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The apple pie tasted like ash on his tongue. It was a gritty, awful texture that didn’t want to pass through his throat but Wilbur still forced it down. He drank more of the herbal tea to wash it down and tried to take another bite.
He was so hungry, he felt like he was losing his mind. He missed the sourness of berries and bitterness of gruel his aunt made for him when he was a child. These days everything just made him sick.
And his mind never stopped whispering about the sweetness and heaviness of the little cake he took because of the foolishness. About the love he felt and ambrosia filling his mouth.
Wilbur never forgot his Fae.
He met Pinkie when he was just a boy. Maybe five or so. The Fae looked like a child too and Wil was so stoked to play with him, he barely remembered the rules of politeness. But Pinkie didn’t seemingly mind, he wanted to play too!
When the Fae took human form, he had pink hair and Wilbur’s face.
They didn’t meet each other often, twice a year at most but each visit took longer and longer, hunger and sleep twisting Wilbur into a fool. He disappeared in the forest for weeks on end, carrying some bread and fruit with him, just to not offend the Fae. Pinkie was possessive and scary when Wil tried to leave so brunet always stayed longer than last time.
It was fine. It was fun . Wilbur thought he loved his Fae and he believed that his Fae liked him too. He didn’t try to steal his name, didn’t pull him in the circle, didn’t force him to discard golden flowers from his clothing. And Wilbur was a stupid child that never listened, alway talked and chatted and never listened . Not his aunty, nor his elders, even when they didn’t scold him just feared for what will happen.
Not would. It was, and always would be ‘ will ’.
Wilbur was barely thirteen when that blasted day came.
They were playing on the clearing surrounding the fairy circle. Pinkie wasn’t supposed to come outside of it, really, but he did anyway, just for Wil. His dad would be mad, he said. It was dangerous for the Fae outside of the circle, just like it was dangerous for humans inside the circle. So they were doing it in secret, with giggles and sparkles in their eyes.
Wilbur tackled Pinkie and laughed loudly. His victory was very brief, as the Fae quickly flipped them and immobilized brunet’s arms. Wilbur tried to buckle and kick but Pinkie was twice as strong as him and easily pinned him down.
"Give it up Singer!"
"I shall not!" Wilbur yelled with a breathless giggle.
Pinkie let Wil crawl from underneath him just to pounce at him like a house cat on a mouse. Wilbur tapped the earth and the Fae rolled away. They both grinned at each other, twin faces shining with joy.
And then Wilbur's stomach growled.
Pinkie's face glummed immediately and Wil reached for his bag feeling guilty. The Fae didn't like stopping playing for anything, especially for Wilbur's naps and eating breaks. But what he hated even more, was when Wilbur was leaving.
And the bag was empty. No more bread, no more nuts and no more water in the flask.
Wilbur's gut churned with worry. He swallowed.
He smiled guiltily and showed the bag to Pinkie. "I think I need to go back."
The Fae in a flash showed at his side, painfully gripping his arm. Wilbur winced and tried to tug it back but Pinkie just took it as his escape attempt, which just made the being more upset.
He glared. "We barely played together! You should stay!"
Wilbur relaxed his arm, hoping Pinkie would take the hint. Thankfully he did, the hold did not disappear but it was gentler. Still steely in its sureness.
"I stayed longer than last time though."
Pinkie flashed him an annoyed look. "Last time was also way too short."
"I can't help needing to eat. You would be mean if you stopped me from eating, you know it!" Wilbur snapped.
The Fae growled. He didn't like being reminded that he also had to abide by the rules of politeness. Especially when those were not for his advantage.
"I don't stop our playtime every day just to make the other person bored! "
Wilbur threw his hands up. "I need to sleep!"
Pinkie grumbled.
The Fae pulled the human into the hug, as inescapable as an iron cage. Wil just sighed and reciprocated the hold a little.
"I know it's fun Pinkie, but I'm hungry. If you want me to come back and play again, I really should go and, you know, not die. "
"You don't have to die from not eating."
"But you usually do when you're human. In uh, human realm. I don't know what happens in yours."
Pinkie shrugged.
Wilbur's stomach growled again and the boy winced.
"You just have to eat, yes?"
"I mean… yeah? That's the thing?" Wilbur blinked, not really understanding the purpose of the question.
Pinkie released him at once and rose up. He pointed at Wilbur.
"Stay here," he commanded and then he ran to his circle.
