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Long ago, there was a country ruled by a queen. She was the first queen and was rumored by many to be immortal. Her name was Queen Kristin, and her citizens enjoyed a decades long reign of peace and revitalization. When she died she passed the throne onto a child she had adopted from the village, a little girl named Nihachu. And so Queen Nihachu ‘Niki’ became the second queen of a country, a country called the Antarctic Empire.
The line continued on down through daughters of blood and of heart, until it finally reached the first son. King Philza Minecraft became the 74th ruler of the Antarctic Empire, and he quickly became a beloved ruler. It was rumored that Kristin had become an Angel, the Angel of Death, and blessed Philza Minecraft with wisdom and bravery to lead the Antarctic Empire into yet another era of tranquility.
Philza did not occupy his castle alone, however. In addition to the servant staff (Philza took great care of them, making sure to give them fair salary and rights) Philza had three sons. The youngest was named Theseus, nicknamed Tommy, and he was a large troublemaker. He had befriended Tubbo, the Quartermaster’s son, he loved doing things that troubled the servant staff greatly. Even so, he was much beloved.
The two oldest were twins, differing greatly in personality. The younger of the two, by a mere 7 minutes, was the one that went by Technoblade. His name had likely come from a mythological figure like his brothers, but he had quickly adopted the nickname of ‘Technoblade’. He was a feared warrior known as the Blood God in battle, and he had bested even the toughest opponents. His pig carcass mask and long, often braided pink hair became symbols of his love of bloodshed and power
Next, we look at the eldest son. His name was Orpheus, but he went by his middle name, William. Or, to friends, Will. He was the quietest of the three brothers, known as a friend to all. He was by no means weak, but he preferred to keep the peace. While his brothers were known for their trouble and their power, Will was known for the songs that he played on his guitar, and was never caught without a smile on his face.
Or that was what could have been. Because when Technoblade and Orpheus were 4, and when Theseus was 1, a great crime against the royal family was committed. Someone broke into the palace and stole away young Prince Orpheus. In the morning, all that was left was a smiley face, painted in bold, lime green strokes on the wall next to a shattered window.
Everyone was thrown into uproar and search parties were sent far and wide. Neighboring kingdoms and monarchs were alerted. However, Queen Eret and Queen Hannah Rose of the neighboring kingdoms, as well as many other kingdoms that the Antarctic Empire conducted trade with, all had no idea where the young prince was, and even offered their own men and women to search. But alas, every lead went cold and eventually, the search died.
But far away, the life of a young boy named Wilbur was beginning. Wilbur grew up with Dream, someone he was hesitant to call his father but someone he did call the closest thing he had to a father. And so Wilbur put up with the weeks away from the cottage he called home, he put up with the harsh rules and endless chores, and put up with even the long punishments and loud yells that filled the home whenever Dream came home. He lived in isolation and, more often than not, fear.
Now, Wilbur and Prince Orpheus looked different in many ways. Wilbur had curly brown hair as opposed to the straight blond hair Orpheus shared with his brothers(at least before Technoblade dyed it). Wilbur also had thin, gold, wire-rimmed glasses that had a tendency to make his eyes look large. If you were to see a portrait with an estimate of what Orpheus would like when he was older, and then were to see Wilbur, you would never connect the two.
And so the few people who saw Wilbur - such as Puffy, a fisherwoman in town, or Alyssa, a baker who always managed to slip an extra loaf into Wilbur’s order - never thought to make any connection to Orpheus. And so Wilbur grew older and the royal family grew more desperate and soon! Soon, Crown Prince Elect Technoblade and the poor, ordinary Wilbur both approached their 18th birthday.
(POV switch cause I might throw myself off a bridge if I wrote the whole story like that — Wilbur POV)
Wilbur sighed, leaning back. The sky was a light blue-gray-green at the moment, and rain poured down with a vengeance. He was soaked, though that might be because he was lying on the roof. He blinked slowly, allowing himself a couple more moment of relaxation before rousing himself from his slight stupor. He sat up, glancing down at the logs that made up the roof of his small cottage.
He had done this before, but never in rain this hard. But he couldn’t stay up here until Dream got home. Dream would be so mad if he found out that Wilbur went up here. He took a breath, anxiety settling into his bones like lightning. He didn’t dare take a running start for fear he would slip, but instead just jumped, landing heavily.
His feet slipped out from under him and he hit the wood hard, sliding slowly. His hand shot out, banging against the spruce planks that made up the walls and he fumbled around, gripping the edge of the window for dear life. With upper body strength he definitely didn’t think he possessed, he pulled himself up and through the window. He took a couple deep breaths, pulling his lanky body off the floor.
He bolted through a shower, sending steamy water to the ground as he shook out his hair. It was getting quite unmanageable to be honest, but he didn't want to cut it. He like it, even if it was annoying when it was wet and tried to plaster itself to the side of his face. He clipped it back rather than try to dry it, pulling on his normal yellow sweater and flying downstairs. He paced from room to room, which didn't take long. The cottage was small, not cramped exactly, but there was no room for unneeded things. Such as the guitar he had been ogling in town. He had begged Dream for so long, even when he knew what the answer would be, and he could say that he deserved the two days he had spent locked in his room.
