Chapter Text
Everything ached. His head pounded, sharp nails driving into his temple and sending shooting pain down to his gut, churning his insides. Pressure was gathered behind his eyes, and even without opening them, Wilbur could see harsh light scratching at his eyelids. His very bones ached, each breath rattling his lungs and forcing choked coughs from his body. Fire ran through his veins, sweat on his brow, as he scrambled to figure out where he was. It was almost impossible to think through the pain, and he groaned, the effort tearing at his throat.
Something had happened, he thought dumbly. He had been cold last time he remembered, his cloak doing nothing to stave off the harsh winter air. But he couldn’t remember anything else. When he tried to move, his ankle flared in sharp, prickling pain, drawing a surprised cry from his lips.
And then there was a cool hand resting against his forehead, gently pushing him down to the ground (it didn’t feel like the ground) before being replaced with something damp settling where the hand was. Wilbur keened, arms flailing wildly to bring the hand back. It couldn’t leave, he couldn’t be alone, everyone always seemed to leave him behind, he couldn’t—
“Easy, Icarus.” The hand came back and Wilbur went limp, falling against the pillow under him. He intertwined his fingers with the returned hand and held it tightly. The hand squeezed, almost too painful, but Wilbur didn’t dare let go. “I’m right here,” a smooth, calm voice assured as a thumb was rubbed over Wilbur’s knuckles. “You’re going to be alright.”
Wilbur opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but all that came out was a whine, desperate to keep whoever was closest near to him. Memories came in bursts of regret and guilt, angry faces and harsh tones bouncing around in his head, and this person, this one, couldn’t do that, he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t—
Another hand came up to Wilbur’s matted, tangled curls and began to comb through them, softly and gently. Wilbur squeezed the hand in his again.
“I’m here,” the voice repeated in that same slow cadence that settled something in Wilbur’s brain. “I’m here and you’re safe, I promise you.”
The hand continued to card through his curls, scratching and pulling in a soothing, even rhythm that had Wilbur sinking back into unconsciousness, safe amidst the hurt racking his body.
He awoke again some time later, that same pounding piercing his skull and making him nauseous. The hand had left his hair, but the other still clutched his, loose and limp, but there and present. Wilbur hadn’t been left, hadn’t been abandoned. He sighed, the sound scratching his throat.
The person beside him shuffled, taking the now warm rag from his forehead. “Hey, darlin, you feeling okay?”
Wilbur could only groan in response, trying to open his eyes but instantly shutting them when the light hit them. Techno (it was Techno, his mind supplied, feeling both tense and relieved all at once) laid a hand over his eyes with a short quieting noise. “None of that. Keep ‘em closed. You don’t need to get up.”
Wilbur made a questioning noise in the back of his throat. He tried to lean forward, but Techno rested a hand on his chest, pushing him gently down. “No, stay. You’re not going anywhere.”
A spike of panic shot through him and he whined. He was in trouble, he knew he was in trouble. He’d run away, done the one thing that Techno told him not to, and now Wilbur was going to pay the price. This was the final straw. Techno was going to throw him in the dungeon, finally making him pay for his rebellion.
“Hey, hey,” Techno soothed, hand returning to comb through Wilbur’s hair, soft and gentle. “Calm down, you’re alright.”
But he wasn’t alright because he’d messed up again. How could he forget that no one cared for him, a failed revolutionary, a disgrace to all who came in contact with him? Even now, he was being a burden to the emperor, the Blood God himself. He found his breath failing him, choking on his own fears.
Techno shifted, causing more fear to well up inside of Wilbur. He gasped as he tried to move away, but the bed dipped and Techno wrapped his arm around Wilbur, tucking him into his side. He stiffened as the emperor’s hand came back to his head, petting and stroking his hair like he was something precious. Wilbur shivered.
“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” Techno murmured. “You’re alright. You’re not in trouble—Death below, you’re not in trouble. I promise you that. Trust me.”
