Chapter Text
Wilbur couldn’t lie, he was excited for his coming-of-age celebration. A coronation of sorts but not him taking his father’s crown. A sign of him leaving childhood behind and taking on more responsibility. Another step in his life to him becoming a man. The villagers had another name for such an event. A ‘sweet sixteen’ birthday party. Then again, villagers didn’t receive blessings and assassination attempts on their birthdays.
The brunet smoothed a hand over his yellow silk vest. Gold spiral embroidered into the cloth like wisps of clouds. His white blouse poked out starkly against the cream tones and dark trousers. Thankfully he didn’t have to wear regalia save for the crest and his crown.
Speaking of which, Wilbur quickly slipped his emerald pendant over his head. His fingers caressing the green gemstone. Coolness seeping reassuring into his fingertips. A smile danced on his thin features, fingers releasing the gem. Lastly, he looked to the final piece of his ensemble. The one he didn’t like. The one he detested.
His crown.
No, he didn’t hate the idea of being emperor…so long as Phil was retiring. Not dying horribly or some shit. Just the old man stepping down and living long enough for Wilbur to make his life hell with grandkids. Maybe great-grandkids. He hadn’t decided which one he favored yet. So long as his father watched them all grow up and him to pass peacefully at an old(er) age. Mumza could probably ensure that but he wasn't sure. Better for his father to just stick around.
Wilbur didn’t hate the idea of being the crown prince. He had the training and knowledge to carry the Antarctic Empire. Friends he could trust to act in his court. Planning events for the kingdom and being there for his brothers. He loved that!
What he didn’t like was what it meant past that. In the Antarctic Empire, though outsiders weren’t aware of it, the metal of the crowns had meaning. More so the nobility didn’t make fools of themselves, but meanings, nevertheless. Gold was exclusively worn by the emperor and crown prince or princess. Silver was worn by the empress and other biological children. Adopted children wore bronze.
The gold Wilbur didn’t mind. Nor the silver, though that really could be gold too. He like gold. It was nice and shiny, not to mention light. Sue him. It was the bronze he hated. Sure, it was light but that’s all it had going for it. The crown would form a patina if not constantly polished. It was so light, it bent far easier than gold. Offered no protection of any sort. But what really burned Wilbur is what it stated so plainly.
Who in the royal family was adopted.
Or rather to the nobility: Which royal family member held no power or sway in court.
Wilbur wore gold like Phil, so people always showed him the utmost respect. Disrespect was so rare that often when it was spit at him, it was somewhat endearing. Such behavior was how he met his closest friends Niki and Jack. He adored them and me them all because he bumped into Niki. Made her drop her cake and Jack yelled at him to ‘fuck off’ when the guards told her to watch where she was going, rather than a daydreaming Wilbur.
Kristen, his loving late mother, wore silver as the married party per tradition. Tommy’s crown mirrored her own with the angelic metal, with him being the second born. Even at the young age of twelve, Tommy held sway. He could promote and demote some castle staff, within reason of course. He once tried to promote his tutor, Henry, to a military strategist since he was 'the smartest guy he knew'. Thankfully Henry talked him down and Phil made sure Tommy couldn't change the military staff. Not to mention his little brother told Wilbur and Phil everything. If you told Tommy, it’d reach the ruler’s ear. Guaranteed.
Technoblade alone wore the bronze crown.
Wilbur loved his brother. He didn’t care where Techno came from or the fact he wasn’t from the Overworld. He was his brother, end of story. His dry humor was endearing, as was his shyness. He wasn’t terribly social but Prime, was he strong. The pinkette was deadly as a blade and twice as sharp. He wasn’t all brawn, definitely had brains.
Techno was adopted by Phil and Kristen when the pair were Nether traveling. The Nether roads were fast but dangerous. Quickest way to get from kingdom to kingdom, if you avoided the mobs and bandits. One evening when the royal family was returning home from a meeting with the Kingdom of Esempi, they were attacked by bandits.
The fight was short, until a Ghast caught wind of it. The carriage was blown to pieces and guards killed by its wailing fireball. Wilbur’s parents narrowly escaped but they were lost in the Nether. As Phil and Kristen survived, they met Technoblade. A young piglin hybrid abandon by his sounder for looking too ‘soft’.
Techno didn’t look like a piglin hardly at all. Yes, he had pink hair and pointed ears with tiny fangs poking barely out from his bottom lip. Black sclera and snow-white irises. Other than these traits, he looked human. Looks, however, were deceiving. He looked ‘soft’ but Techno was anything but. He survived alone in the Nether. Most grown men couldn’t do that, and he did it as kid.
