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Wilbur supposes he’s probably had worse ideas than this.
He can’t really think of one off the top of his head, but he’s certain there must have been something worse than this. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.
This decision wasn’t entirely his fault, though. Which he can’t quite tell makes the situation better or worse all things considered.
War was on the horizon in the kingdom, and with war came the need for soldiers, and with the need for soldiers came the draft. Anyone sixteen and older could legally enlist, according to the men shouting in the town square, and Wilbur saw an opportunity. Being enlisted meant being taken care of; regular food, water, and a place to rest in a military encampment was a far better situation than begging for scraps in Wilbur’s humble street urchin opinion.
The only problem that posed itself was in the form of a very small five year old who honestly didn’t seem all that upset by the prospect. In fact, Tommy seemed delighted by the mere idea of sleeping somewhere other than a dingy alleyway that was constantly being rained on.
But with the pounding rain from the last few days turning everything in the camp dark and disgusting with mud, Wilbur is kind of missing the alleyway.
He’s covered in mud from head to toe, the rags he calls clothes are soaked through with the stuff, and he’s shivering uncontrollably. The soldiers around him keep shooting concerned and slightly disgusted looks his way which is really starting to get on his nerves at this point. And Tommy, sweet, delightful, innocent Tommy, is wriggling furiously in the sack on his back.
His feet in the boots he stole a few days ago shift around uncomfortably in their too-large casings, rubbing against blisters and causing mud and rainwater to seep into the wounds there. He’s trying his best to pay attention to what the general at the front of the group is saying— Philza he thinks his name is— but with Tommy for some bizarre reason not liking being snuck into an army camp in a backpack he barely fits in anymore, it’s becoming increasingly difficult.
The general is saying something about where everyone is going to be sleeping, which Wilbur would actually very much like to know, when he feels Tommy’s tiny fist hit him particularly hard through the canvas bag, followed by a loud whine that makes several heads turn their way and Wilbur realize he should probably free Tommy before their whole cover is blown.
He mumbles apology as he ducks around and through the people gathered. Some sort of feline hybrid squeaks as he steps on her tail and an avian gives him a strange look when he ducks under their arm, but he quickly makes it to the far fringes of the crowd.
He scurries around to find a more secluded area, ducking behind tents and avoiding the few soldiers mingling and not at the orientation speech. They end up somewhere behind the mess hall, sandwiched between a tree and the wooden walls of the encampment, when he’s finally able to free his little brother from his fabric prison.
Tommy pops out with a grimace on his tiny face. Chubby hands, not even the size of Wilbur’s palm, immediately start flailing in the direction of his brother, attempting to hit anything within his very limited reach in retaliation for his mistreatment.
“Tommy! Ow- Tommy, quit it!”
Tommy ignores him and continues pummeling his brother with hits that feel like practically nothing. “NO! You’re being mean!” Tommy’s voice raises in pitch like it does when he’s about to cry and is trying his absolute best to not. His eyes look puffy and red, probably rubbed raw from trying not to cry a few minutes ago. He’s shivering a bit, not to the extent Wilbur is, but still far too much for Wilbur’s liking. He looks absolutely devastated and almost certainly in need of a nap, and Wilbur feels his heart break a little.
Wilbur looks around, checking for any potential witnesses of Tommy’s existence, before scooping his brother out of the bag and into his arms. He secures an arm under his legs and tucks Tommy’s head into his neck, feeling a spot near his collarbone grow even wetter than it already was as the five-year-old sobs his little heart out.
“This is a stupid dumb idea. I don’t wanna’ be here anymore, I wanna go home.” Tommy whines into Wilbur’s neck, sounding so unbelievably small in that moment. He’s crying for a home that is virtually inaccessible to the both of them at the moment, that Wilbur signed them up away from. Wilbur sighs and rubs circles into his brother’s back, breathing deeply to keep himself from sobbing along with his brother. He’s held it together for five years, he’s not about to cry in front of Tommy.
Tommy sniffles and hiccups as Wilbur lowers them to the ground, ignoring the feeling of more mud seeping into his trousers as he sits down and rocks Tommy back and forth in his arms. He buries his face into Tommy’s curls and pretends like he has so many other times, that they’re safe.
***
Wilbur wakes up to the muffled sound of hundreds of voices and a single set of footsteps squishing through the mud. He still has Tommy in his arms, asleep like Wilbur was until seconds ago, and puffing little breaths of warm air into Wil’s neck. He smiles softly down at the bundle in his lap and doesn’t hear when the footsteps suddenly stop.
“I’m not too sure about you, mate, but I expect the barracks are a bit more comfortable than the mud for a nap.” A voice calls, and Wilbur freezes, hardly daring to breathe as the footsteps pick up again.
