Chapter Text
In a distant meadow, within the walls of an old home, cold from the wind,
Warm arms held a baby close.
She brushes a small, barely grown in curl from the boy’s face, fingers lingering, and he unconsciously leans into the touch. There rested a content little smile, curling across his lips as he slept.
And she can’t help but smile back, though there lies a hollowness in her heart.
Oh, what fuzzy memories, how faraway they now seemed…
If she could’ve, she would’ve stayed till the world itself blew to dust.
If she could’ve, she would’ve warned him of what was to come.
If she had the time, she would’ve sent him running.
But she got caught up in the small, fleeting moments, the distractions, so easy to get lost in. Like when he smiled at her, when he took his first steps, when he said his first ever word…
She had been there for it all.
She had even witnessed him speak his first swear word, although heaven knows where he heard it from.
Oh…
What a small world it was, a comfortable bubble of safety.
She should have known running would not always be an option.
She should have realized her time was running short.
If she had only known, she would have…
There is the banging of fists against wood, yet it sounds ever faint.
The mother finished her writing more abruptly than she would’ve liked. She should have written this ages ago. But she failed.
Her failure here was distasteful.
Even so, she still has enough time.
For one last thing.
In his bed, a young boy slumbers, hardly seven. He sleeps peacefully, he sleeps under his favourite red blanket, his hand tangled loosely in the soft fabric. A light in the dark. The sun itself. Her sunshine.
Such a shame it is, that such safety must be shattered so early in his life.
Always destined, all the same.
She only hopes, as she slides the necklace around his neck, that they might give him a chance.
The cold of the chain has him stirring, and she stares with only pity.
Her mouth opens to speak to him her parting words,
The door splinters.
It fractures.
And so does she.
For a meeting consisting of covens that had long since established peace, Philza had truly hoped for it to be less chaotic. Alas, it had gone exactly how it always did.
Wilbur kept getting on the nerves of every coven’s leader til he had to be kicked out.
Quackity kept trying to strike up a new deal with him, despite being shut down by Schlatt.
Technoblade ended up threatening Quackity, at one point. Leading to yet another argument.
It was all a mess, as per usual. Some could say Philza should be used to it by now, but it would always leave him feeling exasperated by the end. Ready to be back in his manor. Safely tucked away in the comfort of his own home. The idea of lying down in his coffin sounded very appealing after that whole fiasco. It’d certainly feel nice on his back.
Ah, well, at least Niki was a dear. They had a lovely chat about flowers, apparently she’s getting better at tending to them. Admirable. He should ask her for tips, even if his own floral arrangements were thriving. It’s always nice to make someone feel knowledgeable.
He cups his hands behind his back as he walks, strolling through the forestry with a gentle step, a careful wander.
He has no reason to take out his frustrations on the nature surrounding, the beautiful trees, the delicate shrubbery. It was calming to be in the midst of it all.
One of his sons, however, did not seem to feel the same way.
Wilbur curses as a branch hits him in the face, and he slaps it away with a disgruntled huff.
Only to then be hit in the face by that same branch, but harder.
“For the love of- I’m going to rip all of these trees from their roots myself,” Wilbur grumbles, his voice bitter, childishly so. “They’re purposefully grabbing at me!”
Philza snorts, slowing his steps to not trip over roots that stuck up out of the ground, looking over his shoulder at Wilbur. “Mate, it’s a tree.”
“Yeah, and it’s alive? I thought we all learned this.” Wilbur snaps off the branch, breaking it over his knee and throwing it off to the side with a curled lip.
“Do you seriously think a plant is attacking you?” Technoblade speaks, though he doesn’t look up from the jewel he’d snuck from the meeting. From who? He’d probably never tell. A beautiful ruby red, similarly to all of their eyes.
“It clearly is!” Wilbur crosses his arms indignantly, throwing a petulant glare in Technoblade’s direction. “You’re just too distracted to see it.”
“Oh, yeah, no, I saw,” Technoblade drawls, huffing out a laugh. He ducks under a low-hanging tree-branch with ease. “The more important question is why you’re on a losing streak. I mean. C’mon. How can you let a tree best you?”