Wilbur sat up. That was… weird. He wanted to go home but he couldn't move without saying goodbye first. It would be beyond rude and he would risk getting cursed.
So the boy picked at the flowers and grass growing all around him, slowly weaving a flower crown. His stomach sunk in more, now that Wilbur noticed his hunger, it was impossible to ignore it. He missed warm dinners at home, he was ready to just devour whatever aunt would place in front of him.
"Singer!"
Wilbur looked up with a smile. Pinkie came back, with… plates?
"What… are those?" Wilbur asked, confused, quickly tying the flower crown together.
He left it beside him and came closer to the Fae.
"You said you need to eat, so I brought you food," Pinkie said, his expression full of pride.
Wilbur smiled sadly. The cakes, little buns and fruits looked delicious and his stomach twisted with a painful tug.
"That's very kind of you," said Wilbur carefully, "but I cannot accept such… generous offering."
Pinkie frowned and Wilbur shrugged apologetically. The elders and his aunt taught him to never ever accept Faes gift if he did not know the full cost of payback the being expected. Nothing was free with Fae, if you don't pay upfront, it will only mean hardship for you later.
"Fine. You can eat all this, in exchange for… two more days. I know it will fill you enough, so don't even argue! This is real food!"
The boy bit his lips. Well… two days weren't that bad, surely? And it solved the food problem easily! Wil carefully considered his words. He was good with words, everyone always praised him for it!
"For the… following two days… I will stay on this clearing and play with Pinkie… like I did till today… and I will go back after that to my village… in exchange for the food you brought here now," he finished finally with a huff.
Pinkie gave him two sarcastic claps and then shoved the plates closer.
That was when the young fool Wilbur tasted Fae food.
It was the most delicious thing in the universe, he thought at the time. The softest, tastiest and nothing could ever compare! It gave him so much energy, it satisfied his hunger, Wilbur loved every bite.
He had no idea how he would come to regret that day.
When they parted ways, Wilbur thankfully didn't promise to go back. He never did. The boy was too distraught when he learned that his Fae cursed him.
Wilbur remembered sitting at the table with a bowl of soup, and a circle of terrified adults and just wailing.
Wil was taught the last rule too late. One should never taste Fae food, for if one did, they would never again be satisfied with real world food. Always yearning, unable to keep anything down.
Wilbur nearly died when he was thirteen. The adults and elders tried so many things to make Wilbur eat but the boy was starving still. No matter what was put to his lips, nothing could compare to the taste of soft bread and berries Pinkie fed him. He lost his strength and will, sadly crying over what he thought was love, but showed itself as cruelty.
Then one woman sent her children to the forest, to the Fae circle. Pinkie apparently waited there and he demanded to know where Wilbur was. He wanted the boy to come back.
"Singer, as you call him, is dying."
"He's starving, because of the curse in the food he consumed here."
"There was no curse!" Pinkie snarled.
"It is a curse to humans. He cannot eat earthly food any more."
"Then make him come to me! I'll feed him more, he will never go hungry!"
The children looked at themselves.
"Were you aware what will happen to Wi- to Singer?"
Pinkie scoffed and crossed his arms. "I fed him."
It wasn't rebuttal. The children just looked at themselves and each swore to never deal with Fae.
"Well? Go and bring Singer to me. He has to eat, does he not?"
"I'll relay your message but I don't promise he will come back."
"We came to collect flowers and herbs for our mother. We bid you goodbye, as we need to be hasty."
They picked the yellow flowers and medicinal herbs and brought them back. The mother praised them and brought the plants to Wilbur's house.
She cooked a soup and threw them in, praying that they grew close enough to the fairy circle to count for Fae realm food.
It was slimy and tasted of dirt. Wilbur forced it down all the same.
He didn't vomit.
He remembered how his aunt cried, how she thanked the mother, how she thanked the children. Wilbur thanked them when he was strong enough again.
The children of the village offered to collect the herbs for Wilbur as he declared he will never come back to the circle. Each of them had his gratitude, and also personal lessons of how to avoid Fae.
They always came back relaying messages from Pinkie, the tone and demands growing more and more ridiculous. Some… threatening.
Wilbur sent the response only once.
"Your actions have brought me to near death. I do not wish to see you ever again.”
After that he closed his ears and heart to his Fae and instead focused on working for the village. He went to the elders and adults and learned all about the rules of politeness, as well as unspoken rules. He wrote them all down and revised every word till he found the recipes for safer interactions.
