Chapter Text
“Mother is pissed !” are the first words Wilbur sings when he comes into Tommy’s room, no knock to announce himself, no hesitation in swinging the door wide open. Tommy twists his head with an annoyed fluff of his wings, his two friends sitting beside him on the bed, a board-game of some sort laid out on the blanket before them.
There are pieces scattered around their knees, cards held in their hands-- for all Wilbur knows, this might be the most riveting game of the year, and victory was right in reach for one of them. But he does not care. He will interrupt, with no remorse, because he has gossip, and he must announce it to his brother’s unwilling ears.
“Wilbur!” Tommy yells, exactly as upset as Wil expected him to be. The two other hybrids beside him, in contrast, lower their heads with respect, murmuring his title as they’ve done all their lives, from the very moment they found their place within this castle. Wilbur takes in their bows with nothing more than a glance, brushing it off so that he can give his full attention to the most important person in the room. Tommy. “We’re in the middle of something!” Tommy insists, waving his cards at Wil like he’s a fly that he can bat away.
“Mother is pissed.” Wilbur repeats, sounding very merry about it, his hands clasped together in front of him, a sparkling twinkle in his eye. “The kingdom is going to need to ready itself, I’m about to go up a spot in the line of succession, Tommy.”
Tommy gives a sputtering scoff that might just be a laugh. He lowers his cards on his knee as he leans back to look better at Wil, and Wilbur decides to not let him know of the fact that his Tubbo is peeking at the exposed cards with a focused squint. Ranboo is giving him a glare on the cheating action, their tail flicking against the pillow behind him, but they also say nothing about it. Cheaters, the two of them. Wilbur approves.
“What the fuck did Dad do now?” Tommy asks, unaware of the current scheme happening right in front of him. “He’s still on his trip, yeah?” The trip in question is said with a certain emphasis to it, Techno’s existence still not officially known to anyone except the royal family, and the singular guard who discovered him.
“Yes.” Wil taps his thumb impatiently with his look turning more pointed, bright eyes glancing over the company for a moment. “I think something’s occurred in the middle of it.”
A beat of silence passes as Tommy takes in the subtle nudge. His wings settle down against his back as he turns back to his friends, placing his cards down. “Tubbo, Ranboo, leave the room. I’ll call you back when we’re done here.”
“Damn, and I was just about to win.” Tubbo sighs, Ranboo rolling their eyes as they leave their cards beside Tommy’s. They climb off from the bed and make a beeline to the door without any further complaints, bowing their heads again to Wil as they pass around him. Wil’s eyes follow their backs until they’re out of sight and the door has clicked shut. Then he turns back to Tommy with a little hum.
“You know father doesn’t like them being so casual." Wilbur reminds. "They're not supposed to be lounging around in your room.” He waves a hand around, as if the two teenagers had been causing mess of Tommy's things, rather than sitting innocently on his bed for a game. Their living quarters are generally off-limits to most, the only exceptions being when a royal hand invites them in. Even the servants don’t walk the halls outside unless they’ve been given explicit permission to go on ahead, and while Tubbo and Ranboo certainly have privileges , being a part of the court, being Tommy’s, coming into Tommy’s room whenever they’d like-- Phil would shake his head in disapproval if he were to find out.
“Well, father isn’t within a hundred mile radius, what he doesn’t know isn’t going to kill him.” Tommy huffs, crossing his arms over his chest with his feathers raising defensively. Wilbur raises his eyebrows at the response, and Tommy heaves a heavy sigh, head falling back. “I invited them in, Wil, don’t get all pissy about it. I was getting bored, I wanted company, and Mum is still prickly about us going anywhere, so.” He shrugs.
Wilbur nods. “True." He lets the matter be. It's really not that important to him, he'd just not rather have dad scolding them again over the boundaries of guests and family. "Speaking of mother, I think she’s about to head on a murder rampage.” He smiles brightly, Tommy straightening up in rapt curiosity.
“What the hell did Dad do ?" Tommy asks, and Wilbur swears he can see that mind work away, immediately landing onto the worst possible scenario."Don’t tell me he lost our brother. Did he fucking lose our brother?” Tommy asks, getting slightly frantic over the possibility. "Oh, god, he lost Technoblade!"
Wilbur makes an unsure noise, unworried as he brushes off Tommy's panic. “Who knows. I doubt that. All I saw was that she looked very angry, and she was heading down the hall like she had somewhere to be.” He moves over to Tommy’s bed, leaning against it with a few of the playing pieces shifting with his weight. “For all we know, someone else might’ve done something and messed something up with the kingdom, but I have a feeling this is related to Technoblade, so therefore, father is going six feet under.”
