Tommy-Centric Stories and Writitings

Born With Wings || Wingbur Soot AU

Warnings:
Blood, Gore, Desc. of Injuries and Body Manipulation, Abuse

Description:
(Part One) Wilbur eagerly awaited the day he would rule over his own faction, his own portion of land, but to pay such a high price for it? He isn't sure whether the loss was ever worth the gain.

(Part Two) Wilbur's being selfish, but can Tommy really blame him?

(Yes, yes he can)

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Part One
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The clash of metal sent chills far up his spine, the feathers on his back ruffling and ears ringing at the sound. The sword in his near-painful grasp vibrated, the blade against his own leaning further down. In an effort to stay afront, Wilbur pressed his palm against the flat of the blade. His teeth ground together, the pressure building in his head at the movement. The frantic beat of his speckled wings only aided in kicking dust from the musty ground.

Wilbur grunts, adrenaline fogging over the dull ache in his knees at the pressure as he forces the other blade back. The achievement was short lived as his own blade skid from his hands. He stared into the hollow-masked eyes of his opponent, fear crawling in his stomach. Wilbur dodged Dream's blade narrowly with only a dull cut to his arm, one of many already collecting on his skin.

He propelled forward and just barely clutched his diamond sword between his fingers before the familiar cold stillness of a blade pressed against his back. Wilbur's body froze upon the contact, fear rearing its ugly head and paralyzing the avian on his feet. Leather fingers grasped his wisps of brown hair and yanked harshly. Wilbur cried out a muffled yell as his head struck against the hilt of a sword. His head swam as a dull throb filled his ears. He screamed for his body to move, to use the blade so weakly held in his hands against Dream, but the only movement was the consistent twitch of feathers.

Many of the speckled items littered the floor, among the crimson stains and kicked dust. Wilbur breathed in a rattled breath and grabbed the hand twisted in his hair. With a heavy cry, he pushed off his feet and flipped the man behind him, who fell with a choked cough. The brunette felt the socket of his wing pop and flinched as the burning pain spread across his skin. Dream's fingers were clamped around the appendage, forcing the delicate bone at an odd angle.

Wilbur felt the burning ache of tears behind his eye and the painful lump in his throat as he choked back a cry of pain. He grit his teeth down and struck his own sword down against Dream's arm, blood welling from the source. The man hissed at the pain and was quick to draw his hand from the broken wing.

Everyone knew Wilbur as the arguably less competent of his family (except for Tommy, of course. He's only a child), weak with a sword but brilliant with his words. But, in a family full of war-lord titans, the sword will always come easy in hand. He was trained by the best of the best, after all.

But, even now, he regrets ever putting it down. Ever dozing off instead of practicing. Because, as the avian falls at the hands of the man, Wilbur can't help but to plead on memories of old for knowledge and aid. As the cool netherite blade cuts further into his flesh, he can only regret what he lacked.

________

The day the wings on his back grew to length was a day Wilbur would keep treasured in his memories til his final breath.

It wasn't any normal day, not for anyone within the house, as Wilbur had woken up with an odd ache in his wings and an itch in his spine. The scent of eggs and coffee was familiar as he pushed himself off the bed. He yawned and rubbed the crust from his tired eyes, wings flexing and feather puffed. A series of small yells bounced off the walls as Wilbur descended the stairs.