Chapter Text
Death and Life circled around one another for eons and eons, being the first two Gods that roamed the planet.
They had their dance, and they circled around each other as Life persevered those on Earth, and Death made them come to their end. Sometimes, they would catch glimpses of each other and make eye-contact for just a fleeting moment before they turned away from each other, retreating to their duties.
They were truly polar opposites, even in their godly forms as well.
Life was a maiden with long, dark brunette hair and a deep ivory dress that seemed to intertwine and mingle with the earthy floor. Only her eyes and wings gave her true title away, for they were both glowing pure essence of white, sparkling in the sunlight. Life’s wings were medium sized, only big enough for her to protect herself and small children of her creations. She was happy, however, although quiet. She never did seem to speak. Never to Death, and never to her fellow Gods that even she created after years and years of loneliness,
Death, on the other hand, was a short man with medium-length blonde hair. He always wore a kind smile and gave off a warm, tempting presence. The warmth and comfort was always something that led Life’s creations towards their demise more and more, little by little. It was almost like a game to Death, seeing how much they would last. He wore light green clothing in comparison to Life, his robes dangling over his hands and feet, sweeping the Earth’s core wherever he went. Like Life, the only truth that shone on him were his wings, as black as coal, and his pitch dark eyes.
Unlike Life, Death’s wings were much larger, bigger. They seemed to be even two times his body size, yet they were light and never an inconvenience to Death. His wings almost spread out to miles and miles, touching every last bit of the Earth, for you could never avoid Death; he would always come and find you, no matter how far you ran or how well you hid. Death would always find those trying to escape his grasp, and then, with his kind smile and welcoming wings, he would lure them away from Life, and into his clutches.
Over the centuries, Death and Life, admittedly, grew lonely and tired of being the only Gods there. To which, to fix this problem, they created their own Gods. Gods like them, people of their exact image, yet they would serve different purposes for the world.
Life created Sea, Night and Day, Wildlife, Humanity, Harvest, Seasons, and Universes.
Death summed up War, Madness, Chaos, Betrayal, Sin, Tragedy, Fear, and Mischief.
War and Madness came together, twins, as mortals would call it, siblings. Death, out of all of the Gods he created, was the most fond of them, and everyone seemed to know it.
Madness would drive mortals to insanity. He would play his songs, sing so beautifully and wonderfully that it would drive humans mad. His choruses and symphonies were like of a siren’s; terrifyingly and deadly melodic. He would lead men and women to murder, to children to go insane and turn on their loved ones, and Madness loved it. Chaos, his right-hand-man, enjoyed it just as much, and often, they would be found circling around one another, for they were different sides of the same coin.
War lacked empathy and emotion. He would watch over battles that, over the course of the years, grew more and more intense as the humans learned, grew, and evolved. He would watch, eyes never giving anything away as the humans fought ruthlessly, slaying one another in battle. He would only roar in satisfaction when great amounts of bloodshed was spilled, when those who have desperately called out and prayed to him, perished to nothing but specks of dust. War was ruthless and almost as sinister as Madness, but in a different light.
Life’s followers would take claim of mortals, blessing them with some of their power and watching over them. Sea would grant sailors good travel, Wildlife would wish those that would travel through him safety, and Harvest would bless those with mound and mounds amounts of food, for those in her presence to never grow hungry. They were all fond of Life’s creations, especially when Wildlife and Humanity joined in the mix. Out of all of the species, Life’s disciples grew incredibly fond of humans, which Humanity was awfully flattered by.
Death’s disciples never understood the trouble that Life’s followers went through to claim humans. They thought it was silly, absurd. Those humans would die in just a few years- they wouldn't even last a millennium, so what was the point? They never found themselves interested in humans, only showing a speck of being intrigued when they themselves would be involved. Otherwise, they were neutral about humans. They didn't like nor despise them- they were just playthings to the Gods. Something to give them short-termed entertainment.
Though, even still, some of them went and claimed a few, just to see how it was like.
War, Death, and Madness had never claimed humans, though they got their names from them, oddly enough. It was the irony of that; they didn't care enough to claim a human, yet they would name themselves after what the humans would call them. It was silly, but no one would dare question them. War and Madness were the closest to Death, and Death...every God knew that the only one who could threaten Death would be Life, yet she rarely spoke a word anyways.
Madness inherited his name from a mortal mermaid by the name of Sally. Madness had shielded himself in a human form as a dashing young man with blonde hair and green eyes. He had met Sally on the shore of the beach, and for the first time, Madness felt...something akin to love seeping through his heart. He felt a sort of affection for this mortal, for this mermaid, who looked up longingly at him from the seaside. She had no clue that he was a God, preying on her, wishing and on the verge of granting her insanity.
Nobody knew why Sally had lasted with her sanity as much as she did when in the presence of Madness for almost every day after the two had met. Not even Chaos, Sin, Death, and War knew- the Gods that were the closest to Madness, the ones that Madness trusted above all else.
(Madness peered over the water’s edge as he felt his human feet stand on the sand. The mermaid had beautiful locks of amber hair, with shining green eyes, and she stared at him with a playful smile on her face. For the first time...Madness felt remorse for what he was going to do, he felt a sense of protectiveness come over him for this mortal.
The mermaids swam up as far as she could while staying in the ocean. “I've never seen you here before, are you new? I usually come out to talk with the humans, but I've never seen your face before!” She hummed, her voice almost as enchanting as Madness’ songs. “I'm Sally. Who are you, if I might ask?”
“Guess,” Madness teased. He didn't know why he was entertaining this mortal, why he felt a sudden urge to care for her. He knew that she would be out like a light, that she would be dead before he knew it.
Why was he getting attached?
“Hm…” Sally thoughtfully placed one of her hands on her chin. “John? Dave? No, that can't be right…” She pouted.
Madness laughed softly. “Times running out, dear,” He said playfully.
“Okay, okay!” Sally huffed, cheeks reddening over her freckles. “Um...what about…” She suddenly snapped her fingers. “I know! Your name is Wilbur, isn't it? Or William? One of the two. You look like a Will!” The mermaid insisted.
Madness clapped his hands, feigning surprise. “Oh my! You've guessed correctly. How do you do it? I'm actually quite shocked, dear.”
Sally waved her hand at him, winking. “Instinct!” Is all that she said. “And stop it with the nicknames— you flatter me too much, Will. Say...what do you think of music?”
And Madness, now dubbed as Wilbur, felt love, for the first and last time of his days.
His love for the mermaid reached great heights, and he did everything he could to shield his beloved of his godhood, for he feared that, if that news reached his fellow Gods, they would surely kill her. His love went onto the point that the first demigod was born, a human named Fundy. Madness loved his family, oh how he loved them. He would cross the skies and seas for them.
Even after eons and eons after his family’s deaths, sometimes, at night, there are rumors that say you can hear Madness grieve, for whatever reason or another. That you could hear his cries reaching out towards the farthest of seas, to the villages of those who lived near water. Madness would remember the sharp cries of his beloved, how she bled in his arms after being attacked by ruthless humans who had decided to prey on mermaids for their skin. Madness would remember the echoing pain that his son endured as he got stabbed in the heart by his wife, a beautiful blonde, young lady that was the daughter of a mermaid hunter.
And every time the God would grieve, it would be Wilbur, not Madness. He would shift into his human form just to cry out to his family, not caring that he was sending those who heard him to his death instantly. They would instantly be driven mad, getting out of whatever situation they were in and would walk towards the nearest body of water, continuing forwards until they would drown to death.
Once, War asked, “Why do you cry, brother? What makes your heart ache so? I thought you only wanted insanity. I didn't know that you cared about anything else.”
