Chapter Text
Around 5,000 years ago- Ancient Egypt
When Thomas woke up, he didn’t realize today would be the last day his heart would beat for a full twenty-four hours. Today was Thomas’ seventeenth birthday, and he would be celebrating alone, with no father, no mother, just his advisor, Wilbur. Wilbur practically raised Thomas after his dad, Dream, died in combat when he was around seven or eight. The pair developed a strong, brotherly bond that Wilbur knew would transcend lifetimes. Wilbur, while also being Thomas’ royal advisor, also taught him about the ancient languages of hieroglyphics. He was proficient in the subject and translating this language into words that a young Thomas could understand, to which Thomas was intrigued with. Thomas always considered Wilbur to be a brother that he never had. The two enjoyed exploring pyramids together after dark and playing tag around their palace. Though Wilbur hated to admit that he enjoyed playing with Thomas, he loved it.
Wilbur didn’t feel carefree in this world because he was pressured to be on a tight schedule all the time working for royalty. But with Thomas, he felt carefree. He felt like, he too, was a child at heart. Thomas always teased him saying that he is a brother to him, to which Wilbur always shook his head. “If you keep that up, you’re gonna make me cry, Thomas,” Wilbur would always say to him. This gave Thomas the goal that he was going to make Wilbur cry one day if it was the last thing he did.
Little did he know that it would be.
“Hey, Wil,” Tommy asked in that childish whine that makes parents not able to say no to them, “wanna explore the pyramids today? I really wanna play hide and seek with you.” Wilbur shook his head and said no when he knew he really wanted to say yes. “Come on, Wilby, it’s my birthday today.” Wilbur paused. This thought of Thomas’ seventeenth birthday rattled his mind. He felt like something was going to happen; he knew something would happen. He was warned of the consequences of Thomas, and he vowed to protect him after Dream had explained everything before he was killed. “I’m going to go alone if you don’t come.” Wilbur cursed to himself in a language Thomas didn’t understand. He couldn’t leave Thomas alone, knowing what was going to meet his fate. He wouldn’t make it past today and Wilbur knew that.
“Alright, I’m coming, just let me get some torches and make sure I have done everything I need to for you today, Thomas,” Wilbur responded. Thomas couldn’t help but act giddy, as he lit up like a Christmas tree. He felt this sense of joy and pride that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Adventures with Wilbur were what Thomas always referred to as their little trips around the desert.
As the pair left the safe confines of the palace, Thomas and Wilbur entered the scorched sand dunes, which felt soft with each step they took. The sun emblazoned their surroundings with rays of gold that made the sand that enveloped their feet shimmer like microscopic jewels.
“Remember to be careful, Thomas. I don’t want to lose you, alright? We only have these two torches and I have enough to only reignite our torches once. So, please don’t do some stupid shit,” Wilbur warned, as Thomas managed to secretly roll his eyes without Wilbur noticing.
“There’s the pyramid I want to explore, Wil. It’s this one. My dad’s in there. I always visit him on my birthday, remember? I don’t know if he knew who I was, but he’s in there.” Thomas exclaimed loudly, maybe a bit too loud, as village folk that lived on the outskirts of the kingdom looked at Wilbur judgingly. Wilbur didn’t say anything to them, as he drew closer to Thomas, who was running closer and closer to its entrance.
“Thomas, wait. Slow down. I don’t have your energy," Wilbur called out. Thomas stopped and looked back at Wilbur, Thomas' short blonde hair kissed with sand. He smiled excitedly, as Wilbur caught up. The pair eventually made it to the entrance to the pyramid where Dream was laid to rest. The pyramid was grand and had tens of thousands of hand-placed sandstone bricks lining the exterior. The entrance was considered to be family-only and was a sacred entity from the public eye. No one could go inside unless given very specific permissions. Thomas visited the pyramid every year on his birthday, to tell his dad what he did that year and what types of things Wilbur taught him. He always left written notes written to Dream in hieroglyphics. Thomas awaited with anticipation as Wilbur opened the door to the dark mouth of the pyramid. He lit the torches and handed one to Thomas before he went inside. Wilbur closed the rusted iron door behind him and continued on.
