Chapter 1: Golden throne

At the young tender age of eleven, kneeling solemnly in front of his father as the golden crown was placed on his head, Tommy knew that one day, he was going to be an emperor.

For over six years, he has been the perfect crown-prince. Rumors spread out of the country, about a boy, a spitting image of the current ruler of the Antarctic empire, who holds control over the royal palace and has an influence around the whole thirteen regions.      When his time comes    , people talk on the streets and markets      , the true era of prosperity will start    .

Tommy would be flattered if he had the time to listen to these stories. Between the endless meetings, trading agreements and constant flow of paperwork he barely sleeps and eats. He isn’t complaining, though – it’s the fate he chose for himself, even if he didn’t know at the time that the position of the crown-prince is possibly the loneliest there is in the entire empire.

Matters worthy only of the emperor’s hands kept His Majesty busy; Tommy hasn’t seen Techno ever since he left to train their armies in the North, and even if Wilbur was here, in the capital, their relationship could be described to be strained at best.

The royal family doesn’t need to be close, it only needs to be balanced, like the pillars holding their country above their heads – as long as they are strong and steady, the Empire will be too. It’s a principle that held Tommy’s back straight and his shoulders broad through the years of hardships and trials of errors; through yet another formal meeting where his father’s gaze would look past him and where his brother’s words would be filled with poison that makes the deepest parts of his soul ache. In the end, it made him who he is: the future of the country, the heir to the Imperial throne.  

At the time, Tommy didn’t know that his family would replace him with a commoner named Ranboo.

***

The day that would eventually lead to his doom doesn’t start with a sinister sign or a lingering rain. After a long night spent with a quill in his hand and a tower of documents to look over, Tommy wakes up to a shuffle of someone’s steps in his bedroom. As his eyelids flutter open, he sees Tubbo drawing the curtains tighter to block off a sharp ray of sunlight sipping through.

“Don’t bother,” Tommy says. “I’m already awake.”

Tubbo spins on his heels, not in the slightest bothered by Tommy’s sharp tone, and bows. “Your Highness.”

“Morning,” Tommy echoes, blinking. “What time is it now?”

“I’d say it isn’t morning anymore, Your Highness.”

Tommy pushes himself up on his hands. His head pounds, and his mouth is drier than the Badlands’ deserts in the boiling summer months. “My schedule- “

“-Is emptied for the first half of this day.”

Tommy frowns. “You have no right to do that.”

“I don’t,” Tubbo agrees. He offers the prince a glass of water. Tommy takes a sip, savoring the honey-sweet taste that immediately soothes his throat. Tubbo continues, “But his Majesty has. He returned from his trip last night, and when I informed him that you’re working, he ordered not to disturb you till today’s evening.”

Tommy is fully awake now. He stands up, running a hand through the mess his hair had turned into overnight, trying to think of the past few weeks and whether there was anything he did that might’ve angered the Emperor. Meetings went fruitfully, reports were sent by letters and secretaries in time – then where did the sudden change in his behavior come from?

In search of a clue, Tommy glances at Tubbo. They grew up together, sons of an Emperor and the Captain of Royal guards, and even if it’s arguable who in-between them two is better at maintaining their emotions, Tubbo is first to look away and wrinkle his nose. Something did happen, then.

“What’s the matter?” Tommy asks.

“His Majesty wasn’t alone,” Tubbo confesses. “He brought a boy with himself. I wasn’t able to get a good look, but the gossips are that he is a commoner.”

As soon as Tubbo finishes speaking, Tommy’s worry settles down. “His Majesty is merciful and kind,” he says, as a matter-of-factly.

The Emperor is known to take pity on orphans and poor, and the crown-prince usually learns of another of his generous donations after painstaking hours of checking and recounting expenses together with his secretaries.

It’s not the first time the Emperor brings commoners into the palace, either: a lot of them end up getting employed, making for the most loyal and grateful workers. He might ask his father about this guest later, but prior to that – the empire’s matters.

A few years ago, separation with any member of his family felt like a torture to Tommy. Nowadays, Phil’s trips take anywhere between a week and two months, and the first thing they do upon his return is get over all the necessary reports. There were times where Tommy expected a hug after it, or some sort of praise – that was the attitude of a child, and he is crown-prince. It’s his job and his duty, and he doesn’t need to be rewarded for it any other way than with satisfaction of serving the empire well.

