sunrise to well past sunset, almost feverishly. Tubbo had seen him scribbling frantically, eyes wide, had seen Tommy force himself to keep working even when his mind was clearly begging to take a break, had gently shaken him awake after he had found the prince slumped over, passed out at his desk.

And nothing Tubbo said seemed to dissuade him - if anything it seemed to make it worse. 

“Sleep Tommy, please…” Tubbo pleaded. “You look - you look sick.”

Tommy just shook his head. “I can’t,” he said dully. 

“Why?!” Tubbo said, voice edging on desperation. What’s wrong? Let me help you. Please, please let me help. 

“I just… can’t,” Tommy said. He sounded so tired, even as he tried to force his voice to sound strong. “I need to - to keep working.”

“No - Tommy…”

Tommy gave him a small smile. It - it looked genuine but it was so filled with exhaustion and resignation that Tubbo wanted it gone the moment it appeared. “Th-thanks for caring though. It… it means a lot.”

Then why won’t you listen to me? Tubbo wanted to beg. Why won’t you let me care for you?

Instead he made Tommy’s bed again. Ready for when the prince decided he could let himself rest. 

At this point, Tubbo was desparate. The bags under Tommy’s eyes were huge. He looked pale and drawn, he was laughing less, even smiles were becoming rarer… It wasn’t the Tommy Tubbo knew at all. It was - it was more than worrying. It was outright alarming. 

So here he was, picking enough lavender in the forest to fill Tommy’s whole bedroom. More work than he’d ever done without orders to before. Using magical knowledge to help his master. 

It was almost funny how much he’d grown to care for the prince. 

There was a rustle to his right. 

Tubbo lifted his head. “Hello?” F*ck - if someone saw me doing magic - 

There was no reply and Tubbo felt his heartrate slow. Probably just a rabbit or something, thank Prime. 

Until a hand landed on his arm. 

“PULSUS!” Tubbo shrieked.

A wave of energy pulsed around him, sending whoever it was crashing away from him. 

Tubbo scrambled to his feet, adrenalin pumping - and a very small part proud that his practice in the catacombs had trained his reflexes so well. “Who the F*CK are you?!”

The crumpled mess of clothing on the ground got up, reforming into not one, but three separate cloaked figures. Two taller than him, the third much shorter - just coming up to his waist. 

What the f*ck?  

“Well. That confirms it. He’s definitely a magic-user.”

Tubbo’s hands were trembing. He pressed his nails into them, hard. No no no no - “I - I - have no idea what you mean.”

“What are you?” the short one in the middle said. “Wizard? Druid maybe?”

Tubbo took a step backwards. “I - I - I - I’m a h-human - I -”

“You’re not,” said the one on the right with an air of finality. “Not with magic like that.” 

“But that’s okay. Neither are we.”

Tubbo stared as the three of them removed their hoods. Two of them he didn’t recognise.

But the one on the left he did. 

It was the older brother. The one who had trapped him and Tommy in the runes, the one that had lit the spark of hope in Tubbo’s chest that maybe, just maybe, the prince didn’t hate magic as much as he was meant to. 

The one who had seen his spellbook - and kept his secret. 

“You,” Tubbo breathed. “I - what the f*ck -”

The boy nodded. “I never got to tell you my name. I’m Punz. This is Jack and that’s Fundy.”

Fundy glared at his companion. “Don’t tell him our names you f*cking idiot, he works for the castle.”

“Fundy you have fox ears, you really think your name is what’s going to get you recognised?”

Fundy went red and folded his arms. The other one - Jack - snorted. “You’re Tubbo, correct?”

Tubbo nodded. “Y-yeah.”

“And what are you?” Jack asked. “You’re - I mean you’re clearly not human.”

“Well what are you?” Tubbo shot back. “A child?”

Jack’s eyes flashed lime-green as Punz failed in his clear attempt to stifle a snort. “I - I’m not a child! F*ck you, I’m - I’m probably a decade older than you! I’m a leprechaun!”

Tubbo’s eyes widened. Oh. Whoa. Now that he was looking he could see Jack’s slightly pointed ears and a shamrock design someone had embroidered into the cloak he wore. I wonder if he has a pot of gold somewhere.

Fudy shook his head, focusing his attention on Tubbo. “Well? What are you?”

Tubbo looked down at the grass, breaking eye contact. “I’m - uh - I’m -”

He couldn’t seem to say it somehow. The words I’m a sorcerer were sticking in his throat, held back by hands that were squeezing his throat tight. 

You can’t say it. You can’t say it, it’s a death sentence. Keep it hidden, keep it a secret. It’s the only way to survive. 

“C’mon, out with it,” Jack said insistently. 

“Let him be,” Punz interjected. “He doesn’t have any real reason to trust us y’know.”

“We don’t have any reason to trust him -”

“No soldiers came to track down Purpled and I, that counts for something -”

“You - you didn’t tell him about my spellbook,” Tubbo blurted. 

Three sets of eyes turned to him and Tubbo hastened to explain. “To - the prince - you didn’t tell him about the spellbook in my satchel,” he said, looking at Punz. “You must have seen it, but you didn’t say anything.”

Punz shrugged. “I wasn’t going to give you away like that. Us magic-users have got to stick together, right?”

Tubbo nodded, even as something twisted painfully in his heart. He’d never actually hurt another magic-user - he’d never handed anyone over to prove his loyalty or anything f*ckd up like that. But he had served men that had executed people like him. He had helped sort books into burning piles and he’d polished silverware stolen from houses whose residents were no longer there. 

Having a group to stick with sounded… nice. But Tubbo had always survived by himself. 

Until Tommy anyway. 

“Which, uh, is also kinda what we wanted to speak to you about?” Punz said awkwardly. 

Tubbo blinked. “What?”

“You should join us,” Jack said bluntly. “We could use someone in the castle on our side.”

Tubbo held up his hands and took a step back. “I - I - wait - what? What - what are you guys anyway?”

“We’re freedom fighters,” Fundy said proudly.

Tubbo stared at Punz. “You’re a - a rebel?!”

“Not when we met,” Punz shrugged. “But… yeah. They - we - look after each other. You should join us.”

Tubbo shook his head rapidly, chest heaving. “I - I can’t.” 

That’s - that’s far too dangerous, far too reckless - I already walk a tightrope every Prime-damn day, I don’t - I can’t - take any more risks. 

It’s a f*cking miracle Tommy is… Tommy. Can’t I just enjoy this peace?

I want to rest. I want to relax, just a little, just this once. 

“Why not?” Jack demanded. “You work at the f*cking castle Tubbo. Don’t you want to be on the right side? Your side?”

“I - I am on the right side.”

“You - you what?!” Jack exploded. “You - the castle is the right f*cking side?!”

“I - I work for the prince -”

“The prince that killed -”

“No!” Tubbo protested. “No - no he’s not like that at all! He - he’s not like that, Tommy’s… different. He’s… good.”

Fundy raised an eyebrow. “Tommy?”

Tubbo blushed. “He - that’s his name. Tommy. And - and he’s not cruel or malicious and he - he doesn’t hate magic . He didn’t - the laws aren’t his. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jack stared at him incredulously. “You’re seriously telling us the prince is somehow… on our side?

“No - I mean he’s… it’s complicated,” Tubbo said honestly. “But he’s close… I - I think. He just needs time.”

Jack opened his mouth but Punz cut him off before he could speak. “You… you really think he might learn to… not hate magic?”

