Chapter Text
Wilbur is more than excited to be home.
He’s been on diplomatic missions for a while, bouncing around between kingdoms and strengthening relations with the Empire. Each one has been honored to receive him, one of the Empire’s very own princes.
But none could greet him with as much of a welcome as his home could. The carriage slows to a stop in front of the familiar palace, and Wilbur wastes no time in springing onto the steps, formalities forgotten.
There’s no need for them when the crown prince is already shoving through the doors, nearly falling down the stairs. Tommy crashes into Wilbur, wrapping him in a hug.
“Careful, Toms,” Wilbur laughs, returning the hug and watching Phil and Techno exit the doors with a bit more class but just as much fondness, “Don’t want you getting hurt. Knowing you, you would.”
“Fuck that,” Tommy protests, pulling back and pulling him up the steps, “I’ve barely seen you for a year! That’s too long!”
“I was home two months ago for your birthday,” Wilbur reminds him, pulling Phil and Techno into hugs when they reach them, “You’re being dramatic.”
“I barely saw you! Somebody insisted on having a ball,” Tommy says, throwing an accusatory glare at Phil.
The blonde scoffs, ruffling the younger’s hair. “It’s tradition, mate.”
“Wil and Techno don’t have to!”
“Because they can choose whether or not they want a big party,” Phil explains, “It’s different for you.”
Tommy grumbles as they make their way inside, the four of them falling into an easy rhythm. Like they’ve never been apart.
“How was the trip, Wil?” Techno asks, “Since, you know. Tommy made your homecoming all about him.”
“Hey!” Tommy squawks, swatting at Techno, “I did not! I was just saying I missed him.”
“Relax, kid, we know everything’s about you always,” Techno jokes, smirking. Phil chuckles, shaking his head.
“Thank you!” Tommy exclaims proudly, “As everything should be.”
Wilbur rolls his eyes. “The trip was good. Not as long as I thought, and the scenery was nice. Not too bumpy. Glad that it’s over and I’m home, though.”
“We are too, mate,” Phil says with a smile, “How long are you planning on staying?”
“Not sure,” Wilbur answers, “A week minimum, maybe?”
In truth, Wilbur would want to stay longer. He can. Phil wouldn’t send him anywhere he didn’t want to go and he lets him decide when he heads out. But Phil would also let him stay for forever, and Wilbur still has a job to do, one he loves.
Though maybe a break is warranted. As far as he can think, each nearby nation has been visited and listened to. They should be pleased for a while.
So Wilbur doesn’t really have anywhere he needs to be. Maybe that place can be home.
“That’s good,” Phil says, “You deserve a break.”
“A long one,” Tommy adds, smiling innocently. Techno nods in solemn agreement.
“You gotta stay for a while, Wil,” his twin says, feigning exasperation, “It’s exhaustin’ looking after this one. He has too much energy and I’m gettin’ old.”
“I’m seventeen!” Tommy gasps, “Not seven!”
“Same thing.”
“And you’re twenty-two, Tech,” Phil huffs, “With how you’re acting, you’d think you’ve been around for centuries.”
“Maybe I have.”
“Yeah, okay,” Wilbur laughs, “All that experience and not a scrap of wisdom to show for it.”
Techno pulls an offended face, halting in his steps for a brief moment. Dramatic as ever. “My own brother, turned against me.”
“Oh, hush,” Wilbur says, “If we’re fighting, then I see no reason for me to stay—”
“I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Techno interrupts him, slinging an arm across his shoulders.
Wilbur grins, leaning into the touch as they come to their bedroom hall, the doors just the same as he remembers. They venture to Wilbur’s room and he opens the door carefully, poking his head in.
Everything is as he left it, clean and free of dust, like they always knew he’d be coming back. His orca sits on the bed by the pillows—Wilbur hadn’t been able to bring it with him on his missions. It wasn’t the best impression for the lead ambassador of the Empire to carry a stuffed animal, even if it was a gift from the crown prince.
But Wilbur was okay with leaving it behind, ensuring his brothers that there would always be a piece of him here, with them.
And in a weird way, it was like he had someone watching out in his absence.
Wilbur wastes no time sitting in the center of his bed, the others following and crowding around. He takes the orca in his lap as if on instinct, the soft, slightly worn plush still as comforting as ever.
It feels good to be home.
“I don’t have much planned,” Phil starts, “Since I assumed you’d want to unwind and go at your own pace. But we were thinking of having a big family dinner, like we used to, if you’d like that?”
“I’d love that,” Wilbur says, beaming, “And we don’t have to do anything big, don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine with relaxing and enjoying a break. What have you guys been up to?”
“Same old,” Phil huffs, “There are laws to pass and appeals to hear, both from within the Empire and outside it. A King’s duty is never done.”
“The usual,” Techno agrees, “Trainin’ new recruits, makin’ sure our schedules are solid, no gaps in the defenses—literally everythin’. It’s worth it, though.”
Tommy flops onto his side, nearly smacking his head off Techno’s knee. “Tutoring. Same old boring shit.”
Wilbur stifles a laugh. “Oh, come on! You all can’t be that miserable.”
“I wouldn’t say miserable,” Phil says, “More like… mundane. Nothing bad happens, nothing wonderful. I’m okay with that, so long as the Empire doesn’t burst into flames.”