But he had one simple question for Dream that he really, really hoped Dream would agree to. Every night on his birthday, he could see something happening. And Wilbur wasn't sure what to call it. Because he would see lanterns rising into the sky in soft pastel colors and he would hear guitar music somehow echoing through the sky, but the occasion seemed sad. It didn't seem like a festival or a carnival (not that Wilbur would know what those looked like), but it wasn't a funeral either, because who would be important enough to mourn every single year? The current king had lived long and Wilbur couldn't remember hearing that he was of ill health.
He had asked Dream about it a couple times, and each time he got shut down. So Wilbur had tried to draw his own conclusions. He knew that it happened once a year on his birthday. He knew it happened at the palace. He couldn't see the palace - he lived too far away - but he could see the beginnings of the town that surrounded the hill the palace sat on. He knew that it must be pretty damn important for it to be celebrated every year. Which sparked the one thing that stayed true every single year: he wanted to see it. He wanted to be there, he wanted to feel what it was like to be surrounded by soft light and music. Because he would always feel some strange form of nostalgia whenever he sat at his window and saw the lights and heard the music. He could never figure out why, though.
And he was almost of age! It was hard to believe but he, Wilbur, was about to be 18. In a little more than two weeks, actually. And it would only take two days to go to the palace of the Antarctic Empire by horse, maybe four days by foot. Truth be told, he didn't know why they were called the Antarctic Empire. The whole country was warm all year long, with the only notable differences in weather being the long rainy season that took up half the year and the dry season that took up the other half. According to the history books he had memorized at this point, it was because the whole country had been in an ice age when it was discovered, so there were glaciers everywhere and permafrost stretching almost to bedrock. But now that it had warmed up, the glaciers had melted at filled a large number of lakes and rivers, and the permafrost had retreated, allowing mining to actually be possible.
Wilbur heard the door open and shut. "Wilbur!" He walked out into the small foyer, trying not to look like this visit made him more nervous than anything he could think of - except maybe spiders. Spiders were useless creatures that deserved to die. Also anteaters. He had only even read about them but they were the devil reincarnate. "Hey Wilbur, did you miss me?" Dream asked, leaning his netherite sword against the wall and wrapping his arms around Wilbur, despite the younger being a couple inches taller than him.
Dream was dressed pretty casually, in a pair of jeans and a green sweatshirt, the smiley face mask he always wore secured on his face. He had never seen what Dream looked like without his mask, and Wilbur had never thought to ask. He just let it be. "A lot," he said quite honestly, because Dream had been away for 2 months, the longest he had been away ever. He had told Wilbur it was because he was older now, and that this was a chance for him to prove himself. Wilbur had taken it in stride, hoping that the crystal clean cottage and the meal he had waiting for Dream would help convince Dream to let him go.
Dream puled back, pulling down his wet hood to reveal damp dirty blond hair. He shook his hair like Wilbur did. Wilbur had actually picked up the habit from Dream. A small laugh echoed from behind Dream's mask as he reached up and pulled the clip from Wilbur's hair. The still slightly wet curls bounced back in front of his face. Wilbur's cheeks turned slightly red out of the idea of Dream laughing at him. Maybe some of it was embarrassment, but he was a little mad. He wasn't a child anymore, he was 18.
Dream brushed passed Wilbur, heading into the dinging room. He didn't question the warm meal in front of him, only waving Wilbur to sit down and make small conversation. Wilbur had always been slightly awkward, mostly because he had only really interacted with Dream. But he still kept up a conversation, talking about Dream's travels. During a lull in the conversation, Wilbur made up his mind. "Dream?" Dream gave a noncommittal hum, his mask askew from eating. Wilbur took a breath, his nerves going haywire. "Do you know the... the lights and the music that play on my birthday?" Dream looked up silently, tilting his mask in place. He waved for Wilbur to go on.
"Do you think that- do you think that for my birthday, I can go and see them? Because- because every year I see them and I know, I know that they mean something but I don't know what, and- and-" His head snapped to the side abruptly, fire burning on his cheek. He raised shaking fingers to his cheek as he slowly looked up at Dream. "You hit me," Wilbur said, his voice shaking. "You hit me." In all of his 18 years, even when Dream had locked him in his room or took away dinner for a day or yelled at him, he had never, never laid a hand on him. But Dream had just slapped him.
"Haven't you ever listen to me?" Dream spat, his voice like acid. Wilbur tried to stand up just as Dream kicked his chair, sending Wilbur to the floor. He pushed himself back as Dream stomped forward. Despite not being able to see his face, he could see the anger in Dream's body. He could see it in his tense shoulders and in the hand that automatically patted his hip, where his sword usually hung. "The outside is dangerous. You would never survive. I have kept you safe for all of your life. I know best. Only the strongest could survive the journey. Do you honestly think that you are strong? In the slightest?" Wilbur couldn't help the soft yells he gave out as Dream brought his foot into his ribs again, and again, and again. Dream stormed off and slammed the door to his room. Wilbur breathed heavily, pulling himself into a sitting position. His fingers skirted over his sweater, wincing at the bolts of pain shot across his body. He picked himself up off the floor and staggered up the stairs, shutting his door quietly.
