Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a place such as The Realm, companionship wasn't very difficult to find. From the certain lovestruck pangolin from the Green faction who couldn't make up his mind to the tragic love the Yellow faction’s royal architect feels for another, and for that love be returned.

However, for others, that type of companionship wasn't appealing. Or just simply hadn't found them yet.

It had been a few months since the second Yellow Faction Ball had occurred, and most of the tensions had died down since then. 

But, for one person, that tension still rests within him, waiting for the moment to let it out. To pounce. To drive it into dirt below him, ready to be bloodied by his hands.

It wasn't something that he particularly wanted to do, but the guilt that Sneeg has felt since the second ball hasn't gone away, and his desire to rid of a certain scaly green member was still there after he had killed Pili in the ballroom.

And, as Sneeg was attacking Pangi for killing his yellow teammate, Pangi had ducked behind Ros just in time for Sneeg's trident to drive into her instead of the intended recipient.

And, despite Ros’ reassurances that she knew the killing was an accident and that Pangi had his reasons, Sneeg was still uneasy about the situation.

So when Ros announced the third Yellow Faction Ball, Sneeg was hesitant.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Ros?” Sneeg, his eyebrows furrowed with concern, caught up with Ros after her announcement. He was, well, worried. 

Ros paused what she was doing and turned around to Sneeg. She looked hesitant, different from her cheerful self from a few minutes ago. She obviously knew the insinuation behind Sneeg's words. She knew the risks of hosting another ball after the events that took place during the first two.

But, she only said, “Uhm, I think so.” 

Sneeg lowered himself to Ros’ level, his moth wings lowering behind his back, and looked her in the eyes. “Are you sure? You know how things went the last time.” His voice was riddled with concern.

Ros looked at the ground, kicking her feet in the grass. “Yes, I know.” She breathed out a sigh and looked back up to Sneeg. “But, you know, third time's the charm!” Her smile was uneasy, and she dropped it. “And I can't hold this grudge forever. Or maybe I can. But I'd rather try to have one good night than give up on it completely.”

Sneeg knew Ros had good intentions. She always tries to see the best in people, even if those people had done her or her friends wrong. And, while Sneeg hardly trusted anybody but his own faction, he trusted Ros. He would have to trust her for this.

And, besides, it wasn't his decision if a ball was to happen or not.

So, Sneeg nodded along.

He'd just had to do a better job of protecting his faction this time.

He must've looked unconvinced, because Ros frowned.

A moment passed, the wind blowing between them. 

Ros’ communicator buzzed. Sneeg usually keeps his own on silent.

Ros' face lit up.

“Clown!” Her smile beamed.

“Wait, really?” Sneeg took his own communicator out and, it was true, Clown had come back. He knew that Clown said he would be around more often, but he hadn't particularly believed him.

He was shocked, really, but also thrilled about the surprise appearance. Despite how much he liked to pretend he hated the archmage, it was clear they had a strong bond.

Sneeg's expression must have shown everything, because Ros giggled at him. 

“It's all three of us! The League of Secret Alchemists!” Ros beamed.

“Where's he at?” Sneeg grinned, looking towards Clown's tower standing at the kingdom walls. 

Ros looked over and squinted, trying to see if she could spot Clown near the tower or at the top.

A few moments went by when Sneeg piped up.

“Maybe at his nether base?”

“Yeah you should probably look there,” a voice said behind them.

Ros and Sneeg turned to see Clown stepping down the stairs to the castle entrance. He had a pep in his step, clearly excited to see the other two.

Ros gasped. “Clown!”

She ran over to the masked jester, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“Good to see you too, Ros. Sneeg.” Clown said, putting his arms around Ros, making sure to be careful around her purple butterfly wings. They were new additions since Ros reached Nirvana.

Sneeg crossed his arms and huffed. “Who said I was glad to see you?” 

Despite his words, Sneeg smiled and walked over to them.

Clown let go Ros. “Well I just thought since you're such a fan you would be thril- oomf!”

It was at this moment when Sneeg wrapped his arms around the jester's torso, and picked him up into a hug.

“Ow- okay. And you're apparently not glad to see me? Sure.” Clown's words came out higher pitched, like the air was being squeezed out of him.

Sneeg put the other down, laughing a little. “No, I would never miss you. It's preposterous that you would even suggest that.” Sneeg's hand lingered on Clown's arm.

“Y'know what? That's my bad for thinking you would care for my return, obviously. I should've known you were incapable of caring for others.”

“I am capable. Just not for you.”

“Is that so? So when-”

The bickering between Clown and Sneeg was something that Ros had gotten used to. At first, when the “animosity” began at the twohickey all those months ago, Ros had constantly been the one trying to break up the fights between them.

But now, it was something that she rather looked forward to. It's just their way of showing love, she thought.

So instead of breaking it up, she looked between Clown and Sneeg and just giggled at them, her wings fluttering as she did.

The guys stopped what they were doing and turned to Ros, confused but smiling all the same.

“What's so funny?” There was a tinge of amusement in Clown's voice as he spoke. His arms were crossed.

Ros opened her eyes, coming down from her laughter and looked between the two. “Oh, nothingggg. I'm just… glad you guys are here.”

“I see you reached Nirvana as well, Ros.”

The three of them, after a bit, had migrated to the castle kitchen. The sun had set while they were outside and the phantoms had disturbed their peace.

Ros, who was sitting on the center table, grinned, fluttering her wings. “Mhm! I got it only a few weeks ago. Aimsey was with me when it happened.” She kicked her feet as she spoke. “I saved enchanting for last thinking it was going to go quick, but… how wrong I was.” She laughed at herself.

The archmage shook his head. “You see, that's the issue. People saw how good I was at enchanting and thought it was soooo easy.” Clown, whom Ros’ back was to, was sitting on one of the stools across from Sneeg.

Ros nodded, now shifting to sit fully on the table and facing both Clown and Sneeg, crossing her legs. “Yeah…” she looked down at the table before suddenly lighting up and turning back to Clown. “Wait! Clown! Did you hear? There's going to be another ball!”

Clown crosses his arms across his chest. “Another one? How many have there been?” Clown catches a glimpse of Sneeg, who seemed like he wanted to say something on the matter, but kept quiet.

“Well, there have been two other royal balls, but… those didn't exactly go as planned.” The architect gave an awkward laugh. “I got sent to the null on the first one. And on the second one…”

Sneeg turned his head away from the conversation, now looking at the fire in the brick oven.

“... I did get killed–accidentally–but that's okay! I got reset later anyway.” She looked away.

“...Right.” 

He could pick up on the context clues and, clearly, this was a touchy subject for both of them. 

Clown clicked his tongue, grabbing the attention of the other two. “So, there were two other balls? I don't know why this is the first I'm hearing of them.”

Sneeg scoffed. “Don't say that as if you're not the one to blame. You're literally never here anymore!” There was a joking undertone in his voice, but there was always seriousness in Sneeg's exclamations about Clown's absence.

“Yeah, Clown,” Ros’ voice was now accusatory, “why didn't you come to either of the ba- royal balls?”

Clown shrugged, chuckling. “Nobody asked me.”

“That's BS. I wasn't asked for either of them, and I still attended,” scoffed Sneeg. He was now leading back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That's not surprising. That you didn't get asked.”

“Excuse me?”

Clown put his hands up in a defensive manner. “Well clearly with your terrible personality and attitude, nobody would want to ask you to be their date.”

Sneeg raised an eyebrow at the archmage. “Didn't you just say that you weren't asked either?”

“Well, I'm sure if I was around, somebody would've asked.” Clown shrugged. “I bet you anyone would do anything for a chance to go with me.”

“Alright, are you done spewing your sick fantasy? Anybody would know that after an hour with you, they'd find you repulsive.” Sneeg gave Clown a toothy grin.

“Hey..!” Ros intervened. “How about we all calm down.. I'm sure you'll both get asked this time!”

“Clown started it,” Sneeg said back.

Ros turned to Clown, but found him glancing away from them both, before turning back to Sneeg.

“Speaking of…” There was hesitation in the archmage's voice. “I'm– I'm just curious, but…” he cleared his throat. “Sneeg, if someone were to ask you to the ball… would you say yes?”

Ros, personally, was a bit taken aback by the question. But, despite what the implications behind the words were, Sneeg remained straight faced. 

“Well, I don't know.” The smith shrugged, voice indifferent. “It hasn't happened yet, so there's no way to know.” He looked down at the table. “I mean, Tubbo technically asked me to the first one, but I think he was just desperate when he saw everybody else was going with someone. So…” Another shrug. “Depends on who it is, too.”

Sneeg looked back up to Clown, wearing that grin again. “For example, if you were to ask me to the ball, I think I'd be sick.”

“Hey now…” Clown feigned hurt. “What makes you think I would ask you to the ball?” Clown turned to Ros, who just looked like she'd given up on stopping the bickering. “You see this guy? So obsessed with himself…” he said, shaking his head.

Sneeg exhaled out of his nose, feigning a laugh. “Sureeee man. Whatever you say.”

“That sure sounds like he wanted to ask you to the ball.”

Sneeg scoffed. Him and Phil were at the mushroom island, both focused on their own tasks. “Well, if it was coming from anybody else, sure. But it's Clown.” Sneeg was standing near Edwarto, arms deep in an enderchest searching for the correct shulker. “If anything, he was just trying to get a reaction out of me. I don't even think he would attend anyway. Too busy doing whatever archmages do.” Sneeg rolled his eyes. 

It did annoy him how often Clown was missing from the Realm, but that didn't hide the fact that he did care for the archmage. If anything, he missed him. 

“Hm. You seem quite hung up on his words, though.” Phil was working on his forest area on the island. “If it was just a joke, you seem to be taking them awfully seriously.”

“See, this is why I don't tell you things, Phil. You always twist them to fit your sick narrative.” Sneeg was obviously joking, but it didn't get lost on Phil how quickly Sneeg redirected the conversation.

“So, what, you're telling me you wouldn't go to the ball with him? If he, by some miracle, did ask you to go with him?”

Sneeg paused. Pshhh, as if he would ever. It's not as if he mulled over the conversation several times since it happened. Yesterday. The conclusion he had come to was that Clown had been joking. That he wasn't serious whatsoever. 

But whenever he came to that conclusion, he's always reminded of Clown's hesitancy as well as the very faint pick up of his heartbeat. He doubts Clown even noticed that last part.

“I don't know. Maybe? I don't know, Phil. It would be nice to not seem lonely at a ball for once, but I doubt it would matter considering Clown probably wouldn't attend anyway!” The smith, despite his attempts to seem nonchalant about the situation, seemed pretty caught up on the possibility. He continued looking through the enderchest, finding the shulker he wanted.

Phil laughed, finding his friend's predicament amusing. “If you're so caught up on this, why don't you just ask him yourself?” 

“Absolutely not. I don't want to seem desperate-” Sneeg's speech devolved into laughter, with Phil joining along. 

And with that, Sneeg's communicator buzzed in his pocket.

“Oh look at that! Speak of the devil.” Phil said, trying to get something from Sneeg. “Your boyfriend woke up.”

“Do not call him that. He is not-” He sighed heavily while Phil laughed in his ear. “This is actually crazy. You hate me. You actually hate me.” Sneeg’s moth wings opened, letting him fly over to where Phil is.

“Hey, listen- listen. Am I wrong?”

“Yes? You are so wrong.” Phil broke down into laughter once more. “Never have been more wrong in your life.”

A buzz.

ClownPierce whispers to you: where are you

The moth peers down at his communicator, fingers hesitating over the screen. Sneeg isn't sure if he wants to particularly speak to him after his conversation with Phil. 

Sneeg shakes his head. What the hell am I thinking?

He starts typing out a message: helping out Phil at the mushroom… 

Sneeg pauses.

“Mmm… no.”

He backtracks, putting his communicator back in his pocket. 

He's got shit to think about.

“I mean, that sure sounds like you want to ask him to the ball.”

Clown shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe.”

The archmage leaned against a table in the ballroom, watching as the Princess of Yellow flew up to put new decorations on the walls. Zam had been tasked by Ros to help with preparations, and this was one of her tasks.

But as soon as Clown said those words, Zam immediately turned around and flew down to the archmage. 

“Wait, really?!” Zam's eyes were wide, full of shock, her wings fluttering.

Clown took this time to get a closer look at Zam's wings. They looked like fairy wings that were made of ice and snow, and left off a faint trail of snow whenever they moved. They looked magical, so thin that they looked like they would melt at a single breath. But, they remained.

Clown's admiration was interrupted by a gloved hand snapping its fingers in front of his masked face.

“Hey, eyes here. What do you mean you're going to ask Sneeg?!”

Clown shrugged again. “What's wrong with Sneeg?” Clown could name plenty of things wrong with the smith, but that wouldn't help his case right now.

The princess took a step back, shaking her head. “No- no, nothing is wrong with him, per se. I just- he doesn't seem like the date type, y'know?”

“Well,” Clown clicked his tongue, “he said it depended on the person. Maybe he is the date type but nobody knows.” Another shrug.

“And you think that you're the person?” She got another shrug from the archmage, leading her to press further. Zam needed to get something out of this. “Are you and him… a thing?”

The comment made the archmage snap his head in the direction of the princess, causing the princess to backtrack almost immediately. “Well- no- not like that! I mean- well, I do mean like that. But- I just don't know! I haven't been here very long! I didn’t know if you guys were close like that.”

Clown's gaze led to the floor, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Well, we used to be…”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

Still, in that melancholic voice, “Well, back in the twohickey…” Another sigh. “You wouldn't get it.”

This only made Zam entirely more confused.

“So…” Zam rubbed her temples, shutting her eyes. “You were a thing in Sneeg's alchemy machine? What does that have to do with anything?”

Clown tilted his head towards the princess. “Well, whatever happens in the twohickey, stays in the twohickey.” 

At this point, Clown was purposefully giving confusing and vague answers. Sure, he actually had an answer: no. Him and Sneeg weren't a “thing.” But from the way they acted, you would wonder if they were. But only Ros really knows how Sneeg and Clown really interact with each other. And she, too, had wondered.

 Maybe Clown had wondered, as well.

Zam rolled her eyes, turning her back to Clown. She flew back up to the place she was at, leaving behind that illusion of flurries from her wings.

“So are you or are you not going to ask him for the ball? Because I can bet he will not ask you himself.” Zam turned her head to look at Clown on the floor. “Not the type, I don't think.”

“Yeah, I think I gathered that.” The archmage looked around the ballroom, eyes dragging over each of the faction tables before landing on the empty spot he assumed was the dance floor.

He doubted Sneeg would be any good at dancing.

Clown shook his head. Shouldn't really think about that. Shouldn't think about Sneeg's dancing skills or lack thereof. Whether or not he would step on Clown's feet. Not about the possibility of Sneeg's undivided attention on him as they dance, focusing on the steps. Sneeg’s hand on his waist, Clown's hand on his shoulder, hands clasped together. 

And he definitely shouldn't think about how close they'd be, their chests close enough that they could touch with the slightest movement.

No, he definitely shouldn't be thinking about that.

Clown was suddenly very grateful that he was wearing a mask, because he'd be scared about what his face conveyed. Especially in front of someone else.

What made him snap out of his thoughts was the wave of a hand in front of his face.

“Clown? Clown.”

Zam was looking down at Clown, her slightly in the air bent down to be face-to-face.

Clown shook his head. “What?”

“You good? I called you, like, two times.”

Clown took out his communicator, his message sitting there without a response.

“Yeah. Yeah. I'm good.”

“Will you go to the ball with me?”

.

.

.

It was a question that had been asked several times that day.

It had been asked between different factions, as well as being asked in the same faction.

An interesting case had been while Foolish, the king of Yellow, had been working on his statue, Bad had flown over to him with a flower in hand. The words had barely left Bad's mouth before he got a response:

“Ew, no.”

Joy was spreading across the Realm as news of the 3rd royal ball spread. Outfits were being made, dates were being planned, and decorations were being set up.

Nothing nefarious was going to ruin this ball.

It wasn't until later that day when the smith and archmage had found each other once more.

Sneeg had left Phil to his own devices after their conversation ended, leaving the smith to head back to his smithing room in the castle.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

The sound of a hammer against metal echoed throughout the walls, and the archmage noticed it as soon as he entered through the entrance of the castle.

“Hello?” He called out, waiting for a response. He knew nobody else would be in the smith's room, working with his materials. But, Clown still wanted to get a response. “Anybody here?”

The hammering paused for a few moments, causing Clown to expect a voice back. However, a second later, the noises continued without a voice accompanying it.

This puzzled Clown. Did Sneeg not want to see him? Or did he know that Clown would find him, regardless of an answer? Did he want Clown to find him? It wouldn't be too difficult to do so.

Despite his hesitancy, the archmage continued through the kitchen towards Sneeg's room, the clanking sounds getting louder as he went further.

However, he stopped before the mangrove door, hand hovering over the doorknob as he hesitated. 

His heartbeat sped up, hands becoming sweaty. Why was he so nervous? It's just Sneeg. Why wouldn't he want to see him? After his constant beratement towards Clown's disappearances, you'd think Sneeg wouldn't want to leave his side.

Before Clown could even land his hand on the doorknob, the hammering noises ceased. An exhale was heard from within the room.

“You gonna stand by the door all day?”

What the hell? 

How on earth did Sneeg hear his footsteps? He couldn't even hear himself think over the hammering, let alone the sound his own feet made against the floor.

Or maybe Sneeg just knew he would be there.

Clown, despite his nerves, twisted the doorknob and pushed open the door into the smith's room, a waft of warm air suddenly reaching him.

“How did you know I was there? I was being extra sneaky,” he joked. Clown found Sneeg near his anvil by the door. Sneeg's back was to him, his moth wings on full display.

Clown always liked those wings. White, black, and different shades of blue. Sneeg had had them for the time he was on the Realm, but they only started properly working again when he reached Nirvana.

Sneeg let out a ‘hah’ and turned his head to glance at Clown, giving a knowing grin. “Your heartbeat is very loud.”

Oh.

That made the archmage's heart skip a beat, and the smith only laughed, furthering his claim of hearing such.

“What do you- huh? How do you know that?” 

Sneeg put down his hammer, looking at what he was working on– a spear, Clown can now see.

“Remember how I told you about the whole warden stuff?” Sneeg gestured to his warden horns, still facing away from Clown. “I can hear just as well as one, now.”

“Oh.” Well, that would've been good to know before he made himself a fool. 

“Mhm.” Sneeg's back was still to Clown as he walked away from his anvil to look through his chests.

Clown started following behind him before he even noticed, a few steps behind. “So… why didn't you respond to my message? Are you avoiding me?” His tone was accusatory, but not quite serious.

Nonetheless, Clown noticed the slight tensing of Sneeg's shoulders as he took out his communicator.

“You messaged me? I didn't notice…” he mumbled, voice trailing off.

A second later, Clown's own communicator went off.

Sneegsnag whispers to you: castle

Clown hummed in acknowledgment, before putting his comm away. “Very funny.” Clown moved to Sneeg’s side to get a better look at his face, which turned to him now.

The smith closed the chest he was looking in, now holding a netherite ingot in his hand.

He was completely facing Clown now, looking down at him.

Sneeg was nearly a head taller than Clown, not including his newfound horns (and while Clown wasn't a short man by any means– he was actually taller than most people in the Realm– Sneeg was just “freakishly tall,” in Clown's words). 

The smith had his hood up, hiding most of the sculk in his hair. Clown's eyes dragged across the others face, noticing the sculk reaching across the dark discoloration in the shape of a spade, but stopping before reaching his facial hair.

He wasn't sure if the spade was painted on or if it was a mask, but he's never seen Sneeg without it.

Clown also noticed that his glasses were slowly being covered by the sculk, only being visible on the left edge of Sneeg's face. The sculk barely reached his left eye, nearly reaching the light blue of his sclera.

He looked down, noticing the cavity in his chest that resembled a warden's being covered by his cloak.

Clown can't imagine the sculk was too comfortable to have. But, for all Clown knows, it might feel like it doesn't exist. Just another part of him.

The smith crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “You need something?”

“Oh.” Clown took a step back, looking away from Sneeg's face. Needing to look anywhere other than his face. He hadn't realized he was staring. “Sorry.” 

Despite wearing a mask, Clown worried his face would convey too much. Embarrassment? From what? Sneeg wouldn't even be able to tell. He just begged that the beating of his heart cooperated with him. It has already revealed far too much.

Clearly, it didn't. Based on the knowing smirk on Sneeg's face, Clown knew the pumping of his blood betrayed him.

Despite that, he turned away from Clown once more, and went to the smithing table near his anvil.

Clown rolled his eyes, adding an overdramatic movement. “Whatever. What're you smirking for? Freak.” The archmage dragged himself over to the bookshelves next to Sneeg, making sure to hit him with his shoulder along the way.

“Ow.” Sneeg glanced over to Clown, who had now found a spot sitting on a bookshelf, his legs dangling. He seemed content just watching Sneeg do his work. It's not like Clown had something to do. He had given up on grinding his skills a while ago. 

They stayed like that for a while. Sneeg infused the netherite to his spear while Clown was to his right, sitting on a bookshelf leaning against a wall.

Sneeg had looked over at Clown a few times, sometimes catching him waving his hand over the particles from the enchanting table, disturbing their movement.

It was quiet between them, which was unlike Sneeg and Clown. They always came up with something to banter about. Maybe it was simply because it was late at night and they were both too tired to pick up conversation.

So tired, in fact, that when Sneeg glanced over at Clown after a while, his arms were crossed over his chest and his head was leaning against the wall. Obviously, he couldn't tell if his eyes were actually closed but his breathing seemed steady, his heartbeat calm. 

Sneeg took this as a sign to put the hammer down, considering the sound of clanking metal on metal could be heard throughout the castle. 

Sneeg looked over to Clown again. It was a wonder how he had managed to fall asleep while Sneeg had been making so much noise.

Usually, when it had gotten late and Sneeg was still working, the other kingdom members would yell at him to stop so they could sleep. Foolish could sleep through it, while Ros and Owen (when he lived in the castle) could not. Ros now lived in her tower with Tina, so it wasn't as much of an issue as it had been.

Sneeg was respectful of the requests, considering most of the time he wouldn't realize how late it had gotten and used it as a sign to go to bed himself.

Sneeg put his things away, keeping tabs on Clown's state of consciousness. Clown was still dead asleep by the time he finished.

And now, Sneeg stood in front of the bookshelf, crossing his arms and tapping his foot against the mossy floor, wondering how to go about this.

“Clown?” he started. Nothing. “Clown.” He had made his voice a little louder, getting a stir out of the archmage. However, he remained asleep.

Tired, the smith put his hands on his hips before making his way to stand right beside where the archmage was sleeping.

“Clown.” Sneeg said, louder now, as he reached his hand to Clown's shoulder, giving it a shake. “Wake the hell up.” 

He wasn't gentle with his methods, because he didn't need to be with Clown.

There had been a few times–an amount of times that Sneeg could count on one hand–that Clown had fallen asleep in his company, most of those instances occurring at the Twohickey in the bottle filling room. 

And each time it happened, Clown swore it wouldn't happen again.

Yet, he made no attempts at actually keeping that promise.

And every time, Sneeg wouldn't really care. He'd just act as he usually would when Clown messed with his things.

But, really, he didn't care.

If anything, he was glad Clown trusted him enough to do so in his company.

The jostling was enough to garner more of a reaction from Clown, causing him to wake up.

“Mmmm.. what?” Clown mumbled groggily. He looked around the area, as if trying to remember where he was. Trying to gain some sense of his surroundings.

He couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour–had it really been that long?

He looked around the mossy room before his eyes landed on Sneeg, the smith's hand still on his shoulder.

