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The crown is an enigma.
It is a precious little thing, bordered in the most masterfully crafted of overarching golds and embedded by the most stunningly radiant of dazzling jewels. It is as subtle as it is prominent, both in that which is palpable and intangible; its meaning increasingly prevalent in the promising seeds blooming into the unfurling lilies of the fleurs-de-lis, in the jagged rocks smoothed out into the refined diamonds of the spherical ball, and in the raw gem polished into the lustrous pearl sitting atop the tall cross. It is the mark of power, of absolute rule, of monarchy lining the heads of nations with the soft silks of a cushioned band. It is a clear display of one’s status, a posh exhibit of one’s riches, and a permanent reminder of one’s place above all else. It is beautiful, and it is regal, and it is enviable beyond all.
To Techno, however, it is a binding prison. It is nothing more than the shackles that hug his wrists tauntingly so, than the chains that clink mockingly as he pulls against them. Even the purest of golds corrode, even the prettiest of jewels degrade, even the most precious of things become useless dust when subject to the test of time. Flowers wilt just like his hopes, diamonds crack just like his resolve, pearls erode just like his passion. Beneath the glimmer of riches there is a poignant and hollow emptiness, and beneath the shine of royalty there is a somber and tragic tale.
The crown is a precious prison, is a thing so beautifully cursed and he is at the apex of it all. He is put atop a pedestal only to discover that the peak of the world has air so thin that it wraps its slender, bony fingers around his neck and slowly suffocates him. He is showered in all his desires only to discover that the weight of it all ends up so unbearably heavy that it cripples him and leaves him on his knees. He is untouchable, and thus he is unsalvageable. He is above all, and thus he will never see the ground below him.
Humans are inherently foolish, selfish, and insatiable; Techno is clearly no exception to that. They find the most value in that which they do not have, they never tire of wanting, of longing. and of reaching out for that which is unattainable. It is both what has gotten them so far and what has rooted them in place, it is both what has inspired innovation and what has stagnated growth. You could give them all in the world, and as the days go by so does their satisfaction. Put a human in a single environment and they will long for the unfamiliarity of the outside world, move a human to a different environment and they will long for the familiarity of the warm home. It is the same story, the same cycle, the same inevitable fate all will face by some unknown hand.
Thrones rust. Silks chafe. A prince longs.
And yet, feelings are such fickle things. They are fleeting, they are ephemeral, they are like grains of sand slipping past the loose grip of unsure fingers. Longing, for the privileged like him, is simply a novelty; it is simply wishful thinking, simply a form of entertainment that the bored mind conjures when imagination runs wild. It is but a child’s dream to wonder about what is outside the castle walls, to seek the thrill of adventure beyond the world one has known. It is but an adult’s wisdom to not pursue it, to stay where is safe and sure in the world one has known. Techno is not foolish enough to indulge himself on such reckless fantasies, much less to leave behind a life of splendor and comfort for the allure of the unpredictable and unknown.
He has the crown. He is the prince. Should the world be burnt to ashes, still nothing will ever change that.
And so, he doesn’t flinch when the cool metal finds its rightful place on his head, when the band sinks ever so slightly into light pink locks pulled into a simple ponytail. And so, he doesn’t flinch when he pulls on garments of the softest cotton and a cape of the most royal reds, when the fabric runs smooth as ever on his unblemished skin. And so, he doesn’t flinch when there’s a knock at his door, when his servant comes in at his beckoning call and bows far too low for his liking. All those may bother him when he’s tangled up in silken sheets and wrapped in a shroud of night’s darkness, but under the radiant sun and prying daylight he pushes those irritations to the shadows so he need not think of them for too long.
“Your Highness.” His servant greets, rising from the gesture of formality all royalty is so familiar with. “We have reports of a thief breaking in last night. The King requests confirmation that you are unharmed.”
