Chapter Text
SOCIAL SEASON or, what most people referred to as courting season, ran rampant within the duration of August up to February. It was a season wherein the maiden of only the most noble and privileged of families who deemed them the most eligible and of marriageable age, were presented to the Monarchy in order to appeal to them and perhaps even gain favor from them.
It's during this specific season where balls, annual or not, along with assemblies, dinners, parties, and entertainments, were held in order to uphold the traditions of courting and to entertain even the most bored of men. It was always a hectic season, one often referred to as the "Marriage Mart" simply due to the amount of ladies who would be betrothed or perhaps even married to their men of choice by the end of February or earlier, preferably. Women were to twirl around during balls in their beautiful dresses and await the men who'd dredged up enough confidence to approach them which— were fairly scarce, some were left earnestly staring at the object of their affections and fantasizing of it instead.
There were a variety of methods one could go about with courting, the most popular one being acquainting themselves with the women during a ball— perhaps even charming them over for a dance or two. The other, just as common in terms of frequency, were to contact the men of the household and to arrange a formal meeting in order for you to introduce yourselves to the lady of your interest. Such things were the norm and by the time August had finally rolled around and shattered through the Essempi in one huge storm that caused collateral damage— the Craftsons household was free of stress. Well— the youngest son anyways.
"Is it starting already?" Tommy's eyes flit over to the nearest window where Wilbur's already gone to stare off of, his spectacles gleaming brightly and his attire all too underdressed to be considered formal.
"Look at the amount of carriages." He drones on, gasping his awe out and Tommy stares as much as he can from where he sits on the couch, upside down and bored out of his mind— legs dangling off the top part. He can already envision the people's raucous chitters, can practically hear them from how he's had to persevere and stand witness to the amount of it he's heard in his 18 years of living. It's a god awful habit of gossiping middle aged women and men alike, able to be jotted down in their daily newspaper dictating the latest scandals.
Tommy's eyes drift up to just beside the window Wilbur's hogging, the vivid imagery captivating him for a moment or two. The paintings adorning their lounge have always been whimsical. Art is meant to convey words a person dare not speak and the amount of poetry you could formulate from a simple landscape was phenomenal. It's partly the reason why his entire family along with their servants seem all too fond of it, speaking of words along the lines of how it manages to invoke something within you— like a snarling beast ready to rip it's prey apart all too eagerly.
He's never been one for poetry, that trait lies prevalent within Wilbur but even he can appreciate how blobs of colors manage to map out a person's entire career, god knows how expensive and beautiful they are. If he were to think further, right outside and above the door frame of their lounge is a portrait of the Craftsons, both photographed and drawn— a wonderful spectacle indeed— one that portrays each of his family to any of their visitors.
Wilbur's constant shuffling has him blocking the already scarce view Tommy's able to spot and despite his various attempts to see further, it almost feels as though the man is purposefully shielding the view from him. Having had enough, Tommy scowls and lifts his head the best he can with his current position.
"Move your head, you dick! I can't see shit from here with your massive rock of a head!" He calls out to his brother who only gasps at the insult. It's efficacy is evident in the manner in which it manages to garner his attention as the brunette turns his head towards him.
"Just stand up and get over here, Tommy! Stop being lazy for once, you dumb child!" Wilbur sticks his tongue out afterwards, a childish act of war but it's enough to evoke a gasp of offense from the blond.
"Oh you fucking son of a bitch! I'm gonna—" Interrupting his words is the very much audible sound of the door knob twisting before it ultimately gets yanked open, the creak of the door making both Wilbur and him cringe from their spots, curses dying on his tongue.
A boot slams down on the door, kicking it to the wall, loud enough to be CLEARLY inappropriate and due to the abrupt startle, Tommy's left toppling down to their carpeted floor, a small scream escaping his lips right as Techno emerges through, the boot belonging to him, with their father by his side.
"Oh, Techno! You're here early." Wilbur pays his loud profanities and disoriented body no mind, far more composed and simply greets the eldest. Simultaneously, his hold on the curtains eases down and they flutter before eventually covering the window and it's view.
"Ow ow ow!" Hissing, Tommy rubs at the sore area of his head from where he'd fallen first with a scowl adorning his features and just watches Techno scrutinize Wilbur down, silent but all the more intimidating. Phil steps up from beside him and just shuts the door. Fortunately, none of the photo frames had been rattled off of their screws. Despite seeming calm and collected, Technoblade was far more violent than most assumed if the fucking bruises from just minor brotherly scuffles were to be the verdict.
