Chapter Text
Philza Minecraft knew from the moment he woke that morning it probably would have been better if he stayed asleep. How he knew something was off, he didn’t know. Being immortal, and many millennia old, didn’t grant him any psychic powers. Well, he did get sore knees every time the weather changed but he didn’t have this feeling now. It felt more like a general encompassing sense of just “wrong”. Still this was no excuse to laze about, he had things to get done. He could deal with whatever this was later.
First port of call, as always, was to check on the crops and animals outside. Phil was no farmer but he much preferred having his food fresh and close-by to the alternative: frequent, long walks to the market. Not that Phil didn’t enjoy the market, but shopping trips just felt like an inconvenience. He also just liked keeping animals. They were good company, especially recently after Wilbur’s sudden desire to start his own journey in life. Which didn’t bother Phil at all. It didn’t, really. His son was old enough to look after himself and Technoblade had gone to check up on him not too long ago. Anyway, Phil was used to being alone - you had to be when you were like him.
Phil paused halfway through the back door. He took a breath and cleared his head. Dwelling on those thoughts isn't going to help him right now, if ever. But this could be where that odd feeling was coming from! Could his son be in trouble? Had he bitten off more than he could chew with that country of his? Phil scoffed at the thought. Of course nothing was wrong with Wilbur. If there was, he would’ve been informed through the letters his son sent and he hadn’t been told anything bad, so everything must be fine.
“Dadza!”
A screech from his feet pulled Phil’s attention back to the real world. A large, fat crow had landed in front of him, a coin clutched in his beak. After it realised it had Phil’s attention, it dropped the coin and pushed it forwards. Phil picked it up, praying he wouldn’t get his finger pecked off as he did so. He didn’t. It certainly looked like the bird was considering it though, beady eyes seemingly judging him. He studied the coin. It was golden with a heart decorating one side, the other labelled as “piss heart” and a name he didn’t recognise. Phil wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. A bird had called him dad and then paid him.
He couldn’t ignore the strange feeling any longer. The crow had made him realise how much he missed his son. That was all it took for his brian to settle on a plan. After completing his morning chores he would take the trip to visit his son’s new country and see how he was coping. He would go, see his son and maybe then his brain would realise that nothing was wrong with Wilbur.
***
Something was very wrong with Wilbur.
He had been lying in his letters and nothing was ok. He had lost the election and been exiled from his own country which is the real reason Techno had gone - he was practically begged to by Wilbur. Of course it wasn’t just him wanting to check on his sort-of nephew - how didn’t Phil realise that before? He was so stupid! Why couldn’t he tell something wrong with his own fucking son? On top of all of that he immediately had to try and talk Wilbur out of blowing up L’Manburg upon his arrival. Unsurprisingly, Phil was unable to talk him down from the height of his emotions. Horrified screams sound from outside, unsuspecting residents grieving both the loss of a country and their fallen friends. They didn’t know their loss had just begun.
It was if the universe thought Phil didn’t already have far too many thoughts to deal with for one day because what happened next shattered his heart even further.
Wilbur threw him a diamond sword. Broken, pained pleas dripping from his mouth. Begging for his own father to kill him.
***
Phil cradled Wilbur close. His wings curled around them both, keeping his son warm. Wilbur made no noise and yet Phil made a shushing noise, rocking his little boy gently. He watched as his son’s eyelids dropped as if he was fighting to keep them open. He had always been stubborn about going to sleep. Phil let out a watery laugh and stroked his son’s cheek with a bloody hand. Wilbur’s body decided that was his father gifting him a final blessing - that it was ok to sleep. His eyes closed for the last time and he looked more relaxed than Phil had ever seen him.