“Oh. Sorry.” Clown moved to sit up on the bookshelf, feeling Sneeg's hand move down his arm, never raising it. He was facing Sneeg now, reaching his hands up to his face and rubbing his eyes behind the porcelain mask of his. 

From the small adjustment of the mask, Sneeg could barely see a sliver of the skin on his face. To which, Sneeg immediately looked away, dropping his hand from where it was on Clown.

Clown hadn't ever fully taken his mask off in front of Sneeg, and even seeing the slightest hint of what could be underneath felt like a crime. The closest thing he's gotten was when they had been together in the kingdom kitchen with Ros, and Clown had to lift his mask slightly to properly eat. And, during that, he looked away each time.

Ros and Sneeg never pushed it, and they could both tell Clown appreciated it.

But now, maybe it was because of how tired he was, the archmage was particularly lax about the situation.

On seeing Sneeg's reaction, Clown let out a huff. “You're so dramatic,” he said while his words turned into a yawn. “What time is it?”

“Late.” Sneeg took a step back, giving room to let Clown get off of the bookshelf. “You should head to bed. Are you heading to your tower?” Sneeg walked over to the smithing table, picking up his newly netherite spear.

“Yeah, I guess.” Sneeg noticed the slight pickup of his heartbeat. “Why, do you not want me to sleep in here?” The smile in his voice was prevalent, trying to garner a reaction from the other.

Sneeg’s face broke into a smile as he shook his head. “Ew.” Sneeg leaned his spear against a wall, letting it wait there until needed once more. “That's been your plan this whole time, hasn't it.” He turned back to Clown, grinning. “You disgust me.”

A shrug from Clown. “So what if it was?” He made his way to the doors leading into the kitchen, pausing to turn around and face Sneeg. “You'll never know.”

Sneeg followed Clown through those doors, following close behind before catching up and walking side by side.

Now, Sneeg knew he didn't have to walk with him to the tower, but it was late. And what if there were phantoms? Sneeg wasn't sure of Clown's capabilities in this state. 

If Clown noticed Sneeg's desire to follow him back, he didn't say anything about it. 

“So… a new spear? What for?” Clown had lowered his voice, just in case anybody living nearby might be asleep.

“Oh, y'know.” Sneeg and Clown reached the outside of the kingdom walls, making a left turn to go along the gravel pathway. “Extra precautions with the ball coming up.” Sneeg paused, before making his voice quieter. “Maybe this time I can actually prevent something from happening.”

A few moments pass by before Clown nods, saying “I see.”

Clown didn't want to push the issue this late at night. Because, clearly, it was a sore subject for the smith.

And, Clown supposes, that a warden simply wants to protect their charges as best as he could. Especially if, in the past, they had failed to do so. That was something Clown could respect.

At this point, they had made it to the wooden steps leading up into Clown's tower. 

Both of them stopped in front of it, a silent understanding that this is where they would part ways for the night.

“Sneeg,” Clown started, looking up at his tower. It was quite a daunting sight in the darkness. When Sneeg hummed in acknowledgment, Clown continued. “Do you know when the ball is?” 

Sneeg couldn't help but notice the pickup in his heart beat.

He could ignore it for now.

“Well…” Sneeg looked off into the distance, trying to look elsewhere for a sign of remembrance. “I believe Ros said it was next week. Either Wednesday or Thursday, I don't remember which.”

“Okay.” The archmage looked down, before heading up the stairs without another word

“Bye, Clown.” Sneeg started back down the gravel pathway, considering that the end of it.

Clown turned back towards the smith, seeming to hesitate. “I'll… see you tomorrow?”

Sneeg didn't stop his pathing, letting out a laugh. “I doubt it. Three days in a row is a lot for you.” 

And he continued walking back towards the castle entrance, leaving Clown to stand there, looking at him. It wasn't until Sneeg left his line of sight when he went inside his tower.

The night didn't end there for either of them.

“I'm gonna do it.”

“Do what?”

They were sitting on the steps at the entrance of the yellow castle, Clown and Zam. It was the next day, particularly early in the morning. Not many people were awake at this time, the only people making a ruckus being the archmage and the princess.

Clown leaned back, looking up towards the sky. He seemed quite thoughtful this morning, as if the night brought him such trouble and the morning helped him through it.

“I'm gonna ask Sneeg.”

She looked confused for a second. 

“You're gonna ask Sneeg what- wait, to the ball?!” The shock caused Zam to stand up quickly, taken aback by the news. “Like, actually? You won't, like, bail on him? Like, for real?” Her voice became high, and if anybody were to pass by them, they would hear every word.

“Quiet down! Someone could hear you.” Clown stood up after her, holding his hand out, trying to get Zam to hush. He only just now remembered what Sneeg told him last night, with his noise sensitivity.

That made Zam quiet down, at least. Clown didn't know how far Sneeg's hearing went, but he didn't want to take his chances when the smith was sleeping in a room so close. 

“Oh, everybody's asleep at this time. Don't worry.” Her voice, despite the words, went back down to a conversational level.

Clown rolled his eyes, sitting back down on the steps. “Doesn't change the fact that you could wake them up,” he mumbled.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” she cringed at herself, as if only now realizing her mistake. Zam let herself stew in the silence before sitting back down next to Clown.

“So…” She nudged Clown in the shoulder. He was looking down at the floor in front of him, his arms resting on his knees. “You and Sneeg?” Zam's voice was prying, and she was wearing a sly grin on her face.

“Well… er, no.” Clown looked away from Zam to adjust the porcelain mask. “Not necessarily.” He stayed facing that way for a few moments. Towards Sneeg's room. 

Clown turned back. “It's not-” he sighed.

Clown didn't know how to explain his thought process. 

Zam looked ahead, tapping her hands on her knees. “Is it a ‘there's nothing there but I want something to be there' situation?”

Clown tilted his head to the side. “Well- hm.” He paused for a moment. “It's more of a ‘there might be something there but neither knows if they want something to be there’ situation.”

Zam let the words settle, letting her take them in. Her brows were furrowed. “So… you're not sure if you… like him?”

“Sure I do.” Clown responded quickly. Quicker than he would've wanted. He backtracked, “well, okay, maybe I do. But Sneeg is still a member of this equation. And I'm the one asking him. By asking him, I would already show my interest. It's him I'm worried about.” Clown leaned back, his elbows resting on the top step of the stairs.

“You're so considerate.” The princess’ voice seemed genuine. Her wings fluttered slightly.

Clown huffed. “Thanks.”

The princess looked ahead.

They sat in silence for a while. It wasn't uncomfortable. The early morning sounds did enough to fill their ears. The birds chirping, the wind blowing against the flags atop the spires, and the small critters scurrying across the grass.

It wasn't until a few minutes later when Zam piped up once more.

“What if I talk to him?” She looked over to Clown, her face bright. “About you.”

His face would've conveyed his hesitancy if his tone hadn't. “Uhmm… I don't know-” the archmage was cut off by the sound of his comm buzzing in his pocket, as well as the sound of rustling to his right. From Sneeg's room.

Eyes wide, his head snapped back in front of him, staring at the ground. 

“Speak of the devil…” Clown mumbled. 

He felt Zam nudge his shoulder once more.

She had that sly grin on her face again. “Well, now's your chance to-”

“Chance to what?”

Clown immediately sat up and turned around to find Sneeg walking out of the entrance to the castle.

Clown made a rolling eyes motion. “Why're you so nosy? God...” 

“Well, it's not my fault you two are talking so loudly.” Sneeg took a few more steps towards the archmage and princess. Zam waved at him as he approached. “It's almost as if you wanted me to hear your conversation.”

Clown tensed as Zam laughed it off.

He tried to find the joke in his words, tried to make sure that whatever had been said had fallen on deaf ears. 

But he couldn't exactly pay attention when Sneeg was just… looking at him. He was looking at him for far too long.

 It made him realize that he hadn't yet spared a single glance at Zam. 

Tha thump. Tha thump. Tha thump. 

“Uhm-” Clown took a glance at Zam before looking back at Sneeg. 

It was like he was in a trance, unable to look away from Sneeg's adamant gaze.

Staring at each other for much longer than would seem necessary or acceptable.

But… I mean, Clown couldn't look away now. He was too far into it.

It was similar to a standoff.

The outside world had grown quiet, except for the growing pace of a heartbeat that Clown had become all too aware of after what Sneeg had told him the night before.

Nobody made a move. 

Clown was pretty sure Zam had said something in the middle of the spectacle, but he just… couldn't hear what she said.

It was weird…

Another moment or two passed by before Sneeg simply raised an eyebrow, giving himself a smirk.

As if he knew everything about Clown. Everything he had said. Everything he ever thought about the smith.

The look was cocky, as if he knew that he knew. And was using it against Clown in a way he knew worked.

Tha thump. Tha thump.

He had to look away. He couldn't do it anymore, knowing what Sneeg was doing. Knowing what he knew.

Clown, once more, was incredibly grateful for his mask and for the privacy it provided. He would've turned away much sooner if it hadn't been for that mask.

And Sneeg, who had been as collected as ever, started laughing as soon as the eye contact was broken.

That stupid fucking laugh.

“You know what you're doing.”

Clown had a bite in his voice, glaring at the smith.

Sneeg came down from his laughter, “haah… I have no idea what you're talking about.” Sneeg continued on with his stride outside of the castle, walking between Clown and Zam. 

He was on his way towards spawn, seemingly, leaving behind an annoyed archmage and an even more confused princess.

Zam had taken a step back through that whole… debacle, leaving the others to their own devices.

But now that Sneeg had left, she scooched herself closer to the archmage, taking in his state.

His elbows rested on his knees, his head resting in his hands. 

Both of them stayed quiet, staring ahead, watching the smith slowly walk(not fly, Clown noticed) away.

Zam looked ahead with Clown, glancing back at him a few times, while tapping her hands on her knees before finally finding the perfect comment to the situation.

“Huh.”

Clown huffed at that, which made Zam smile. She continued, “I think I understand what you meant by ‘something being there.’”

“Yeah, and he probably does, now, too,” Clown said before mumbling, “fucking bastard.”

Zam nudged Clown, pushing him slightly. “It just looks like he's waiting for you to actually do something about it.”

Clown readjusted himself, still sounding quite annoyed but somewhat determined.

“And I'm gonna make him wait for it.”

Zam rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Yeah, sure, but the ball is next week, you know?”

Clown backtracked, his determination faltering. “Yeah, but- I'll wait until the very last moment, y'know? Make him think it's not happening and then boom,” he made a wave gesture with his hands. “Ball proposal.”

“It feels like,” Zam started, standing up, “doing that would hurt you more than it hurts him.” Zam brushed off her dress before heading down the castle steps. 

“Now, hang on-” Clown moved to stand up, holding up a hand to stop Zam.

Zam cut him off. “I'm going to catch up with Sneeg.” Her wings started fluttering, lifting Zam off the ground. “I'll talk to you later.” She turned around in the air and gave Clown a smirk before turning around flying in the direction of Sneeg, a trail of snow following behind her.

He knew exactly what she was going to do

That damn…

But, all Clown did was sigh and go back inside the castle. 

The night before wasn't much different, being left to his own devices.

As soon as the door to the archmage tower had closed, the owner of the tower sighed and leaned against the door, sliding down it to sit on the ground.

An “ughhhhh…” was heard as Clown held his face in his hands.

Why did it have to be Sneeg of all people? Out of anybody in this realm, it was Sneeg.

Clown took off his porcelain mask, tossing it to the other side of room where his bed was. He ran his hands over his face, surely smudging his eyeliner down his cheeks.

Out of anybody to take an interest in, out of anybody to take an interest in him back–

Well, Clown wasn't so sure about that last part.

Clown sure thought it seemed like Sneeg had taken note of Clown's interest and… accepted it? And if he had accepted it, that would mean it would be mutual? In some way?

“Stupid…” he mumbled.

He also fell asleep in front of him, which… I guess it was fine. He had said countless times before he wouldn't do so anymore, but he wasn't too bothered to keep that promise.

Despite that, it still felt… weird.

Being able to do that in front of someone without worrying about anything happening.

Like, he doesn't fall asleep on purpose, he just… doesn't stop it from happening.

And maybe he hopes to see Sneeg there whenever he wakes up.

Maybe he hopes for that nudge on his shoulder, that nudge that means no harm to him. The small shove that would lead to a hand lingering there, only being removed when noticed.

Maybe he hoped, each time, that the hand would stay.

Clown shook his head. He stood up, walking towards where the mask landed. His feet dragged against the wooden floor, feeling heavy.

He stopped before the mask, looking down at it. The painted eyes looked back at him. He could faintly see his own reflection in the smooth porcelain, the dim torchlight illuminating his own face.

Something he so casually looks at now, Sneeg so quickly looked away from.

He recalls the look of surprise and fear when the mask lifted slightly from Clowns face. 

He reached down to pick up the mask. He could see a strand of his copper hair peeking out from his headpiece that acted as a hood.

How much did Sneeg even see? Clown swore he was being careful with hiding his face. It couldn't have been more than a sliver of skin. So why did he react so harshly? Was it out of repulsion? Or was it out of respect?

Did he hold Clown's privacy in such high respect? 

I mean, it wouldn't matter much if he didn't.

He didn't really care if the smith saw his face.

But, despite that, he was glad Sneeg respected his wishes. Glad that he respected him.

Clown tried to tuck the strand of hair back into his hood, but gave up halfway. Clown lowered the mask from his face, before pulling his hood down completely, letting his hair free.

If Clown took off his mask in front of Sneeg, would he look away? Would he not even spare a glance?

Would his respect override his curiosity?

Clown flopped down on his bed, looking up at the high ceiling.

He doubted Sneeg would be thinking of something menial. About something so… unimportant such as these feelings. The feelings that Clown desperately wished were reciprocated.

The door to the smith's room closed, the previous heat having dissipated slightly.

The same question ran through the smith's head, taking up all the space in his mind.

Would I say yes? 

“God…” Sneeg sighed.

Do I want it to happen just so I could say yes?

Sneeg thought he knew the answer, but the more he mulled over the question, he wasn't entirely sure.

Even if he had the chance to answer the question, that would rely on Clown actually asking it.

And all the signs lined up to that being the possibility, but… it was Clown. 

Everybody knows how Clown is. 

Sneeg knew it better than most people on the Realm.

But, the question is, if Clown were to ask Sneeg to the ball as his date, would he say yes?

I mean, probably? was what his thoughts said.

He didn't really see a reason as to why he wouldn't.

Sure, he was really annoying and generally a pain in his ass, but…

Sneeg stopped in his tracks, in the middle of putting his tools away.

I mean, it was Clown. 

The guy who had been there for him and his faction and helped them when they needed it.

The guy who had basically eradicated the red faction and plucked a thorn out of everybody's side by doing so.

The guy who had grown closest to Sneeg and Ros whilst preparing to do so.

The guy who Sneeg would anxiously wait for each day, hoping to see him.

The guy who felt most comfortable in Sneeg's presence, enough to find falling asleep in it a routine.

The guy who would get nervous when Sneeg would stare too long.

The guy whose heart would pick up whenever Sneeg's hand would linger.

The guy who, despite their grievances, wanted to ask Sneeg to the ball.

The guy who so wished that Sneeg would say yes.

And maybe, Sneeg wanted to say yes.

Maybe he wanted to see where it would lead.

Maybe he was curious about it all. 

And maybe, just maybe, feelings would grow mutual.

At this point, Sneeg would sit down on his bed, laying down after a relatively uneventful day.

His arms would be sore from his smithing work, and his mind would continue to run, repeating questions he believed he knew the answer to.

And maybe, he thought, he could have a little fun with it. 

Mess around, push Clown's buttons, get a reaction.

That's just how they were, after all.

But as sleep took him away, his mind remained uneasy.

And he certainly messed around, because as soon as he deemed he was far enough away from Clown and Zam, Sneeg couldn't stop himself from giggling.

God forbid he has a little bit of fun. 

And, yes, Clown was right. Sneeg definitely knew what he was doing.

It just made it more fun that Clown knew what Sneeg knew. Because if Clown were to actually bring attention to it, that would cause a completely different issue to arise. 

Sneeg continued to walk down the spawn path, not going anywhere particularly. The idle thoughts in his mind were interrupted by sounds coming from behind him.

The quick fluttering of fairy wings approaching him caused Sneeg to turn around and find Zam grinning, seeming almost eager to speak to the smith.

Sneeg smiled. “What're you so excited for?” He paused his walking to let her catch up.

Sneeg liked Zam. He found himself becoming quite fond of her and her silly ways of doing things. Fond of her humor and the role she had taken up in the kingdom.

So when Sneeg saw her as determined as she was, he knew he was in for something… interesting.

Zam just stopped herself short of Sneeg, planting her feet in the ground in front of him. She took a second to put her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

Which didn't make sense to Sneeg, considering Zam flew.

A few seconds later, the princess straightened herself, still wearing that grin and looking up at Sneeg.

Zam, ignoring Sneeg's question, said “You didn't even say hi to me back there.” She put her hands behind her back and leaned forward, her expression prying. “What's… going on there?”

Ah, here we go.

Sneeg huffed. He turned back around and continued walking, hearing Zam's steps quicken behind him before she caught up. 

It wasn't until she was at his side when Sneeg spoke.

“What would make you think there's something going on?”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you didn't look away from him? Not once?” Her tone was teasing, like she was trying to get something out of him that she knew would be difficult to. “Even when I said something, you didn't stop.”

“I mean, Clown didn't either.”

“Because you were–!” she sputtered, “that's besides the point. The point,” she paused for dramatic effect, “is that… you and Clown? What's… going on there?”

Straight to the point, Sneeg noticed. It wasn't like he wasn't expecting such from Zam. She was one of the people that spent the most time with Sneeg nowadays, so she ought to know what was out of character for the smith. She was his apprentice, after all.

But, she hadn't seen much of Sneeg and Clown interacting the way they do. Zam only really heard about their antics from Ros, the one who had witnessed most of them firsthand.

She had mentioned something about thinking that there was something more behind the words between them. But, before she got questioned, she would always backtrack. 

“But, I just think I'm looking too far into it!” and “That might just be how they are!” were ones that Zam had heard from the architect.

But now that she heard the confession from Clown, as well as witnessing them interact firsthand herself, she understood what Ros meant.

“Oh, there's nothing. I'm just… messing around, is all.”

Zam's walking faltered. What? She paused, before she caught back up and flew in front of Sneeg, now facing him. As she flew backwards, the faux snow landed between them.

She knew it wasn't going to be easy to get something out of Sneeg, especially something of this nature.

Still, she shot him an annoyed look, raising her eyebrow.

Sneeg laughed and shook his head slightly. “It's true! I don't know what you want from me.”

“If that's all there is, then why would you go about it in that way?”

“Because–” He paused. “Because I know how he would react, and… I don't know.” Sneeg shrugged. “I find it entertaining.” 

Zam leaned forward towards Sneeg, still flying in pace with him. “But why do you find it entertaining?”

“You're really trying to get something out of me, aren't you?” Zam noticed that Sneeg was taking a turn on the path a bit too late before her back met one of the stone structures at spawn.

Sneeg only laughed at her as she jumped in surprise. 

She quickly moved to fly at the side of Sneeg.

They were now passing the small pond at spawn, the smooth sounds of water moving from the wind filling the background.

Zam crossed her arms. “You didn't answer my question.”

Sneeg was quiet. His mouth opened to speak, before closing it. Why do you find it entertaining?

“Well… it's Clown.”

Zam pressed further, leaning more into Sneeg's space. “And why would it make any difference if it were Clown or not?”

Sneeg's eyes had been on Zam's for the whole conversation. But, as soon as she asked that question, he hesitated. Only then did he look away, avoiding her scrutinizing gaze.

Y'know, saying something out loud would mean having to acknowledge what was actually there.

But… hadn't Sneeg already done that? Hadn't he already acknowledged that something was there?

But now that Zam was pressing him about it, it felt more real. More pressure was being put on him.

It felt like Zam wasn't going to let him get away with an explanation she didn't like.

Sneeg stopped his walking and stood in front of the other side of the pond. He could see the castle on the horizon, peeking over the small hill before it.

He wonders if he were to look hard enough, he'd still see Clown sitting at the entrance. He wonders if his eyes would still be on him, despite the distance. 

Even as he had walked away from the castle, Sneeg felt eyes following him. And he just knew that those eyes belonged to Clown. It made him feel proud, in a way. 

But now, as the commotion moved, Sneeg had only hoped that the gaze stayed. 

Zam landed behind him, her footsteps slowly approaching.

Strangely, he could barely hear her footsteps over the beating of her heart. It was.. rapid. Loud. Too… close. He heard the rush of blood in his ears, as if the heartbeat was his own.

It wasn't until Sneeg's hand reached his chest when he realized the beating was his own.

What is he getting so worked up over?

His shoulders raised and lowered with a deep breath as he replayed Zam's question in his mind.

Why was it different with Clown?

The smith pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes.

He needed to calm down before even thinking of continuing.

“Because… he acts a certain way around– around me.” He tried to state it as if it was a casual thing. He knew it. Zam knew it. 

So, what reason does he have to be nervous?

“Okay…” The princess moved to be beside Sneeg. “Now we're getting somewhere.”

She looked up at the smith's face. Sneeg, the ever confident and ever reliable warden of the Kingdom of Fools, had hesitancy and vulnerability written all over his face. She never knew Sneeg to be all that emotive, his stoicism usually never faltering. She could tell he was trying his best to steady himself.

The princess wondered if it was worth continuing on this topic, seeing how tense it made Sneeg. 

But, the fact that he was tense about it showed… something. She wanted to know what that something truly was.

Zam did an intake of breath before continuing.

“And would you say the way he acts implies something like… a crush?”

Sneeg huffed. “What are you, ten?” He looked down as he shifted in place. His comment got no reaction from Zam. He took this as a sign to continue. “I…” he cleared his throat, “I guess you could say that, yes.” Sneeg's hand reached the back of his head as he avoided Zam's gaze.

The princess had to stifle a giggle at Sneeg's awkwardness. If she were to get anything valuable out of this conversation, she was gonna have to force Sneeg out of his comfort zone.

And, to her surprise, he was letting her. 

“And the fact that he holds those feelings for you… intrigues you?

Sneeg crossed his arms, looking back down at Zam. “What are you trying to get me to say here?

She holds her hands up, as if getting caught doing something. “Nothing! Nothing at all. I'm just trying to understand the… situation. Yeah.”

“The situation is that I don't–” Sneeg sighed. He was gonna have to say it. He knew it wasn't what Zam wanted to hear, but it was the truth he had come to accept. “I don't hold what he holds for me.”

“Are you sure?” 

Sneeg's eyebrows furrowed. He was disappointed that the silence didn't hold for long. As if he wishes his confession held more weight than Zam thought it did.

“Yes, I'm sure.” Sneeg almost sounded offended. 

“Really? Because it doesn't seem that way.”

Sneeg furrowed his eyebrows further, looking back down at the princess at his side.

She held no malice. All her expression gave was curiosity and sincerity. Like she was just trying her best to help a friend out.

It upset Sneeg more than it should've. Not because Zam wanted to help, but because she doubted his words. The words that Sneeg had already doubted himself. The words that, after much overthinking, Sneeg had chosen to believe.

It upset him the most that Zam wouldn't feed into his belief in these words.

“And why would you think that?” Sneeg’s words had a bite, trying to get Zam to take the hint and drop it.

He felt Zam flinch, her heartbeat briefly spiking. But, she persisted, a slight hesitancy now entering her voice.

“I mean… the fact that you are aware of his feelings and choose to act on it in the way you do implies that you hold at least something in return.” She paused, looking up at Sneeg's face. He didn't move to speak, so she continued. “And… if you didn't, you would almost immediately shut it down, not feed into it.”

A scoff. “As if you know what I would do.”

