Archive of Our Own

You can’t blame Tommy for what happened. And honestly? You might not want to. You see, Tommy went from being one of hundreds of homeless orphans on the streets of L’Manberg to being a part of the royal family of the Antarctic Empire with a loving (overprotective, possessive as fuck, murderous at times) dad. 

Of course, if you think Tommy has it all, that is perhaps the furthest thing from the truth. No, clearly you’ve never heard the stories of the Antarctic Empire. 

The Emperor, the Angel of Death. Cold, cruel, and as unforgiving as the Empire’s harsh climates. He could speak to crows, and if you ever saw one, you should assume it was a spy for the Angel. Rumour has it he met Death herself, and that the two were married, just after Death granted the Angel immortality. People whispered that if you ever met the Angel, you would never see another dawn. 

The General, the Blood God. Brutal and merciless towards his enemies. Undefeated by anyone except the Emperor himself. He commands the Empire’s armies to victory. His strategies have never once been bested. People whisper about the blood in his wake, the stains he can never quite clean off his hands. 

And finally, perhaps the worst one of all. The Prince, the Siren. The child of Death. He has a silver tongue, and can convince you of anything, no matter how nonsensical. People whisper that it is his heritage as Death’s son that makes it so you can never resist his charming words. He may have a kind and empathetic smile, but he delights in the pain of others. He enjoys committing atrocities, and he enjoys manipulating every breathing thing around him. 

Of course, they’re all terrible, but even the biggest man ever is scared of the Siren. People whisper, they say he convinced the King of L’Manberg that he was on their side. Of course, the Siren was the one who brought the King’s head to show the people, no matter what happened inside the castle. Tommy didn’t see the spectacle. He was in a dumpster, looking for food when the guards went by, rounding people up for the show. 

The citizens of L’Manberg were placed under house arrest while the Emperor decided what to do with them. Of course, he was a busy man, and there were no guarantees for how long it would take. Guards took rounds delivering rations to all the families every week. Naturally, Tommy obeyed the order and stayed in his dumpster. Of course, the guards didn’t know he was there, but that was fine! He had plenty of food in the dumpster! Sure, there was mold on the cheese, and he was pretty sure the bread was harder than the cobbled streets, but hey, the mold added flavour and besides, he’d eaten worse. 

Tommy munched happily on the bread. It was pleasantly crunchy, just the way bread should be. None of that soft and buttery shit, hard and crunchy is the way to go. He was so enamoured he almost didn’t notice the footsteps or the panting as someone ran into the alleyway his dumpster was in. Almost. 

They stopped right next to Tommy. He could hear them gasping for breath as they dropped to the ground and began crawling under the dumpster to hide. But Tommy also heard the clanking of armour and the heavy footsteps that marked the presence of Imperial Guards rapidly approaching. Tommy held his breath as they entered the alley. 

“Grab it,” One of the guards ordered. They approached the dumpster and grabbed the person out from underneath it. 

The person screamed as though the Siren himself stood in the alleyway. “I’m sorry! Please forgive me! I didn’t know any better!” Their words were almost incomprehensible. 

The guards laughed. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before running off!” They mocked the L’manberg citizen. “Come on, get up. We’ve all got places to be.” 

“W-where are you taking me?” the person asked. 

The guards laughed again. “Oh, come on, the royal family will take care of you all much better than your king could. All the homeless people go into shelters to be resettled. The Prince announced that. Or are you just too stupid to remember?” 

“I- I’m sorry,” the person stuttered. Tommy could hear them frantically apologising as the guards dragged them away to the supposed “shelter”. 

Yeah, Tommy’s homeless, but fuck shelters, he’s the biggest man of all. He’s survived his entire life on his own, he can survive more. He’s only ten, he shouldn’t have had to.  

And so Tommy stayed in the dumpster for a couple days. Just until he remembered water was a thing he needed. He crawled out of the dumpster, ears hurting with how hard he was listening. He crept to the end of the alley, and poked his head out, and looked both ways. 

The street was empty. Tommy scampered all the way to the end and peeked around again. 

Oh fuck. 

Guards. 

He hurriedly stuck his head back behind the corner, but by the shout he heard, they had definitely seen him. Tommy ran. His mind was racing in a panic, screaming at him to get away. He darted through the streets, running as fast as his little legs could take him. 

“Stop!” They yelled. 