The two of them were far more dressed than either him or Wilbur, their cravats neat and tucked and their collars crisp, the tails of their velvet coats prim and proper heck— even Techno's usually bundled up hair was tied back to a neat braid, the pink strands prominent even in the dimmest of lights. The two of them had gone off to attend an impromptu meeting at the club they were both in— the Syndicate or whatever it was. It hadn't interested Wilbur or him despite Phil's requests and so they were left clubless while the two often went about attending assemblies and such regarding it. They did actually arrive earlier than usual though. It was still on the cusp of noon whereas usually, they'd arrive near evening.
Techno's flat face stays the same.
"Wilbur, have you considered looking at your wardrobe?" Tommy bursts out a laugh at that, hearing the affected sputter and attempting to defend his honor. God— he fucking loved Techno's dry humor, much more than he'd ever dare to admit. The man was silent which often contrasted both his and Wilbur's chattier nature but it was ideal in times where Tommy preferred to just laze around rather than banter.
Two different dynamics with two vastly different brothers.
"Yeah Wil, have you considered looking in the mirror too?" He snickers at his own snide remark and Wilbur shoots him a glare. Techno just offers a snort, still standing next to their father who's just smiling at the scene.
"At least I have a mirror, I bet yours is shattered from how much you look at it." Wilbur scoffs, crossing his arms— the sleeves puffy around his forearms and taut everywhere else.
"Oh you fucking bitch—" He prepares to stand up from where he's still seated on their red carpet— agitated but Phil steps forward in that same instant.
He looks exasperated which isn't odd by all means but it's incredibly prevalent this time.
"Alright boys, that's enough fighting." Phil sighs, raising a hand and Tommy gapes at him, slumping back in an instant.
"But dad—"
"No buts. Go and change into your clothes, we're not going to be late this season, Kristin's waiting for us." They'd been late last season— arriving at an almost comical timing to when the first maiden had just presented herself to the Emperor alongside her mother. It was late enough to garner a few stares but acceptable enough for them to not spread yet another scandal, lord knows how much they've had to pay just to eradicate them.
The most famous scandal regarding their family name was the incident that prompted Techno's hair to retain it's pinkish shade. Wilbur and him were identical twins, both brunette and brown eyed although Techno's eyes, in certain lighting, appeared more red than they did brown. As a way to get vengeance for their latest squabble which involved Technoblade stealing away the last piece of apple pie, Wilbur and him had promptly joined forces and connived together in order to formulate a plan to get back at Techno, ending up with a bottle of hair dye and his shampoo bottle. They'd impulsively chosen pink just for comedic purposes— I mean, what was more humiliating than fucking neon pink?
Wilbur had dealt with the act of stealing the shampoo bottle and Tommy had been tasked to run to the shops in order to acquire the hair dye. They'd both returned at an optimal time where Techno still hadn't returned home from his training and set to work immediately. After the dreaded shower, Techno had burst through the bathroom door and into the lounge, fucking fuming— the angriest he's ever been and practically lunged at them.
The day had ended with all three being tended to by their helpers and being scolded by their parents, the scolding aimed more towards Wilbur and Tommy than it was to Techno who'd just scoffed.
They were kids then, Techno and Wilbur on the cusp of 16 and Tommy just having turned 9, quite the age gap but their mother had deemed it acceptable and so it was. Speaking of their mother, Kristin had already gone to the court earlier, eager to converse with the maidens to be.
Due to the hair dye incident, they'd been forced to steer clear from assemblies and balls to preserve Techno's dignity and so the incident had actually proven to be in their favor. That doesn't mean Techno wasn't resentful though, always glaring at them and offering them the silent treatment for a week before eventually he'd caved under the unyielding force of a duo that was Wilbur and him. The neon pink had faded to a somewhat lighter more tolerable shade and it actually quite suited him. What was more surprising though was that once his roots were beginning to show, Techno had decided to dye it once again— now preferring it over his usual brown hair, claiming it was a stark difference from Wilbur and that it was helpful in differentiating them. He'd even asked Tommy what specific brand of dye he'd gotten and Tommy had rushed to answer, still stunned.
During that time, their brother was planning to try out for the Royal Knights in a week's time, the age restrictions limited to 16 and when they'd finally decided to come out of hiding after a month of Techno just glaring at them— the public had started spreading rumors on how Techno had officially gone off the rails. To be fair, their brother was off the rails, just not because of the hair dye. The public had accused the man of having a mistress or a clandestine affair due to his now vivid hair, claiming the maiden had deluded their beloved knight-in-training to someone delusional enough to choose pink as a hair color. Some even claimed a maiden had broken his heart enough for him to make such an impulsive decision.
