Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being born to a god and an immortal adventurer was something Wilbur was completely unaware of. He never really wondered why his mother, Kristin, had such a delicate touch with flowers and why the animals around their cottage always seemed to love her; he always wrote it down to her having a kind soul. His father had always told him tales of the past and only told Wilbur these stories from an outsider's point of view, which was why Wilbur guessed it was some old fable and never a story of truth. Especially a tale that Phil had been in himself.

The old couple were absolutely amazed that Wilbur had survived, but were even more in shock after being told that their son would most likely never inherit any of their traits. Not even Phil’s wings, which were the most natural thing about the two. 

Kristin would sit with Wilbur when he was younger outside on their grassy land, show him how to make things with the flowers. After all, being mother nature had made parenting much more easier than it had for her husband, who constantly struggled with keeping their son clean. 

Phil had stopped hunting, choosing fishing instead. At least until Wilbur was older. Yet, whenever Wilbur would join him he would always come home covered in dirt from always running off from his father, wanting to explore the woods around them. He wasn’t the best dad, but he was trying. All he really knew was destruction and death, one of his many nicknames being the ‘Angel of Death’, and only a few hundred years ago learning the meaning of love when he first met Kristin while he was discovering a supposedly empty flower forest. Of course parenting was going to be new to him. 

The goddess definitely had more experience, even if it was only dealing with animals and insects. She knew how to be soft and gentle with the infant, while Phil sat confused and tried to make the baby laugh. Always ended up making young Wilbur cry more for some reason. Kristin had a calming presence for sure, which was probably why Wilbur and her were close during his teenage years. 

He was an angsty child to say the least. The only thing that would keep him calm being his guitar and his mother. Not to say that Wilbur and Phil had a bad relationship, of course not. It was just that Kristin could keep him relaxed, while Phil would always love to bring the teenager outside more and explore- which teenage Wilbur hated. Wilbur was just content staying inside, thank you very much. 

When Wilbur had entered the DreamSMP and heard people whispering the moment he joined, he was confused. He dealt with this, all up until the final control room. Manic laughter could be heard across the crater as his father plunged the sword into his chest. 

He heard a sombre whisper in his ears before the world went black. 

Chocolate brown eyes opened, looking around. Blue skies instantly filled his vision. There stood a white castle, covered in vines and flowers. Lot less black than he imagined, but he still got up and moved forward.

Had Wilbur really gotten into heaven? Even after all the fucked up shit he did? For christs sake he blew up a fucking nation and probably traumatized a handful of people, and he’s in fucking heaven?

As Wilbur hesitantly walked down the stone path, he felt eyes pour onto him. On every single angle on his body was a new pair of eyes. He couldn’t even see them, yet he felt them burn onto him. If he were to look hard enough, there would probably be burn marks. White doors stood in front of him, the gold designs on them bright enough that he could see his own reflection. He actually looked alive for once in a while. The pale bags that were once under his eyes now gone, his hair holding the same amount of curls as it did before, but now much neater and easier to handle.

His hands pushed the door open with force, having to step back as the doors flew open. 

The castle looked fucking magnificent. Flowers hung from the beacons, Wilbur staring at each one. 

“Wilbur? Wilbur what are you doing- how did you get here?” A voice appeared behind him, making Wilbur jump back. The flower almost fell over, before lifting itself back up. 

“I’m sorry I don’t know-”

Wilbur was cut off, a warm embrace tackling him. He felt calm instantly, the presence soothing him. 

Wait a fucking minute.

Before Wilbur could confirm his suspicions, the person pulled back. Hands instantly held his face, and Wilbur was finally able to see who it was. 

Kristin stared at him with golden eyes, a soft smile on her face. He knew that a different emotion was hidden under those eyes, but Wilbur wasn’t quite sure what it was yet. 

“Oh, Wil. What happened? Why are you here son?” Kristin spoke, her voice gentle. 

“Why are you here? Why aren’t you back at the old cottage?” Wilbur retorted back, only now just starting to take in the severity of the situation. 

“Long story. To make it short, me and your father moved back here after you left. We figured you wouldn’t come back. Especially not like this. Dear Prime you must not even know where here is, my angel.” Kristin stepped back before walking across the hall into a hallway, beckoning for Wilbur to follow.

“Huh? What do you mean? I’m dead. I’m fucking convinced I’m seeing shit right now.”