Boots enter Wilbur’s vision, combat style and properly made and so remarkably juxtaposed to Wilbur’s own oversized ones that it makes a small curl of shame flare in his gut. The feeling is quickly stomped out with the dawning horror of the fact that Tommy is stirring in his arms. The soldier, thankfully, doesn’t seem to see the precious cargo slowly waking up and clutched to the boy's chest, and crouches down to be eye level with who he assumes to be the only other person in the conversation.
“Did you hear me, mate? Still waking up a bit? It’s fine if you are, I just can’t imagine the position you’re in is very comfortable.” The man chuckles, unaware of Wilbur’s panic as he frantically thinks of what he could possibly do to keep Tommy hidden in this situation.
Tommy, however, seems to be completely uncaring of Wilbur’s dilemma and chooses that exact moment to shuffle around in Wilbur’s arms and free his arm from the embrace. Wilbur watches with panic rising in his chest as Tommy raises a tiny little fist and rubs the sleep from his baby blue eyes; completely unaware of the terrifying soldier standing not ten feet away and watching the now very visible five year old with abject horror in his eyes.
The terrifying soldier who Wilbur can now tell is very much the fucking general of this army. He’s the same guy who was giving the speech from earlier. There’s a sword sheathed at his hip that’s probably longer than Tommy is tall and giant fuckoff black wings rustle at his back.
Wilbur thinks he might be sick.
“Who let you two in?” The general breaths, his voice hardly above a whisper. He reaches forward, his hands shaking just slightly and far away enough that it seems like he’s not sure what to do with them. Wilbur’s heart beats a mile a minute in his chest and panic claws at his throat, closing it up and making it hard to breathe.
They’re going to be kicked out. There’s absolutely no doubt about it in Wilbur’s mind about that. He’s more scared of if the shock on the general’s face is going to turn into worry or anger, and considering they’re on a battlefield he has little hope for the former. He just hopes if it turns violent the man will have mercy for Tommy. For now, at least, the general is still floundering, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Wilbur can’t tell if they’ve been at a standstill for seconds or minutes or hours but the tension is grating on him almost painfully.
The general breaks the silence with a sigh. A bone-weary and exhausted sigh that Wilbur felt on a personal level. “I think the two of you are in the very wrong place. Did you come here with someone? A parent? A friend?” He looks at Wilbur expectantly, clearly wanting some kind of answer from him seeing as Tommy stuffed his head into the junction of Wilbur’s neck at some point and hasn’t moved since. “You’re not gonna be hurt here, I just wanna make sure the both of you get to where you need to be.” If that isn’t the biggest lie Wilbur’s ever been told he doesn’t know what is. But it’s not like he’s got much of a choice in the matter, does he?
“I enlisted, sir.” Wilbur mumbles, barely loud enough to hear but the general flinches back as if Wilbur had shouted at him.
“You enlisted?” He parrots, confusion lacing his tone. “And they allowed you in?”
The general’s voice trembles with an emotion Wilbur can’t quite place. Concern? Anger maybe? It’s hard to tell, but he stares into Wilbur’s eyes as if everything will suddenly make sense.
Wilbur’s throat is dry as a desert and he finds himself lost for words as he looks at the hard stare of the general in front of him. “Y-yes sir.” He finally chokes out, and watches as the general’s face contorts in anger.
“Fuck-” The man hisses out, the feathers on his back flaring slightly, and Wilbur flinches back pulling Tommy closer to him. Tommy whines, his face still tucked beneath Wilbur’s chin but trying to wiggle around like he had in the bag.
The general’s eyes flick down to Tommy as if remembering just then that he was there and concern quickly covers the rage.
“Oh, little one.” He coos, reaching out just slightly as if to touch but he quickly retreats when Wilbur pulls back again. The general sighs and it sounds like the weight of the world is on his shoulders before he opens his eyes and speaks again. “Okay, kid, I’m gonna need the two of you to come with me. It’s a major breach of protocol that the two of you are within a hundred miles of this camp, let alone technically enlisted. I’ll take you back to my tent and we’ll send you home as soon as possible, does that sound okay?”
Actually, that really didn’t sound okay if Wilbur’s being perfectly honest. ‘Home’ isn’t much more for him and Tommy than a dirty alleyway with not enough food for the both of them. Enlisting was quite literally Wilbur’s last resort and he has zero clue what he’s gonna do if they get sent away.
He doesn't want to talk to the general any more than strictly necessary. And, frankly, he should probably just nod and smile and take the mercy he’s been given of not being tried for treason or whatever happens to stupid kids who apparently illegally enlist in the army.
