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They say you can tell a lot about a country by the people ruling it. Dream for example, King of an empire, one of the most successful people in the world, rules a country so powerful most people cower at the name (or so he likes to say.) The Antarctic Empire, on the other hand, is just as much of an enigma to Dream as the people who ruled it. Successful, but cold. Large and threatening. The Antarctic Empire sat as a looming threat on Dream’s shoulders.
Take the emperor, Philza. Once an esteemed warrior, crowned as the ‘Angel of death’, he ruled over the Antarctic Empire with his high court, his inner circle - his four sons. The man seemed normal enough, but his sons? They were the Antarctic Empire’s best kept secret. They were never at political events, they were never at meetings with other countries. Anytime you asked the emperor why his sons weren’t present he simply smiled calmly and responded, “My sons value their privacy. Should they choose to attend one of these events, there would be no one happier than me to invite them.” The rumors reached Dream’s throne room often enough. Philza’s sons were mercenaries. They were demons.
Dream didn’t believe in such superstitions, but he had to admit it was strange. Princes that had so much power, yet remained faceless? From what Dream had heard, they had a say in every political say made for the empire, so surely they must have been powerful in some way or form. Gifted with unmatched intelligence, or a high degree of strength training, perhaps. He shared this concern to his two guards, his confidantes. They, of course, looked at him as though he was crazy.
“Why do we care who the emperor has as his inner circle…?” The louder of the two asked.
“I hate to agree with him, I really do,” The other continued with a concerned smile, “but I’m a bit lost as well.” Dream only sighed exasperatedly in response.
“Look,” the first knight offered in suggestion, “if you care that much, why don’t you just ask to visit?" He retied the bandanna on his head, and glared pointedly at the other guard for support.
“Oh, right. Sounds like a good plan.” he mused for a second longer, then added, “besides, you’re so powerful. There’s no way they could refuse an offer to meet face to face.” The two looked at each other knowingly. Appealing to the king’s pride was usually the best way to get him out of his “sulky” moods.
As expected, the fair haired leader brightened almost immediately. He snapped his fingers and motioned to his scribe. “Please draft a letter to the emperor of the Antarctic Empire. Let’s pay him a visit, shall we?”
The first thing Dream noticed about the Antarctic was the fact that it was cold, unbearably so, but no one dressed like it. He felt a little ridiculous, dressed in furs and so, so many layers. The most he had seen anyone wearing was a simple fur cloak, and the clothes of his much, much warmer homeland did not suffice for the harsh climate of the Antarctic Empire. Beside him, his personal guards shivered. He could feel their icy stares (pun not intended) of irritation at the back of his head, but chose to ignore it as the Emperor himself approached them.
He wasn’t particularly menacing in appearance, but Dream had already known that from the other times he met the ‘Angel of Death’. His robes were those royalty, dark greens and deep grays, decorated with gold, but his smile was warm and fatherly. His eyes crinkled as he welcomed the three, and Dream was immediately put at ease. A mistake, of course, because about two seconds later, a teenaged boy screeching and running around with a sword in hand, came sprinting to the front of the castle. He was dressed in a light cotton t-shirt and pants despite the weather, and Dream shuddered just looking at him.
“Phil!” He yelled, and Dream winced reflexively, “Are they here yet?!” What he was more shocked about was the way he addressed the emperor. He wasn‘t certain about the formalities of the Antarctic Empire, but he was sure there were some formalities. Never before had he been more grateful for the ceremonial mask he had to wear. It wasn’t the most comfortable piece, but it was hiding the ridiculous look Dream no doubt had on his face. Beside him, his guards bristled.
“Tommy.” The Emperor (Phil?) sighed. “They’re here.” At first glance, this Tommy figure seems insignificant, but with a second glance Dream is certain who he is.
He was definitely Phil’s private servant boy. Dream was rather close with his two knights, the most loyal of his servants, it must have been similar. Tommy was rather young, and orphan the kind emperor had taken in perhaps?
“Oh.” The boy said, and ran off in the direction he came from, sparing one last look at Dream. “I’ll be right back!” He yelled, and Philza smiled apologetically.
