Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Within a royal palace parlor sits an alpha and an omega. There were no other friends, family, or even guards around to keep watch. The loneliness of the two was a relative scandal considering that they weren’t mated. Of course it is only a scandal because one was royal and the other wasn’t. Rumors could form, alliances dispersed over mistrust, and the eyes of the world would rest on them for months before suspicions were either confirmed or denied.

But they were friends.

At the time they were at least.

The omega sat back in his seat, one leg resting over the other as he nursed a glass of wine expressing nothing but a cooled and trained calm. The other leaned forward where they sat, hand moving pieces that laid before them disregarding the other as he watched his movements. Between them rested a chessboard. The game nearly finished as the two of them laughed over it, “Wilbur,” the alpha started, sucking in a worried breath. He spoke as he watched him with one brow raised, “I fear you may not win this one.”

The other nodded slowly as he looked down to the layout, while it seemed as though all was lost to the other, there was an opening to take advantage of that the alpha couldn’t quite see. Wilbur just had to make sure it stayed that way. So he let out a sigh, deflated in his seat, “I suppose so, but I wasn't playing too seriously, I wanted to have fun today. Was that too much to ask for?”

The question made Dream bark out an obnoxious laugh, head flown back and all while his chest bounced, “Just for fun?” He yelled before looking back to him, a playful glint in his eye, “You never want to play just for fun. You always play to win, you can’t fool me.” Wilbur made a huffed noise, rolling his eyes as he reached over to move a piece, “Bleuh, yeah yeah. I play to win. Let me brush it off for once.” Taking another sip of his wine he watched as Dream made a quick, yet reckless move. When a smile formed on the omegas face at the sight he used the edge of his cup to cover his lips.

“Let you brush it off? When I get to win this for once?” He barely watched as Wilbur carefully set up his guard on the board, “Good luck getting me to stop bragging about this for sometime now, Dove.” At this point Wilbur could tell what the other's next move was going to be. It would be an easy sweep, Dream couldn’t even see the pattern that Wilbur set up, “You can brag until I beat you next time, deal?” Dream chuckled softly at the offer, shaking his head, “It’s a done deal, but then you’d be banned from the kingdom for the foreseeable future.”

“Who says you can’t visit me instead? Would be a bit rude of you not to.” The game was going fast, but not fast enough for Wilbur to see that the guard was broken. Dream played a different move than he would normally. Biting on the inside of his cheek Wilbur played accordingly.  Dreams' voices could then be heard with faux innocence, “I suppose so, but we can do other things rather than chess if I visit.” Snorting at the implication Wilbur shook his head as well but for a different reason, “I don’t think so unless you want Techno to remind us that God would be disappointed.”

Dream laughed as one side of his smile perked up further, pausing the game for a few passing seconds just to ask, “Isn’t he not even religious?” Wilbur shook his head smirking back with crinkled eyes, “Not in the slightest as far as I know.” Shaking his head, Dream leaned forward again for the next play, “Man would still break my arm in three different places if he saw me near you.”

“What?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow, “No, no. He wouldn’t break your arm in three places,” he tsked slightly, setting his piece down to emphasize his next point, “Probably four places though.” Dream nodded, a smile turning into a smirk as he leaned over to grab his bishop. Watching his hand with intent as he placed it down by Wilbur’s king, looking up to his brown eyes with a smug expression, “Check.”

Wilbur didn’t move. Instead he only smiled back, the glass moved away from hiding his features, as he watched Dream lean in his seat. After a few moments passed of silent eye contact he directed the others gaze down to the board with his overly joyed iris’. Confused Dream's eyes floated down to look at the positions of the game. Seconds passed as the gears in his mind turned before it finally hit him, “Wait,” He mumbled as Wilbur finally leaned over to play the last move.

“Checkmate.”

Dream practically screamed, “What?” Looking between the board and the other, a baffled look plagued his expression, “How did you, wait, what?” The alpha was a bit breathless in his shock, but there were no negative implications, in fact he seemed rather impressed. Wilbur merely finished his drink before setting it down, “I could tell you were changing up your play style while we were talking,” Leaning down into his shoulder he looked up to the other with large eyes, playing up to stereotypes, “Bit disappointed you didn’t see the difference in mine.”

Dreams mouth was left open as he stared at the other, taking in a deep breath before deflating. Rolling around in his chair as he wallowed in self pity from his defeat, “Gods damnit.” He mumbled as he poured himself another drink, while refilling Wilburs own cup. The winner relaxed in his seat as they sat in silence. The others' defeat went unspoken as Wilbur looked out the window to the sea that rested beside the castle, thoughts milling over in his head.

A question formed, something ghastly and curious. Dreary and could easily cause a stir with the pair's inner circle, but the thought cloud swirled and formed into something dark over his head as he tried to push it away. Yet it was like fate was screaming at him to ask, pushing at the limits of his throat and straining his vocal chords to finally spill the sudden interest until he couldn't contain it anymore.

“If you had to take down another kingdom,” he asked suddenly, turning his head to look back at Dream, who was looking at him with an almost startled expression, “what would you do?” He watched as the other considered his options before him, a nervous sweat nearly breaking out as an awkward chuckle left him, “What a macabre question, little dove.” He responded. Wilbur merely shrugged his shoulders, unable to not notice how the other seemed to feel like he was caught, “Call it curiosity.”

Dream straightened in his spot, leaning back into his seat as he took in a deep breath, eyes looking past Wilbur as he started his answer, “I’d take out the bottom layer of support. Any major groups wherever I’m attacking that can ruin my plans. Even pawns can take out kings.” Clearing his throat he finally seemed to be looking Wilbur in the eye, “Then I would see if I could group any outlying enemies, those who know me, how I act, people who are truly smart who are against me. Then put them in a position of power. Gather as many of the most powerful people in one spot and take them out.”

Lifting his head up from his glass Wilbur tilted his head to the side, “That would leave you everyone else. What do you do with them?” He didn’t know what he was expecting with this next part. Didn’t know what the answer would be. Mainly murder, or slaughter. Get rid of any issues that had the potential to come from the inner workings of the kingdom, root and stem.

“I’d give them what they wanted.” He watched as Wilbur attempted to process what he meant. Eyes narrowed and calculating, “All that would be left would be people without a leader. Without a proper home. If I could convince them to trust me, to give them what they wanted. If I could become their leader. I would be an even stronger king than the one they had before because I had my own people and now them.”

“But you would have destroyed their homes,” Wilbur whispered back, not because he was shocked or disappointed, but because he felt like that move in the situation would be the wrong one, “Who is to say they wouldn’t rebel? If there are still pieces on the board a king can still get taken out, even after the game has ended.”

Silence rested over them like an uncomfortable partner, whispering worrisome fables and tales of potential dread.

