Chapter Text
Wilbur didn’t like children. Well, okay, he liked them, just not to the extent his instincts were supposed to make him like children. Phil had always talked to him about how his bird brain was supposed to work but it just never seemed to be like that for him. Sure, he loved kids. They were great! Tommy, as much of an annoyance as that child was already and would surely continue to be, was still very much loved by Wilbur, just not quite loved. Not absolutely adored in the way Phil loved Tommy. In the way his brain was supposed to love. But that was okay! He just found love in other ways and different forms than Phil had said he was supposed to. He still felt love for his people as a prince. And for people as the person he was. He still loved.
Like Sally.
He had met her only a few days after his brother had left the palace; gone out in the world in favour of taking care of a kid, which came as a surprise to everyone. Wilbur especially was rather shocked by that, he had expected his brother to return once he found the kid a home. But, he supposes that it could be his brother's natural piglin instincts that caused it all to happen. Techno had always been more in tune to his instincts and their ability to take control over his actions than Wilbur so of course he would come to care for such a small child as the enderling he had taken under his wing so to say. But that left him alone in the castle. No one to stay up with him in the late hours of night while he wrote up declarations, or songs, or trade agreements or anything else he needed to write. No more offers of warm drinks or simply being there when Wilbur needed him to be. He had his father but it simply wasn’t the same as his brother.
Either way, he had been particularly lonely by the time he met her.
It was cold, autumn coming as fast and as cold as the winter normally did that year. His breath had fogged over that day while he sang, a scarf wrapped protectively around his precious vocal chords. His songs had been sadder that day. More of a somber tone to them than some of his others. Maybe he just needed to vent out some frustrations.
“I know you, don’t I?” She had asked him. He had paused his playing, the strings of his guitar stilling as he looked up at her from where he sat on the cold cobble streets. His hood falling back from his face a bit as he looked up at her.
She had been lovely. Fiery red hair pulled back into intricate braids with enough left loose at the base to hang freely down her back and a bit over her shoulders. It blended perfectly into her ears where they rested on her head. They flicked under the chill in the air. Her dress was torn in several places with the faded colour of use, face smudged in dirt with the brightest smile he had ever seen to top it all off, one that almost rivaled the sun in its beauty and shine. He had coughed, pointedly ignoring the sudden flush he felt on his face when he met her eyes. The intensity behind that gaze had startled him a bit.
“I-I don’t think so, Miss.” He says, quickly averting his gaze back to the hard stone walkway below. His fingers return to the frets and he plays on. She did not move from her spot in front of him.
“Sally, and I do believe I’ve seen you before.” He didn’t doubt that. It was rather often he took a moment of respite to himself to go out and play in the freedom of the city. Many passers by stood for a few moments to listen before moving on with their day. “You’re that brunet prince, right?” She asks, keen blue eyes pierce into his soul when he looks up, terrified. She laughs and takes a seat next to him. “Keep playing, I like it.”
He truly didn’t think that would be the start of it all.
Those simple words would spark so much.
They began to meet, time and time again. The same place, same time nearly every day. Some days she brought him flowers, some days he played the guitar for her. It was a sort of awkward dancing around each other before Wilbur found himself truly coming to love her. As a friend at first, then it all seemed to hit him suddenly that there was more.
“Come live with me,” he had said one day, grabbing her hands. He could feel the chill of winter beginning to bite at his exposed hands. She had looked startled when he asked so suddenly.
“But, wouldn’t your father prefer someone… better?” She asked, suddenly shier than her normal persona of the spunky loud woman he had come to know. “Someone, noble?”
The words hurt him in a way he never thought words could hurt. To think that Phil, his own father, would prefer him to bring home a girl as royal as him home rather than one he loves almost disgusted him.
“He’ll love you, I promise.” His hand tightened around hers, she squeezed back just as tightly. “He’s going to love you almost as much as I do.”
She laughed with tears in her eyes as she pulled him into a hug, resting her head against his collar bone.
“You’re going to be a great fit in our family.” She laughed further as he picked her up, spinning her as the snow began to fall around them.
===
Sally had fit.
For the longest time she was a perfect addition to his family. Phil had liked her when they first met and seemed to want her company on the more painful days where he couldn’t force himself out of bed. She was great with Tommy on the odd occasions she had to take care of him and he seemed almost calmer in her presence as well. Finally, she knew when to stand up for herself against the fellow royals that spoke up against her position as current running consort to the crown prince. She knew when to be loud against their voices, standing up for Wilbur on the few times he was targeted as well. Life was good, for a long time. For the first months, as winter came and went, one of the coldest they had experienced in a long time, they were happy as a family.