“Tell my father that not a single thing has grazed me just yet.” Techno dusts himself off, smoothing out the creases of his shirt. He can’t let himself look any less dignified, after all. “Are my brothers unharmed?”
“Yes, your Highness.” His servant doesn’t dare move from his place, doesn’t dare even gaze at the prince. Techno laments this ever so slightly.
“Good.” He walks over to his sword hanging on a wall, carefully lifting it off then sheathing it. Like him, it is placed on a pedestal. Like him, it is put on display for the world to see. “Should you be free, do spare more details about this thief. Do they happen to be the white masked one from a few months prior?”
“Yes. The very same, and he stole the exact same amount as well.”
“And how long ago was he reported?”
“Just a few minutes, I believe. He couldn’t have gone far, and so the guards are conducting a search as of this moment.”
“Interesting, interesting.” Techno moves towards the door, putting a hand on his servant’s shoulder in the process. “Could you carry out one last request?”
He feels him flinch under his touch, looking up at him hesitantly. “What is it, your Highness?”
“Tell my father that I’ll be off and that he’ll find me with the thief.”
“Y−” His servant replies out of habit, before processing his words properly and doing a double take in realization. “Wait, pardon me?”
“See you later, Ranboo!” Techno cackles as he runs down the hallway, paying no mind to the lingering guards that call after him in worry.
“Ah, your Highness!” Ranboo reaches out futilely, his voice fading in the distance as Techno descends down the staircase. “Oh, jeez…”
Techno isn’t rebellious by all means, not at all. In fact, he’s a rather responsible person that carries out all his duties promptly and properly. And while it technically isn’t his responsibility as crown prince to deal with some thief, no one can argue since it’s additional assistance anyway. He needs some time outside the palace, and he’s sure his father will understand. Everyone knows he is fully capable of taking care for himself, especially in the tides of battle. He’s not the head of the army for nothing, after all. There’s a reason everyone around him only responds with mild exasperation when he runs off like this.
Tracking the thief is no difficult feat. He seems to have simply taken the same route he did last time, proven and tested to be most effective at sneaking past the guards and actually getting away with that amount of stolen riches. It makes complete sense; after all, why risk an attempt at another path when one had already been successful beforehand? Techno commends the forethought, though it seems as if it had actually been a flaw in the thief’s plan this time around.
Techno soon rushes into the forest at the closest possible escape route that he could’ve taken. Sure enough, he finds him there sneaking around under the cover of trees’ shadows. He looks to be of a similar height and build to Techno, most likely roughly the same age as well. He’s carrying around a cheap cloth bag, presumably filled with the stolen riches. His bodice is clad in robes of green with countless mismatched patches, his face is concealed by a mask of white and messy bangs of gold falling delicately over it, and his legs wear worn leather boots that thump softly against the forest floor as he runs away swiftly when he spots company. Naturally, Techno follows after him.
“A face as pretty as yours isn’t suited for the likes of such uncouth activities!” The thief calls out, effortlessly jumping over protruding tree roots and haphazardly pushing past foliage to proceed forward. Techno may be inelegant in his pursuit, but whatever works still works. Soon enough, after a few shortcuts he spots, he manages to pick up the pace.
The other taunts again, breaking his concentration. “Get in line, alright? You’ll get nowhere by cutting in front like this!” And with that, he takes a sharp turn that has Techno scrambling to catch up. When he gets close enough, he decides to take a chance and unsheathes his sword. He swings at the air clumsily and lets his weapon take his body along it, the long blade in a wide arc that he hopes will graze the thief in some way or another.
Instead, he simply dodges, rolling out of the way and flawlessly breaking into a sprint again. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m as out of your league as I am out of your reach!”
Techno grits his teeth, regaining his footing as he finally decides to bite back. “Is that your pitiful attempt at deterring me?”
The prince can feel the thief’s smile, even when it is hidden. “Is it working?”