As an adult, Wilbur was an expert on the subject of Fae. It was him, who was called to the villages all over the country to help poor fools who got themselves cursed. He was the one setting the words for treaties between Fae and common folk, even if he never set foot into a forest again.
Wilbur swallowed two more bites of the disgusting pie and he smiled tiredly at the woman who was his host in the village. He could not fathom eating anymore and he prayed she would not push him anymore.
“Oh darling, try some more. You’re sticks and bones!” she fretted.
Wilbur laughed forcefully. “I really hope not, that would make me changeling after all.”
The woman swatted at him and took away his plate. Wilbur sighed with relief and silently returned to the guest room. It was his last night in the village, and the next day he was hitching a ride with a blacksmith to his next destination. He went around the villages once a year and checked on everyone, taught children, and made sure everyone was keeping their treaties with fae fair.
He was still so hungry. The herbal tea barely helped him force down half a meal nowadays and he feared the day when it would be not enough.
He slept badly and woke up early, exhausted beyond imagination. He gathered his books and his bags and went to a blacksmith shop.
“Ah, Singer! Hope ya don’t mind but there is one more fellow taking himself with me. You’ll have enough space on my cart, don’t worry!”
Wilbur smiled tiredly. “It’s alright, I appreciate your help anyhow.”
The smith clapped him on the back and Wil nearly fell to the floor.
“Don’t mention anythin, if not for ya, my cousin would be still screwed with the silent spell. Now we can at least hear him once in a while, heh.”
Wilbur smiled again before climbing to the back of the cart. Soon a stranger showed up and sat near Wil. The man was a short blond, clothed in soft looking green robes. Wil felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him when he looked at the warm coat. The morning was chilly and he had not taken a lot of clothes for his trip.
“Good morning,” Wilbur greeted first.
The man grinned. “Good morning indeed. Did I hear correctly? You’re the elusive Singer? Such a curious moniker.”
“Ah, that’s a childish nickname now. I’m afraid I don’t sing a lot nowadays,” Wil laughed softly.
“What a shame.”
“May I ask with whom I am traveling?”
The stranger smiled. “You may call me Angel, Singer.”
“An interesting moniker as well. Is there a story behind it?”
“A few. It’s more of a title tied to my station.”
A station that was tied to angels. Wilbur hummed quietly, considering it but he did not push for knowledge. Being curious was dangerous when he was on the road. In his village he could prod at strangers but he wasn’t risking it outside of his safe space.
The blond man turned and looked at the road. He hummed.
“This isn’t the best path to Logsted, isn’t there a road through the forest?” he inquired.
Wilbur laughed awkwardly. “Ah, that would be… because of me. I vowed to never come back to Forests. The blacksmith is doing me a favor with this.”
“Aren’t the roads safe for humans due to contracts?”
“Ah, yes, they should be. I helped to write them but even then one should never underestimate Fae. Remember the rules and all of that,” Wilbur smiled.
“And all that,” agreed the stranger. “It’s fascinating to see someone so in touch with the customs.”
“I have my reasons to do so.”
Angel smiled again. “You sound like you have lots to do. A long journey in front of you?”
Wilbur sighed and sagged a little against the cart's wall. He did have a long way before him. Lot to do before he will allow himself to go back to his own village and chill for a month or two. Ever since he stopped visiting his Fae, the year seemed to be too long, too dragging. Time, just like food, lost all of its flavor.
“In that case… Since you have a long way to go, why don’t you share a meal with me? One should never skip food, mate,” Angel proposed.
The blond man took out some sandwiches and little cakes out of his bag. Wilbur blinked. He… didn’t see that before. He was hungry, he was always hungry obviously, but he had no appetite. Wil sighed and pulled out a bottle of wine.
“Then let me provide a drink- a fair share, would you agree?”
The Angel laughed, a pretty sound. He had crows feet around his eyes when he smiled and his eyes… There was something…
“A fair deal between two travelers on the road. Very well. Dig in, mate.”
Wilbur picked up the sandwich and bit into the soft bread. It fell apart like dirt on his tongue, gritted him like a smear of soot on a dirty shoe. He swallowed and bit again. He missed the little cakes, he missed his Pinkie.
How many years has it been already?
The Angel took a careful drink from the wine and Wilbur forced himself to eat more of the sandwich. The man just observed him with kind eyes and the cart continued to bump and roll on the uneven road.
