Chapter Text
The melody that Wilbur created was a foreign sound to the sickeningly silent halls of the castle. The sound traveled through the home like a flood that brought light to the few that heard.
The only one that wasn't touched by the light was the pained artist himself, reduced to nothing but a shell of the man he used to be.
The music abruptly stopped at the knock that rang out across the room, startling the musician from his indulgence in the sound he created.
"Come in." He called, brushing brunette hair out of his eyes.
The door swung open to reveal Wilbur's brother, looking worn out and confused, an expression to be concealed from the kingdom and her admiring gazes, but perfectly permitted—albeit questioned—in the confinement of the castle.
"Wilbur," King Thomas spoke slowly, carefully selecting each syllable. "I need your help."
Those four words forced Wilbur from his seat on the bed, the guitar carefully set on the mattress as he stumbled over to wrap his arms around his brother.
"I need your help." The king muttered. again. Wilbur could feel the boy slip from Thomas to Tommy in his arms.
"I'm right here." He assured the now quivering blond. "Your brother's here."
Wilbur slowly led Tommy to the bed, both of them sitting down while the elder of the two began playing an ever familiar tune that would have soothed the young king back when his childish innocence was still present.
"You still know that one?" Tommy whispered, almost in awe.
"I'm sick, Tommy, but I won't forget our song."
The younger fell silent, savoring the melody.
"Tommy," Wilbur said, his eyes closed and fingers delicately plucking the strings. "What's wrong?"
The king sighed, yanking off his crown with an expression that could almost be described as bitterness before the leaned backwards, a small grunt escaping him as he flopped onto the bed. "I might be overreacting."
"...but?"
"But I feel like everything's about to go wrong."
The words were so simply, yet uttered in a quiet, shaky voice that Wilbur almost refused to believe was Tommy's. Yet the small sight he had in his peripheral vision confirmed his fears.
Wilbur's silence apparently spurred Tommy to speak again, in an even softer voice that threatened to throw Wilbur into a sickening flashback.
"I think it's war."
That was when Wilbur slammed his hand on the guitar strings to silence them, his eyes wide and his face rapidly turning a ghastly white. That one word was enough to send him spiraling over so many things: Why isn't father here? Why can't I lead the kingdom? Why is Techno gone?
Most hauntingly, one shrill voice rose above the rest, an ungodly screaming echoing in his head that Wilbur couldn't be sure wasn't escaping his lips with equal volume.
He's too young.
"Wilbur?"
"Tommy, don't say those things." He whispered, his mouth dry.
The blue eyes boy looked away, and for a moment, Wilbur could see the feint image of his brother's youth shroud his face like a thin sheet, the bags under his eyes seeming to clear before Wilbur's own.
In a blink, the mirage was gone, and the truth was back in his sight. Tommy's face was gaunt, and despite the fact he had dropped his royal facade, it lingered on him like a disease that refused to allow the patient to heal.
In a swift motion, Wilbur abandoned his guitar and wrapped his arms around what was left of his brother, hauling the younger boy into his arms in a selfish act.
"Tell me the whole story." Wilbur commanded, praying the recap wouldn't slip his mind like most things did these days.
Tommy, with slight hesitance, allowed the important highlights of the day to be spoken, leaving out details he deemed fit to be excluded, and reiterating ones he couldn't bear to let Wilbur forget.
"And then I came here." Tommy concluded, his lips pursing as he did so. "So do you think I'm crazy?"
Wilbur shook his head, the grip he had on his brother's body tight as ever. "No, you're right to feel strange about the encounter. Sapnap was very-"
"Cryptic?"
The brunette sighed. "Yes."
There was a brief moment of silence, only the sound of movement on the mattress filling the room as Tommy rested his head on Wilbur's lap, an action that the latter hadn't witnessed in years.
Then Tommy spoke with a sigh. "I miss Techno."
The words made the prince flinch, an odd feeling of agony piercing his heart like a stake was driven through it. Memories flooded through his mind, filling his senses while a thick layer of grief rested over each pastime like a blanket.
