Chapter Text
“I don’t know what you’re implying.” Wilbur blurts out, such an instant, cold strike of denial.
He speaks harshly, as if caught in an anger, taking offense at such an outlandish accusation, but Phil knows it's only fear that’s pressing him to sound like that. Simple plain panic, because for something like this to be found out, the consequences alone-
“Wil-” Phil tries to go on, hoping to stay gentle.
“I don’t think you know what you’re implying.” Wilbur says, taking a step forward, stressing his words through the sentence, exuding his authority upon it. For anybody else, they would know better than to continue pressing. They would see the crown upon his head, remember their place, and bow in apology, forgetting the matter entirely.
Phil crosses his arms across his chest and raises his chin up.
Wilbur’s expression immediately falters, almost returning back into something afraid. The power of the king means little to the man before him.
To Phil, Wilbur is his son before he is any of his titles.
“Wilbur.” He repeats, unwavering in its certainty. Wil’s fear falls away into something more vulnerable, his eyes glancing away like he hopes to hide into the corner.
This is so familiar, all of a sudden. Like stepping right back into a moment, never having left. Phil feels as if he’s about to give a deserving lecture to a misbehaving child, though perhaps that approach would be a bit too much.
And a bit too soon.
“Why would you ever be a royal guard?” Phil asks quietly, wanting to go about this in a different way. It is not unkind in the way he asks it, just a matter of fact. Wilbur still wrinkles his nose to the skepticism given, carefully looking back at Phil.
“...Is it so unthinkable?” He questions.
Phil snorts. He lets his head fall forward for a second so he may grin in something fond, before then lifting his head to give that same smile at Wilbur. “Do you remember when you once accidentally stepped on a frog when you were little?”
Wilbur blinks. All apprehension on his shoulders bleeds out into a slow rising embarrassment, a frown pulling at his lips. “That was-”
“You killed it underfoot, and then you cried for days. You insisted we have a funeral for it. And then for a near month after, you were so afraid to even walk on the stone path without looking, you wouldn’t go anywhere in the gardens unless I was holding your hand.”
He was devastated, Phil remembers it so well. So mournful and upset, such a contrast to Techno, who had seemed more just intrigued by the sight of the dead frog overall, before then being grossed out by it soon after, by which then Phil had to figure out how to dispose of it, with Wilbur crying his heart out while clinging to his hip, and Techno whining of possible diseases while hiding behind his back.
What sweet memories.
“You’re telling that same boy who couldn’t even sleep over the guilt of killing a frog- has grown up to wield a sword for his kingdom?” Phil asks further, Wilbur turning his head away and looking as if he’s biting down on his tongue. “He’s gone to slay the king’s enemies without hesitation?”
“He’s grown up since then.” Wilbur tries to weakly defend. There is a bitterness in the tone of his voice.
“Yes. You have. You both have.” Phil agrees, keeping his own words calm. Wil’s arms come up to hold around himself, brows furrowed together. “Though you haven’t changed much.”
Wil looks back at Phil, a wary hope kept in his gaze.
He’s still too frightened-looking for Phil’s comfort, maybe just too unsettled for having his secret pulled from under his feet so quickly. Phil wants to assure him that he’s safe with him. That he wouldn’t say a word, that they’ll be okay. He cares little for where the crown should sit, for who the throne should rightfully belong to. It’s not his concern. His only priority, his main priority, has been the same as it has been for all these years.
The two of them. His foolish children.
“Bring your brother in.” Phil requests, glancing to the door, Wil’s eyes turning wide as he tries to squirm out of this inevitable talk.
“Please, understand, this wasn’t-” Wilbur begins to calmly explain, but his words fizzle out under Phil’s expectant look. “We- we did this for good reason-”
“I believe you.” Phil assures. “But I’d rather have this discussion with the both of you. Bring your brother in.” He repeats, and Wilbur shifts his jaw in trying to think of how to get around this, his hands fidgeting together in a quiet panic. “Now, Wilbur.”
Wilbur winces, lips pressed thin. The highest power of the lands, the man carrying the crown that commands the realm, has no choice but to listen to his father and go to open the door, poking his head out to invite Techno in with the same grim look of a prisoner having to face death row.