Tubbo swallowed. He knew it sounded impossible. He could hardly believe it himself. But he’d seen Tommy’s eyes shine, he’d watched the prince spare the brothers and the faerie tree. The prince wasn’t - he wasn’t an enemy of magic. He wasn’t quite a friend of it either. 

Things weren’t as black-and-white as Tubbo had thought they would be. There wasn’t certainty. 

But there was hope.

He nodded. 

The three rebels exchanged glances and Jack ran a hand through his hair. “Do you think you could… pull him over? To our side?”

Tubbo took a deep breath. “I can try.”

–oO0Oo–

Tubbo topped up another vase. Lavender is a thirsty f*cking plant. 

He looked around the room, satisfied. The lavender he had gathered had filled six vases - one on Tommy’s desk, one on his bedside table, one on the mantlepiece, one on the chest of drawers and one on the windowsill. 

The sixth one was in Tubbo’s room. He had a feeling he was going to be struggling to sleep tonight. 

Magic-users. Freedom fighters. F*cking - magical rebels. 

This is all too much for one day. 

He sighed and placed the jug down just as the door swung open and Tommy walked into the room, doing a full double-take as the new scent of the room washed over him. “Did someone have a deal going on selling lavender or something?”

“I picked it for you,” Tubbo shrugged, crossing to the open window and checking below it for passersby before pouring the leftover water into the gardens below, splattering against the wall and soaking the grass. 

Tommy blinked. “All of this?”

“Yeah,” Tubbo shrugged.

“Why?”

Tubbo smiled softly. “It’s supposed to help with sleep.”

Tommy glanced away. “Isn’t that just an old wive’s tale?”

“So are faeries,” Tubbo chuckled. 

Tommy didn’t say anything to that, so Tubbo decided to go a little further. “It was amazing to see that. They were so pretty.”

Tommy didn’t look at him. “P-pretty things can still be dangerous Tubbo.”

Tubbo cocked his head. “They didn’t seem dangerous.”

“Magic is always dangerous.”

Tubbo took a deep breath, heart thudding wildly in his chest. “Is it?”

Tommy’s eyes met his. “Y-yes. Yes it is.”

Oh Prime, oh f*ck, oh f*cking sh*t…

He was walking a f*cking tightrope here - trying to poke at Tommy’s feelings without seeming like he didn’t agree with the thoughts he was actively pushing Tommy towards, trying to ignite something in the prince’s mind while keeping himself safe from the blast. There was no leniency for ‘magic-sympathisers’ in the law - keeping magic books in your house was punishable by jail time, hiding magic-users in your home was a public flogging. If you were lucky. 

So this - dancing around ideas so inflammatory they could set Tubbo’s whole life ablaze - was f*cking terrifying. 

But it was also a relief. 

Tubbo was so so tired of lying. 

“We’ve had two encounters with magic - three if you count the catacombs - and we’ve been safe,” Tubbo pointed out, doing his best to sound like a contemplative servant and not a sorcerer sowing seeds of rebellion. “Is it - it is really that dangerous?”

Tommy’s fingers were twisting his tunic sleeves. “I - yes. It - it’s a miracle we made it out of those things alive. F-f-faeries are m-manipulative and the - the brothers -”

“They didn’t seem dangerous,” Tubbo said faux-thoughtfully. “Just… scared.”

“That makes them more dangerous,” Tommy said, drawing himself up. 

“Really?” Tubbo asked quietly. “They didn’t want to hurt us. Do you really think they were dangerous?”

“Yes,” Tommy said slowly, as though confirming it to himself. “Yes - Bastian said magic-users are… d-dangerous. Corrupt. ”

Tubbo tried not to wince at the insult unknowingly hurled his way. “So just because Bastian said so, that makes something true?”

“Y-yes,” Tommy said fiercely but unconvincingly. “Yes he - Bastian - he knows what’s best. What’s right.”

“Does he?” Tubbo said softly. “What do you think Tommy?”

Tommy stared at him eyes wide. Tubbo fought the urge to tear his eyes away, hide the evidence of his irises, hide the person he was. He was scared - he was so f*cking scared - but he wanted to know. He had to know. 

Tommy’s chest was rising and falling unsteadily as he tore his eyes from Tubbo’s, staring at the ground intensely. Tubbo was sure his heartbeat was so loud the cooks in the kitchen could hear it three floors below.

“I…” Tommy began nervously. 

He paused, looking up at Tubbo again. Tubbo let him. Go on. Tell the truth. I’ve seen you smile over and laugh at and have sympathy for magic. Say it. Just say it. 

Something crystallized in Tommy’s eyes and his jaw set, determined. 

“Magic is… wrong.”

Tubbo’s stomach plummeted. 

Tommy lifted his head, looking through him rather than at him. “Magic is corrupt and - and evil and wrong,” he recited. “It - nothing good ever comes of it. Nothing good can come of it, it’s the total opposite of good. It - it’s evil and vile and - and magic-users are… foul. All of them.”

Tubbo felt his heart crack . 

“You - you think so?” he said, doing his best to keep the wobble out of his voice. 

“I know so,” Tommy said firmly. “I - B-Bastian is always right. He - he says magic is wrong so it is. It - it’s everything he says it is. Deceptive. Monstrous.”

Tubbo had heard many people say many thing about magic in his life - some to others while he stood silently by their side, others directly to his face while Tubbo had done nothing but nod in agreement. Prime, when he’d first started working at the castle he had expected that - he’d been expecting to have to sit still and just take it as the prince spat every insult he could think of at magic-users, at Tubbo. 

He’d been prepared for that. It wouldn’t hurt… he wouldn’t let it hurt. The faceless, heartless prince he’d imagined… an insult like that from him, someone Tubbo didn’t even respect, let alone like… that wouldn’t hurt. 

But the prince he’d expected wasn’t the one he got. 

He couldn’t see the prince at all in this moment. 

Sight blurry with tears he couldn’t shed, all Tubbo saw was his best friend. 

His best friend who hated the very core of who he was. 

His best friend who had told him so to his face. 

The corners of his eyes burned. 

Tubbo turned away. “I - I see. Th-that’s good. I’m… I’m glad you know th-that.” 

F*cking Prime he wanted to throw up.

He heard Tommy shift behind him. “Tubbo -”

“I - I have chores to do,” Tubbo said shakily, forcing a smile onto his face. It hurt so much more than it normally did this time. “I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, fleeing the room through the servants exit, sinking down against the wall and burying his head in his hands. 

He wasn’t angry. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry, not at Tommy - not at his Tommy, who followed Bastian so nervously but so loyally. 

So completely. 

Tubbo had never cried at the insults hurled at magic before. They had never been said by someone whose opinion he cared about before. 

I guess there’s a first time for everything. 

Tubbo watched his tears splash against the stone. 

His magic had never felt so far away. 

Chapter Text

Tommy kept his hands tucked behind his back and his head high, gaze trained on the table in front of him as he felt Bastian’s eyes sweep over him, determined to show that he was strong enough for this. Good enough for this. 

He blinked sluggishly. Prime, he was far too tired. Working late and waking up for ‘emergency meetings’ as dawn broke… he could barely keep his eyes open. 

Tubbo wasn’t there to send him to bed after all. 

Prime, I miss Tubbo. 