Dream apologized profusely in the morning, making breakfast for him and all but begging for his forgiveness. Wilbur immediately forgave him, and it was like it never happened. The day bled into night peacefully, until after dinner. Dream sighed, rubbing the forehead of his mask. "I have to go visit a couple old friends," he explained. Wilbur knew why. Around his birthday each year Dream would leave to do something called a Manhunt with his friends. His friends would chase him and try to capture him while he did any number of difficult and life threatening tasks. Dream had always won. "Do you want me to bring anything back for you?"
"A music box?" Wilbur requested, looking up at the face painted on Dream's mask. Dream gave a sigh, running a hand through Wilbur's hair. He leaned into the rare touch. The rare touches from Dream were the only skin to skin contact he had besides his knuckles brushing against someone else's occasionally in the marketplace.
"Another one?" Almost every single time Dream offered to bring him something, he asked for a music box. He had quite a large collection. They played a variety of tunes, ranging from pocket sized to taking up his whole end table. "Okay," Dream said with a cheerful sigh, pushing himself up and gathering his stuff. "Bye Wilbur!" he called cheerfully, closing the door and locking it with a loud click that echoed through the cottage. Wilbur stared at the door, glancing at the clock every now and then.
Was he really going to do this? He didn't know if he had a choice. He loved Dream, he really did, but was he really going to spend his whole life in this cottage. He mulled this over as long as he could, coming to when the grandfather clock in the dining room gave loud chimes. Wilbur counted them, realizing it was around 9 in the morning now. He made a snap decision, standing up with purpose. He grabbed a bag from the closet, shoving some clothes at random in it, as well as grabbing a lot of nonperishable foods.
He left through his window, landing on the soft dirt with a couple stumbling steps. Without another thought, he took off running, his bag smacking his side as he broke out into a sprint. His long legs served him well as he ran away from his home. Or, well. The only home he ever knew.
He ran for a long time. He ran for two days with short breaks for food and rest. It took two days to get halfway there, two days before he stumbled across his first person. "Carl? CARL?! CAAAAAARL?!" There was the sound of someone kicking a tree. "DAMMIT!" Wilbur poked his head into a small clearing to see a man in royal attire. He had the classic markings of a blaze hybrid and clear anger in his voice. He looked up at Wilbur. Wilbur froze, getting ready to run from the rage in the stranger's voice previously. But the man only called out in a tied voice, "Have you seen a horse? Is a complete son of a bitch and and answers to Carl?"
Wilbur shook his head timidly. The man frowned and waved Wilbur over. He hesitantly strode over to the man, his limbs aching with the newfound physical exertion. "I'm Sapnap, the Royal Stable Master," Sapnap introduced with a cocky grin. His eyes flickered over Wilbur for a second, and his eyes flashed with a multitude of emotions that Wilbur didn't understand in the slightest. "Are you going to the palace? Why?" he asked suspiciously, his hand drifting to the scabbard next to him.
"I just wanted to see the- the lights up close. And the music," he finished in a small voice, his cheeks turning bright pink as he glanced down to gauge Sapnap's expression. To his surprise, Sapnap had a sympathetic face. His eyes were still fiery with passion, but the fire had dimmed from a raging wildfire to a warm bonfire, burning with soft light.
"Hmm... I'll tell you what. I'll get you a job at the palace since you don't seem very- uh, well prepared," Sapnap improvised awkwardly. "A-Anyway, I'll try and get you a job - a servant quit so we needed a new one anyway - and then you can see the lights. Everyone gets a day off for it anyways. How about it?" Sapnap said, giving Wilbur a crooked grin, a small gap between his two front teeth. He held out his hand. After a moments hesitation, Wilbur shook it. "Great!"
After an hour or two of walking filled with one-sided conversation, Wilbur asked, "Why do the lights come up? I never learned." Sapnap shot him a startled look, eyes blown wide with shock. Wilbur looked at the dirt road they were walking on, uncomfortable with the look Sapnap was giving him. Sapnap quickly recovered though, clearing his throat and straightening up.
"I thought everyone knew why,” Sapnap muttered under his breath. “I’m sure you know the royal family, right? King Philza and and Princes Technoblade and The- erm, Tommy?” Wilbur nodded, those names striking that same sense of nostalgia. He momentarily brushed it aside. “Right. Well, Technoblade isn’t supposed to be the heir like he is. Prince Orpheus- everyone called him William, though - was a couple minutes older than Technoblade. But he was kidnapped a long time ago. So on his birthday each year, they light up the lanterns. The music started 5 or so years back; apparently, Prince Technoblade insisted on it and the king obliged.”
