Chapter Text
· · ─ ·♕· ─ · ·
Tommy knows the moment Purpled realizes exactly who he is, because he sees half a world flash before his eyes. He watches Purpled mouth the words, quiet enough that no one will hear it despite the dead silence in the room.
It’s a familiar silence. Perhaps less familiar, is the passive unimpressive look he keeps plastered on his face.
Phil keeps talking, and Tommy keeps ignoring it. The formalities of the requisition are all honestly things Tommy couldn’t care less about. There’s a section of his collar that digs into the nape of his neck, and it takes everything in Tommy to not shift to get it in a more comfortable position.
The ceremony ends, finally. Phil bids Purpled to stand up and the knight does so, moving to the side. Then the King stands and begins to walk down the aisle, both Techno and Tommy in suit behind him. As Tommy passes Purpled, he snags his sleeve, pulling him along. Purpled catches the message, falling into step two paces behind Tommy. The prince makes a three with his hand, and Purpled’s footstep stutters for a moment, so he’s perfectly three paces behind.
Tommy bites back a smile. It’s- satisfying, in a way, to have someone who understands him entirely pick up on the littlest intricacies.
The King stops at the first cross to the hallways, leading to his study. Both Techno and Tommy nod their heads towards their father- Purpled bows, staying in position until King Philza nods and turns around. Only then does Tommy nudge Purpled’s foot, and Purpled straightens back up, taking a step out of Tommy’s reach.
Tommy tries not to let it bother him. He really does; the fact that as he walks down this hallway with Techno next to him, he’s only aware of Purpled’s presence by his footsteps. He can’t see him, can’t hear his breathing, even; Purpled is entirely silent and out of reach.
Tommy turns down another hallway without a word to Techno. Purpled follows him.
The library is the same as ever; empty and expansive.
Tommy sits down on the couch, burying his face into the pillow. Purpled’s footsteps come to a slow stop. Tommy counts. One, two, three-
He glances up, and Purpled is still there.
Tommy groans, burying his face into the pillow again. “I told you to lose the fucking fight.”
He doesn’t want to look at Purpled, only wants to wait for the snap back; the push back of the tide and the waves crashing on the beach.
Once, when Tommy was little, his mother had taken him and Techno on a long carriage ride down to the edge of the kingdom, by the beach. He and Techno had played in the water for hours as their mother sat on the sand, watching over them.
Tommy guesses she's still watching, in a way; still only on the sand, while they’re knee-deep in the ocean.
Purpled still hasn’t said anything. Tommy looks up to glare at him, only to see the knight not even looking in his direction. His gaze is entirely focused on the windows and the door; exits, and entrances.
“Purpled,” he repeats again, almost petulant. Purpled finally drags his gaze back to the prince.
“Yes, sir?” He says, slowly. Tommy scoffs.
“Don’t sir, me.”
Purpled lowers his head. “I apologize, Your Majesty.”
Tommy almost waits for the sarcasm; not biting, just dry, the way it always is with Purpled.
Nothing comes.
“Purpled,” Tommy repeats, repeats, repeats; like a child, begging for attention.
“I’m here, Prince Theseus.” he says again, emotionless. It’s-
Tommy hates it. He can’t even begin to explain the disgust that runs through his blood- Prince Theseus, like he’s something worth saving, worth protecting with Purpled’s life. Like Purpled’s livelihood is worth wasting on him.
Tommy doesn’t even try. He can’t- he can’t be around Purpled, not now. Knowing how he’s let him down- your fault, the worse parts of him sing. Your fault, your fault.
Abruptly, Tommy stands up and makes a beeline to the exit. Purpled follows him predictably, frustratingly. The blonde tries to walk faster, away, to no avail. Purpled is there, three paces behind.
“Fuck off!” Tommy finally whirls around, facing Purpled. “You’re dismissed, okay? Whatever- whatever you want to hear. Just leave me alone.”
Purpled looks down. “I’m sorry, but I cannot.”
Tommy scoffs, harsh and biting. “Yes you fucking can. Just walk away.”
“Abandoning your post, especially one of high ranking, may result in termination of your title,” Purpled says, and it’s as if he’s reading from a book. “I cannot walk away, Your Majesty.”
Tommy presses his palms into his eyes. “Stop calling me that.”
Maybe for the first time today, Tommy senses his best friend’s hesitance. “Your Majesty?”
“Yes,” he grits out, already frustrated. He hates this. “Don’t- I’m not Your Majesty.”
(“It would be a crime,” Tommy says slowly, almost deliterably. “To not call the king by his honourifics.” )
Purpled pauses, for a moment. “Forgive me,” he starts, and it makes Tommy want to throw up. “I don’t know what other honorifics to give you.”
None. Tommy wants to beg, cry. I’m just Tommy. Instead he bites his tongue until he tastes iron, and keeps walking.
Purpled keeps following.
Eventually, Tommy turns into the hallway with the bed chambers and pulls the door open to his own, momentarily relieved that Ranboo isn’t waiting there like they often are. It’s only when Tommy has passed the threshold of his room, that he notices Purpled’s absence.
