Chapter Text
He is the End Prince, and he sits atop his throne. His people meander beneath him. The Void screams in deafening silence. The cities call out his name. The Dragon awaits his call.
He is the End Prince, and a crown of crystals sits atop his head. His wings are patterned with delicate purple, symbolising the eyes of his people and of who he is.
He is the End Prince, and he’s going to run away.
He creeps, sticking close through massive halls. He wears a tattered cloak, hood pulled low over his face. His pack is slung across his shoulder, filled with chorus fruits and clothes.
Ranboo breathes as he steps, soundless and out of sight. The halls are mercifully empty. His heart races in his chest as success grows ever nearer.
Adrenaline begs him to run. He does, sprinting the final stretch. The back door - his escape - is a hair’s breadth away. He reaches out-
A hand clamps around his wrist.
‘Where do you think you’re going, your highness?’ The Enderman’s soft touch is cold to his skin. ‘Surely, you weren’t trying to run away again?’
Ranboo pulls his hands away, holding them close to his chest. “Me?” He sputters, and forces a laugh. “No! Of course not. Why would I leave when it’s so…” He struggles. “ Nice, here?”
The Enderman crosses their arms. ‘Well,’ they say, bemused, ‘you seem to have misplaced your crown.’
“My-” His hands go to his head, by instinct. “Oh! Haha, silly- I must’ve uh...left it…”
The Enderman stays silent, staring at him expectantly.
Ranboo bites the inside of his cheek. “I’ll...go get it then, I guess.”
‘Good idea,’ they agree.
He huffs as he turns away, storming back through his halls. His footsteps echo against the polished floor, through the emptiness and the loneliness.
The End is cold. He is cold.
Large windows open to his side, and they open up to the Void. He winces, and slams his hands atop his ears - walks faster.
The Void’s cries are wailing and constant, it begs to be filled and whines for release.
He is the only one who can hear it. He is the End Prince, thus is his burden.
‘Prince,’ The Endermen murmur as he walks past. ‘Prince,’ calls the creatures of the End. ‘Prince,’ the Void wails.
It’s a deafening silence. A scorching chill. A common contradiction. His reality, his life.
You couldn’t really blame him, for wanting to leave.
Ranboo storms into his quarters, slamming the door behind him. For good measure, he knocks the crown off his desk - it falls with a delicate clatter, ringing in his ears. He screams into his walls, running his throat hoarse and raw with his frustration.
And when he is finished, he collapses on his bed. The covers are a silky caress. It murmurs for sleep, constantly; even when he’s not on them. Ranboo entertains the idea of sleep briefly, before he pushes it out of his mind.
He rifles through his drawers, pulling out a tattered book. The Endermen have tried replacing it, tried filling his shelves with empty notebooks for his taking. He...appreciates the gesture, but the damages are part of its charm. It’s proof that he used it, proof of his mark in his time.
If nothing else, then he'll be remembered by a battered notebook.
He runs his finger down the spine and it flakes and peels beneath his touch. He smiles.
On the back page, he adds a note for himself.
Backhalls are heavily patrolled. Find a different route.
He frowns, then. Practically every part of the castle is heavily patrolled. He’s running out of ‘different’ routes he could take. Save for jumping into the void, but not even he is that desperate.
He groans and throws his book aside. His joints groan as he stretches his back, his wings spreading out behind him. Idly, he takes a wing to his lap, gently running his fingers down the inky feathers.
In the flickering light of his lanterns, his crown sparkles. He scowls at it.
“I hate you,” he tells the crown.
The crown doesn’t answer.
Unsurprisingly, Ranboo’s favourite place of the castle is outside of it.
‘Are you sure about this, Prince?’ The Endermen chitter nervously. ‘We wouldn’t want you to get-’
“I’ll be fine.” He scowls. “You don’t have to follow me around all the time, you know.”
They cry out, at that. ‘Leave you alone?’ Their outrage calls. ‘Never!’
Ranboo sighs. So much for that.
Still, he’s glad to be outside. The Void’s calls are shoved back, to the back of his mind. He strolls between tall trees with luminescent leaves. He treads the edge of the water, laughing at his entourage’s frightened calls. His steps don’t echo soullessly. He’s warm.
Eventually, he reaches the end of the island. The Void yawns beneath him, and Ranboo stills.
‘...Prince?’ A hand rests on his shoulder, drawing him back. ‘What does it say?’
Ranboo breathes a shaky breath. “Nothing,” he says as he turns away. “Nothing at all.”
The Void screams after him, wailing. He drowns it.
