Rain fell gently, like a curtain of mist through the cool autumn air. The leaves of the trees rustled, just beginning to turn to shades of red, yellow, orange, and brown. The village was quiet at this time of day, in the early morning where the sun had barely begun to show itself on the horizon.
Wilbur walked through the rain, hardly giving the signs of the beginnings of autumn even a single glance.
The cobblestone streets beneath his feet were full of puddles, causing water to soak into his socks as it dripped through the various holes in his boots. The buildings of the village rose up into the air on either side of him.
Wilbur, admittedly, didn’t like the village very much. He’d never felt like he belonged here, not even once, in his entire sixteen years of living here.
It was supposed to be his home, considering he’d been born here. But it felt less like a home and more like a prison, with every day that he was forced to work himself to the bone for little more than a meal or twos worth of grain and a single bottle of water.
He was only a teenager, but everyone expected him to take care of himself because he was older now. And nobody cared to help him because his parents had died when he was too little to remember them, leaving him alone in this tiny village.
Nobody in the village had wanted to take him in, so the baker had hired him. When he was little, Wilbur hadn’t been able to do much but he’d still worked hard.
Most of his childhood was occupied by memories of dragging around bags of flour, grain, and sugar that were much larger than himself. Either that or sitting in the abandoned shed he lived in, staring up through the gaps in the wood at the stars that filled the night sky.
Needless to say, Wilbur hadn’t had a great childhood. And he didn’t have a fantastic life in general. But it was all he had.
The villagers constantly reminded him that there was nowhere else for him to go outside of here. Their village was entirely surrounded by a forest that was infested with fae, the sort of monsters who would pretend to be human but ultimately end up tricking you and either killing you or making you their slave.
The forest was a dangerous, deadly place. Wilbur knew better than to attempt to run away from the village. He knew all too well that he could easily be stupid enough to fall for the fae’s tricks.
As far as he knew, the only time any villagers went into the forest was for any slightly rarer resources they might need from it. The sort of things that their farms didn’t grow. But aside from that, everyone avoided it at all costs.
Wilbur sighed as the bakery finally came into view, taking him out of his thoughts.
The building was small, made of wood and mossy cobblestone with a slightly crooked, brick chimney. A sign hung above the door and the windows were made of yellow stained glass. Lichen covered almost the entire left side of the building, twisting its way into the grooves of the wood.
Wilbur pulled open the door to the bakery and was instantly hit with the smell of baking bread. He shrugged his jacket off- which was too small, fraying, and filled with holes- and hung it in the coatrack in the entryway.
As silently as he could, Wilbur walked through the small sitting area, past the display counters, and into the back room. He was immediately hit with the smell of yeast and flour as soon as he entered. Warmth from the ovens sunk into his skin.
The baker was already there, rolling out a batch of cookie dough. The baker was an older man, somewhere in his sixties, with greyed brown hair and green eyes. He wore a blue button-down shirt, thick brown pants, and a white apron that was dusted with various stains from over the years.
Wilbur grabbed his own apron off a nearby hook and tied the string around his waist. The fabric felt uncomfortable on his skinny, twig-like form but he was used to it by now.
“You’re late.” The baker hissed in a cold voice, not bothering to look away from his dough. “Again. This is the fourth time.”
The baker never told Wilbur a specific time of when to arrive, just whenever the sun had made it over the horizon. Which was a hard thing to keep track of in autumn or spring months, with the time it rose quickly shifting.
But Wilbur knew better than to protest. “Sorry. I’ll be on time tomorrow.” He responded quietly.
The baker huffed, clearly only half-believing Wilbur’s reply. However, the man made no actual comment about it. Instead, he began to order Wilbur around, as he usually did.
“I need you to get some roots from the forest for me.” The baker gruffly stated. “We need them for the fall festival bread. There’s a shovel by the back door. I need you to grab it and head out to the forest.”
Wilbur blinked. The baker had never sent him out to the forest before. “Uh… where exactly in the forest am I supposed to find those roots?”
“You should be able to find them easily enough, there’s a patch by a willow tree not too far from the nearest edge to here.” The baker replied smoothly, as if he was describing a walk in the park and not a trip into fae-infested woods.
Wilbur couldn’t help but swallow nervously. “Are you sure?” He asked vaguely, knowing the baker would know exactly what he meant.
“I’m certain. You’re in no danger as long as you pay attention. You might be stupid, but I don’t believe you’re that stupid.” The baker replied bluntly. “Unless I overestimated you, of course.” He motioned harshly to where the shovel was. “Are you going to get it or not?”
“I-I’ll get it.” Wilbur agreed reluctantly.
He walked over and picked up the shovel. The metal handle felt cold and heavy in his shaking, scarred hands. He grabbed a nearby basket, and it felt just as heavy.
He really didn’t want to do this, but Wilbur had a feeling that refusing could risk his job and his life. A refusal could mean that the baker would kick him out and Wilbur would no longer have any means of getting food or water.
So, his only choice was to slowly make his way back across the back room, past the display counters, and through the seating area. The shovel and the basket continued to feel like heavy, horrible weights as he walked.
Just as Wilbur had began to push the door open, he heard the baker call out to him. “Be back by the time the sun is high! We have to make plenty of loaves and I don’t have any fucking time to wait for you to get all freaked out and get lost!”
Wilbur took a deep breath. “I’ll be back in time, don’t worry!” He shouted back, before fully opening the door and reentering the cold, rainy morning.
The rain was still falling slowly like a curtain of gentle water coming from the distant, swirling grey clouds. The village was quiet, since it was far too early for most of the townspeople to be awake.
Wilbur turned away from the village buildings and towards the looming forest trees. Their flame colored leaves hung heavy with raindrops but still managed to rustle against one another in the cool breeze. Their dark trunks were lined up close together, creating a box of darkness in between them.
Taking another deep breath, Wilbur walked into the forest. Leaves crunched underneath his shoes and the breeze seemed to blow sharper when it was confined to the passages in-between the trees.
It didn’t take long for Wilbur to find the willow tree.
The tree sat on the edge of a wide clearing. It’s ever-present leaves made gentle noises as the wind blew by and water droplets landed on Wilbur’s head as he stood beneath it.
With shaking hands, Wilbur set the basket aside and lifted up the shovel, beginning to dig in a random spot. The dirt beneath the water-slick grass was muddy and damp, easily giving way beneath the force of the metal shovel.
A pile of mud and grass began to gather next to the hole. Wilbur tried his best to keep his clothes from getting dirty- since they were some of the only things he owned- but he found it to be a difficult task.
Soon, mud stains dotted the sleeves of his jacket and the ends of his pants. Part of him wanted to be upset about it, but the other part of him supposed that it didn’t matter since his clothes were already covered in soot from the ovens anyway.
Just as Wilbur’s arms began to ache from his digging, his shovel hit something with a dull thunk. Based on the sound, he immediately knew it wasn’t a root that he’d hit.
Nervousness and confusion starting to bubble up, Wilbur looked over the edge of the hole, his gaze searching the bottom of it. His eyes met what looked to be a wooden box, covered so thickly in mud that it was difficult to tell what it might contain.
He got a vague feeling that he should leave it alone. There was a barely-there sense that this wasn’t something to be messed with.
But Wilbur had always been curious and he couldn’t help but keep digging, now with the goal of unearthing the mysterious box.
He dismissed the uneasy feelings, convincing himself that the box couldn’t be anything remarkable and likely wasn’t going to be anything malicious either.
Eventually, with aching harms and hands, Wilbur lifted the box out of the hole.
It was somewhat small, only a little larger than an average book. It was wooden, just as he’d thought before. Despite the mud still clinging desperately to it, he could still see swirling engravings of forest scenes dotting its sides. There was a label engraved onto the top, but it was written in a strange language that Wilbur didn’t recognize.
There was a tiny latch on the front, made of a silvery grey metal. There was no keyhole, to Wilbur’s surprise. It wasn’t locked.
He didn’t hesitate to open the box. The disused hinge creaked in complaint but still allowed him to open it fully.
Inside, there was a small journal. It’s cover was made of dark red, dyed leather. Smooth stitches of brown thread dotted the edges, although they were messy and beginning to come undone. It displayed both the journal’s age and that it had likely been made by inexperienced hands.
The only word on the journal’s cover was one word, written in sloppy cursive; ’Techno’
Wilbur stared at it for a moment, feeling confused. Techno was an awfully old fashioned name and Wilbur had never met anyone with a name so old. Clearly, whoever this journal had belonged to either had a very old fashioned name or was dead.
Based on the aged, torn edges of the pages, Wilbur was tempted to assume the latter rather than the former.
The handwriting within the journal was fancy, swirly, and even more severely old-fashioned than the name on the front was. There was no year written within the pages, only quickly scrawled dates and summaries of days long past.
It took Wilbur an embarrassingly long moment to realize that this wasn’t just a journal, it was a diary.
Out of pure curiosity, Wilbur began to read the first entry. Admittedly, he did struggle a bit with the swirling handwriting and some of the more complex words, mostly because Wilbur hadn’t ever had any proper schooling. But he managed anyway.
‘February 15th’
‘My brother said I should start a diary. I’m not really too keen on thinkin’ this is a great use of my time, but whatever. This will give me something to do, at least. If someone ever happens to read this, I guess you should know that my name is Techno and I’m sixteen years old. There’s a war going on right now, but it hasn’t reached our village yet. I do worry greatly for when it does, but I believe my brother and I will survive. Winter’s almost over anyway. Potato growin’ season begins soon. And who’s going to want to fight a war when you can just chill and grow potatoes?’
Underneath, there was a tiny drawing of a field of potatoes. The drawing wasn’t good, not by any means, but it was a small, yet noticeable personal detail. The pencil lines were shaky with inexperience and smudged from the passage of time.
Despite how short the entry had been, Wilbur could still detect traces of a personality within the words. It made small sparks ignite in his chest, the beginnings of a flame blooming inside his heart.
He hadn’t spoken to anyone his age in the time that he could remember. There weren’t many teenagers in the village, and the few that did live here weren’t very interested in spending time with the soot-covered, homeless, and tired person that Wilbur was.
Nobody here wanted to waste time on an outcast.
It felt strange to even consider the perspective of someone else around his age. Wilbur wanted to read more, he wanted to know more. He knew that maybe it was invasive but surely it was fine, right? Techno had even acknowledged that someone might read this one day, hadn’t he?
Wilbur knew he wasn’t doing a fantastic job at convincing himself that reading someone’s diary was exactly a morally great thing to do, but he still forcefully shrugged the feeling of guilt from his shoulders.
