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Eret was aware, both of their own accord and from reminders from those that considered themselves above them, that they did not have many obligations as King of the SMP. It was a title more than a duty, an allowance of the continued existence of their castle and the authorization for the formation of what had been fondly dubbed their knights, which consisted of little more than friends who hung around their home and kept them company under the pretense of security. There were, however, a few responsibilities that came with the crown, such as the maintained assurance of peace, with the understanding that any failure to ensure it would result in a swift termination of both their status, and likely their life.
And, it appeared, they were also meant to conduct any legal proceedings that occurred in the server.
They were reminded of a principal’s office, a supervisor unaware of what troubles were caused that brought four individuals to their throne. Eret took a moment to take in each man that stood in front of them, four in total. Quackity was on one end of the group, entirely unbothered with those he stood beside. Karl was shifting on his feet and looking anywhere except at Eret, which ultimately landed his gaze on Sapnap next to him, chin tilted up in defiance of a nonexistent threat. Ending the line was Technoblade, a surprise to the king as they ignored the annoyed huffs that accompanied vague looks of disgust in her general direction.
Behind them Puffy and Tubbo set up makeshift chairs, of which Sapnap sat in and Quackity sat beside, leaning against it. Techno seemed content to stand, sword inserted in a miniscule perforation in the stone they stood on and being used as a rest to lean against, chair rejected. Karl came forward, handing over a folder.
“Do I even want to know?” Eret began, accepting the folder and flipping to the first page. A Declaration of the Alliance Between El Rapids and the Arctic Commune.
“Probably not,” Techno and Quackity responded in unexpected unison, both looking to each other with equally heated glares. Quackity continued, turning toward Eret, “Well, contracts are usually looked over in a court. And the server doesn’t have a court, so we figured a royal court would be close enough.”
“And Tubbo is here because…?”
“Big Law.” offered Sapnap, as if it made complete sense. Tubbo had made his way to Eret’s throne, setting up a table and chair beside it and making himself comfortable, yellow quill at the ready. Eret would sigh, but they had a suspicion there would be far more opportune moments to voice their exasperation as they turned the page, looking over the beginnings of the document.
“ ‘This document confirms the legal union of the following individuals: Sapnap, Karl Jacobs, Quackity Toontown-Minecraft, and Technoblade, as witnessed by Tubbo ‘Big Law’ and King Eret.’ ” Eret read out, growing incredulous with each word. They looked to Technoblade, expecting the man to be the only one to give them a sensible answer, “What is this?”
“We’re getting married,” Techno explained, destroying Eret’s expectation. They glanced at Tubbo, who seemed distracted by something on his phone; leaning over slightly, they could see a message being sent to a contact labelled Big T: do u know how many people are allowed to legally marry each other.
“You can’t all marry each other.”
Quackity was already standing in mock outrage, “When our parents fought for hybrid rights to marry in 1969—“
“Big Q, that wasn’t even a thing—” Eret began to interrupt, having been alive long enough to know there was never a movement for the rights of hybrids, rights having never been threatened due to their status.
“No, he’s telling the truth, I was there.” Karl interrupted, a hand ghosting over the pocket watch attached to his jacket.
“— they fought for the right to marry whoever, and however many people, they wanted.” He concluded, a firm nod accompanying his words as he sat in his seat. The king stared at him, briefly considering how much effort they truly wanted to put into this and deciding that it was entirely not worth the headache that would come with trying to debate against a man who obviously had arguments prepared.
Eret turned back to the folder, continuing to read, “ The alliance is effective only if the conditions listed below are met. Condition o— ’ how many conditions are there?”
“Eleven.”
“Jesus,” Tubbo muttered from his seat, content with whatever answer he had been given as he slotted away his communicator and directed his full attention to Eret. They waited for the king to continue and Eret took a deep breath, beginning the first point.
“ ‘Condition one. The marriage will be strictly between the four aforementioned individuals,’ asterisk. Why is there already an asterisk?” They asked, flipping through to the last page in an attempt to track down the footnote.
“It’s just a note about Quackity being able to marry whoever else he wants,” Sapnap explained, unbothered, “As long as it isn’t a member of Techno’s family or any of his associates, without his permission.”
