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It’s the day of the festival, and Wilbur can’t stop smiling.
The streets are filled with people. Men and women in colorful clothes laughing and smiling as music floats through the air above their heads. Softly glowing lanterns hang in front of every shop, while vibrant flowers are strung between posts.
Wilbur darts between the men and women, his scrawny figure making it easy to duck under elbows and wiggle between backsides. His feet slap against the cobblestones, warmed by the afternoon sun. Racing down the street, the crowd grows larger the closer he gets to the town square. The music gets louder as well, and Wilbur finds himself bouncing in time with the jumping notes of the violins as he runs.
Finally, he reaches the center. The cobblestone streets are painted with vibrant shades of purple and blue, depicting flowers and stars and all kinds of pretty things. There are several merchant stalls set up around the square, and Wilbur’s gaze darts between them, looking for one stall in particular.
He smells the stall before he sees it. The scent of freshly baked bread washes over him as a breeze ruffles his hair, and he whirls around, immediately spotting Niki’s blonde head barely reaching above the counter.
“Niki!” He calls out, waving as he runs over to the baker’s stall.
Niki’s hair fluffs around her chin as she turns in the direction of his voice. The minute she spots him, her grey eyes crinkle with her smile, and she mutters something to her mother behind the counter before hiking up her dress around her calves and meeting him halfway.
“You made it!” She says, beaming at him.
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Wilbur exclaims, giving her a toothy grin as he gestures at the festival around them. “How’s business going so far?”
“It’s great! We’ve never been this busy before!” Niki says, bouncing on her heels. “Mama is really happy, but I have to keep running between here and the bakery to get more bread which sucks because I haven’t been able to look around at all,” she adds, pouting as she folds her arms over her chest.
Wilbur furrows his brows. “Are you gonna be able to take a break to dance with me?”
“I’m not sure, you know how Mama is about us spending time together.”
Oh yeah. Niki’s mama doesn’t like Niki spending time with Wilbur because she thinks he’s ‘dirty’ and has ‘poor manners.’ Wilbur thinks Niki’s mama is very rude, because he knows full well how to have good manners. It’s just that Wilbur doesn’t appreciate people calling him dirty, so it’s not like he’s going to be polite to someone who isn’t being polite to him. Especially since it’s not his fault that the orphanage only lets them take baths once a week.
“Well, why don’t you just sneak away from your mama?” Wilbur asks, raising an eyebrow at her.
Niki shoots a nervous look over her shoulder back at her mama, who is frowning at the two of them. “Maybe. If I can sneak away, I will.” She turns back to face Wilbur, smoothing out her worried expression with another smile. “Is Tommy here yet?”
“I dunno, I haven’t looked for him.” Wilbur glances around, searching for the familiar head of blonde hair in the crowd.
“You should try to find him,” Niki says, reaching out to squeeze Wilbur’s hand. “I have to get back to the stall, but I’ll dance with you two if I can!”
Then she pauses like she’s going to leave, but suddenly remembers something else. Wilbur tries to ask her what she’s doing, but she ignores him as she uses the hand not holding his to dig into her pocket. She keeps her body angled so her mama can’t see what she’s doing, and Wilbur immediately understands when she pulls out a small bread roll from the folds of her skirt and presses it into Wilbur’s hand.
Before Wilbur can say anything, she holds a finger up to her lips in a shushing gesture, and winks before giggling and running back to the stall.
Instead of letting Niki’s mama see him holding the swiped bread roll, Wilbur turns around, cradling it in his palms and breathing in the sweet scent. Festival rolls were different from normal rolls, because the dough was rolled in sugar before being baked, and sometimes even icing was drizzled on top. This roll has a perfect swirling pattern of icing on top, and Wilbur grins as he bites into it.
The bread is still warm, and the sugary icing melts in his mouth. He scarfs it down far too quickly, and soon he’s only left with sticky fingers as a reminder of the treat. Still, it’s better than nothing, and he heads back into the crowd while licking the lingering sugar off his fingers.
He needs to find Tommy. They were supposed to meet at the festival around this time, but his best friend could be anywhere in the crowd.