Not that his servant was gone. Tubbo was still in the castle, still fetching and carrying, cleaning and polishing. Tubbo was - had always been - a skilled servant. There was nothing actively wrong with what he was doing. 

It just…

He was just…

Tubbo wasn’t himself anymore. He smiled less, laughed even more rarely, and Tommy felt the ice in the room whenever Tubbo entered. 

Tubbo was keeping his distance. From him. 

And Prime, it hurt. 

Tommy had never really had a friend before. Certainly not one like Tubbo, honest and funny and so completely, totally himself… 

It f*cking hurt to see his friend draw away, to cross his arms and talk in short, clipped sentences. It was like when he’d first arrived in the castle - worse, even. At least then Tommy didn’t know what it could be like. At least back then he hadn’t known what he was missing. 

Now he did. He missed Tubbo laugh, the way they bounced off of one another so effortlessly. He missed long talks filled with quips, and he missed sitting in comfortable silence. 

He missed Tubbo bringing him tea on early mornings. He missed Tubbo’s soft expression as his servant urged him to ‘take a break Tommy, please… you need to rest.’ 

He missed being cared for. He missed it all the more now that he knew how it really felt. 

But if this was the price he had to pay for Tubbo’s safety… 

He’d do it. 

His words about magic had been… harsh. Tommy knew that, even as he said them. 

But he had to say them. He - he couldn’t afford not to. Not with Bastian watching his every move, scrutinising him for every mistake and misstep, for any sign that he was - was changing.

“I don’t like whatever that boy has been putting into your head.”

He couldn’t let Tubbo get hurt because of his own weakness. Because of his own f*cking traitorous thoughts. 

Because, no matter how hard he tried… 

Tommy couldn’t control his own mind. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking back on the good things he’d seen magic do - saving a young boy’s life, the beauty of the faerie grove… it was even in the castle. Bastian knew it was there.

Deep down, there was something sharp in Tommy’s gut. Something that sent pangs of guilt shooting through his chest whenever he nodded in agreement, when he stood at Bastian’s side and… lied. 

When he lied to the face of his only friend. 

But Tommy would do it again. Tubbo was the person he cared about most in the world. He’d obey, he’d listen, he’d be good - he’d follow Bastian’s word to the letter, push down all of his own feelings and doubts, even as guilt ate him alive. 

He’d be good. 

Just as long as Tubbo was safe. 

Bastian sat down and indicated for the assembly to be seated also. Tommy obeyed and tucked his hands under the table so Bastian couldn’t see the way his fingers tugged at his sleeve, despite the way he fought to keep them steady. He couldn’t help it. Bastian made him nervous. 

Bastian cleared his throat. “So. We have gathered today in order to discuss some… developments in southern Essempi. Councilman Mercier?”

Mercier nodded grimly. “There has been an… unfortunate development in the activities of magic-users in the south. What appeared to be random incidents at first have taken on a more sinister turn, seemingly spearheaded by a group of magic-users calling themselves…” he shuddered. “Freedom fighters.”

Murmurs rippled across the table. 

“Freedom fighters? What could they possibly -”

“Terrorists, more like.”

“They have to be stopped -”

“Freedom? From what?”

“Fighters… I don’t like the sound of that…”

Tommy thought of the brothers in the woods. He remembered the older brother’s face, the way fear and exhaustion had worn lines into it, drained the light from his eyes, painted a bitter smile onto his face. All because his little brother had been born with magic.

Tommy couldn’t help feeling that he understood why magic-users might rebel. 

Bastian help up a hand, silencing the room before indicating for Mercier to go on. 

“They have been destroying roads and bridges, forests have caught fire, crops are failing… and - and they’ve been… they’ve been…” he swallowed. “They’ve been killing civillians.”

Tommy’s stomach f*cking dropped.

No.

My - my people - no - 

“Burning them alive in their homes… in their beds…” Mercier shuddered. “They’re violent. Merciless. Entire villages have been razed to the ground. ”

Tommy knew that. He should have known that. Bastian - Bastian had always taught him as much, said as much, He - he should have known, he should have - magic-users were evil. Bastian had told him so, countless times. 

But Tommy was f*cking stupid and an arrogant fool and he’d - he’d decided he’d known better. He - he’d thought - he’d thought he knew better than Bastian, he’d thought he could make up his own mind - as though he had the right. 

“I know you are an irresponsible, emotional, impulsive fool, who needs protection from things you cannot understand!”

Bastian had tried to teach him - tried to make him better. Had tried to warn him. Tommy was the idiot. Tommy was - he had - 

He had been taken in, tricked, by the allure of magic. The deception. 

Shining lights, wide eyes, sad smiles - lies, all of it. Tricks, made to deceive. 

Magic is evil. Of course it is. Magic-users are corrupted, cruel, monsters. 

Pretending not to be is the most powerful weapon they have. 

Tommy had been tricked. And his people had suffered. 

“And there are… rumours,” Mercier continued, after the muttering had settles down once more. “Rumours of - of an attack on the castle,” Mercier said softly. “Here.”

Tommy swallowed.

An attack on the castle?

Tubbo…

“That is worrisome,” Bastian commented, frowning. Heads - including Tommy’s - nodded around him as he continued. “I shall have to look into this further. Consider this now a kingdom-wide threat, and the responsibility of the castle.”

Mercier nodded. “Thank you.”

Bastian stood up. “You are all dismissed. Mercier I’ll see you in my study within the hour, please.” He paused. “Let this be a grave reminder to you all. Magic must be purged from our land. Its evil is not welcome here.”

Tommy nodded. 

He would not allow himself to forget again. 

–oO0Oo–

News travelled fast in the palace, and rumours travelled even faster. By noon, every servant in the palace knew about the rebels in the south, wreaking havoc, killing innocent people, burning down towns, threatening the palace.

Tubbo managed to avoid most of the conversations surrounding it, relying on his reputation as the crown prince’s haughty servant to retreat from the whispered gossip, tucking himself into alcoves and darting into his room, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. 

He knew that group. The freedom fighters. Punz, Jack, Fundy… they were all part of it.  

Tubbo was part of it, in a way. 

He - he didn’t want to believe they would do that. He didn’t - he didn’t think any of them would be part of a group that did those things. Punz wouldn’t drag his brother into a circle of rebels that would hurt people - at least not innocent people, children - 

Tubbo didn’t remember the housefire that killed his family, not properly. 

But he did remember crackling heat, smoke billowing into the sky, screams rending the air…

He remembered enough to know that he would never wish that on anyone. 

He didn’t think any magic-user would. 

He knew they were human - or, at least, a large percentage of them were. He knew that meant there would be some cruel people amongst them, differing morals, differing ideas of right and wrong, of justice and injustice…

But he didn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe this. 

It didn’t occur to him until his hand brushed his spellbook that he didn’t have to. 

He grabbed it, flipping it open, turning the pages until - 

There.

‘Tempus Musca’
Requirements: Medium
Components: None
A spell for the weary traveller, ‘tempus musca’ causes an object to fly, carrying a passenger, for around an hour's time. Often used on carpets.
Directions for casting: The sorcerer typically touches the object they wish to make fly and speaks the spell clearly. The more power put into the spell, the longer the object will fly, the effect becoming permanent in some rare cases. 

Tubbo frowned. He didn’t have a carpet. 

He glanced around his bedroom. 

–oO0Oo–

A flying blanket was an infinitely better idea. The early winter air was cold against Tubbo’s skin, but he was easier to bear like this, rolled up in woolen cloth, soaring through the sky like the world’s weirdest shooting star. 