He looks back, catching Purpled by the door instead of where he should be behind him.
“They forgot to tell you about three paces?” Tommy says, rather irritable. Purpled bows his head, expressionless. Tommy hates it- he hates how much of the back of Purpled’s neck he sees, now.
He never wanted this. Not like this.
“I apologize, my prince.” He says, without a waver. “It was a misstep on my part. It won’t happen again.” Then, a moment later; “The chambers are a private place,” Purpled says, evidently sensing Tommy’s temporary confusion. “First Knights aren’t allowed.”
Tommy scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’ve never fuckin’ cared about the rules, Purpled. Come in.”
Purpled doesn’t retort; there’s no give, in anything he says. Tommy can’t break this empty, voidless shell around him. “Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
Purpled steps inside, standing by the door. Tommy shuts the door behind them.
“Drop it,” Tommy says, and amends after- “That’s an order, too.”
Purpled unsheaths his sword, and drops it on the floor with a clatter.
Tommy stares at it.
Purple stares at him.
“Are you fucking stupid?” Tommy asks, a little blankly. Purpled shrugs. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Everything I do is with purpose,” Purpled says, stubbornly simple. “You told me to drop it.”
“The act, Purpled,” Tommy spells out. “Stop being formal. It’s just me.”
Purpled scans the room slowly, like he’s waiting for someone to jump out from behind the desk and fire him before the day is over. “You,” he says slowly, with intent, “Are Prince Theseus of the Arctic Empire-”
“Cut the bullshit,” Tommy snaps, before something like regret blinks before his eyes. “Just- sorry. Just Tommy, not Theseus. I’m not…” he gestures around to the empty room. “I’m not the prince right now.”
“You’re always the prince,” Purpled replies, unperturbed.
“Was I the prince when you pushed me into the fucking river?” Tommy sticks his tongue out, an obvious bait. Purpled blinks, unmoving.
“Yes. I sincerely apologize for my previous actions when I was unaware of your standing,” Purpled bows his head, entirely serious. Tommy just stares at him.
“I can’t believe you’re my fucking friend,” Tommy grumbles, kicking the floor. Purpled still stands by the door, back straight and chin tilted up.
“I’m your knight,” he says, repeating, insisting- I’m not your friend. “This is my station, and my duty to the Empire.”
Tommy-
He can’t breathe.
(“I’m not your king, mate, I’m- you’re my son,” it’s cut off with a little laugh, and Tommy can’t quite tell if it’s grief or disbelief.
“You are my king before my father,” Tommy replies, holding Phil’s gaze.
Their eyes are identical, he knows. The same shade of blue.)
Purpled’s eyes are brown, not blue. Slimmer, than Tommy's; though when Tommy stares into them, he can only see his reflection.
“Purpled,” he says, more choked than he means it to be, more desperate than he wants, more truthful than he’s been; reaching out to him. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Purpled says, refusing to move from his spot. His hands are trembling; Tommy can see them. “You are the prince of this Empire-”
“-stop-,” Tommy’s begging now, he doesn’t even know when his knees hit the floor. “Stop, I’m not your prince-”
“-and it is my duty as your First Knight to protect you-” Purpled keeps going, though his voice is breaking now too, his posture doesn’t budge.
“-You’re not my knight,” Tommy repeats, covering his ears with his hands, pressing them against the sides of his skull hard enough to cause a headache. “You’re my friend, not my knight. Purpled.”
He stops. Silence settles in a disjointed thunk, and before Tommy knows it, Purpled is across from him, knees pressed against each other like a point of connection, contention; the commonfolk cannot touch a Royal, unless permitted.
”Tommy,” he whispers back, barely audible.
Tommy-
He breaks.
Perhaps, the most heart-breaking part is that Tommy cannot bring himself to cry loudly. Tears only stream down his face with hitched, breaking breaths scattered between them. His head hurts from the pressure; Tommy hates this. He hates all of it.
“I’m not your prince,” he repeats desperately, gripping onto Purpled’s shoulders. If he wasn’t in this suit of armour, maybe Tommy would’ve been able to dig his fingers into his skin, a permanent reminder. ”Friends. We’re friends, Purps.”
“Friends,” Purpled echoes, the word detached and awkward. “Prince Theseus, I-”
Tommy flinches hard. Purpled pauses.
“Tommy,” he amends, lightly. Relief pools into the blonde, shoulders dropping from where they went up to his ears. “I can’t be your friend.”
“You’re my friend,” Tommy repeats stubbornly, desperately. “My friend before my knight.”
Purpled opens his mouth and then snaps it shut. Delayed, Tommy says- “No one is listening.”
Purpled lowers his head to the ground. It makes Tommy want to throw up. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” There’s a tiny flash of frustration there. Tommy doesn’t want to celebrate it, but it’s emotion- more than Purpled has shown in the last twenty minutes.
“The formalities,” Tommy outlines, presses further. “Stop- bowing your head. And calling me your prince, and my name, and-”
“Is this why you didn’t want me to win?” Purpled asks, though; it's an accusation, before anything else. It stings, and Tommy would rather feel it a million times than watch Purpled bow to him once more.