Tommy is eight years old—a few years younger than Wilbur. Normally, Wilbur likes to call anyone younger than him a baby, and Tommy is a baby. But he’s pretty cool for a baby, so Wilbur hangs out with him anyway.
Because he’s only eight years old, Tommy is short. Way shorter than Wilbur. So he’s really hard to spot in the crowd, and Wilbur wanders around for a few minutes, struggling to find his friend.
In the end, Wilbur doesn’t find Tommy. Tommy finds him.
A high-pitched voice crying out, “Wilbur!” is the only warning he gets before Wilbur feels a small figure run into him. Wilbur stumbles but manages to keep his footing, pretending to groan as he shoves Tommy back.
“You scared me!” Wilbur exclaims, frowning at him. “And you’re late.”
Tommy frowns at him. “No I’m not! You’re just early!”
“No, you’re late. I’ve been here for ages waiting for you,” he complains, even though it’s only been a few minutes since he got to the square.
“Sounds like a you problem.” Wilbur gasps in fake offense.
“Yeah? Well, I talked to Niki already, and she gave me a festival roll that you didn’t get because you were late,” Wilbur shoots back, smirking at Tommy.
Tommy whimpers. “You got a festival roll from Niki and didn’t save any for me?!”
“Nope,” Wilbur shakes his head.
There’s a beat of silence as Tommy stares at him, eyes glittering as his lip begins to wobble.
Oh no.
“Wait, don’t cry!” Wilbur tells him as unshed tears threaten to spill over Tommy’s cheeks.
“But you’re being a bitch!” Tommy yells, and Wilbur winces when a few others in the town square give them scandalized looks at Tommy’s loud cursing. “And you’re being mean! You’re being a mean bitch!”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have another festival roll to give you,” Wilbur says, desperately trying to calm Tommy down before he starts crying.
Tommy sniffles, blinking quickly as he looks between Wilbur and the bakery stall. Then, his eyes light up with an idea.
“I’m gonna go get a festival roll myself then,” he declares.
Before Wilbur can argue that it’s rude to ask for free things, Tommy storms off, and Wilbur can only sigh as he watches Tommy go up to the stall. Tommy says a few things to Niki’s mama, and even from a distance, Wilbur can see he’s using his puppy-dog eyes on her. Unlike with Wilbur, who she sneers at every time he’s in her line of sight, as soon as her gaze lands on Tommy her eyes soften and she gives him a bright smile.
Not even a minute has passed before Tommy runs back to Wilbur, holding a festival roll high above his head. “Got one! Take that, asshole!”
Wilbur sighs. Of course Tommy was able to get a roll from the baker. Unlike Wilbur, Tommy’s clothes are always clean, with no holes to be seen in any of them. If anything, Tommy’s clothes are unusually nice. Soft button downs and perfectly tailored pants, finely-crafted leather shoes that are practically molded to his feet—Tommy comes from a rich family, that much is obvious.
But that’s nearly the extent of what Wilbur knows about Tommy’s life, and that’s only because he was able to figure it out through Tommy’s appearance. The only other thing Wilbur knows about Tommy’s family is that he has a dad and an older brother.
Tommy likes to run away. Or rather, go ‘exploring’ as he calls it. Wilbur ran into him one day when he’d gotten himself lost in the alleyways, and was crying in a puddle of dirty water. Because he spent far more time on the streets than in the orphanage, Wilbur was easily able to show him how to get back to the town square, and Tommy said Wilbur was one of the smartest people he’d ever met.
Since then, Tommy hasn’t left Wilbur alone. He sneaks out of his house regularly, somehow always managing to find Wilbur no matter where he’s hanging out that day. And then Tommy asks Wilbur to show him some of his favorite spots around town, and because Tommy’s excitement is so infectious, Wilbur always finds himself agreeing.
He doesn’t mind it at all. Tommy is… well, he’s Tommy. He’s loud, annoying, stubborn, and it’s absolutely impossible not to love him.
“Wilburrrr,” Tommy whines, snapping Wilbur out of his thoughts.
“What?” Wilbur asks, noticing that Tommy’s been tugging on his arm.