It was funny though, Tommy had to admit.
Phil taps his foot on the ground and it snaps him out of his stupor, rummaging through his mind for his coherence and eventually, he does find it, shoulders slumping and a groan leaving him.
"Ugh fine." Wilbur just sighs at his words before he too nods at their father, his hair falling over his face in that weird messy way it always does when he bobs his head too harshly. Languidly, Tommy lifts himself up off the floor, dusting off whatever mess had gathered on his trousers. Wilbur was already heading for the door, the window long forgotten by now. With how hectic seasons usually are, Tommy reckons there's a parade going around outside, families rushing to adorn their daughters in beautiful family heritages, perhaps even drowning them in gold.
He stretches for a while but eventually follows after Wilbur, the prospect of dressing himself up in those dreadful fabrics already dampening his mood. He's never been a fan of how humid their clothes were, especially during a season where the weather was as hot as this, there was really no proper reason as to why they had to be covered in such copious layers. Techno stops him right as he reaches for the doorknob, placing a hand down on his shoulder. Phil's already approached their bookshelves in search of something, his own attire all too formal.
"What?" Tommy quirks a brow up at his brother, confused. He hadn't done anything to warrant an argument recently, had he?
(The series of pranks he and Wilbur once collectively connived and plotted against Techno on the daily were depleting. The eldest had been busying himself in the art of fencing and protection, the art of war and combat, whereas Wilbur busied himself by flirting with unsuspecting maidens and spending the night with them. All the while, Tommy had been left all alone, awaiting their return and wasting time away with his own friends.
Brotherhood. Such a delicate little thing.)
The man's eyes soften, nearly imperceptible but Tommy's aware of his tells which— he should be , given they've been living together for the entirety they've been alive. It's nothing notable but to Tommy, it is. The man's eyes always seemed to be haunted with the blood he'd spilled in his training and they were often dark, so similar to Wilbur and yet so different. Minor tells such as these were usually disregarded while Tommy's always treasured them.
It's a sign of trust.
Techno just sighs.
"Get dressed, nerd. Wilbur's gonna annoy me if you aren't there." Techno squeezes his shoulder and at that, his lips twitch.
"Yeah yeah Techno, now get your grubby hands off me!" Tommy was most definitely not feeling all soft, absolutely not— that would be preposterous, absolutely far too ridiculous to even consider.
Brotherhood, still there even when unaware.
—
The Royal Court is always packed. That isn't an unusual feat for it given it is the Royal Court. The chandeliers hanging overhead practically as expensive as an archduke's ducal however, during Courting Season, it's not just packed, it's fucking cramped , the audience's shoulders constantly bumping against each other just to make space for a newly arrived household. It was fucking grating his nerves just standing here being an audience.
The Essempi is ruled by Emperor Foolish, previously ruled by the now deceased Empress Puffy, a woman who'd been renowned for sailing the seas freely— she'd been an icon in society, an ideal figure given she'd rebelled against the sexist norms of the Essempi and even fought for more rights for them. She was greatly revered all over the world for her passion and role as an inspiration. As per the many speculations, one rumor depicts that the Emperor had apparently wormed his way into her heart and they eloped— giving birth to their three children. Another dictated that the Emperor had forcefully taken her back to the Kingdom and forced the crown onto her, a far more crueler version of the story but one the public seemed to consider given the Empress's known ideology of not needing a partner. None were confirmed though and none dared to.
The Emperor had passed away not long after Prince Dream's birth while the Empress had passed away shortly after Princess Drista's 13th birthday, casting a heavy veil of grief over the lands. Due to it, their children were left to manage such a large portion of land all on their own, at such a young age too. It would be stressful for just about anyone and so, it was hard not to feel pity for them. They'd built a statue for the Emperor and Empress in the town square, honouring them both.
Fortunately, despite the grieving land, Emperor Foolish's kind and benevolent disposition in terms of how he treated his kingdom's inhabitants, led it to higher heights, constantly travelling into the inner city and offering a generous amount of products to the poor suffering from poverty.
The Essempi's national colors were green and gold, colors the man was always adorned in and practically glowed in. The Royal Family's attire was always eye-catching, crusted with gold or emeralds, practically a beacon whenever the sun shined down on them. As per tradition though, the royal family were to conceal their faces from the public eye so long as they did not deserve the right to, their faces reserved for only the trusted and privileged. The easiest way to accomplish that was via a mask. Foolish's was of one crusted with emeralds, the entirety of the mask built with gold and other features lined with the emeralds.
