Chapter Text
Climbing out of a tower is not as elegant as it sounds. There is no gallant swinging and soft landings, or sure footholds and smooth confidence that could charm a man; realistically, it involves hesitant steps, sweaty palms, and hitched breathing, and looking quite pathetic to an outsider.
At least, that’s how it went for Tubbo. In his defense, he had never jumped out of a window before.
He was making it up as he went, and already, he had made several mistakes: he didn’t bring torches, he was using strips of bedsheets tied together like a rope, and he didn’t know how to climb down the vertical face of a castle. Traveling at two in the morning was also a terrible idea, he realized, because everything was cloaked in darkness.
To be fair, the entire escapade was incredibly impulsive and quite likely something he will regret. He was running away the night before the most important event of his life: the Royal Gala, the three day long ball held for all monarchs and heirs to dance, drink, and most of all, develop trade relationships and alliances with each other to strengthen both kingdoms.
If the heirs to the kingdoms were of age, sixteen to eighteen years old, they were eligible to be married off with another heir to secure a bond between kingdoms. As marriages were usually simply a symbol of allyship, it didn’t matter who the heirs were or if they would even get along, but that was how it had always been.
Tubbo had turned seventeen a few weeks before and he knew that several other kingdoms had heirs of age. Up until the days of the Gala, he had been completely fine, but once he was sitting in his room at the End Palace the night before the most important days of his life, he changed his mind. Marriages, at least among royalty, were permanent. What if he didn’t like whichever prestigious prince or princess he was married to? He would be stuck with a stranger forever, and he’d be doing it for what— to make his father richer?
So that was how Prince Tubbo, the sole heir to the kingdom of L'Manberg, found himself dangling from a rope of torn bedsheets in the dead of night.
He didn’t even know where he was going. The Gala was always hosted at the most respected, ancient monarchy, which was the Kingdom of the End. The kingdom was composed of several large islands, torn from the earth and lifted hundreds of chunks into the sky for a reason Tubbo couldn’t remember. Because of its unique terrain, the islands were linked by numerous suspension bridges and the most common form of travel was by elytra— a flying contraption exclusive to the End Kingdom.
L'Manberg had no use for elytras, not that the nation could even afford enough to supply the entire population. Tubbo last visited the Kingdom of the End when he was seven, so the only familiarity he had with the geography came from his geopolitical lessons with tutors. He was walking into- or rather, running away- with no real plan whatsoever.
He really didn’t think this through.
Tightly gripping the rope, he stepped down for another foothold. But instead of solid stone, there was only air, and then Tubbo was stifling a scream and falling, falling, falling—
Something slammed into his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs, and faster than he could blink he felt solid wood under his feet. He stumbled back, trying to regain his balance from the sudden shift, and his heart nearly stopped when he noticed a whole person standing next to him.
They both backed away from each other almost immediately, quickly moving to opposite sides of the balcony. Everything was silent except for their heavy breathing, and the balcony was illuminated only by the candlelight trickling in from under the cracks of the door.
The person across from Tubbo was tall and lanky, dressed in a simple tunic with a rope tied around their waist and leading to a distant window atop one of the castle’s towers. A short cloak was tied around their shoulders; the hood had blown off, revealing blond hair, a light freckled face, and dark eyes.
They looked just as surprised as Tubbo, eyes wide and chest heaving as they stared at the other. They looked at the rope gripped in their hands, at Tubbo across from them, then back at their hands, and to Tubbo’s face once more, as if they, too, couldn’t believe that they had just saved this random stranger.
“You- you almost died.”
“What?” Tubbo asked faintly. His lips were chapped, and his mouth felt dry.
“Shredded bedsheets.” Their voice is a light whisper. “They don’t make good ropes.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
After a stilted moment, the taller pulled up their hood and tugged on the rope, causing it to fall from the window. Quickly, they coiled it up and pinned it at their belt, and with their other hand they fished something out from their satchel. “I’m sorry but, uh, we don’t really have much time until we’re caught,” they apologized, keeping their voice low. “Do you trust me?”
“Do I trust you- I literally just met you,” Tubbo spluttered, pressing his back into the cold stone railing. “How am I supposed to trust you? You could be an assassin trying to kill me or something, for all I know.”
