Chapter Text
· · ─ ·⚔︎· ─ · ·
It is only with the last dredges of unconsciousness does Purpled drag himself out of bed at the sound of Hannah shouting his name from downstairs. A dampened excitement thrums through the soles of his feet as they pad against the wooden floor, getting ready for the day with practised motions. It’s only when he finally rounds the corner, nearly running into Hannah that he sees his older sister, a slightly messy braid hung over her shoulder and a plain, pinkish red blouse.
“Hurry up,” Hannah says, not unkindly as she shoves Purpled in the direction of the door. “You’re gonna be late.” Purpled rolls his eyes, stealing an apple off the table and taking a bite out of it.
“They start at sunrise, it’s still dark out.” Purpled’s mouth is half full, glancing at the window still shadowed by the night. “I’ve got time.”
“Yeah yeah,” Hannah responds, a little distracted, digging through a basket for something. She finds it with a small triumphant noise, shoving it into her pocket. “Get going through. Like now. Foolish is going to leave without you.”
“Foolish can try,” Purpled almost dares, heading for the exit regardless. With one hand on the doorknob and the other holding his half-eaten apple, Hannah stops him. “Wait- Purpled, come here.”
“I’m getting a lot of mixed messages.”
”Purpled.”
Purpled sighs with a fondness he’ll fervently deny, walking towards Hannah. She sets her hands on his shoulders- it’s a little awkward, Hannah being shorter than Purpled. It wasn’t always like this, when Purpled was little and Hannah just… wasn’t. When Purpled was barely touching being a teenager and Hannah was barely leaving it, just on opposite ends of growing up. And then Purpled hit a growth spurt somewhere, and it left him a head taller than his older sister, forcing her to look up at him to see him in the eyes.
“Happy birthday, kid,” Hannah almost has to go on her tippy toes to ruffle his head, and Purpled ducks under it to avoid it as she lets out a small laugh. “Be the best, Purpled.”
“I already am.” He grins, a rare, coyish thing as Hannah shakes her head fondly.
He heads out shortly after that, practically running out of his tiny winding street that he and Hannah live in onto the larger, more cobbled road where most of the traffic occurs.
The town that Purpled lives in is nothing extraordinary. Just a small thing, tucked in the fields of a larger empire with a kind king and a pair of princes that have opposite reputations. Today, though, small decorations had begun to pop up all over. Colourful things that wrapped around wooden poles and announcement boards, the occasional poster staked into the ground. Purpled rolls his eyes at it all, holding a scoff as a familiar little wagon holding boxes comes cobbling down the street. It passes where Purpled is standing and he breaks into a half run, swinging onto the wagon and gripping the ridges of the boxes with his fingers. It’s a small adrenaline rush every morning, just enough to leave a phantom smile on his lips.
“Holy shit, Purps, you gotta stop doing that,” Foolish, sitting on the horse's back, puts a hand to his chest, glancing at the teenager now sitting behind him. Purpled hums, taking the final bite of his apple and spying a garbage a little ways away.
“Nah.”
“You get one pass, only today.” Foolish says, looking ahead and steering around a couple people walking on the same path.
“You say that every day,” Purpled deadpans, throwing the apple. It hits the side of the trash before tumbling in, and Foolish makes a low whistle. “Admit it old man, you like the thrill.”
“I’m twenty three. That is not old. You’re just a child.”
“Adds a little excitement to your old man life-”
“I’m not old-”
“Denial isn’t a great look on you, Foolish-”
Foolish throws his hands up, leaning back to smack Purpled on the head before he can dodge. It gets a laugh out of the younger one, ending their conversation and letting it settle into an easier silence.
“Hey, d’you remember-”
“Don’t even say it.” Purpled cuts him off before the story even begins, knowing exactly what he’d say. Foolish laughs, not even glancing back at the boy. They’d known each other long enough that Purpled has no doubt Foolish could guess what his expression looks like.
“It’s true though! A little ten year old, trying to walk from Las Nevadas to the capital-”
Purpled groans loudly, burying his face in his hands. “That was six years ago Foolish, let it go-”
“I’m never letting you live that down,” Foolish says, still grinning. “I can’t believe you didn’t even tell your sister when you left.”