Technoblade comes into the room with a purely confused look. They close the door and stand before Phil, who stays leaning back against the table, arms still crossed over his chest.
Wilbur avoids eye contact with his brother, looking more at the floor. Techno raises a brow, and stares at Phil for proper explanation.
“...What’s going on?” He asks, after a short moment of tense silence, Wilbur seeming to wilt in place at knowing what’s about to happen.
“For how long have you both been pretending to be each other?” Phil asks. Technoblade stiffens up, surprise flickering across his expression as he draws in a sharp breath.
He then immediately turns to Wil, words hissed out in a whisper, a near frustration burning through it.
“You told him now?”
“I didn't tell him anything!” Wilbur harshly whispers back, Techno giving him an incredulous look.
“Well, clearly you said something!”
“I noticed the moment I walked into the hall, Techno.” Phil cuts in, stopping the argument there. Both Techno and Wilbur turn their attention back onto him. “Your brother isn’t at fault.”
“But-” Technoblade says, stopping on that one word as Phil tilts his head. “We didn’t- We-” He stammers over his words, looking at Wilbur as if to ask for help, Wilbur directing most of his focus back onto the floor.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Phil asks, sounding almost insulted by the idea that he’d stay oblivious for much longer than a single day.
“No one else did.” Wilbur says. Phil’s arms slowly slide back down to drop at his sides while Wilbur gives an exasperated huff of air. “All this time of having it exactly right and you- you, the moment-” He throws his hands up, turning away. “Uhg!”
“We meant to tell you.” Technoblade insists, seeming as nervous as Wil was just a minute ago, off-balanced in having their secret so easily pulled away. “We were going to tell you, eventually, after things had settled in- we had- there was a plan!”
“Was there? You were going to pretend and lie to my face and keep each other’s names until- what? What time would be right? A day from now? A week?” Phil asks, both Wilbur and Techno making a matching face of guilt, their eyes looking at anything in the room except for Phil. “How long has this even been going on?”
“Years.” Wilbur confesses, his hand pulling lightly at the end of his sleeve. “Since we were thirteen.”
Phil gives an incredulous blink. “And no one has ever noticed?”
“If they did, they never said anything.” Techno says, his hand resting over the handle of his sword at his hip. “A bit too late for them to say anything now.” He mutters after.
“I’m in a castle full of morons.” Phil declares. Wilbur poorly hides a laugh while Techno makes a conceding nod. “You've both been doing this for years?”
“We did it for good reason.” Wilbur begins to defend, his hands raised out. “Techno’s never wanted the throne, and I was willing to take it. Nothing's gone wrong since. We've been ruling well, you’ve seen it-”
“Yes, but that’s not the point, Wilbur.” Phil insists, digging his nails into the bridge of his nose to stave off a far approaching headache. “This isn’t about the fate of the kingdom- You haven’t even been using your name.”
“No one uses our names.” Technoblade says, sounding incredibly resigned to it.
Phil feels the urge to punch something. Someone. Several someones, all around the castle halls, and then a certain someone, who still lies in his grave within the royal crypts. He clenches his fists tight, taking in a deep, steadying breath. He then holds his arms out, taking a slight step forward.
“Come here.”
They both give a surprised look at the gesture, hesitating before making any sort of move. They linger in place, as if wanting Phil to be sure, their eyes glancing at each other in some sort of quiet communication, silent thoughts being passed between their heads, and goddammit, Phil’s missed seeing them like this. Their little habits, their tells, the way they give their silent signals, some quiet language that Phil’s never been able to quite figure out.
They’re brothers, it's so easy to see. They’re twins, and they have had only each other for all this time, and it makes Phil’s heart ache to know that, to know that in all these years, there never did come someone to fill the gap he left behind. Nobody came to continue where he left off. They just left them on their own, and as they always have, they stayed at each other’s side.
“Please, just-” Phil’s hands shake in where he holds them mid-air, his voice wavering, and that burst of emotion is enough to erase any hesitation at all. Wilbur rushes forward to throw himself into Phil’s arms, and Techno comes close behind, clawing at his brother’s side to get to Phil.