“How can we get to the other islands?” he asks. “Surely this can’t all be it.”
‘No no, Prince,’ they say. ‘Your kingdom stretches far and endless.’
“Then show me.” He stares at the distance. “I want to see.”
‘Please come down, Prince!’ The Endermen wail. ‘Prince!’ they fret. ‘You’ll hurt yourself!’
Honestly, they worry too much. He’s fine.
He stands at the edge, a hefty drop looming beneath him. The rest of the End City sprawls underneath him, purpur bricks and end bricks. Shulkers hide in their shells at the sight of him. The Endermen vwoop and warble nervously.
Ranboo takes in a breath. He opens his wings, letting the feathers stretch behind him. He’s fine. He’s fine.
That’s a long drop.
Anxiety starts to crawl up his spine. He ought to do it soon, else he loses his resolve.
Ranboo breathes. He takes the crown off his head, setting it by his feet.
‘Prince!’ The Endermen shout. ‘Prince-!’
Ranboo steps into the air. He falls.
And he flies. His feathers create a current beneath him. He swoops and whoops with wonder, laughing.
His kingdom stretches beneath him. He soars over the lakes and the trees. He swerves above rainbow crystals, brushing against vines. He dips low and lets his wings tease the water, wincing at the stinging drops - then laughing at his own carelessness.
Eventually, he sweeps back around. He can hear them cry out in relief at the sight of him. He waves cheekily as he makes to land.
Then swoops back, into the air. He climbs up, up, up.
And he’s free.
Ranboo laughs, breathing in the sweet empty air. For once, the Void is quiet as it surrounds him. For once, it only murmurs sweetness. It cradles his feathers and he, it.
When he falls, it is a breathtaking sensation. The Void waves farewell to him, and he laughs and waves back. He was wrong - oh, how was he wrong.
The Void screams not for release, nor out of hunger. It screams for companionship. In that sense, they are the same.
It is he, and he is it.
The slow falling sensation is dizzying. A shulker’s sting, before he could foolishly crash into the island. The collaborated work of the Endermen as they kept him anchored to the ground.
As the effect wears off, he sways on his feet. A giddy smile stretches on his lips.
“I have an announcement to make,” he breathes.
There is a knock, on his door. Ranboo frowns.
“Come in,” he answers cautiously.
An Enderman steps into his room, silently closing the door behind them. ‘Prince,’ they murmur, bowing their head low. ‘I’d speak to you, your highness. The people have...concerns.’
Ranboo slides off his bed. After an awkward pause, he picks up his crown and fits it atop his head. “What...concerns?”
The Enderman stoops, to make up for their vastly differing heights. ‘They worry about your speech of the Void, your highness.’ They fidget, clasping hands together tightly. ‘For hundreds of years, we’ve known it only as a danger. Taboo, if you will.’
Ranboo blinks and he does so slowly. “Taboo?” he echoes.
The Enderman nods.
A soft sigh escapes him. “Throughout this kingdom’s history,” he begins, “how many monarchs are like me?”
The Enderman frowns. Somehow, they gather enough audacity and briefly crossed the line - glancing at his face.
He knows what they see. The mismatched eyes. The clash of dual tones. The faint tear scars that trail down his cheeks.
Ranboo bares his teeth.
Properly abashed, the Enderman looks quickly away. ‘N-none,’ they stutter, ‘my prince.’
The Prince takes a bit, to calm his agitation. Then he leans back against his bedframe. “They have the right to be worried,” he says, softly. “But they...they weren’t there. I was.”
‘But my prince,’ The Enderman objects, ‘Are you sure you-’
“I am.” His own stubbornness surprises him. “It’s not like I’m asking them to jump in it,” he scoffs softly. “I’m just saying...you don’t have to be afraid of it.”
The Enderman falls silent.
Ranboo sighs.
“What else?”
It feels as if the entire island is holding its breath.
‘Nothing more, Prince.’ They duck away. ‘Thank you.’
The door closes softly, behind them. Ranboo wraps his arms around himself, shivering.
The fire in his room is much too cold. It rages and blazes, but he shivers.
‘Prince!’ The Endermen call. ‘Come out, please! Where are you?’
Ranboo stifles his giggles with a hand on his mouth. He shifts on the branch, watching The Endermen roam the forest floor beneath him. Their calls are futile - they know it too, perhaps. But they search regardless.
After all, that’s how the game works. They look for him as he hides. Eventually, they’ll find him, and they’ll win. If not, he’ll come down, and he’ll win.
It’s a fun game. He invented it. He calls it 'Hidden Things'.