But the general is speaking softly, and he’s not yelling like every other adult Wilbur’s encountered. And he said ‘does that sound okay?’ as if he’s open to Wilbur disputing him. If there’s even the slightest possibility of at the very least Tommy getting to go somewhere better than that damned alleyway then Wilbur needs to take the chance.
So as small as possible, small enough to where the general could ignore it if he really wanted to, Wilbur shakes his head.
The effect is almost instant, “No? What do you mean no, mate? Is there-- oh.” Confusion and clarity quickly fall over the general’s features. He frowns, and seems to take a closer look at Wilbur and Tommy. At the ratty backpack, threadbare clothes, and very obviously too big boots.
“Oh.” He repeats again, like all the pieces to a puzzle slotted into place. “Right, change of plans then.” The general stands from his crouch with an old man groan that Wilbur feels is probably just for extra effect, and brushes the knees of his pants off. Then, he holds his hand out to Wilbur.
Wilbur flinches back from the hand slightly, pulling Tommy a bit closer to his chest. (The kid had been mercifully quiet for almost the entire interaction, Wilbur feels guilty knowing that it’s probably fear that’s kept him so silent.) The general frowns a bit but quickly offers a smile that’s probably supposed to be reassuring. “We’ll head to my tent for now, and you’ll be both taken care of until we can get you to the castle.”
The fucking what now.
The general suddenly laughs and Wilbur’s cheeks redden with the realization he’d said that aloud.
“The castle, mate. We can get a roof over you and the little one’s heads, some food in your bellies, and hopefully a job more suited for your age than fighting.” He says it so casually, like it’s nothing. Like he has the full authority to give two dirty street kids a place in the Gods damned castle.
Words fail Wilbur as he stares at the general in disbelief. The hand is still extended towards him and that same pleasant smile is still on his face. He doesn’t look deceptive, or inconvenienced, or even slightly angry when he has every full right to be.
Wilbur isn’t sure what to make of it, what to say to him.
So he says nothing and very tentatively removes a hand from Tommy’s back, grasping the coaloused grip of the general as he’s pulled to his feet in one swift motion.
The general places a soft hand on Wilbur’s shoulder but quickly draws away at his flinch. Wilbur looks up, frightened a little at the disrespect he just showed but the general just smiles at him and stoops down to pick up Tommy’s bag.
“Okay, follow me, kid. It’s a bit of a far walk so I’d prefer you stick close.” The general speaks softly but Wilbur doesn’t dare take that for granted. He nods quickly and scrambles to follow closely at the general’s side.
The general eyes him strangely for a moment at how quickly he moved but ultimately shrugs and leads the two boys further into the camp.
They walk quickly and mostly in silence through the compound. The majority of the soldiers are milling about the main field, where Wilbur and the general are. But he can also see bodies near the mess hall where they came from and in farther off fields that seem to have targets and dummies for combat practice.
It’s loud and crowded, and Wilbur is tense. He holds Tommy securely in his arms, though it’s getting to be a bit much with how he can feel slight tremors in his muscles start up. Tommy hasn’t started wiggling but he shuffles around in Wilbur’s hold like he’d rather be walking himself.
Which is fair, Tommy’s getting a bit too old to want to be carried everywhere like he had when Wilbur first met him, crying and alone in a room in the orphanage. But there’s too many people around for Wilbur to let his brother down, so unless Tommy outright says he wants to be put down, it’s not happening any time soon.
The general keeps glancing over at the two of them. It’s getting a little annoying at this point, like the soldiers from earlier that kept nosily staring at orientation. (And also the soldiers that are currently nosily staring.) Wilbur is honestly about a minute away from snapping at him, fear and repercussions be damned, when the general finally breaks the increasingly tense silence between them.
“You can call me Philza, by the way.” General Philza says, all nonchalant like he actually expects Wilbur to call him anything more informal than ‘sir’. “I’m one of the head generals here, though I have a feeling you already gathered that.”
Philza fidgets with some of the rings around his fingers, twisting a midnight black band on his ring finger back and forth. He seems nervous, and it’s slightly off putting.
For a general, Philza is remarkably awkward around a sixteen and five year old. Though, Wilbur thinks, that’s probably not all that fair considering generals probably don’t talk to many stowaway teenagers and toddlers.
“I’m Wilbur,” Wil mutters, hiking Tommy further up his hip when he begins to slip a little. “And this is Tommy.”
He figures there’s probably very little reason to remain anonymous with the general giving him a potential job at the fucking castle. And the way that Philza smiles at his response is nice as well, all soft, pleased, and seemingly surprised that he got a reply in the first place.