“I- Look, if I wanted to kill you, I would have let you fall and die.” The mystery person tossed something to Tubbo; he caught it reflexively and warily turned it over in his hand. It looked like a purple persimmon, a small pearlescent vine growing from the stem, and he faintly smelled something like peaches.
They held one of the fruits in their hand as well, crouching on the balcony’s rail and peering down. “Okay. On the count of three, take a bite of this and jump off the balcony.”
“You want me to jump off the balcony when I almost died jumping out a window a minute ago?” Tubbo hissed.
“Yeah, pretty much.” The mystery person extended a hand and hauled Tubbo up to the railing with surprising strength. “This is a chorus fruit. It’ll instantly teleport us to the closest block of land. If you don’t eat it, you will die when you hit the ground. We’re still four stories up, and that’s about… sixty blocks?”
Tubbo looked at the ground below, frowning distastefully. He opened his mouth to argue, turning to face the other just in time to see panic flash across their face; without warning, the taller firmly clamped a hand over Tubbo’s mouth. He gasped and clawed at their hand in vain, only to receive frenzied hisses in return. Something rhythmic was getting louder from inside the castle and reverberating through the railing. Under their hand, Tubbo felt them tense, and then he recognized the sound as footsteps.
And whoever the footsteps belonged to was approaching fast.
Several shadows flickered a few windows down as guards approached. Terror rooted Tubbo’s feet to the railing, and this was it, he was going to get caught and his stupid father would publicly humiliate him and the kingdom would always know of Tubbo as the Prince Who Ran Away and it would be over, he’d be a failure and laughingstock, and-
The mystery person twisted an arm around Tubbo’s waist, yanked him close to their body, and jumped off the railing.
With a soft vwoop sound, a blur of faint candlelight and night sky, and barely any time to think, Tubbo once again felt solid ground beneath his feet. This time, it was soft, dark turquoise grass rather than firm wood, and this time, he felt someone tugging at his wrist, urging for him to run, we have to make it to the forest cover before the guards find us, let’s go!
Tubbo regained his balance and followed his mysterious savior, sprinting to the lush violet-colored forest at the palace outskirts. His head was throbbing and his legs were starting to ache, but he kept following after his mysterious rescuer, glancing back at the castle behind him.
The Palace of the End was made of purple stone and iridescent crystals, intricate details etched into every part of the grandiose castle. Towers spiraled well above the clouds, dozens of windows and balconies were lit by candles and oil lanterns, and not a single alarm was sounded as the two boys ran into the cover of a violet forest.
They caught their breath as they weaved through the trees, moonlight glittering through the violet leaves and onto their faces. Once they were far enough, Tubbo broke the silence.
“Where are we going?”
“Hypixel. It’s the easiest place to blend in, since there’s so many players there.” For a moment, Tubbo is thrown off by their voice- it’s deep and warm and fruitful, much unlike the hissed whispers they spoke in at the castle. He misses some of what they say as a result, only tuning in a second later when he realizes they were still talking.
“Besides, I’ve got some- I’ve got old friends there that might be able to help us. I didn’t expect to, um, look after two people, but it shouldn’t be too hard, right?”
Tubbo nodded absently, mind working furiously. He had a lot of questions for the other, such as the functions of chorus fruit, the conditions in which they grow, if they’re related to the rumored ender pearls of the End, and whatever the hell Hypixel is. He wants to know who this tall, mysterious guy is, what they were doing at the Palace of the End the night before the Gala, and if they were royalty of any kind.
For a second, Tubbo almost let the millions of questions spill from his lips, but stops himself. He would annoy the other person to no end with all his questions. That’s what the King always told him, that he was always whining and talking too much, that it’s not his place to ask these questions, you’re the Prince and eventually, you’ll be the King. And that means you’re supposed to sit back, listen to everyone else, and do what they ask. You don’t do whatever the fuck you want to do, because not every damn thing is about you!
A crunch of twigs ahead of him drags him out of his thoughts, and Tubbo sees the mystery person wincing at the noise. Given how they gingerly stepped forward, the sound had come from them, and Tubbo exhaled ever so slightly in relief.
Figuring it would be better to start some small talk, Tubbo pushed the many intricate questions from his mind and asked, “So, uh, how did we teleport out of the castle earlier?”
The other glanced back at him. “What do you mean?”