“It’s boring without you,” Tommy says, frowning, “Phil’s busier than ever. Techno’s way too worried about the guard—”
“Hey—”
“—and it’s just no fun anymore!” Tommy complains, ignoring Techno’s protests.
Wilbur smiles, pretending the statement doesn’t make him melt. “You’re growing up, Tommy. Next you’ll be eighteen, and one day, King. You’ll be in Phil’s shoes.”
The teen pulls a face, pure disgust clear in the expression. “I renounce my birthright.”
Phil rolls his eyes and Techno messes with Tommy’s hair, making him squawk and try to shove him off the bed.
“You’ll have me an’ Wil at your side to help,” Techno says, stopping his pestering, “We’ll be together, and you’ll be fine.”
Tommy hums as if that makes it not so bad.
“How was traveling?” Phil asks, “I’m sure everyone was hospitable?”
Always the worrier.
“Yes, Dad, everyone was fantastic,” Wilbur assures him, “It was as if you were there watching and glaring at people over my shoulder. Enough respect and reverence for a fearsome King.”
“Good,” Phil nods approvingly, “As they should. I’m glad I won’t have to intervene.”
For as long as Wilbur can remember, Phil’s been this way. What he doesn’t know is when he figured out it came from a love for him, not for the reputation of the Empire.
But he’s glad he realized.
“Anythin’ interesting happen?” Techno asks.
Wilbur thinks. There was that time in Ako where a servant tripped and the entire turkey slid onto the King. Or in Drella when the palace was sort of attacked and Wilbur managed to kill an assassin that was targeting a princess. Suffice to say, those negotiations went off without a hitch.
He hasn’t told his family about that last one, of course. They’d be too worried and ask if he was okay, looking him over as if that wasn’t months ago and he wasn’t here.
“I have a few,” Wilbur decides. There are plenty, in reality. He just won’t tell them the more daring escapades.
They listen with rapt attention as he fumbles his way through his memories. Oftentimes, he’ll have already told at least one of them in a letter, them grinning as they recall the tale.
They trade stories like that for a while, though they usually let Wilbur talk, as he’s the one who’s been traveling.
Eventually they’re informed that dinner is ready, ending their catch-up. Wilbur stops mid-story and promises to finish over dinner. They get up to leave, Tommy darting out the door and Techno sighing as he speeds off to follow.
Phil and Wilbur walk at their own pace down the hall.
“The won’t put out dinner ‘til I sit,” the blonde whispers conspiratorially, a wicked grin on his face, “We can take as long as we want.”
“Let’s,” Wilbur agrees, laughing, “Maybe next time, Tommy’ll actually hang back with us.”
“Doubtful,” Phil says, sighing fondly, “I think he’ll always outrun us all. That boy has more energy and passion than I’ve seen in anyone.”
“I’d second that,” Wilbur says, “He’s something else. Even after he’s crowned, I doubt he’ll stay still.”
“That’s alright. He’ll figure out how to balance everything eventually. He’s still young.”
“You talk as if you’re old, Phil.”
“Don’t you three always say I am?”
“As a joke,” Wilbur grins, “But you act as if you’re one foot in the grave already.”
Phil laughs. “I’m not so easily gotten rid of, mate. I’ve been King a long time. That’s not just a stroke of luck.”
“And you will be for many more,” Wilbur says, knocking into his dad’s shoulder, “Unless you retire, of course.”
“That won’t be anytime soon,” Phil says lightly as they start down the stairs, “I can promise you that.”
“Good. Don’t want you going anywhere.”
Phil smiles at him, so painfully fond and full of care. “Thanks, mate. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you I feel the same.”
“I know, I know,” Wilbur says with a grin, “If you had it your way, we’d all be in this castle where you could watch over us forever. I get it.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Phil confesses, “Of course I’d like to have you three at my side forever. I think that’s natural for a parent. But as such, we have to be willing to let our kids fly free, not locked in a cage, even if it keeps them safe. You and Techno are following your own paths, but…”
Wilbur hums when Phil stops walking at the base of the stairs, face not visible to him.
“I know you love your job, Wil,” he says, smiling at the ground, “I’m… so grateful for that, and that you have something you can be proud of with every breath. But you know you can take a break, right? This is still your home. You don’t have to be constantly on the move, looking for things to do and people to please.”
It’s a tempting offer. It would be nice to settle down for a bit, regain his bearings in the world and such. There isn’t much going on in the political realm, at least that Wilbur can deal with. He’s still barred from going to nations with tense relations to the Empire, and for good reason.
The Empire doesn’t need him right now. Maybe his family does.
“Yeah… maybe you’re right,” Wilbur says, the doors to the dining hall just ahead, “I could use some time home, I think.”
Phil positively beams. “That’s great. I look forward to having you around again.”
“I’m excited to be around,” Wilbur replies, pushing the doors open.
“You two are so fucking slow!” Tommy shouts immediately, “Come sit, I’m starving!”
“I told you they were goin’ slow on purpose,” Techno turns in his chair to eye them with mild annoyance and a hint of approval, “Next time at least let me in on it. I’ve had to deal with him complainin’ for the past five minutes.”
