Chapter Text
There were three main traits to know about Philza Minecraft.
The first is that he would do anything for his children, that he loves them beyond compare. The second is that he is deeply loyal to the Crimson Egg. The third is that he loves to fly.
Which is to say, it's somewhat notable when Phil slowly begins staying out in the castle later, slowly begins distancing himself from the family, slowly begins tucking away into corners of the gardens to feel the wind on his face instead of seeking out a glide through the sky.
Dream has always kept a close eye on Philza. His Chosen loves his family, but his Chosen is nearly as loyal to Philza as he is to Dream himself. Nearly.
And so Dream keeps an eye, and Dream notices Phil hiding away in the garden one day.
"Not going to fly?" He asks, appearing behind Phil, sitting on one of his vines.
Phil turns to look at Dream with a bit of surprise, quickly forcing a little polite smile onto his face. He's had a bit of a bad mood today, but there's no reason for that to reflect onto Dream. "Nah mate, not right now," he replies simply, settling back against the brick of the raised flower bed. His grey-feathered wings get squished a bit, but he's used to it and the pressure relieves a bit of the dull itch.
Dream squints, and jumps off the vine. He carefully pushes Phil forward, and takes a look at his wings.
Phil makes a face at being moved but doesn't speak up against it. He's loyal, after all. His wings are familiar, lighter feathers up top fading to a darker grey near the bottom, with a couple distinctive white spots near the tips. The only notable difference is that they look a bit more unkempt than usual, a couple areas thinned and less sleek and healthy, as well as a handful of small feathers scattered on the ground beneath where he's been sitting. He gathers them in a quiet motion, stuffing them into his pocket as he has with all the others today.
Dream raises a brow. "You usually keep them so well cared for. And they're falling out? You're molting." Dream accuses. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"It's just something that happens, Dream," Phil replies pointedly. He's not much in the mood for explaining his every decision, right now. "It'll pass."
Dream glares. "None of that back-chat. Come on, you're coming upstairs with me and the family is going to help."
"There's nothing to help," Phil replies dryly, but stands regardless. His wings shuffle and fold back to their resting place behind him, dislodging another feather. He sighs and picks it up. "There's still a few weeks left. Usually, I would fuck off to my hardcore world for awhile."
"Hm. Well, we're helping anyway. And I'm crafty. I'll find ways to help. Now come on, upstairs." Dream snaps.
Phil glowers at Dream's back for a second as he leads the way, but sticks the feather in his pocket and forces himself to relax. He's trying to help--even if Phil didn't want it and had figured out his own routine for this long ago. He follows silently.
Dream walks them up to the family room and motions for Phil to sit on the bed. "Lay down, I'm going to preen your wings while we wait for the others. And it's going to feel really good."
"It's just going to keep itching afterward," Phil returns, laying down obediently.
"Nope." Dream replies. "Your wings are going to feel very good." He commands firmly as he runs his fingers through and pulls out the weak feathers.
Phil lets out a long, soothed sigh as he feels familiar hands in his feathers--even if his wing flexes reflexively and tries to bat Dream's touch away. They don't like being touched by others when in moult. He at least has the presence of mind to look startled and ashamed of the action. "I'm--sorry," he quickly insists. "I didn't mean to--"
Dream nods. "You can't move your wings until I'm done." Dream orders. "That should fix that."
Phil eyes glaze over slightly and he nods silently. He can feel Dream's hands like pleasant fire as they run through the feathers, but the wings themselves just feel heavy.
"There we go," Dream purrs, now that Phil's wings have gone still. The dead feathers start to come out easy, and although Dream can tell the new ones haven't finished growing yet, he's firm in his decision, and can tell the new ones might be able to grow a bit better now that they aren't impeded. "That's a little better, isn't it? They'll be sensitive, obviously, but at least they won't itch as much. You're also on break until they're done molting--No official work unless Techno or I commands it."
Phil hums lowly, floating mostly in the wake of the sweet, wonderful feeling that has been induced by the earlier order. He nods slightly. "Thank you..."
Dream smiles. That's much better than the sass he had been getting earlier. "You're welcome. If they start to feel bad, just call to the vines. They'll make you feel all nice and sweet again."
"M'kay," he mumbles. He kinda doubts they're not going to just go back to how they felt before, if not worse, if Dream releases him from this daze, though. If he guessed, he'd figure Dream basically just sped up the moulting itself by a few days.
Dream smiles, and the vines gently wrap around Philza like a blanket. A knock comes from the door, and Dream calls for Techno and Wilbur to enter. The others are still on the way-- the order was gentle, after all.
