Chapter Text
It’s early night with the house gone quiet, and Phil sits with Skeppy and Bad in the kitchen, the three of them trying to sort out maps that Skeppy had gotten from the town nearby.
Phil is very little help in terms of knowing new cities and new roads. The last time he truly gave focus to so many maps was a very long time ago, and lands do change within enough years. Bad and Skeppy are no better, in terms of knowing the area, but that’s only because they’ve never quite traveled before. Phil should have no excuse. He has wings. He can fly. He should be well explored with the world around him.
“I swear there was a town here at some point.” Phil mutters, staring at one of the maps as if it’s offended him. “Not a city. A town.”
“Towns can turn into cities, y’know.” Bad says, like a fun fact to learn. Phil narrows his eyes at the paper, frowning a little harder.
“It hasn’t been that long.” He mutters, and then he thinks upon it a bit more, glancing off to another map. “I think.”
“I think there used to be a city here, once.” Skeppy points out a spot on his own paper, laying out before them with care to the candlelight kept near. “Bad, there was a city here, right? Because I remember the church tower that I kept making fun of, that one time-”
“Oh, that.” Bad agrees sourly, not wanting to hear those jokes again.
“A church would have records, though, right? Or something.” Skeppy moves on, Bad’s expression immediately lightens up in realizing that there could be good information held there.
“Right. That would be one good spot.”
“Ruins of a church?” Phil asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, yes, actual standing churches would be more helpful, but also more suspicious of us asking questions, probably.” Bad points out, reaching forward to circle with a pencil at the spot Skeppy’s pointed out. “Not that they would figure out where we came from, we wouldn’t tell…”
“Ehh. Better to lay low.” Phil warns, not liking the idea of Skeppy and Bad approaching anyone. “Ruins stay as priority. Those first, before approaching any actual people.”
“Yay, avoiding social interactions.” Skeppy sings, throwing his hands up. “And possible wanted posters.”
“Skeppy.” Bad deadpans.
“We assist in harboring away world-enders, we’re gonna get wanted posters.” Skeppy says matter-of-factly, shoulders shrugging up. He points a finger out. “And I’m gonna hang yours up on a wall.” He says, a little too giddy about it.
“Skeppy!” Bad shouts, Phil snorting. “We’re not keeping any wanted posters!”
“I don’t know, I think they’d be a fun keepsake. Bring some back for memories. Souvenirs.” Phil reasons, Bad giving him a disappointed look.
“Us having pictures in being seen as criminals is not a souvenir."
“I would’ve liked to keep a few of our wanted posters as souvenirs…” Phil jokes, resting his elbow on the table, his chin tucked into his palm. “The kids had so many of them scattered around, that would be funny to pull out a few years from now…”
“Who’s to say there aren’t still some posters up? I’ll grab some for you, Phil.” Skeppy promises, patting a hand over his own heart, as if swearing upon it.
“Aw, thanks.”
Bad gives them both a judgemental look, before then returning back to the maps. “I swear, the two of you. Skeppy is bad enough, Phil, you are not-”
Whatever teasing reply Phil might’ve had ready, it’s lost in the sound of a scream ringing out from upstairs, the candle on the table getting knocked over and going out with how fast Phil automatically gets up, knocking his chair back and setting the table ajar in the process.
“Shit-” Skeppy swears, scrambling and failing to catch the candle, rushing to follow in getting up, and he nearly goes facedown into the floorboards, Bad catching him in time and pulling him back on his feet. Phil’s out of the kitchen by the time Skeppy can even think to be grateful, and they both hurry to follow along, hearing someone’s voice crying again from up stairs.
“Dad!” Someone calls, sharp and desperate. “Dad!”
“Boys!” Phil answers back, heading up the stairs fast enough that it could nearly be called a run. There’s little danger to be held here, they’re likely fine, maybe spooked by some bug that crawled in through the window, but he can’t help but worry, can’t help but think of the worst, considering everything. He opens the door with barely a knock, hearing the hiccup of a sob on the other side as he goes. “Boys, what-”
He stops. The door swings the rest of the way open from his hand, and Phil’s feathers readjust themselves upon his back, shaking for a second in the shock of a sudden cold gust of air.