“Since I didn’t eat that fruit you gave me. I think I dropped it when we landed.”
“Oh, I see.” The mystery person frowned. “It’s, um, I think it’s because I ate mine while holding on to you? It basically counted as one entity and teleported us both. Chorus fruits are weird like that.” They paused, then turned to face Tubbo, stopping the shorter in his tracks.
Tubbo scanned their surroundings. The moon shone strongly through the break in the trees, as well as the trees’ leaves each shining a different hue, providing a glowing violet hue to the forest around them. They had stopped in a meadow of short grasses and flowers, the soft chirp of crickets filling the quiet, and a few fireflies flew close to the ground.
“What?” he asked suspiciously. “If you’re going to whip a knife out of nowhere and try to plunge it in my chest in the middle of a flower meadow, that’s going to be pretty damn pathetic.”
“No! I’m not going to-” They sighed, slightly exasperated. “Stop assuming I’m going to kill you!”
“I mean, it’s a valid concern.”
The mystery person shook their head in amusement. “I won’t kill you, promise. The forest won’t either, since hostile creatures don’t like how bright the trees get.” They hesitated, twisting their fingers around phantom rings. “And since you got to ask a question, I’ve, um, I’ve got one for you.”
Tubbo furrowed his brow but didn’t object. “...Okay.”
“Are you Prince Tubbo?”
“I- wh- who’s asking?” he stuttered, subconsciously straightening his posture. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re Prince Tubbo,” the other said, sounding more sure this time. “Prince Tubbo of L'Manberg?”
“You never answered my question.”
“And you never answered mine, you know.” The mystery person crossed their arms in an almost careless way, raising a perfect eyebrow. “You are, aren’t you? The prince, that is.”
Despite the warm summer air filling the forest, Tubbo shivered. He opened his mouth to say otherwise, but the lie caught in his throat; after a moment, he reluctantly nodded. Damn this guy for being able to read Tubbo like a fucking book.
They didn’t react, other than an idle shrug. “Cool. I’m Ranboo, by the way.”
Ranboo.
Tubbo swore to the Church of Prime that he’d heard that name before. It was frustratingly familiar yet strange, the answer lingering just out of reach.
Ranboo was now talking about the fireflies, but Tubbo wasn’t really listening. If Ranboo had chorus fruits on hand and knew how to use them, that meant they were an Ender citizen. They also wore rather nice clothes and had been staying at the Palace of the End, which implied that they had some kind of high status or position of royalty, but they was clearly too young to be a monarch on the Council. Their vocabulary was a lot more stilted and casual than the typical End royal as well, which was throwing Tubbo off; perhaps it meant that they spent a lot of time around commoners, just like the L'Manberg prince himself?
Tubbo focused on Ranboo’s face, not processing a single word coming from their mouth as he tried to figure them out. He watched as Ranboo spoke and fidgeted, and noticed that at some point, their hood had fallen to their shoulders, and exposed their fluffy mop of light blond hair.
Ranboo pulled a torch from their bag as they spoke, soon illuminating the pair in bright gold and orange hues. Their hair, though highlighted gold by the fire, looked strangely desaturated for blond— and then Tubbo slowly realized that they weren’t actually blond like he first thought.
It was silver, varying in shades but undeniably silver, luminant in the moonlight.
One of the End’s seemingly most absurd laws was that no citizen in the End was allowed to dye their hair silver or grey. As people aged, they would simply dye their hair a different color. For generations upon generations, the monarchs of the End Kingdom were born with hair the color of moonlight on the ocean— remnants of a blessing acquired from the gods centuries ago. No matter the age or hair style, the Council and its posterity had purely silver hair. It wasn’t made into much of a big deal, but it was an unspoken respectful agreement across all the nearby kingdoms to specifically avoid fully grey or silver hair.
And yet Ranboo, who couldn’t be older than eighteen, had pure silver hair. Even their eyelashes seemed to glitter in the night.
Something clicked in Tubbo’s brain. The faint familiarity of his name, the strangely silver hair, the fancy clothes, and casual knowledge of the End Kingdom….
No. Surely not.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Tubbo interrupted, stepping closer. “You said you’re Ranboo?”
Ranboo startled, and it was their turn to still under the other’s gaze. “I- well, I’m- yeah, that’s me.”
“As in Prince Ranboo of the End Kingdom, the last heir to the almighty Council?”
