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Wilbur doesn't know what to think of Prince Tommy.
When he'd accepted the mission to infiltrate the royal family's personal guard he'd been expecting to meet a young prince just as vile as king Dream himself. Instead Prince Tommy is… an enigma.
Sometimes he's loud and demanding, just as stuck up and spoiled as Wilbur thought he'd be, but in the next second Wilbur will catch him passing spare bread to a shaggy haired dishboy who looks as though he hasn't had a proper meal in his life or cupping his hands around a baby bird that had fallen from its next, clearly holding back tears as he whispers assurances to the dying animal.
It doesn't make sense.
Maybe that's why Wilbur puts forth such an effort to be assigned as Tommy's personal guard.
Temporary personal guard, he reminds himself.
He only got the position because Punz, the knight who usually took on the responsibility, had been sent away on an urgent mission by the king, and Wilbur made sure he was in the right place at the right time to take advantage of the opportunity.
“Thomas,” Dream says, sharp and stiff like it’s a command instead of a young prince’s name.
The prince rises to his feet immediately, abandoning the book he had been reading on the table and turning to face the king. Tommy bows his head in respect, and Wilbur can’t help but feel that the interaction is… uncomfortable.
“Your majesty,” Tommy says, opening his mouth as if to continue only for it to snap shut when Dream starts talking.
“Sir Punz will be gone for some time--”
Tommy’s head snaps up, “Really?”
“Don’t interrupt me,” The king says, tone deadly enough to make a shiver run down Wilbur’s spine.
Dream stares Tommy down for a few tense seconds before continuing.
“As I was saying,” Dream says, “Punz will be gone. In his absence a temporary guard will take his place.”
The prince nods, but Wilbur can feel the nervous, almost eager, energy radiating off the boy. Dream must sense it too because he narrows his eyes.
“And Thomas?”
Tommy’s eyes flick back to the king.
“If I hear that you have been taking advantage of this situation…” He trails off, an unspoken threat in his tone.
“Of course, your majesty,” Tommy says, and Dream nods.
The king waves his hand towards the prince, gesturing for Wilbur to step forward, before addressing the knight.
“So much as a hair on his head harmed, and I’ll have your head,” He says coolly, and suddenly Wilbur can sympathize with Tommy’s stiff shoulders and trembling voice. Dream is terrifying when he wants to be.
“Yes, your majesty,” Wilbur says curtly, and without so much as a goodbye the king turns on his heel and leaves the library.
The resulting silence isn’t nearly as tense, but it’s just as awkward, and Wilbur finds himself wondering what, exactly, a personal guard is supposed to do. He settles for standing guard at the door, heaving a silent sigh when he realizes just how much his back is going to ache after this all is over.
The prince, on the other hand, seems content to return to his book and shoot the occasional curious glance at Wilbur when he thought the knight wasn’t looking.
“What’s your name?” Tommy finally asks, and Wilbur turns his attention to the prince who has closed the book and is now resting his chin on his hand, eyes firmly trained on his new protector.
“Wilbur, your highness.”
Tommy’s nose wrinkles as a look of disgust crosses his face, “Look, unless Dream’s around, just call me Tommy. I hate all that title shit.”
Wilbur blinks but recovers from his surprise in an instant, offering a small smile to the prince and nodding his head.
“Of course, Tommy,” He says. Something in Wilbur’s head likes the way the prince’s name feels on his tongue. Short and sweet yet carrying enough substance to leave a weight behind when it escapes Wilbur's lips.
"So, Wilbur," Tommy drawls, kicking his feet up on the table and leaning back in his chair, "How did you get so lucky as to get the privilege of babysitting yours truly?"
The prince tilts his head, "You're not one of the kings knights, that much is obvious. Yet Dream would put his favorite toy in your hands. Why?"
Favorite toy. Wilbur tries not to get caught by the odd term. King Dream may be a bastard, but everyone knew he cared for his son. The man would go to any length to protect and provide for the prince. So why does Tommy seem to have so much distaste for the man?
"I'm not really sure how it happened either, to be honest," Wilbur says, twisting his voice to play the part of a sheepish young knight, "But truly it's honor--"
"Cut the bullshit," The prince says, and Wilbur stills.
Tommy smiles, "You were hiding it well, but I'm something of an expert at discovering when someone hates my father."