They’re a bit too big now for Phil to hug close. He can only get one arm around each of their shoulders, and he has to raise himself on his toes to reach them properly, but it's enough, for the time being. They cling to him in the same manner, hands digging into the fabric of his shirt, their faces trying to hide into him as if they’re the children they once were, finding safety in his open, offered embrace.
He hugs them tight, pulling them down with ease, wondering when exactly they became taller than him. They settle on the floor, no care for the improper image of it, Phil keeping his palms pressed to the spine of their backs as Wilbur cries quietly upon his shoulder, and Techno gives a hitching, hiccuping breath.
So many years, and so much has changed, and yet- things are the same. Phil has hope, for the fact he can stay here with them now, be at their side as he wants to be, but still, things are the same. The old bastard who was the king before may be dead, and the council might be changed, and the people within the halls might’ve shifted, but things are frustratingly the same, and no one is seeing his boys for who they are. They are still on their own, as Phil feared in all the nights he was away.
“For how much longer?” Phil asks, pulling away to look them both in the face, his hands shifting to rest under both their chins.
They give him a helpless look in reply, and Phil presses the question more.
“What was the plan? For how much longer is this meant to go?” He asks, looking them both in the eyes. “Do you both intend to die with each other’s names, as well?”
“It’s not- we didn’t-” Technoblade shakes his head, looking to Wil for help.
“It wasn’t supposed to go this long.” Wilbur explains, voice cracking in his throat for a second. He takes a breath. “We were only hoping to give Techno some reprieve. A day where he could be the spare, and I’d take the crown.”
Techno sniffles slightly. “This is Wilbur’s fault, really.” He says lightly. “Maybe if he were a bit worse at being king, I’d actually take the crown back-”
“It’s my crown now, I wouldn’t even give it back-” Wilbur bickers along, Phil sighing upon their antics.
“Boys.” He reminds.
“It just went on.” Wilbur continues. “A day here or there turned into a week, eventually, and then the weeks went on, and the month passed by, and then-” He makes a gesturing wave at Techno’s face. At the scar that’s long settled over his nose. “There was no way of switching back after that. Everyone thought it was me who got scarred. And that he was still perfectly unharmed.”
“How did this even happen?” Phil asks, reaching out at Techno’s face, unsettled by the idea of how it must’ve looked when it was fresh. “You went into battle?”
“It was a training exercise, actually.” Technoblade corrects. “Though the instructor overdid it.”
Phil freezes still. “An instructor did this?”
“They were dealt with ages ago.” Wilbur mutters, sounding somewhat satisfied. Techno waves off the incident, holding a hand to his elbow.
“It’s old scars, now. I have a healed wound on my arm that’s far worse, actually, there’s a clear divot-”
“Oh dear gods.” Phil breathes out, looking a bit horrified.
“It healed fine, it’s all healed fine, I’m in incredible health, actually, I’ve never been hurt a day in my life- Scarring? What scarring?” Techno immediately backtracks, holding his palms up as if in surrender.
“Laying it on thick.” Wilbur says.
“Your skull is thick.” Techno says back, Wilbur sputtering in a moment of offense.
“You really did become a knight.” Phil says, their attention pulled back to the conversation again, Phil looking at Techno’s armor in a certain sense of pride. “You actually went for it.”
Technoblade gives a small nod, seeming somewhat timid. “Well, after the first scar, we supposed- there wasn’t any way of turning back. So. Why wouldn’t I?” He asks. He looks down at his own lap, his hands resting together with his fingers tangled tightly. “I didn’t want the throne. I hated it. I hated all of it. From my coronation day and on, the way they all stared at me-”
Phil’s stomach twists hard in something of guilt. He remembers hearing about Techno’s coronation. It was a grand, festive thing. He had considered returning, then.
He wonders how things might’ve been if he did.
“Wilbur’s always done it so much better, anyhow.” Techno continues to justify. “I just- I’m more capable like this. I’m more useful like this, and I-”
“Are you content with it?” Phil asks, needing to cut off that way of speaking. He recognizes where it comes from, and he again, wishes he could revive a corpse if only to put it back down, and send that soul back to hell.