The formal title hung heavily in the air. Ranboo shifted uncomfortably under Tubbo’s stare and averted their eyes to the turquoise grass below their feet. After a moment, they answered lightly, “Yeah, why? Is there a problem with that?”
“No, no, no, it’s just that-” Tubbo faltered, his excitement burst by the other’s discomfort. You’re a damn lot more normal than I expected you’d be. “Nevermind.”
Ranboo watched him for a moment, then started walking again. They gestured for Tubbo to follow. “We should get moving. I, um, I take it that you were escaping the gala as well?”
Tubbo dragged a hand down his face and groaned, nearly bumping into a tree as he did. “Yeah, it’s all fun and games until you’re the one getting married off to another kingdom.”
To his delight, Ranboo laughed, a light and joyous sound. “Oh, yeah. When I was younger, until I turned sixteen, the Council wouldn’t let me meet any of the other monarchs. So they made me wear less traditional stuff and then let me run wild in the gala, basically.”
“No supervision at all?” Tubbo gaped. “You must’ve been a really well behaved child.”
Ranboo’s long legs stepped over a fallen log with ease, turning back to make sure Tubbo got over it as well. “Oh gods no. I once kicked another prince in the crotch.”
“You what?!”
“Look, look, look, I didn’t mean to, he was just standing in the way and I wanted to get to the kitchens, alright?” Ranboo hastily explained, suppressing a snicker. “My brain was, like, wired only on food, and they had a cake just sitting there! Not even Emperor Philza could have stopped me, I was a man on a mission.”
“Well, maybe it’s a good thing I’ve ended up traveling with you,” Tubbo joked. “All we gotta do is promise good food at the end of this, and nothing will get in our way, I reckon.”
“Absolutely, absolutely. Once we get to Hypixel, you have got to get some of the street food there, it’s surprisingly good for an underground fight ring. The tofu tacos are the best.”
“I- wait, what? Why didn’t you say this earlier?! An underground- a fight ring?!” Tubbo exclaimed, laughing in disbelief. “You really can’t keep dropping bombs like that!”
That laugh came again, loose and bright, and Tubbo felt warm. “Don’t worry about it.”
———
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope.”
Tubbo groaned dramatically, earning a snicker from Ranboo.
“Look, I’ll- I’ll explain more once we get to Hypixel, we’re still too close to the Palace to be safe.” Ranboo handed the torch to Tubbo, the former using both hands to unclasp his cloak and tossing it onto a rock nearby. “What do you have on you? If you’ve got anything heavy or could get waterlogged easily, you have to take it off now or else you’ll drown. The river’s ten blocks deep at most, but it’s better to be careful. And obviously, anything that ties you to royalty should be left here.”
“I’ve got a flint and steel, compass, a bag of emeralds, skeleton key, and a pocket knife,” Tubbo listed, taking the items from his pockets with his free hand.
After a moment of stubborn insistence, Ranboo put Tubbo’s things in his satchel and secured it around his waist. “We’re just going to swim downstream since it’s right next to a lake near the Lunar bridge. Take off your boots and throw them into a bush,” he instructed.
“And Hypixel’s on Lunar Island, right?” Tubbo asked, chucking his boots into a thorny berry bush. Ranboo did the same, tossing his onto the rocks across the river.
“Yep. Okay, um, just follow me, and you’ll be fine,” the taller said, and with that he jumped into the rushing river.
Ranboo’s silver head emerged from the water as he floated downstream and he waved for Tubbo to follow. Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves, Tubbo jumped in after him. The water was startlingly cold: it wasn’t freezing, but still a shock. After regaining his balance, he swam after Ranboo, who was making his way downstream.
They drifted with the water in silence, punctuated only by the occasional comment or remark. The river made wide, lazy curves through the woods, eventually leading into an amber forest: tall foliage, short umber grasses, and towering trees spiraling high were all cast in orange hues, lit by fireflies and glowing moss.
It was rather uneventful, floating down the river in the early morning. It reminded Tubbo of summer when he and Tommy would swim in L'Manberg’s biggest lake before the sun rose too high and baked their skin. They would wade around in the shallows, pants rolled to the knees, and tried to catch the salmon with bare hands.
Tubbo missed those times.