Tubbo just hopes the cloaking spell he’d cast was enough to shield him from view. The last thing he needed was to add to the rumours. He’d been planning to touch down every hour or so in order to recast both spells and prevent himself from plummeting from the sky, but his magic had held strong. 

He touched down in a small clearing, rolling up the blanket and stuffing it into a bush, making a mental note of the location before walking into the thicket.

Tommy had a list of the villages than had been destroyed. Tubbo wasn’t entirely sure why the prince was keeping such a thing close to hand, but… he didn’t really want to ask. He didn’t want to speak to the prince at all right now. 

It still hurt too much. 

He carried on through the trees. One of the wrecked settlements should be just on the other side of this forest - if it was still there at all. It was called Wigston, Tubbo was pretty sure. 

He pushed through the bushes, shoving a branch aside and stopping his his tracks at the sight before him. 

Houses were clustered together, candles burning in a few windows, curtains drawn over others. Thatched roofs and cobbled streets, smoke billowing from chimneys, a small stream trickling through the centre of town…

The village was still here.

Tubbo stumbled back, letting the branch fall down once more, obscuring his view. 

The village is - it’s fine. Not gone, not damaged, not even singed…

Someone lied.

Someone wanted to make the rebels look bad. Someone wanted to - to villainise magic. 

Someone was lying to Tommy. 

Tubbo clenched his fists. Someone is lying to Tommy about magic. 

Tommy had… hurt him. Badly hurt him, even if the prince didn’t know it, didn’t really understand exactly who he was speaking to. Who he was speaking about. 

Tubbo…

He knew Tommy. He knew the prince. Tommy was not cruel, he wasn’t hateful - those prejudices, the words he spat, the things he said… they weren’t his thoughts not really. Prime, Tubbo hoped they weren’t. 

Tubbo had a duty. He served Tommy, not Bastian, he’d decided that months ago. He had a duty to tell Tommy the truth. 

The prince deserved to judge for himself.

Chapter Text

“Tommy? Can I… talk to you about something?”

Tubbo watched as the prince lifted his head from the pages he was pouring over. Not for the first time, he felt a pang of guilt at the weariness on his friend’s face - he’s so drained. He isn’t resting at all, not without me to tell him to. 

It didn’t help, of course, that the castle was uproar. Winter was drawing in, and so, it seemed, were the rebels, inching ever closer to launching an assault. The castle had been in defense mode for weeks now, ever-increasing numbers of guards stationed in the hallways, in the gardens, on the battlements - everywhere. Even the library. Tubbo hadn’t been to the catacombs in ages, and his magic, which used to be so easy to suppress, was definitely smarting at being constrained again. 

It also meant it was nearly impossible to get Tommy alone. Which was an issue, because he had to tell him the truth. Privately. He wasn’t exactly going to expose the biggest conspiracy of the past two decades in front of Bastian’s guards. 

It was ironic, in a way. Tommy was working himself to the bone over an attack by magic-users, that Tubbo knew he could stop if Tommy knew the truth, if he realised that he’d been lied to about magic. That it wasn’t evil after all. If Tubbo could just get the prince to see that, he could get the rebels to hold off their attack, if not stop it entirely. If only he could get a moment long enough to actually tell him. 

“Y-yeah?” Tommy said. “What is it?”

Tubbo swallowed. “Tommy… Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Tommy nodded. 

Tubbo blinked. He hadn’t… expected that - at least, he hadn’t expected Tommy to say that without any hesitation. Do I really deserve that trust?

“Tubbo?” Tommy prompted. 

Tubbo pulled himself together. “So - I - I have something to tell you. And - and it sounds unbelievable, but - but I wouldn’t lie to you, okay?” At least, not about this.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he stood up from his desk, walking closer. “What is it?” he asked seriously. “Is - is something wrong? Did - did someone - did someone h-hurt you?”

Tubbo shook his head quickly. “No - no - not that , nothing like that, this isn’t about me.” Except in the ways that it is.

“Then what is it?” Tommy asked worriedly. 

Tubbo opened his mouth, heart beating rapidly in his chest. “I -”

There was a knock at the door and Tubbo deflated. F*ck. Another opportunity gone. 

Tommy ignored it, still looking at him. “Go on.”

Tubbo shook his head. “N-nevermind. Not - not now. I’ll tell you later.”

The knock sounded again, louder this time, and Tommy sighed, stepping back. “O-okay. If you’re sure.” He lifted his head. “Come in!”

The door swung open and a guard entered. “Prince Thomas? You’re needed in the councilroom.”

Tubbo could see the way weight settled over Tommy’s shoulders at the knight’s words. The prince looked exhausted. “On my way.”

He threw an apologetic look over his shoulder as he departed. Tubbo couldn’t help thinking he was the one owed an apology. 

–oO0Oo–

“Tubbo!” 

Tubbo stopped walking and twisted around at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Tommy?”

Tommy jogged to catch up with him, glancing up and down the hallway as he did so. “You - you said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

Tubbo blinked. “Huh?”

“Y-yesterday? In my room - a guard came in to fetch me before you could finish.”

Tubbo felt his eyes widen. “Oh - r-right, I remember.”

“Can you tell me now?”

Tubbo took a deep breath. “I - I’m not sure…”

“Why not?” 

Tubbo swallowed, avoiding the prince’s gaze. “I - I… I’m not… it’s not very… believable.”

“I’ll believe you,” Tommy said at once, eyes filling with a sort of unshakeable certainty. “I promise - whatever it is. I trust you Tubbo. And I - I want to hear what you have to say.”

Oh. That was… a lot. 

Tubbo closed his eyes for a long moment. He trusts me. He wants to hear from me. He trusts me, implicitly, without question. Trust like that… I have to tell him, while I have the chance. It - it would be a betrayal not to. 

“I… walk with me,” he said quietly. “So we dont look suspicious.”

Tommy obeyed, falling into pace beside him as they began making their way down the corridor once more. “What is it?”

Tubbo took a deep breath. “It - it’s about… the reports. Of the magic-users in the south.”

Tommy’s eyebrows rose. “The rebels?!”

“Keep your voice down,” Tubbo hissed. “Yes, the rebels.”

Tommy winced. “Sorry. B-but - what do you… I mean… how do you… what do you know?”

Tubbo dug his nails into his palms. “It - the things they’ve been doing? B-b-burning down v-villages and things like that?”

“Yes?” Tommy said slowly, the naked concern on his face growing. “Tubbo, what…?”

“It - the reports are -”

“Thomas!”

Tubbo’s mouth snapped shut as the prince beside him practically jumped out of his skin before straightening up and turning to face the only person in the palace that dared to call him by that name. “Y-yes Bastian?” 

Tubbo felt Bastian’s eyes fall on him and he hastily dipped into a low bow. F*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck, f*cking sh*t f*ck. Bastian already didn’t like him - it was as though the ruler could sense Tubbo’s distaste for him, judging by the hint of disgust in Bastian’s expression as he looked down at him.

“Come with me,” Bastian ordered. “The rebels have reached the castle.”

“They - what?!” Tommy stammered. “I - wh-what?!”

“Stop stuttering and move,” Bastian commanded, sweeping past the two of them, clicking his fingers at Tommy in a way that uncomfortably reminded Tubbo of the way a master might call a dog to heel. 