Even if it was, he wouldn’t let it. He pushes his muscles to the limit, using a burst of energy to close the distance between them in hopes for better opportunities. He takes his daggers, paying no heed to his rusty aim as he throws them towards the fleeting figure. The first one ends up embedded into a tree’s trunk, though the other actually hits its mark. It cuts through the thief’s leg as it flies downward, leaving a hint of blood and a visible stumble in his step. It seems as if Techno had finally incapacitated him, forcing him to make a decision. Without missing a beat, he turns around and faces him with his own axe.
Techno finds out that he likes the thief’s intellect, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. It’s only a shame that it’s put toward things like these.
He finds that there’s an interesting contrast in their spar, particularly in the way they hold themselves in battle. Techno, who had only known the overarching elegance of the sword, is faced with the wild roughness of an axe wielded by untrained hands. Techno, who had only known the value of apathy as a façade, is faced with trembling fingers and telling grunts that telegraph every emotion as though one were an open book. Techno, who had only known calmness and humility as part of his image, is faced with boisterous confidence sizzling into impulsiveness and impatience that leads to one’s downfall.
The thief stumbles backwards with the weight of his weapon, hissing when he puts pressure on his wounded leg. The thief holds the axe out defensively in front of him, tensing up when the prince moves forward slowly. The thief doesn’t resist peeking out his silver tongue to have a taste of the bait served to him on a silver platter. “With how much you’ve given chase, one would think you’re in love with me!”
Techno only chuckles, resisting the urge to laugh louder. It would be impolite. “With how much you’ve ran away, one would think you’d be better at it.”
“Wha−” The thief doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence when Techno lunges at him, knocking the axe out of his loosened grip with just one swipe of the sword before tackling him to the ground. He struggles and thrashes around, even pulling out a knife to stab carelessly at the air in hopes he hits his target. Unfortunately for him, Techno simply pins his lower body down by straddling him and holds his wrists with a firm grip.
The prince smiles, muttering lowly as if he were just talking to himself. “You’re much easier prey than I anticipated you to be.”
“I could kill you right now.” The thief threatens, hands shaking. “I’m still holding my knife. All it would take is a little more force.”
“Do it, then.” Techno drawls, almost lazily, almost daring. “Take it as an order from the crown prince.”
The other looks as if he were considering it for a moment, before he eventually relaxes as a sign of defeat. He even drops the knife willingly on the ground. “You may be the prince, but you aren’t my ruler.”
“See? You cannot even fathom it.” The prince loosens his grip now that the other poses no real danger. He moves to unmask him, and is met with no resistance. “And yet, that’s no surprise. Death is easy to offer but difficult to give.”
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
“And if I do?”
“It makes you all the more pitiful than you already are.”
“You speak as if I was pitiful in the first place.”
“But you are.” The first thing Techno sees is the twinkle of mirth in emerald eyes, dazzling and bright and yet equally beautiful and dangerous. “You’re lost in the woods, far away from the castle and with a dangerous criminal.”
“… shit.”
-
Thankfully, since Techno isn’t a complete idiot, he does manage to concoct a plan to get back to the castle posthaste. While it took a while and they spent precious minutes negotiating, he and the thief eventually came to terms with an agreement of sorts. The thief knows the way back, and will rightfully lead them there in exchange for the prince possibly lightening his sentence. Part of it is due to the unfortunate motive of poverty, but Techno doesn’t particularly mind. At the end of the day, riches are replaceable although a hassle to lose. What’s imperative is that the crown prince of the kingdom return there safe and sound before word spreads of his disappearance and lets enemies know of a possible time to strike. It’s a deal that requires a great amount of trust, as one could easily turn on the other for better benefits overall.
Unfortunately for Techno, the other doesn’t seem so privy to the other clauses he had proposed as part of their agreement. Though it is arguably the best course of action, he understands the reluctance. He’s lived through it himself, albeit in a not entirely physical manner.