“I am not on a losing streak! It just caught me off guard this time, Technoblade,” Wilbur defends, a frown tugging at his lips.
“Loooosing streak,” Technoblade drags out, his lips quirking upward at Wilbur’s indignity.
“Boys, let’s not fight,” Philza interjects, although he can’t fight the humor in his voice. He was glad, that after all of this time, the two still acted like brothers. He would have it no other way.
“He started it!” Wilbur complains, practically dragging his feet— which makes it a miracle he hasn’t tripped over a root sticking up out of the ground. “Scold him, not me!”
Technoblade’s fangs glint in the moonlight as he chuckles. “You’re the one who lost to a tree.”
“I did not-!”
Wilbur is cut off as he face plants into the dirt floor. Ah. There’s that root Philza was pondering about.
He lies there for a moment, lifting his head up only to scowl at nothing in particular.
“Losing streak…” Technoblade whispers.
Philza can’t help but laugh, throwing his head back as Wilbur scrambled to his feet, wasting not a moments hesitation before lunging.
He watches with a grin as one of his sons attacked, or, tried to, and the other dodged seamlessly. It was always rather one sided, there was always a clear upper hand.
“I’ll show you a losing streak, Techno-!” Wilbur strikes, only for Technoblade to step out of the way, hardly even seeming bothered by the attempts of harm.
Technoblade’s eyes remain on that jewel throughout this. “You know how this is going to end,” he warns, but Wilbur isn’t listening— when does he ever?
“Yeah, with you losing!” Wilbur throws a punch, swearing under his breath when Technoblade ducked under it. He ends up losing his footing a tad, tripping over the foliage clumsily.
“Warned you,” Techno says simply, before promptly sweeping Wilbur’s feet out from under him.
Wilbur chokes as he hit the ground, the wind being knocked out of him. He groans and rolls onto his back, throwing an arm over his forehead dramatically. Oh woe is him, the whole world is against him succeeding.
Philza sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to hide the upturn of his lips. He should be more strict, truthfully, but he could never bring himself to be.
“Three to zero,” Technoblade taunts, leaning over Wilbur with a smirk.
Wilbur bristles, “You are not a fucking tree-“
“That’s enough bickering,” Philza finally says, stopping the two before this could turn into anything serious. “We still need to get home. I, for one, am tired after today.”
“Wonder why,” Technoblade remarks, shutting up once Philza levels him with a stare.
Wilbur, meanwhile, works on picking himself up, looking a tad embarrassed to be beaten by both nature and his brother. There’s dirt all over his clothes, which he would probably complain about later. He did hate getting dirty.
He clears his throat. “Are we going to grab anything to eat? I’m kinda hungry,”
“We have blood bags at home,” Phil dismisses, waving his hand as he begun walking once more.
“But blood tastes so much better fresh!” Wilbur whines, chasing after him.
“You just like watching the life drain from your victim’s eyes,” Technoblade calls out, gaining an unamused glare in the process.
“As if you don’t get a thrill from the chase…” Wilbur grumbles, rolling his eyes and swallowing dryly. “Are we at least almost home?”
“We would be, if you two hadn’t bickered.” Philza sighs, mentally preparing for a long walk of silence being broken by his son’s whines for blood.
“But that’s not fair, he started it!” Wilbur keens, pointing accusingly at Technoblade, who only shakes his head. He then stumbled over yet another root.
“I wasn’t blaming,” Philza corrects, not stopping this time to look over his shoulder.
“Can we please grab something?” Wilbur began to look around hopefully. “There has to be an animal out here!”
“Wilbur, patience,” Philza scolds gently.
“But I’m hungry!”
“As am I, and you don’t see me frantically searching the forest.” Yet another sigh. His son truly was a handful, even fully grown as he was.
Wilbur’s lip curls. “You’re older, though.”
“You are an adult, Wilbur,” Philza reminds, raising an eyebrow at his son.
“I was a fledgling at one point, though,” Wilbur mumbles, tearing his eyes away to look around the forest again; though it was clear he was merely avoiding eye contact.