Alarm shoots through Wilbur, and he shakes his head, "Your highness, I would never--"
"Oh for fucks sake--I'm not going to turn you in," Tommy says, and Wilbur stops dead in his tracks.
"Why not?" Wilbur says warily, "From what I hear, you could have me thrown on the streets or worse with nothing but a few words. Why protect me when it's clear I hold no loyalty to the crown?"
"Because," Tommy pulls his legs off the table and hops up, dusting off his pants, "Dream is a prick."
Wilbur barks out a short laugh, and Tommy's lip twitches in amusement.
"And," Tommy tacks on casually, "You're easy on the eyes."
That catches Wilbur off guard. The laugh in his throat turns into a cough, and he stares at Tommy with wide eyes.
Sure, there were rumors that the prince's tastes leaned towards men, but they were just rumors. For Tommy to just outright say it… well, there are people who would cry for Tommy's head if they knew.
"I-uh-you…" Wilbur fumbles for his words, "Thanks. Thank you. I guess."
Tommy laughs, a loud, unrestrained sound that has Wilbur chuckling along with it even if he is still a little shocked.
"You're welcome," Tommy says before he grins, "Say, Wilbur… what do you say we go have a little fun?"
For a moment Wilbur forgets why he's here. He forgets that Tommy is the enemy, and he smiles right back.
"I say lead the way."
----
"Techno, he's nothing like what I expected, what any of us have expected--"
"Is that so?" Techno drawls, but Wilbur hardly hears him, already barreling on.
"--and prime the way he smiles could light up the entire kingdom, I swear it. For the first time in the last year and a half I'm actually looking forward to my job, can you believe that?"
"Not really," Techno says.
"Not to mention he called me easy on the eyes," Wilbur stops his pacing to turn to Techno, "Can you believe that? The crown prince of Essempi is gay. Prime there would be riots in the streets if the people knew."
"Wilbur."
"Riots I tell you, and he told me, just like that! Am I really that obvious?"
"Wilbur!" Techno snaps, and Wilbur finally shuts his mouth and actually looks at his brother.
"He's the prince," Techno says slowly, like he always does when he thinks Wilbur's being spectacularly stupid.
"Yes," Wilbur says, "I rather thought I had established that."
Techno groans, scrubbing a hand over his face.
"He's the prince, Wilbur," He repeats, "The son of one of the worst tyrants history has ever seen. Whatever you think you see in him is a lie. I don't care if he falls to his knees at your feet. When we tear down the castle and drag every traitor out of the rubble, his head will be right next to Dream's on the chopping block."
The blood has drained from Wilbur's face, and something like nausea swirls in his gut.
He's never liked the violence necessary for revolution. Wilbur would give anything to be able to free the kingdom from Dream's oppression with nothing but his words, but Techno and Phil had always been insistent that this is the only way.
Violence is the only language men like Dream understand, Phil had said to him one night.
After that Wilbur had understood that death is the price of freedom, but now his long faded horror is surging back up his throat as he imagines what Techno has described.
Tommy, sweet laughing terrified Tommy fighting and pleading as he's dragged to the square, tears streaming down his face as he begs for mercy, swears that he isn't his father, but the people don't listen. Not with the adrenaline of victory still fresh and demanding the blood of tyrants.
"No," Wilbur says, "No, you can't-they can't-Techno they can't do that. Tommy hasn't done anything wrong! He's innocent. If anything he's as much a victim of Dream as we are--"
Techno cuts off Wilbur's desperate defense with a sharp laugh.
"Is he?" Techno scoffs, "Oh yes, poor little Tommy who's safe in his gilded tower with food and water, heat and clothing, a hundred servants at his beck and call--"
Wilbur shrinks back from Techno's mounting fury, flinching as a fleck of the man's spit hits his cheek.
"--poor Tommy who isn't starving on the streets like the people that Dream has abandoned!" Techno shouts, "Are you even listening to yourself, Wilbur? Have you been in that castle for so long that you've forgotten what it's like to be the scum under the shoes of people just like Tommy?"
Guilt hits like a punch to the gut.
Techno is right. Wilbur has forgotten what it was like to fight for so much as a mouthful of bread on those freezing streets as knights jeered and laughed as they passed.
"...I'm sorry," Wilbur manages, finally, and Techno softens, something like regret flashing across his face.