"Thomas, wait up. It's dark and I don't wanna lose you. Thomas!" Wilbur called out, not seeing Thomas' torch around him. He heard no response. "This isn't funny, Thomas. If you aren't going to behave, we can just go home. Answer me if you hear me, Thomas. Don't make me count. One… two…"
"I'm down where my dad is, Wilbur," a loud voice called out, which reverberated loudly throughout the walls. “But where?” Wilbur thought to himself. He knew the pyramid well enough that Thomas wasn’t too far out of his reach, but he was far enough away that he couldn’t see the faint golden glow of the emanating fire which would give him the signal to find Thomas.
The way the pyramid was constructed was relatively complicated. There were a lot of winding hallways and corridors that led to nowhere or different burial sites. One of the most complicated, if not the most complicated passageway was to Dream’s burial site. It was basically a labyrinth of its own kind, with so many different ways one could go, but every time, Thomas made it there with no fail. Wilbur often joked that Thomas could navigate the place in his sleep and that was how he knew it so well.
Wilbur went down the narrow stone corridors, ducking his head down so he wouldn’t bang it. The deeper in he went, the narrower and shorter the paths got. Because Wilbur was tall, he was not overly fond of having to deal with these really dark and narrow pathways that felt like they got narrower and narrower until he had to slink down the floor as though he were a snake. He placed his hand on the stone walls that were practically engulfing him. The end is near, he thought to himself, as the cavity became wider and Wilbur felt as though he could finally breathe again.
Out of the darkness, Wilbur began to feel a warm feeling that engulfed his body. Fire. He saw the fluctuating and pulsating glow of gold beckoning him to draw closer to it. The burial site was near. Wilbur called out for Thomas once more, to which he responded softly.
“Look, they added something new, Wil. They added a new mask. I didn’t even add this one!”
“Yeah, they did, didn’t they, Thomas?” Wilbur responded softly, his voice calm and firm.
“Can we play hide and seek now?” Thomas asked, anticipating Wilbur to say yes.
“I-I have a better idea,” Wilbur responded, his words echoing around the otherwise solemn and silent chamber. “Why don’t we play a little bit of tag? Hide and seek is too difficult and dangerous here with all the mazes and paths, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t get hurt, Wil. I promise. I’m a strong man. I’m seventeen. I'll be an adult next year!”
“But you’ll always be seventeen,” Wilbur whispered to himself silently, soft enough so Thomas couldn’t hear it. Wilbur watched Thomas shrug it off and his face beamed with excitement. It only made him even more bittersweet, knowing what Dream had told him. He sat Wilbur down before the war that killed him and explained everything. He didn’t know why Thomas had such a short life span, just that he is destined to die at seventeen, or somewhere really close to it. It haunted Wilbur to know that Thomas, his non-biological brother, his protector, the one he practically raised after Dream died, was going to die tonight. He could die very quickly or very slowly; Wilbur didn’t know which way Thomas would go. He didn’t want him to go. Thomas had a life that he could live fully and prosperously, being the Pharaoh of the kingdom, ruling with Wilbur as his right-hand man.
“You're it, Wilbur!” Thomas chuckled as he ran around the sarcophagus that held Dream’s mummified body. Wilbur stood frozen, watching Thomas run laps around in circles not even exhausted at all. Wilbur zeroed in on the brass details of Dream’s sarcophagus, and how there were new masks placed around the burial site that resembled Dream’s, that were covered in thin and sheer layers of sand that crumbled from the ceiling. Wilbur also noticed that the sarcophagus itself was custom-made to have Dream’s traditional mask placed around the face of the sarcophagus. “Hey, are you gonna catch me Wil, or are you just going to stand there?” Thomas asked, still zooming about.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Wilbur responded, shedding a bittersweet smirk. He jogged trying to run after Thomas and managed to get him. Wilbur laughed for the first time in so long, after anxiously awaiting this day. Thomas’ seventeenth birthday. He never thought, that after Dream told him this, he would ever laugh again, that he would ever have fun again. Wilbur found beauty in the little things. The small things would seem insignificant to others but were incredibly meaningful to Wilbur. “Now you’re it, Thomas!” Wilbur chortled as he feigned hiding from Thomas. Wilbur let him catch him, just to watch him laugh and smile and be happy. He deserved to be happy. “He deserves so much more than what he’s got. I wish the world were wide enough so he could live longer.”