Wilbur wanted to cry. He was so hungry . He reached for the wine, made specifically from the golden flowers near faerie circles and washed down a particularly grungy bite.
He lifted the sandwich again but a hand stopped him.
Angel looked at him with pity. “There is no need for you to force yourself anymore mate. Why don’t you try this one?” The man offered him the tiny cake.
Wilbur’s stomach rumbled with guilt. “It’s not your fault, Angel. My relationship with food…”
“I understand,” said the man calmly.
Wilbur smiled sadly and took a tiny bite out of the cake.
It exploded in sweetness on his tongue. Sweet and fluffy and a little sour, and…!
He dropped the cake and looked at the man terrified.
The Angel smiled wider, revealing a hint of fangs in his mouth. “Is there a problem Singer?”
“You… you…!”
“Really though. Even if you are already under a curse, you should have been more careful about accepting food from strangers. Who knows who you might encounter,” the Fae mused.
Wilbur tried to straighten out and start bargaining, see what the blond wanted but… he couldn’t. His strength siphoned and suddenly he noticed the black spots dancing around the edges of his vision.
The Fae cooed.
“I probably should have let you finish on your own but it was so pitiful. Markus , ” the name reverberated in the air and Wil saw the blacksmith stiffen, “be a dear, and turn right. You know how to find a circle, do it.”
Wilbur slumped more in his seat, his thoughts muddled.
“Wha…” his lips were stiff, it seemed impossible to speak but he had questions he had to ask. “Wha you… wan… me? I t… t… didn’...”
“Shush, it’s okay.”
The Fae shook off the disguise of human form, huge wings and elk antlers shimmering into the sight. Too magnificent to be just any fae. It had to be, it must have been…!
“Wha… does Kin…g of co…urt… Wan’ wi’ me?” Wilbur mumbled.
The Angel laughed again. His hands disappeared in his robes for a second. Then he pulled a shining little bottle and came closer to Wilbur.
“It’s nothing scary. This should have happened ages ago, dear Singer,” the King said and then he grabbed Wil’s jaw.
The cart started shaking more as they firmly drove into the forest. Wilbur got distracted by the shapes of leaves over their head, by the smell he nearly forgot. How long since he abandoned the Forest? How long did he manage to escape from the clutches of what had to happen?
“Did… Pinkie…?”
“Pinkie. Oh that’s adorable, I appreciate this. It will be a lovely nickname to tease him with. Speaking of names, don’t you want to give me yours?”
Wilbur glared at the Fae. That was such a cheap attempt. The Angel just laughed and he gently tapped at Wilbur’s cheeks.
“I suppose we will have more time later. Drink this, Singer, and go to sleep. There is someone who really wishes to see you.”
Wilbur tried to purse his lips but the King easily nudged his jaw open. The potion slipped smoothly through his throat and Wil felt the rest of his might slip away in seconds.
“Oh you’re so sleepy, aren’t you sweetheart? That’s very good. I won’t have you make a ruckus and spoil the surprise,” the Fae said kindly.
The cool fingers smoothed over his face and forced his eyelids to shut close. Wilbur barely puffed out a breath of protest. The Fae just chuckled and then the cart stopped. Wil slipped from his seat but before he could hit the floor something caught him. Someone.
Wilbur couldn’t even whine.
“You did well, Markus. You can scurry off and go back on your way. You know nothing of what became of Singer, understand?”
“Yes.”
The sound of the cart and horse hoofs strangled the little bit of silence the forest offered. Wilbur missed the forest but he hated every second spent there. He was supposed to never go back. He was way too close to the circle, the magic crawled on his skin. A familiar feeling, from the years when Wil and Pinkie fooled around on their clearing.
Another small puff of breath.
“You’ll be a fine present, Singer. After a bit of preparation of course.”
Something wrapped around his ankles, his wrists and his throat. Cold and constricting, like vice, maybe it was poison ivy. Maybe it was a cousin of the plant that resided in the fae realm.
“Here,” something warm, powerful and delicate was pressed against Wil’s forehead. A kiss. “There you go. It’s not punishment Singer, I’ll let you know that. I’ve seen the extent of your work and know of the contracts you and my son have struck and completed. You should’ve come back years ago but I do understand you needed a bit of freedom.”