It’s snowing.
Phil blinks, wondering if he’s seeing things. It’s dark in the room, the moonlight being their only source of light, but even with that, it’s simple to see the snowflakes fluttering down, landing on the floor, on the bed.
It’s snowing- in the room.
Phil lets out a breath, and it is clearly visible, spreading out like fog. It’s snowing- inside their room.
Wilbur is heaving out a heartbreaking sob, hands held out, Techno lifting his head from where he’s trying to hold onto him, Tommy whining in sympathy as he tries to press himself further into Wil’s middle. Snow is scattered over their hair, sticking to their clothes, and they must be cold, with how suddenly the temperature has dropped, but they care little about that, and they cling to Wilbur with nothing but loving concern.
“Dad.” Technoblade calls, and Phil breaks himself out of the shock, trying to just move along with it. He moves past the shock in his chest, coming in just as Skeppy and Bad are stopping by the doorway to take in the sight in front of them.
“What the fuck.” Skeppy blurts out, and Bad whacks him lightly in the back of the head. Skeppy doesn’t make anything other than a dejected noise, more focused on the fact there’s literal snow collecting on the floorboards.
“What happened?” Phil asks, moving some of the blankets aside, more snow lightly coated over the top of them. He brushes off the snowflakes from their hair and their shoulders, and Wil’s hands reach out to cling to his shirt, gripping so tightly that his knuckles go white.
“Nothing! Nothing happened, it’s fine, it’s-” Wilbur sobs, shaking his head, and Tommy begins to cry with him. The room drops a few degrees, a shiver running down Phil’s back.
Techno peels himself away from Wil’s side to wrap himself in a blanket, trusting his brother in Phil’s hands now. “Oh my god, make it stop.” He pleas, unwilling to bear with the cold. “Wilbur.” He says, going to take Tommy into his arms, burritoing him in a blanket in his lap. The kid eases down at that, glad to be kept warm by Techno, but still twisting around in place to keep his eyes on Wil.
“It’s fine!” Wilbur denies, giving another guttural sob, more tears dripping past his cheeks, more snowflakes coming down to settle on their heads.
“Wil.” Tommy calls.
Phil makes a quick glance around the room. Nothing is out of the ordinary, save for the fact there’s snow materializing from the air, the air more freezing than the late night wind outside. Everything seems safe, physically, at least, so…
“Wil.” Phil says, pulling Wilbur into his arms, hunching over him to try and keep the snow off his head. Wilbur presses himself close to Phil’s chest, practically putting his ear to the spot where Phil’s heart rests. “Songbird. Did you have a nightmare?”
Wilbur tilts his head up with something of surprise, and stares up at him with nothing but terror, eyes wide and bright, bright blue. And then he begins to cry again, hiccuping around his words. “There was- there was the dogs.” He tries to explain, and Phil’s chest squeezes tight in the sheer dread that’s wrapped up around Wil’s words. “They had nets and- and the chains, and they were gonna-”
Phil holds him closer, cutting him off in an embrace, his head resting over the top of his curls.
“Shh.” Phil reassures, a gentle whisper. “Nothing’s gonna get you. You’re safe.”
“They weren’t gonna get me.” Wilbur whines, hands scratching up at Phil’s sides, trying to get a firmer hold on him. “They were gonna get you.”
Phil blinks his eyes open in slight surprise, and the snow falls a little heavier. Techno pulls a blanket over his head, like a hooded cape, and when Tommy stares up at him with a frown, Techno pulls a blanket over his head too, though not without first giving a passing kiss on his forehead. Tommy settles a little more in that, returning his focus to Wilbur with something calmer.
“I’m alright.” Phil murmurs.
“You weren’t, then.” Wilbur shakes his head, leaning closer into Phil’s arms.“You were-” Wilbur cuts off in a shaking sob, and Phil takes his hands to Wilbur’s face to make him look up again.
“I’m okay. I’m perfectly okay, you see? Nothing bad is here, we’re all safe.” He promises, and in glancing at Techno and Tommy, he can see the way Wil’s worry has spread to them, a distressed look kept in their eyes. “We’re safe.” Phil insists.