"I'm sorry, too," He admits, "But I'm not going to let you become one of them, Wilbur. I'd rather die."
"I won't," Wilbur swears, "I'm in this until the end Techno, you know that."
The tension rushes out of Techno in one breath.
"I know," He says softly, "I know, Will."
----
Wilbur is different after that.
He doesn't let Tommy drag him on any more adventures, no matter how much he wants too when Tommy turns those hopeful blue eyes on him. He doesn't banter or laugh. He goes back to calling Tommy 'your highness' as a reminder of what Tommy is.
The enemy, Wilbur says to himself when Tommy finally stops asking him to go out to the garden with him, hope turning into hurt and then to bitter silence. The enemy.
"Was it something I did?" Tommy asks one day, voice so small and unlike the boisterous prince Wilbur has gotten to know that it takes Wilbur a second to even process what Tommy said.
Tommy takes a breath, "I'm sorry if it was something I said, or did, or if I'm just too fucking annoying. I don't really get the chance to talk to people and I thought…" The prince trails off, shaking his head, "I don't know what I thought, but I'm sorry."
Wilbur feels like his heart is cracking in two.
Can Tommy really be the enemy? Can he really be evil after all Wilbur has seen?
"You didn't do anything," Wilbur says, and Tommy's gaze snaps to his.
Wilbur looks away as soon as their eyes meet, the flicker of hope on Tommy's face enough to make his stomach churn.
"You didn't do anything wrong," Wilbur repeats.
"Then why?" Tommy asks, and Wilbur struggles with the answer.
He wants to tell Tommy the truth, to spill every secret that's been burning behind his teeth for the last two weeks, but Techno's voice hisses in the back of his mind, telling him that Tommy would sell him out in an instant.
Tommy seems to sense his inner turmoil.
"Is it because of the rebellion?" Tommy asks softly and Wilbur sucks in a sharp breath.
"How do you know about that?" Wilbur breathes, and Tommy shrugs, picking at a loose thread in his trousers.
"Like I said, I'm good at spotting people who hate my father," Tommy says, "Am I right? Is that why?"
"I wish things were different," Wilbur says instead of answering directly, but he knows Tommy understands, "But they won't listen to me. I tried to tell them, Tommy. I tried to tell them who you were, but they only see the crown."
"That's alright," Tommy says.
"It's not," Wilbur whispers, "Nothing about this is alright."
The silence that follows is kinder than the tense silence that has followed the pair all week, but it's still heavy with the knowledge of what the future holds.
When Tommy finally breaks it, he sounds distant, as though describing a dream he can't quite remember.
"Do you think, if we were born somewhere else in some other time, that we would have fallen in love?"
"Yes," Wilbur says. He doesn't even have to think about it.
Hell, Wilbur isn't sure he needs another universe. It's been less than half a month with only a handful of conversations and Wilbur thinks he might love Tommy already.
"I think so, too," Tommy says.
When Wilbur turns to Tommy the prince meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around Wilbur's neck and letting Wilbur crush him to his chest in a tight hug.
They cling to each other, Wilbur's stiff uniform wrinkling under Tommy's hands, until the world slowly starts to feel real again, and the embrace slowly loosens until Wilbur is staring Tommy in the eyes, his hands still clasped around his waist.
"Is this alright?" He asks.
"No," Tommy says, but before Wilbur can stiffen and pull away he continues, "If you don't kiss me right now, I think I might actually die."
Wilbur laughs and Tommy laughs too, and the moment he's able he presses his lips to Tommy's, once then twice then half a dozen times.
First they're soft, full of remorse and love, then they're more insistent, and finally Tommy's mouth parts and Wilbur tastes heaven for the first time.
"I think I could kiss you for hours," He admits, and Tommy raises a brow.
"Who says you aren't about to?"
"A brilliant point, your highness," Wilbur says with a grin before dragging Tommy into another dozen kisses.
It doesn't go past that, kisses in the dark corners of the most abandoned wing of the castle.
They can't risk doing more, not with Wilbur's life on the line and a guard around every corner and they still haven't figured out how to save Tommy from both Dream and the rebellion, but for the first time Wilbur knows with certainty that burns in his gut that everything is going to be alright.
Wilbur has always been a poet and a singer more than a soldier, and what kind of poet doesn't believe in the power of true love?