Through It All ~ Dream Team SMP ✅

->Six<-

[~ I hate to interrupt, but quick note that will make sense later in the chapter: Obviously in the actual series there's a whole thing about Fundy being Wilbur's son. However in this, Wilbur is 23, and if he did have a son, he wouldn't be old enough to engage in the revolution, and I wanted to include Fundy, so I made him his younger brother :) ~]

Honestly, the cell could have been worse. I could have been alone. At least with Wilbur here, I had someone to talk to, so that my mind didn't spiral out of control. The tall brunette was a queer character. He was overly sarcastic to the point where I couldn't determine whether he was being sincere or joking. He also had a weird habit of sitting completely still in utter silence for hours on end, thinking deeply. So most of the time, rather than holding a conversation, I talked at him and he tolerated my presence.

We'd been in here roughly two days. My head was feeling a lot better, but there was always the underlying stab of pain when I moved too quickly. If not for the beanie-wearing revolutionary, it would have been worse, had he not cleaned it.

"What were you doing when that mob attacked you?" I asked him, curious about the story behind the first time I ever saw him.

"Tommy, you're going to have to be a lot more specific, I've been attacked by several mobs." The brunette droned monotonously, readjusting his black beanie.

"A few weeks ago, when I saw you as I was entering L'Manberg for the first time," I answered, unsure as to whether he was being genuine with his previous statement.

"Oh, right... It was my own fault, usually is. I'd actually had a bit to drink, down at The Halo very nice pub near Peekay Avenue. I got a bit antsy... Okay, I tell a lie, I was absolutely drunk. And I um... Started a bit of an argument with a charming man, who called me some lovely names like 'Traitorous Twat.'" Wilbur chuckled slightly. I admired his ability to laugh at even the direst situations.

"Sounds like a nice guy..." I added weakly.

"He was... Could have been a lot worse than one punch if Niki hadn't intervened." He grimaced.

"Niki?"

"Blonde woman, singer. Very short." Oh, of course, the singer. The conversation sort of ended after that, and we sat in silence. I wish I knew what was happening in Wilbur's brain. It was obvious he was intelligent, quick-witted, and smart. And above that, he was funny, confident, and fearless. Basically everything I wasn't. A question occurred to me, something I'd been intending to ask for a while.

"Hey, Will?" I inclined my head in his direction. He looked up, ruffling his curly hair.

"What's up?"

"This might sound really stupid, but-"

"What and the rest of the stuff you say isn't?" He cut me off, chuckling dryly.

"Very funny. But as you know, I'm not from around here... And I was just wondering, what's your issue with the King?" It's something I'd been dying to know. Sure I knew the revolutionaries protested against him and his way of ruling, but I didn't quite understand the problem. Wilbur sighed, shoulders drooping.

"It's a long story, Tommy..." He mumbled.

"Well luckily, I have a clear schedule, thanks to the fact we're in a cell." I pointed out. His sarcastic manner was rubbing off on me. The brunette laughed weakly at my response.

"Alright then, kid. You asked for it." In a way, Wilbur calling me kid reminded me of Skeppy and The Blade calling me boy. But when they said it, it was an insult. Their voices were laced with a mocking tone. But when Will said it, it was softer, more delicate. I'd only known him for just over forty-eight hours, but the curly-haired man had quickly become like my older brother. Unlike the other two that had taken me in, he actually cared. Checking on my injury every once in a while and sometimes even slipped me some of his food, claiming I needed it more. I got the impression this wasn't the first time he'd ever been imprisoned, and he was trying to make the experience better for me.

"Dream is an awful ruler," He began, "I was born into poverty in the capital. Growing up I had it rough. Really rough. My parents would have to beg on the streets for hours just to scavenge enough to buy a slice of bread for us to share. It was fine at first when it was just me, but then when my brother, Fundy, was born, things started getting harder. We couldn't afford to live. And while we're barely surviving, the nobles, they're just living comfortably. Dream doesn't care about any of us. He sits on his throne in his beautiful Palace, without the world even knowing what he looks like. Why should he be showered in riches and take our money through taxes while he does fuck all? The rest of us have nothing! We don't even ask for much. All we want is for only L'Manberg to become a free state, exempt from his rule. But no, that would mean sacrificing his pride, wouldn't it? Egotistical bastard."

Wilbur was on his feet now, face ablaze with passion. I shrank against the wall, somewhat intimated by the raw emotion in his voice. To my dismay, Wilbur's emotional yelling had attracted the attention of a guard. I watched in mild terror as the armour clad man strode towards our cell, face murderous.

"Keep talking, you treasonous scum, and see where your words get you." He hissed lowly, pressing his face to the bars. I prayed Wilbur would back down and retreat quietly. But my prayers weren't answered. Instead, the brunette approached the man, glaring through the bars, answering in a dangerous voice.

"My words will get me freedom. They will get all of us freedom. The person you serve, your beloved King, is lazy and uncaring. He is a terrible ruler and he will never truly care for his subjects-" The revolutionary's words were cut off by the guard unlocking our cell and dragging Wilbur outside. At this point, I stood up myself, yelling protests as he kicked the brunette to the floor, slamming his heel into his jaw. Blood dripped down Wilbur's chin, pooling on the floor.

"Stop it!" I screamed out as Will groaned in pain, the older male enduring more hits. The guard snarled as the brunette raised his head, spitting blood in the armoured man's direction.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" I yelled louder, trying to exit the cell and drag my new friend back inside. At this, another guard came and flung me backward to the floor. I hit the ground hard, letting out an involuntary whimper.

"Wait, wait, don't hurt the kid!" I had to blink a couple of times to truly register what Wilbur was saying. "You can hit me all you want but leave him out of this. He's done nothing wrong."

"Will-" I tried to cut him off as more blood blossomed on his face.

"Stay out of this, Tommy!" I slid into the damp corner of the dungeon, pulling my knees to my chest. I pressed my eyes shut, not wanting to see the scene in front of me. I got a pretty bad vision of what was transpiring by just hearing Wilbur's cries of pain.

Eventually, the horrific sounds stopped, and I heard a large thud, indicating Wilbur was back in the cell.

"Lesson learned, don't talk about treasonous things near the Kingsguard." I heard him chuckle gently. How could he joke at a time like this? I surprised myself by walking quickly across the room and throwing my arms around the older man in a hug. I realised what I'd done and backed away, face flushed with embarrassment.

"Tommy, I'm okay. Don't worry about me." The brunette gave me a rare, genuine smile. I nodded quickly, head bowed.

"I-" Once again our words were cut off by a guard. A different one this time.

"Tommy Innitson?" I swallowed, looking up in fear.

"Yes?" I responded quietly.

"Lord George would like to see you."