“She was already at work,” Purpled mutters, trying to sink into the floor of the wagon. “I would’ve been fine.”
“You would’ve been run over by a stray pack of sheep.” Foolish deadpans, turning left at a crossroad. The sound of the horse hooves against the ground is a familiar repetitive noise. It almost wants to put Purpled to sleep.
“Says the guy named Foolish.”
“Hey!”
The indignation in his friend’s voice almost draws a smile out of Purpled as he settles into the gap between two boxes, leaning his head back and letting it knock against the wood. The conversation lulls again, staying rather quiet until the capital slowly comes over the horizon.
It lets Purpled sit in his thoughts for the day, try to feel every part of his body and his surroundings. Foolish, breathing slightly staggered to his own, The clop clop, clop clop, clop clop of the horses, the gentle vibration that echoes through his fingertips that rest on the wagon floor he sits on. It’s no different from yesterday, or the day before, or a year before that- nearly every morning has been the same since Purpled had decided to become a knight at ten years old, and started a trek towards the golden city before Foolish had taken pity on kid on the side of the road.
The sights are the same, too- the sun rising over the capital city of the Antarctic Empire, dousing it in a golden hue every morning. It's just as breathtaking as the first time Purpled saw it, even if he won’t ever acknowledge it.
They arrive at the outermost corner of the city just as the sun begins to crawl higher into the sky, and the place starts to come to life with noise and people. Purpled practically runs through small alleys and weaves through people to get closer to the palace. A huge thing made of beige-whites and teals, Purpled takes a sharp right just before reaching its gates. Instead, his aim is the considerably more worn- lived in- place, a stone building with a spacious courtyard surrounded by walls in the front.
A group of people were already congregating in the empty space, bustling around. Purpled slows to a walk, setting his face into a purposefully bored expression, despite the anticipation buzzing in his fingers. He knocks on the gate, even though it's open. A man with dark hair that almost looks green in the sun turns toward the sound, face lighting up in recognition at the boy standing there.
“Purpled!” He announces, a domino effect rippling through of a dozen or so other people turning their heads and echoing the sentiment- Sam laughs, pulling the gate open. Purpled ducks his head and steps inside, a barely contained grin on his face.
“So I’m allowed in now?” He drawls at the general, leaning on the wall. Sam raises both eyebrows at him.
“Like you didn’t walk in even when you weren’t. All polite now you’re seventeen?”
“Fuck no,” Purpled shoots back, running a hand through his hair. He can see a couple other familiar faces coming toward his direction out of the corner of his eye, before focusing back on Sam. There’s no nervousness in his voice, just mild trepidation and an excitement he can’t quite stamp out. “So I’m in?”
Sam laughs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Purpled, you’ve been sneaking into the knight barracks since you were ten years old, and we had to shoo you out with a broom. Your name has been on the top of this year's recruits for months.”
“Damn right,” Purpled says, nudging Sam’s side and dodging the returning hit, in the direction of the other familiar faces making their way towards him.
“Purpled!” Quackity crows, always the loudest of the bunch. He swings an arm around Purpled’s shoulder, shaking him entirely regardless of the rather significant height difference. “All grown up huh? Too cool to sneak in?”
“I always knew you encouraged it,” Puffy almost scolds, if it weren’t for the smile and fondness in her voice. Quackity releases his hold on Purpled and puts his hands up like a guilty man. “Captain, I’ve never done a thing wrong in my life.”
“So now that I’m legal,” Purpled starts, “does this mean I can spill every time Quackity let me in-” his words were cut off with an elbow to the stomach, and Quackity smiled, showing off his gold tooth.
“Purpled, shut the fuck up.”
The boy snickers as a couple other people give a quick happy birthday- all of them ones he knows, faces he’s seen when he would sneak up the stone walls and land in the stable hay, and watch intently from the bushes as they trained. They’d all watched Purpled grow up, in a way; still a kid full of sarcasm, but one that held himself with his head a little higher, and confidence in his eyes.
“The city feels busier today,” Puffy notes, eyes crinkling a little bit in the sun.
“It’s the prince's 17th birthday soon isn’t it?” Quackity says, half mouth full of- something. Purpled didn’t even see him eat anything. “Prince Theseus.”
Purpled rolls his eyes again, poorly disguised contempt settling on his face. “Who cares. No one has seen him in years, anyway.”
