Chapter Text
It starts so innocuously.
Everyone has gathered in the living room, one of those afternoons where the sun slants through the gaps in the blinds, creating little lines on the floor. Follow one as it touches the base of the couch, falling over Logan's knee as he reads a book, then over Virgil's crossed legs as his head bobs to music playing over his headphones. Follow another and it runs across Janus's shoulder, his gloved fingers tapping delicately on the table as he considers his next move. Across from him, split by another line, is Patton, carefully moving a piece across the board. On the floor, bathed in the one large gap in the very center of the slats, are the twins, their heads together, muttering furiously over some notebooks and loose papers strewn in a circle around them.
Their conversation is, as it often is with these two, animated enough to filter through the other haze of entertainment or distraction that permeates the room. Virgil pulls a headphone away just to learn what made Roman contort his face like that, Janus hides a smile at one of Remus's more enthusiastic defenses, and Logan glances up from his book when their shadows begin to throw themselves a bit too vigorously against the walls.
But it is Patton who eventually reaches out to pop their little bubble of intimacy.
"What're you two working so hard on over there?"
"We're plotting, Pat Pat!"
Virgil snorts. "Way to make it sound sinister as all get out, Remus."
"I mean, it is an accurate description." Roman sits back, leaning his weight onto his hands. "We're scripting the next big Story for the Imagination."
"You're scripting the what?"
"Oh," Logan sighs, turning a page in this book, "this little thing."
Had he glanced up once again, he might have noticed the little flickers of emotion on the twins' faces, but as it was, he did not.
"I don't know what this is," Patton says, turning in his chair, "do—do all of you?"
"Every once in a while," Remus says before Logan can open his mouth again, "we do a big Story in the Imagination. Like, a big one. One that involves all the people, the creatures, the whole nine yards."
"It helps keep the Imagination running," Roman says, "helps Thomas with his Creativity."
Virgil snorts. "Yeah, right."
Another flicker across Roman's face. Remus, unseen to them, reached out to hold his hand. "What's with the attitude, Emo?"
He tugs a headphone away, pausing his music with a sigh. "I just mean that it's kind of funny that Thomas only has two Sides for one thing and yet apparently that's the one that needs this whole…what, yearly thing? To keep it on track. It's just kinda funny."
"You know, that's a good point." Patton gestures at them. "There are two of you. Isn't that enough to keep the Imagination going? I mean—clearly Roman uses it enough by himself."
Roman frowns. "What does that mean?"
Janus chuckles, board game all but forgotten. "You don't have to play coy, Roman. We all know that you go into the Imagination more than anyone else, even Remus."
"Yeah, 'cause I have work to do in there."
"Going on quests that are supposed to give you ideas isn't working, Roman." Logan turns another page, gaze still flickering over the words. "It's not fair to Remus either."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, why're you bringing me into this? What's Roro's work in the Imagination gotta do with me?"
"You don't have to pretend, Remus, we all know."
"I don't!" Remus sits up properly, his hand falling away from Roman's. "I do not, in fact, have any idea about whatever you're talking about. Why're you using me as a prop to hurt Roro?"
"Calm down, Remus, no one's hurting Roman."
"Yeah, jeez. Way to be dramatic." Virgil rolls his eyes. "We're just saying that it's a little weird that Roman gets to go on all sorts of adventures in the Imagination and call it working when you don't do that and you still manage to produce the same amount of work."
"Sometimes more," Janus mutters under his breath, and yet Roman's mouth thins into a neat line all the same.
"Do you even have anything in the Imagination that's, y'know, yours? Everything I've ever seen is Roman's."
Remus grits his teeth. "That's because we only let you guys go in Roman's part of the Imagination. We don't trust you in the rest of it."
"Re," Roman warns quietly as the other rise up indignantly.
"No, Ro! I'm not gonna apologize for that! You and I both know we can't let them in anywhere else, not when they still think there's such a thing as a Good Creativity and a Bad Creativity!"
The room falls silent. Sunlight rifles its fingers through the stillness.
Patton laughs, high and loud. "What're you talking about? Of course there is!"
"Maybe not objectively speaking," Logan adds, "but in the case of Thomas, and for you two, well…"
"It's not like it's hidden. You guys literally wear black and white."
"And if that's not a heavy-handed metaphor," Janus adds, "I don't know what is."
Roman's shoulders slump, even as Remus clenches his fists and his jaw works. "Yeah, see, and this is why we don't trust you."
"Remus, I'm surprised at you." Patton gestures over the back of his chair. "Aren't you the one who's always so happy about how awful you get to be?"
"Yeah, because that's my role and I like to have fun playing my role. Do you really think I'm just awful all the time for no other reason?"
"Of course not," Logan says quickly when Patton falters, not that anyone mistakes the faltering for what it is, "Patton's just saying that Roman doesn't do things like that, and never has, so—"
"Because that's not his job!"
"Re," Roman tries again, hands going to Remus's shoulder, "it's not worth it. They're never going to believe us."
"That's bullshit, Ro."
"Language, Remus. See, I never have to—"
"Oh, cut the shit, Patton," Remus interrupts, "you and the others wouldn't know what to do with yourselves if it was the other way around."
"What do you mean, 'the other way around?'"
"If Roman was the bad guy in a story. You'd all have no idea what to do with yourselves. There isn't a good one of us or a bad one. We like Creating different types of things and we're practiced at Creating different types of things. It's not our fault that you and Thomathy are only used to basic, boring storytelling that doesn't actually have anything to do with us."
Virgil frowns. "What do you mean, 'basic storytelling?' You're the one talking about heroes and villains, that's the most basic storytelling there is!"