Tommy, no, the biggest man ever, didn’t need to listen to them, no he was too big and manly and pogchamp and did he say big he might have forgotten to mention how much of a big man he is but listen he’s a very big man, perhaps the biggest in fact, so big everyone who ever met him were so intimidated by his masculinity that they immediately imploded-

Tommy slammed into a wall. Fuck, he wasn’t looking where he was going. He curled up on the ground, breath coming in fast, harsh gasps. The guards stopped by him. 

“Oh, look, it’s crying,” one of them said, disgusted. 

“Aw, look at how scared it is!” Another one mocked him. Tommy began rocking back and forth. Just go away, LEAVE HIM ALONE-

“Stop playing with it and get it to a shelter,” someone ordered. Hands grabbed Tommy’s upper arms and dragged him to his feet. Tommy promptly passed out. 

Wilbur lounged on L’manberg’s throne. One of his legs was tossed over an arm, and the other leg was positioned normally. He was leaning against the other armrest with his hands folded neatly over his stomach. Wilbur was also bored as fuck. 

L’manberg’s nobles were gathered in front of him. The king’s headless corpse lay at his feet. Wilbur remembered the wonderful swooping sensation as he slid the blade across the man’s throat, his look of horror and betrayal only making the moment that much sweeter. 

Wilbur was vaguely aware of the smile spreading across his face at the memory. He carefully regulated his face, and turned his gaze to the useless whelps trembling on the floor. 

“Please, your majesty,” one of them whispered. “We are but simple people.” They bowed so low their face smushed into the ground. “We are no threat to you. Please don’t hurt us.” 

Wilbur sighed internally. Useless whelps. He was so bored. What if he just killed them all? Sure, his father wanted him to sort things out peacefully, but these people were so dull and he was so bored. 

He smiled at L’manberg’s nobles and let his power seep into his voice. “Oh, don’t be afraid. The Antarctic Empire will take care of you all.” The nobles began nodding along, agreeing with his every word, while their eyes were glazed over. “L’manberg will flourish under our rule. Your people are in safe hands. In fact, they are so safe that you are no longer needed. You can go ahead and rip each other apart. You don’t even need to stop until you’re all dead.” 

The nobles threw themselves at each other, each one trying to kill everyone else. Wilbur sighed and leaned back into the throne. He rubbed his eyes. Great, now he was annoyed. Something pink flashed in the corner of his vision. Wilbur turned to look at Niki as she walked up to him. 

“Your father isn’t going to be happy about this, Your Highness,” she commented. 

“What’s he going to do about it?” Wilbur asked irritably. “I dealt with it, and no one got hurt.” Someone in front of him screamed as someone else bit into their arm. Wilbur smirked. “Well, no one important.” 

Niki sighed. “In any case, your father has requested you inspect the homeless shelters.” 

Wilbur frowned. “What? Why are those a thing?” 

Niki nudged the corpse with her foot. “He didn’t take very good care of his people, unlike us. The shelters are just there until we can resettle the people. Your father wants you to inspect them and ensure everyone is being taken care of properly. After all, it’s technically your fault this war happened.” 

Wilbur shrugged and stood up. “I was bored, and this guy was so stupid, it was laughable. Besides, he was encroaching on our territory, and so many others were getting bolder. This was just a little reminder.” Wilbur stepped over the corpse and walked over to the doors. He paused, and turned around. “Oh, and you can tell Father I’ll do the inspection.” He smirked. “Should be fun.” 

The doors slammed behind him. 

Tommy woke up to a harsh slap. “Get up, we’re here.” 

He was dragged out of the carriage (he rode in a carriage? of course he would be asleep for his first ever carriage ride-) and pushed into a large, intimidating stone building with “Shelter #47” lettered above the entrance. 

He was forced to stand in front of a desk. The harsh, stern-looking person behind the desk gave him a once-over, clearly judging him. Tommy shrank in on himself under their gaze. 

“Name?” the person grunted, scowling at him. 

“Tommy?” Tommy whispered quietly, his nerves making it sound like a question. 

One of the guards slapped him hard. “Your full name, stupid.” 

“Tomathy Innit,” Tommy squeaked out. He curled in on himself. The person behind the desk scribbled something down. 

“How old are you?” He was asked. 

“I’m 10,” Tommy replied. He tugged at the edge of his ratty shirt nervously. 

“Where are your parents?” The person asked, sounding bored. 

Tommy shrugged. “Dunno, they left me at an orphanage when I was really young,” he whispered. 

The person behind the desk tsked. “Well, don’t be afraid, you’re under the protection of the Antarctic Empire now.” They handed Tommy a slip of paper. “Don’t lose that.” 