“Oh, my dearest boy. It appears you don’t know, huh?” Kristin led him into a library, her hand reaching to grab a book off a shelf. The book stood out, that was for certain. It had a white lacing, shining in the light from the windows. As Kristin grabbed the book, Wilbur managed to catch a glance at the title. 

Kristin sat down on one of the chairs, Wilbur sitting next to her. She opened the book, showing her son the first few chapters.

Chapter Text

After that horrendous wreck of the pit, Phil (or Watson, as he told the king) made his way over to where he would usually reside. It was a flower field, where all you could see for miles were colourful flowers and the sky. Sometimes a stray animal would cross his views, but that was rare. 

When he came today though, he caught sight of a person sitting on the flower bed. The person must have seen him too, as they turned their head and smiled at Phil. Slowly, he made his way over to where the lady was sitting on the flower bed. He fell back onto the flowers, on his back where he usually lay. 

“Hello! You must be Phil!” The mysterious lady smiled down from where she was sitting. Phil only nodded and hummed in response, pushing up his goggles. It took him a moment to realise what she had said, as he immediately spoke in confusion.

“How do you know my name? Especially my real one at that.” His face was plastered with bewilderment. 

She laughed, adjusting a new daisy flower crown that she had made in the time she waited for Phil. “I’ve heard about you, after all you have made quite the name for yourself. You’re quite good with archery, I’ll give you that.” 

Phil nodded eagerly, “Been training for years with this. I really wanna try working with a sword, but this’ll have to do. So, if you know my name, can I learn yours then?” 

“Kristin. Nice to finally meet you. You’re quite well known where I come from.” Kristin finally laid down with him, letting her hands sift through the grass and flowers. 

“Really? Where do you come from then?” Phil looked into her eyes, instantly being mesmerized. Good fucking Prime, she was really gorgeous. Her eyes were a nice gold, and if Phil was being honest, she really had a calming presence to her. 

“I’m sure you’ll find out at some point, anyways, how was the pit? You look pretty scratched up.” Kristin looked at the small wound on Phil’s face across from her. It looked like someone released 10 cats on the poor lad. 

“Shit. Complete and utter shit. It was so fucking rigged. No one told me that they had fucking feather falling on the arrows.” Phil complained, no longer as pissed off as he used to. Kristin just seemed to calm him down, and he had only known her for like seven minutes.

“Don’t worry, you are a pretty good archer. It probably just caught you off guard, I know I would be.” Kristin laughed. 

Shit. Her laugh was fucking angelic. Phil felt himself becoming hooked instantly, loving the way her face lit up when she smiled. 

“Yeah, I guess so.  So...how was your day?” Phil nervously replied, wanting the conversation to continue. He felt like he had known her for the time he had been alive. How long has that been now? Must have been longer than most humans, that's for certain. 

She laughed again, making Phil blush a little. “Mine has been lovely, I’ve finally met the magnificent Philza, and I’ve seen that he enjoys a little flower field like me. It’s such a nice place here, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Okay she had to stop boosting Phil’s ego or otherwise he would just succumb to the dirt at this point. “You seem really cool too. I mean, you’re...everything. Whatever you’ve got going on here, it’s working.” Phil used his hands to gesture to her beautiful white lace dress, “And I completely agree. It’s always nice to sit here. I’ve been coming here for as long as I could remember.” 

Phil had been coming to this field ever since he first was able to pick up a bow and arrow. He can’t remember much from his childhood, it was years ago now, yet he still holds the same giddy feeling when arriving. At one point had been trying to make a little home here, but decided against it as he really didn’t want to ruin the beautiful landscape. 

“I’ve always wanted to come here. The flowers always seem to blossom in just the right ways. I didn’t expect for you to come, but I will admit it was definitely a pleasant surprise.” She laughed again, looking away from Phil and up at the clouds. 

“Yup, same here too. You’re real sweet, Kristin.” Phil’s eyes were still fixated on her, only now just shifting them up to the sky where Kristin seemed to be looking. He may be a warrior but he isn’t a fucking creep. 

“And you’re a cool guy, Phil.” 

Kristin slammed the book close, some of the remaining dust flailing off, causing Wilbur to jump and cough a little next to her. She turned her head and smiled at Wilbur. 

“Is that how you and dad met? How does the book know everything? Surely it would be from first person.” Wilbur stared at the book in his mother’s hands. 

