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Chapter Text

War is an intense armed conflict between different groups or nations. War is bloody and messy and dangerous. War is devastating and damaging and debilitating. To engage in war is to cut one’s own hand off in order to hopefully take another’s entire arm. War is all consuming, destructive and self-destructive at the same time, and while there are many who want it, no one wishes that war would storm their own shores.

Tommy knows war more intimately than anyone else in the realms.

Even if he wasn’t who he is, Tommy has been in every major conflict the SMP has seen. Despite what many say, he almost never starts wars. He’s often the one to finish them, in fact. Tommy knows war.

Tommy is also War, in the far more literal sense. His blood is conflict, his veins are battlegrounds. When his heartbeat pounds, it sounds like drums. Swords and axes are simply extensions of his own body.

Even before Wilbur is handed Dream’s declaration, Tommy knows what Dream intends to do. His nerves tingle when Schlatt casts them out, his breath hitches when Techno offers his aid. When they go to fight Manberg, Tommy is home, and he is still just as much at home when Wilbur blows it all to hell.

And still, when the tnt goes off, Tommy screams in horror. When the fight for freedom drags on, Tommy offers a duel, and then offers his disks so that it may end. When his adoptive brothers want everything blown up, Tommy closes his eyes and imagines the days before the election, where they all lived together in peace.

Tommy is War. That doesn’t mean that Tommy enjoys war. In fact, he rather dislikes it.

He admits his feelings to Tubbo, as L’Manberg is being rebuilt and Tommy is reaching the point where he wishes he could hope that it’ll last. “If I could fight who I was, I would,” he says. “It probably sounds dumb, but I hate that I can’t even expect for nice things to last anymore.”

Despite Dream’s distance and Techno’s disappearance, Tommy knows they won’t settle for this peace. Tommy may not have seen Techno since Wilbur blew everything up, but he can feel it in his bones as Techno gathers soul sand and wither skulls, as he grinds for gear and carves out a new vault next to wherever his new home is.

He doesn’t need to be War to know that Dream will never stop scheming to get rid of L’Manberg.

Tubbo squeezes his hand. “It’s okay to want peace, you know. You, Purpled, Ranboo, you’re all so much more than just your domains.” He smiles at Tommy. “And you’re right. There’s no way this peace will last. But isn’t that all the more reason to enjoy it while we can?”

Wilbur couldn’t have known what he was doing, when he put Tommy and then Tubbo in charge of his nation. As much as both of them love L’Manberg, as long as they stay, the nation cannot be at peace. And now with Purpled and Ranboo living here as well, the end of the nation might just be inevitable.

Tubbo is right, Tommy thinks. For now, while this fragile peace lasts, it is something to be treasured.

Tommy and Ranboo don’t mean to burn George’s house, but it burns anyways, and he sees the new obsidian walls and something in Tommy hums and he knows what he has started.

He doesn’t mean to make it worse, when he pulls out Spirit, but he does, and Dream threatens L’Manberg, presents Tubbo with a choice, and at that moment Tommy is sure that if he stays, war will come once again.

“I want you to exile me, rather than go to war again,” he tells Tubbo. Tubbo hesitates, a pained look in his eyes, but he agrees.

Tommy is War, but he won’t be the cause of it. He’d rather have peace instead.

When the time comes for Tubbo to decide, he exiles Tommy. The two of them make a big show of it, as if this is breaking their friendship apart. As if anything could truly break them apart. Quackity and Fundy protest, and Dream smiles, and Tommy feels the ever present energy inside him calm and knows he has delayed the end just a little bit longer.

War is eleven years old when he is found by Wilbur.

At this point, he knows who he is. It was harder, when he was younger, when he didn’t understand his own strength as he destroyed mobs with a single hit, when he couldn’t explain how he knew every battlefield he stumbled across as though he had been there already.

He knows now though. The old War is dead, whoever they were, he is their reincarnation. War stumbles from realm to realm, battlefield to battlefield, trying to understand himself and wishing that he could just be human, that everything wasn’t so terrible.

Then Wilbur finds him, sitting beneath a tree and looking out at a devastated plain biome filled with mob drops and armor drops and the bodies of those who have lost their third life. Death is gone by now, having whisked away the souls of those who won’t be coming back, but War is still there.

He notices the man before they notice him, the young man who wasn’t a part of the battlefield, who War instantly knows has yet to take part in his domain. He sees the guy staring at the battlefield in horror, and wishes he could know as little as the human does.

Eventually the man does notice him, and looks even more horrified, if possible, immediately making his way over. He gets to a certain distance away and approaches more cautiously, bending down to War’s level when he sees that War isn’t afraid of him. “Are you alright?” he asks.

War frowns. No one but the others have asked that of him before. “I’m okay, I think.”

The man seems to wince at that answer. “That’s - you don’t have to-” he runs a hand through his hair, and War wonders why he now seems more upset about him than the battlefield. “Are - were your parents…?”

Oh. “I don’t have parents,” War answers honestly. “They weren’t here.” But that just makes the guy even more upset.

Still, he gives War an encouraging smile, and holds out his hand. “How about I get you away from this awful place then? If you don’t have anywhere to go, you could always stay with me. And Phil, but he’s not home often, so you don’t need to worry about getting along with him if you don’t want to.” He seems to realize something. “Oh! I’m Wilbur, by the way. What’s your name?”

For a moment, War just sits there, stunned, because beings like him don’t have homes, don’t have people offering them shelter, giving them their names out of the kindness of their hearts. But he looks at Wilbur and sees peace and kindness and thinks that he would be dumb if he declined.

He takes Wilbur’s hand, and it’s warm. Pestilence is a bit uncomfortably hot to the touch, and Famine and Death are always cool. But Wilbur is human, and he is warm.

“Tommy,” Tommy says back. Only the others know his name, but now Wilbur does. He hopes they won’t mind.

It’s the first time he thinks that he can be more than what he was born to be.

It’s Wilbur who shows him that he can be more than just war. That he can wield a hoe and a pickaxe almost as well as a sword or bow or axe. Who shows him how to make connections rather than just watch them burn. With Wilbur, Tommy feels truly human for the first time since he realized who he was.

Years later, when war and pestilence together, mixed with a dose of filicide, takes Wilbur from him, Tommy wonders if he should’ve ever taken Wilbur’s hand, if him doing so had sealed his brother’s fate. It’s something he’ll never know for sure, and so all he can do is grieve.

Dream tries to hold Tommy in exile. Dream fails.

Tommy stays, because he’s afraid that if he doesn’t, Dream will go back to hurting L’Manberg. L’Manberg, where Tubbo and Purpled and Ranboo live, where Ghostbur collects history and where Wilbur can be seen and remembered in every nook and cranny.