“Oh,” Wilbur commented, blinking rapidly. Silence fell, a silence that wouldn’t last long. Over he next two days, Wilbur would find Sapnap to be an enjoyable travel partner. He talked about his fiancés, Karl and Quackity. Wilbur mention Dream passingly, not giving any specifics. When the palace was in sight, the two stopped. Wilbur smiled. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he was home.
(Technoblade POV, and I really want cupcakes. Yes, that’s it.)
Techno stared at Phil incredulously. “You can’t be serious.” He hadn’t meant to speak out loud - he had to get better at not giving into instinct when off the battlefield - but this was bullshit. He wasn’t supposed to be- what was his title? ‘Crown Prince Elect Technoblade’? It wasn’t supposed to be his. He didn’t deserve this.
“Techno, I’m trying, but-“ Phil cut himself off, dragging a hand down his face. The black wings that the king prided himself on were drooping, looking ruffled and slightly neglected. “Look. I need a heir. And as much as we try, and try, and try, unless we find him before your 18th birthday, I can’t do anything besides announce you as my heir. Techno, my hands are tied. Please, just- try to understand,” Phil implored, his light blue eyes boring into Techno's scarlet ones.
He stood, slamming a hand down on the desk. Phil’s heavy crown and the smaller crown that would soon belong to him (not if he could help it) rattled against each other. Techno glared at Phil who merely stared back, sad and resigned, which only made him more mad. Why was he not mad? Crown Prince Elect Orpheus William was supposed to be here, and- no. Not Crown Prince whatever shit, Will was supposed to be here.
The worst nightmares He had were the ones where he was still here. And they seemed so real. It was Will with a guitar, strumming songs in the courtyard, under the large tree with the large white flowers that Tommy loved to climb. It was Will shooting a smirk over his shoulder as he climbed the ivy covered wall that separated the small garden that connected to Techno’s room next and the rest of the gardens. And it was Will pressed into Techno’s side, the crown that he would soon have to bear on the bed next to them, the two twins just blocking out the world together.
And then he would wake up and it would be gone. Technoblade would be left crying, shaking, alone. “Phil,” he said, his voice a low rumble. Because where Tommy ran hot, he ran cold. Where Tommy exploded in anger and let everything out the second he was feeling, Techno let his rage built up inside him, let revenge and fury settled into his bones with a dark chill. He wondered what Will was like. He was almost 18 and didn’t know his twin.
“Phil,” be began again, trying to get his emotions under control. “Phil, he’s out there. I know he is, and... and I can’t do this. Phil, please.” Phil stared at him, his poker face not breaking. He gave a slow nod and pulled some of the papers on his desk towards him, reading them with a flicker of something passing over his face. He cautiously sat down.
“I can give you a week after your birthday,” Phil eventually sighed. Techno paused. A week after his birthday? That was... ten days. He got up, grabbing the damn crown and leaving, making sure to hit every expensive and antique piece of furniture on my way out. “Techno!” I ignored him, storming out.
He stomped down the long hallway, pausing to see if Phil would follow him. Silence was his only company as he waited. Eventually, he gave up and settled for wandering the halls at random, eventually ending up at a large bank of windows. Through the diamond paned window, he could see the palace gates, as well as the nicely kept road that lead from town to the palace, the neat cobbles still a dark slate gray, even though they hadn’t been replaced as long as he could remember.
He saw Sapnap, the loud and outspoken Stable Master, leading someone up the side of the road. He squinted, leaning closer to the window. He appeared to be tall, very tall, with dark hair and a yellow sweater. Techno watched for a couple more seconds, trying to make sense of the sudden burst of emotion that filled him when he saw this stranger. He debated going down and meeting the duo before turning away, heading up a flight of stairs to his room, slamming the door hard.
(Wilbur POV again - things are heating up bitches! :D)
Getting used to the palace lifestyle came surprisingly easy to Wilbur. The head of the servant staff, Fundy, quickly gave him a role and a uniform, stuffing him into a dorm with an anxious 14 year old who was a foot or so taller than Wilbur. He was an obvious hybrid and dint say much, but gave a lot of nervous smiles, so he was okay in Wilbur’s book.
On his third day, he was assigned to bring Technoblade his lunch. Fundy had given him the words ‘Don’t fuck it up,’ which gave Wilbur’s confidence such a boost, wow. He nervously followed the instructions that Karl, Sapnap’s fiancé and the head chef, had cheerfully given him. He ended up outside a white door that was more expensive than Wilbur’s life, probably. He tentatively knocked, waiting for- well, he didn’t know what.
The door whipped open. He was thankful that the door opened in, otherwise he would have been slammed into the wall with the force the door was flung open with. Wilbur blinked at Technoblade. He was 5 or so inches taller than Technoblade but felt smaller under the harsh glare. How old even was Technoblade? Somewhere around his age he would guess, but he wasn’t sure.
Technoblade stared at him harshly. Wilbur offered a large smile, trying to cover up his nerves, offering the tray to Technoblade. The prince took it, not icing that his crown was practically hanging off his head. There was a couple seconds of silence. “Well... have a good day,” Wilbur said with another smile, trying to flee, but Technoblade held out his arm, stopping him. Oh shit, I’m dead, he that, glancing at h]the prince.
