Chapter Text
The first one came with innocence.
𓆩♕𓆪
“It'll only be a sting,” Zam gently assures him, leaning from the mahogany side table to watch it happen.
“You sure about that?” Wemmbu mutters, muscles tensing every time he notices Merfin move out of the corner of his eye, anticipating the feeling of the needle pressing into his skin, despite each time just Merf prepping the area.
They were in some tall tower in the PrinceZam empire where it was only them, the birds nesting on the roof, and the afternoon sun wafting through the large open windows of the room. In two days, Wemmbu would leave and get settled in the new area Zam had cleared out for him, to start his grand empire. He hasn’t stopped thinking about it since Zam had offered it to him, fingers tingling to start working on any part of it.
Before that though, Zam had insisted he’d get a tattoo of the PrinceZam Empire crown. The very one that hung around the banners of this tower, the one that flew on the sails and the flags on top of the empire.
“Everyone else says its a sting,” Zam says, casually drumming his princely manicured nails on the table, “So, you should be fine."
"But it's my first time getting a tattoo, and everyone says that it always hurts the first time around." Wemmbu says anxiously. It’s truthful— he’s never cared for tattoos until now. This whole ordeal, the buzz of the tattoo machine, the smell of the ink, was intimidating.
"Oh. Well, I don't know. My first was a long time ago.” Zam shrugs, “My personal advice? Don't overreact when Merf puts it inside you.”
“...What?–”
Before the innuendo can settle into his mind, something pricks Wemmbu’s right forearm, sending a sharp feeling through his nerves forcing him to jerk back with a loud yelp. He flails in the seat, causing Merf to finch in response and make the tattoo pen jump out of Wemmbu’s skin, skittering onto the floor with a clamor. In it’s wake was a tiny dribble of red blood where Wemmbu’s purple skin was pierced.
“WEMMBU!” Zam shrieks, immediately standing up and backing up with her hands raised defensively, like Wemmbu was about to hurt her, “I TOLD YOU TO NOT OVERREACT!”
“WHATTHEFUCKBRO, I- I- I-ITS NOT MY FAULT!” Wemmbu screams back, sitting up and clutching his arm, glaring hard at both Merfin and Zam. “I COULD HAVE BEEN GIVEN A LITTLE BIT MORE OF A WARNING BEFORE HE–”
“OHHH MY GOD, NOW LOOK YOU MIGHTVE FUCKED UP YOUR WHOLE ARM AND LIFE!” Zam wails, ripping off a paper towel and forcing onto Wemmbu's hands for him to wipe off the blood. It had made a red trail down his forearm, slightly smearing the blue stencil ink prepared on his arm earlier.
Looking at it, his blood had slightly smudged the PrinceZam Empire logo on him. A nice golden yellow crown that was going to be inked onto his skin forever.
“YOU’RE BEING SO DRAMATIC! ALL HE DID WAS PIERCE MY SKIN.” Wemmbu retorts.
“THERE WAS INK ON THE PEN.”
“SO?!”
"INK POISONING!!!"
"WHATS THAT?!"
"WHAT?"
"WHAT!"
"INK POISONS YOUR SKIN, DUMMY— AND GETTING POISONED IS BAD!!!"
Wemmbu stills blotting away his blood. “...Ink can do that?”
Zam looks aghast. “YES?! YOU DIDN’T KNOW THAT?!”
“Don’t play around with ink poisoning bro,” Merf nods solemnly from the side while cleaning off the pen, “Shit really fucks you up.”
Wemmbu blinks. “Ohhh...” He should’ve come to that conclusion sooner. “Ink...poisoning. That makes sense.” He turns to Zam with a surprised look. “Wow, English is so intuitive sometimes, isn’t it? Like the word Firefighter.”
Steam is practically blowing out of Zam's ears right now, and it takes a lot of Wemmbu’s restraint to not burst into giggles. It was partially to ragebait Zam, but he really should have come to that conclusion further.
"Whatever," Wemmbu flops back onto the tattoo chair, throwing the blood stained tissue into Zam's face. Like predicted, Zam squeaked and slapped it to the side, a disgusted sneer wrinkling over his face. Wemmbu returned it with a mischievous, playful smirk on his face. "Genuinely, if I die from this stupid ink poisoning, it's both of your guys faults."
“Literally not.”
“Literally it is."