“I asked if we’re gonna dance! You promised you would dance with me!” Tommy says, pointing to the center of the square.
Wilbur’s eyes widen when he sees that people are pairing off, the musicians preparing to resume their playing. A bright smile spreads over his face and he grabs Tommy’s hand, noticing how his fingers are sticky with icing from the festival roll he’d already eaten.
“Yes, we’re absolutely gonna dance,” Wilbur tells him, tugging Tommy to the square.
Tommy giggles, his smaller hands squeezing Wilbur’s, and Wilbur’s smile grows wider as his bare feet hit the warm cobblestones again.
The violins start up, and all the people on the square start bouncing in time with the music. The jaunty tune flows through Wilbur, bubbling up inside of him like laughter and making him feel like there’s a sun sitting inside his chest. He loves music. It’s his absolute favorite thing in the world, and the festival is full of it.
Sometimes, Wilbur dreams of being able to learn how to make music of his own. But in order to do that, he’d need an instrument, which he doesn’t have. One day, he swears he’s going to save up enough to buy a guitar and become a bard. But he doesn’t even have a job right now, so that dream is a long way off.
That’s okay though. Because he has the festival for now, and the festival music is amazing.
The violins pick up, and the crowd on the sides of the square start to clap with the beat. Wilbur dances circles around Tommy, grabbing his arms and spinning him over and over again. Tommy giggles wildly, stumbling over his own feet as he tries to keep up with Wilbur’s spinning.
Then, the music shifts and gets even faster. Wilbur stops spinning Tommy, instead grabbing his arms and pulling him towards him and then pushing him back. Tommy follows his lead, smiling so brightly it’s like his face is going to split in half. Everyone in the gathered crowd is clapping now, and Wilbur’s heart is pounding as his feet slam against the cobblestones.
They dance and they dance and they dance. Wilbur spins Tommy around and around, delighting in the joy it brings to the boy’s face. Tommy even tries to twirl him a few times as well, although it’s awkward because of how much shorter Tommy is than him.
It doesn’t matter if it’s awkward though. Wilbur is having the time of his life, and Tommy looks like he feels the same. The energy of the crowd pops in the air like bubbles, and even though the sun is setting, Wilbur feels like the sun is shining directly on his face.
It’s so fast. Fast and bright and fun. Wilbur spins so much, his vision is a blur of color and light. His heart is pounding in his chest from how much he’s dancing, and he’s breathless with happiness. The taste of sugar lingers in his mouth, Tommy’s laughter is ringing in his ears, and the music just keeps going.
Until eventually it doesn’t. Soon, the violins taper off, and Wilbur is panting as he struggles to catch his breath. Tommy is wheezing a bit, but he’s still smiling, and squeezes Wilbur’s hands again, not bothering to let go.
“That- That was- really fun,” Tommy says in between gasps.
“You ready to-” gasp “go again?” Wilbur asks, beaming at him.
Tommy nods. “Fuck yeah!”
The musicians pick up their instruments again, and Wilbur takes one last breath as he prepares to dance again. But before the music can start, there’s a loud gasp from the crowd, and a voice rings out.
“The King is here!”
The crowd explodes into a flurry of voices. A path forms towards the square, those on the outside dropping into bows and curtsies. And then, Wilbur sees him.
While he’s heard stories of King Philza, Wilbur has never actually seen him before. Of course, it’s not difficult to figure out it’s him. Even without the crowd bowing around him, he’s decked out in a luxurious pale blue coat embroidered with gold, and has expensive jeweled-rings encrusted with gold sitting on his fingers. However, he’s not as old as Wilbur thought he’d be, with blonde hair that falls to his chin, and kind eyes that remind Wilbur of the ocean in winter.
Behind him, another figure follows in King Philza’s shadow. A teenager only a few years older than Wilbur stands with his shoulders hunched, hair the color of pink petals in spring tied back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. He’s wearing even more jewelry than the King is, with gold practically dripping from his ears. This must be Prince Technoblade, current heir to the throne. Currently, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and Wilbur has to fight the urge to frown at him.