“That’s revealed later. But for now, I suggest you get back to where you are meant to be.” Kristin stood up and placed the book back into its slot within the other books. Wilbur followed behind her, muttering something. “Speak up, Wilbur. I can’t hear you.”

“Um...about going back. I just kind of woke up here. I really don’t know where anything else is. I just saw a white castle and entered. I’m meant to be dead.” Wilbur spoke, his voice getting louder as he spoke. He could see Kristin stare back at him in shock at what he just said. 

“Dead? What do you mean? You’re clearly alive, I mean look, you certainly aren’t a ghost. I can easily ruffle your hair. Prime, it’s still as soft as the day you were born.” Kristin rambled, reaching up to rub Wilbur’s brown hair for a second.

No. Her son wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead. Her husband wasn’t dead. No one was fucking dead. Surely something happened. For Prime’s sake. And, if he was dead, how did he get here? 

“But-” Wilbur paused, uncertain if he wanted to tell his mother how he ‘died’. He wasn’t even sure if he was dead now. Plus, if she heard that Phil was the one, he had no clue what would happen. All nether would break loose, that’s for certain. 

“On a somewhat related note, we can do more research on this in the morning, if you’re completely uncertain what’s happened. I’m sure the books must have something, your father was always mesmerized by death. I can tell you one thing though, you are positively not dead. Follow me, dear. I’ll show you to your room.” 

She made her way out of the room, her small white cape fluttering as she walked. Wilbur never saw his mother without that same white cape, just like he never saw his old man without his classic green and white sun hat. 

The two stood outside a door. It had a small and pastel coloured ‘W’ on it. Kristin opened the door, letting her son enter first before making her own way inside the room. He was instantly met with green vines plastering the walls above the bed that lay in the middle of the room. There was a guitar there, laying right on the corner of the bed. On the nightstand, stood a plaster whale coated in grey and blue paint. Wilbur had always loved whales, having carried around a small blue whale plush as a child.

“How is this room so...perfect? You said that you and dad thought I would never return.” He wondered around the room, sitting on the comfortable pale yellow duvet covers. 

“Well, that was what Phil said. He would always ramble on about your letters, and how you were so content with living in that server, and how you would probably end up living there for years to come. I always knew that wasn’t the case. Guess you could call it a mother’s instinct, huh?” Kristin leaned against the draws, looking at her son from across the bed. Wilbur only gave a small chuckle at the response, kicking off his boots and placing them by the bed.

“You can stay here for as long as you wish, I’ll be most likely down the hall. My door has a little ‘K’ and ‘P’ right above the handle, you can’t miss it. Just, knock before coming in, alright?” She made her way out, using her fingertips to turn off the candles. Kristin gave one last glance at Wilbur before closing the door.

Wilbur felt himself physically sigh as the door was gently closed. He immediately flopped against the bed, letting his head hit the soft pillows. 

Today had been odd to say the least. He still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened. His father had literally stabbed him not that long ago, yet here he was breathing. Wilbur had only one life when Phil had killed him, so why isn’t he fucking dead yet? 

But, Wilbur guessed, he’d rather be here than hell. He had heard that it was eternal darkness there, and now that he was able to start thinking more clearly, hell didn’t seem somewhere that he wanted to be. In all honesty, he had just wanted an escape from what was happening on the server. At least he got it now. 

Plus, it seemed rather peaceful compared to the DreamSMP. No one else seemed to be around here apart from him and Kristin. Phil was probably still in that prime forsaken room. Though, Wilbur supposes that she would probably let Phil know of Wilbur’s location.

Kristin was just happy to have her boy back. She herself wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, if Wilbur was meant to die, but she guesses it has something to do with Phil and his own immortality. It appears that while Wilbur didn’t inherit anything from his mother, he might have from Phil. 

Chapter Text

Phil sat in Techno’s new house, distracting himself from what was happening back in L’Manberg with all the new renovations. He stared as Techno removed the last of his belongings from his inventory and into the new wooden chests. 

He felt so fucking bad. So fucking bad. Was there another option? Could he have done something better? What if he had only arrived earlier? Maybe Wilbur wouldn’t be dead, gone forever, slowly decaying. Techno had brought him to Pogtopia afterwards so that Phil could at least look after some of Wilbur’s old possessions. There was his old guitar that Phil still remembers getting him before he left for the server. He can recall back to when he and Wilbur sat in the tiny attic back at their old cottage. Wilbur had found Phil’s old guitar. The two spent the rest of the day in the attic with Wilbur learning how to play. They had only come down when Kristin had called them down for dinner. 