Their eyes fell onto the note in question, a mark beside the end of the explanation that taunted them, begging to be questioned despite Eret being fully aware that they would not like the answer. “Why does the footnote also have an asterisk?”
Karl looked pained at the question, equally as reluctant to speak about the footnote’s footnote, “Previous marriages don’t apply.”
Silence fell over the group, and Eret’s gaze turned to Technoblade, expecting a response. He had fixed his posture, looming over the other three that stood beside him and even appearing slightly intimidating from Eret’s position on the throne above.
“Quackity. Tell me you didn’t marry Phil.” Had it been anyone else, Eret would have said he was pleading. At his silence, Techno repeated himself, a tinge of desperation on his words, “He’s my only ally Quackity, please tell me you didn’t marry—”
“I didn’t marry Phil.” Techno’s shoulders briefly relaxed in relief before tension returned tenfold, registering an aura of smugness radiating from him; Quackity continued on, encouraged by the two shields of husbands that stood between him and Techno, “I married his son.”
Eret looked impressed, “Wilbur only came back to life a week ago.”
“He was very thankful for my assistance.”
“Why didn’t you just make this alliance with him, then?” There was something in his tone that set off a snort from Sapnap, quieted quickly by a glare in his direction. Quackity’s grin was audible,
“Technoblade, is that jealousy I hear — ”
And without hesitation he responded, “It’s annoyance. We could have avoided this the whole time?”
“Just consider this,” Karl offered, holding back his own laughter, “Big Q probably thought he had to cover all our bases for this. What if Wilbur died again?”
“Oh I’m considering something, alright — ”
“ ‘Condition two,’ ” interrupted Eret, attempting to calm the group before a larger argument broke out, “ There are to be no damages to El Rapids caused by explosions, fire, withers, drowning, or any additional acts directly associated with Technoblade. Any indirect associations must be discussed, and a decision will be made with a three-fourths majority regarding any perceived necessity for divorce due to his involvement.’”
“Seems like a solid condition,” Tubbo added, surprised that the four of them could bring together a condition that partially made sense. Eret expected that to be the only article in the document to make sense. They were proven wrong, another entirely average yet unanticipated sentence following,
“ ‘Condition three: No killing your husbands.’ ” they paused, “Why do you have to specify you can’t kill each other if you’re getting married?”
“Why are you even getting married?” Tubbo added, confused, “Just make an alliance without the marriage bit.”
Quackity looked incredulous at the suggestion and Eret was reminded of the eve of L’Manberg’s election, and the subsequent marriage between Quackity and Schlatt that arose from Eret’s denial of Quackity’s proposal that night. Rather than considering what implications came with the reminder, Eret continued, “ ‘Condition four: Quackity is not allowed to execute, without consent, any associates of Technobl — why not just have him not be allowed to execute anyone ?”
“He gets an allowance,” An amused huff from Karl, as Quackity brightened at the permissions granted to him, “One execution attempt a month.”
“This month’s Dream.”
Techno grumbled beneath his breath and, though Eret would never admit to hearing him, they were relatively certain there were muttered complaints of “Just moved on from me immediately, huh?” and “No sense of loyalty”. They wisely chose to not bring his words to light, continuing on, “And the asterisk for this one?”
“No roll-overs,” added Sapnap, as if the logic was sound, as if there was any logic to the situation at all. “Keep going.”
“Okay, okay. ‘Condition five, no baby pictures.’ ” Eret paused, “This is... oddly specific.”
“Karl knows exactly what we’re talking about.” They turned to Techno as he spoke, the statement paired with a look of warning thrown at the time traveler; Karl pursed his lips and adopted a look of complete innocence, face expressing ignorance but eyes glinting with delight.
“And Quackity isn’t allowed to ask Bad for any of mine.” added Sapnap, giving a look of his own to the man in question. He scoffed, rolling his eyes,
“You ask your friend to see your fiancé’s baby pictures one time—”
“Baby pictures don’t belong in war, Big Q, I know you were just asking to blackmail Dr—”
“Condition six.” Technoblade cut him off, turning his attention once more to Eret. They cleared their throat and flipped to the next page, dutifully continuing,
“‘ Condition six, no k—‘ ” Eret paused, looking up, “Why does this have to be a condition?”