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“I hate you,”
“If you hate me so much, why are you forcing me to get this stupid tattoo?” Wemmbu challenged, gesturing to his arm again, which Merf was back to cleaning and preparing his arm again. He was refixing the crown stencil.
“Because you're doing a special favor for me,” Zam replies, leaning on the side desk again, one hand fisted on his cheek. "And that favor involves a plan of building your own empire… for me."
Wemmbu turns to his friend with a frown on his lips, “Yeah, a favor.” It seems like Zam wanted to keep the vault-thing underwraps, even though it was just the two of them...and Merfin. “Look, I know we're chill and all because of the whole Spoke-thing, and your empire is pretty cool, but do I have to get this tattoo?”
Zam blinks and straightens slightly, as if what Wemmbu just said offended him. “What— Yes? Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you get my tattoo?”
“Well, I mean— I’m practically starting an empire by myself that just happens to be in your kingdom’s area.” Wemmbu says, “Why do I, the up-and-coming leader of the Wemmbu Empire need a Zam Empire tattoo?”
Zam blinks again, and now Wemmbu feels real stupid. “Bro, I’m only letting you have a kingdom because I need you to...protect my vault for me,” The way he says ‘protect my vault’ sounded weird— has been, since Zam had asked him, though Wemmbu couldn’t figure out why.
“Okay, well I know that—” Wemmbu starts, but Zam rolls his eyes.
“And that tattoo—” Zam nods at the mark on his forearm, “—Is to let everyone know that you are from the PrinceZam empire. Your my...no, your empire belongs to me, and everyone will know that when they look at your arm."
"But why can't I have my own tattoo, something that resembles me?" Wemmbu says.
"Because you can't." There's something weird written on Zam's face that Wemmbu can't read— fear? "Powerful people have tattoos of themself. I- uh, you aren’t as strong as me. Won’t be, so you can’t have one...”
His eyes seem to go slightly distant, trailing off for no reason, causing the room to fall into an awkward, tense silence, save for the birds chirping merrily outside and the soft whir of the expensive tattooing ink machine.
Wemmbu shifts uncomfortably in his seat. What was that supposed to mean? He gets by plenty well on his own. He’s more decent than most players on this server. Maybe not the greatest per se, but he’s beaten enough to prove some feats. That’s why he was with Zam in the first place, because he had that potential. All he want was to not get some yellow ink on his skin for this empire. He’s never gotten tattooed before and hadn’t planned getting one ever, but Zam was so insistent on getting him one that he just...allowed him to do so.
Because Zam was his friend, and he trusts him enough.
“Okay,” Wemmbu coughs, breaking the silence, “So I guess you’re not gonna let me get take-backsies and let me leave this room without a tattoo?”
“Take-backsies,” Zam giggles, blinking out of her stupor, “Yeah no. You’re getting this tattoo, I want people to know that your empire belongs to mine, alright?”
“Alright, alright,” Wemmbu sighs, letting his body go slack on the seat, lulling his head to the side to watch Merfin get the tattoo pen ready. “Doing too much for a empire colony in my opinion, but you know, it’s whatever.”
“Nothing’s ever too much for anything.” Zam says quietly, resting his arms and head on the side table like he was about to nod off to sleep. They were close enough to where Wemmbu could smell the sweet perfume he had on— lavenders and magnolias. “You can never be too prepared, you know?”
“Mhm. But maybe that’s a problem too. Too prepared for a wrong situation— you know I’m not going to get hurt, right?”
“How do you know? Unstable’s pretty dangerous.”
“Yeah, but nobody's going to bother me. They know better.”
“...How so?”
Wemmbu turns his head to grin at Zam, meeting her wary eyes (He doesn’t register why they look like that at the time, but later he wonders), “Because, I’ll be able to take them down like that,” He does a slicing motion with his hand, accidentally brushing against Zam’s hair near his neck, making the prince flinch violently, way more than she should’ve. “...Oops, but you get the point, yeah.”
Zam doesn’t reply, just nods silently and gestures stiffly back to Merf. “Look, here he goes.”
Wemmbu turns back and watches, only tensing slightly as the pen pierced his skin again, starting the tattooing process. He can smell the ink. It stinks.
Yellow has always looked good on purple, Wemmbu reasons to himself. This won’t look bad, right?
𓆩♕𓆪
“I didn’t know you got tattoos,” Egg said.