“Surely you are not so cruel as to put me in chains?” The thief laughs nervously when handcuffs hug his wrists. He tests the feeling of it on his skin, and his eyebrows seem to scrunch up at the cool metal that seems to suffocate him. Dream, his name is as he learned quickly when they started making conversation.
Techno only locks it into place, the chains clinking against each other almost melodically to his ears. Restraints are familiar to him. Prison is home to him. This is but another thing he has grown to live with, and now is no different. “Surely you are not so daft as to be ignorant to the crimes you’ve committed.”
“Oh?” Dream tilts his head, the corners of his mouth twitching into an amused smile. “And what may they be?”
Techno decides to humor him ever so slightly. It wouldn’t hurt to mess around a little, and bad blood between them will only put the agreement in jeopardy. “Well, there’s burglary, grand larceny, aggravated assault, money laundering−”
“Fair enough, fair enough.” Dream laughs a little, and it’s a wheezing kind of sound that takes Techno a while to get used to. It’s such a clear display of joy that he finds himself hiding a smile whenever he hears it. “Is forgiveness on the agenda, by any chance?”
And while the thief may jest, the prince unfortunately does not. Well, he could be, as it is fun to tease every so often. “Forgiveness at an executioner’s blade, perhaps.”
Dream pales. “You have a sharp tongue for a supposedly refined prince.”
“And you’d best keep yours held lest I cut it off.” Techno narrows his gaze at him.
“Jeez, alright, I get it, your Highness.” The thief rolls his eyes, whining in a particularly distasteful tone. It makes the prince twitch. “I’ll stay quiet.”
There it is again. That damned forsaken title always coming up in conversation one way or another. It’s something so unavoidable, for some reason.
It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does, considering he gets called that every single day. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does, considering it is literally his title. But when Dream calls him that, so mockingly, so tauntingly, it irks him all the same. Perhaps it had been the first time he had someone other than family treat him like an equal. Perhaps it had been the first time he truly felt like himself and not just the crown prince. Perhaps it had been the first time he truly had his world melt into nothingness around him until all he knew was himself for who he really is.
Why had he such high hopes for a lowly thief? Why had he expected so much from someone who had none? Was he simply too optimistic, or just straight up stupid?
“… I know I said I’d stay quiet…” Dream whispers and breaks his train of thought hesitantly, almost like he’s afraid to speak up. It’s uncharacteristic of him thus far, and is immediately brought to Techno’s attention. “But what exactly are we doing?”
He hums. He was sure he had looked a bit too tense. It’s not like he can fault Dream too much anyway, as they just met and he has no way of knowing what Techno wants to be called. It’s not like any peasant would even dare entertain the thought of not referring to royalty properly. “I’m returning to the palace, why?”
“Do you even know where to go?”
“It’s this direction, obviously.”
“It’s not.”
“And how would you know?”
“Because over there is the dagger you threw at me while I was running away.” Dream points towards one of the trees, and Techno squints in that direction. Sure enough, there it is, a silver dagger sticking out of the trunk with the royal crest still engraved onto its handle. “You’re going further rather than nearer.”
Techno looks at the dagger, blinks, then swiftly turns right around to the opposite direction. He walks the correct path this time, tugging the other along while making no sign of being flustered at all. He will make no show of his embarrassment, if he even had any. It’s unbecoming of royalty to act that way. “Right.”
Dream sighs, following as quickly as he can lest Techno pull at the ropes too hard and send him tumbling to the ground. He looks up at the sky, lamenting his fate with a wistful remark. It’s just about as cloudy as his future right now, as he doesn’t really know where he’ll end up despite the deal they made. Theft might not be worth it after all, if things end up like this every time.
All he really wanted was some extra cash to support himself and his family. All he really wanted was a day where not a single one of them would go on an empty stomach, a night where they could sleep warm without having to cuddle up to each other, a future where they would never know longing ever again. If crime was what it took to get the most basic of necessities, then he was willing to partake in it if only to see easygoing smiles on his family’s faces. It was a sacrifice worthy of a life behind bars, where he could still be treated properly. It was not, however, a sacrifice worthy of putting his fate in the hands of a man he barely knows.