The guards grabbed Tommy and hauled him away down a hall. Tommy looked at the paper. 

Tomathy Innit, 10

No parents

#39982

Well, that was just rude. They could’ve at least marked down that he was the biggest man ever. 

Someone slapped him, hard. 

“Huh?” Tommy said, brought back to reality. 

The guards laughed as they shoved him into a large room. On one side were racks of clothes. Decent clothes too, clean and bright. On the other side, there were boxes full of toys. Tommy’s eyes went wide. 

“You get one pair of clothes and one toy,” The guards told him sternly. They shoved him lightly further into the room. Tommy looked around, and nervously took a step towards the toys. No one stopped him. Tommy took two more steps. Still, no one stopped him. Tommy broke into a run. He stared into the box closest to him. 

It was all wooden toys. There was a wooden doll with posable limbs, some wood wheels attached to a string, and a wooden bear among many others. None of it was interesting to Tommy, so he continued on. The next box was full of cloth dolls. Boring. The next one was full of blocks. Oo, they were all bright colours. Tommy shook himself off and continued on. He wasn’t a baby, he was ten, he didn’t need the cool blocks. 

The next box was full of Imperial propaganda. Blocks with the Imperial insignia scrawled all over, dolls that looked like Lady Death, and stuffed crows. Of course, that box looked untouched. Tommy had heard the rumours about crows and the Angel, so he scurried away from that box. 

The next box was filled with wooden puzzles. Tommy traced some of them with his eyes, and wound up with a headache. He moved on from that box. The next box had more wooden animals. Tommy ran his hands over them. He liked animals, but these just weren’t calling to him, y’know? He moved on from that box. The next two boxes had more cloth dolls. 

The last box, pushed up into a corner, was nearly empty, save for a lone toy. Tommy picked it up and gasped. It was glorious. The spider was dark brown in colour, and its long legs were covered in fuzz. The eight eyes were beautiful black beads. Tommy cradled it softly to his chest. 

“I will name you Shroud,” he whispered to it. 

“Do you have a toy, kid?” One of the guards called over to him. Tommy jumped. He had forgotten they were there. What else did they say? Oh, he needed clothes. Tommy hurried away from the toys over to the clothes, still cradling Shroud. 

The shirts were all pretty plain. Most of them were solid colours with no patterns. Tommy noticed a white one with red sleeves. He pulled it off the hanger and admired it. It was amazing. It was so stylish. It was the second coolest thing he had ever seen. Shroud was the coolest, of course. He took the shirt and moved on to the pants. The pants were pretty much just jeans, which was so cool. Jeans were the only pants ever. Tommy grabbed a pair his size, and turned back to the guards nervously. 

“You got everything? Well, come on, we don’t have all day,” one of them said. Tommy followed them out of the room and into a room filled with stalls. 

“Go get changed and give us your old clothes,” the guards told him. Tommy was about to ask why, but then he remembered all the slaps they had given him and scurried into a stall. He closed the door. There was no lock. Tommy gently set Shroud and his new clothes down on a stool. He pulled off his shirt. It was a faded grey, almost white. The edges were all ripped and it was covered in holes. It smelled like a skunk had pissed on it fifteen times.

Tommy dropped it unceremoniously on the floor and eagerly pulled on his new shirt. It was a little big, but that was fine, he would grow into it. He quickly changed his pants from the old, shitty as fuck pair he’d had for who knows how long into the new jeans. He picked up Shroud carefully and grabbed his clothes and stepped out of the stall. 

“Put your old clothes in those bins,” one of the guards told him, pointing at a set of bins filled with old clothes, most in the same condition his were in. Tommy walked over and dropped his old clothes in, then nervously approached the guards. 

“Here,” one of them said. They grabbed the slip of paper out of Tommy’s hand and grabbed a safety pin from who knows where and attached the paper to the front of Tommy’s shirt. 

The guards led him to a big room. Bunk beds lined the far wall. Sets of tables and four chairs each were set in the middle of the room. Square windows sat high up over the beds. A clock was above the door. Kids Tommy’s age were everywhere. The guards gave him a light shove in, then they left, closing the door behind them. 

A girl walked up to Tommy. She was wearing a knee-length dress with luna moths on it. She had shoulder length light brown hair. 

“Hi,” she said. 

“Hi,” Tommy replied. 

“My name’s Clementine,” she told him. “What’s yours?” 

“I’m Tommy,” he said. Clementine also had a paper pinned to her front. He squinted at it. Clementine noticed and stepped closer so he could read it easier. She began to read his paper. 