Techno and Wilbur both enter, uncertain what exactly to expect. Neither of them were exactly expecting to find Phil laid on the bed, wings stretched out and feathers scattered everywhere, Dream at his side.
"Hey," Techno greets, coming over and looking the scene over while Wilbur quickly moves to sit on Phil's other side, resting a hand on his shoulder, supportive.
Dream nods a greeting. "Phil is molting, and was giving me a lot of backchat earlier. He's good again now, though. Nice and sweet for me now that I've gotten rid of the dead feathers. It'll take time, though."
Wilbur hums sympathetically, running a soothing hand over top of Phil's wing--only to get a soft whack to the face for his trouble. Dream finished, so they no longer feel heavy and are more sensitive than ever with so many feathers missing. Wilbur just laughs softly.
"Phil... were you even plannin' on saying anything?" Techno asks, amused. "We all know how much of a grump you get durin' this."
Dream gives Phil a light-hearted glare. "He did not plan to tell anyone. I found out on my own."
"I've been dealing with these far longer than you've been alive, Tech," Phil mutters into the mattress. "Would'a been fine."
"Yes, but you would have isolated, and Techno would have been sad, worried, and lonely." Dream points out. "And we wouldn't want that."
"What's your problem with isolation, anyway?" Phil mumbles. "It's nice."
"If you leave, you wouldn't come back for a long time, Phil. We all know that," Techno chastises. "And how would I get Phil hugs then?"
"You aren't allowed to leave me for that long. You know that Phil. You have to ask permission before you go." Dream adds.
Phil huffs slightly. "Yeah, I know. That's the only reason I'm still here."
"Good." Dream nods. "You're meant to stay here, and be my Chosen's father. You know your role. And if you need help to be that, that's what I'm here for."
Phil mumbles something inscrutable into the mattress, but relaxes obediently, drifting closer to sleep. Getting preened like that took a fair bit of energy.
Dream pets his hair. "Shh, be good for me Phil. You know what I want of you."
Phil nods, drifting off fully at the touch to his hair.
Dream smiles, and a small hiss emanates through the room as it is filled with beautiful red gas.
Techno and Wilbur smile and curl up next to Phil, happy and quickly put to sleep by the pleasant gas.
Phil spends the next couple days kept fairly content, only having to ask for Dream to help relieve the itching that starts up again once.
It's on the fourth day when Phil is truely irritable again, pacing the room a few times with twitching wings before walking over and flinging the window open, desperate for wind on his feathers even if he definitely can't fly as is. He sighs, leaning on the windowsill with head in his hands and flexing his thinned wings against the tickle of the stirring air.
This was another reason he usually left during a moult--the wanderlust. The need to move to distract himself from everything he can feel.
It's one of these days that Dream walks up behind him, and sits beside him. "You've been looking outside quite a lot."
Phil hums an acknowledgement. He knows he has to stay here, but...
He winces and the wings flex again as he gets a pang from them. The sort of pang he's come to associate with needing to go.
Dream looks at the subtle movements, and looks into the desires.
"You want to feel the wind, on your wings... feel the air beneath you, the sky above you... endless expanse within your sight, your grasp." He whispers into Phil's ear.
Phil gasps softly, grip tightening on the windowsill as he feels something deeper than his heart resonate with the words being told to him. "I want to go," he admits in a breath.
Dream hums, nodding, "You're out there, right now. Wings, beating strongly, feeling the wind whip at your face, blowing your hair back. The wind whistles through your feathers, each and every one."
Phil shudders out a breath as his eyes glaze over fully red, senses being changed to respond to and follow the story Dream paints. He sighs in immense relief, wings twitching in response to an imaginary breeze.
"The winds are whispering, aren't they? Singing songs of freedom. There's a field beneath you. It's large, soft, and safe. There's a forest full of fruit trees up ahead. The winds pull you down, and you have fruit in your grasp. You're still flying, juice in your mouth. Foraged, taken from the world around you. How does it taste?" Dream asks, pushing Phil to experience it even more deeply as he paints his own picture.
"Sweet. Fresh. Wild," Phil whispers back, falling further under with the taste of an imaginary fruit on his lips.
"Exactly. Tastes like freedom. Tastes like the wind in your wings, tastes like the air beneath you, tastes like defying gravity with ease."
"Yes," Phil agrees, not even noticing as his knees fail and he falls to the ground weakly, leaning forward and getting caught on the wall. His wings barely twitch, the air movement of falling mixing effortlessly with the imagined winds.