“Mind me asking how old the two of you are?” Philza presses, and honestly, why the hell not. The general already knows Wilbur is too young to be here, even if Wilbur didn’t. Maybe he’s trying to scope out the kind of jobs Wilbur can do in the castle, or why he had the gall in the first place to enlist in the army.
“I’m sixteen, and Tommy’s five.” He leaves it at that, if Philza wants a proper interrogation, he can do it later when there’s less people around.
General Philza just nods and leaves it at that, satisfied with the bare bones responses that Wilbur gave him.
Philza is a little odd, and not really at all what Wilbur would think of when thinking about a senior war general. He supposes getting caught by Philza is probably better than most other possible outcomes. He and Tommy could have gotten a general who kicked them out with nothing, or one who didn’t give a shit and just let Wilbur be a child soldier. Sure, that may have been the initial plan, but Wilbur’s initial plan was honestly quite shit. And he’s grown as a person from the Wilbur of several hours ago.
Wilbur from several hours ago didn’t think about what would happen to Tommy if he were to die in battle. Wilbur from several hours ago was clinging to the last possible hope he had. Wilbur from several hours ago wasn’t practically guaranteed a job from the general of the army he somehow illegally enlisted into.
In short, Wilbur from several hours ago was stupid, and Wilbur from now is not.
“Wilby?” Tommy suddenly whispers, startling Wilbur from his thoughts. It’s the most he’s spoken since his meltdown a little while ago and it’s a little disconcerting how quiet it is.
“Yeah, hon?” Wilbur whispers back, ignoring how Philza looks over at them. “What’s wrong, lovely?”
“I wanna get down.” Tommy replies, kicking his little legs in emphasis. “I wanna walk.”
Wilbur bites his lip, there’s a dilemma. Because logically, he should not be letting a five year old walk himself in a war compound. But also logically, Wilbur’s arms are killing him from overexertion and Tommy will probably start crying again if he doesn’t get his way and Wilbur would rather not make a big scene and draw more attention to them than strictly necessary.
“I–” Wilbur starts, looking down at Tommy who already mustered up the evil puppy dog eyes that he knows Wilbus is incapable of saying no to. “Fine. But you can’t let go of my hand, okay? You’ve gotta stay close, I don’t want to lose you.”
Tommy frantically nods his head, blinking away crocodile tears and wriggling around when Wilbur stops walking to put him down.
Phil stops too, looking concerned at the kid given relative free reign to waddle around a war zone, but doesn’t say anything about it. Wilbur is silently grateful.
“We’re almost there now,” Philza says, watching as Tommy grabs onto Wilbur’s boney hand with his own small chubby one and bounces around a bit. “Shouldn’t be too long now as long as we aren’t–”
“General Philza!” A voice calls, interrupting him.
“–interrupted.” The general finishes, irritation on his face as he turns to the source of the voice.
Were Wilbur even a little less afraid of offending the man, he probably would have laughed.
“General Philza, sir, Lieutenant Sneegsnag sent me–” The scout started off into a report of some kind while Philza listened. Wilbur decided to pay no mind to it, he’s not technically a soldier and even if he was it probably isn’t for his ears. He looks down at Tommy instead, who seems very determined to sun around as much as he can within a two foot radius of Wilbur.
It’s quite endearing, how he runs in a little half circle around Wilbur until he can’t anymore before turning back around and running the half circle in the other direction.
How Tommy manages to have the level of energy he does is completely beyond Wilbur. He supposes it makes sense because he is five, and five year olds are known- at least to Wilbur- to be constantly bouncing off the walls.
Wilbur, on the other hand, now that he’s been given a break from adrenaline he’s probably been running on for the last thirty minutes, feels every ounce of exhaustion possible fall on him. It’s a miracle that he’s still standing, now that he thinks about it, and wonders when the last time he slept for more than a handful of hours was.
He blinks sluggishly, still tracking Tommy’s movements with his eyes, though a bit more lethargically now that everything’s caught up to him. He’s tired. Bone-deep tired now that he’s not walking and he wonders if Philza is going to be done with his conversation before Wilbur keels over from exhaustion.
He’s more or less staring off into space by the time Philza is done talking and turns back to Tommy and him. He feels a gentle touch on his shoulder, reminiscent of a little while ago when the general did the same thing. Wilbur doesn’t flinch away this time, though. He more or less blinks dazedly at the hand on his shoulder and then slowly looks into the blue eyes of the general.
He looks concerned, if not a tad bit amused at Wilbur’s abrupt shift in demeanor.