At some point, they took a break, pausing on a rocky beach to catch their breath. Ranboo fished a simple gold and redstone clock from his bag, shaking water from its face and squinting at the time. “The sun’s gonna rise in a couple of hours. If we keep moving, we’ll reach Lunar around dawn? We’re really close. It’ll get warmer, too, so our clothes will dry out. I’ll still buy us new clothes once we get there, though, I think- I think we’ll need them.”
Tubbo flopped backwards on the rocks, splaying his arms out and looking to the sparse canopy above. “Why can’t we just make a boat?” he complained. “I’ve never had to swim this much in my life. You’re lucky the river’s shallow, otherwise I would have drowned and died already and you would have to drag me the whole way.”
Ranboo glanced over his shoulder at him. “Isn’t drowning and dying basically the same thing?”
“You get what I mean!” Tubbo sat up and smacked Ranboo’s arm, a yelp of surprise coming from the taller. “Why can’t we make a boat?”
“We could, but it won’t fit in my bag once we’re done using it and we can’t leave it behind. It’s enchanted with Infinity,” he explained, seeing Tubbo’s confused expression. “For a bag, it means it’s pretty much endless. As long as an item can fit through the mouth of the bag, it can carry it.”
“What happens if you, like, rip it?” Tubbo wondered. “Would everything fall out, or would it, like, suck it up and be gone forever like a black hole?”
“I’ve-” He paused, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “I never thought about that. I think it just looks like a regular bag and everything despawns.”
Tubbo eyed the bag warily. “You’ve got all of our shit right there, you better not rip it. I will kill you with my bare hands if you lose my stuff.”
“I won’t, I won’t, don’t worry. Though I’d like to see you try to kill me- hey!”
Tubbo had shoved Ranboo back into the water, making a loud splash followed by a wave that drenched Tubbo once more.
“That’s it. We’re swimming the rest of the way.”
“No, wait- Ranboo, please-”
———
They swam the rest of the way.
The forest grew sparse as the river opened out into a lake. At the shore, the lake became shallow enough for stepping stones, and the rocky path merged with the road on land up to the edge of the island. A wide stone bridge picked up from there and spanned the sky, suspended by magic, to another island in the distance.
Tubbo had flown to the End Kingdom by private plane a couple of times, and only the main island at that. Seeing the vibrant diversity of just one forest was incredible, but walking through multiple ancient islands, uniquely weathered by magic and the elements, dwarfed him in every way. He wonders if Ranboo ever felt like this— so small, powerless, and insignificant— or if he was so accustomed to his kingdom that the grandiosity of it no longer fazed him.
After wringing out their clothes, Ranboo led them across the bridge and into Lunar, stepping right into a charming marketplace. Colorful booths and small shops were empty, neon signs and storefronts dark, but the city was coming alive as vendors began preparing for the day. A florist set out the window display of a tall flower shop bearing the likeness of a greenhouse. The scent of fresh pastries wafted from a bakery while the smell of salt water followed a fisher’s morning catch. Everything was so complex and deeply intertwined with each other to create such a rich environment. It was achingly familiar.
“How do we get into Hypixel?” Tubbo asked, finally averting his attention from the variety of shops to their mission at hand. “Is there a secret entrance or like, an undercover bartender that you have to tell a code word?”
Ranboo laughed, glancing quickly at the people passing by before catching Tubbo’s eye. “I think you’ve seen too many superhero movies.”
“I’ve only seen two! Crowfather and The Pit. And you know you’re awful at answering my questions.”
“I am not bad at answering your questions, I just don’t want to answer them,” he responded innocently.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
As the sun rose, so did the citizens of Lunar. The empty streets were slowly filling with players beginning their day, shops and bakeries flashing neon OPEN! signs, apartment window shutters opening, and the buzz of conversation gradually growing louder.
It reminded Tubbo of old L'Manberg, back when it was still a province of the Antarctic Empire and Wilbur was still king. That warm feeling of familiarity, of the idea that anyone could find a home in this place, was too sweet to forget and its comfortable memory had burned a pit of homesickness deep into Tubbo’s chest. That same pit ached as he walked through the quickly busying streets, clinging close behind his tall companion.
Wilbur clapped Tubbo on the shoulder, the young king towering over the boy’s small frame. “Are you ready to greet my citizens as the honorary prince of L'Manberg?”