***

There is a custom running in the empire that the current ruler grants a wish to their heir upon the official coronation. When Tommy’s father asked him if there was anything he wanted, the prince dipped his head and in a wavering voice told that he would like to take over the Eastern wing.

There are four wings in the palace. The separation is not explicit; the only real difference is in what function each of them serves. Living chambers of the royal family were typically placed in the Northern wing, so his request was met with careful curiosity – but not an outward refusal. Tommy hung on to that opportunity with a pounding heart and reasoned that he would like to be closer to document archives and secretary parlors.

Emperor Philza never got married again after Empress Kristin’s death, so a lot of the work usually performed by the ruler’s wife – control over the palace budget in particular – was passed onto Tommy’s shoulders. The dedication he seemingly has shown towards his duties earned him a proud smile and a quick hair ruffle, and his wish was granted the next day.

Truth to be told, there was another reason why Tommy was so eager to move: the lush gardens lying in-between the palace and the outer fortress walls. In just a few months, the emerald-green scenery will turn into a dying sunset of yellow and red. For the most part of the year, the Antarctic empire is covered in snow that only melts with the help of western currents flowing from Badlands. There is a celebration dedicated to typically the hottest days of the season, one that neighboring royals and nobles always participate in.

Tommy still needs to finish the invitations sometime this week. Right now, however, he lingers a little longer on each step through the blooming gardens. His today’s court consists of only a few people: Tubbo, one guard – the head of his personal security, Sir Wisp – and a half a dozen servants trailing the procession.

Tommy spaces out, letting his legs carry him down the familiar path to the Northern wing, and only tunes back in when Wisp’s steps falter, and he says, “Your Highness, look.”

His gaze follows the direction Wisp points at, and he sees a boy standing between two bushes trimmed into bird-like shapes. With how often Tommy manages the placing of guests and court members, he might as well be the owner of the Imperial Palace, and yet he doesn’t remember ever seeing this face.

With the obviously expensive clothing, and a group of servants surrounding him, the boy couldn’t be just some cook or a secretary, either – anyone less than a baron wouldn’t be allowed into the Palace gardens in the first place.

Perhaps the prince has missed more than his father’s return, and one of the high-ranking nobles has invited their son or brother to the court without prior notice. In that case, by the rules of hospitality, he must acquaint them as soon as possible.

Tommy makes his way towards the stranger, and the closer he comes, the better he can his face. The boy, he notes, not without an internal wince, is much taller than him. The most notable part of his appearance, however, are his eyes: dual-colored, green and red, they are impossible to skim through.

The moment the servants notice Tommy approaching, the buzzing noise of their voices turn into panicked whispers. They practically bend in half, their gazes locked on the ground underneath them. The boy, however, only blinks and looks at them in confusion, and only after a servant’s approving nod does he hesitantly bow down.

What kind of noble doesn’t know how to greet a prince?

“Introduce yourself,” Tommy says.

Although Tommy keeps his voice steady and even, the stranger still flinches and brings his hands together in front of himself. People say that the crown-prince’s tone might seem sinister or harsh upon first meeting, so he tries to soothe down the effect with a smile that would work better if it reached his eyes.

“Uh. My name is Ranboo,” the boy finally says.

No house name, no title, and completely no explanation for what he is doing here. Tommy feels himself growing impatient. “What are you doing in my gardens?” he asks sharply.

“I was just- looking around, I guess.”

   Looking around    . As if Tommy’s gardens are a public property. He narrows his eyes, and Wisp picks up on the change of mood immediately; he takes a step forward, ready to follow the prince’s order to escort the stranger out of here.

“I apologize for interfering, Your Highness,” one of the servants behind the boy says. “Ranboo is here by the mercy of His Imperial Majesty.”

Ah.

Ranboo is the stray that the Emperor had brought, then.

Now that Tommy looks at Ranboo closer he wonders how he didn’t guess it right away. Although the jacket he is wearing is lined with silver chains and sapphire buttons, the sleeves are too short, and his wrists and hands are sticking awkwardly out of them.

