None of the art is mine. You can request pictures. I didn't draw any of these things. The picture might have the credit on it idk.

Why does this have 1k My au ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ⚠Warning⚠ Mention of suicide/self-harm Abuse Smut Language Cheating ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ POVs Tommy Tubbo Tecno quackity Schlatt Wilbur Slime Purpled George ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Couples Tommy and deo Tubbo and ranboo Big q, schlatt, and Wilbur Slime and purpled

This is my first story on Wattpad. Sorry in advance if there are any mistakes or inconsistencies to the plotline. I hope you like my story!☺☺

Prince Ren never asked for a crown, nor the weight of titles. All he wanted was to play music-gentle, aching melodies strummed on delicate string instruments. He preferred lutes carved from silverwood and dark rose, guitars that hummed like whispers in the wind, and a weathered ocarina shaped like a teardrop, soft blue and always warm in his hands. The music was his comfort, his rebellion, and his quiet prayer. When the castle halls echoed with the fury of yet another war-when his family shouted about borders, bloodlines, and broken alliances-Ren would slip away. He would wander down secret paths only he remembered, through the whispering trees and into the Outcast: a forgotten grove hidden beneath a blanket of old magic and ivy. There, surrounded by peace and silence, he built a sanctuary. His instruments were stored in hollowed trunks, carefully wrapped in velvet and tucked away from the wrath of his father, who believed music was weakness and tried to destroy every string Ren cherished. Beyond the grove, just past the moss-covered stones, was his garden-his true kingdom. It bloomed wildly with flowers the color of fire and dusk: deep reds, scarlets, and wine-dark crimsons. Vines heavy with red fruit twisted through the branches, fragrant and sweet, tangled like forgotten lullabies. The air was thick with the scent of crushed petals and ripe berries, warm earth and song. And in the heart of it all, Ren would sit and play. Unbeknownst to him, the sorrow in his songs, the ache in every note, stirred something old and hidden beneath the soil. His music, filled with longing and beauty, began to call to magic itself-something ancient, something listening, something waiting to be found.

Cover made by me! Originally posted by me on ao3