“I-” Techno pauses. “What?”
“Both of you. Are you happy like this?” Phil asks again, the two of them sharing their silent look.
Wilbur gives a slight shrug, his expression twisted up. “I mean- It’s certainly a bit out of order, considering this is his birthright, rather than mine, but we’re better suited in trading roles, I think.”
“The kingdom is all the better for it, honestly.” Technoblade murmurs.
“Yes. I mean- regardless, I would’ve probably taken on most of the diplomacy either way, though you might’ve found trouble ever getting training if you kept the crown-”
“Gods sake, I’m not asking if you’re both well suited for this.” He takes hold of them, nearly shaking them by their arms. “I’m not asking of the kingdom or of the stupid fucking throne. Are you happy? Are you both alright?”
They go still, staring wide-eyed at him.
“We’re-” Wilbur goes to say. His mouth opens and closes, not sure how to go on.
“You’re here now.” Techno says, completing the thought. “Of course we’re going to be alright.”
Phil tightens his grip on them. He wishes to hold onto them for as long as possible, to never leave again. If anyone tries to take them from him ever again, he’ll have them dead with his own hands, he is sure of it.
So long they’ve had to live like this. To never be known, to be so hauntingly alone. So important, so revered and yet so alone, even with so many supposedly sworn to loyalty underneath them. All they had was each other. This entire time-
“I’m sorry.” Phil chokes out, blinking quick for the way tears begin to well up in his vision. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to come back-”
“Wait, no, no, no-” Techno quickly panics.
“Don’t apologize, don’t-” Wilbur adds on, similarly panicked.
“No, I am.” Phil cries, hands reaching to their faces again. “You’re both happier like this, and I’m glad for it, but no one has ever noticed. No one ever thought to look at you both, and to see that you’ve changed? That you’re different in a way that seemed off?”
“If they did, perhaps they thought it better to not say anything.” Techno reasons. “It was a kindness in their kept silence, all the same. We didn’t want to be found out.”
“This is still a castle full of morons.” Phil says, and Wilbur gives a small huff, Techno smiling. “You both intend to continue doing this, then? Keeping each other’s names?”
“We’ve considered, uhm…” Technoblade begins, looking to Wilbur.
“Techno could renounce the throne and have it passed to me, officially.” Wilbur says. “We could have the truth come into the light, then, but there’s the matter of the reaction given. Of how the royal council might take it, and how the court will react.”
“Is there any point in them trying to refuse it?” Phil asks, shaking his head. “You’ve been ruling for several years now.”
“Yes, that would be one of our points.” Wilbur nods, though he doesn’t look optimistic. “I’ve proven myself well, I’ve carried the crown decently enough, but I’m still- I’m still the spare, in their eyes.”
Techno’s gaze goes dark.
“It still might not-” Wilbur grimaces, taking in a breath. “-go over well.”
Phil makes a sympathetic look, though it lasts only for a few seconds, a resolved certainty taking its place.
“Their opinions matter little.” He tells them. “If you declare it outright with everyone made witness, it can’t be taken back. And then, you’d both be able to breathe a bit better, I think. You wouldn’t have to keep going on with this."
“We intend to declare it, eventually. We will, we just-” Wilbur nods, looking unsure. “We-”
“We wanted you back first.” Technoblade confesses. His hand reaches forward to pull at Phil’s sleeve. “It’d be, um. Easier, then, I think. If you were there.”
“I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.” Phil promises. “I will be there.”
They smile.
“It’ll be a comfortable stay, I can assure you of that.” Wilbur insists, and he drags them up to their feet, suddenly pushing them all on, leading them to the door. “You need to see your living quarters, we spent too much time on it for you to not appreciate our efforts-”
“Of course I’ll appreciate it-” Phil agrees, walking along with them.
“Yes, father, of course, but the color choices, the furniture-”
Phil laughs a little, following them out. Whatever he is given, he’ll happily take. As long as he is with them.
As long as he can stay.