Slowly, holding eye contact, Tommy nods.
Purpled exhales shakily, leaning back. He glances around again, like someone is watching, like someone will burst in. Tommy stands up, and drags his chair from his desk across the floor. It leaves an awful screeching sound to echo through the room, even as he jams it under the doorknob as an extra lock.
“Be mad at me,” Tommy says decisively, sitting back down. “You’re pissed, anyway. It’s my fault. Be mad.”
He watches as the facade Purpled puts up cracks a little further, a genuine frustration shining behind it. “I don’t get it,” He decides, running one hand through his hair. “Why did you want me to drop out so bad if this was the prize?” Purpled looks up at him, for an explanation or excuse.
Commend me or condemn me, was scratched with desperate, deep knife grooves on the walls of an alleyway that Tommy walked past almost every morning. But give me your verdict now.
“This.” Tommy says, voice cracked. He gestures around them. ”Me.”
Purpled’s eyebrows furrow, something like grief flashing in his expression. Or maybe hurt. “You could’ve told me.”
Tommy laughs, a broken little thing. “Would you have believed me?”
“Yes,” Purpled says, without a beat or hesitation. “Yes.”
Tommy just stares down at his hands, trying to find his words. “When I was a knight,” he starts. “I’m just Tommy. There’s no Theseus, or Prince or formalities or bowing. I’m just Tommy.” He doesn’t even notice he’s smiling. “I was just Tommy, to you. You insulted me and pushed me into fucking- rivers,” the blonde laughs, rubbing his eye to get rid of the leftover tear-tracks. “No one had ever done that before.”
(“You’re not surviving,” Purpled finishes, echoing Tommy’s words. The stars still twinkle above them, permanent and unchanging.
“I’m living,” Tommy says, like a finality.
The silence sits, for a second.)
“Probably because it’s treason,” Purpled says a little too easily. “And if anyone found out I’d be executed for it.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Tommy promises, voice light but there’s an undercurrent of truth there, too. “I didn’t want you to see me like… this.” He looks down at his clothes, formal beyond reason. “As Theseus.”
Purpled hesitates for a moment more, before saying- “Don’t send me to the dungeons for this.”
Tommy laughs, a genuine thing. “Fuck you,” he says, but it’s light; no true fire behind it. “Say whatever you want, Purpled. I deserve it.”
Purpled nods, obviously mulling over his words before looking up at Tommy.
“That,” he says slowly. “Is the dumbest fucking excuse I’ve ever heard.”
He says it so flatly; deadpan, with no bullshit that Tommy can’t help but laugh out of relief. “Yeah,” he chokes past the laughter, even though his stomach clenches uncomfortably. “Yeah.”
“You should’ve just told me,” Purpled huffs, adjusting his sitting position into more of a criss-cross than a kneel. It’s more compromising- harder to stand up from that position than his previous, but a subtle show of trust, too. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“It just did.” Tommy points out, raising an eyebrow. Purpled knocks his shoulder into the blondes, rattling both bone and armour.
“That’s cause you were fucking stupid,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t know if- I can’t lose this, so I wasn’t taking any risks.”
“If you lose this, I lose this,” Tommy says without really thinking about it. Purpled snorts, clearly unbelieving.
“You can’t lose your status.”
Tommy shrugs. “Princes have been exiled for less.”
Purpled opens his mouth and then snaps it shut. “Hm.”
There’s a moment of silence, after that. A blissful slow thing, settling into the space between their knees.
Tommy sighs and leans back, head knocking against his bedframe. Purpled just stares at the ground, evidently contemplating something.
“Spit it out,” Tommy finally says, after waiting a couple more seconds. Purpled glares at him.
“Princehood spoiled you,” He says, a little sarcastic. “I liked it better when you were a knight and I could kick you in the shins.”
“Kick me, then,” Tommy sits up, more attentive. ”Purpled. I am not your prince. Everyone else’s, sure, but not- not yours.”
“I’m going to get executed,” Purpled says slowly. ”So fucking fast.”
“Fine,” the blond crosses his arms. “When we’re alone. Or with Ranboo. Or Tallulah. You can’t treat me like I’m Theseus.”
“You are Theseus.”
“I’m Tommy.”
“Those two are not mutually exclusive.”
“They are,” Tommy insists, pressing, cloying. “Theseus is a prince. Tommy is everything else. Theseus is an asshole, Tommy is-”
“Annoying,” Purpled supplies helpfully. Tommy shoots out a leg to kick him.
“Sure,” the blond finishes, waving it off. “It’s everything Theseus isn’t, okay?”
Slowly, Purpled nods. Tommy still isn’t sure if he got the concept or not. “Fine.”
Almost on cue, there’s footsteps outside the door and a knock. Instantly- and near silent, even with the giant fucking suit of armour- Purpled stands back by the door again, face falling into an expressionless slab. Tommy exhales lightly, straightening his shoulders before pulling the door open.
Behind it, stands Techno.
“What?” Tommy demands, a little snappy. Techno blinks.
“Where’s your knight?” He asks, almost genuinely concerned. Tommy cracks the door a little open, revealing Purpled standing at attention. “They’re not allowed inside, y’know.”