Clementine Actias, 12 

No parents

#983 

Tommy furrowed his brow. “You’re older than me?” 

“I guess so,” Clementine replied. “Come on, the bunk below me is empty. You can sleep there.” 

“Thanks,” Tommy muttered. Clementine smiled at him. Tommy returned it. 

Wilbur walked down the steps. It had been about a week since his father had ordered his inspection, and it was going pretty good. He easily calmed any dissent, and by the time he left, everyone in the shelters were happy and satisfied. 

His personal guards, Niki and Jack, trailed behind him as he left Shelter #46. Only four shelters left to go, and then he could go home. Wilbur was sick of L’manberg. It was tiny and dingy compared to the Antarctic Empire. Some people would call it charming, but Wilbur would call it pathetic. 

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen, and his life would never be the same. 

It’d been about a week since Tommy had arrived at the homeless shelter, and he was happy. Shroud was the best thing to ever happen to him, and Clementine was cool. She had picked one of the cloth dolls, but she was also working on making a sword for her doll. Clementine dreamed of one day being a blacksmith and making cool weapons and stuff. 

Tommy even got fed, not one meal a day, but two whole meals ! People would enter the room every morning and every night and they would all sit at the tables and be served. The cheese wasn’t moldy, and the bread even had butter on it! Tommy and Clementine were really living like kings. 

The two were up on Clementine’s bunk, playing with their toys when the door opened. Tommy and Clementine shared a confused look. It had only been a couple hours since their last meal, and no one ever came in the room outside of mealtimes. Guards poured into the room and lined the walls. A man entered, trailed by more guards. Tommy felt his breath catch in his throat. The man was beautiful. 

His dark brown curls cascaded softly over his eye, almost concealing the silver circlet on his head. The circlet was embedded with many gems, but the most prominent one at the front looked to be an emerald. The man’s warm brown eyes swept the room. He was dressed in pale blue and white clothes with golden accents. Jewellry dripped from his throat, ears, and hands. He looked like some sort of divine being. 

The man opened his mouth. “Don’t mind me, I’m just going to go around and chat with some of you.” His voice was beautiful. It was musical and lilting, coated in honey, and Tommy would do anything to listen to it. Then the man’s words registered in his mind and the man slipped away to the back of his mind and he turned back to play with Clementine who was holding out Shroud expectantly. 

The noise in the room returned as everyone went back to what they were doing. Tommy didn’t remember when everyone stopped talking, but that hardly mattered. Clara, Clementine’s doll, was being taken captive by the evil pillow! Shroud had to rescue her before the evil blankets consumed her! 

Shroud was forced onto the bed rail in order to avoid the blanket’s attacks. He ran as fast as he could, but the blankets were gaining on him. The blankets grabbed Tommy’s hand, and he accidentally let go of Shroud. Shroud slipped and fell. Tommy leaned over the edge of the bed as Shroud hit the ground. 

Right in front of the beautiful man from earlier. 

The man paused, and picked up Shroud. He turned Shroud over experimentally in his hands. Tommy couldn’t help it. 

“Give him back, bitch!” The words exploded out of him. 

The man looked up and made eye contact with him. Oh, his eyes had pretty golden flecks in them. Wait, that’s not important right now. He’s holding Shroud captive! 

“Excuse me?” The man asked. His voice had lost the honey it had held earlier, but it was still beautiful. The man held a hand up. Out of the corner of his eyes, Tommy noticed the guards backing up to their original positions. When did they move? 

“I said, give him back!” Tommy said furiously, pointing at Shroud, who was still held in the man’s hands. “You’re a right prick for holding him captive! He needs to save Clara from the evil pillow!” 

The corners of the man’s mouth twitched. “Of course, how rude of me. Here you go.” He raised Shroud up to Tommy. Tommy snatched him away from the man. 

The man smiled gently at him. “What is your name?” 

“Can’t you read?” Tommy snapped. Seriously, who does this fucker think he is? 

“What if I just wanted to hear it from you?” The man murmured, just loud enough for Tommy to hear. 

Tommy blushed. “M’name’s Tommy,” he muttered. “Prick,” he added as an afterthought. 

The man laughed. His laugh was wonderful. It was musical, and it made Tommy feel all warm and fuzzy. “Tommy,” he repeated. The way he said Tommy’s name was so gentle, so loving, it made the ball of warmth and fuzz inside Tommy explode into a rush of warmth. 

A woman with pink hair walked up to the man and whispered something in his ear. He nodded to her. 

