Chapter Text
"Dad."
If he's perfectly honest, Phil really doesn't want to wake up. He'd be more than fine with just keeping his eyes closed for the next few hours, letting his body turn sluggishly to the side and tucking back against his warm, warm pillows. That would be pretty nice, actually - tempting, too.
Quite tempting.
Hm. Maybe he should. Maybe he should ignore that small, insistent part of his mind telling him to just get up already; maybe he should give himself a break, let the tugging desire for a little longer kept alone win him over; maybe he should- maybe he should...
Maybe...
"Dad."
But there it is again, a huffing, determined tone that pierces into his mind - relentless, unforgiving, and far too urgent for what was meant to be a relatively quiet autumn morning. The dew was still fresh; the birds were still chirping, and yet here this voice was. Phil's brows furrowed, though his eyes stayed diligently shut.
He was probably just imagining things, actually. His old, old mind was playing tricks on him, trying to confuse him so early on, making him muddled and disorientated and-
"Dad!"
"Will, Wilbur," Phil's own voice was groaning, fatigued, lost within a haze of morning hoarseness as he tried to placate his son. "What is it?"
Wilbur, the boy, who was stood rod-straight beside his father's bed, huffed once more. He shifted the bundle in his arms, and then, as if announcing the most normal of things, "I found a baby."
Phil, tired, tired, tired, gave a loose nod of vague acknowledgement. "Hm? Did you? ... That's nice, Will."
"Dad."
A slow beat, and then-
Phil's eyes really did shoot up that time, as did his eyebrows - flying right into his declining hairline. He spun towards where his son was still, patiently standing, and, well- "You found a what!?"
"Dad!" Wilbur repeated as he lifted his free hand to press a finger over his lips in a shushing gesture. "You're going to wake it up if you shout so loud."
"Wake- Wilbur, I'm-" Phil rubbed at his eyes, once, and then twice. Maybe everything would disappear into a dream if he rubbed hard enough. "Please tell me you're not being serious."
Wilbur shrugged lightly. "Why would I lie? I found a baby outside, in the bushes, and guess what."
How could this situation possibly get any worse? Phil sighed, shifted upwards so that he was sitting straight, and then inclined his head slightly. "What?"
"I think it's a human, too."
And, there it was, there the situation was: just getting unbelievably worse. “A human?” He parroted.
"A human." Wilbur nodded and gently shifted the bundle in his arms, pulling back the tattered blankets to reveal a chubby, shut-eyed face. The face of a sleeping baby, with strikingly blonde hair and the softest looking features Phil had ever seen in his extended life. "See? There are no marks on it, no horns, no… nothing."
Well, he certainly wasn't lying. The little babe definitely didn't look like a hybrid or a monster, not a fairy nor an elk, or anything in between, really. There were no hidden spells or underlying powers that were residing under its skin. It just looked so awfully, unsettlingly human.
But that didn't make sense, not completely. Because why- why would a human parent leave a child alone in the Ancient Forest of all places? Especially next to Phil’s home? Everyone knew - both humans and creatures alike - that the forest wasn't a safe place for mankind, not experienced hunters, not fearless fighters, and especially not children.
There were too many worries, too many horrors waiting around rotting bark and towering walls of moss and stone. The lurking, whispering dangers of trolls and fairies, of orcs and goblins, of the trees, suddenly stretching out into wild, clawing beasts of fangs and fury.
Even Phil, the Great Echo of the Forest, the Harbinger of Death and His Majesty's loyal servant, grew fearful, occasionally. Even he felt that spark of danger lighting up within the back of his mind, that recurring chant of run, run, run whenever he stepped a little too deep into the shifting caves and dancing fields.
So why…
Why was there a human child in his home?
"Can we keep it?"
Phil's beaded gaze snapped over towards his other son, Technoblade, who was standing next to Wilbur, perfectly still - as if he'd been there from the very start. He hadn't , though, Phil knew that for certain. Unless he was going crazy. Which he wasn't, not yet, at least. (Maybe.)
"No-!"
"Hey! When did you get here!?" Wilbur huffed, pulling the baby closer to his chest as if to shield it from the other boy's prying, red gaze. "I didn't hear you."
"You didn't hear me because you're an idiot." Techno dismissed and turned to Phil. "Can we?"
"Yes." Wilbur nodded.
"No!" Phil stressed, waving his hands about as his wings twitched restlessly behind him. "No, we cannot. End of, boys," He clarified as they looked to protest. "That's a human child; it needs to go back to wherever it came from."
Wilbur's bottom lip jutted out. "But what if it's like us? What if it doesn't have anywhere?"
"Then we will drop it off at the edge of the forest, and it can find a new family like you two did with me. Don't you want that?"
"Dad," it was Techno speaking that time, "But why can't we be its family?"
Phil sighed. "Because it's a human, Techno. Humans don't belong here."
"Well-"
“No.” Phil ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long, blonde locks. He was tired, stressed but also somewhat regretful. He didn't like disappointing his sons often. "Boys, you know- you both know that I love you more than anything, but a human child… it wouldn't be able to survive here. It needs human contact, education, socialisation - things that we can't properly offer. Not in the way it requires."
"Dad-"
"Please-"
"Wilbur. Techno."
A human wouldn't fit in with them.
Not with Phil, a death-soaked Harpy carrying the weight of an immortal forest on his shoulders. A man of legends, of horror stories and nightmares that plagued the world, a man covered by the thick scent of agony - forever to have his hands stained a taunting red, no matter how good he tried to desperately become.
