Chapter Text
The busy city and the glow of the sun indicating a bright start to his day, Ranboo woke up to a stiff neck, completely contradicting the scenery around him. That’s what he gets from sleeping on the windowsill of the bus he was riding. He must’ve dozed off while resting his head on the window—bored from the British chatter and the constant whir of the bus which then led to him peacefully sleeping the entire way to the Museum where the exhibition of Snowchester's hidden treasures was. Before waking up and getting rid of the trance he was in, he recalled the dream that he was having. It was a flashback of the very exact moment when he stole the journal that introduced him to the wonders of Snowchester from the library. It was a silly memory. Though he did feel guilty stealing and running away with the journal, all he can say is it was worth it.
It is a bit endearing if he’s being honest. Yes, his younger self did commit an act that isn’t good no matter which angle you try to observe it, yet, it opened a lot of new doors in his life thus introducing him to new things. He vividly remembers the day he brought the journal back to his house—the sun setting in the background, the neighbors taking their bikes back to their respective houses, and his cheeky grin visible on his face as he happily skipped down the block. It was a moment he could closely compare to fairytale books wherein the hero starts his quest on an unknown magical land. It’s fascinating how a book from years ago still has this certain magical effect on him.
Ranboo even met someone who had very little knowledge about the forgotten kingdom. It was Dream. His neighbor who's the reason he got to know more about History. He used to tell him stories about a particular empire that Ranboo loved so much. He would always come knocking at his door asking for more stories about it and the older man would welcome him with open arms. But one day Dream had to move regarding to work, and Ranboo got to visit one last time before he moved to another country.
Little did he know that Dream left him a little gift before leaving. Ranboo’s mother gave it a day after the man left the country and it was Ranboo all he can ever ask for. It was noted regarding hidden civilizations around the world. It even mentioned empires that he thought were only a myth. He read and read all of it, day and night he would memorize everything that Dream left him.
It was the moment when he became so interested in Geography and the History of Europe. He became a nerd who's obsessed with one particular empire—Snowchester. According to the book he had read, it was a wealthy kingdom, with its name derived from the snowy biome it was built on. It’s such an unfortunate thing that most people don't know anything about it. He remembers gushing about it upon discovering it. He remembers his younger self approaching the kids at school who are prodigies in history but much to Ranboo’s surprise, they laughed at him because apparently, it’s another fairytale Ranboo read. It’s a good thing that after so many years, one of his neighbors who is the same age as him sent him a text. The said neighbor told him there was an exhibition in the UK, sharing a picture in the process.
Right at that moment, something inside Ranboo awakened. It’s as if his past self woke up from hibernation that lasted a very long time. It was the preview of a painting being exhibited. It is blurry, that’s for sure, and yet he remembers it all too well. The long dress of the queen, the ruffled uniforms of the princes, and the golden crown of the king. Vivid memories of the old pages of the book from when he first touched it suddenly came up in his mind.
Ranboo's thoughts were cut off when his eyes landed on an announcement. It was a banner with the words written in bold text.
"Open for Public Viewing, Treasures of the Forgotten Kingdom of Snowchester”
Starts at 2:30 pm and ends at 8:30 Pm
18$ Entrance Fee for Adults
15$ for students (Bring ID for proof)
10$ for children below 12
Ranboo was mesmerized by the banner. However, the excitement was later drowned out by panic and anxiousness. He realized he was getting close to the museum or maybe he even passed by it, good heavens! Ranboo panicked, thinking he'll miss the showcase of the portrait and other belongings that were found. After all, he spent a great amount of money on this one. It would be a shame if he would miss it! Frantically, his eyes were roaming around seeing if he was finally near a bus stop so he can get off and find the museum on foot. Feet tapping and his palms sweating, the bus came to a halt and Ranboo swiftly rushed out, accidentally bumping into people and muttering fast apologies in the process.
After rushing out of the bus, he quickly pulled out his phone to check the map, and it turns out he was still far from his destination.
All Ranboo can do is sigh, why didn't he check the map before rushing off the bus? While he was busy being disappointed in himself he noticed that it was already 2:00 PM, if he didn't start running now he'd definitely be late, and now he starts running on these London streets.
The rest of the run was a blur. One minute he’s apologizing for bumping into random people on the busy UK streets, and the next minute, he’s being stopped by a bulky, uptight-looking man, “Excuse me sir, but we would like to see your ticket before you can enter.” Oh, it’s the museum guard. He must not have noticed the time ticking fast. With his mind full of childhood memories being woken up and adrenaline pumping in his veins, it is easy to get too out of touch with reality and his busy surroundings.