“You wouldn't understand,” Madness shook his head as the tears streamed down his face. “For you know nothing about emotions, War. I may be Madness, but that does not mean I don't have a heart. But it appears my heart is what had betrayed me.”
And Madness took a deep breath as he pushed the memories of his family away.
“And that was my biggest mistake.”)
War had only gone by what the humans had called him. They had called him different names over the years, the God of War. Sometimes, they would dub him as the Blood God, the God that never dies, which War found absurd, for what God could die? War had never heard of such a thing. Sometimes, they had called him Ares, other times, Mars. Sometimes, he would be called Kratos, or Tyr, and on occasion, Sekhmet, a Goddess. Nobody could ever seem to agree on a proper name for War, which he didn't pay any kind to. After all, they were just names, what was so important?
After hundreds of years, however, the humans had, at one century, collectively decided a name for him. Technoblade, the Blood God, God of War. And War found it interesting that after all these years, it took the humans that long to decide a name for him, but nonetheless, he still accepted it, surprisingly. Only a couple centuries later, the argument of his name only started over again, but War found himself tied to the name of Techno. And so he kept it. War never found a reason to explain himself. It had just happened.
Death’s story of his name was a fairly more simple one. He had taken the name out of one of the human’s fictional myths of heroes. Philza, they had called this hero, the Angel of Death. Death himself was perplexed by the title. Angel of Death? He almost cracked a smile at how silly humans could be, of how their little ideas could burst into something that would spread on for years and years.
Admittedly, Death had always had a hidden soft side for humans, depending on who it was. At times, he would show no mercy and would reap souls as fast as he could. Other times, he would feel sympathy for the souls and hesitate, only for him to inevitabley reap them. And so, he kept the name, cherished it, even, as it reminded him of those humans that he had felt sympathy for. The humans that were almost saved from Death, and yet they still fell to their doom.
But nobody could escape Death, and he himself knew that more than anyone else.
Philza sighed to himself softly as he followed yet another calling of a human that was about to meet its end. He had already bid his goodbyes to Techno and Wilbur, telling them that he had to go wait for someone. Philza flew from his home up in the sky to down below, invisible to the life that happened beneath him. Slowly, his wings flapped to a stop as he came to his destination. He studied the land carefully before eyeing the human.
He was at a canyon, at the edge of one, in fact. The canyon was deep, reaching down to what seemed to be like, to the human, he assumed, the end of the earth. The human in question was a child, which made Philza reel back a little bit. He could have been no more than nine. He had freckles on his face, from what Philza could tell, his hair was a dirty gray, and his eyes were a sharp green. As Philza got closer, he could hear the mortal muttering to himself.
The God found himself getting a little frustrated for the mortal. I mean, it hadn't even reached its teenage years and already it wanted to throw away its life? Philza found it idiotic, something stupid that no one but a human could manage to do. But he sat back and watched, watching the human like a hawk as it shuffled slightly at the edge.
“You can do this, Tommy,” The mortal whispered, balling his hands into his fists as he looked downwards at the canyon. “You can do this.”
Philza felt the soul of the child beginning to ready its departure to the afterlife, and Philza himself got prepared, drifting towards the human. He gently reached his head down so that his mouth was a few inches away from the human’s ear.
“Jump,” Is what Death whispered, doing his job like any other day. It was nothing out of the ordinary for him. “Jump and end it all. There’s no point.”
The human’s head snapped up towards the other side of the canyon and stopped shuffling. Philza frowned, and his frown only increased as the human turned around and started jogging back. What was he doing? Was he ignoring his cries? Nobody has ever ignored Death before and succeeded. Yet, he found comfort in his abilities returning as the human spun back around and ran towards the edge, determination in his bright green eyes.
Philza felt himself sigh as he swayed closer, the human getting faster and faster as he reached the edge. Before Philza could blink, the human had jumped. Philza prepared to reap the soul, closing his eyes and summing up his strength.
Yet he felt no pull to a dead soul.
All he heard was a yell of triumph and a loud, crazy laugh as crumbs of rocks fell down the canyon and made a small echoing sound.
Philza snapped his eyes open, intrigued. The human was clutching to the other side of the canyon with his hand, gripping onto it as his body shook his disbelieved laughter. He watched as the human pulled himself up away from Death, bathing in Life. He flapped his wings, suspending himself into the air and landing besides the mortal, watching him intently.
“That worked! That actually fucking worked!” The mortal was saying, running his hands through his hair before he giggled and turned back to the canyon. “Fuck you, bitch! Tommy never dies! Hahaha!” And he cackled with glee, making a gesture with his fingers at the canyon before spinning on his heel and running off.
Philza found himself stunned.
That wasn't possible, was it? Had a human just ignored his calling to death? This had never happened before. What was going on?
Off to the side, he could hear a faint, feminine giggle. Looking to his left, he could see Life, peering behind the trees, her wings spread out.
“Humans are reckless creatures,” Is what she said, speaking for the first time in all of the eons that Philza had known her. Her voice was like the air, soft and like a whisper. “They surprise me, too. But do not take their recklessness for acts of foolishness. They're creative and smart. And apparently…” Life’s gaze wandered to where the mortal had scampered off. “They found a way to even cheat and trick you, Death.”
Philza shook his head. “That's impossible. Life, was this of your doing? Did you give this human a blessing?”
Life chuckled once more, covering her mouth with her hand. “This child is not one of mine, but he does appear interesting, does he not? Somehow, he found a way to trick and cheat Gods, even if he does not know it quite yet. If I were you, Death, I would inquire more about him and study him more. And although I cannot force you to do anything…” She paused. “It's merely a suggestion from an old friend, if you will.”
“But it's a human,” Philza insisted. “And although that, yes, I...I sometimes watch over them, too, they shouldn't be able to do this. I felt the calling, which is why I'm here. I felt the child’s soul preparing itself to leave its body and making way for the afterlife. I don't understand. What could this human possibly have done? If his intention wasn't to die, I wouldn't be here at this very moment.”
Life tilted her head. “I was confused as well, if that helps,” She said. “I was pulled here because of a great force of living. I was curious. When I saw that this boy was about to jump to his demise, I was shocked. For why was I summoned here only to witness death? That wasn't what I was called for; I was here to witness living. And it appears that we were both correct and not quite, at the same time. Who knew that a human such as he could trick two Gods at the same time?” Instead of feeling anger, Life had laughed. “Quite bizarre, is it not?”
“Curious…” Muttered Philza as he gazed at the path that the human had taken for his escape. “And what do you suppose you’ll do, Life?”
“Nothing,” Life replied instantly, surprisingly Philza. “Although I am curious and intrigued myself, I know that this human will go places, and that's all I need to know. But again, Death, I would look after him, if I were you. You never know,” At this part, she had looked at him and made eye-contact. Her white, blazing eyes were soft. “You might get to know a thing or two about some things you've never heard of before.”
Before Death could even respond, Life had vanished, only leaving a simple red carnation in her place, but it wasn't like Death was going to talk, anyways.
For at the same time that Life had left, Philza was already airborne, looking for the human that had weaved his way around his strings of fate.
Tommy, Philza learns, is the boy's name as he continues to follow him throughout the spring.
Flowers are in bloom, and the boy, Tommy, is skipping around with no care in the world. He has nothing— just scraps of clothes to keep himself warm and a short, but sharp, dagger that he uses for hunting. He takes notice of how the human talks to himself out loud, and Philza finds that he's growing amused by Tommy’s rants and ramblings. They're not insane or mad, but they were loud and energetic, like he was talking to an invisible friend.