Dream opted to stand, walking over to kneel before the other’s chair, and to take Wilbur’s cheek into his palm with a careful smile, “Then let’s hope nothing like one of our games is to ever occur in our life, little Dove.” With that Dream pressed a kiss to his temple with a smile; not knowing that this game would be their last on a board.

Ignorant to the fact that they would turn into hated strangers come summer.

Chapter Text

It started at a festival.

A small festival near the capital, with streets decorated with dancers, air filled with the wafting graces of carefully curated catering, the skylines were accented with colorful streamers, and the very aura of the town was excitingly beautiful. The sunset cascaded an array of colors that glowed on the very buildings that lined the streets, the slightly chilled breeze carried laughter and song, rushing past the features of the small group who was enjoying the festivities. It was to celebrate the changing of the seasons, as Summer came to a gentle close, relinquishing its place to a soft Autumn. 

Schlatt was hardly able to attend these festivals. Typically he didn't want to, other times his father had something for him to take part in, or he prefered the aftermath of his friends stumbling into his personal parlor before they found sanctuary on one of the various couches. That is not to say he's never been to them, but not enough to be fully familiar with their inner workings. Meaning he found himself following the lead of his friends, who have been to plenty more holiday festivals like this one, and entrusted them to do him right.

Of course this means they ended up in a tavern fairly quickly after dancing for a bit and tasting different vendors' foods. From a distance he watched children play games and their parents lightly gamble a few coins for a good laugh and half decent pocket change. For once he sustained from the mind numbing liquid being offered. Saying he wanted at least one of them sober. Of course his friends teased him for such cautious takings, but none forced anything on him. Leaning back in his chair, gray eyes held a dancing curiosity with their color, freckled highlights catching interest with the sky.

That's when the still air gave him the opportunity to hear the sirens call. A sweet melody that beckoned him forward with innocent intent. There was a blanketed emotion laced in the tone, unidentifiable, yet present. Schlatts ears twitched, facing the direction of the voice. There was something calming in the singing. Something unspeakably giving in the song that wrapped its theme around finding the love of your life in the middle of Winter. A deadness covered by beautied snow, giving way to the physical touch that all humans craved. 

He couldn't help himself. There was something in the voice that felt as though it was calling to him specifically. That pulled on the tether to his heart and told him to show himself to the owner of the voice. So he stood. He stood and ignored the questioning looks from his friends, mumbling that he would be right back before setting off towards the direction of the melody accompanied by the skillful playing of guitar. The music was hypnotic as it was done well.

Though there was a moment when the singing came to a close and he was worried that it wouldn't pick back up. That the voice would be lost and never give him another clue. Yet the fears were rather quickly sedated as the guitar strumming started up again for a different song, a different melody, and humming accompanied the music before transforming into words.

Weaving his way through the street Schlatt soon spotted a lone, near empty gazebo. Vines twirled around the top of its roof, flowers freshly bloomed, that would succumb to the change in weather, smiled at his passing gaze. Though none of this was what he was looking for. He was searching for the source of the melody and sitting on the rails of the gazebo seemed to be it.

A young man rested the back of his head on one of the paint chipped pillars, callused fingers pressed against tight strings of a guitar to produce a peaceful tune. With his eyes closed his expression was pure, clearly enraptured with what he was singing, face conveying the emotion with each word sung. Without even needing to look at the strings he was pressing on, the talent shone through with the simple action. His clothes were simple as well, a plain white shirt, brown pants, and obviously well worn boots that were scuffing the very wooden rail he sat on. But the only lavish part of the ensemble, the most important piece was the collar he wore. It wrapped around his entire neck with shimmering milky beads, save for an area that was a crimson red.

The way they fell made it look as though the jewels were a slit neck, and strings held the droplets of beaded blood amongst their beauty. It was the only extravagant thing about him materialistically.

Schlatt was utterly enchanted by the sight for reasons he wasn’t sure why.

All he knew was that he was surprised no others were flocking to listen to the heavenly voice. Maybe this was expected from each festival and the people had merely burned themselves out on it. Or maybe they didn’t have the courage to approach him. Maybe even the activities and drinks were more attractive than the angel before him, but Schlatt couldn’t see that being the real reason. So he let himself lean on the outside of an adjacent railing, longingly looking at the musician as he played the short song.

As it drifted to a close he finally made his presence known by clapping aloud to catch his attention. With an adorable gasp leaving him the other jumped before looking at him with wide eyes before relaxing slightly to see just him, "Sorry for scaring you," Schlatt hummed out, "It would just be a crime to not applaud such a fantastic performance."  The other seemed to blink at the compliment before it fully set in what was going on, "Ah, thank you then I suppose. Most people don't tend to stop by. I'm taking it you don't come to these festivals much?"

The question came with a tilt to his head that made Schlatt smile at the innocent sight, "No, no, unfortunately not." His mouth was left open for a few seconds before he paused, the question of why no one would come to see was left off on the tip of his tongue, giving the other an opening to speak as he took in Schlatts appearance, "You're rather bold, you know." It made his own question fall off as he raised a brow to the other, "Bold?" Schlatt asked curiously, rather confused, "How am I bold?"

The other raised his own brow as if his reasons for stating such were obvious, "Your horns. Your hair does nothing to cover them, and you don't even have a hat to hide them." The stranger explained to him. Confusion only bubbled in Schlatts chest further, "Why would I want to hide them?" Again the stranger blinked at him, clearly confused, "Citizens aren't pleasant to any of the king's bastards, it's a miracle someone hasn't challenged you to any kind of fight already." 

Oh. He thought he was one of his fathers bastards. Sure, there were plenty of them, and nearly all of them sported the classic horns and hybrid features, but did the other really think he was one? Well, to be fair he hardly came out in all his "princely glory" as his friends would put it. So one could only assume. The same would have to be applied to the musician before him. Appears the prince was rather lucky tonight.

Suddenly he was approached with two options at hand. Let the other believe he was a bastard, and be treated as an equal rather than a royal. Or expose himself and let the other do as he saw fit in response. Though he must admit, he felt that even if he revealed himself the stranger wouldn't believe him, or try to challenge him with the idea. Though the thought made him smirk to himself, the idea of a harmless game to play with his own identity. So he decided to deal himself in, "I'm no bastard, love."

The pet name seemed to catch just as much attention as the proud statement. Hazel eyes scanned him in return as their lips were pressed into a thin line, "Really now? You trying to tell little ole me you're the prince?" It was a simple inquiry, one that made the smirk on Schlatts face grow, "And if I was, would you believe me?" 

The boot was tapping the pillar it rested against, thoughts whirring around in the head of the singer, "Hm, only if you prove it to me. Tell me something only the king's son would know." It was like he was fully expecting him to reveal that it was all a lie, a story to pull at his leg. Though a voice in the back of his head wondering how any answer he gave, how the other would be able to tell if he was telling the truth. Yet those thoughts were pushed to the side, "As long as in return I can learn the name of the mysteriously enchanting musician in front of me."

