Chapter Text
There was something about the ocean that made it irresistible for Tommy.
Maybe it was how the playful waves would roll over his bare feet and pull at him amidst the whirling grains of sand. Or maybe, it was the happy, almost clucking sound that could be heard beneath the pier as the water splashed against the wooden beams. Or perhaps it was just because of the feeling he got whenever he walked along the shore. The feeling of complete and utter freedom as the ocean breeze filled his lungs and ruffled through his hair.
Whatever it was, it had turned a once childish dream of sailing out to sea into a youngster’s plausible goal.
Just two more years and then Tommy would be off for good. Would step onto the warm, polished deck of one of the Empire’s vessels, armed and ready to finally make a name for himself as a naval officer.
”Is that so?”
The familiar voice broke through the mumbled daydream and Tommy frowned as the imagined sounds of seagulls chattering from raised sails and splash of waves against a hull ebbed out into nothing. Replaced by the dull rustle of wind sweeping through the lush lilacs, whose strong smell chased away the mere memory of ocean salt.
Irritated, Tommy opened his eyes to glare at the offender.
Eyes the color of bronze met Tommy’s as the youthful face softened into a smile. Tousled brown locks swayed in the breeze as the man moved to settle down beside the teen on the shaded patch of grass.
Tommy shot the man a reproachful look before pointedly turning to stare off into the distance. This spot was supposed to be a secret known only to Tommy and a few unfortunate gardeners. So far their pity for him had allowed him to hide undisturbed throughout the years, and childishly, Tommy had expected the trend to continue until one of his actual minders managed to find him on their own. Unlikely as that was, given how his hiding spot was at the very corner of the mansion’s grounds, abandoned and forgotten by the family and their servants in favor of the larger garden by the entrance.
”You’re gonna get stains,” he grumbled under his breath as he pulled his legs close to his chest.
An unbothered hum was all the response he got, and Tommy had to pointedly tell himself that the idea of Wilbur turning up on the biggest day of his life with a grass-stained ass wasn’t that funny and that he could absolutely not interrupt his silence to point it out.
”Any reason you’re hiding here and letting the bathwater get cold?” Wilbur asked softly.
Hesitantly, Tommy chanced a peek at the older man. There were still a handful of hours left until evening and even more until it’d get dark enough for the festivities to start. But as always, Sir Wilbur Soot saw it fit to be overly prepared early.
Next to Tommy — who had managed to escape the overbearing maids while still dressed in his much preferred, simpler pants and shirt — Wilbur stuck out like a sore thumb surrounded by the greenery. Dressed in the carefully embroidered waistcoat that Tommy had until that point only seen carefully folded in the shirt box it came with, and smoothly fitted pants tucked into the freshly polished boots. Every button gleamed, and Tommy knew that if the staff saw Wilbur as he was now, they’d be horrified. Feeling slightly bitter, Tommy looked away as he rested his cheek against his knee. If Wilbur wanted to strut around in his wedding attire hours before he absolutely had to, then it was his business.
”I have time,” he grumbled. Half-heartedly hoping that Wilbur would be satisfied and wander off to bother someone else.
”For now,” Wilbur responded drily, intonation making it clear what he thought of Tommy’s excuse. ”But you got a knack for running late so I’d rather you err on the side of caution today.”
”Yeah, yeah.” Tommy bit out unenthusiastically. ”How did you even know I was here?” He felt Wilbur shift beside him and saw in the corner of his eyes how the long legs stretched out against the grass, the black leather gleaming in the sun.
”Mr. Smith was kind enough to inform me about this place the second time you disappeared.”
… Which meant that Wilbur had known ever since Freddy first found out, the traitor. Tommy grumbled unhappily to himself, blindsided by the prospect that Wilbur had apparently always known about his secret hideaway. Even worse, the older gardener hadn’t even kept it secret for a day but had still accepted Tommy’s well-crafted bribes!
The feeling of getting his forehead flicked in a wordless reprimand broke through his aggravated cursing. Tommy slapped a palm over the smarting spot, glaring at Wilbur all the while.
Wilbur’s gaze was steady and not in the least perturbed by Tommy’s aggravation.
”You should be a bit more grateful that he only told me. The maids are turning the manor upside down looking for you.”
Tommy just barely managed to refrain from commenting that Wilbur was technically just as bad for not telling them either.
”I’m not joking by the way, you should get going.”
”Why are you even here?” Tommy snapped. ”Aren’t you supposed to be getting all cozy with your bitch of a fiancé?”
”Tommy.” The rebuke was sharp, barely shy of cutting.
Shamefaced, Tommy snapped his mouth shut.
The silence lingered, but there was no ignoring the almost burning gaze practically staring holes into the side of his head.
”… Sorry,” he gritted out. ”I shouldn’t have said that.” He shouldn’t have. He’s not stupid enough to pretend otherwise, even if it was just Wilbur around this time.
Wilbur remained silent, but that wasn’t surprising, his displeasure was rarely expressed through words, instead, he favored his ordnance of disappointed glances and tired silences.
”Is she really so bad?”
The soft-spoken question caught Tommy off guard, and before he could think better of it, he was staring at Wilbur with a wide-eyed look. The brown eyes were carefully regarding him, expression betraying nothing. Tommy opened his mouth but closed it again as the obvious answer slipped away before he could verbalize it. It wasn’t the first time Wilbur had asked, but enough time had passed since then that Tommy thought for sure it’d be the last.
He swallowed.