“Come in,” he said with an edge to his monotone voice, turning around sharply so his crown went flying into the wall. Wilbur hurried in, picking up the crown and setting it on the large bed. This single room was larger than the entire cottage he had grown up in. A large dresser, desk, a crammed bookshelf, a door which he assumed led to a bathroom, and a worrying amount of weapons took up the room, with a majority of it being empty space. Techno gestured to the bed and Wilbur took this as a cue to sit down, his posture taut. Techno simply stared at him, his scarlet eyes boring into Wilbur’s soul ever so slightly. Wilbur glanced around, landing on the desk. Wilbur squinted behind his glasses to see the one, worn looking book on it.
“Sun Tzu, the Art of War,” he read off, remembering reading that book several times over at home. He had never taken a particular liking to it but he could admire the strategic mind that wrote it. “If you know the enemy and know yourself you need not fear the results of a hundred battle,” he quoted, remembering that one sticking out to him. He liked the confidence that flowed in those words, that self-assurance in your own abilities. Wilbur didn’t have that and admired anyone who did. He glanced back at Technoblade, who looked mildly impressed and definitely not like he was going to kill him, which was a good thing.
“You know it?” Technoblade asked, picking up the book and carefully slotting it into place. Wilbur nodded.
“I read a lot,” he said when he realized that Technoblade wasn’t going to speak more. Technoblade seemed to be a man of few words. “Lovely view,” Wilbur commented, glancing at the window. He strained his eyes to try and see his own cottage, but knew it was a waste. The cottage was too small, and he couldn’t see the palace from his own window, so why would he be able to see home m here? But this place felt more like home than the cottage ever did. Wilbur scratched his head anxiously.
“You’ve got bruises,” Technobla observed. Wilbur froze at the feeling of Technoblade’s fingers running over his side, wincing as he prodded a particularly one. Even after a week or so, they were still dark blue and black. He met Technoblade’s eyes, silently begging him not to ask. It was Technoblade’s turn to freeze, staring at Wilbur like he had murdered an entire village in front of the prince. He nodded slowly, dropping his hand. “You can go now,” he said softly, still deadpan but more weighed down with emotions that before. Wilbur nodded back hesitantly, slipping out of the room silently. He walked downtown he hall before breaking out into a near sprint as he darted into his room, startling the shit out of Ranboo safe to say.
“Holy-“ he gasped, clutching his chest. “Wilbur, what was that for?” Wilbur shook his head, falling forward onto his bed with a groan. “Okay then,” Ranboo said, leaving the room to give Wilbur some privacy. The privacy was short lived when the door slammed open. Wilbur jumped, pressing himself to his headboard with a start. Ranboo as well as someone he recognized as Tubbo (he hung out with Ranboo a lot) and another teenager were standing in the doorway.
This new teenager had wild blond hair and large blue eyes, a similar crown to Technoblade’s hanging on his head crookedly. “I’ll get the water balloons!” Tubbo cheered, sprinting off.
“Tubbo, wrong way!” Ranboo half-wailed half-yelled, taking off after him. It then occurred to Wilbur that this was probably Prince Tommy,given the crown. Two princes in one day. What am I, a god damn magnet? Tommy sat down on Ranboo’s dead, seemingly carefree. He didn’t acknowledge Wilbur’s existence for the most part. Then: “Who the fuck are you and why are you hanging in Ranboo’s room?”
“I’m his room mate, I guess,” Wilbur said with a shrug. He couldn’t bring himself to fear Tommy as a royal simply because of his age and his nature. He seemed like a pretty normal 14 year old. Tommy nodded, suspicion in his blue eyes. He suddenly let out a squawk of panic, fumbling in Ranboo’s blanket and crashing it he ground. Wilbur stared at him for a second before bursting into loud laughter, falling backwards into his bed. He was aware of Tommy cursing at him but kept laughing, unable to really stop. Soon, Tommy’s loud laugh mixed with his own.
After they calmed down, Tommy said, “My brother needs me. Tell Ranboo and Tubbo that, yeah?” Wilbur gave a joking salute, bending over and retrieving Tommy’s crown, pressing it into the young boy’s hands. Tommy muttered a thank you and bolted. Wilbur fell backwards onto his bed, muffling a yell with his pillow.
(Tommy POV - which means a lot of cursing and shit)
Tommy ran into his brother’s room, flinging the door open like he always did. He was surprised the wall hadn’t crumbled from the amount of times he smashed it into it. He closed the door more cautiously when he saw Techno. His brother looked deeply disturbed. Tommy sat down next to Techno, waiting for him to speak. Techno got like this sometimes, and he was only ever thinking of one thing when he was like this and Tommy had enough manners to know not to press him about this. He’s 14, not a fucking idiot.