He sighs again, looking down back at the prince stopping in place for the nth time as he gets lost in thought. They hadn’t even moved a full ten meters yet, and several minutes had already passed. Just a single thought passes through his muddled mind. “Well, this is going to take a while.”
-
Their adventure had been rather uneventful, except for the lighthearted banter and exchange of quips they’d have every so often. It’s as refreshing as it is surprising, and is a rather pleasant experience against all odds. They fit together rather perfectly, if Techno dares to use that word. Dream is just the right blend of playful and it bounces off his uptight personality just right.
Humans are inherently foolish, selfish, and insatiable; Techno is clearly still no exception to that. He seeks company, he seeks solace, he seeks understanding. He seeks the respite of freedom from the expectations put on him, he seeks the reprieve of unaccountability for the responsibilities piled on him. It just so happens that Dream had offered exactly that and more, without even trying. In his lack of formalities, he had offered an equal. In his brazen shamelessness, he had offered a friend. And Techno, just like any human being, had let greed consume him and let its tiny little tendrils worm around his bleeding heart and pierce him with thorns that only make him seek out more, more, more of this euphoric happiness bestowed upon him so.
Techno didn’t want this to end. If anything, he had been taking his time far too much. If anything, he had made up more excuses than he could count. If anything, he had compromised his own image for just a few more minutes of time.
It had been a little over an hour, and they had found themselves in front of a river. Techno hadn’t even remembered passing one on the way, much less one of this size. It’s rather shallow, littered with wet stepping stones and roaring with the force of its waves. He doesn’t exactly want to get himself wet, and the stones don’t look too unsafe. With that in mind, he moves towards the ones closest to the shore.
Though, he doesn’t even get a single step in before he’s being stopped.
“Be careful!” There’s a tug at the other end of the chains, and he looks back to see Dream frantically pulling at them with wide eyes. He shakes his head once he has his attention, solidifying the clear warning. “They’re slippery, even though they don’t look like it. The current can wash you away in just a matter of seconds. It’s safer to just go through the water.”
Techno doesn’t even dwell on that. He has a much more pressing question in mind rather than the ways of nature. It’s a much more interesting curiosity, and thus he indulges himself in it. “Why did you save me?”
Dream blinks, suddenly dropping the chains like he had been scalded. “I don’t know.”
“I’m your captor. Naturally, you should wish for your escape by any means.”
“I have morals. Death just isn’t on my agenda, I guess.”
“I suppose it isn’t on mine either.” Techno contemplates, putting a hand on his chin. “But I’m rather surprised at your reluctance to go against the deal. I was sure there would have been something, some nasty fall by an extended foot or some missing jewelry stored away in one of those many pockets of yours.”
“What can I say, a deal is a deal.” Dream shrugs, looking away. His cheeks are painted with the lightest of pinks. “I get why you’d think that, but I’m not that kind of person. The only thing I’m looking to steal is your respect.”
“If you say so.” Techno smiles ever so slightly, features softening. “Thank you.”
“It’s basic human decency.” Dream mutters, though he seems to be fighting a smile of his own.
“It’s all I need.” The prince admits softly, pausing before moving to sit down and take his boots off in preparation to cross the river. The thief follows silently, letting himself be handled as well on the other side.
The air between them is filled with silence after that, though it isn’t an uncomfortable one per se.
-
“When I saw you for the first time, I thought you were very pretty.” Dream confesses, reaching out to cup his cheek. The handcuffs had long since fallen. Techno had, too. It is fondness through exposure. It is something softer than friendship, something more tender than company. It is something akin to love, though he dare not vocalize that notion.
Techno hums lazily, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes to savor it. It is warm. It is grounding. It’s all he never thought he wanted, and yet now hungers and thirsts for all the same. “Thought?”