Not with Wilbur, a deeply curious fae cursed with blinding beauty and an overly-captivating voice, a child shunned by those he'd once desperately tried to make a home with - out of jealousy or fear, nobody would really know. (But they'd seen, seen how the wildlife wilted around him, how it faded and crumbled and died due to his cloying darkness.)
And not with Techno, a boy of wild, pink hair, deep-set scales that dug into his cheekbones and palms, violent horns that raged upwards and smoke that fled from bared nostrils. A dragon-hybrid, with shifting traits and features that he'd once forced himself to adapt to, no matter the pain that ran underneath his burning skin or the discomfort that overwhelmed.
They were myths, the children of messy folklores and taunting beliefs that kept the new, growing world in a feeling of total suspense and dread. A human wasn't made for them; a human would never be made for them.
It needed to go.
"Lay it at the edge of the forest," Phil sighed as he shifted to lay back down, bringing his dark, dark wings ever closer against his body. "The rest of its people will find it soon enough."
"But dad," Wilbur tried quietly. He looked displeased, as if his lower lip was about to start petulantly wobbling.
Phil simply shook his head. "We can't keep it, Will. I'm sorry, I know… It'll be better this way, alright?"
"But what if something gets it before the humans find it? What if-"
“Wilbur. Nobody goes to the edge, at least nobody with malicious intentions, you know that."
"But-"
Technoblade moved then, laying a gentle, scaly hand on his brother's shoulder. He was ever an obedient child and knew when 'no' really meant 'no'. Wilbur was often a little harder to get through to, but Techno could sway him when he really needed - whenever it was explicitly necessary.
"We should probably put it back before it gets too late," the pink-haired child uttered, though his burning gaze seemed to be consistently caught against the small bundle even as he spoke. "Right, dad?"
"Right," Phil agreed, letting himself settle even more. He would go himself, but he trusted his boys. A lot. "Don't be gone too long, okay? And don't stick around there."
"Not even for a little bit?" Wilbur tried.
"Not even for a little bit." Phil dismissed.
There was a pit that had grown as Phil watched his two sons slowly leave his room, trailing after one another with almost dragging feet. He felt a little guilty, a little doused with a taunting remorse that didn't seem to want to dissipate. It's not like he'd intended to make them upset, to tear away at their little, bleeding hearts, but.
But there were boundaries; there were rules that they needed to follow. Humans weren't welcome in the Ancient Forest - they wouldn't survive, wouldn't be able to grow, to develop and live a proper life.
(Whoever had dumped the poor child close to their home was out of their mind, clearly. They should have known that Phil wouldn't be able to take it on, that they wouldn't be able to accommodate the human whatsoever, not with who lived there.)
If anything, Phil had been doing the right thing. His boys would understand; he was sure of it. They'd forget about the tiny human, move on to bigger, better, more permanent things within their lives. They would be fine, and Phil soon would forget the guilt that laced around their heart.
He had to.
"You don't seem very sad about this," Techno remarked as he carefully sat down next to his brother. They were perched within tall grass, amongst fallen longs of moss and mushrooms, of dirt and grime and everything so beautifully natural. He picked at a flower and glanced at Wilbur.
Techno had expected him to be distraught, to be sniffling and wiping at his eyes, to have his lower lip all pouty and his face flushed red from his deep anger at the unfairness of the situation.
The brunette just shrugged somewhat, an air of nonchalance curling around him. "I'm not." He answered.
Techno's brows raised. "Huh?"
Wilbur looked back at him. "What?"
There was a brief moment of pause. Technoblade gestured towards where the bundle lay, a tiny baby of blue eyes and blonde locks, of large lungs as it wailed and long limbs as it squirmed restlessly, waiting for one of the adventuring humans to find it. (They'd wait until that moment, despite what their dad had said.) "Didn't you want to keep it?" He questioned.
"I did."
"... I'm confused."
"You don't get it, do you?" Wilbur tsked. "It's fine because we're going to see it again anyway."
"We are?"
"Yep."
There was no other explanation after that, no helpful indulging or offering up some sort of answer to whatever the hell Wilbur was talking about. So, of course, Technoblade was once again going to have to take matters into his own hands.
"And why is that?" Techno prodded, letting his head land on Wilbur's shoulder as he spoke. The feeling of fingers immediately beginning to curl through his locks was as comforting as always.
Wilbur smiled, smiled and smiled and smiled. "I put a charm on it."
Techno's face scrunched. "Bruh."
"What?"
"Can you even do that?"
Wilbur rolled his eyes, gently tugged at Techno's hair. "Obviously. I'm not completely useless."
"I didn't say you were useless," the other muttered back, just about resisting the urge to reply with something snarkier. "But a charm? What kind of charm?"
Wilbur hummed, letting his tongue flick against his sharp lower teeth. He seemed to be contemplating for a moment or so before finally settling on what to admit. "Let's just say it'll be back in about… 16 years?"
"16 years? Bruh. We'll be old by then."
"No, we won't. We've just gotta have patience."
"Patience?"
Wilbur nodded. There was a smile tugging at his lips, one that wasn't malicious; it wasn't tricky or sly as one might've expected from him; it was something else entirely. There was a tinge of warmth to it, of brightness and hope, and then something deeper - an all-knowing quirk of his lips.
"Trust me. I know for sure. We'll see him again."
(And they would, as a blonde teenager, blue-eyed, bumbly and vaguely confused at his own movements, stumbled into the woods, heading deeper and deeper and deeper until- until-)