“But you weren’t.” Wilbur’s breath hitches, Phil pressing his head against Wil’s, his skin shockingly cold against Phil’s own.
“It was only a dream.” He assures, his palms cradling Wil’s cheeks, thumbs held over the blue of his scales. “I’m right here. I’m okay. Nothing’s gotten me, I’m okay.”
Wil gives a cut off breath, as if he’s trying to hold it in his lungs. His hands come up to paw at Phil’s chest, as if searching for something more under his shirt, and they only still when he feels Phil’s necklace underneath, solid and warm.
Another bout of tears passes through Wil’s eyes, but the snow lessens. He cries a moment more, and Phil pulls him close, cradles him near, and watches the snow fade off, the temperature easing back into what it was before.
Eventually, the snow stops altogether, and all that’s left is a lingering chill, and a light coating of white over everything else in the room. Phil gives a relieved sigh. Everything is going to be slightly damp now, once it’s all melted off, but the kids are unharmed, and their fears are calmed, so that’s a success in his eyes.
“Well.” Bad speaks up, Techno poking his head out from the shelter of his blankets, Tommy doing the same, although with a bit less success, only one purple eye visible. “I suppose we can add this to the list, in terms of abilities.”
“There’s one way to stay cool during the summer.” Skeppy points out, crouching down to try and gather some of the snow in his hand, the snow melting against his fingertips rather quickly. It just leaves his hand wet.
“Oh, that’s right.” Bad nods, glad to grab onto a positive. “Wilbur, wouldn’t that be nice? A bit of snow for the hotter days?”
“I don’t even know how I did that.” Wilbur mutters out, not all that much in a mood to think of the summer. He just clings further to Phil, eyes falling shut.
“Well, next time you do it, can you not do it in our room? There’s snow on the pillows now.” Technoblade says, looking around at their bed, trying to brush off some of it from around him. Tommy tries to grab at the snow the same way Skeppy did, and he looks curiously at his palm for when it melts away against his body heat.
“It’ll dry off.” Phil insists, before Wilbur can shoot back a reply, and they get caught up in another light bickering. It’s too late for such argument. He shifts in place to move off from the bed, gathering Wilbur up and carrying him. Wilbur wraps his arms around Wil’s neck and holds on tight, face kept tucked into his shoulder. “Do you boys wanna come downstairs for a bit? You can sleep by the fireplace.” He suggests, Techno’s expression seeming open to that.
“Will you stay with us?” Wilbur asks, voice muffled against Phil’s shirt.
“Of course.” Phil agrees nearly instantly. “It’s late enough for us to all head to bed, anyway.”
With that settled, they take the blankets downstairs, brushing off the worst of the snow and piling them together in front of the fireplace. The heat oughta be enough to dry off the worst of it, so Phil doesn’t fret too hard about the lingering snowflakes, and focuses more on curling up beside the fire with them, letting the kids all tuck themselves away into their usual spots. Tommy upon his chest, Techno at his side, Wilbur by his hip. His wings underneath them all, crushed again by the weight, but a weight he’s willing to bear.
Techno lays closest to the fire in where they sleep. He twists himself around from underneath Phil’s arms to stare at the flames, his hands kept curled up tight against his own chest. He thinks of the way Wilbur had scattered the snow across the room, and he stretches his fingers out to the fire, something curious in his heart.
The flames pull forward a little. Leaning in towards him, a few sparks trying to fly out. Techno closes his hand, and it settles in place, back within the logs.
Techno hums. He turns his back to the fire, tucking himself back against Phil, and goes to sleep.
---
Much later in the night, once the kids have all gone back to sleep, Phil gives a knowing look from his spot within the blankets, looking out at where Bad stands by the hallway, arms crossed over his chest. Skeppy stands behind him with a look towards the scattered maps on the kitchen table, and without any words, they all know what is said.
Phil will not wait any longer in continuing to stumble through the dark like this. The kids are growing too fast.
They need to know more, and soon.
---
Skeppy and Bad leave in the morning, when the sun hasn’t quite risen up, the sky bright with only the suggestion of day.