Puffy nudges him, the smoke of a fire behind her eyes. “He's still your prince. You’re not twelve anymore, Purpled. ”
“But he is. Hannah tells me about the stories- everyone in the palace knows.”
“Purpled,” Quackity says, a warning tone. In the heat of the moment, he ignores it, hands clenching and unclenching. Hannah’s told him, he knows- Theseus has been an asshole to her, even for doing their job. He’s an asshole to everyone.
“I mean, Prince Technoblade- he’s a proper prince. Prince Theseus is a prick and treats everyone like shit.”
”Purpled.” That one is much sharper as Puffy fixes him with a look that shuts Purpled up almost immediately, his jaw settling into a pulled back frown. She looks like the Captain she is, and even though Purpled towers over her he still somehow finds himself looking down. “Prince Theseus is not only a prince, but your prince, and you will mention him as such. If you want to be a knight, start acting like one.”
Purpled looks down, eyebrows pulling together. Enough people have quieted down to listen that arguing right now would just lead to a bigger fight, and people didn’t fight with Captain Puffy.
They only lost.
“Fine,” he mutters, not looking the woman in the eyes. She makes a satisfied noise, dropping her hands from her hips and walking towards Purpled to set one on his shoulder.
“You’re a good kid, Purpled,” she says, softer. “Don’t ruin your future over something stupid like a grudge.” She picks off a leaf that fell from the shirt, and flicks it off. Puffy opens her mouth as if to say something before snapping it shut, shaking her head slightly. With a quick pat, she disappears into the crowd of people, leaving Purpled and Quackity alone.
Quackity whistles. Purpled kicks his shin.
“Ow!”
“I didn’t even hit you that hard,” Purpled deadpans, scanning the crowd some more. “Where’s Tubbo?”
“Skipped out,” Quackity snorted, leaning against the stone wall. “Said there was ‘too much of a crowd’ and that ‘all the newbies would drop out day one’ or something.”
“He literally was one of them last year.”
Quackity shrugs, a careless thing. All of them are too used to Tubbo’s antics by now. “Try telling him that.” Then he stands up a little straighter, like something caught his eye. “Hey, who's that kid?”
Purpled eyes trail to the entrance, where a tall blonde boy stops in the archway, a hand on the gate and hesitating. He’s looking around in a way only someone who's never seen it does, and clothes hang off his frame just a little too ill-fitting. “He’s new,” Purpled notes, and Quackity snorts, glancing at Purpled.
”You’re new.”
Purpled presses his lips into a line as Sam waves the kid over and the teenager- though he looks much younger, with baby fat still rounding his cheeks and the way he fidgets with his sleeves. “Not new like that. He doesn’t even look like he’s from around here.”
And... he doesn’t. His hair is too shiny, there’s a cloak hanging on his shoulders that’s a little too short and wrong for the weather. Quackity just sighs, and Sam gestures for the boy to sign something Purpled doesn’t quite catch a glimpse of.
Quackity says something else that Purpled filters out, attention mostly focused on the new prospective knight. Quackity is right, though- technically, Purpled is in the same boat as him. Only that Purpled’s been doing it for half a decade before he was allowed to, and no one had ever seen this boy.
And then there’s the familiar sound of Sam’s echoing voice, and Purpled draws his eyes away from the newcomer, looking toward where Sam now has a circle surrounding him. With quick instructions that only need a little bit of organization, the chatter dies down and everyone arranges themselves in lines facing Sam and Puffy. There can’t be more than thirty people here, really- and Purpled vaguely recognizes almost all of them.
“Good morning!” Sam projects his voice across the courtyard, a resounding good morning! echoing back. “This is your first day of Knighthood for the Antarctic Empire. My name is Marshal Sam, and as most of you should know, King Philza’s right hand man. This is Captain Puffy, and her word will be your law for the entirety of your careers.”
Puffy holds her head high. Her curly split-coloured hair tumbling down to her hips, leaving a peculiar silhouette in her shadow.
“The pathway to Knighthood takes six months,” Puffy begins, taking a step forward. Her eyes catch Purpled’s before flitting over to the rest of the crowd. “Two months after that, the yearly Pit Tournament takes place, of which the winner gains the honour of becoming a Household Knight to a noble family. You may step out before the Pit, but the experience gained in it is invaluable, and cannot be replicated in training.”