A pause separated the two for a split second before finally he nodded, "Deal." Then all that was left was to say something only he would know, which was pretty hard, especially given that the other seems to know something about his family. If he was confident enough to judge his answer, "The king has two offices, one connected to his room and personal parlor; the other connected to a war room. Though he is only ever seen using the latter because the rumor is that the other was actually practically given to the family cat and is where he runs away to escape his responsibilities for a day." It would be one of the few things the castle servants knew and would feel safe enough to share. As far as he believed that is.

Silence rested between them again as Schlatt watched the expression on the other's face slowly fall and morph into some kind of masked stark realization, "You," he stumbled over his words, "You're being serious, you're actually…" his sentence trailed off as the realization slowly sank in fully. One side of Schlatts lips ticked upwards, seems as though he won "I would ask how you could confirm whatever I just said, but for now sweetheart, I believe I was promised a name for my efforts."

The other shook his head, not as a way to say no, but more so to relieve himself of any kind of over pressuring thoughts. To simply put it there was no way the other was who he claimed to be. The hybrid had to be one of the king's bastards, the prince never went out to festivals, let alone commoner events. Maybe the rumor had simply spread past the castle walls. Maybe the other was simply trying to impress him. At least that’s what he was telling himself, slotting the lie into the back of his head as the truth he just tried to look past it in the moment.

Shock was then switched into something akin to being startled, his shoulders jumping to his ears as he remembered he had his own side of the deal to fill in, "Oh, uh, my name is Wilbur. Wilbur Soot." He mumbled as he mentally confronted himself about speaking with actual royalty in that moment, because he wasn’t actual royalty. But instead of playing the part of his position, to be forced to bend over backwards in regards to his etiquette, or to at least visibly submit to someone above him on the social ladder he simply watched as Schlatt took a seat on the rail beside Wilbur. With the disregard to manners and the comfort of knowing a lie it made Wilbur ease his own back on the pillar parallel to his own, “Your royal highness I am so sorry for questioning-” he was cut off with the other raising his hand, signaling him to quiet down so he himself could speak up. Rude.

"Do not worry about it, I can’t blame you.” He expressed, watching the tilt of his head lean further to the right as he observed the “prince”, “Well then Wilbur, if you don't mind me asking, can you play me some more? You harbor the voice of an angel in that throat of yours and it would be a sin to not let it soar." Schlatt noted the light dust of pink that dotted the cheeks of the singer, likely from embarrassment from the comparison, or being unused to such praise. His mouth opened for a few seconds before he opted to close it, head turning down to stare at the ground before his eyes closed and fingers moved. Then finally Schlatt was happily blissed as the words made it to his ears.

His own eyes closed at the song, taking in the peaceful nature of Wilbur's voice. Humors of Whiskey was the song he sang if he remembered correctly. The way the sound gently caressed him encompassed the small gazebo around them. It was hard to describe the way he sang, but if Schlatt had to describe it this would be it as such.

"Your voice is like a form of love, Wilbur." Schlatt stated as the song ended, "I've been forced to operas, theaters, and way too many parties for a sane person to enjoy, but none have had a singer with a voice like yours." A soft chuckle rang across from the ram, "I would hope so. I think it would be far more entertaining and impressive to find two people with the exact same voice." The witty response only made him smile, "I suppose you are right, but even then finding a voice that surpasses the ever loved feeling between Darcy and Elizabeth is vastly more impressive than finding two of the same. Yes?"

He could see the way Wilbur bit on his bottom lip as he observed him, likely trying to separate which public rumors of the other were true and what part of his actions were a mere facade to trick him. Adjusting in his spot, Schlatt let the other take him in with silent pride. After a few moments Wilbur finally spoke up, "Is this how you are going to be?" Cocking his head to the side Schlatt eyed him curiously with a mischievous glint hiding in his features before responding, "Doting over a very attractive omega with a voice like no other, in hopes to see them get all bashful in return?" The rhetorical question seemed to make Wilburs cheeks burn red, which only made the wolfish smile Schlatt wore grow.

"I never said I was an omega." Shrugging he leaned back on the pillar a bit more, "Consider it a lucky guess." With pressed pursed lips Wilbur hummed out, "Mhm, you are still quite bold you know. Invading a," he wobbled his voice in favor of dramatics, "'hopeless omegas' personal bubble in an attempt to knock them off their feet with charming words. The scandal it could cause! Not to mention anyone who couldn't put it together, it could be considered you leading me on, knowing that no royal gets to choose their own mate. Very rude and rather unprincely of you if I might say. I would assume a nanny of yours would be disappointed in how you act."

The expression on Schlatts face never wavered or fell, if anything he grew more smug with the faux rant, "You think my words are charming enough to knock you off your feet?" It earned him a click of the tongue from Wilbur, "Maybe." The single word was all Schlatt needed to stand up and take a few steps closer to the other before leaning into the rail ever so slightly, "Tell me, my 'hopeless omega' when was the last time you let yourself be doted on? Because I can't help but feel that others have tried, but you simply would not let them."

At that Wilbur fell silent as his eyes were forced to look up at the other where he sat, sucking in his lips he lightly gnawed on them before sighing out, "I suppose I haven't let anyone dote on me for a few years." His hands were draped in front of his guitar, loosely intertwined with each other. Schlatt found himself taking the weight of one on his own. Not wrapping his fingers around the delicate hand so the other could pull away if he chose to, but there was no such movement to fret over, "Let me dote over you then. A night of care to overwrite years of stalemate. No passion is needed, just careful words and a soft place to rest on to express them." 

He could see the thoughts rushing through Wilburs head. But not the specifics. Firstly there was the prince's reputation, it’s been said that he and his father were one in the same. That they were awful people that would mistreat others for their own pleasure and entertainment. Yet he always found it troubling to agree when his own father could neither confirm nor deny the rumors. Secondly, and unbeknownst to the prince, Wilbur hasn't seen anyone romantically in years, and doesn't plan to again. He plans to continue his life by the sides of his family and help care for them until the end. There was no opening spot for someone else alongside him, "I hope you know I am not looking for any kind of relationship. I plan to act as a midwife for my brothers and help take care of them for the rest of my life, so even if you tried to use any of this against me it wouldn't matter." 

Even if the faux prince was as rotten as the real rumors say, a night of care was something everyone needed. Yet the truly wicked would force those they spent it with to choose a life of lonely nothingness, or to marry them. Wilbur has already chosen that loneliness. There was nothing the other could do to change that. So he had to take that risk into his palms and express that Wilbur already knew his own way even if socially the other was considered to be on a higher standing. But even ‘princes’ had to follow the law of social etiquette.