"You're flying, flying, flying, you've been flying so long. All day. The sun is setting down, it's time to bring the chicks to the nest." Dream weaves.
Phil sighs and leans his head against the wall. He can feel the warm rays of the sun fading and being replaced with the chill of the highest winds, he can hear the distant calls as the nighttime birds begin to take flight, he can feel the ever-so-slight yet familiar burn of a long flight on his wing muscles.
"Can you see the castle, up ahead? The balcony on the family room, the perfect place to land." Dream whispers.
Phil nods, angling to glide gently down to the castle in his "sight". The winds are gentle under his wings, guiding him down like a cushion as he "lands".
Dream smiles, and pets Phil's hair. "Come back to reality, calm and nice from the flight." he orders softly.
Phil slowly blinks, red film being cleared slightly from his eyes as he obeys. He has a gentle, easy smile, the way he always does after a nice flight. He looks up at Dream after a moment, uncertain how he ended up on the floor like this but unconcerned.
Dream helps Phil stand. "Better?" He asks.
Phil nods hazily, wings twitching slightly behind him.
"It's late." Dream says, even though the sun is just barely beginning to set. "Time to bring the chicks to the nest?"
Phil nods again. It is late.
"Go get the chicks. Tell them it's late. They will believe you." Dream orders.
Phil bows slightly, stumbling off toward the door, still a bit unbalanced from the lingering euphoria of flight--it's lingering a lot longer than usual, but he doesn't care. He sweeps along the castle's halls, searching for his chicks, one hand on the wall to help himself balance.
He finds Wilbur first, who is sitting in his music room tuning the guitar. "You alright Dad?" he asks when Phil stumbles in.
Phil nods easily, tilting his head slightly and looking upon his chick lovingly. "It's late," he murmurs. "You should go upstairs."
Instantly upon hearing the words, Wilbur lets out a loud yawn, and nods. "Mm, got lost in the music again didn't I?" He mumbles. He was so awake just a few seconds ago, now all he can feel is tired.
Phil smiles and takes Wilbur by the shoulders, guiding him out. "Go upstairs," he urges.
Wilbur nods, setting his guitar to the side and trudging his way up to the family room.
Phil watches him go for a moment before moving onward, finding Ranboo in the library, half curled up in an armchair. He sets his hands on the kid's shoulders from behind gently. "Hey... It's getting late, don't you think?"
Ranboo groans at the words, and blinks rapidly. "Wha'dyou say?" He mumbles, sleepily.
"It's late. You should head upstairs," Phil repeats with a fond smile.
Ranboo nods, closing his book and dragging it with him as he stumbles upstairs. He yawns a few times, and shakes his head, mumbling to himself.
Phil nods, then moves on to the garden where Tommy and Tubbo like to spend their time.
"Hey," he calls out, seeing the first rays of moonlight shining down on the teens' faces.
Tommy and Tubbo turn, "Hey, going to watch the sunset with us?" Tubbo asks.
Phil tilts his head slight. "It's late," he informs them simply.
The two blink, and turn back to the sun...set? But-- No. It's the moonrise now. Their eyes are completely red.
"Oh... we missed the sunset." Tubbo laments.
"It's fine Big T, we've got tomorrow--" Tommy says, before breaking off with a yawn.
Phil laughs softly, then gestures inside. "Go on upstairs, you two," he urges.
Tommy nods, and pulls Tubbo with him. Tubbo's still mumbling about the loss of the sunset.
Phil laughs softly as he trails them inside, breaking off softly to head for the office where Techno's sure to be working this late. He knocks briefly.
"Come in," Techno calls.
Phil opens the door, thin wings fluttering slightly and a soft smile on his face. "Hey Tech. You should come upstairs."
Techno raises a brow. "I've still got some work to do, it's not even sundown yet."
"It's late, though," Phil says simply.
Techno groans, and shuts his eyes tight while the order takes effect. "Huh..." He mutters once his eyes have finished flashing fully red. "Since when did it get so late? Was I hyperfixatin' again?"
"Maybe," Phil responds, offering him a hand to stand up. "Come on, let's get to bed."
Techno nods, and takes Phil's hand. He pauses to give Phil a hug and bury his face in Phil's neck. "You seem calmer, somethin' happen?"
Phil hums softly, happily at the hug, sore wings coming around to rest on Techno's shoulders softly. "I went for a flight," he explains nonchalantly, as though that's at all possible for his with his wings thinned as they are.
Techno raises a brow. "How?"
Phil blinks blankly. "I just... I went for a flight," he insists.
Techno purses his lips. "Dream?" He asks, just to make sure. If someone else was messing with his father's mind or wings...