“Well, unfortunately I have to go now,” the man said. “I hope Shroud is able to rescue Clara. I can’t even imagine what’ll happen if the evil pillow keeps her.” The man leaned closer to whisper in Tommy’s ear. “I’ll see you later, Toms.” His voice dripped with warmth and love. It made Tommy feel wanted, cherished. 

The man crossed the room to the door. He paused, before turning back to smile at Tommy. The doors clicked shut behind him. 

Wilbur left the homeless shelter feeling as though he was walking on air. He couldn’t stop smiling. He was in love. That child, that fucking adorable child, had captured his frozen heart and pumped it full of warmth and life. He needed that kid. He had seen the tag on his shirt. No parents. That would make things so much easier. He wouldn’t have to organise an accident for them if an accident had already happened. 

Wilbur was only a little upset at Niki for reminding him he had to leave. After all, he would definitely be returning to visit Tommy. Although he’d rather not have the visits in that big room with all the other kids watching… It would be easy to request a private room for their meetings. After all, the staff was tripping over their feet in order to please him. And besides, it would be child’s play to create job openings if the staff disobeyed him. 

Wilbur opened his journal and began writing a song for his sunshine. He would give his Tommy the world and all the stars in the sky. 

The next time the man visited, Tommy and Clementine were drawing at a table together. Tommy was drawing Shroud. It was a beautiful drawing. A guard approached Tommy and told him he had a visitor. The guard led Tommy out of the room. The man stood there with a blinding smile. 

Tommy ran straight into his waiting arms. The man spun them around, laughing giddily. 

They got a whole room to themselves! It was much smaller than the room with all the kids, but it was still pretty big. It even had a fireplace! The man pulled them over to a couch and they collapsed together in a giggling heap of limbs. 

The man lightly brushed Tommy’s hair off his face. “How are you, darling?” he asked. “Have they been treating you well?” The pet name created a surge of warmth inside Tommy, as did the man playing with his hair. 

“‘S been good,” Tommy muttered into the man’s chest. He frowned, and stuck his face up to look at the man’s face. “I never got your name.” 

The man’s hand in his hair froze for a split second, before it softly continued. “You can call me Wilbur,” the man, no, Wilbur, smiled blindingly. Tommy’s eyes widened and he mouthed Wilbur’s name softly. Wilbur’s hand came to grip his chin softly. Wilbur tilted his face up to make eye contact. Wilbur’s eyes were the prettiest, the soft, warm brown with bright golden flecks. 

“Say my name,” Wilbur whispered. 

“Wilbur,” Tommy whispered back. Wilbur giggled. 

“Tommy.” 

“Wilbur.” 

“Tommy.” 

“Wilby-wait fuck-” 

Wilbur turned into a pile of goo. “Oh, Tommy !” He cupped Tommy’s face and began kissing every inch of it. 

“Ack- Wilby- Shit - Wilbur - stop -m’ a big man - don’t need - ACK!” Tommy screeched. 

Wilbur laughed, and pulled Tommy into a hug. Wilbur rested his chin on Tommy’s head. Tommy was practically, no, entirely in Wilbur’s lap. Tommy frowned slightly. This was his second meeting with Wilbur. This wasn’t normal. Tommy pushed lightly against Wilbur. Wilbur let him go. 

“Tommy? Is something wrong?” he asked, concern and worry etched all over his face. 

“This is our second meeting,” Tommy reminded him. Wilbur tipped his head to the side, puzzled.

“So?” Wilbur prompted. 

“People don’t - this isn’t - people don’t cuddle each other and kiss each other’s faces during their second meeting!” Tommy yelled. 

Wilbur narrowed his eyes slightly. “I see. And what about the third meeting?” 

“Not then, either!” Tommy said certainly. 

“And the fourth?” Wilbur continued. 

“Not fucking then!” Tommy screeched. 

“And the fifth?” Wilbur asked. 

Tommy faltered slightly, then hardened himself. “Then they ask each other for cohn shent,” he nodded. 

Wilbur giggled. “Consent?” 

Tommy’s face reddened. “Yeah, that thing.” 

Wilbur smiled widely. “I see. So you will allow me to cuddle you on our fifth meeting?” 

Tommy paused to think about it. Cuddles were nice. Nobody had ever cuddled Tommy before. No one had ever loved Tommy as much as Wilbur had. Tommy actually really liked Wilbur. He was just a big teddy bear. “Sure.” 