Sure enough, Tommy scurried after Bastian, hand on his father’s sword sheathed at his side. 

Leaving Tubbo alone. 

The rebels. 

F*ck. 

–oO0Oo–

Tommy hurried after, Bastian, heart pumping fear-fuelled adrenaline around his body as he did. They’re here - they’re here - 

“H-how - h-how long-?”

“They’ve been attempting to break down the door for the last quarter of an hour or so,” Bastian explained, words short and clipped. “Which you would have known if you hadn’t been gallivanting around with that f*cking servant of yours.”

“I - Tubbo - I wasn’t - we weren’t -”

“Save it,” Bastian snapped. “Later.”

“Y-yes Bastian,” Tommy nodded, following his guardian down a flight of stairs. “Um - wh-where are we going?”

“The entranceway,” Bastian said shortly.

“Uh - wh-why?”

“Why do you think? Don’t you want to fight them - defend the castle?” Bastian didn’t bother turning around - he knew Tommy could hear the disdain in his voice. “I didn’t have you pinned as a coward Thomas.”  

“I - I’m not,” Tommy said quickly. “I just - I - sh-shouldn’t I go put on some armour?”

Bastian waved a hand to the sword at Tommy’s side. “You’ve got your sword, haven’t you?”

Tommy nodded - he’d been carrying it around ever since the news about the approaching rebels had reached his ears weeks ago. He had to be ready, had to be prepared - if the attack was a silent one, cloak-and-dagger-in-the-middle-of-the-night style, Tommy wanted to have father’s sword right there so he could defend himself. So he could defend the servant sleeping in the room next door. “Y-yes? But -”

“Then you’ve got all you need,” Bastian said shortly. “You shouldn’t need more than that.”

Tommy fell silent, at a loss to respond. Sure, he probably should be good enough at swordsmanship to fight without letting an opponent get a hit on him, but… he’d never fought a magic-user before. And was now really the best time for one of Bastian’s tests? 

It didn’t matter. Tommy had learned by now that it was not his place to question his guardian. He only made a mess of things whenever he did. 

Bastian waved a hand towards the guards gathering at the grand entranceway of the castle. “Go. Join them.”

Tommy clutched the hilt of his sword tightly. “Wh-what about you? Where will you be?”

“I’ll be where I need to be,” Bastian replied. “Now go.”

When Bastian used that tone, any protest Tommy might have had died. 

He went.

The soldiers around him nodded at him as he joined them. He could hear the muttering that rippled through the throng.

“The Crown Prince…”

“He’s fighting with us?”

“I thought for sure he’d be holed away somewhere -”

“He’s not wearing armour!”

“Maybe he doesn’t need it…”

“Is he going to stay when the rebels break through the gates?”

Tommy held his head high and tried to let the talk wash over him. He wasn’t quite sure what effect his presence was having, but… he hoped it was a good one. He’d heard his father had been good at inspiring his troops. He’d like to have inherited that, at least.

He hoped he wouldn’t die the same way his father did. At a magic user’s hand. 

I never got to say goodbye to him.

Tommy hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to Tubbo either.

He hoped his servant was somewhere safe. 

Please, Prime, keep him safe.

The siege doors crumbled into dust. 

Chapter Text

The palace was in uproar. 

Tubbo ran through the hallways, heart racing anxiously in his chest. He’d taken a quick detour to his room, flipping frantically through the pages of his spellbook before stuffing it back underneath his pillow. Despite all of his training in the catacombs he still felt woefully underprepared for a combat situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to hide away, not when he could hear slashing metal and the thudding of bodies hitting the floor outside. 

So here he was, a rogue sorcerer in the castle hallways, protecting innocent lives as best he could - be they servants, rebels, or even guards. They were his colleagues too - they were the men and women Tommy was fighting beside right now . They didn’t deserve to die for trying to earn a living. 

“Lapsus,” Tubbo whispered, eyes flashing gold as he pointed a finger towards the rebels up ahead, bearing down on a group of servants. All at once they began to slip and fall over themselves, as though the floor had just turned to butter beneath their feet.

Tubbo allowed himself a small smile before another cry rang out and he turned, racing toward the source of the noise. He rounded the corner and was met with the sight of another small gaggle of servants, these ones backing away from a pair of rebels holding swords pointed directly at their chests. Tubbo recognised a few of them - some of them worked in the kitchens, a few others in the laundry. One of them, strands of honey-blonde hair falling out her neat bun, he knew from that dreadful evening in the servant’s hall. 

A stray spell struck the stone above her and it shattered, enormous chunks of debris plummeting towards the group, and Tubbo made a split-second choice. “Pulvis”

The stone became dust - choking the servants as it landed on top of them, but saving their lives. Tubbo slipped away in the confusion, not wanting to be seen. 

And almost ran directly into a blade. 

…A really low blade.

“Tubbo?!”

Tubbo raised his arms shakily. “J-Jack? Is that you? You could have killed me!”

Jack removed his hood. “You’re the one running around like a f*cking lunatic. Did I just see you save those people?”

“I couldn’t just leave them to die -”

“They’re humans.”

“So is Punz.”

“Punz doesn’t hate magic.”

“Neither do they!” As far as you know. “Why does it matter? I’m just trying to keep people safe.”

Jack sighed, pulling a short length of rope out of his pocket. “Come with us quietly then.”

Tubbo blinked. “Wait - what?”

“We’re winning, it was pretty inevitable,” Jack shrugged. “Everyone’s being rounded up in the great hall - servants too. That includes you.”

Tubbo took a shaking step back. “I - I -”

Jack sighed. “Come on man. We’re not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. You’re one of us. Things are just a bit… complicated right now.”

Tubbo folded his arms. “You’re not tying me up.”

“Yes I am,” Jack retorted, rolling his eyes. “Turn around.”

“No!”

“Why do you always have to make this so difficult? First the whole prince thing and now this… can’t you make things easy, just this once?”

Tubbo gritted his teeth. “Why should I? Why should I trust you at all right now? You’re attacking my home -”

“The castle is -” Jack cut himself off, shaking his head. “Nevermind. Look, I will personally ensure you get untied at the earliest possible opportunity, okay? Is that good enough for you?”

Tubbo held out his hands. “Fine. But you’re not tying them behind my back.”

“Sure, whatever,” Jack groused, tying the length of rope around Tubbo’s wrists. To his credit, he tied it fairly loosely, just enough that Tubbo certainly looked the part of ‘restrained and defeated imperial servant’ - which, he supposed, was exactly what they were going for. 

“Come on,” Jack said, tugging Tubbo along to walk behind him. Tubbo fell into pace with him, trying his best not to look at the carnage that littered the usually-spotless castle halls. The magic-users had overwhelmed the simple soldiers and guards so quickly… Tubbo couldn’t help thinking about how high the death toll must be. How many lost their lives, on both sides?

Prime… 

F*ck - Tommy even still alive?

His breathing hitched in panic, but released a moment later as his question was answered. 

Tommy was kneeling in the centre of the great hall along with a number of other high-up nobility. The prince was bound and gagged, but his eyes were wide, searching the room frantically, darting up as he came in. 

They made eye contact for a long moment.

And then suddenly Tommy was yelling, words unintelligible through the gag, struggling against the restraints. Tubbo understood the message though, and he was pretty sure the others did too - ‘ don’t hurt him you motherf*ckers! Let him go!’

Tubbo threw him what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he was led across the room and stood with the rest of the servants.