For a moment, Puffy speaks a little softer, particularly in the direction of the newer recruits- the blonde, and another kid with tanned skin and dark hair. “I understand Knighthood isn’t for everyone. You have a week to drop out. Bunks will be provided, and the partners will be assigned.”
A chorus of Yes, Captain! shout back at her. Purpled tries to contain his grin; it’s only been five years of watching recruits sign up and only one or two stragglers remain to become fully fledged knights. Most of them show up because becoming a knight is a dream, farfetched and thought of only in the darker hours, between the awkward space of midnight and sunrise.
But not for Purpled. The dirt beneath his boots is familiar, the shuffle of Quackity against his shoulder and Puffy’s words, less so but the voice is the same.
It’s only when Puffy finally releases them that Purpled allows the smile to crawl over his face, covering his mouth with a hand.
· · ─ ·⚔︎· ─ · ·
Assigning partners, turns out, is boring as fuck. It’s been almost two hours of standing with his back straight, staring at nothing. Purpled is pretty sure at least two people had fallen asleep, only woken up at the sound of Sam slamming a book on the sign up table. That’s been the thing entertaining Purpled the most, right now- that, and watching the blonde kid shift his feet every few seconds. His fingers keep tapping on his thighs impatiently, like he’s waiting for the entire thing to go quicker. Every time Sam and Puffy have looked away, he’s nudged the other new recruit, the tiniest of snickers escaping before straightening up when either one looks their way.
Sam finally sighs and looks up, the pencil finally put down and the lines surveyed with knife-like precision, and he begins announcing names.
“To start with the newest recruits,” Sam says, eyes settling on Purpled. “Purpled.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll be paired with Tommy.”
Purpled blinks.
Then, another voice-
“What kinda fuckin’ name is that?”
Everyone, Purpled included, turns their head to the source. The blonde boy stands slightly out of formation, staring between Sam and Purpled.
There is no fucking way Sam put Purpled with that idiot.
“Tommy,” Sam says, not missing a beat, and Purpled wants to jump off a cliff. Genuinely. Bury him in the dirt beneath his feet right now. “Get down and give me twenty.”
Tommy gapes for a second, and Sam looks back. “Did I stutter?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, sir.” Tommy grits it out. He gets down on the ground, chest against the stone and begins doing push-ups. Sam watches him for a second before turning his attention away. He starts to shout names- none of which concern Purpled, truly, because for the next eight months his partner is Tommy.
Who the fuck is this kid?
Purpled watches as he finishes his push ups and then stands up, dusting his hands on his pants with a bit more vigor than needed, and starts muttering something under his breath. If Purpled hadn’t spent the last years working towards his, he would’ve quit on the spot.
Instead, he pressed his eyes closed for a moment before opening them back up, only to see Tommy staring back at him.
His eyes are blue, Purpled realizes a little belatedly. Freckles smatter his cheeks atop the blotchy red from the physical exertion, and there’s a small scar on his chin. Blonde wisps fall into his eyes and curls fall atop his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed in Purpled’s direction.
Purpled stares back.
It’s a little childish, refusing to lose at a staring contest as Sam goes through the list of partners and who they’ll be living with for the next eight months, but Purpled isn’t one to back off first, and Tommy’s eyebrows are furrowing exponentially. It’s only when the blonde’s eyes flutter closed for a second that Purpled’s shoulders drop from where they’d risen and he hears Tommy whisper a quiet swear under his breath.
Purpled smiles, a little smug, and looks forward as he waits for Sam to finish. It’s a quicker affair than the two hour stand- a room number and a couple minutes later, he claims the top bunk before Tommy even steps inside the two-person room, only stopping momentarily to inspect the place.
It’s a small area, with the bunk bed shoved in the corner and a nightstand next to it. A wardrobe stands on the opposite side of the room, as well as two bare armour stands. There’s also a small desk with a single chair, pushed into the corner like an afterthought. Purpled slips out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
His routine is simple. With the sun fully out and high in the sky, the only thing left to do is go for a run. Puffy had said earlier that the rest of the day was to settle in- whatever that meant- so it’s Purpled’s only option to rid himself of the leftover restlessness, really. A quick check-in with Quackity later, Purpled takes off towards the outskirts and less travelled paths.
