Chapter Text
The fence was flimsy, at best. It wobbled lightly when a crow landed on top to inspect it, making Wilbur frown. Tommy was laying in the snow beside him, lazily making a snow angel. Wil could understand his tiredness, for a tiny fence it took them a long while. It didn't help that their two ghostly friends supervised the whole thing, throwing in friendly tips and occasionally sarcastic quips toward the boys. Though the latter mostly came from the pinkette, the blonde scolding him teasingly every time. He had to admit, the company was... nice. Not that Wilbur would ever, ever admit that to their faces. He was still sort of not really pretending they exist.
...
Okay, maybe he wasn't. He had officially acknowledged them. But he still didn't talk to them. Listened, yes, and stared at them occasionally without regret, but never responded to their attempts to speak to them. He'd noticed the piglin- Technoblade, if he remembered overhearing correctly- was a lot more intimidating then he first thought. He was littered with scars. Like, everywhere. The ones that most stood out were the ones on his face. It was a spiderweb of different scars- but some of them were golden. Like his skin was glued together with molten gold. Wilbur didn't want to think too hard about what had caused that. Yet somehow, Tommy was unphased by his undead friends.
"So, Miss Death gave this guy immortality?" Speaking of the trio, Tommy was currently listening to a story from Phil as he made his snow angel. Technoblade sat nearby, listening as well as he braided and rebraided his hair. The pair of ghosts had decided to not share their royal status with the two living children, opting to hopefully learn more about what had become of their great kingdom in their centuries of absence. Currently, though, Phil was barely restraining a coo at the smallest referring to his beloved as 'Miss Death'.
"Yes, she did. So that she would never have to guide him to the Void." A gentle smile graced his face.
"But doesn't that mean they can't see each other?" Tommy now sat up, snow falling out of his messed up hair. Techno glanced at his friend, seeing the smile turn sad. Wilbur was now actively listening, arms wrapped around his knees and chin resting on top, watching the blonde ghost as well. His brows furrowed at the change of expression.
"Yes, mostly. There are certain situations they can see each other though."
"What are the situations?" Three sets of eyes turned to the brunette, his question the first proper interaction with the ghosts.
"Wilbur." The boy's tone was extremely serious as his brother looked at him with a questioning raise of his brow. "You just talked to the imaginary ghosts." Wilbur scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"Yes, I have finally accepted that they are real. Happy?" Tommy's face lit up and he nodded very happily. Wil turned back to Phil. "So, what situations can these two see each other?" He had never heard this love legend, only a much more violent one where the man in question received wings made of the Void in return for sending many souls to Lady Death. And sitting in front of him happened to be a man, who knew an unheard of version of that tale, with massive black wings. It was a little bit suspicious. Just a liiiiiiittttllle bit. Said wings ruffled a bit, before the man smiled at him.
"When the man is on the verge of dying, or in a specific place."
"But he's immortal! So he can't die." The younger blonde furrows his brows while the elder chuckles.
"His immortality means natural causes can't kill him, yes, but other people can."
"What is the place?" Wilbur is going to get answers out of this guy. Dots are connecting in his brain. The axe he thought was fake. The massive wings. Technoblade's scars. This story. He isn't sure he'll like whatever conclusion he'll reach. Phil simply hums as Tommy also asks that question.
"Is it near here?! Could we meet them?! Is Miss Death pretty? I get all the women y'know, I have many wives. I bet I could bag Miss Death." The older blonde laughed lightly. The other two were quite intensely staring at each other. It was the stare-off of the century. Wilbur narrowed his eyes, and in turn Technoblade raised an eyebrow. Brown eyes narrowed further. A second pink eyebrow rose.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" The two blonde's conversation about Tommy's many wives halted as both turned to Techno, then Wilbur.
"You guys are suspicious." Wil dropped his knees and crossed his arms across his chest. Technoblade's eyebrows could not physically raise further.
"How so?"
"The story is wrong." Tommy snorted at his brothers response.
"Yeah, but it's still cool!" Now, both ghosts were looking at each other. Oh dear. They may have been caught. Phil sends a very slight wink in Technoblade's direction. Oh, ok. Only Techno thought they were screwed then. Alright.
"Do you guys know a different version? I'm just tellin you the one I heard when I was a kid." The boys turned to look at him. Then, Tommy beamed and nodded.
"Yeah! Your version must just be old or something, big man, because the real story goes that this guy killed a WHOOOOLLE buncha guys, as like a sacrifice to the God of Death, who is like real mean. And the God-man was like 'Woah! That's a lotta dead dudes, big man! Want something in return?' And gave the guy big wings! He could fly n shit after that, and used it to kill more people. Some adults use this story to scare kids into sleeping." By the end of Tommy's little story, Wilbur was very suspiciously watching the ghosts, and Tommy was making a tiny snowman. Phil was frowning slightly, and Technoblade almost kicked him. They were supposed to not be suspicious.
"Uh, yeah. We musta been uh...dead...a while then. Story is totally different." He cleared his throat awkwardly as Phil regained himself, smiling slightly and nodding. Wil was caught on something else now, though.
"What do you mean?" Both ghosts looked to the brunette, questions on their faces. "You...neither of you know how long you've been dead?" Oh. Oh that.
"Uh...not exactly, mate. We know it's been a while, but how long exactly we uh..." At this, Tommy looked flabbergasted.
"What, do you not have a calendar?" Techno snorted at the child's question.
"Who would sell us a calendar?" The group fell into silence. A very fidgety, awkward silence in Tommy's perspective.
"So...you don't know if like, you have grandkids or anything?" Oh. Now the silence was a little stiffer.
"Neither of us had kids, mate."
"We were the last of our lines."
...
Okay, now Wilbur felt a little guilty. Maybe, just maybe, the stories from whenever these guys were alive are different to the modern ones! Maybe enchanted axes and- and avians- were common in their time! He doesn't know, and he doesn't want to push these guys into sad memories. He might have been a bit of an assumption-making prick. But he couldn't exactly apologise for that without letting them know the assumptions he'd been making. So, he cleared his throat, destroying the silence they were awkwardly basking in.
"Right. Well. Uh. It's starting to get dark so. Dinner, anyone?" He stood and dusted the snow from his legs and clapped his hands, giving a polite smile to the three people staring at him. "We uh-We have potatoes, or uh. Potatoes." Tommy finally reacted, letting out a long groan.
"Really? More potatoes?"
"There is literally nothing else, Toms." Technoblade snorted at that, finally standing with Phil in tow.
"I can teach you how to make a jacket potato." The younger blonde whooped, standing up suddenly and sprinting into the house.
"Chef Tommy is on it!" They all filtered inside after the child, Wilbur setting the fire back up while the other three started bickering in the kitchen. Well, today could have gone better.
Laughter rang out from the kitchen, and soon Wil joined them. A little later, they all sat by the roaring fire, the two living people munching on some warm food. Tommy began telling embarrassing stories about their childhood, and the tension from their earlier conversation faded away.