The kids are half-asleep in where they stand by the porch, their vision bleary as Bad triple-checks over the last of their things to ensure they’re all good to go.
“Alright, so there’s a decent chunk of diamond left in our bedside drawer, extra food stores in the back of the pantry, a perfectly good knife hidden somewhere in a floorboard by our bed-” Skeppy starts to list off to Phil, who gives an incredibly amused expression for the slight fretting tone Skeppy’s taken on.
“Skeppy.” Bad cuts him off, for the mention of that last thing.
“Since when has there been a knife in your floorboards?” Phil asks curiously, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Since Bad demanded that we not leave weapons in plain view of snooping children.” Skeppy frowns, ignoring the warning look from Bad getting burnt into the back of his head. He then lifts a hand beside his mouth to shout out towards the porch. “No, I’m not specifying which floorboard, Wilbur, I know you’re hearing me!”
“I’m gonna pry all of them up!” Wilbur yells back, an instant thing of spite.
“We’re gonna pry all of them up!” Techno corrects, Wil nodding aggressively in clear agreement. Tommy nods along, despite not really knowing what they’re nodding for.
“Great. Power of teamwork.” Skeppy deadpans, at the same time as Bad says, “Phil, don’t let them play with that knife, it’s not safe for the children.”
“I’ll supervise them, no worries.” Phil reassures, mostly half-joking. Bad gives a suffered look. “Are you both going to be alright out there?” He asks again, a little redundant, at this point, but still a needed thing. Some show of concern.
“We know where to go, Phil.” Skeppy insists, Phil having the decency to make a sheepish shrug. Skeppy still sighs a little, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Magic texts are kinda scarce these days, I wouldn’t doubt that, but there’s still some decent libraries we could find. If they’re still standing. It’s been a while…”
“Whatever isn’t standing, we can rummage through the ruins.” Bad insists hopefully, placing a hand over Skeppy’s shoulder. Skeppy looks up at him with something fond. “We’ll find something, Phil. Anything to help.”
“Some knowledge is better than flying blind.” Phil admits, frowning a little at the fact he’s still so blind, in terms of everything. “As long as you both stay safe, that’s all that matters. Don’t be gone for too long.”
“One of us can stay, if you really want.” Bad suggests. “Leaving you to the mercy of the kids seems like a cruel fate.”
“I know how to handle us, it’s alright. We’ll be ok.” Phil reassures, waving a carefree hand out. “And I can deal with any other problem that might arise.” He says, giving a glance towards the forest trees, something of a threat held in his voice.
“The town is pretty calm.” Skeppy insists. “If you really do need anything, you can go down and ask, instead of just- breaking and entering. That probably leaves a bad impression.”
“I’d have to intend to meet them if I wanted to give an impression. I have no intentions of such.” Phil replies, lips held up in a grin.
“Maybe some other day, Skeppy.” Bad pats over Skeppy’s shoulder, and then readjusts the pack over his own. “We should be going now. Sooner we go, sooner we return.”
“I’ll see you then. You both stay safe.” Phil says, sharing a quick hug with the both of them, before then turning around to call out towards the porch. “Kids, come say bye.”
“Yeah, hugs, c'mon, bring it in.” Skeppy holds his arms out, expecting a loving, kind embrace, before then immediately being filled with regret as Wilbur and Techno dart down to go for his legs. “Wait wait wait, they’re going for my shins, Bad, they're going for my SHINS-”
“Aww, bye Tommy.” Bad ignores his partner’s screaming, picking up Tommy as he runs over to him, throwing him up in the air for a second before then catching him and squeezing him close, the kid giggling a little in the hold. “You’re going to be so much taller once we get back, I know that! Bye! Bye bye!”
“Bye bye!” Tommy repeats, and Bad makes a cooing noise, squeezing him a bit more before then passing him over to Phil so that he can go rescue Skeppy from getting ganged up on by two children.
They say the rest of their goodbyes in short order, and with the sun rising over the horizon, they go, leaving Phil and the kids on their own, once more. Both Wilbur and Techno share a glance in knowing what it means to be on their own again.
Phil grins to Tommy repeating bye over and over, not catching the quiet determination lighting within their eyes.