As he stood there, beneath the willow tree, Wilbur decided to keep the journal and its box for himself. He wasn’t going to tell anyone of what he’d found, even if it could’ve been some sort of important historical artifact.
He put the diary back in its box and turned to head away from the willow tree. A plan slowly formed in his mind.
He’d go to the shed he lived in, leave the journal there, return to the willow tree, finally find those roots the baker needed, and still easily be back at the bakery on time. As long as he walked fast, Wilbur wouldn’t have to worry about being late.
———
The rain had stopped and the sun was far past its highest point by the time that Wilbur had finished filling the basket with roots. The roots were short, stubby, and reddish-brown. They looked wholly unappetizing as they were, but he’d learned over the course of his life that almost anything could be baked into bread and somehow come out edible.
Whether or not the roots would taste good was the least of his worries though.
Wilbur hadn’t managed to get back to the willow tree- after dropping off the journal at his shed- as quickly as he would’ve hoped. As a result, he was heavily behind on time now and he had a feeling that things weren’t going to go well once he got back to the bakery.
He began to trudge back through the forest, the shovel in one hand and the basket swinging slightly in the other. His hands and arms ached from digging and his clothes were caked with mud at the edges.
The bakery slowly began to come into view after he left the forest. Smoke billowed up from the chimney, curling high into the now cloudless sky. Mud squished underneath Wilbur’s shoes as he made his way to the path.
The cobblestone road was slick underneath him when he reached it, but he knew the remaining water would quickly dry in the sunlight.
He opened the door to the bakery as soon as it was within range. The little bell nailed to the wall above it jingled as he entered.
Several people looked up from where they were sitting at the tables dotting the public area. Most of them either looked away or harshly glared at him, murmuring to themselves.
Wilbur didn’t bother to say anything in response to the hostile way they treated him. He was used to being considered an outsider by now.
He quickly disappeared back into the back room. The heat from the ovens sunk into his skin, already making him begin to feel uncomfortably hot. But he was used to the extreme heat by now, and the feeling was easy to shove aside.
However, the angry gaze of the baker wasn’t easy to ignore. The man looked furious, face red and hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white with how tightly he held them.
“You’re fucking late.” The baker spat, taking a step forward.
Wilbur swallowed nervously and flinched backward as the baker continued to slowly come closer. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Time just got away from me.”
“Cut the bullshit.” The baker responded, now well within range to hurt Wilbur if he wanted to. “I don’t need any of your stupid little excuses.”
Wilbur had nowhere to go, finding himself backed into a corner. “O-Okay, but I’m sorry. I swear I really didn’t mean to be late.” He insisted meekly, despite knowing that his protests would get him nowhere.
The baker might be generous enough to give Wilbur food in exchange for work, but that didn’t mean that the man was kind. Rather, it was the contrary. It was a rare occasion for the baker to ever be nice or give him any grace.
“Shut the fuck up.” The baker’s hand shot forward and grabbed Wilbur’s wrist in a tight, bruising grip. “I shoulda punished you like this a long time ago, you pathetic, incompetent, stupid kid.” The baker muttered, shoving an oven mitt harshly over his other hand.
Wilbur watched in horror as the baker grabbed a hot pan straight out of one of the ovens. Soot covered the bottom of it, and the metal was still red-hot from the fire.
He began to struggle, trying desperately to free himself from the baker’s grip as he realized what was about to happen. Wilbur wanted to scream, but he knew that vocalizing his terror would only make the station worse.
“Stop fighting!” The baker shouted, bringing the hot pan closer. “It’s only going to get worse if you fucking try to fight me!”
Wilbur could feel tears sliding down his cheeks as he forced himself to stop attempting to tug himself away. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up yesterday, before this happened. Although, he knew that yesterday would’ve still been miserable.
The baker began to bring the hot pan down, over the backside of Wilbur’s right hand. He wanted to fight, he still wanted to scream, but his body didn’t move aside from the tremble in his hands and knees.
“Hopefully this will make you actually learn your lesson for once.” The baker spat before finally bringing the hot pan down, the burning metal touching Wilbur’s skin.
Wilbur couldn’t hold back a scream of agony as the pan burned his fragile skin. It felt like his entire hand was on fire and trickles of blood sprouted from the burn. He hadn’t even noticed when the baker had lifted the metal away or when the man had let go of his wrist.
The skin on the back of his hand was bright crimson and almost looked to be bubbling underneath the surface. Blood came out in tiny streams from the edges, dripping down the rest of his shaking hand.
He stared at the burn in shock, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks. Wilbur barely managed to swallow back a sob at the pain that consumed his entire hand.
“Get the fuck back to work! There’s some bandages under the counter if you really need them.” The baker pitilessly shouted, making Wilbur flinch.
Shakily, Wilbur reached underneath a nearby countertop and with his unburnt hand, he pulled a roll of bandages out. Tears still going down his face, he wrapped the bandages around his right hand. They were quickly stained with little red dots of blood.
Then, he put the bandages away and went over to one of the other counters to get to work.
———
Days passed slowly afterward.
The burn had healed steadily at first but as the winds of autumn got colder, its healing had slowed significantly. It probably had to do with how Wilbur was starting to run low on food, having to ration it and only eat a single meal every few days days.
The baker had only gotten meaner, shouting orders at him every which way and attempting to find any reason to punish him. Wilbur dreaded going to the bakery most days, even if he knew that it was his only means of survival.
His only solace from his own misery was the diary.
The entries had proven to be interesting and Techno had proven to be a very fun person to read about. Wilbur found himself often smiling or even laughing as he read about the ridiculous adventures Techno went on with his brother or the sarcastic comments he wrote about the rival potato farmer next door.
Over time, Wilbur found himself wishing that he could have a life like Techno’s. Something easy, something simple.
But with the way things currently were, Wilbur didn’t have much hope of achieving something like that here.
As time passed by, Wilbur had also begun to feel like he was being watched.
It wasn’t uncommon for him to feel eyes on his back as he walked to the bakery each morning or feel a chill go up his spine whenever he opened the diary.
He dismissed it as only something he imagined and nothing more. Nothing would come from a feeling that was only a manifestation of his own anxious thoughts. Because surely, that’s all it was, right?
Wilbur wasn’t sure. Especially not when he’d begun to notice crows seeming to follow him around.
The birds were often perched on the trees near his shed or around the bakery. And the one time the baker had sent him to get more roots, they’d been everywhere around him in the forest.
There was something unsettling about seeing crows at every turn. But all Wilbur could do about it was shrug it off.
To distract himself further, he decided to read more of the diary today. The bakery had, shockingly, let him leave before sunset for once. So Wilbur had more free time than usual.
The shed was cold inside and Wilbur wrapped one of his ratty, dirty blankets around his shoulders. It was all he had to block it out aside from his coat.
Humming quietly to himself, he opened the diary to the next page.
‘July 21st’
‘I got drafted. The war reached our village yesterday. They said they needed more people in the army. I’m… barely sixteen. How am I supposed to fight in a war like this? I mean- like, bruh. They really expect children to fight this war for them? The royal family must be full of idiots. Same thing with the army generals. Aside from them being idiots, I’m worried that I’m… going to die. I don’t want to die. And while I keep telling my brother that ‘Techno never dies!’ I don’t actually know how true that is. I think he doubts it too. I really don’t want to die. I’ll be leaving my brother alone here if I do. Our parents left when we were kids, it’s been just us for years now. I don’t know what he’ll do if I’m gone so suddenly.’
Immediately, Wilbur began to feel sick to his stomach. There weren’t many pages left after this one which already didn’t paint a pretty picture.
He really didn’t want Techno to die. Maybe by now Techno would already be dead anyway but Wilbur still didn’t want to read about the only person his age that he’d ever known dying in a war.
With shaking hands, Wilbur shut the journal. He decided that he’d had enough of reading it for now.
———
The next day, the baker made Wilbur go back out to the forest to get more roots.
Reluctantly, he took the shovel and basket and walked back to the willow tree. The same one he’d found the journal underneath.
The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, a few blurs of red, orange, yellow, and brown drifting towards the ground every few moments. Birds sang, creating a soft canopy of noise.
As Wilbur dug, creating a small hole in the ground and a pile of dirt beside it, he began to feel as though he was being watched.
He’d had the feeling before, ever since he found the diary. But within his shed or in the village, the feeling had always been fairly muted and easy to push aside.
But here, in the center of the woods, it felt so much more intense. It felt like multiple pairs of eyes were trained onto him, watching his every move. It made the hairs on his neck rise and caused him to involuntarily shiver.
Whatever was watching him felt distinctly inhuman. It felt like something powerful, something not to be crossed unless you were willing to risk your life. It screamed of sharp foreboding, a warning before an intense storm certain to soon arrive.
Part of him wondered if it was the fae.
Wilbur had heard stories of them before. About how they lurked in the woods, ready to trick unsuspecting humans into making horrible deals with them, ones that often ended in either enslavement or death.
But the whole village knew that the fae usually weren’t very active around autumn. In fact, it was nearly unheard of for there to be a sighting of one this time of year.
The thought did nothing to calm Wilbur’s nerves. Nor did it do anything to ease the feeling of being watched.
He spent the rest of his time in the forest feeling horribly tense. Wilbur just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
Clearly, something was horribly wrong. He had no idea what it was though.
———
The baker had made Wilbur stay late that night.
The autumn festival was in a few days and they had no time to spare with preparations. The village would be expecting plenty of sweet and savory baked treats, so they had to work as long and hard as possible.
The skin on Wilbur’s hands was raw and red from hours of touching hot trays and pans. Soot covered his brown hair, turning it into a much ashier shade than normal. Flour had worked itself into the fabric of his shirt and no matter how much he tried to brush it off, it stubbornly stuck around.
It was late when he arrived back at his shed. The sun had set long ago, leaving a quiet village and a dark night sky behind. The air was cold with the promise of winter and Wilbur felt dead on his feet as he collapsed onto his makeshift bed.
Needless to say, he was both a mess and absolutely exhausted.
He knew he was bound to repeat the same routine the next day. The baker never let him have any days off.
The idea of routine, of suffering through another long day tomorrow, made Wilbur only feel more tired and depressed. His mind was a swarm of negative thoughts and emotions, leading tears to begin to burn at the corners of his eyes.
With shaking, soot-stained hands, he picked up the diary. Its leather cover was his only sort of comfort these days.
Lately, the entries had progressed into snippets of Techno’s time in the army. As far as Wilbur could tell, the war was bad and bloody and all the soldiers were cruel.