So distracted by the King and Prince, Wilbur doesn’t notice Tommy stiffening until the other dancers drop into bows, but Tommy stays standing.
“Tommy! You need to bow!” Wilbur whisper-shouts at him, tugging at his sleeve.
Tommy doesn’t reply. Instead, he just stares at the King with wide eyes, and Wilbur’s heart pounds as the King’s own gaze falls on the two of them.
Immediately, Wilbur drops into a deep bow. Tommy stays standing, and Wilbur silently pleads that the King doesn’t get too annoyed at his impropriety. He’s already running a list of excuses in his head for him, ranging from things like he’s just so honored to see you he forgot to bow to I’m trying to teach him manners but he’s only eight and a bit stupid.
The King keeps walking until he’s standing directly in front of them, Prince Technoblade still hanging behind him like a shadow. Wilbur’s heart is pounding again, but not because of the exertion of dancing. Instead, he’s terrified about what the King wants. Is he going to punish Tommy for his disrespect? Or is there another reason he’s there?
There’s an agonizing three seconds of silence. Then, the King speaks.
“Having fun, Tommy?” The King asks.
Beside him, Tommy wraps his arms over his chest. “Yeah,” he says sheepishly, ducking his eyes to the ground. “I’m havin’ lots of fun.”
King Philza sighs, and although Wilbur is still bowing, he can imagine that the King is dragging a hand down his face. “What have I told you about running away?” He asks gently.
Immediately, Tommy groans. “I just wanted to check out the festival!”
…what the fuck?
Wilbur is struggling to comprehend what he’s hearing. How does King Philza know that Tommy likes to run away? Are his family high-ranking nobles? Oh god, what if Tommy’s the kid of a Duke or something? Did the Duke call the King to tell off his unruly son?
Behind the King, Wilbur startles when he hears a much deeper voice that he guesses belongs to Prince Technoblade. “Theseus, c’mon.”
Again, Tommy groans, but Wilbur can sense him leaving his side, and risks a glance up to see Prince Technoblade crouched with his arms held out. Tommy trudges over, wrapping his arms around Prince Technoblade’s neck, and the Prince picks him up like he weighs nothing.
It’s then that Wilbur’s brain short-circuits as he realizes what Prince Technoblade called Tommy.
Theseus. As in, Prince Theseus. The youngest member of the royal family.
Tommy is Prince Theseus. This entire time, Wilbur’s been hanging out with the prince.
What the fuck?
Now being held in Prince Technoblade’s arms, King Philza—Tommy’s father—reaches out to brush a golden curl behind his ear. “You know we were all going to come to the festival together, sweetheart.”
Tommy pouts, batting King Philza’s hand away. “I wanted to hang out with Wilbur though!” He points at Wilbur, and Wilbur feels a rock drop into his stomach.
Both King Philza and Prince Technoblade’s eyes fall on him, and he has to fight the urge to curl in on himself as he hears shifting in front of him.
“You can stop bowing,” King Philza tells him in a gentle voice.
Hesitantly, Wilbur straightens up, and realizes that King Philza has crouched down so they’re eye to eye. Well, not exactly eye to eye, because Wilbur’s taller than the King at the moment, but he doesn’t think it’s right to say he’s looking down at the King, so he’s going to pretend they’re eye to eye.
“H-Hello, Your Majesty,” Wilbur stammers.
“Hi there,” King Philza says, smiling at him. “Tommy said your name is Wilbur?”
Wilbur nods, unsure if he’s about to get told off for hanging out with the runaway prince.
Instead of seeming upset though, the King chuckles, giving Prince Technoblade a surprised look before focusing back on Wilbur. “Sorry if I seem a bit confused, up until just now Techno and I thought you weren’t real.”
Briefly forgetting about etiquette, Wilbur frowns. “What?”
“Tommy’s been telling us about his friend ‘Wilbur’ for a while now,” King Philza explains, still smiling at him. “But we didn’t realize he was meeting with anyone when he runs off, so we just assumed he was talking about an imaginary friend.”
“Gonna be honest, this makes a lot more sense in retrospect,” Prince Technoblade mutters, still holding Tommy in his arms.