“Sorry about that.” He turned, and waved his hand towards a large parlour, “Care for a bite?” He asked as Dream took in a large table filled with every food he could ever imagine. Some formal foods, Dream noted, and some junky snacks, but the spread was unlike the stuffy cheese boards he was usually offered. He was grateful, even though he refused to admit it.
“My sons are picky.” The Emperor said by way of explanation at Dream‘s silence, perhaps mistaking it for confusion.
“Ah.” Was all he replied with, and they made simple small talk while Dream (and his knights who were clearly overjoyed at the sight of food), picked food to put on fine china plates. He felt a little ridiculous, putting a snack brownie on the delicate plates, but he supposed that was normal in the Antarctic Empire.
“So, what do you believe-” The Emperor's question is interrupted by another enthusiastic yell. What was with this place? Dream looked up to see another teenaged boy. No, as his eyes adjusted, his ears realised - it was the same boy. His old clothes nowhere to be found, he wore long red robes, the same sword affixed to his hip, shielded now by a glimmering sheath. Atop his head was a circlet of gold, fit for royalty. No.
There was no way in hell that this was the same boy. No way. He picked up a bubbling brown drink from the table and lifted it to his lips between his sentences, but Dream didn’t quite register the words. He was too busy being shocked, no, absolutely gobsmacked.
“I said,” The boy said petulantly, “isn’t the Antarctic Empire better than wherever you come from?” It should be mentioned Dream was rarely, if ever spoken to the way the boy, Tommy, spoke to him. Which was why, perhaps, the next words slipped out.
“Who are you?” The boy only raised an eyebrow in response, picking a bar of chocolate casually off the table.
“Oh, of course,” The Emperor cut in casually, “meet my son, Theseus.” Theseus (?) waved, still scarfing down snacks.
“Tommy,” He corrected, his mouth filled with a cracker of some sort.
“Oh yes, sorry.” he turned to Dream again. “He prefers Tommy.”
“Your son?” Dream only asked miserably in response, though neither of the other two royals seemed to notice. The shorter of the two guards snorted amusedly. The other laughed out loud at Dream’s tone. This was one of the four members of Philza’s inner circle? How was the country even standing?
The Emperor simply laughed. Dream hadn't realised he said the last bit out loud. “Believe me, I ask myself the same thing everyday.” Dream backtracked, waving his arms around in apology, but the Emperor only laughed. “Don’t worry, everyone’s confused at first.”
Confused was an understatement, Dream thought, a bit huffy. But his curiosity was greater. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s Prince Tommy’s role in your inner circle?” Dream finally asked.
“Just Tommy.” The boy said again. He turned to leave the room, seemingly done with his scrounging for food (Dream thought briefly of a raccoon.)
“Sorry, what is, uh, Tommy’s role?” He questioned again.
Tommy’s smile was positively wicked. “I command our armies.” He said simply. Phil waved goodbye as the boy exited the room, as if sixteen year old boys leading the armies of one of the biggest countries in the world was an everyday occurrence. Dream felt light headed. His knights simply patted him on the back sympathetically.
The Emperor just took a bite out of a baked potato, unaware of the other ruler’s plight.
The Emperor motioned to a servant holding a large tray, and pointed to the table. “Will you pick up some snacks for the others? We can drop them off on a tour of the castle.” Dreams ears perked at the mention of his other sons.
“Oh yes, your other three sons.” Dream started and Philza’s gaze softened. It was clear he adored the four, whoever they are. “I’m terribly lucky to meet them.” Dream added, and Philza laughed again.
“I wouldn’t say lucky.” He smiled jokingly. “My sons...they can be a bit much, but they are far more talented than anyone I have ever met.” There was conviction in his eyes, but as a lighthearted addition, “I may be biased, however.”
Dream chuckled in response. “Theseus, no, Tommy, he’s the youngest of your sons, right? Why does he command your armies, rather than your eldest, perhaps.” He worried he was being too nosy, but the Emperor seemed an open man.