Slowly, Philza feels him subconsciously taking care of Tommy, although the young boy doesn't know it.
It starts on a sunny day where Tommy is trailing through a forest, Philza just right behind him. He has his dagger out, eyes scouring the terrain for any source of meat. Tommy had gone hungry for two days at this point, and he was starving for some kind of food.
“Come on, come on…” Philza heard Tommy mutter under his breath as he continued walking. “Is there seriously no fuckin’ animals around here? You have to be kidding me! No berries or anything? Some kind of bullshit forest this is. What kind of forest is only green? That's- that's disgusting!”
Suddenly, an idea pops into Philza’s head as he weaves his way in front of Tommy, kneeling down and holding out his hands in front of a nearby bush that’s just out of Tommy’s field of vision. He wasn't as much as a creator of Life, but he was still one of the first Gods to ever be born. He knew how to do some things, and creation? Well, he could do that as easily as Life, although he never came out as fruitful as hers did. Yet, he felt an obligation to do something for this human, to make sure that he had everything he needed to survive.
As Philza murmurs something to the bushes and his fingers slide over the leaves, he sees small berries start to take form and only become bigger and bigger as he continues. He only stops when Tommy is reaching towards the bush to the point where he can see it, but he doesn't take notice of it. His eyes are just dockside on what’s in front of him, never to the side. So Philza guides him.
“Over here; there’s food over here,” Philza calls out in a whisper, cupping his hands around his mouth gently.
Tommy’s head turns to the bushes and he stops in his tracks, a certain light illuminating his eyes that makes Philza’s heartache in a good way. Tommy quickly bounds towards the berries, and Philza steps aside, although his presence cannot be detected. He watches and forms a soft smile on his face as Tommy picks off the fat berries from the bush and plop them into his mouth, cringing slightly when they come off as sour, but he keeps them anyway.
Philza feels a warmth in his heart as he watches Tommy make camp that night, boasting about how he found those berries all by himself to nobody, grinning widely.
And in the summer and fall, Philza finds him helping the mortal out bit by bit, more and more. He laughs at Tommy’s jokes that he says to himself, unaware that Philza’s listening in. He makes Tommy’s fire grow a bit and gives it strength when the child is in need of comforting. In the summer he gives Tommy nice, cool winds that he enjoys as he runs around in fields he found. He helps Tommy to more bushes and sometimes small animals that he can hunt. And in the fall, he directs Tommy to shelter in caves that Philza carved out himself for the young boy, making sure that the wind is always warm whenever he would shiver in the cold of it.
(One day, when Tommy is asleep in the middle of the night, Philza decides to go for a walk around the forest. As he takes a turn, he’s met with the stern looks of Techno and Wilbur. Techno looks bored, but there’s something of emotion on his face, and Wilbur is standing there with his arms crossed. He had felt their presence already, and he was not surprised by the fact that he had encountered them here at all.
“Boys,” Philza greets calmly. “What can I do for you? Why have you two come out all the way over here for?”
Techno is the first one who speaks. “We were looking for you, Philza.”
“We wanted to know why you were coming here,” Wilbur continues for him. “I mean, there’s no need, is there? Techno and I have been around this part of the world for a while, looking for something, and we noticed that there isn't a lot of death around here. So...Death, what are you doing? What are you planning?”
Philza lets out an easygoing laugh, which confuses the twins. “You don't need to call me “Death” anymore, Wil,” He smiles. “I have another name now, mate, in case you forgot. But, to answer your question…” He pauses. “I'm waiting for someone.”
“For this long?” Techno prompts. “Out here? Philza, you've been gone for months. Nobody else has ever seen or heard of you. The only reason that we’re here now is because of the fact that Tubbo sensed your presence over here, that Life told him that you would be seen here. Is that really it?” He narrows his eyes.
Philza stands there, unaffected, and nods. “Mhm. Humans are stubborn, you know. I'm awfully surprised that he lasted this long. But it should be of none of you two's concern, alright? I'll be fine; just leave me here. I have some other business to attend to.”
“But—” Wilbur tries to speak, his eyes darting from Philza to Techno quickly,
“Wilbur,” Philza’s tone holds a note of authority and finality. There was no inquiring him any further, and the two Gods that were standing before him knew that very well. When Philza got like this, there was no arguing with him. As of right now, they would get nowhere.
Wilbur sighed. “...Alright, Philza.”)
And when Winter comes, Philza helps him again. He leads the boy to a village, where he finds sheep wool to keep him warm, a small rucksack, coal, and some dried meats. He doesn't stay in the village long, though, and he sets off again, retiring in a small cave when the cold grows too much for his travels. But the mortal is fine, to Philza’s relief.
He isn't weak, even for his age. He knows how to take care of himself well enough, and he knows how to start a fire and how to survive. He finds more dried meats and roots while in the cave which he uses for food, and everything's fine. The human is thriving, and surprisingly, he doesn't get sick, no matter how bad the winds of the outside get.
So Phil just watches and listens, only intervening when he deems that he has to.
It's the near end of December when things go wrong.
Tommy’s just waking up when the two of them hear voices approaching the cave. A winter storm is raging outside, and Tommy’s finding comfort in the fire he’s built for himself out of his coals and the wool that he has around him protectively. He’s shivering. Philza frowns, and as he was about to attempt to direct the harsh, cold winds away from the human, the voices grow louder and draw nearer. The two of them look up, and they find a group of four men approaching the cave for safety.
“Who the hell are you?” Is the first thing that comes out of Tommy’s mouth as he stills in his position on the floor of the cave. “Literally, what the fuck?”
“A kid?” One of the humans muttered amongst themselves. Upon closer inspection, Philza realized they were hunters. Tommy also must have come to that realization as well, for he reached into his rucksack for his dagger, just in case.
One of the hunters, the leader, Philza assumed, stepped towards Tommy, to which the boy tied to scramble backwards defensively. “Listen, kid. We could do this the hard way or the easy way. The easy way being, you get out of here right now and let us inside.”
Tommy blinked. “The fuck?” He instantly went on the offensive, verbally. “The hell does that mean? You literally just burst into my cave, and now you want me to get out of it? Fuck you! You’re the ones who should get out! So, shoo. Scram!” He waved his hand at them dismissively.
The hunter’s eye twitched. “This cave isn't big enough to support five people, and I think we can both agree that we,” He gestured to himself and his fellow hunters. “Have much more to gain here than you. You're nothing but skin and bones, kid, it's time to give up. And hey, maybe you can find another cave somewhere, who knows? But there's no way in hell I'm taking myself and my men out there again.”
“Well, there’s no way in hell that I'm going to just get out of here and do what you say!” Countered Tommy. “You're the ones who should be out looking for a different cave! This is literally mine! Go away!” He pointed his dagger at the group, narrowing his eyes.
And before Philza could say anything— do anything, the hunters had their crossbows pointed at Tommy. The God felt his blood run cold.
No.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no—
Philza never intended to show Tommy his true form. He never planned to appear in front of Tommy at all, in fact. He preferred to be in the shadows, watching idly by as he guided his human towards his necessities. But at that moment? He couldn't find himself to care. Because these hunters were about to kill the human. His human. They were about to send his human to his hands, a corpse, nothing but a lifeless being. It enraged Philza. He didn't care if the hunters were shocked, gasping as he made himself visible, his wide wings spreading protectively over the child. He doesn't care if they started to aim the crossbows at him.
For the first time, Philza refuted himself, refuted destiny, and prevented death.