The pinkette helped the royal couple survive and make it back to the portal. In exchange, they wanted to give him a home in the empire. Adoption wasn’t their first thought, but when Wilbur and Tommy met their new brother, the deal was sealed. He was their brother. The end.
But apparently, they were the only ones who thought it.
Phil said Techno couldn’t have a silver crown because of the council. They voted and refused the emperor trying to change the old laws. Prudes. So, he got bronze. Techno very much liked gold but he couldn’t wear any at events or ceremonies due to the meanings, so only in private. Hellish for a piglin hybrid.
Wilbur had begun sneaking his brother rose gold jewelry instead, since the laws insisted gold. They never had any qualms on rose gold. And if his parents noticed, which they’d be blind not to, nothing was said. His own way of making his brother happy and sticking to the old coots in power.
Distaste and disgust stowed away for another time; Wilbur bore his crown. Holding his head high and heading down to the party.
It was time to celebrate. His sixteenth birthday wouldn’t come twice, and he wanted it to be one to remember.
-
The party was in full was in no time. Wilbur found himself surrounded by his friends and laugher bubbling out his lips. His loved one shielding him from annoying nobles and politicians grabbing for power. The teen could care less about their position and wealth. He just wanted a night of fun with the people he loved.
Niki made him his favorite berry tarts, small so he didn’t have to share. Jack slipped him a new beanie into his pocket for casual days around the castle. Lady Eret brought a new guitar crafted by themself and their ‘friend’. Wilbur wasn’t blind. He saw the way they looked at Prince Foolish and the way the blond looked back. Heh he…
Sam, the guard captain, brough him a warped long bow. Wilbur couldn’t stop fawning over the teal wood and golden finishing's. Sam said a good warrior needed a good weapon. This way, he knew the bow would never fail when he needed it. To protect his prince when could not.
Ponk, the royal physician, gifted him a Notch Apple. Wilbur went to protest but the doctor waved his hand in dismissal. If it saves his life, then it was a gift well given. All Wilbur could do is hug the pair. Yes, it was uncouth and improper, but he didn’t fucking care. They were like the weird uncles he never had. It wasn’t just ‘a job’ to them. They were family.
Tommy made him a plushie to adore. A blue sheep named ‘Friend’ who would take away all the sadness when you hugged her. Tommy insisted he made her very huggable by adding extra stuffing. The older ruffled his little brothers’ golden curls, holding the sheep close. He’d cherish Friend until the day she was nothing but string and dust.
Technoblade crafted him an enchanted shield. A flat gold bracelet that formed to his wrist. When held up flat, it projected a shield. ‘An extra layer of protection’ Techno insisted. Wilbur dragged him into a hug, as he flushed. He could mutter ‘cringe’ all he wanted; it wouldn’t stop Wilbur. Hugging was, as Tommy said, pog.
Phil gifted him a silver mirror. He winked and said, ‘it was his mother’s’. Wilbur couldn’t help but sneak away to a corner and peer in it excitedly. Sure enough, the glass didn’t reflect the teen, but rather his mother. The woman smiling fondly to him, pulling her veil back to see him clearly.
‘We’ll talk somewhere private, moonbeam.’ Her voice whispered from the enchanted glass. ‘Enjoy you party, love.’
“Yes Mother.” Wilbur cried happily, shaking his head. He could talk to her more. Thank Prime! “I love you.”
‘I love you too, moonbeam. Now have fun!’ Her image shimmered into his own as Niki checked on him. She was worried about him crying and Wilbur showed her the mirror. Niki didn’t need to know the truth about Kristen, or what the mirror really did, but got enough. It was his mother’s, and she was gone. A hug from his best friend and he was back to celebrating.
More presents from other noble families, but Wilbur didn’t care for them. Bids at earning favor from the future ruler. They were generous but a waste. All material with no thought or heartfelt actions. Those were the gifts that meant the world to Wilbur, not piles of money. Friend alone was worth more than the royal treasury to Wilbur because Tommy made it for him. He put love, time, and thought into his gift.
Presents passed to dining, and later to dancing. The night began to blur past as the hours grew longer until the blessings. Blessings were passed just before midnight. Powerful magical figure and beings gifting something to young rulers to be. Phil had been gifted his ability to speak with birds at his celebration. Odd, but very useful for a ruler. It made Wilbur nervous for what awaited him.
As the royal family too their seat, the mages came in. The first one a young man with dusty brown hair in atrociously bright colors. Swirls on his cheeks and a brimming smile on his face. He took a deep bow before the family and introduced himself.