Dream's however, was of white porcelain, the inked smile on it quite intimidating if he were to be honest. It was far less shinier than Foolish's but exigent nonetheless, practically his trademark. Drista's was the most peculiar, hers being just a pure white cloth covering her entire face— swaying with each movement, she hadn't opted for a mask like her relatives, something only the bravest dared to gossip about. Perhaps it was due to her hatred for the laws, perhaps it was due to her insouciance towards it, perhaps it might be all due to a skin condition. Nothing was ever confirmed with the Royal Family.
The doors on the end burst open but Tommy pays them no mind, tugging down his cravat and adjusting his collar so as to not heat his already far too warm skin, sweat forming underneath the fabric already. God he fucking hated courting season. The fact the curtains barely barricaded the sun didn't help.
"Ah, it's Niki." Wilbur murmurs amidst the crowd, voice tinged with awe and Tommy's eyes dart to the elevated area where the maidens were to be presented to the Emperor who was sitting on their far right, idly chatting to their designated guard.
Courting season meant that those of noble blood all around the world were to return to the Essempi in order to get involved in it. Princess Niki, a family friend of theirs, lived in the far west, her own King and Queen somewhere in the crowd as well. Tommy had heard from Wilbur she'd be one of the maidens presented to the Emperor but he hadn't expected her to be the first. She'd been unable to attend the last season due to her father falling ill but now he'd recuperated and so they'd left her palace to come to Emperor Foolish's.
Kings and Queens of other neighboring lands attended this event as well but obviously, nobody could outrank the Emperor in terms of power. They were given special privileges though, often being treated better or having a far better experience than mere Viscounts like them. Despite being born the son of a Viscount, it was terribly annoying how a title could dictate someone's life so easily. Wilbur stood next to him— on his left while Techno stood on his right. To Techno's right, Phil stood and Kristen was behind the doors helping the maidens prepare themselves. Their mom had always enjoyed adorning people with jewelry and other lavish and grandeur items, it wasn't anything new.
"Miss Nihachu of Drywaters, presented by her mother, The Honorable Lady of Drywaters." The guard assigned to introduce everyone calls out and Tommy holds his breath as Niki steps out— stepping foot on the court.
Despite their quite conspicuous difference in status and title, Niki was a close family friend to them, compassionate and benign. She was also a member of the Syndicate Club although, due to the place she lived in— she was often regarded as just an honorary member instead which, is absolutely not true. She's an official member, Technoblade constantly made that clear. Some say Drywaters, the land Niki lives in, was once reigned by mermaids or sirens or anything of that sort, mythical creatures that involved those with a mystical look. Quite foolish but it did oddly make some sense. The whole land was surrounded by the ocean and Niki's natural hair color is strawberry blond— leaning heavily into the strawberry part due to the fact it was practically pink. A far redder shade than Techno's but pink nonetheless and hers was fucking natural , that had to be borne from some mermaid ancestry right?
Despite the pressure, Niki's beautiful no matter her attire and so when she presents herself to the Emperor with a graceful bow, Tommy doesn't think she'll be humiliated. Even the crowd seems to think so, awed gasps leaving their mouth at the sight of her. Niki's beauty was best described as ethereal, her entire form and choice of clothes seemingly other worldly. He can see Wilbur's smile from his peripheral vision and he's certain he has one too. Emperor Foolish stands from his throne and that's when the whole crowd hushes. Beside him, the guard to his left nods before the Emperor finally begins approaching Niki, the once audible gasps now all hushed. Niki's head is still bowed down, a sweet smile on her face and her mother backs away with her own smile, clearly proud. Tommy's certain everyone's still holding their breath whilst watching the scene. The Emperor reaches out and cups Niki's cheek before leaning her face up to properly face him.
"Beautiful."
—
There's an advantage in being a man during courting season and that is to be granted the privilege to be able to freely roam outside whilst the women danced around in their dresses and attended to men. It was quite sexist but in terms of nobility it was…well, noble. After the whole barrage of approximately 200 women had been presented to the Emperor with only Niki being the one who'd been declared beautiful— it was time for the Royal Ball which was held at night. The entire afternoon had been spent with Tommy gossiping with Tubbo and Ranboo, his two companions who he's known since he was of a youthful age. Tubbo was the son of Baron Schlatt, the owner of a tavern and someone who was quite known for being a recovering alcholic whilst Ranboo was actually the son of the Archduke, quite stark differences in title and yet they'd clung to each other like they've always been meant to. The three of them have known each other since their youth and thus, it was a prime example of how titles couldn't just prevent a friendship from forming.
