Chapter Text
Before everything, Wilbur was just a teenager. Not a soon-to-be chief of a world that would dissolve into chaos, not a human soon to lose his mind: he was just Wilbur. A boy without a dragon and rather a boy with a guitar.
(A dragon he'd never even have in his future chiefly days, only in the days to come, the days where memories were as fleeting as snowflakes)
Freshly free of his father's loving grasp, he was now nothing more than a traveling musician, a brunet Viking with no armor nor horns nor mighty beast to keep him protected. A Viking with money and a title to his name but one who equally left it behind for the chance to see different stars.
They were his constant, his ever-pointing north for a boy with no compass. He was a swirling galaxy who shone for any attention-giving astronomer with the songs he crafted out of stardust. He also became a star in this time, a well-renowned name not from the Empire once ruled under the last name he held but instead by the way he could make even the angriest Vikings sway, the way he connected constellations of lyrics and gave them meanings all on their own. Wilbur got the name of a siren but the reputation of a comet: a show that came and went, one to wish upon but never to keep.
He was nineteen and the world had never seemed so bright.
Then in a fishing village, he met a girl named Sally and the stars didn't matter for he'd found the sun. No, not the sun, better. She was flame but more, she was the biggest smile against the brightest of hair but more, she was speckled with stardust that she had turned into sunflower seeds, sparkled with spatters of freckles that went down her chin to her shoulders and down to her toes. She was laughter but more as she danced and he sang, as she lifted barrels of fish with the ease of the Viking she was and did so without a single curl falling out of place (though many would say they had no place at all).
And after 5 minutes of her melodic voice and blinding smile, he knew galaxies were overrated.
His father always spoke of the moon being the love of his life but the sun was his. And her name was Sally. Her name was Sally and Wilbur wanted to say it endlessly, he wanted to see if her name tasted as sweet as her lips, was as kind as her gentle fingers holding his jaw, was as infinite as the billions of ideas she held. And he wanted to say it forever. Sally was the only one that stopped his wanderlust because instead of following the stars, she was his new north.
Then somehow he was twenty, a traveler who had managed to grab a home near the sea and meet a woman who slept by his side every night. And then he was twenty-one and their family of two found they had a third. And then he was twenty-two and the love of his life held a child tinier than his smallest guitar in their arms, a child who looked like a fox with a streak of white hair, a child with a smile like Sally's own and a cry she said was as melodic as Wilbur's voice. And now his father's love for the galaxies made sense, for he didn't have the moon as the old man did, the night sky he endlessly loved, but he had the sun in his embrace and a babbling child worth more than all the stars in the Milkyway smiling up at him from the ground. And he had a family, music, love.
And he got to say their names for eternity.
Then somehow he was 28, watching a 6-year-old holding Sally's hands as they swayed to a song she sang. An old Viking lullaby that made the brunet's heart warm, growing warmer still only when the pair caught him looking from the kitchen and sent him a smile. And then somehow warmer still when his six-year-old boy took his hands and pulled him into their circle, a toothy smile one he could never resist.
And the fact that it all would change didn't matter. The fact that days like this were limited, the fact that his twin flame, this love disappeared only a few years later - it didn't matter. For now? The love of his life was singing a lullaby, her ever-warm calloused fingers intertwined with his, and their son was stepping on his toes trying to mimic his every move. He was giggling to himself as he felt his newly cut hair bounce.
And he smiled.
And they smiled back.
And it felt infinite.