“I am Karl Jacobs of Kinoko.” The young man said lightly. “I bring a blessing for Prince Wilbur.” Phil motioned with his hand for Karl to go on. The man smiled up at Wilbur, a violet and teal glow coming from his hands. “You strike me as a man of words rather than blades.” Wilbur nodded shyly with the mage’s observation. The violet swirled across the room, teal twisting in the opposite direction.
“To you, Prince Wilbur, I gift you charm. Your charisma and words will be one of your greatest assets in your life. I pray it brings you peace and love, keeping you and your people from harm.” The magic wrapped lightly around Wilbur. He breathed and felt the coolness seep in his bones. Karl bowed and joined the crowd.
The next mage stepped up. Horned man with a smirk. Wilbur recognized the ram hybrid immediately. His old friend Schlatt. He wondered where the ram ran off to. Well, staggered off to. Wilbur couldn’t help but smile at his old friend. Schlatt gave a lazy salute to him before addressing the court.
“Ladies and Gents, the name’s Schlatt.” He leaned back on his hooves. “I bring a blessin’ for Prince Wilbur.” Phil motioned and Schlatt went on. “Some a you may not know this, but me an’ Will here go way back. Used to play as kiddos before my old man made us fu- err, move. Yeah. Move away.” Wilbur swallowed his laughter.
“To you, Prince Wilbur, I gift you fortune. May your coffers and heart be full and rich. Lady Luck smile upon you and her bitch of a sister Misfortune fuck off.” A nobleman cleared his throat. “Right, right. Don’t get your panties in a wad.” He snorted waving his hand as blue wrapped around him. Strangely it was warm, almost like his old friend was hugging him.
Wilbur mouthed him thanks, but Schlatt was gone. Likely in search of booze. Some things never changed.
Time clicked on and no more magicians showed up. In all honesty, Wilbur was thankful. Charm and fortune were simple blessings. No worries or extra limbs to care for. He was happy and thankful.
Unfortunately, a witch didn’t get the message.
As the night grew longer and ever closer to midnight when no more blessings could be cast. The castle doors blew open, dark vile magic whipping into the room. Guests screamed as the shadows twisted around. Blowing the lights out, moonlight pouring in from the broken ivory doors. A woman dressed in violet robes over an olive dress.
Her black hat was tilted over short white locks and lavender eyes. A foul look on her features as she stepped in. Blood red nails to sharpened points curled by her side. Wilbur felt his heart beating faster, breathing hitching until his father stepped in front of him. His deep green cloak hiding his children behind it.
“I’m afraid the time for blessings is over, madame.” Phil said lowly, his feathers bristling. “I suggest you take your leave.” The witch cackled like the emperor told a joke.
“Blessings are bestowed until the moon is highest and the clock strikes twelve.” She smirked, magic crackling at her fingertips. “Neither have come, Philza Craft.” Her heels clicked as she drew closer. “You may have avoided my wrath, but you have not avoided my blessing. You cannot deny my divine right!” She spit venomously. “You condemn my sisters and attack our coven, well,” Her lips twisted into a wicked smile, “I’ve had quite enough. I hope you feel as much pain as I have, you tyrant.”
A blast of flames launched at the throne. Wilbur yelped, as his father tackled him and his brothers out the way. Fire burned and singed Phil’s robes. The witch laughed, shadows dancing across the floor and twisting into mobs. Two skeletons drawing their bows and shooting into the crowd. People screamed. A sea of color parting and crying out in fear. Now fresh red staining the floor, silks, and statins. The guards jumped into action to protect the party goers, while Phil and Sam focused on the witch.
“Your coven was abducting my citizens and killing them to fuel your spells.” The emperor hissed, drawing his prized blade. He slashed at her, the woman spinning back only to get knocked into by Sam. She stumbled but stayed upright. Lighting launched towards the creeper hybrid, but Sam’s trident caught the electricity. Wilbur let out a held breath. Thank Prime. “I hardly call protecting my people, tyranny.”
“We were here first.” The witch snarled. “This is our home.”
“And it’s ours too.” Sam cut in, lowering his trident. “The empire has stood for four centuries and isn’t leaving any time soon. We left you be, until you started killing civilians. When you lost your civility, so did we.” His blade cut into her arm. She hissed, sending a nasty shock into Sam. The man flew back, slamming into the wall and crumbling. Trident clattering to the floor.
“Sam!” Tommy cried, running to the hybrid. The woman sneered, flames licking at her fingertips. Wilbur watched in horror as fire billowed towards Tommy. His father cried out, lunging towards Tommy. The boy looking up in fear, curling up behind his cream-colored wings. Just as Phil curled around him, the pair narrowly rolling out the way. Only a few feathers singed, on both ends, but no major burns.
