The five year old Tommy sits in his mother's lap. They are in a gazebo in the gardens, the same one she took him to during the Novy God celebration many years ago. The blurry clouds pass above the frosted glass of the gazebo's ceiling, promising snowfall later in the evening. His mother wears a dark blue dress, but her sleeves are becoming stained with the paint she is using. Tommy stares at the canvas, watching her swift brushstrokes create recognizable patterns and shapes. She seems deep in concentration as she finishes the last portion of the leaf she was intently focusing on. Although clearly unfinished, the painting begins to resemble the land beyond the canvas. She has just finished the background of the painting, the horizon with frosted white greenery climbing up to it and blue skies lifting above it. His mother turns, keeping Tommy in her lap with one arm and using the other one to mix paints with a thoughtful expression.

"Am I meant to learn?" Tommy asks softly. He had been playing in the garden when he saw his mother heading towards the gazebo with a servant accompanying her. He hid behind a bush as he watched the servant help his mother set up the canvas and a lifted dias for her paints. The servant had been carrying the easel and the chair while his mother had been carrying the canvas and the paintbrushes. The servant was dismissed as soon as the preparations were finished, and he wandered off without another word to his master.

In his previous lifetime, Tommy's school had art classes for the younger years. Although he painted in those classes, a child scribbling paint on a piece of printer paper with their finger didn't really count as peak art. In the older years, students had to choose to sacrifice one of their classes to take the art course. It was really only meant for people aspiring for that career. Tommy didn't have much talent for art, so he didn't sign up. He only took the classes he needed to graduate. That being said, when the art kids did exhibitions, Tommy went to them. The first year was only to get out of the house, but the following years earned his attendance. Tommy will never be able to understand people who pay exuberant prices for art pieces, but he can understand people wandering around a museum for hours to look at painted canvases.

When Kristin noticed him staring at her, she only needed to smile at him and beckon him forward with her hand. No matter how much distance he tried to put between him and the woman destined for death, she had such easy control over his heart. Tommy crawled into her lap without needing explicit invitation. Tommy's former mother never would have let him touch her, so Kristin's holding him close to her chest really pulled the strings around his heart until he felt like he was suffocating. It was a soft suffocation, though, one that he didn't mind. It was like losing one's breath in the night- nothing to be done about it and no pain to be felt.

"If you have the desire, you may learn to paint. If you do not, there is no need to waste time learning a skill you do not want to have," Kristin answers, lifting up the hand that is not holding her paintbrush to move his hair across his forehead. She continues this smooth motion as she leans forward to begin painting the tree she wants to put in the midground. Her brushstrokes are smooth and relaxing to watch. She begins with the outline of the trunk with a dark brown. "There is nothing that you must learn. There are only subjects in this world that might peak your interest. This is your life, Theseus. You may live it in whatever way pleases you most."

"Why was I born if not as a spare to the throne?" Tommy frowns, looking away from the painting to look at his mother. He watches her soft smile slip from her face. She nearly drops the paintbrush, but she manages to place it on the dias with her other paints, brushes, and water. She looks down at him, and Tommy winces at the teary look in her eyes. Tommy did not want to make her this upset. He merely wanted to know why Kristin would allow him to have a life apart from the responsibilities of a prince.

Kristin shifts Tommy in her arms. He is turned around, looking up at his mother. She places both of her hands on the sides of his face. She maintains eye contact, speaking with an urgency Tommy does not wish to be on the receiving end of. "You and your brothers are not mere pawns for the throne. All three of you are my children, my lifeblood and the recipients of my undying love."

Kristin starts moving her thumbs across Tommy's skin. Her hands are warm, chasing away the nipping cold air that permeates in the Antarctic Empire. She smiles at Tommy. "You are the sun to me, bright and shining and so necessary to my life. Your brothers, too, are incredibly special to me. No matter how many times I say it, I will never be able to say it enough: I love you, and I love your brothers, and I love your father. I do not love you because you are part of the imperial bloodline. I love you because you are my son."

Tommy's eyes widen. Neither in this life nor the previous one has Tommy ever heard someone speak with such unwavering conviction. Kristin's eyes shine with equal parts love and determination, and her gaze is directed at him. Not at anyone else, not at the glass pillars or the frosted roof or the painting she had been working so hard for the better part of the morning. She does not break eye contact with Tommy, and her sureness makes his stomach drop. He loves her. He loves her so much that it hurts. He can't stop even if he knows that her death is coming soon. He can't stop even though he knows that his own fate is equally as bad. He loves her for the simple fact that she loves him, and she is not afraid to tell him even when he does very little to make it clear how he feels about her.