Wemmbu looked up from his spot in their pumpkin farm, sweaty and exhausted. It was a new day, which meant they had to plant another row to maximise efficient villager trading. “What?”
Egg points with his diamond hoe at his right forearm, “Tattoo.”
Wemmbu blinks down at it too. His fancy long sleeves were rolled up all the way, revealing the nice yellow crown on his arm. “Oh. It’s the PrinceZam empire logo. You like?”
“Why do you have that?”
“Cus, I’m apart of PrinceZam’s empire.” Wemmbu shrugs, going back to digging the dirt out of the ground.
“But this is the Wemmbu Empire, you don’t gotta have that.”
“That’s what I said when I got it, but I mean, I guess it makes sense.” Wemmbu replies, “We are technically a part of her empire— a colony of sorts. I guess it makes sense for me to have it.”
“Does that mean I gotta get one too?”
“Nah. Not yet, probably. It’s not worth tattooing everyone in our colony if we’re still building up.”
Egg hums, goes back to tilling the land with both of his hoes. After a moment, he speaks up again. “Do you have your own tattoo?”
“Of what?”
“I dunno, your own logo? Cus this is your empire and stuff?”
“Um, no...Zam didn’t want me to get another tattoo of anything else.” Wemmbu replies sheepishly.
“...What? Why do they have a say about that?”
“I don’t know, something about strength and power, or whatever,” Wemmbu rolls his wrist to mock his friend’s theatricalness, “Just doesn’t want me to get another tattoo.”
“Strength and power...” Egg mutters.
“Mhm. Says it’s just worth having only this tattoo, because I’m ruling this area in place for Zam.”
Wemmbu glances back up at Egg, whose giving him an incredulous look, like Wemmbu had said something nasty.
“It’s chill,” Wemmbu waves him off, “I’m fine without my own tattoo. I’ll get one when this empire gets really going, when it becomes a real civilization,” He grins, looking behind him to their obsidian walls and the foundations of their town halls. Houses were already built by Horace, and Wemmbu has already written invites for the people he wants in this civilization waiting to be sent out.
He can't lie– he's incredibly excited to see this nation rise. Who will join? How big will it grow? Past the hills? Maybe, if he ran this right, would expand all the way to the ocean where the actual Prince Zam empire was.
He turns back to see Egg flit warily between his PrinceZam empire tattoo and him.
“Alright Wemmbu,” Egg sighs, “Whatever you say.”
𓆩♕𓆪
Innocence is fragile. It breaks too easily, and once it shatters, it becomes completely irreparable.
𓆩♕𓆪
The hot sun beating down on them must be the reason why this hallucination is happening.
Yes, it must be. A good explanation. This is one big mass hallucination that everyone, him, his civilians, PrinceZam, everyone must be experiencing simultaneously at the same time. One big fucking mass hallucination.
“ ...Yeah, I mean, I did ask Flame to come and kill you,” PrinceZam conceded, speaking as if she speaking to Wemmbu on casual terms, “But...then I realized that...you’re too pathetic to be killed.”
Wemmbu stills, hand on Nightrider loosening slightly.
“I thought you were going to betray me!” He laughs, “You know, back in the trial chambers, you said you were going to betray me, do something to my empire—” Gold eyes bore into his purple ones as Prince Zam steps closer and closer to him. “—so I was going to have you killed!”
“What!? I–” Wemmbu flinches at the word killed. A clean, manicured hand lands on his broken right shoulder armor piece, effectively silencing him. It was broken because of FlameFrags, who had beaten him to bits just moments ago, who was now standing amongst the yellow trimmed guards like an ally, like a liar like the rest of them.
“But you are just like, so unbelievably weak that I–” A deranged giggle leaves her mouth more and more as she barrels on, “–I'm not even going to try to kill you! You’re not a threat to my empire. Not even a little bit. I was going to chunk ban you— that’s why I came here actually, but—”
Her gold eyes drop down, then back up, eyes dragging particularly on Wemmbu’s exposed, ripped right forearm revealing the tattoo. Wemmbu doesn’t miss how her eyes glitter with detestation— how could he not miss his look? Wemmbu can’t seem to rip his eyes off of the golden prince. If he looks anywhere else, he’s scared that...that...
“ —I mean, you don’t have any boots on, your entire place is blown up—”
Wemmbu truly wants to move, wants to put on his elytra and high-tail it out of there, just so he won’t hear the end of this, but his heart lurches.