He… Wilbur isn’t really sure when it started going downhill. He, he thinks it started small. Little things here and there at first. Things he wasn’t there for. Some of the workers talked to Phil about Sally saying some… not great things, to which his father brought it up with her. It would resolve peacefully and quietly. Then the same workers came again, and again. The cycle repeated through the winter. It wasn’t anything too bad though.
It, it may have truly started, at least for him, once the winter ended and the spring slowly began to thaw the lands. That, at least, was when he first noticed it.
They had gotten into a fight. It wasn’t over much, something about her not feeling loved enough despite how much Wilbur showed it to her. Taking time away from his role to shower Sally in affection, they shared a bed every night and he nearly fixed his horrible sleeping schedule just for her, something he had never done before for anyone. He had already taken time away from being crown prince to care for her.
Apparently it wasn’t enough.
The next thing he knew his head was being thrown to the side, his glasses flying away with the force and his cheek stinging suddenly. He raised a shaking and disbelieving hand to his face and winced away from the pain from where he touched. When he looked back at Sally she had looked guilty, holding her hand to her chest with horror gracing her beautiful face, like she, herself, hadn’t expected the slap. She said nothing as she ran from the room. He could imagine she was crying as she did.
It was nothing really, he had mostly been shocked than physically hurt by it. It stung for a bit but nothing he hadn’t faced before. He simply took some time to cool off by strumming his guitar for a few minutes. He thought she was doing much of the same, somewhere out there blowing off her own steam.
Sally had come into their room late in the evening, an apology gracing her lips and he forgave her. It's what he was supposed to do, he was okay after all. It didn’t hurt that bad.
They continued from that day like it never happened.
===
The second time he took notice of it was in the later spring, only a few weeks after the first incident.
They had been sitting together, not on the same seat but close enough to feel the others presence. He had been writing notes down onto sheet music, guitar in hand as he played around for a bit. Fiddling with chords and lyrics alike, waiting for them to click properly. Sally had been laying on the bed, embroidery hoop in hand as she stitched patterns into one of her newest beloved dresses. When he stopped for a moment to take a break and let his mind settle for a moment from the creative fever he had been lost in she spoke up.
“I really wish you wouldn’t do that.” Sally sneered, not looking up from her work as Wilbur did for her.
“Do what?” She sighed, placing the embroidery off to the side and sitting up more on the blankets of their bed.
“Do this,” she gestured over to his work, spread out before him on the ground. She glared at the sheet music as if it had offended her personally. Maybe it had. “It takes up so much of your time. And what for?”
He had laughed initially, until he had noticed she did not join him.
“I’m writing a song for you.” He said. Sally had always liked his songs dedicated to her. Saying he was a regular Orpheus–Techno would have liked her for that–and always spoke about how she was flattered. She didn’t smile when he said that.
“Just, promise you won't sing again? I just don’t like it.” She growled, starting a bit harsher at the parchment on the ground. Singular lines and scattered notes etched in a deep black ink.
“Sally,” he began, placing his guitar gently on the ground beside him as he stood, taking the few steps he needed to come face to face with her. Taking one of her hands in his and looking into her striking blue eyes. “I cannot promise you that, I love you and I love my work. I cannot abandon one for the other.”
She had tears lining her eyes when he said that but didn’t cry as he walked back to sit on the ground, continuing to write.
Later that day he had found all of his music sheets torn to shreds, countless hours of work thrown away like it was nothing.
He didn’t play the guitar around Sally anymore.
===
Wilbur knows the day it got worse. Much worse.
Their relationship had been complex before they had reached the breaking point. Some days were easier than others. Some days Sally was like how she was before, willing to sit around while Wilbur was busy, entertain herself with whatever hobbies she had picked up since her time at the castle. Other days, like the flip of a dime, she was completely different. Like she hated Wilbur and everything he stood for.
She started to throw things at him. Little things, nothing that would hurt; pillows, papers, a pen or two. Nothing that could hurt. She was just playing around, making a joke. Then it progressed; a vase that crashed against the wall and one of the maids cut herself cleaning up.
Phil had spoken to him about it. About how this wasn’t healthy, wasn’t okay. He pulled at Wilbur’s heartstrings by trying to say that even Tommy didn’t like Sally anymore. He ignores his fathers pleas. Besides, it wasn’t that bad. Really. It could be worse. For many it was worse, he had nothing to complain about.
Then there came the night that, for the rest of his life he would simultaniously regret and, somehow, be thankful for.
Between them there had been their spoken and unspoken rules and boundaries. Sally and he had discussed many things once she had been officially moved into the palace and given the rank of the crown prince’s intended. They agreed on many things.
For starters, there was to be a mutual respect between them, they were to protect and honour each other no matter what was to come. Neither was to overstep boundaries, whatever that might entail. That was the first thing they ever agreed on. It covered all the bases. A spoken agreement that they would ask before doing anything that may spark discomfort.