"Oh, baby, what have I done that made you believe otherwise?" Kristin somberly whispers, her touch growing a little tighter. Her eyes mist over as the tears form. Tommy doesn't know if he can change his own destiny, but he refuses to let her die. Even if it causes his death to happen faster, he refuses to let this woman who holds him so preciously to die. If he can't change that event, he can at least make sure she doesn't die alone.

"Nothing. It was a passing thought," Tommy assures his mother, doing his best to smile even when she's squeezing his cheeks together. A humorous smile flits on her lips as she moves her hands away. His smile stretches across his face unrestrained. He takes his mother's arm, running his fingers along the sleeve, ignoring the paint splotches. "I want to play piano."

"Oh, of course, dearest. I will find you the finest tutors. I am certain that a grand piano can be finished promptly should we commission one," Kristin easily agrees. The smile on his face becomes one that he cannot control. He wanted to play the piano in his previous life. There were so many songs he wanted to learn. He even thought about making a career out of it, but he soon learned that without years of experience, he was never going to get anywhere with that particular dream. He let it die, like so many of his dreams, because he had no way to properly bring it to fruition. Kristin has just promised him the opportunity to learn. He wonders if he'll have any talent.

"It appears all of my children have an interest in music. Wilbur is very devoted to his guitar lessons, and his voice instructor has nothing but praises for him. Techno has recently found some satisfaction in playing the violin," Kristin explains, turning back to her painting once Tommy allows the former subject to rest. He knows that she will remember this talk for the rest of their lives, and she will use it as a point of reference when making decisions concerning him. Tommy wonders if that will ultimately be a bad thing for him. He doesn't know what exactly she's gleaned from the conversation other than the fact that Tommy is unaware of his worth as her child.

"And what about-" Tommy's tongue falls flat against the bottom of his mouth. He takes a breath, attempting to push his vocal cords back into action. He makes another attempt, "What about my-"

"Your father does not play any instruments. I know for certain that he cannot sing, though he will insist that he can. His talent lies within dancing. He is gifted with ballroom dancing, as you know, but there are other forms he took as a child. He tells me it was to help him adjust to being an avian hybrid, but he cannot hide the fact that he enjoyed it. I suppose it reminds him of flying. His movements often remind me of Raven, after all," Kristin explains, not requiring Tommy to finish his sentence. Tommy is grateful for her understanding. He is five-years-old. He should be able to say 'father.' No one has asked him why he hasn't, thankfully, but he fears it will not be much longer until he cannot avoid the situation.

"What about you?" Tommy asks.

"I have been told that I have quite the talent for singing, but my interest lies in art. I paint when the weather is fair. On days when the weather does not permit me, I have a room in the palace primarily used for drawing. I have taken an interest in the many forms art can come in. I have been experimenting with styles from the other nations," Kristin answers.

"Will you sing for me?" Tommy tests his luck. She has answered all of his questions faithfully before, but he wonders if she would go so far as to grant his request.

"Of course, love. This is a song from my homeland," Kristin tells him. She begins singing. Her voice is quiet, but the snowy gardens in the late morning are especially silent. Kristin's voice carries, and pressed up against her chest, Tommy can hear every note like the thrumming of a cord. The song is sung in an unfamiliar language, but there are certain emotions that seem to bleed through the language barrier. Tommy closes his eyes, listening to the song reach a satisfying crescendo. Kristin's voice rises in volume, and Tommy smiles. He hopes everyone is listening to this beautiful song. He hopes the universe is listening, too.

—

The painting is a beautiful nature scene. The background shows hedges and flowers dusted with snowy powder. There is a thin layer of blue sky above the horizon line, but most of the sky is dominated by fluffy white clouds. The midground of the painting reveals a tall tree with twisting branches that reaches far into the sky, so high up that the tips of the tree are hidden above the painting's golden frame. The foreground reveals a few dark green plants that break through the snow to reveal their magnificence to the people who do not normally see greenery. Ranboo does not know where the location is, but the abundance of snow makes him believe it was the Antarctic Empire.

"My late wife painted this one," Philza whispers, breaking the silence as delicately as someone finding broken glass after the fact. Ranboo stills, looking away from the painting to stare at the tsar. The ruler is not glancing at Ranboo. He instead stares up at the painting, his dim blue eyes shining for a moment.

Ranboo places his intertwined hands against his heart. He stares back up at the painting. Although knowing the artist should have no effect on the painting itself, Ranboo feels that it is even more beautiful. He never knew the late tsaritsa but he knows of her, and that is enough for him to draw the conclusion that she was a wonderful woman. All of her children- cruel Theseus, chaotic Wilbur, stolid Techno- all share the same high opinion of her. It is exceedingly clear that she was well beloved by those three, and Ranboo knows how much Philza loved her simply by the way he acts. If she was the artist of this painting, it must be a special one.