“Stay still,” Jack said warningly, before releasing his hold on the rope and stepping away.

Tubbo nodded and Jack seemed satisfied with that, joining the rest of the rebels. Tubbo looked around the room - there were advisors and nobles, servants and guards, all tied up. It was oddly equalising, in a way that Tubbo was sure Tommy would have found funny if the prince wasn’t currently staring at him, sheer panic in his eyes. 

Bastian wasn’t there though. Probably cowering in a safe room somewhere - if he was still in the palace at all. Either way, he wasn’t there to protect his ward. Not that Tubbo had ever had much faith that he would. 

He smiled at Tommy again, mouthing ‘it’s going to be okay’ as clearly as he could. He wasn’t entirely sure whether Tommy fully grasped what he was saying him, but the prince swallowed hard and nodded, so Tubbo hoped he understood enough to be reassured. 

Tubbo had more power in this situation than Tommy knew. 

–oO0Oo–

Tommy couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tubbo. 

He’s alive. Thank f*ck, he’s alive - the motherf*ckers tied him up but he’s alive, he’s still breathing, still standing - he’s okay. He’s alive. 

For how long though?

His servant seemed fairly calm given the situation, and Tommy felt oddly proud as his friend stood amongst the other servants, head held high despite his bound wrists. He noticed Tubbo was the only one with his arms tied in front of him and huffed - leave it to Tubbo to be so stubborn even f*cking magic-users gave up on arguing with you. 

He swallowed, sobering up quickly. I hope he didn’t antagonise them too much. Magic-users were not known for their mercy. He’d seen the evidence of that in the battle they’d just been through, in the blood that was still splattered across the polished floors. They’d been overwhelmed easily - almost embarrassingly so. Tommy understood now why magic was such a threat - it was f*cking overpowered, even the best knights in the kingdom had no chance of defeating a horde of angry magic-users. Tommy had no chance, especially not without his armour - it was a miracle he was still breathing… albeit with difficulty through the wad of fabric tied over his mouth.   

An axe thudded against the ground and Tommy glanced over at the wielder - a hooded figure, white, pupilless eyes the only sign that the b*tch even had a face. 

He shuddered. 

“This is the start of a new era!” the figure shouted. Cheers rose from the rebels scattered throughout the room and Tommy wished his fingers could reach his sleeves.

“No more bloodshed! No more oppression! We will not be forced into hiding any longer, we will not be killed for being made, being created, being born! We will not die for being who we are! We will not be forced to study in secret, to hide our books and runes. We will be a part of Essempi because we have always been!”

More shouting, more cheering. There were sounds mixed in that were so inhuman - chirps, screeches, roars… Tommy shuddered again, horror filling him. They’re all inhuman. They’re unnatural, they’re magic-users… even their simple cheers aren’t human, just a deception. They’re all monsters. Some of them just do a better job of hiding it. 

“Too many of us have died because of human cruelty. Too many of us have lost property, homes, families. Never again!” The… demon-looking-thing paused to let the applause dim before continuing. “Human evil has cost us much. Our so-called rulers, the residents of this castle have cost us much.” 

He turned and pointed a finger directly at Tommy. 

“The f*cking royal family has cost us too much!”

Shouts erupted and Tommy curled away from the vitriol despite himself. 

The demon-thing raised a hand and the clamour faded a little. “Crown Prince Thomas here has ended more lives, caused more suffering, than he can ever hope to understand. And tonight we make him pay!”

The rebels erupted into cheers again and Tommy felt his chest tighten with panic. What - 

“Prince Thomas, for your crimes against magic-users and for treason to your own people…” the demon said slowly, savouring every word. “I sentence you to death.”

Tommy’s heart f*cking stopped. 

The room was loud with whistles and shrieks of glee and Tommy couldn’t f*cking breathe. 

He - they - they were going to - 

He was going to die. 

Rough hands seized his arms, dragging him forward on his knees and dumping him at the feet of the rebellion leader. Tommy was far too frozen to struggle, his mind racing. 

He was going to die. They were going to kill him, right here, right now. They were going to kill him before he even reached eighteen. He was never going to make it to adulthood, never become king, never - he was never going to do anything ever again. He was never going to smile or laugh or run or fight or breathe. He was never going to - he was never - 

F*ck this was all happening too fast. He - he wanted - there was so much more he wanted to say, there were still things he wanted to do… he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die, but the choice wasn’t in his hands. Very few choices ever had been. 

The gag fell away from his mouth and Tommy gasped in air, chest stuttering.

He was scared. 

Prime, he was so f*cking scared.

It took everything he had in him to hold back his tears. If he was going to die - and he was, he was going to die, he was going to die, right here right now, and there was nothing he could do about it - he was going to do it with honour. Like his father had. 

He hoped his father wouldn’t be disappointed in him. 

“Any last words?” the demon asked. 

Tommy lifted his head, looking out over the crowd. Rebels, guards, servants… 

Tubbo.

His best friend’s face was coated in fear and devastation, his chest heaving, fists clenched tightly as they looked at each other. It looked like tears were forming in his eyes and Tommy tried his best to smile, but he knew it came off hollow. Things were not going to be okay. Not for him anyway. 

But maybe he could make sure things were okay for Tubbo. For everyone. 

Tommy exhaled shakily. “D-don’t - don’t hurt anyone else. Please,” he tacked on, as an afterthought. 

The demon gave a short nod and that was enough for Tommy. It had to be. It was all he was going to get. 

The leader lifted his axe and Tommy bowed his head. 

And then a beam of white light shot across the room, knocking the axe from the demon’s hand. 

Tommy’s head shot up, staring across the room at the source. 

Standing across the room, hands outstretched and eyes a blazing gold, was Tubbo.

Tommy’s world fell apart. 

–oO0Oo–

Everyone was looking at him. 

There were eyes on him everywhere. 

Guards gaped, servants shuffled away from him, nobility gasped, Tommy…

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tommy. He didn’t want to see what the prince thought. He - he didn’t know what he would see there. He didn’t want to see disgust or - or fear, or hate. It would break him. He was already fracturing. 

He turned his attention to his wrists, burning through the ropes with white-hot light before sending another blast in the direction of the rebellion’s leader, who dove to the side. The room stared in shocked silence at the black scorch mark left on the stone wall where he had stood moments before. 

Tubbo summoned another ball of light to his hand and held it up. “Don’t touch him.”

Punz stepped forward, a few other rebels readying weapons - both magical and man-made. “Tubbo - you -”

“Back the f*ck off!” Tubbo snarled, spinning to face him, light growing brighter, pulsing furiously. “You - all of you - back off!”

Punz didn’t step forwards… but he didn’t step back either. “Tubbo -”

“Pulsus!” Tubbo cried, sending the rebels scattering backwards as he raised his arm once more, chest heaving. “Get the f*ck away from me - away from us. Get out!”

The rebellion leader - thank Prime, thank f*ck, thank everything - moved away from Tommy. “I - you’re the prince’s servant.” Not a question. “You’re a magic-user.”

Tubbo’s heart pounded frantically in his chest. That accusation - that statement - was death to him. He’d spent his whole life avoiding it, spent his life running and lying and hiding and he - he was so f*cking scared of those words. He was terrified. He was afraid of being seen for what he really was. He was afraid of dying. 

But Tubbo had been a dead man walking for as long as he could remember. 