Tubbo had grinned and cheered his delight, calling for Tommy to join them. The golden boy darted over to the short brunet’s side, a mischievous grin fitted upon his features, and he linked his arm with Tubbo’s.
They had proceeded through the main streets of L'Manberg in a horse-drawn carriage, Tubbo and Tommy stretching their arms out one window to wave at players while Wilbur smiled from the other. Tubbo felt his crown slipping from his hair, and before he could move, Tommy nudged it back into place for him. Wilbur had given him one of Tommy’s smaller crowns so the boys were matching; the jewels, impressed into gold frames, glittered in the morning light.
Ranboo’s eyes reminded Tubbo of the crown. The taller had a hood pulled over his hair again, this time from a cloak he found in his bag, but when allowed for his eyes to shine in the rising sun. They were mismatched, Tubbo noticed. In the forest, they had looked dark chestnut, but his left eye was dark amber while the right, a bold jade. It didn’t look out of place or strange, though; Ranboo had a nice face, and his heterophobia (was that the word?) was kind of nice.
“Is there something- is there something on my face?” Ranboo asked nervously, and Tubbo realized with a jolt that he had been staring into the taller prince’s eyes for an abnormally long whole time.
“Yeah, your nose, bossman,” he recovered after a second of panic, his ears burning hot. Ranboo huffed a nervous laugh and busied himself with his bag, now slung over his shoulders.
Ranboo had pulled them into an alley, shielded from the streets. They were standing in a garden bearing a rainbow of colors planted in neat rows. Along the sides and down the alleyway, there were tall racks overflowing with different vibrantly colored plants. The floral scent was quite strong, and Tubbo fought the urge to sneeze. He could swear that there were carrots and onions growing further back, but the majority of the garden seemed to be made of flowers, seeing as he had just squished a marigold beneath his sneaker. Tubbo knew his face was flushed a bright red. He refused to acknowledge it.
Ranboo cleared his throat awkwardly, cutting through the tension in the air. “Um- okay. Just follow my lead. If people ask you anything, tell them you’re with Bernard.”
“Bernard?” Tubbo’s head shot up, his former embarrassment quickly replaced by a shit-eating grin on his face. “No way. You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”
Ranboo’s silence and averted gaze said enough.
“Oh my god. You’re going by Bernard? Of all the fake names you could pick,” Tubbo was shaking with laughter, “you picked ‘Bernard’?”
“Well, what else do you suggest?” Ranboo hissed, a blush dusting his freckled cheeks. “I didn’t have any other ideas, okay? I was ten and panicking and- stop laughing at me! You know what, you have to pick a fake name too, otherwise we’ll be caught immediately!”
“I- You’ve got bright silver hair and heterophobia!” Tubbo spluttered, giggling uncontrollably. “I think you’re a lot more recognizable than I am! It doesn’t matter if I have a fake name or not!”
Ranboo sounded like he was about to cry from laughing as well. “Heterophob- did you mean heterochromia?! That’s entirely-”
“Is that B. Milk?”
Tubbo and Ranboo jerked their heads up at the same time, laughter immediately dying down. The shopkeeper from one of the buildings was standing outside the door to the alleyway, hands on their hips and brows furrowed. They were a glow squid player with short turquoise dreadlocks, vintage glasses, and wore an expression of irritation.
“What the hell are you doing? You’re tramplin’ the flowers, man! We put out steppin’ stones for a reason!” they exclaimed, shooing the boys through the back door they had stepped out of. “You’re lucky I like you, otherwise I’d kick y’all out and sue you for property damage!”
“Cal, I’m sorry,” Ranboo apologized, “There were a lot of people in the streets, we had to— we had to get away quick-”
The shopkeeper was only as tall as Ranboo’s shoulder, but they reached up to tweak his cheek. “No excuses! You know better!” They turned around to throw a muscled, tattooed arm around Tubbo’s tense shoulders. “Ah, so you finally have a friend! No wonder you’re later than usual. I’m Cal, I run this salon. What’s your name, son?”
Tubbo hadn’t thought of one yet, so he stuttered out something that was supposed to be “I don’t know, sir”. Cal laughed kindly and clapped him on the back, leading them into the store.