“I told him to,” Tommy replies, stubbornly. “I’m not leaving my knight outside my room in the hallway every time I’m in here for hours. That’s stupid and boring.”
“His job is to protect you, not be entertained,” Techno says slowly, eyes flicking between them. Tommy doesn’t know if Techno’s aware- that somehow, the winner of the tournament was his partner for training.
Tommy doesn’t know if he wants to tell him.
Equally, Tommy doesn’t know if he wants to keep it a secret.
Either way, he shrugs, leaning against the door. “What d’you want?”
Techno gestures around. “To talk.” He glances at Purpled. “Alone.”
“He won’t spill,” Tommy says decisively, hesitating for a moment before pulling his door open so Techno can come in. “Hurry up.”
The older prince steps inside and Tommy closes the door behind him. His eyes glaze over the chair haphazardly pulled to the side to pull open the door, obviously ignoring it.
“It’s been years,” Techno murmurs, almost subconsciously. Tommy snorts.
“Since you’ve been here?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Purpled is still standing by the door, motionless and expressionless. Techno hums, nodding a little bit.
“It’s different,” he adds. There’s a sadness to his voice that Tommy can neither quite grasp or ignore.”Older.”
“I’m older,” Tommy adds, and judging by the way the corner of Purpled’s mouth twitches, entirely unhelpfully.
Techno just looks up at the ceiling with the intricate carvings that Tommy spends many of his nights simply staring at, and hums. “I guess you are.”
“What do you want, Techno?” Tommy finally sighs, running a hand through his blonde curls. “I’m busy.”
“It’s about that, actually.” Techno sits on the edge of his bed. Irrationally, near hysterically, it makes Tommy want to cry. “You can’t… y’know.”
“Be a knight,” Tommy finishes, bluntly. Techno’s gaze flickers to Purpled. “He knows,” Tommy tacks on top, shrugging. “Purpled was my duo partner.”
“Assigned pairing,” Purpled adjusts a moment later. Tommy sticks his tongue out, falling back into familiar bickering.
“You’re such an asshole-”
“Accuracy is important-”
“I’m gonna accurately shank you-”
Tommy catches a glimpse of Techno watching them, an amused expression crawling across his face, Purpled seeing it a moment later. The arguing dies out rather abruptly after that.
“Keep going,” Techno waves his arm around. “I’m not interruptin’.”
Tommy huffs, no real discernable anger behind it. “Killed the vibe.”
“Like your career,” Purpled adds, because he hates to see Tommy thrive- it’s almost as if Purpled wasn’t losing his shit five minutes ago about not calling him Prince Theseus.
…Tommy wants to throw up again. Maybe it’s a little too early to joke about that one.
“Tommy,” Techno begins, and Tommy’s gaze draws back to him. “You can’t… do this. Anymore.”
Tommy raises an eyebrow, hackles raising- “Do what?”
Techno gestures to the room, eyes hovering over the painting against the walls. “Y’know.”
“Just say it, Techno.”
“Not with him.”
“Purpled isn’t going anywhere.” Tommy doesn’t budge. “Say it now or leave.”
“If the King commands him to speak,” Techno says, tired; weary. “He can’t refuse, you know that.”
Tommy lifts his chin. “Phil won’t touch him.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“I can.” Tommy hisses. “I will.”
“At the price of everything?” Techno demands, disbelief hanging in the air- Is he really worth all of that?
With no hesitation, Tommy nods. “Yes.”
Techno stares at him for a moment. Tommy holds his gaze.
The crown prince sighs, pinching his nose. There’s a scar, running across it. ”Fine.” He says, begrudging. “You can’t sneak out anymore. Or go back to being a knight next year.”
Tommy blinks. “I know.”
“At all.” Techno pulls his braid over his shoulder, fiddling with the end; a nervous tick. “Retire the tunnels. There’s too many eyes on you, now.”
“It’s just Purpled,” Tommy says, firmly. “I trust him more than any of the fuckers in this castle.”
Techno shakes his head. “More than him. The second prince getting a First Knight, especially before his eighteenth-”
“Hardly before-”
“All you need is hardly,” Techno insists, more than he has before. “It’s a shark pit, all of it. And especially with how he won the Pit.” he gestures to Purpled. “Tread carefully, Theseus. Half the Empire is waiting to watch you fail.”
Tommy swallows.
The truth is, he’s known this for- months. Years, even. When Tommy was thirteen, fourteen, fifteen; attitudes are, most of all, excusable. It takes attention off of him, forces them to breathe easy in his absence instead of wondering why he isn’t present.
He knows that it isn’t sustainable. Not forever; not even now, apparently.
Slowly, Tommy nods his head. “Okay.”
Techno stares at him, like he’s waiting for Tommy to crumble- or maybe, dare he hope, succeed.
Slowly, the tension in the crown prince’s shoulders begin to leak out, and he exhales softly. “Okay. I should go now.”