Techno had been struggling in the entries. Despite how he seemed to be getting pretty good with a sword, Techno kept talking about the idea of running away and entering the forest beside his army camp.
Wilbur didn’t know if Techno would actually do it or not, but the diary was getting awfully close to its end. There were only three pages left now. Six entries at most, three at least.
Something was about to happen. But Wilbur didn’t know what it could be.
‘September 3rd’
‘We’re moving camp in four days. We’ll be going to the front lines. I’ve gotten better with a sword… but I don’t know if I’m good enough to survive out there. The forest has never looked more tempting than it does tonight. With the sunset reflecting off the green leaves, it looks like a glowing haven compared to where I currently stand in the camp. I just wish my brother were here with me. He’s back home and I don’t know if I’ll see him again. I suppose no matter what I do, the chances are low. If I go to the front lines, I’ll die no matter what. I’m just a number to this army, they don’t care what happens to me in battle. If I go into the forest though, I’ll be considered a deserter, a horrible criminal. I won’t be welcome in any town or village ever again. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I wish I was still at home. Then, all I’d have to worry about is planting potatoes and not fighting useless war for a tyrant who doesn’t care about any of us common folk.’
Wilbur stared at the entry for a moment, anticipation starting to creep in. This was it. Soon, he’d know where Techno ended up and if he survived or not.
A few more entries passed, each one made up of Techno’s internal debate on where to go and his worries for his brother. Wilbur idly wondered what Techno’s brothers name was. It was never mentioned in the diary.
But that tiny piece of information wasn’t important. What mattered was finding the ending.See AlsoZelda Weapons and Items: Your Essential Guide to Gear in HyruleZelda: Echoes of Wisdom Best Weapons You Need to KnowThe Best Heroes To Duplicate As Echo - HotspawnWhat PVP texture pack does TommyInnit use? - Games Learning Society
‘September 6th’
‘We’re moving camp tomorrow. I… don’t think I can stay here. Maybe that makes me a coward but I always said I’d never die, didn’t I? Maybe this is just me trying to live up to that. Or maybe it isn’t, maybe I really am just scared. I don’t know. But I’m going out to the forest. I’m packing my bag and I’m going to find a life for myself out there. I don’t care about the rumors of monsters or the potential of finding a worse death there. At least in the forest, I’ll have a semblance of freedom. And maybe I’ll find my brother and I can convince him to come live out there with me. It may not work out… but sometimes all we have is hope. And that’s all I have now.’
The entry ended abruptly, smears of old ink dotting the bottom of the well-worn paper.
Wilbur flipped the page and looked at the back of it, desperate to find another entry to read. But he found no words, only the distinct imprint of a crow’s feather. The texture felt strange underneath his fingertips.
There were words written underneath the imprint. They were written in a language Wilbur had no hope of understanding, in swirling silver handwriting that looked obviously different from Techno’s handwriting, despite not containing any English characters.
Wilbur suddenly began to feel uneasy as he stared at the page. He shivered involuntarily, the intense feeling of being watched rushing back in all of the sudden.
The eyes on him felt more calculating now, as if they were preparing for something, waiting for the start of an event Wilbur couldn’t foresee.
Distantly, Wilbur heard a few crows begin to caw outside.
Their caws were quickly joined by what sounded like hundreds of others. They created a discordant symphony, sharp and unrelenting. The sound of feathered wings beating in the chilled autumn air joined it in a steady rhythm.
Wilbur raised an eyebrow at the noise. Hopefully the crows had just found a dead animal or something. He didn’t want them to become a problem he had to worry about.
After a few moments, a rapid buzzing noise joined the cawing and wingbeats. It sounded like a million little bugs, circling in an unnatural pattern.
Wilbur had no idea what was going on. Why would so many crows and random bugs gather here? He wasn’t in the forest or in a field somewhere. He was in the village, even if the shed was on the outskirts.
The noise was loud and unrelenting and Wilbur had a feeling that he’d have no chance at sleeping if it continued.
It wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. Confusion and a vague sense of dread filled him as he got to his feet. Wilbur walked over to the flimsy wooden door. His bandaged right hand hung over the doorknob for a moment in terrified hesitation. The moment ended quickly and he swung the door open.
The sight that greeted him was nothing short of horrifying and even more confusing.
Crows were perched on every available area, cawing angrily. Those who couldn’t find space were flying around erratically, clearly upset. Their feathers were deep black and almost seemed to shine with an unnatural iridescence in the light of the moon.
There weren’t just crows gathered outside though.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of fireflies were flying through the grass. Their glow illuminated the nearby houses, the shed, and Wilbur’s shocked face. Their wings buzzed loudly as they flew through the air.
“What the fuck?” Wilbur muttered.
His words seemed to summon all of the creatures attention.
Suddenly, everything went terrifyingly silent. The crows all sharply turned their heads to look at him, their beady black eyes sharply meeting his shivering form. The fireflies froze midair, starting to turn around in place, going in confused circles.
Then, the air shifted. Wilbur felt the eyes watching him more intensely than he ever thought possible.
It was then that the feelings of wrongness were pulled up from the blanket of vagueness they’d been resting under before.
Something was wrong. Something terrifying was about to happen.
And now, it was too late for Wilbur to have any hope of stopping it.
Just as he came to that realization, the crows began to move, flying off their perches and beginning to gather into a group. The fireflies joined them, moving together as a mass of brilliant light.
Then, the groups were spreading out and moving into a perfect circle.
All too late, Wilbur knew he was trapped.
Fireflies and crows in tandem began to circle around him. Black feathers and a kaleidoscope of little lights gathered together in a blur.
It would’ve been something beautiful and memorizing if Wilbur didn’t currently feel so scared. There was a sharp sense of wrongness to the display, something screaming to him instinctually that this wasn’t right. That whatever was watching him was about to reveal itself and it would be bad.
Time seemed to slow as Wilbur was trapped in a circle of feathers and light. He knew without asking that trying to walk through the barrier would be a death sentence.
All he could do was wait in anticipation for whatever would appear once the area around him was clear.
His heart was beating fast, like it wanted to escape his chest. His breathing was raspy, coming into his lungs shallowly and dangerously fast.
Slowly, he began to notice crows and fireflies breaking away from the group. The crowd became thinner and thinner as they broke apart.
However, as soon as Wilbur caught the first glimpse of the world around him, he knew he wasn’t outside his shed anymore.
He caught sight of pristine white and gold walls, thick velvety green carpet mixed with marble floors, and what looked to be several massive thrones.
The air around him seemed to have a vague shimmer to it, something screaming about how unnatural it all was.
Eventually, the birds and fireflies were entirely gone. They had completely disappeared, and as Wilbur looked around what he assumed to be a massive throne room, he couldn’t figure out where they’d gone to.
Instead of trying to frantically discover where the creatures were, Wilbur focused on attempting to figure out more about where he was.
As he looked forward, Wilbur examined the three thrones.
One was dark green, the armrests were lined with emeralds, and there were vines covered in pink flowering blossoms that snaked up the entirety of the throne. It was by far the largest and sat exactly in the middle of an area slightly elevated from the rest of the room.
The second throne was a bit smaller, but still not anything to be overlooked. It was light blue and what looked to be actual icicles hung from its edges. Frost lined every available area of it and Wilbur felt cold just looking at it. Sapphires in the shape of snowflakes were embedded in the armrests. The throne sat to the left of the first.
The third and final throne was the smallest, but yet again still wasn’t exactly tiny. It was made up of warm shades of light green, brown, and sunshine yellow. Green vines and leaves covered it’s surface and little suns made of gemstones were embedded into its armrests. This throne sat to the right of the first.
As he looked away from the thrones, Wilbur found that the room itself was a combination of plants and man-made structure.
Massive arching beams made of a warm brown colored wood marked the walls and arched up into the rounded ceiling made of window panes that let in natural light. Vines of all kinds zigzagged across the walls and ceiling alongside the beams.
A stained glass window took up the entire rounded wall behind the thrones. Within the glass, Wilbur could see images depicting the four seasons.
Strangely, the images seemed to be moving of their own accord. The snowflakes fell gently in the winter section, the sunbeams shifted around in the summer pieces, flowers bloomed on the spring side, and brightly colored leaves fell in the autumn area.
His observations were cut short by abrupt laughter behind him, sounding like the ringing of bells on a quiet spring morning.
“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” An unfamiliar voice spoke immediately afterward, sounding amused.
Wilbur whipped around as fast as he could, and found himself meeting eyes with a man that looked human at first, but he realized definitely wasn’t.
The man had unnaturally bright blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. His eyes were a sharp, almost glowing shade of blue. His ears were pointed and an emerald earring on a golden chain hung from one. Soft, majestic green robes were draped over his form and a golden crown sat on his head. There were dark, black claws on the ends of each his fingers and similarly dark feathers dotted his cheeks.
But the most impressive thing about the man was the massive, dark black wings he had. The feathers were so dark that they looked as if they were made of the void itself.
Despite the man’s interesting appearance, the second Wilbur had taken it in, his mind began to scream. This was a predator and Wilbur could easily become prey.
“I’ve waited a long time for you.” The man said, clearly still amused at Wilbur’s fear and shock. “I thought it’d take years for you finish reading that diary, you know? But I’m glad you rushed through it, mate. That way I don’t have to get too impatient.”
Wilbur swallowed nervously. “Wh-What? Where the fuck am I?”
The man laughed. “You must be out of it, huh?” He shook his head in exasperation. “You’re in the fae realm, in my throne room.” A wide smile appeared on his face, revealing razor sharp teeth.
Wilbur flinched at the words ’the fae realm’. There was no way. It wasn’t possible that he could’ve ended up there.
He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? Wilbur hadn’t pissed any fae off as far as he knew, nor had he made any deals.
Still, he knew that the man in front of him had to be right.
The air almost shimmered in the corners of Wilbur’s eyes, the stained glass from earlier had been moving, there were plants nearly everywhere inside of a room far too fancy for them to be.
For fuck’s sake, Wilbur had been stuck inside of a swirling mass of crows and fireflies before he got here. That should’ve been enough for him to realize that whatever was going on wasn’t natural.
But he supposed his own shock had gotten to him. And for a moment, Wilbur’s mind had been blank.
As he stood in silence, he figured out, so stupidly late, that the man who was talking to him wasn’t really a man. He was a fae. He was a fae who seemed to be the one who had gotten Wilbur stuck here.
“I-I don’t want to be here.” Wilbur said, taking a step back. “Please let me go home.”
The fae shook his head. “You aren’t going anywhere.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t think you have much of a home to return to anyway. That little shed of yours isn’t much of a proper shelter. Nor is the baker a very kind acquaintance for you to be spending time with.” The word ‘acquaintance’ was spoken with vitriol and sarcasm.
