Chapter Text
He is falling.
It feels like a single moment stretched for a year: hair flowing around his face, wings not yet completely unfurled, dark feathers suspended in the air around him, eyes wide, heart hammering far too fast in his chest, reaching a single hand out in front of him as if reaching out to be caught - an uncontrollable impulse.
A hand reaches back and grabs him by the wrist.
His heart skips a beat. No, no, not this.
Even falling is preferable to this.
Violet eyes meet his own, and he finds it hard to breathe as fear constricts around his chest.
“Let me go!” He shouts, feet hitting the smooth glass of the top of the building, and he tugs his arm sharply. Neither of them budge.
“I will not!”
He yanks his arm back again, feet slipping, wings barely keeping him upright. The grip on his wrist slips a little, but his opponent recovers quickly, grabbing onto his sleeve.
“I am not letting you go,” she hisses, eyes flashing, dark wings spread out behind her.
“And I am not staying!” He shouts back, pulling his arm back, frantically now.
She grits her teeth in a furious snarl, pulling back on him. Her wings beat the air around them, pushing his hair out of his face like the wind he’d expected at the top of the building.
Of course, there is no wind here, no breeze to bring life to a land that should be dead.
With a shout that echoes in the silent air, he manages to pull his arm free, and for a brief moment, despite tumbling backwards, all he feels is relief.
A hand grabs his wing, and panic floods his system.
He spins in the air, pain shooting up and down his wing as he struggles to right himself, to break free, to do anything.
A sickening crack sounds as his body hits the glass roof, his wing screaming in pain as the bones snap upon impact, and it’s dizzying, his vision blurring, and he tastes the fear at the back of his throat.
“Where are you going to go now?” She hisses, pulling him to eye level.
He forces himself to meet her eyes, her stunning purple eyes, and with as venomous a voice as he can muster, he says: “Anywhere that’s not here.”
He kicks off the building with all of his strength, out of her reach, and even though he knows that death approaches with the ground, even as his instinct is to spread out his wings and fly - and though he’d love to, he knows that the break will stop him from going far - he feels a small amount of vindictive victory.
However, most of what he feels as he falls towards the stone beneath him, struggling for control he knows he will never achieve, spiraling haphazardly, is fear.
Philza Minecraft wakes up before he hits the ground.
He takes a deep breath to settle himself, stretching out his dark wings. He lets it out slowly, pushing his hair out of his face. The birds singing outside comfort him; the sound of a gentle breeze outside reminds him he is home.
Home, he thinks fondly as he hears shouting outside the room, and with all that brings with it.
After a moment of listening, he feels that whatever is happening is not an argument he needs to break up nor a disaster he needs to advert, so he changes into actual clothes, takes a quick look in the mirror to make sure he’s not a mess, sighs deeply, and leaves his room to find out what his sons are up to now.
In the kitchen, his five sons appear to be trying to make breakfast.
The only one who actually appears to be doing any cooking is Technoblade, frying eggs, looking like he’s trying not to murder Tommy or Wilbur, who shout at each other over who burnt the bacon. Tubbo sits on the counter beside the stove, legs swinging as he dips a slice of toast into a jar of honey and eats it. Ranboo leans against Techno, doubled over laughter at whatever Wilbur and Tommy are saying.
Philza leans against the wall, smiling fondly at his children, these kids he found and took in and made into a family for himself and each other.
He knows it won’t last, not forever anyways, but he’s sure they’ll grow into fine, young men.
He’s going to be so proud of them.
Though, right now, as he chuckles to himself as he watches Techno hit Tommy on the head with a spatula and Wilbur fake cry over burnt bacon and Tubbo and Ranboo egg on their brothers, right now he thinks that it’ll be a little bit before that happens.
“Aren’t you all up early,” he calls out.
Tubbo looks up as Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy jostle each other loudly. “Well, we thought we’d give you a nice surprise for once. But as you can see, it’s not going very well. Wilbur and Tommy burnt the bacon, and Ranboo was supposed to be helping Techno.”
“And what did you help with?” Phil asks, moving to lean across the counter to face Tubbo.
“I made toast,” Tubbo says with a smile.
“And I am helping with the eggs,” Ranboo adds, stepping to take Techno’s spot in the kitchen, moving the done eggs off the hot pan.
“Mhm. I see.”
Ranboo smiles smugly, turning off the stove and crossing his arms.
“How burnt do you think the bacon is?” Tubbo asks, staring at the other three.
Phil shrugs. “I guess I’ll find out.”
He walks into the kitchen and gently maneuvers around in the small space to his eldest twins and youngest son. He places a hand on Techno’s and Tommy’s shoulder each, and their squabbling pauses for a moment, though Phil knows the moment he leaves it’ll start up again.
“So how burnt is the bacon?” He asks.
“Wait, is that why you and Wilbur were arguing? You burned the bacon?” Techno asks, aghast.
“Oh, don’t worry, dad, it’s salvageable,” Wilbur interrupts.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Phil says.
“You burned the bacon?” Technoblade repeats.
“I didn’t do shit,” Tommy says. “That was all Wil.”
“I asked you to help and you didn’t,” Wilbur replies, grabbing the plate of bacon. “You want some, dad?”
Phil smiles. “Yeah, I’ll take some.”
“Oh, is the bacon ready?” Ranboo asks, leaning into the conversation.
Phil laughs, passing the plate to him.
Breakfast passes quickly: Wilbur and Tommy plan some adventure into the woods, Tubbo and Ranboo wander off around the property, Techno leaves to visit their neighbors and old family friends, Skeppy and Bad. As the sun moves overhead, Philza finds himself content with what he’s built, far from where he was, both in time and space.