“Oh, please, you were complaining too,” Wilbur smirks, taking his seat beside his twin. Techno kicks his leg under the table. Wilbur kicks him back.
Phil sits with a sigh, glaring at the twins. “Stop fighting.”
Somehow he always knows. Techno Kicks him one last time, always one to get the last say.
Dinner is served, and unsurprisingly, it’s Wilbur’s favorite potato pasta. His family grins at the unimpressed look on his face as the drinks are poured, water for the brothers and tea for Phil.
Wilbur continues his story from before as they settle in, eating their food and sipping their drinks. It’s an easy thing to do, talking and eating without a care. Wilbur nearly chokes on his meal at his brothers’ ongoing commentary.
But even through the haze, as Phil presides and comments here and there, Wilbur can see something… off in the set of his jaw. It’s like he’s hiding something.
“Everything alright?” Wilbur asks, brows furrowed.
Phil plasters on a smile. Even from here, Wilbur can tell it’s forced. “Nothing,” he answers, “I just like hearing you boys talk is all. It’s entertaining.”
Wilbur takes a bite of pasta, humming noncommittally. Something is certainly off, but he can’t quite place it.
“You sure?” Techno chimes in, eyeing Phil warily. Ever perceptive, he’s picked up on it as soon as Wilbur did.
“I am,” Phil insists, setting his fork down with a weary sigh. A tremor rattles his hand where it rests on the table.
“Dad?” Tommy asks, eyes wide with worry.
Phil doesn’t register right away, blinking slowly. Then he turns his head to Tommy, humming in question.
Techno stands from the table. “Tommy, go grab the doctor.”
The blonde does so without question. Wilbur joins his twin in hovering at their dad’s side. Phil remains out of it for a moment before he blinks to awareness.
“Are you feeling alright?” Wilbur asks, holding a hand to his dad’s forehead. He’s not feverish, and this sudden onset of concerning behaviors doesn’t bode well.
“Yeah,” Phil murmurs, “Yeah, I’m fine, boys.” He stands up from his seat and manages an entire step before his legs give out and Techno has to jump to heave him to his feet.
Wilbur curses under his breath while his twin sets Phil back in the chair. This is bad. Really bad. The abruptness of it all can’t be a sickness. It’s more like some kind of fast-acting poison.
And Phil always likes to have his special tea with dinner.
“Tech,” Wilbur says, panicked, “Do you think it was the tea?”
“What?” His brother asks, distracted by examining Phil.
“He can’t be sick. It’s too quick for that, but not for—”
“A poison,” Techno finishes, words cold. His head snaps to look at the mug of tea. “Shit, you’re probably right.”
The doors slam open and Tommy sprints in, the head doctor following closely behind. The teen crashes into Wilbur’s side, and he wraps an arm around him while the doctor tends to Phil.
“What happened?” The man asks, setting down his bag.
“Sudden unfocus, paler than usual, not very responsive,” Techno reports as if having kept track, “Can’t stand despite trying. We think his tea was poisoned.”
Tommy stiffens, the doctor ending his assessment and telling Techno to carry Phil to the medical wing. He does so immediately, Phil not even acknowledging the sudden change.
Before they rush after, Wilbur grabs the mug of tea. The doctor will need to be able to find an antidote before the symptoms get worse. It could help.
“Wil,” Tommy mutters when they follow, trying to keep pace without spilling the tea, “Do you think Dad’s gonna be okay?”
“I do,” Wilbur replies with a shaky smile. He has to think so. Then maybe he can will it so.
They lose sight of Techno, Phil, and the doctor quickly, which Wilbur can only be relieved about. That means they’re getting Phil help and not dawdling.
He and Tommy make it eventually. Techno’s waiting outside, wearing divets in the ground from his pacing. As soon as they round the corner, his gaze snaps to them, pausing and speeding to meet them halfway.
“How is he?” Tommy asks, slowing to a stop.
Techno presses his mouth in a thin line, glancing between the two. “Not sure right now, though we’re optimistic. Even if it’s fast, we noticed and picked up on it in good time. Besides with this,” he says, taking the mug from Wilbur with a grateful smile, “Our odds should be vastly improved. Good thinkin’, Wil.”
“Of course,” he says, watching his twin retreat into the medical wing. Wilbur hopes it’s enough.
Tommy starts to get antsy beside him, crossing and uncrossing his arms as if trying to find a comfortable, relaxed position. It’s a losing battle and fails spectacularly.
So Wilbur does what any good brother would do and steers him over to a chair, lovingly shoving him into it, and sitting beside him.
“Bitch,” Tommy huffs, but there’s no bite. If anything, he sounds on the verge of tears. Wilbur doesn’t blame him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, trying to relax into his chair, “It’ll be fine, Toms, I promise. Everything will be okay. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” the teen grumbles, but he does ease up a bit, so Wilbur considers that a win.
They wait, and then wait some more, even when Techno joins them and confidently says Phil will recover.
It’s only when the doctor comes out and confirms he’s stable so they relax entirely.
“He’ll be out for a while so he can make a full recovery,” the doctor reports, “But he will do so, thanks to you boys. Once His Majesty wakes, there’s no doubt he’ll be proud.”
Wilbur sinks in his chair with a shaky grin, the sentiment not lost on him that the entire palace staff knows how Phil acts toward his sons. Even in the face of illness and a failed assassination attempt, they can only anticipate their King’s glowing pride.