It's Roman's turn to roll his eyes. "Nice, clean, handsome prince fights stinky, filthy villain and wins. That's the most cliche story there is and half the time it's not even that well written."
"Don't insult your brother like that, Roman," Patton scolds, only for the twins to throw their hands up.
"See? It's not an insult to me, he's literally describing the role that you all make me play! It's not our fault that you guys lack Imagination. If we put you in a story where Ro was the bad guy, you'd realize how bad you are at it."
Logan scoffs lightly, eyes still focused on his book. "Forgive my disbelief, but I highly doubt Roman would make a successful villain."
The twins pause. They look at each other. A breeze ripples through their paper scattered along the floor.
After a few seconds, Roman's shoulders slump. "Fine."
"Fine? Fine, what?"
"You're going to be part of this one. This Story. Then maybe you might understand."
"Understand what?"
Roman meets Virgil's gaze and a shadow passes over the lines of sunlight. "That it's not our fault."
"I don't know about you," Virgil mutters, tugging his cloak a little closer around his shoulders, "but this looks the same as everything else has every time we've been in the Imagination before."
Indeed, the four of them walk down a cobbled path past a small house with a thatched roof as a horse-drawn carriage rolls by. Merchants lean out of doorways, pleasant smells waft from freshly baked loaves of bread sitting on windowsills, children run about with laughter bubbling freely from their lips. Logan adjusts the small pack on his hip as Janus fiddles with the buckles on his gloves.
"They did say they didn't trust us in Remus's part of the Imagination." Patton sniffs. "Maybe this is them making that clear."
"So Roman's supposed to be the bad guy? What do you think that means?"
Logan sighs. "I suppose that will mean that Remus—or the Duke will be whomever is in charge of this part of the kingdom and we'll have to…I don't know, fend off Roman's invading army?"
"Ooh, that's a good idea, Logan."
"Yeah, did you sneak a peek at their plans, or something?"
Logan shakes his head, a smirk crawling across his face. "No, I'm just well-versed in 'basic, boring storytelling.'"
The four of them laugh. As they round the corner, the sunlight glances off of something metallic. Logan's laughter fades as he spots a building not quite as modest as the other houses they've walked past. His pause causes the others to slow, following his gaze to look at the building.
"That house looks so much fancier."
"I know. It's like a proper log cabin."
"Is it just me or does it look really out of place?"
Logan sighs. "Perhaps they didn't put as much effort into this story because they knew it was for us."
Patton smacks him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm sure they did their best."
"At the very least, they could have picked up those stupid reflectors." Virgil stalks forward and plucks a round disc mounted on a thin pole from the ground. "They really ruin the whole vibe."
"There's not that many of them, just grab 'em and let's keep going."
With the discs tucked into the fold of Virgil's cloak, they continue walking. Soon, the road opens up into a proper street, larger buildings lining the edges as the people grow numerous and the air grows noisy. A market, a proper market—goods-laden stalls open into the fresh air, smiling faces and the clinking of coins as they walk. Logan gets drawn towards a covered wagon with leather bound books, Janus towards an exquisite display of fanciful hats and cloaks. Patton and Virgil have to tug their elbows every once in a while to keep them on track as they meander towards what must be the town square.
Someone grabs Patton's elbow.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" his voice cuts off abruptly as he stares down into the face of a haggard old woman.
"Beware," her voice hisses, "beware the Dragon Prince."
"The…Dragon Prince?" His voice brings the others' attention. "Who's the Dragon Prince?"
"When the hour is dark and the kingdom stirs, the Dragon Prince calls forth the beast to watch his treasure burn." The woman tightens her grip on his arm. "Beware the Dragon Prince."
Before anyone can say anything else, she lets go and vanishes into the crowd.
"So," Virgil mutters, "that was…ominous."
"Indeed." Logan scans the crowd in an attempt to find her, but to no avail. "I would guess the Dragon Prince is Roman."
"Yeah, that seems like a name he'd give himself."
"To watch his treasure burn…don't dragons hoard treasure?" Patton rubs the edge of his cloak between his fingers. "Why would he burn it?"
"It sounds like he's calling forth the dragon to burn his treasure."
"Why would he do that?"
Logan opens his mouth to answer when he's suddenly knocked into by a large man. He turns, affronted, only for the man to hold up his hands.
"Sorry, sorry! Innocent mistake, my friend, I wasn't looking at where I was going."
"Forgive him," another man says, quickly wrapping his arm over the first man's shoulders. "He's merely excited."
"Excited for what?"
The man's face lights up. "Oh, don't tell me you haven't heard? The grand dance is tonight! The Crown has invited us all up to the castle to spend a night drinking and making merry under the light of the stars!"
"So many people have come from all over the land to partake," the first man says, "is that not why you have come here?"
"But of course," Janus says smoothly before anyone else can speak, "forgive us, in our marvel at the splendor of the market, we had quite forgotten."
"All is forgiven," the second man says with a wave of his hand, "the Crown is truly generous, and it is not to be unappreciated. Hopefully we will see you there?"
"We shall indeed."
The two men wave goodbye and join the throng of people milling about. Janus blows out a breath and shakes his head.
"Wow, Janus," Patton says, "that was great?"
"What can I say, the twins are the only wordsmiths in the Mindscape." He claps his hands. "Well, it sounds like we have a party to get ready for."
The four of them dash off towards the garment section of the market, minds already a flutter with fanciful costumes, brilliant colors, impressive jewels and accessories. The old woman watches them go, a pinched expression on her face.