Awkward would be the word for him in general, with the way he holds himself and shuffles in one place. Ranboo clearly doesn’t feel like he belongs in here – good, because he doesn’t. Tommy takes in this pitiful picture all at once and turns around sharply – he already wasted enough of his time on this commoner.

“Wait!”

Tommy stops. If anything, it’s just instinctual. Or perhaps it’s the rules and principles engraved in his mind by his teachers, reminding of hospitality and politeness. It’s his Majesty’s guest, after all, and Tommy wouldn’t want to make his father upset.

As Ranboo pauses and braces himself, Tommy waits with his back still turned. “You’re Theseus, right? Phil’s youngest son? He told me a lot about you.”

The deadly silence that settles speaks for itself. Tommy straightens, hands locked behind himself and gripping each other tighter. Only the members of the royal family are allowed to casually call him Theseus, and      nobody     in the kingdom ever calls the Emperor by his name without including the title. Not even Tommy himself has addressed his father as anything but Your Majesty for years now.

As he slowly turns around, the servants hovering around Ranboo don’t dare to raise their gazes. One of them manages to quickly whisper something into his ear, and the boy’s eyes widen in fear and regret.

“It’s Your Imperial Highness to you,” Tommy coldly says.

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo quickly stutters out. “I’ll be sure to address you correctly next time-“

“There won’t be a next time.” And as the servants around them start to whisper and exchange glances, Tommy adds, “You’re overstaying your visit. I’ll be sure to talk to His Majesty about it.”

“Talk to me about what?” A voice behind Tommy says.

Perhaps Wisp was trying to warn Tommy, with a gesture or a quick word, that the Emperor was coming, but he didn’t notice that with how deeply he was involved with the conversation. He feels a lighting of cold running down his spine as he whips around and sees the blue eyes staring at him intently.

“Your Majesty,” he says, dipping his head in a bow. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Tommy has long since overgrown his father. The difference in height, for some reason, doesn’t stop the Emperor from looking absolutely terrifying. It’s like there is a shadow of something much more powerful trailing his every move and word. Tommy knows people think of him as sinister and cold, but it will be years and years of ruling till he’ll reach that impactful demeanor himself, and even twice as much time he’d have to learn to hide it.

The Emperor hums. “That’s why you were threatening my guest?”

The shift in the mood is an instant as the Emperor makes his way to Ranboo. A hand gets placed on the boy’s shoulder – in a reassuring, calming sort of way that it hasn’t touched Tommy in years.

Tommy’s chest burns. After the two weeks his father has been away for, the first words he hears are accusing. Tommy didn’t even do anything wrong; no laws or rules of etiquette require him to be patient with commoners disrespectful of the royal family. The fact that Ranboo was allowed into the gardens without his permission is already a heavy insult on its own – and the Emperor, better than anyone else, knows it.

Ranboo shifts from foot to foot. Tommy is still in a bow, just low enough to be considered acceptable but not low enough that he wouldn’t see his father’s face if he was to look forward. At this point, he should already be allowed to straighten up, but the Emperor is clearly not letting him do that until he explains himself.

Tommy never had been scolded in front of a commoner before; with all the servants and Emperor’s guards around him, it’s beyond humiliating.

“Please accept my sincere apologies,” he says, voice steady. “My intentions were not to insult you but to protect your honor.”

Finally, after the Emperor’s gesture, Tommy straightens up. His face burns; perhaps with shame, or anger, or a mix of both, even as he maintains a neutral expression. Tommy avoids looking at Ranboo even from the corner of his vision; he thinks he might lose his control if he did.

The Emperor’s anger, to the crown prince’s great relief, turns to mercy. “I believe this acquaintance started on the wrong foot,” he says. “How about we clear our misunderstandings during lunch today? Wilbur and Fundy probably would like to join us as well.”

“The Foreign Minister and I had some matters to discuss this afternoon,” Tommy says, very carefully. Testing his waters, trying to sound casual and calm. Surely the Emperor understands that after getting insulted publicly like that, the last thing he’d want is to have lunch together with the brother that openly despises him.

“The minister can wait for another few hours,” the man cuts, and just like that, it’s settled. Tommy might be a prince, but he is the Emperor’s subject before he is the heir of the throne. He’s an example to his people, and Tommy would not make a fool out of himself twice today by making a scene over something as simple as a lunch.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” is all he says.