Breathing heavily and noticing the beads of sweat slowly forming on his forehead, Ranboo showed his ticket, apologizing in the process. The guard nodded, indicating he can now go on his merry way. Ranboo walked in, eternally grateful for his mask hiding his embarrassed face and internally scolding himself, reminding his mind to stay present and avoid getting lost in his childlike thoughts.
Well, his thoughts did get interrupted by the swarm of people upon entering the museum. Elite business people and teenagers alike, all grouped by the museum tour guide, probably to give them a quick overview of the museum’s exhibition. Ranboo, without having that much choice, went along with it. Truth be told, it is boring. After all, he’s only here for one thing.
Maybe after a painstakingly long ten minutes, the tour guide arrived at the painting that he’s been waiting for. Most people seem displeased or bored, obviously not that interested compared to Ranboo. It is not an exaggeration that his eyes are sparkling. Unfortunately, he can’t enjoy the painting much because the guide moved on to the next exhibit. Ranboo went along, not wanting to be a fish out of water.
“That concludes our museum tour. You can now go on with your observations. Please avoid touching the exhibits. Thank you.” The monotonous voice of the guide echoed across the huge museum hall, giving an official conclusion to the tour. Ranboo sighed, finally, he can now go on his own. He walked slowly, not wanting to bump into higher-class people. With the crowd going their separate ways, it is a hassle to move freely.
Now that he’s alone, he realized the museum is mesmerizing. It looks like it came out of a fantasy movie you've been watching as a kid. The detailing, the intricate carvings. The swirls, the paintings, the tainted glasses, the marble floor—everything. It feels delicate yet regal. Simple yet elegant. >
Finally getting rid of the trance that the museum put him in, Ranboo took out his childhood book, wrapped in leather as if it were a journalist's handbook. Besides, wouldn't it be embarrassing to carry a children's book in a place of formal adults? It isn't embarrassing, but Ranboo thinks it is. And whenever he thinks something is embarrassing, he'd do anything within his power to get away from that terrifying feeling to the point he'd buy leather for a one-time occasion.
After spending several minutes walking on the marble floors because he easily forgets directions, he found it. The Snowchester portrait that he thought wouldn't exist but here it is. Exactly right in front of him. That moment when he first saw the picture in the journal, and that moment when his friend sent him that blurry photo, it happened again. Even more surreal this time now that he can see everything. The delicate brushstrokes, the canvas texture, the details of every curvature, and the figures of the royal family. He’s in awe.
The king, whose name was Phillip, looked like he was having the time of his life with his children and his love of life, Queen Kristine. She was rumored that she used to be a goddess but she gave up her abilities to marry his majesty. Ranboo was so fascinated by the fact her majesty may have used to be a Goddess and maybe even Greek mythology existed!
Ranboo's thoughts got distracted when his eyes landed on the oldest of the king's children. The Crowned Prince, Wilbur. His brown eyes looked soft but at the same, they looked intimidating. Meanwhile the second child, Prince Techno. His brown hair mixed with pink streaks and his expression looks cold but even in the painting you can his eyes were soft.
The golden locks of the youngest prince got his attention the most. It’s striking, radiant, and glowing—just like the prince’s smile in the portrait. Prince Theseus.
Lost in his thoughts and rushing euphoria, Ranboo didn’t notice a stranger standing beside him. Although a sneeze made Ranboo go back to reality.
"Goodness, I apologize for such." The stranger said, taking out tissues from his pocket. The guy is stout, with his teal sweater making him even smaller than he probably originally is. He also must be born here in the UK, the strong British accent threw it off. Embarrassed and taken aback, Ranboo shook his head, "Oh no it's totally fine you can't control a sneeze so- I don't see why it's your fault."
The stranger just laughed and smiled at Ranboo, handing his hand out and taking it back, realizing it was unsanitary, "Oh well, anyway, I'm Tubbo." Ranboo smiled under his mask, then it faded after realizing people can’t see his expression, "Ranboo, nice to meet you."
"So, I noticed you staring at this painting for like a good five minutes already." Tubbo remarked, making Ranboo a little bit more embarrassed as if he wasn’t already a few minutes ago. Gosh, no matter what he does he still has to come face to face with the very thing he despises, huh?
Scratching his head and fidgeting with the book he's holding, he replied, "Uh...well I used to think the whole Snowchester Kingdom was fictional until I saw this announcement of an art exhibit online and saw this one."
"America?"
"How did you know?"
Tubbo just shrugged, "We don't give online announcements to people residing in the UK." Dumbfounded, Ranboo fell silent.
Tubbo heaved a sigh, "Anyway, it's pretty difficult to have a painting like this displayed." Ranboo, quite confused at the statement, turned to look at him, "Really?"
"Yep. It's hard to get an old painting. Especially this one. We got this from a historian."