"If that level of abstinence is what you desire, a night of being told how radiant you truly are might be even better than first anticipated. Is it not?"

Wilbur considered his options.

He considered his options and decided that being praised for once did in fact sound rather enjoyable despite the possible risks. So he took the metaphorically extended hand with curiosity and hope for something memorable. Something to look back on when he is helping take care of his brother's children, or to tell them the story of this night as a means to offer them a glimmer for their own future.

He let the other link their arms together as he took him down a path towards the town's tavern to gather a private room. Wilbur couldn't help but notice a group of people whistling and whispering to themselves as they watched Schlatt and him take their leave to a bedroom upstairs. Humming Wilbur looked forward once again as they left the open bar and were facing the door.

Schlatt made an effort to break away from Wilburs arm to open the door for him, stepping aside to offer plenty of room. Nodding his head to him in acknowledgement Wilbur soon found himself taking a seat on the bed as he looked around the rather plain space. It was just a room for rent at the inn connected to the tavern so it was hardly above average, but that wasn't the point of his moment. The point of this moment was to look at the hybrid before him and see if he could find satisfaction in his loving words.

"So, the prince, heir to the throne, destined to be king, that's you. You decide to take a lone omega, who was minding their business and playing music, to an inn for a night, not for passion but poetry?" Tilting his head to the side a smug expression befell his features, "Especially choosing a rather plain person like myself. Goodness I'm not even dressed up. I thought princes were supposed to have refined taste?" Schlatts eyes went wide at the accusation, pressing a hand to his chest in offense.

"Refined taste?" He questioned, "Darling I have the finest taste known to man. My standards surpass stars and suns alike. The very wine I drink has to be aged for years before I consider it half decent. Yet you are more exquisite than any kind of finery I have ever encountered. You are an oasis in a full life. There is beauty in simplicity and everything about you screams that. You exceeded every standard I could have had. You pushed every boundary. You crashed every expectation with your voice alone. And I swear to the old Gods and new if you call yourself plain again I shall steal you away until I am sure you understand your true worth."

Schlatt watched as color filled the others expression, red tinting his cheeks with a huff. His expression eased as he took a step forward with a tsk, "A true crime has plagued you Wilbur. If that is all that it took to make you crumble I fear you may be a puddle by the end of the night. Melted by all the things I could say." He let out a gentle sigh as rough fingers barely brushed against soft skin, pushing a strand of hair behind the other ear before the tips of his fingers trailed down the edge of his jaw. Slowly stopping half way to hold his face, his eyes drifted down slightly, the red of the others jeweled collar caught his eyes long enough to steal them before looking back up to Wilburs gaze, "Though I guess that gives me a splendid opening, wouldn't you agree?"

The redness of his features only grew deeper, a small expanse of teeth could be seen as he bit into his lower lip desperately trying to think of a witty comeback of sorts to save himself from falling. His voice nearly failed him as he spoke, "Tell me, would you prefer to take said opening or steal me away?" The question only seemed to make Schlatts confident smile turn into a wolfish grin, "Love there is nothing to steal if you are willing to give it." Finally Wilbur was able to return a smile just as smug, "Who said I'd ever give it?"

A hum filtered past Schlatts lips as he examined the others, "Your eyes darling. They are a window to your soul and true desires," a pause pressed between them, Wilburs own gaze wandering down the features, taking in the small divots of his face before landing on his lips and forcing himself to meet his eyes again. Schlatt took in a deep breath of control before letting it roll out with ease, choosing the next words with care, “You stare at a prince far too much for it to not be noticeable. You take in what is not quite yours, but then who is to say I won’t take what isn’t mine.”

“And which part of me would you steal?”

"What if I took your lips? Stole a piece of love from an omega too scared to admit that they gave it away, but would gladly do so to sedate their own feelings? Kiss a being so loving whose mere touch could have someone undone at the seams? Who would stop that feeling? No soul is around to count for the crime of requited interest." 

Wilbur nearly crumbled to dust, crushed by the soft words the other provided, yet he managed to bite back a gulp and respond with his own confidence, "I am around to count for that crime, love." The other nodded, taking another careful step forward to ensure the other didn't feel the need to pull away in the moment, "This is true, but you wouldn't count me as a thief now would you?"

Leaning forward in his spot Wilbur shrugged softly, "And if I didn't, what would you do?" They were close. They got to this spot much quicker than anticipated, but neither were complaining. With mixed hitched breath they looked to the other with interest clearly resting in their pupils before it danced with the light that delicately poured into the room from the slits of the curtains. Bold eye contact remained unbroken as their noses nearly pressed together, nearly brushing by the others.

"Well," Schlatt responded with his breath felt on Wilburs expression, he was holding himself back from moving, to not ruin a moment and to wait to see if continuing would be okay, "I'd feel more desire to steal them then." Wilburs gaze was wandering, finally breaking away from the hybrid's gaze to eye at the lower half of his face, only to jump back up to meet the deep gray eyes with a dopey smirk, "Why don't you then?"

The vague question left room open to close the gap, a not too subtle way to tell him to do something, so Schlatt moved. He moved forward, pausing just as the edge of his lips met Wilburs to give him a second to change his mind, but when that fear of rejection was put to rest he settled his lips on the others. One hand carefully moving to cradle the back of his neck and the other moved to intertwine their fingers.

Wilbur hasn't made a move onto anyone in years. Hasn't tried to find anyone, or ever truly considered the possibility in full. But here he was, fully convicted to his chosen future of never marrying, kissing a stranger while being told he was beautiful in such poetic ways. Being carefully laid down as the hybrid pushed him into the mattress gently. There was something to be said in the way the heir held the back of his head, as if he were glass, or would turn tail to his decision of the night. It lit him up inside knowing how truly tender the faux prince could be. A bastard prince likely also with the reputation of being an awful being, who would laugh at misfortune and torture, because almost all did , yet the only torture Wilbur felt was the loud creaking of the bed as they moved likely giving other patrons the wrong idea.

There was a break that nearly felt timed, long enough to take a breath, but too short for a person to recover and bring themselves out of the moment. It was slow. Their heads moved as one when Wilburs free hand finally came up to hold onto the side of the other's face, running the pads of his fingers along his jaw while he hummed. Then finally pulled away with a bashful smile.

That was until Wilbur comically sputtered for a good half minute to dispel a short hair, likely from the others upper lip, with a chuckle, "Gods I don't know how you stand that thing, it must be so uncomfortable." And as the words left his mouth Wilbur realized his mistake as he looked up to see the mischievous smile and raised brows, "Uncomfortable? Really now. I mean it can't be that bad. C'mere." 