The hunters only got a moment to cry out before Philza was on the move, unsheathing a sword from his coat pocket and slicing at the men in fury. He felt the fours soul huddle in sudden preparation as he killed the men, threw his sword through their hearts, stabbed them in the neck until they could no longer breathe. When he was finished, Philza merely scoffed at the dead bodies, cursing the men under his breath even after he had their souls move on into the afterlife and kicked their bodies out of the cave and into the freezing cold.
Though, Philza did have the decency to change out of his more regal clothing before forming. Instead of his fully black eyes, he held eyes of light blue that stared stormily at the the bodies. Instead of his long, green robes, there was a raven jacket in replacement of it. It would be so that he would look less odd, and more like the mortals so that they wouldn't get any ideas. Of course, they would be shocked, seeing a man appear out of thin air, but Philza never gave them time to think before he ripped them to shreds of nothing but a memory.
He could feel Tommy trembling behind him in fear, eyes widened in shock of what had just happened. Right. Tommy was...Tommy was still a kid. Shit, what has he done? Now Philza didn't know much about humans, but he did know that young humans, especially those Tommy’s age, shouldn't have to see such violence. Carefully, Philza made his wings lower in a docile position as he turned around slowly to face Tommy. He was huddled into the corner of the cave, shakily pointing his dagger at the God in defense. He looks scared and weary of him.
Philza tries to muster a soft smile, in hopes to not startle his human. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Is what he asks.
Tommy doesn't respond, but Philza pretends he does.
“It's going to be okay, alright?” He says soothingly as he sits down, sheathing his own sword. “You're safe now. No one is going to hurt you.” The God assures.
Tommy says nothing again. Philza ignores how his heart wrenches at the thought of Tommy, loud, energetic Tommy, falling silent, but he makes it work. Tommy’s fire is slowly dying out, flickering now and again, and so Philza tends to it. Perhaps that'll show the mortal he means no harm. So Philza heats up the fire, adds a few coals that he manifested in his pockets into the fire so that it burns brightly. Tommy states at the fire, then at Philza but he had yet to set out to say anything.
Philza hums to himself, wings tucked to his back for a while before he starts to talk. He remembers how, when Tommy was alone and Philza was wandering around, he would talk to himself out loud. Stories of the past, things he remembered, or just general things that he liked or disliked. Philza supposed that it was his turn to return the favor. After all, maybe it would make Tommy more comfortable, to hear Philza speak without him attacking or asking anything of him. So Philza starts to talk. He begins crafting this fake home life that he had, making it sound believable, before he goes onto talk about his sons, leaving out the God part, of course.
As he continues to talk, he sees his mortal start to grow tired. He starts to shuffle towards Philza. At first, warily before he slowly becomes more and more comfortable with sitting close to the man. Eventually, it got to the point where Philza was only a foot away from the boy. Yet, he continued his stories until he could see Tommy nodding off, eyes closing for a while before opening again. Philza finds himself scooting towards Tommy, wrapping the younger boy in his arms protectively, wings hugging both of them.
The boy doesn't struggle. Instead, he melts into the touch and starts to shuffle into a more comfortable position. The scene warms Philza’s heart.
“Go to sleep, Tommy,” He soothes the young boy, stroking his hair as Tommy laid his head in the God’s lap. “Everything will be alright, I promise.”
Philza claims the boy that night, as he stills, breathing deeply in his sleep.
(And when Tommy wakes up, rubbing his eyes, Philza’s gone. He thinks that what had happened that night must have been a dream, a crazy figment of his imagination. Surely, that couldn't have happened, right?
His mind changes when he sees the dark raven coat laying on the floor, folded, as if it were a gift. Tommy smiles, mouthing a “thank you” at the mouth of the cave before shrugging it on. When he feels a sudden warmth come over his body, he knows that the blonde man had heard him).
Tommy sees the man, sometimes, and he starts to catch onto who the man really is. A God, he assumed, or some sort of immortal human being. Wherever Tommy went, he would never pass a region without catching sight of the man. Sometimes, he'd come and approach Tommy, and Tommy would welcome him into a conversation. They would laugh together, share joking jabs at one another before falling into fits of laughter once more. Other times, he would watch as the man melted into the shadows before turning into thin air. But Tommy, whether the man showed himself or not, always felt comfortable in his presence. Safe. Protected.
Later, he learns that the man’s name is Phil. A weird name for a God, Tommy thinks, and when he comments on that, Phil laughs.
(“If you know that I'm a God,” Phil starts after his chuckles subside. “Why aren't you scared of me?”
Tommy tugs on the sleeve of the jacket that Phil had gifted him on their first real meeting. “Because of the coat you gave me,” Tommy says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “And besides, I know you’d never hurt me,” Tommy continued as they walked past a stream. “Otherwise, you would do it already, right? I trust you, Phil.”
When Tommy had glanced over at the man then, Phil was smiling to himself before nodding as they walked on. “…Thank you, Tommy. I trust you, too.”
“Enough to make me a God?” Teases Tommy.
Phil laughs again, reaching over to ruffle the child’s hair. “That's not how it works, and you know it, you little shit!”
“But Phil, I am just a poor, wee little mortal human, who has no indoor knowledge about what happens with you big, strong, powerful Gods—”
“Oh my goodness—”
They exchanged mountains of joy with each other that day).
Wilbur was ticked off.
Alright, maybe more than ticked off.
“He’s never around anymore,” Wilbur comments dryly as he and Techno sit down across from one another in one of the many palaces the Gods have. “What could be more important than his regular duties or us? I've never seen him in the same place so often…” He trailed off.
Techno nodded. “Neither have I,” He said before wincing and clutching his head. “Ugh, another one?” He hissed to himself.
“Another war is coming with the humans?” Wilbur guessed, frowning. “That's, like, the fifth time this year.”
Whereas Philza and Wilbur experienced their callings through feelings of being tugged somewhere, Techno wasn't as lucky in that regard. There would be voices, Techno had explained to them, that would cry out for violence, blood, and war. The closer he got to the battlefield, the louder the voices got, and once the war ended, the voices vanished alongside it. So even if Techno wanted to ignore the voices for whatever reason, he couldn't, for they would get too loud and overwhelming, sending Techno into a fit of anger and restlessness.
Techno, over the course of the centuries, dubbed the voices as Chat, since all they would do was chittering and chattering, overlapping one another. It seemed that, now out of all times, they were demanding for war, vengeance, and blood.
“Talk about tenth,” Techno grumbled, standing up. “I don't know what the humans have been doin’, but as of now, there’s been more wars recently.” He sighed. “I'll have to miss your little confrontation with Death, Wilbur.”
“You said that you would be good for today!” Wilbur got up as well, looking at his brother with dismay. “We planned that we would talk to him today, and now you're having the voices again?”
Techno rubbed his head, glaring at his twin. “It's not like I can control it,” He gritted out. “As a God, I have a duty, and my duty is to look after wars and battles. My job is to make sure they should go as they should be. I'm as confused as you are, Wilbur, believe me, I am, but I have a job. And that job isn't beratin’ Philza on answers as to why he’s been gone. Maybe you should be doing the same, attending to your duties— going after the old man shouldn't be our first priority.”
“Don't you dare talk about my job and priorities,” Wilbur growled, sending Techno a sudden nasty look. “I know what I prioritize, and right now, I'm prioritizing Philza above all else because right now it looks like he needs us. Aren't you concerned?”
Techno bristled. “Of course I'm concerned! Why do you think I've been comin’ home as fast as I could to plan this with you? It's because I care!”
“Do you, Techno?” Wilbur furrowed his brows. “Because it sure doesn't feel like it. If you really did care about Philza, you would be coming to his location with me at this very moment, not looking after some petty war again. You've never cared about anything!”
“And you do, Madness?”