It’s ridiculous.
It makes Wilbur’s heart swell that he’s included in it, and always will be.
He and Tommy follow Techno as he carries Phil to his room to rest. There’s a comfortable silence surrounding them, though they’re all painfully aware of the elephant in the room—the missing, vibrant presence of their dad.
But they’re lucky that it will return to them, eventually.
They can rest for a while knowing that. The culprit can be found after a moment of catching their breath, once they ensure Phil is safe and protected.
That’s more important.
~ ~ ~
A day passes with no sign of stirring from Phil.
But it’s okay! Really. They know he’s going to be alright. It’ll just take some time. Wilbur has plenty of that to spare now that he’s home for the foreseeable future.
He and his brothers are at a meeting with Phil’s advisors.
Tommy is the interim King, though, since he’s not quite old enough according to law, Phil’s head advisor will act as Regent.
It’s an arrangement Tommy isn’t happy with, the contempt evident on his face, but Wilbur and Techno are right at his side like they’ve always promised. Or, well, across the table. It’s close enough.
Technically they can’t be his regents, though that would, theoretically, be a great short term solution. They’re not qualified in the right ways, and there’s a slight mitigation factor from being his brothers, not a traditional authoritative relative.
But that’s fine. They’ll look out for him all the same.
“The castle’s been on lockdown since dinner last night,” Techno reports, leaning on the arm of his chair, “To my knowledge, nobody has gotten in or out. This means that if the culprit was in the palace when the poison was put into play, they’re still here.”
“It’s just a matter of finding who,” an advisor surmises, Techno nodding.
“It might help to start with capabilities,” a different one says, “For example, as it was the tea, the kitchen or serving staff are prime suspects.”
“And by that logic, we can rule out the medical staff. They saved his life.”
“Indeed, and—”
Wilbur tunes out the rabble of the advisors, trying to stifle a smile as Tommy pointedly rolls his eyes with more drama than a tragedian. The blonde sees his struggle and tries even harder to make him crack.
It won’t work, though. Wilbur is too practiced at keeping his composure. Even now, he’s still half-listening, filing away all the important points they’re saying and tossing the conjecture out.
It’s times like these where being a diplomat helps. Getting through meetings such as this one is a survival skill.
His attention is drawn back when the door opens, a knight coming in.
Curiously, rather than reporting to Techno, he marches over to the acting regent and leans to whisper something in his ear. It’s too hushed to hear, but whatever it is surprises the advisor.
His eyes go wide, breath halting in his chest for a brief moment. It’s like watching a horrific realization dawn on someone in real time.
Then, ever so subtly, he turns, making eye contact with Wilbur.
Even after a few moments, he doesn’t break it, and Wilbur blinks, looking to Techno, who’s also noticed the oddity.
“Yes?” Wilbur prompts, brows knitting together.
“Ah. Nothing, Your Highness.”
“Are you sure?” Techno asks, voice lower, more threatening, “If it’s something important, we all should know. It’s in the best interest of the Empire.”
“I’m certain, Your Highness,” the Regent says, dipping his head, “There is nothing at all to worry about.”
Techno presses his mouth in a thin line, clearly not believing the man fully, but figuring it better to let it slip until later than to cause a scene. Frankly, Wilbur feels the same. There’s something decidedly off about the whole encounter, and for the remainder of the suddenly hurried meeting, the Regent’s eyes always find him.
It’s like he’s searching for Wilbur without trying to.
The brothers leave together, the advisors packing and getting up slowly. As soon as they’re down the hall and turning the corner, Techno speaks.
“I didn’t like that,” he says, “Any of it.”
“What? The whispering?” Tommy asks, “I mean, it was a bit weird, but I didn’t think too much of it.”
“It’s one thing to get intel from someone during a meeting,” Wilbur says, “And another to hide it.”
“If it was important enough to intrude, it was important enough for everyone to know,” Techno explains, irritation clear in every syllable.
“I did find it weird when the guard didn’t go straight to you,” Tommy confesses, starting up the stairs, “I mean, you’re the head of the guard! Shouldn’t they all report to you?”
“By default, yes,” Techno agrees, “Or to Phil. I suppose since he’s Regent, he assumes that privilege. But it’s still odd that the guards would so quickly turn to telling that advisor things. It’s not like he’ll be in power once Phil wakes up and when you turn eighteen.”
“D’you think if I asked, I’d be able to figure it out?” Tommy asks.
“No,” Wilbur sighs, dragging his hand along the banister, “I don’t think it’s something they’d want you to know. They would have told you already.”
“And he was lookin’ at you, Wil,” Techno mutters, frowning, “Don’t know why, but something’s off there.”
Wilbur hums. “I know. It was weird, I don’t know what that was all about.”
“Do we do something about it?” Tommy asks, leaving the stairwell and heading to their bedrooms, “Or wait it out?”
“I don’t think we can do anything,” Techno mumbles, striding over to his door, “Our best bets might be to wait it out until they make a move.”
“That’s if it’s an us versus them,” Wilbur points out, “It doesn’t have to be if we play our cards right.”
“It probably will be, Wil,” Techno sighs, placing a hand on his doorknob, “Things are unstable and we don’t know what they know or what they’re after. We just gotta keep on guard, and stick together.”