Wilbur only stared at the fae in fear. He was still fairly in shock, struggling to from many coherent thoughts. “Y-You can’t keep me here. I never made a deal with you!”
“Yes I can.” The fae tilted his head, raising an amused eyebrow. “You made a deal with me the moment you opened that diary, mate.”
“Wh-What?” Wilbur asked, rearing back like he’d been hit. His heart began to pick up speed, if it were even possible, and he felt his entire body trembling like a leaf. “It’s just a diary! How does that even work? I never told you my name, I never asked for anything, how could I be in a deal with you?”
The fae laughed. “I have my ways. A fae as old as me has plenty of tricks up their sleeve.”
“I can’t just make a deal without knowing! That’s not how that works!” Wilbur exclaimed frantically, his breathing getting more erratic with each moment that passed.
“Oh, you’ll find that it can work that way.” The fae smiled brightly.
Wilbur stumbled backward. This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be a possibility.
He couldn’t be stuck as a slave for the rest of his life. He couldn’t be stuck in an unfamiliar realm, with unnatural beings, for the rest of his existence.
This wasn’t fair. He never made a deal. He’d never even spoken to the fae. Not even once.
But he knew it was too late.
Somehow, without even speaking a single word, Wilbur had sealed his own fate.
The world was spinning around him in sharp, dizzying circles. His breathing was loud and his own fast-paced heartbeat roared in his ears.
Everything hurt. It all hurt far too much.
And suddenly, he felt himself collapse. Then, it all went dark.
———
Awareness was slow to return.
The first thing he registered was that he was comfortable. The surface beneath him was soft and silky, it shifted with his movements, cradling his aching body. The fabrics that covered his cold form were extremely fluffy and warm.
None of his injuries hurt anymore. The burn on his right hand, the aching in his legs, all of it was gone. It was strange for everything not to hurt so much.
This kind of comfortability struck him as unfamiliar, a rare experience that only existed in fleeting dreams and nothing more.
That was enough to make the process of waking up become something more abrupt and sharp.
Wilbur opened his eyes and shoved himself upward- from where he’d been laying down- and into a sitting position.
With wide eyes, he examined the room around him.
He immediately realized it was a fancy bedroom, with cream colored walls covered in flowering vines, a large mossy stone fireplace, and a window that took up almost the entire wall to his right, which was covered in a leaf green curtain.
There were two doors on the wall to his left and one on the wall in front of him. Each of them were made of white painted wood with silver accents. The bed frame was made of a similar sort of wood and a veiled canopy covered the top of it.
Large blankets were strewn across the even more impressively large bed that Wilbur found himself in. It was huge enough to fit at least four of him in.
The whole room was ridiculously massive and screamed of rich royalty. It spoke of a group of people that Wilbur knew he wasn’t a part of.
For a moment, he almost thought he was dreaming.
But as he sat there, the memories of the previous day came rushing in. And suddenly, the earlier warmth and comfort was drained away and replaced with sheer dread.
Before Wilbur could process his thoughts, there was a knock at the door in front of him. The sharp noise echoed through the room and Wilbur sat, frozen, on the edge of the bed.
“Hello?” A voice he immediately recognized as the fae from before came through the door. “You awake yet?”
Wilbur was half tempted to not respond, but the fear of what the fae might do otherwise kept him from remaining silent. “Uh- Yeah, I’m up.” He responded quietly.
He was barely certain if the fae had heard him, but based on the way the door began to open, the fae had.
Within moments, he found himself meeting eyes again with the fae from earlier. His eyes were just as unnaturally bright as Wilbur remembered and his wings were just as impressively terrifying.
“Good morning!” The fae exclaimed happily. “Did you sleep well?”
Wilbur only felt confused. Why did the fae care how well he slept? He had literally kidnapped him but he still expected him to act like everything was normal.
Anxiously drumming his fingers against his leg, Wilbur gritted his teeth. “Why are you asking me that?” Without the shock from before being as strong, he was more careful with his words than he’d been in the throne room.
“Why can’t I?” The fae countered. “Is it so bad for me to want to get to know the new member of my family?”
Wilbur felt his heart begin to beat faster. He had no idea what the fae could possibly mean. There was no history of humans becoming fae, was there? He didn’t remember hearing about humans getting adopted by fae either. “What do you mean? I’m not a member of any family and certainly not yours.”
The fae only laughed. “Well, part of the deal of reading the diary is that you’re my new son! Because of that deal, the more time you spend in the fae realm, the more fae-like you’ll become, until you’re one of us!”
“You’re lying!” Wilbur immediately shot back without thinking. “I-I mean, that can’t be right! You have to be twisting your words somehow!” He knew that fae couldn’t lie and he internally scolded himself for making such a baseless initial accusation.
“What use would that have right now?” The fae asked. “I have no reason to twist my words when you’re already here, right in the heart of my home. I’ve already gotten what I wanted.”
Wilbur flinched backward. The fae was right, he had already gotten what he wanted. Wilbur was stuck in the fae realm, being forced to bend to the fae’s whims. “But you still could.” He hastily replied. “You still might be trying to make it seem hopeless, when escape is still within my reach.”
The fae smiled with an amused sort of expression. “If escape was possible, you wouldn’t be in such a heavily fortified castle, would you? And you wouldn’t have been transported here outside of a fae ring. Make no mistake, you’re tied to me now, you’re mine. I may not have your name, but my magic still has a hold over you.”
“I’m not yours! I don’t belong to anyone! And how could I possibly know if your magic is in control of me? How do I know you aren’t only twisting your words again?” Wilbur argued, attempting to hide the way his hands shook at the implication that the fae was completely in control of him now.
“I can show you, if you so wish. It’s a rather easy thing for me to do, although I don’t like doing it, especially to my family.” The fae sighed and snipped his fingers. “Stand up and turn in a circle.” His voice echoed with the heaviness of magic.
Wilbur let out a strangled noise of shock as his legs suddenly moved without his input. It felt like he had lost all feeling his legs, like they were dead weights being puppeted around by invisible strings.
As soon as he was standing up, his body turned in a circle before going still again. Then, feeling rushed back into his legs and Wilbur was left staring in horror at the fae.
“Yeah, I doubt that was very fun for you.” The fae stated, his expression downturned, as though there was a bitter taste lingering in his mouth. “I’ll only order you around like that when it’s necessary, mate.”
“Wh-What the fuck!” Wilbur exclaimed.
The fae nodded. “Valid reaction, honestly.” He paused for a moment. “We can talk more later. For now, I’ll go get you some food.”
The fae turned to leave and just as he was halfway out the doorway, the fae turned and looked over his shoulder. “Almost forgot. Don’t leave this room.” He ordered and Wilbur shivered at the feeling of magic invading his limbs. “There we go.” The fae continued. “I’ll see you soon, mate!”
With those words, the door shut and the fae was gone.
Wilbur could only stand in the middle of the room and frantically attempt to process everything he’d just been told.
———
What was about thirty minutes passed.
Wilbur spent most of the time further inspecting the room he was currently trapped in.
He opened the first of the two doors on the left wall from the bed. Behind it was a large closet, already filled with clothes. The clothes were made of fancy, expensive fabrics that felt foreign and silky against Wilbur’s hands as he ran his fingers over them.
Despite how nice the clothes were, Wilbur still vowed he’d never wear any of them. They were obviously fae clothes, shimmering with the same magic that tinted everything in this terrifying realm.
When he later opened the second door, it revealed a decent sized bathroom. There was a sink, a toilet, and a bathtub-shower combo. The walls inside were painted white and all of the countertops were also white, but with golden accents. Glowing vines grew on the ceiling, providing a gentle, low light to the room. Again, it was just as fancy as the rest of the bedroom.
Wilbur had also dug through a few drawers he found on a nightstand next to the bed. But they revealed nothing aside from some dust and a few wash rags that he assumed had been forgotten a long time ago.
Overall, the bedroom was extremely boring.
Although he didn’t want to admit it, the sound of the door opening was almost a relief from the boredom.
The same fae from before walked onto the room, humming contentedly to himself. The fae was holding a large tray of food and with smooth confidence, he walked over to the nightstand beside the bed and set the tray down.
Wilbur did nothing but stare from where he stood beside the fireplace. He already knew without having to be told that the food was fae food.
Even just one bite of fae food would damn him for eternity. He’d never be able to survive off human food ever again. Thus, Wilbur wasn’t going to eat today. He wasn’t too bothered by the idea of skipping a meal anyway. It was rare for him to eat three meals a day back in the village.
“I do want to say, I forgot to tell you this earlier,” The fae began. “But before you ask, I won’t be giving you my name until you give me yours.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I didn’t think you were stupid enough to just hand over so much power. And I’m not dumb enough to give you my name either.”
The fae only shook his head in amusement. “You might think that your name still holds power, but it doesn’t. I already have power over you, mate. The only thing you’d be doing by giving me it is a completion of the deal.”
Wilbur sighed. He didn’t have much of a defense for the first part of the fae’s statement. However, he did have plenty of questions about the second. “What do you mean by ‘completion of the deal’? I thought you said that my fate was already sealed?”
“Hmmm, no. Your fate is sealed in the fact that eventually, you’ll give in and give it to me. You’re stuck here with no other options. Giving me your name would allow me to complete our familial bond, making you not just my son in the terms of a deal or curse, but also in the terms of our souls and magic itself.” The fae replied easily. “Of course, you might assume that I could simply order you to give it to me. But things aren’t that simple.” The fae smiled slyly. “Thus, I will wait for your acceptance.”
Wilbur gritted his teeth. “What? You think I’m going to accept this? That I’d ever willingly give you my name and let you take over every part of me? Fuck no! I’m not a stupid child for you to break.”
The fae shrugged. “I’m not intending to ‘break’ you. Nor am I trying to control you. I’m only attempting to give you a much better life than the village ever offered. That’s all.” The fae’s expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t think you’re stupid either. You are definitely a child, but I think you’re quite smart considering you survived alone for so long. Honestly, you’ve impressed me in a lot of ways.”
“I-I don’t believe you.” Wilbur responded lamely. “I don’t think you want the best for me, not when you’ve kidnapped me.” His voice was more resigned than he wanted it to be, but he was thoroughly exhausted from everything that had happened.
On top of that, the compliment the fae had given him felt strange. Wilbur wasn’t used to anyone ever thinking anything good of him.
Most of the time, his options had either been being hated or being invisible. Being smart or appreciated were never in the equation.