“Ah, that's a shame. We're going to be fatherless." Tommy plays along, Wilbur resisting an urge to laugh at the deadpan tone in Tommy's voice. Tommy moves on from the joking to level Wilbur with a skeptical frown, more thoughtful now. "But, really, how do you know this is about Technoblade?”
“A hunch.” Wilbur says breezily, and Tommy’s face falls into something unimpressed.
“A hunch . You think mom is about to go commit regicide based off some-”
Something buzzes in a very familiar way then, making Tommy and Wilbur freeze in where they are. Tommy turns his head and pulls at the mess of pillows he has on his bed, rummaging through them for a moment before then lifting up his comm, the screen bright as it buzzes a second time, another message coming through. The name of the contact belongs to none other than the queen. Wilbur leans over Tommy’s shoulder as he opens up the messages to read through them.
I’m heading out to visit your father. I’ll be back soon. Stay within the castle and behave.
Tommy, no flying until we’re both back.
“Oh, come on.” Tommy mutters, disappointed by the last message, his feathers drooping down. Wilbur, however, lights up like the sun, leaping off from the bed with his wings stretching wide as he spins to face Tommy.
“I was correct! The hunch proves right! This is about our new brother .” Wil smiles wide with excitement, leaning his head close to Tommy’s and hushing his voice like they’re speaking of a conspiracy. “Dad messed something up. Or Mum has gotten impatient, more likely the latter, but the point is this is about Technoblade. Mum is heading over there right now.” He stands up straight, smile turning sharper. “And I’m following after her.”
Tommy blinks up at Wil, held in disbelief for a second. The disbelief quickly shifts into a rage. “ What ?!” He stands up to his feet, forcing Wil to take a few quick steps back, his red wings flapping out in anger. “What do you mean you’re-?! She literally just said to stay in the castle! And you are not leaving me alone to go meet our new brother without me-!”
“I. Am going after her.” Wilbur repeats, slow and sure. As much as Tommy can try to be intimidating, Wil’s own wings are still quite a bit larger than Tommy’s, and they loom over him as he leans forward, making him take tiny steps back towards the bed. “You. Will not rat me out.” He further stresses, his dark feathers making his stature all the more menacing, the back of Tommy's knees hitting the side of the bed. Tommy lets himself shrink away and sit down in the face of Wil hovering too close.
“But why would I do that?” Tommy bites out, his hands held into tight fists at his side, talons poking into the soft fabric of his blankets. No matter how subdued he looks in the moment, the shaking tremble of his wings are an instant giveaway, and Wil wonders if right now, in this moment, he's tempted to lunge at him and stop him with his own bare hands. It wouldn't be the first time they've rough-housed over things that could've been worked out with words.
“Because I’ll bribe you.” Wilbur offers, tilting his head to the side.
Tommy scrunches his nose, as if disgusted with that offer. “With what ? What have you got that’ll make me not send a message right now to mother telling her that you’re planning on sneaking out?”
“I’ll owe you a favor .” Wilbur says, the sentence said sweetly, like there's nothing else in the world that could compare.
Tommy pauses. “...A favor?” He repeats, a slight furrow in his brow.
“Any favor. Anything at all. Anything in the world.” Wilbur rolls his wrist through the air, his wings coming down as he finally lets Tommy be. Tommy’s shoulders relax. His gaze drifts to the side as he takes in Wil's words. “Whenever you want.”
Tommy’s face twitches with something upset, but there’s a fast flicker of consideration over his eyes, his mind taking in the possibility of that favor, of having Wilbur follow one order without any question at all. Usually, it's like pulling teeth to get Wilbur to even pass the salt over the dinner table, let alone listen to a request of Tommy's. What Wil doesn't feel like doing, he will not do, that is something that's very well known. He's a prince who knows how to dig his feet into the dirt. But this challenges that terrible habit. This changes Tommy's power, gives him the winning card! Immediately, Tommy lands on a future plan that could annoy Wilbur to hell and back, and result in Tommy landing on top.
One favor. That doesn’t sound like much. But if there’s one thing that Wilbur should’ve remembered, it’s that if you give Tommy an inch, he will claw and tear out a mile. There is a reason Kristin doesn’t allow him to speak during court anymore, and it’s not just because he kept swearing profusely at anything annoying him.