Something flared in Wilbur’s eyes. “I—” He began before he calmed himself down slightly. “You know what? I have better things to do than argue with you. Like finding Philza. You go deal with your war or whatever, I don't care anymore.” The God spun on his heel. He could feel the glare that his twin was giving him. “I'll see you later, Techno.”
“…Goodbye, Wilbur.”
Originally, Wilbur hadn't planned for himself to go alone. The plan was for him and Techno to confront Philza, that they would ask him questions together and finally figure out what Death had attached himself to that left him in the same place for far too long.
(The pit of his stomach feels a sense of dread as he gains an idea of what Philza could have done.
No.
Not Death. Surely not. He can't- he wouldn't. He doesn't care about them, does he? He wouldn't. That— no, no, he wouldn't.
He didn't want Death to feel the pain and agony he did. The utter wave of grief he felt when his son and beloved had passed. He never wanted Death to feel that.
Please don't let it be what he thinks it is).
So Madness, with his head set on his goal, had his plan set into motion. He moved onto the earth. Madness searched for Death, unknowing of the claimed human that was in Death’s possession.
And unaware that Death already knew of his soon-to-be arrival.
Out of all of the things Wilbur was expecting…
“Haha! Suck it, bitch boy! Oh my goodness, you look like someone just vomited cherry blossoms all over y— no! Stay back, you beast! I’ll kick you in the balls if I hafta, you wrong’un!”
...this was not one of them.
Wilbur was invisible, hidden as he watched the human and Philza...play? It was spring already, and the two of them were currently under Cherry Blossom trees. Philza had his wings spread out, flapping them slightly to prompt the flowers to fall over him. At the moment, there were cherry blossoms all around Philza- in his hair, on his wings, on his clothes, and the human seemed to be making fun of him for it. At first, Wilbur was irritated, because how dare a mortal disrespect the God of Death like that? Why hadn't Philza reaped his soul already? Why was he just letting him go?
And then he saw how Philza laughed. How he gently took care of the human child like he had done when Wilbur and Techno had come into the world. He saw the way that Philza’s eyes shimmered with fondness and affection, saw how Death’s face softened as this pesky little mortal swung from tree to tree, laughing and yelling as he pleaded.
He recognized that look.
(Because he wore the same face long ago.
“Wilbur!” Sally exclaimed as she swam eagerly towards him, holding something in her arms. Wilbur peered over curiously as she grew closer. “Look— Wilbur, Wilbur it worked! We—” Sally sniffled. “We have a son…isn't he beautiful?”
The God had let out a gasp as Sally uncurled her arms, revealing a small baby boy with sprouts of long, ginger hair with streaks of blonde slowly waking up. Wilbur had adored him at once, and he celebrated the birth of his son along with Sally. They were happy. Sally noticed that the baby had both gills and lungs, like she did, but instead of a tail, he had human legs. The first demigod to ever be born on the earth.
“Wil,” Sally murmured as she cradled their baby, Fundy, they had named him. “I want you to take Fundy back to your village so he can grow up there. I want him to experience love, friendship...I want him to grow up well. I know that humans have much more opportunities than we merfolk do.”
Wilbur looked down at her, frowning. “Won't you miss him?” He said.
“Of course I will!” Huffed the redhead. “And I'm not saying to take him away forever; I just want him to grow up on land, that's all. Of course I want him to visit when he gets older, but…” She paused. “I want to give him that chance. Will you do that for me?” And at that moment, green eyes met green, and Wilbur felt himself falling deeper and deeper in love.
“For you, my beloved? Anything.”
And Wilbur hugged his family tight. His beloved, who was humming soft melodies to their child as he dozed off into slumber. Wilbur could barely keep his eyes off of him. Even as a baby, he had long, beautiful ginger hair, highlights of blonde ruffled into the mix. He was like the perfect resemblance of the two of them, and he would only prove that point further when he grew up. Wilbur swore that he would protect his family that day. He swore that, as long as he should live, his family should not have come to any harm.
But of course, that's not how it worked.
Because mortals were just that— mortals. To a God, they came and went easily, like a speck of dust. They were like a candle being ready to be put out by the cold winds at any second.
And Wilbur didn't want Philza to feel as he felt, to trust and be loving and getting attached to mortals like he had done. He didn't want Death to fall into the trap that was mortals. Death was his father, in all aspects but blood, and he wanted what was best for him.
Which was why he was going to persuade him to give up his candle before it could even have the chance of going out).
Wilbur watched silently as the two played and played throughout the rest of the day. He watched as the human, Tommy, he learned, swung through trees, hopped on Philza’s back, and called Death “Phil”. Madness stood and witnessed how Death stood and endured it all, enjoying every second of it. Madness looked on at how Death teased and joked with the mortal, was protective and shielded the mortal from any danger. How he would bend the Earth, just for the human to have something peaceful and nice in his life.
And when he looks closer and closer at the mortal, he comes to a horrifying realization that makes even Madness shudder and makes his eyes widen. He sees the small, black mark of wings on the back of the human’s neck.
Philza had claimed the human.
It was only when the human had fallen asleep when Wilbur had the chance to talk to him.
The human was asleep under a Cherry Blossom tree, snoozing soundly with a blanket of wool covering his shoulders. Wilbur saw how Philza smiled at the human and stroked his hair gently before stretching and looking behind him. Directly at Wilbur. Madness felt himself freeze under Death’s icy look.
“You can come out, mate, there's no reason to hide anymore.”
Wilbur made his way out from behind the trees, making himself visible. The God had altered himself so that. was wearing a similar jacket to Philza, yet he wore a light yellow sweater, and he had a maroon beanie on the top of his head. Wilbur took a glance at the human before staring at Philza.
“Death.”
“Madness, what brings you here?” Death tucked his wings behind his back as he looked at his son, expression unreadable.
“I was going to ask you about it,” Wilbur got straight to the point, glancing pointedly at the human. “Why were you gone for so long, Death? And for you to stay in the same place? This isn't like you at all. You- You didn't come home for a year, Death, and even if it's small, it's highly unexpected of you. Hell, nobody has even heard of you, and the only way we can reach you is through Tubbo! And then you've claimed a human! Are you—” Here, Wilbur chuckles. “Are you mad?”
Philza stays quiet, which only makes Wilbur talk more and more.
“But I can tell that you're not. I can tell that you genuinely care about this human, but why?” Wilbur shakes his head. “Death, Philza, listen to me. Mortals and humans may seem fun and nice at first, but they only bring pain and misery in the long run. Do you know how many Gods grieve endlessly for their claimed ones, so much so that it starts unwanted and unneeded havoc just because a human died? I don't want you to lose sight of what's important, Death. I don't want you to get- to get distracted by this human. Don't sentence yourself to that.”
But Philza just smiles when his son finishes. “I'm not sentencing myself to anything,” He hums. “And I'm not losing sight of what’s important, Wil. I just followed this human because I was interested; that's all. I grew attached and, before I knew it, I claimed him without thinking.”
“You need to give up the claim, Philza,” Wilbur urges desperately. “Nothing good is going to happen! What do you have to gain? You're only giving yourself so much to lose. You need to come back home, to me, to Techno and I, us. You need to help Techno in wars— you know that he needs you now more than ever!”
Philza shakes his head. “You wouldn't understand, Madness,” He sighs, which makes Wilbur’s jaw clench. “I'm not going back; at least, not for now. I'm going to follow the mortal— end of story. There’s nothing you can do to persuade me, Wil, I’m sorry.”
Wilbur runs a hand through his hair. “I don't understand…” He mutters, his eyes looking desperate, full of confusion, anger, and skepticism. “Why would you want to stay with a mortal, of all things? Death, you have so many opportunities, so many things to do! Why would you choose a mortal?”