The air grew icy, the smell of flowers suddenly overwhelming. Wilbur’s lungs stuttered for a less than a second but then they just languidly filled and emptied again. The man, the boy, wished to see what was happening. He couldn’t stop the King of the Court but he wanted to at least see. He never thought he would be taken to the fae realm, he could at least be selfish and curious to observe.
He wondered which Court he would be taken to. He doubted it would be Summer, the chill was too prominent. Maybe Fall, Winter if he was particularly unlucky.
Or maybe no Court at all. Maybe this was the ruler of rulers, the one Fae that was said to have done the impossible and sat upon the throne of thrones. Above them all… No, that would be beyond unlucky. Wilbur was a stupid child but even he couldn’t accidentally spite the prince of all faeries, surely not.
“Like a sparrow, you just had to be brought to where you belong. I wish to hear your voice someday soon, Techno was very grumpy about losing the magic of it,” the King chuckled.
Techno. A part of the true name, Wilbur was sure. His Pinkie, his Fae, still so possessive of everything Wilbur ever was. The cold grew more and whatever wrapped around him, slithered further. He knew he was carried, of course he knew. And yet the feeling of feathers closing around him startled him.
A puff of breath.
“It’s a bit chilly for a human, hm? You should give me your name quickly, Singer. In the meantime,” another kiss was pressed to his forehead.
He desperately wanted to see.
“We will prepare you nicely, I promise.”
Wilbur feared that like nothing else in existence.
~*~
Wilbur sat with his hands curled in his lap. The garden was precious, the colors making his brain swirl and the tea table was fully set. Cookies, cakes, little buns, jellies, fruits, whatever his soul could wish for and a lot more.
Wilbur wasn’t hungry.
He lifted his tired eyes to the Fae King sitting in front of him. The blond was enjoying his own tea and seemingly ignored the human. But Wil knew it was a matter of seconds before he will get scolded.
“Why aren’t you eating?” The Angel asked, just like Wil knew he would.
The brunet swallowed. “I’m not hungry, your majesty.”
“Nonsense. You’re barely sticks and gold, maybe you just don’t feel it. Eat up, for my sake at least.”
Wilbur dutifully reached for the food, his gold speckled hands shining in the strange light of the realm. The human wasn’t sure how long he spent there already. He knew that the King was dangerous and relentless.
He already stole a part of Wilbur’s name after all.
After he started eating, he couldn’t stop, as usual. Tasting again was addicting. He missed every second he couldn’t recall a treat on his tongue, to feel the heaviness of meal in his belly. And yet Wilbur wasn’t hungry, merely eating for the sake of eating.
“Good job Wil,” the King purred.
Wilbur frowned, still upset. Even a part of his name was enough for the fae to chain him more thoroughly and begin changing him. Wilbur wasn’t entirely human anymore, he wasn’t sure if he was closer to changeling, fae or merely a new fancy wooden statue.
His skin grew gold patches on itself, his hair changed into nearly a mist, soft and floaty but steady on him. His ears sharpened into tips and he stomped much more quietly than he was ever able to.
The vines of Killer Ivy constricted more over his neck.
He was a prisoner, and that was the only thing Wilbur was sure of.
“Wil, why don’t you sing for me?”
Wilbur dropped the cookie he just grabbed and he frowned again.
“I’m sorry, your majesty, but I told you already. I don’t sing much nowadays.”
The King just cocked his head to the side and smiled his terrifying smile. Wilbur tried not to shiver in the face of power he could never wish to best.
“Drink your tea, Wil.”
Wilbur did. Instantly he felt the familiar pull of sleep and weakness. He sighed and shoved his plate and teacup off the table. They tumbled down with the crash but Wilbur cared for them not. He just slumped on the table and closed his eyes.
Soon there were cool fingers in his hair anyway and he puffed a small breath out.
“So tired. I will bring you back to your strength, don’t you worry. We still have a few more days.”
Wilbur knew the fae can’t lie but he still felt like that particular Fae was somehow evading the truth. Maybe he forced the world to listen to his demands and the few days were eternal. Never changing, never passing, till the King will have exactly what he wants.
“My wife is starting to get curious about you as well. I promised her a singing bird and yet I’m playing with a fussy toddler,” the King chuckled.
It wasn’t the first time he mentioned his wife. Wilbur thought he understood who she was. The King was a powerful figure but there was a being above him. Elusive Trixtin, the nickname grating on Wil’s mind. Fake may the name be, it still flowed Wilbur’s being with ancient magic deeper than any playful tease from the King ever elicited.