The Antarctic Empire is a beautiful place- that part is undeniable. The city is made up of charming pathways connecting soft beiges and emerald greens everywhere you look, wooden accents pulling the whole thing together. The capital city is known for its fabric; Purpled knows too much about it, and Hannah would go on without end about her work in the castle with textiles and clothing. Too often had Purpled gotten a recreation of things Hannah had envisioned for new outfits, spending her free time pouring over a collection of samples that neither of them would ever afford a tunic in. He wouldn’t care in the slightest if Hannah didn’t light up anytime he showed a bit of interest- so for her, Purpled sometimes prodded a little further.
The stone slowly transforms to dirt as Purpled ditches the mainstreet and goes deeper into the outskirts, his back towards the castle. It’s not quite summer yet, but the snow has melted for the most part, even if the chill still hangs in the air. Everything feels warmer, caught in the sun’s rays, these days.
Even the echo of a pair of footsteps behind him.
Purpled doesn’t look back, only does a short lap around a building, just to make sure. The footfalls are the same, a couple metres away. He can see their shadow too, whoever was trying to follow him was doing a shit job at it. Purpled steel himself for a moment before whirling around, dagger out. The figure yelps, and Purpled realizes who it is.
“What the fuck?” He gapes, unable to stop himself. Tommy stands in front of him, breathing a little heavier than he should be. Purpled’s hand lowers, blade still in his fist.
“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’? You pulled the knife on me!” Tommy says a little incredulously, gesturing to the weapon. Purpled rolls his eyes, tucking it away.
“It was a dagger, and you were following me. Why were you following me?”
“I wasn’t following you!” The blonde explodes, throwing his hands up. It’s a little peculiar, how he throws his body into every move he does. “We just- went in the same direction!”
“Around this pub,” Purpled deadpans, “Twice. As a coincidence.”
“Yeah. Coincidence.”
“You’re dumb.”
“Your name is dumb.” Tommy shoots back, sticking his tongue out. It takes Purpled aback- it’s such a childish thing to do, somehow he didn’t expect it from Tommy. Clearly, his expectations were not low enough.
“Are you four?” Purpled reels, lip curling a tiny bit in disgust. “What even is your problem?”
“Whats your problem?” Tommy challenges, taking a step closer. “I just showed up, why do you already hate me?”
“The first thing you said to me was that you thought my name was stupid, and then now you’re following me.” Purpled says, raising both his eyebrows. He shifts his weight to his other foot and crosses his arms. “What do you even want? Why haven’t I seen you before?”
“What, you just know everyone in this city?” Tommy scoffs, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve.
“I know the knights and who was interested in applying,” Purpled shoots back, leaning forward. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Fuck off,” Tommy scowls, no real anger behind it, just resistance. Like if Purpled pushed hard enough, he’d snap. “It’s none of your business. I’m on a run like you, okay? We’re gonna be stuck together for eight months, might as well get comfortable.”
“I bet you can’t even keep up,” Purpled says a little offhandedly, ignoring the second sentence. It’s easier if he just- doesn’t acknowledge the fact he’s stuck with Tommy for nearly every drill for the better part of a year. Tommy makes an indignant sound at the challenge, lowering himself to the ground as if to prepare for a race.
“I bet I could beat you til the end of the street,” he says, grinning up at Purpled. Without waiting for a response, Tommy takes off, kicking up dirt behind him. It only takes a second before Purpled is right on his heels- he’s never turned down a challenge, and he definitely isn’t starting now.
They’re about halfway down the road when Purpled starts gaining on Tommy, and Tommy makes an indignant noise- Purpled flashes a half-sarcastic grin, and pushes a little harder. It only spurs Tommy forward, and they spend a minute or so attempting to just barely surpass the other one. The sound of their hands hitting the building at the end of the street overlaps - thw- thwack!
“I… I definitely won,” Tommy pants, now leaning over with his hands on his knees. “Fuck, I’m gonna throw up.”
“Amateur move,” Purpled says, ignoring how he’s panting. “I hit it first.”
“No you didn’t!” Tommy exclaims, blood still rushing to his face and painting it red. The floor looks mighty appealing right now to fall asleep on.