Tommy doesn’t say anything and Techno takes it as a sign, standing up. He leaves an indent, in the perfectly pressed sheets of Tommy’s bed. He can’t quite take his eyes off the spot. “Hey, Tommy,” he hesitates, at the door. Tommy feels his bones creak. “If you- need anything.” Techno offers, nonsensically without warning.
If you need anything, says the absence that was never there when Tommy had nightmares; If you need anything, is the distance of the dinner table between them and enough food for half the castle to feast on.
If you need anything, offers the shape at his door, somewhere between infinity and nothing.
Tommy can’t bring himself to speak. Every bone in him itches to run to his older brother, curl into his side in the library and burn a candle down to a wax pile listening to his voice.
He wants it. So bad.
But as Techno walks out and closes the door softly behind him with a click, Tommy doesn’t budge even a little.
Techno, Tommy thinks meaninglessly, momentarily. I miss you.
· · ─ ·⚔︎· ─ · ·
Purpled would like to say that things got better, after that day.
Key word would like.
Rather, it seemed to be more like a million and one galas, and more dinners than he can count. Scattered amongst them, approaches in Tommy’s direction, not dissimilar to tonight.
“He’s a false knight, you know,” someone says to Tommy like a secret. She bats her fan, covering her mouth. “They say he won the tournament through foul play. I would hate for the prince of our nation to be at risk.” It’s all carefully worded, just barely concealed insults. Purpled is used to them, at this point- most nobles always found some way to give a backhanded retort to his face or otherwise.
This is, however, the first time someone’s said it to Tommy. He watches as his gaze flickers into something darker.
“Would you like to repeat what you said?” He asks, saccharine sweet. The lady gives a little laugh- all sickening, really.
“Only that I fear for your safety, Your Majesty,” She bows her head. The way Tommy stares at it almost reminds Purpled of an executioner.
“Just to clarify,” he repeats, really to drive in the point. “You insult my knight who won the Pit Tournament entirely by his own expertise, you insult the Head Knight’s abilities to detect foul play, you insult the King who has chosen him, and you insult me,” he finishes neatly, “and my apparent inability to protect myself.”
“My Prince,” she says, nervously aware of her missteps. “I mean no such insults towards you, only-”
“That’s enough,” Tommy says, firmly. It shuts her up rather quickly. “Do not dig yourself further into these revolting idiosyncrasies. Have a good day, ma’am.”
Purpled lowers his gaze; easier to disguise as respect, but more because he knows if he looks at Tommy after hearing him say idiosyncrasies entirely unironically, he might lose his shit.
Tommy excuses himself from the relatively crowded area, wandering into the gardens.
“I’ll have something done about her,” Tommy mutters, face still pulled into a frown. It’s almost amusing. “Can’t believe the audacity.”
“Audacity for what?” Purpled asks, almost amused. It’s such a whiplash, to hear Tommy’s voice as the prince and then as his friend. Tommy glares at him, entirely aware of what he’s doing.
“Insulting my fucking knight,” he says, almost sniffing. Purpled shrugs.
“It’s not the first time,” he responds. “I just ignore them.”
Tommy stops in his tracks. “What d’you mean not the first time?”
Purpled holds his stare- not something you should do often with a prince, but it’s an empty garden; Purpled’s been listening for footsteps. Tommy hates the formalities, anyway. “The false knight thing. They all think it was foul play.” He shrugs. “I would too, if I was them.”
“You wouldn’t say it to my face,” Tommy hisses, disdain very thinly veiled. “Who else has done it?”
Purpled shrugs. “Nobles, mostly. Though ordinarily they happen to have enough thought to do it out of your earshot.”
It’s a little strange to speak so formally, but Purpled picked it up rather quickly. It didn’t take long to settle into routine here. The unfamiliar had never been so full of easy shows of wealth.
Tommy hums, decisively. More recently, he stands with his back straighter, chin up. The scowl that Theseus had been so known for has evened out into a generally neutral line; Techno can almost convince him to smile, sometimes.
Distantly, Purpled hears a rustle of footsteps. He makes a quick sign with his hand, decided on with knees pressed against each other in the middle of a nightmare. To say we’re safe, Purpled pulls his fingers back, in a circle. For formalities, Purpled’s fingers slide against each other, subtle enough to miss by an untrained eye.
“Give me names,” Tommy says, voice pulling back into prince. “I’ll have something done.”
Purpled raises an eyebrow. “Very well, Your Majesty,” he says, meaning abso-fucking-lutely not. “If my memory allows.”
Tommy stares at him, meaning discernible in his eyes- Why the fuck not?
Because my ego isn’t worth your already-shaky reputation, Purpled stares back, refusing to back down.
Tommy scoffs. “Fine,” he said, neatly. “Let us return, lest they mention our absence.” the words are stiff; starkly un-Tommy like, despite how often Purpled had been hearing it these days.
Purpled only nods, falling into step behind Tommy.
Three paces, as always.
· · ─ ·⚔︎· ─ · ·
The seasons change, as the leaves fall and the ground turns a bright white.
Much of the winter is spent doing two things; huddled up indoors, or incredibly poor attempts at getting the Crown Prince with snowballs.