Secondly, though they would be sharing a bed, sleeping together was out of the question. Both of them were far too young for that kind of thing anyways. It was out of Wilbur’s comfort zone and the prospects that came with it also made him terrified. Sally had made it rather apparent that she didn’t really care about that, she had done it before and was willing to again with him. But she waited. She waited because they respected each other. And what she wanted wasn’t something Wilbur did because he didn’t like the idea of the aftermath.
That is to say, Wilbur didn’t want kids.
He thought Sally didn’t either.
Maybe she didn’t, maybe this was just an excuse.
“I want you.” She had whispered from behind him. The bed below her had sagged where she sat and Wilbur was suddenly all too aware of everything. Every touch of her skin against him, her breath hot against his shoulder where she laid gentle kisses, her arms around his chest locking him where he sat. His mind went blank as he sat there, suddenly all too tense as his heart beat like a drum in his ears.
“We… we had an agreement.” He tries to offer to her in exchange for his freedom from her arms, from his own bed. Her grip only tightens around him. His chest follows suit and constricts.
“But, if you loved me you would do this for me.” That, that seems to hit him a bit too hard. Like a knife of pure guilt to the chest. He felt tears beginning to prick at his eyes. He did love her, just, he wasn’t–he didn’t. “Just this once?” She whispers to him and it sounds so sickly sweet on her tongue.
So he laid there without much of a fight as she did as she pleased.
It could have been worse though.
===
It had been barely six weeks after that day that Sally got the news.
They were having a child.
And Wilbur could not be more miserable.
Because if this child came to be he was stuck with her. She was stuck with him. The baby, his baby would be trapped in the same hell he has been for the past year.
He asked her one night while they were about to sleep, no longer in each other's arms but an entire bed away.
“What are we going to do?” He whispered into the silence of the young night, hearing the blankets shift next to him. She took a few moments to think before she spoke.
“I don’t know,” and that was all she needed to say. Because Wilbur didn’t know either.
===
“We’re getting rid of it.” She said only a week after. That, that had shocked Wilbur. He had expected something… he didn't know but he thought it would be different. (Maybe he just wanted the answer to be different). “I don’t want a child.” She stated.
“Adoption?”
The look she gave him said enough and he knew this was something he would need to bring up with Phil.
So they did. Explaining everything to the king as he sat with Tommy in his arms on his throne. His father had looked calm while he listened but Wilbur could feel the judgement burning in his eyes. He was such a fool to think Phil would accept any of this. So, he turned his head downwards in shame until Sally finished the story up to what they had planned and the silence permeated the grand hall.
“And Wilbur, what about you?” His fathers voice was still as soft as it always was, like Wilbur was still a child in need of guidance. He looked up and met his fathers soft blue skies as they looked at him. “What is your side of this story?”
“I-” his throat constricted around his words and he choked on a rising sob. “I want…”
He restarted from the beginning. Thinking about what Sally had done throughout the year and his father watched and listened with a collected patience and serenity around him. He listened as Wilbur poured his broken heart over the marble floors.
“I, I think I want to have this child.” His father hums and mulls over the two options presented to him as he hushes Tommy back to sleep when he stirred.
“Sally,” she perks up as she is addressed. “Would you be open to making a compromise? Have the child and in return you will not be forced to care for them.”
“Can I have time to think?”
“Of course. Please talk to each other and come to an agreement.” When they tried to walk out Phil called out to him. “Wilbur,” he turns back to face his father with a twinge of fear. “Please stay, I have something I need to talk to you about.”
He stays where he is as Sally leaves the family alone in the large room. As he opens his mouth to speak, Phil does so first.
“Wilbur?” He can’t stop the sudden stream of tears as he stands under the impending hate of his father. He barely has the shaking strength to raise a single hand to his mouth to cover the sounds of his choked out sobs. He hears the familiar sound of Phil walking to him, three sets of wood tapping against the ground gently. A hand is placed on his shoulder and he is being pulled into his fathers embrace, a wing coming to cover him, just like he was a child once again. “It’s okay, just take a minute. Breathe.”
He does so, following the directions easily as he trembles. His wings coming around himself like it can protect him from the world. Tommy wakes in Phil’s arms and bables mindlessly at Wilbur. That, actually gets a smile out of him as he begins to play around with his little chubby fingers. Tommy giggles at him.
Phil cups his son's face gently in his hands and slowly raises Wilburs face to meet his.
“Wilbur-”
“I’m sorry.” Phil is stunned for a few moments, unbelieveing in the words.
“For what?”
“Her, Sally. She wasn’t what we thought she was and I’m sorry that I wanted her so fucking badly.” He begins to sob anew and Phil lets out a chirp to his son.
“Wilbur, mate, it’s not your fault.” Phil whispers as he continues to cry, much slower now. “I should have done something sooner. Your wings are clean, I promise.” He sniffles as his fingers twitch and slowly begins to pull away from the shoulder he had been crying on. “What are we going to do?”