Wilbur opens his door. “Well that’ll be easy for us to do. Not like we have to change anything.”
Tommy grins, a mischievous thing that could rival any mastermind. “Exactly! And we can take them down if we need to.”
“They’re still advisors, Tommy. Good ones,” Techno groans, “There won’t be any taking them down unless there’s anything serious like treason. Got it?”
Wilbur shares a look with Tommy, and, in sync, they shrug. Techno sighs exasperatedly and ducks into his room, shutting the door behind him. They follow suit, getting some peace and quiet for the evening.
The entire encounter did have something wrong about it to Wilbur. The advisor had heard something scandalous, to be sure. But why look at Wilbur?
Unless it was something having to do with him.
And now, that could be anything. Is he next to be assassinated? If so, why not say? Do they want Wilbur to die? Why? Should Wilbur say anything to his brothers?
No. Nothing is confirmed. It’s all just speculation. Overthinking speculation. Wilbur’s tired is all, his mind exhausted and not working properly.
Still. It would be wise to keep an eye out and be prepared for the worst. Just in case.
Wilbur goes about his nightly routine, adding a few steps. He checks that his balcony doors are locked multiple times, searches every dark, shadowed spot and hidden nook for an intruder.
Only then does he blow his candles out and crawl into bed.
It’ll be a big day tomorrow. Tommy’s first official one as acting King in some regard.
Wilbur can’t wait to see it.
~ ~ ~
The sun hardly pokes through the thick, closed curtains, but Wilbur gets up anyway, after a moment of thinking it before dawn.
He washes up in the bathroom, gets dressed, and fixes his hair. He straightens out his bed, fixing his pillows and sheets and—most importantly—placing his stuffed orca in the middle.
That had been one of the best parts of coming home. Wilbur had always slept better with it, growing used to its shape and material. But having an ambassador with a plushy simply wasn’t a good look for any nation.
So Wilbur left him behind to watch over Techno and Tommy, and so they could have a piece of him here.
It worked out, he supposes, but still, Wilbur can admit he’s relieved to be back with it.
With everything ready for the day, Wilbur prepares to go bother his brothers when his door opens.
It never does that.
Well—of course it opens, but… always after a knock, when Wilbur gives permission. Never abruptly, without warning. He’s a prince, after all. He needs privacy.
So Wilbur is immediately on edge from the start, thinking of if he has anything that can be repurposed as a weapon or if yelling for Techno is his better option, as it so often is.
But then he realizes it’s the advisor acting as Regent, a couple guards at his side.
Ironically, that does nothing to calm Wilbur.
“What’s going on?” He asks, gaze flicking between the trio, “Is there reason for entering my room unannounced?”
“Of course there is, Your Highness. It pertains to your father,” the advisor says.
Wilbur pauses, heart pounding. Phil? What happened to Phil? Has he woken up? No, that can’t be it, why would they look so grim if he had?
He can’t have…
“What happened?” Wilbur asks, voice thick.
“What happened?” The advisor repeats, a smile curling onto his face, “That’s rich coming from you.”
Wilbur blinks, stunned, and rightfully offended. “What?”
“I can’t even imagine what His Majesty will think when he finds out his own son tried to assassinate him.”
Just like that, it all slides into place—the glare yesterday, the hidden information, the sudden intrusion and the guards. They think Wilbur poisoned the tea. They think he tried to—
Oh gods.
The mere thought disgusts him.
“Are you implying what I think you are, Regent?” Wilbur hisses, stepping forward, “That I would do anything to harm my father?”
“We have more than conjecture, Prince Wilbur,” the advisor says. He turns to the guards and nods.
They step forward, and Wilbur tries to sidestep, but the guards are trained by his twin, and that doesn’t really work in his favor at the moment.
Before he gets far, they’ve grabbed his arms, and the advisor turns, satisfied, and leaves the room, the guards following. They drag Wilbur out into the hall despite how much he tries to drag his feet and protest.
“No matter what you think, I’m still your fucking prince!” Wilbur snaps, voice echoing as he tries to wrestle his arms away, “And there’s a thing called respect!”
A door opens somewhere behind them, and Wilbur turns to see which.
He makes eye contact with a fuming Techno, who wastes no time in stomping down the hall toward them. Wilbur relaxes, stopping his resistance.
“Hey!” Techno shouts, “What’s going on here? Unhand him, what are you doing?!”
The advisor sighs and turns but the guards make no motion to release him, even when Techno towers over them, eyes burning. The acting regent simply stares in disinterest.
“There’s been evidence brought to our attention that Prince Wilbur here was the one who poisoned His Majesty’s tea, Your Highness,” the advisor reports.
“What?” Techno snaps, every inch of his face lined in anger, “Where did you hear these lies? And why would you believe them?” He shifts his attention to the guards, “Release him.”
“Unfortunately, it’s been decided that both you and Prince Tommy are too involved with the suspect to be able to think clearly,” the advisor informs him, “As such, your say is unfortunately limited.”
“You can’t just do that,” Techno protests, moving to grab a guard and yank him off Wilbur. But the other one only tightens his grip, making Wilbur squirm and hiss.
Techno’s eyes flare, but he pauses, a deep frown on his face.