---
“If it’s just gonna be us again,” Techno murmurs through the dark one night, over the quiet snore of Phil and Tommy breathing together in sync. “And Phil is going to keep us safe, then we have to keep him safe, too, right?”
“There’s nothing here that’ll hurt us.” Wilbur mutters, words made as if repeating Phil’s own assurances.
“Nothing yet.” Techno points out, and Wilbur winces, because he knows too well the sort of danger that comes with being hunted. He knows there’s people still looking for them. Still hoping to drive a knife through their heart, for the sake of saving the world.
“Nothing for a long time.” Wilbur argues, but it's a weak thing. “We’re the most dangerous things here.” He insists, and in truth, they really are. There is nothing more lethal than uncontrolled potential, and their powers are coming in quick. Wilbur knows he’s a danger. Knows there is something deadly in the voice in his throat, and in the chill that runs through his veins. Sometimes, it feels so heavy, to know that. Sometimes, it’s more relieving than anything else.
If he was as strong as he is now back then, he would’ve killed hunters by the dozens.
The thought is comforting.
“That’s a good thing.” Techno agrees to Wil’s last words, and Wil blinks against the dark, the temperature a sitting little cold. He breathes, trying to calm. “That means we can protect Phil, y’know? And protect Tommy, and protect the house…”
“From what?”
“People are going to come here one day.” Technoblade says, and there is something so very knowing in it, as if it’s a whispering warning he’s heard. “Hunters are going to find us, one way or another.”
Wilbur turns his head to try and see Techno’s eyes, and he wonders what his voices tell him, wonders what sort of advice they try to give. Sometimes, Techno just knows a little too much, and it's never been anything big, just the occasional fact here or there, but Wilbur wonders. For all the noise he can hear, silent little warnings of the future would be well appreciated.
“You and me, we’ll make sure they don’t get far. Okay?” Techno asks, and Wil stretches his hand out, Techno meeting his. His palm is burning in where his is freezing, but they don’t let go of each other.
“They won’t get far.” Wilbur replies, and he swears, Techno gives a small sigh of relief. Wilbur breathes with him.
---
There is something very oddly quiet about not having Skeppy or Bad around anymore.
Wilbur supposes that was to be expected, but it's still weird to no longer overhear their daily arguments, their bickerings and yellings and eventual truce, Bad turning sweet while Skeppy pretends to be emotionally wounded, before then revealing that he’s perfectly fine, causing for Bad to blow up in something upset, and restarting the cycle all over again. There’s less conversation for Phil, with quiet talks over tea, or discussion on dinner. There’s less, in general.
It makes it a little easier for Wilbur to focus, he supposes. He can hear Phil’s heartbeat a little more clearly now, when he wants to. The sound of that, steady and sure, makes the silence easy to bear. And it serves as a good reminder.
Wilbur sits on the porch steps with Tommy right beside him, the two of them watching Techno practice with his sword. He spins around a lot, Wilbur notes. His braid often swings around with his movement, flying out and making his attacks seem more like dancing, and it makes the whole thing a great deal more entertaining. Usually, whenever Wil dares to spar with Techno, wooden swords between them both, it’s just annoying, outright. Techno wins too much. On his own, he’s fun to watch, though. On his own, he gets to have his actual sword in hand, and he holds it with a confidence made from plenty of practice.
He swings wide, with his sword. Strikes and hits upon some invisible opponent, fast enough for Wil to know he wouldn’t be able to dodge it. As if Techno would ever honestly attack towards him, though.
There’s some sparks fluttering through the air. Embers of some sort, floating up around Techno. A few reach all the way to the ground to burn at the grass under his feet, but none actually catch into a true fire. Wilbur wonders if he could be able to put it out, if it did.
He taps a finger on the porch step under him, a thinly made layer of frost creeping out. It melts quickly under the sun. He reaches for a cup of water put beside him, hoping to take a drink in the warm weather, and it was a mistake to try and test his power out now, because it flares up on the wrong target right then.
“Oh, damn it.” Wilbur swears, and Tommy gives a giggling laugh from next to him, hands stretching out towards the cup he’s holding, the water in it now frozen solid.