What was Kristin going to do when she found out? Prime, it’s going to be fucking impossible to tell her that her only son was dead. Why didn’t Wilbur inherit anything from his parents? The closest thing relating to them was how he looked exactly like his mother, and his love for music and archery from his father. He had none of the mythical shit they had, being born a plain mortal to a goddess for a mother and an immortal (retired) adventurer for a father.

“Phil? You there?” Techno turned to him, staring at his old friend in worry and confusion. 

Techno had always been there for the couple since the days of the Arctic Empire. He had found the almost grown piglin out in the snow, carrying a goal on his shoulder. Back then, he had wanted to rule the world. They all did for a while, before eventually having to abandon it for ‘undisclosed’ reasons. He always viewed Techno as his brother, their bond growing close in only a short amount of time. 

“Yeah, mate. Just thinking.” Phil gave a sombre smile at the piglin, adjusting his hat and moving the little heart emblem that hung from a string. Wilbur had made that for him when he was only a little boy, he must have been around five, and it never left his hat since. He had made something similar for all three adults, Kristin having a paper little flower on her white cape (the two had put tape around the paper, making sure it wouldn’t tear)  and Techno having a cardboard crown. It was probably still in one of Techno’s chests now that Phil thought about it. Techno had almost teared up when Wilbur handed it to him one day, a proud smile on his face.  

“I know it must have been hard. Don’t worry. I’m certain we could get those bastards back for what they made you do.” Techno sat next to him, loosening his red velvet cape and tossing it onto the brewing stand in the corner. 

“Maybe one day. But still, maybe if I had just shown up earlier, he would still be alive in my arms. Instead of fucking smiling as he died. Did you know that? Drops of blood fell out of his fucking mouth as he smiled at me. I fucked it, Techno. I fucked it!” Phil said, desperation and regret tinged deeply in the way he cried. Techno sighed, gently rubbing Phil’s back. 

"I know, I know. He was a good kid, Phil. No one could have seen this coming. Not even me. I’m so sorry.” Techno looked away for a moment, his eyes glaring into a small chest that was hidden in the corner.

Phil shed a singular tear, wiping it from his face, “Don’t be sorry. There was nothing you could have done, anyways. Let’s just get this house finished so I could get some fucking rest before I have to start building back in L’Manberg. I don’t even wanna fucking live there. Prime.” Phil stood up and out of Techno's loose hold. He made his way too look out of the fenced windows.

Kristin stood on the balcony outside her room. She was watering the flowers, contemplating what to do. Does she let Phil know that Wilbur was here? Does he even know of their son's supposed death? The word death is definitely one to be used loosely, she knew that for certain. 

Two quiet knocks came ringing through her room, and a muffled voice calling out for her. She turned back, grabbing her cape from her bedpost and tying it up as she opened the door. Wilbur stood there, shifting from foot to foot as he usually did when he was waiting for something. 

“Morning, Wil. You alright?” Kristin wore the smile that she usually did as she spoke, though she was clearly tired. 

“Mhm. Just...wanted to see you. I’m fucking starving and have no idea where anything is.” Wilbur spoke, looking off into what was his mother’s and father’s room. It was vastly different from the one back at the cottage where he grew up. From what Wilbur could see, there was a staff and sword hanging on the walls. The sword was similar to the one his father owned, whereas the staff was something he had never seen before in his life. The rod itself was a bright gold, and on the top was a light blue diamond. 

“Oh of course, you must be absolutely starving. I’m so sorry dear. Come on, follow me to the kitchen.” Kristin gasped for a moment, before turning her way down the halls with Wilbur hot on her heels as always, like a baby duckling following their mother. 

They walked through the main hall where Kristin had found Wilbur into an arched door, iron pots and pans now in his sights. Wilbur looked around the room as Kristin reached for a chest, grabbing two bright red apples and a fresh loaf of bread. She handed Wilbur an apple before splitting the loaf into two for them to share. 

“Hope that should fill you up for a little while.” Kristin took a bite out of her apple while Wilbur chucked his core into the bin and started to munch on the bread. 

“It should do, I can’t even remember the last time I had a decent fucking meal. Every bit of food was rationed, the majority of our time was spent gathering supplies with Dream and Techno. Wait, do you even know who Dream is? Or Tommy?” Wilbur looked at his mother, waiting for her answer. 