“Read it out loud, Eret!” Tubbo leaned over, peering above the arm of Eret’s throne in an attempt to finish reading the point. With great reluctance they continued,
“ ‘Condition six, no killing Tubbo.’ ”
Quiet fell over the group, Eret considering each of their reactions to the condition. Karl and Sapnap seemed both unbothered and uninterested, a condition that did not apply to them as much as it did to the other half of the quartet, with Quackity’s trigger-happy tendencies and Technoblade’s past with killing Tubbo. Quackity looked prideful, indicating that he was likely the one to write it; Techno kept his composure, opinions on the condition unreadable off of a neutral face.
“Thanks, I guess.” Tubbo offered, unsure what else could be said. Almost hesitant, he added on, “What about Tommy?”
“He falls under condition four, Techno’s associates,” Sapnap clarified. “Protected from any execution from Quackity, and Karl and me don’t really… feel like killing him?”
It was sound logic, if the contract had been written prior to January. Eret remembered the anger in which Quackity tore through the server, paranoia similar to that of a horned late president, the man echoed in his accusations of defectors and desire for justice. Sapnap and Karl had no ill intentions toward Tommy and he was, at the time, considered an associate of Technoblade’s.
But now L’Manberg was gone, and one of the four that stood in front of them had been betrayed by the very kid they spoke of. Eret remembered seeing Tubbo and Tommy in the ruins of the country they had lost so much for, finally reunited after the hardships they had respectively faced. They glanced over to one of the boys in question, Tubbo at his side, and raised an eyebrow at the sight; he had locked himself into a staring contest with Technoblade, eyes narrowed and determination set on his face. Techno’s expression was difficult to interpret, no one emotion showing itself as he met Tubbo’s gaze. A tension fell over the group, unwavering in their silence until Techno yielded, muttering, “Fine. Add him to the condition, too.”
Tubbo offered Eret his quill, content. One addition later, they continued,
“ ‘Condition seven: All major disagreements will be dealt with in the’ —” Eret exhaled, a defeated sigh that aged them far beyond their years, “Do I even want to know what the ‘Get Along Pit’ is?”
“It’s a giant pit.” offered Karl, looking at his fiancés. The four of them hesitated before Quackity conceded, continuing where Karl left off the explanation,
“You fight with wooden swords until someone apologizes. Or dies, I guess.”
Eret wondered, not for the first time that evening, if they should have ever taken their throne back when Dream offered it. They set the folder down on the arm of their seat, thumb and pointer finger massaging their nose in an attempt to hold off the incoming headache that had been growing since Quackity had led the group into their throne room.
“Just… give me a minute before we proceed, gentlemen.”
They stood from their throne, handing over the folder to Tubbo and listening to the papers shuffle as he opened it, his curiosity unabated by Eret’s request for a break. Heading out of the throne room they exhaled, letting their shoulders sag; it was just them and the sound of their shoes clicking against stone, taking a lap around the castle in an attempt to organize their thoughts. They came across Puffy, most certainly not with her head halfway into a liquor cabinet as she shuffled the bottles around.
“Looking for something in particular?” Eret winced at the sound of her head hitting the top shelf, startled by their sudden presence.
“Oh, hey Eret, how’s it going? How’s the meeting? That I thought you would be in for a bit longer?” she greeted, eyes flickering between the unlocked cabinet and the king. They rolled their eyes, reaching over to pick a bottle of their own, gesturing with the empty hand for her to take one as well,
“You don’t want to keep Niki waiting too long, do you?”
She accepted the offer gratefully, tension melting away and making her much more amicable to conversation, “What’s your meeting about, then? Weird group of people.”
“I’m overseeing an… alliance. Between El Rapids and… the Arctic Commune? Technoblade.” They didn’t know how else to explain it. Puffy raised her eyebrows, surprised,
“That’s kinda off, isn’t it?”
“Hence the wine. I’ve been asking myself the entire time: what would Technoblade even get out of this?” Eret uncorked the bottle and considered, however briefly, if they just wanted to take the whole thing back to the throne with them.