"And that historian is me,” A man chimed in “Hello, nice to meet you," A man's voice interrupted the two's conversation. They turned to look at whoever was speaking and a tall man with blonde tresses was looking at them.
He looks like every stereotypical historian. Trench coats, neutral colors, glasses hanging on their coat, and a well-polished look. He looks like he came out of a historical book of some sort. For some reason, he looks unusually familiar. Ranboo just can’t remember where he had seen this man. He looks kind and soft-spoken but also tough and intimidating in a way.
"Monsieur! I never would've thought you'd accept the invitation!" Tubbo said, giving Ranboo a conclusion that they might know each other or probably acquaintances. Not trying to interrupt, he minded his own business. He hid the book in his bag before putting his attention on something else. Suddenly his shoes look like a museum-worthy piece of art. Although he cannot seem to concentrate. After all, the chatter between the blonde man and the short, British guy is interrupting his thoughts. A part of him wants to listen, even though it’s something he really shouldn’t do.
The older man replied laughing, "Tubbo, I told you it's alright to call me Dream. Drop the honorifics, we're not in France."
"But it's fancy."
"That I can agree with." Ranboo doesn’t know if he’s just overthinking or analyzing things too much but he knows that the little flinch tubbo did after Dream hit his shoulder playfully suggests there’s something more between the two. Although he cannot decipher what that ‘something’ is. It seems rude to go over and ask.
After a fit of laughter, a few exchanges of inside jokes, and continuous tugs Tubbo has been doing at the hem of his radiant teal sweater, Dream noticed Ranboo standing quietly, awkwardly looking everywhere except the two guys standing in front of him, not knowing what to do, "Oh hello. Who's this fella?" Before he even had the chance to speak, Tubbo did the job of introducing him, "Ranboo. He’s quite mesmerized with the portrait."
“Wait—Ranboo? The little kid I used to teach history?” Confused, Ranboo just stared, trying to remember how the historian knew his name.
Until it hit him.
“There’s no way—Dream? Like the Dream, who was the guy who taught me all about Geography and History, neighbor?”
“There we go! That’s me!”<
“Oh my gosh, it’s been years! You look like time did a lot on you, sir.”
Dream laughed, waving his hand, dismissing the honorifics, “Drop the honorifics, Ranboo. It’s been years and I am still amazed how you can remember details of history but can’t seem to remember people’s names or faces.”
Ashamed, Ranboo scratched his neck, “To be fair, history is way more interesting than human beings.” His statement brought out a burst of loud laughter from the other two, making the other guests look at them in curiosity.
"Well, Tubbo said you were mesmerized by the painting. it's pretty rare to find a person like you. The Snowchester Kingdom wasn't widely mentioned in books. How unfortunate it was to be forgotten by most people. Until now, I am still clueless about how you were able to know about it at such a young age.” Ranboo just laughed awkwardly, not wanting to tell his old mentor that he got it from a journal he stole. He did weigh out the risks if he tells the truth. His mentor might laugh it out or scold him. Either way, he’s going for the safest option—lying. Besides, he already lied a lot of times today. When he was asked by his parents if his school trip is going well and he said yes, even though this is a purely personal impulsive decision.
Noticing that he has been silent for so long, he chuckled awkwardly, and said, “Oh well, I heard it from someone and tried to look for books. I wasn’t able to find one so I had to trust someone’s words for it.”
Ranboo sighed after seeing the convinced expressions on their faces.
“Monsieur Dream! A man shouting and exhausted came running behind us.
"Dream, Someone's calling you" I tugged his shirt to get his attention. He looked at me and at some point, he looked irritated but that expression disappeared quickly. Maybe I was just imagining it.
"Thanks, Ranboo, I'll see the both of you later." Dream said while walking near the shouting man before leaving me and Tubbo completely.
"I suppose he's still busy looking for that journal" Tubbo muttered under his breath. Ranboo froze. What journal was he talking about? He was gonna ask Tubbo about him when the brunette suddenly received a call from someone and excused himself.
As Tubbo walked away with his hand on the phone Ranboo heard him mentioning a person called Phil and saying He’s here Phil. Well, that was something. He went from talking to other two people to zero real quick. Ranboo took a glance at the painting again and he still found himself staring at those blue eyes.
He began to feel a sense of familiarity. He could almost hear a faint sound of... Laughter, maybe they were cries.
But the more he stared at the portrait. The more the sinking feeling in his stomach dwelled. Deeper and... Deeper.
It was almost nauseating, he could feel his bones tremble lightly for no reason like a leaf on a tree being shaken.
But despite these bizarre feelings and reactions. He was left with confusion. Baffled as to why he felt that way.