Wilbur stood up. “Then I will take my leave now, gremlin.” Tommy looked up, lost. “So our third meeting can happen sooner, and then our fourth, and finally our fifth. I will see you very soon, sweetheart.” 

“See you,” Tommy muttered. 

Wilbur left and Tommy was escorted back to the big room with all the kids. 

“What the fuck!” Tommy screeched. Wilbur looked at him with a very serious expression. “You’re weird. You’re a creepy old man!” 

Wilbur scrunched up his face. “I’m old?” 

Tommy nodded sagely. “Yes. You’re very old. It’s called dee-nile.” 

Wilbur’s face broke into one of his fond smiles he used for Tommy. “But I’m only twenty-five.” 

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Wow… I think you might die soon!” 

Wilbur paused. “No, I disagree,” he said thoughtfully. 

“You disagree?” Tommy screeched. “You disagree with the biggest man ever?” 

Wilbur smiled mischievously at Tommy. “My father is the one who will die soon.” 

Tommy leaned forward. “How old is he?” 

Wilbur leaned forward as well. “Fifty-three.” 

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Have you picked out a coffin yet? Oh, and what about a gravestone?” 

Wilbur laughed. “We’re not putting him in the ground, dear. My father’s going to go in our family’s mausoleum.” 

Tommy scrunched up his face in confusion. “Well, I guess if he’s really really old, he’d belong in a museum.” 

Wilbur laughed again. “That’s mausoleum, sunshine. It’s like a tomb. A museum is completely different.” 

“Rich contradictory fucker,” Tommy cussed Wilbur out. Wilbur giggled. 

“At least I know what that word means,” Wilbur teased. Tommy stuck his tongue out at him. 

“At least I don’t eat sand,” Tommy snapped playfully. 

“Sand is good!” Wilbur protested. “It’s nice and crunchy, and it makes a wonderful snack!” 

“Mud’s a much better snack,” Tommy informed him. “Far more nutritious than fucking sand .” 

Wilbur cackled. “And you judge me for eating sand when you eat mud?” 

“Mud is simply superior to sand, prick!” Tommy screeched. Wilbur just cackled louder. Tommy let out a war cry and jumped on him. Wilbur let out an oof. 

“DIE, FUCKER!” Tommy screamed, punching and kicking him. Wilbur rolled over onto him. Tommy screamed louder. “GET OFF ME!” 

“Hmmm,” Wilbur hummed thoughtfully. He grinned at Tommy maliciously. “No.” He began tickling Tommy. Tommy screamed. 

Wilbur floated happily through the marketplace. Later that day he would be seeing Tommy for the fifth time, and Tommy would let them cuddle. They needed something special to commemorate this occasion. Wilbur peered at every stall and their wares. Tommy couldn’t read very well, so books weren’t a good gift. Tommy loved sugar, so he would order a cake made. Jewellry, perhaps, but he would have to find the right piece. Perhaps something of Wilbur’s? That would be sweet, but then Wilbur wouldn’t spend any money on Tommy. 

Oo, blankets. Tommy deserved all the softest things in the world. Wilbur perused the selection. Tommy liked bright colours, so the grey, white, cream, and black ones simply wouldn’t do. That one was themed after the ocean. It even had fishes on it. That one had flowers. That one was themed after bees. And, oh. That one. That was what Wilbur would buy.

Jack carried Wilbur’s purchase as they continued on. More books. More food. More jewellry, but these were all beads and they were far too cheap for Tommy. Oh, a toy store! The only toy Tommy had was that fucking terrifying stuffed Amazonian fishing spider. If you touched the body right, the whole spider would twitch as though it was alive. The fangs were covered in blood and fish guts. The eight eyes were soulless and seemed to follow you. The legs were hairy and felt far too fucking realistic. The spider would even float if you put it in water. Tommy needed a new toy. Of course, when Wilbur took him home, Wilbur would give him all the toys he’d ever want. But for now, the toy store would do. 

Wilbur and his guards stepped inside. Tommy needed something he could easily carry around, so he wouldn’t have to worry when he went to live in the palace. Perhaps another stuffed animal? Wilbur found the section for plushies, and began to search. Tommy loved all animals, but his all-time favourite was- aha. Wilbur gently lifted it off the shelf. It was perfect. Now, to check on the cake. 

When Tommy was let into his meeting room with Wilbur, the first thing he noticed were the wrapped presents on the table. 

“What the fuck?” Tommy said aloud. Wilbur glanced up from where he lounged on the couch and opened his arms. Tommy stared at him, confused. 