”Not bad I guess, but she’s definitely not good either.” The half-truth rolled off his tongue far easier than he’d like. He held his breath as Wilbur seemingly pondered his answer, and wondered if Wilbur would pry— if he’d see through the paper-thin lie and demand a real answer.
”Okay,” Wilbur said after a moment as he released Tommy from his scrutiny. The semi-severe mask fell away, the barest hint of crowfeet deepening as he offered a tired smile. Tommy felt something in his chest lurch, and for one painful moment the urge to beg Wilbur to call off the wedding, to leave with Tommy for the ocean instead, was so palpable that he had to physically swallow the surge of yearning.
”I know,” Wilbur began carefully, and as if he was tasting something bitter, his expression twisted, toeing the line of a grimace. ”That you don’t love it here. That things are far from ideal, but you know—”
”That it’s for my safety,” Tommy finished bitterly. ”I know, it’s not really something you’re letting me forget.”
Wilbur’s expression was unreadable, but Tommy liked to think that there was something apologetic flickering in the brown irises. He turned away, resolutely averting his attention from the man.
”I miss the the old house.” He admitted softly as the breeze tugged on the heavy clusters of lilacs swaying overhead. ”You said we’d go back this summer but I heard you talking to the Admiral. You’re leaving again aren’t you?”
The deep exhale on his left told Tommy everything he needed to know. It shouldn’t be a surprise, not with the recent rumors in mind, and yet Tommy still managed to feel disappointed.
”We really need to work on your eavesdropping habit,” Wilbur chided lightheartedly, but the joking tone fell flat as Tommy remained resolutely silent. ”… It won’t be for long. You’ll barely notice I’m gone.”
Tommy pressed his lips together, biting back the urge to snap that he always noticed, that Wilbur’s absence would never be something he wouldn’t notice, and that Wilbur was acting dumber than usual to even think that. But getting into another argument with Wilbur was the last thing he wanted. All it would lead to was weeks of Tommy all alone in the manor, drowning in his own misery as their shared quarters stood empty.
”When?” He asked instead.
”Tonight,” Wilbur admitted hesitantly. ”It’ll be a quick visit, just to the Capital and back.” Meaning Wilbur would leave pretty much immediately after the wedding and stay gone for about a week at best. Bitterly, Tommy felt something vaguely resembling the beginning of a sardonic smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Misery loved company, and unless Wilbur’s plans drastically changed in the next few hours, Tommy’s mood would for once not be the foulest in the household.
”I’m assuming that the wicked witch of the west doesn’t know?” His grin widened at the amused huff, and charitably, he allowed a hesitant arm to curl around him in a one-armed embrace.
”The Admiral assured me that he’d handle that conversation.”
Tommy let out a snort at the thought.
”He’s lucky that she still needs him to give her away.” He stated drily as he allowed himself to relax a tad. ”Bet he can’t wait to finally be rid of her— ouch!” Betrayed, he threw Wilbur a glare as he tried to push against the deceivingly strong arm keeping him pinned, his free hand reaching up to protect the already smarting area from further abuse.
”This mouth of yours,” Wilbur scolded as he exhaled. ”No father would be happy to hand his daughter away, regardless of her quirks.” The words were meant to be teasing, but Tommy could only focus on how it felt like he’d been dunked with a bucket of cold water. The question that had been on the forefront of his mind ever since the topic of marriage had been broached suddenly too loud to ignore.
”Since you’re getting married,” Tommy began with false aloofness. ”Does that mean that I can call you dad?” The question lands between them like a rock against the surface of a windstill lake. Beside him, he felt Wilbur stiffen, and almost immediately the fluttering hope in his chest came to a stuttering halt.
”I mean,” he rushed to clarify as the awkward silence began to settle, ”if you’re gonna marry her and I’m already this maybe distant relative— maybe adopted son, I feel like I should at least get to call you dad.”
”Not so loud,” Wilbur warned reflexively without missing a beat.
”It’s the truth.” Tommy defended.
”It’s dangerous.”
Tommy clamped his mouth shut.
Right. Because Wilbur wasn’t just Tommy’s dad. He was also Wilbur Soot, the hero who brought an end to the Dark Age of Piracy and in turn set off the Golden Era of Peace. A man whose mere name was uttered with reverence by the citizens, but which was also cursed by the lingering remnants of an era soon to be forgotten.
Which meant that in public, Wilbur could only ever be known to Tommy as Mr. Soot. A man with no family of his own who had charitably taken to mentoring his dear friend’s distant relative.
A man who, according to the public, had never spent those countless nights singing Tommy to sleep.
Tommy swallowed the disappointment and moved to get up. The arm that he’d so foolishly let himself get embraced by tightened, and dissatisfied, Tommy allowed himself to be tugged back into place.
”I— If you want to,” Wilbur began haltingly, but there was no joy, no sign that he was happy to even partly be recognized as Tommy’s dad, even if only through a fake adoption.
There was only that ever-present worry and Tommy wondered how he could stand it when the idea of living the rest of his life like this made Tommy want to scream. Something must have shown on his face because Wilbur’s expression turned almost crestfallen. The arm around him squeezed, and it took every drop of willpower Tommy had to stay in place instead of clawing himself free.