“Snow. It’s snow.” Tommy tells him, a bit off the mark, considering it's actually now ice, but Wilbur indulges him and gives the cup over, letting the kid stick his hands through the cup to try and touch at the top of it.
“What’d you do?” Techno asks, pausing a bit at hearing Wilbur swear, and Wil gives a great huff of a sigh, a little defeated.
“I froze my water…”
“Ha.” Techno teases, but he’s rubbing a heel on the grass underneath him, putting out burning embers all the same. “Imagine turning your water into a block of ice. Couldn’t be me.”
Wilbur flips him off with little more response given, and he puts his focus onto Tommy beside him, watching the way he’s trying to take a useless sip. “You have to wait, Tommy. It’ll melt.” He insists, and Tommy does not falter, only upgrading in trying to stick his mouth through the top of the cup, licking at the ice in some attempt to drink it. “Probably.” Wil adds on, Tommy pulling back and staring at the progress of what he’s licked, before then sticking his face back onto the lip to try again. “You can have it.”
“Thank you.” Tommy mutters, ever polite, but it comes out more like ‘ank ‘ou, because he’s trying to gnaw at the cup itself in order to get to the ice.
“Stop- no, stop that.” Wilbur says, trying to pull the cup away from the kid. Tommy starts to whine. “Dad, Tommy’s eating my cup!”
“He’s what?” Phil calls back from inside, busy in the kitchen trying to make lunch. He comes outside for the sake of curiosity, and gives a sputtering sort of laugh at seeing Tommy gnawing around a cup. “Tommy, no.”
“Wilbur.” Techno calls, as Phil begins to wrestle against trying to get a glass cup out of a dragon toddler’s mouth. It’s not an entirely successful endeavor. Tommy can be as unmovable as a mountain when it comes to chewing on something he likes. “I’m bored. Come spar with me.”
“You’re just gonna beat me again!” Wilbur complains, not budging from his spot on the porch.
“Nuh-uh!” Technoblade insists, and at Wilbur’s pointed look, he has the decency to look a little ashamed. “Well, just a little!”
“I don’t feel like getting hit with a sword today.”
“We don’t have to play swords, we can- do something else.” Techno bemoans, waving around his sword in quick, sharp swings.
“Like what?”
“Like…” Techno hums, thinking for a moment, him and Wilbur paying no mind to the way Phil is miserably losing the struggle against Tommy for the cup still. “Well, you can try practicing with something other than swords.”
“We don’t have anything other swords.”
“Not true. We have a bow and arrow.”
“Well, yeah, but-” Wilbur automatically goes to argue, before then realizing they do have arrows around, and Phil once mentioned making a smaller bow for him, a while ago. “Wait, dad, can I have a bow?”
“Give me a second.” Phil chokes out, finally prying the cup out from Tommy’s grip, the kid practically hanging off of Phil’s side, tiny wings flapping in both an effort to try and climb higher and in response to his high emotion. He shrieks with nothing but utter disappointment, and Phil tosses the cup right off the porch, into some bushes. He moves Tommy into his arms and pretends like the cup never existed. “Alright. A bow? You want a bow?”
“Yeah. To shoot stuff.”
“Not your brothers.”
“I’m not gonna shoot at Tommy!” Wilbur yells, although Techno gives an offended look for the fact he said nothing in restraining from shooting at him.
“I did gather some stuff to make you one a while back…” Phil says, moving off the porch with Tommy in his arms, the kid still crying to high heaven, making a sudden high shriek that makes them all flinch, the ground under Phil suddenly forming an ever so slight crack.
Phil then presses his mouth to Tommy’s cheek and blows a raspberry right onto his scales.
Tommy shrieks again, but it’s nothing upset, instead just caught completely off guard, and then absolutely delighted, his yelling devolving out into giggling as Phil continues to blow raspberries at the side of his face, and then pretending to take a big bite out from his cheek. Tommy screams, whacking his hands out at Phil’s nose.
“No! No, no, no-” Tommy insists, something almost scolding, and Phil chuckles, continuing on to head towards the shed, both Techno and Wilbur following quick on his heels.