“If you really want to know, Wilbur,” Philza smiles again— and oh, Wilbur hates that smile at the moment. “You can always watch. I think you'll start to open up more, if you see what this human’s all about. Tommy’s different, I can sense it. Just watch, for the next weeks or so, yeah? Lets see if your mind changes then.”
“It's not,” Wilbur protests as Philza turns back around; the human is waking up from a dream of sorts, and Philza’s walking off to attend to him. Wilbur slowly makes himself invisible again. “But for you, Death? Fine, I'll entertain your theory for now.”
“And that's all I ask of you, Madness,” Is what Death whispers under his breath before brightening up as Tommy blinks sleepily up at him. Madness watches as Philza shushes the child gently, urging him to go back to sleep.
Wilbur doesn't understand.
(But as he thinks of Fundy, of his deceased son, a part of him is screaming at him that he does).
The next couple of weeks, as Wilbur promised, he stays close behind Phil and Tommy as they continue on their journey. Sometimes, they would travel through forest after forest. Other times, Philza would lead Tommy towards a village or onto a different pathway that would be easier for him. On some occasions, Wilbur would just watch as the mortal created camp, Phil gathering logs and other materials for him to help him.
Wilbur doesn't understand what's so good about this human. He doesn't know what Phil means when he said that the human is different. He looks exactly the same as any other human— boring, short-lived, but entertaining, annoying.
On the days that Phil would choose to conceal himself for the human and turn invisible, watching over him like a guardian angel, Wilbur took it as that moment for him to try and talk to his father. To try and persuade him to come back, because he might have a chance when the human’s influence isn't so abundant as it was when Phil showed himself and interacted directly with it.
(“You have souls to reap, Death,” Madness says one day. “Are you really going to exclude yourself from your job because of one pesky human? That sounds ridiculous to me.”
“Techno needs you,” He says the next day. “You know the voices have been more harsher and louder than usual? Even my songs can't soothe his head. He’s been attending more and more wars lately, don't you know? He needs all of the help that he can get. He needs you, Death.”
On some days he says the truth, “I miss you,” Madness says on one of the days. “I missed you- Techno and I both. Please, come home, Death. We need you. We don't know what to do without you around- you're always around. Please, don't abandon us now; we need you. Are you replacing us? With a human?)
But Phil never budges.
So Wilbur, admittedly, grows annoyed. Very annoyed. He takes it out on the human in ways that the mortal wouldn't question, at the beginning. He would tiptoe his invisible form forward and stick out his foot towards the human, snickering to himself as he watched the freckled face meet the earthy floor, spitting out dirt. Other times, he would sing high pitched symphonies to make the nearby animals grow irritated and enraged with the human, chasing him until his legs could no longer hold him up anymore. And sometimes, he would walk up ahead to any sort of plant that could be used for food and whispered mantras to it until it shriveled up and its berries grew wrinkly and old.
(“What- what the fuck—” Tommy gasps as he escapes a deer narrowly that was chasing him at the end of the forest. “What the fuck was that?” He pants behind Phil, who is breathing perfectly fine. “I swear, it's like everything on this goddamn Earth hates me for some reason. Did you do this? Because it's not funny, Big Man.”
Phil shakes his head, but his eyes crinkle with a smile at the nickname. “No, it's none of my doing, and I'm...very sorry that you have to endure this. You see, a friend of mine...he’s upset with me at the moment, and I suppose he’s taking it out on you. Please try and pay them no mind. I'll try and find us something else to eat, alright?”
“Well, tell your friend that he’s a petty dickhead and that he can suck it up! Tell him that he’s being a whiny bitch, tell him that!” Is what Tommy responds with.
Phil lets out a surprised laugh. “Sure mate, sure,” He says, and subconsciously, he finds himself glancing at where Wilbur is hidden in his invisible state, fuming as he holds up his hands, as if he’s resisting the urge to suffocate the human.
Phil sends him a look, and that's all it takes for Madness to put his hands down and take a step back from Death’s claimed one).
It's a Thursday night where Wilbur loses a part of his dignity.
Wilbur was sitting in one of the treetops next to the place where Phil and Tommy had made a camp. Phil was resting, wings tucked in, and Tommy was sleeping on the floor, snoring. Wilbur was lost in his own thoughts, looking up at the moon, when he heard it: a sniffle.
At first, Wilbur thought nothing of it. He rolled his eyes and looked at the mortal, who was shivering and whimpering in his sleep. Phil had gotten up at once, walking to the human’s side and was there when he woke up, screaming at the top of his lungs and sobbing into Phil’s chest. Phil wrapped his arms and wings over the mortal protectively, trying to whisper sweet messages in his ear.
“Tommy? Tommy, hey, bubba, shh...you're okay, you're okay Tommy, I promise nothing will hurt you. You're safe with me, okay? It was just a dream, I promise; I won't let anything hurt you again. You're alright, you're alright. Shh…”
(“Papa!” A young Fundy cried, bursting into Wilbur’s room of a house that he bought a while after his son was born. Gods didn't need sleep, but Wilbur didn't know what else to do, so he was just waking up.
His face instantly softened as he opened his arms, his son falling into them, racking with sobs. “Oh, my little champion, what's wrong? Why are you crying?” He said softly, stroking his son's hair.
“I- I had a nightmare,” The young boy sniffled, clutching to his father as if he were a lifeline. “Can you- can you s-sing to me? The song that- that M-Mama used to sing?”
Wilbur tried to ignore the pain in his heart at the mention of Sally, poor, poor Sally, who was already dead at this point.
“Of course, bubs,” Wilbur nodded, holding his son tighter as Fundy shifted into a more comfortable position on his lap. Wilbur continued to stroke his hair as his son closed his eyes. “You are my sunshine,” He began slowly, singing softly. “My only sunshine.”)
“You make me happy, when skies are gray.”
Phil looked up sharply at his son, who was singing as Tommy’s sobs started to lessen slowly but surely.
“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. So please don't take my sunshine away.”
As Wilbur looked to the side, watching as Phil rubbed circles along Tommy’s back, he couldn't help but be reminded of his son. And so, he continued singing.
“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping. I dreamt I held you inside my arms. But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. So I hung my head and cried.” Madness sang softly, closing his eyes for a brief moment. For once, his song wasn't used to cause terror, or insanity. Instead...it was used for causing peace, to being calm.
And as he heard the sniffles and cries of the human subside and the comforting whispers of Phil fall silent, Wilbur knew that he was successful. The mortal settled, and oddly, Wilbur himself found himself at ease.
He drifts off himself, finding himself in a small daydream.
“Dad, can you sing me the song again?”
It's only a week after the incident when Wilbur goes home again.
He reaches the sky palace with ease and enters, seeing Techno already there; sharpening a sword on a chair he’s sitting on. Wilbur takes notice of his appearance— his hair is put down and slightly messy, his crown is on the table instead of his head, and his body is littered with more scars than before. But it's not uncommon for him, however, most of those scars will most likely be gone by the next day, only one scar from the war remaining as a reminder of it. Techno had thousands of them— on his face, his arms, his legs, back, chest— every inch of his body was littered from head to toe in scars.
“Took you long enough,” Gruffs out Techno as he continues to look after his sword. He doesn't look up. “What happened? You were gone for months.”
“We might have a problem, Techno,” Wilbur sighs as he sits down in a nearby chair. “Philza….Philza claimed a human.”
Wilbur hears the sword clatter to the ground
“He what?”
Yeah, you could say that Techno wasn't the slightest bit pleased when he heard that piece of information.