So Tommy stays. But it gets to be too much, even for him. He won’t die, cannot truly die, and so he doesn’t try, but sometimes he wishes he could, and when he’s sitting up with the clouds and looking down longingly, then he knows it’s time for him to go.

He doesn’t go back to L’Manberg, because he can’t, not yet. He finds himself at Techno’s house instead.

Tommy has always had mixed feelings about Technoblade. Techno is Philza's friend, someone Tommy has seen many times since Wilbur took him in and Phil let him stay. The man is at home in war, craves violence, speaks of the “Blood God” and doesn’t notice when Tommy winces at the name. (He suspects that Blood God was a nickname of the original War, the one who came before him, but he can’t be sure.)

Techno speaks of blowing up L’Manberg but brushes aside Tommy’s questions. Gives Tommy food and shelter but mocks him constantly. He worships War, but doesn’t respect Tommy Innit. And Tommy knows what he plans to do long before he is shown the vault.

The humming is back. War is on the horizon again, and Tommy knows he can’t put it off any longer.

When they arrive at the destroyed community house, there is no fight with Tubbo, because the two of them never drifted away in the first place. Techno calls it betrayal, and Tubbo slides right behind Tommy, right where he has always been, and Tommy sees Ranboo and Purpled above them, and knows that today will be L’Manberg’s last day.

Once the foundation for war is laid, war cannot be stopped. Not until it is over. Tommy knows this. He knows what is coming, what has been coming since he burned George’s house, since Wilbur spoke of freedom and rights and Tommy listened and believed him. This has been inevitable for a long time.

But Tommy is more than War, more than one of the herald’s of the End. He is Wilbur’s brother and L’Manberg’s former Vice President and one of its original founders, and so he will fight anyways, because he still cares, will always care, and he cannot let his home die without a fight.

There is no real fight. There are hounds and withers and tnt falling from the obsidian grid, and then there is a hole where L’Manberg once was. The longer the so-called fight goes on, the softer the humming of war gets, until it is gone completely and there is only devastation.

That night, after the anthem is sung and Ghostbur begs to come back, and Dream and Techno and Phil have left, Tommy sits on the grid with Tubbo and Ranboo and Purpled and looks out upon the destruction.

“Do you think we did this?” Ranboo asks softly. “All of us living here together - was that what doomed this place?”

Tommy had wondered that, before. But now he knows the truth, and he shakes his head. “No way. No one starved here, right? No one got sick.”

“Pestilence of the mind is still pestilence,” Purpled points out.

“Okay, fair,” Tommy concedes. “But there still wasn’t famine. And it didn’t end in war.” He waves an arm out towards the hole. “This shit right here? This wasn’t war, this was slaughter. I know that better than anyone. This end wasn’t our fault. In fact, I think we avoided it becoming our fault.”

Tubbo looks at him curiously. “You think?”

“When Tubbo exiled Tommy,” Purpled realizes. “If he hadn’t, L’Manberg would’ve gone to war. The people inside would’ve been starved. Those conditions easily breed pestilence. And it would’ve ended in death and destruction. That would’ve met the qualifications.”

“Does it matter?” Ranboo wonders. “L’Manberg was still destroyed anyways, even if it wasn’t our fault. All knowing that does is ease our own consciences.”

“It means Tommy and I didn’t destroy what Wilbur made because of our inhuman nature,” Tubbo says simply, and Ranboo has no rebuttal to that.

“I’m going after the disks,” Tommy tells them. “For the final time.” He looks at Tubbo, and he knows Tubbo is on board, because where he goes, Tubbo will follow. Ranboo looks pained and Purpled looks tired but acceptant, and Tommy doesn’t have to tell them that the reason he cares so much is because the disks are music and laughter and happiness, and getting them back means that maybe, finally, Tommy can have some lasting peace.

Tommy is War, but Tommy wants peace. He rejects those who excel in his domain for those who use words and crave negotiation instead. Tommy may be a herald of the End, but he is also so very human. He is all these contradictions rolled into one.

And so, for now, Tommy prepares to wage one last war, and just as he knows when war is coming, he knows that when this one is over, he will finally have his peace.

Chapter Text

Famine, in Purpled’s opinion, is one of the more misunderstood domains of the End, along with pestilence. When people think of famine, they think of physical starvation, a lack of food. And they aren’t wrong. But more than just a lack of food, famine is a lack in general. Lack of food and water, lack of friendship, money, love, acceptance. Famine is the corroding that comes from the lack of something needed to survive.

With no food, the body will eventually eat itself. With no money, a person is almost never able to escape the cycle of poverty. With no attachments, no affection, no love, a human soul will despair and mutilate until it is a shell of its former self.

Famine is the quietest of the heralds. The silent and lonely killer. The face of true despair.

It is also the herald that can almost always be prevented.

When he and Tommy and Tubbo first arrive in this new realm, when they can still just mess around and pretend that they’re normal children with no wars or worries, one of the first things Purpled does is make a farm. A massive one, large enough to fill the hungriest of stomachs and more.

Tommy and Tubbo stop by occasionally, both to help and to take some food for themselves. “People are always gonna be stealing from you, you know,” Tommy says, as he munches on Purpled’s potatoes. “Especially since you’ve got no defenses for this place. Good potato, by the way!”

“Funny.” Purpled rolls his eyes. “That’s the point, actually. If people take from the farms, then no one will starve on this server.” He narrows his eyes at them. “Don’t tell anyone that though, or I will fuck you up.”

Tubbo laughs. “Don’t worry. We’ll let you be sneaky about it.” There is no war right now, but Tubbo follows Tommy around anyways. He’ll hang out with Purpled sometimes, but not nearly as often.

Purpled is just fine with that. He never once doubts that they care about him. He knows that the two have been taken into the same human family together, while Purpled was found by Punz. Their supposed distance just means that they can act like human kids for once.

And Tubbo won’t be following Purpled around in this realm. Not if Purpled can help it.

When Famine was young, and still discovering who he was, the town he was found in tried to kill him.

It wasn’t always that way. When they had thought he was human, they were kind. But then the coldest of winters came, and the crops started dying and refusing to grow back. People started withering away with nothing to eat, sometimes even resorting to rotten flesh from the occasional zombie. As one of the villagers who was still strong, Famine constantly went out hunting and bringing back what he could. The villagers adored him for it.

But the crops still weren’t growing, and the people started whispering that Famine’s strength wasn’t natural. That he wasn’t eating, and somehow still staying as healthy as ever. That perhaps he was connected to their food issues.