“But we’re closer, aren’t we Wil? I killed your hunger, I will kill your resentment and loneliness as well. You may be stubborn, but you will never outlast me,” whispered the King.
A new kiss was pressed to Wilbur’s hair. He would’ve shuddered at the feeling of magic twisting him further but he barely breathed out and in.
Wilbur didn’t know if fighting was worth it.
~*~
The Killer Ivy tugged at him harshly when he tried to leave the table. It twisted and grew and chained him to the chair. Wilbur’s breath picked up, he tried to twist himself away, look any other way but the Ivy digged into his neck and kept him looking at the gift .
“I don’t want it,” he choked out.
“I don’t expect repayment,” said Phil, he wanted Wil to call him Phil, it was a trap, he didn’t know how to escape-
“ Liar ,” he hissed, like a fool.
The temperature dropped and the King’s eyes grew icy.
“Now now,” he murmured. “That wasn’t so smart, Wil.”
Wilbur whimpered. He tried to get up again but the Ivy raked through his skin, golden droplets of his blood watering the purple grass. His chest fluttered quicker, he felt like no air was coming to him, nothing at all!
“Don’t make me take it,” he pleaded, begged.
Phil studied him closely. Wilbur looked at him, truly looked and begged with his entire being. But the King just smiled cruelly again and he pushed the violin closer to him.
“Take it,” he warned, “lest I take offense .”
The tears rolled down the golden cheeks. They splattered and shattered into crystals on top of the table and the rich wood of the instrument. Wilbur shivered and reached for the item.
“I don’t know how to play,” he whispered.
“It’s fine, I’ll teach you. We have a few more days,” promised the King.
~*~
Wilbur strummed on his new guitar a somber tune. It was a lot more than whatever he could do in the human realm. His claws kept catching on the strings but Phil said he was getting better. Wilbur liked it more than a flute anyway.
The King watched him from across the tea table. Wil was pretty sure the man was pleased. The table as usual was filled with desserts and snacks, and soup too, since Wil loved soup. He wasn’t sure why but he… missed it. A lot.
Wilbur strummed more.
“Will you give me your name?”
“Will you give me yours in return?” Wilbur answered, bored of the same conversation they kept on having. He changed the grip and hummed contentedly when the sound became clearer.
The King chuckled. “Well, I’ll surely think about it.”
“Then I’ll think about it as well.”
“Naughty,” Phil playfully scolded.
Wilbur smiled. Yeah, he was pretty naughty, hm? But he had to be.
He didn’t intend on giving his name so easily and the name was tied to what you are, what you were and intended to become. The being knew that The Fae King changed him, in so many ways he was barely a snap away from becoming someone new.
Someone who would need a new name, someone ready to be named . Phil could pick and claim his new name too easily, so Wilbur had to stay naughty and stubborn.
He wanted to stay as himself for a long time.
“Sing for me?”
Wilbur stopped strumming for a second. The Ivy bit at his neck but he barely paid it any attention.
“I don’t tend to sing a lot nowadays, Phil.”
The King smiled gently and he rounded the table. A new kiss was pressed to Wil’s forehead.
“It’s okay. We still have a few more days,” said the King and the world listened.
~*~
The tea was delicious. Wilbur closed his eyes and he delighted himself with the taste. He knew there was a time when he was hungry and scared and betrayed but it was a fuzzy scrap of his memory now. Nonetheless, he liked to show his appreciation for the food and drinks every time he reached for one.
He was having tea time with Phil again. His instruments laid neatly under the tree, magic and the Ivy eager to bring them over.
“How are you feeling Wil?”
“Great, your majesty.”
The Angel hummed. “No pains, no aches, no being tired behind my back?”
Wilbur laughed. “Between the naps you keep enforcing and all the magic you keep smuggling through the tarts? I would have to be a particularly stubborn goat to not be perfect now.”
“Who knows mate,” Philza laughed as well, “you were plenty stubborn just hours ago.”
Wilbur shrugged and focused on his tea.
“I’m glad you’re doing fine. It was a lot of work, not gonna lie.”
Wil casted a quick glance at the King and found him still observing. The brunet sighed and closed his eyes.
“I’m thankful, Phil. But… that’s not the end, is it?”
“Whatever you mean?”
“You want more from me, beside the name I keep holding, am I right?”