It was an ink shop, fittingly— to be precise, it was both a tattoo parlor and hair coloring salon. The store was neat, colorful, and abstract; old rock music hummed through speakers. The glow squid player didn’t seem dangerous, and Ranboo (Prime, ‘Bernard’ is a fucking horrendous name) seemed to trust them, so Tubbo figured they couldn’t be all too dangerous. Reluctantly, he joined Ranboo in the two plush salon chairs, and Cal clipped plastic sheets around their necks. “Alright boys, what’s the order for today?”
“I think I’m gonna go with split black and white this time,” Ranboo said. His hair caught the sunlight streaming in through the windows, looking much like liquid silver. “Same sides as the black and red from before, but I think white could look cool instead.”
Cal moved around the shelves lining the walls, gathering bottles of varying colors into their arms. “Sounds good. It’ll probably turn out a bit blonder, just a heads-up.”
Tubbo turned to Ranboo, swinging his legs to shake off his nerves. “Ranb- uh… Bernard?” He bit back a laugh; the taller turned and tilted his head in acknowledgment. “How often have you snuck out of the palace and gotten your hair dyed and done badass vigilante shit? How did your mums never notice?”
“Okay, I am not as rebellious as you’re making me out to be,” Ranboo protested. “It was only a few times, and I only got the temporary dye. I was sneaky about it!”
“Nah, they’ve probably run to me about a dozen times since he was a kid. The Council goes on a lotta fancy government trips, a lot more often than they like the public to know,” Cal interjected. “Now, this time it’s different, it’s a lot more serious. Permanent hair dye, I take it? Escapin’ the Gala, runnin’ away from a royal life?”
When the boys nodded, the stylist chuckled. “Oh man, it’s been the talk of the town for months! Lisa, she’s the mooshroom baker ‘cross the way, right? She was sayin’ that if the Antarctic Empire was a part of this, Prince Tommy would be absolutely stealin’ the stage. The Empire is known for their extravagant ‘fits, you know?”
“If the Gala was just a fashion competition, I hardly would have run away,” Tubbo grumbled. Ranboo snickered his agreement.
“Ah, I see. Don’t feel like gettin’ married at seventeen?” Cal asked, smiling wryly. At the reminder of marriage, Ranboo and Tubbo groaned in unison, earning a laugh from the stylist. “Aw, is it really that bad? Prince-hood not all chalked up to be?” Cal pointed to Tubbo with their elbow, hands full of hair products. “You were crowned ten years ago or somethin’, right? Did you think it’d be like this?”
Tubbo laughed nervously. “I, uh, really didn’t. It’s… a lot, honestly.”
“Mm. L'Manberg is prosperous for such a small kingdom, but if you ask me, it’s too capitalist. The companies collapse and the king’ll be in shambles,” Cal mused as they worked. “It’s rough livin’ with your dad, isn’t it?”
For a glorious few hours, Tubbo had miraculously kept any thoughts of his father out of his mind. He straightened in his chair instinctively, then responded indifferently, “He’s a good king. He’s… good to the people.”
Cal glanced at the shorter boy as they began parting Ranboo’s hair, pinning and clamping sections down. Their electric blue eyes met Tubbo’s and they raised an eyebrow for a brief moment, asking a question Tubbo couldn’t quite decipher.
Then it was gone as they returned to their work, mixing the dye for Ranboo’s hair and chatting lightly. “Robin, I’m gonna take care of B first, since they’re a walking iron ingot. You pick out a color or two that you like and let me know if you need any help, okay?”
“Yes, sir, but my name isn’t Robin.”
“It is now, kid.” Cal flashed the boy a grin and a wink, then turned to the taller. “Now, B, tell me. How’d you two meet?”
———
On one hand, Hypixel did not look like the underground fight rings in movies, much to Tubbo’s dismay. On the other hand, it looked absolutely stunning— it was a lot more like a cyberpunk metropolis, new technology added onto crumbling old buildings to create a unique clash of cultures.
After dyeing their hair, Cal led them to a trapdoor in the floor of the backrooms that led straight into a back alley of a dark city illuminated by neon lights. From there, Ranboo showed Tubbo around the underground metropolis, buying them new clothes and renting a hotel double room to share. It turned out that Bernard “B” Milk was quite well liked throughout Hypixel, and many people were happy to meet his new friend Robin Henry.