“Hah. Oh come on. You? Purposefully leading someone on? Puh-lease.” She put a gloved hand on her hip. “You're not that cruel.”

This earned a huff. “I'd like to think I'm not cruel at all. But tha–”

“Because you're not.” Zam interrupted before Sneeg could continue, seeing him hold a hand up. “You're not being cruel by doing this because you feel a certain way. And you wouldn't do what you're doing if you knew it held absolutely no weight.”

Zam found herself getting worked up, her voice raising. She straightened herself, taking a breath.

And Sneeg just stood there, opening and closing his mouth several times before keeping it shut, wearing a displeased expression.

In a battle of wits, everybody knows to avoid Sneeg. He had the ability to read someone like a book. 

But, as soon as it's turned on him, he's silent. 

Her words shouldn't be making sense. What would Zam know? She didn't know how Sneeg's mind works. He was meant to know the scrawlings inside his head more than anyone. 

His gaze traveled down into the pond, finding a fish inside. 

But, despite what his mind was trying to say now, he couldn't deny what he had already accepted, no matter how upset it made him. 

“Well, so what if I maybe want to feel the same way?” The frustration in his voice didn't get lost on Zam. He sounded like he was ready to grind his teeth. “What if I see the way he acts around me and I wish I could act that way around him? Sincerely?”

There it is. Zam grinned, as if she just reached a jackpot. She crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Well,” she started, “the fact that you want to feel that way implies that something is already there. That you feel that way already in some regard.” Zam shrugged. “Just accept that and you'll be giggling and kicking your feet in no time!” 

She nudged the smith, her touch causing him to tense slightly. Bad time, Zam thought, her joking demeanor dropping. 

Sneeg tucked his arms behind his cloak, looking down into the pond. 

Zam could practically feel the heat radiating off of him.

She couldn't really tell the exact reason for Sneeg to be upset, but she had a few ideas. Was it because of Zam's contradiction to Sneeg's conclusions? Or was it because he had realized there was some truth to her words, upset he hadn't realized sooner.

She didn't even know if Sneeg was going to agree with her, considering his attitude towards the situation.

It wasn't until Zam had opened her mouth to speak again when Sneeg let out a sigh, his previous attitude deflating.

“Then what do you suppose I do?” Sneeg said finally, his words were riddled with annoyance.

Zam didn't think he was doing it on purpose, really. She could understand his reasoning for being so upset.

He was being told something that contradicted all his beliefs as if it was the truth.

Despite their age differences, Zam had plenty more knowledge on these types of situations. Sneeg knew that. 

He had to take into account that when it came to things like “crushes”, he was pretty stupid, despite what he'd like to think.

Zam smiled at Sneeg. She was just glad he was willing to take advice.

“Well,” Zam started, making a gesture with her hand. “Like I said, you have to accept your feelings for what they are. Take a step back and look at how these… things actually affect you.” She paused. “How he affects you.”

“Okay, well–”

“I'm just saying–”

Sneeg scoffed. “You're getting ahead of yourself.”

“Am I? I don't think I am.” She kicked a rock that was at her feet, watching it fall into the water. “You asked me what you should do, and I think that is something you should take into consideration.”

Sneeg hummed. “And what if, when I take a step back and look at the situation for what it is, there's truly, truly, nothing there?”

“Well, you're gonna have to break it to Clown, considering you've basically been leading him on.”

Now that Zam looked back to the castle, she saw a black and red figure back at the entrance, leaning in the doorway. 

“He's watching us,” Sneeg noticed.

“Yeah,” Zam flew up a few feet, putting her hand on Sneeg's shoulder to steady herself. She waved dramatically at Clown as she continued. “Your boyfriend is waiting for you.”

“Don't.” 

“Right, sorry.” Zam lowered herself back to the ground when she saw the archmage do a movement that vaguely resembled a wave.

Sneeg sighed, his gaze not averting from Clown. “I don't want to talk to him right now.”

“What–” Zam gripped Sneeg's arm, causing him to look down at the princess. “What was our whole conversation for then?!” 

“No–” Sneeg huffed, finding Zam's distress amusing. “No, I'm gonna talk to him. Just… not now. Especially after…” Sneeg looked back towards the caste, “what I just did.”

Zam tilted her head at the smith. “Are you embarrassed?” And when Sneeg looked away, Zam's mouth grew into a grin. “Oh my god!” 

She raised a hand over her mouth, lifting herself off of the ground. 

Zam flew to be in front of Sneeg, poking him in the shoulder. “You're embarrassedddd.” Her tone was teasing, causing Sneeg to hold his face in his hand, groaning. Zam giggled at him. “Don't worry… I bet Clown's too stuck up on your flirting to think about your embarrassment.” 

Zam leaned back, giggling to herself in the air.

She knew it wasn't really flirting… but the situation couldn't help but make her laugh. Sneeg, right after the incident happened, had been acting as if nothing about what he did mattered. As if what he did didn't mean anything.

But now, after their conversation about how it probably meant a lot… 

Zam couldn't stop her giggling. The more she thought about it, the funnier it got.

Sneeg, the strongest guy in the entire kingdom, the entire realm, coming to terms with his crush. His crush! Something that he probably would've considered ‘beneath him’ several months ago. 

“You're an ass,” Sneeg spoke from behind his hand, which only made Zam's laughter intensify.

The days passed by as the anticipation for the royal ball grew. 

Everybody had something they needed to do. Last minute preparations to be made.

A few days had passed since Sneeg and Zam's conversation and nothing of importance regarding the conversation had occurred.

It was now 2 days before the ball, and a few members of the yellow kingdom were busy preparing in the ballroom.

“Why didn't you like the other tables, Ros?” Foolish shouted up to where Ros was flying at the chandelier.

Him and Zam were lifting a table that was used for the previous ball towards a storage room. There were shulker boxes with supplies for the new tables when everything was moved out.

Zam, who was flying while lifting the side opposite of her father, seemed to be doing more of the heavy lifting than Foolish.

Sneeg, who was on the other side of the ballroom, had found himself sitting on the counter that blocked the "dj booth." Whilst they were testing everything out– the lights, the furniture, and the sound system– the jukebox turned out to be damaged in some way. 

Sneeg was the one that was tasked with fixing it, due to his “extensive knowledge on machines,” said by Ros.

The architect looked down from where she was flying, restocking the chandelier, yellow and purple candles in hand. 

“It's not that I didn't like the tables,” she started, twirling a candle in her hand, “I just wanted something… new, y'know?” She went back to facing the chandelier.

The conversations between the four of them were short. Nothing about them was too notable.

It was late morning, and they were just trying to get the busy work done before extra help came. Tina and Sausage had offered to help in some way when they weren't busy anymore. 

Though, they probably wouldn't be too thrilled to find out that a majority of the tasks contained cleaning and dusting around the different floors.

A snapping sound could be heard from the dj booth as Sneeg slid the lid to the jukebox back on. “Okay… if I did everything right, it should work now.” 

Zam, who had just started lifting a new table, let the table fall on the floor, causing Foolish to make a noise of distress.

“Oh, I'm excited!” The princess quickly hurried over to the smith, leaning over the counter to get a better look.

Sneeg shook his head, smiling. He picked up the disc he had set aside and placed it into the slot. “Cross your fingers.”

He pressed a button on the jukebox, both Zam and Sneeg watching it with bated breath.

But when a broken up version of the song played, both of them groaned in unison, their stances becoming deflated.

“It's a no go?” Foolish approached the noise from behind Zam, his arms crossing when he reached them.

“Yeah.” Sneeg took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “I'll just keep working at it.” He blinked rapidly as he pulled his hand away, placing his glasses back on his nose.

Foolish frowned. “How about we take a break, yeah?” The king looked towards where Ros was, finding her descending next to the three of them, her purple butterfly wings fluttering. “We've been at it for a bit. We can pick it back up when the others are available. How does that sound?”

Ros landed on the floor next to Foolish, the metal sound of her boots clanking against it. “Yeah, I think that sounds good.” Ros put the extra candles down on the counter, putting her hands behind her back. “I can go upstairs and prepare something for us.” 

Ros turned her back to the other's, her wings lifting her off the ground, flying towards the entrance of the ballroom.

Zam quickly stood up, her head turning so quickly towards Ros that her hair flipped over her shoulder. “Wait, I'll help!” She began running towards Ros, her heels clacking against the floor before her wings took her into the air.

The king and the smith watched the royals head out of the room.

“I'll be right up!” Foolish shouted towards them, his voice carrying. He leaned against the counter, turning towards Sneeg who was looking inside the jukebox once again. “You coming?” 

“If I want to get this fixed today, no.” Sneeg adjusted his glasses. “I think I know what's wrong, but it's just very… tedious.” He picked up a small metal tool from beside the jukebox. 

“Uh-huh…” Foolish turned around, leaning against the counter. “So, the ball?” His head turned to the side, watching the smith.

Sneeg seemed like he was barely paying attention. “Mhm…”

“Y'know,” the totem turned further towards the moth, getting a better look at him. “Zam told me something very interesting about you regarding the ball…”

Foolish watched his smith visibly tense, stopping his movement completely.

A few moments passed before Sneeg resumed his work, facing away from his king. 

“Your daughter is a gossip. You're gonna have to be more specific.” His tone had become uneasy.

Oh, please don't be more specific, the smith could only hope.

“Well,” Foolish turned away at this point, but Sneeg could hear the smile in his voice. “She told me that you have plans…? With a certain someone?”

“Was that all she told you?” Sneeg leaned back from the jukebox, turning his head towards the king.

“I mean, she told me a few more things, but I want to hear what you have to say about it. 

“I don't have any plans.” The smith took his glasses off, wiping his face off from sweat. “Not yet, at least.” When did he get so sweaty?

The king hummed. “So you plan on… having plans?”

“Kinda..?” Sneeg put his glasses back on. “I don't have anything planned yet. I'm just waiting on that ‘certain someone,’ as you said.”

“Right… who is that someone, anyway?” Foolish turned his body around, now facing the smith. The king could've sworn that Sneeg's cheeks were darker. It was hard to tell, though, due to his light blue complexion.

“Wait, Zam didn't tell you?”

“Nope. She was incredibly vague about it.”

“Yeah, Sneeg is probably going with someone. I talked to him a–”

“Wait, what? Sneeg is going with someone?”

The princess’ eyes widened, as if she said something she shouldn't have. “Oh! uhmm… maybe?”

“Who's he going with?”

“Oh, you know… someone…” she laughed awkwardly, “why don't you ask him about it yourself?”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. We were just talking about the ball and I think it just slipped out of her.” Foolish shrugged. “I'm just curious about it now.”

The smith sighed, looking away from the king towards the jukebox once again. 

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. ‘Was just curious, is all.

“Well, if everything goes well, I won't have to tell you.” Sneeg's words were still uneasy.

Foolish hummed. 

The silence between them grew, neither of them sure where to continue.

It wasn't until Sneeg picked up his tools and refocused back on the jukebox when Foolish pushed himself off of the counter, heading for the entrance of the ballroom.

“I'll bring you down something, alright?”

“Yeah, thank you, Foolish.” Sneeg paused, leaning back from the box. “And…” Foolish paused his walking to look back at the smith. Sneeg was now looking at his comm, avoiding the king's eyes. “Do you remember when Clown said he'd be back? From his trip?”

Foolish dropped his arms, letting him fully process the question.

The totem's grin grew as he saw the moth look further away from him.

“Ahh… I see.” He shook his head, letting out a small laugh. “I believe he said he hoped to be back… tomorrow morning?”

“Cool, thanks.”

Foolish huffed, before turning around, heading towards the entrance once more. “No problem, Sneeg!” He waved back at the smith, leaving him alone in the ballroom.

It wasn't until Foolish reached the doorway when Sneeg, ever so faintly, heard “The archmage and the smith father. Huh. Who would've guessed?” with the voice fading out as the totem turned the corner.

The smith dropped his face into his hands, groaning.

ClownPierce whispers to you: let me know when you wake up

ClownPierce whispers to you: I have something for you

It was the first thing Sneeg saw when he woke up. 

It was the early morning sounds of birds chirping as well as the buzzing of his communicator by his head that had interrupted his slumber, causing his eyes to open, bleary from sleep. 

The morning sunlight cast through the leafy ceiling of his smithing room as he rubbed his eyes. 

Sitting up in his bed, he reached over to the enderchest where his silver rimmed glasses lie and put them on atop his nose. 

And when Sneeg reached to grab his comm, looking at those words which had just been sent to him, he was struck still.

He didn't move a muscle, his eyes wide.

Clown must've come back to spawn that morning, at most a few hours beforehand. 

Or he might've just gotten home, messaging Sneeg as soon as he could. As soon as he was in range for his messages to send.

The thought made Sneeg feel… weird. 

His face felt weird. His chest felt weird. His head felt… weird. 

The smith glanced at the timestamp in which the message was sent. Five minutes ago, he found.

If he made Clown wait for long, he doubted the archmage would stay awake. He had just gotten home, after all. Traveling all through the night just to get home in the early hours of the day.

If he wanted to speak with Clown, he'd have to do it soon. 

So, as Sneeg took a deep breath, he began typing on his comm, sending a message to the waiting recipient.

You whisper to ClownPierce: what do you want

He turned off his comm, putting it in his pocket, as he got up out of his bed, stretching.

It was the day before the ball and Clown wanted to speak to him. To Sneeg. 

The reason as to why? He could take a guess.

He hasn't spoken to the archmage since that fateful morning on the castle steps, leaving many things left unsaid.

And, Sneeg supposed, that now was the time for some of those things to be said.

To his dismay, of course. It's not like he exactly wanted to face these things head on.

But who would he be if he didn't take his fights with pride?

And so, as Sneeg got ready for the day, the comm in his pocket buzzed, reminding him of the inevitability of his situation.

Although… he did have things to do before he could converse.

Like getting ready for the day. Or… repairing his armor. Or something else he could distract himself with.

And, it's not like he was stalling. Absolutely not… 

Sneeg? Stalling? No… he wanted to talk to Clown. Of course he did. If he didn't, he wouldn't have responded.

The smith would never admit that the beating of his heart made his ears hurt. 

A few minutes pass by as Sneeg tries to find something to occupy his mind. Something to mess with before actually starting his day.

The moth shook his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. What am I doing? It's literally not that big of a deal. Get over it!

Begrudgingly, Sneeg took the comm out of his pocket, turning it on to see a lonely message from his archmage companion.

ClownPierce whispers to you: come to spawn 

It was sent 8 minutes ago. 

Good job, Sneeg, he berated himself. He's just been waiting at spawn for your dumbass because of your nerves.

His nerves? Sneeg wasn't nervous. Absolutely not. What would he even be nervous for? Talking to Clown? He's done that plenty of times.

But this was… different. 

Much different.

Sneeg paused before the mangrove doors.

But was it really?

It shouldn't be different. 

Based on everything Sneeg was told, it shouldn't be that big of a deal, right?

If these… things are something that has been going on for a while, it shouldn't make a difference.

But… it is so different.

More different than anyone can fathom.

This whole time everybody had known each other in The Realm, the smith and the archmage had always danced around something that might or might not have been there.

It was always a case of “will they, won't they,” everybody always betting that they won't. 

But now, it's different.

So so different.

Sneeg burst through his mangrove doors to the outside, much more aggressive than was necessary.

He was getting himself frustrated. 

He just needed to calm down and get to spawn.

He needed to let what was going to happen just happen.

His steps were heavy, creating thuds as he walked down the castle steps. The same steps that Sneeg and Clown had their latest interaction all those days ago.

He stepped onto the path, following it as it led to The King's Bridge.

Sneeg didn't want to fly right now. The thought of flying made him feel sick. 

Or maybe he already felt sick beforehand.

He didn't know what he was feeling.

It all felt so… new. Unfamiliar.

As Sneeg finished crossing the stone bridge, he heard Clown before he saw him.

“...for 10 minutes! Clearly I'm not worth his time. Clearly I'm not important enough.” A pause. “Y'know, every time I come back after being gone for a while, he immediately gets on my ass about–”

“Clown?” Sneeg yelled out. He was still a few seconds walk away from the spawn pond.

The sound of his voice immediately shut the archmage up.

But, as he shut up, his heart only became louder.

He could hear it from the distance between them.

Clown stood still, turning towards Sneeg when he got close enough.

Sneeg planted his feet in the ground, standing about 2 meters away from Clown.

Their gazes found one another, never faltering.

Sneeg can't see behind the mask, but he just knew that Clown's eyes were on his.

He could feel his eyes on him, challenging him.

Sneeg raised a brow, hearing the other's heartbeat reverberate within him.

“You wanna have a repeat of a few days ago?”

Clown tilted his head to the side.

He had his hands behind his back, feet planted toward the smith. 

There was much more confidence in his stature than that morning before.

However…

Tha thump. Tha thump. Tha thump.

Sneeg focused in on his heartbeat, hearing nothing else in the silence except his breathing and–  

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

A different beat.

To his right, there was a different heartbeat, one different from his own and Clown's.

Thump… Thump… Thump…

Another, to his left.

Sneeg thought he knew what was going on, but now he was more confused than he was nervous.

He looked around him, breaking the gaze between him and Clown, to find nobody. 

However, in the directions where the beats were coming from there were obstacles in which someone or something could be behind it.

A tree to his left and a stone wall ruin to his right.

“Sneegsnag.”

Clown's voice interrupted Sneeg's thoughts, snapping his head back to Clown. He could ignore the others for now.

As Sneeg looked back to Clown, he noticed the archmage had stepped closer, creating less distance between them.

“ClownPierce,” he challenged back. He looked down at the archmage, crossing his arms across his chest. 

But Clown wasn't going to back down. Not this time. He only returned the gaze, determination in his voice.

“Sneeg,” he started. “I have… a question. For you.”

He felt a spike in his own beat. 

If it were to happen at any time, it would be now.

“Mhmmm?” He hummed. 

There was a pause, only being interrupted (for Sneeg) by the 3 heartbeats around him. Clown's being, by far, the loudest compared to the mystery beats

Though, it was becoming very, very, hard to hear over his own.

Clown took a deep breath, dropping his head, before looking back up at the smith.

“Would you like to go to the ball with me?”

.

.

.

It was as if the world paused.

If only for a few seconds, it felt like it was only them who existed in this realm.

Sneeg had to blink his widened eyes, causing a rift in that world that they created.

He looked away, inhaling sharply.

“I mean, yeah sure.”

.

.

.

“Cool.”

A scoff. “Cool?” Sneeg's gaze shot back to Clown, finding him looking down at the ground. “That's all you got?”

Clown looked back up, taken aback. “Well, I'm sorry. Your response wasn't much to comment on either.” The archmage put his hands on his hips and leaned forward into Sneeg's space, his tone accusatory.

“Well, it's just that you had this whole thing and I expected a little bit more, y'know?”

Clown leaned back, rolling his eyes. “Oh, as if you would do something much more extravagant that would be ‘fitting.’”

“Well it wasn't my job to ask someone out to the ball. I think I made that quite clear that–”

“Would you have just preferred if I hadn't said anything? Because it's sure starting to sound like it.” 

Sneeg rolled his eyes. “I think I would've, actually. Would've saved us both extra turmoil.”

“Because I'm that bad you wouldn't want to go to the ball with me? As far as I'm concerned, you agreed to.” Clown crossed his arms. “I must be doing something right.”

“The only way you'd be doing something right is if you shut your mouth.”

“Oh yeah? That's rich coming from you. You were the one that immediately came after me! All because I said ‘cool.’ That's it. That's it! That's all I did. And now you're on my ass…” 

Clown went on, letting Sneeg just listen to him.

The archmage was so deep within his rant that he didn't notice when Sneeg stepped forward.

He only shut up when Sneeg wrapped his arms around him, bringing him into a hug, causing him to let out an "oomf."

“Dude, shut the hell up.”

“You missed me that much? I was only gone for a few days.” Despite his words, Clown's arms wrapped around Sneeg, making sure to be careful of his wings.

“You're so stupid. Do you want me to revoke my answer? I will. Don't test me, I will.”

“No you won't.” The smile in Clown's voice was evident.

“Whatever.” Sneeg pulled away, his hand lingering on Clown's arm. “Also, did you have to wait until the last second? The ball is literally tomorrow.”

“I wanted to make you sweat a little bit.”

“Well, you did. You happy now?”

Despite not being able to see his face, Clown's grin was very audible. “Yes. Very.”

They stood for some moments more, facing each other, Clown still very aware of the hand on his arm. 

Despite it becoming a common occurrence, it never failed to make his skin feel hot.

However, Clown didn't have time to revel in the touch when Sneeg interrupted the silence.

“There's people watching us, y'know.”

Eyes widening, Clown frantically looked around him. 

“Wait, what? Who? Where?”

“You didn't know?” The smith questioned, raising a brow. When the archmage shook his head no, he continued. “Huh. Well, I have a few guesses as to who.” Sneeg looked between the tree and the wall ruin.

Clown followed Sneeg's gaze to the tree, a purple butterfly wing peeking out from behind. At that time, a hand reached out to pull the wing to behind the tree.

Then he found, at the wall, a small pile of faux snow was collecting at the base of the ruin.

“Of course…” Clown dropped his head, shaking it.

“Yeah.” Sneeg nodded, his mouth growing into a grin. He started looking out towards the tree, raising his voice. “It sure would be really awkward if someone were listening in on us.”

Clown picked up on the bit quickly, raising his own voice. “Yeah, it'd be really embarrassing if someone watched such a private moment. I'd feel really guilty if I was listening in.”

Sneeg giggled at him, Clown soon joining in.

It wasn't long before the sound of rustling grass interrupted their laughter, causing both of their heads to shoot in the direction of the ruined wall.

Zam, who had previously been hiding behind the wall, had caught herself from tripping. In her panic of being found out, it seems, she had begun frantically looking for a way out and tripped in the process, gaining more attention to herself.

Her eyes were wide, her face filled with panic as Clown and Sneeg looked her way.

“Uhm…” the princess quickly stood up straight. “Oh, he-” she cleared her throat, “Oh, hey guys! What's… what are you guys doing here?”

“That's so crazy considering we were just wondering what you and Ros were doing here.” Sneeg turned his body towards Zam, crossing his arms across his chest.

Zam's face got slightly more panicked. “Oh- Ros is here? That's crazy… Why would she be here? It's so early in the morning…” Her voice dripped with awkwardness, looking anywhere other than Clown and Sneeg. 

Clown turned to where Ros supposedly was, finding a purple eye peeking from behind that tree. As soon as Clown turned, that purple eye widened, and immediately went behind the tree once more. However, Ros’ butterfly wings were giving her location away, almost at full wingspan without her noticing.

“Uh-huh.” Sneeg nodded slowly. “Yeah, why are you up this early? It's like you got up for something specific. Doesn't it seem that way, Clown?” He turned to the archmage.

“Yeah, it does seem like that, doesn't it?” Clown crossed his arms, now facing towards the princess. “What could be so important for waking up this early on the day before the ball?”

Zam glanced between them and the direction of the castle, as if trying to convey something to someone behind Sneeg and Clown.

“Maybe I should go–”

“Yeah, you probably should,” Sneeg said.

“Yup. On it.” Her wings started flapping, lifting her feet off the ground and immediately flying in the direction of the castle. 

It wasn't until a few seconds later when Zam was out of audible range did Sneeg and Clown glance at each other and immediately bursted out in laughter.

“Were they there the whole time?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“So they heard all that?”

“They definitely did.”

“Oh god…. And it was Ros and Zam. Who knows where that information is going.” Clown looked down, shaking his head.

“Yeah.” Sneeg's gaze was on the castle until a figure in the sky caught his eye. A flying purple figure heading towards the castle. “It shouldn't matter, though. Considering, y'know, the ball is tomorrow.”