“My eldest trained him. Tommy is one of the best warriors in the land. He’s impulsive, but he has heart in a way I would want my soldiers to be exposed to.” Philza smiled. “He actually doesn’t show his face for the sake of one of his brothers. They’re close, the two of them, and one is rarely there without the other. ‘It wouldn’t feel right without Tubbo’, he says.” He explained further.
“Tubbo, Theseus,” One of his knights piped up, “what strange names.”
“It doesn’t mean much coming from a man named Sapnap.” a tinny voice came from behind them, and the three froze. Only Philza seemed unbothered. No one was supposed to know the names of his masked knights, for their protection. No one knew, not even the best of his men. Dream turned slowly, to face a short boy, dressed in a green robe similar to Tommy’s. His crown sat crooked on his fluffy brown hair.
“Ah, Tubbo.” Phil says gently. “We’ve talked about the secrets, right?”
“Sorry Dad.” the boy only replied, and his eyes widened at the large tray foods. “Did you bring anything for me?” He asked excitedly, and Phil nodded happily. He picked up cookies and some kind of honey pudding from the tray, sprinkling colourful candies on it. Dream was a bit concerned for the boy's teeth, really.
“The secrets?” Dream asked. He was reminded of his current worry. “How did you know my knight’s name? Not even my family knows their true identities.”
“I spied on you!” the boy said brightly. Phil only sighed in response.
“You what? My castle is impenetrable.” Dream was confused. How could a simple boy, a little child, break into his castle unnoticed? “How could you-” He starts, unsure where to continue.
Phil smiles again. “Tubbo, is my keeper of secrets. My spy, you could call him.” It’s the only time the kind man seems intimidating to Dream. “I don’t just let anyone into my palace.”
Dream finds himself impressed with the strange little boy, who runs off looking for Tommy. “I’m going to build a tower with Tommy!” he says by way of good bye, and runs off, his long cape swishing behind him.
Dream is ashamed to admit he’s intimidated by the bright red candy that falls off his plate and hits the floor.
“My two younger sons, they’re two peas in a pod. My other two...though inseparable, could not be more indifferent.” Philza had a way of dancing around his words in that fatherly way, as if he wanted you to figure out what he was saying without actually saying it.
“What are you trying to tell me?” Dream simply asked. He had never liked riddles, unless he was the one telling them.
“Just be forewarned.” he replied, stepping over his words as if choosing them carefully. Despite the no doubt negative connotation to his words, Dream was thrilled. Just what was so terrible about the two eldest sons? One of them would one day inherit the empire, he thought excitedly. It would be helpful to get into their good graces.
“The library is on the way. Let’s see if Wilbur’s there.” Philza offered, and Dream happily agreed, flourishing forward in a gesture meaning ‘lead the way’.
The library, dream had to admit, was nothing short of extraordinary. Sky high ceilings lined with books, an endless spiral of stairs. Beside him, one of his knights gasped in awe. “Wilbur?” The emperor called out, his voice echoing through the massive room.
A head of dark brown hair stuck out of the higher floors of the library. “Are the visitors here already?” The voice called back. “I thought they weren’t due till the seventh?”
“Wilbur, it is the seventh.” Philza said. Dream had to admit, he was a tad unimpressed. What kind of prince, perhaps the ruler of this country, couldn’t even tell the date?
He heard footsteps, and he put a name to the face of the mysterious Wilbur. A man about his age, wearing round glasses, and a rumpled yellow jumper rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He was attractive, terribly so, but his eyes looked exhausted. Dream couldn’t deny his regal stature, though. Despite looking as though he hadn’t slept, let alone drank water in day, his posture was straight, his nose poised as though he was trained to do so.
“Sorry I forgot, Dad.” He said sheepishly, and his father only put an arm on shoulder gently.
“It’s okay, I know how you get when you’re writing. You should get some rest.” Wilbur looked ready to disagree, but his argument was paused by a loud yawn.
“I suppose you’re right.” he agreed, begrudgingly. “Lovely to meet you, though,” he said pointedly. “Next time I’ll be awake for tea.” he added jokingly, and Dream managed a half hearted smile at the tired man.