And what a true statement that was, really, Philza remembers when both Wilbur and Technoblade were new to this world, stumbling over their newfound instincts and looking to Phil for support.
They were quite adorable, even if they were more than a handful for him to take in. He should have just gone for one, but he didn’t want to separate the two.
He’s glad he didn’t. Home would feel a lot more empty if he had chosen just one.
He’s sure forgiveness would’ve taken longer, too…
Philza stops, suddenly, feeling an odd prickling sensation crawl up his back, the burning of unease trickling in.
There was no animal in sight; not a deer, nor a rabbit, not a nocturnal bird to fill the silence, there were hardly even bugs. But that was all normal. That was all a result of he and his sons. So why, why had this feeling taken hold of him?
By all means, he should feel nothing but safety. This is, after all, his own territory. To feel such a disturbance, and so close to his home, too… It rang a few warning bells.
“Stop,” he told his sons, not leaving room for any argument. Naturally, they listened, and he’s sure the feeling was washing over them as well. It made his already cold blood feel as though it were freezing, ice injected into his veins. Unsettling.
He searched for the source of the sensation, eyes narrowed, and ears straining. It couldn’t be the result of nothing, no, he knew it had to be coming from somewhere. Yet the surrounding held nothing. Trees scattered about, bushes rustling in every small burst of wind. Darkness.
Sniffing the air experimentally, he gets his answer.
A metallic scent, harsh and bitter, yet cloying. But it wasn’t delectable, it held another scent, one that made Philza’s instincts bristle, one that set him on edge. Another vampire.
His sons seemed to realize this too.
“Who do they think they are? Infringing on our territory,” Wilbur hisses, growing visibly tense where he stood just behind Philza.
“I don’t recognize the smell,” Technoblade adds, sounding displeased, “must be a wild vampire.”
“Of course it is,” Wilbur scoffs, clenching and unclenching his fists as he searched for the intruder. “They think they can go just anywhere, consequences be damned!”
“They must be injured,” Philza supplied, but even he can admit that he isn’t the happiest about this revelation. It was still his territory, after all.
“We should kill them for daring to trespass!” Wilbur exclaimed, growing more and more agitated as time went on.
“Well, hold on, we must find out their intentions first.” Philza soothed, sniffing a few more times to narrow down the source of the scent. It seemed to be coming from… There.
“But why?” Wilbur whines, “They should’ve asked before stepping foot here!”
“You just want to kill someone,” Technoblade accuses.
Wilbur sputters, but Philza holds up a hand to silence him. He stares in the direction the smell came from, frowning as he found himself staring at a large tree. They could be hiding behind it. Waiting to strike. They need to be careful.
Silence-Unease-Unsafe, he projects to them, catching the way they both tensed at the message. Good. They couldn’t risk giving away their approach. They need to be silent right now.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Philza made his way through the foliage, approaching the tree with cautious steps. His sons followed behind him, though they stayed a safe distance to not be put in harms way.
As he drew nearer to the source, he found himself holding his breath, hoping for this all to be a misunderstanding— or for it to be a dead animal left behind, one that just so happened to have the other vampire’s scent lingering.
He reaches out, fingers curling against the bark of the tree, and he peeks around it.
His breath leaves him in a short gasp at what he finds.
A small child lies at the bottom of the tree, curled in on himself and deathly still. Blonde hair fell in his face, messy and unkempt, And skin as pale as snow. He almost appeared dead, like a fawn after a wolf attack, but Philza knew that appearance anywhere.
“A fledgling…?” He whispers, disbelief colouring his tone. His eyes drift to the boy’s neck, taking in the dried blood caking the entire side where he’d been bitten. It makes revulsion rise up in Philza’s chest, disgust at whoever had done this.
“They didn’t even bother to clean you up… disgusting,” Philza hisses, wondering who could possibly be so irresponsible as to turn such a small child. It was dangerous to turn one so young, the body couldn’t handle such drastic changes so early in life.
He hears a horrified gasp from behind him, and he doesn’t have to look to know it came from Wilbur.