Now that night had fallen, he was free to roam the outside of the Imperial Palace alongside many others who desired some peace. Tubbo and Ranboo, unlike him, weren't required to attend the ball. Due to his father wanting to converse with the other nobles, he was stuck here after being forcefully dragged into the event in the first place. He wasn't looking to get married. He was fucking exhausted just from staring at his brothers forcefully putting themselves out there and offering dances— Wilbur hid it with a smile and Techno's, the look of indifference. Fortunately, the responsibility of an heir or marriage in general doesn't quite fall on him given they were all men, the perks of being the youngest it seems.
Due to the incident regarding Niki and how the Emperor had personally seeked her out and proclaimed her beauty to the world, suitors were expected to come at her beck and call by the time dawn arrives and whilst it sounded like something desirable, it was quite saddening given Niki's history of loathing betrothals. It was expected of women to marry for a higher status and not necessarily for love but rather, compatibility however, a woman's word and approval meant much more than a man's in terms of the betrothal.
It was the sad truth. Compatibility was far stabler than love in the long run and mutual respect could achieve so much more than it.
Rounding the hedge with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his mind drifts off to his own family. The Craftsons Family were quite well off really, there wasn't much to complain about with the wealth he'd been born with. Adding to that, all three of them were male which was often praised given the Craftsons name was to be spread throughout their lineage as opposed to women who's maiden name would be covered. Wilbur showed no interest in marriage, merely fooling around in women's chambers and returning at early dawn looking far too haggard to even function. In a far cruder term, he was what you would call a fucking rake , only interested in the act of intimacy and not daring to initiate it.
It had left him victim to various scandals and gossip, ones that most newspapers would depict poorly and way too out of context, a photograph of a clearly inebriated Wilbur with his arms slung around yet another woman's shoulder, it was quite the sight.
Technoblade on the other hand, the elder of the two and the far more sensible one, also showed no interest in marriage although his reasoning was far more grim. To be fair, he is the Major General of the Imperial Palace, he'd risen up the ranks and managed to earn the Emperor's approval, earning him the title of the youngest and strongest Major yet. Due to it, his reputation was quite grandeur, attracting potential maidens who were willing to shoot their shots. However, his brother showed no interest in anything aside from reading and combat. Anything regarding the act of romance was shunned and even frowned at by the man, bringing it up would assure the man's stare— staring at you as though you'd just told him water was blue.
It left him, a newly turned adult— laughing at their parents' clear desperation for a grandchild. They need not to be married but it was fucking hilarious seeing the two adamantly propose the idea of an even larger family, one that was always shot down in an instant, something unanimous between the three of them. Sure Tommy had been interested in a few people before, women were fucking gorgeous — it was hard not to admire their beauty. He'd never reached out though, that was a whole different case, far too commitment related and far too complicated. Admiring was easy, something or someone that could awe you. Courting was not.
He steps closer to the hedge. He's not that deep into the maze yet, at a reasonable distance from where he still remembers the entrance. Surprisingly, there weren't much people out today, most were inside and frolicking around the spotlight, some were even probably engaged by now. Perhaps some were just acquainting themselves with potential business partners.
With how leisurely his pace is and how peaceful it is out, it seems as though his own issues have been muffled under it's beauty. However, that thought is quick to be redacted as his entire body stiffens at the sound of a furious scream, birds flying up to the sky at the sound and causing him to flinch at the sheer amount, gaping. Furious seemed to be an understatement with how shrill the noise was, words intelligible.
What the fuck? Tommy's brows pinch together and he looks towards the direction he deduces it came from. It's far deeper in the hedge than he currently is, somewhere to his right.
There's silence, a prolonged one that has him debating whether or not he's just lacking some sleep but another scream, this one sounding far more masculine is quick to taper off and he finally moves his feet, his walk turning to full on sprint as adrenaline pumps through him.
Unfortunately, despite the noble families being portrayed wonderfully in the local newspaper, there was a shit ton of terrible crimes that most managed to diminish with their wealth— most commonly was the act of assault and a blackmailed betrothal and with the first scream sounding way way way too feminine, Tommy'd rather not bear witness to such treacherous acts, it fucking disgusted him just to read about scandals such as those.