“Say what you like, but fae can’t lie.” The fae stated, it’s blue eyes sharply meeting Wilbur’s brown ones. “And I know you can come up with much better arguments than that, mate.”
With those words, the fae was exiting the room. In a blink, he was gone and Wilbur was left with feelings of burning hot conflict.
Wilbur didn’t sleep that night.
———
Over the next few days, the fae kept bringing Wilbur food.
He never ate any of it, even when the fae- or ‘Phil’ as he had said Wilbur could call him- started to get concerned. Phil had said that Wilbur needed to eat soon, or he would do have to do ‘something he definitely wouldn’t like’ or whatever that meant.
In the meantime, Wilbur spent his days either sleeping or wandering in aimless circles around the bedroom.
Phil had talked to him a lot when he brought food and that was honestly Wilbur’s only entertainment through the sluggish days.
As the days had gone by, Wilbur had gathered that Phil already had two sons, one who was called Tommy, and another who was called Techno. Phil hadn’t given Wilbur any of their real names, unfortunately, but he was patiently waiting for when Phil inevitably slipped up.
Phil had also informed Wilbur that his son Techno had been the one to write that stupid diary that got Wilbur into this mess in the first place.
Apparently, it had been written when Techno was human, hundreds of years ago. Wilbur wasn’t entirely shocked to learn that Phil had probably kidnapped someone else before him. No doubt, Techno had been tricked into some desperate deal to escape the war.
Wilbur almost wanted to feel bad for Techno, if it weren’t for the fact that according to Phil, Techno was happy to be getting another brother. Basically, that meant that Techno supported Wilbur being kidnapped.See AlsoComebacks for When Someone Insults You: 45 Savage Replies
Needless to say, Wilbur learned to never meet your heroes. Even though he technically hadn’t seen or spoken to Techno yet, the point still stood.
After about four days of not eating, Wilbur woke up after a long nap to gentle rays of sun shining through the massive window on the wall. The light felt nice and warm, but it was also annoying to have practically shining in his eyes.
With an exhausted grumble, he sat up, blankets slipping away from his shivering form.
He’d been cold for the past two days. It was the kind of cold that sunk into his skin and into his bones, making a permanent home in his flesh.
At this point of starvation, Wilbur had also grown feverish and fatigued. He hadn’t left bed at all today, his legs were too shaky to support his weight anymore.
Just as he settled into a miserable round of shivering, the door to the bedroom opened.
Phil entered the room, carrying the same tray of food he always did. There was an expression of concern on his face and a slight furrow to his brow.
Wilbur stared silently at the tray as Phil put it down on the corner of the bed. There was a bowl of soup and a bread roll on it, each of them far too perfect and shiny to be anything other than fae food.
“You’re going to eat by your own accord today, or I’m going to make you.” Phil stated bluntly. “Either way, you will be eating, mate. There’s no way out of it today.”
He swallowed and it felt like there was gravel in his throat. “N-No.” Wilbur stammered, voice rough and quiet, broken by how his teeth kept chattering with a cold only he could feel.
Phil raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to eat. There is no option to opt out. I can’t let you continue to starve yourself. You will die. So decide, is it going to be the easy way or the hard way?”
Wilbur only shook his head. He didn’t have the strength to form a proper sentence.
Phil pursed his lips. “Fine, hard way it is then.” He sighed. “I apologize in advance for this.” Then, his voice began to echo. “Eat your soup and bread, every last bit of it.”
Suddenly, Wilbur felt his control of his body slip away, magic quickly invading his veins. All he could do was let out a strangled, garbled noise of fear.
Without his input, his hands were reaching for the spoon sitting in the soup bowl. And then, a spoonful of soup reached his lips and entered his mouth.
Wilbur tried to fight, he hopelessly attempted to keep himself from swallowing. But it was useless.
The soup went down like water and he hated how good it tasted. The warm flavors of herbs and spices lingered on his tongue.
Spoonful after spoonful was lifted into his mouth and swallowed rhythmically. Wilbur felt warm tears sliding down his cheeks as his stomach began to cramp from the amount of food being forced into it.
Phil watched all the while, something sympathetic and regretful in his eyes. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows were furrowed slightly.
Eventually, the bowl was empty and the bread was gone, reduced to mere crumbs. Wilbur sniffled, his entire body trembling as he felt the beginnings of the food’s magic fluttering in his stomach.
Phil sighed and moved forward, gently prying the tray from Wilbur’s grasp. “I’m truly sorry that I had to do that. But it was for your own health. And, before you get any ideas, ‘don’t throw up any of the food you just ate.’”
Wilbur only sat there numbly as the new command settled into place. He continued to tremble and he wanted nothing more than to disappear. He just wanted this nightmare to finally end.
To his disappointment, even after Phil left, Wilbur never woke up.
———
More days passed and Wilbur gave up on his hunger strike. He knew what the consequences of not eating were now.
However, one day things were different.
Phil wasn’t the one who entered the room to give him dinner.
Instead, it was a fae who looked only two or three years older than Wilbur- despite most likely being hundreds of years older in reality. This fae had long, pale pink hair that was curled at the ends, paired with bright red eyes. Massive tusks jutted out of his mouth and floppy, pig-like ears sprouted from his head. He was wearing a white poet’s shirt, brown pants, and a red cape. Jewelry practically covered his bulky form, alongside a massive golden crown.
Based off the vague descriptions Phil had given him, Wilbur assumed this must be Techno.
“Evenin’” Techno greeted bluntly, carrying a tray that no doubt contained Wilbur’s dinner.
Wilbur narrowed his eyes. He felt sparks of rage igniting in his chest. The diary that had put him into this mess was Techno’s and although Phil had been the one to enchant it, Wilbur still couldn’t help but feel angry at Techno anyway.
“Go away.” Wilbur said, glaring. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
To his frustration, Techno only shrugged. “You don’t have to. I’m just bringing you dinner. I mean- technically Phil said I should try to speak to you, but I don’t necessarily have to.”
“Of course he’d want you to try to coherence me into joining your family too.” Wilbur huffed. “You guys are stupid if you think I’ll ever be willing to play family with you.”
Techno set the tray down on the end of the bed. “You don’t have much of a choice, kid. Once Phil’s made up his mind on something, he’s stubborn about it. And I have to admit, I kinda agree with him right now. It’s not like you have much to return to in the human realm, anyway.”
“I don’t care. I’ll make him change his mind. He can’t force me into his family if I’m never nice to him and don’t give in.” Wilbur bit back. “And what the fuck do you mean I don’t have anything to return to?! I had my shed! And my job! You can’t just take that away from me!”
Techno shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think you have much there. I saw your shed, just like Phil did. It was falling apart, barely holding together. I doubt it would’ve held through the winter, kid. And was your job really that great? The baker literally burnt your hand and you’re still defending him. Everyone in that village hated you. But here, you’d have a constant roof over your head, you wouldn’t ever have to work, and we’d all love you so much that you wouldn’t ever think about being lonely or unwanted.”
Wilbur breathed in a shaky breath at that. Part of him ached to have everything Techno was describing. But Wilbur didn’t want it from the people who had kidnapped him. He didn’t want any of it from horrible fae like them. He dropped his gaze, struggling too much to meet Techno’s eyes. “I-I don’t care. I don’t want it.”
There was the quiet sound of footsteps crossing the room, towards the door outside as Wilbur stared at the blankets covering the bed he sat on.
Finally, Techno responded. “You aren’t as good of a liar as you think you are.”
The door opened and after a few moments, was promptly shut.
———
A few more days passed and by now, Wilbur could feel them all blurring together.
He kept trying to come up with escape plans, but each time he came up blank. Phil’s order burned in his bones, the magic keeping him from crossing any threshold out of the bedroom.
Both Phil and Techno continued to bring him meals in the meantime.
Wilbur tried his best not to let all of the things they said get to him. He didn’t want to think about all of the solid points they had, or how many times he’d failed to come up with any sort of comeback.
He was falling apart, and he desperately didn’t want their words to become reality.
———
The door opened smoothly as Techno entered the room, carrying the usual tray of food.
Wilbur stood beside the bed, leaning against the wall. He stared Techno down unflinchingly. Wilbur already had a feeling what today would be. Another argument. Another sharp disagreement and play of words.
However, instead of making any sort of remark revolving around family, Techno had decided instead to just flat out insult him. “You stink. You should take a shower and change. I can smell you from over here.”
Wilbur blinked. “What the fuck?”
“I said what I said.” Techno shrugged. “You should go take a shower and get some new clothes.”
Wilbur thought about it for a moment. When was the last time he’d showered? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t know when the last time he’d gotten new clothes was either. His current ones were covered in dirt, sweat, and soot.
Yet, when he thought about it further, Wilbur realized what the ’new clothes’ Techno was referring to were. They were the fancy, distinctly fae looking clothes he’d seen in the closet.
“I’m not wearing your stupid fancy clothes.” Wilbur said, making up his mind in a moment. “And I don’t need to shower either. I’m fine.”
Techno sighed, which was something he seemed to do often. “I don’t care what you think right now. Your clothes are literally falling apart. Plus, Phil isn’t going to let you walk around the castle later if you still stink so much.”
“I don’t care what you think either.” Wilbur replied stubbornly. “And I’m not leaving this room unless it means I can go home!”
“Eat your food.” Techno stated, clearly frustrated. “I’m getting Phil.”
With those words, Techno left the room and the door shut sharply behind him.
Wilbur ate his food- although somewhat reluctantly since he wanted to be stubborn about everything right now. He knew the consequences of not eating though. Phil would just make him eat if Wilbur tried to avoid it.
The food tasted good, as always, but it also made him nervous with the feeling of magic swirling in his stomach.
Almost exactly after he finished eating, the door swung back open and Phil and Techno entered the room.
“Yeah, I see what you mean Techno.” Phil said, raising an eyebrow at Wilbur’s dirty and disheveled state. “I thought we could wait a little longer for this to be a problem. But really, he is getting the blankets quite dirty.”
“Hey!” Wilbur exclaimed, realizing Phil was talking about him. “I’m right here!”
Phil only smiled with amusement as they met eyes. “I can see that. And I do have a request of you, mate. As you know, this can either happen the easy way or the hard way.”
Wilbur gritted his teeth, already having a feeling he knew what Phil wanted. But he still asked anyway. “What do you need?”
“Thank you for asking, mate.” Phil seemed even more amused. “Since you’re currently covering everything you touch in dirt and soot, I think you should go take a shower and change into some new clothes.”
“I don’t think I need to.” Wilbur responded harshly.
Techno finally spoke, voice monotone. “Personally, I know you do.”