”It’s not that I wouldn’t want that,” Wilbur began, soft and hesitant. As if he was approaching an injured animal instead of his secret son. ”I’m just—”
”Worried.” Tommy echoed in a voice so steady that it even surprised him. ”Yeah, I know I just thought…” He didn’t finish the sentence, mainly because he wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking. A part of him wanted to shake Wilbur and scream that he wasn’t a child anymore, that he didn’t need to be protected or hidden like a dirty secret. That he didn’t want to live the rest of his life like this, fearful of shadows and fitted with the wrong name and appearance. A squeeze pulled him out of his brooding thoughts, and reluctantly Tommy allowed their eyes to meet.
If Tommy had to pick one word to describe Wilbur, he’d pick steadfast. Steadfast under the Empire and royal family’s expectations, steadfast in the face of his enemies, and worst of all, steadfast in the face of everything that made Tommy rage. But nothing was without its exceptions, and it was a well-known fact amongst the staff that the only thing that seemed capable of making that famous steadiness falter and crumble, was Tommy himself.
”Give me some time to think it through,” Wilbur requested, visibly torn. ”Let me just make sure it’d be safe first.”
”Okay,” Tommy heard himself reply. ”Uh, take your time.” He finished dumbly.
The smile he got in response, for all it was conflicted and hesitant, was warm. Despite how a part of Tommy wanted to cling to the anger, a larger part was more than content to let it go in favor of basking in the attention that was for once sorely focused on him. The arm wrapped around him let up, and Tommy only offered a token amount of protest when it returned to teasingly ruffle his hair.
The distant sound of shouts and running footsteps shattered the momentary peace, and Tommy groaned as he tried to sink further into the shrub. Wilbur let out an amused laugh before he moved to get up. Tommy eyed him as he stood, still stubbornly sat on the ground as the man lifted his arms in an inelegant stretch.
”I’m too old for this,” Wilbur complained. His eyes closed as he angled his face towards the sun, like a cat basking in the warmth. He turned towards Tommy with a playful wink. ”And you’re too old to need bathtime reminders.”
The words burst Tommy’s bubble of peace. With a sigh, he considered the odds of successfully finding a new spot to hide without getting caught. Judging by the knowing gaze he could practically feel, it wasn’t looking good. Wilbur’s smile widened a tad before something more serious replaced it.
”You’re starting to look a bit washed-out. I left the normal stuff in the bathroom, if you go now you’ll be dry in time for the first guests.”
Tommy’s stomach clenched.
”Mr. Soot, sir!”
Tommy shut his half-opened mouth with a click as he watched Wilbur turn towards the voice. It didn’t sound familiar, but the almost overly harsh exclamations were identifiable enough that Tommy was willing to bet money on the caller being one of the Admiral’s. As if Tommy’s musings had been heard, the man spoke up.
”Officer Harvey at your service, sir. The Admiral has requested your presence in his office.”
”Just a moment,” Wilbur replied with just the barest amount of polite interest as he turned to offer Tommy a hand. Once Tommy was on his feet, he straightened, eyes downcast and silent. There was no squeeze around his shoulder or affectionate fingers ruffling through his knotted hair, but Tommy hadn’t expected anything else. Not when they had company.
”Tommy.”
”What?” Tommy replied testily. For a moment, neither spoke and then Wilbur sighed. Tommy knew without needing to check that the officer was closely observing them, not even the wall of flourishing lilacs could possibly shield him from the sheer disapproval emanating from the intruder.
”I’ll see you later, okay?”
Oh. Right, Wilbur was leaving. Tommy had almost forgotten that. No wonder he was so uncharacteristically hesitant, he probably felt guilty. Dealing with a guilty Wilbur was difficult, mostly because there was nothing Tommy could do to fix it. Meaning he’d have to just weather it out while the gossip speculated on the source of the hero’s misery. More often than not it seemed to be chalked up to Tommy’s ’ungratefulness’, whatever that meant.
”Yeah, sure.” Tommy replied, already eyeing the closest exit. ”I’ll see you later.”
Wilbur’s small smile definitely implied that there was at least one more conversation focused on his ’safety’ scheduled for the near future, but that would have to be a hurdle for another time. With one last meaningful look, Wilbur turned towards the officer with the usual charming smile in place.
Tommy lingered as he watched the retreating backs, halfheartedly listening to the soft inquires and dazed answers that practically reeked of hero worship. Only when the tail-end of the navy-blue waistcoat disappeared around the corner, did Tommy blink himself back to awareness.
”Right,” he muttered to the lilac shrubs that merely rustled in an imagined response. ”I’ll guess I might as well take that fucking bath.”
He got half an hour before the next annoyance came knocking at his door.
Tommy startled at the rap of knuckles against the door, the box in his hands closing with a click. He peered out through the bathroom door and out into the small living room. Wilbur wouldn’t have knocked beyond a courtesy warning, and the household staff would’ve announced themselves in the same breath as they raised their fists. Which effectively narrowed down the list of possible visitors to a handful of names. And as Tommy’s luck would have it; the absolutely worst option was also the most likely one.
Another pointed knock had him put down the box. Lazily, he pulled at the towel that he’d left hanging around his neck, tossing it in the rough direction of the hamper. The knocking grew more insistent. With a groan, Tommy dragged a hand through his damp hair and trudged towards the door.
”What?” He asked irritatedly, mood immediately tanking at his confirmed suspicions.
Tommy could still vaguely remember a time before he and Wilbur had become the Admiral’s semi-permanent guests. He remembered the cabin at the edge of a small fishing village and the ever-present hum of waves against the cliffs. Most importantly, he remembered spending every waking moment with Wilbur right next to him.