The Imperial Garden, although beautiful regardless of the time, thrives far more in the moonlight, prospering underneath it. It's leaves get adorned with a silverish tint and the roses turn vivid against it's contrasting palette of bushes and moss. The garden was often regarded as a historical monument due to how well tended it was, the roses worth as much as an entire estate. Still, Tommy fucking dashes through the many corners of the hedges, unable to properly admire it due to the sudden predicament he's found himself sprinting to get involved with. He barely feels the thud of his shoes hitting the ground nor does he feel the wind wisp his hair before he skids to a stop, just barely catching himself before he bumps into the bush.
Just right in front is a massive rock he's quick to crouch and pick up, skittering his fingers away from it's rough edges so as to not wound himself before he gets back to sprinting, that damn scream echoing in his head. It was best to come prepared at all times and due to his lack of a proper weapon, a rock would do. If he was too late to save whoever it was, he'd end up having to lie awake at night with his mind repeating such a terrible sound— reminding him of his regret. Reminding him of how he'd been too late or how he'd been too hesitant to pursue them faster. He'd never considered himself a hero but he sure as hell can consider becoming one if it's to prevent one's terrible fate.
Just when another now amplified scream echoes, he skids around the corner and right into a clearing just in time to hear it, eyes widening at the scene presented in front of him.
"Holy fuck." He breathes out, both breathless and speechless. He can feel his stomach drop dangerously deep.
There's a man who's only somewhat conscious on the ground with a woman standing over his body, heels digging into the man's torso mercilessly if the scream that tears out his throat is any indicator. The clearing itself is quite vacant, since when was there a clearing in the hedge?
The rock he holds feels heavier than ever with the added confusion and he only manages to jump when the woman turns to him, white cloth swaying and all speechlessness is thrown out the window, instead replaced by pure unadulterated terror.
"Y-Y-Your Highness!" He squeaks out, managing a bow despite his befuddled state and has half a mind to toss the rock somewhere he hopes is inconspicuous enough.
Her Highness Drista , stands there, the woman being the one with heels onto a man's torso— something he cringes at but he dares not look at the woman at eye level. The first and most optimal rule of a Viscount is to ensure you do not dare disrespect the fucking Royal Family and the second is to simply survive the entire ordeal shall you ever manage to fuck it up. As of this moment, it seems as though he's already fucked up so he bows even lower, practically smacking his head on the grass and breaking his back. It's hard attempting to word your sincerity out with an addled mind but somehow, he manages a string of mild coherence.
"Your Highness, I assure you I absolutely did not see anything! I swear on my life, nobody shall know about this entire event for as long as I'll live to see the night and day. Good day!" He rambles out, bowing once more for good measure before he pivots and books it— running and attempting to recall the exact path he'd just taken.
"Hey, wait!" Distinctly, he hears the princess call out to him, her voice a fucking remembrance of his terror. It was only ever Emperor Foolish's voice that was heard to the public and his two siblings often preserved their anonymity.
God how many offenses has he committed already?
He doesn't bother thinking about it, sprinting to his right and attempting to navigate through the hedge. At the very least, he doesn't hear the distinct sound of heels clicking onto the floor which he hoped meant the princess wasn't tailing him. Fortunately, the maze wasn't a difficult one but he was already quite deep into it, making it difficult for him to follow the path seamlessly. If her Highness Drista was here surely her brothers would be too, she was often accompanied by them or her guards depending on the location and severity of the situation. As of earlier, she'd been alone with the man, fucking standing over him even. With how brutal she'd been, he can only hope that minutes earlier, the man hadn't been attempting to assault her— it was disgustingly common.
On a scale of 1-10 dictating how royally he'd screwed up, he was a sure 10..
He rounds the corner.
He just wanted to help! That didn't matter. A Viscount's word against Her Highness' was practically nothing. Shall the court ever seek him out, what the audience believes to be the truth shall be the truth.
Oh god oh god he'd fucked up.
He barely makes it out of the maze in on piece, stumbling. The sudden free space is much appreciated and the air that whips past his face is only vaguely noted. There's no time to appreciate such things though, eyes darting across the expanse in an instant, the world's a blur of lights with how utterly exhausted he is but the important thing was that nobody was around, no witnesses then. He offers the area yet another thorough look. Nothing but bushes and flower beds adorned with dots of colors that belong to a variety of palettes greet his eyes along with a lined path. Nobody in sight, not one living human being. With that, he speeds towards the palace doors, the music inside able to seep through it's exterior.
He doesn't know how he manages to push the door open without attracting much attention but the important thing is the fact that he'd been able to accomplish such a feat. He weasels his way back into the ball, a few pairs of eyes flitting towards him. He pays them no mind, prioritizing his dignity and squints around to at least manage a glimpse of pink— seriously, thank god for Techno's hair dye, he should really give his younger self a pat on the back for his genius choice of color.