‘It sounds like a very fun game, Prince, ’ The Endermen had said. ‘What will you be hiding?’
Ranboo had looked at them, oddly. “Me.”
Their looks of horror were so incredibly funny. He should invent more games.
Ranboo hums to himself, laying down against the branch. The blue leaves around him sway, their lights gentle on his eyes. He breathes a soft breath of air, content and...vaguely sleepy.
He shifts his head, resting his chin on his hands. There’s chittering, somewhere. His kingdom is alive, brimming with it. It’s his.
He frowns, then. Caught in a train he’d rather get off. He straightens, shaking his head.
‘Prince!’
Ranboo blinks. He peers down.
The Endermen gather beneath him. ‘Found you, Prince!’ They crow. ‘Come down!’
He huffs a smile. That’s a loss for him, but he finds himself unbothered.
“Catch!” He jumps down, and laughs at their frantic scramble.
Ranboo groans, weary. The words on the parchments blur in his eyes. Drones about this and that, on and on and on.
‘Tired, Prince?’
Ranboo leans back in his seat. His clothes are ruffled and his crown is askew. He tiredly rubs at his eyes. “Exhausted.”
There is a thunderous step. A draconian muzzle leans forward, across the table. Her eyes are a striking, mesmerising purple.
‘We can always take a rest, if you so wish,’ The Ender Dragon purrs. She lays on the ground, using the table as Her pillow. ‘I won’t tell anybody.’
It’s tempting, but-
Ranboo scowls. Lightly, he smacks Her muzzle with the back of his hand. “You’re a menace,” he mutters. “I thought you were supposed to keep me in check.”
The Dragon harrumphs, drawing Her head back as She rubs at Her nose. ‘I know when a child needs his nap,’ She retorts with cheek.
“I’m not a child,” Ranboo retorts. “I’m a prince. And I need to do finish these.”
‘Yes,’ She agrees. ‘You’ve already procrastinated quite a bit.’
“Thanks.”
‘But must it be tonight?’ She drops into a conspiratory tone. ‘Fly with me, Prince. When’s the last time you’ve stretched your wings?’
The wings in question twitch, as if aware of being mentioned. Ranboo glances away, gnawing at his lip. “Dunno,” he murmurs. “Don’t wanna get in trouble.”
The Dragon laughs, at that. ‘Hah! I thought you said you weren’t a child?’
Ranboo narrows his eyes at Her. But he considered it, and the silence stretches.
He pushes himself away from the desk. “If we get caught…”
‘Then I, the fearsome Ender Dragon, will have kidnapped you.’
They make their way out, onto the balcony. The cold is tantalizing, tempting. Ranboo shivers.
The Dragon grins at him as She leaps off. Her magnificent wings spread open, sparkling against the Void. With a mighty whump, She flies.
Ranboo laughs at the gust of wind, near toppling him over. In a few steps, he has stepped over the edge.
And the Void welcomes him.
Ranboo slips into his cloak. He pulls the hood low over his head. He leaves the crown on his side table.
He picks up his pack, and stuffs it with chorus fruit and clothes. He leaves, through his balcony.
His wings soar against the backdrop of the Void. His feathers sing with the current. Ranboo flies through his kingdom; endless and magnificent.
The creatures of the End cry out, as he lands.
[Prince!] they chitter. [Prince!] they call.
Ranboo kneels, laughing softly. He pulls his hood down, breathing in the scents of the forest.
Home, he supposed.
“Hey, guys.” He digs into his pack. “I’ve got something for you.”
The creatures take the chorus fruit eagerly. [Thank you, Prince!]
“It’s no problem,” he promises. It’s the least that he could do, after all.
A thank you, for helping him keep this place secret.
Ranboo sits and crosses his legs. He turns a chorus fruit in his hands, staring across the lake.
What a lake, it was too. A massive stretch of water, so far he could barely see the opposite shore. The fishes splash and splish, leaping into the air and sending ripples through the water’s surface. When it stills again, Ranboo can see his reflection.
The water glows, a dim gentle light. Lilypads decorate its surface. The water is mythical, mystical, a wonder that's just out of touch for him.
He’s calm. The creatures’ chitter fade into a comfortable background noise. The cold is chased off here, and he is only warm.
For a moment, he lets himself forget. For a moment, he’s no Prince.
Here, he is simply Ranboo.
The Dragon’s pain courses through his veins.
Ranboo staggers, gasping for air. His feathers bristle. His hair stands on end.
‘The Dragon is being attacked!’ The Endermen cry out, for they feel it too. The explosion of pain that courses through Her, sends echoes through them.