Fucking bastards. Techno won’t push if he knows it’d hurt Wilbur even in the slightest. Even if Wilbur were to say something, to tell him to hell with it all, he wouldn’t. He’s too stubborn, too protective. And while Wilbur wouldn’t trade that for the world, it’s not exactly working in his favor.
“I can,” the advisor says, “In the best interest of the Empire and her royal family, I can.”
“He is the royal family,” Techno hisses, “You forget that.”
“But a traitor negates that status,” the advisor huffs, “That’s well-known.”
Techno grits his teeth. Fingers twitching as if he means to grab a sword and launch into battle. Instead he turns his head and shouts, “Tommy!”
The advisor flinches, and the teen’s door opens, Tommy darting out with an annoyed expression.
“Gods, Techno, quit rushing m—” he stops when he catches sight of the scene in front of him. His face drops, a thinly-veiled anger in his features, cold as ice. It reminds Wilbur of Phil. “What’s happening here?”
The advisor sighs as if bored. “Evidence has come forth that Prince Wilbur tried to assassinate your father. We’ve been trying to escort him to trial, yet it seems Prince Techno is set on intervening.”
“Good!” Tommy shouts, closing the distance with a fury, “Techno’s right! Let him go!”
“I’m afraid I have to override that decision, Your Highness,” the advisor says, “It’s too important a decision and you’re far too young to make it.”
“I’m seventeen!” Tommy snaps, “I can rule myself in a year, what’s the difference?!”
“There’s a great difference, Your Highness,” the man says, “You’ll find a year of experience can be the deciding factor of the fate of a great nation. Besides, you are particularly susceptible to manipulation from the accused.”
Tommy gapes, curling his fists. “Now, just what are you implying?”
“Only my concerns, Your Highness,” the Regent says, sickly sweet, “There is a very real threat, at the moment, one that clearly runs deep. We’re simply trying to weed out the dissent.”
Wilbur huffs, annoyed at the circumstances and helplessness of his brothers. How dare they push them aside just to try and push the blame on Wilbur? Techno is calculated and strategic. Tommy is bright and kind, fair and just. Everything a ruler should be, age be damned.
But Wilbur can spare them the insult.
“Just let me go,” he says, voice clipped, “And I’ll go. I can walk to my own damn trial.”
“Wil—” Techno starts, but he stops when the guards relinquish their grip, Wilbur rubbing at his arms to ease the soreness.
“It’s fine,” Wilbur says lightly, flashing his brothers a smile, “Promise.”
He turns and starts walking, a guard on either side. The advisor leads, Techno and Tommy muttering in the back. It’s only a trial. Those are fair, at least, they usually are.
Even if not, Wilbur knows the consequences. As a diplomat, a practicer of political and legal, it’d be foolish if he didn’t.
Attempted murder is not taken lightly anywhere, especially the Empire. But that of royal blood? The ruler, out of anybody?
It’s an offense of the worst caliber.
There are two ways out of this.
One, they are merciful, ostracizing him from his nation, family, and household forever, or until further notice. Or two, if they’re feeling particularly sour today—death.
Execution isn’t on Wilbur’s wishlist today. Or any day, really. The thought terrifies him, but he keeps an easy smile on for his brothers’ sake. His brothers, who, as far as Wilbur knows, have no idea of the consequences.
Wilbur won’t lie. He’s absolutely terrified, right to his core. But if he can hide it from his brothers, spare them the fear and grief, then he will.
They walk along in silence to the throne room. Barriers are along the long red runner carpet, letting the nobles stand comfortably and without fear. An array of chairs line up either side of the throne, advisors taking up residence in them, a grand jury.
The Regent escorts a petulant Tommy up to the throne, standing at his side. Meanwhile, one of the guards suggests Techno stand behind a barrier with the nobles. In fact, the man is kind enough to escort him there.
Every inch of this is clearly planned, almost skewed in its set up. It leaves a bitter taste in Wilbur’s mouth, but still he remains standing tall with his dignity intact.
Techno, meanwhile, glares daggers at everyone who isn’t family. Tommy crosses his arms in the throne.
“We are here today after a startling revelation,” the Regent announces, “Just a couple of days ago, an attempt was made on our dear King. Yesterday, we received word of the culprit’s identity. I’m shocked to say that it was our very own Prince Wilbur.”
Murmurs float from the nobles. Wilbur is shocked Techno doesn’t start a bloodbath right there. Well, if looks could kill…
“Calm, calm,” the Regent continues, “In accordance with our laws, he will be granted a trial like any other. We will hear Prince Wilbur’s side and any who may wish to add insight. Then the advisors and I will confer to discuss the ruling.”
Tommy sits up straighter, scowling. “What about me?”
The Regent bows, apologetic. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but between your youth and proximity to this case—both the accused and afflicted—it’s simply not feasible or fair to anyone involved.”
It’s not in line with what you think, Wilbur’s mind supplies bitterly.
But the worst part is that Tommy looks near tears, biting the inside of his cheek and crossing his arms tightly. Even Techno can see it, face pinched in concern, but jumping the barrier would cause more harm than good.
The Regent nods, motioning for Wilbur to begin. It’d be great if he knew where to start with all of this, but he’s spent his whole life talking and convincing people, whether it’s to trade resources or to gain love he may or may not deserve.