Wilbur wanted to trust him, he really did, but he didn’t know if he could. How could the emperor forgive him so easily? He was a pain, a bother, something to be discarded at the end of the day. This wasn’t just some outburst of irrelevant information, this was treason. If the emperor found out he had gone back to the rebellion of all places, it would be his demise, dying like how he was supposed to months ago.
But Techno did none of that, merely rocking back and forth with Wilbur in his arms as if he was the most precious thing in the kingdom. Wilbur hiccuped and let himself go limp, exhaustion tearing at his resolve. His head continued to ache, the back of his throat sore and rough. His weariness outweighed his emotions, tucking him into a slow sleep. Buried in the Blood God’s arms, Wilbur could barely hear his gentle reassurances as he fell back asleep.
The next time he woke up, Wilbur’s thoughts felt clearer, the muddled whirl of emotions clearer than before. He slowly opened his eyes, able to take in the room around him. Familiar Florina blues decorated the walls, tall ornate windows situated in front of a railed balcony. He didn’t recognize the room around him. A desk sat in the corner, covered in parchments and ink, a familiar red cloak draped over the desk chair.
Realization trickled into his mind.
Wilbur darted up, blankets pooling at his lap as he frantically looked around the room. He shouldn’t be here, he couldn’t be here, not after he—
“Icarus.”
He froze. The emperor sat next to the bed, the book in his hand slowly being placed on the bedside table. It was the most casual Wilbur had ever seen him dressed, the only jewelry a pair of earrings dangling from his ears. No crown could be seen, and in its place pink hair frizzed around his face, almost frazzled in a way that was so unlike him. His bone mask remained, empty eye sockets as searching as the day they first met. Wilbur didn’t feel any different from that first day, cowering under the Blood God like the war prize he was.
“How are you feeling?” the emperor asked, genuine worry cascading from his voice as if he was the one who had messed up somehow.
Wilbur swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Fine,” he croaked and coughed a little at the way his voice hurt.
The emperor shifted, reaching for a glass of water from the bedside table and handing it to Wilbur. “Drink.”
Wilbur obediently took the glass, grateful that the emperor hadn’t immediately denied him the luxury of water. This could be his last cup of kindness. It should be his last cup of kindness, the last drop in the overwhelming flow of mercy and second chances. But as he drank, nothing happened. The emperor didn’t lash out or urge him to hurry up. He just sat patiently like always, watching over Wilbur as if he cared.
“I’m sorry,” Wilbur croaked as he brought the glass down to his lap. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—” He struggled to get his words in order, thoughts tripping over each other to try and explain himself. The emperor didn’t interrupt. He never interrupted, Wilbur realized. He would be constantly interrupted back home but Techno—
“I wanted to see everyone again,” Wilbur rushed. The words were falling out now in a desperate way to redeem himself, to somehow buy back Techno’s kindness and company if even for a little bit, to combat the guilt and dread weighing on Wilbur’s soul. “I thought if I went back everything would be good again, that people would miss me. I thought someone would come for me, or at least try and negotiate or something, but—but no one did. No one cared,” he choked, tears rushing to his eyes.
“I just wanted to go home,” he whispered. “But home wasn’t the same anymore.”
Silence sat over their heads as Wilbur kept his gaze trained on the glass in front of him. His heart pounded, ears ringing as he waited on Techno’s verdict. He waited for the shouts of “traitor,” the same harsh looks that Quackity and Niki sent his way. He had been waiting for long enough. He could wait a little more.
“Wilbur.” The emperor’s voice was soft as he called for his attention. “Look at me.”
Wilbur squeezed his eyes shut before lifting his head, opening his eyes, and looking at the one person who hadn’t cast him aside.
Empty eye sockets regarded him, the bone mask that rested on the emperor’s face no longer scared him. It should scare him, Wilbur realized as he sat so close to the Blood God, but it didn’t. The mask was familiar, comforting. A small piece of him relaxed.
Techno’s hands slowly reached up to the back of his head, and Wilbur stared as he fidgeted with his mask. The bone shifted on his face and then the mask was gone.
The mask was gone.