“Well you definitely didn’t.” Purpled shoots back, a little petty. Tommy glares at him, only a little bit of hatred in the gaze.
“Tie,” Tommy recedes, holding out a fist. A moment of hesitation later, Purpled knocks his own fist against it, and both arms drop. “I need to sit down.”
“What, you’ve never sprinted before?” Purpled kneels to the ground, uncaring of the dirty cobbled road. His chest is still heaving, the hypocrite.
“You’re breathing just as heavy as me,” Tommy points out, still out of breath. “And I kept up.”
“You cheated. So technically, I still won.”
“Toh-may-toe, to-mah-toe, same difference,” he waves it off, and Purpled gives up on arguing with him, looking at the sky and taking greedy gulps of breath. The clouds look… well. Cloud-like, Purpled supposes. There’s a strange shaped one on the left, and the one near the roof of the building looks oddly picturesque. He enjoys it for a moment, before tugging out his waterskin and taking a couple sips. Tommy perks up at the sight, glancing between the container and Purpled.
“Hey,” he starts, and Purpled already wants to hurl something at him.
“You didn’t bring a waterskin?”
“I don’t really… have one….?”
“Where are you from?”
“I thought we established that was a no-ask question,” Tommy crosses his arms, expression pulling into a frown. “You could just say no, y’know. Don’t need to be an asshole about it.”
Purpled doesn’t say anything. He takes another sip, and the two fall into a disjointed silence. There’s a thud, as Purpled throws the waterskin at Tommy’s chest without looking.
Purpled sees Tommy give him a confused look out of the corner of his eye, and keeps his gaze firmly forward. The shop across has a pretty sign. All carved nicely with bright coloured- recently repainted, surely.
Thank every star above that Tommy doesn’t say anything, only lifts the waterskin and lets the water fall into his mouth without touching the edges. He screws it shut and hands it back to Purpled, and the teen takes it without a word.
“Your eyes are purple,” Tommy says, a little random. Purpled looks at him on instinct, blinking. “In the sun, I mean.”
“Where’d you think the name came from?” Purpled raises an eyebrow. Tommy shrugs, holding himself loosely.
“Dunno. Thought you just really liked the colour purple.”
And- Tommy wasn’t really wrong about that, per se, but Purpled wasn’t going to correct him now.
They stand up a couple minutes later, starting the trek back towards the barracks. There’s a communal understanding that this one is a walk, not a sprint- well, mostly communal. The building comes into sight, and with one look at each other they’re off again, hurling words and catching insults to throw right back as they scramble over each other to reach the gate. Purpled’s fingers brush against the wood first, this time, and he makes a triumphant shout, too caught up in the actions to stop himself.
“Fuck!” Tommy swears, panting yet again. “How the fuck do you even do that?”
“Skill,” Purpled taunts, trying and poorly disguising how it winded him as well. “Something you lack in, I know.”
“Yeah yeah,” Tommy says, exhaling forcefully before standing back up straight again. “Go in already.”
Purpled does, but not because Tommy says so. The blonde spots his friend from earlier on the far side of the courtyard and ditches Purpled almost instantly, thank stars.
He catches Quackity a couple minutes later, and Purpled kills the time between now and dinner with an assortment of things- drills, sparring, a couple pushups where Tubbo tried to sit on his back and kept slipping off. The day passes in a blink, and before Purpled knows it, he’s looking back at himself in the slightly fogged up mirror of the bathroom, staring at the dripping strands of hair falling into his eyes. They look almost brown, here- like Hannah’s, instead of the pale dirty blonde they are when they’re dry.
He has two scars on his face. The smallest one sits neatly in line with his jaw, from a cut of a bramble bush that never quite healed entirely. The second one carves out a small hole in his cheek, and when Purpled pulls his lips back into a grin, it looks like a dimple.
Purpled sighs. He drags his sight away from the mirror, pushing his hair back and leaving the bathroom. Slipping back into his room is a quick thing, and he opens his mouth to tell Tommy he’s next, only-
Tommy isn’t there.
Purpled’s brow furrows, just a bit. Maybe he’d already gone, or something. Stars know Purpled is too tired and doesn’t care enough to figure it out. He climbs onto his top bunk, passing out the second his head hits the thin pillow.