Essentially, he has a background of bullshittery.
“I’d like to begin with stating my utter shock and surprise at these accusations,” Wilbur says, clasping his hands behind his back and looking as professional as possible, “I’m sure you’re all aware I was graciously adopted into this family many years ago. My best memories are in this palace. The one I knew before could never be considered a home. But here, I grew. I didn’t just survive, I blossomed. And I attribute all of that to your King and my father, Phil.”
A voice suspiciously like Phil’s tells Wilbur that he did that all himself, with no help from anyone, family or otherwise. He found his interests and he put in the work to get where he is today. And that is precisely why Phil is so endlessly proud of him.
“It goes unsaid that I, like my brothers, am wholly shaken by recent events. It was a close call, to be sure, but due to our quick actions, there is no need for further worry,” Wilbur continues, walking around a bit to add to his presence, “While I am shocked and frankly offended by the accusations posed before me, I would never imagine doing anything but complying to our kingdom’s law and offering my recounting of the events as they happened.”
“We appreciate your willingness to cooperate, Prince Wilbur,” the Regent says, dipping his head in thanks, “Please continue.”
Wilbur flashes a smile, though it’s not for him, rather, for Tommy sitting in the too-big throne beside him. With each word, the teen relaxes a bit. It spurs Wilbur on, heart warm at the knowledge that he can make his little brother believe everything will be okay with only his words.
“I arrived home two days ago,” Wilbur recounts, “My family—Phil, Techno, and Tommy—met me outside and escorted me in while my things were taken to my room. We took the long way up and caught up on how things have been and how my travels were. After sharing stories, it was time for dinner, and we went down. There, it was a normal meal until Phil began acting strange. We immediately sent Tommy for the doctor while Techno and I assessed the situation at hand, determining it a sudden poison. I guessed it to be in his tea, as that was the only unique aspect of his meal as opposed to ours. Techno carried him to the medical wing while Tommy and I followed slightly slower. And that’s everything up to the attempted assassination.”
The Regent hums, staring with a wariness Wilbur thinks unfitting to be aimed toward him. But then the man breaks away, addressing the crowd.
“Now, with that being said, would anyone else like to speak on this matter?”
“I would,” Techno interjects, hands Holding the barrier in a white-knuckled grip.
“Of course,” the Regent says, a slightly disappointed frown on his face, “You may speak, Your Highness.”
“Wilbur always had somebody at his side,” Techno says quickly, “He’d just gotten home for the first time in like, a year. Of course we wouldn’t want to leave his side.”
“And you were always with him?” The Regent clarifies, brow quirked.
That’s true, but… Wilbur catches onto his angle quicker than Techno does. But Techno talks faster than he can interrupt.
“Of course.”
“The wait staff have mentioned you and Prince Tommy being first seated for dinner,” the Regent says, “Is this true?”
Techno pauses, and then slowly, he steals a glance at Wilbur, realization stark on his face. He looks desperate, like he wants to furiously grab every word from his mouth and take it all back. But even then, it’s only for a brief moment. After all, Techno is a master at keeping his emotions concealed to anyone outside the family.
“Only for a couple minutes—”
“A lot can happen in a short time,” the Regent says arrogantly, “A lot that you don’t know about.” He turns his gaze to Wilbur, urging him to respond.
“I was with my father,” Wilbur says, “I have nothing I need to hide, even though some may say that alone is implicating. He wanted to hang back to make my brothers wait, and to extend the invitation for me to stay home longer instead of going back on the road. Which,” he looks to Tommy, who has a flicker of a smile, “I accepted.”
Techno is in no manner comforted. He’s on edge, jaw clenched tight with anger. But he doesn’t say anything more. Wilbur doesn’t know why, but he could hazard a guess that he doesn’t want to say anything that harms in an effort to help.
“While this is all fine and good,” the Regent says, “We need to deal with this matter at once.”
“Do we really?” Tommy asks, leaning forward. He’s brushed off without even a glance of acknowledgment.
“The truth of the matter is this—Prince Wilbur was unaccounted for at a given moment before the crime was committed. With no defense, he stands justly accused.”
“And what is your evidence?” Wilbur shoots back, eyes narrowing. He won’t be polite if his opponent won’t be fair. If the royal family are considered crows, an omen of death, then this is when the talons come out.
“Aside from what has been discussed already, we have a tip that shall remain anonymous for the safety of the person,” the Regent informs him, “Also, there has long been prevalent concern regarding your station.”
“My station?” Wilbur asks, defensive.
“A prince as a diplomat,” he clarifies, “It’s a precarious position. A vulnerable one.”
Wilbur glares back silently, prompting him to go on. Daring him to continue. He happily obliges.
“There is valid concern that foreign influence has taken hold in your mind, Your Highness. Swayed your judgment and allegiances even subconsciously. Your presence in other nations leaves us vulnerable and open to mental warfare.”
“Mental warfare?” Wilbur laughs, “That’s preposterous! I’ve never been anything but loyal to my home and family. I complete each mission as best I can, thinking only of outcomes to best benefit the Empire. How is that treacherous?”
“On paper, yes, this is true,” the Regent acquiesces, “However, the court and I agree that if not already hazardous to the nation’s security, your position will be a threat at one point or another.”