Techno gripped his sword tighter as he marched along the grassy fields, keeping himself invisible for now.
He was about to end everything.
(“So let me get this straight,” Techno sighs as he laced his hands together from his standing position in front of his twin. “Philza- Death himself, claimed a human.”
“Mhm.” Hums Wilbur in affirmation.
“And this- this human, is not special at all. Not a hybrid, no powers, no anything.”
“Yup.”
Techno continues. “So it's gotten to the point where Philza is rejecting his duties in favor of his claimed human, and that’s where he’s been for the past year. With the human.”
“You're right on the nose, Techno. Look at you, remembering things!” Wilbur mock-praised.
Techno rubbed his temples. “Shut up. So where are they now?”
Wilbur tapped his chin. “They're going to this big flower field up north to get some sunshine, I've heard. They were just getting ready to set out for it when I left. Why, are you going to go after them?” He cocked his head to the side.
Techno glanced at his sword, which was still on the ground.
Wilbur gasped. “Techno, you can't…” He whispered, more to himself than anything before he spoke up. “Philza would never allow it. He wouldn't- he would never let you.”
“Philza won't have to know,” Said Techno coolly as he turned to bend down and pick up his weapon delicately. “I'll do it when he’s not around. You said that he leaves sometimes, right? I'll do it then. This human has been getting in the way of too many things. It's only going to cause pain to the three of us.” He sheathed his sword.
“I'm going to get rid of this pest, whether he likes it or not.”)
Techno saw the kid before he could, even when Techno revealed himself in his regal glory. The kid was laying down in the field, arms and legs spread out as the tall grass underneath and beside him drifted in the wind. The sky was clear, and there were a few fluffy, white dandelions in the ground that flew into the air when the wind hit it.
He could tell that Wilbur was following him, silently. He had padded along the grass, invisible and indifferent. He hadn't set out to help Techno, nor Philza from the War God. He just stood and watched carefully, eyeing the human like he was lost in a memory. Techno paid his sibling no mind. He scouted the terrain slowly.
Philza was nowhere in sight.
Techno took a step forward, then another, walking eerily calmly towards the human, sword in hand. As he makes his presence known, he watches as the human opens his eyes sharply, gets up from the ground, and stares at him, mouth wide open.
Techno’s braid whistles through the wind as the God bolts after him.
The human tries to run away, scrambling back until he trips over his feet and falls to the ground. By then, Techno had already caught up. His sword, shining in the sun, was placed just over the human’s heart. The human stilled, looking directly at Techno’s eyes for a moment.
The human smiled.
And Techno, stunned, hesitated.
That was his mistake.
Because in just a matter of seconds, he was restrained by someone pulling him back and pushing him towards the ground. Looking up, he saw Philza, God of Death, looming over him, panting heavily, like he had run over the ends of the Earth to get there. Philza’s hair was messy, and his usual bucket hat was thrown onto the ground. His wings are spread out in front of the mortal, shielding him from Techno’s gaze. His feathers were ruffled up, like he had been shocked by something.
“Mate,” Phil gasped. His tone wasn't angry— as much as what happened, he could never grow angry at Techno not Wilbur. They were his sons, and he loved them more than he loved the stars themselves, and he would do almost anything for them. But he was disappointed, immensely so.
He thought that his sons would be mature enough to accept Phil’s claim, seeing how rare claims were for their type of God in the first place, and especially a claimed one of Philza himself no less? It was like a miracle. Tommy was claimed by Phil, and so Phil had sent out to protect the young one from any danger.
And if that danger so happened to be War, then he would still gladly protect Tommy from him. He was a priority now.
“Mate, what the fuck are you doing?”
Death and War locked eyes, falling into a disagreement for the first time in many centuries.
War sighs, getting back up and swinging his sword with flexibility, pointing it at Death. “Philza, let the mortal go. This will be over quickly, I promise.”
Death’s wings raise in defense. “Like hell I will! Techno, you may not understand, but this mortal just so happens to be as important as you and Wilbur are to me. I will not let any harm come to him. I will not give up my claim, nor will I give him up to you or to anyone else.”
Techno pauses. “So what about a deal with the human, then? You let him go, but he has to come with me. Otherwise, I'll just kill him.”
The mortal perks up. “Wait— hold the fuck on— I'm not going with you! I'd rather die than go with you!”
“Don't say that,” Chides Phil quickly, turning his head towards his back before facing Techno again. “Mate, I'm not stupid. You're going to kill him anyways, aren't you? When you take him, you'll just stab him in the back.”
“And if I give him to Wilbur instead?”
“Then you’ll either have Wil kill him, or you’ll still kill him yourself. There’s no guarantee. I told you, Techno, I'm not giving him up.”
The human lets out a low whistle behind Phil. “Woah, Big Man, calm down, won't you? You seem a little bit too obsessed there. What have I ever done to you?” He huffs.
Techno makes a stab towards the human, from under Phil’s wing, but metal clangs with metal, and Techno looks up to see Phil, sword out, parry him. Techno draws back momentarily, and Phil readies himself to defend the mortal, growing into a defensive stance.
“Why are you doing this?” Techno yells as their swords meet again. “Why are you protecting him? Don't you see what’s happening? He’ll only tear you apart! He’ll tear us apart! What is the use of getting attached?”
Phil draws back, taking a step towards the human. “Techno, mate, listen. I've already told you; he matters to me as much as you and Wilbur do; I can't give him up.” He looks hopefully at his son. “And I think that, with time, you two could get along.”
Techno scoffs at that. “Get along? Death, are you blind? This is a human we’re talking about. An insignificant, small, worthless human.” He spits out, growing angrier and angrier by the minute. Both Gods ignore the offended squawk of a “Hey!” coming from a certain ten-year-old.
“Just say what you will and leave, War,” Phil huffs, drawing his sword, now on the offensive. “I can do this all night and all day; days, if I have to. But I will never let you come to harm to this mortal. Just make your statement and go, Techno. You need to go cool off.”
Techno just growled in response, but he did sheathe his sword. “Fine,” He grumbled reluctantly before his sharp, red eyes shot to Tommy, who’s eyes could be seen past Phil’s wings now. “But I'll tell ya what, Death. If I ever see that mortal on the battlefield, my domain? He will be destined to die, I assure you.”
Phil just mutely nods as the human gives out his own cries of protest before Techno swerves around and walks off. His figure gets blurrier and blurrier before, finally, he disappears entirely. Only then did Phil sheathe his sword, staring at his other son, who was just sitting there, watching.
As Wilbur became fully visible, Phil’s face was nonchalant. “And what side do you find yourself supporting, Madness?” Is what he asks.
Wilbur pauses before responding. “…I want to take my time,” He decides. “I'll watch the two of you, for now, but I need to think; this isn't a decision that I can make on a whim, you know. It's difficult for me, too.” He sighs.
Phil nods, satisfied enough. “Very well then. Carry on.”
Wilbur only allows himself to give a quick wave in response before his figure disappears again. Phil, finally, turns himself to talk to Tommy, who is standing there, shell-shocked.
“I'm sure he’ll start to warm up to you—” Phil begins, but that doesn't seem to be one of Tommy’s major concerns at the moment.
“What the fuck was that shit all about? About me dying on the battlefield or something? What the fuck, Phil? You can't just sign me up for that! That went without consent, without consent, I say!”
Phil shook his head, an almost amused smile on his face. “Don't worry about that. I'd never take you into a battlefield anyways— especially knowing that piece of information. My goal is to still protect you; I don't plan on abandoning it.”
Tommy didn't say anything, just smiled widely, and that was all Phil needed to know that he was doing his job correctly.