“Okay.” Tommy agrees, his expression turning pleasant as evil plots start forming within his mind.
“And-” Wilbur stops. He makes a double-take. “Wait, that’s it?”
“Wait, were you going to offer more?”
“No.” Wil immediately says, looking away. Tommy gasps in offense.
“You were! I want more now!”
“No, no, that’s all. One favor.” Wil raises a finger to emphasize that, waving it around in such an infuriating manner, Tommy has to restrain himself from trying to bite his brother’s hand off. One favor. He’s going to make that favor into Wilbur’s downfall .
“Cheap bitch.” Tommy insults, and Wil makes a wounded noise at the words, even if he’s heard far worse during Tommy’s more heated tantrums. He turns away with a flap of his wings, heading on towards the door.
“Alright, then, if we’re all settled, I am going on my way.” He says, and with those words, Tommy pushes off the bed, quickly following at his heels.
“Wait! You’re going already?”
“I’m not going to dawdle, Tommy!” Wilbur chimes, striding out the door with all the confidence of someone who has had far too little consequences in his life. “If I want to get there at a decent time, I oughta go now.”
“You’re going to use a portal to get there, right?” Tommy asks, keeping to Wilbur’s side, walking fast as they head down the hall. He grabs at the edge of Wilbur’s sleeve, holding on loosely so as Wil won’t go on without him. “Can you call me when you come out the other side?”
Wilbur pauses mid-step for a moment, looking at Tommy, who stumbles in stopping so suddenly. He stares back at Wilbur with a blank face, wings fluttering with quiet nerves.
“You want me to call you?”
“Yeah! If you’re not taking me with you, then I want to be in the know . I want updates!” Tommy nods.
“Is that going to be your favor?” Wilbur asks, a bit teasing in the question. Tommy’s fingers dig into the fabric of his sleeve, almost like a warning that he’ll tear it off if Wilbur keeps pushing it.
“No, it’s my gift of appeasement. Either you agree to call me at regular intervals or I call mom before you even get to the portal room, and I’ll tell her you want to leave the castle to go meet Technoblade.” Tommy deadpans, entirely honest in every single word. “You’ll get grounded with a lecture over the phone within minutes .”
Wilbur’s lips press tight in a short frown at that threat, and he pulls his sleeve away from Tommy’s grip, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a step back. “You’ll lose your favor if you do that.”
“I lose nothing. You’re the one who gets in trouble.” Tommy beams, making such a bright smile that he looks like a perfect little angel. Wil sighs out towards the ceiling and continues walking, wondering why the gods ever gifted him with such a menace of a little brother. Hopefully Technoblade will be sweeter. The kinder little sibling, who isn't always trying to find ways to chip away at Wil's patience.
“Fine. I will call you!” Wilbur promises, moving down the hall with a certain haste to it. Thankfully, this time, Tommy does not follow. He instead just waves goodbye, wings fluffing up behind him.
“The moment you’re on the other side!”
“The moment I’m on the other side.” Wilbur repeats back, and he continues on his way, passing by his room to quickly change into warmer clothes. Magic is always a tricky business, he remembers that much. He’s only used the portals once or twice when he was smaller-- having had not much reason to ever leave the capital-- and if there’s one crucial fact he remembers, it’s that the accuracy of teleportation is never something you can quite trust. It can be narrowed down into an area, but it’ll still leave you in someplace entirely random within that.
The last time he had been taken through a portal, he had done it beside Kristin, and the magic had spat them out in the middle of nowhere, the nearest city a day’s walk away. Thankfully, being avians, flight is significantly faster, so they made the trip within hours. Kristin had carried him in her arms the entire way, their arrival upon their destination being met with warm clothes and fresh food waiting.
While Wil appreciates the ability to move around their kingdom with more ease than anyone else, he still found it all to be a bit of a hassle. He's never wanted to teleport again ever since, just for the plain inconvenience of not having the other side of the portal be set in where it'll put them. Why use a portal and be thrown out into the elements, when he can just take a carriage? He doesn’t go that far from the castle most days, anyway. No need to go tempting the universe to throw him into an empty field.
He will admit this time is different, though. This occasion is special, and Wilbur is willing to fly for the next few hours through the snow if that’s what it takes, as long as he gets to meet his new little brother. There is no consequence nor punishment that could put him off in this. He wants to meet Techno, face to face. His impatience will not let him sit still for another minute.