Those idyllic days had come to an abrupt end with their arrival at Graceville Manor. With Wilbur disappearing for days at a time only to return in the dead of night, the last thing Tommy had wanted back then was to waste what little time he had on complaining about the Admiral’s daughter and the mean things she’d say when Wilbur wasn’t around. Tommy had barely been six the first time he’d had the displeasure of meeting her, and could vividly remember standing all alone on the steps to Sally’s preferred gazebo. Sharp eyes had eyed him up and down as painted lips thinned in disgust. The conversation that had followed — if one could call it that — had etched the nature of their acquaintance in stone
Now in the present, Tommy had years upon years of pent-up disdain that he’d never bothered to hide Mustering up a glare that would’ve sent some of the more cowardly servants normally dogging Sally’s heels fleeing, wasn’t hard.
The grey eyes set in a heart-shaped face immediately sharpened as the woman registered Tommy’s presence. Her nose scrunched as if she’d smelled something displeasing, and irritatedly she tossed her long red hair with a practiced twitch to her neck. Tommy resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the display.
”Where’s Will?” She asked snottily.
”Not here,” He replied shortly.
Red lips pulled up in a saccharine-sweet smile that was acidic enough to curdle fresh milk.
”You really do need to work on that attitude of yours,” Sally said primly. ”You’d think ten years of lessons could fix that, but I guess there’s no salvaging mutts.”
This time, Tommy really did roll his eyes.
”What do you want?” He droned, making it crystal clear what he thought of her lukewarm attempt at antagonizing him.
”Are you deaf? I’m looking for my husband.” Sally sniffed and the urge to remind her that they weren’t married yet and that there was still ample time for Wilbur to call it off, was almost impossible to fight off. It wouldn’t even matter that it was just wishful thinking on Tommy’s part, the only ’good’ thing about Sally was that she was hot-headed enough to rival him. And if there was one thing Tommy had going on for him it was how effectively he could push her buttons when it came to it.
”Well, he’s not here,” Tommy got out through gritted teeth. ”So why don’t you shoo.”
Something dark flashed in the grey eyes as the perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed in a frown.
”You’ve been avoiding Lucy.”
Lucy, Sally’s lady in waiting and ever loyal right-hand. Yeah, Tommy had done a great job at avoiding her for the past month.
”So? Just tell Wilbur to pass along a message if it’s important.” Tommy dared. As if they both didn’t know that the chances of Wilbur going along with whatever petty scheme Sally had cooked up was as close to zero as it could get. The disgusted twist to her rose-red lips made it all too clear what Sally thought of that.
”One day he’ll recognize how much of a waste you are,” Sally hissed, dropping the previous topic entirely and wiping any semblance of a smile clean off Tommy’s face. ”The second he gets real children to dote on he’ll remember that you’re nothing but a burden to be sent out of sight and mind.”
”Bold of you to assume he’d want more kids.” Embarrassingly enough, the words lacked his usual fire and Tommy had to scramble to school his features into something cold and standoffish. The ’smile’ he got in response showed far too much teeth to be even remotely genuine.
”Oh, he will.” Sally practically preened, eyes gaining a faraway look as if she was imagining a picturesque future featuring mini Wilburs and Sallys running through the halls of her family home. Subtly, Tommy swallowed the almost bile-like sensation crawling up his throat at the thought. The silver eyes sharpened as she visibly pulled herself out of whatever daydream she’d momentarily lost herself to, a smile playing on her lips. ”Only reason he’s hesitating is because he got stuck with an ill-mannered brat like you.”
The words twist something sharp and old in his chest even as Tommy outwardly scoffed.
Sally’s glare was scathing but Tommy remained unfazed as he began to think about the best way to end the conversation without incurring another lecture on ’manners’. Judging by how the enraged expression suddenly turned into something smug, he suspected that he’d have no such luck.
”How about this?” Sally said almost coaxingly with a large enough dose of mockery to kill a man. ”Behave and I won’t send you off first thing in the morning.”
The threat wasn’t new, but the confidence and set timeline was.
”Do they even accept students mid-term?” Tommy wondered aloud with false calm.
”I’m sure something can be arranged.” Sally assured with a sickly sweet smile.
Ha. Idly, Tommy wondered if she really thought she could convince Wilbur to send him away on such short notice. Next term could be a risk depending on how Sally tried to spin her ’wonderful’ idea, but hopefully, an avoidable one if Tommy protested enough.
”How nice,” Tommy snarked as he moved to close the door. ”Not that talking with you isn’t always a pleasure, but I really gotta go.” He paused. A sly, positively shit-eating grin overtook his features as he faked a sympathetic expression.
”Oh, and my condolences for the cancelled honeymoon.” He positively crooned. ”I’m sure you’ll get to it at some point.” And then he slammed the door shut.
The glimpse he’d gotten of startled confusion was almost enough to make up for the entire thing.
He waited until he heard Sally’s furious footsteps storm away. With a sigh, Tommy pushed himself off the door and returned to the washroom. Waiting for him on the edge of the sink was the nondescript tin box, its content carefully selected and screened by Wilbur over the years.
Carefully, Tommy picked it up, unlatched the small metal clip that kept the lid in place, and opened it. Inside laid freshly refilled paste the color of rust. He glanced up at the mirror. A blue-eyed teenager stared back at him, scrawny like his dad and eyebrows set in a perpetual frown. And then the least favorite aspect of his appearance, the mop of curly reddish hair. Washed out and fizzy from the repeated dyeing.
Tommy held his mirror image’s gaze for a moment.