“Writing?” He asked once Wilbur was out of listening distance.
“You know, you could have asked him while he was here. Wilbur loves talking about his writing.” Philza replied, well meaning.
“He..looked tired.” Dream said in response, and Phil rubbed his temples.
“I’ve been so busy I forgot to check in on him.” He says guiltily. “When Wilbur feels the itch to write it’s hard to get him to stop - especially if he’s working on one of his novels.”
“Oh, he’s an author?” Dream comments, and Philza nods eagerly. Dream supposed Philza was the type of man who was full of praise for his son.
“He writes under a pseud, G.B Soot.” Dream’s eyes widened in response. He had heard that name before. G.B Soot was a wildly successful author who had written dozens of books. He was a mystery to the world, though, despite his books having shows and movie adaptations. He remembered his struggle a few months ago, to reach the author in hopes of arranging a meetup with him for one his knights. The blue eyed knight beside him was practically vibrating with excitement. He had just met his favourite author (though, in Dream’s opinion, it could have been a better first meeting.).
“My knight is a huge fan of his books.” Dream said and he nudged the other knight forward. The man only nodded.
“A fan of mine?” He heard Wilbur say, despite his previous claims of leaving. “That’s flattering.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” He says at Philza’s questioning glare. “I had an idea I had to write down.”
“Wil..” Phil started warningly, and the other man sighed.
“Can I at least sign a book or something for the lovely man who likes my books?” He says. A strange power dynamic. It appeared the princes did as they pleased, but they did take their father’s words into consideration.
Philza only rubbed his forehead and smiled.
Wilbur, now in deep conversation with his knights, was a natural conversationalist. He had a charm about him, one that would be great to rule a country, Dream thought. If only he wasn’t so absent minded, he remembers the initial state he had seen him, he would be perfect.
“Hey, didn’t you say you were going to be asleep?” A gravelly voice asked from the entrance of the library. Dream’s instincts told him to be on guard the minute he hears the voice. He knows that voice. It’s fear, sure, but it’s also a swift punch to the jaw, when he turns around and looks into the eyes of the one and only Technoblade. His rival.
“Techno!” Wilbur says excitedly, and Dream sees how his knights’ demeanor goes from friendly to guarded.
His hand reaching for the sword on his hip, Dream turned his head slightly to Phil. “Don’t panic, your majesty, but a war lord just entered your palace.” Philza just tilts his head, confused.
“I’m sorry, a...what?” He asked.
Dream pointed one accusing finger at the pink haired warrior he had fought with barely months ago. He was killed at traps. Perhaps he had tricked everyone into thinking he was a harmless man. Techno cocked an eyebrow, still amused. Wilbur, meanwhile, was busy hugging perhaps the most dangerous man on the planet.
“That, my good emperor, is a dangerous man. He might be here to sabotage your palace.” Dream had never known Technoblade’s motives. That was the problem, really, no one ever seemed to know his means, why he did anything.
“My palace?” Philza replied weakly, before bursting into a fit of laughter. “A dangerous man-” he wheezed, before bursting into another fit of laughter.
“Techno is rather dangerous,” Wilbur amended, “but he’s always welcome in the palace. It's his home as much as ours.”
“Why would you house a...a degenerate? An anarchist? You’re monarchs, it’s against everything you stand for!” Dream spat out, confused. How could he have tricked them this badly. Even now, the man stood in front of Dream decked in Royal robes, a crown atop his head. It was as if he was parading around, pretending to be...royalty.
“Technoblade? We aren’t housing him? He lives here...as a prince of this court? My eldest son?” Philza asked, no doubt as confused as Dream.
Tommy took the opportunity to burst into the room as Dream came in, excited to see his brother, Tubbo trailing behind.
Technoblade. The eldest son of the “Angel of Death.” The Blood God would rule over the Antarctic Empire one day. Dream, for all his training in keeping a composed, cool mask on his face at all times, was struggling to hide his horror.
He supposed it was his fault for asking, to begin with.