“What the hell? It’s just a baby! ” Wilbur exclaims, staring down at the abomination with wide eyes.
Philza merely nods, lowering himself to the ground and reaching out to brush the hair out of the boy’s face. The child doesn’t even stir.
His heart twists as he realizes the little one hadn’t awakened yet.
The first awakening was already hard for a fully grown adult to handle, he can’t imagine how much pain it’d end up putting this poor fledgling through. The hunger, the confusion, the desperation for his sire’s comfort…
He can’t believe any vampire, in their right mind, would abandon something they chose to turn.
There was no way to accidentally turn a human, it was always purposeful. There was no room for it to be an accident. This is completely inexcusable… it’s cruel.
Philza gazes down at the boy with only sympathy, the sight of the poor thing tugging at his heart strings. He would wake up so confused… alone, and lost… nothing to cling to… The thought of leaving him alone was almost unbearable.
“…Phil, no,” Technoblade mutters, staring at Philza with a tired expression.
“Oh, but look at him, Techno…” Philza croons, already scooping the boy up into his arms. The limpness doesn’t deter him, as he can feel the slow beat of the boy’s heart, the soft breaths. “We can’t just leave him here,”
“Yes we can-“ Technoblade sounds exasperated. “It isn’t our responsibility!”
“He is kind of cute, though,” Wilbur hums, watching as Philza stood up with the boy.
“Isn’t he?” Philza agrees, sighing as he cups the little one’s back. “Such a shame they would turn him so carelessly…”
“Please, don’t, Phil…”
“What should we name him?” Wilbur asks, poking at the boy’s cheek curiously.
“Wilbur, he already has a name, and he’s old enough to know it.” Philza corrects, chuckling lightly and batting away his son’s hand.
“But he’s so young! He wouldn’t notice if we renamed him, right, Techno?” Wilbur turns to his brother for support.
Technoblade stares back with a pinched expression. “We are not taking in a stray. This could be a trap.”
“Come on! You like to name things!” Wilbur complains. “Just give it a shot!”
“I’m not naming it! Phil, just put it down,” Technoblade tries, looking at his father pleadingly. “We don’t need to do this,”
Philza, unfortunately, is already set in his decision, looking down at the fledgling with an affectionate gaze. How could they leave such a tiny thing to fend for himself? It wouldn’t feel right. No, he wouldn’t abandon the boy like his sire had.
“Come on, let’s get this one home,” he murmurs, turning to continue the trek home, only hearing a squeal of delight from Wilbur, and a groan from Technoblade.
“Ohhh I can’t wait!” Wilbur chirps, practically skipping as he walked up alongside Philza. “I can’t believe I’m going to have a baby brother!”
Philza snorts, “You already have a younger brother.”
“Yeah, well, we’re twins, so it doesn’t count,” Wilbur argues, clasping his hands together and staring at the fledgling.
Philza shakes his head fondly.
He has a feeling the boy would wake soon, he wants him to be in a nice warm nest before that can happen. It would be horrible if he was forced to wake up out in the cold. Torturous.
He must be ready to feed him, as well… Blood bags wouldn’t work, considering those consist of human and animal blood. Fledglings need to feed on the blood of another vampire, preferably their sire, for a good few weeks of their life. Regular blood wouldn’t nourish them properly, and they would slowly starve.
To think he’d be doing all of this a second time, he can’t say he ever expected it. He hadn’t planned to turn anyone further, nor did he plan to take in any stray fledglings. Yet, here he was. There was something nostalgic about it, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“…Theseus,” Technoblade mumbles.
“What was that, mate?” Phil inquires, amused.
“Nothing,” Technoblade denies, looking away.
“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Wilbur teases, snickering.
“Oh, leave him alone, Wilbur,” Philza scolds, though he can’t bring himself to sound very firm about it.
Wilbur doesn’t argue back, but Philza can hear as he tries to keep it going even past that, just in a hushed voice.
“You’re growing soft,” Wilbur sing-songs, chuckling at the glare Technoblade shoots in his direction.
He’s then hit in the face by a low-hanging branch.