c!wilbur soot x reader
𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚 | (𝐧.) 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐦.
"As good as liberty may be, it is dangerous."
A girl who wants freedom, and a boy who offers it to h...
ETHEREAL - adjective, extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world.
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─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Gods were fickle creatures. Y/n was taught this at a young age. Her mother warned her of them when she was younger.
"Don't trust the gods," her mother would say.
"Why?" She would ask, curious beyond reason. Or at least, that's what her mother would call her.
"They are selfish beings," something had twinkled in her mother's eye, something that she did not understand at the time.
"They will take and take, but they will never give. They will trick you, and they will use you. They are deceitful beings. Pray to them, yes, but do not, for a single second, believe that they would like to help you."
Y/n had later learned why her mother always warned her of the gods. Y/n would pray to them, every night. Stay in their good graces, her mother would say.
Y/n had hoped that perhaps they would be merciful, foolishly. She had ignored her mother's warnings, and had paid the price.
She remembered what she used to pray to them for. She'd prayed for love, though not the kind of conventional love that most girls longed for. Y/n prayed for love, so powerful that one would kill themselves for the other. The kind where spending time without the other would be near impossible. The self-destructive love that most found much too strong.
And then, she met Wilbur. Wilbur was not like any other boy that she'd seen. He was honey and vinegar, war and peace. He was layers upon layers of complexion, and Y/n wanted to unravel them all. She wanted to unravel her own layers, too. To show him her vulnerabilities and to tell him that she loved him. To tell him that she wanted him beyond reasoning.
She had been close to doing it too, until the gods had cursed her mother. She'd gotten a fatal disease. The doctors could not save her.
She was bed-ridden for weeks before she died, despite her protesting.
"Let me go outside," she'd say, "I don't want to die in here. Do not let me wither away. I want to spend my last days in peace, among nature."
Neither the doctors, nor Y/n's father, had granted her wishes. They'd wanted to keep her alive as long as possible, selfishly.
Y/n remembered the last words of her mother.
Y/n and Clay had stood on either side of her bed, wanting to spend as much time with her as possible. It was painful, to know you didn't have much time left with the person you loved most. It weighed on you. It felt immature to grieve already, as they were not gone just yet.
"Y/n, Clay," her mother had beckoned, "I love you both, you know this, yes?"
Silence. The two simply nodded.
"Good," her mother smiled thoughtfully. She was so young, much too young to die. But the gods had other plans. "And you love me, too?"
Again, the siblings remained quiet. No words, just a curt nod.
"Can you promise me something?" Both stared at their mother, eyes glossy but no words spoken.
"Promise me that no matter what, you'll stay stay strong, that you'll persist. That you'll make sure your fate is not as grim as mine."
"We promise," the two had said in unison, breaking their quiet.
"Good," Y/n's mother's words grew more raspy. Her eyelids dropped as her smile faded.
"Good," her words were barely audible. Y/n walked over to her mother, clasping her hand in her own. She checked her pulse.
"She's dead," Y/n had said.
Y/n was a statue for a moment, a heartbroken statue. She did not cry, she did not weep, and she did not scream. Perhaps knowing this moment was bound to come so soon had made her numb to it.
Y/n's eyes darted over to Clay. She had never seen him cry. This was the first time that she had seen tears stream down his cheeks. His eyes were wide, but he remained quiet. He would not break the silence, nor would Y/n, though it did not take long for it to be broken, nonetheless.
A doctor had walked in, followed by the siblings' father. His eyes widened upon seeing her lifeless form. The doctor had checked the pulse, and it was confirmed.
She was dead.
Her father's screams of anguish were heard throughout the kingdom that day. And, for the several days after that one, her father still pretended that his queen was alive. He still had servants make her a plate with food on it, still spent time in the bedroom where she had died. And, every night, cries were heard from his bedroom.
This became the downfall of the WasTaken family.
Their father started ruling more carelessly. He executed citizens without a second thought. And, unfortunately for Y/n, started looking for suitors for his daughter. He wanted to get rid of her. She reminded him of his wife, and it pained him. Loved his daughter, he most certainly did, but he couldn't stand looking at her face without his mind wandering back to his queen.
And so, she wouldn't be able to tell Wilbur how she felt, and he couldn't, either.
The WasTaken twins had grown more distant as well. Neither spoke to the other of their emotions. Vulnerability was weakness. They became cold, reserved, emotionally frozen. Clay started going by an alias, Dream. He no longer wanted to be called Clay, the name that his deceased mother had given him. Y/n distance herself from her friends, no longer wanting to speak to them. She found the isolation comforting.
And yet, like in the silence that followed after he death of their mother, Y/n and Dream confided in each other quietly. No words uttered, just a mutual understanding.
And a mutual understanding it would remain.
Please do not forget me, loved one. While I may try to stay away from you, please never forget the moments we spent together. I cherish them with all my heart.