“Well I'm sorry I was busy. I didn't have the time to–”

“You had all the time to do something before you left on your… whatever adventure trip. But, you decided to wait until the very last second.” 

“Aww, I'm so so sorry.” Clown's words dripped with fake sympathy. “So sorry that you had to wait just a little bit longer to be asked out. I know you're not used being asked out on dates, but–”

“Im canceling on you.”

“What? No, come on. You would never cancel on me.” Clown turned to Sneeg, poking him in the shoulder, his tone teasing.

The smith's mouth grew into a grin. He pushed Clown in the shoulder, causing him to stumble, tripping on his own feet.

“You wanna bet on that?” Sneeg started walking back up the path, not waiting for Clown to steady himself.

And, although nobody could see it, as Clown ran to catch up with Sneeg, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, I would definitely take that bet.”

Chapter Text

On The Realm, safety wasn't easy to find. 

Finding others that you could trust was even harder.

To be able to find your people, to find your family, was something many strive for.

And with family, comes trust.

Trust was the thing that was most important to earn and give away on The Realm, putting your safety and grievances in the hands of others.

But sometimes it might seem like the trust that you hold for others isn't reciprocated.

And, sometimes, the mind might stray… and wonder if that trust was ever truly there.

So, when Ros found Zam again at the castle, she wasn't all too pleased.

“What the hell was that.”

The royal architect landed on the stone platform on the outside of her castle, a look of bewilderment and annoyance painting her face.

The sudden sound of her metal greaves against the stone and the fluttering of her wings startled the yellow princess, twirling around to meet Ros’ face. 

“I know! Can you believe–”

“No– no, what was that? You woke me up for…” Ros gestured towards the direction of spawn, “for that? Did you know all that was gonna happen?”

As soon as Zam had been caught by Sneeg and Clown during their little “moment,” Ros found Zam staring at her with fear, gesturing for her to leave the premises, and to head towards the castle. Like it was something that needed discussion.

Zam took a step back from Ros, now panicked, sensing that her friend wasn't taking this information as she had expected. “Well, I kinda knew it was going to happen, but–”

“And you woke me up for it?” The architect crossed her arms across her breastplate.

“Well, I thought it might've been something you wanted to see, so I…” Zam trailed off, letting awkwardness drip into her words as Ros stared her down with her eyebrows furrowed, expression unreadable.

The princess would've thought Ros wanted to know what was going on between Sneeg and Clown, considering she was quite close to the two of them, and being the one to actually know of their antics.

This… this was not the reaction Zam expected.

Zam kicked at the ground, holding her arms defensively. “I don't know. I just thought you would've wanted to see something happening, so I–”

Zam stopped herself as the sound of distant chatter interrupted the royals’ moment.

Both of their heads snapped in the direction of the voices, finding Clown and Sneeg making their way up the path in the direction of the castle.

The princess couldn't help but focus her attention on them, her previous stance becoming lost.

At a first glance, their conversation seemed teasing, almost playful, Zam found. The smith pushed Clown in the shoulder, the archmage retaliating with an elbow to the side.

They were laughing, no real hostility found in their actions.

Sneeg, with all his focus on his archmage companion, held a soft expression. An expression of adoration. 

It was rare for the smith, Zam noted, to show such emotion towards another. To be willing–

Her thoughts were promptly cut off by the grip on her wrist, pulling her out of view from the opening in the castle walls. 

The princess nearly tripped from the force, but steadied herself as Ros flew to the side of the castle, practically dragging Zam away from the entrance as well as away from the possible attention from the people they were just caught spying on minutes prior. 

Zam let Ros lead her towards the back of the castle, landing on the grass outside of the royal greenhouse.

“They literally caught us snooping.” Ros crossed her arms once more, not letting a moment pass before pushing at Zam again. “You thought that was a good idea considering one of them hears literally everything?” 

“We didn't make any noise! I was making sure to be careful.”

“Oh, so you didn't breathe? Didn't graze against anything? Step in the grass the wrong way?” Ros’ voice began to rise, leaning into Zam's personal space.

The princess backed up, wishing to breathe her own air once more. “Why are you so upset at me?” Zam shifted her feet in the grass, looking down at her heels. “I'm sorry that I woke you up for this, but I thought you'd be at least a little excited about it…” 

Ros paused, taking in Zam's aversion to her gaze.

The architect forced her face to soften, now suddenly very aware of the tension found in it. 

She took a step back from Zam, finding the other glancing back up at her.

“Sorry.” 

“It's okay.” The princess spoke quickly.

Ros ignored her.

The architect straightened herself, shutting her eyes. She inhaled deeply before opening her eyes once more, finding Zam's own eyes looking back at her, concern written in them.

“What–” the architect breathed in quickly, “what happened? Start at the beginning. Please.”

Zam shifted in place, glancing towards the castle, as if she'd find someone listening.

A moment passed before she let herself speak.

“Well,” Zam started, “I woke up early this morning, hoping to meet Clown as he got back from his travels.

“I was flying around, trying to get a better view of everything from above. I didn't know which way he'd be coming from, so my flying was mostly aimless. But, I eventually found him walking over the mountain behind the Snurch…” she caught herself in the details. “Anyways, I flew down to meet him, but he was focused on his communicator, not noticing me. He was mumbling something as he typed, something about ‘meeting someone.’ So I thought, the day before the ball and wanting to meet with someone? I could only think of one thing that could mean, really. So, I went to wake you, the person who I thought would be thrilled to find this out, and bring you to… well, see.”

They sat in the silence for a few moments, Ros taking in Zam's words. She had been nodding along, gaze grazing the grass behind Zam.

“So… you heard what Clown was doing and your immediate reaction was to wake me up to… spy on them? Spy on their very personal moment?”

The princess looked to the side, expression now guilty. “I mean–”

Ros tensed, eyes tracing the blades of grass at her feet. “Why didn't I know about it? If you did, why didn't I?”

.

.

.

“What?”

“Why did you know that Clown was going to ask Sneeg to the ball?”

“I mean, Clown told me that he wanted to…” Zam held her hands behind her back, kicking the grass at her feet. “And, I helped Sneeg through some things… so, I just assumed…” Zam's voice trailed off as she noticed Ros turning her back to the princess, giving her a full view of her wings.

The architect held her arms, her shoulders tense.

“...Ros?” The princess’ words were careful as she took a slow step towards Ros.

Her silence caused Zam to hesitate, keeping a distance between them.

It wasn't until Zam heard Ros breathe a sigh when she let out her own breath, unaware she was holding it.

Ros shrugged, still holding onto her arms. “I'm not surprised, really.” She paused, turning her head to the side. “Well, I was surprised as it was happening… it really came out of nowhere.” Ros glanced back at the princess. “For me, anyway.”

And when Ros looked back away, Zam couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. 

Guilty for what? Knowing something Ros didn't? Not, at least, telling Ros about what was going on between Sneeg and Clown? It wasn't Zam's place to be telling other people about it. It was theirs. 

But before Zam could speak on such, the architect continued.

“All the signs were there. I know that much. But…” she shook her head, turning to look at the back of the castle, “it's upsetting that they didn't think to confide in me. Like they did with you.”

“Oh.” Zam took another step towards Ros, her hand reaching up to the architect's shoulder, unaware if she should commit. “I mean, Sneeg didn't really confide in me. I think he thought he had it all under control.” She dropped her hand as she gave a light shrug of her own shoulders, her voice still holding hesitation. “I basically forced him to talk to me about it. Clown on the other hand… Well, he left for his little ‘adventure’ right after he told me of his plans.” The princess turned to be side-by-side with Ros, facing the castle. “Told the king as soon as he woke up that he was leaving and just, well, left. Headed south without telling anybody else.” 

“He told nobody else?”

“Yeah.” Zam nodded. “I had to learn about it from my dad. I don't think he even told Sneeg.”

Ros hummed, her eyebrows narrowing slightly. “The reason Clown didn't talk to me about this is because… he didn't have time?” The architect questioned, her voice dripping with skepticism.

Zam gave a shrug. “I don't know. He was… hesitant to do it at first, so I don't think he was completely sure.”

The architect opened her mouth to speak, hesitant, then closing it. She let a few moments pass before she settled on her response.

“Right.”

She must've not seemed convinced, finding Zam glancing over to her, frowning.

Ros wasn't even sure she was convinced for herself.

An uncomfortable silence filled the air between them, the tensions of their words never having left.

A few more unpleasant moments passed by before that silence was broken.

“I think… if this is something important to you, you should talk to them.” Zam piped up, ever hesitant, her fairy wings having a slight flutter. “Either of them. Voice your concerns. I'm sure that neither Sneeg nor Clown meant to make you feel like they couldn't trust you with something like this.”

The architect looked back down to the grass beneath her feet.

She probably should. Ros knows that. 

If it's going to be something that riddles her mind, she should at least mention her grievances to at least one of the parties involved.

But, Ros reminds herself, that would lead to bringing up a topic that might be found to be… problematic.

The topic that has been a constant worry for many across the Realm. 

It would bring up the possibility of Clown or Sneeg not trusting Ros with… whatever this was considered as. 

The thought of bringing that up to either of them made her… nervous. Nervous at the possibility of making them feel bad for something that, entirely possibly, was not their intention at all.

Of course that wasn't their intention, the architect mentally hit herself. It's just a big misunderstanding.

She shouldn't bother them with such a menial subject. With something as unimportant as not being up to date with someone's… romantic escapades.

That wording made her silently cringe.

However, if it was as unimportant as Ros claims it to be, these emotions wouldn't be as strong as they are.

They wouldn't be this prevalent. 

She wouldn't be so… hung up on this.

Ros kicked at the grass, her greaves making the sound metallic.

Maybe she should. Maybe she should talk to them.

But…

She thinks back on the events that happened not even an hour ago. 

While Ros and Zam were at spawn, watching Sneeg and Clown have their moment.

Sure they had been arguing nearly the whole time, but it was different. 

Different in the fact that it had romantic undertones, but also in the fact it wasn't as hostile as it might've been in the past. It was more… humorous. Banter-y. Light.

This wasn't a time where Ros would want to interrupt that. She would never want to interrupt the moments Sneeg and Clown share, especially in this light.

She'll leave them be for now.

So, as Ros replayed Zam's words in her mind, her thoughts rambling on, she came to her conclusion.

“Y'know what? Maybe I will.” 

She could spare Zam from the rest.

The next late morning came, along with the sounds that accompanied it. The sound of the birds chittering, the ambience of buzzing conversations, as well as the indistinct humming coming from the archmage tower.

Every living creature within a close radius of the Yellow Castle was aware of the royal ball happening just that evening.

Everybody was very openly excited, happy for their plans to finally come to fruition. The dates that had been planned, the outfits that had been created… it was all going to be revealed in just a few short hours. 

A soft humming came from the top level of the yellow roofed archmage tower, the source of the noise being the owner of the tower himself.

The tapping of a brush against a vanity desk momentarily stifled the humming, a puff of translucent powder falling off the brush with each tap. 

A gloved hand reached the brush up to the pale skin of the owner's cheek, applying the powder to his face.

The ball was set to occur later in the afternoon. As for the exact time, Clown was unsure. He just knew that it would happen in the later hours of the day, the event having been planned to bleed into the early hours of the next morning.

So, to be prepared for what the day has to bring, Clown sat before a small wooden vanity, applying makeup to his face.

It wasn't much, really. Not much at all. 

Why would it be?

As Clown set the brush down at the desk, he leaned away from the mirror, getting a good look at himself.

Some may call what he's doing a waste of product. Albeit, a very small waste, but waste nonetheless. 

With the existence of that familiar mask everyone had come to know, nobody would even see what's underneath, nonetheless know anything is different.

The makeup brush sat lonely on that desk, most of the surface remaining bare even with the addition of the brush. 

You see, when you spend all day every day wearing a mask that completely covers your face, makeup isn't something that is on your mind often. It is, in fact, something someone of that nature would scoff at, considering it a waste of time. They would, most likely, roll their eyes at the mention of it.

Nobody would see it. Nobody. So what was the point?

Those were thoughts that Clown had come to be familiar with, even as he stared himself down in the mirror in front of him.

It wasn't much yet. Just the addition of light eyeliner along with the covering of blemishes. He wasn't sure if he should add more yet. But, it was enough for Clown to take time out of his day. Even now, with his hood down, the archmage's copper colored hair hung over his face, the tight and loose coils reaching his eyes.

It wasn't until he pushed his hair out his face when he could properly see the work he's done.

And, the more his eyes ran along the features of his face, a face many don't ever get to see, the more a question tugged at his mind.

Why am I doing this if nobody is going to even see my face?

Why bother?

Clown furrowed his eyebrows, his gaze landing on a small scar closely underneath one of his eyes, barely visible.

He didn't have many scars on his face. The porcelain mask he wore took most of the blows that would normally reach the face, giving the mask its own cracks and scars in return.

Like a shield might've.

Clown's gaze dragged over to where the mask was placed, propped up against the side of the mirror, the face of it staring right back at him.

The face with those cold, menacing, deadly eyes that so many had come to fear.

He looked at that mask for a while. Really looked at it. With all the miniscule cracks and chips and… imperfections.

Maybe it was time to lower that shield. Just slightly.

To lower your defenses, to be truly vulnerable, around someone could be terrifying. Even if that someone is a person you might've come to trust… to respect. To hold in such high regard. To get close to. To feel something strong for. 

And to wish to be vulnerable around someone might be even more terrifying, especially if your nature has been nothing but defensive your entire life.

It might even be nice to be vulnerable, truly vulnerable, around those you had grown closest to.

The painted porcelain eyes stared endlessly on.

The archmage's eyebrows furrowed, removing his lasting gaze from the mask

He had a ball to get ready for, and preparations weren't going to be made if he sat here overthinking his every decision.

And, as if on cue, when Clown pushed his stool out from under the vanity desk, a knock came from the tower's entrance, echoing throughout the length of the building, startling the archmage from where he sat. 

“One second!” He yelled down the tower, hurriedly pulling his hood over his hair, and pushing back any loose strands. He fumbled to grab the mask across his desk, nearly dropping it as he placed it atop his face.

Clown leaned over the railing that gave a view to the rest of the tower, peering into the dimly lit first floor. It was relatively empty, except for the bed that sat lying against the far wall, the nightstands on either side of it, a small spruce table, 3 spruce chairs, and the ladder that led to the upper floor of the tower.

The archmage didn't waste a single thought on the matter before climbing over the railing, jumping off of it, and latching onto the ladder before sliding down the entire length of it.

It was completely unnecessary and Clown knew that. Nobody was even there to see. But, he didn't want his visitor to wait longer than they needed to.

He leaped off of the ladder about 2 meters off of the ground, his boots connecting with the planked floor with a thud, and ran over to the door.

With a quick adjustment of his mask as well as a short exhale, Clown pulled at the door, a waft of the cool outside air suddenly reaching the archmage.

At the doorstep of the tower stood Ros, her having backed up to stand on the top step of the staircase, causing Clown to tilt his head downwards, more so than he would've had to before.

“Hi Ros.” Clown tilted his head to the side, an upwards tilt in his words. “You look nice today.” 

The architect in front of him had her normal knight attire, her chainmail and plated armor along with her deep red bandana and leather gloves. However, her hair was much more voluminous and wavy than it typically would be, the color now being a darker purple color with highlights of a lighter shade streaking her hair.

As Clown's gaze lowered, he took note of Ros’ newly done makeup looked absolutely stunning, her eyeshadow including shades of purple and red, her lips now a deep plum color.

But, despite what her outward appearance now gave, her expression gave a whole lot more.

Hesitation. Nervousness. Anxiety. 

Even behind the smile she gave was something unsaid.

“Thank you, Clown.” Ros’ gaze drifted to the side, away from Clown's face. “But, uhm…” she cleared her throat. “I, uh… wanted to talk to you about something.”

Clown could sense the tension in Ros, her shoulders raised slightly as she held her elbows in front of her.

The archmage spoke slowly, carefully. “Yeah… yeah, sure.” He leaned his head out of the doorway, looking both ways down the gravel path. A few figures stood near the entrance of the castle walls, their conversations buzzing with excitement.

What a contrast.

Clown leaned back, his gaze returning to his architect companion, her stature remaining tense. “Why don't we talk inside?” Clown stepped to the side of the doorway, leading his arm into the tower in an inviting manner, despite how uninviting the room may be. With its dim torch lighting and lack of windows or natural light, you'd wonder if the tower instead housed something truly vile.

Would they be wrong?

Despite the tower's qualities, though, Ros lifted her head to peer through the door before stepping up that final step, gratitude clear on her face. “Okay. Yeah, okay, let's go inside.”

The architect stepped past Clown into the tower, the archmage's eyes boring into the back of her head. While Ros walked further into the room, Clown shut the door behind both of them, turning towards the chair set that sat on the right hand side of the room. Ros had found her way over to the chairs, awkwardly standing around them. It wasn't until Clown found his seat and gestured for her to sit down did Ros actually take her seat. 

Clown would wait for her to speak. He would wait for as long as he needed to hear what Ros had to say.

But, however, with her holding her arms across her chest, her gaze was stuck on the ground, not yet sparing Clown a glance. A few moments went by before he heard the rapid tapping of Ros’ foot against the wooden floor, her metal greaves making a mechanical sound.

It was until when Clown leaned from his seat, clearing his throat, did Ros’ eyes dart back to her friend, the tapping of her foot ceasing.

She inhaled and exhaled heavily, a strand of her purple hair being blown from her face. “I, uhm…” she started, raising a fist to her mouth to clear her throat. “I wanted to talk… about yesterday…”

“Uh-huh…” the archmage urged her to continue on, almost unconsciously nodding along.

“And about, uhm, you and Sneeg…” the architect looked off to the side, her gaze trailing the patterns in the planks.

Oh.

So that's what this is about.

If you gave Clown a few guesses as to what Ros would want to talk about, he would probably reach the answer eventually. Ros had been there during their… confrontation, so the topic was bound to come up at some point.

But, with this level of anxiety and nerves, it seemed like the matter was much more dire than Clown had now made it out to be.

“Oh. Okay.” The archmage leaned back in his seat. “What… what about me and Sneeg?”

“I…” Ros paused, her tone extremely hesitant. When had the tapping started up again? “I just want…”

The architect's eyes briefly glanced up at Clown, her vision caught on him. He was… just looking at her. Patiently waiting for his friend to continue. To let him bear the weight of whatever ails her.

A problem shared is a problem halved, after all.

“I just want to say sorry.”

What?

Now that was a surprise. 

“What would you need to say sorry for?” Clown tilted his head. 

“For snooping on your conversation with Sneeg… for being there when I shouldn't have.” Her head tilted forward once more, her gaze catching the floor.

Clown supposed it was a fair thing to be apologetic for. Most people would feel an amount of guilt for intruding on a private moment between two… people of this nature. 

But, what Zam and Ros did didn't really matter all that much to Clown. 

To be honest, he had almost completely forgotten it was a thing that had happened immediately after it did.

You were too focused on something– rather, someone–else to be upset about what they did.

The thought brought a familiar heat to Clown's face. 

He shook his head slightly, berating himself. He couldn't think about that right now. 

“It's okay, Ros. Really.” The archmage leaned forward slightly towards the architect, her eyes slowly drifting upwards to meet Clown's. But, as they did, Clown could tell that something else tugged at her.

Something else tormented her mind. 

Something more than the supposed guilt for eavesdropping. 

When Ros didn't reply back immediately, Clown continued. “I mean… you were going to end up finding out, anyway. I would've told you afterwards.”

Ros’ breath hitched, letting out a “Yeah,” on her exhale. Her eyebrows drooped down at the ends slightly, avoiding eye contact with Clown. “Yeah, I know.”

Clown couldn't help but notice her voice gained a new sense of melancholy, rather than anxiety. 

But, before Clown had the chance to comment on it, Ros moved to stand up from her seat, brushing invisible dust off her pants. A habit probably.

“I… I have to go get the ball ready.” She forced a smile. “Event organizer duties. Surely you understand, right?”

“No, yeah,” the archmage put his hands on his knees, standing up from his seat after Ros. “I understand completely.” He took a step towards her. “I actually have my own… things to do before the ball.”

“Right…” the architect nodded curtly, moving towards the door. “I'll get out of your hair then. Sorry for bothering you.”

“No- no, you weren't bothering me, Ros. It's just…” Clown hesitated, seeing Ros stop her pathing, looking up at Clown. There was so much behind those eyes that he just couldn't seem to gauge. “You're okay, right?”

“Yes.” She immediately turned away from Clown. “Yes, I'm okay.” She began walking towards the door once more, a noticeable pick-up in her pace. “I'll see you at the ball.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I'll see you then.” The archmage turned away from his winged friend, not pushing the topic further. It wasn't until Ros was outside, still holding the door handle, when Clown suddenly piped up once more. “Wait! Wait, Ros.”

The suddenness spooked her slightly, her shoulders tensed. She turned back to the archmage. “Yeah?”

“When is the ball? Like, what time should I be there?”

“Oh.” Ros’ stature released that tension. “The actual event is meant to start at 8… so sometime before then should be good.”

“Okay. Thanks, Ros.”

“Of course.” 

And with that, Ros closed the door behind her, leaving Clown alone once more in that dimly lit room.

Though, he couldn't help but think the room had been left darker than before.

Of course she backed out at even the slightest hint of doubt. Of course she did!

The sound of a door slamming echoed throughout the castle halls, all the heads of the dogs within Ros’ room turning to the origin of the noise, having now traveled further into the room.

The heads of her sitting dogs followed Ros as she walked towards the vanity that sat on the far end of the room, the sound of her greaves against the floor filling the space.

Of course she had managed to make it all the way to Clown's tower, determined in her step, completely ready to face the archmage about her grievances, and then immediately blew it. She immediately blew it.

As she reached her vanity mirror, Ros pushed her chair aside as she looked at her reflection, leaning her arms on the desk.

She knew it was a bad idea. Of course Clown hadn't meant to hurt Ros in the way he did. He would never intentionally hurt her. 

So it shouldn't… matter. The intentions weren't there. It's the intention that matters, not the action, right?

She glanced up to look in her reflection's eyes, a stray strand of hair cascading over her face. She must've messed up her makeup sometime when talking to Clown, because her white eyeliner had smudged on her left eye.

She sighed, dropping her head, before pushing herself off from the vanity, putting her hair back into place. 

And, besides, Clown had said he would've told her about it! That's what matters, right? Sure, he didn't confide in her about his feelings beforehand. But, it mattered that he did trust her enough to tell her. Right? That's all that matters. Surely–

Clank… Clank… Clank…

Ros’ thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sharp noise, causing her to inhale sharply.

Sneeg.

The very familiar sound of metal clashing against metal echoed throughout the castle halls, surely coming from the direction of the blacksmithing room.

On the day of the ball, too. 

Never takes a break, does he?

On a day many would be spending all of their free time preparing themselves for the event, Sneeg remains standing in front of his anvil, his hands hard at work. 

She thought of him now, the hammering continuing to reach her ears. She thought of what his thought process might be at this moment. Of what caused him to be so insistent on furthering his work on a day like this.

Sneeg, standing on that mossy floor, hunched over his anvil, alone. His outfit for the ball might still be stored away somewhere, having not yet been looked at. His hair might be messy, his hands still calloused.

His hands, forever hard at work, never taking a break. His hands, never given a rest, even on days that are meant to be fun and carefree. Even on those carefree days, those hands can never seem to not care.

It hurt Ros to think of such, causing her to drop her head, sighing.

If only those hands could be given a break. If only they could be seen for something other than the destruction they bring. Rather, seen for the structure they provide. For the joy they bring to others. 

For something nice. For something pretty.

And as Ros’ gaze drifted back towards her mirror, she paused, her face suddenly lighting up.