"A lot of the paintings in this room were hers. This was her art studio. She came in here to paint and draw. She told me that she enjoyed preserving precious moments," Philza continues. His voice is scratchy, broken around the edges, but his voice never wavers as he shares memories of his wife with Ranboo. The servant wonders when the last time Philza spoke about Kristin was.

"Come over here," Philza beckons, walking to the thin door. Ranboo thought it was a supply closet earlier, but when Philza opens the door, he realizes that it is another room like this one. It is smaller, but it is filled with just as many paintings. It leaves less space between each frame, but Ranboo prefers all the paintings being close together because their subject matter are very similar.

The paintings seem to be of the imperial family when Kristin was alive. Ranboo knows this because while he doesn't recognize the smile on the child's face, he would know those purple eyes and blonde hair anywhere. Kristin was able to capture the distinct color of her son's eyes, probably because they mirrored her own. This fact takes away Ranboo's ability to deny that it is Theseus staring at him- staring at Kristin- with the happiest expression on his face. He has baby fat on his rosy cheeks, and his short hair is unkempt as he wears a less ornate version of the suit he frequently wears. Ranboo almost wishes to meet that little boy, to ask what he was laughing so hard about. He wants to warn that little boy of what he will become later in his life.

Ranboo does look at the other paintings. He finds each one as startling as the last. Theseus is not the only prince who was much happier in his youth. Wilbur's eyes are far more gentle, and each painting featuring him has him doing something tame compared to what he does nowadays. Techno's smiles are still on the smaller side on these paintings but every single one has him smiling. It must not have been as rare to see him smile when Kristin was painting as it is these days. Most surprising of all are the paintings featuring all three brothers. They are not fighting or trying to outdo each other or watching with an impassive stare. They are laughing together, their touches light and familiar, eyes sparkling. Ranboo finds one in particular that he cannot look away from. Techno, Wilbur, and Theseus are lying in a bed together. Theseus is curled up on top of Wilbur's chest, and the brunette is mostly tucked underneath Techno's arm. They are close together, comfortable enough to sleep easily.

And all of these paintings were done by one person. Unlike the previous room, each of these bear the signature Ranboo is quickly recognizing as Kristin's. She painted these of her sons- a few of her husband- and she managed to find them all when they were lively and together. She captured the essence of their family the way she saw it. The way she must have felt it every single day. Kristin was the recipient of all these smiles. She was included in all these laughs. She had a family who cared about her so much that even years after her death, none of them have moved on.

"She really loved her family," Ranboo whispers, coming to the end of the room. There is a painting on the ground, leaning against the wall. It is halfway covered in a white cloth. Ranboo gently lifts the white cloth, and he finds a painting of the entire imperial family- all five members. It isn't a portrait, not like the ones in the grand halls. This painting has the entire family close together, arms linked or heads placed on shoulders, as if they are trying to take up as little space as possible. Kristin holds Theseus, and the twins have joined hands. Philza looks healthy in the painting with a large smile, his arms and wings wrapped around his family. They are happy in this painting, but they are also young. This was years ago, a long time ago, a time that doesn't exist anymore.

"She really did," Philza agrees, refusing to look at any of the paintings. Despite his position, he does not try to hide the tears rising to his eyes. As a servant, Ranboo wishes to look away from the tsar, giving him some respect and decency. As a person, though, Ranboo wants to comfort a man grieving his wife... a man who might have already realized that he's grieving his sons, too, even if they aren't dead. They are far beyond him, somewhere he can't reach, and isn't that the same thing as death?

—

The sunlight is thicker and more golden as it streams through the large windows, filling the room with a pleasant warmth. The shadows are darker, but they seem more like welcoming friends ready to act as a protector or a blanket. There is a natural scent in the air like wildflowers mixed with ancient trees breaking rocks with their roots. The humidity in the room is a little thicker than it strictly should be for a room in the Antarctic Empire. In fact, if Tommy were to close his eyes, he could fool himself into thinking he was on the shores of a moor, the sunlight streaming across his cheeks and the mud soaking through his boots. He keeps his eyes open, and they eventually lock onto a pair of tuscan yellow ones.

"Your highness, Prince Theseus, I have pleasant news to share if you would so kindly allow me to," Shelby chirps, her hands clasping together with a smile stretching across her face. Her happiness affects the world around her as the warmth of the sun grows a little stronger and the forest's musk fills his nose. This easy manipulation of her surroundings is the reason Shelby will one day become a great mage. She exudes EXP, and the most natural form it takes is weather control. Since this is all subconscious, her emotions are the primary force controlling what the EXP does. She will learn better control of it with Gemini.