“You’re nothing!”
His world view tilts.
“I can just beat you up—” The manicured hand on his shoulder shoves him back. Wemmbu stumbles easily. “ —but, I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to chunk ban you,” Wemmbu barely registers her other hand waving to her guards.
“I’m just going to, I don’t know, mess around with you.”
It’s when he’s forced to watch TNT get placed around his town hall does the weight of the situation finally crash down on Wemmbu.
The smell of gunpowder rises through the air. The unmistakable force of the TNT makes Wemmbu flinch.
It’s after the first round does Wemmbu speak up. It takes a moment to find his voice, weak and clogged in his throat.
“B-bro, you’re the one who told me to build all this stuff in the first place.” He croaks out.
“Yeah,” Prince Zam smiles easily, the same smile he gave Wemmbu the day after he received the tattoo, “That was all part of the plan; just a little distraction to keep you busy while I reallocate my stuff, y'know?"
How much of this was part of the plan? Wemmbu subconsciously places his hand on his forearm— on his PrinceZam tattoo as FlameFrags shouts FIRE!, helplessly listening to the explosions of the dynamite ring through the air, his mind, collapsing what was left of his town hall.
A bit of soul dies here, he’s sure of that.
Prince Zam stands close to Wemmbu as they both watch. Her hands are clasped behind her back, shifting her weight from her heel to her toes, humming a mindless tune. They’re as close as they were when they were back at that tattoo tower. Wemmbu can smell that sickly sweet perfume Prince Zam always wore. It’s starting to give him a headache.
“You know,” Prince Zam murmurs lowly, in a voice only Wemmbu could hear, “I...I actually kind of enjoyed working with you...but I— I—” Wemmbu turns his head to his left, and sees a bit of rue in Prince Zam’s eyes fixed on the destruction. “Again, I know how you are...I know what you do, betray, and I’m not going to give you the chance to do that to my empire...because I care too much about it.”
A leaf from a nearby tree drifts past them, turning in front of Wemmbu’s face.
“Then why tattoo me, if you were going to do this all along?” Wemmbu whispers bitterly.
“Why tattoo you...” Prince Zam echoes slowly, eyes slowly dropping to Wemmbu’s hand, still clasped over his right forearm, “I...I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Maybe because I wanted to see how it looked on you. See if you fit. Maybe because I wanted to sell you the act,” Prince Zam admits, surprising Wemmbu from this raw admission. Her eyes glaze over for a moment, the same way as they did in that tattoo room, though she blinks out of it fast enough to not linger. “Look. This entire thing was—”
“I know. A scam. A fraud. A cheat. A lie.” Wemmbu’s voice rises at each accusation, his body finally coming back to his senses, a fire in him starting to flicker alive. “This whole civilization, just to keep me in one pretty place to ruin me, huh?”
Prince Zam flicks up to meet his eyes, all loss of regret now and pure hatred. Wemmbu should’ve memorized this look, should’ve seen the signs earlier. Egg had pointed it out to him, and he had brushed it off. But now? So blatantly put out on Prince Zam’s face? Clear as day. Prince Zam has worn this expression in every single conversation.
“I’m handing you mercy on a silver platter right now,” Prince Zam sneers, backing away from Wemmbu slightly, allowing herself to rise to her proper posture and to be flanked by her guards, who jump to her side.
“You’re not a threat to me. Just move on to something better, move on to something else, and don’t mess with me in any way shape or form.” She brandishes her sword, gripping it hard in her hand, “Just don’t mess with me in any way shape or form. Let this,” She gestures to his crumbling town hall, blown to bits at this point, “Be a lesson to you.”
𓆩♕𓆪
Staring down at the craters in his empire after feels like staring into chasms. The howling wind fills what empty space that was left behind, blissfully blowing without any knowledge of the massacre going on in his mind.
The war was over.
Zam empire was no more...but...so was his.
Wemmbu blinks blearily at the wreckage, unconsciously tracing his forearm with the PrinceZam empire logo on it. He hasn’t stopped doing it, some cruel habit he’s picked up now— Wemmbu can’t understand why.
He has to leave here eventually. To move on.
But he can’t.
His pride, his joy, his grand empire. In ruins.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
Will it all end like this?
Wemmbu’s eyes drop down to look at the tattoo. It’s still as yellow as the day he got it.
They all won’t end like this, surely not.