Phil cupped Tommy’s face, frantically looking him over. Tommy burst into tears, just scared. Magic crackled in the air. Shadows curled around the witch and filling her eyes. A fiendish grin stretched across her face.
“I will have my revenge, Philza, but I am not a cruel woman.” She laughed, looking right to Wilbur. He couldn’t move. Legs shaking in terror. Why couldn't he move!? “To you, Prince Wilbur, I gift you with eternal sleep. May you remain blissfully ignorant of the world around you entrapped in a world of bliss soaked dreams. Sleep my war away and have peace in your heart.” The witch smirked. “After all, who would blame a child for his father’s sins?”
“No!” His father cried as the spell fired. Magic spiraling toward the frozen teen. Wilbur squeezed his eyes shut, holding his arms up. His grey and white wings flaring out despite himself. A vain attempt to block what couldn’t be stopped. He could wish. He could try. He just didn’t want to see it coming. He didn't want to greet his doom.
“Will!” Something slammed into him, toppling the prince over. His face connected with the marble floors, nose cracking. Wings bending in a way they shouldn’t. Painful enough to scream but not break. He cried out and eyes snapped open. He, he, he was awake? Wilbur’s heart hammered in his chest. Blood dripped out his nose sluggishly. He was okay? He touched the crimson falling down his face. Eh, relatively okay.
“Damn it all!” The witch snarled as the clock began to chime.
Midnight.
No more blessings. The party was over.
“Stop her!” Phil ordered. “Capture that witch!” The woman stormed out as guards gave chase. Wilbur sat up, cautiously. Was this real, or a dream? Since she said 'peaceful'' he wouldn't be hurt or bleeding, right? The brunet turned and froze. A bronze crown lay on the floor, feet from a pool of pink splayed across the floor. Suddenly the voice that cried his name registered.
Technoblade.
“Tech?” He asked aloud with no reply. Technoblade lay limp where Wilbur once stood. It clicked. Techno pushed him. Pushed him out the way of the witch’s curse. “Techno!” He scrambled to his feet, kneeling next to his brother and pulling him into his lap. Pushing his bangs back and was met with a calm, relaxed face. Slow rise and fall of Techno’s chest. Wilbur shook him and nothing changed. He was asleep.
Eternally asleep with Wilbur’s curse. Fuck!
Wilbur dragged the younger into his arms, hugging him close. Tears burned at Wilbur’s eyes. His sobs began to echo around the hall. Guests too busy running away to stop and help. Wilbur flinched as Phil dropped next to him. Their father felt Techno’s neck, then listened to his heart. He let out a held breath.
“He’s alive, Will.” His father said softly. “We can work with alive. We’re gonna beat this, mate. We’ll find a way, I promise you.” Wilbur nodded numbly as Phil took Techno from his grasp. Holding the younger teen bridal style. Techno’s head lolled against their father’s chest. Pink lashes peacefully sealed shut. He wondered what his little brother was dreaming of. He just prayed his dreams were kind while they worked.
“Excuse me, your majesty.” Both royals turned to see Karl Jacobs, one of the mages who blessed Wilbur. The strange colorful young man who remained despite the chaos. “I would like to offer my services, if I may?” Phil nodded and Karl held up a hand to Techno. He closed his eyes in thought, then smiled. “Just as I thought. No curse is without flaw, many having the same one.”
“Which is?” Wilbur begged. How could he get his brother back? Save him. Thank him. Karl met his gaze sympathetically.
“True love’s kiss can break nearly any curse, your highness.” He said gently. “That, or you may wait the two years until Prince Technoblade’s coming of age.” Karl whispered softly. “However, even then it’s only a chance.” Wilbur’s heart fell and shattered. Techno didn’t have any people he was interested in courting. Waiting two years for a chance of Techno waking up? No! There had to be more options!
“Will,” A hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him out his spiral, “it’s gonna be okay.” Wilbur looked over the throne room. The guests were gone. The doors were blown off their hinges. Sam lay limp on the floor, being treated by Ponk while Tommy held the man’s hand. Fat tears spilling down his little brother's cheek as he sniffled and held back his sobs. Techno laying limp in their father’s arms. His chest rising and falling lightly, eyes shut peacefully. Blood spattered on the floor and bones where the skeletons once stood.
It didn’t look like a party.
It looked like a nightmare.
And to Wilbur, if felt like one. Happy fucking birthday to him.