Rushing back to her vanity desk, she opens its drawer, rummaging through its contents.

And as the metallic sounds continued to reach Ros’ ears, her smile reached to both ends of her face. 

It was the image of an idea striking.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

He's gotten into the rhythm of it now.

The red hot metal in front of him molding to the smith's preferred shape. The intensity of the heat gave Sneeg the feeling of his face nearly melting off. But, despite that pain, it had become something he had grown accustomed to.

Strange, he knew. But someone had to be the one to do it.

The smith wiped the sweat off of his forehead, causing the hammering to pause momentarily, leaving all other noises to flood in.

And, while Sneeg lifted his hammer once, he paused. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound of a heartbeat within the castle, other than his own, approached the door leading to the forge.

And, almost like several days before, the heartbeat halted in front of those doors, hesitant to continue 

That's what Sneeg assumed anyway.

Deja vu, huh…

However, before Sneeg had a chance to question the person on the other side of those doors, a knock came from them instead. 

“Sneeg?” a voice called out.

Ros.

“Yeah?” Sneeg lowered his hammer to his side.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes,” Sneeg replied as he looked back down at his anvil. I'll finish this later. He placed his hammer down, leaving the unfinished spear alone. He continued as he heard the door knob turning. “Of course you can. It's a bit hot in here, though.”

As Sneeg turned to face the doors, he saw Ros pushing them aside, almost squeezing her way into the room, her hands unable to hold the door open properly.

Ros’ face held a wide grin as she held her hands in front of her. When Sneeg glanced down, he noticed her hands were full carrying small, colorful bottles in between her fingers.

It was only when Sneeg raised an eyebrow did Ros speak once more.

“I was wondering,” the architect started, her gaze drifting to the side, “since today is the day of the ball… I was wondering if you'd let me, I don't know, paint your nails?” As she spoke, she held up the bottles to be in line with her face.

As Sneeg looked closer at the bottles, he could now gather that they were, in fact, bottles of nail polish. She carried eight bottles, each of them a different color. She held three different shades of blue, a bright yellow, a black, red, green, purple.

The smith glanced back behind himself, gaze landing on his anvil, before turning back to Ros, finding her expression more nervous than before.

However, all that anxiety washed away as soon as Sneeg huffed a laugh, letting out a “Yeah sure.”

Ros’ face lit up, letting out a squeal of excitement.

“Eeeeee!” She jumped in the air slightly, her butterfly wings fluttering rapidly, before stepping forward Sneeg, grabbing his arm(quite awkwardly, mind you, with all the bottles), and dragging him backwards towards the doors leading to the kitchen. “I didn't know what color your outfit was going to be, so I brought a variety. I assumed it was somewhat blue, so I brought a few of those.”

As they traveled through the short hallway leading to the kitchen, Ros let go of Sneeg's arm and rushed to the kitchen table, setting down the bottles of nail polish, putting them in a neat line, before quickly flying over the table and sitting in a chair on the other side of it. She now faced Sneeg, watching as he pulled out the chair across from her, sitting in front of the line of nail polish.

The architect had her hands folded on the table, as if she could barely hold her excitement for this moment.

It wasn't the first time Sneeg would paint his nails. Though he didn't do it very often at all on the Realm, he vaguely remembers doing his own nails in a world long passed. So, this wasn't entirely out of his comfort zone. 

It's just, well… it doesn't exactly fit his ‘character’, as he might say.

The King's smith hand, the strongest guy on the Realm… never saw the purpose in ‘dolling himself up,’ as another might say.

In the past, he might've. Really. 

The smith looked up from the bottles to face Ros. 

She was grinning from ear to ear. “Pick a few colors. Something that matches your outfit.”

As Sneeg looked back down towards the bottles, taking off his heat protective gloves, he had to sit and think for a moment. What does my outfit look like again?

He hadn't looked at it since it was made. A few days ago he had consulted Sausage, who helped Sneeg with the designing and making progress. The man had a knack for working with fabric, Sneeg found.

As soon as he had gotten his outfit, he stored it away in a box in his enderchest, ensuring nothing would happen to it. 

But, now, as he was put on the spot he could only vaguely remember the design, but luckily remembered the colors it contained.

Sneeg pushed 3 nail polish bottles towards Ros: the light blue, the dark blue, and the yellow nail polish. 

His outfit for today was vaguely reminiscent of the outfit he wore during the first ball(oh, the memories it holds), getting inspiration from it for this time around. 

It was a safe color scheme for Sneeg, combining his signature color along with the color of his faction.

So safe, in fact, that when Sneeg pushed those bottles forward, Ros let out a brief laugh before mumbling under her breath, “thought so.”

She picked up the chosen bottles with one hand, pushing the others to the side away from them. 

“What kind of design do you want? Like a pattern? Something more complex? I Could get out some stencils that I have. Tell me.”

Sneeg thought for a second, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don't know. Whatever you think could be cool.” 

The architect paused, bringing her hand up to her chin, her pose thoughtful. “Hmmm…” After a few moments, she set the bottles down on the table. “I think I have an idea.” She pushed her chair out and quickly started moving towards the entrance to the kitchen, turning back briefly to say, “Be right back.”

As Sneeg heard Ros’ footsteps get further away from the kitchen, he couldn't help but pick up on the faint sound of footsteps coming from below, an even fainter sound of a heartbeat accompanying it. 

His observations proved to be right when he heard Ros gasp lightly, before cheerfully calling out “King!” at the source of the sound. 

Ros continued to run past the main hall towards her room as Foolish called back, fondness in his voice. “Hello, Ros.” Sneeg assumed the totem had come up from the stairwell that leads to the ballroom, most likely coming back from preparing the room for tonight.

Foolish and Sausage had been tasked to deal with most of the building portion of the preparations down in the ballroom. However, they hadn't been allowed to tell anyone of what their tasks entailed. The game portions of the Royal Balls were always kept secret.

As Ros was busy in her room, Sneeg heard The King’s boots hit the rug floor, traveling up the steps leading into the storage room. 

He wondered about The King briefly. Sneeg only caught a glimpse of him through the door then, but he had seen very little of Foolish these past several days. Of course, Sneeg had seen him whilst he himself had helped around the ballroom, but that was really it.

And now, mere hours before the ball, The King remained busy with work, doing his best to ensure tonight's events run smoothly. Doing his best to give Ros the night she deserves.

And, that, in Sneeg's eyes, was one of the most noble things anyone could do during the Royal Balls. Giving Ros a good night, that is.

It had been attempted before. But, it had proven to be unreasonably difficult. Sneeg could testify, given his efforts during the second ball to keep his faction safe and, well, we all know how that went.

But, despite it all, Foolish continues on with his help. 

And, of course he does. That's his kingdom. That's where his loyalties lie. He's loyal to his kingdom, and they, in return, are loyal to their king.

So, while Sneeg listens to Foolish's footsteps above him, opening and closing chests in the storage room, he can't help but feel a strong sense of pride for his kingdom. His friends. His family.

He'll be damned if somebody else didn't feel the same way, even slightly.

Ros rushed back into the kitchen where she had left Sneeg waiting, holding what looks to be a small sheet of paper.

As she set the sheet onto the table in front of Sneeg, he realized it was actually a sheet of small stencils, its main use most likely being for nail art, Sneeg guessed. 

Along with the stencil sheet, Ros also came back with what Sneeg assumed was a nail file.

As the architect sat back down into her seat, she started speaking once more. 

“Have you ever painted your nails before?”

“I used to. I did at the beginning of the Realm, but…” Sneeg shrugged as he reached out a hand to Ros, reaching her own hand, who grabbed it, “I guess I grew out of it. Stopped finding the time for it early on.”

Ros looked down at the hand she held, her gaze suddenly scrutinizing. 

There were several places where the skin was discolored, littered with scars and tiny cuts. The skin around his nails was damaged, looking as if it had been picked at frequently. The nails themselves were short and uneven, giving the look that they had been bitten.

Ros glanced up at Sneeg for a moment, her eyebrow slightly raised, before looking back down at the hand. “Why'd you stop?”

“I…” Sneeg started, watching Ros as she pulled on the skin of his hand, looking at all of its details. He couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable at the sensation. “I don't know. I guess it didn't feel like who I was anymore.” It surprised Sneeg how low his voice had gotten, his tone suddenly apprehensive.

“Hm.” Ros hummed, picking up the file, buffing the surface of one of Sneeg's nails. The rough texture of the file rubbed the skin around the nail, causing Sneeg to flinch away slightly. “Oh, sorry!” Ros’ eyes widened, immediately pulling the file away from Sneeg's hand. “Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry.”

Sneeg's head shot up to face Ros, her face panicked. “No– no, Ros, it's fine. It doesn't hurt.” She hesitated bringing the file back up. “Don't worry about it. Just do what you need to do.” He kept his voice soft.

Although he didn't take it into account at first, something had been bugging Sneeg this whole time. 

It wasn't the constant pattering of The King's boots in the room above him. He kept well aware of that. 

But, as he focused on the architect in front of him, Sneeg noted that the beating of her heart was a little too… quick.

Sure, everybody on the Realm sounded a bit different when it came to their heartbeat. But, for the people Sneeg spent the most time around, he had gotten pretty familiar with each person's sounds. 

And now, as Sneeg studied his friend further, something was… off. 

Ros hesitated to raise the file, despite still holding onto Sneeg's hand, as she raised her head to look at Sneeg. “Are you sure?”

The smith nodded. “Yes. Do what you need.”

Other than her regular avoidance of hurting others, as Ros continued buffing Sneeg's nails, he could tell that there was something else behind her eyes. Something that wasn't being said.

Her hesitation, her nerves, gave away something that her words clearly didn't.

They fell into a silence, the only sound coming from them was the soft noise of the nail buffer. To Ros’ ears, at least.

To Sneeg, it seemed as though everything around him made a noise, each noise more amplified than the last. 

The creaking of the floors after a step, the crackle of the fire after a light, the breathing– oh the breathing– of anyone and anything around… all that would be background noise. 

And, for the most part, it was to Sneeg. It had grown to be, at least.

The change in his hearing abilities started relatively small. From the crack of a stick under a boot, to the conversations in a room two walls over, to the blinking of an eye. Though, even hearing that was rare.

He had learned to drown out the noises when he tried, but oftentimes there would simply be too much to be able to ignore it.

The click of a tongue pulled Sneeg out of his thoughts, followed by a grunt coming from the room above him. 

The King’s steps resumed as they made their way out of the storage room, a soft humming accompanying them.

As Ros reached for Sneeg's other hand, Foolish could be heard walking past the entrance to the kitchen, causing both the architect and the smith to look his way.

Peeking through the doorway was the King of Fools holding a black shulker box, his stature suggesting he had stopped in his tracks.

He held his head high, his purple crown gone from his hair. Foolish's normally donned royal attire was nowhere to be seen, opting for a more casual work-wear attire.

There was still much to be done, and The King was dressed accordingly. 

As Foolish's gaze landed on the two of them, his humming stopped, his face now wearing a grin. 

“Ros! Sneeg!” The King exclaimed, setting the box on the rug where he stopped and walking over to the kitchen, hand resting on the side of the doorway. “What are you guys up to?”

“I'm doing Sneeg's nails for the ball.” Ros piped up, her voice now cheery. She continued with the buffing as she spoke. “I'm sorry for not being down there sooner. I promise I'll help set up as soon as I'm done with this. I promise!”

“Ahh, don't worry about it.” Foolish gave a disregarding wave. “Take your time! We still have, what, seven hours before the ball? We'll get it done in that time.” 

“I know, I just want to make sure everything is perfect.” Ros tilts her head to the side. “Or… as good as it can be. Did you fix the lighting issue in the–” She stopped herself, glancing at Sneeg for a moment, before clearing her throat. “In the room?”

“Oh,” the totem looked to Sneeg as well, picking up on the hint. “Yeah, I did. I'm just bringing down the last of the supplies to finish the room.” Foolish did a not-so-subtle wink as Ros nodded along.

His gaze then shifted from Ros to Sneeg, the smith having stayed silent. “Soooo… Sneeg.” The sound of his name caused his head to perk up, now looking at Foolish. “I have been meaning to ask… did that ‘special someone’ ever reach out? Did anything happen with that?” The king raised an eyebrow at the smith, his tone teasingly prying.

“Oh.” The smith's eyes widened briefly, his face turning away from Foolish. “Yeah, Clown asked me to the ball yesterday.” He brought up a hand to hold his chin, covering the lower half of it. 

He hadn't expected that to be brought up, clearly.

The totem's grin grew, revealing his pointy, shark-like teeth. “Ohh, is that so?” Foolish crossed his arms across his chest. “Y'know, I wondered about you two… about your little duo.” The king huffed. “It's funny, because–” 

Foolish's gaze briefly drifted from Sneeg to Ros, the king immediately ceasing his speech at seeing the architect's expression.

The soft sound of the file had stopped, its absence more obvious in the silence.

Ros’ head had lowered, an expression full of apprehension and dread had replaced her previous cheerful demeanor. She dropped Sneeg's hand onto the table, but it seems like he hadn't noticed.

Foolish furrowed his eyebrows, his mouth dropping into a frown.

“Ros?”

The architect's eyes widened as her head shot up to meet Foolish's gaze. Her wings flapped slightly in surprise.

As her eyes met her king's, she tried to mask her expression as it was. At the abrupt call of Ros’ name, Sneeg also picked up his head to turn to Ros.

And, by the furrow of his eyebrows, it seemed as if he noticed something, as well.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Ros briefly turned her attention towards the table, picking up Sneeg's hand once more. “King, could you, uhm…” Ros cleared her throat, turning to Foolish with a forced smile on her face. “I'll meet you in the ballroom, okay?”

He looked at her for a couple more moments, eyebrow quirking upwards. Foolish had the ability to take a hint, and this seemed like the appropriate time for it. “Yeahh…” Foolish replied, dragging out the word. He pushed himself off of the doorway as he continued. “Yeah, I'll meet down there.” He walked backwards for a few steps before turning around and picking up the shulker box he had put down before. “See ya later, Sneeg!”

Just as he arrived, he left, both Ros and Sneeg watching as their king departed. 

As the tip of his hair disappeared as he went down the stairs, Sneeg turned to the architect, her gaze landing back down at the hand she was holding.

They were silent for a few moments more, the air around them uneasy.

But, just as Sneeg went to inhale before speaking, he was promptly interrupted by his friend as she swiftly reached to the side of the table, grabbing a bottle of polish.

“I'm going to do a base with this.” She held up the bottle with the dark blue polish, her voice lowered, avoiding Sneeg's gaze.

The moth didn't respond as he watched Ros shake the bottle before opening it and setting it down on the table.

She picked up Sneeg's hand once more, picking up the polish brush with her other hand, applying the color in long, smooth strokes.

Sneeg adjusted his glasses whilst looking down at Ros, her hair falling down around her workspace. 

Moments pass, neither of them saying a word to the other. Ros was too busy at work, and Sneeg was too focused on watching her. 

Eventually, when Ros finished the blue on one hand and reached for the other, she took in a breath, breaking the silence.

“So,” Ros started, her speech causing Sneeg to look at her. Sneeg reached to give her his other hand. “What were you working on before this? I heard your anvil.”

Sneeg brought his free hand before his face, taking a look at the polish. There are a few spots where the color leaked from his nails onto his skin. But for the most part, it was well done and smooth. The dark blue was a nice match to Sneeg’s pale blue complexion.

“I was working on a new spear.” Sneeg set his hand down flat on the table. “The one I was working on a few days ago…” he paused, gaze drifting slightly. His expression became blank for a moment, before he blinked and continued. “I must've lost it. I'm just trying to finish this one before the ball.”

Ros hummed, still carefully painting strokes of polish. After a moment, she paused, raising one of her eyebrows.

She lifted her head to look at Sneeg.

“What's wrong with the one you had before?”

He gave a light shrug. “It was out of date. I'd like to make the strongest one I possibly can before the ball.”

Ros’ gaze remained on him for a few more moments, the silence ever apparent before she refocused on the nails, lowering her head. “...I guess that makes enough sense.”

Sneeg was planning to fall back into that silence they had before. It's not that he wished for it, necessarily. He liked talking to Ros. But, their current conversation was very small talk-y. 

So, silence was the next most likely thing to occur.

Only…

Distant talking could be heard from outside the castle, steadily approaching the entrance. 

Two voices, Sneeg could discern. Sneeg closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds. The closer the voices got, the clearer the image of them grew for Sneeg.

“...bound to be here, right?”

The warden's shoulders tensed, the sudden movement causing Ros to glance up.

“Of course he is. It's his castle...”

Sneeg opened his eyes, only to find Ros peering up at him with curiosity and worry.

The voices ceased their conversation as they got closer, footsteps now entering the castle walls.

“Hello? Foolish?”

“Fooooooolish!”

Sneeg lowered his head.

“Pangi? Lukey?” Ros called out to the voices, the green faction members following her voice to the kitchen doorway. Ros placed Sneeg's hand down flat on the table and the polish brush back in its bottle. “Hi guys!” 

Ros pushed her seat out slightly, standing up to greet the visitors.

As the green members peeked through the door, they seemed genuinely happy to see Ros before them. Pangi reached the door before Lukey had, leaning his hand on the side of the doorway. “Hey, Ros.” The pangolin shifted his head to look at the other person in the room, Sneeg. It didn’t seem like he noticed him before this moment. “Hey, Sneeg.”

It might've been an awkward sight to walk in on. Both kingdom members having sat at the table, Sneeg putting his hands out in front of him, fingers spread out in an awkward way, making sure the wet nail polish doesn't touch anything.

At the call of his name, Sneeg turned his head towards Pangi. He looked him up and down. Both him and Lukey seemed to already be dressed in their ball attire. Or, some of it, at least. It looked as if they were the bare bones of an outfit, no accessories or outer layers. 

The one standing in front, Pangi, adorned an olive colored off-the-shoulder top, the red-orange scales running down his arms. Ruffles adorned the neckline, the material of them seeming lacey. The sleeves reached all the way down his arms, the light and flowy material(silk, most likely) cinching at the wrists. His black dress pants were high waisted, the top being lightly tucked into them. His heeled boots were knee-high, the light brown lacing matching with the brown leather material.

Behind him, Lukey stood with a hand on Pangi's shoulder. He wore a white button up shirt, the top button left unbuttoned. The shirt was tucked into dark, earthy green dress pants, the color being a close match to Pangi's top. His feet adorned dark brown dress shoes, the leather shining in the lantern lit room. His appearance would seem fancy if it weren't for the gray sweatshirt he wore over his shirt, the unzipped layer giving Lukey a more casual vibe. 

Nothing was all too special about the outfits. They were practically blank canvases compared to what they actually had in store for the ball.

It was a few silent moments, both Sneeg and the green members facing each other, somewhat awkwardly. 

When Sneeg didn't respond to the pangolin, he continued. 

“...Right.” Pangi turned back to Ros, Lukey now joining him at his side. “Do either of you know where Foolish is?”

“He's downstairs in the ballroom,” Ros replied. 

Lukey flashed a smile, giving a thumbs up whilst walking backwards towards the stairs. “Cool, thanks!”

Ros took a step towards them. “Oh, but only stay in the ballroom. Don't go into any other rooms, okay?”

“Yep. Got it!” Pangi tapped his hand against the door frame before turning around to meet Lukey, heading towards the stairway.

The architect watched as the two reached each other's side once more, making their way downstairs together. Their light conversation followed them, voices fading as they went further and further down.

It was only when their voices finally faded away did Ros turn back to Sneeg, ready to continue her work.

Sat at the table, Sneeg stared at his hands still laying on the table. His gaze seemed… intense. His hands were tensed visibly, as if they were begging to make a fist. He couldn't, though. Doing so would ruin the wet polish on his nails.

He was just very… tense. Much more so than before.

Ros could take a guess as to why. She glanced back through the kitchen door, the thought making her frown.

As the architect took a step towards the smith, the sound of her metal greaves against the floor caused Sneeg's head to snap towards her. 

“Sneeg? Are you okay?” Her voice became light, a hand reaching out to her friend.

“Do you think it's a good idea to let them go down there? Alone? With the king?”

“They mean no harm to him, I'm sure.” Ros kept her eyes on the moth as she made her way back to her seat. “They didn't seem to have malicious intent.”

Sneeg took in a breath. “Okay.” His head remained down, peering at his hands. 

But to him, clearly, it wasn't okay.

Ros sat back in her seat, scooting her chair in. 

She's known Sneeg for long enough to tell that he didn't think it was okay. 

I mean, come on. Despite Ros’ friendliness with the green faction, it was quite obvious that the warden did not hold the same affections that she did. 

It had always been that way. Since the beginning of the Realm, the green faction has always been the opposition to the yellows. Especially Sneeg. He was a big threat, after all. The biggest threat, some might say. 

So, Sneeg's distrust wasn't surprising at all, really.

And it wasn’t lost on Ros, especially during the time of the ball. 

The overwhelming guilt one in his position might feel was obvious. He had been unable to prevent something tragic from happening during both previous royal balls. Even when given the go-ahead by Foolish, he remained unable to get rid of someone that threatened the ball and everyone in it. When he had failed, he instead took to petty insults in the global chat as well as attacking someone he knew he wouldn't be able to kill to take out his frustrations.

He was given a job, and he couldn't do it. 

Despite how much he tried… Despite much time he had given himself to prepare, he failed.

And if Sneeg couldn't do his job, what good was he to the kingdom?

A threat unable to threaten?

A protector unable to protect?

A warden unable to ward?

Ros cleared her throat, causing Sneeg to peer at her over his glasses. “Y'know,” she started as she reached for her stencil sheet, “I did talk to green about not causing any problems… everybody is set on conflict free night.”

The smith glanced to the side. “I don't know why you're bringing it up.”

Ros reached over to the side of the table, grabbing the bottle of yellow nail polish and twisting it open. “I know you're worried about tonight. You don't have to worry about Pangi.”

“Last time you ‘talked to him’ before a ball, he killed Pili and nearly killed Sausage.” Ros reached out her hand, and Sneeg gave one of his to her. “When I tried to do something about it… we know how that went, Ros.”

“I–” She sighed. “I know, Sneeg. But… you have to trust me on this. You have to–”

“I do trust you. I trust you more than anything.” His voice sounded desperate. “I just don't trust them – the other factions, the keepers – from doing something that could hurt any of us.”

The architect looked to the side, letting Sneeg continue.

“We have been through too much hurt to not worry.” His voice carried emotion that was typically unseen. A sense of desperation that couldn't possibly come from a warden. “I just need to make sure it doesn't happen again.”

His breathing had become heavy, his heartbeat loud in his ears. 

He felt his companion's heartbeat spike, the vibrations getting under his skin. It felt all so loud now in the silence. The breathing – the steady inhales and exhales of Ros – felt suffocating, the sensation of light touches all over his skin. The deafening crackle of the fireplace felt like bugs crawling all over. 

Oh, those sounds. Those sounds. Oh, they only serve to panic, to alarm.

To warn. 

Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.

It was only in this silence that it was impossibly loud. Impossibly deafening.

Why? Why? Why warn now?

Something bad had to have happened. Something happened to the king. Oh, he knew it was a bad idea to let those two downstairs. He knew he knew he knew he knew he–

“Sneeg.”

It was as if all the noises retreated back to their origin. All sensations went dead, leaving him alone.

“Sneeg?”

It was only Ros left. Just her voice, blocking the rest of anything from reaching Sneeg in any way.

Sneeg slowly opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – and raised his head to meet Ros’. As he did, his glasses fell far down his nose, the angle having pulled them into an awkward position.

After he pushed his glasses further up his nose, his gaze met the architect's.

“Sneeg. Sneeg, I want you to listen to me and only me right now, okay?” Sneeg glanced down at the feeling of slight pressure on his hand.

