Work Text:
L’Manberg hadn’t always been something Wilbur had wanted.
It had started with an innate sense of wanting more, of reaching farther than the means he started out with, an idea that had almost immediately focused into action the second the thought actualized. And with it came the responsibility of having control over the land he claimed as his own, a near-physical weight that had settled across his shoulders and the crown of his head the second the land recognized what he was claiming. That he owned it all, controlled it all, and he could feel the meaning of it all swell inside him, and that part was a physical feeling.
It was the first time Wilbur had ever shed his Nokkam, his god-given purpose given material form, though he was familiar with the concept. Tommy had shed his an era ago, had lost it to Dream forever ago, had expressed how he could still feel the loss ages after it was taken.
It was an event that nearly every Fey feared. It was an immediate loss of personal purpose that could be stolen and leveraged against you, as seen by the long-standing grudge between Tommy and Dream. That had been an event that affected nearly everyone in the Feywilds, Fey choosing sides, making moves to steal from one another. All of it resulting in most everyone chafing under Dream’s command, and eager to distance themselves from it all, or act deliberately rebellious in some way.
Wilbur had chosen the latter, having already befriended Tommy sometime ago and seeing the way the others had been treated. It was a small act of defiance initially, creating an underground market in collaboration with the Brownies that lived there and selling things like Hag weapons and metal, cold Iron. Wilbur found the irony (ha) of it still quite amusing, a Fey owning the market over the very things that could kill them, but Dream had been less amused, and had quickly moved to put an end to it all.
(Wilbur still wonders now, even after all that time, if Dream knew what a position of leadership meant. There is power in position, and even though it had been such a small operation, the feeling he had then could be compared to this, the weight of responsibility tearing away his outer shell to allow for something novel to take its place, shedding away old layers to make way for the new. Dream must’ve known. He wasn’t alway one of the sole rulers of the Fey realm, but when the Arhcfey had separated after the age of divine intervention, someone had to take their place. And he had been one of the two chosen to lead, given something akin to the powers of the Archfey, with nearly none of the consequences to come with it. Similar but greater when compared to anyone else.)
It had been a final straw for many, and had paved the way for independence to all who wanted it, but it had been a moment of terror for Wilbur. The moment he stated L’Manberg existed, was a place separate from the rest of the Feywilds, and even from the Winter court in the Badlands, it required someone to take place as leader, as caretaker, as avatar. It was a vacuum that both Wilbur and Tommy were forced to fill, the second their declaration left their lips, that the last notes of their song faded into the air.
It was a sudden and violent change, an all consuming shift in perspective, and they could both feel it just as keenly as they could feel their Nokkam cracking open and falling away, revealing a new purpose left behind.
It was an event Wilbur had pondered many times, trying to decide what he would do if he ever outgrew his purpose. It was a horrifying thought for any Fey to have something so intrinsic to what makes them who they are stolen away. It was a natural disadvantage that they couldn’t allow for in this world of oaths, secrets, and emotion, something akin to giving another fey your name, or being given a name before you can name yourself. It was allowing a force outside of yourself to have access to change you on a fundamental level. Hell, the only reason Tommy had stopped trying to steal his Nokkam back from Dream was because Dream had threatened to consume it, to make it part of him, and though nothing like it had been done before, every Fey knew through instinct alone that it would give him a level of control over Tommy that could probably never be reversed.
Wilbur had always come to the conclusion that he would destroy his Nokkam when he shed it, that losing a part of yourself was preferable to having that part belong to someone else. But seeing it now, knowing what it meant and what it was, Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to do it, to crush what he had outgrown. He wished Philza was there with him, but Phil had left with Kristin and the rest of the Archfey, eager to support his partner in any way he could in the face of the Gods intervention. That had been a difficult time for all involved, facing the fallout of the Archfey’s now innate purpose. They had been a source of power thereto unknown of by the Gods, one they were all too eager to poke and prod at until all Fey were fundamentally changed.
All knew it was the Archfey who had taken the brunt of the blow, allowing the more common among them to live as they saw fit, shedding their curse instead of living by it. The Archfey had not been so lucky, having no way to create a Nokkam for themselves to shed, as their purpose was intertwined with their very essence, their intrinsic nature, what a mortal might call a soul if Fey had such a thing.(they did not) It was why they were all gone now, discussing among themselves what was to be done about it all, what it would mean, and if it could be reversed somehow. It was a discussion few common Fey such as Wilbur was privy to, but Philza was bonded with Kristin, which allowed certain exceptions to most rules concerning the relationship between common Fey and the Arch.
They were both dearly missed, and though it was a loss Wilbur was now familiar with, it struck him especially hard then, nearly bowed him over with the force of the emotion as he stared down at his Nokkam with a growing sense of panic. What would they say, if they were here? Offer to protect it for him most likely. Offer him power enough to protect it on his own if Wilbur insisted on it. But he was on his own, faced with his change, with the responsibility of gaining independence for him and his fellow Fey.
He could still feel it, an unnaturally heavy weight in his pocket, as he discussed with his group what their next move was.
But the battle against Dream had finally been waged, and now wasn’t the time to think about how to deal with something as small as a former purpose. He had a new one, a new Nokkam, and it was high time he wore it with intent.
L’Manberg hadn’t always been something he wanted, but it was something he had grown to achieve, something that satisfied the part of him always begging to be more.