“I’ve heard of Dream and Tommy yes. I re-read some of the letters you sent us while Phil made the trek over. L’Manberg, was it called? I was so proud when I heard about you leading your friends to victory. Just like your father did once.” Kristin stared across the room to the small window, her voice getting quieter at the end,  hen back to Wilbur with a tilted head. 

Wilbur took a deep sigh, the name ringing bells in his ears and almost making him puke. “Can you not mention L’Manberg for a while? Just… I’m still too fragile. Sorry.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry Wilbur. I must have suspected something to have happened. You're here for a reason, after all. Different topics. Quick. Um shit. You mentioned Techno, right? How is he? I still remember back when he was a young piglin. He would never leave your father’s side. Nice to know that he helped you out.”

Kristin misses those days. Sure, Wilbur was definitely her little boy, but back before Wilbur it was wild. The three ran an entire fucking empire for a while. She still has her old outfits and crowns from when they ruled in this castle. Her and Phil's old sword and staff hanging above their dresser.

“He’s alright I guess. We didn’t really talk much back in the ravine. I’ll have to tell you about that later. I think I stopped writing after I got exiled. That’s probably why dad came, isn’t it?” Wilbur realised. 

“I believe so. He looked so worried when we read the letter. He was gone in the night. He’s lucky I love him otherwise I would have knocked him out. I wish I could have come, but Phil left the castle before I got a chance to prepare. Want to come and read the book again? You looked quite invested yesterday, Wil.” Kristin laughed, standing up after Wilbur eagerly nodded. 

Once again, the mother and son walked through the main hall and through the hallways, Wilbur now recognising the library door from yesterday. They resumed their positions in the chair. 

Kristin used to love reading to Wilbur, always light heartedly arguing with Phil that she had been the one to encourage Wilbur’s love for reading from an early age. The toddler would constantly tug on whatever dress his mother would be wearing with a random book in hand for her to read in their little homemade reading nook. 

Wilbur was definitely smarter than most children his age growing up. He was reading books by only age four, and knew his way around a lot of things. Techno would spar with Wilbur when he would sometimes visit, which would help him in a battle if he ever got into one. Even though Wilbur preferred archery like his father used to long  ago, it was nice to see the two bond. Not to forget Wilbur’s amazing guitar skills, way better than how Phil used to play. 

It’s a shame that Wilbur didn’t get Phil’s majestic wings, or anything from Kristin being a literal fucking goddess. But, Kristin knew deep down there was something special in her boy. Just waiting to be discovered.

Chapter Text

It had been a few months since the two first met in that flower field. They would constantly meet up in that little flower field, and grow closer. Sometimes they would have a little picnic, but they would always end up just sitting and watching the sun as they talked. The sun would go down with beauty, and rise with grace. 

Almost a year had passed by, the routine stayed like that. On a rare occurrence, they would wander off into the village market that was a few miles by. Kristin would sit on the flower bed as Phil would fly up into the sky, deciding that he should start using his wings. Below him, Kristin would always laugh when a bird flew into his face or when Phil would plummet to the ground below. 

“You’re getting better, that’s for certain.” Kristin laughed as Phil once again dove straight first into the ground, his face covered in dirt. She pulled out a handkerchief and decided to wipe down the crusty dirt. Phil’s face grew into a light hearted grimace, only making Kristin laugh more as she wiped the last bit of dirt from his face. 

Phil’s hair was getting way too long for her liking. 

“Least I can fly. All you do is stay on the ground with the flowers and laugh.” Phil jokingly poked. 

Kristin fondly shook her head as she spoke, “Don’t be like that. Now, c’mon. Let’s do something about your hair. Surely it’s annoying you up there in the wind.” 

She made her way behind where Phil sat, sitting on her knees sideways to make sure her dress wouldn’t get as dirty as Phil’s face. 

“What are you planning to do? Don’t tell me you got a secret pair of scissors hidden in that dress.” Phil let Kristin push his head down, wincing as she grabbed three chunks of hair from the side of his head.

“Stop being such a baby about it, then maybe I’ll tell you.” Kristin said as she twisted a plait together, pulling it around his head and grabbing one of the hair bands she had used on her hair that day, and quickly tying up the plait. 

It was a simple hairstyle. A small plait around his head and into a small ponytail in the back. He still had hair at the front, but it was now much easier for him to not taste any of his hair while he flew. 