”I hate you,” he told the personification of everything that was wrong with his life before he leaned back with a bitter sigh. ”I hate this.”
With one last glare aimed at the mirror, Tommy reached for the gloves left beside the sink and got to erasing the few remaining traits of Tommy Soot.
If one were to say that Wilbur had been the end of the war against piracy, then it was only fair to say that the Admiral had been the beginning of it.
Miguel Riviere who was far more commonly known simply as the Admiral, was a tall jovial man in his early fifties who bore the scarred and weathered face of a man who’d seen it all and survived. The decade-long peace had softened some of the sharper edges, but beneath it all was a spine of steel that had supported the Empire through thick and thin. A stern, but ultimately dutiful man.
To Tommy, the man’s presence was a widely emotionally conflicting one.
A part of him would always be that six-year-old whose life got turned upside-down at the behest of the Admiral. But more often than not, he couldn’t help but cling to the single outliner in the otherwise hostile household.
The Admiral wasn’t overly kind, but he had never been unfair either, and in a house that was ruled by Sally with an iron fist, that had been all Tommy could truly hope for.
Fair and wealthy. Those were some of the qualities that marked the Admiral’s reputation beyond his achievements, and today — the day of his only daughter’s wedding — the ’wealthy’ part couldn’t have been made more apparent.
Sally might not have gotten her way with a church wedding in the capital, but she sure knew how to make do with the second best.
The foyer had been transformed into an extravagant place for the pre-mingle. Generously decorated with large fabric frills and flower arrangements in pale pinks and whites. All around, servants dashed around carrying plates of refreshments that they elegantly offered passing guests. A content and appropriately impressed murmur filled the venue as the newly arrived wedding guests moved across the floor like a shifting sea.
Tucked away in a corner as he was, Tommy had a full view of the chittering guests gathering in clusters — like the small birds that Wilbur would sometimes feed. So far, no one had paid him any attention beyond a customary glance as he’d first entered. The disinterest suited Tommy just fine and privately, he could admit that he’d much preferred the outright avoidance. It never mattered to these people that Tommy was officially just the Admiral’s ward. Not when anyone who spent any stretch of time with Wilbur Soot, was of interest. In the eyes of high society, every crumb of gossip regarding the Empire’s precious hero was worth Tommy’s weight in gold.
Across the room, the Admiral laughed. His aged face split in a wide grin as he stood surrounded by a hearty crowd. Ever since the engagement he’d been in an awfully chipper mood that had only improved as they approached the dreaded date. Practically a night-and-day contrast to Tommy’s increased moping.
Silently, Tommy eyed the Admiral as he greeted another guest, thumbing a stolen champagne flute’s stem. A theft that had both been impulsive and luckily, gone unnoticed.
Tommy pressed the thin edge of the glass against his chin, just beneath his lower lip, and considered the repercussions of just downing the entire thing in one go. Who knows, maybe if he was lucky he’d get drunk enough on the spot to miss the damn wedding. He kept the glass to his chin, feeling the fizz tickle his nose, before lowering it with a frustrated sigh. Seems like even his assholery had its limits, Sally would be shocked. Engrossed as he was in his own thoughts, Tommy didn’t notice the approaching steps until lean fingers closed around the rim of the glass and lifted it out of his grip.
”I’ll be taking that, thank you.”
Startled, Tommy looked up. Wilbur’s brown eyes regarded him warmly all while he lifted the glass to his lips and took a meaningful sip.
”Still a little too young for this, don’t you think?”
Tommy rolled his eyes but didn’t protest the pointed comment. Recognizing it for the scolding it was.
”I didn’t even drink any,” he muttered as he slumped against the wall, shoulders defensively hunched. Wilbur let out a soft huff and hadn’t Tommy been as familiar with Wilbur as he was, he wouldn’t have picked up on the amused undercurrent.
”We would be having a very different conversation if you did.”
”Joy.” Tommy drawled drily, scowling as a hand ruffled his newly dyed hair. He threw Wilbur a wary glance as he eyed the man.
”Why are you even here?” Tommy asked. ”Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready?”
Wilbur raised an eyebrow before making a vague gesture towards himself as if to ask if he didn’t look ready enough. Tommy scowled.
”That’s not my point, and you know it you dick—”
”Well if it isn’t the man of honor himself!”
Tommy promptly felt the words on his tongue die as the Admiral’s all too jovial voice interrupted. He turned towards the man, only somewhat surprised that people were keeping their distance. Sure they were looking, but other than the Admiral, no one else seemed eager to approach. Instead, their eyes flickered between the Admiral, Wilbur and… Subtly, Tommy tried to back away and out of the limelight, only to be stopped by the hand coming to rest on top of his shoulder.
”Admiral,” Wilbur greeted warmly without missing a beat. The Admiral blinked, eyes following the arm until his gaze connected with Tommy’s. The edges of his eyes crinkled as his expression softened.
”And young Thomas of course, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you!” The Admiral chortled pleasantly.
”It has,” Tommy acknowledged politely.
”I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you ever since I heard the good news from Rupert.” The Admiral continued, oblivious to how Tommy instantly tensed at the mention of the family butler.
”Well, I’m not going anywhere—” Tommy diverted nervously as he subtly tried to shift out of Wilbur’s grip. ”Did you need Wilbur for something? I don’t mind stepping out for a bit.”