"Am I not enough for you, Tommy?" Wilbur whispered before he could process the sentence himself.
Tommy quickly sat up, sorrow filled blue eyes meeting Wilbur's cloudy brown. "No, no, Wil, that's not what I meant." The blond stammered, his voice laced with remorse.
Wilbur stood, strangling his guitar by her neck as he walked across the room and placed her in her stand. His eyes drifted across the disaster that was his desk, the surface littered with scrapped songs and torn up journal pages, the tear stains still visible on a select few.
"If you fear war, the best you can do is prepare." He mumbled, his fingers brushing across the tuning pegs before his hand dropped. "Prepare for the worst."
"Wilbur, I don't know how." Tommy, said, his voice calm despite the exasperation in his tone. "I'm too young."
Wilbur tore his gaze from the floor to stare at his brother, taking in his rapidly aging features once more.
"I don't know how to lead an army, I don't know how to guard the walls, I can't do it Wilbur." Tommy rambled, his voice becoming increasingly anxious.
"Toms, Toms, settle down." Wilbur said, biting his tongue as his words seemed demanding, yet they seemed to ground Tommy for the moment. "This all happened today. Unless the new Emerald Empire has been plotting for a while, you're okay."
The air seemed to shift as Wilbur spoke, and he scowled with narrow eyes. "You don't trust me."
"Wilbur, that's not-"
"You don't trust your stupid brother."
Wilbur could practically see Tommy's heart sink, the nervous glimmer plain in his eyes.
"And you're scared of me, too!" The prince snapped, taking a shaky step towards the youth on his bed. "You don't trust me. Ranboo said I'm getting better!"
Tommy sighed. "Wilbur, I love you-"
"Don't say that." He snapped quickly. "Only Dad can say that."
The younger flinched slightly, but nodded. "I'm sorry." He whispers before falling into a seemingly forced silence.
Wilbur groaned, rubbing his throbbing temples. He could feel himself growing weary of the conversation and sick of the distrust that seemed to radiate off of every person he walked past these days, despite the fact the number of people he interacted with seemed to be diminishing faster than he could keep up with. "Tommy, do you want my help or not?"
"I do!" He answered too quickly for Wilbur's liking.
"And I want to help you." Wilbur continued, his voice thick as honey, the sound of it churning his own stomach just as he assumed it did to his brother. At this point, the ringing in his ears was deafening, only aware his thoughts were becoming vocal by the movement of his tongue against his lips. "But if you don't trust me, then I can do nothing. I want the best for you, Tommy."
Tommy nodded, his eyes betraying how conflicted he was over Wilbur's seemingly simple request. The king picked up his crown, the rubies embedded in the royal ring seeming duller than ever, as though it was rebelling against the king that held the same malicious compliance for it.
"I trust you, Wilbur." Tommy murmured, the elder intentionally ignoring the wavering in his brother's voice.
The blond stood, hastily removing his cape, which gave him the illusion he was nothing but a normal teenage boy—an image that was painfully far from the truth.
"I'm going to think about it." The king decided, gripping the crown a bit tighter in his hand. "Thanks, Wil." He gave a brief smile.
"I'm always here if you need me." The brunette reminded him, returning the smile feebly.
Tommy's smile shifted to one that seemed a little more genuine. It made Wilbur's skin tingle like he was being grazed with sunlight as the room flooded with warmth, his heart full of love and care for the boy in front of him, no matter how sparse their conversations were or how heavy the topics.
As Tommy walked to the door, he paused beside Wilbur, then quickly threw his arms around the older boy's bony torso, which would have sent him toppling to the ground if he didn't have the desk to hold him up. Wilbur laughed, pressing a small kiss to his brother's crown-less head, the scent of sunflowers flooding his nose.
"Will you play me our song again sometime soon?" Tommy ventured, his request muffled by how deep he nuzzled into his brother's neck.
Wilbur nodded, practically hearing the melody in his head already, a soft smile plastered on his pale face. "Of course."
And Tommy left, Wilbur's room draining of sunlight and shrouding him in a cold, unshakable anxiety and seemingly senseless spiral of dread.