Kristin smiled at her work, handing Phil a tiny hand held mirror. He looked at his hair in the mirror, catching a glimpse of Kristin coming back into view with a few flowers in her hands.

“Lady’s Mantle flowers. The green ones could match your little jumper. C’mon.” Kristin responded, after seeing a small look of cautiousness on Phil’s face. 

“Fine, but I can’t guarantee they won’t fall out while I’m flying.” Phil sighed, letting Kristin place the flowers in his new braid. 

“That’s fine with me.” Kristin grinned. 

“Is that why dad always has a plait in his hair?” Wilbur interrupted, his gaze averting from the book to his mother.

Kristin paused her reading to laugh at Wilbur’s question, “I guess so.”

“Y’know I never saw dad without a plait in his hair. Like never. Same with you and Techno. When he joined Pogtopia he still had that long plait in his hair.” Wilbur thought, remembering the ravine for a second before quickly distracting himself with what his mother responded with. 

“Really? After all this time, Techno never took out the plait?” Kristin closed the book, it still in her lap, and averted her head to look at Wilbur. 

“Not that I’ve ever seen. Why do you all wear the plaits? Is there like a cool secret that I don’t know about?” Wilbur half-joked. He wasn’t expecting Kristin to sigh, though she definitely seemed fond about it. She had a smile on her face as she breathed, before answering. 

“Well, that’s explained in the book. I would love to skip ahead, and show you what happened but I think we should wait until we find out how you managed to ‘respawn’. That reminds me, how many lives were you on?” Kristin felt her stomach hurt as she asked that question, but if they were going to find out what had happened. 

Wilbur’s face dropped, not exaggeratingly, but in a way to show that he was fucked. “I was on one. I had lost them in the wars. I don’t think I wrote what happened in the letters, after all, I knew you would probably worry if I had told you.”

Kristin looked at Wilbur with a sombre look, reaching up and walking around the library and telling Wilbur to follow. He looked at some of the titles, recognising some of the books from his childhood. Phil would always leave stray books around the house, and Wilbur always begged to read them. Those were the only things he really wasn’t allowed to read. His mother grabbed one, and Wilbur could only stare as she took a skim inside. The two continued in silence, Kristin walking around what Wilbur could only presume was his father’s section of the library. Every few minutes, Kristin would grab a book before skimming through and putting it in her small pile that she held in her hands. 

“Is there a reason we are walking around this massive library and grabbing books or is that another secret?” Wilbur asked, his feet starting to hurt. Kristin laughed again for what felt like ages.

“Wilbur, you may be bright, but prime do you not have any common sense. The books might help us see why you respawned. I think I know why, but I’ll tell you later. You should already be starting to realise something.” Kristin had written that book with Phil back in the Arctic Empire, the book acting like a diary of their journeys together.

 She knew of Phil’s immortality before he even did, other gods always talking about him and his unearthly abilities, but Phil always slipped in little notes about how he himself should have known before when they managed to sit down and write. They had stopped after Wilbur was born, never having the time to. 

“Realise what?” Wilbur’s head tilted downwards, trying to think of what it could be, “All I know about Dad is that he has wings, is friends and brothers with Techno, and married you. I don’t even know his-”

Wilbur paused himself, Kristin now having stopped walking to watch as Wilbur finally thought about it. 

“I don’t know his age. And the book said he was old. But-we’re at the start- how old is dad?” Wilbur shot his head up, repeating the question again, “How old is dad?”

Kristin took a deep breath, preparing herself, before speaking, “He’s old. Much more older than most people could even count. He’s been around for a while, Wil. only recently has he learned love. That’s when he met me, and prime was that a while ago.”

Wilbur stood in shock. 

“What about you then? Have you got any life-long secrets hidden from your son? Y’know, the light of your life.” Wilbur felt like shouting, but decided not to. It reminded him of back home in L’Manberg. Or, Pogtopia as he should really be saying; it’s been far too long since he’s slept in the safe and happy walls of his own nation. Too late now, anyways, it’s destroyed to smithereens. 

Kristin didn’t laugh like he expected, only looking away and onto the vines and flowers that hung from the ceiling. She quickly changed the topic, “C’mon. Let’s figure this out first. You might have respawned because of Phil. Just...come along, will you?”

She dawned a fake smile as she asked the question, but Wilbur was too confused to press her more about it. He nodded, and his mother led the way throughout the library once more. 