He tugs on his gloves as he leaves the off-limits area of the castle, pushing past the heavy doors. He makes his way down long halls towards winding stairs that lead further down into the stone sitting underneath. The cold seeps through the rock down here, the lower tunnels meant more for the staff than for him to ever use, but within these paths, there leads a tunnel to a room that’s hidden away to the side, meant for him.
He’s not expected, but the guards at the doors turn the locks for him the moment they see him approach. He goes inside with their heads held low, and within the room, there sits two cells, four guards, and a single empty portal frame.
“Your highness.” One of the guards greet, surprise held in their voice. Wilbur stands still for a moment to stare through the bars of the cells on opposite corners, and past the dim lighting of the room, he can see a pair of glowing eyes of the prisoner staring back.
“I’m following after the Queen.” Wilbur says, turning his head away. Old prisoners from failed rebellions aren’t things of his concern. “Keep the coordinates the same.”
Two of the guards immediately set out to listen to his order, working upon the control panel to have the portal begin drawing power from the two cells once more. As it charges up, a glowing design being etched out into the frame of the portal door, the first guard eyes Wilbur with something of suspicion.
“Your highness…” They begin, and Wilbur frowns in confusion for why he’s being addressed. “Is the Queen aware that you’re following her?”
Wilbur twists his head, and the very air in the room seems to go still. The hybrids within their cells back away, keeping their eyes to the floor.
“Excuse me?”
“I only ask- for your safety.” The guard stammers, gripping tightly at the spear they hold. “I’m not sure if we should send you out on your own.”
Reasonable worry to have, but Wilbur isn’t a wandering child. Maybe if this were Tommy going on his own, this would be a more appropriate response, but as it is right now, Wilbur is the crown prince ordering to be sent somewhere within his kingdom. Who are they to be thinking they can question him?
“Are you refusing me?” Wilbur asks, wings unfurling as a threat and as a reminder. He wears no crown at this moment, having not deemed it necessary for the trip, but his authority is still set in stone. His wings are a gift from the stars .
“I- No, your highness, I meant-” The guard tries to speak, and their words dry up as Wilbur goes to approach, making sure that every step he takes echoes out against the dark walls of the room.
“What do you think will happen to you if you refuse me?” He asks slowly, and the guard shakes in where they stand, eyes flicking towards the cells, towards the very example of what happens when you do not bend to the crown. Here these prisoners sit, a result of a failed fight, their energy forever sapped for the crown’s use, their very child kept within the castle to be a friend to the youngest prince.
The guard falls to their knees, their weapon clattering to the floor, hands pressed to the cold ground. “Forgive me, your highness. I’ve misspoken.”
Wilbur stares down at the gesture for a long minute, allowing the tension to stay held thick, but eventually he relents, and steps away with a sigh. “I’m in a rush, so I’ll let you be. If I remember your existence when I come back, you will have consequences waiting.”
“Yes, your highness.” The guard answers, and Wilbur ignores the response, looking to the portal as it finally begins to form within its frame, flickers of purple particles flying through the air. The glow of it feels oddly warm on Wilbur’s face, and faintly, he feels like a child again, holding onto his mother’s hand whilst stepping into the unknown. On the other side, there will be snow, and then he will need to fly. He knows it now, and he’s ready.
With a satisfied, yet eager breath, he smiles in what is to come.
He steps through.
Kristin’s arrival towards Techno’s house is a quiet event.
She does not announce herself. She does not give word to the town nearby, or to the guards watching the perimeter. It’s really not needed. The sight of her wings as she soars over them, gliding through the winter air-- that’s all the warning they need, her shadow passing by the snow, the moon sitting bright in the sky above. She had been teleported a good distance away, just as Phil did when he came this way, and she took the rest of the day to fly directly to where she’s needed.
The guards keeping the perimeter stand at full attention with her presence, waiting and watching as she lands a few paces away from the front door of the house. The snow crunches quietly under her feet, and the frigid air of the late night bites into her skin without remorse. On any other day, she would find annoyance in it.
Right now, all her attention is on the presence of Technoblade. The emotions he’s been sending out, the distress that’s been steadily climbing since morning-- something has gone sideways, and she’s worried to find out what exactly it is. Phil would never let their child stay this upset for this long. All throughout the way here, Kristin’s mind has been ringing with a need to soothe, to heal the hurts, and alongside that, she’s been managing an anger at her husband for allowing this to get so bad.
It can’t have been an outside threat. She would’ve been alerted the moment there was any attack at all, and the guards keeping watch are a decent enough deterrent to anyone who would want to try something. Maybe Phil has simply bit off too much to chew. He did sound like he was getting carried away when they spoke over the phone. Kristin will have words with him if that is the case, but either way, things will be fixed.