The hand she had been only grasping lightly for work was now fully in her own, giving a sense of grounding. A sensation he could focus on without worry. 

“Yeah–” Sneeg let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Yeah, what?”

“Sneeg, I want to assure you that nothing bad will happen that we can't handle. Nothing that I can't handle, that Foolish can't handle, that Zam can't handle,” her voice kept stern, “and nothing that you can't handle.”

Nothing you can't handle.

That was his mindset for a lot of things. Nothing should ever be too big to handle for Sneeg. Nothing. 

If it was too big for him, who else could handle it? Who else? Who else besides the protection and symbol of safety in the kingdom? 

Nothing you can't handle.

He couldn't handle the ball. He couldn't handle Pangi. He couldn't handle his responsibilities. 

He couldn't handle the only task that had been given to him.

Nothing you can't handle.

“What if I can't?"

“Then we will.” 

She had answered without a second thought. As if it was the truth and nothing but. As if there was no doubt in her mind.

No doubt that her words rang true.

The trust that she has in Sneeg, in her kingdom, was admirable.

And, it's not as if he didn't trust them. No, he trusted them so so much. And they, in return, trusted him. 

But… did he trust her enough to believe her?

Enough to believe that nothing would go awry?

Absolutely nothing?

After the experiences they all went through, especially during the first ball? 

Then we will.

We will.

If anything were to happen, they would deal with it. Together.

To put such a responsibility upon the shoulders of one singular person is irresponsible in of itself. 

Especially someone who had failed so many times in the past. 

…

“Okay.”

Ros squeezed his hand before loosening her grasp, focusing back on the nails. “I hope you know that what happened wasn't your fault.”

“I know.”

“And whatever will happen won't be your fault.”

“I know.”

Ros picked the stencil sheet back up, looking over it for the right shape. 

“I hope you're not just saying that.”

Ros put the stencil against his thumb nail, the chosen design being a small crown.

Sneeg was silent for a few moments, watching the architect work, before he let out a short sigh.

“Let's talk about something else, please.”

Ros hummed, nodding along as she painted the yellow polish across the stencil.

She paused for a brief moment, backing up from the nails. She thought for a second.

What would they talk about? He asked for a subject change, who is she to deny?

“Uhm…”

Her mind wandered to other places. To Pangi, to Lukey, to The King. Foolish had come to check up on them just minutes prior, she recalled. Her king in his work clothes, still busy with preparing for the ball. While Ros did feel bad for leaving the work to him all alone, she had other matters to attend to. 

She glanced up at Sneeg briefly, finding him pulling off his silver rimmed glasses, looking at the lenses.

She'd have to get this done quickly if she didn't want to leave The King waiting. 

The King… The King… why'd he leave again? 

Because you asked him to, of course. He would've stayed longer. 

Why'd she ask him to leave? It only happened a few minutes ago. Maybe the interaction with Pangi and Lukey distracted her from…

Ball preparations… nail painting… Sneeg… he mentioned… someone–

Ros froze in place, pausing in the middle of a stroke of polish.

Oh. Right. That.

That's why Ros asked him to leave. She had gotten upset at… whatever. At something that she knew was unimportant. Something that shouldn't be given this much thought. 

All that happened was Sneeg told the king about Clown, and he was simply curious! That's all! That's all it should be.

Except…

Something clawed inside her at the thought.

Sneeg told Foolish about Clown. He told Foolish and not her. Not Ros. 

Never Ros.

Does she really want to bring this up now? When she tried to with Clown, she immediately backed out and left.

She can't exactly… do that here. Ros has already committed to doing Sneeg's nails, and it's not as if she can leave in the middle of it if she wanted to.

That's okay, she thought. I just won't chicken out. I'll talk about my issues and Sneeg will listen.

He always listens.

Always.

The architect could feel her pulse quicken, surely adding something else Sneeg could listen to.

Ros closed her eyes, inhaled a breath, and opened her eyes once more.

“I spoke to Clown earlier.” Ros glanced up once more for a brief moment at Sneeg. 

If he wasn't paying attention before, he definitely was now. Based on the sudden snap of his head to look at Ros, immediately shifting his glasses back on his nose. The movement caused her to stifle a laugh, despite her mood.

“Oh yeah? What's he up to?”

Ros shifted the stencil sheet to Sneeg's other hand, lining the other thumb nail up with the crown design. 

“He was getting ready for the ball, I think. I saw something smudged on his collar that I think was makeup? Which, if so, I don't know why he would, given he wears that mask all day and–” she stopped herself, “anyways. I went over to his tower because, uhm, I wanted to uh… talk to him about something.”

The smith nodded, seemingly grateful for the subject change. “Uh-huh.”

“About…” She gave a quick exhale. “About you and him, actually. Y'know, the date stuff.”

“Right…” a hint of skepticism entered Sneeg's voice.

“And,” Ros cleared her throat, “I just wanted to ask about… talk about it.”

Ros painted the crown onto his other thumb nail, sliding the stencil sheet to the side of the table. She then picked up a small, very thin brush. It was so unnoticeable that Sneeg hadn't even spotted it before, the brush having blended into the table.

“Okay, sure. I mean, I don't expect you to be surprised.”

“And, I'm not, really. Don't get me wrong.” The architect held her free hand in the air slightly, as if being caught for something, still holding that brush in between her fingers. She dropped her hand before continuing. “It's just that…” Her head drifted to the side.

Would he understand? Would he see it for the issue it is, or would he dismiss it for the issue it isn't? 

Ros always trusted Sneeg's judgement. Always trusted his perspective on things. So maybe… 

“It's just..?” The moth urged her to continue.

Right.

“It's just that, well…” Ros lowered her head, looking at Sneeg's nails. Just rip the bandaid off, Roscumber. She exhaled quickly, forcing her eyes to meet Sneeg's. “Why didn't you tell me about you and Clown?”

The smith's eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows raising at her words.

Huh.

Sneeg couldn't help but notice Ros’ heartbeat spike.

I mean, he could tell she was trying to keep it together, but a newfound anxiety was found plastered on her face.

“I'm sorry–?”

“I mean,” Sneeg quickly got cut off, “you told Zam about it. I had to learn about it from her. And it also seems like you told the king about it, which is fine.” Ros’ speech quickened. “But, I feel like everyone knew about it besides me. And, I don't know, it's just a little hurtful that I wasn't included in it…” Her head drifted to the side before snapping back to Sneeg, her eyebrows drooped. “And Zam had told me that you hadn't talked about it with anyone, but from what Foolish had just said it's like you talked to him about it. And that's just… I don't know.” Her head dropped once more, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I don't know.”

.

.

.

Moments passed by, neither of them saying a word.

The silence couldn't help but invite fear into Ros.

Oh, I definitely overstepped… 

Ros closed her eyes shut, subconsciously gripping tighter onto Sneeg's hand.

He's gonna think it's stupid… all for asking to be included in something that obviously shouldn't include me…

A second or two more passed, the silence eventually being broken by Sneeg.

“...Right.” He gave a curt nod, his words hesitant. “And you talked to Clown about this?”

“No, I…” The butterfly shook her head, plastering a faux smile on her face. “It's fine Sneeg, It's stupid. Don't worry ab–”

“No. No, you wanted to talk. We're going to talk.”

Her smile dropped. Ros raised her head slightly to meet Sneeg's eyes before swiftly breaking the contact by looking to the side, reaching for the bottle of light blue nail polish.

She let go of the moth's hand briefly to open the bottle, then returned to his hand. She picked up the thin brush again, dipping it into the polish.

Sneeg watched her do this, his eyes following the movements of her hands.

The hands that have tried too hard to keep everything together. The hands that despite everything, still try to make an appearance. The hands that insist on helping Sneeg with his own grievances despite carrying her own.

When the sensation of the cold polish reaching Sneeg's nails occurred once more, Sneeg cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“Did– did you talk to Clown about it?”

What Sneeg got back was a deep sigh.

“I tried to. I… I don't know. I backed out at the last second.” She leaned further into Sneeg's nails, blocking his view from her work. “I felt guilty for bringing it up. Clown said he would've told me eventually, but… I don't know.”

“What makes you think he wouldn't, at least, hear you out? Even if you think others might find it stupid, it's still important to you. Clown cares about you, y'know.”

Ros nodded. “Yes. Yes, I know. But I don't want to make you guys feel bad for something I wasn't involved in. For something you obviously didn't want to involve me in. So I–”

“Ros, I'm sorry.”

The architect's head shot up, the view to the nails being visible once more. It seemed like she was going for a sort of… swirl design? Sneeg didn't know how to describe it. It looked nice, though.

“What are you saying sorry for?”

“For not…” the smith huffed. “For not trusting you to tell you. For not confiding in you the way I did with Zam.”

The architect blinked, slowly straightening her back to sit up straight. 

That was… easier than expected. 

“I'm sorry for not considering you as someone I could align my trust with. I'm sorry I–”

“Okay, that's enough. You don't need to… to apologize. Really.”

“If I didn't, then you wouldn't be bringing it up.”

“No, it's not just that…” Ros sighed, looking up at Sneeg with wide eyes. “I understand your perspective of it. Zam told me you didn't reach out to her, rather she reached out to you. Which… makes me feel worse that she saw what was happening and I didn't, but…” Her gaze drifted slightly. “But I just learned about the king knowing, and… I don't know what that's about. Could you– I just want to hear your side.”

“Okay. Yeah, I can do that.” The smith met Ros’ eyes. “I do think there have been some misunderstandings, though.”

“Huh?”

“On my part, at least. I don't know about Clown…” Sneeg's gaze drifted to the side, before snapping his head back to Ros. “Anyways.” He shook his head. “Y'know that day, like, two weeks ago? When Clown came back after his long trip?”

Ros nodded. “I also announced the ball that day.”

“Yeah, and we had that conversation in, well, this room? About the ball? And Clown said…” the smith averted his gaze from Ros, “well, what he said.”

The architect's eyebrows furrowed, looking up, trying to recall. “Right…” she said, drawing out the r.

“About…” Sneeg sighed. “About me being asked to the ball.”

Ros lifted her eyebrows, suddenly remembering. “Oh! Right, that.” Of course she remembered that conversation. How could she forget? Just the three of them, sitting in the kitchen, talking about whatever their minds came up with. However, the ball had been a hot topic in that room. No matter the topic, though, Sneeg and Clown resumed their bickering as normal. It had gotten late at that point, and Ros had been too tired to intervene. But, what was unexpected, was the turn their conversation had taken… 

Clown had brought up the idea of Sneeg getting asked out to the ball.

Would you say yes?

The implications behind the question had been there. They had always been there. But…

As the moments passed on, the more the idea settled in Ros’ head. Slowly, her face dropped, the cogs in her mind turning in tandem. “Oh. Oh, right.”

“Yeah. That's where the idea started.”

“I thought…” Ros dropped her head slightly. “I didn't really… I had taken that as a joke.”

The moth huffed. “Trust me, I did too. But,” he shrugged, “turns out he was serious the whole time.”

“I mean, I knew of your dynamic. But I didn't really think something would actually happen.” Ros brought a hand to her face. “Oh, I feel worse now. It was right in front of me and I didn't even notice.”

“Don't feel bad. I was the one experiencing it and…” Sneeg hesitated for a second. “Anyways. I hadn't told anybody about it initially. Well, no. I told Phil. But, Phil doesn't count. I wasn't taking it seriously when I told him.” Hadn't I? “I only talked about it when Zam brought it up to me. She must've learned something from Clown, because when Zam came to me, it was as if she knew everything.” 

Ros had dipped her brush back into the blue polish, though Sneeg had no doubt she was still intently listening. She couldn't let her mind stray from the task at hand, despite how much she wanted to.

He inhaled once more, continuing. “And she, well,” Sneeg brought his free hand to his face, his gaze drifting to the side, “she helped me figure out some things. Some things that,” a sigh, “I don't know. It's weird. It's still weird. I thought I might've accepted something by now, but… I don't know.” At this moment, Ros glanced up at the smith.

Despite his words, despite whatever he might say about doubting this, his hand couldn't cover the dark tint that his face wanted to show.

And, have it be out of embarrassment or shame, the aversion to show it still made Ros stifle a giggle. 

“Anyways, that doesn't matter right now.” The smith spoke quickly. “A few days ago, when we were helping set up in the ballroom, you and Zam had left whilst Foolish stayed behind with me. He mentioned something about having heard about me going with someone to the ball. I didn't tell him about Clown, but I'm sure he put the pieces together when I asked him when he'd be coming home.”

“Sounds like you implied it?”

“I– well, no.” A tilt of the head. “I hadn't meant to, really. But, thinking back, it definitely feels like that. I would hardly consider that ‘confiding’ in the king.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Ros backed up from Sneeg's nails, looking at them from afar. “I mean, it does make me feel better that you had no bad intentions behind any of this.” She leaned in again. “And, it's probably the same with Clown. It's most definitely the same with Clown. But, I don't know…” Ros sighed. “The more I think about it, the more I feel like I'm making your special moment about me. And I don't want that, trust me–”

Sneeg quickly cut her off. “Ros, really, don't worry. If you really were, I'd tell you. All you're doing is voicing your concerns about something that me and Clown were at fault for. Now, his situation might be different, but I think you should talk to him about that.”

The architect backed up from the nails once more, studied them, and did a short nod before setting Sneeg's hand down flat on the table. Ros let out a sigh. “I knowwwww…” She reached for the other hand, the smith giving it to her. “But, I was just with him… I feel like it'd be awkward. Also, he said he had things to do and he'd be busy… I wouldn't want to intrude.”

“Yeah, and you have your own things, I'm sure…” Ros nodded along. She probably had the most left to do out of anybody, being the organizer and all. “But, I can tell you one thing that you probably already know. Clown most certainly had no bad intentions at all. I'm positive that he never meant to exclude you. I am absolutely sure.”

Ros backed up once more, her mouth pressed into a line.

Despite the anxious air floating about the room, Sneeg couldn't help but feel… strange about the conversation. About the casual nature in which this specific topic is being discussed. 

Oh, sure, Sneeg had plenty of time to prepare for the outcome he had been expecting. He probably would've been pretty disappointed if it didn't happen. But, both him and Ros were talking about it in such a casual manner that it can't help but make Sneeg a little nervous. 

Nervous at the fact that this – whatever this is – is normal. The new norm. A reality nobody would've expected. 

And, despite how much Sneeg wanted to focus on his friend's grievances, his mind couldn't help but wander. Couldn't help but wonder.

Wonder about things that he probably never would've had Clown not set his normality into jeopardy.

Had Clown not come back during the time of the ball. 

Had Clown not shown that interest.

Had Clown not asked that question that would forever ring in Sneeg's ears.

Would you say yes? 

Would I? Oh, please, would I?

“You're right.” Ros’ voice ceased the thoughts in his head. He looked down to find she had quickly moved with the painting, the intricate designs now on all but 1 nail. “I know you're right. I know he had no bad intentions behind it.” He wouldn't. “I know he hadn't meant to exclude me.” He would never. “That's not who he is.” That's not who he is.

“You know that's not who he is. We know that's not who he is.”

And he would never hurt them intentionally.

“Of course. I know that. We know that better than anyone.” And with that, after one final stroke of her brush, Ros backed up from Sneeg's nails. She let out a quick exhale. “Okay. I'll talk to him. During the ball, maybe.” She set down Sneeg's hand. “I'll find time. It's my event, after all.” 

The architect's voice sounded slightly exasperated. Maybe even slightly hopeful. 

The slight uptick in her heart rate was still present, Sneeg noticed. Maybe even quicker than before. 

However, it was seen in a new light. A different context behind it. 

“Anyways, your nails are done!” Ros exclaimed, watching Sneeg as he adjusted his glasses, bringing both hands before his face. She couldn't help but feel pride as his smile grew. “Just don't touch anything for a bit, alright? It'll mess them up.”

“Don't worry, I got it.” The smith squinted to see the small designs more closely. The design consisted of having a dark blue base, neat yellow crowns on the thumbs, as well as a border of light blue along the skin of his fingers, the light blue having an intricate swirl design. For someone as nervous as she is, Ros sure does have steady hands. 

“I know you do.” Ros twisted the cap back onto the bottle, pushing her chair out from under the table. “And, Sneeg?” 

He looked up from his nails to meet Ros. “Hm?”

“Thanks for talking with me.”

“Of course. I'll always have your back.” Always always always. “You'll always have mine.” 

The words made her smile, her mouth stretching from ear to ear. 

She began to pick up the bottles and supplies when a soft buzz reached her ears, the noise coming from Sneeg's direction.

She watched as the smith reached into his pocket, internally cringing at the nails rubbing against fabric. 

As Sneeg pulled out his communicator, the words on the screen caused him to pause.

ClownPierce whispers to you: you have a minute?

“Huh.”

“What is it?”

“It's just Clown.” Sneeg turns his screen around to show Ros. “Wants to talk, I'm guessing.”

Ros gathered the bottles in her arm, the stencil in her hand. “Are you gonna talk to him?”

“Might as well.” Sneeg shrugged. “I haven't seen him yet today. I'd like to see him before the ball.”

Ros giggled. “Yeah? Why's that?” Her tone was teasing. She began walking out of the kitchen towards the main hall, Sneeg following behind her.

“Y'know, not everything has a hidden meaning behind it. Am I not allowed to want to see him? Heaven forbid…” The smith rolled his eyes playfully, his tone light. 

Ros turned around to face Sneeg whilst walking backwards, her grin having grown teasing. “Whatever you say, Sneeg. Go meet up with your boyfriend.”

“Don't even start.” The smith waved her off. 

Ros retreated back into her room, Sneeg exiting through the main castle entrance. 

The smith couldn't block out the faint giggling sound coming from her direction, the noise causing him to smile in tandem.

Oh, a better way to depart.

As the moth took his time cascading down the castle steps, he typed into his communicator.

And, luckily for him, nobody was around to comment on the stupid grin he wore on his face.

You whisper to ClownPierce: where are you?

The coords he was given led him past the cathedral, a couple thousand blocks out. 

As to why Clown was all the way out in the middle of nowhere, Sneeg couldn't say. Why would he want to meet up with Sneeg in such a secluded place? These questions couldn't help but riddle his mind as he flew across the plains and forests below him, looking for the intended spot.

But oh, how he didn't really care about the location. 

In all honesty, if Clown were to give him coordinates several more thousand blocks out, Sneeg'd think the situation was more dire than intended, honestly. Nonetheless, he would still find himself taking to the air for the chance to be face to face with his masked companion once more.

And that's the situation Sneeg found himself in now. Grasping for a chance to be face to face with him. Or, mask to mask. They were almost the same in Sneeg's eyes. Almost.

He had done little to prepare before beginning his flight, almost immediately separating himself between the ground as soon as he had left vocal proximity to Ros. 

As the moth glanced between his own coordinates and the coordinates Clown had sent, watching closely as the distance between them lessened, he couldn't help but feel his heartbeat quicken. Couldn't help but become nervous.

Would that be the correct term in this situation?

He couldn't tell if it was just ball day jitters or something entirely more obvious. And, Sneeg could never recall ever getting jittery before a ball. For what reason would he have to be?

What reason would he have to be… nervous?

What reason would there be to hear the sound of blood rushing so rapidly as it was, now?

The right reason seemed much too obvious to be true.

At about 100 blocks out from the destination, Sneeg came upon a plains village that was, he assumed, located at the base of a flower field. He had to squint to discern any details, his poor vision hindering him.

The smith's companion was near here, bound to be in either the village or the area surrounding it. However, as Sneeg's boots planted in the grass near the outskirts of the village, he couldn't see nor hear Clown. 

Just a bit further out, surely.

He was off on the coordinates, still. 

He'll just continue forth until a sign of the archmage shows itself, either in sound or sight. 

He wouldn't want to keep him waiting for much longer, though. Again. 

It had only been yesterday when the smith left Clown waiting at a location for him for longer than intended. But, yesterday he knew the reason as to why the archmage wanted to see him. As much as Sneeg wants to play it off as if there were doubts in his mind, he absolutely knew from the beginning what Clown had wanted from him. 

He knew and he still went to see him. Because he said he would.

Though, despite the situation being somewhat similar to before, Sneeg, now, had no idea as to what his companion could want at this time at a location this isolated.

Hours before the ball… a village far from anything… this had better be important.

The moth began waltzing further into the village, taking his time to look for any signs of the archmage.

Or, maybe this wasn't as urgent as it may seem. And maybe… maybe Clown just wants to see him. 

Nobody would dare fault him for that. Of course not. Especially not Sneeg. 

In fact, he might've had a similar thought process had Clown not beaten him to it. 

The sound of the smith's boots against the grassy path filled the silence in the air, the vacant village giving a slight eerie feel.

A quick look around the buildings made it quite obvious that any previous residents had disappeared, their fate unknown.

Clown must've passed through here, his thoughts ran. He might know something.

If Sneeg found himself curious enough in the moment, he'd ask. But, that's only if he doesn't get distracted when coming face to face. Mask to mask. Whatever.

Distracted?

Sneeg raised a hand to drag along the stone wall of a house as he walked by, the rough texture of the stone matching well with the calloused skin. As his hand dragged, he caught a glimpse of his newly done nails, finding a small chip in the polish.

He furrowed his eyebrows, bringing the nails before his face. They just got done! How did something happen so quickly? And the chip was on his thumb, too, impeding on the crown design.

Sneeg dropped his hand and continued forth, breathing out a harsh sigh.

Whatever, he concludes. Nobody will notice anyway. 

Except for him. It would gnaw at his mind every time he's reminded of it. Every time he even glances toward the color on his nails.

But, nobody else will. So he'd have to ignore it.

In the center of the village were several stands and stalls, seemingly making up a shopping center. In the middle of it all was a well, a bell attaching itself to the stone structure.

All sorts of items could be sold here. Or… used to be. Like… food and produce. Or possibly weaponry.

The noises around the warden became… muffled.

There was a blacksmith building near the beginning of town, Sneeg noticed.

A distant static accompanied the noise.

Maybe in a different time, Sneeg would sell his own tools and weapons in a village. 

Thump… thump… thump…

Maybe his axes, swords, daggers, spears–

His–

Loud.

The smith tripped on his own feet, nearly falling to the ground before his hand caught the stone structure next to him, steadying himself.

The static retreated, all the previous sounds flooding back in to fill Sneeg's ears. The contrast between the static and normality was jarring, leaving the smith perplexed.

What the hell?

Water reached his hand, the structure to his right having been found to be the well in the middle of the shopping center.

He'd only gotten a few steps in.

And yet, despite the strange occurrence…

Sneeg stood up straight, wiping the moisture of his hand onto his cloak.

He had to shake himself out of…whatever.

No sign of Clown yet.

He'd been through worse. 

He had a jester to find.

The steps reached his ears once more, a soft breeze finding its way along. The muffled sound of path beneath boots soon shifted to grass the further Sneeg headed towards the village's end. 

And, like he assumed before, the field that reached past the village was littered with flowers.

The smith's walk ceased where the village ended and the field began, a small poppy resting by his feet. There were bound to be plenty of the small, red flowers in this field. They were an incredibly common flower in the Realm, being found near and far from the yellow castle. 

And, apparently, have now found themselves in this random field. 

The smith's eyes lifted upwards, dragging along each color of each petal connected to each stem. Dragging along until an abnormality moved in the corner of Sneeg's eye, his gaze shifted quickly to meet it.

From where he was standing, Sneeg could only just make out the shape of another person standing several meters from him, the attire they donned consisting of darker shades. 

Just where he said he'd be.

Still an odd spot for a meeting, Sneeg had to admit. But, hey, it had a nice view.

The moth's eyes didn't stray from Clown as he started his trek through the field, opting for a walk rather than filling the air with the beating of his wings. It'd ruin the calm atmosphere, he thought.