Somehow, the words were almost easy to say. 

He lifted his head high. 

“I am Tubbo Underscore - the last living sorcerer in Essempi.”

Gasps and muttering swept across the room. The leader frowned. “Then why -”

“Because you will not kill the prince,” Tubbo spat. “You will not - you will not take over the kingdom this way, you will not spill more innocent blood -”

“The prince is not innocent -”

“That is not your decision to make!” Tubbo shot back. “It is - you don’t know him! None of you know him!” 

But I hope I do. Prime, I hope I do. 

“We don’t -”

“I am going to give you one chance,” Tubbo hissed . “Get the f*ck out.” Get out of this castle, get out of my castle , stop f*cking up the home I found. Stop threatening my one friend on this earth. Stop wrecking my life. 

The leader shook his head. “We can’t do that. We - we’ve fought too long, too hard for this to give it up.”

“Then you’ll have to kill me,” Tubbo declared darkly. “Because you are not hurting the prince.”

The leader gripped his axe uncomfortably. “You’re - you’re a child.”

“So is he,” Tubbo spat. “Kill me.”

“You’re one of us -”

“No I am not!” Tubbo exploded. “I am not on your f*cking side, I am not on theirs, I am - I am on - on my own f*cking side, on his side! And you are not killing my best friend!”

He hurled his handhelded firework.

And all hell broke loose. 

–oO0Oo–

After it was all over, Tubbo stood in the centre of the great hall, fingertips still sparking with leftover magic, chest heaving. The heavy footsteps of rebels fleeing the palace was fading into the background as Tubbo tried his best not to look at the singed bodies scattered across the floor. 

Servants and guards were pressed against the walls, nobility huddled into corners. 

They were all staring at him. Some of them with disgust and terror, some of them with expressions almost close to awe. 

But Tubbo only had eyes for one person. 

Tommy’s face was pale with shock. With – with fear. 

With horror. 

All at once the fight drained out of Tubbo as darkness rushed in, clouding his vision. 

He didn’t remember hitting the floor.

Chapter Text

Tubbo awoke slowly, head pounding. Urgh. What time is it? He squinted through his eyelids and was greeted by foggy gloom. The middle of the night?

He tried to lift an oddly-heavy hand to summon a small orb to light up his bedroom.

And heard the unmistakable sound of a clanking chain. 

He shot bolt upright, staring at his wrists in horror as adrenaline cleared his vision. 

He was in manacles. Not ordinary manacles either, but ones with runes carved into the iron. 

Magic-suppressing runes. 

They know. 

They - they know. 

Tommy knows. 

It all came flooding back at once - the battle, the rebels, the axe, the fight - 

Oh Prime. 

Oh f*ck. 

They know. 

The castle knew who he was - what he was. They knew what he was capable of - they’d seen it. F*ck - Tommy had seen it, had seen how powerful he truly was, the destruction he could wield singlehandedly. Tubbo had been everything sorcerers were depicted as - angry, vengeful and destructive. 

Who knew light could burn so fiercely?

And now he was locked up - in a dungeon, not his bedroom. This wasn’t his bed, it was a thin mattress on a stone shelf - he was f*cking freezing and - he shifted his legs - chained to the Prime-damn wall, apparently. 

He threw off the threadbare blanket, heart pounding with panic. 

He - he - 

He was f*cking terrified. 

Seventeen years of hiding gone to waste. 

They know. Everyone knows. Tommy knows. 

Tubbo bit his lip. 

Tommy knows. 

And you’re still in a dungeon. 

A coil of something cold and painful tightened in his chest. 

He was prevented from pursuing that line of thought any further by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway outside. He lifted his head as the figure came into view.

Sh*t.

Bastian leered down at him. “Tubbo Underscore.”

Tubbo glared at him. “F*ck off.”

Bastian laughed. “No formalities? Have you forgotten who holds the power here?” He nodded at the cuffs binding Tubbo’s magic. “Ironic, is it? Magic holding back magic… beautiful craftsmanship. I’m sure whoever made them was very proud.”

“Until you murdered them,” Tubbo spat. “You - you’re a cold-blooded killer.”

Bastian raised his eyebrows. “I’m a killer? Tubbo, have you seen the mess you left in the great hall?” He chuckled. “We’re lucky you passed out so we could get the cuffs on you.”

Bile rose in Tubbo's throat, but he swallowed it down. “What - what’s going to happen to me?”

Bastian tilted his head. “What do you think happens to sorcerers Tubbo?”

Tubbo’s heart stopped beating. 

Bastian smirked at the dawning horror on his face. “You’re the last one. Isn’t that right?”

Tubbo nodded mutely and Bastian’s smile grew wider. “I knew there was one more. It all went too cleanly - too perfectly. Who’d have thought you’d just land in my lap? My last loose end.”

“Y-you’re going to… k-kill me?” Tubbo croaked.

Bastian threw him a contemptuous glance. “Of course.” He glanced up at the tiny barred window of the cell. “At dawn.”

“D-dawn?”

“You’re a monster,” Bastian shrugged. “No point in letting you live longer than is absolutely necessary.”

Tubbo shook his head desperately, shuffling as close to the bars as the cuffs around his ankles would allow. “You - you can’t - y-you - you can’t -”

“Oh but I can.”

“T-Tommy -”

“Prince Thomas isn’t going to save you,” Bastian chuckled. “You lied to him Tubbo. You thought he was your friend? You were just his servant - and a traitorous one at that. He’s not going to stop me. No one is going to stop me.”

Tubbo’s gut twisted. “He - no - I - I s-saved his life -”

“And your existence threatens it.”

“No!” Tubbo protested at once. “I - I would never hurt Tommy, I - he’s my best friend, I lo-”

“Shut the f*ck up,” Bastian snapped, cutting him off. “You are not capable of love.”

Tears pricked at Tubbo’s eyes against his will. “I am, I -”

“You’re a sorcerer,” Bastian spat, and the words sounded every inch the death sentence they were. “And you won’t live to see another sunset.”

With that, he strode away, robes billowing behind him as his shoes clipped across the stone floor. 

A teardrop trailed down Tubbo’s cheek. 

He couldn’t bring himself to wipe it away. 

He was going to die. He was going to die. 

Chains rattling, reminding him of his fate with every clank, Tubbo curled into a ball and sobbed. 

–oO0Oo–

Tubbo is a sorcerer. 

Tommy stared at the curtain that covered the doorway to his servant’s bedroom.

Or… his old servant’s bedroom. 

Prime. 

Tubbo was a sorcerer. 

Tubbo. 

It didn’t feel real. It - it couldn’t be real. Tubbo wasn’t - he wasn’t - 

Tubbo wasn’t like that. 

Tubbo wasn’t… evil. He - he wasn’t cruel or - or dangerous - 

Was he?

Tubbo’s eyes were liquid gold as he hurled another bolt of burning light, swords melting from the heat before they got within a metre of him.

He was. 

Tubbo was powerful. 

Tubbo was a magic-user. His servant was a sorcerer, a powerful, dangerous one, and he - he had - 

He had lied. 

Tommy looked up. The sky outside was beginning to lighten. 

Tubbo was due to be executed at dawn. Bastian had granted Tommy permission not to watch the execution. It - it wasn’t that Tommy didn’t think Tubbo deserved to die, he did, he did, he just… didn’t want to watch it. He couldn’t watch it. 

He - he couldn’t watch his best friend die.