Phil chuckled. Wilbur must’ve been right.
“Would you sing for me?”
“Of course,” Wilbur smiled.
He put his teacup down and coaxed the instruments to rise in the air with merely a flick of his fingers. He sang, a low tune and wordless cry. He was losing at the game between the two of them but he didn’t know what the loss would mean for him. So he desperately prolonged the little dance between a fool and a father, just so he could try and gauge what the finish line looked like.
Phil smiled softly. “A few more days and you’ll be ready,” he assured.
Wilbur sang.
~*~
“Have you missed my son, Wil?”
Wilbur’s appetite vanished in a second. He dropped the apple slice and withdrew a little.
“I haven’t seen him in years, Phil. It’s… I don’t think it’s as easy as missing him or not,” he admitted quietly.
“What is complicated about it?”
“I suffered and nearly died because of his actions. He wished to keep me so much, he forgot to not suffocate me.”
“But he cared for you enough to promise you a remedy.”
“Or a shackle.”
Phil blinked slowly.
“Are shackles that bad, when they are held by a loving hand?”
Wilbur snorted quietly. “Not everyone is as smitten as you are with Trixtin. I loved Pinkie as a brother but…” he hesitated.
“But?” Phil gently prodded.
“I never had any confirmation, any insurance of what would become of me if I followed him. For all I knew, I was a fool that barely balanced between amusing and annoying.”
Phil hummed. He pushed a plate with creme puffs closer and Wilbur took one.
“I don’t believe you were a fool to him, Wil.”
Wilbur turned his head to the side. It was… nice, hearing it. But he didn’t know if he could believe it.
Even though fae cannot lie.
“Wil, look at me.”
Wilbur did. Phil’s eyes shone with Winter’s might and the familiar freeze settled in the brunet’s bones. He sighed and relaxed at the silent reassurance.
“Do you remember what I told you about magic?”
“It’s everywhere. Its taste is what binds the realms together.”
“You have no idea how magical you are, Wilbur .”
Wil looked at Philza doubtfully. The King laughed at the sliver of doubt in his gaze.
“Yes you are, my little songbird. Your voice and words coil around the rules and bend them out of shapes, bringing you closer to us than anyone could wish for. Your laughter is so pure it helped bring lives from nothingness, the peal of it is the source of a few of my subjects. Your loneliness was so cold and your love burns so deeply,” Phil said, reaching for his face.
Wilbur pushed his cheek against the cold fingers.
“You are a precious treasure anyone would want to keep. I saw Techno waiting for you, years now. You are no fool for your feelings, Wilbur.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Philza chuckled.
Wilbur smiled and nodded. “Okay. I missed him a lot.”
Philza cupped his cheeks and he beamed at Wilbur, all proud like. Wil’s heart fluttered and he melted in the icy hold. It gained him another kiss to the forehead, familiar power washing through him.
“Just in time. Tomorrow’s Techno’s birthday… and it will be yours as well.”
Wilbur blinked up at the King. “Yeah?”
“Yes. You will be the perfect present, my son,” Philza purred.
The nearly Fae boy smiled prettily.
“Are you excited for your new name Wilbur?”
The boy nodded. No longer just a few more days, tomorrow. Tomorrow was so close. He would finally meet Pinkie after all the years! No longer a childhood companion but a brother.
~*~
The day was cold, the plants eager to shrivel up and die at the feet of the fae royalty. Technoblade scowled at them all, briskly walking towards the throne room. His Mother and Father waited for him, with a myriad of their subjects fluttering surely about. He wasn’t in the mood for that.
Technoblade didn’t like his birthdays. There was a time when he welcomed the date with deeply rooted satisfaction, when he claimed the attention and offering with lazy grace. But that passed a many human years ago.
His birthday was supposed to be special .
He was supposed to bring Singer back when he turned a hundred, he got permission from Mumza, he just had to grab him…! And then he hurried too much.
Technoblade growled deeply and the plants all around shied away from him.
He didn’t want a birthday. He was not going to celebrate them till his fucking human comes to him or dies.
The vines guarding the throne room scattered away from his path.
“Blade! You’re here, oi you bastard! I have a gift for you!”
Technoblade sighed and looked up. Tommy was sitting on Mumza’s lap, his little brother fluttering his soft wings. Father stood close by, a soft conversation between him and mum. Technoblade sighed.
“I don’t want gifts, Theseus.”
