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Carved out of Stone, Earth, Blood, and Bone

Summary:

Rooted by trees
Anchored to Earth
No place to be free
A wingless birth
Gone from the skies
No gods will return
The last avian dies
And so the world burns

Notes:

Twinsduo my beloveds

this is a rewrite of my abandoned fic No Brother of Mine!

thank you for reading! Enjoy <3

Chapter Text

Wilbur was only sixteen years old when he lost the remainder of his family and left home. His parents were lost when he was thirteen to a seemingly endless war, leaving him with only his older brother. The two did their best to carry on alone, even with the help of caretakers and guardians, but even still, they grew apart. Grief and despair and the weight of responsibility eventually spread their love for each other so thin that by the end, the brothers could barely stand the sight of the other.

 

Neglected, not feeling loved or needed as his brother took on responsibilities they were once meant to share, Wilbur left. Not leaving so much as a note to tell his brother where he was going or even if he was okay, the younger brother left. He sold most of his valuable belongings, keeping only one thing from his old life. Not that he could get rid of it anyway.

 

The boy had left to live a life of adventure and maybe make a new name for himself, but, not knowing anything about the real world and its terrors, the child was left homeless and starving, forced to beg for scraps. Wilbur got lucky as he got older and wiser, working odd jobs and occasionally washing dishes for the various pubs and restaurants that took pity on him, but it wasn’t enough. He fell in with a bad group of people nearing his eighteenth birthday and since then he’d worked for them as a sort of messenger.

 

Never actually committing crimes himself (not counting the few times he’d taken more than his share of coin or food), Wilbur became well known among the criminals of the empire, both big and small. He supposed he had, in a way, made a name for himself.

 

Which of course, is why he is now being led, blindfolded, to the emperor’s dungeons, where he would await questioning. 

 

The fools were wasting their time. Wilbur knew nothing they wanted to know as it was part of his terms. He’d deliver written messages, even small parcels, but no real info could enter his ears or he’d drop the job. And for exactly this reason. In case he got captured and questioned, he didn’t want to be accused of being fully involved.

 

To really get the info the emperor wanted, they’d have to do better than capturing a glorified mailman for low-level goons and criminals.

 

After what seemed like ages, and at least a hundred iron doors being opened and closed, Wilbur was plopped down into a highly uncomfortable metal chair, and cuffed to what was most likely an interrogation table, and left to wait for whoever was going to question him. And he was still stuck with a stuffy, itchy hood over his face. Great.

 

He didn’t want to be here. For more than one reason. There were too many risks involved with being taken straight to the castle. He needed to get out of here as quickly as possible before the life he’d made for himself went to shit more than it already had. Once they realized he didn’t actually have any information, and as long as he played it off as just doing simple chores for scraps and pennies, he could get away without jail time.

 

Even still, he’d have to leave the capital city. He realized that staying here was enough of a risk as it was, but in the six years he’d spent working in underground markets, Wilbur figured that he would be fine. Unrecognizable by now, surely. It was stupid to think this encounter was anything but inevitable.

 

And now, of course, he was dragged here with no possible way of knowing how this meeting was actually going to go. He felt trapped. Like a bird in a cage.

 

Wilbur did his best to be patient. He really did. But he was never one to sit still and he certainly wasn’t going to allow anyone to treat him like garbage without a fair fight. There wasn’t a lot he could do, with his hands bound and him locked in a room. But he had his voice, and boy could he be loud.

 

The song he sang was a simple one. One his mother had taught him and his brother when they were young. The three would sing it while spending time together, whether that was walking through the gardens, or playing together in the family room. His mother would sit, embroidering her latest creation as she sang the soft words while he and his twin would play with whatever new toys their father had whittled for them. He knew it by heart and sang it often when he was bored or concentrating on a job.

 

Now, he used it to annoy the shit out of the guards.

 

He started out humming the words, quietly and gently just like his mother would. His voice grew louder and louder, the intensity behind his tone rising along with it. His smile widened as he started to get loud enough that his voice echoed through the small stone brick room. Soon enough he was screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs, and he lost sense of the words as he repeated the single verse over and over and over.

 

Rooted by trees

Anchored to Earth

No place to be free

A wingless birth

Gone from the skies

No gods will return

The last avian dies

And so the world burns

 

The door slammed open with a bang, causing Wilbur to startle, his song faltering and petering out into nothingness. The hood was ripped from his face, causing his glasses to fly halfway across the room.

 

“Will you please for the love of the gods above, shut the fuck up?” A man said behind him. “I’ve had to listen to your incessant, awful singing for the past twenty minutes and you’re getting on my nerves.”

 

The man rounded the table, bringing himself into Wilbur’s view. Though he was blurry without Wil’s glasses, distinct and rather important features were noticeable.

 

Dressed in full armor, a bright green cape, and the emperor’s crest on his chest, the captain of the castle guard stood before him. The man was known for his ruthlessness and cunning. He wasn’t one to give up easily, and he certainly wasn’t planning on bowing to an annoying, repetitive criminal such as Wilbur.

 

His signature blond hair and piercing green eyes were easily recognizable, considering posters praising his accomplishments were plastered all over the capital city. But what really gave Captain Dream away was the crudely painted white and black smiley face on his breastplate.