Tubbo had to say, however, that the best thing they did all day was order the tofu tacos Ranboo had mentioned before because they were amazing.
“Can we get more?” Tubbo asked as he flopped back on his bed, tangling his fingers in the plush blankets.
Ranboo laughed wearily, pushing the empty takeout boxes into the trash can and leaning back on his own bed. “No, please, we’ve spent so much money already. Most of it went into this fancy hotel room that you wanted, by the way.”
Tubbo ignored the sarcasm in his voice, grinning cheekily. “Thank Prime you did, this place is awesome! We’ve got to go swimming, did you see the pool?”
“We don’t have swimsuits,” Ranboo reminded him, though he was smiling as well. “Besides, I don’t know how long we’re staying here, and I don’t exactly, uh, like water.”
“You don’t like water? You made us swim in a fucking river!”
“It was necessary! This would be for fun! I don’t like water!”
“Oh yeah? Like a cat, huh? Are you a cat? A little meow meow?”
Ranboo gasped as if Tubbo had just violated him. “Okay, no no no. Do not call me a meow meow. That is definitely not what I said.”
“If I spray you with a water bottle, will you hiss and scream?” Tubbo smirked.
“Maybe I will. You never know.”
The shorter boy gave Ranboo a wide-eyed look, pulling a giggle from him. “Okay, but um, Robin, serious- serious question. How long should we stay here?”
“Forever, please.”
“No, I mean-” Ranboo was rubbing his wrist again. A nervous tic or something, Tubbo figured. “We ran away from our kingdoms on the most important day of our lives and are hiding out in a hotel room in an underground city. We can’t stay here forever.”
“But why… why can’t we stay here forever?” Tubbo asked sleepily. He closed is eyes and lay spread-eagled on his bed, humming softly to himself. The fluff of blankets seemed to envelop him, and he felt himself sinking into the blankets.
He felt quite relaxed, which was fine. Ranboo seemed like he was carrying the stress for the both of them.
“‘Why can’t we stay here forever’? Because a two-bed room in the nicest hotel in the city is pretty expensive, we’ve spent over a stack of emeralds today alone, and people from the End and L'Manberg will definitely be looking for us. We’ve probably got a bounty on our heads already, and if we’re caught, we’re in for a lot of trouble.” There was a pause. “Technically, the safest thing to do would be to turn back before- before it’s too late.”
Turn back.
Tubbo’s heart dropped to his stomach and a chill rippled under his skin. He remembered, hazily, what happened to Tommy and Wilbur. The way the kingdom went from singing praises about the king and prince to scorning and cursing them. The way that Emperor Philza personally escorted his sons out of the kingdom to make sure they wouldn’t be hurt because he knew they were in danger. The way that King Schlatt single-handedly dethroned a powerful monarch without hesitation through lies and deception. The way that Tubbo knew, without a doubt, that his father would not hesitate to do the same with him.
He curled into himself, turning away from the other prince. He was not going back.
Tubbo didn’t realize he said that aloud until Ranboo said softly, “Yeah. I don’t want to go back either.”
Faintly, he heard Ranboo whisper goodnight to him. Tubbo squeezed his eyes shut and tried to disappear into the blankets.
———
“Ranboo!”
Ranboo blinked slowly, rubbing the gunk from his eyes with a groan. “What the hell do you want- ow!”
A short boy with streaked brown hair had begun punching his arm roughly. Tubbo, he remembered. The events of the previous day hit him like a train and he sat up abruptly, immediately feeling light-headed from the sudden movement.
Tubbo tried to punch at him again but missed and hit the pillows. “Wake the fuck up!” he hissed, yanking the taller out of bed. “They’re here!”
“Who’s here?”
Loud, rhythmic footsteps rattled through the buildings, vibrating through the walls and floors. Tubbo’s face was white as a sheet. He swore and yanked Ranboo down to hide behind the bed.
The owners of the footsteps— probably a dozen people, probably more— stomped down the hotel’s halls, gradually getting closer. A slow realization, instantly followed by dread, grew in his gut. Ranboo had last heard that sound when he first met Tubbo and escaped, and he had hoped to never hear it again: the sound of a brigade of Ender knights marching.
Ranboo glanced out the window to the balcony. An idea formed in his mind, and amid his panic, he found himself smiling faintly as he turned to Tubbo.
”Do you trust me?”