“And I agree with Techno. So, you have two options. You can either do this of your own violation, or I will order you to.” Phil cut back in smoothly.
Wilbur tilted his head, feigning consideration. He internally laughed at the hopeful look in Phil’s eyes. Maybe the fae was stupider than Wilbur thought if he was actually considering Wilbur ever giving in.
“My answer is… fuck you.” Wilbur said, dropping all guises of kindness in exchange for a self-satisfied smirk. “I won’t be doing anything.”
Phil’s smile faded into something more downturned, to Wilbur’s satisfaction. He hoped that maybe, the fae would have enough reluctance to leave it be and not order him around.
But that hope was quickly torn away. “Alright, hard way it is then.” Phil began, a remorseful expression on his face. “Go take a shower and change into new clothes.” His voice echoed with magic.
The same familiar fear overtook Wilbur at the rush of magic invading his body. He wanted to shout in a mixture of frustration and hopelessness. But instead, his body moved without his input, entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.
Soon enough, his body had finished showering and he was left standing in front of a pile of clothes that shimmered in the light of the glowing vines that grew along the bathroom ceiling.
Against his will, Wilbur’s hand reached forward and before he knew it, the fancy silk and velvety fabrics covered his body.
Once that task was done, the magic fizzled out of his limbs.
Wilbur found himself left staring in the mirror at himself. To put it bluntly, he looked different, much different than he ever had before.
His cheeks weren’t hollow from starvation like they’d always been. They were full and rounded, as a result of the constant food he’d had lately. His eyes were brighter too, their brown color leaning more towards amber in the low light. Wilbur’s hair was also fluffy and shiny now, likely from the shower he’d just had. Before, his hair would sit limply on his head, heavy with grease and slightly grey with soot.
But the biggest change was attributed to the clothes he’d been forced to change into.
They were horribly fancy, as he’d established before. The shirt was a white button-up that was made of some sort of silky, shiny fabric. The pants were brown, loose-fitting, and incredibly soft. There was a sweater he’d pulled on over the shirt, and it was dark yellow and even softer than the pants.
All of it screamed of someone rich, someone with status. But on top of that, all of the fabrics shimmered with magic, making Wilbur look he was a fae, minus all of the animal features and pointed ears.
It was a terrifying thought to have and it made Wilbur’s hands begin to tremble with anxiety.
Before he could think too much more, there was a knock at the door.
“Are you done yet?” Phil’s voice filtered through, sounding startlingly gentle, something Wilbur was unfamiliar with having directed his way.
Swallowing nervously, Wilbur stepped away from the mirror and pulled the door open. Phil was standing just outside, giving him a tiny reassuring smile as he stepped out and back into the bedroom. Techno wasn’t anywhere to be found and Wilbur assumed he must’ve left at some point.
“You both look and smell much better, mate.” Phil remarked, walking around Wilbur and grabbing his old clothes off the bathroom floor.
Wilbur looked at the clothes in Phil’s arms, realizing they looked like nothing more than soot-covered rags at the moment.
“What are you going to do with them?” Wilbur hesitantly asked, his voice wobbling from his own exhaustion. The day had thoroughly tired him and he’d been thinking a lot- probably too much.
Phil shrugged. “You don’t need them anymore, do you?”
Wilbur wanted to shake his head. But those clothes were all he’d owned for the past few years. They were all he had. And they were the only items left from back home. It hurt to leave them behind, even if he knew that Phil would force him to even if he tried to say he didn’t want to.
Phil must’ve taken Wilbur’s hesitation as an answer. “I’ll dispose of them. That way, you won’t have to worry about them. Just like the rest of your past in the human realm. You don’t need to think about it.”
Within a few moments, Phil raised one of his own hands and in a flurry of sparks, the clothes disappeared in a plume of fire, quickly reduced to nothing but thin air.
Wilbur didn’t say anything. He couldn’t make himself utter a single word.
“That’s better.” Phil hummed, still oblivious as ever to Wilbur’s internal conflict. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, mate.”
With that, Phil exited the room and Wilbur was left to his own devices.
For a long time, Wilbur stood where he was, staring blankly at the floor. He’d lost everything now. His home, his free will, and the small amount of things he’d owned.
He had nothing. He was nothing. Wilbur wasn’t himself when other beings had total control over him.
As he stood there, Wilbur realized that he didn’t know what he was going to do anymore.
There wasn’t a way to escape, not when they could order him back with a single word. He couldn’t properly resist them, because even if Phil was sympathetic, it wasn’t enough to keep him from forcing their family dynamic onto Wilbur.
Horror sharply growing, Wilbur knew he was trapped. There wasn’t no way out of this deal. There was no way out of this realm.
———
Even more time passed in monotony.
Not much changed, aside from Wilbur regularly showering and changing into new, clean clothes every day. It was the first time in his life that he could ever remember feeling so clean.
Part of him hated the feeling for the fact that it came from fae. It came from horrible monsters who had kidnapped him.
But the other part of Wilbur didn’t hate it. It was nice to wake up every day and not worry about whether he’d get to eat or not, it was great to always feel warm and clean.
Those halves of himself were battling constantly, these days.
Half of Wilbur wanted to keep fighting the fae, it wanted desperately to continue trying to escape and trying to give them hell for everything that had happened.
But again, the other half of him was ready to give in. Because they weren’t hurting him, were they? Phil and Techno treated him kindly, they clearly did want the best for him, in their own messed up way.
However, Wilbur still didn’t understand why or how they saw nothing wrong with just- stealing him away from his home and his life. It had to be some form of messed up, twisted fae logic.
He got his answer in the form of a simple conversation with Techno.
It was a day like any other, the fae bringing Wilbur lunch as the sun reached its peak outside the window.
They’d been sitting in silence for awhile, Wilbur hesitantly eating his meal. His stomach didn’t churn as uncomfortably at the feeling of magic anymore. He wasn’t certain if it was a good or bad thing.
“Why did Phil think it was okay to kidnap me like this?” Wilbur asked, breaking the gentle silence. His brown eyes met Techno’s red ones.
Techno sighed. “It’s… complicated fae logic. For all that Phil likes to say he understands humans, he really doesn’t, considering both how long he’s been alive and the fact that he’s never been one like Tommy or I.”
Wilbur narrowed his eyes. “That’s not an answer. I don’t care if it’s ’too complicated.’ I want to know.”
“Fine, but I’ll warn you. It’s a pretty long-winded explanation.” Techno began. “Basically, in fae culture it’s seen as a perfectly fine thing to go kidnappin’ a human child. It’s even seen as a gift to that child if they were being abused or they’d been abandoned by their parents. It’s considered a good thing to take them here, because they’d be gettin’ a better life.”
Wilbur shook his head. “That just sounds fucked up.”
“I won’t say it’s not. I was angry at Phil when he took me. And Tommy was angry when he got taken too. But I want you to know, if you truly had anything worth keeping in the human realm, Phil wouldn’t have just taken you like that.” Techno continued.
“Wh-What?! I had plenty of things worth keeping back home!” Wilbur protested, feeling sparks of anger begin to ignite in his chest.
Techno only shook his head. “You and I both know that’s a lie. We’ve been over this before.”
“It’s not!” Wilbur exclaimed. “I’m not lying!”
“Look, Phil had been watching you from the moment you opened that journal. He was watching you for awhile, to ensure we weren’t stealing you away from a life you weren’t already happy with.” Techno stated bluntly. “We all know you had nothing there, kid. Now please drop it, this isn’t an argument I want to have with you today.”
Wilbur gritted his teeth but let the subject go, moving onto something new. “Why do you keep calling me kid? You look like you’re close to the same age as me.”
“Well, in fae years I’m probably only like… maybe two or three years older than you? But in human years I’m around two-hundred or three-hundred years older, so you’re actually a lot younger than me.” Techno seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Plus- and don’t take this personally- a lot of humans just act immature.”
“Hey! I’m not immature!” Wilbur immediately bit back, although not as seriously angry as before.
“What did I just say? Don’t take it personally.” Techno rolled his eyes. “I’ll give you credit though, you’re a lot smarter than most humans. You’re actually tolerable too, which is impressive. Normally I find it difficult to spend more than ten minutes with one of you.”
Wilbur couldn’t help but take part of Techno’s reply as a compliment. His heart wanted to soar at it, at the simple praise that was so scarce to come by back in the village. But Wilbur quickly stamped the feeling down. He wouldn’t let himself celebrate over praise given by a fae.
“Wow.” Wilbur hesitantly chose to respond with. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot of issues with humans.” He half-sarcastically stated.
Techno gave him a deadpan stare. “I was in a war when I was human. Let’s just say, I have issues with everyone after seeing so many people die.”
Wilbur huffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re really just trauma dumping on me now. All of this sounds like a you problem, to be honest.”
“Thanks. I’ll be sure to come to you for therapy in the future.” Techno jokingly said.
“Please do.” Wilbur replied, not even noticing the tiny smile beginning to appear on his face. “I’m a great therapist, especially for fae who kidnapped me.”
Techno only shook his head in amusement and even smaller- albeit still there- smile graced the corners of his lips. “I’ll have to schedule an appointment with you soon then.”
“I don’t think you’ll need to. I’m always here, aren’t I?” Wilbur said, gesturing to the fancy bedroom surrounding them. “It’s not like you’ll struggle to find me.”
“Fair enough.” Techno grunted, getting up off the bed. “Well, it was great talking to you but I’ve got things to do.”
Wilbur sighed, pushing his half-eaten tray of food away and leaning back into a nearby pile of pillows. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve got your ‘princely duties’ to handle and all that. Go have fun being a pompous prick.”
“I will.” Techno responded, walking over to the door and pulling it open. “Also, for the record, I’ve been talkin’ to Phil about letting you leave this room and eating a meal with all of us sometime.” He shrugged. “Dunno when it’ll be though.”
Before Wilbur could react to that information, Techno had already shut the door.
As Wilbur sat there, trying to process everything, he made a poor attempt to ignore how badly he’d wanted to laugh with the fae earlier, when they’d been making jokes back and forth.
This was wrong. Wilbur shouldn’t be joking around with his kidnappers.
But he couldn’t help it. Because he wasn’t sure anymore that they were trying to hurt him.
———
“You should really learn to knock sometime.” Wilbur stated half-jokingly as Phil entered his room a few days after his conversation with Techno.
“Sorry, mate.” Phil replied, looking a bit sheepish. “I know I normally do, I just forgot this time.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes, standing up from where he’d previously been sitting at the end of his bed. “Fair enough.” He noticed the distinct lack of the normal food tray in Phil’s hands. “What are you here for? You don’t have any food like usual.”