They were aware of the positioning of El Rapids, a country formed out of a failed coup; it was small enough to be without government but formidable enough with its fighters, masters of both sword and speech, to be left relatively alone, aside from Purpled and his vendetta against them building an entirely new piece of land directly above his cabin. But Eret couldn’t exactly picture anything coming out of it that would explain Techno agreeing to get married. Any conditions regarding the safety of Technoblade or his associates could have easily been done through threats and sheer skill alone, formalities weaker than any wrath that might come from harming something one of the few things or people he cared for. There was simply nothing of value written in the contract that would warrant his acceptance of the proposal.
“It was like that with Dream, for a bit.” Puffy began, ignoring the scowl that formed on Eret’s face at the mention of the masked man, “He kept following me all the time. I guess it was kind of like a deal, in a way. He protected me from mobs while I built shit. He didn’t have to do it, he just… did.”
“But he got a few builds out of it?” Eret concluded, surprised to see her shake her head,
“That was the weird thing. I only ever built like, one house for him. He just… stayed around.” she shrugged, “Maybe they’re all just like that, everyone who’s at the top. Bored, or something.”
They gagged, alone in their room on a quiet evening. The sound echoed through empty stone halls. Though nothing came out, their chest felt hollow, and they clutched at it with hands that still had the blood of betrayed allies dried beneath their nails, skin stained with a red they would never be able to fully scrub away.
Day after day saw countless visitors to their castle, never a familiar face in the crowd that came to see the most powerful political authority on the server. But the hollow feeling in their chest continued to grow, accompanied by dulling nerves and emerging apathy. It wasn’t boredom, every day bringing a new responsibility to take care of, a new challenge to face that distracted them from the ache in their chest. No, they thought, signing papers at lanternlight, the quill’s scratches echoing through the silent room. It wasn’t boredom, they weren’t bored. It was —
“I think I understand.” They spoke softly, clapping Puffy on the shoulder as the cold grip of loneliness faded away with each passing second. “Thank you, Puffy.”
Their return to the throne room was quiet, trying to not interrupt the conversation that had continued during their brief break. Tubbo had turned his chair around, leaning his chin on the top of the headrest and paying rapt attention to, apparently, a presentation; Eret wasn’t quite sure where the board that Techno now stood in front of had come from, formulas and diagrams covering the surface.
“— in the end, it’s all strategic. I only have so many wither heads to dismantle governments with. If I can ensure that El Rapids remains a group and not an oppressive government, more withers can be directed t—”
“He just doesn’t want to admit he cares about us,” interrupted Quackity, teasing him from the other side of the line. He stumbled out of his chair as Techno straightened to his full height, Sapnap and Karl cackling between them. Despite his immediate reaction to create more distance between them, Quackity was entirely relaxed, joining in with his fiancés gleeful laughter. Techno glared, but there was no heat behind his gaze as he spoke, deadpan,
“That is just lies and slander.”
“Eret!” Tubbo interrupted, catching sight of the returning king, “I’ve been thinkin’ about this next condition, yeah? And I just don’t get it.”
“I mean, it’s pretty self-explanatory, Tubbo, it’s two words.” Karl argued, earning quiet praise from Quackity at having part of the contract memorized.
“What does it say, Tubbo?” asked Eret, now content with a glass in their hand and a leg tossed over the side of their throne, formalities abandoned after having to witness more than half of the contract.
“ ‘Condition eight: no taxis.’ ” he read aloud dutifully, glancing to the king, “It just doesn’t make sense. What’s wrong with taxis? I didn’t even know we had taxis in the server—”
“What? Let me see—” The folder was handed over and Eret’s eyes scanned over the page, looking for the condition in question, “Tubbo, that says taxes.”
A beat of silence. “Oh.”
“That’s not allowed,” they continued, trying to find a polite way to explain that marriage did not supersede the power of a monarchy backed by a god, “You can’t just ban taxes.”
“Only in El Rapids!” Karl defended, “It’s our country!”
A sound of warning from Technoblade, and Quackity elaborated, “Dream said it was recognized as its own, independent land. Country or not, we’re allowed to control the taxes. So no taxes.”