Chapter Text

Kristin had told Wilbur to go explore the castle while she continued research, having already started thinking of her own hypothesis. But, it included her own abilities, and she didn’t want Wilbur finding that out yet. 

The two had decided long before Wilbur was even born that if they were to have children, they were to raise them as normally as they could. Neither of them had a normal childhood, Kristin being surrounded by fellow gods to raise her, and Phil just having to raise himself after his own family died. He was only around fifteen, if Kristin could remember correctly, and fifteen now to Phil was quite literally centuries ago. 

So, when Wilbur was born, they vowed to never tell their son about their abilities. Especially after being told that Wilbur might not inherit any of them, they took it as the perfect opportunity. While yes, Kristin has told Phil many times before that she thinks Wilbur actually might have gotten some of their abilities, she still refused to tell him until he got older. 

It’s just a shame that Phil was still out there. He probably thought his son was ‘dead’ now too. She would definitely have to write to him about that. And how she told Wilbur, he’s going to be pissed about that for sure. 

Kristin placed the few books she gathered on the table that sat in the middle of the library, and went to go into her own section to grab some things that also might help. There were books about mythical beings long before her, and how they dealt with their powers. Kristin had never read them in her youth, too busy with watching over the immortal boy. But, she decided that at this moment, she would do anything to help her son. 

She wandered over to where she had left the books long ago, before they had moved out of the castle to go and plumage the Arctic. Kristin had left her books here, while Phil always took his with them. While her husband was definitely a feared warrior at one point in history, he would always be found reading. They both loved reading, it’s most likely where Wilbur had got his love for the dramatic arts from at such a young age. 

Her hands skimmed over the covers, checking if they were the right ones she remembers from long ago, and to her luck they were. Kristin grabbed a few, before making her way back to the table. The books had been given to her by one of the gods who raised her, none of them knowing how to deal with a flower goddess without the stupid fucking things. The last one had died, and she spawned supposedly a good few years after that. 

She sat down and sighed, moving some of her long ass hair into a ponytail to keep it from out of her face while she read. On her desk was a few pens and sheets of paper so she could write down key things. 

Wilbur walked around the castle, deciding to wait in the painting room. There were so many of his mother and father, and some even with Techno. But never one with Wilbur. How old were these then? 

There was one painting that stood out to him in particular. It was in the middle of the room, being surrounded by many paintings that have a similar theme.

The big one in the centre had all three of them, Phil sitting on what seemed to be a throne with Kristin and Techno on his side. Techno had a stone cold face, as per always, while Phil held a smirk. He still had his hat on, but this time in blue and white instead of the familiar green and white, and his usual green and black robes were replaced with a white turtleneck and a white robe. His mother had something similar, a soft blue turtleneck with a black corset and matching black pants. Techno still had his usual royal attire, but this time donning a blue cape. 

The painting looked old. Not centuries old, but certainly not that much older than him. There were a few smaller paintings around what Wilbur could only guess to be the centre piece. One even had a castle similar to this one, but covered in blue and white instead of just the white brick this castle had. And the roof was just straight up ugly, at least to Wilbur’s tastes in roofs. Wilbur could see three small figures standing outside the castle, with swords and a pole. He guessed they were his parents and uncle. 

But, next to all the paintings was a flag, trapped in a glass encasing. The flag looked tatted, most definitely worn down by time. It looked like the first L’Manberg flag that Wilbur held while his old troops fought against Dream. Well, in the worn down aesthetic anyways. The rest of the flag looked completely different; once again sticking to the blue and white theme that the rest of the paintings had. It had a white sphere in the middle, spikes coming out of it. There was a light blue stripe going through the middle, with a bigger and darker blue surrounding it. 

Wilbur stared at the flag for a little while, before taking one last look on the paintings on this side of the wall. He turned around and looked at the others. 

There was one that had the flower field that his mother mentioned, with two other figures that Wilbur could definitely say that were his mother and father. Wilbur laughed at one photo, his father looking completely different. He had goggles on, and his hair was much shorter, just about shoulder length. His outfit was the weirdest part, a far cry from the robes his father wears now. It was something that Wilbur would have worn back in his teenage years. It was a white dress shirt that had a mouldy green covering the front. Phil held a guitar, and had a massively visible bow and arrow from the back. Good prime, even his wings were smaller. 

He really was like his dad. Or at least the old version anyways.