“Techno?” Tommy asked cautiously, nudging the pinkette, taking Techno’s brief glance as a sign to keep talking. Tommy tried reaching for a neutral topic of conversation, which wasn’t really helpful because almost every conversation they had ended in an argument, playful or real. “Me and Tubbo and Ranboo are planning on dumping water balloons on the minor court members. They’re being dickheads, y‘know? I had to leave so they better not do it without me. Some servant is gonna tell them I had to go, so maybe I’ll blame him. He was kinda a prick, innit?” Techno blinked at him, coming back down to Earth.
“Did he- did he have glasses?” Techno asked haltingly. Tommy glanced over. “With- with curly hair and- and a yellow sweater?” Tommy nodded slowly, staring at Techno appraisingly. “Fuck!” Techno yelled, getting up and kicking the leg of his desk harshly.
“What the fuck is you’re problem?” Tommy asked, crossing his arms and fixing Techno with a look that said, ‘I’m not going to stop until you tell me’. It was a look of stubborn obstinacy that Tommy had perfected a long time ago.
“I met him earlier,” his brother confessed, leaning against his desk. Tommy’s eyebrows shot up. He couldn’t see what the big deal is. “And he had these bruises. Bruises all over his stomach and side. And he was...” Techno waved his hand around abstractly. “I don’t know.” Tommy mulled over this. They were talking about the same person. He had obviously made an impression on Techno, and he had made a slighter one on Tommy. After all, he treated him like a person, not a head with a crown on it. The only people who did that were his family and Tubbo and Ranboo, but even Ranboo had a habit to be intimidated by him. But the look on Techno’s face.
“He reminds you of him,” Tommy guessed, not missing the way Techno stiffened. “But he doesn’t look like him.” Over the years, Phil had commissioned several portraits of what their brother might have looked like to aide in searches. He looked a lot like Tommy, actually. Same messy blonde hair and the same mischievous look in his eyes, even though they were brown. There were no glasses present, and the new guy - who he didn’t know the name of, come to think of it - looked more worn than the portrait. The new guy had dark circles, calloused hands, and bruises, apparently.
“I know. He isn’t him. But...” Techno trailed off. He looked up at Tommy who froze at the sight of a new emotion in Techno’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.
(I’m getting tired of writing, so back to third person POV)
And so the days passed. Wilbur kept bringing Technoblade his lunch and Technoblade noticed a strange tug at his heart whenever he saw the bright faced servant. Tommy ran into him often as well, given his he and his friends tendency to meet at Ranboo’s room. Having badgered Ranboo he found out Wilbur’s name and informed Technoblade of it. Technoblade of it. Tommy, however, was unaware at the fact that his eldest sibling went by ‘Will’. Technoblade was, and the feeling that something wasn’t right only grew.
Technoblade avoided his father at all costs, determined to figure this out by himself. But he couldn’t think of where to look. They had looked everywhere over these years, and what if he wasn’t even alive anymore? That possibility really hit the prince in the 5th or so day Wilbur had visited. They had been talking about philosophy- Wilbur was very well read - and Wilbur had mentioned the fragility of life. After he had left, Techno had paused, taking in Wilbur’s words.
But he pushed it aside, relying on his knowledge that his brother, his twin, was out there. He had to be.
And so the day of the festival came. Wilbur got ready to experience everything live, while Tommy had a surprising preposition planned...
(Wilbur POV... this fic is taking longer than I thought)
Wilbur woke up with energy in his bones, because this was it. The day he had come to the palace for was here. He resisted the urge to yell out. Ranboo wouldn’t mind if he did - who was he kidding, the young hybrid would let his sharp tongue fly - but he was trying be polite. However, that wasn’t really Wilbur’s decision, as Tubbo burst in, yelling about something or another. He jumped Ranboo with a cry of, “Ranboo my beloved!” Tommy followed with his loud, almost obnoxious laughter. Wilbur giggled along as Tubbo was shoved off the bed.
“Hey,” Tommy said, his voice surprisingly quiet, almost lost in the chaos. Wilbur glanced down at Tommy, who looked determined, albeit slight anxious. “As Ranboo’s room mate, you’re invited to spend the day with us - also because we need ‘supervision’, whatever the fuck that means, and you’re most likely to let us get away with shit.” Wilbur let out a laugh. “Also, you don’t have a choice,” Tommy added with a smirk.
“Alright then,” Wilbur conceded. To be honest, be just wanted to see everything. He didn’t care about who he was with. Tommy gave a satisfied nod before jumping on Tubbo and Ranboo, wrestling with the two of them. Wilbur was slightly confused; from the way Tommy talked about it, it sounded lively. But the way Sapnap described it, it sounded solemn. He voiced these concerns to Ranboo when Tubbo and Tommy had left to properly get ready.