It later somehow results in Purpled, Tommy, and Tallulah all huddled behind an extraordinarily dead bush in the corner of the training grounds, fingers covered with thick leather mittens in order to hold snowballs. Purpled, for some undiscernible reason, had the same emerald-green ones as the princes and princess, despite the general guard uniform calling for them to be black.
When he’d asked, Technoblade just snorted, and shook his head. Purpled didn’t inquire further.
Their attempts, to no one's surprise, spectacularly failed. Well- it’s not like Purpled was trying particularly hard, either. Tommy might’ve said that he wasn’t going to get him executed, but Prince Technoblade was impossible to read even at the best of times.
Purpled would like to say the prince's relationship is getting better, though. It’s… rocky, at times-
(“Shut the fuck up, Techno!” Tommy shouts, pulling at his hair hard enough to yank it out. “You don’t get to say that after everything you did!”)
But sometimes, it’s a little quieter. Softer, dare Purpled says.
(Techno’s voice carries across the library as Tommy slumps into his side, breathing evening out into a deep sleep as Techno continues to read a book out loud, a familiar story.)
Purpled is, blissfully and irritatingly, only a witness to it all. The younger prince never presses him to call him Tommy, when Techno is around; though more recently, he lights up when Purpled does.
Tallulah, Purpled discovers, is even more endearing than what Tommy would describe, in the quieter hours of training. Purpled has never been particularly fond of children- ever, actually, but Tallulah seems to be the glaring exception. She constantly demands piggy-backs and holds onto Purpled’s hand, swinging it back and forth with the innocence only a kid could have.
(When Tallulah comes home one day from a walk in the gardens and hands Purpled the earliest spring flowers insisting to put them in his hair, Purpled didn’t tear up. Not in the slightest. It also most definitely didn’t result in Tallulah and Tommy both hovering around the knight’s head for nearly the entire afternoon as the sun shone high above them, carefully placing every bloom and braiding it into his short hair.
“You should let it grow,” Tallulah chirps, patting Purpled’s hair decisively. “Like Tommy’s. So we can make little braids. Like Techno’s.”)
By the next summer, Purpled’s hair can be tied back into a little ponytail at the back of his hair, much to Tallulah’s delight. Many more afternoons after that are occupied with styling Purpled’s dirty blonde like a doll, and Purpled can’t object; he’s only a knight, after all.
Sometimes, the stark reality of Tommy’s position- and subsequent target on his head- is more… apparent. Like the very poisoned dagger currently dug into Purpled’s side that was entirely meant for Tommy. He tries not to breathe too heavily, staring at the man on the ground- targeted and untrained but desperate, he knows, with the speed of the ambush in the middle of a public square. He’s already unconscious with a broken arm, inflicted by Purpled before he got fucking shanked with a stupid kitchen knife. The city guards are already surrounding Tommy, creating a circle from any other attackers. The damage is already done, though not to the prince; and that, in of itself, is the most important part.
“Purpled,” Tommy says, holding him upright; Purpled doesn’t know why he’s not walking on his own.
He looks down at his side, covered in blood. Right.
He glances up at the city guards; none of them are particularly trained for this, he needs to-
“The Prince’s safety is your priority,” he says, forcing his voice to project louder than he can. Wow, whatever was on that knife had to be strong. He needs to investigate that- it feels like a potion, or something like that. He juts his chin at the man on the floor; Purpled doesn’t trust his arms to not immediately swing back down if he tries to lift them. “Put him in the holding cells for questioning.”
“What about you, sir?” Someone asks. Purpled blinks. Once, twice.
“I’m…” he said, words slurring. “I’m… fine…”
Before he can do anything to avoid it, he slumps further into Tommy’s side; the prince holds him steady as ever.
“I got him.” He hears Tommy say as the world turns to black.
Well- black, is perhaps an overstatement.
It comes in flashes, really;
Tommy, shouting. That’s probably bad for his reputation; he’d been doing surprisingly well with it, recently. Ranboo had even said that the palace help were glad to see him in the hallways.
And then there’s the stinging; someone pulls out the blade and Purpled can’t hold in a little whine of pain. You’re not supposed to take out a weapon if you don’t have something to pack it with, haven’t any of these idiots studied medicine-
Almost on cue, there’s a deep, sharp pain as what he assumes- hopes- is a doctor stuffing the gaping hole in his side.
He blacks out again.
And then there’s the next time he wakes up, the cold glass on his lips and gentle coaxing. “C’mon, Purpled.” he hears, a familiar voice he can’t quite place. “Drink it.”
Say no to drugs, he thinks deliriously. There’s a short chuckle, and the glass pressed against his mouth again. “This one isn’t that bad, I promise.”
Purpled parts his lips just enough for the liquid to pass through. The voice is right; this one's considerably more pleasant than the truth pot they made him take after the tournament.
Purpled sighs contentedly as the warm tinkling spreads down to his fingers, filling everything with fluff. A quieter, more muffled part of him calls for danger; Tommy, he thinks, urgently. Where’s Tommy?
“He’s comin’,” the voice says again, with fabric rustling. “Stay put, okay?”
Purpled doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even know what to say.
He can’t feel his side.
He’s not sure what that means.