As he tried to lean forward again, with much more vigor and speed, Wilbur went far back in just as much time, "Wait! No!" He cried, but it was too late. His fate was sealed and punishment decided as he was trapped under the ram, "Nope! No can do! You gotta feel that it's not uncomfortable." He exclaimed as he pressed his prickly jaw to the side of Wilburs face and started rubbing, much to Wilbur's serious displeasure. He cried out and yelled, but nothing truly threatening. In fact by the time he started laughing it made the other snort and slow down. Giving him time to recover. 

Even then as his bubbling laughter trickled down Schlatt was still recovering himself. Adjusting in his spot so they weren't awkwardly arranged next to each other, instead he laid to face him on his side, even though his hands itched to hold the other the ram held himself back. He bit his tongue back until a few moments left them behind, until he and Wilbur were looking at each other again with small grins. As they looked to each other an expectant look formed in the hazel of Wilburs iris, as if he were waiting for something. Waiting for Schlatt to say or do something.

The way he looked at him lifted Schlatts chest, a lift that brought him into a free fall as he gave Wilbur exactly what he was expecting, "If I held you would you pull away, dear?" The whispered question only made Wilburs smile widen, "And if I did? Would you count it as a sin?"

"I think we shouldn't be counting sins, no matter what they are, here in this room. Pleasure before affiliation is considered sin, but if you pulled away now I would consider that crime worse." Knocking his head to the side Wilbur only hummed as if he wasn't already planning on spending the night with him, "Well darling, it sounds as though I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. What do you suggest I do?"

"Let me take your sins from you. You would not have to move a muscle and I can give you all the satisfaction you desire. Of course if you want me to stop I always can, but should you entrust me with yourself I promise my utmost care with your soul." Now that certainly caused a deep flush spread across Wilburs features yet again as he forced himself to clear his throat before starting a meaningless retaliation, "Rude-" the single word remark made the other bark out an obnoxious laugh. A motion of his head being thrown back into the pillows as he howled.

Wilbur tsked as he moved to hit the other with a light shove as he crossed his arms, "You idiot," Schlatt exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around him, "Now you can't move." It was true, with his arms crossed and pressed into the other's chest he couldn't move. Opening his mouth to speak he decided to leave it as it was before going quiet. The giddiness calmed itself to a small hush that merely whispered to Wilbur that everything felt perfectly fine in that moment. That everything felt perfect. Everything was perfect. 

Schlatt seemed to pick up on the relaxed atmosphere, his breath, indicated by the movement of his chest, eased into something even softer than before. Giving way for Wilbur to have the perfect resting spot for his head, which he gladly took. Closing his eyes he let himself drift with the other by his side, the flirtatious statements leading way to a scenario more comforting.

A smile slid silently to Wilbur's face, remaining still as he spoke, "You smell like burnt cinnamon." He commented, a simple observation while taking in the other. A chin pressed into the top of his head, tilting down slightly before relaxing, "And you smell like an apple orchard love. Rather nice in my opinion, I love apples." He chuckled, letting Wilbur speak, "And I love cinnamon." He paused.

"Does that make us an apple pie together?" The question made the other stop as well, looking down for a second before the same wolfish grin from earlier appeared, "Maybe. Tell me Wilbur, can I taste the apple in your pie?" The omegas eyes practically popped out of his sockets at the question, gasping as he lightly hit his shoulder, "Hey!" He cried, "That's so inappropriate!" A soft chuckle echoed around them, "But my beauty, you're still here." Schlatt pointed out.

With a roll of his eyes Wilbur huffed, "After that comment I honestly shouldn't anymore. You should be happy I'm not leaving." A laugh fell from parted lips as Schlatt pressed his nose into the top of his head, "I suppose so."

That was how they spent the passing hours. With jabbed jokes and laughter broken by the occasional moment of flowing flirting while the prince praised his nightly company. With trailing hands that pressed and squeezed at the softest parts of each other's bodies as they giggled amongst themselves as if they were teenagers in love for the first time. With their bodys pressed onto the other as gazes only broken when Wilbur grew too flustered to look him in the eye.

The morning came far too soon. Golden rays shone through the slivers of the window that peaked behind curtains. Wilbur had sat up, letting his curled mess of hair catch the light, highlighting the dark strands bright. He seemed exhausted as he yawned out, never getting a wink of sleep during the hours of being curled into a batard all night. Chewing on the inside of his cheek there was a far off look in his pupil as a sigh left him, "I think it's time for me to go, love." It was a mumbled sentence, obviously he didn't want to go just as much as Schlatt didn’t want to see him walk away.

A frown pressed itself into Schlatt’s features as his hand caressed his, "Why?" The question was soft, quiet, "Why not stay with me? I could give you anything you would desire. You know this." Fingers wrapped around his hand, he hoped that maybe a few hours of what they were doing would change a years-long decision. Yet deep down he knew that would never happen. The sheets shuffled together as Wilbur turned around, the light from the outside making him so much easier to see. They brought out the pinks of his lips, the red of his cheeks, the gold in his eyes.

Schlatt paused. 

The gold in his eyes? No one had gold eyes. There had always been handmaiden tales of omegas with eyes of gold. They change color when they find the person they were meant to be with. A way to find a soulmate. A true mate. They said that the pair who found each other would have a lifetime of happiness together despite any circumstances. That their love would battle any issue that approached, and that separating brought despair like no other. Schlatt never believed that old fairytale, but the selfish part of him hoped that maybe the\at fact would at least make Wilbur hesitate, "Your eyes, darling," he started, looking through his being just to examine them, "They're gold." 

Yet the words only made the color dim as his brows lowered to a hidden irritation, "Don't." Wilbur whispered out to him, "Don't ruin tonight with a lie." But it wasn't a lie, his eyes glimmered brighter than any new coin, or bar of gold. None of the riches and jewelry that Schlatt has seen in his lifetime could ever compare. Maybe because it was destined for those eyes to be for him. When he went to oppose Wilbur merely shook his head, "Don't, that's just a fairytale. That's not real. You're just tired."

He wasn't. Because now he was wide awake. Staring at the person he desperately wanted to hold onto for much longer. It explained the pull he felt with the others' voices. It explained that even though Wilbur didn’t allow others to dote over him, he let Schlatt do so. It would explain the quickness and everything that led up and pulled them together. Now he doesn’t want to pull away.

But he didn't say anything more when those lips were pressed into his own once again. A slow parting kiss to say goodbye, when he pulled back he only pulled away enough to speak where their lips brushed, "I hope to see you under good circumstances again." Before finally pulling away fully and getting up. The heir could only watch from where he sat as Wilbur put on his shoes, standing at the door with a bittersweet smile, "Hope you had a wonderful festival, ‘Prince Schlatt’."

A pinched smile was presented back, "And you as well, Wilbur Soot."

And with the other gone Schlatt had never known a feeling quite as lonely as his fated leaving in that moment.