“Feeling alright there, mate?” Philza asks, and Wilbur hums noncommittedly. “You look like you’re in the beginnings of an adrenaline crash, let’s get you somewhere to lie down, okay?” The general chuckles a bit, he’s got a good laugh
And laying down sounds very nice. Wilbur nods his head and rubs at his face with the hand not holding Tommy. He hears the general laugh again and he’s being steered along through the crowd of people.
Tommy keeps holding his hand, though he’s jumping up and down and switches to the hand closer to the side of Philza, probably so he can berate him with questions. Tommy does that a lot, it’s quite cute and Wilbur hopes that Philza answers them all, it would be very rude of him if he didn’t.
The last bits of their walk feels significantly faster than the first bits and before Wilbur knows it, he and Tommy are being led into a big tent, the flap lifted and dropped behind them.
Wilbur stands with the general and Tommy is what is probably the tent’s main room. There’s a big table in the center with rolled up scrolls of what are probably strategy plans set atop it. Lanterns hang from the ceiling and the interior fabric is remarkably fancy, with deep reds and gold filigree.
A pair of armor stands are set in the corner, both with gleaming enchanted netherite adorning them. One is significantly smaller than the other and is seemingly designed with a far scarcer chestplate than the other.
Furs and rugs cover the grass below and Wilbur is stricken with how remarkably homey this general tent looks.
Philza leads Wilbur and Tommy to an opening to another room of the tent. There’s a, frankly excessively large, bed in this room that blankets and animal pelts cover and that Wilbur would really like to lay down and take a nap in.
“The two of you can rest in here for a while, I’ll come back a little later with some food, how does that sound?” Philza asks, and oh, he’s holding Tommy’s other hand. That’s nice. Philza is nice.
He does seem to want an answer though, with the way he’s expectantly looking at Wilbur. So Wil summons the remaining couple of brain cells that haven’t gone to sleep yet and mumbles out something that’s probably close to a yes.
Philza laughs his nice laugh again and pushes Wilbur towards the bed. He goes willingly and picks Tommy up with a little squeak before falling into the softest bed he’s ever been in.
Wilbur is very vaguely aware of Tommy grumbling a bit before snuggling down into his chest, and someone who is probably Philza huffing a laugh before the weight of shoes are removed from his feet.
He thinks Philza may say something but he’s asleep too quickly to register it.
***
Wilby went to sleep very very fast and Tommy hasn’t been able to at all.
Philza told Tommy and Wilby to take a nap when they got to the tent finally, and Wilby did! Wilby took his nap very fast, he must have been very sleepy. Which is good! Tommy doesn’t think Wilby sleeps enough even though he tells Tommy to take lots of naps because it’ll make him grow big and strong.
He’s napping now, though. Which is good because Philza said so. He said that Wilby needs lots of sleep because he was very stressed. He also said that Tommy needs to nap and so he can grow big and strong, just like Wilby says!
But Tommy can’t! He’s not sleepy, not even a tiny little bit. He’s the most not sleepy that he’s ever been in his whole life. He even told Philza that! But Philza just told him to try and nap even though he very much can’t do that!
So now, after he pinky promised Philza that he would take a nap but crossed his fingers so it doesn’t count, he’s wiggling out of Wilby’s arms and dropping down to the floor of the tent.
A little bit ago, Tommy was very very upset that he and Wilby were here, but now, Tommy thinks that it’s okay. He got to run around and he didn’t have to be in the stupid dumb bag that he’s too big for anymore. And he got to meet Philza who is very nice and said he’d come back and bring food with him after he and Wilby napped. (Tommy might not be napping but he’d get back to the tent before Philza does and he’ll just pretend like he napped. It’s a very good plan.)
The tent that he and Wilby are in is very very big and there’s lots of things that Tommy doesn’t really understand inside of it. There’s a big table with lots of papers, but Tommy isn’t tall enough to even reach the top edge of it, so it’s not important. There’s also some big chairs and smaller tables with books, but Tommy can’t read so they are also not important.
Tommy makes his way through the tent and to the flap of fabric that they walked though earlier to get inside. It’s very heavy and kind of hard to get through but Tommy is the biggest ever so he manages.
The outside is a lot louder and darker than the inside of the tent. It looks like the sun is going down in the sky and lots of adults are walking around and talking to each other. They don’t look down or pay attention to how Tommy is sneaking out of the tent though, so it’s okay.
Tommy promises to Wilby in his head that he’s gonna be back really fast. He’s just bored! And not sleepy and he wants to explore without holding Wilby’s hand or being in the stupid bag, and this is his chance!
So very quietly, he sneaks out of the tent and scurries around all the adult legs in a random direction. He’ll remember the way to get back, he’s very smart like that.
The mil-i-tary camp, that’s what Wilby called it, is very big. There’s lots of people everywhere doing lots of things that Tommy doesn’t understand.
