Work Text:
you are my sunshine, my only sunshine
“Dad?”
“Mhm, what’s up, Wil?”
“Coul- could you teach me how to play this?”
Phil looked up from his book, and blinked when he saw what his son was holding. A small lute was in the boy’s arms. Rays of light brightened the wooden instrument, revealing a warm red color.
It looked as though it had been sitting in a closet for a long time, dust clear as the sun on the dark wood. He motioned for Wilbur to bring the lute to him, and taking it began to tune it. Curiosity turned into joy in his son’s eyes as he stared, a small gasp escaping him at the sounds the little lute made.
A cheerful laugh came from the father as he positioned the lute in his hands.
“Of course I’ll teach ya, son. Wanna hear a song first?”
“YEAH! Yes please!”
“Alright, alright, let me try to remember how it went.”
He started to hum a simple tune, drumming his fingers along the strings.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine... “
Wilbur’s eyes widened, light streaming into their depths.
you make me happy when skies are gray
“What in all the sta- Wilbur? ”
“Dad, I- I need your help. Please.”
“Oh, son... “
Opening the door, it revealed his son standing there. The young man refused to meet his eyes, gaze trained to the ground. In his arms was a shivering, fluffy-haired toddler, bright ginger ears poking out from the messy hair. A ragged gray blanket was wrapped tightly around the little boy, protecting him from the cold wind ripping through his clothes.
Phil grabbed his shoulder and gently led him into the house, away from the raging storm. After sitting Wilbur down on one of his kitchen chairs, he took his grandson and placed him in Wilbur’s old bed, pulling the thick blankets over him.
Walking back to the kicken, he set a kettle of water on the stove, and turned back to his son.
“What happened?”
Wilbur finally looked up, and Phil would have done anything to take away the pain in his eyes. They were dark, dark with sorrow and loss.
“Sally, sh- she- they- oh Brine, Dad, I- “
He was suddenly pulled into a fierce hug from his father, large black wings encasing him in comforting ebony. A sob ripped out from the boy, and he flung his arms around his winged father. Phil let Wilbur cry into his shoulder, combing his hand through his hair.
Outside the gray clouds billowed in the stormy sky, blocking the golden sun from shining its bright beams.
you’ll never know dear, how much i love you
“Going off and starting a nation, huh?”
“I have to, Dad. My son needs a home, and as grateful as I am for everything, I-”
“I understand, Wilbur. But... he won’t be too pleased about this.”
A joyful screech caught the two men’s attention. Fundy whirled around and showed them a bright blue stone he had found, his ears perking up with delight. Wilbur laughed, eyes golden with fatherly love for the boy.
“Dream may own these lands, but that isn’t stopping me from starting my symphony. I’ll do whatever it takes for Fundy.”
Smiling at the idea of this new home being called a symphony, Phil hummed his acknowledgement.
“Would L’Manburg work for the name of your new country?”
“L’Manburg... ?”
“It’s the name of what was said to be the greatest and most powerful nation long, long ago. Reckon it’ll fit your ‘symphony’ well.”
Wilbur glanced up at the sun, deep in thought. After a few moments, he smiled again and nodded.
“L’Manburg. That’ll be the name of my new symphony.”
The sun was bright that day.
please don’t take my sunshine away.
“MY L’MANBURG, DAD. MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED.”
“W- Wil- “
“If I can’t have this, no one can, Dad.”
Phil could do nothing but stare with grief at the shell of his once shining son. Wilbur’s arms were spread wide out, showcasing the damage he had done to his symphony. The man’s eyes carried the shadows of a man whose light had been snuffed out, who had nothing left to lose or live for anymore.
Wilbur took out a sword and flung it at Phil. He caught the weapon with ease, gripping the handle tightly.
“Kill me, Dad.”
His son. Warm eyes peered up at him, a red lute in his small hands.
“Dad, kill me KILL ME, DAD STAB ME WITH THE SWORD-”
His son. A desolate gaze, his own little son in his arms.
“-KILL ME, KILL ME KILLZA-”
His son. Determination in his eyes, ready to shed blood and tears for his symphony.
“-MURDER ME NOW KILLZA KILL ME.”
His son. Broken mind and broken eyes, who had let go of everything.
“Do it. Kill me, Dad.”
Phil shook his head, his hand on the sword shaking.
“Murder me. Look, they all want you to. Do it, Dad. KILL ME.”
“I- I can’t, you’re my son -
“Dad . Kill. Me.”
“- no matter what you do-”
“DAD THIS ISN’T- Look. Look . How much work went into this and it’s gone . Do it. DO IT -”
Wilbur’s voice cut off into a broken gasp as Phil drove the sword through his chest. Sobs racked him as he fell to his knees, lowering his dying son to the ground. Cries and screams of grief and shock barely reached his ears, blood pounding in his head and hands violently trembling.
His son’s last words were the only things that broke through the haze, clear as the sunshine that he had always compared him to.
“Thank you, Dad... “
Phil grit his teeth and hugged Wilbur’s body close, tears dripping onto the man’s lifeless cheeks. A wretched laugh escaped him as he whispered the last line of the song he had once taught his little boy long, long ago.
“Please don’t take my sun- sunshine away... “