Chapter Text

Schlatt is a selfish man.

He would never deny this fact, not even to himself. He knew it would be a lie. Growing up as royalty, or moreso born as the son of a man who took what he wanted, he learned from a young age the power he held over the heads of many. Later on he discovered how he could control it to his will, bend it in his favor. Taking that control he learned how to make people fear him, and on the other side of the same coin; how to make people idolize him. Social situations he would find himself stuck in became childs play to maneuver once he understood the demands of fellow elites. 

Those he lets close, those he would consider friends, have been around him for a long time. They grew with him and learned to weave through the castle with enough care to never have their suspicions called out into plain sight. Minx has found a solid spot as a records holder, Charlie a royal physician, Ted may only handle the animals of the palace but his position in their group is undeniable. Each of them were wise in their own ways and together they were an unstoppable force. Alone they still had that force behind them, yet together they managed to cancel out the flaws of another.

Schlatt was a selfish man, that all of them knew. Yet the three were always able to help in avoiding his impulses. Though there were few instances of him being able to hold himself back all on his own. Dealing with the aftermath of Wilbur leaving him, and deciding to not go on a massive search for the other was one of them. Standing from the bed and walking himself down to find his friends and go home was another. Ignoring the boiling rage and self hatred he felt for leaving his fated, even if the other wished to leave on his own. Ignoring the anger that came from agreeing to leave the other be instead of offering a bit of persistence, asking for a chance to prove his worth.

He hadn't needed to hold himself back from so much in such a long time that by the hour he pulled his friends into his parlor his back teeth were grit and a vein protruded from his forehead. The trio of friends behind him surprisingly didn't comment. They could see the immense amount of rage barely concealed with clenched fists and so they simply waited for it all to boil over, for him to scream at the top of his lungs and yell to the heavens how the Gods did him wrong. They waited for the outrage, for the broken glass and shattered tables. The pushed over furniture and ruined shelves. 

They did not expect him to slouch forward with a heave as his back faced them. They did not expect the soft sigh that escaped him soon after. They did not expect to see him rub at his face as if his anger fizzled into regret on the spot. Suddenly they were far more concerned than they were a few seconds prior. None of the three were able to speak before he beat them to it.

"The person I spent the night with had gold eyes." Was all he said, the implications able to seap in on their own, and the potentials of what happened forming without the need of words. Yet he gave them the grace of knowing, "We spent the night together, nothing serious just," he paused, fists tightening by his side, "Just together." 

Mumbling he moved towards one of the rooms loveseats, sitting on a table next to the seat had a tray of booze and glasses. Picking one of the glasses up he grabbed the bottle and began to pour himself a sizable portion to lean back with, "He warned me beforehand he had no interest in having any kind of relationship with anybody, and I said I was okay with that. Said that I wouldn't push him into anything. I don't want to push him into anything. But, Gods above," he sighed leaning forward. His friends meanwhile found their own seats to listen to his rant, curling next to blankets as they rested, "His voice when he sang, he, he had a voice made from love itself."

The statement caused visible surprise to make its way onto the three friends' faces, watching as the other longingly stared into his glass as if it contained the person he yearned for, "His kiss was soft and he smelled like apples. He made me laugh and felt so warm, then the way he held me so gently. I could swear to you I saw the world in his eyes and his smile shone like stars." He sighed, slumping into himself before downing his drink.

Minx blinked at her friend, eyes pulled together as her brain pieced together everything Schlatt had just said, "Gods above Schlatt," she mumbled, sounding nearly sympathetic, "You're down bad. After only a night too." She teased. Her joke made the other two by her sides snort as Schlatt straightened up, "That doesn't fucking matter! He had the fuckin' gold eyes shit going on and he was amazing and then he just up and left! I mean, I don't think he wanted to go just as much as I didn't want him leaving, but he still left."

Rubbing at his face and pinching the bridge of his nose he fell back into his seat, "And I even asked some of the advisors if they knew any houses that go by Soot and no one had answers, so even if we had a chance there was no way." He grumbled, pouring himself a second glass to down just as quickly as the first. Charlie grit his teeth, taking in a quick bit of air, "Well maybe it's for the best then." He tried to reason, only to retrieve a glare in return, "Don't give me that look, you know I'm right. Going against whatever your dad tells you is only going to cause rumors and tension among the nobles, and when the nobles are at unease so is everyone else."

Charlie watched as Schlatt only fell into the loveseat more, clearly agitated by the position he was put into, "This way, right now, no one is worried if you're going to go for someone that the king hasn't selected. People are already at unease, but the king's son going against his fathers wishes could practically cause a civil skirmish. Avoiding that would be best." Charlie was trying. Trying so hard to offer whatever silver lining there was, to lighten the situation in Schlatts chest. At the very least he wasn't entirely wrong.

Ted watched from his spot with a down turned frown, brows furrowed and tense shoulders, "Well," he mumbled, rubbing at his face as he thought over his words, "Well, there is still hope." He offered carefully. Gaining a hardened look from the ram, and a look from Charlie that begged him to let him have the good advice for once, Ted went on to explain, "Well if you're right and he is your fated mate, it's called fated for a reason. There haven't been previous complications with high borns and their golden eyes before, the Gods wouldn't do you in like that." Snapping his fingers he pointed to him gaining a bit more excitement as he spoke.

"Not to mention your father is looking to rebuild ties with the kingdom, there's no other choice securer than a fated match." Schlatt grit his teeth, staring down at the glass in his hand as he listened to his close friend, he always hated to admit that Ted always knew what he was talking about, "That's not to say you should throw all caution to the wind and move forward, but it might just not be time yet. Just because you met them already doesn't mean it all starts then." 

Pausing for a second, one side of his smile went up as he pressed his lips together into a thin line, "I suppose just have some hope."

Schlatt scoffed out at the line. Brain going over everything the others were offering before shaking his head, "Yeah, some fucking hope. Never would have thought of that one Ted. I'm sure hope will change dear old dad's perspective on things. I can guarantee you right now if Wilbur wasn't who he has in mind he would disregard the true mates thing entirely. Or even worse, he is and he uses it against him. Gods, that would be the last thing I would ever want." Rubbing at his face he moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing close as he forcibly took a breath in.

Ted only watched his friend sulk where he sat, "Give the old man some credit, he's an asshole in every regard, but he knows when to draw the line," Schlatts head lifted to send a glare at his friend who quickly finished off the line with, "When it suits him of course. This just so happens to be a situation it would suit him in!" He tried to reason.

His friend only groaned, the two others watching from their respective spots while sending each other looks to express their thoughts as they watched the two go on. All four of them were ignorant to the footsteps that closed in on them from the hallway. Making their way to the door before pushing at the oak and then stepping into the room.

