~Royal au~
Wilbur has one job. Assassinate the prince.
He's been given this job because he is the best there is...and he's desperate.
There's only one problem. The prince is really fucking hard to kill.
And it only gets harder once Wilbur starts...
Getting to the castle was the easy bit. He just blended in with the amounting crowds.
It was getting into the castle that was the problem.
His earlier slights on the lack of security suddenly stopped ringing true as he saw the number of guards stationed around the exterior.
He could only imagine how many were inside.
Wilbur considered his patched brown coat and decided he'd have to get in by other means than the front gates.
He slipped away from the crowd and crept around the side of the castle, checking over his should quickly for patrolling guards.
When none were coming, he brought out his twin daggers with a flourish.
Just as he started scanning the brick, a sudden light made him duck into the shadows.
He pressed against the cold wall silently, holding his breath as a guard walked past with a lantern.
They didn't look around, or even up from the ground as they walked past with a tired posture.
Wilbur waited until they rounded the corner before he stepped away from the wall and dug his knives into the crumbling stone.
And with that, he started to climb.
★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆
Quackity POV:
He fidgeted with the hem of his dark suit jacket, mentally making note to tell the tailor that coattails were not it.
He checked his pocket watch for the millionth time and looked around the doorframe. Tubbo was supposed to meet him here so they could be escorted to the ball.
That was one of his pet peeves about being royalty. Being constantly followed and watched. He could take care of himself.
And maybe Tubbo couldn't, but he'd like to see any assassin or crazy murderer get through him first.
He finally saw Angelica turn around the corner, Tubbo holding her hand.
He was wearing a little white suit with yellow details, and a beaked mask with feathers sticking out of it haphazardly.
Quackity felt a smile tug at his lips.
"Did you make that yourself Tubs?"
Tubbo nodded happily. "Yeah I did, isn't it so cool!"
"Super cool." He answered.
"Where's your mask?"
"Oh, it's just over- where did I put it...oh, it's on my dresser. Here it is!" He announced to Tubbo, holding it up triumphantly.
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It was simple, but Quackity liked it. He liked the idea of anonymity, even though it was a thought in vain for a prince.
As soon as they left, and Tubbo was toddling away in front of him, his smile dropped back and he looked out the windows on their way down gloomily.
When he was a kid, he'd loved the idea of being the centre of attention, and powerful. But now he had that, he didn't really like it anymore.
But he knew his place, and so as they opened the doors and announced his and his cousin's arrival, he stifled his insecurity, held his chin high, and regained the emotionless hard stare that people looked for in a king.
What they saw was a kid, who was moldable to their ambitions.
Never crossed their mind that he was also just a kid. Or even a man, with his own ambitions.
They passed Veralda, who was a high member of the court, and looked more ancient that the castle itself.
She saw Tubbo's appearance and pursed her lips, but didn't say anything. She wouldn't make a scene now they were in public.
This brought a slight smug tint back to Quackity's face.
His eyes swept around, scanning the ballroom until his eyes caught someone else's.
Wilbur POV:
Wilbur peeked into the ballroom, amongst the masses of swirling dresses and feathers and fans.
He adjusted the mask he had 'borrowed' (let's just say he asked really nicely.) and brought his coat closer over his white poets' shirt and black breeches. His worn, dark brown boots left scuff marks on the polished floor behind him.
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His eyes flew around the room quickly, taking note of everything, until a piercing gaze interrupted his observations.
He met their eyes intensely, just for a few seconds, until suddenly they looked away, talking to someone.
The boy had black hair that fell over his mask and piercing dark eyes.
His clothing was dark and a thin gold chain connected his jacket. A scarlet tie was just visible underneath.
He immediately knew exactly who this man was.
The prince, Quackity.
And his target. The man he was to kill.
The prince glanced back over his shoulder towards where Wilbur was again, but by then Wilbur was gone, slipping away into the colourful crowd.