“Did Techno tell you we were talking about letting you come eat dinner with us sometime?” Phil asked in response. He continued at Wilbur’s hesitant nod. “Well, we decided sooner is better than later. So you’ll be leaving your room tonight.”
Wilbur only blinked at Phil in a mixture of excitement and disbelief. “Are you sure?”
Phil smiled. “Of course. You’ve become a lot less antagonistic over the past few weeks, mate. For all that you insisted you’d never belong here, you’ve certainly proved yourself wrong.”
Wilbur’s expression turned sour at the second half of Phil’s reply. “Just because I’m not arguing with you guys at every second of every day doesn’t mean that I’m accepting this. Or that I’ve forgiven anyone.”
Phil sighed, the smile disappearing from his face. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. I was just stating a fact. And it’s okay if you find yourself wanting to stay here, it’s what I’d expect after all that you’ve been through.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me either. Techno and Tommy certainly haven’t. It’d be cruel of me to think you’d never not be upset at being taken.”
“Oh.” Wilbur breathed. He felt somewhat surprised at Phil’s easy acceptance of a lack of forgiveness.
The part of Wilbur that wanted to give in to them screamed that it was yet another reason for Wilbur to give over his name, to let them become his family. But the other part of him, the part that was growing steadily smaller by the day, still wanted to fight them. It still screamed for Wilbur to never give in.
“C’mon, let’s get going.” Phil said, motioning for Wilbur to follow him as he pulled the door open.
Wilbur took a deep breath and walked over to the door. Just as he was about to cross the threshold out of the room, magic began to burn in his veins, preventing him from moving a muscle.
He couldn’t help but make a small, pained noise at the feeling, stumbling backward.
Phil looked over his shoulder from where he stood, halfway down the tiny hallway outside. Sympathy and regret began to shine in Phil’s blue eyes, a sort of gentleness that Wilbur was unfamiliar with before coming to the fae realm.
“I’m sorry. I forgot to undo my command from when you first arrived here.” Phil sighed. “You may leave the room now.”
The new command sank into Wilbur’s bones and suddenly, the burning in his veins from earlier had vanished. “Th-Thank you.” He stammered, moving forward and finally leaving the room for the first time.
Phil shook his head. “You shouldn’t need to thank me. It’s my fault to begin with that I forgot to remove the command and caused you pain. I never want to see anyone under my care in pain like that.”
While Wilbur still wanted to bristle at the notion of being considered to be ‘under Phil’s care’, he still couldn’t help but feel somewhat warmed at the idea that Phil didn’t want to see him in pain.
It was a concept so different from the villagers, who mostly had no care for if Wilbur was comfortable or not. Sometimes, like the baker did with burning his hand, the villagers would actively try to hurt him on purpose.
Which, the burn was a whole other thing. Wilbur hadn’t noticed it until a few days after arriving here, but the burn on his hand was gone. It had been completely gone since the day he’d woken up in his bedroom. But back then, he’d been too panicked to properly notice.
Somehow, Wilbur knew without needing to be told that Phil had been the one to heal it.
And Wilbur wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
———
By the time they arrived for dinner, the sun had already finished setting. But Wilbur wasn’t worried, it was autumn and the sun normally set a bit earlier during colder seasons.
The dining room Phil had led him to was- to put it simply- massive.
The ceiling was arched, the same way it’d been in the throne room. Long, floor-to-ceiling windows covered the walls and wooden beams were spaced out in-between them. Glowing vines covered the ceiling and provided light to the room.
On the edges of the room were small tables, each one housing an identical vase of flowers. In the center of the room was a large table, with eight chairs. One each at the ends and three on each side.
Techno and a fae who Wilbur assumed must be Tommy, were sitting at the table already. They were clearly engaged in an animated conversation with each other, their voices echoing through the room.
Phil led Wilbur over to the table, which he could now see was covered in various fancy looking dishes. All of the food looked rich and very, very filling. It was the kind of food that Wilbur knew was only reserved for royalty back in the village.
“Hey!” An overly excited voice greeted Wilbur and he turned to meet eyes with the younger fae who he’d assumed was Tommy.
“Uh- Hello.” Wilbur awkwardly replied, taking a seat at the table next to Techno, while Phil sat at the head of the table on the other side of Techno.
Tommy smiled, his unnaturally sharp teeth on full display. “I haven’t talked to a human since I became a fae! I kept asking Phil to let me come meet you, but he always said no! What’s it like right now in the human realm anyway? Is everyone still at war? Or did all those stupid royal generals finally die?”
“Uhm…I don’t know? I mean- I don’t think everyone is at war? But I don’t know who’s dead and who’s not.” Wilbur replied nervously, beginning to get somewhat overwhelmed with all the questions.
“Tommy, don’t overwhelm him.” Techno scolded. “He’s literally just met you and you’re already trying to ask him a bunch of questions that he probably doesn’t know the answer to.”
Tommy rolled his eyes- which Wilbur noticed were just as unnaturally bright blue as Phil’s- and looked towards the food scattered across the table instead. “Can we eat now?” Tommy asked.
“Sure, but don’t get more than you can eat. We don’t want you getting sick again.” Phil gently reminded Tommy as he began to grab different dishes and put food onto his plate.
Wilbur only sat there awkwardly, not knowing what to grab. The majority of the food in front of him was unfamiliar. The food Phil and Techno had been giving him was nowhere near as fancy as all of this.
Thankfully, before Wilbur could panic too much, Phil was grabbing Wilbur’s plate and putting food onto it for him. “I’ll get you your food this time, mate. That way, you can figure out what you like and you don’t get too much food.” Phil said, although not patronizingly.
“Okay.” Wilbur responded, knowing he didn’t have much of a choice. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind though. If anything, it was a blessing to have someone else filling his plate for him right now.
Eventually, everyone had gotten food and was beginning to eat.
Wilbur stared at his plate for a few moments before grabbing a fork and taking a scoop of what looked to be some fancy version of mashed potatoes.
The potatoes tasted good, better than anything Wilbur had probably ever had before. Most of the food he had afterward was the same, tasting better than he ever thought food could.
But as Wilbur’s plate began to get emptier and emptier, he began to notice a dull ache in his stomach.
And before he knew it, his stomach began to ache fiercely and Wilbur couldn’t help it- he began to gag. He’d eaten too much, far much more than his body was used to.
He stumbled out of his chair, distantly hearing the others saying various things in surprise.
Wilbur tried to prevent himself from throwing up, covering his mouth desperately with one of his hands.
He didn’t want to become a problem or seem ungrateful. Which he realized, was a silly thought to have when he was meant to hate these fae. But he pushed his protests away, more focused on trying not to get rid of his meal.
His efforts proved to be futile because all of the sudden, Wilbur fell to his knees and threw up all over the shiny, polished floor beneath him.
Distantly, he could feel gentle hands pulling him away from the mess once he’d finished. Reassuring, comforting words were whispered to him, but he barely heard them through his exhaustion and the tears of frustration that caused him to start sobbing.
For what must’ve been the next couple of minutes, Wilbur cried and slumped exhaustedly into the embrace of one of the fae, who he eventually identified as Phil.
When his sobs began to die down and everything became less distant, Wilbur forced himself to take a deep breath. “I-I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Phil replied, voice soft. “I should’ve known better than to give you that much food so soon. Your body isn’t used to it.”
Wilbur drew in another shaky breath. He felt stupid. He didn’t know why he was so easily accepting the comfort of people who had kidnapped him.
He didn’t understand why he was apologizing to them or why the majority of him now wanted everything they kept offering. Wilbur didn’t understand any of this, only that he wasn’t certain if he wanted to go back to the village anymore.
———
Even after his incident with throwing up, they continued taking Wilbur to meals in the dining room.
Wilbur didn’t understand why they weren’t mad. But he supposed, there were a lot of things he didn’t really understand right now.
The point was, he was beginning to get used to all of this. And he wasn’t certain what to do about that.
It was clear now, that these fae cared for him and cared about Wilbur far more than anyone in the village ever had.
The fae wanted the best for him, as Phil had said time and time again. But unlike before, Wilbur was just finally starting to believe it.
He knew there wasn’t any way out of this deal and there wasn’t any form of escape. While that used to make him scared, Wilbur didn’t know if he really cared anymore.
Things weren’t really that bad, were they? Arguably, Wilbur was much better off here than he’d ever been back in the human realm.
It all came to an impasse one day when Wilbur had just finished getting dressed in the morning.
He was standing in front of the mirror, humming absentmindedly to himself as he adjusted one of the sleeves of the dark red sweater he was wearing.
As his eyes slowly traced the person who stared back at him, he realized that something wasn’t right. Something was wrong.
It took Wilbur a moment, a single second of thought to realize, with growing horror, what had happened.
His ears were pointed now. They were pointed, exactly like a fae’s would be.
And then, within that moment, Wilbur’s thoughts became a panicked mess.
Phil had told him, hadn’t he? That eventually, once Wilbur had spent enough time here, he’d become a fae too.
But Wilbur had thought he’d have more time. He thought he’d have so much longer to go before he started to become something different, something strikingly inhuman.
While right now, it was only pointed ears, Wilbur knew that soon more traits would begin to appear. He’d get sharp teeth, bright eyes, and some form of animal features, like Techno’s tusks, Phil’s wings, or Tommy’s raccoon tail.
Soon, Wilbur would wake up and not be able to recognize himself in the mirror.
The worst part was, that despite the panic, Wilbur didn’t know if this was truly a bad thing or not.
He’d been thinking about giving them his name over the past few days. Wilbur had been considering it, just waiting for the right moment to hand it over.
Because he knew there was no way out of this. Phil was right, Wilbur was going to have to give in. And Techno was right too, Wilbur had more here than he’d ever had in the village.
But the idea of becoming a fae still sparked a primal sort of fear within Wilbur’s core.
He wasn’t certain how long he stood in front of the mirror, breathing harshly as he stared in horror at his ears.
It was long enough for him to hear the sound of the door to his bedroom opening and Phil entering. And it was long enough for footsteps to come closer to the bathroom, for Phil to knock, say something, not receive a response, and open that door too.
As soon as the bathroom door had opened, Wilbur finally managed to tear his panicked gaze away from the mirror. His wide, fearful brown eyes met Phil’s reassuring, ice blue ones.
“Oh.” Phil breathed, his eyes leaving Wilbur’s momentarily to glance at his ears. “I can see why you’d be so panicked, mate.”
Wilbur didn’t say anything, he only stood there, barely taking in any air. His body trembled, legs feeling like they were ready to give out at any moment.
