(especially if "Wilbur" cooked it)
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Summary
“They don’t have the right to hurt you,” Philza swore, cradling what he thought was his son.
It…didn’t compute to “Tommy”. “But they’re stronger, so they’ve the right to do whatever they want. Only the weak are kind.” And thus they were slaughtered. Hell and earth differed little there.
Philza laughed bitterly. “We have to be. And the powerless have ways of protecting themselves, protecting each other. We shouldn’t have to, but unfortunately it’s the world we live in. So it’s up to us to put things right.” “Tommy” buried himself in the embrace to hide his scarlet eyes and growing horns. But he was only pretending to be human. He wasn’t- wasn’t weak. He was more powerful than this wretched human. And yet how often had he been scared and hurting? He’d replaced Philza’s real son in a bid for power, but it was never going to protect him, was it? There would always be someone stronger.
“How?” the demon begged.
“By being clever, and patient, and most importantly kind.”Or; one by one Philza’s sons were replaced by monsters. It’s the first taste any of them have of love, but their masks are far more than skin deep.