It reminds him distantly, once, of a time back in the orphanage with Hannah and the others.
“Hey, Purpled,” another voice says, more strained this time. It sounded like it was crying.
Purpled doesn’t quite understand why someone would be crying, right now. It’s not like he’s particularly important.
Well- maybe to Tommy’s protection. But he fulfilled that purpose, didn’t he? Stopped the guy, and all.
Someone should question him, at some point. Purpled kinda hopes he gets to do it.
If he like- lives.
“You’re gonna survive,” the voice says, to something Purpled didn’t say. Did he say it?
“Yeah.”
Purpled stares at the ceiling. It’s got blue in it.
His room in the orphanage had a blue ceiling.
“You were an orphan?”
This stupid fucking voice needs to shut up, at some point. Really. Breaking Purpled’s train of thought, and all. He’s already drugged, for fucks sake.
The voice laughs. It’s… pleasant, actually.
Purpled hasn’t heard Hannah laugh in a while. He sees her relatively often, of course; she was promoted too, something closer to the core of the palace, but they don’t spend evenings together anymore.
When Purpled wakes up in a cold sweat, there’s no tea at the counter to share with his older sister, and wonders bleakly what happened to the rest of the siblings he doesn’t think about, these days.
Just… silence.
“I didn’t know you had nightmares.” The voice says, quieter. Purpled wants to laugh, maybe cry; he doesn’t know.
He misses them, sometimes. Tina and Walli and Boomer. Their little group huddled under blankets with only candles and a stolen book of pictures of royal knights and protectors.
He wonders what they’d think, seeing him now. As a knight.
Dying.
“You’re not dying.”
Stupid voice. One doesn’t simply choose life or death, like an ill-fitting outfit. It comes and goes, easier than the wind. Colder than the snow.
Purpled never quite felt the cold until Tina and Walli ran; Boomer got caught, but Purpled never saw him again, so they all sort of escaped, in a way. They used to sleep into a pile, and then it was just Hannah and Purpled.
It was always cold after that.
He’s cold, now. Maybe he’ll be cold forever. Maybe the dirt will embrace him, and swallow him into the ground so that maybe he can return some of the frost that he’s stolen from the dirt.
“Get a pair of extra blankets.” The voice says, not to Purpled. Stars. He wants more blankets now.
He doesn’t even think he has the energy to shiver.
The next time Purpled wakes up, his throat hurts. There’s also the faint sound of screaming, though he can’t quite pinpoint why-
He takes a gasping, broken breath. The screaming pauses.
Oh. It’s him.
”I’m sorry,” he whispers. He’s crying. Purpled squeezes his eyes shut, pulling his knees up to his chest even as it pulls at his side painfully. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” There’s a hand carding through his hair. “It’s okay, Purps. You’re safe, I promise.”
Safety. What a strange, foreign concept. Nothing is safe, not when Purpled is seven and cold and the walls are pressing in. Everything hurts.
”Hannah.” he whines, desperate.
“Stop standing there,” a voice- the voice holding him, running a hand through his hair snaps. “Go get Hannah Rose. She should be in the northern wing. As quick as possible.”
Purpled shivers again. He misses her. He misses his older sister.
He’s seven, and he misses his big sister.
“You’re all sworn to secrecy,” the same voice says, dead serious and near urgent. “If a single word of this spreads anywhere, there will be repercussions.” Purpled doesn’t get it. It’s just Purpled’s life. It’s over now.
He misses them too, sometimes. Tina, Walli, Boomer.
“I’m here, Purps.” another voice says- it’s Hannah. Purpled wants to cry. The hand running through his hair pulls away, and Purpled can’t stop a painfully raw noise from crawling out his throat.
”I tried,” Purpled cries, pressing his head into Hannah’s side. She smells like flowers. She always did. ”I promise, I tried.”
“I know,” she murmurs, quietly. She’s holding him. Safe. “It wasn’t your fault. You did so well.”
“They didn’t have to go,” Purpled can’t stop the way his stomach seizes painfully. Bile rises in his throat and a bowl is pressed into his chest; Purpled expels anything that he ate. He doesn’t really remember eating. “I didn’t mean for them to leave.”
“I know,” Hannah says, softly. Her voice is choked, too. “Just breathe, Purpled.”
It’s all Purpled can do. His stomach has nothing left to throw up; Purpled leans into Hannah’s side, exhausted.
The darkness meets him again.
· · ─ ·⚔︎· ─ · ·
Consciousness arrives slowly and painfully bright behind his eyelids. Purpled peels his eyelids apart; it's annoyingly hard, and blinks back the sunlight currently flooding his face.
“Purpled!” He hears a voice said, full of relief; he drags his eyes over to the side to see Tallulah, sitting on the little couch next to him. “You’re awake!”
Purple blinks once; twice. He can’t be conscious enough for this. He’s pretty sure he’s dreaming, actually; the room is ornamented in a way that nothing Purpled has ever slept in has been, and everything aches.
Purpled looks down to see bandages covering his entire side.
Oh right. Stabbing.