“Well, it’s a little bit of both,” Ranboo’s said thoughtfully. “During the day, it’s like a festival. Meant to celebrate something or other. Don’t tell anyone, but I think it’s to try and distract people from why we really celebrate. A-Anyway, at night it gets a lot more serious. With the lanterns and the music and such- it’s a very nice atmosphere,” he said with a matter of fact nod. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” Wilbur said slightly breathlessly. He followed Ranboo out and down the hall, all the way to the palace gates, where Tommy and Tubbo were waiting. Tommy wasted no time, bounding done the road. The group quickly followed, though Wilbur felt eyes on him. He glanced back, and he could’ve sworn that he saw a flicker of pink in the window. It was gone as soon as it appeared. Wilbur shrugged it off, banishing the uneasy feeling that bloomed in his stomach.
The town that he walked through with Sapnap weeks before had been completely changed. The banner of the Antarctic Empire had been strung up everywhere, and vendors held pastries and little trinkets. People were laughing and singing and music - admittedly, there was no guitar - was being played around every block. It was truly a mission to keep the three teens under control. Ranboo was surprisingly mischievous while Tubbo and Tommy were unsurprisingly mischievous.
Tommy pressed a large amount of money into his hands, telling him that they would meet him in 20 minutes before disappearing. While Wilbur was scared of how much trouble those three could cause in that time frame, he knew he wouldn’t be able to find him. Despite Tommy’s loud personality, the boy had a knack for disappearing. Wilbur glanced around, the crowd feeling overwhelming. “Wilbur?” He whipped around to see Sapnap, one arm around Karl. “Hey, Wilbur!” Sapnap said, engulfing him in a one armed hug. “Quackity should be back in- ah!”
Someone Wilbur had never met before, who was presumably Quackity, came back with a large cookie which he handed to Karl. “Ey man!” Quackity yelled. A guitar was slung across his back and a blue beanie with the letters ‘LAFD’ sat atop his head. The barest hint of black bangs were visibly across his forehead. “You the new guy ASAP bring to the palace.” Wilbur nodded wordlessly.
“I’m supposed to be watching over the gremlin children. As you can tell, it’s not working out well,” Wilbur said dryly, much to the amusement of the three fiancés. Wilbur smiled, stepping aside to buy a small cupcake because he had been dragged out of the place before he could eat anything. He rejoined the small group and they had a surprisingly good time. Wilbur was surprised at how different all of them were. Sapnap burned with fiery passion and loyalty, Karl was slightly kooky, cheerful, and optimistic, and Quackity was loud and out there, with seemingly no shame.
“Hey bitch!” Wilbur groaned at the nickname but turned to see Tubbo emerging from the crowd with a bright smile, Ranboo and Tommy following. Ranboo shot him a sheepish and slightly apologetic smile. “We’ve been causing trouble,” Tubbo continued with an innocent smile.
“Of course you have,” Wilbur muttered, rolling his eyes. And the three boys followed him around now. It took the group of fiancés a little bit of time to get use to the three troublemakers, but the groups quickly warmed up to each other. And as it turns out, the groups were more similar than they thought. Ranboo and Karl, Tommy and Quackity, and Tubbo and Sapnap were near direct parallels which caused a big headache for Wilbur.
After protecting the group of children and the adults acting like children from being murdered by angry townspeople several times, night fell. As it turned out, Quackity was one of the guitar players that Wilbur had heard, so he went off to where he needed to be. The rest of the group walked up to the palace. Sapnap and Karl split up to ‘talk’. Wilbur was about to go to his room, but Tommy grabbed him and dragged him up the stairs, all the way to the palace library and out onto a balcony. Tubbo and Ranboo followed, making small talk and acting like Wilbur wasn’t being mildly kidnapped.
Tommy finally let him go and bounced over to Technoblade, who was standing with someone else. He looked surprisingly like Tommy, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Black wings hung off his back, and a crown rested on his head. It practically shone in the dark, gold and jewels acting as a lantern. It didn’t need to, really, because several lanterns were lined upon the balcony wall, glowing soft yellow.
King Philza, he recognized. The nostalgia he always felt picked up again as music drifted from the town all the way up to the balcony. Phil glanced at him but continued like his presence was normal. A ruckus kicked up back in the palace. Several guards ran out, but everyone continued like normal. “Probably some people partying too hard,” Tubbo said quietly.
Phil grabbed the largest lantern, a sphere one with the royal crest on it. “It’s enchanted,” Tubbo again whispered. “By Badboyhalo, one of the kingdom sorcerers. It’s supposed to find him.” Wilbur nodded. Phil launched the lantern with a lot of force, sending the thing flying into the air. It hesitated in the air, but nobody seemed to notice as everyone launched theirs. Wilbur grabbed the extra one quickly, glancing around. They all seemed it be muttering something different.
Wilbur looked at his lantern. It flickered warmly, the warmth of the candle flying through his body. “Please come back,” he eventually whispered. “Because these people love you. They’re your family. They miss you. They love you.” He gently let go of it, and the thing spiraled up, flying high.
Chaos erupted behind him and before he could turn, something connected with the back of his head, hard. He stumbled forward, hitting the floor as spots erupted in his vision. “Wilbur!” He wasn’t sure who yelled his name. He flipped his back to see- oh no. How had he found him? How had he guessed? Was Wilbur too obvious, was there something he could have done? He glanced to the side to see what hit him. A music box, now shattered. Pieces of colorful porcelain were scattered about the flagstones.