”Oh, right!” The Admiral laughed good naturedly. ”Well I guess there’s ample time to discuss it later.” He shifted his attention, and for a moment Tommy allowed himself to hope—
The hand around his shoulder tightened, just shy of painful and Tommy grimaced as he sensed the not-so-subtle downturn in Wilbur’s mood.
”What news?”
The Admiral blinked before quickly glancing at Tommy. Tommy wasn’t sure what his expression looked like, but judging by the sudden understanding clearing up the man’s confusion, it probably wasn’t good.
”Wilbur,” The Admiral began cautiously, and Tommy felt the panic settle in for real.
”There’s an open spot on the Lark.”
The words left his mouth before he could fully think them through, full of miscalculated pride. Almost immediately, the temperature dropped as the tight hold around Tommy’s shoulder went straight into the painful category.
”It’s just a junior position,” Tommy all but stumbled over himself to explain, desperately trying to belatedly soften the blow. ”It’s not even full-time and we’re not leaving the harbor—”
”And you were going to tell me about this when exactly?” Wilbur hissed, but he wasn’t talking to Tommy. Instead, he faced the Admiral, the pleasant energy from before all but gone as he straightened into something tall and threatening. Fear washed over Tommy, fear that the Admiral would reconsider the one-in-a-lifetime offer, fear that Wilbur would put a stop to it, that Tommy would be stuck in this hellhole for another two years with nothing to ease the defeat of Sally getting her way.
”Would you cut it out?” He snapped, making a grab for Wilbur’s wrist so he could wrench himself out of the restrictive hold. Without missing a beat, Wilbur released Tommy’s shoulder and expertly snagged ahold of the approaching arm with a white-knuckled grip.
”We’ll be back in a moment,” Wilbur said in a clipped voice, before turning on his heel and setting off in a sharp march towards the nearest door. Tommy swore as he was yanked away, and embarrassingly, he could feel the familiar burn behind his eyes as he all but felt the inquisitive gazes following them. The hold around his lower arm felt almost bruising, and there was no sign of Wilbur letting up as he frog-marched them out the nearest door and into one of the many vacant hallways.
Once the noises from the foyer were muted enough to almost disappear, Wilbur turned around while maintaining his hold, giving Tommy no choice but to stare up into Wilbur’s thunderous expression.
”What,” Wilbur began through gritted teeth, ”was that?”
Tommy merely scowled in reply as he fruitlessly tried to yank himself free.
”Tommy.” Wilbur’s tone was anything but pleased, but Tommy couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when his hard-won chance to escape early lay smashed at his feet.
”Tommy, I’m talking to you.”
Wilbur was a fucking insistent prick, that’s what he was.
”Fuck you,” Tommy snarled as he gave one last harsh tug at his captured arm. ”What the hell is your problem!?”
”My problem is that neither of you thought it appropriate to clear something as dangerous as this with me!” Wilbur snapped. ”You should’ve known better!”
Tommy scoffed.
”Oh fucking please. The Lark barely leaves the harbor, and even if she did, they’d kick me off first!”
”If anything happens and the Lark is the closest vessel then guess what, they’re not waiting to respond just to kick you off first!”
”Respond to what? A lost merchant vessel? Big deal—”
”Don’t be stupid,” Wilbur snarled.
Tommy pinched his lips shut, continuing to glare at Wilbur through the budding tears in his eyes. He understood fully well what Wilbur meant — how could he not with the man’s history — and had it been maybe ten years ago, he would’ve been inclined to agree. But it wasn’t. It’d been fifteen years since the last recorded battle between the Empire’s Navy and any pirate crew of notability. Years of peace that had lasted for almost as long as Tommy had been alive, and now he was done living in fear of an era past and soon to be forgotten.
”The war has been over for years,” he whispered. ”The only one stuck in the past is you and I’m sick and tired of my life getting ruined because of it!”
For a moment, Wilbur looked taken aback. Jaw slack as if he’d been socked in the face and then it was washed away, replaced by something furious.
”Don’t use that tone with me.” Wilbur warned coldly.
Tommy stuck out his chin, all the bottled-up rage and hurt beginning to boil over.
”I’ll be eighteen in two years,” Tommy reminded in a whisper.
Wilbur’s expression was unreadable, betraying nothing, and for a moment Tommy wanted to hurt him. Wanted to hurt him like how he’d been hurt over and over in the name of safety.
”And the second I’m eighteen,” Tommy continued harshly. ”I’m leaving. I’ll take the first fucking boat I can find and leave this damn place, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
”We’ll see about that.” The words were cold, and Tommy couldn’t keep down the infuriated laugh bubbling up his throat. The tension lingered, neither willing to back down all while the distant murmur from the wedding guests kept the silence from fully settling.
”I’m not allowing this,” Wilbur exhaled after a moment, no longer sounding angry just… tired. Tommy kept his glare aimed at the ground, refusing to let the staggering disappointment swallow him. But Wilbur wasn’t done. ”You’re not joining the Navy and you’re not stepping a foot onto any blasted ship. It’s not safe.”
”But sending me to some boarding school in bumfuck nowhere is perfectly fine and safe?” Tommy spat as he finally raised his gaze. Had he been a second slower, he might’ve missed the flash of genuine surprise flashing across Wilbur’s face.
”What? You’re not being sent to any boarding school?”
”Yet.” Tommy scoffed.
”Ever,” Wilbur corrected harshly, clearly building up to yet another fucking lecture.
”Sir.”