An older man with greying brown hair and numerous extravagant accessories graced the room with his presence as he eyed the scene before him with a quizzical brow as his head was cocked to the side curiously. The four in the room turned to his direction, all except the prince stood in greeting of their king before he waved a dismissing hand to them, "What is with all the sulking today? I thought you all went to the festival last night so you could get ready for the party in the coming fortnight?" 

The question was met with a strained look and response. Schlatt gritting his teeth as his mouth opened as he tried to think of a response before shutting his mouth again, brows furrowing deeply as he struggled to form the words, "Had a merchant cut your tongue for sale?" The older man asked as he stepped past the couches and loveseats to properly make eye contact with his son. His son who wasn't responding to a simple question.

It was Ted who braved to speak out to the king at that moment. Who looked between their small group and looked up to meet his gaze, "Your highness, if I may ask a question?" Sharp eyes cut from his son to the stable man, looking him up and down before answering, "You already have." In a bitter tone. Ted only smiled, "Does the name Wilbur Soot mean anything to you?"

Schlatt clenched his jaw as the words were spoken, a deep protective instinct ignited as he shifted his gaze to his father again. His father who held a similar expression for different reasons. With a tight knit brow and a deeply sunk in frown the king said nothing as the moments passed them all by. The silence thick with tension on both ends, the other not explaining their own reasons for such. The king held eye contact with Ted, both strong in their efforts of not breaking it. Until the king's eyes closed gently before reopening them to keep his presence noticed.

"I had received a letter from Dream expressing his curiosity over finding a future queen, knowing what kind of person we are in search for. Before asking about potential ones I could have already had in mind." He paused, as if wondering if he should share, or wondering if it was even important to note, "Wilbur Soot was one, a son of Philza that I did not know about. He, along with the others Dream mentioned, had received an invitation for the banquet." 

The fact seemed to blow life into the group, with wide eyes and mouths agape. Minx was the first to speak up, "Your advisor has other children besides Techno?" She asked, given a blank stare from the other, "Obviously," Shaking his head the man removed his gaze away from her, "Gods knows why. The man has known me for years." 

It went unsaid that the fact that he's known him for years is probably why Wilbur was never brought up.

"Now, why is it of any importance to you if I know him?" The question was cold in its utterance, and finally it was his son who spoke up for them, "I had met him at the festival," Schlatt answered honestly, eyes looking down for a second before deciding to continue his explanation, "I spent the night with him, nothing intimate. Just company." The quick clarification seemed to stop an impending heart attack as the king pressed a hand to his chest, "Fuck, boy! Warn a man before you scare him."

Schlatt merely raised a brow, "What? Am I not allowed to follow in my fathers footsteps?" He teases before shaking his head, "I wouldn't want to ever do that to someone. You should know that." The king practically growled in his response, finding frustration in the situation alone rather than playfully sarcastic banter, "And you shouldn't. Those bastards of mine could take this line out if they so wished and the last thing we need is any more being birthed." 

"If they're so tedious to deal with, why did you bring them into the world to begin with?" Schlatt asked in faux innocence. There was no garnered response, instead the king held his head in silence as he wrapped his mind around it all. Pressing the pads of his fingers to the sides of his temple in thought.

"If anything, if he comes to the party I want you to keep an eye on him." Straightening himself out suddenly the horned pair made eye contact, "We need an arrangement that would boost a positive reaction from citizens. Marrying one of their own can do that. His father has been one of my advisors and scouts for years. His brother is this kingdom's Lord Commander. He is the best we could find and I don't need you screwing it up before we get the chance. Am I clear?" 

Schlatt did not smile. He did not express his thoughts. Expression was a sign of weakness to the older man and the last thing he needed would be to make him angry.

"Crystal."

The one word response was deemed worthy of a nod of recognition, "In the meantime keep yourselves useful. Train with Sam, spar with Punz, go over literature. If I find you wasting your time not bettering yourself, or drinking to an early grave we will be speaking." Schlatt nodded in understanding, "Of course father." 

With that the king went to turn heel, walking to the door, words turned to ash on his tongue as he bit back whatever he was going to say in that moment. Only shooting a glancing glare to his friends. Then the man was gone. 

His lack of presence made the room feel empty. The tension having undoubtedly dissipated, the judgemental gaze turned to someone in another room, the unmatched confidence in a person's own abilities alongside the cockiness levels of a rooster having now faded. The air now lacked another person to consume it. Yet the absence always made the room heavier.

But when Ted looked at Schlatt there was a gleam in his eyes. As if he proved a point. He knew something that the other didn't. He was a step ahead and everything was turning in his favor.

"See?" He asked, "Hope."

And Schlatt knew exactly what he meant. 

And Schlatt smiled, "Dumbass."

Though it was two people who left that room. Two people to deal with unexpected fathers.

When Wilbur made it home from the festival a smile never seemed to leave his face. There was something lighter in the way he walked, something bubbled beneathed his being, a skip to his step. It was strange. Especially considering Phil was expecting his son to come in with a hangover and a half after being out all night. Yet it was like he hadn't had anything the entire night. That he remained completely sober, even though he never made it home.

Obviously nothing terrible happened, which Phil thanked the stars for but that still left a few mysteries to unpack. The man had just finished making him and his sons a simple breakfast. Eggs, quite a bit of sausage, and more than plenty types of fruits and vegetables that could feed half the army. Sometimes he swore, with the amount of carrots his boys ate, that they were more rabbits than human. But that discussion could be saved for another date.

For now as he finished the meat he watched his son sway into the same room, a small smile etched into his face from the night's fun, "Morning father." He greeted while taking a seat to watch the other work, "A good morning I take it?" Phil questioned easily with no real demand for an answer, "Fun night?" 

Carefully he studied his son's features, the way he sucked in his left cheek to gnaw on its inside, the sudden jostle of his leg as it innocently bounced. Small details hinting at something bigger, and just like he would have hoped his son took notice of his gaze and observations. Instead of trying to hide or avoid whatever happened Wilbur merely gripped onto the excess fabric of his pants, chin tilted up as he took in a deep breath, "I spent the night with someone." He admitted.

The confession made Phil pause, gazes much more noticeably taking in his son's figure with either worry or damned curiosity. Both of which the brunet found amusing, especially as a strained glance fell to his stomach before the boy bursted out laughing, "Not like that!" He was quick to derail that train of thought, "It was just," he held his breath trying to think of the right words, "It was just spending time together really, and, and well, lying close together-" Phil by this point raised his hand, "Nope, nope I get the picture. No need to further that image." 

Wilbur chuckled, raising a hand to rest his head in his palm. Eyes shifting as his father moved about the kitchen, "It was rather nice." He admitted softly. Phil was going to make another witty parental remark about privacy, but his mouth quickly shut as he saw the look on his son's face. He had been so closed off since the incident that to share a bed, even with a stranger for a night, meant something to him. Phil, at least, should be able to respect that much, "He didn't push for anything, and he was well versed in flirting. I can confirm that."

