Wilbur

Wilbur is seated at his desk when he hears a commotion outside his tent. He looks up from where he's been poured over several documents. He hesitantly rises to his feet, waiting for someone to inform him why he can hear distant yelling. He's almost certain that he's going to be left out of the loop when the tent flap opens. The voices grow louder for the single second it takes Sparklez to step into the tent. He bows to his king as a sign of respect, but he doesn't mince his words as he starts speaking without being given the order to. "The two groups you sent out have returned. Unfortunately, as near as I can tell, someone among the two groups is injured."

Wilbur swiftly stands all the way up. His crown tilts on his head as he starts rushing forward. He sent Tommy and Techno on those missions. He sent Kristin on those missions. He sent Shubble and Niki on those missions. He sent Tubbo, Gem, and Fwhip on those missions. Prince Scott, Boomer, and Duke Sam also went on those missions. Any one of them could be hurt, and Wilbur doesn't know to what extent. He feels something akin to preemptive guilt swirling in his gut. He has to make sure that they're okay. He has to make sure that it's fixable, and when he finds out that it is, he's going to fix it.

"My king," Sparklez startles as Wilbur pushes past him. The guard simply follows after Wilbur as the king rushes towards the entrance of the ravine. Wilbur knows that he probably looks like a fool. A king should remain calm and composed no matter the situation. Wilbur, though, is rushing around like a headless chicken. Wilbur absently notes that Samantha will scold him harshly later. Even though he's been avoiding her, she'll find a way to make it known to him how unacceptable his actions are. Despite knowing all of this, Wilbur doesn't slow down. He has to get to them. He has to find out who's hurt.

Wilbur stops when he sees the wagons. Everyone is circled around the way that looks unfamiliar to Wilbur. It isn't one he sent out, but he can see Boomer's pale hair in the mix of people. He knows that both of the groups have returned. Wilbur stops a few feet from them. His eyes flashed around to see who's the hurt one. He can see Boomer and some unfamiliar girl with roses in her hair... he can see Scott and his guard... he can see Niki... Techno... Kristin... Gemini... Fwhip... Tubbo... Shubble and Tommy are both sitting right inside the wagon, leaning over someone. Wilbur sucks in a breath as he realizes who isn't there. Wilbur takes a few steps forward, peering over the side of the wagon. Duke Sam lies on the wooden floorboard with his hands crossed over his chest like he's already been placed in a coffin. His skin is pale, his eyes are closed, and Wilbur can't see his chest moving. This is a dead man... one covered in some weird colored moss.

"We need to bring him to a private tent!" Shubble immediately demands with tears glistening in her eyes. Although her voice remains steady, her hands are shaking uncontrollably. Techno and Tubbo rush forward to hoist Sam into both of their arms. They start carrying Sam, and Wilbur rushes to guide them to the nearest empty tent. It's mainly used by the guards for breaks after harsh days of training, but Wilbur knows it will suit their current purposes just fine.

Techno and Tubbo place Sam as gently as they can on a cot. Everyone else follows them into the tent, including Sparklez. Tommy is at his side in an instant. He grabs Sam's hand in both of his. A thin sheen of light appears across Tommy's hand, pouring into Sam's body. Wilbur takes a single step back as he witnesses magic. He feels his breath stutter in his chest. His heartbeat rushes in his ears like the erratic beating of a drum. His hands shake at his sides, growing colder than the ocean off the Antarctic Empire's coast. His entire body is washed with the coldness, sapping away at what little strength he's been able to hoard behind exhaustion's back.

Shubble sits on the ground. She places both of her hands against the rug. Vines made from a golden light wrap around her arms. They blossom with sparkly flowers. Beneath her palms, the light begins to condense into a solid structure. The structure takes the shape of Sam's basic figure, his height and body shape. Shubble tilts her head up to Wilbur. Her eyes shimmer gold beneath the light reflecting in them. "Wilbur, you have to use your magic to coax Sam's soul into this body."

She says the word so easily. Magic. She makes it sound like it's a natural thing that Wilbur isn't completely terrified of.

Wilbur looks around the room. Tommy is focused on Sam, and Kristin is focused on him. Boomer and the unfamiliar girl are holding each other's hands as they cry over the duke. Everyone else is staring at Wilbur. He doesn't recall telling most of them he had magic. He doesn't recall telling Shubble that he has magic. But he can't feel anything other than panic. It is overwhelming. He can't breathe. He can't think. He can't do anything but feel the sensation that he is going to die. No, worse than that, he's going to freeze- just like his mother. He's going to be burned to death- just like Tommy's wings. He's going to be choked by those vines- just like Shubble's arms.