Through the ocean of aristocracy, a soft gentle melody accompanies the couples dancing. Most people crowd around the middle of the vacancy where the people danced whilst the others were spread sporadically on the food area and corners. One thing about the Imperial Palace was Emperor Foolish's clear fondness for chandeliers, beautiful ones crafted with gold and woven with other intricate gems hung above each room.
There wasn't a glimpse of pink anywhere to his left. Fuck.
Blindly, he ventures through the crowd, murmuring apologies whenever he bumped into someone and nearly sobs out of sheer relief at the vaguest sight of his brother, a brush of brown against a blank canvas.
"Wilbur!" He calls out, relief acting as blood and watches the brunette's gaze shift towards him. Surprisingly, he was all alone in the corner, a glass of wine in hand. He was quite far from the food area, just leaning on the wall.
"Oh, Tommy there you are." The man's face relaxes at the sight of him, kicking his legs back and properly standing but his face soon scrunches afterwards, the candles nearby making it all the more prominent.
"Where did you go? Techno just went outside looking for you." His brother gestures to the door he'd just entered from and at that, profanities leave Tommy's mouth, the amount enough to make a sailor blush. What bad timing .
Wilbur doesn't pay it any mind, accustomed to his mannerisms and so once his frustration dies down, he bites his lip before dredging up enough coherence to spit something out.
"I was just— just in the royal garden, entertaining the ladies and you know, doing big man stuff but that's- that's not important. Wilbur, we need to go." He stresses, watching his brother's face turn all confused at him, surely processing the miscellaneous string of words he'd just spontaneously spat out.
His nerves were still on end, the fright he'd gotten from his encounter with the princess still fresh. If Technoblade was outside, it didn't mean anything good. One less brother meant lesser protection and lord knows how much Tommy requires it right now.
"Oh believe me, Tommy. I want to go home as well but dad's still talking to some Dukes, we'll have to stay here for a while." Wilbur huffs, aggravated himself but it makes him react in an instant.
"NO!" Heads turn to look at them and he flusters, impulsively grasping onto Wilbur's forearm and dragging him further away to a more secluded corner, away from prying eyes. His outburst was enough for them to stare at him through now-shattered lenses. Wilbur just spares him a befuddled look all the while Tommy deduces they’re far enough from any ears. He turns to their surroundings, eventually finding it sufficient enough and returns his gaze to Wilbur who's patiently waiting for an explanation.
At this angle and change of position, the lights overhead are far harsher and they're far more bright.
"Wilbur, you don't understand. My life is in danger!" He shouts in a whisper, the dread pooling up into his head and making him feel nauseous. The longer he stayed within the confines of the palace the more he felt as though there were people already coming for his head. Was he being dramatic? He doesn't think so, not when their power dynamic was vastly otherworldly. A mistake that could very much cost him his reputation and at the very worst, his life.
"Danger? Tommy. What are you talking about?" Wilbur waves off the hand clinging to his sleeve and instead places both his own hands down on Tommy's shoulders.
"I— I fucked up alright? The only thing I can do now is just run and try to survive and I'm- I'm freaking out Wil, I don't fucking know what to do!" He musters out, hysteric. The reality of the situation was just now sinking in and it was shattering his mind into little fragments— little enough for it to be unrepairable.
“Tommy, calm down, okay?” His brother’s hands are grounding, something for him to focus on as the voices and other noises begin to fade into static, Wilbur and the wall beginning to blur. Even Wilbur’s voice was beginning to sound vague. Wilbur shakes him by the shoulders until his vision clears and the pounding of his heart decreases in volume. When his focus finally manages to zero in on his face, the man speaks.
WIlbur's face turns stern. “I don’t know how to help you unless you tell me what exactly you did, Tommy. Take a deep breath— yes, like that. Just calm down, Tommy.”
Wilbur squeezes his shoulders, an incentive for him and he does just that, breathe . It really shouldn’t be this hard to fucking breathe but it is and Tommy can’t find it in him to do anything but try and concentrate. It's comforting, Wilbur— his presence, his reassurance, something for his frightened mind to cling to and drain. He gulps down his own fear or, as much of it as he can anyways, balling his fists.
“Wil, I—“ No. He stops himself, mouth clamping shut. He can tell him after they get away from this place, can confess his sin in a more private vacancy, not one where people peered into them like he was their prey and not their kin.
The lights shine bright and they're a fucking annoyance. Swaths of gold lining the edges of Wilbur's curls.