This will be fixed. She will take her son home, her family will be safe, and everything will be perfect. As it should be.
Her breath comes out like smoke when she exhales against the cold, and her wings twitch with nerves as she begins to make her way towards the door. There’s no light in the windows, only frost creeping over the glass, and she resists the urge to jump to conclusions and assume the worst. She instead goes to knock on the door, polite and calm.
A minute passes in silence. She checks her comm again for what feels like the hundredth time, waiting for Phil to respond to her, to give her a call. She knocks again, louder, with more force than needed. The door rattles a bit underneath her fist. She considers if she should have patience.
She decides she does not. She takes hold of the icy doorknob and pushes in, the door groaning against her hands, pleading for a form of mercy. She disregards it, and slams her palm against the wood, the lock snapping under her strength, the door flying open.
It’s dark inside the house.
It’s cold.
Fear begins to take hold of her heart, tight and painful. She takes a couple forcefully slow breaths in, stepping inside and taking a closer look. There’s a nest by the fireplace. It’s obvious to spot, the pillows and blankets piled around into something familiar, but it’s lacking anyone within it, and the fire has long gone out. Her eyes pass over it, glancing to the dark hallway, then being drawn to the kitchen.
There’s a twinkle of something on the floor, the moonlight being caught. She makes her way towards it, brows furrowed in confusion, then she realizes- it’s glass. A tiny bit of broken glass.
Her attention trails further into the kitchen, finding more bits of glass, a breadcrumb trail towards the final result, a pile of shards of what she could only assume used to be a bottle. As she glances to the counter, she finds intact bottles there, their contents shimmering with magic.
Potion bottles.
There is a shattered potion bottle on the floor, and the house is seemingly empty.
No.
No.
“Phil?!” Kristin calls, her hands shaking as she runs through the house, checking each room, finding a broken door at one of them. “ Phil !” She screams, the place rather small, not having many places to hide. Try as she might to find her husband and her child within shadows of the dark, there is nothing here but cold air and clear evidence that something went wrong .
It’s then in the rush of it that it hits her. An awful, chokingly cold type of terror. Not hers, not from her own worries. But from one of her children.
Technoblade.
Kristin spares only a moment to catch her breath, to heave out a ragged cry that’s colored with hideous anger. Then she moves into action.
She first sends a message for guards to meet her at the front door of the house. Perhaps, in their mission of keeping watch, they saw something useful, something to hint as to what’s happened here. She then goes to check the location of Phil’s comm. There’s a tracker within it-- Kristin scolds herself for not looking at it sooner, but she hadn’t thought this would be an outcome-- it should tell her where he is, or where he last was, if his possible captors made him drop it.
The location, to her grim surprise, tells her that Phil is outside, somewhere by the back of the house. She quickly follows the hint, stepping out the front door, gliding right over the roof of the house and landing hard in the snow. She’s caught in confusion for a second at the mess of items thrown around, gardening tools tossed to the side at her feet. The ground here is disturbed, like someone- multiple people, were working to move things around. It had to have been fairly recent, too. The snow over the tools hasn’t even grown heavy.
What happened here? And where is Phil’s communicator?
She sends a quick, meaningless message to him, waiting for the buzz of it, and hidden within a layer of snow, she finds the device a few steps to the left. It’s freezing to the touch, miraculously still working, but with this, there is an implication that it has been here for some time. Longer than the tools tossed down.
Her eyes look over to the group of guards that are making their way towards the house upon her order. They’re too slow for her taste, so she takes off into the air and meets them mid-way, soaring down and landing ahead of them with her wings kept high. They all freeze as she stalks towards them, and they bow low once she’s within speaking range.
“Where are they?” She asks, her voice as sharp as the blade of a knife. “There is no one within the house, and I’m inclined to believe it’s been that way for some time. So where are they?”
The guards all go eerily still at her words, their eyes going wide underneath their helmets. Fury flickers in the space of Kristin’s ribs, a hiss rattling behind her teeth. They have to know. They cannot be shocked, they cannot be this useless, they have to know!
“ Tell me! ”
“Your Majesty, no one has left the house recently.” One of the guards says, and Kristin’s wings flare out even higher, the people before her flinching back.