The boy was practically giggling, the sound lifting something in Phils chest to let him know that he was healing, moving on from what happened those years ago, "He spoke to me like I was poetry that he was trying to figure out, but every word he uttered was just-" and with that he was lost again. Unable to find the right words to describe it. Phil smiled as he turned his attention to breakfast again. The man may not be one to pride himself, but it smelled fantastic, even though it did mix with their own scents strangely, along with the lingering scent of someone familiar that he couldn't quite place.

"Who was it?" He asked simply, in attempts to bring his boy out of his daze. It did so in part as he blinked his eyes to refocus them on his father, "I don't think I was able to get his real name, but he was one of the king's bastards. Had horns and such." Phil paused where he was as he was taking the sausage out of the pan, his son rambling, "Asked him about a palace rumor, which I was rather surprised he got right, but it was one I wouldn't be surprised if the maids let out."

Phil could feel his veins go cold with each second passed, breath shot as he asked out, "Which one?" There was no eye contact to hold. No gazes to meet. Wilbur answered to a turned back, "About the cat and the war room." Bile threatened the edges of Phils throat. While the rumor was benign the maids would never let any one of them escape the palace walls. Especially if it softened the king's hardened image. Suddenly that familiar laced scent had a person to go with it. 

Wilbur very quickly had his father next to him, the meal abandoned as he smelled the air surrounding him before freezing entirely. By the time he pulled back a hand was pressed to his mouth as his brows knit together in thought, "Father?" He questioned lightly, only to be met with a stern, "That wasn't a bastard Wilbur." Yet he wasn't angry or seething. In fact he seemed to be more concerned than anything.

"But," Wilbur muttered, brain not working as fast as he would want it to, "he, he seemed nothing like what you told me. What the rumors are. There's no way the man I met last night was really that Schlatt." The boy tried to reason, only for his father to shake his head, "No, no. Scent of cinnamon, knew the rumors, let me guess did he have mutton chops as well? Gray eyes?" Based on his son's reaction the answer to those questions would be an undoubted yes. Face frozen with shock he was quick to gulp down his climbing fear, "No, I mean," he sighed, "Yes but, but he was kind and he didn't push for anything. He didn't try to keep me there against my will and when I left he let me go."

Anxiously scratching at his head he babbled along, "I-Well, the most he said were my eyes going gold? But, that's fake! It's just a fairytale it-" Wilbur was cut off as two hands planted themselves on his forearms, holding his father steady to look him in the eyes, "Wilbur, I want you to listen to me closely. The royal family is manipulative. They're good at lying and making allies from it. You're an advisor's son and the Lord Commander's brother, and the King is looking to marry the heir to a relative commoner . A good amount of people and towns know you from your deeds and performances. He needs that boost. To him you would be the best pick."

Wilbur held his breath, his father drilling it into him that the royal family wasn't to be messed with in such an uncertain time, "Wilbur, please," he visibly softened, "I don't want what happened last time to happen again." The plea was soft yet it still broke something in his chest as his father gave way into hysterics. He’d seen so much damage that the royal family caused, "You were lucky and people were around to help, but you could have died." Resting his head on his son's shoulders his voice shook, giving in to his true worries and fears, "They will find your weakness and gamble lives if they so wished, including your own, your brothers. Don't let them do that." 

Questions danced on the edge of Wilburs mind, curiosity plagued his thoughts, worries willing wrapped around his head, but all he did was lean his head down into the hug as well. Holding his father close as he mumbled, "I won't. I won't let them do that to us." Moments passed before he gently continued, "I went by mothers name anyway. It would take them time to figure it out and hopefully by then someone else will already be set up with the prince." He could feel the smile form as the blond pulled back, eyes crinkled with relief, "Good. They may be highborns but they can certainly be a bit slow."

With a chuckle the two pulled away, going to start on breakfast, knowing Tubbo and Tommy were likely still asleep from their long night. The meal went by quietly, Phil perking up once or twice to talk about what he's been doing for the past week and the future plans to finish up their harvest for Winter, as well as finding better spots to hunt when the snow finally starts to fall.

Close to the end was when the raven came.

The raven let them know that things weren't playing out quite like expected.

Reading the letter attached Phil's brows were tense, confused, decorated with worry and slight fear. Wilbur watched as his father went over it from the table before taking in a deep breath to read it out loud, " To the Watson household, the royal family is glad to invite you to a banquet to celebrate loyalty and comradery to the kingdom. We welcome our royal advisor as well as his two sons Tommy Watson, and, " he paused, eyes closing as the frustration boiled beneath his skin, " and Wilbur Soot. " 

He could tell his father wanted to crush the paper in his hands, but it was their way in and seeing it destroyed could be seen as a sign of disrespect. With grit teeth Phil gripped at the strands of his hair, "This banquet was already planned to be used as a tool to find suitable partners and-" before he could rampage along again Wilbur was quick to cut his train of thought, "It would have been too fast." The statement seemed to make the other pause. Looking at his son with narrowed eyes and pricked curiosity. Wilbur bit on the inside of his lips as his brain quickly threw everything together.

"The prince and I only departed, not even a few hours ago." He started, "There's no way that within that time he made it back to the castle, explained to the king what happened, convinced the king to invite a random omega, figure out who my father was, and even if that was the first invitation written the raven would have taken much longer to arrive. The letter had to have been sent before we departed. Or if it was a string of luck, why didn't you recieve one for just yourself first before this one?" He could see the gears turn in his fathers head, tense shoulders upright as he mentally went over every possibility that he could think of. His son was right, it wouldn't make sense if it stemmed from the acts of last night. With such a short time span it was almost like,

"Someone told him about you." Wilbur watched as his father gripped the edge of the table, taking in a deep breath as he sighed, "Someone who knew us, who was close enough to us to know about you and Tommy, but powerful enough to convince the king of your existence and family ties." A hand found his chin, fingers danced along the edge of his jaw, "There's not many people it could have been."

"It could have been him ." 

Phil paused his thoughts to look up to his worried son. His son whose leg bounced as he chewed lightly on the ends of his fingernails. Moving forward to rub his back soothingly Phil mumbled out, "He has nothing to do with this family anymore. He seeks his power elsewhere now and it should no longer concern us." Wilbur wanted to argue but he couldn't find it in him to do so, the strength once in him now dissipated as he leaned into his fathers side.

A sigh ripped through the older man once again, "I suppose all we can do is hope for the best right now." Wilbur deflated at the thought. Maybe he could just not show up. Or maybe he could never deal with them again. Or he could run off to another kingdom entirely. Wilbur was so exhausted in his response.

"Yeah. Hope."