It's six months later when Wilbur claims Tommy as well, and Techno finds himself more and more frustrated.
(“Wilbur,” Tommy would say as he woke up in the middle of the night, looking at the God. He slowly brought up the new swirl imprint on the palm of his left hand to his field of vision. “Why did you claim me?”
The two Gods had taught him more than enough of what he needed to know, and so he knew the process of claiming. He found himself confused yet excited at the fact that Phil had claimed him, eagerly asking what claiming entailed. Apparently, it wasn't special, except the Gods that claimed their mortals could tell when they died or were near to death, and they would experience blessings given by those Gods that claimed them more easily.
“You remind me of someone I used to know,” Answered Wilbur softly, after a couple of heartbeats. “You two would have gotten along, I'm sure. But I claimed you for more than that. I claimed you because, most importantly, you're also you, Tommy. And I've grown fond of you. But...I will admit that my comparison might have helped a little bit.” There’s a nostalgic smile on his face as he says this.
“Were they nice?”
Wilbur laughs quietly. “One of the kindest men I've ever known,” He says. “And one of the brightest, too. He would always tinker with inventions and tools, always working on one thing or another. On his wedding, he built a home for him and his wife to stay in for the rest of their days. He built her so, so many things that cost him hours, days, nights of endless amounts of no sleep.”
“Did she like it?”
“She loved it. So much so that it killed him to hear her praise.”
Wilbur ignored the blatant utter truth that laid in those words.
Tommy was one of his claimed ones now. He had a second chance. A second chance of a new family.
And Wilbur would be damned if he was going to waste it).
Techno, for those six months, was never seen by the two Gods, nor the mortal. He had locked himself away in the palace in the skies, plotting, planning. He knew that the mortal needed to go, obviously. He had already tainted his family as much as it is. Techno needed to be a wake up call for them, it seemed. Not only had Phil claimed it, but Wilbur did as well? Wilbur? Madness himself?
(And maybe it was because of the fact that it was so mad, so absurd, that Techno felt the temptation to laugh at the thought).
So Techno thought of a plan, one day, on a chilling fall night, of what he was going to do to the mortal. He scanned over an old writing from the beginning of time, so old that it was made out of papyrus, and the ink was gold.
The God Dueling Commandments.
He was going to challenge it to a fight.
“Human, I want to duel you,”
“Now wait a minute, mate—”
This was, by far, one of the weirdest mornings that Tommy had ever had. Honestly, a part of him thought that he was still half-asleep and dreaming, because he can swear that he sees War staring him down, sword in hand.
(For some reason, Tommy shivers as he meets a wave of deja vu).
War is dressed far more casually than Tommy would have thought, though. He doesn't have his crown nor is cloak on— just a white collared shirt, pants, his sword, and boots. Tommy was...more than confused, to say the least. He knew that the God hated him, for whatever reason, sure, but to challenge him to a duel? In front of Phil? Tommy, for a split moment, wished that Wilbur was here— maybe he could have acted as some sort of mediator. But no, the God was out, doing whatever the hell he wanted to.
And when Tommy comes back into reality, trying to sway away his worried and disorganized thoughts about having to fight War himself, he sees Phil nod at him. Nod. At the War God. Who just challenged him to a duel.
So to put it quite simply, Tommy was fucked.
War stepped towards him heavily. “Human,” He started, and Tommy felt the urge to slap the God in the face when he addressed him, monotone, but an undertone of anger laced into his voice. “With Philza’s permission, I'm going to duel you, understand? Don't fret; you will not die; I just...want to see how well you can fight. After that, I will take my leave. Understand?”
Tommy nodded quickly, not quite yet processing the words. “Oh— uh— yep! Loud and clear, Big Man, loud and clear!” He did a mock salute, which War wrinkled his nose at.
“Don't...call me that,” Stiffened War before reaching into his pocket and yanking out a sword. “This is for you. I believed it would be unfair of me to only allow you with that small, pitiful dagger. So it will be a fair fight, you will wield the same sword as me.” He threw the weapon at the human’s feet.
Upon closer inspection, it was much smaller than Techno’s, but Tommy could tell that it was the same model. He wouldn't think he would have the strength to deal with Techno’s actual sword, the one that stood big and menacingly, anyways. To be honest, although he didn't want to admit it, he’d most likely fall as soon as he got up, trapped on the floor with no energy left to pick up his sword.
Tommy flexed his fingers, playing with the sword in his hands for a few moments as Phil came up to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. His expression was near unreadable, but he offered Tommy a small smile as he went off to the side of the field, supervising the fight with sharp eyes.
Before Tommy knew it, War had lunged at him already, sword aiming for his chest.
Tommy ducked, narrowly dodging the sword as he dropped down. Back at his first home, his own village, he always had to play dirty to get what he wanted. He stole, he got into fights, and he broke into some places during the night. After all, being broke and a child at the same time, with no parents or family, didn't make Tommy's life easy. So when he would get into these fights, he didn't learn how to properly fight, like Techno might know how to, but he knows how to fight. Scrap. Brawl.
So that's exact what Tommy planned to do.
While Techno’s actions and jabs were precise, thought-out, and planned, Tommy’s were messy, unpredictable, and aggressive, which caught Techno off guard. While Techno would swing around his sword to cut the boy up, Tommy would hit, bite, scream, and do anything to either hurt or distract Techno whenever he got the opportunity. Tommy did get grazed by the sword a few times, however, just like how Techno had gotten hit in the face a couple times with either Tommy’s fist or foot.
At one point, Techno and Tommy were wrestling, swords clashing against each other. Even though the battle had only gone for a few minutes now, both of them were out of breath. Both of them had never fought a battle quite like this before. Techno staggered backwards, the hand that was wielding his sword outstretched to his side as he caught hold of his breath.
That's when Tommy saw his opportunity to strike.
Swiftly, Tommy surged forward, banging his head against Techno’s hand, which made the God wince and let go of his sword. With his foot, Tommy had kicked the sword away from the two of them and tackled Techno to the ground, pointing his own weapon at the God’s neck.
Red met green.
Anger met relief.
Determination met exhaustion.
But the mortal had won, fair and square, though a part of Technk screamed, Was it fair? He didn't even play by the rules. What part of that is fair—
And Techno comes to a realization, then.
He never sought out to disclose any proper rules with the human; he just blindly went into battle without thinking of anything more to do beforehand. It seems that Phil knew this as well, for as Techno turned to look at his father, the God of Death merely smirked at him, looking at War with mirth.
Techno hated it; how could he lose to a human? A mortal?
But at the same time, Techno was a God of his word. When he promised something, he intended to keep his promise.
(“Techno,” Stated Phil firmly. “Under no circumstances are you allowed to kill Tommy, understand? You won't; I'll interfere in the battle if it looks to come to that conclusion.” He warned.
Techno only nodded. “Understood. But, Philza, I have one request. A circumstance, if you will.” His eyes shone a bit.
“And what would that be?”
“If I win,” Hummed Techno. “Then you have to give up being here and come back with Wilbur and I. You have to abandon the human.”
“And if Tommy wins?”
Techno rolled his eyes. “What could the mortal possibly be given other than the sparing of his life?” He deadpanned.
“Techno.”
“It was a joke.”
Phil sighed. “I- fine, let's just come to this, then,” He clapped his hands together. “If you win, I come with you, but on the other hand, if Tommy wins, then you have to stay with us for as long as we want, alright? Do we have a deal?”
Philza took out his hand.
Techno thought for a moment, then a lazy, toothy grin came onto his face.
“Nice doing business with ya, Death.”)
And so, Techno stayed.