Techno reaches a hand towards Wilbur, but the kind gesture is seen as a threat in Wilbur's panicked mind. He flees. He pushes out of the tent's flaps. His feet don't stop. They keep pounding on the ground. They carry him as far away as they can manage before they trip him. Wilbur tumbles to the ground, rolling several feet before he's brought to a stop. He lands on his back. He's staring up at the sky. Pain ricochets throughout his body. He can't get enough oxygen in his body. He doesn't remember why he was running, but some part of him knows that he has to keep going. He has to keep running. Whatever was chasing him hasn't stopped. It doesn't stop. Fear doesn't stop. Wilbur's scared, and he doesn't know why. And that it is infinitely more terrifying. He needs to run, but his body is extremely heavy. He feels like someone is holding him down. He thrashes around, hoping to shake off whatever is keeping him from running. Is the thing holding him down the same thing as the thing he's running from? Does he want them to be? Why can't he move- why can't he breathe- why does everything feel wrong- help- help- help-

"... Breathe, mate... follow... please... listening..." The voice comes in and out. Wilbur desperately clutches onto it. He might not be able to do anything else, but he can hear. He can see, too, barely, and there's someone leaning over him. Wilbur wants to be scared of that, but the voice breaks through the fog in his mind. It's a mantra, repeated over and over again. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay..."

Wilbur can't remember what being okay is like, but he wants to be again. He hates this feeling. His chest hurts so much. His mind aches with fleeting thoughts and stagnant terrors. He reaches his hand up, and someone catches it. He feels something underneath his fingertips. It's warm. It's moving, too, and Wilbur starts mimicking the movements. His lungs remember what they're supposed to do. They start to move. It's too quick at first, but he can physically feel what he's supposed to do. He starts to breathe like he's supposed to. With the oxygen, his brain starts to work properly. He's still scared, but he can remember why. He had witnessed Tommy and Shubble using magic, and it overloaded his mind. He ran away from the tent because of his fear.

A hand touches his cheek. Wilbur's attention snaps to see Philza smiling down at him. Philza wipes away Wilbur's tears, holding him with so much more affection than Wilbur can ever remember getting from his own father. Wilbur's movements are sluggish, but he's able to fall bonelessly in Philza's hold. He places his ear against Philza's chest, focusing on the Fae's heartbeat. Philza wraps his arms around Wilbur's shoulders, tucking his head on Wilbur's head. As soon as they're comfortable, Philza's wings descend around them. The soothing darkness and warmth helplessly send Wilbur into a relaxed state. He closes his eyes, fighting off the exhaustion that rises up to claim him now that he's relaxed. "There we are. You're okay... you're safe... nothing can hurt you when I'm here."

The promise does wonders for Wilbur's mind. He knows that if he were to encounter magic again, he would probably have a panic attack. But right now, he feels nearly invincible. He truly believes that Philza can protect him. Over the course of his life, that's all Philza's been doing. He was there for Wilbur when no one else was. He was the one person that never demanded perfection. He never even expected Wilbur to be good or mature. When Wilbur needed to cry, Philza was there to wipe away his tears. When Wilbur wanted to gloat, Philza was there with a smile full of pride. When Wilbur felt like his mind wasn't his, Philza was there to ground him back to reality. He could make Wilbur laugh, but more importantly, he made Wilbur feel happy. When the entire kingdom demanded a king, Philza more than accepted the man beneath the crown.

At moments like this one, Wilbur's mind traitorously called Philza 'Dadza'. He wasn't sure where the name came from. It was the first thing he called the Fae when they met, and it was a nickname he kept in the recesses of his mind. Because when Wilbur thought of the word 'Dad', Philza came to mind before Wilbur's own father. It always made Wilbur feel selfish and dishonorable, but really, what had his father ever done for him? He wasn't present in many of Wilbur's early memories, and it was a fleeting role when he was. When Samantha was encased in ice, his father focused on her only. He barely paid any mind to his son or kingdom. When he died, Wilbur grieved, but... Orpheus was as much Wilbur's father as Samantha was his mother.

"Who the hell are my parents supposed to be?" Wilbur asks, more to himself than to Philza.

Despite this, Philza sighs like he's actually pondering the question himself. His hand starts to travel through Wilbur's hair. Wilbur realizes that he isn't wearing his crown. It must have fallen off when he fell to the ground. Wilbur holds back his own sigh. He doesn't care about the crown, not at this moment. No, he cared about what Philza says next. "I couldn't hide this forever."

Philza's grip on Wilbur tightens up slightly as he begins to tell a story. "A long time ago, before you were born, I was in the Wild Lands. Most avians live in Eversea, the land of summer. I lived in the Goblands, the land of winter. I spent most of my time alone. Then, one day, I felt the urge to leave. I followed that feeling all the way to L'Manberg. I was searching for something, but I didn't know what. All I knew is that I felt the closest to it when I met a sorrowful girl singing a sad ballad. I knew instantly that our fates were intertwined. When she saw me, she told me the story of her woes. Before I left, she told me a riddle. It was a riddle without an answer, but I made an answer for it. I blessed Samantha. Her performative qualities were given an enhancement. Using her new gifts, she flourished in high society. She told me many stories about her fellow noblemen. She eventually told me that she was offered the position of queen. She... she was a strange person. She was power-hungry in such a unique way that I was more awed than disgusted. I watched as she killed or framed the other heirs to the throne, ensuring that your father became queen. Orpheus and Samantha kept many secrets from me, however. I believe that Schlatt discovered one of these secrets, and that is partially why he commenced this civil war."