“Wilbur.” He flinched, pushing himself back from Dream’s voice. The same smiley face mask glinted at him menacingly. He could see Tommy stumbling back into Ranboo and Tubbo, a shocked look on his face as the three teens huddled together, panicked. Technoblade had a confused but violent look on his face, while Philza... the kind looked downright murderous. A hand was brought down on his face, snapping his head to the side with a crack. “How dare you. I raised you. Helped you. Took care of you. And this is how you repay me?”
Wilbur backed up, pushing himself back into the balcony railing. Dream advanced in him. Terror seized his body and he realized something. All his life, he had been scared of Dream. He had been scared of what Dream would do to him. And he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be scared of Dream. And he was. “I raised you,” Dream repeated stepping closer. Wilbur froze. He loved riddles, especially ones that mislead people with specific turns of phrase.
‘I raised you’ and ‘I’m your dad’ were two different phrases. Anger gripped him and he stood up, ignoring the stinging on his cheeks. He grabbed at Dream’s mask, ripping it off and hurling it over the balcony. He heard a distant CRACK! as it shattered. And he was seeing Dream’s face for the first time. Tanned skin and freckles with hazel hair and furious green eyes. A scar ripped across his face. Dream lunged at him, trying to shove him off the balcony. “You useless fuck! I thought you would be useful! I took you and thought I would get something! But no! A waste, a useless pawn!” Wilbur felt the stones beginning to crumble behind him. Dream was tearing at him viscously, carving shallow cuts across his face and sweater and sides.
He let out a muffled yell of pain as blood began to drip onto the stone. He processed Dream’s words quickly. He couldn’t fight back against Dream, but he could yell. “You lied to me! You said you cared about me, you said you loved me! Dream, who are you?!” He couldn’t trust Dream anymore. He tried to wrestle him off, but Dream was too strong, having fought off many mobs and friends while Wilbur hadn’t fought anybody, ever.
Dream raised his voice, sending Wilbur cowering slightly. “You dim witted fool! You haven’t guessed? You never put the pieces together? That you’re birthday is on the same day the lights appear? You ever put it together?” Dream asked, a smirk battling with the rage in his face. Wilbur froze, everything connecting as he thought about it. Was he..? He couldn’t be. But still. Still, it felt right. Everything clicked into place. He stared up at Dream, rage flickering through him. All this time, he could have been with a family that loved him. All this time, he could be with his brother, his twin, his father, his family.
“You monster!” Wilbur yelled, struggling against Dream’s hold. “You stole me, you took me, you lied to me and hit me and held me and LIED! Wilbur’s voice broke at that last word. Before he could say another word, the lantern that Philza had thrown came tumbling back down, the candle still lit. The lantern smacked Dream in the head, stunning him slightly. Wilbur took his chance, lunging forward and hitting the ground as he threw Dream backwards. He heard a sickening crack and whipped his head around just as Dream’s ent flying into the balcony wall as it crumbled, sending him flying off the balcony. He lunged towards it, but he was too late. Dream fell down, down, down, all the way into the river. He could see the ever present mask in pieces on the river back. Dream was nowhere to be seen.
“Fucking hell!” Wilbur cursed breathlessly, burying his face in his hands. He felt a hand on his back and he leaned into it. He didn’t know when he started crying but he did. He shook pathetically. He didn’t know what he was crying for, what he was mourning. The lantern floated down, landing softly next to him.
(Phil POV... bet you weren’t expecting this one, huh?)
Phil wrapped his arms around Wilbur’s shaking body. Wilbur... Orpheus. His son. His son was here, right in front of him. He looked up at Technoblade and Tommy, both of whom had edge closer. Tubbo and Ranboo were slightly behind Tommy, looking slightly out of place. Ranboo reached down and picked up the lantern, which had changed to glow a vivid pink. Tubbo gasped as he saw it, touching the fabric with an awestruck expression
Tommy threw himself onto Orpheus without hesitation. Technoblade let out a broken sob and jumped on him as well. The force sent Phil’s crown tumbling off the back of his head, durable enough to not crack on the stone. Orpheus flinched at the loud noise. Phil tightened his arms. “My son,” he said quietly, which spurred Orpheus to cry harder, shaking like a leaf.
Phil closed his eyes. As part of being King, he was able to see into the future. It hadn’t happened since Orpheus vanished, but it now came. Phil let his wings wrap around his family as he glimpsed the future.
He saw Orpheus sitting down with all of them, telling his life story and introducing himself as Wilbur. And he saw himself getting to know his son, learning everything about him like he never could. He saw himself crowning Wilbur his heir and he saw himself stepping down in a decade or two, letting Wilbur take the reins. He saw Wilbur being a great king, ruling with kindness. He saw himself passing, he saw his sons mourning him and honoring him. He saw Techno and Wilbur, being the twins they never were. He saw Wilbur caring for Tommy as an older brother should.
And most of all, he saw family. His family, complete and whole.