Work Text:
Wilbur is quite intrigued at the thought of spending time in this castle. He doesn’t quite remember how he and his father managed to get here, but he figures the warmth and food are enough to make him stay.
Theseus is nice, he notices, and they get along quite nicely. Especially since the kid can read through the minds of others. He finds that the blond looks very similar to his dad, and wonders if they’re not actually brothers. Perhaps they lost each other when young, and Philza has been trying to find his brother ever since. Maybe that explained the thieving.
The Blood God is interesting. Although, intimidating at most. Wilbur finds that the wither hybrid always has a look of sorrow on his face, especially since the child was given his new room. He sees that there’s some sort of guilt in the king’s eyes, and it lingers, and has a grip on that young ruler’s heart. But Wilbur can’t do anything about it, so he ignores it.
The guards are cold with him, avoidant, and often seem to not look him in the eyes, or not even look at him at all. He wonders if it’s because he’s different, when he’s very much human. They seem sad, or guilty as well.
But it isn’t for him to figure that out. So he ignores them.
He wonders where his dad is, and when he’ll come back. He did say he wouldn’t be long.
But Wilbur is patient, and won’t fret for the time being. He can’t be impolite when he’s being sheltered in such a nice place and nice people. Although they seem distant, he deems them to be good, which is enough for him to put his guard down.
Theseus keeps him busy, to the point where he doesn’t realize he’s been in the castle for a whole week now.
He’s constantly given warm meals, as well as a lot of water to balance what was lost during his time with Philza. When he listens hard enough, he can hear the king whisper about the man with wings, and how he must’ve stolen him too.
Wilbur knows Phil isn’t evil, and didn’t steal food and resources for nothing. And he knows his father didn’t kidnap him.
But he's a child.
What’s the point of arguing?
For now, he focuses on his new brother, and they get to spend entire days together, under the careful eye of the Blood God.
The days go by quickly, Wilbur notices, so much that winter has finally arrived. Except he’s never seen winter, he’s never seen the wonders of the cold weather and the stars falling from the gentle clouds above him.
He’s so mesmerized by the first fallen snow, so mesmerized by the cold, yet, soft feeling against of snowflakes against his little fingers, so caught up into trying to catch the tiniest bit of snow into his tongue, that he doesn’t notice how the kind’s stare is low, filled with sorrow and guilt.
He doesn’t notice when Theseus’ face falls when he suddenly hears his older brother’s thoughts after two months.
He doesn’t notice when the guards have completely turned away from him, as he runs around to catch as much snow as he can.
Wilbur doesn’t notice that his father hasn’t come back for two months.
And Wilbur will never know the cold truth behind the stone walls, and will most likely never find Phil’s cold bloody left to rot in the dungeon, where he was brutally murdered before the Blood God’s eyes.
And the king hopes to gods that Wilbur will never find out that Philza was killed under his command.
Perhaps, as more snow falls, Wilbur will forget the name Philza, as well as the person that he once was.
The snow continues to fall, and as one last snowflake lands onto Wilbur’s tongue, a whisper makes way into his mind, like a gentle caress, a cold breeze that makes him halt.
And the world sees red.