“Think. I’m not good with my words.” The thief corrects himself as he trails his fingers down the sides of his face, playing with a few stray strands of pink hair. They’re much messier now, much further from the image of royalty he wants to get away from anyway. “I think you’re very pretty. Still do. I’ll probably always think that.”
“I get it, I get it.” The prince chuckles, reassuring all worries with a simple gentle touch of fingers on an arm. Though their little tracings may be nonsense, the gesture surely is not. “Do not fret, I am not so socially inept.”
“I didn’t think you’d be that strong.” Dream pouts, making a show of using his other hand to rub at old bruises. They are injuries long past, much like their animosity, much like their statuses on the hierarchy. “I thought all princes did were sit and look pretty all day long.”
Techno huffs, flicking his forehead playfully. “It’s rather rude to assume.”
“I know that now.”
“And what else do you know?”
“That I’m lucky to be alive. That I’m lucky to have your mercy.” Dream looks up at him, so beautiful and so pretty under the curtains of shadows cast by overhead branches. “That I’m lucky to have met you.”
Techno can’t resist the urge to run his fingers through his hair, to marvel at his visage and seek to burn it into the back of his eyelids lest he forget all else. “Anything else, perhaps?”
“You know what it is. I don’t need to say it, do I?”
And he doesn’t. But oh, does Techno want to hear it coming from soft lips and a silver tongue. He wants to hear it coming from delicate fingers leaving sparks of fire on his skin, wants to hear it from soft kisses trailing down his bodice so gently, wants to hear it from affections of the heart.
And yet, he has the crown. He is the prince. Should the world be burnt to ashes, still nothing will ever change that.
Ultimately, Techno falters. “I do not belong with you.”
“Because we are of different social standings?” Dream is not surprised at all. If anything, he looks a little too prepared.
“Because you are freedom, Dream. You are someone with no expectations placed on you, with only the burden of living and dying as your worries. You are someone who can do as you so please, who has no need to think of thrones and responsibilities and silks and crowns.” Techno says with a hint of envy, with a hint of self-deprecation. “You are someone I’ve always wanted to be.”
Dream laughs, if bitterly, if sweetly. Bittersweet, should he put his finger on it. “You have no idea how much I want to say that to you.”
And it makes sense. For humans are inherently foolish, selfish, and insatiable; they are clearly no exception to that. Again, they find the most value in that which they do not have, they never tire of wanting, of longing. and of reaching out for that which is unattainable. It is both what has gotten them so far and what has rooted them in place, it is both what has inspired innovation and what has stagnated growth. It is both what has kept Techno on the throne and what made him flourish in what little other interests he is allowed to have, it is both what has denied Dream of the basic living necessities and what has made him defy all odds to break into the royal palace of all things. It is the same story, the same cycle, the same inevitable fate all will face by some unknown hand.
Though, something so philosophical cannot stop them.
Techno knows the gold of crowns and riches, knows of the highest purities that never rust or tarnish. He’s familiar with oranges and yellows coming together in just the right blend of royal that paints so much of his possessions, familiar with the luster that enamors him and the shine that blinds him. And yet, Dream’s hair is the brightest gold he’s ever had the fortune of knowing.
Techno leans in. Dream makes no move to get away.
Techno knows the emeralds of jewelry and decoration, knows of the highest qualities that never cloud or fade. He’s familiar with green and glass coming together in just the right blend of rich that stains so much of his assets, familiar with the dazzle that attracts him and the beauty that compels him. And yet, Dream’s eyes are the brightest emeralds he’s ever had the fortune of knowing.
Their faces are but an inch away, hot breath tangible on each other's skin. Neither move just yet.
Techno may have already longed his entire life, and yet he longs for Dream more than he ever had for all else. And so, he kisses him, under the watercolors of sunset and the covers of trees and the joyous celebration of nature dearest.
And so, Dream kisses back in full earnest.