When Tommy looks over to his left, there’s adults talking and looking very serious, and when he looks to his right there’s adults laughing and joking around with each other. He tries very hard to stay out of everyone’s way, but sometimes he runs into someone’s leg and they look at him very confused before he apologizes and runs away in a different direction.
He makes a game out of it. Seeing how quickly he can run through the sea of legs without running into someone or being stopped because he ‘shouldn’t be here’. He only stumbles a few times and he only hears shouting one time, but he got out of there very fast so it doesn’t matter.
Tommy was, in fact, doing so super good at his game that he didn’t even look at where he was going until he ran face first into a pair of legs and fell over, landing right on his bottom.
He tumbles down and lands with an oof, all the air knocked out of his lungs. Tommy looks up, unbelievably offended by the person who got in the way of his game, and up, and up and up until Tommy’s almost laying down with how up he’s looking!
The adult Tommy ran into is big. He’s so super tall that Tommy can’t even see his face properly. It’s not that big of a deal, though, because Tommy is very quickly picked up by his armpits, squeaking a tiny bit as he’s lifted in the air.
Tommy stares, wide eyed, at the adult holding him. He’s got tanned skin with lots and lots of white scars all over. His eyes are red, very very dark red, like the berries one of the merchants back home sells. And there’s two big pointy white teeth poking out from his bottom lip with gold rings clasped around them.
From how high up Tommy is in the air, the man is probably taller than even Wilbur is, which is very very tall. The hands holding him are so big that they’re almost the same size as Tommy’s whole chest; and they’re so warm that Tommy can feel it through his shirt.
But what captures Tommy’s attention so much is the man’s bright pink hair that he has tied into a braid. It looks very soft and silky, like the little girls back home who tug on their mommy’s dresses when they want sweets.
Tommy really likes this adult. He looks like he would give very warm hugs.
The adult, however, seems very very confused.
“Heeh?” The man grunts out, and it sounds silly, so Tommy giggles at him.
“You sound silly!” Tommy tells him, because he does and he should know it.
The adult just blinks at him, still looking very confused.
“I’m Tommy!” Tommy tells him, because Wilby told him that it’s nice to in-tro-duce yourself to people you don’t know.
The man continues to just stare at Tommy.
“Staring is rude, you know.” Tommy tells him. “It’s not nice at all.” Tommy shakes his head, his curls bouncing around his face, and the man finally seems to jolt back to reality.
“Kid–” He starts.
“I’m Tommy.” Tommy tells him, very seriously, because his name isn’t kid, he already said his name.
“Tommy, sorry, what’re you–”
Tommy cuts him off. “What’s your name, mister? I told you my name so you gotta tell me yours.”
The man opens his mouth and closes it a few times, he looks a little like a fish and Tommy giggles at the thought.
“Technoblade.” He says, and his voice is very deep and rumbly when he says it, it’s nice. “Or, just Techno– kid– Tommy– what’re you doin’ here?”
“I’m exploring!” Tommy shouts, very excited to play with Techno. He probably knows lots and lots of games to play here, maybe he knows hide and seek!
“You’re… explorin’?” Techno repeats, like Tommy hadn’t just told him that.
“Mmh hmm!” Tommy hums. “I wasn’t sleepy when mister Philza told me to take a nap with Wilby so I went out exploring!”
“Phil? You know Phil?” Techno asks, and oh he must know mister Philza too! Maybe he’s also exploring after he was told to take a nap, just like Tommy.
“If you’re suppos’ta be taking a nap too, I won’t tell mister Philza if you don’t.” Tommy tells Techno very seriously. He even holds his pinky out, no fingers crossed at all.
Techno looks at Tommy’s outstretched pinky and then back at his face before sighing very deeply and bringing Tommy close to his chest. He’s very warm, and Tommy was right, he does give good hugs. Tommy snuggles into the warmth, pinky promise forgotten, and he feels more than hears Techno sigh again.
“Kid, I’ve got a feelin’ Phil’s gonna explode when he finds out you’re not where you’re meant to be, so let’s get you back, alright?”
Well, Tommy doesn’t really want to go back right now. He’s still not sleepy at all and Wilby is probably still gonna be napping when they get back. But Techno is big, and an adult, and he knows Phil, so he probably knows what’s best.
“Okay.” Tommy mumbles into Techno’s chest. Techno is also very warm, and he’s probably escaping a nap like Tommy is so maybe he’ll nap with Tommy and Wilby when they get back to the tent. That sounds nice.
“D’you know where you were before you ran into me, Tommy?” Techno rumbles beneath Tommy’s ear.
“Mmh, tent.” Tommy replies, helpfully.