Brown eyes met Wilbur’s, soft like rich dirt that refused to be cleaned from under fingernails in the summer, like the sediment at the bottom of the creek that supported life for every being under the waves. Painted on the emperor’s face was a concern that lay in deep eyebags and red-rimmed eyes that tainted the soft brown swirling in them. Scars crossed the bridge of his nose, eyebrows furrowed in an emotion that Wilbur could only describe as worry.
The emperor, Techno, was worried about Wilbur.
Wilbur swallowed around the lump in his throat, his eyes burning. He couldn’t look away, Techno’s gaze leaving him more raw and open than anything he had ever experienced.
“I’m not mad,” Techno murmured. Wilbur watched his face like a hawk, taking in the way he talked, the way his face shifted ever so slightly. “I have never once been mad at you. You—” He sighed deeply, rubbing at his face with his hands. “You scared me, Icarus. You scared me more than anything I have ever been through. They found you in the snow unconscious and I thought. . .I thought I was going to lose you.”
Wilbur stared at Techno. Techno was afraid. Techno was afraid because of Wilbur. His mind struggled to comprehend exactly what that meant as he stared into Techno’s tired eyes. No hate, no anger lingered in the emperor’s gaze, only an emotion that strayed too close to acceptance, too close to love.
“You were scared?” Wilbur asked tentatively. “For me?”
“Yes, for you.” Techno sounded exasperated, heart bleeding out his mouth. “Do you know how much you mean to me? All these months of knowing you, of learning about you, have filled a hole in my heart. You understand me in a way that many don’t. You’re so wonderfully you, and I thought you were dying.”
“I left you,” he reminded.
“You came back.” Techno leaned forward and rested his hands on the bed, palms up, an invitation. “You didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have forced you to come back. I would have looked, would have searched the ends of the earth for you. At first, I thought someone had taken you, and I…I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of me. But if you had chosen to stay?” His voice trailed.
Wilbur couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. It was so unbelievably real that he couldn’t comprehend Techno’s words. He wanted to believe him so badly.
Slowly, Wilbur placed his hands on Techno’s and watched how Techno wrapped his hands around his own. Wilbur’s hands tingled. “For me? You’d do all that for me?”
“Yes,” Techno said easily. “I…I care about you, Icarus.”
Wilbur squeezed Techno’s hands tighter and let the tears roll down his cheeks. He didn’t stop them but let them flow, letting out a hiccuping laugh. “No one really cares.”
“I do,” Techno vowed with a fervency. “I will always care.”
Wilbur couldn’t stop himself from crying, suddenly feeling cold even amidst his covers. If this was real, if this was happening, he would be selfish for once. He wanted to be loved, to bask in the promises that Techno kept making. He wanted to be home.
“Techno,” he cried, wiping at his face and feeling like a little kid.
Techno shifted, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. He gathered Wilbur into his arms and rubbed his back as he whispered reassurances. And Wilbur melted into the touch, letting himself trust for the first time, letting himself truly let go. He knew he was safe, he always had been here at the palace, but now it felt like home. Techno didn’t let go. He hadn’t sent Wilbur away. Wilbur hadn’t messed up.
“You’re okay, kid,” Techno murmured as Wilbur’s sobs began to quiet. “I’ll always look out for you. I promise you this.”
Wilbur nodded with a breathy laugh. “I believe you. I think I always have.”
Techno pressed his face into Wilbur’s hair, kissing his forehead lightly. “I know, Icarus. I know.”
Wilbur let himself melt in Techno’s hold, feeling safe and warm despite the ache in his ankle and the pounding of his head. He could get better here, he realized slowly, basking in the presence of the emperor, his friend. Techno had a piece of himself, and Wilbur didn’t understand all that that entailed, but he knew he wanted to learn. He wanted to find his place in this kingdom by Techno’s side, as his equal, as his friend. His brother, even, a thought so wildly out of control that he couldn’t stop his heart from leaping. Draped in blues and held in warmth, Wilbur let himself soar into the sun.