“Okay, let’s get you over to the bed, alright? So that you can sit down and take some deep breaths.” Phil reassured, gently looping his arm around Wilbur’s back and leading him away from the mirror.
The next few minutes collapsed into a blurry mess of disjointed sounds and colors. All Wilbur could process was that there were soft words being spoken to him and that he was placed on a soft surface.
When his senses began to trickle back in, Wilbur could feel warm tears trailing down his face. “Fuck.” He cursed under his breath.
Phil laughed quietly. “Yeah, I can see why you’d think that.”
“I-I’m really going to become like you guys, aren’t I?” Wilbur asked hesitantly.
Phil nodded. “You will. It was inevitable from the moment you arrived here. But I’ll help you through it. And just like the idea of living here, you’ll realize it’s not all bad.”
Wilbur only shook his head defeatedly. He had no reply for Phil’s answer. He was throughly exhausted and words were coming to him slower and slower.
“Look at me, mate.” Phil continued after a minute of silence. Once Wilbur met his eyes, Phil spoke again. “I promise you. And I’ve been promising since the beginning, I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you on purpose. Haven’t I proven that?”
Wilbur wanted to say no, that Phil hadn’t proven anything. But then he thought back to the regret in Phil’s eyes when he ordered him around, Wilbur thought about all the things Phil had given him- the food, the clothes, even his own bedroom- and he remembered the night when he’d thrown up in the dining room.
Truthfully, Phil had proven it countless times over, hadn’t he?
Wilbur just hadn’t been ready to admit it to himself yet.
Phil took Wilbur’s silence as the answer that it was. “You’re gonna be okay. I swear, you’re going to be okay.” Phil whispered.
And for once, Wilbur didn’t doubt him.
———
It was another normal evening.
Wilbur was sitting at the dinner table with the other fae. The conversation between them was light, jovial, and full of laughter. The food was as rich and delicious as it always was and now that Wilbur had been eating dinner with the others for about a month, he was used to it.
Things had gotten even better after his… breakdown with Phil. While Wilbur didn’t like talking about it much, he knew that Tommy and Techno knew about it. Alongside that, Wilbur was well aware that the fae knew he’d basically accepted his presence here.
And with that acceptance, came the strengthening of Wilbur’s struggle over whether he should tell them his name or not.
The fae had taken to calling him various nicknames, none of which stuck for very long. It felt somehow wrong to have none of them calling him by his name. It felt even worse when he realized he hadn’t heard anyone say his name in months now.
But Wilbur was scared.
He was scared that if he told them, that somehow Phil could still reveal that all of this was only a ruse. He was terrified of the idea that maybe they would kill him the moment they got it. And despite Wilbur knowing that they already had control over him anyway, he knew there still had to be something more involved with giving them his name.
Phil had explained it before, how Wilbur giving over his name would seal their deal even further. How it would even more solidly tie Wilbur to them.
It had also been said that, when Wilbur gave over his name, he would get all of theirs in return.
He was still scared though. Despite how much he tried to rationalize the reasoning for why he should just say it.
“Hey, you listening? Or have you left the planet?” Tommy abruptly asked, shocking Wilbur out of his thoughts.
Wilbur blinked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about and ultimately coming up blank. “Uh- sorry. I spaced out a bit.”
“Phil was saying that we can have desert tonight, now that it won’t be too much food for you anymore and you probably won’t get sick.” Techno stated, cutting off Tommy before he could say anything else.
“Oh.” Wilbur nodded. “That sounds good.”
Phil smiled, his bright blue eyes shimmering in the pale light of the dining room. “I’ll let the servants know to bring it in.” Then, he snapped his fingers.
There was a few moments of silence before one of the nearby doors opened and a small group of fae stepped out. They were mostly younger fae and each of them was carrying a small tray with a plate and a slice of cake on it.
When Wilbur had first learned they had servants in the castle, he’d been terrified. He’d thought they must be slaves, humans or weaker fae working off deals.
But Phil had reassured him that they weren’t doing anything unwillingly. They’d all been hired and were being paid hefty wages to work in the castle, beside the royal fae.
It had also been then that Wilbur had been forced to come to terms with the fact that the fae who he now hesitantly considered family were in fact, royalty and in charge of the seasons.
There had been hints, Wilbur knew. Like the massive throne room, the crowns he saw them wearing sometimes, or the literal castle they lived in. But he’d never given it much thought beforehand.
It had however, been even more shocking to learn that all of the seasons, both in the fae and human realms, were controlled by them.
Phil was in charge of spring, Techno ruled over winter, and Tommy was responsible for summer. When Wilbur had asked who was in charge of autumn, Phil had only winked and said that ‘someone should be taking that over pretty soon.’ Which didn’t make any sense, but Wilbur had shrugged it off.
He was brought back to the present by the clink of porcelain as one of the plates was set down in front of him. The cake on it was just as vibrant, perfect, and bright as any other fae food.
Just as Wilbur reached for his fork, he heard a violent hissing noise, like an angry bird.
Sharply turning his head towards the noise, Wilbur was met with the sight of Phil, looking more monstrous and terrifying than he’d ever seen him before, holding up one of the servants by the neck.
Phil’s claws dug deeply into the servant’s neck, cutting off airflow and causing rivulets of blood to drip down, each one landing on the floor like a bullet.
Wilbur wanted to feel terrified at the scene, but then his eyes landed on the knife in the servants hand. It was a knife so clearly made for killing, for hitting someone right in the heart through the backside.
And when Wilbur scanned the servant’s face, all he saw was pure terror.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Phil hissed, his black wings rising high above the ground, mantling upward and spreading wide, their void dark feathers on full display. His eyes were glowing brightly, charged with magic ready to be released.
The servant struggled in Phil’s grip, beginning to plead with a breathless sort of desperation. But the servant’s words fell on deaf ears.
“Do you really think for even a single fucking second that you could ever go around threatening my sons?!” Phil shouted harshly, his voice distorted and deep in a way Wilbur had never heard before. “Because if you think you can, think again. You’ll be suffering for a long while, for even attempting such a stupid thing. My sons are precious and irreplaceable. Meanwhile, you certainly are not.”
Wilbur realized then and there what had happened.
That servant had tried to kill him.
If Phil hadn’t seen the knife and if Phil had never been there to protect him, then Wilbur would’ve died. He would’ve died then and there.
Vaguely, Wilbur could feel his body begin to tremble in fear. But for once, it wasn’t fear of the future or fear of the baker or even fear of the fae. It was from the fear of dying.
Wilbur hadn’t been as scared of dying before, back in the village. Because back then, he didn’t know what kind of future he had to live for anyway.
But here, he did have a future, didn’t he?
When he looked in the mirror now and saw the fae features that had gradually begun to appear, Wilbur didn’t feel as scared as he did back when he broke down in front of Phil. He almost felt happy, his reflection almost felt more like his own than it ever had before.
Back in the village, if Wilbur’s life had ever been threatened, nobody would’ve helped him. Nobody would’ve given him anything, nobody would’ve defended him, and nobody would’ve grieved for him if he died.
In the fae realm, Wilbur realized the opposite was true.
There would be people who would protect him, people who would give him the world if he asked, and people who would grieve more than thought possible if he died.
Distantly, he heard Phil shouting orders to several guards who had come rushing into the room. Wilbur could hear the servants cries getting quieter and quieter as they were taken away.
Then, warm arms were surrounding Wilbur in a gentle embrace. He could hear the shuffle of feathers as dark wings joined the arms.
“Breathe.” Phil whispered. “You’re okay. Everything’s alright. It’s over, mate. I swear, it’s over.”
Wilbur did as he was asked, forcing himself to draw in breath after breath. His lungs felt like they were burning but he still kept going, because he made a choice and he needed enough breath in his lungs in order to properly execute it.
When air finally moved more steadily through his lungs again and the world was in sharper focus, Wilbur shifted in Phil’s arms just enough to meet his eyes.
Bright blue stared into slightly golden brown for a moment, before Wilbur took another deep breath. He told himself there was no turning back now. “My name is Wilbur.” He stated.
Phil’s eyes immediately went wide in surprise. He drew back slightly for a moment, before he schooled his expression and Wilbur was pulled even closer to him than before. “Thank you. I-I’m glad you finally trusted me and all of us enough for that.” Phil’s voice was shaky and full of more of love than Wilbur could ever hope to comprehend. “As promised, my name is Philza.”
Wilbur felt a rush of magic as the name washed over him, before he felt something settle down into his bones. It was a link, something forever connecting him to the fae who had become his father.
He knew now, that none of them were going to kill him. After seeing Phil save his life, Wilbur was certain that they’d never intended to trick him.
Phil, Techno, and Tommy were Wilbur’s family now. He couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to.
———
Time passed, as it always does.
Wilbur didn’t really notice the passing time as much as he used to. But he supposed that came with being a fae.
Over the course of what he thought might’ve been the past few years, he’d gained a lot more fae features.
His ears were still pointed, but now his teeth were sharp just as every fae’s were. Wilbur’s eyes were a bright, unnatural shade of gold and golden claws branched out from the ends of his fingers. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown thin firefly wings that shimmered in shades of gold in the ever-shifting light. Large, golden antlers branched out from his head and his aging had slowed down, to the point that he didn’t look a day beyond seventeen, despite having been in the fae realm for much longer than a year.
But none of those changes bothered him.
Wilbur only smiled at his reflection when he saw it now. A sense of satisfaction and happiness greeted him as it felt more and more like himself when he looked in the mirror.
On top of that, he’d also been coronated as the new ruler of autumn about a year after he’d given Phil his name, when Wilbur’s magic had finally come in.
Wilbur easily controlled his season, the changing temperatures, sharp gusts of wind, and sudden rainstorms being easy for him to harness and bend to his will.
Techno and Tommy also had been given Wilbur’s name, not long after he’d given it to Phil. In return, Wilbur had received his brother’s names, each of them being Technoblade and Theseus.
Thus, Wilbur was entirely magically bound to his family and he didn’t mind it at all. Honestly, it made him feel happy to know that he had people who cared about him.
In general, life was better than it had ever been before. Truthfully, Wilbur wished he hadn’t fought this as much as he had in the beginning.
While he could understand why he’d protested back when he was human, Wilbur still wished he could’ve realized sooner that his family had never been trying to trick him and that things truly were better here, much better than they’d ever been anywhere else.
But he supposed the past didn’t matter anymore. Not when he had a long, bright future ahead of him.
And Wilbur couldn’t help but smile when he sat in the garden one night, and found himself surrounded by fireflies.