“Tent?” Techno parrots, chuckling a little, his chest bouncing Tommy lightly up and down with the force of it. “Got anything a bit more descriptive than that?”
“Big tent.” Tommy revises after a moment of thought. “The biggest. Lots of blankets everywhere.”
“Ahh.” Techno says, like he knows exactly where Tommy is talking about. He should. Tommy is very good at describing things, Wilby says so.
It takes Techno a lot less time to get back to the tent than it did for Tommy to get away from it. It’s probably because he’s very big and doesn’t have to run through people’s legs just to get somewhere. Actually, when Tommy looks up from Techno’s chest, all the other adults around him seem to move away. They keep looking at Tommy, though, and it makes him icky so he hides back away in Techno’s shirt.
The opening fabric of the tent swishes when Techno brushes through it and he has to duck down a little because he’s so tall. They’re back in the big tent with the red and gold walls and the pieces of paper that Tommy can’t read. Techno walks in like he’s been in there a hundred times.
“This the right tent, kid?” Techno asks, and Tommy nods very seriously up at him. “Alright,” He huffs. “And you mentioned someone else was with you too, right? Wilby?”
“Mmh hmm!” Tommy hums, but then quickly presses a finger to his lips. “But you gotta be really quiet because Wilby’s napping right now.”
“Will do, kid.” Techno says quietly, and goes over to the part of the tent where the big bed is. He pulls back the flap and ducks into the space and–
The bed is empty.
***
Wilbur wakes up very abruptly to someone shaking his shoulder and calling his name.
He sits straight up and looks around frantically, ready to run at any possible moment before his eyes land on Philza. The general looks just about as frantic as Wilbur feels and it takes a second for him to fully register what the man is saying.
“Wilbur, where’s Tommy? Do you know where he went?” Philza looks panicked, the wings on his back puffed out twice as big as they were since Wilbur remembers last and his pupils have been reduced to pinpricks.
It’s a lot to take in just seconds after being woken up but Wil’s brain locks very fiercely onto the fact that Tommy isn’t there. He’d been holding Tommy before he passed out, he’s certain of it, and by the looks of Philza, he seems to have thought so as well.
“What do you mean where’s Tommy?” Wilbur practically screams in the general’s face, not a hint of the timidness from earlier. “He’s not in here?”
Philza shakes his head quickly. “He’s not, I checked the entire tent. I just came back with food, it’s been maybe thirty minutes since you went to sleep.” He relays the information to Wilbur like it’s a field report, clear and concise with all the information he has but it very clearly lacks the information they both need.
Wilbur stares Philza dead in the eyes for a second, breathing heavily and mind racing a mile a minute as it tries to come up with any rational thought beyond finding Tommy.
“He’s–” Wilbur chokes. “He could be anywhere in the compound, couldn’t he?” Philza nods, fear in his eyes.
“The compound is the largest the empire has, there’s nearly 10,000 people here, someone must have found him.”
“Then why the fuck are we in here and not getting him back?” Wilbur shouts, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and frantically shoving them into the boots carefully left by the side.
They’re out of the tent in less than a minute, looking for Tommy.
***
Techno is entirely out of his depth.
When he woke up this morning, he was entirely sure that the most taxing thing that was going to happen would be training and directing starry-eyed fresh enlistees on the first day.
Instead, he’s carrying a violently sobbing toddler and desperately trying to figure out where the fuck Philza is.
Tommy quite literally ran into him not even an hour ago and now his entire day has been completely turned around and it’s not even dinnertime. The kid’s head is buried into his shoulder, creating an increasingly wet spot in his shirt. Tommy had panicked for the first five minutes when they found his and Phil’s bed empty of the “Wilby” who Tommy insisted was meant to be sleeping there, and now Techno is on a quest to find them.
The most logical explanation that Techno has scrounged up in his brain with the minuscule amount of help from Tommy is that Phil had brought Tommy and “Wilby” (That is certainly not the man’s real name but all he has is a toddler’s word to go off of.) to his and Techno’s tent for some reason, and Tommy, as toddlers are wont to do, got bored.
The explanation doesn’t really explain where Phil and “Wilby” are right now, but it’s the best Techno’s got so he’s sticking with it.
Techno rubs up and down Tommy’s back in a soothing motion. The kid’s been nonstop crying for close to five minutes now and Techno is getting concerned. It’s really quite remarkable how Tommy managed to get Techno to directly help him and not just hand him off to the first available aide. Under normal circumstances that is exactly what Techno would do, quite frankly it may be more responsible than Techno’s current method of problem solving which is just stopping any face he even remotely recognizes and asking them if they’re seen Phil.