As Sneeg got closer, he noticed that Clown's back was facing him, his head looking down at the ground. He hadn't yet given Sneeg the time of day.

Maybe he just didn't know he was there yet. The breeze might've just been enough to cover the sound of his footsteps.

And, though he would never say it out loud, Sneeg couldn't help but take note of his own heartbeat, the rhythm picking up the further he walked.

He shook his head.

He'd just have to ignore it to the best of his abilities. Not let it distract him from the situation at hand.

It wasn't until Sneeg was still a few seconds walk away when the archmage crouched down in the grass, his body blocking Sneeg's view from the subject of his attention. 

A moment later, Clown stood back up, his gaze held on something in his hand.

Thump… thump… thump…

Despite how loud the blood pumped in his ears, Sneeg would opt to remain quiet. At least until Clown spoke first. The archmage called him over here, after all. He was the one with something to say.

The distance between them soon shortened, until it was nearly nothing at all.

The walking didn't stop until the smith found himself side by side with his companion, who still hasn't shown any sign of acknowledging his presence. He hadn't received any resistance so far. Surely he was aware by now. Without even trying, their shoulders were already practically touching. 

But, Clown didn't so much as flinch at his presence. Rather…

Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.

The pumping of his blood gave enough away.

With the sound of a breeze accompanying them, they stood side by side. No words linger in the air, serving to distract. Not yet.

Sneeg took this time to glance down at the item held in Clown's hand, finding a small, red poppy clutched between his gloved fingers. A common flower, he noted before. 

Though, one could only linger in the silence for so long, the quiet being interrupted by the deliberate inhale of breath Clown took.

“Your steps weren't very quiet,” was all the jester said.

“I wasn't trying to be.” The smith looked ahead once more, trying to find the scenery that had caught Clown's attention. “You called me over here. I'd think I should at least try to announce my presence.”

“Oh, please. If you wanted to announce your presence, you would've said something. Clearly you wanted to sneak up on me.”

Sneeg let out a ‘ha.’ “You don't know what my intentions are. I just wanted to keep the quiet that you created.”

A hint of tease was in the archmage's voice. “Well, with your loud ass footsteps, you failed in that department.” That earned Clown a slight shove in the shoulder, causing him to stumble slightly, letting his feet catch himself.

“I think it says more that you heard footsteps and didn't even bother to check if it was me.”

Clown resteadied himself next to Sneeg before replying. “Who else would know to be here? And besides, if there somehow was a threat, I can hold my own in a fight.”

Sneeg huffed. “Understatement of the century.”

“Really? I have been slacking lately. There are plenty of people here that could kill me easily.” A pause. “For example: you.”

“Right.”

“But you would never kill me. You like me around too much.” Clown gave his companion a nudge, a grin clear in his voice. 

“Well, you never know that. It's best to not assume.” A hint of tease.

“What, you want to kill me? After all I've done for you…” The archmage's voice trailed off, his tone feigning melancholy.

“Like asking me to the ball the day before? Wow, I'm so grateful.” The sarcasm behind the smith's words wasn’t get lost on Clown. “Besides, you even admit many people here could kill you easily. With that knowledge, you still didn't check to see if it was me or not.”

The archmage shrugged. “If I couldn't handle them, I knew you were coming. I knew I had nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, so you just expect me to save you in your time of need?”

Tha-thump.

“Shouldn't I expect that anyway?” Clown shifted his gaze towards Sneeg. “Tough and scary warden? Strongest guy on the Realm?”

Tha-thump.

Sneeg shifted his stance to the side to face the archmage, crossing his arms. “You overestimate how far I'm willing to go for you of all people.” A grin was plastered across his face, his words teasing.

Clown swiftly mirrored his movements, facing the smith now. 

This was the first good look he got of Sneeg since the happenings of the day before. Pretty soon after the debacle at spawn, Clown had opted to split from Sneeg and get some rest, considering he had been traveling the whole night before. It was much to someone's dismay, of course. 

So, looking at his face without an audience was nice. The face that, when looking down at Clown, held all its attention on him. And, despite the shadow that cast across his face from the raised hood…

Tha-thump.

Clown could just make out the slight darkening of his face, even hidden under the spade and sculk.

Even with this discovery, he couldn't help but be hyper aware of the beating in his own chest. Couldn't help but worry about his own appearance in front of Sneeg.

“So you're saying you wouldn't?” The archmage crossed his arms over his chest, leaning forward into Sneeg's space. “Wouldn't protect me against someone like, I don't know, Bad? Any of green?” Despite the porcelain mask, Sneeg could tell Clown wore a grin as well.

The smith shrugged. “You'd be on your own, I guess.” He paused, tilting his head to the side, as if thoughtful. He brought a hand up to his chin, giving a performative stroke of his beard. “Though, I do think I'd make an exception for today, probably.”

The jester tilted his head to the side. “Yeah? Why's that?”

“Can't really go to the ball together if you're dead.”

Clown leaned back away, nodding along. “Right, right. ‘Cuz that's all I am to you, huh? A date to the ball and nothing else.”

“See, you get it.” Sneeg closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, only to be greeted by Clown giving him a more-than-light punch to the chest.

“You're an awful person, y'know that?” Clown's words feigned seriousness, acting as if he believed what he said.

The smith hunched over slightly from the punch, hand grasping his chest, putting on a fake strain to his voice. “I know. So awful.”

A few moments went by before the false tension in the air was broken by the sound of Clown's laughter, soon followed by Sneeg, standing up straight.

“Would you really not save me if I was getting killed?” Clown asked, coming down from his laughter.

The smith shrugged once more. “Eh.” He turned to face ahead away from Clown, taking a few steps forward. “We'll have to see.”

The archmage's body turned as his gaze followed Sneeg, before letting out a huff, mumbling an “Asshole.” under his breath. He took a few steps behind Sneeg, following his lead.

Looking off into the distance now, Sneeg crossed his arms and hummed, gaze dragging along the flowers before him. It was a pretty sparse flower forest, now that Sneeg took the opportunity to really look at his surroundings. It was mostly grass filled, the field only getting small pockets of flowers throughout. The field was vast, a small hill on either side of it cutting it off. However, the flatness of the plain was occasionally interrupted by the presence of a tree or a bush. In the distance in front of him, the flower field went on for quite some distance before getting cut off by a river, the other side of it then continuing with a birch forest.

The noise Sneeg made must've offended his companion in some way, because it wasn't very long until he spoke up.

“What?” Clown spoke, a step behind Sneeg.

“Nothing, I'm just looking around.” The smith responded, adjusting his glasses, before crossing his arms over his chest once more. “Why did you call me over to a flower field?”

“I don't know. I was out and I thought the view was nice.” Clown's gaze dropped to the ground in front of him, scanning the flowers before a yellow one caught his eyes. He reached down to pluck it from its place in the grass, examining it as he took a few more steps to be next to Sneeg once more. “Am I not allowed to want to show you something nice? I know it's a change for you, considering your life is all doom and gloom.”

Clown nudged Sneeg with his elbow, getting him to look at the flower in his hand. 

“Here,” he started, handing the flower towards Sneeg, “look at that one.”

“Why?” Sneeg asked, but only after he took the flower anyways, watching as Clown returned his attention to the ground.

“What do you mean ‘why?’ It's a flower.” Clown made a dismissive hand gesture as he continued looking. “Admire its beauty, or whatever.”

The flower was a yellow tulip, a common flower in flower fields. Sneeg would bargain that there were at least a hundred of them in this exact one, but his attention stayed on the tulip in his hands. There was a slight amount of wilting in one of the petals, bringing out a brown color against the bright yellow. Other than that, it was a, well, pretty flower. 

Sneeg couldn't really say much else about it. He knew it was a tulip based on how common they are, but he couldn't say anything about it or any of the flowers in this field. 

When it came to physical skill, he was somewhat of a master. When it came to botany? Not a clue ran through his mind. Well, maybe a few, but they were very few and in between.

It was a few moments later when Clown's steps in the grass interrupted Sneeg's thoughts.

The smith glanced up to find Clown having returned with a different flower in his hands, reaching it out to Sneeg. “What about that one,” he said, practically forcing it into the smith's open hand, which took it without a fight.

Sneeg peered down at the new flower in his hand, the hand with the tulip dropping to his side. “What about it?” Only, the new flower was less of a flower and more of a small branch with small, individual flowers attached to it. 

The flowers were an orangey pink color, each flower in a long, trumpet shape.

Clown didn't respond as Sneeg examined the flower, taking the time to further examine it whilst it's being held in Sneeg's hands, who held it delicately between two fingers. 

As he examined it, though, Sneeg couldn't help but think this flower was very… familiar? Familiar as if he's seen it before in a different light. As if it held any sort of value to the smith. It was too… specific of a flower to have any connection to. It was almost as if the flower's name was just on the tip of his tongue.

“It's very interesting,” Sneeg concluded after a few seconds. “Did you get this from a bush? It's a branch.”

“Great observation.” Clown responded, his tone flat, before turning his head to where he walked from and pointed a gloved hand to a bush that sat next to a tree, it being several meters to their right. “I got it from that one. I thought it looked interesting, like you said.” The archmage put a hand on his hip.

Sneeg looked at it for a few more moments before huffing, a small grin on his face, and dropped his hand that held the flower. “So, what, are you just giving me flowers now? How romantic.”

The movement Clown did made it seem like he was taken aback by the question. “I gave you two flowers, okay? Don't think too much about it, it might hurt your head.” Clown grabbed back the flower branch, a grin hidden under the animosity.

“Okay, man.” Sneeg rolled his eyes. He took this time to open up his cloak and stick the tulip that wasn't taken into an inside pocket. “All I did was ask a question, and now you're the one taking it the wrong way.” The smith crossed his arms. “God, I can't stand you.”

“Well,” Clown took a step forward, his hands behind his back. “You're gonna have to stand me for just a few more hours for the ball.” He turned around to face the smith. “You can handle that, surely?”

Nothing you can't…–

The smith crossed his arms and shook his head, huffing a laugh. “You seem really proud of that fact, huh?”

“Oh yeah?” The grin in Clown's voice was very audible as he took a step towards Sneeg, now facing him. “Proud of what?”

Sneeg rolled his eyes. “The fact that we're going to the ball together. Idiot.”

“Well, I went through much emotional turmoil to get to that point.” The archmage poked Sneeg in the shoulder. “I'm allowed to take pride in it, aren't I?”

“You wouldn't have gone through as much turmoil if you didn't wait until the last minute to ask.”

Clown huffed, crossing his arms. “Were you that desperate to be asked? Gosh.” He rolled his eyes, exaggerating his movement. “Besides, you wouldn't have said yes if I didn't wait.”

The smith gave a scoff. “Says who? You don't know what I was thinking.”

“From what I remember, you were on the fence about it.”

“Doesn't mean I wouldn't have said yes.”

“Oh really? Because I also seem to remember that when I asked if you would say yes, you said no.”

“I said it depended on the person.”

“Yeah,” Clown leaned further into Sneeg's space, “you also said that I wasn't an exception to that.”

“You seem really caught up on this.” The smith raised an eyebrow. “No wonder it took you so long to ask. Goll-ee.”

Clown let out an exasperated breath, face-palming. “Oh my god.”

It was Sneeg's light laughter that caused Clown to raise his head, peering up at the moth's face.

Tha-thump.

A fist was brought before his mouth as he laughed, Sneeg's eyes squinted shut. 

That stupid fucking laugh.

At that moment, Clown noticed the color on the smith's nails, the design suddenly having drawn his interest toward it.

He's never seen Sneeg with nail polish. He'd think it wouldn't last particularly long considering Sneeg's constant work with his hands. 

Those hands…

Clown let out a huff as his companion came down from his laughter. “You're so stupid.” 

Sneeg opened his eyes as Clown made an eyeroll movement.

“Yeah, yeah. I bet you regret asking me now.” Sneeg spoke as he peered down at the archmage, watching as he brought his own gloved hand up to his face, grasping at the porcelain mask. 

Suddenly wide eyed, Sneeg swiftly turned his gaze away from Clown who, pausing his movement, took note of the action.

Clown's hand lingered before his mask, pausing. He took a few moments to notice Sneeg’s reactions, before scoffing out a laugh and shaking his head. The archmage grabbed his mask, adjusting it slightly, as he spoke. “You're so dramatic.” 

Only a sliver of skin was shown before the mask was properly placed back upon Clown's face.

“I didn't know what you were going to do.” Sneeg's voice was low, still looking away from the jester.

Clown crossed his arms. “What, you think I'm just going to,” he made an exaggerated motion of tearing off the mask, “rip it off? Out in the open?”

“I don't know. You're weird like that.”

The archmage paused, before exhaling out a short laugh. He took a step towards the smith, watching as his head snapped back forward, peering down at Clown.

Tha-thump.

Sneeg's eyebrows furrowed slightly as Clown stopped before him, confusion written into his face. 

His heartbeat was… fast. Faster than it had been before.

“Though…” Clown started, stopping now less than a foot away from the smith. Clown's head drifted off to the side slightly. “I doubt you would be complaining if I did, right?” The archmage looked back up to Sneeg, finding his expression unreadable. “If I took it off?”

Tha-thump.

“I mean–”

Clown shifted his feet in the grass, standing on his toes to make himself taller to be more in line with Sneeg. “I'm just saying…” He leaned forward ever so slightly, watching as his companion's eyes became wider. “If you took it off,” he said as he raised a gloved hand, carefully setting it down on Sneeg’ shoulder, landing closer to the area of his neck, his voice lowering…

Tha-thump.

“I wouldn't exactly complain either.” 

Sneeg felt his mouth drop open, stuck in place. 

Clown was way, way, too close for comfort, but… Sneeg made no movement to back away. Instead, he could only feel his face become warm, growing warmer the longer they stayed that way.

…Which wasn't very long. 

It was only a few moments later when the jester tilted his head before lowering himself, giving the shoulder his hand rested on a short few pats. 

Clown brought his hand back to himself as he gazed up at Sneeg, letting out a huff of amusement – who knew what the smith looked like at that moment – before walking past him and hitting the smith's shoulder with his own along the way.

Despite… that, Sneeg found himself dumbfounded. He was stuck in place, the loud sound of blood pumping overwhelming his senses.

Now, he couldn't exactly differentiate between the sound of two heartbeats together, but knew that his own couldn't help but make himself feel dizzy.

“C'mon,” Clown's voice broke Sneeg from his trance-like state, blinking. “Let's go back to the castle.”

Sneeg could hear Clown's steps move further away in the grass, before being halted and replaced by the sound of rustling.

“Wh–”

“I'll race you.” The grin was clear in the archmage's voice, a hint of tease sneaking its way in.

At this point, Sneeg turned towards Clown's direction, only to find at that exact moment the archmage holding an ender pearl, mid throw. 

As he threw the pearl, he turned back to Sneeg, still in somewhat of a state, and tilted his head, doing a finger wave. 

“I'll see you there.” He was much too cheeky for Sneeg's liking.

“Oh, you–” Sneeg started, but couldn't finish his thought before the archmage disappeared from sight, leaving only a cloud of enderic particles in his absence.

A moment later, off in the distance, Sneeg could just spot another pearl becoming airborne coming from just beyond the village entrance. 

Sneeg huffed as the buzzing sound of moth wings echoed through the air.

“You're on.”

The sound of chests rapidly opening and closing filled the room underneath the main room of the castle. 

The room acted as a cellar, some walls being covered top to bottom with barrels. Chests lined the other walls, being filled with excess of materials or whatever seemed to find its way in there.

The cellar primarily stored the materials that the bees produced when they existed in the castle. Ever since that first week of quests, there had forever been an excess of honey. Some of that honey, over the months, had been used to create mead, primarily used for special occasions.

But, another thing the cellar kept was unused honeycomb, a few chests being designated for it. 

Those were the chests being rummaged through, the contents swiftly being transferred to a shulker box.  

The sound of metal greaves hitting the floor accompanied the chests, a royal architect hurrying between the different chests. 

Ros tried not to go too hard on the preparations just hours before the ball, but this task of hers seemed quite urgent.

“Chest… honeycomb… shulker…” The architect mumbled to herself as she worked to move the materials.

As soon as the shulker box was full, she was quick to pick it up and hurry towards the stairs leading up, coming out into the small room connected to the kitchen. 

Her head was down, staying focused on the task at hand.

But, when she made it to the main entrance room of the castle, she was startled by the sudden sound of wind, a heavy gust reaching her through the entrance, the force nearly toppling her over.

Ros caught herself, her greaves coming down with a metallic clank.

“Shit, sorry Ros.” Sneeg landed in the hall, planting his boots in the rug. His wings were slowing down, coming to a still behind his back.

“Jeez,” the architect placed the shulker in front of her, trying to fix her hair that had become ruined. She'll have to actually fix it when she gets ready. “Were you in a rush or something?” She turned her head to face the moth, who did seem slightly out of breath.

“Hah,” Sneeg gave a dry laugh, “as if I would have to rush.” The smith crossed his arms as he turned his body to look outside. “Especially when someone else is pretty slow.”

“Huh?” Ros drew her attention to where Sneeg was looking, taking a few steps forward to look out the entrance. 

A moment or two passed by in silence, nothing outside changing. Just the sound of the birds chirping and the light breeze came between the architect and smith.

“What are you–” Ros started, before something suddenly shot past her face in a blur of dark blues, the sound of a glass ender pearl breaking against the cobble platform. 

And, just as suddenly, in a small cloud of purple particles, an archmage in red and black appeared in front of Ros, only a few feet away.

“Ah–!” The architect let out a startled yell, jumping and the sudden presence, who seemed to jump himself at the noise. “Oh gosh, Clown.” Ros put a hand over her chest as she took a step back.

“Sorry, Ros.” Clown took his own step back, looking around briefly. “Is Sneeg–” He paused his speech as his eyes landed on the moth, a few steps back into the castle. “Of course.”

Sneeg plastered a grin across his face. “What do you mean ‘of course'? Of course that I'm faster than you?”

“Of course the guy with wings got here first. You can literally fly.” The jester crossed his arms, making a hmph sound. 

“You're the one who started the race. And you got a head start.” Sneeg retorted, taking a few steps forward to be in line with Ros. “You brought this upon yourself.”

“Whatever.” Clown rolled his eyes before taking a few steps into the castle. “How long had you been here?”

“Eh,” the smith gave a light shrug, “a few minutes.”

“It was more like 30 seconds,” Ros interjected, her smile clear in her voice. What she got back was a gentle shove in her shoulder as she giggled.

“Ah, so I did almost beat you back.” Clown gave a short nod. “Good to know.”

“I was going easy on you.” The moth spoke quickly.

“Yeah, sure you did.” Neither Sneeg nor Ros missed the grin in Clown's voice. He dropped his arms to his side as he took a few steps towards his friends. “Nevermind that. What have you been up to, Ros?”

“Oh! Well,” the architect clasped her hands together, “I'm just bringing down the last of the supplies for the ball. The work just seems neverending at this point.” 

“Yeah, I feel that.”

Ros looked back towards the shulker box she had dropped in the middle of the hall, her gaze fixed on it. A second or two passed in silence, before, suddenly, Ros’ eyes lit up as she turned back towards the others. “Actually… Clown, can I borrow you for a second?” Ros spoke, a cheerful tone in her words. She didn't wait for an answer before grabbing Clown's arm and pulling it further into the hall.

“Oof–” Clown steadied himself, “yeah, you can. What for?” 

Ros dragged him towards the box before picking it up and holding with one arm, and dragging Clown with the other. “You'll see.” She giggled, and looked back at Sneeg. “I'm borrowing him for a bit. Don't worry, I'll return him to you before the ball!” Ros’ voice got more distant as she began her trek down the stairs, Clown on her tail.

Sneeg, a bit shocked at the sudden departure of both of his friends, just shook his head as his eyes followed them down the stairs. “I could go without him. You can keep him.”

A muffled hey! from Clown could be heard as they made their way down, leaving Sneeg in his lonesome.

The smith made his way back to his forge, almost on instinct.

The spe–

A buzzing gnawed at the back of his mind.

The spear still needs to be worked on.

He traveled over to his chests to take out the necessary supplies to resume his work, pulling things out of the way to put them back in. Metals, tools, books… 

A book laid on top of a material Sneeg required, the cover of it facing upwards. The cover had no words on it, but it did have a picture of a flower, yellow and detailed.

It stopped him in his tracks momentarily, letting curiosity override his desire to smith.

He reached for the book, brushing off the dust that accumulated on top of it. The pages had begun to yellow, the binding showing the signs of wear. 

In the pages was a singular marked sheet, a loose piece of paper lodged in between.

Wouldn't this have come from the library? I should return it…

The smith adjusted his glasses, opening the book to the marked page.

On the page was an image of a flower, paragraphs of words following after it. 

Well, it wasn't a flower, but rather a branch with flowers hanging from it.

“Oh.”

That must've been why the flowers were so familiar before, Sneeg obviously had seen them in the book.

His gaze dropped down the page, stopping at the header in bold words just beneath the picture.

“Oh.”

Honeysuckle.

Aimsey: PRES AT THE TEAL TITANS BASE!

“It's a good thing I'm nearby.” 

The archmage stood at the top of his tower, looking out in the distance to the Teal Titan’s base, noticing a person entering the building at that moment.

Clown had only just started getting dressed for the ball, buttoning the top button of his dress shirt as he looked at the gathering of people.

That task with Ros took longer than expected…

He could still feel a waxy film on his gloves as he got ready. 

Clown backed away from the railing as he saw more people funnel into the blue roofed building. He'd have to hurry up if he wanted to get to the before party at a reasonable time.

Should I get there as early as I can? Fashionably late? Late but fashionable. Good one.

The jester exhaled a laugh at his thoughts as he put on his suit vest.

Who would be there? Would Sneeg be there? Oh, please. 

He mentally hit himself. 

Don't do that. You don't need to worry about him when you just saw him.

Though… it did cross Clown's mind that Sneeg is the more antisocial type. He couldn't help but hope to see the smith as he entered the building, anyways. To his dismay, of course.

He had more important things to think about at that moment, like… what kind of drinks will be at the ball? Or what kind of festivities will occur? Will there be dancing? Oh, dancing will be fun. Especially with– 

Worry about that when it happens.

If it'll happen.

Clown hopes it will.

His gaze drifted back towards the Teal Titan’s base, a few more people meeting in front of its doors. 

Maybe Sneeg is already there and you're wasting your time wondering.

He shook his head.

Have to get ready before you can check.

Clown huffed a sigh as he pulled his hood over his hair.

The sound of heels trekking along the path filled the air around Clown as he made his way to the gathering, his walk at a moderate pace. 

He was already late, what would a slower walk hurt?

The skies were clear, the ball having been set on a day that would've most likely been nicer. Though, that did not stop the breeze from blowing across the Realm, giving the air a slight chill. 

Though, for the most part, that didn't matter. The festivities would be held inside, to Clown's knowledge, having seen the ballroom and noticing the fact that it is deep underground. 

However, an after party – if there is one – might occur back on the surface. 

Even so, he probably wouldn't have the energy for an after party, typically being an early riser.

Depends on who might be there, though.

“Hey, Clown!” A voice called from behind him, causing the archmage to stop in his tracks, turning to find Pangi jogging after him. 

“Hi, Pangi.” 

The pangolin caught up to Clown, halting before him. The green faction member wore an olive, off-the-shoulder top, the straight neckline being adorned with a lacey material. The top was made up of a flowy material, the sleeves cinching at the wrist, with black velvet gloves underneath. The gloves were adorned with embroidery, creating a design with different shades of green. The flowy material of the top was cinched into a dark brown corset belt at his waist, a thin gold chain draping around the belt, a few small, green crystals falling from the chain. Around his shoulders was a gold chain, connecting to the cape at his back that reached to just above the ground. Around his neck was another gold chain, the necklace a nice match against the orange scales running down the sides of his neck and shoulders, leading down along his arms. The sharp sunglasses atop his nose were falling down the bridge, showing the sparkly eye makeup the pangolin wore, being made up of greens and golds. 