“This is baseless conjecture,” Wilbur hisses, “You know nothing of my character or mind.”
“And that is precisely the problem, Your Highness,” the Regent says, smiling, “We aren’t aware of those things. How are we supposed to put our faith in someone who is so often abroad for months, possibly years at a time?”
“That’s enough!” Tommy commands, smacking the arm of the throne, “I won’t have you insulting my brother’s character while I sit upon this seat.”
“I meant no disgrace, Your Highness,” the Regent insists, “I’m simply putting out concerns and evidence. You know, what a trial is held to accomplish.”
Tommy’s face sours, face reddening in embarrassment or anger, Wilbur can’t tell. Either way, it doesn’t sit right with him, seeing his little brother so pushed to the side.
“Don’t belittle him,” Wilbur snaps, “He’s your crown prince and acting King. It would do you well to remember your place.”
“Oh, I know mine, but it seems you forget yours. I’m the Regent here, and you are simply a criminal on trial. Now,” the man says, venom in his eyes, “If the defendant refuses to cooperate further and has turned hostile, I feel we have nothing left to discuss.”
The advising court stands at once, following the Regent out of the throne room. Tommy is left sitting on the throne, not even asked to join. He’s only there for his blood, as a figurehead to preside over the trial for the sake of calling it fair.
And here Wilbur is, unable to comfort him, his feet glued to his spot down the carpet. The eyes of the nobles and guards pin him there. Even though he wants to comfort his little brother, to offer some semblance of calm, a kind word, he can’t.
Some brother he is.
It’s an agonizing few minutes of standing while the advisors debate. Wilbur suspects they pad it out to make him squirm. His life rests within their fingertips. And they know it. Wilbur doesn’t know why they’re so persistent on his guilt, but whatever angle they’re pushing, if he’s too much of a threat to their possible plans? They could easily do away with him.
It would be so easy.
Tommy sits, fumbling with his fingers. He picks at them, a nervous habit that Wilbur is usually there to swat away. Techno stands, shoulders tense, and grip unwavering on the barrier separating him from his brothers. They’re already falling apart. Wilbur is grateful that they at least are ignorant to the possible outcomes.
He nearly jumps out of his skin when the door swings open again, the advisors trickling out in a steady stream. The Regent retakes his place.
“We’ve come to a conclusion,” he begins, “After much deliberation over the evidence and testimony brought forth.”
The entire hall waits with bated breath. It feels like an executioner’s axe is about to drop.
The Regent continues, meeting Wilbur’s eyes. “We’ve determined that the best course of action is for Prince Wilbur to be ostracized from the Empire.”
It takes a moment for the sentence to process.
Then Wilbur breathes a sigh of relief.
The same cannot be said for everyone else.
The majority of people gasp. Techno and Tommy have much more visceral reactions.
“What?!” Tommy shouts, catapulting to his feet, “No! What are you thinking? I—I overrule your stupid fucking decision!”
“That’s not allowed, Your Highness,” the Regent says, firm.
“Tommy,” Wilbur tries, “It’s okay, Toms, trus—”
“It’s not okay!” Tommy insists, sparkling, “They can’t just—just exile you like you’re some criminal!”
“I know, but—”
It’s then that Techno vaults over the barrier, leaving the guard beside him grasping at air. He storms over to Wilbur, a fire in his eyes.
“Tommy’s right,” he seethes, “Wilbur is a prince of the Empire, just like Tommy, just like me. He’s innocent.”
“If you’re so sure, Prince Techno, then why don’t you join him?” The Regent suggests.
That’s the last thing Wilbur wants. He loves his twin, yes, but in the event something deeper is afoot here, Tommy will need protection. Regardless, he’ll need mental support. And Techno will need to provide that.
And Phil is vulnerable. He’ll need to be guarded, and Techno is the best option for that.
So before he can open his mouth and say yes like an idiot, Wilbur rests a hand on his shoulder.
“No,” he says, “No, Techno, you don’t want to do that. You’re fine with staying here, okay?” They share a look, Wilbur nodding minutely toward Tommy, who looks on with wide eyes. “Protect him.”
Techno freezes, face hardening. It’s like he’s trying to find a way to refute it but can’t. Good. He shouldn’t.
“Fine,” he says with a sigh, “But you have to promise me, Wilbur Craft, that you’re gonna be okay.”
“I will be,” Wilbur says with a smile, “I promise.”
“As I thought,” the Regent says, “Our decision is final and will be enacted immediately.”
Oh. Okay. Well, that’s not ideal, but Wilbur can work with this. He doesn’t let the soft smile on his face dim.
“Very well,” he says, nodding, “I can go collect some things—”
“That won’t be necessary. We prepared a pack of essentials.”
Okay. Again, that wasn’t expected, but Wilbur keeps the confident smile stuck on his face. If his brothers see him calm, then they’ll be calm. And that’s what he needs—to keep their spirits high until Phil wakes up and clears his name.
“Then let’s be on our way, shall we?” Wilbur asks, quirking his brow, almost like a challenge.
The Regent nods toward some guards, and a few come to Wilbur’s side, escorting him from the hall. He turns to smile one last time at his brothers, who’ve already gravitated toward each other like moth to flame.
He hopes he doesn’t leave them burned.