"It would be my pleasure to hear the news," Tommy says, sitting on the couch across from the armchair Shelby is resting on. A maid enters the room with a tray, setting down two teacups and saucers in front of the prince and little duchess. The maid begins pouring the tea into the porcelain cups.

Shelby does not wait for the maid to leave before she starts speaking. "The Imperial Mage, Gemini Tay, has graciously decided to take me on as her apprentice. I will study with her for a few years. I must attend Kinoko Scholar's Academy since I am the daughter of the duke, but when I return, I will resume my apprenticeship posthaste."

The maid leaves the room. Shelby reaches for her teacup, sipping on it slowly. She lowers it into her lap with a large smile permanently etched on her face. "Congratulations. I am proud of you."

"Thank you, your highness. I could not have done it without your encouragement," Shelby's eyes seem to glow with her gratitude, and a pleasant warmth falls across Tommy's small body. If Shelby's happiness can grant him this kind of warmth, he will happily act as a fool to make her smile. He has never hated the cold, but he still isn't used to the snowy temperatures of the empire. He suspects that he will grow into it once the years he's been alive in this world overtake the years he's been alive in the previous year, but that is going to take a little while. "Are you planning on studying, too?"

"I will not," Tommy informs her. He didn't really try to get an apprenticeship. Although it would be beneficial to know magic, Tommy really only wants to learn a few healing spells. He would rather take his apprenticeship with someone who will be in the empire very soon. He is hoping to get a tutor for academics soon, and his mother promised that he could learn to play the piano. He does not know who either of those teachers will be, but he is certain that he can work with whatever fate throws at him. His academic teacher might prove to be another challenge to overcome, but Theseus never learned the piano so that shouldn't be too much of an issue. "I am fascinated with Magecraft, but I do not wish to waste Gemini's time."

"I am quite certain you would not be wasting her time, your highness!" Shelby explains, leaning forward. The shadows around them stretch towards Tommy. Ironically, it makes it seem like Shelby is the light source that is casting the shadows toward him.

"Even so, I am not as talented in Magecraft as you are or she is. My schedule will soon be full, too. Learning Magecraft would be unnecessary," Tommy explains, hoping to let this argument fall to the wayside as soon as possible.

"Oh, I suppose you are right. The life of a prince must be extremely busy. Prince Wilbur complains about it often, though he seems inclined to muse over his instrumental and vocal lessons," Shelby tells Tommy with a light smile on her face. She leans back, and the shadows rotate back to where they naturally fall considering the main light is from the sun rays in the windows. "I wish you luck in your endeavors, your highness."

"And I wish you luck in yours," Tommy smiles back at her. He picks up his teacup, taking a slow sip of it. As the maid was one of his own, she picked out a flavor most suitable to his palette. Tommy is not a particularly picky person, but there are a few flavors that he does not like and others that he will only drink on special occasions. The maids are extremely accommodating, probably because it is their job.

"I must admit that I find that bird over there a tad... strange. Its stare is unnerving," Shelby says, gesturing towards a golden cage poised on the windowsill. A bird with teal colored feathers and dark blue talons sits on the metal post inside the cage. The door is wide open to allow the bird freedom, but it chooses to stay inside, staring out with fathomless black eyes. The bird does not move even when the occupants of the room return its weightless gaze.

"It was a gift from the Air Elemental King. It is a direct line of communication, though I have not used it," Tommy admits. It has been some time since he last saw Sneeg. Tommy does miss the elemental, but thinking about using the bird only reminds Tommy about the other people that he misses.

"I wonder if the king will sign a contract with you," Shelby murmurs, a thoughtful look in her tuscan yellow eyes.

"What?" Tommy asks, tilting his head to the side.

Shelby looks back at him. She seems surprised, but her facial muscles quickly relax. She is used to teaching Tommy things about the world he does not already know. If she was a little older, Tommy would have asked for Shelby to be his tutor. Alas, there is much she doesn't know that Tommy desperately needs to learn, so he will settle for letting her answer his questions. "Elementals and mortals are allowed to sign multiple contracts. Mortals usually only sign contracts with the same type of elementals and not with too many since the exchange of EXP can be draining. Elementals, however, do not have such limitations. As long as they can find a willing mortal, they can sign as many contracts with as many different kinds of mortals as they want to. Because of their pride, kings usually don't sign more than one. The Air Elemental King, however, seems like the type to go against the norm. Plus, you are the son of his current contractor."