“I can’t leave them.” Wilbur insists the second he can speak. “I can’t leave my baby with her, I can’t let this happen to them.”
“Okay, if she agrees then that child will be given the same protection as any other royal child. But, you have to understand we can’t force her to go through with this. If she lets it go you have to as well.” He nods and begins to walk towards the door.
“Wilbur,” he stops to listen to his father for a moment longer. “Just know I’m here for you if you ever need me. Techno is just a letter away as well.” He smiles a bit weakly but shakily nods his head and leaves the room.
===
Against all odds Sally agrees to the conditions.
Wilbur is going to be a father, and he is miserable.
It wasn’t the thought of being a father that made him so terrified. In fact he was actually getting a bit excited. (He was going to be a father!) It was Sally.
Sally seemed to be getting progressincely worse as time ticked slowly by, as the months dragged on and on she grew worse. She took to throwing more, hitting more, saying worse things about not only him but the child she was to have. Saying she didn’t want to be stuck with another mistake like Wilbur, or how she wasn’t meant for kids. Whenever he tried to speak up she would run off with tears in her eyes and staining her cheeks and returned late at night expecting him to bundle her into his arms so she could cry and apologize only to repeat the process in the morning.
Fox hybrids had naturally quick births, ranging only for about seven months than the typical nine. God he wished it was shorter.
He was building the nursery and he was sick of it.
It was coming along nicely. It was a lovely little room. It was painted in a soft yellow with a mahogany crib and matching rocking chair. A few dressers and plenty of Wilburs old toys scattered about. Most of it was prepared by Phil, having had more experience in raising children than Wilbur and knowing what was needed more than others. Everything was expertly crafted and freshly made.
It was perfect and he hated it with a seething passion.
He hated it because it brought with it the prospect of being trapped in something he didn’t want. Something he never desired as much as he tried.
Despite this, there were two things Wilbur chose of his own accord to place in the room.
The first was a mobile he saw one day while wandering the marketplace. It was supposed to to be a normal trip, make sure everything was in order and fully stocked for the up coming winter then return home. But he spotted a particularly well made stall keepers goods and had to see them up close.
There was mostly blankets–no use to him, they already had plenty–but there were a few spread out mittens and scarfs–a bit more useful, especially with the winter steadily aproaching. The one that caught his eye was the mobile hanging from behind the shop keeps head.
It was beautifully crafted. Stars trickling downwards in a spiral pattern. A single robin flew above a single fox in the middle.
She seemed to have noticed it as well.
“Ah, that I made a long time ago. No ones ever taken such notice to it though.” The older woman said as she scurried about her stall, setting things down and trading with Wilburs fellow market folk.
“How much?” He asked, pulling out the pouch of gold he had carried with him. He watched her grey eyes sparkle as she smiled a him.
“For you, your grace, its free.” She said as she unhooked it from its stand and gently wrapped it, handing it over to him with such gentle care. She refused any money he tried to hand over and he walked away feeling a bit lighter in his steps. (And if the older woman saw a handful of gold on the edge of her stall moments later, who’s to say it was he who left it there?)
The second item he chose was much more sentimental.
He had asked Phil where his old toys had been left. Long before the cradle, or the chair or the mobile came into the room. He went to the room full of boxes worth of memories from his childhood. Framed photos of Techno and his mother lay in the dust among them. It wasn’t out of malice or despair that they were resigned to a life in the dark. Just that Phil understood these certain photographs were far too important to be hung up on the walls of the palace like the rest of their family portraits.
There was a little pink bunny hiding among the dust. His fur has faded from the original, brighter, colour but Wilbur almost liked him better this way. Mr. Fluffles would make a good companion for his kid. He would protect them on nights Wilbur couldn’t just like how Mr. Fluffles protected him.
Beyond those two items the rest was done up by Phil.
And the rest of those six months was spent waiting, patiently, and dying the whole time.
Sally had grown tired in the final month. Heavy bags growing under her eyes and her steps grew shaky. She no longer held the energy to yell at him, or hit, or do much of anything. On a self appointed bed rest for most of the day. When she was out of bed and walking about, Wilbur grew to be attached to her by the hip. Helping her along as the snow piled high outside the walls of the palace.
The day it had all started felt like the day Wilbur’s heart stopped beating in his chest.
They had been wandering to the library, Sally carrying a few books in her hands as they began to walk back to their bedroom. Wilbur noticed the moment she stopped walking because he had quickly outpaced her. He heard the clattering of books as they slipped from Sally’s grasp. He saw the look of mixed horror and pain as she rested a hand on her stomach, the ground below her soaked.
The time was now. Soon he was going to be a father.
And he was so extraordinarily unprepared for that.