“It’s our fifth meeting,” Wilbur said, happily. “We can cuddle now!” Tommy carefully approached him and gingerly sat down next to Wilbur. Wilbur grabbed, gently of course, and pulled him in close. Tommy was surrounded by warmth. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Wilbur’s chest. This was heaven. No one had ever been so willing to love Tommy like this. No one had ever loved in any way, in fact. Except that one raccoon who would bring him shiny things in exchange for food. 

Wilbur nudged him lightly. “Don’t you wanna open your presents, dear?” 

Tommy opened his eyes and blinked at Wilbur. “Those are for me?” 

Wilbur smiled. “Of course they are. All for you.” 

Tommy looked at the presents, amazed. He reached out and grabbed one. He tore off the wrapping paper. It was a blanket. It was the softest thing he had ever felt. Tommy lifted it up and it unfolded completely to reveal the pattern. It was the sunrise over a tundra. No. The capital city of the Antarctic Empire. The city was surrounded by snowy mountains, and the palace sat in the direct centre. It was a beautiful scene, but Tommy knew what it didn’t show.

“Why did you give me this,” Tommy whispered. 

Wilbur smiled mysteriously. “You’ll see,” he hummed, reaching to grab the next parcel. Tommy crumpled the blanket on his lap. The fuck did that mean? Wilbur set a present on his lap, then curled his arm around Tommy’s shoulders and pulled him close. 

Tommy unwrapped the next gift. It was a stuffed cow. It was one of the greatest things he had ever seen. The others were Shroud and Wilbur. Except for the weird blanket. Tommy gently picked up the cow. “This is for me?” He whispered, tears pricking at his eyes. 

“It’s for you,” Wilbur whispered into his ear. Tommy smiled and hugged the cow to his chest. 

“Your name is Henry,” Tommy told the cow. Wilbur chuckled. 

“Hello, Henry,” Wilbur greeted the cow. Tommy giggled and shoved his face into Henry. “Here, let’s open your last gift.” Tommy nodded eagerly. As he reached for the last present, he didn’t notice Wilbur grabbing the blanket. 

The last present turned out to be a cake. A beautiful cake, with white frosting with red accents. Just like his shirt. Tommy carefully set Henry aside and reached toward the cake. Wilbur slapped his hand away. 

“No, no, gremlin, that is not how you eat a cake,” Wilbur scolded him. Wilbur then revealed plates, forks, and a big knife. Tommy gasped when he saw the knife. “No, you may not have the knife.” 

“Aw,” Tommy pouted. He cheered up when Wilbur handed him a big slice of cake and a fork, which Tommy ignored. He grabbed a fistful of cake and shoved it in his mouth. His eyes widened. It was chocolate cake. The rest of the slice was gone in less than a second. Tommy held out his sticky, cake covered hands towards Wilbur who scooted away nervously. “More,” Tommy demanded. 

Wilbur sighed fondly and gave Tommy another, considerably smaller, slice. Tommy devoured it. 

“Oh, you gremlin ,” Wilbur commented lovingly as he grabbed a napkin and began rubbing at Tommy’s face. 

“ACK-” Tommy screeched. Wilbur abruptly stood up and grabbed Tommy’s arm. 

“Come on,” Wilbur said, tossing Tommy a smile. “How did he get so dirty from two pieces,” Wilbur muttered. They went into a bathroom. “Wash your hands,” Wilbur told him. Tommy rolled his eyes but did as he was told while Wilbur wet a towel. When his hands were clean, Wilbur turned him so they faced each other, then attacked his face with the towel.

Naturally, Tommy screamed and fought back. In the end, the two of them and Henry lay on the floor covered in water. 

“Your Highness, the Emperor has requested to speak with you,” Niki informed him. Wilbur nodded, and stood up from L’manberg’s old king’s desk. He turned his communicator on and pulled up his father’s contact. 

“What,” Wilbur said, slightly irritably. 

“Mate, where have you been?” His father’s voice filled the room. “I recognize you’re an adult, but Techno and I are worried. You haven’t been around in a while. What’s keeping you in L’manberg?” Of course they would notice and get worried if Wilbur stayed far longer for a job he hated. 

“Nothing, I’m just… busy,” Wilbur deflected. His mind filled with thoughts of his sunshine. 

“With the homeless shelters?” Phil said skeptically. His sunshine wouldn’t be homeless for much longer. 

“I mean, yeah,” Wilbur shrugged. His sunshine was in a shelter, so he was very busy at Shelter #47. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about them much longer,” Phil informed him. Wilbur’s world stopped. 