He swallows, easing down his rising hysteria. “Let’s just find Techno, yeah? He should- he should be coming back soon, I reckon. He is, isn’t he, Wilbur?”
Wilbur stares at him, his expression now tense as opposed to the confused one he'd had before and he seems to want to disagree with Tommy if the frown isn't enough proof but with the plea embedded in Tommy’s eyes, it's enough for him to visibly falter and his brother diverts his gaze before it ultimately returns.
“Yeah.“ Wilbur licks across his lips, not nearly as confident as he should be. “He should be coming back soon. I mean you’re here now and god; Tommy, you look awful.”
“What?” He murmurs, right eye shutting as Wilbur brushes away his fringe, fingers warm. They drift to proper his cravat and crisp his collars and Tommy just allows him, mind wandering down to where Techno could possibly be. If he’d gone out just as Tommy had entered, realistically, it would take a while for him to return given the garden wasn’t short of vast. This was going to be a long wait.
Wilbur runs his fingers through Tommy's hair, untangling the knots.
“You look like you got hit by a carriage .” He expresses, worry in his features as he pats away whatever dust had gathered on Tommy’s coat.
The comparison only worsens his mood, had he looked that damn awful? No wonder the people were staring at him.
Still, he huffs. “You’re exaggerating, Wil.”
A run or sprint surely shouldn't have messed up his appearance that much, right?
“I’m understating actually.” The man responds firmly, face leaving no room for retorts and Tommy resorts to simply biting his tongue.
“Whatever, I just really need Techno to hurry up.” The fear from earlier still thrums through his veins but it’s diluted enough for his frustration to accompany it. Something about persevering and remaining hopeful ingrained into his mind courtesy of their mother.
“He’s been gone for a while, I’m sure he’ll be quick.” Wilbur reassures, leaning back on the wall and finally easing his hold off of Tommy's shoulders. He almost misses it, the warm familial touch.
“Prince Dream’s gone with him after all.” Tommy’s stomach drops instantly.
“What?”
“Prince Dream, you know, the next-in-line for the throne? Said something about finding his sister.” Wilbur quirks a brow, discomfited by the sudden blanch of Tommy’s skin and blissfully unaware of the spiral he’d just shoved him in.
How could he forget Techno’s camaraderie with the Prince?
It was a foolish mistake on his part, to forget his brother's status as a Major General in the Royal Army, one that Prince Dream was known for constantly supervising.
Which means he's as good as dead.
“Wilbur, I know he’s the next-in-line! We- I need to go.” He rushes, stumbling over his own words and stepping back, watching his brother straighten his posture with furrowed brows. It's when Wilbur's hand moves to touch him that he finally turns around to briskly walk through the crowd. Wilbur calls his name out once, a drowned out plea but there’s no sounds of boots nor another call and so he trudges past it, shoving past various crowds and ensembles.
He’d been a coward, running away from the princess like that even if she seemed to have more than just the control in the situation and here he was, running away again— running away from his brother of all people. It was pure cowardice. Tommy was a coward.
The crowd's complaints for his rushed walk past them is drowned out by the pounding of his heart, saving him from the burden of apologizing.
He furls his fists, rushing to the food area instead. So what if he was a coward? Maybe a drink or two, preferably just some fruit punch or something would hinder his impending doom. Despite how tempting the prospect of alcohol sounded, hangovers were a bitch he'd rather not deal with as of today. Hopefully, it'd manage to freeze his overheating mind completely. At the very least, he hopes his punishment won't extend to his family, it was only Tommy who’d witnessed such a scandal-worthy scenario, not any of them. It would be both unfair and unjust so as to involve them simply due to his name.
From beside him, a crowd of women hush. They'd been awfully loud before, their voices agitating his eardrums but they turned quiet as soon as he reached for the ladle. Serves them right, it was far more gratifying to hear their silence than their brags. In fact, it wasn't just them, the whole world seemed to hush. The cacophony of voices subsiding and the melody the only thing that remains playing. Perhaps he was just drowning everything out?
After a beat of still-hushed silence passes, he finally lifts his head up and turns towards the hushed crowd from where he stands, hands perched on the table from where he'd meant to ladle himself some punch only for his grip on it to falter.
He should have known running wouldn't change anything.
His heart stutters in his chest, breath practically non-existent with how it clogs his throat.
There, in front of the now open doors is Techno and of course, as all unfortunate things go, the Prince and Princess were by his side. Now that shouldn't really be so surprising given he'd been anticipating his own end.
The most stomach-plummeting thing was the fact Techno was staring right at him.