Tommy gave the intruder a scowl, unsurprised by the familiar appearance of the tall household butler. Rupert, to his credit, didn’t as much as twitch at Tommy’s hostility, instead he merely faced Wilbur with the same practiced polite blankness. For a moment Wilbur didn’t answer the clear summon, instead, he continued to stare at Tommy, seemingly torn before he dragged a palm over his face.
”It’s almost time, sir.” The butler reminded patiently when it became clear that Wilbur wasn’t moving.
”I got it, thanks.” Wilbur murmured uncaringly as he pressed his palm over an eye, tiredly rubbing the skin as if he were trying to ward off a headache. Maybe Tommy should’ve felt sympathetic but all he could muster up in terms of feelings was the bitter unfairness of it all.
”Tommy,” Wilbur tried again but Tommy was done.
”Fuck off.”
Wilbur sighed, seemingly giving up. Tommy glared at him before pointedly turning away to wipe the expensive green sleeve over his face. On any other day, Wilbur might’ve scolded him for making a mess right before an important event, but at the moment, Wilbur merely turned to address the butler who had remained silent throughout the exchange.
”Rupert, could you please…?”
”Certainly, sir.” The old butler replied without missing a beat.
”Thank you.” Wilbur exhaled, before turning back to Tommy.
”I’ll go ahead,” Wilbur began almost softly, visibly deflating when Tommy didn’t as much as cast him a glance. ”We’ll talk more later, okay?”
The urge to snidely ask if by later Wilbur meant before or after he left for a week, was there but the urge to continue and ignore him was greater. And so Tommy remained stubbornly in place, turned away from Wilbur who seemed to linger in place just a moment too long, before finally releasing his hold around Tommy. Wordlessly, Tommy tucked his newly released arm to his chest and began to rub the feeling back into it as he listened to Wilbur step away.
”I hate you.” The words were just as unbridled as they were unexpected when they slipped out of Tommy’s mouth. There was a stutter in the retreating footsteps, the only sign that Wilbur had heard him before they resumed like nothing had happened at all.
Leaving Tommy alone with the butler.
Only when the silence fully settled and the footsteps were gone, did Tommy turn back to glare down the corridor. With his expression twisted into a frustrated scowl, Tommy began to stalk off in the vague direction of the grand hall where the ceremony was set to take place. The butler’s accompanying steps fell into place behind Tommy, the same silent presence he’d always seemed to be.
Tommy managed to last about half the corridor before the judgmental atmosphere got too suffocating to stand, and abruptly he froze midway through the corridor.
”If you have something to say then just fucking say it.” He snapped as the butler dutifully slowed to a stop behind him.
”I have nothing to say, sir.”
”Bullshit,” Tommy spat as he spun on the spot to land Rupert a vicious glare. ”It’s not like I don’t fucking know what you people say about me behind my back, you might as well just say it to my face if it bothers you so damn much.”
The butler merely watched him, silent and unreadable. Tommy clenched his teeth, painfully aware of how tight his throat suddenly felt and how difficult it was to keep the tears at bay.
”Wilbur isn’t so fucking easy to deal with either,” he defended himself with a thick voice. ”It’s not just my fault that he’s tired most of the time. It’s not just me.”
”Of course not, sir.” Rupert replied easily, making Tommy scrunch up his face in anger again.
”What, are you too pussy to say what you have all been thinking suddenly? Just say it, it’s not like I can do anything about it.”
”On the contrary,” the butler began slow but steady. ”Interfamily quarrels are perfectly normal. The young miss was much similar with her father when she was a child.”
Being compared to Sally of all people was as insulting as the sentiment was mollifying, both equally unexpected as Tommy struggled with forming an appropriate reply.
In the end, an emotionless scoff was all he could manage. The anger was taken right out of his sails leaving him stranded on an open sea of calmness with an undercurrent of offense. He could almost understand why the butler was such a treasured member of the Admiral’s staff with his calm demeanor and word mastery. Without the anger to keep rationality at bay, embarrassment was quick to take over. In a last-ditch effort to hide it, Tommy began to walk at a quicker pace, as if he could outrun the moment altogether. For a moment, he thought he had managed when the butler’s aged voice once again spoke up.
”If I may offer an old man’s advice,” Rupert began, uncharacteristically soft compared to his normally unyielding exterior. ”Allow Mr. Soot to reconcile before he leaves.”
The wording was subtle enough that any unnoticed listeners would miss the overarching implication, but to Tommy, whose relationship with Wilbur had always been shrouded in secrecy, it couldn’t have been clearer. Your father loves you.
”Maybe,” Tommy replied noncommittally, allowing the lingering doubts and teetering longing to stay unvoiced. There was no real point in telling the butler that Wilbur would probably be out the door as soon as he’d exchanged his vows, and that the likelihood of Wilbur having any extra time to spend on Tommy even after he came back, was slim. Not to mention that Sally would probably be unbearable after getting abandoned on her first week as a newly-wed wife, only further piling responsibilities onto Wilbur’s already overflowing plate.
In short, Tommy wasn’t optimistic.
It was only when Tommy was finally seated at the empty front-row bench in the grand hall, that the realization that this was it, fully sunk in.
The other guests’ hushed chatter as they settled down in their assigned seats surrounded him like impenetrable walls, and despite having so many people around him, Tommy couldn’t imagine feeling more isolated and alone. In just a matter of minutes, the double doors would open for the second and final time as Sally entered on the Admiral’s arm. She’d walk down the aisle, taking her place beside Wilbur in front of the altar as the ceremony that would forever tie the two together commenced. It didn’t matter that the wedding was on the smaller side in terms of the number of attendees, every single person seated had a significant role and influence, and after tonight it’d just be a matter of hours before the entire Empire knew of Wilbur’s new status as a wedded man. Tommy could practically hear the prying questions already. For most of his childhood, they’d been focused on Wilbur’s marital status but after tonight they’d move onto something most seemed to consider inevitable after a wedding: children.