“I told you he was real!” Tommy exclaims, frowning at Prince Technoblade. “That’s Wilbur and he’s my best friend! And he’s way cooler than you, Techno!”
Wilbur chokes at that last part, coughing a bit to clear his throat while Prince Technoblade just gives Tommy a tired look.
“Why is he cooler than me?” Prince Technoblade asks, although he sounds more amused than angry.
Tommy breaks out into a wide smile. “Well, Wilbur knows the city like he has a map in his head! Plus, he’s a really good singer, and he even dances! Unlike you, Techno-bitch!” At that last part, Tommy smacks his older brother’s chest, and Prince Technoblade sighs like he’s used to it.
“Were you two dancing together before we came?” King Philza asks, glancing back at Tommy.
“Yup! Wilbur’s, like, really good at dancing.”
Wilbur flushes as the King’s gaze turns back to him.
“It seems like you and my son were having quite a fun time,” King Philza comments.
“I- I’m terribly sorry for not- I didn’t know who he was so if I’ve overstepped-”
“Hey, no need to get worked up, you’re okay,” the King reassures him, cutting him off before he can spiral into random excuses. “I’m not upset with you. If anything, I’m relieved knowing Tommy had someone looking out for him during his ‘explorations.’ I’m sure you know better than anyone how much of a handful the little shit can be.”
…huh?
“I’m not in trouble?” Wilbur whispers.
King Philza shakes his head. “Of course not! If anything, I should be thanking you for being such a good friend to Tommy. He’s told us quite a bit about you.” Then, before Wilbur can process the fact that the King is thanking him, King Philza adds, “where are your parents? I’d love to meet them.”
Oh. Yeah.
“I don’t have parents,” Wilbur tells him, looking at the ground again.
King Philza frowns at this. “I’m so sorry. How did they pass?”
“I dunno if they’re dead or not,” Wilbur shrugs. “They left me in front of the orphanage when I was a baby. Never knew their names or anything.”
The frown fades into something sadder, and Wilbur worries if he upset the King by telling him that.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says softly, and for some reason the way he’s looking at Wilbur makes him want to cry a bit.
But he doesn’t. He’s not going to cry in front of the King, so he shoves it down and forces himself to shrug again.
There’s a beat of silence between him and the King. The rest of the crowd is still stuck in their bows since King Philza hasn’t told them they can stand yet, and if Wilbur wasn’t so distracted by the fact that the King was talking to him right now, he’d think it was a little funny that everyone else was stuck like that.
“Well, then I suppose I’ll just be thanking you for being such a good friend to my son,” King Philza suddenly says, smiling again. “I would like you to come over for dinner at the palace tonight, if that’s alright with you.”
Wilbur’s eyes widen. Dinner at the palace? With the King himself? And the Crown Prince? And the other prince who apparently was Wilbur’s best friend this whole time and he had no idea?
“You don’t, um, you don’t have to-”
“Nonsense, I want you to come over, Wilbur. After all, it’s only right for a father to know who his kids are friends with,” he says gently, his smile warm. “If you don’t want to, that's perfectly fine. But we have some wonderful musicians at the palace, and I believe Tommy told us you have an interest in music, correct?”
Palace musicians. Wilbur can only dream of how beautiful the sounds they make could be.
“Yes, I do love music!” Wilbur says excitedly.
King Philza chuckles at that, and straightens back up so he’s standing above Wilbur again. “Well then, let’s get going. Dinner will be served soon, and we don’t want it to get cold.”
He reaches out a hand towards Wilbur, and Wilbur might be imagining it, but he can swear there’s some kind of fondness in the King’s eyes as he looks at him. When Wilbur places his hand in King Philza’s, the King gently squeezes his fingers, before guiding him back to the carriage that brought them there.
“I hope the rest of you have a wonderful festival!” The King calls out as they go.
Prince Technoblade walks in front of them, with Tommy resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder and looking behind them as he’s carried to the carriage. When he catches Wilbur’s eye, he beams.
Something warm blossoms in Wilbur’s chest at that, and he can’t help but smile back.