But as it is, Techno now has a toddler he’s gotten unreasonably attached to very quickly and who he would probably kill for.
Joy.
It’s probably the fifth or sixth soldier that Techno stops and talks to that actually gives him reliable information. General Philza and some dirty looking teenager had come through here around ten minutes ago looking for a small child and then headed in the direction of the mess hall. And judging by the fact that Techno is currently in custody of (hopefully) the only small child in the compound, he’s just gotten a half decent lead on where to head next.
Technoblade thanks the soldier and makes his way to the mess hall to hopefully find his partner and whoever the fuck Wilby is.
“We’re almost there, kid, just a bit longer.” Techno murmurs, rubbing Tommy’s back in what he hopes is a soothing manner.
***
Wilbur looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel and Phil is sure he’s not looking much better.
The scared lanky teen from maybe two hours ago is gone, and what’s left behind is what Phil can only assume is sheer paternal instincts. Phil genuinely had to pull the kid away from outright punching a soldier who thought the idea of a toddler in a warzone was some kind of practical joke.
Though, to be fair, were someone to tell Phil just a few hours ago that he’d be following around a half starved, dirt teenager in search of a child in the middle of his camp, he probably would have laughed in your face.
As it is, Phil is doing exactly that and is very decidedly not laughing.
Wilbur is getting more and more frantic by the second, which, after seeing him explode in the tent, Phil didn’t exactly think was possible, and is probably on the verge of passing out. The kid honestly doesn’t look like he’s eaten in days and it makes Phil regret not making the boy eat something before they stormed out of the tent in search of Tommy.
They’re by the mess hall now though, close to where Phil found Wilbur and Tommy in the first place, shaking and terrified out of their wits.
Suddenly, Phil’s comm pings in his pocket, the first he’s heard it since this entire debacle started. He fishes it out and sees Techno’s name blinking up at him.
Which, honestly he’s more surprised with himself that he didn’t think to call his own partner before getting into this mess but whatever.
“Wilbur!” He calls to the kid, who’s head whips over to him before he darts over.
“Yeah?” Wilbur asks, he sounds out of breath.
“My friend is calling, I think he’ll be able to help us.” Phil waits until Wilbur nods before picking up the call.
“Techno?”
“Phil, are you by chance with a dirty teenager by the mess hall?” Techno’s voice cuts through, direct and to the point.
Phil blanches. “I– yeah? Sorry mate, how did you know that?”
“Cool, I have a crying toddler with me, stay where you are.” And the call clicks off.
“Techno?!” Phil shouts before groaning and turning to WIlbur.
“Your friend didn’t sound very helpful.” Wilbur states. Thank you Wilbur.
Phil runs a hand down his face before replying. “Actually he’s been the most helpful out of anyone we’ve talked to. He’s got Tommy with him.”
Wilbur blinks. “Fucking excuse me?”
“Don’t ask me, mate, I’ve got no clue at all.” Phil says, and slides down the outside of the mess hall’s wall. Wilbur stares at him incredulously. “Take a seat, he’ll be here in a minute or so.”
Wilbur stares at where Phil gestures to the ground next to him before sighing and slumping down beside him.
“I think this is the worst day of my life.” Wilbur mutters, and Phil cackles.
It takes probably less than two minutes for Techno and Tommy to arrive. And it is rather comical, to Phil at least, seeing a seven foot tall piglin hybrid carry a small, teary eyed child in his arms.
Wilbur jumps up from his spot beside Phil the second Phil points Techno out to him and all but tears Tommy out of Techno’s hold in his desperation to get his kid back in his arms.
Techno lets Tommy go and allows the teary-eyed reunion as he walks over to where Phil is still sitting and takes Wilbur’s previous spot.
“I was told on the way here that your kid almost punched a soldier.” Techno rumbles, draping an arm around Phil’s shoulders and passing his hand over the puffed up feathers on his wings, smoothing them out.
Phil snorts. “He did, and I was close to following.”
“Bird brain.”
“Fuck off.”
Phil watches as Wilbur holds Tommy close to his chest, pressing his nose into curly blond hair and resting there for a moment.
“I take it his name isn’t actually Wilby.” Techno says, and there’s a smile in his voice.
“Nah, it’s Wilbur.” Phil replies. “And I take it you’ve grown an unhealthy attachment to Tommy?”
“Like you didn’t literally bring them into our nest, you’re way worse than I am.”
Phil doesn’t dignify that with a response as Wilbur starts walking back over to where the two generals are seated, a bright smile on his face for the first time since Phil met him. It looks good on him, his eyes all squinted into crescents and genuine happiness in his features.
Phil gets up and smiles right back at him, wondering how opposed Wilbur and Tommy would be to becoming princes.