And, whilst looking great in his outfit, his expression matched it, wearing a wide grin across his face.

“Clown! I didn’t know if you would come to the ball.” The sharp teeth in his smile were bright. Pangi looked at Clown up and down. “You look great, man.”

The archmage instinctively looked down at his own outfit at the comment. He wore a dark red, silk suit vest, the color dull, nearing brown. The vest had designs in a slightly darker color, a nice contrast against the silver of the buttons. His undershirt was black, the flowy fabric draping against his arms and cinching in at the wrists, his plain, black gloves covering his hands underneath. Over his vest, around his neck, he adorned a white ruff collar. His vest led down into a dramatic tailcoat, the tips of it ending at the back of Clown’s knees. His high waisted, black dress pants reached down to above his heeled boots, his pants billowing at the bottom, a mesh vent of tulle at the side seams. His boots reached above his ankles, a silver buckle contrasting the black leather. The heels on the boots reached a few inches above the ground, adding more height to the already tall archmage.

On his mask, to the side of each eye, there were new additions of small, red triangles that kind of made it look like whiskers were added. On the ends of each side of his headpiece, there were small bells attached, a small jingle sound being made at their movement.

“Thank you. You as well.” Clown said as he tilted his head, a smile in his voice.

What Pangi hadn’t noticed at first was a small movement coming from behind Clown as he spoke. It was almost like… a tail.

Coming from underneath his tailcoat, a tail made from a belt swayed almost naturally. It had a gold buckle near the middle of it, the leather material overlapping. At the end of the belt was a pointed end, like what you’d imagine a devils tail would look like. 

And, weirdly, it was moving on its own. Or, it looked that way.

The archmage had managed to move it subconsciously with his magic, the movement reflecting an actual cat's tail.

The pangolin couldn’t focus too much on it, as Clown turned around and continued walking down the path to the Teal Titan’s base, now reaching the fountain, Pangi quickly following by his side. The archmage continued his speech.

“Also, I kinda have to attend the ball. Since, y’know, I have a date.” He said it so… casually, Pangi had to take a double take at the sudden information. 

“Oh–” The pangolin stopped his stride momentarily, quickly catching back up to Clown. “Really? You have a date? Who is it?”

Clown halted his walk, stopping before the entrance to the Teal Base, turning to Pangi. Chatter from within the building reached them, the front door opened. “It’s with Sneeg.”

Pangi’s eyebrows raised, his eyes widening slightly, just enough for Clown to notice. 

“You’re–” He tilts his head. “You’re going with… with Sneeg?”

“Yes, I am.” The archmage’s voice took a slower tone. “Is it really that surprising?”

“No–!” The pangolin quickly backtracked. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that… that Sneegs, uhm, he’s… y’know.” The archmage tilted his head slightly. “Not like… I don’t know. I’d thought he wouldn’t have asked anybody, let alone you.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Clown folded his arms across his chest. “Besides, he didn’t ask me. I asked him.” His tone grew ever so slightly agitated.

“Really?” This surprised the green member. “And he… agreed?” Clown gave a short nod before Pangi continued. “Huh. I didn’t really think…” 

The noise from inside the building shifted slightly, causing the pangolin's vision to drift to the door, his speech drifting off into silence as his eyes suddenly slightly widened.

Clown, seeing this reaction, turned his head towards the entrance of the Teal base, dropping his arms from his chest, his head suddenly perking up.

Pangi and Clown’s conversation must’ve been heard over the commotion of the before party. As they looked up through the open entryway, the slight sound of floorboards creaking gave away the presence of a certain moth winged smith standing halfway through the door, his arms crossed over his chest, an eyebrow raised.

“Didn’t think what?”

“Oh, Sneeg.” The pangolin turned his body towards the smith. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a small grin as he took a few steps up the stairs. “Is Lukey in there yet?” 

Sneeg took a step to the side, giving Pangi room to get through the door. “Yes, he is.” His tone was flat, watching as the pangolin swiftly walked through the door to the base, giving Sneeg a thumbs up as he disappeared from sight.

The warden's eyes stayed on the pangolin until they couldn't anymore. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, before being interrupted by the sound of heels climbing up the steps towards him. 

“You're very dapper,” the jester said, reaching Sneeg's step.

The smith's outfit consisted of a white button up undershirt, a dark blue suit vest with designs of flowers and foliage in a lighter blue and dull yellow. Over that was a dark blue blazer, almost black, with dull yellow lapels. He wore gold cufflinks with a gem that was bright blue. His dress pants were a dark blue, cutting off before his black, leather shoes with stitching in a muted yellow. Around his shoulders was a short cloak, only reaching the bottom of his back. It was pointed, almost similar to a banner. The colors were dark blue and a pale yellow, the pale yellow creating a banner-like design on the back of his head and back. His hood was up, stopping short of his teal colored horns. On his hands, he wore black fingerless gloves, bringing more attention to the coloring on his nails. 

His silver glasses remained on, peering down at Clown through their lenses. 

The smith seemed quite proud of himself, now, as he was face to face with his companion.

“Thank you.” He replied to Clown as he looked the jester up and down, catching the details of his outfit. “You look… fine, I guess.” His mouth grew into a smug grin as he turned and hurried in through the doorway.

“What–” Clown's eyes followed him through the door. “Okay, asshole.” The archmage followed Sneeg, quickly catching up to be by his side. “I put effort into this outfit. I doubt you could say that yourself.”

They stopped in the entranceway to the room where everybody was gathered.

It had been like before the first ball, where there were seats lined up before a makeshift dj booth in the Teal base. 

Around 10 people had gathered in the room, a few more bound to arrive before the ball starts.

Turning around to meet Clown's face, he opened his mouth to retort back, before steps approached the two, stopping before them.

“Alright, alright. No fighting during the pre-drinks, you two.” 

Aimsey stood before Sneeg and Clown, causing both of them to look down at the faction leader.

They adorned a darker teal colored waistcoat, with gold detailing on the trims. Underneath was a light gray dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to reach their mid forearm. The rest of their arm was covered by thin black fingerless gloves, drawing attention to their black and gold painted nails. On the left side of their chest, there was a light purple brooch in the shape of a water lily. Over their right shoulder, they adorned a black shoulder cape, only reaching about mid-thigh near the back, the inner lining being a teal color similar to their horns that matched Sneeg’s own. Aimsey’s dress pants reached their leather dress shoes, the leather being black in color. Their hair was in a half-up hairdo, strands of hair on either side of their face falling down. 

What was a new addition to their appearance, Clown had noted, was the moth wings at their back. Clown hadn't seen the wings before, since Aimsey reached Nirvana in the time Clown was gone. Being eerily similar to Sneeg's own, the wings contained light and dark blues, black, and white, but also the addition of some lighter browns. The wings draped down, folding against the length of Aimsey’s body, reaching about mid calf.

“Sneegs the one picking fights.” The jester spoke quickly, pointing a finger at the smith.

“Most likely, but it doesn't matter.”Aimsey spoke as they lightly grabbed both Sneeg and Clown’s arms, pulling them further into the room. Sneeg let out a light ‘hey!’ at their words, before getting interrupted. “Let’s get you both a drink. The ball is set to start in about…” Aimsey looked around, eyes landing on a clock on the wall, “40 minutes? We have time for a few drinks before then, right?”

“I mean yeah, of course.” The jester spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clown let himself be dragged farther into the room, raising his hand in a wave as he passed others in the room. 

Everybody was dressed to the nines, adorning their fanciest outfits and accessories. For the people who were holding drinks (which was most of them), they were holding martini glasses with the glass being slightly foggy, chilled from the temperature. The glasses held a pale yellow liquid in it, a lemon peel garnishing the rim. 

As Aimsey went further into building, then let go of both Sneeg and Clown, allowing them to follow on their own. 

They actually went past the room with the dj booth and followed the hallway into the small kitchen of the base, where a different Teal Titan, Scott, was found fiddling with something at the counter. 

And, despite him working, he was in his ball attire, only seeing the classic pink, blue, and yellow he often found himself in. 

“Scott!” Aimsey greeted the man as they turned the corner into the kitchen, causing Scott to turn his head away from the counter. His face lit up as his eyes met Aimsey, his gaze quickly dragging across to the men following behind them.

Scott, who had found himself being the self-appointed bartender, turned his body to face the three. He wore a reddish-pink waistcoat adorned with golden buttons, small engraved details being only slightly noticeable. He wore a light blue dress shirt underneath, the color nearly being white, with his sleeves being rolled just below his elbow, light pink gloves covering the rest of his arms and hands. Scott’s shoulders were adorned with a bright blue chiffon shawl, a yellow light color lining its edges. His dress pants were a darker blue than his shawl, and his dress shoes were duller blue color. His light teal hair was half up in the back, also being adorned with small silver stars being clipped through the teal color. 

His shawl draped down each of his arms, catching at his elbows as he put a hand on his hip.

“Thats a face I didn’t expect to see today,” said Scott as his attention was initially drawn to Clown.

“I know. I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted to attend until, well,” the jester caught a quick glance to his side where Sneeg was, “yesterday.”

The teal titan raised an eyebrow, leaning his hand on the edge of the counter. His eyes darted between the smith and the archmage. “What happened yesterday?” His voice was full of amusement, the cogs turning in his head as he noticed Sneeg’s gaze drifting to the floor. Aimsey, now also curious, was watching the two as well. 

“Oh,” Clown started, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “Nothing much. I just, y’know,” he continued, his tone nonchalant, “asked Sneeg to the ball. That’s what set it in stone for me.”

Scott raised his eyebrows at the information, but Aimsey only shook their head at the two. 

“I already have enough of this to deal with, now you too? Gosh…” Their voice drifted off, the joking in their voice evident. They breathed a heavy sigh as they looked back at Scott. “Could you get these two a drink? I’m going to wait for Ros.” Aimsey didn’t wait for an answer as they walked back towards the main room.

“Right. Well,” As the yellow members turned back to Scott, he was already grabbing two martini glasses from the icebox, the glass foggy from the chill. “Happy for you two,” he said as he grabbed a clear bottle of a pale yellow liquid. “You guys like lemon drops?”

“I spoke with Ros earlier.” 

Both Sneeg and Clown sat down at the far right side of the room, careful to not spill the drinks in their hands. They were told by Scott that he had pre-made a few bottles of the lemon cocktail the night before, unsure of how busy the workload might’ve been. It was easier, he said. 

“If they don’t like it, they should’ve brought their own drinks.”

Actually being able to sit down and look across the room, Sneeg took note of who was there and who had just arrived. In the front row of the right seats, both Pangi and Lukey were talking to one another, the latter having changed into a darker green suit jacket, instead of the gray sweatshirt he had been seen with before. 

In the other corner of the room, both Bek and El were standing, talking to each other, with Callum sitting on the closest seat to them. 

Near the back of the left seats, Bad and Water were sitting next to each other, Aimsey not too far from the two of them. 

In the front room, Sneeg now noticed, Kyle and Ash were conversing, the smith surprised to see Ash actually attending. He hadn’t seen the man in a bit, most likely from his own self seclusion.

In the time Sneeg and Clown were in the kitchen, both Foolish and Zam had arrived, the princess clearly looking around for something, before her eyes landed on smith and archmage, her face lighting up, and waving to the two of them. 

The ball was bound to happen within the next hour, so excitement was still high. But, Sneeg had other things to focus on right now.

“Oh yeah? What did you talk about?” The moth spoke as he focused back on Clown. 

The archmage turned to the side away from the rest of the room, lifting up his mask slightly to take a sip from his glass. Clown positioned himself so he was on the outside of the chairs, Sneeg being further into the room. He lowered his mask as he spoke.

“While me and her were in the ballroom, she talked to me about… well, us.” His voice gained a sense of hesitancy.

“Oh, right.” Sneeg is brought back to Ros’ promise to him. She said she would. “I had that same talk with her. Is that why you took so long in the ballroom?” The smith brought the cocktail up to his lips, the sugar rim combating well with the sourness of the drink.

“I mean,” Clown tilted his head, “yes and no. She gave me a task that was very… time consuming, let's say.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

The archmage gave a short laugh to himself. “You'll see.”

“Hah. Should I worry?”

Clown paused for a moment, carefully setting down his glass on the drink table beside him, sure to not spill anything.

“I don't know…” An unsure tone entered the jester's voice as he looked ahead once more. “Maybe you should.”

The sudden fear in his voice didn't do much to affect Sneeg. For the most part.

Sure, he can take a joke. In fact, Clown started giggling to himself as soon as his fearful facade dropped.

But…

The smith gave Clown a shove in his shoulder as his heartbeat rang heavy in his ears, begging the sound to retreat.

Oh my god, calm down. He's joking. As a jester does… 

The jester steadied himself in his seat, placing a hand on Sneeg's arm as he continued his laughter. 

Get a hold of yourself.

The grounding presence of the hand on his arm eased his brief panic, but it didn't do much to serve in quieting Sneeg's heartbeat.

Instead, it made the skin on his arm feel warmer, the beat in his ears growing louder, for surely separate reasons than before.

He forced himself to push out a laugh, the sound coming out more awkward than he would've liked. “You're not funny. I have trauma, you know.”

“Oh yeah? From the other balls?” Clown reached back over to grab his drink, when he returned back to his position in his seat, the fabric of his knee grazed the leg of his companion, causing him to shift away. Only slightly.

“Yeah, yeah.” The smith glanced down at the deliberate movement. Suddenly, his light demeanor dropped just as quickly as it arrived. “They were… rough. Fun, for the most part. But rough.” Sneeg took a drink from the glass, setting it down on the space beside him on the wooden bench. “I was hesitant at first at the idea of a third ball, given the complications of the first two with… certain people.” Sneeg's head raised to peer at the couple of people in the front row of seats, looking over his glasses.

Clown followed his gaze, finding two green faction members that never did seem to leave each other's side. One of which Clown was much more familiar with. He was also familiar with the idea of the green faction being the cause of some issues, them having been the opposing factor to the kingdom for the entirety of the Realm. 

It wasn't all too surprising.

The chatter of the room filled the silence between them. 

In that pause, Clown did a swift turn away to lift up the mask slightly, taking a sip from his cocktail.

The archmage held the glass in front of his masked face, as if taking a closer look at the drink, and interrupted their pause. 

“Would you tell me the specifics or do I have to pick up on your very subtle context clues?”

Sneeg turned his head to the side, facing his companion who lowered the glass and met Sneeg's face. Though, something did catch his eye briefly. 

Sneeg's eyes flitted down to the glass Clown held in his gloved hand, the base resting on his lap. The rim of the glass, presumably where a sip had been taken, a smudge of dark coloring was present. 

The twisting of the glass in Clowns hands caused Sneeg to look back up, the porcelain eyes still looking his way. 

“I… I’ll tell you later.” The smith spoke, his words gilded with a tone of something unrecognizable. Something unexpected from someone of his nature.

His words did nothing to soothe Clown. But, despite that, all he did was turn his head back forwards, and give a short, “Okay.” 

Sneeg was certainly grateful for the lack of animosity in his tone, reveling in the drop of conversation temporarily.

Moments passed by, the conversation of the room having grown louder than before. With the new additions of a few more green members, as well as yellow members, Tina and Sausage, arriving at around the same time. 

For it being a “before party,” there surely were plenty of people. The room had begun to feel somewhat crowded, though. 

In fact, a few people had drifted outside to have their conversations, gathering around the Teal Titans’ gravestones.

Who knew how many people were going to be attending the ball today… 

From what Sneeg knows, he certainly did see an influx of people hanging around spawn earlier today, the traffic of the castle causing quite the distraction in his work.

Nevertheless, it is to be expected to come across more people on the day of a big social event, the word having spread far in the few weeks before.

The smith is not entirely sure why so many who hadn't typically woken up for such an event had now…

But he was sure of one thing. 

He'd have to keep a closer eye on everything, keeping Clown, Ros, and everyone in his kingdom safe. Especially with the increase of attendees.

“I feel like…” Clown started. It was only when given a distraction did Sneeg feel his jaw unclench, his eyebrows return from their furrowed state. The archmage crossed one leg over the other as he leaned back in his seat, carefully swirling the liquid left in his glass. “Things will be different today. You have something today that you didn't have for the other balls.”

“Oh yeah?” Sneeg tilted his head towards the archmage, a short grin finding its way onto his face. “And what's that?”

“You have,” Clown held his glass up in Sneeg's direction, “me. Surely that's such a defining factor in everyone's night, don't you think?”

Sneeg looked down at the glass for a moment, before huffing out a laugh and grabbing his own glass from beside him, a small amount of the lemon cocktail remaining.

“Maybe not everyone's night,” Sneeg held his glass up, his grin growing, “but sure.”

“No, maybe not everyone's.” Clown's voice lowered ever so slightly, involuntary leaning forward. “But certainly yours.”

The sound of the glasses tapping against each other rang in both of their ears.

The sun had begun to set over the Realm, the warm light retreating from the land, the lanterns lining the path replacing what was lost.

The more minutes that passed by, the higher the anticipation within everyone grew.

Commotion in the Teal Titan’s base still ran high as time went on. More drinks were poured, reunions were held, and even an impromptu “fashion show” occurred, some people showing off their outfits to the people who showed interest.

They all kept themselves occupied for as long as they needed to, only biding time till someone would come over, announcing the festivities had begun…

“Ros!” 

The Teal Titan leader stood on the top step of the entrance stairs to the base, gazing out at the figure flying down the path.

It was 10 minutes to 8 o'clock, everybody waiting for the go-ahead from the event organizer. 

Including Aimsey. 

For the most part, whilst everybody else was conversing between themselves and spilling drinks, the Teal Titan leader switched between standing in the front room and on the patio outside. Sure, they made sure to keep tabs on the chaos, but Aimsey’s attention was drawn outside, eyes glued to the gravel path that led to the yellow castle.

And though they might not admit to that, it was quite obvious to anyone that cared to pay attention to the actions of the Teal Titan.

And, despite what it may look like, Aimsey wasn't all too concerned to keep a front of nonchalance in front of the person they had been anticipating would arrive for the past hour.

The architect's head perked up at the call of her name, her eyes lighting up and mouth growing wide as her gaze landed on the moth.

“Aimsey!” 

Ros flew her way over to Aimsey as they descended the front steps, landing on the ground in front of the Teal Titan.

The ambient chatter from inside the base reached the two as they were face to face, just looking at each other for a few short moments. The crickets of the night did much to mask the chatter, cloaking them in a cozier ambience.

One that was much more appropriate.

“Wow,” the warden breathed out an exasperated breath. “You look absolutely lovely,” Aimsey spoke with adoration as they looked Ros’ outfit up and down. 

She wore a floor length lavender dress, the fabric clinging to her body. The neckline reached high up her neck, the sleeveless garment cutting the sleeve holes near the base of her neck. Underneath the neckline, a diamond shaped window was cut into the fabric. Revealing Ros’ left leg, there was a slit in the dress that went to mid thigh, the deep red tights underneath becoming visible. Her heels were a light purple color, closely resembling the color of her dress, and were open toed with the straps lacing up her feet to above the ankle.

She had done her makeup and hair earlier in the day, that bold red of her eyeshadow transitioning further down her face to her blush, and the light purple streaks threading through Ros’ hair. 

Ros held her hands in front of her, her hands being covered by pale purple silk gloves reaching just above her elbow, the brown and purple butterfly wings behind her flapping excitedly.

“Thank you!” The architect beamed. “You look lovely, as well.” Ros looked at Aimsey’s outfit up and down, landing her gaze at their eyes.

And, while it may be difficult to see anything visible under the bold makeup, Aimsey couldn't help but notice the sound of the butterfly's heartbeat growing louder. 

Perhaps it was the growing excitement for the ball, perhaps it was the excitement for something else. Who could tell?

A grin grew on Aimsey’s face, holding out a hand to Ros. “C'mon inside, everybody is waiting for you.”

The architect covered her mouth with her hand, quietly giggling into it, before grabbing Aimsey’s own. “They're waiting for the ball, you mean?”

“Maybe.” The moth led the butterfly up the stairs. “But, I know people who were definitely waiting for you.”

The two made their way into the building, stopping before the room with everybody conversing.

Ros dragged her eyes across the group of people, not having expected to see as many people as she did. 

What did catch her eye, though, was a group of people near the back on the other side of the room. In the back two rows, there were five people, all yellow members. In the back row, it seemed to be Sneeg and Clown, as well as Zam who was sitting next to Sneeg, talking very animatedly to the group. In the row in front, Foolish and Tina sat next to one another, their bodies turned in their seats to face the other three.

Foolish occasionally jutted into Zam's rant, Clown making a small comment as well. 

As Zam spoke, Tina's face suddenly lit up as she gripped the back of her seat, turning her body to fully face the princess, giving her own input.

As Ros peered at the group across the room, she couldn't help but feel thrilled at her kingdom members together, their excitement for the events reaching the butterfly. 

“Should we bring them over to the ball now?” Aimsey asked, interrupting Ros’ thoughts. Aimsey was one of the people Ros entrusted to help with preparations for the ball, helping build the activities for later. And, they had the idea to keep a good portion of the attendees occupied by pre-drinks directly before the ball. What they hadn't expected was the amount of people that ended up flooding into the cramped building. 

The architect dragged her eyes over the rest of the room, landing on the yellow group once more. “Hm. In a few minutes, yeah?” She turned to look at the moth, a smile on her face.

Aimsey nodded, waving an arm into the room. “Okay. Take your time. It's your ball, after all.”

Not a moment later, Ros began rushing towards her kingdom members, the sound of her heels against the wooden floor causing one of them to turn her head.

“Ros! Hi!” Tina perked up at the sight of the architect, waving her over with a gloved hand. 

The rest of the group turned to face the new arrival as she quickly went to sit beside Tina, quickly being hugged from the side.

Tina wore a satin, floor length, pale yellow dress with pale purple flower details going down the sides. Her hair was pushed back by a light purple headband, her bangs framing her face. Ros could feel the satin of her light purple gloves brush against her as they hugged.

“Oh, guys…” The architect could barely conceal her excitement. “I hope everyone is excited for the ball. I had just finished setting up everything. I'm really excited for you guys to see it.” 

The princess practically bounced in her seat. “I'm so excited to see it finished.”

Ros beamed as she looked across the group. “How are you guys doing? Okay? Good? Excited?”

“I think we're all pretty excited, Ros.” Foolish spoke up, leaning along the back of his seat, to get a better look at her. “How are you doing? You organized the thing, after all.”

Well, that's easy to answer. Her excitement was practically palpable. Everybody had contributed to the cause with what they could, it was like the ball had a bit of everyone within its walls.

She dragged her eyes along each of them, their eyes watching her, before she landed on Clown, who she gave a grin.

Ros was glad to have had the opportunity to actually talk to Clown about what ailed her, the archmage being surprisingly receptive about the whole thing. Similarly to Sneeg, Clown had almost begged to listen when Ros had brought her issue up, more than happy to finally talk about it. Especially after their very short conversation earlier in the day. 

And, as she looked at both Clown and Sneeg now, sitting beside each other, she couldn't help but feel an odd sense of pride. 

Proud for two of the closest people to her for getting their shit together. 

And, even as Ros dragged her gaze across the entire room, finding people she had come to know and adore, she couldn't help but feel proud of herself.

Proud at the things she herself had accomplished.

So, when she turned back to her kingdom, she grinned.

“Actually, I'm doing really well.”

.

.

.

“Let's head down then, shall we?”