With a stifled sigh, Tommy sunk down into his seat. The bench — along with its companion pieces arranged in rows behind and to the side of Tommy — expertly crafted from walnut and oiled to give the surface a shining finish, had first arrived at the mansion barely a month ago. At the time, Tommy had felt like a month was still far away, but now sitting here in the full grand hall, he could admit that it was nowhere near enough time to come to terms with the dreadful reality.
The damning sound of the double doors opening had him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. He already knew that it was just the groom and officiant, but that didn’t stop the rest of the guests from eagerly turning in their seats to watch as the duo approached the altar. Subtly, Tommy took a deep exhale, realizing that Wilbur’s entrance meant that it wasn’t long now until it’d be Sally’s turn.
Fuck.
He glanced up, nervously watching as the white-clad officiant — a polite older man who Tommy had only briefly spoken to once before — took his place behind the altar. For a moment, his eyes flickered to the back of Wilbur’s navy-blue waistcoat as the man moved to the altar’s right, leaving plenty of room for a certain woman to fill the obvious gap. Tommy forced himself to breathe as he tore his straying attention away from the empty spot, only to accidentally make eye contact with Wilbur’s searching gaze. Immediately, Tommy felt like he’d swallowed an apple whole. If he wanted to he could probably discern whatever unspoken message Wilbur was trying to convey but a part of him was reluctant to play along with the pretense that things were fine. So instead of taking the offered olive branch, Tommy pointedly looked away and fastened his gaze onto some ill-placed flower arrangement.
The standoff didn’t last long. The nausea that had been kept at bay for the better part of the evening spiked as the first dreaded notes from the piano began to play. Against will, Tommy found himself turning towards the entrance like the rest of the guests. Slowly, the doors opened and Sally in her brilliant white glory stepped in, face partly covered by a see-through veil and one hand delicately resting on top of her father’s arm. Tommy watched her for a moment longer, a part of him expecting a victorious smirk to be sent his way, but all Sally seemed to have eyes for was her groom.
With a painful swallow, Tommy turned away to stare down at his lap. The walk down the aisle couldn’t have lasted more than a handful of moments, and yet Tommy felt like each note played on the piano was another stab in his chest.
The wooden bench creaked as another weight settled down beside him. He chanced a glance at the Admiral, unsurprised to find that the almost teary-eyed man had his attention glued to the couple. With another deep inhale, Tommy steeled himself and managed to lift his gaze just high enough that he could see the hem of Sally’s dress. He didn’t think anyone would look at him throughout the ceremony but just in case…
The last thing he needed was to add fuel to his rumored ’ungratefulness’. The feeling of another shoulder lightly bumping against his brought Tommy out of his spiral just long enough for a muted sense of surprise to wash over him.
”Don’t be to down, lad.” The Admiral muttered under his breath. ”I’ll talk to him, we’ll figure something out.”
For a moment Tommy sat frozen in place, before something warm burst to life in his chest. Slowly, the trembling he hadn’t even been fully aware of, eased out into nothing.
”Thanks,” he managed to squeeze out, barely audible to his own ears. Aloud, the officiant began his speech.
”We are gathered here today to witness the formal joining…”
Reluctantly, Tommy raised his gaze to the scene playing out in front of him. The majority of the room had been darkened, with just enough light to illuminate the small stage that had been constructed for the event. Flowers and lit candles were carefully arranged around the fairytale-like setting, and in the middle of it all, stood the couple.
”… essence of the commitment is not to be entered lightly…”
The dark blue and pearly white figures were turned facing the altar, and together they almost looked like the foaming white at the edge of a wave. Sally’s vibrant red hair had been put up in a meticulously complicated bun, contrasting the freedom of Wilbur’s minimally styled curls. Contrasting and yet somehow still complementary.
”…invited us to share in this celebration as they affirm their love before us…”
Tommy wanted to scoff, but in the almost electrified silence, it’d be akin to firing a cannon shot.
”…and enter into the joys and privileges of marriage.”
Instead, he found himself staring at Sally’s hand, lightly resting on top of Wilbur’s. It almost hurt to even think, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, Tommy could admit that they looked disgustingly good together.
”…anyone present who can show just cause why these two persons may not…”
A few sentences more and it would all be over… Gods, Tommy wanted to throw up.
”Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Tommy steeled himself, eyes glued to the back of Wilbur’s head. This was it then.
”I object.”
The sudden rustle as the entire room turned to face the entrance was almost deafening, and despite being in the very front, Tommy could see without problem the source of the interruption. A man, tall and muscular and somehow both comically under and overdressed for the occasion at the same time, stood by the wide-opened entrance.
Long pink hair framed a weirdly familiar face, the man attired in more expensive pieces of jewelry than the bride and groom combined. It was overall, a ridiculously out-of-place appearance that had no business intruding upon the ceremony, but any potential humor Tommy might’ve felt died a swift and brutal death as his eyes locked onto the gun in the man’s hand, raised and already aimed—
Two things followed the deafening crack as the shot fired: the Admiral, already halfway out of his seat, froze mid-motion, and the sickening thud as Sally’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground.