Chapter Text
Water was notoriously known for not retaining heat well. Even on the hottest days the ocean would still be far cooler than the air. People seemed to like the shock to the system but Wilbur had always preferred actual warm water, which he was well aware had been quite demanding for the beginning of time. He just never enjoyed the shock.
“I don't know," Technoblade eyed him sceptically, sitting on the worn desk in their tent, "I just don't think that'd make sense."
"What? Why not? It makes perfect sense!" Wilbur pointed to the map again, to the little stones he had named soldiers.
"I get that you think it makes sense but it won't work."
"And why is that?"
"Gotta go around a mountain but we all know there's no such thing." He just laughed when Wilbur started to hit him repeatedly in the arm. Nearby, at the small fire, Niki watched them. Far more content to watch them squabble instead of giving any useful information.
"Would it actually work though?" Wilbur worried his lip as he looked to his brother.
"Oh definitely. We just need to make sure we aren't open for an ambush."
"Good, that's tomorrow Wilbur's problem though," he stood up straight, no longer hunched over the desk and stretched. Joints popping as he did so, "goodnight everyone."
"Goodnight." Technoblade picked up one of the stones and moved it around the map.
"Goodnight, Wil." Niki waved as he headed off to his bed, "Technoblade? Will you come check the weaponry with me, please? I must be miscounting, there’s no way we’re missing weaponry."
"Sure." They headed off, leaving Wilbur to curl up and sleep. All unaware of the impending attack.
Wilbur had slept relatively well that night, until he woke to a familiar face standing above him.
"Eret-?"
Green fields surrounded him, some sheep grazed lazily along the hills and a beautiful cottage stood behind him. The creek was always warm and the large tree always shaded him the perfect amount. He wandered for hours the first day, looking for signs of any people, only to find sheep.
It grew boring after a while.
Wilbur spent his days wandering, dabbling in the creek, playing guitar to Friend the sheep and then heading home to the best food ever and a warm, cosy bed.
It was on a day just like any other when he spotted the ocean. The mass of water stretching forever out, just beyond a hill.
Wilbur was up in an instant, guitar left between a peeking root.
The moment he got to the ocean he threw off his shoes and ran in, not caring as the waves crashed against him- much less calm than the creek. He dove fully under, determined to explore this new feature of his world.
Everything was normal as he began to swim, then all of a sudden, everything flipped. Up became down and he could no longer see where he got in.
Water had always been notorious for being freezing and this one took the cake- chilling him well past the bones, down to his very soul almost. The waves crashed and he was thrown onto pitch black sand. Shaking hands barely held him up as he clawed for purchase. The sand seemed to slip and slide underneath him, not allowing any grip at all. Eventually, he managed to push himself onto his elbows and raised his head.
Far away from him, on the strand was a singular figure. Four large black wings were flared and still somehow stark against the pitch black sky.
Wilbur's voice garbled and spluttered when he tried to call for help, but the figure heard him all the same. They turned, hands which had been crossed behind them, falling to their sides.
The figure turned and ran, in the opposite direction.
His footsteps echoed across the bone tiled floor, the vast room filled with the sound of hurried footsteps and ruffling feathers.
Upon the throne of seeping sand and skulls, Kristin looked up from her book, all six pairs of wings rising up and reaching for the roof.
"Angel? What's going on? Are you alright?"
"One of the souls just pulled himself onto the banks." She was standing immediately, hurrying down the dais with a little less grace than she would have liked. Her hand brushed against Phil's cheek as she passed him. He found himself staring after her before following.
She was built for this place, as it was for her. The entire dimension loomed over him, casting shadows and dripping with magic but for Kristin, she fit right in and never had to duck for a door.
The sand did not slow her one bit as she rushed to the lone figure on the sand. He was still trying to claw his way forward, the clothes he was buried in soaked and clinging to him.
"This shouldn't be happening." Phil was shot a look for that as Kristin knelt down before Wilbur.
Wilbur’s rasping breaths filled the space around them, brown eyes wide as he lifted his head to look to the Goddess of Death.
The stab wound in his chest poured blood once more, his body shaking from cold, exhaustion and once more, the process of dying. His chest had begun to rise and fall but it already stuttered and spasmed.
His white shirt drenched in red.
"Oh, oh, darling, come here." She reached out to cup his face, watching as blood bubbled up and dripped from his mouth. She quickly pulled him to her chest, resting him on his back and smoothing out his soaked curls. "This will be over in just a moment. No need to panic." Wings shuffled beside her and a moment later, Phil sat down.
"Should we bring him inside?"
"We don't have time for that, he’ll die before we get inside."
"Here, let me." Phil carefully lifted Wilbur to his lap, watching brown eyes fight to stay open. Blood everywhere. He cracked his knuckles then splayed his hands on the stab wound. Eyes closing.