And they were right. On all accounts, they were correct. But Famine hadn’t caused this intentionally. He was still eight, still trying to understand who he was, still trusting and naïve. He didn’t understand when they led him to the outskirts of town, didn’t understand when they tied him to a pole with chains made from their meager diamond stores. He had begged and pleaded for them to let him go, but they hadn’t listened, waiting for the snow and the cold and the mobs to kill him.

The village wasted away much faster, after that. None of them survived until spring. And Famine knew who he was, at last.

The others found him shortly after, War snapping Famine’s bonds with his hands, Death and Pestilence burying those who had died last, when everyone left was too weak to do any burying. Everyone except the boy they had condemned.

Even years later, that village still stands out in Purpled’s mind. It’s something he never wants to see again.

Wilbur Soot declares L’Manberg as an independent nation. He opens up the possibility for negotiation with Dream. Dream sends back a declaration of war instead.

Purpled watches from the sidelines as things start to spiral into place. This isn’t his fight. He isn’t a part of L’Manberg. Wilbur is Tommy and Tubbo’s brother, but he isn’t Purpled’s brother. And Purpled has his farms and his projects and Dogchamp to take care of.

“Tommy doesn’t blame you,” Tubbo tells him one day, when the war has calmed down for a moment and both sides are licking their wounds. They sit together in Purpled’s UFO, Tubbo swinging his legs over one of the counters. “You know how he is. He’s not mad at you for sitting this out.”

Purpled scoffs lightly at that and pretends he doesn’t care. “Great. Thanks for letting me know.” He means it more than he lets on, and Tubbo knows that.

The thing about him and Tommy is that they’ve never truly gotten along. Tommy is loud. Tommy is chaos and attention and grand gestures and mass destruction, quick and explosive and messy. Purpled is quiet, the forgotten one, the hole people really should look into, but choose not to, because it’s easier that way. The two of them couldn’t be more different.

Still, Purpled does care, because there are only three others in the world who understand who he is and what he is, and who and what he would rather be, and one of those people is Tommy. They get each other in ways that no one else ever would, and when the time comes, they’ll have each other’s backs.

That doesn’t mean Tommy doesn’t get on his nerves though. War is Tommy’s domain, and Purpled won’t be dragged into it.

“And what about you?” He asks. “Are you mad at me?”

Because Purpled has always gotten along well with Tubbo, much more than he has with Tommy. Tubbo’s hard not to get along with.

“Never,” Tubbo promises with an utmost certainty. “I couldn’t be mad at you, not for this.” He smiles. “When this is all over, you’re always welcome to join us in L’Manberg. If you want to.”

Purpled raises an eyebrow. “You’re that sure you’ll win?”

There’s something a little somber in Tubbo’s smile. “For now, at least.” And Purpled knows better than to ask.

He’s got his own life to live, after all. But maybe he’ll take up that offer.

There are few times Purpled feels more free than when he’s in the Hypixel realm or playing Bedwars. There’s something thrilling about it, Bedwars especially, where the fights don’t matter and everyone goes home happy. There’s danger in it, of course, because it wouldn’t be a thrill otherwise, but it’s not the same sort of devastation Purpled and the other heralds are always surrounded by.

And Purpled isn’t Tommy, who refuses to show off his true battle prowess because he is War, and therefore inhumanly strong and skilled, and it would be unfair no matter what. Purpled is Famine, and famine has nothing to do with fighting, so when he makes a name for himself with his combat skills, he never feels like he’s cheating at anything. His skills come from hard work and dedication, and he’s proud of them.

He loves his brothers, the other heralds. He really does. But famine is the lack of something, and as he rises through the ranks, meeting friends like Hannah and being taken in by Punz along the way, he can feel that emptiness where his lack of a normal childhood ached starting to fill up.

The problem though is that no matter what Purpled does, no matter how hard he tries to be human, to be a normal kid, to prevent famine, he can’t change who he is. When he succeeds, only his friends and Punz notice. When he wins tournaments, people barely talk. When Wilbur blows up Tommy and Tubbo’s home and Technoblade sets off the withers, no one spares Purpled a second glance as he takes one of the monsters down.

Famine is quiet, forgotten, and so is Purpled. No matter what he does, it will be brushed aside, especially in favor of war. Purpled can prevent a lack of food, but he can’t ever seem to get rid of the void where people’s attention towards him should be. He will always be the overlooked one, the dismissed one, the herald no one pays any mind to until it’s too late.

Usually he can deal with it. Sometimes it’s much harder.

Purpled looks at Quackity’s mound of dirt covering his home and takes in an angry breath, feels all of Quackity’s food sources rot and decay, and lets out the breath before anything else can decay with it. He’s better than that.

Purpled wants to be a human teenager, but he is not. He wants recognition, but will never receive it. He hates the loudness and the violence and the messiness that comes with the loudest of the four, and he hates the solemn stifling silence he is forced into.

He goes back to his farms.

Dream is an enigma, and a nasty one at that.

It’s in Purpled’s nature, to be able to tell when someone has a gaping void where something important, something essential to their nature, should be. Usually, when that something is missing, people will do anything to try and fill it up again.

Dream is different. He sees his own void, and then he intentionally makes it wider.

Purpled can see it every time they cross paths. When Dream destroys his home, cuts out his friends from his life, focuses on his own obsession with Tommy over everything else, Purpled knows. The man sticks out like a sore thumb. As everything that Purpled represents, he’s a horrible comfort and a repulsive being at the same time.

The thought that one would intentionally succumb to starvation is awful. Dream does it anyways, and Purpled doesn’t stop him, because he knows that he can’t. All he can do is watch.

Doomsday comes, and Dream teams up with Technoblade and Philza and together they destroy everything down to bedrock. Purpled’s farms are gone, and with them, all the food he had made for everyone. Everything Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo had built is now nothing but ash.

The four of them sit together, looking out at the hole, and Tommy describes with a shaking voice how this wasn’t their fault. How this wasn’t war, but slaughter, and Purpled thinks of realms where only the few have anything, where those in power deprive the rest of the things they need to live, just because they can, where famine is blamed when it’s not quite that real cause, and Purpled puts a hand on Tommy’s shaking shoulder and thinks that he can understand.

Purpled knows that Tommy is worried about Dream, and that Ranboo is worried for Tommy and Tubbo, but looking out on the destruction, Purpled finds that he can already guess how their final battle will end.

When a body is truly starving, it will begin to eat itself. Dream has purposefully starved himself of everything. There is only one thing left for famine to take from him.

And so, as the crowd gathers, surrounding Dream and boxing him up, taking him to the prison he himself built, Famine comes to collect.

“This better be good,” Purpled says, as Ponk calls out the code word for him to enter the cave.

Purpled isn’t an idiot. He’s seen the change in Punz’s eye color, the way he and Ponk aren’t quite themselves anymore. He looks at them and can almost see that there’s a new void in both of them, although he can’t quite figure out what it is yet. He also sees the way the strange red vines wrap themselves around his old UFO and creep their way across the server, with the same red that Purpled’s brother now has.

Whatever the hell is going on, Purpled is going to get to the bottom of it.

He almost laughs out loud when Bad hires him to kill Tommy. That laughter dies when he sees the Egg.

Whatever the thing is, it absolutely reeks of pestilence. More than that, seeing it is enough for Purpled to put the pieces together, to figure out what exactly Punz and Ponk and Ant and Bad all seem to be missing, what lack they all share in various stages.

The Egg is the opposite of famine. It’s a glutton, a spreading disease that feeds itself on flesh and minds, that starves people of their own free will.

Purpled has tried to stay out of most conflicts, tried to prevent his own domain, tried to cling to the sense of childhood Punz once gave him. But Punz is fading, and Purpled looks at the thing that caused this to happen and thinks that maybe there’s something he can do about it.

The Egg is always hungry, and Purpled is starvation. And if it means saving his adopted brother, means protecting those the other heralds care about, then he will starve this thing until it shrivels up and dies.

And maybe people will finally notice him.

Chapter Text

Ranboo enters the realm that the other heralds are staying in much later than the others. That doesn’t mean he’s clueless as to what’s going on.

Okay, maybe he’s a little bit clueless. It’s not like he can focus on every sick person in all the realms at the same time, after all. But he joins the SMP and sees people rebuilding on top of a crater, sees the agony in Tommy’s eyes and the somber sadness in Tubbo’s, sees a grave and a final control room, and already knows what happened.

Pestilence came to this world before its herald, and before Ranboo even arrived, it took Wilbur Soot away with it.

Ranboo lets Tommy cry and rage into his shirt, lets Tubbo lean up against him, commiserates with Purpled as they work on Purpled’s farms, wondering just what they could do to make things better. If they could make things better.

Unlike the other three, Ranboo wasn’t taken in by anyone, or at the very least, doesn’t remember anything like that happening. It’s for the best though, because Tommy is the anger of humanity and Purpled is the uncaring nature of nature itself, and Tubbo is simply inevitable.

But Ranboo? Ranboo is sickness and corruption, and so staying around the same people for too long has never been an option. At least, that’s the way he sees it.

Maybe staying in L’Manberg is alright, though. There was sickness before Ranboo ever came, so it’s not him that has caused it. Not a pestilence of the body, but one of the mind, just like Ranboo himself. He may not have known Wilbur past what his brothers told him, but he does understand.

Ranboo gets started on building his own house, and hopes his joining the other three hasn’t doomed what they’ve worked for.

When one has a memory as bad as Ranboo’s it helps to write things down and keep them somewhere secure. In the ever-changing political tides of L’Manberg and the SMP, this is doubly true.

There are some things Ranboo always knows, however.

He knows that he is Pestilence. No matter how much he wishes he wasn’t, his very nature won’t let him forget this. He’s a mess of contradictions, the herald of the end who has domain over the sick, and is simultaneously one of them. Apparently, he’s had some sort of mental or physical condition in every incarnation. Ranboo can believe that, because it’s just his luck.

He also always remembers the other heralds. This is the one bit of being a herald that he is grateful for, because his deep connections with his brothers won’t let him forget them.

When he finally works up the courage to go live with his siblings after lots of pleading on their part, he’s surprised to find that Tubbo is the president, because Ranboo may remember little, but being a government elect doesn’t quite mesh with what he does know. Tubbo just shrugs off his questions with an embarrassed smile, and Ranboo doesn’t push it.

He remembers his brothers, but everyone else is fair game though, and so Ranboo writes down all of his opinions on everyone and stores them safely away.

It’s overwhelming, at first, all the new people, all the connections the others have made, but then Ranboo meets Fundy and Niki and thinks that maybe he can understand why the others care so much about their connections.

He just hopes he doesn’t hurt them in the process.

Niki shows him how to bake a cake one day, as the rebuilding is going well and Ranboo can believe that his coming here hasn’t changed anything. Niki is sweet and gentle, and shows Ranboo how to make cakes in a step-by-step process, never getting upset when he messes up.

It’s a bit tricky because Ranboo doesn’t generally like to touch foods that others might eat. His brothers tell him it’s silly, because it doesn’t work that way. That Ranboo can’t hurt others through touch unless he actively intends to.

But the thing is, with Ranboo’s memory problems, sometimes he blacks out, and then the nearby village is down with the cold. Sometimes he wakes up sleepwalking and the nearby cows have fallen seriously ill. He can’t remember everything he’s done, and so if he does intend to spread pestilence to others, he won’t remember it after.

It’s better then, to not touch anyone besides his brothers and his (thankfully immortal) cat, to keep his distance from anyone he could possibly hurt, because if he doesn’t touch people in general, there’s less of a chance that he’ll hurt others and not remember it later.

And yet, for some reason, Ranboo keeps his gloves on as tightly as possible, makes sure no skin can be shown below the neck, and follows along with Niki’s recipes. Their cake comes out and it’s perfect. Niki gives him a hug and Ranboo freezes up.

She steps back immediately. “I’m sorry! Not a fan of hugs?”

“Not really. Sorry,” Ranboo manages weakly. It’s not true. As a matter of fact, he loves hugs. He loves when he gets them from the other heralds. But having a human hug him is terrifying, especially a human who he’s starting to be fond of.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Niki assures him. She doesn’t seem mad at all. “But you did amazing! You’re a fantastic helper - I would love it if you came back another time.”

Ranboo chokes on his words. “Yeah - yeah, okay.” Ender, what he wouldn’t give to be able to help her as much as he wants to. As soon as he can, he writes down in his book that Niki touched him, that he helped her make a cake, and he waits.

Niki doesn’t get sick. Her mental state doesn’t deteriorate. People who eat the cake they made simply enjoy it. Tubbo rubs Ranboo’s back as this information hits him and he nearly breaks down.

He puts Niki in the extremely small “Friends” category, the one that’s only topped in trustworthiness by his brothers.

Months later, Niki burns down the L’Mantree, and Ranboo can see the way exhaustion and trauma twist her mind, and he runs without looking back.

Fundy is…

Fundy is fun.

Ranboo sticks with Fundy and they have mining competitions and capture blazes, build crazy contraptions. Fundy tells him about how Wilbur was his dad and how he misses his mom, and Ranboo doesn’t have much to say at first, because he and his brothers have all quietly agreed not to mention their sibling connection, but as time goes on he searches for stories to tell and finds that he’s made new ones with Tubbo and Tommy and Purpled, and even Niki.

Fundy is down to earth, and laughs with Ranboo and has fun with Ranboo, and Ranboo puts him in the friends list as well.

Fundy isn’t his brother, like Niki isn’t his sister. The only family he has are the other heralds.

But…

“They can be your siblings, you know,” Purpled says one day, as he and Ranboo are walking along the prime path to Purpled’s UFO in order to get some extra supplies. “I don’t see why you think they can’t.”

“They’re mortal,” Ranboo points out softly. “We’re going to live so much longer than they are.” He saw just how much Tommy and Tubbo hurt when Wilbur died.

“That hasn’t stopped the rest of us.” Purpled shrugs. “I mean, it’s your choice in the end. But personally I think it’s better to try and get the most out of our childhoods as possible. And you’ve always cut yourself off from that.”

Ranboo knows what he’s saying. Out of all of them, Purpled has denied his domain the most, put in the most effort to be a regular human kid, rather than a herald of the End.

Purpled denies himself, and Tommy struggles against himself, but Ranboo doesn’t see the point. No matter what he does, he will always be Pestilence. Wherever he goes, sickness will follow. Sickness of the body, the mind, the heart. To him, it’s best not to try and pretend otherwise.

And yet-

He really cares about Niki and Fundy.

Maybe just this once-

And so he ignores and forgets as his own domain wraps itself in Fundy’s mind and refuses to let go. Doomsday occurs, and Ranboo sees Fundy laughing brokenly at the destruction and can feel in his gut how pestilence has coiled itself around the man.

Ranboo is Pestilence. Ranboo gave in, got attached.

Fundy begs Ranboo for help, and Ranboo runs instead.

When Pestilence was seven years old, Death and War found him in the midst of a realm in peril, a plague sweeping through the kingdom until almost no one was left. Pestilence, healthy and unbothered, had looked upon it and wondered why he hadn’t died with everyone he knew.

Then his brothers found him, and he understood. Only months later, they found Famine tied to a pole outside a village filled with starved bodies, and it was the four of them together from then on, traveling from realm to realm, keeping each other company, trying to figure out what they were meant to do.

When Pestilence was eight, Death gave him his first memory book. The first thing he wrote inside it was the other herald’s human names - Tommy, Tubbo, Purpled - and he let them choose a real human name for him, because he didn’t remember the one he was born with.

It was a somber existence, seeing so much pain and suffering. But they had each other, and each of them had their own pet that would stay with them (although if said pet died, they would take a long time to come back), and Pestilence was alright with the way things were.

And then they were eleven and a man with a white hoodie found Famine and started talking to him, started worrying about him and caring about him, and Famine was staying with this man, Punz, more and more, and Pestilence worried. Even more so when Wilbur took in War, and later Death.

He could never understand. Why would his brothers choose these random people? Why involve themselves in the messy problems they already had to see from the outside? Why wasn’t it enough when it was just the four of them?

“It’ll always be the four of us,” Death tried to explain. “Now and forever. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have other people in our lives as well. It’s what makes these long lives of ours worth living.” He held out a hand. “Do you want to come with us? Wilbur would love you too, I’m sure!”

But Pestilence didn’t understand, and so he shook his head and continued on his own path.

After Doomsday, Phil approaches Ranboo and asks if he would like to stay with him, now that he has nowhere to go.

Ranboo looks at the man who took his home from him, who took his brother’s home from him. Sees the man who knew his son was suffering and killed him anyways.

Pestilence will always show up somewhere, in someone. But at the same time, there is almost always a cure. With enough time and effort and love, Tubbo and Tommy’s brother could’ve been cured. His father didn’t even try.

Ranboo may not feel as connected to his human side as the others are, but that doesn’t mean he ever wants someone continuously suffering, especially in his own domain. Nor does he think it’s necessary to kill rather than heal.

Ranboo accepts Phil’s offer. He knows Tommy is certain that Technoblade will be involved with conflict once again, and where he goes, Phil will follow. It’s best if someone can keep an eye on them.

(Technoblade is an interesting fellow. Ranboo knows of the chat plaguing him, could probably make it better or worse if he cared to try and fix it, although he could never take it away completely. Maybe he should get to know the man more.)

The black-outs almost get worse. Ranboo almost hears Dream’s voice in his head. He almost thinks he’s going mad.

But he isn't. Ranboo knows he isn’t, because he is Pestilence itself, and he may not be totally right in the head but he understands just what and who he is better than anyone else in his scenario could. And so he does not let this control him.

Ranboo visits Tubbo in Snowchester, where Tubbo is living with Purpled (although only part time) and Jack and Foolish and Puffy and more recently Charlie. Tubbo welcomes him in his new home with a smile and Ranboo collapses onto the couch.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits, as Enderchest curls up on his lap. “With Fundy, I mean.”

Tubbo hands him a hot chocolate and sits in an adjacent chair. “In what way? I’ve spoken to him, and he misses you, a lot. Why not go and talk to him?”

“After what happened before?” Ranboo scoffs. “You saw how he was during Doomsday. I corrupted him, just like I always thought I would. And I don’t - I don’t know how to fix it.”

Tubbo just shakes his head. “You didn’t corrupt him, Ranboo. Fundy’s been struggling a long time, before you even got here. If anything, your friendship helped him hang on for a longer time.” He sighs. “We all could’ve done more to help him when he needed us. But he still needs us now, and ignoring him will only make the problem worse.”

Ranboo looks at him skeptically. “And you think him spending time with Pestilence itself will somehow help him get better?”

“I think him spending time with Ranboo, the guy he thinks of as a brother, will help him get better,” Tubbo corrects, and Ranboo hides his flinch.

“But, I did this-”

“You didn’t, this wasn’t your fault-”

The words slip from Ranboo’s mouth before he can process them. “And how would you know anything about that? You don’t know what the rest of us deal with! You don’t cause death wherever you go!”

Tubbo’s face falls, and Ranboo feels, ironically, very sick. The two of them stare at each other in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo whispers.

“I know. I know better than anyone. Wherever the three of you go, I’m always right behind.” There’s a coolness to Tubbo’s voice, and for a moment Ranboo can see the outline of black wings that never appear, and he tries not to shiver.

Tubbo isn’t like the rest of them. Ranboo knows he’s not the only one who often forgets that.

But the chill subsides, the outline fades, and Tubbo continues. “That’s why I know for sure that what happened with Fundy wasn’t your fault, Ranboo. You don’t cause every problem in the realms. None of you do. And just like how Purpled makes his farms and Tommy tries for peace whenever he can, you can help someone overcome their traumas and illness. Especially if you care about them. And you do care about Fundy, don’t you?”

“I-” Ranboo’s breath hitches. “I do.” And he does. Fundy, and Niki, they matter more to him than any other human. It’s new, and scary, but Ranboo’s starting to realize that the care he has for them won’t be going away anytime soon. “I miss him.”

Tubbo smiles. “Then go get him.”

Fundy is looking down at the ruins of L’Manberg when Ranboo finds him. He seems to hear Ranboo’s footsteps approaching, because he looks up, and Ranboo aches as he sees a mix of pain and hope in his eyes. “Ranboo? Is that you?”

Ranboo reaches him, and, on impulse, pulls him in for a hug. After a moment, Fundy is hugging him back, and sobbing into his shoulder.

Maybe he can fix things. Try and be a bit more human. Just a little bit.

Chapter Text

Many years ago, when the universe was still forming, the four horsemen spread dangers across the realms in order to challenge the mortals who were beginning to populate it.

War designed most of the mobs, their thought process being that if humanity was to prove themselves worthy, then they must be able to constantly fight, to wage an unending struggle with nature itself.

Famine created the Wither, a force of destruction, one that could sap any living being of its life force. They hid their creation behind a summoning process, however. “If one is to receive the rewards this boss grants them, then they must know what they’re getting into,” they had said, satisfaction coloring their tone.

At first, Death was hesitant to follow in their sibling’s footsteps. But as the world grew and changed, and the End came into being, Death decided that perhaps, if one was to quest to this new place, a dragon would be there to face them. All adventures need a reason and a destination, after all. And the End is simply an extension of Death, in the same way that Famine and Pestilence thrive in the Nether and War is most at home in the Overworld.

(Pestilence did not create their own mob, at least not then. Eons later, a younger and angrier Pestilence created an Egg… but that is another story.)

After that first lifetime, the heralds reincarnated into the realms they were meant to one day end, learning who they were, living and growing stronger for centuries, and when a realm was meant to die, they were there to do the deed. And then they are born again.

Always finding each other. Always travelling. Their steeds no longer horses, but whatever animal they bonded to most. Sometimes being taken in by human families. Sometimes staying with those families. Never being able to truly be human.

War, Famine, and Pestilence are always born anew, whenever this happens. They don’t remember more than vague impressions of their past lives. Sometimes they are kind, other times angry and harsh. They are heralds and horsemen, but they are also so very human. They have one admittedly very long life, and then they are the same but different as they start over.

Death is not like them. Death remembers. How could they not? They are the one to guide their siblings into their new life, to help the reincarnation process go as smoothly as possible. They start over as well, yes, but they are not an entirely new person each time. They are simply themselves.

Death is the being who created the Ender Dragon. Death is the old human who ferried people between realms, the young woman who watched as entire worlds descended into chaos, the little orphan boy sentenced to lava in a village gone mad.

One day, when the realms are all gone, and even their siblings have passed away, when it is the universe’s time to go, Death will be the one to turn off the lights and lock the door behind them.

Now, however, Death is Tubbo. And Tubbo has another idea for an aviary that he wants to drag Ranboo into helping him make, so all of that somber stuff can wait.

“This is a pretty neat base,” Tommy complements, as Tubbo puts the finishing touches on his jungle home. “Not as good as mine, obviously, but still pretty good.”

“Really? You mean you’ve got another base besides that dirt shack?” Tubbo asks innocently, laughing as Tommy splutters curses at him. Squeeks is curled up in his own little bed, and snoring a little bit, which just makes the whole thing feel even more domestic.

They’ve only just arrived in the SMP realm with Purpled, and so far, it seems very nice. Wilbur is due to join them in a month or so, and the current residents seem friendly, on the whole. Tubbo can see them settling down here for a while.

It’ll be a lot of fun, he thinks, when Wilbur joins them. It’s already a lot of fun with him and Tommy and Purpled, although Tubbo wishes Ranboo would stop avoiding them, but it’ll be even nicer when their adopted older brother finally comes.

Wilbur didn’t have to take them in. He certainly didn’t have to take Tubbo in. He’s only a few years older than them, and was still living with his dad (or more accurately, living where Philza was supposed to be taking care of him) when he took them in.

With Tommy, Tubbo knows, Wilbur had found him on a battlefield and couldn’t leave him there. With Tubbo, Tommy had dragged Tubbo to their new house and demanded that Wilbur take him in as well.

“He’s my brother, so we’re a package deal,” Tommy had insisted, and Wilbur had agreed with a bemused smile, no more questions asked.

Tubbo’s first family in this lifetime had ended with darkened skies and burning ships. This one, with Tommy and Purpled and Ranboo and Wilbur, gives Tubbo hope for something more lasting.

Tubbo watches from afar as Wilbur goes slack in his father’s hands, and then they are in the comforting darkness of the void together. His heart aches at the sight of him. Wilbur Soot, the man who took him and Tommy in, about to leave them, or at least leave Tommy, for the final time.

Wilbur looks around, apparently confused. His eyes land on Death, and he seems even more confused. “Really?” He manages. “You… but I thought I saw you alive, right before Phil killed me!”

“You did,” Death assures him, with the most comforting smile that he can manage. It’s usually so much easier than this. Schlatt was easier than this. “This is only your time to go, Wil.”

Wilbur seems to be trying to put the pieces together in his brain, cognitive functions already starting to work better now that the soul was disconnected from the body. Mental and physical issues generally don’t follow people into death, after all. His eyes flicker to a spot right behind Death, and he gives him a questioning look. Death doesn’t turn to look at his wings, the ones that only show up here in the void. He simply nods.

“You’re Death, then,” Wilbur realizes. “Here to take me away to the afterlife, if there is such a thing. Or is this void place it?”

“This is just the path to get to the afterlife,” Death assures him. “You won’t be staying here forever.”

“Right. Okay.” Wilbur looks torn, distraught and relieved and a little guilty all at once. “I guess I didn’t really think about that. What happens after. I mean.” A pause. He looks Death over again. “I didn’t really think about what I’m leaving behind either. I really screwed this over for them, didn’t I? For my brothers.”

“A bit, yeah,” Death agrees, with a faint chuckle. “And we’re going to miss you. We’re going to miss you a lot. But what’s done is done.”

Wilbur stares at him blankly, and then his eyes widen as he seems to make the connection. “You, you’re saying. You’re saying you don’t just look like Tubbo, you are Tubbo?”

“You got it," Death offers softly. "I try and keep my work life and my private life separate. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to meet you so soon for the third time while on the job.”

Despite his shock, Wilbur has the good grace to laugh at the joke, before sobering up. “Does Tommy know? Is he… is he like you?”

“He does know,” Death confirms. “And he is. There are four of us in total.”