“Why is this in a marriage contract?” Eret asked, looking between the group, “Shouldn’t that be more of a constitutional thing?”
The four of them went silent, but Karl proved himself the weakest link, shifting on his feet and glancing at Techno. When he realized Eret’s gaze was focused on him Techno groaned, explaining, “I said I would only get married for tax benefits. Quackity thought he was being funny.”
“I think you mean that I knew I was being hilarious —”
“How about we move on, yeah?” Tubbo interrupted, nervous laughter lacing his words as five sets of eyes turned to him. He cleared his throat and held the document up, delivering the next condition, “ ‘Condition nine: all persons involved in the marriage must honor any invocations of the Pass of LHTFA.’ ”
Eret looked at the fiancés, confusion on their face, “What’s the pass of LHTFA?”
“Leave Him the Fuck Alone,” Quackity explained, “If any of us turn in a pass, the other three don’t talk to them for three days unless they talk to us first.”
“How many passes does each person get?” asked Tubbo, far too curious for his own good. Karl spoke up, faster than usual,
“Unlimited passes, but you have to enact condition eleven before you get to use one again.”
“Condition eleven?” Eret was surprised that the question came from Quackity, who they assumed was the primary author of the contract, as the only one with any basic understanding of law. “Wait, condition eleven has nothing to do with condition nine—”
“Please, continue.”
Tubbo gave Karl a last glance, hesitant, but continued, “ ‘Condition ten: The immediate discontinuation of the murder of any pets associated with Technoblade, Karl Jacobs, or Quackity.’ Worded kinda weird, innit?”
Quackity shrugged, “Techno wrote it.”
“ Sapnap wrote it,” he corrected, peeved, “I was too busy shouting it at him to focus on making it sound nice.”
“I just copied what he told me!” defended Sapnap, arms crossed. Karl and Quackity were thankful to be on their own side as both of them began to raise their voices, no one trapped between the two as they bickered,
“My mistake for not remembering to shout in proper legal document format while trying to convince you to not kill my dogs —”
“I wasn’t gonna kill them!”
“I specifically remember you saying ‘marry us or I’ll kill your dogs’, Sapnap!” he continued, “You’ve killed so many of my wolves! It’s a completely valid concern—”
“You didn’t even name half of them—”
“I care about every member of the Hound Army—”
“Oh really, what about when you—”
“Guys, guys, please,” Quackity interrupted, nervous laughter accompanying his words, “this is why we have the condition.”
“And the Get Along Pit condition, too,” Karl added, moreso amused than worried. But their request, while not completely ignored as Techno turned to briefly look at the two, were soundly rejected in favor of Sapnap continuing to shout, having been shouting his point the whole time,
“— and there’s more to me than just killing pets, Techno!”
“Tell that to the sixty two wolf corpses!”
“ Condition eleven! ” Tubbo shouted to be heard above the others, unable to get their attention as Sapnap and Techno continued on, “ W —”
“Wait, no, no we can just skip over that—” Karl interrupted, receiving an annoyed look from Tubbo at being cut off. Quackity cocked an eyebrow, suspicious,
“You hiding something, Karl?”
“What? No, I’m not—”
“And after all we had said about trust!”
Eret pinched their nose, the two arguments continuing to grow in volume and Tubbo’s attempts to placate the group falling on deaf ears. They cleared their throat, indulging slightly in the dramatics as they spoke, their voice resonating in the throne room,
“ Enough. ”
The group quieted down instantly, and Eret could see a brief tension in Techno’s body at the sound of them speaking, relaxing when he put voice to face. Last minute insults were being muttered until Eret gave Quackity a pointed look, silencing him. They turned to Tubbo, gesturing for him to read the final condition,
“ ‘Condition eleven: we cuddle, uwu?’ ”
Karl pointedly did not make eye contact with any of his fiancés.