“What,” He gasped. 

“I made up my mind on what to do with them,” Phil said, his voice puzzled. “We’re sending them to work in Logstedshire. All of them. I thought you hated working with the shelters?” 

“No, I- I-” Wilbur’s mind was racing. His sunshine was to be sent to work in Logstedshire. Logstedshire was a coastal city on the outskirts of the Empire. It was a booming industrial town. The homeless would work in factories, or in shipyards, and it would crush Wilbur’s darling. “I love him,” Wilbur whispered, voice breaking. 

“Who,” his father’s voice was icy. 

“My sunshine,” Wilbur answered. “His name is Tommy. He’s ten. I love him.” 

There was a pause. “Oh, mate,” Phil said sympathetically. “Do you want to adopt him?” 

Wilbur gasped. “Yes! Dad, I want him!” Phil sighed fondly. 

“Go ahead, mate. We’ll be waiting for the both of you. I can’t wait to meet my grandson.” Phil paused. “Oh, Death, I’m a grandpa now.” He hung up. 

Wilbur laughed in exhilaration. It was time. His sunshine was coming home, where he belonged. 

The news hit Tommy like a brick. He would be going to Logstedshire to work. He’d heard about the work in Logstedshire. There were plenty of job openings, and the majority of them offered room and two meals a day, but the work conditions were atrocious. The work itself was difficult and exhausting, and the overseers were as cruel as the weather. 

Tommy hugged Henry and Shroud to his chest. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave Wilbur. Oh god, Wilbur. Tommy bit his lip and looked at the ground so he wouldn’t burst into tears. Everyone was lined up outside of the shelter with all their belongings tucked in their arms. Clementine was far ahead. They’d already said good-bye. 

A hand lightly touched Tommy’s shoulder and guided him away, over to a bench. Tommy looked up. Wilbur offered him a sad smile. It was a guilty smile. Tommy threw himself into Wilbur’s arms. 

“Wilby- I don’t want to go- I don’t want to leave you-” Tommy cried. 

Wilbur clutched him tighter, and manoeuvred the two of them to sit on the bench. “Here.” Wilbur offered him a candy. Tommy took it and miserably ate it. Wilbur tucked Tommy closer. 

Tommy’s vision blurred. Faintly he heard the guards calling for children without families to step up. Tommy pushed Wilbur away and staggered to his feet, tears filling his eyes, threatening to spill over. The whole world spun and Tommy’s knees buckled. He collapsed into someone’s waiting arms and Tommy was pulled against their warm chest. 

Wilbur sighed. “I wish you hadn’t heard that, dear. You shouldn’t have gotten up! You could’ve been hurt.” 

“Wha’?” Tommy slurred out. His body felt like molasses. All his limbs were impossibly heavy. 

“Oh, angel, I’m so sorry,” Wilbur murmured into his hair. “But I need you. You’re mine. I couldn’t just let you go. Besides, you said you didn’t want to go. I love you, Toms. I’m going to take such good care of you.” Wilbur sighed. “I had to drug because you would never go with me. I saw how you reacted to the blanket. Sure, you’d love Wilbur and you’d leave with him, but you’d never go with me as I truly am. Father’s so excited to meet you, Toms. Oh, I’m so excited as well. I can’t wait for you to see the palace. You’ll love it, or you will.” 

Tommy gulped in fear as the realisation hit. His Wilbur, his dear, musical, silly Wilbur was- 

Siren grinned softly at him. “You can say you hate me, you can kick and scream and fight, and you can try to escape, but Tommy, you are never leaving me.” 

“Your Majesty,” a guard said as she approached them. “The carriage is waiting.” 

Siren glanced up. “Thank you, Niki. We’ll be right there.” The guard bowed and left. 

Tears poured down Tommy’s face. “Help,” he croaked out. “Someone, help…” 

Siren laughed. “Oh, Tommy, it’s okay. Shhhh, there’s no need to cry. You’ll be happy, I promise.” He bent down and grabbed Tommy’s toys off the ground. He gathered Tommy up in his arms and stood up. He began to hum as he walked the two of them to the carriage. 

Tommy closed his eyes. How did this happen? How could be so stupid? Why does he feel so betrayed? And most of all, why does he still love Wilbur? 

Siren sat them down in the carriage and leaned over to murmur in Tommy’s ear. “Welcome to your new life, Prince Tom Soot-Craft.” 

Tommy shivered. He would be doing that a lot. But he'd never know whether it was from the fear or the cold.