‘Prince!’ The Endermen turn. ‘We need to get you safe-’
But Ranboo is gone. He takes a running leap through a window, and soars.
The Void echoes his panic. It screams in terror. It wails in his ears. Fly! It screeches. Fly, Prince!
Ranboo flies, faster than he’s ever had before. He loses a few feathers in the process, but the stinging pain is minuscule compared to the echoes of what he feels from Her. He shoots himself across islands, ignoring the panicked calls of his people.
He flies, and folds his wings as he passes through the End Gate.
Ranboo stumbles as soon as he’s through. His wings spasm and freeze and-
For a terrifying moment, he falls.
‘Prince!’ The Dragon swoops beneath him, shoving him into focus. ‘What’re you doing here?’
“I-” Ranboo stutters, frantically jerked into staying in flight. “You’re- You were getting hurt.”
‘And you nearly were.’ The Dragon turns. ‘What’re you thinking? It’s my job to deal with outsiders, not yours.’
She flies off, and Ranboo chases after Her. “I couldn’t just do nothing!” He calls. “Let me help!”
The Dragon sighs as She stops. They stay like that, staring the other down.
‘It’s done anyway,’ She says. ‘Just some fool headed children that got too lucky. I’ve already sent one back to its realm.’
Ranboo blinks, curling his arms around himself. “...children?” he echoes.
The Dragon swoops down, down back to the Island. Ranboo follows Her, landing as She does.
‘I was in the middle of digging it out when I sensed you.’ She jerks Her nose towards one of the obsidian pillars, more battered than the rest. ‘Pitiful thing. When its companion got sent back, it panicked and tried to escape me by digging a hole.’
Ranboo tilts his head. “What’ll you do with...it?”
‘Kill it, most likely.’ The Dragon harrumphs as She lays, tucking Her forelegs close to Her chest. ‘It’s the only way for it to go back home.’
Ranboo cringes, pulling away. He rubs his arm and finds himself staring at the obsidian pillar.
Eventually, he steps forward.
‘Prince,’ The Dragon growls, a warning.
Ranboo waves Her off. “I’ll be fine,” he promises. “Maybe I can draw it out for you.”
The Dragon is silent at that, and Ranboo takes it as permission. Not that he needs it, anyway. Not like The Dragon can be scary, when She’s enraged. Not like there’s a reason She’s put in charge of dealing with outsiders.
Anyway.
Ranboo steps cautiously to the pillar. He can see the hole She mentioned, probably once a meagre one-block small, now missing a good few chunks. But he can see the original tunnel, and it surprised him to see it stretch further beneath the pillar.
Ranboo glances back to The Dragon. She returns his gaze, just as curiously.
He stares at the tunnel.
It’s tempting. It’s very tempting.
The Dragon catches onto his train. ‘Prince,’ She calls again. ‘I wouldn’t-’
Well, now he had to do it. With his breath caught in his throat, Ranboo drops into the tunnel.
The walls are cramped and small. He hisses softly, shifting his arms through the tight space and heaving himself through. His wings complain loudly, as do the rest of him. Miraculously, his crown stays in place.
Good. He’s not looking forward to the scolding he might get, if he’d lost it.
The tunnel stretches on for way longer than he thought it would. Ranboo huffs and heaves, wriggling as the space grew smaller and smaller. Then, he could go no further.
Panic seizes him briefly, before he grabs hold of the reigns once more. Ranboo digs his fingers and toes into the ground, hissing as he pushed-
With a soft pop, he stumbles out of the tunnel. Ranboo blinks, taking sight of the new den-like area he’s found himself in.
Then, staring at the creature huddling away from him.
Its knees are drawn close to its chest. It shivers, with torn clothes and red blisters on its hands. Scattered around it are broken arrows, useless now.
The creature stares at him, and Ranboo stares back. Frozen, in place.
“Stay back,” it warns. “I- I can fight- You don’t wanna pick a fight with me.”
The Prince sits back, his eyebrows furrowing curiously. He knows he’s never seen anything like this before, yet the familiarity is undeniable.
The creature feels it too. It relaxes, a minuscule amount. Ranboo can see its jaw drop. “You’re- you’re like me.”
And the creature- The... kid, pushes away brown strands of hair from their eyes.
Their eyes meet.
Ranboo takes them in. The small nubs on the tops of their heads, teasing the beginning of curved horns. Their battered green shirt. The floppy ears on the sides of their heads.
Their eyes.
“...hello?” The Goat Kid whispers.
“...hello,” breathes the End Prince.