"I won't have a contract with the Air Elemental King," Tommy says, shaking his head. Sneeg would never offer Tommy a contract. Shelby is right talking about the pride of an elemental king. The spirits are as powerful as gods, and therefore, they have a way of doing things. On the off-chance that Sneeg did offer a contract, Tommy would not take it. Imagine the kind of turmoil that would cause if Techno and Tommy were contracted to Elemental Kings while Wilbur is contracted with a normal fire elemental. Although Sally is relatively powerful, she is nowhere near the status of an elemental king. And if Tommy were to present as an avian with the Air Elemental King as his contracted? It would be terrible for everyone involved.

Shelby shrugs. "Anything could happen, your highness."

"Pardon me, your highness, your grace, but his imperial highness, Prince Wilbur, requests the presence of her grace, Shelby Grace," A servant says, stepping into the room. They bow to the two noble children.

"It cannot be helped then. Please inform my brother that I will give him back his friend," Tommy says, and the servant departs to deliver the message. Tommy turns to Shelby. "Please have a good day."

"I will. Thank you for speaking with me today, your highness. I will return soon," Shelby tells him, standing up. She curtsies, and then heads off to meet with Wilbur.

As soon as the door shuts, the room loses all hints of the magic it held in Shelby's presence. The air grew colder, the sun fading back into a dull gray-yellow light. The air smelled of snow and a floral pattern. The shadows went back to the absence of light instead of animated creatures ready to obey the will of their master. Tommy leans back on the couch with his teacup in hand. He sighs, closing his eyes.

Tommy lifts his hand, palm up and fingers spread. He feels the steady pulsing of his soul inside his body, and he finds the extra bits that can be clipped away and fed into his hand. The energy in the air responds to his call, and he feels the EXP inside him start to shape into something. As he opens his eyes, he sees a small sphere of light hovering above his palm- as golden and warm as the sunlight in Shelby's presence. Tommy smiles slowly. Although he is not to the standards of the prodigy Shelby, his magecraft is progressing well. Unlike Theseus, who has a proficiency for lightning and illusions, Tommy is better suited for materialization- the act of turning EXP into solid constructs. It isn't healing magic, but it could prove useful in certain circumstances.

—

"I couldn't find an exit," Eryn said, shaking his head to get the water out of his hair like a dog does.

"You fucker," Beau growls, her wings growing closer to her spine to avoid getting splashed on by water. Eryn removes his wet jacket, throwing it at Beau. She makes a shrieking noise as she dodges it. It falls across her arm, catching and rocking back and forth. The water drips onto her shoes, but it remains clear of her feathers. "You absolute fuck. I don't need to go outside to take your sorry ass out."

"Enough," Tubbo commands both of them, not looking away from the window. Even when lightning ripples across the sky, he doesn't flinch back.

Ranboo stays huddled on the ground in the corner, wrapped up in his fur blanket. Eryn plops down at the table, removing more articles of clothing much to Beau's cursing. She throws a fur blanket at him, "If you're going to fucking change in here, at least cover up! The point of removing wet clothes is to get warm, not to sit in the fucking nude!"

"Do you ever shut up?" Eryn mutters, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. He keeps it around him as he starts shimmying in the chair. Beau rolls her eyes when Eryn drops his pants on the ground in front of him. She lowers her forehead into her hands, a low growl coming from her lips.

"What else did you find out?" Tubbo asks, ignoring the rising argument. Ranboo wishes he could blame it on being stuck in a cabin together for hours, but he knows it's just them.

"Nothing. The storm has surrounded the entire village. There's no way out without braving the storm. Even if you could survive the freezing cold rain or the hail further out, the lightning will kill you before you can escape," Eryn explains.

"Is this retaliation because she can't kill us?" Beau asks.

"No, Shelby's realized she doesn't have to kill us. She just needs to keep us here," Ranboo calls from his spot. Beau looks at him, but Tubbo is still staring out the window and Eryn glares at the table.

"It's probably a trap. She's trying to lure Freddie, Billzo, and Olive here," Eryn says.

"And then what? Is she going to kill us all in one fell swoop, or does she have a bigger plan going on?" Beau brings up.

"I know Shelby. She has a plan right now. Even a powerful mage like her would find it difficult to keep an unnatural storm stationed in one area for a long time, especially with its weird shape. Shelby wouldn't do this unless she thought it was necessary... thought it was worth the cost," Tubbo says, looking away from the window at them. Lightning bounces against the protective dome held over the cabin they are standing in. Beau winces at the strike, but she remains steady on her feet. Eryn shivers underneath his blanket. Ranboo stares down at his hands. "We have to find out that plan is, or else we really are going to die by her hand."