Wilbur understands very quickly. “Well, if he knows, then I guess that’s fine. Fuck, I really put the literal embodiment of death as the president of L’Manberg. If I didn’t just blow the place up, I’d say the country would be screwed as hell anyways.”

That - that stings. More than he would like to admit. Death refuses to show it. “We should be on our way,” he says instead. “You’ve got an afterlife to get to. If you want, I can explain more while we travel.”

Wilbur offers him a smile in return. Despite how tired it is, it’s more genuine than any of his recent smiles when he was alive. “Alright then. I’ll trust you to lead the way.”

Not more than two weeks later, Tubbo can’t bear to leave Wilbur watching through the veil, aching with unfinished business, and allows him to cross over as Ghostbur. Ghostbur seems to make people happier, and if the far more innocent version of their older brother calls Tubbo a Ferryman sometimes, well, people just seem to brush it off.

Tubbo has spent an eternity acting in an unbiased manner. Just this once, for his family, he can allow a little leeway.

Soon after Tommy is exiled, Tubbo asks Ranboo to help him build a new apiary.

“I’ve got too many bees, my old one is too small,” he admits with a laugh.

Ranboo shakes his head. “You and your bees.” He helps Tubbo construct the apiary anyways. Squeeks and Enderchest run between them, chasing after bees and batting at flowers.

They’re taking a break when Ranboo finally says what they both know has been on his mind. “Tubbo, you’re my brother, and I love you. You know this.”

“Indeed, I do know that,” Tubbo says lightly, with a tired smile. He knows where this is going.

Ranboo takes a harsh breath. “Why did you do it? Why exile Tommy? After everything you two have been through together, I just don’t understand it.”

“Tommy asked me to.” Ranboo leans back in surprise. “He doesn’t want to be the cause of L’Manberg going into another war, especially one we currently can’t win. So he asked me to exile him instead, and I said yes.”

Ranboo blinks. “Don’t you miss him, though?”

What kind of question is that? Being away from Tommy for so long feels a bit like losing an arm. Tubbo can feel the phantom pains wherever he goes, the ache where Tommy should be. “Of course I miss him,” he says softly. “But this is what he wanted. And I agree that it was the only way to put off a war, logically speaking.”

Ranboo sighs and sits down, Enderchest curling up in his lap. “It just seems so pointless though. I haven’t been here for very long, and even I know Dream’s just going to come back and find another reason to go to war. You’re just shoving the problem away for a little while. It really doesn’t seem worth it.”

Tubbo’s not surprised that Ranboo feels this way. He’s always had the most pessimistic outlook out of all of them. “It’s absolutely worth it.” He gestures around the apiary. “You see all this? One day, all the bees will be dead, and so will the flowers. The wood is gonna rot until there’s nothing left, and it’ll be like this was never here at all.” He holds out a hand, and a bee lands on it, tickling his fingers. Tubbo can’t help but smile. “That doesn’t mean building this place isn’t worth it.”

Life matters because one day it will end. That’s part of what makes it so amazing and wonderful, how short it is. It’s why Tubbo is determined to enjoy every minute of it.

“L’Manberg is the same. One day it will end, sure. But the fact that it’s impermanent doesn’t mean it shouldn’t exist. It just means we should preserve it and enjoy it while it’s still here.”

Ranboo doesn’t seem to agree, but he doesn’t argue further. Tubbo guesses that’s as good as they’ll get.

Despite what people may think, Tubbo has never hated Technoblade.

It isn’t just about the botched festival - the most Tubbo could do then was pretend to be afraid, why would he fear himself? - But the actions of the piglin hybrid in general seem to give people the opinion that Death would hate him.

Even Tommy asks him about it after the festival, when Tommy agreed to fight it out in the pit, if only to let out some aggression. Tubbo had asked him not to, had forgiven Technoblade in front of everyone, but they had gone through with it anyways.

“Seriously though, why don’t you hate the guy? Or dislike him at the fucking least? I mean, you know his saying. Technoblade never dies, and all that shit. Doesn’t he get on your nerves?”

Tubbo shakes his head cheerfully. “He’s not the first person to act like this, Toms. He’s not special at all, actually, there’s always gonna be some big man who thinks they can live forever just because they’re an extremely skilled fighter. But they always die eventually, whether from the fight, or from something else. Techno’s no different.” He adjusts the ice on Tommy’s bruises. “It doesn’t matter what he says now. He’ll come to me eventually. They always do.”

The thing about remembering one’s past incarnations is that it puts things into a much larger perspective. If there’s one thing Tubbo knows, it’s how to be patient, how to see the bigger picture.

There will always be people who try and cheat death, through totems or sheer dumb luck, or something else entirely. They always meet Tubbo anyways.

Tubbo watches Technoblade unleash the withers, watches Philza “Angel of Death” Minecraft kill Wilbur, and knows that despite all their bravado, they will come to him in the end.

Still, with the events of the Butcher Army, Techno cheating him using a totem, and the second killing of Quackity, his soft indifference turns to mild dislike.

(Wilbur was right, putting Tubbo in charge of the nation was a terrible idea. He isn’t meant to lead, isn’t meant to affect history to this great of a degree. He’s supposed to be the observer, first and foremost. And so when the more human members of the cabinet push for things, he lets them lead. This is their history, and he is simply guiding it.)

It’s not that Tubbo’s ever held using a totem against anyone. As a matter of fact, he understands the strong drive towards wanting to live better than most. How could he fault anyone for wanting to live when life itself is so amazing and unique and exciting and beautiful? Tubbo loves life, how could he blame others for feeling the same?

Still, something about Technoblade and Phil rubs him the wrong way.

On Doomsday, as Tubbo watches everything Wilbur and him and Tommy built together destroyed for what he knows with absolute certainty is the last time, he understands.

Techno doesn’t cherish life. He doesn’t find any value in it. If nothing else, the fact that he and Phil are laughing as they kill pets and homes and people proves it. Their need to avoid death doesn’t come from an appreciation of life, but a fear of death. A fear of the unknown, the inevitable.

There is almost no one Tubbo dislikes more than those who casually send people to him while bragging about their own ability to survive.

But Technoblade and Philza fear death. They fear the unknown, the end, the inevitable.

Tubbo is Death. Is the unknown, the end, the inevitable.

One day, they will meet him in the void. And then he will make sure they understand just what they’ve done.

Jack Manifold dies, and, for some reason, falls straight into hell before Tubbo is even there to guide him anywhere. Then the madlad drags himself out, and Death is meeting him in the void.

“You too?” Jack asks, looking tired and furious and determined.

“Not quite,” Death admits. “I gotta say, I’m a little surprised. You weren’t supposed to go to hell, but you got yourself back to the void anyways. That’s really impressive.”