“That wasn’t what condition eleven was before.” Technoblade’s words were careful, each word deliberately chosen and holding back a well-concealed mixture of indecipherable emotions. The group, still influenced by Eret’s demand, remained quiet rather than beginning to argue once more; quiet followed the proclamation, the ticking of Karl’s pocket watch being the only sound audible in their silence. After a moment Karl cleared his throat, stuttering out at a higher pitch than usual,
“H-How about we just move to the concluding remarks, guys—”
“How did you even change it?” Quackity was fascinated, moving over to Tubbo to look at the document. Condition eleven began on a new page, looking exactly like the original all the way down to the identical concluding paragraph and the space for individual signatures, four lines for the fiancés, two spaces for Eret and Tubbo. If Quackity thought back on it, he was positive that the order in which they were meant to sign, each name printed below a line, were the same as well.
“We can just get rid of it entirely, really, ten is a good amount too—” he continued, ignoring Quackity’s question. Tubbo dipped his quill, prepared to cross out the condition until Techno held up a hand.
“Leave it there.”
Hesitant laughter from his fiancés, as Karl began to deeply regret his decision to change the condition; his joke had given him a momentary lapse in judgement that forgot that consequences existed, “No, it’s okay, we can get rid of i—”
“Are you willing to fight me on this, Karl?” One hand was already reaching to wield his sword, Techno entirely unbothered, as Karl rushed to assure him otherwise,
“We can keep it, we can keep it!”
“So, what do you think?” Quackity asked, grinning, “Is it a good contract or what?"
There were so many places to begin. Eret exhaled, blinking a few times behind their glasses before deciding on a neutral, “Well, it’s certainly… a contract.”
Tubbo handed the folder and quill over, already having signed; he had been there just as a witness, he had witnessed whatever all that was, and he was free to move on with his day. It was just up to Eret, as the court the four of them had decided to give the legal power over their marriage to. Recognition of the marriage, as witnessed and recognized by the king of the SMP, would give them the power to invoke it as an official, political alliance acknowledged by all factions and nations. It was an intelligent decision that, judging by his stance as he waited for Eret to sign, Quackity made, impatiently waiting for it to follow through.
They didn’t have to sign, they realized distantly; this whole marriage could be put behind them all, a memory they pulled up fondly when meeting with friends, a funny story to be told years down the line. The four of them could create their alliance in whatever form they chose, unofficially, agreed upon in the biting cold of the Arctic or high above the rest of the server in El Rapids; Eret choosing to sign did not decide whether or not the alliance would continue— it was confirmed the minute the group agreed upon the first condition. No, Eret signing would indicate to the larger world that this was something to be taken seriously. This alliance was a warning, powers converging together against a common enemy.
This marriage was a threat.
They had seen the beginnings of the Badlands’ influences on the SMP, overstepping their bounds. Rumor had it Tubbo was creating a new nation, a new government. Many had stepped into the shadows, trying to better their own situations through treachery and bloodshed. Alliances had formed and broken at every turn since two people were alive on the server, verbal reassurances becoming useless when spoken by those who had betrayed and been betrayed so many times before.
But here came El Rapids and the Arctic Commune, one approaching the other not with placating words or gestures of false sincerity, but with outlined decisions and consequences. Eret skimmed over the final paragraphs of the contract, the benefits if all conditions continued to be met, the consequences if a condition were to be broken. Plots were formed and outlined for if Techno was to betray the other three, the paragraphs a written warning against him turning on them; permissions were granted if Quackity ever needed to be stopped, orders that Sapnap and Karl would have to follow, else Techno took over the job for them. Outsiders were pulled in without remorse, all of them putting forward a loved one— fathers and old friends, allies and the ones they cared for— meant to hold them accountable. Every situation was accounted for.
This was dangerous, hidden beneath the jokes of who would wear the wedding dress, the true threat covered by warm laughter and conversations about gold bands and piglin tradition; this was an alliance that would not be broken easily, comprised of masters in various fields, bringing their individual skills together into a contract that threatened the current power balance of the server. Eret considered their place in this allegiance, an enabler of the events that would transpire upon signing; but they also considered the world outside of the throne room, nations destroyed, people scarred, and a masked man manipulating them all from above, pulling strings and putting on a show for his own amusement. The four that stood in front of him were untethered, free from the puppeteer.
Eret dipped their quill into the inkwell, looking at the four from over their glasses, “So, when’s the wedding?”