“Then why are those walls empty? Why can’t I find them? Why has the king been radio silent on his comm for the past several
hours
?!” Kristin takes a step forward, her child’s terror still vivid in her blood, calling,
screaming
for her to come and help, to mend the
wrong
. “Do you know where they’ve gone?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
The loss of control and the anger at hand is too much to bear. Kristin reaches forward and takes the guard who answered, the incompetent bastard -- by the throat, and she takes a moment to scratch through the metal of their armor before then throwing them to the ground, her nails slicing through the skin of their neck as they fall, as she doesn’t entirely let go. A torn piece of their throat sits on her fingers as they land within the snow, and she tosses it to the side, ignoring the choking sounds of someone drowning in their blood behind her.
“You’re all useless.” Kristin hisses out, her claws bloody as she leans in on the trembling selection of guards. “The king is missing. My son is missing. Do you have any idea as to what happened? If not, then stay quiet and die silently!”
“Your- Your Majesty.” One of the guards stammer out, their eyes to the ground, their shoulders hunched together. “The king’s last message- would that- perhaps that would be of help-”
Kristin’s gaze onto the guard makes them shrink into silence, but their words are something of worth. Kristin takes Phil’s comm in her hands and searches through his messages, finding the most recent one, blood sticking to the buttons.
The words she reads confuse her.
Move out the old chests that sit behind the house. Take them to the nearby town, leave them with someone who will keep them in storage for a while. Do not open them.
“...What chests was he talking about?” Kristin asks, scrolling up to look at the other orders sitting on the screen, all asking for items to be brought to the house, rather than be taken away.
“There were wooden chests sitting at the back of the house.” Someone responds to her, and Kristin frowns. “They did not seem to be of much worth. Perhaps old storage.”
“Why would he want them moved away?” Kristin murmurs, and her mind clicks the pieces together as she thinks of that potion bottle sitting on the kitchen floor.
Do not open them.
Phil did not send these. More likely, Phil himself was within those same damned chests. And with him, Technoblade as well. Whoever has organized this, they’ve done it in a way where the guards were not even aware that they were helping such a plot. Kristin now knows they aren’t at fault, but she still wants to kill a couple of them, for the sheer fact that this has happened underneath their watch. Maybe she will, when the dust has settled. There will need to be consequences for someone.
“Place the town on lockdown.” Kristin lifts her head, the guards bowing theirs in return. “I want it surrounded, not a single person in or out.” Immediately, a few of them are sending orders over their comms, the army around them shifting in an instant beeline to the town. Kristin watches as they move, marching across the snow, then she turns back to the guards standing beside her. “Take me to where you left those chests.” She orders.
She will not find anything in that storage room now. Before she had even arrived, before she even took the first step on the snow, Technoblade had long since pushed open the lid and snuck his way out, carrying Phil’s unconscious body along.
Niki, a short while before the even queen goes searching through that cold house, comes back home from work within the plaza, snowflakes sitting in her hair, exhaustion pressing at her bones.
The front door shuts with a squeak behind her as she shakes off her boots, leaving snow at the doormat. Fundy’s shoes are sitting in their usual spot, dry, and worn-down as always. Niki makes a mental note to try saving up to buy him a new pair. She might have to take extra shifts for it, but it’ll be worth it.
“Fundy!” She calls to her brother, looking down the hallway and finding a twinge of disappointment at the lack of light. Has he already gone to bed? He said he’d wait for her. “I’m home!”
No reply comes to answer her, but she walks through the hallway in hopes of finding Fundy waiting anyway. Her hand trails along the cool wall as she goes, and her eyes catch on dim light coming from the kitchen door.
So, he is up. Most likely, he got distracted with something, and forgot to keep the rest of the house lit. Normally, she wouldn’t mind, but he’s complained one too many times this week about stubbing his toe in the dark, so there’s a teasing scold waiting on the edge of her tongue.
“Fundy-” She smiles as she turns into the kitchen, and as then she takes in the sight before her, she goes still.
Fundy sits stiffly at the kitchen table, back towards her. There is blood soaked over his upper sleeve, one of his hands squeezing over the wound. His shoulders are pressed tight, his head downcast, and at the sound of her voice coming close, he risks a wide-eyed glance towards her for a split second, before returning his attention to the person sitting across.
A person with wings. He’s got long, pink hair hanging over his face, falling away from what might’ve once been a braid. His clothes are rumpled and damp-looking, and he’s half leaning his shoulder into the back of the turned chair underneath him, his wings drooped low at his back.
Wings, Niki’s mind says on repeat, caught in shock, then drowned in dread upon the realization of what that means. Wings.
Royalty.