Watcher's Apprentice

No One Can Hurt You

They were laughing.

They were laughing?

What happened to them being nice? Nothing was funny about this--!

"Y-You fucking--" Wilbur stuttered, and Grian flinched. "Hey, what did I say about lang- Huh? Wilbur? What's wrong?" The way Grian's face shifted from laughter to concern made Wilbur shake. This was a trick then, that nice exterior meant to draw in prey to a monster hidden underneath, like the lure of an angler fish.

"What the fuck do you mean what's wrong!? He just died--!" Wilbur yelled, his body tense and shaking. It was cold, why was it cold? It was so cold. Too cold. A breeze blew past him and he felt his gaze fixing to the others.

He felt so frail, so small in the vicinity of these armed soldiers, all with wings and bows and swords that he didn't have. He felt so weak, and so afraid. He didn't notice himself crumbling to his knees, shaking as his breath turned uneven from the tension. He couldn't face them, but he heard something. Not like he could hear what they were saying.

He was going to die. They're going to kill him, just like Dream and the others had. The memory of each traumatic death echoed in his mind, all of which when he was vulnerable, two of which he was surrounded.

As his gaze fixated on the ground, he took note of the light on the ground. Where had their shadows gone? A comforting, familiar wing draped itself over his shoulders as the blonde hair pressed from the corners of his eyes. A hand held his, firm, but soft. His mind raced back to his father, who cradled him in his wings a multitude of times. The blonde hair reminded him of his brother.

"Wilbur?" The name didn't sound familiar, but with no one else it could be directed to, he turned to see who called out. And he met face to face with familiarity again. Those dark, comforting eyes of his savior.

"Wilbur, are you with me?" His voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle. Wilbur wanted to fall into it and cry. "Follow my breathing, Wil." He felt his hand move to the man's chest, and he watched carefully, slowly mimicking the other as he felt his vision clearing, and his hearing finally return.

He took a moment, composing himself and looking towards the ground, before back up. All of the others had moved back, and unlike before, they wore no wings, no armor, and no weapons.
"I'm sorry for startling you." Says one of them, Wilbur couldn't be bothered to ask who it was. Right now, he leaned his taller form against the smaller man, letting himself crumble in the warmth of his wings.

"I know you guys want to meet him, but I think we should take it slow. I swear I'll explain next time we have a meeting. But for now, it may be best if you leave." Grian says, and the others made no complaints. Or if they did, Wilbur didn't care. His eyes felt tired, and his cheeks felt wet. Did he cry? He didn't notice.

"Its okay. Just breathe, okay? I'm here. We'll take it slow, Wilbur."

He felt comfort. For the first time in a long time, he felt comfort in the arms of a man he'd just met.

"No one can hurt you. Not on my watch."

Wilbur hadn't yet realized how honest that statement was.