Wilbur lets the words register in his head. He should have known that if his mother wasn't the best person, his father wasn't going to be a saint. Wilbur shook his head to rid himself of such pitiful thoughts. He didn't need either of them. He had himself, and he had his new family. "I need to discover the truth, then."

"Secrets should not remain secret for long," Philza agrees. He pulls away from Wilbur just enough that they're staring each other in the eyes. Philza doesn't comment on Wilbur's puffy eyes. Instead, he smiles with such adoration that Wilbur's breath hitches for a whole different reason than fear. Philza cups Wilbur's cheeks with both of his hands as he softly admits, "I am certain that you were the thing that I was looking for all those years ago. My fate was intertwined with Samantha only because the universe knew she would bring me you."

Wilbur smiles at Philza. Wilbur feels positively warm with life. He knows that the world is in shambles. He knows that he's harboring an irrational fear that will one day ruin him. He knows that Sam is probably still dying right now. Regardless of all of that, for one split second, he feels like he could do anything, all because someone loves him. All because he has a father who promised to always protect him. All because he has a mother who can somehow see him beneath his madness. All because he has a brother who will hold him without asking any questions. All because he has a brother that can make him smile no matter what they're facing. All because Wilbur has a family ready to support and care about him.

Then reality comes crashing in like icy water putting out a fire.

"You should go help Sam. I'm sure they'll need a boost of Fae magic," Wilbur tells his father. Philza seems hesitant, but Wilbur raises his pinky finger. "I promise I'll be okay."

Philza links their pinkies, taking this as a sign that he can move on. Philza stands up. He walks away slowly, almost waiting for Wilbur to call him back. When Wilbur doesn't, Philza continues on his path back to the tent where Shubble and Tommy are trying to save a life. Wilbur knows he should join them, but he's so exhausted that he knows he won't be able to handle magic again. When he stands up, he starts walking in the opposite direction.

"My king," He hears a voice call out behind him. He turns to see Sparklez walking towards him with someone at their side. Wilbur stops at the end of the camp to wait for the two to catch up with them. The person at Sparklez's side is the unfamiliar girl with redwood colored hair and roses twisting around her entire body. Crystalline wings flutter slowly behind her back. She walks all the way up to Wilbur even when Sparklez remains a few feet behind. Wilbur finally recognizes her. She looks different than the reports, but then again, her mind had been corrupted at the time the soldiers described her. This was Hannah Rose, the daughter and heir of Duke Sam.

The duke that was currently dying right now.

"I'm sorr-"

"I understand why you didn't help my father. Fear is a powerful thing, and it is warranted in a lot of cases. We all have our fears. I'm terrified of a lot of things, too, so I don't need your apology," Hannah told him, waving her hand to dismiss his thoughts. She didn't look at him, but he could still see something sad appearing in her gaze. "You weren't the one to fatally wound him, in any case."

Before Wilbur could reply, Hannah turned to face him directly. She bowed to him, so low that he knew it was more than a sign of respect. "I'm sorry for everything that I've done. I know that nothing I can say or do will make up for all the lives I took. I know that I have done despicable things. But I need you to know that I am truly sorry."

"No, wait, stop, none of that was your fault. You were being manipulated by the Crimson Enchanter. They're the ones to blame, not you," Wilbur reminds her. He can't stand the thought that she's blaming herself, and he doesn't even know why. He's never experienced mind control before. He's never seen anyone experience mind control personally. Why does he care so much about how this stranger views their experiences?

"I hope so," Hannah optimistically states, rising up to her full height. She takes several steps toward Wilbur. Sparklez shuffles forward, but Wilbur lifts his hand to stop his guard from moving any further. Sparklez impatiently stops moving. Hannah stops when she's right in front of Wilbur. She kneels down in front of him. She takes his hand, pressing it against her forehead. Wilbur stiffens as he belatedly realizes what's happening, but he knows that he can't stop it. "I know that my apologies won't be enough, so I will say this: I swear that using all of my mind, body, and soul, along with everything else I possess, I will help eliminate the Crimson Enchanter and the Red King."

The oath is made, and Wilbur feels something pop in his ears. Hannah is a Fae. More than that, she's a high Faerie. Even if it's only partially, that means a lot. She, like other Faes, are completely bound by their promises. Hannah has literally sealed her fate. If she doesn't fulfill her promise to the letter, she will die a slow and painful death. Wilbur shudders at the thought of someone going so far. But the promise has already been made. There's nothing Wilbur can do about it now. He can only hope that Hannah is strong enough to stay true to her promise. He doesn't want another person to die because of him.