“Too bad, you’re getting them!”
Philza chuckled and helped Tommy get down from the throne. The kid zoomed around him before he flew away in a shimmer of glitter and magic. Techno huffed and glared at his parents.
“Oh don’t be so pissy. I promise, you’ll love this year's party,” Philza assured him.
Techno scowled more. The random servant scurried away before Techno could trample on him. Idiot.
“Techno, stop frowning. Phil really tried, you know?” Trixtin interjected.
“I don’t want a party. I don’t want to celebrate my birthday,” Technoblade growled.
Philza flew down to his level and he pulled on his tusk a little. The prince grimaced but he allowed his head to be shaken.
“Just entertain me and my silly ideas, why won’t you?”
“I do it every year, ” Techno rolled his eyes.
“Well, yes. But this year is extra special.”
The prince sighed. He would suffer through the party anyway, just for his family, as always. And then he would go away, check the abandoned circle and foolishly wait and hope for a miracle.
“Thank you! This year I got you the best music available, it’ll move even a grump like you,” Philza laughed.
~*~
The hall was filled with gold and frozen plants. Their subjects were dancing between air and floor, the servants flitting and trying to attend to everyone’s needs. The party was burning and bustling, the magic buzzing between everyone’s breath.
The music… was nice, Techno had to admit.
He thumbed at his newest crown, gift from Tommy and he looked boredly at the dancing floor. There was no soul down there that wasn’t happy for him and yet he was still discontent. He looked at his Father and hoped that the pain of having to socialize was very well visible in his eyes.
Philza just chuckled and rose from his throne below Trixtin and spread his wings. The hall immediately silenced itself, all eyes fixed onto their ruler.
“It’s dear to us that so many have come to celebrate my son’s birthday. This year in particular since it’s double special!” Philza turned to Technoblade with a pleased smirk. “I promised you the best gift and my word is not to be broken. Come closer, Technoblade.”
The use of his true name took Techno slightly by surprise but he didn’t have a problem with following that order. He has risen from his own throne and trotted to Phil.
“A best gift, you say.”
“The best.”
Philza smiled and then he turned around. He opened his arms and Mumza flicked her fingers. Golden dust formed into a staircase around her shoulder. Technoblade looked up, not knowing what to expect was kinda annoying but…
His eyes widened.
“Kneel before your prince, as it is his first birthday,” announced Philza. The King smiled warmly towards the descending Fae. “Come here, Wilbur, say hello to your brother.”
Singer looked towards them and smiled, his boyish, happy smile. It was his Singer but no longer human. His skin shined with gold and his hair curled by itself in a wind that was nowhere near them. Techno saw the claws, the ears, the fangs and glorious butterfly wings lazily beating behind him.
His Singer, his human, was in the Fae realm.
Big black wings closed around them.
“I promised you the best,” Philza mused.
Singer, Wilbur, chuckled. “Well… yeah. Hello Pinkie. I missed you.”
Technoblade didn’t wait for explanation, he grabbed the Fae in front of him and crushed him in a hug. It was years overdue, finally, finally!
“What will you name him, Techno?”
Technoblade looked up at his Father. “I can name him?”
Philza smiled kindly. “It’s his first birthday but he is still your birthday present. Wilbur doesn’t fully suit him anymore, don’t you think?”
Technoblade looked at his new brother, snug in his arms. An excitement surged through his heart and he clutched at the baby Fae harsher. He knew that Singer won’t be only his , his family would pry and needle until he shared but the knowledge that the new name would be his first was pretty great.
Wilbur looked at him with a smile, not even trying to free himself from the hug.
“I will give you the name Orpheus,” he whispered.
Philza smiled and stepped away from them, finally. Orpheus chuckled.
“It’s good to finally see you again. Do you want me to play or sing something? Father taught me some tunes in the last few days.”
“You’re not moving away from me for the whole night,” Technoblade purred.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t play,” the brunet said and he lifted his fingers.
As on cue, the instruments flew down and crowded around them. The golden threads of magic started pulling at the strings and Orpheus grinned. Technoblade couldn’t help but do the same.
The hall burst into life again and two princes returned to the throne to the right of the King. His Singer started humming a song from their childhood and Technoblade purred to the tune.
“I will never let you go. You will be mine forever, safe forever. And never, ever, will you go hungry again.”
“Sounds good,” Orpheus smiled.
Wilbur wasn’t hungry anymore.