 

The ‘mask’, as it was called, was a scare tactic. Meant to be the first thing an enemy sees when encountering the infamous soldier. A symbol meant to invoke fear into the foes of the kingdom, and placing hope into the hearts of the citizens of the crown.

 

Having him as the person sent to interrogate Wilbur meant that they thought Wil’s influence and knowledge was greater than it actually was.

 

“Well I’m sorry that your dungeon’s walls are so acoustically advanced,” Wilbur hummed, amused that his song was enough to annoy the captain. “And I got bored. It’s rude to keep guests waiting, you know.”

Dream glared at the man, opening his mouth to retort, but Wilbur interjected before he got the chance. It only made the look of irritation on the guard’s face grow.

 

“Also, before you interrogate me, would you be so kind as to find my glasses that you graciously threw across the room? I won’t be answering any questions until I’m able to see my captor properly.”

 

Wilbur smiled smugly as Dream searched the floor for the wire-rimmed frames. It was funny to see the highly respected captain fulfilling the request of a prisoner. Perhaps this man wasn’t as strategically advanced as the posters said.

 

Once Wil’s glasses were returned to his face, eyesight immediately restored, Dream sat down across from him. The pair sat in silence for a few seconds, taking the time to size each other up before Dream began the questioning.

 

“I’m assuming the officers that arrested you told you what you were arrested for?” The blond asked.

 

Wilbur didn’t answer. Dream continued.

 

“You were arrested for assisting known criminals in suspicious activity. Your questioning will be to identify the people you were working with, who you are, and what exactly you were doing.”

 

The brunet leaned back in his chair, at least, as far as the chains around his wrists would allow.

 

“What exactly do you know?” He asked. “Just so I know what not to say.”

The captain glared.

 

“We know you go by the moniker ‘Soot’. We know you act as a messenger taking parcels and letters, most likely agreements, in between the much more notorious criminals. We know you’re connected to The West Wind. You act as a middle-man for him and some others. There’s very little likelihood that you don’t know anything.”

Wilbur threw his hands up into the air, exaggerating his faux remorse at being unable to help. Something caught Dream’s attention, but he chose to ignore it.

 

“Well, unfortunately for you, that’s about all I know too. Even if I did talk directly to the people I’ve worked for, I’d only know their nom de plume. This “West Wind” guy? No fucking clue who he is or what he looks like. Which is about as much as I’m guessing you and the great Emperor Technoblade know too. I run errands for all sorts of people down there for a bit of extra cash. I need it to eat and buy essentials, you know how it is.”

 

He looked Dream in the eyes, noticing that he hadn’t been paying attention. The prisoner rolled his eyes, preparing to mock the shit out of this asshole.

 

“If you’re going to question a prisoner, you’re going to need to pay attention- HEY!”

 

Dream interrupted Wilbur’s jeering by grabbing his wrist, turning his hand to reveal a ring.

 

“I know a lot more than you think, Soot. But one thing I didn’t know was that you have a ring. A crest ring perhaps? A family name we can finally match you to?”

 

The brunet jerked his arm away but the damage had already been done. Dream had seen the tell-tale crow’s wings and emerald of the [Watson] family. The emperor’s family.

 

“You- You’re-” the captain began, dropping his hand in shock. “Where did you get that?”

 

Wilbur shoved down the panic threatening to suffocate his thoughts and acted cool. He had to be careful if he was going to get out of this.

 

“I bought it out of a pawn shop because I thought it was pretty,” he said, deciding to play dumb. “Why? Does it mean something?”

 

Dream looked at him in disbelief. Everyone knew what this symbol meant. Wilbur had fucked up.

 

“Give me your hand again,” the captain ordered.

 

“No! Why the fuck would you need my hand? I bought this ring fair and squa-”

 

But Dream had already grasped his arm, holding it so tightly that Wilbur gasped from pain.

 

The captain pulled at the ring, trying to pull it off the finger it encircled, but it didn’t budge. He tried again, to no avail. There was clearly space for it to be removed without much struggle, fitted perfectly to the finger it inhabited.

 

Family rings were given to children of families at the age of sixteen. It was tradition, in their kingdom. Wealthy families had their rings enchanted with the curse of binding, making it impossible for the ring to be removed until death. There were very few ways to get rid of the rings, most of them including a considerable amount of pain and money in order to get them removed.

 

“How-” Dream began. “But that’s not possible.”

 

Wilbur’s heart thumped in his ears as Dream tugged once more, grim realization and acceptance dawning all at once on the captain’s face. Wilbur was fucked.

 

“Please don’t tell him,” he pleaded with the guard, dropping his act. One last attempt at getting away. “I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know much, but I’ll give you whatever information I can. I’ll do anything. Please Dream. I’m begging you.”

 

Dream backed away, heading straight for the door, shaking his head in utter disbelief, looking like he’d seen a ghost. And he might as well have been.

 

“I’m sorry, your highness,” he said. “I can’t do that. You’ve been missing for six years. I can’t just let you get away.”

 

He left the room, slamming the door behind him with a clang. Wilbur jumped at the sound, panic and tears rising as he heard the captain bark orders at the guards in the hallway.

 

“Take the prisoner to the throne room. Uncuff him but keep him guarded at all times. I’m going to get the emperor and tell him we found the prince.”