"He was there when I got back," Phil affirms. "Sent me to come get all of you. We should go upstairs, it's late."
Techno nods. Just Dream. Good. That's good. Nobody else is allowed to touch his father's wings or mind.
Techno yawns, and stretches. "Alright. Family room?"
Phil nods, smiling. "Yep."
Techno hums, and walks with Phil, who falls into step behind him.
They arrive fairly quickly, and Phil opens the door for Techno before they both slip into the room.
The others in the room are far more tired than they usually would be when family cuddles begin, and, interestingly, the windows had been entirely blocked out with deep red vines, save for a small sliver of semi-translucent vines at the very bottom of the windows allowing a small bit of dim light to illuminate the room.
Phil rubs his eyes, beginning to feel a bit tired himself, and moves to take his place on the bed. Techno follows pretty easily, sending the windows a curious glance as he sits.
Dream walks in after they all settle down. "How cute," he coos.
Phil coos softly, already half asleep due to the lingering glaze from Dream's orders earlier and the latent calming energy in the air of the room. Techno smiles at Phil briefly before looking to Dream. "What did you do...?"
"I told him a story," Dream smiles. "Of breezy days and fruits you pick right from the tree that taste like freedom."
Techno narrows his eyes, trying to figure that out for a second before deciding to just let Dream be obtuse.
Dream laughs, and sits down on the edge of the bed. "I altered his senses to feel like he went on a flight."
"Ahh," Techno replies, realizing. "It seems like it helped him."
"He's been so listless, so I would imagine so. As far as he'll ever know he spent the day from sunup to sundown flying." Dream smiles. "He'll even have the slightly sore muscles to sell the story."
"It's really incredible what you can do to us," Techno notes with an impressed smile.
"I can do whatever I want, and whatever you let me." Dream smiles. "If you obey, I can do anything. My threads are powerful."
"Very," Techno agrees.
They sleep.
It takes another week or so for all the old feathers to be able to be coaxed out, leaving just the thin, small fluff of new feathers coming in. But the change is very noticeable, because for some reason instead of replacing his grey feathers with ones just like them as usual...
The ones growing in are a pure, bleached white.
Dream looks over the new feathers, helping himself to moving them around to get a better look.
"They're different, this time," Dream says.
"Hm?" Phil mumbles sleepily, complete putty in Dream's hands as Dream messes with his incredibly sensitive young feathers and forces it to feel good with the constant orders affirming that fact.
"Your feathers, they're white. Not grey." Dream clarifies. "Look."
Phil cracks his eyes open and curls around to glance back, shivering as one wing gets brushed against the blankets and the other one is pulled forward for his inspection by Dream. So sensitive. Usually there would be older feathers still protecting the new ones from being touched quite so much, but...
Well, Dream had taken care of that.
"Mhm," Phil notes, seeing the white wing himself. He twitches it slightly--well, it doesn't feel off, he thinks, although his perception of them is very strange right now. "Tha's weird..."
"Hm... Well, I do sap the color of some things when I touch them if I will it. Perhaps my touch on you took the color away." Dream shrugs, continuing to pet the wings.
Phil shivers again as the outright petting resumes. "Do y' like it?" He mutters, slurred from the burning sensation coming from his wings.
"I do... yes," Dream nods. "Look at you, changing so outwardly, so obviously... and all to show that you belong to me."
"Mm," Phil hums, tensing briefly as Dream runs his hands through a particularly new spot before he's forced to relax again. "'m glad..."
Dream smiles, and stops petting the feathers. "I can't wait to see them all grown in. Won't it be beautiful?"
Phil nods slowly. "Pretty white... could get dirty though..."
"You'll keep them clean." Dream assures. "You kept the grey ones clean, and won't you want to show off how nice your new wings are? After all, aren't you going to want to show off how I gave you back your wings?"
Phil nods again, giving a hum of agreement.
"Aren't you going to thank me for the wings?" Dream presses.
"Thank you..." Phil mumbles quickly. "Thanks for... takin' care of me..."
Dream hums, pleased. "There we go. How many days until it's time to preen?"
Phil hums sleepily, confused as he starts to drift off. "Y' keep track of... the time stuff..."
Dream chuckles. "True. That I do. You're about to fall asleep on me, aren't you?"
"Mhm..."
"Sleep, then." Dream commands. It's always better to get them to associate his orders with the calm feelings.
And so he does.
Dream smiles, and puts Phil's head in his lap. He'll wait until Phil wakes, and will give him another tale of flight to push down the wanderlust for another few days until his wings truly work again.