Jack gapes at him. “You, are you like, Death, then? You’re gonna try and keep me here?” If anything, he looks even more pissed. “I won’t go down without a fight, then. I’m going back, and no one can stop me.”

Death holds up his hands. “Honestly, I just wanted to talk. That was seriously impressive, what you just did. If you really want to get out, after that display, I’m not sure there’s much that could stop you.”

Death could stop him, if he really wanted. But Jack’s deaths have been weirdly botched from the beginning. He’s pretty sure the guy shouldn’t be on his last life in the first place. And he’s genuinely interested now.

Jack looks surprised. “Wait, are you not going to try and stop me?”

“I don’t know,” Death admits. “What do you plan to do, if I let you go back? Will you take the fight to those who hurt you? Try and fight Technoblade and Dream all over again?”

“Maybe I will,” Jack snorts. “Hell, maybe I’ll finally get back at Tommy for all the shit he’s pulled with me.” His tone is joking, but the look in his eyes is serious. Death narrows his own.

“And would that really make you feel better? Hurting someone who hasn’t done you nearly as much wrong, because you can’t hurt those who are really to blame?”

“You say that like you know the shit Tommy pulled-” Jack stops. Looks closer, past the wings and the nature of the void that they’re in. “Wait, you’re Tubbo, aren’t you? The real Tubbo. You didn’t just decide to look like him for some reason.” Death nods, and Jack floats back a bit. “Shit.”

“A good way of putting it.” They sit there in silence for a moment.

“I want to go back,” Jack announces. “I’ve got so much I want to do, and even more that I don’t know I want to do. I won’t let this be the end.”

Fair enough. And Death has to admit, he’s a little curious. If push comes to shove, he can protect Tommy, now that he knows. And maybe he won’t have to, and Jack will find better things to pursue.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Just this once. And you’d better not waste it.”

Jack grins, and they shake hands. The older teen turns and leads the way back to the living world himself.

When Doomsday is over, Jack joins Snowchester. He looks at Tubbo, and Tubbo knows that he remembers. He doesn’t try and kill Tommy. Tubbo is so proud of him.

Out of the three who participated in Doomsday, Dream is the first to lose a life, and Tommy is the one to take it.

Dream threatens Tubbo, and then everyone is showing up to defend them, and Tommy is killing Dream with the Axe of Peace, and then Death is meeting Dream in the void for the first time.

Unlike the others, Dream seems to realize that Death is Tubbo immediately. There’s a moment of incomprehension, followed by understanding, followed by fear.

“No,” Dream says. “No, absolutely no. No fucking way.”

“Way,” Tubbo says with a grin. “You won’t remember this, of course. People only remember when their final life is lost. So I’ll be sending you back to the land of the living now.” And if his grin is a little sharper than normal, well. Only he and Dream are there to see it. “I know, I should be unbiased. And I generally am. But I must admit, I’m looking forward to our third meeting.”

Tommy’s got his hotel to build, and Tubbo has Snowchester that he’s making, but the two try to spend as much time together as possible. With the resurrection attempts, the four heralds are a bit on edge, even after Tubbo agreed to let Wilbur resurrect if Phil actually managed to perform the ceremony correctly for once.

Purpled says he’s going soft. Tubbo doesn’t disagree, but he thinks he’s allowed to be soft every once in a while.

Still, with Purpled working on the Egg problem, and Ranboo keeping an eye on Phil and Techno, it’s mostly just him and Tommy again. Which makes it even more apparent when Tommy starts acting weirdly around him.

Eventually Tubbo can’t take it anymore. “Can you just say what’s got you so worked up already?” He asks, as they’re putting the finishing touches on Tommy’s new hotel. “It’s obviously bothering you.”

Tommy winces, as if he didn’t expect Tubbo to catch it, for some reason. “It’s really fucking stupid.”

“Okay. Say it anyways.”

“You’ll think it’s dumb.”

“I think it’s dumb that you’re not telling me what “it” is.”

“Asshole,” Tommy mutters under his breath, and Tubbo laughs. Tommy shifts nervously and he sobers up, because clearly Tommy’s more bothered by this than he thought.

“Are we going to drift apart now?” Tommy finally says.

Tubbo blinks in confusion. “What? No, of course not. Why would we?” As far as he knows, things are better than they ever were. Where is this coming from?

Tommy looks at the ground. “Well, we won against Dream. Which is great! There aren’t any more wars, and hopefully there won’t be for a while, and it’s so nice and still kind of hard to believe that it’s real.”

“Okay…?” Tubbo prompts.

“There aren’t any wars,” Tommy stresses, “So you don’t need to follow me around anymore. So there’s a chance we could drift apart.” Tubbo stares at him in disbelief, and Tommy won’t meet his eyes. “Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“You’re right. It’s really stupid.” Tubbo punches him lightly. “You’re an idiot.”

“H-Hey! I’m not a fucking idiot-!”

“You think I follow you around because you’re War and I’m Death?” Tubbo repeats. “If that was the reason, I’d be following Purpled and Ranboo just as much. It has nothing to do with that. I follow you because you’re Tommy, not because you’re War.” He’d always thought that was obvious. Was it really not?

Tommy stares at him blankly for a long moment. Then he leaps forwards and wraps Tubbo in a tight hug. “You fucking bitch, you piece of shit, I’m not the idiot, you’re the idiot-”

Tubbo laughs. “Sure thing, idiot.” Tommy curses some more, and if there are also tears spilling onto Tubbo’s jacket, well then Tubbo won’t be telling anyone.

Tommy, Purpled, and Ranboo are all caught in an endless struggle between their existences as heralds that have been constant since the beginning, and their more human natures, the parts of them that change as they are reborn.

Tubbo is different. Tubbo doesn’t have that struggle because Tubbo is Death, and Death is Tubbo, and that’s the way it has always been and always will be, even when, centuries or millennia from now, they will be born again and Tubbo will join Robin and all his other names as pieces of his past.

The trade-off for this is that, unlike the others, Tubbo knows that nothing they do in their lives will end this cycle. They will grow, and get stronger, and become true heralds of the end, destroy realms that need to be destroyed, and will be born again, just as it has always been, and always will be, up until Tubbo will take his siblings and as the last beings who need to be sent to the afterlife. And after that, there is a terrifying uncertainty.

But right now, War is Tommy, and Famine is Purpled, and Pestilence is Ranboo, and they will build their communities and wage a future battle against the monster a past Pestilence created, and they will be friends and brothers and have each other and their human family and friends.

They will simply get to live.

And, Tubbo thinks, if there is nothing he can change, then it is moments like these that make all of it worth it.