Wilbur paused and saw Thomas being a child, and he couldn’t help but reminisce. He saw this really young version of Thomas playing tag and hide and seek with him in the palace, hiding behind the oversized vases and the imposing sandstone pillars. He heard the resonant laughter of Thomas, his Thomas, laughing and having so much fun, as the memories overlapped with what he saw.
“You’re it again, Wil. Come on! Catch me! I dare you,” Thomas exclaimed. Wilbur tried to chase after him but noticed the torches running low on their brightness. “Shit,” Wilbur cursed to himself. “Thomas, hey, buddy. I need to reignite the torches. Just come back here so I don’t lose sight of you.”
No response.
“Thomas, this isn’t funny. Get your ass back here. One… Two… Three. THOMAS. I swear to the gods. Get. Back. Here. Now.” Wilbur yelled through gritted teeth, his voice cold and scared. Wilbur rarely got angry or upset at Thomas. He rarely raised his voice at all unless Thomas was being petulant. There was still no response. Wilbur looked around and noticed Thomas wasn’t even in the room with him. “That bugger,” Wilbur whispered to himself. He went searching down the corridors, and the different, more hidden, passages that led to different parts of the pyramid. Thomas could easily fit into these smaller nooks and crannies that Wilbur couldn’t. Wilbur made it back to the main core and heard amplified footsteps in the distance.
“Thomas?!” Wilbur called out, concerned. Thomas didn’t respond. “No. It’s just us in here, right? Right?! This can’t… this… fuck.” Wilbur turned his back to reignite his ever-dimming torch. As soon as the torch was reignited, Wilbur heard something. Something that he never wanted to hear.
A scream.
Thomas’ scream.
“THOMAS!” Wilbur screamed, his voice thick with worried paranoia. He knew what he was going to see; he prayed that what his eyes were going to bestow upon him was false. Wilbur dropped the torch and ran. His heart was beating out of his chest, and anxiety made his stomach lurch into a knot. Tears and sweat were beading down his face. Time was of the essence, and Wilbur knew that. “Thomas was dead,” were the only thoughts that popped into Wilbur’s mind.
He finally found Thomas in a separate clearing, his body slain. Sword marks pierced through his soft and youthful skin, blood still pooling around his abdomen around where the sword cut through roughly four inches. Thomas didn’t say a single word. His body was in one position: on his back with his head lolled to the side, slightly askew. He didn’t fight back, it seemed.
Wilbur saw Thomas, his Thomas, his pride, his joy, the one that he practically raised on his own. The Thomas that loved to hear him explain what each hieroglyphic meant, and used to play with this little handmade scarab plush that he was gifted shortly after Dream died. The Thomas that loved to run around the palace, or pretending he could fly on magic carpets using an old rug in the dining room. The Thomas that hated thunderstorms, that hated hearing the wind howl loudly through his windows at night and would run to Wilbur for comfort. The Thomas that called Wilbur his brother. Wilbur froze. No matter how much he could prepare himself, he couldn’t. How could he? Thomas, his Thomas, was dead.
Wilbur knelt down, everything around him becoming white noise. He didn’t even hear his own cries. The only sound he heard was his heartbeat which seemed to grow more distant before it, too, became white noise. He picked up Thomas’ body and held it close to him as he sobbed. The world froze. Everything froze, even the speckles of dust on Thomas’s tousled blonde hair froze in time.
“I wish that you didn’t run out of time. I wish I had more time with you.”