His ex- friend. If they’d ever been friends at all. Magic-users couldn’t feel love, after all. 

And Tubbo was one. Tubbo was a magic-user. A sorcerer. 

Tubbo’s grin, his laugh, the way he raised an eyebrow when he was being sarcastic, the way he shook his head with a small smile on his face. 

The way he stepped closer to Tommy when the servant sensed he was nervous, the way he placed a hand on his shoulder when the prince wasn’t listening to his gentle words, the way he - he cared. 

The way he seemed to care.

Was it all a lie? 

Was he just - was he just using me? As - as a way to infiltrate the palace? As a way to influence me - corrupt me? 

Was I just a pawn to him?

Tommy screwed his eyes shut, pressing his hands to his face.

I thought he cared. I thought - thought he cared. 

But he couldn’t have. Because - because magic-users didn’t care. They couldn’t.

They didn’t love. They were cruel, violent, depraved - they were fiendish, only interested in themselves, in hurting. 

They were monsters. 

‘You have to remember Thomas. They’re not human. No matter how they look, no matter how they appear - how innocent they pretend to be - they are monsters in our form. Corruption and cruelty walking among us, liars, manipulators by nature.’

Tommy nodded to himself, even as tears burned his eyes.

Tubbo - Tubbo wasn’t who he said he was. He was a monster. Simple as that. He - he was a liar, a vile, corrupt, evil monster. He’d had a sorcerer sleeping in the room next door all this time, and he’d never known it. 

Tommy chuckled brokenly. How f*cked up is that?

He stood, crossing to his window and peered down at the crowd gathering in the courtyard. The sky was a pale orange now, the sun would rise at any moment. 

And far below, a small chestnut-haired figure was being hauled onto the dias, wrists chained behind their back. They stumbled to their knees and were tugged up roughly, dragged onto the stage, head hanging low. 

Tommy’s heart tightened. No!

No?!

No. 

He stumbled back from the window, chest heaving in realisation. 

He didn’t want Tubbo to die.

He knew what Tubbo was. He knew about his magic, about all the lies, and he didn’t want Tubbo to die. 

Despite it all, he still cared about Tubbo. He - he couldn’t help it. His servant was - he had been kind. He had been funny and gentle and patient and genuine and - 

‘Magic is corrupt and - and evil and wrong . It - nothing good ever comes of it. Nothing good can come of it, it’s the total opposite of good . It - it’s evil and vile and - and magic-users are… foul. All of them.’

No wonder he avoided me after that. No wonder he knew about the catacombs and he was okay with the faeries and he didn’t mind that I didn’t report the brothers in the woods - 

He must have spent his whole life hiding who he really is. 

Except in all the ways that he didn’t.

He looked out for me, he worried for me - he lied for me. He laughed with me, talked with me, he - he cared. 

That was the real Tubbo. 

That was real. 

And Tommy knew what Bastian would say - that he had been tricked, that this was what magic-users did - that it was all a lie, and Tommy was being an irresponsible, emotional, impulsive fool…

And f*ck, maybe he was. Maybe Tubbo was evil through and through, maybe he was cruel and corrupt and hateful, maybe everything - all the laughter and secrets and silent smiles - maybe those had all been lies.

But something deep down in Tommy’s gut screamed that they weren’t. 

And he couldn’t let Tubbo die. 

The sky outside was only getting brighter.

Tommy scrambled to the door, hauling it open and throwing himself into the corridor, much to the surprise of a couple of passing servants. He didn’t give them a second glance, tearing down the hallways, flying down the stairs, all too aware of the light seeping in through the stained-glass windows, of Tubbo’s remaining seconds alive ticking down. 

Any moment could be his final one. Every heartbeat could be his last.

Tommy couldn’t let that happen. 

He needed Tubbo, like he needed air - he needed his best friend, his - his brother - he loved Tubbo, despite all the lying and secrets and - and magic. It didn’t matter - none of it did. Tubbo was Tubbo - before he was a sorcerer or a servant or anything, he was Tubbo. 

Tubbo who protected him from Bastian’s anger, who cared when he was overworking, who taught him to make cupcakes late at night, who sat atop bookshelves and swung his legs carelessly, as though nothing could bring him down. 

Tubbo who was in chains, being led to his execution - Tubbo who would die if he didn’t make it in time. 

Crown Prince Thomas burst through the inner door of the courtyard and raced towards the crowd at the edge of the tunnel.

Chapter Text

The axe fell with a deafening thud.

Chapter Text

Tommy’s scream was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as hands gripped his arms, dragging him back, away from the courtyard and the crowd and Tubbo. 

“TUBBO! No - no - you - you can’t - he can’t be dead - let me go, let me go - TUBBO!”

He struggled furiously against the guards holding him. “Let me go! I have to - I have to -”

“We were ordered -”

“I don’t give a f*ck what your orders are!” Tommy shouted desperately, tears springing to his eyes. “I’m the f*cking Crown Prince, let me go!”

The guards exchanged glances, their grips loosening. Tommy slipped out of their grasp and dove back towards the courtyard, ignoring their cries of protest, heart racing. 

No. 

No. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have done the world a great service today!”

No. 

A cheer rose up from the crowd as Tommy tried to push through the tight-knit throng, frantically trying to peer over them, to catch a glimpse of the stage. 

No, Prime, no, please no - 

“Another threat to the kingdom - and our beloved crown prince - has been eliminated!”

Prime no, no - please - 

“And the last sorcerer in Essempi is dead!”

The crowd cheered.

Tommy shattered. 

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Pure, overwhelming, devastating grief slammed into him like a wave, knocking him to his knees on the courtyard cobblestones as he doubled over in a silent scream. 

Tubbo is dead. 

Tubbo is dead. 

The pain in his chest was agonising, choking , ripping through his throat, through his heart and soul as he buried his head in his hands, gasping for air through burning lungs, hot tears running down his face. 

I’m too late. 

I was too late.

And now Tubbo is dead. 

His best friend - his only friend, the only person that had ever cared about him, Tommy - not his position or his privilege or his title, but him - Tubbo was the only person that had cared about him , the only person that smiled and laughed and relaxed with him. His best friend, the person he most wanted to see when he woke up, the last person he spoke to before he went to sleep, the person who understood him, cared about him in a way he never expected - in a way I never deserved. 

Tubbo, who was loud laughter and sarcastic comments and crossed arms and raised eyebrows and everything that made life in the palace bright. Tubbo, who defied the world and dared it to talk back, Tubbo who had used magic in public to save Tommy’s life… Tubbo who was everything Tommy could ever have wanted in a servant and in a friend…

Tubbo was gone. 

Tommy wailed, pressing his forehead to the floor. Tubbo…

Hands seized his arms once more, hauling him up and away, away from the courtyard and the crowd and the stage and Tubbo’s body and Bastian - 

Bastian.

Tommy lifted his head, face streaked with tears, making eye contact with the man that was supposed to be his protector. His guardian.

He was smiling. 

He was smiling while Tommy’s best friend was lying right there on the stage, dead - Prime, he’s dead, he’s dead - he was smiling, a dark, delighted gleam in his eye. 

And Tommy knew why. 

“I don’t like whatever that boy has been putting into your head.”

Bastian had won. Bastian had won and he knew it. 

Tubbo was gone. Tommy had no reason to defy him anymore. Not that he would ever dare to try again. 

Tubbo was gone. 

And Bastian had won.