Apples of the Earth: A Technoblade x Reader (ON HIATUS)

Chapter 36: My Son

~One week before the duel~

Wilbur paced frantically through the corridors, opening doors and becoming increasingly worried when he didn't spot a tuft of orange hair or hear childish giggling. His room was empty, Wilbur's room hadn't been pillaged, Karl was safely sleeping in his birdcage with his bandages untouched, even the tarts in the kitchen hadn't been stolen.

Wilbur couldn't find Fundy.

He asked every cleaner or worker who passed to keep an eye out for the toddler, hoping the boy hadn't somehow gotten injured or left the castle. As he passed a maid, she called to him. Wilbur stopped and turned to her, hoping she knew where his son was. 
"A letter has been taken to your room, and it's been labelled urgent. Please see to it when you can."
The worried shake in his hands calmed somewhat at the idea of a momentary distraction. He decided he could check the letter before checking with his family to see if their searching had been more fruitful. He must've been found by now.

The letter that laid on his bed had a magnolia envelope and red wax sealing it shut with the Braithwaite emblem. As he broke the seal and pulled a piece of parchment out of the envelope, his heart stopped. His breath chocked him as it caught in his throat. The anxious tremble returned with renewed vigour, to the point he almost dropped the letter.

As the parchment slid out of the envelope, several strands of lavender scented orange hairs were carried by the paper. 

He quickly unfolded the letter and began reading, eyes racing over each and every word.

'To Prince Wilbur Soot Minecraft,

I hope this letter has found you well.
Rest assured your belongings are in good condition, currently. I cannot guarantee they will stay that way if you were to let the information in this letter spread, or if you refuse our future invitations.'

Wilbur grit his teeth. He had never liked Lord Braithwaite, but this was on a completely differnet level. This turned placid hatred to harm with homicidal intentions.

'My son's dignity and future betrothal are on the line with the upcoming duel. Loss would not be beneficial for the future Lord of The Braithwaite household. Because of this, I have a proposition for you.'

Proposition. The word left a bad taste in the prince's mouth. As if there was a decision for him to make.

'We have a supplier of particular hard-to-obtain products bringing a package to a bakery we have seen you and your son frequently visit.
All you must do is collect this package and bring it to the Braithwaite Manor.
Once this is done, your reward will be returned to you without a single scratch that wasn't already there when we obtained it.

I hope you and I can look eye to eye for the time being.
Sincerely,
Lord Reginald Braithwaite.'

Wilbur could no longer contain his anger, tearing the letter to shreds and yelling. He fell to his knees at the foot of his bed, Fundy's hair clenched tightly in his grasp. The amount of rage that flooded his veins at the consistent objectification of his child had Wilbur seething. He took a deep breath. Anger means they've gotten to your head, and that means blackmail. He continued to take deep breaths until he had collected his thoughts. He knew what had to be done.

He said nothing in the bakery, simply sitting at a table by the window, where he would usually sit with Fundy. If Niki was worried or confused, she didn't vocalise it.  She didn't even ask about Fundy. Wilbur was grateful for that. When the little golden bell on the door next rang, an odd looking individual entered the café, clearly not from this kingdom.

They were dressed like a mage or wizard, with a long grey beard a few shades darker than his deathly pale skin. Under one arm was a wooden box: the package. The man simply dropped the box in front of the prince with a clink and left, not a single word spoken. Wilbur thought it was a little odd, but didn't care enough to ponder it further. His boy needed him, so he grabbed the package and left the bakery, only a few golden coins (more than was necessary) showing he was there in the first place. Before long, he was at Braithwaite manor. Someone was waiting for him at the front door and beckoned him to follow, so he silently followed them.

He was escorted around the back of the manor to the wine cellar's entrance the old doors well kept and untarnished by weather. The door was opened for him, and he descended down the stairs. He walked for a minute in darkness before reaching a room lit by candlelight. Sat in the middle of the room, puffing on a shiny black pipe, was the Lord. On his lap, sniffling and cradling himself, was a scared little fox boy. The wooden box slipped from Wilbur's hold but was caught by the servant who guided him. The box clinked once again.
Wilbur was about to run and grab his son, hold the boy to his chest and promise him that this would never happen again. But his arms were grabbed before he could step forward.

"I did what you wanted, now give me back my son!", Wilbur demanded, struggling in their hold. Lord Braithwaite took a long puff from his pipe, blowing the tobacco smoke at the toddler carelessly. 
"We aren't done yet, your highness." Reginald pulled a piece of paper out of his breast pocket, holding it out to Wilbur. The father took the paper and unfolded it, revealing a potion ownership permit, missing a royal stamp or signature.

"Sign this, and you may leave with all you have lost."
That was a lie. Wilbur wouldn't be leaving this room with his pride. But he simply nodded. The prince took the pen offered to him and signed it with a shaky hand, shoving it into the nearest man's chest. The hand on Fundy's back pushed him forward, his father being similarly pushed to his knees. Without a second thought, Fundy dashed into his dad's awaiting arms, relishing in the caring touch of his hand brushing through his hair. Wilbur pressed a hundred kisses to his son's head, whispering apologies and reassurances between each one as Fundy gripped his shirt. He felt his heart break as Fundy's shoulders trembled and his son began to sob, and his rage burn with renewed vigour when he saw light bruises on his exposed arms.

Wilbur stood, cradling his crying boy in his arms, and turned to leave. His self control wavered when two men blocked his way. 
"Move.", he all but growled at the two, but they stood firm.
"Remember the deal: the authorities catch no wind of this, or our next exchange of goods won't go as smoothly."
"I know, now let me and my son leave.", Wilbur snapped back. The men finally stepped out of the way, and Wilbur stormed up the wine cellar stairs. He took no detours leaving the Braithwaite estate. Once they were back on their way home, Fundy whispered to his dad. "That man was scary. I don't wanna go back there. It was dark."

"I promise, you'll never be back there again. I'm so sorry, my boy."

"It's ok, dad. I knew you'll always save me."

Would he?

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I love scaring you all with a randomly vague sentence. :)