A Prince, Long Forgotten (Discontinued)

The Eleventh Hour

The sun was slowly setting behind the mountains, casting shadows over the cottage that stood, nestled in the valley below. A boy with dark brown hair sat on the stoop, a guitar in hand, watching the ever-darkening sky. As the sun finally sank below the horizon, the boy began to play a gentle tune, his fingers plucking the strings as if afraid they would break. For a boy of 7, Wilbur was a master musician, able to outplay those who claimed to be masters themselves. At least, that was what his father always said. He closed his eyes, pulling melodies and notes from the air around him, losing himself in the music. As the tunes rose into the sky, the door to the cottage opened, and a second boy, around the same age as Wilbur, stepped out onto the porch. The boy sat down next to Wilbur, a mug of hot chocolate in each hand. Wilbur played on for a minute more before the music faded, the melody depleted.

Taking the opportunity, the boy forced one of the mugs into Wilbur's hand. "Phil will be back soon, Wilbur." Wilbur sat his guitar to the side before turning to the pink-haired boy, fumbling slightly with the mug.

"Yeah, I know. But dad said he'd be back before sundown. He's never late."He gazed out over the valley, watching start blinking into existence. The boy with pink hair merely shrugged, sipping a little from his mug before sighing.

"Maybe he decided to go get Netherite as well as quartz. Either way, we shouldn't be worried. Phil always comes back." Technoblade looked up at the sky, hoping to see his mentor flying towards them at that moment. The sky was now an inky black. If Phil were up there, they certainly wouldn't be seeing him until he was nearly on top of them. A gentle breeze brushed past, rustling the leaves of the trees that dotted the valley.

Wilbur let out a defeated sigh, gently picking up his guitar before getting to his feet. "I'm going to start on dinner. You want to help me out, Techno?" Wilbur marched inside without waiting for an answer, striving to ignore the anxiety lurking at the back of his mind. Technoblade was right; dad always came back. But then again, dad wasn't exactly invulnerable. Wilbur maneuvered his way around the kitchen, snatching up ingredients and utensils as he started making dinner for him and Techno.

Techno sat on the porch for a while, feigning watching the night sky for Phil. In reality, Techno was combating his anxiety. As well as the voices. Phil is long gone. Phil would be alive if you went with him. Squeezing his eyes shut, Techno tried to restrain the voices that tormented him. Nothing good ever came from entertaining the voices. They taunted him relentlessly, never allowing him to have a moment of peace. However, it was hard to ignore them when his thoughts seemed to align so perfectly. Wilbur's right, Phil is never late. Maybe I should have gone with him. Techno tightened his grip on his mug, shaking his head fervently, "No! No... Phil knows what he's doing. He'll be alright. He's always alright." Ignoring the now cackling voices, Technoblade got to his feet, making his way to the kitchen to help Wilbur with dinner preparations.

Hours later and the eleventh hour was slowly approaching, the boys had set the table, and three steaming plates of food had been sat out, ready to be consumed. But only two boys sat at the dinner table, their meals long since gone cold. Technoblade and Wilbur sat in nervous silence as they picked at their dinner of steak and potatoes. Wilbur tapped his fingers on the table, watching the clock on the wall, ticking away the minutes since his father's promised return. Technoblade listened for the sound of Phil's wings outside, but all he could hear was the sound of the wind and the distant rumble of thunder. A storm was slowly approaching the valley. If Phil were flying, the storm would most likely delay him further. Sighing softly, Techno forced a bit of potato in his mouth, giving himself something else to do. Neither Wilbur nor Techno were excellent cooks, but they managed a decent meal now and then. However, this was not one of those meals. Choking down undercooked, starchy potatoes was all Techno could do. He didn't want to worsen Wilbur's anxieties, and he certainly didn't want Wilbur to recognize that he, too, was worried. As he lifted another potato towards his mouth, he heard the sound of footsteps outside on the gravel pathway. He recognized those footfalls.

"Phil's back!" Forks clattered onto the table, and the two boys rushed towards the door. Flinging the door open, they gazed out over the yard. Sure enough, Phil was coming up the path.

"Dad!" Wilbur leaped from the porch and bolted down the path, relief washing over him. Wilbur flung his arms around his father's waist, "What took you so long? We were so worried!"

"Correction. Wilbur was worried. I knew you'd be fine." Techno shouted from the porch, despite a noticeable weight having been lifted from his shoulders. Techno made his way down the path towards Phil before halting, seeing a small blonde head peering fearfully around Phil's legs. "Phil. Who the hell is that?"

Wilbur looked over his shoulder at Technoblade before following his gaze towards a point just out of sight. Peeling away from Phil's legs, Wilbur moved back towards Technoblade. There, just behind Phil, was a small boy, no older than four, covered from head to toe in soot and ash. The boy looked petrified as he held onto the hem of Phil's coat.

Phil smiled a little as he gently picked up the boy, "I'm sorry I was so late. I'll explain everything once we get inside and settled down, alright?" Although both Technoblade and Wilbur wanted answers, they relented and lead the way into the small cottage, Phil carrying the small boy inside.

Word Count: 1,008