“I’m gonna go get Tommy,” Tallulah says, hopping off of the chair and rushing out of the door. It doesn’t slide shut behind her; just outside the hallway, Purpled can hear gentle murmuring. He exhales slowly, staring up at the ceiling.
It’s blue. Fancier than the knight’s infirmary, Purpled knows; he doesn’t know why he’s not there, instead of here.
He hears Tommy before he sees him- rushing steps, swinging into his room with wild blue eyes.
”Purpled,” Tommy says, frozen in place. The knight manages a weak smile, his cheeks tugging.
“Prince Theseus,” he says, a little breathlessly. Tommy steps inside and shuts the door behind him, locking everyone else out.
“You’re alive. Holy shit,” he says, relief flooding his voice. “I thought you were definitely gonna die.”
Purpled laughs, a painful, rib-aching thing. “I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”
“You got stabbed,” Tommy insists, gesturing to all of Purpled. “With so many fucking potions that no one could figure out what it was. You shouldn’t have survived,” Tommy said, and there’s a tremble there.
“I’m built different,” Purpled says bluntly. Tommy laughs, a bright thing larger than the sun. “How long was I out?”
The mood sobers up pretty fucking quickly.
“It’s been a week.” Tommy says, not meeting Purpled’s eyes.
“Oh.” Purpled responds. His voice is raw.
“You…” Tommy laughs, even though there’s nothing to laugh about. “You said some- shit. When you were out.”
Purpled tenses. “I- don’t worry about that.”
Tommy still doesn’t look at him. “It’s pretty fucking worrying, Purpled.”
He sighs, a long tired thing. “It’s over, now. I promise. I’m- I’m okay, now.”
Tommy finally sets his gaze onto Purpled; he can see the crease between Tommy’s eyebrows. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” Purpled scoffs. “Really.”
There’s a pause. The silence isn’t bad.
Silence hasn’t been bad in a long time.
“Purpled,” Tommy says, hesitantly. “Are you happy here?”
Purpled blinks.
Tommy stares at him, something more vulnerable hidden in the depths of the blue.
Blue like the orphanage ceiling, like the rushing river, like the night sky, like Tommy’s eyes.
The next words are more truthful than Purpled ever is;
“More than anything.”
· · ─ ·⚔︎· ─ · ·
It takes another five days for Purpled to be cleared for duty again, despite the health potions three times a day. He tries not to think about how much they cost, downing them as fast as possible.
When he’s finally cleared, Purpled walks out of the royal infirmary three paces behind Tommy. Someone bows their head in his direction, right after the prince. It’s the most respect he’s gotten… ever, actually.
(The word is going around, Hannah had said, when she’d visited him at his bed and brought them a pair of buns from the bakery. That the second prince has a heart.)
· · ─ ·⚔︎· ─ · ·
“Purpled!” Tommy shouts, from just a little higher up the hill. “Hurry up!”
“You try carrying a ten year old up a hill,” Purpled shoots back, shifting so Tallulah doesn’t slip off. She giggles, looping her hands into Purpled’s hair. There’s a braid sticking out of it; like most days. It matches Technoblade’s, who climbs the hill at a steady pace.
“I think you’re just slow,” Tommy sticks his tongue out, the years leaving the habit untouched. Purpled rolls his eyes. Leaning in, Tallulah whispers-
“Put me down,” she says, giddy, “and tackle Tommy.”
Purpled grins. “A wonderful idea.”
In a moment, he lets the princess slide off carefully before sprinting at Tommy. The blonde yelps, trying to escape in time unsuccessfully before Purpled barrels into his side. They both go down into the grass, much to Tallulah’s joy. Techno watches them with a smile tugging at his lips, the picnic basket still in his arms.
“Don’t get your clothes dirty,” he calls, a reminder. “Hannah’s gonna kill you all, Prince or not.” It ends their tussle rather quickly, leaving both of them breathing hard on their backs, staring up at the clouds.
“It looks like a rabbit,” Tallulah chirps, lying down between the prince and knight, pointing up. “There.”
Purpled looks over at her- facing Tommy now, arguing about whether or not the cloud looks like a rabbit or a boat.
Maybe. Purpled thinks, quietly. Maybe, maybe.
· · ─ ·⚔︎· ─ · ·
He’s kneeled in front of the King yet again, a two weeks after getting stabbed when the ruler of one of the greatest Empires in history says-
“Thank you.”
Purpled’s eyes had fluttered up, before refocusing on the ground. “I deserve no thanks, your Majesty. I’m simply doing my job.”
The man shakes his head, blonde hair glinting. Out of the corner of his eye, Purpled can almost see Tommy sitting on the same throne, with the same hair. “You’ve done so much more than that, mate. I don’t know what you’re doing, but he’s the happiest he’s been in years.” The King smiles sadly. “You bring him joy.”
Purpled doesn’t know what to say, tucking his chin into his chest. “Thank you, your Majesty.”
“Anything you need,” King Philza says, promises. “Ask it, and you will receive it.”
Purpled, who cannot manage to explain everything in a word, just nods.
He thinks of Technoblade. Tallulah, Hannah.
Purpled thinks of Tommy.
He thinks of laughter, and the stars.