The green glow of his necklace, the one Kristin gave him on their first anniversary, washed over them, engulfing Wilbur where he lay, now still.
He held out a hand, and without a word, Kristin pulled out a covert of her own and placed it in his palm. Doing the same to his wings when he flapped them impatiently.
Each whispered word fell from his mouth in swirling green, swaying down to land upon Wilbur's chest, taking the feathers with them.
The light washed him out even more as he laid immobile.
Slowly, with each word, the wound began to heal. To scab over and scar. Finally, a deep and nasty looking scar remained, the skin around it puckered and shimmering with magic. Magic spread out across the rest of his body, enchantments dissipating into his flesh.
He remained unmoving.
"Let's get him to bed. We'll need a lot of regenerative soup." Kristin carried him, his form tiny against her chest.
He looked dead, pale, and immobile. Soaked through with blood and water. Hand lolling as he was brought into the castle. Carried along corridors and up steps into a large bedroom Phil watched assemble itself. A double king bed with plush bedding and a soft headboard. Decorative shelves. A self lighting fireplace. A writing desk in the corner and two chairs by the bed and the bedside lockers- one human sized and one fit for the Goddess of Death.
The waiting game had begun.
Phil had never been on this side of the process. Always the one unresponsive.
Time didn’t pass the same in Kristin’s dimension but Phil’s pocket watch from home still worked and he watched days pass with Wilbur slipping in and out of Death’s grip. The wound remained shut, but every few hours Phil was muttering more spells to stop the young man from asphyxiating. His breaths, which had returned minutes after the original spell, would start to stutter once again, eyelids fluttering as he began to shake.
Life was a fickle thing to interfere with, immortality could not be replicated and keeping someone somewhat alive after they had been dead for hundreds of years was proving near impossible.
Until he woke up.
Heavy eyelids finally opened, unfocused eyes not taking a single thing in as Wilbur came to consciousness. He groaned and made to move.
“Easy there, mate. I know everything feels really weird right now but I need you to take it easy.”
“Hnng, wha-? Where… I-”
“You’re Wilbur Soot, right?” He got a confused nod as Wilbur’s gaze settled on him. So many possibilities running through his mind as he tried to pick out coherent thoughts from the soup his brain was, “I’m Philza and I’ll explain everything to you when you are fully aware. But for now: you’re in the guest bedroom. My wife and I helped you from the beach.”
“The black beach.”
“Yes, that one.”
“Everything… flipped. I just wanted… the ocean was new.”
“Everything flipped?” Cautiously, Phil rested a hand against Wilbur’s forehead, the man giving him only a mildly offended look. The fever had broken.
“Yeah, up was down, but… but only after I got in.”
“You’ll have to tell me about that later-”
“He’s awake!” Kristin almost glowed with excitement as she hurried into the room, regenerative soup in hand. “Hi Wilbur, I’m Kristin. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Here, Phil, help him sit.”
A mountain of fluffed up pillows later, Wilbur was propped up in his bed and given the soup. Still rather calm about the whole ordeal.
After two days of sleeping and regaining himself, he royally freaked the fuck out.
“What the fuck is happening.” His eyes suddenly snapped to Phil who had been quietly sketching in his book. Wilbur had been moved to an armchair by the fire, dozing and thinking for the last hour.
“Sorry?”
“You told me you’d tell me everything when I was more aware and I’m pretty fucking aware right now, so, have at.”
“Okay, okay,” he placed down his pencil and book, shifting in his chair to look at Wilbur fully. Hands on his lap and wings folded to appear non threatening, “do you want to ask questions or will I just explain as much as I can?”
“Where am I?” He was shaking, breath already becoming laboured as his reality snapped into place.
“You’re in the castle of Lady Death, in her dimension, upon the sands of the dead. Before you washed up here, you were in your afterlife.”
“No. That’s ridiculous. How can I be in Death’s home if I’m not in the afterlife?”
“Here is the home base and it connects to everything else- souls pass through here when they die and go onto their afterlives.”
“How’d I get back then?”
“No idea honestly, no one’s done it before and especially not someone who’s been dead as long as you have.” Something melted in Wilbur then, eyes widening.
“How long?”
“Eight hundred years.”
“Okay,” he raked his hands through his hair, staggering to stand, “that’s a long time. I- so am I hostage here then? Because I’m not going back to that fucking field, and I presume I can’t go home.”
“You could probably go back to the Overworld, I travel to and from a lot but we’d have to double check that. And you do have to realise, if you died there, we have no idea where you’d go, you could end up in the field again.”
“Where’s Technoblade? I want to go to his afterlife.”
“He isn’t dead.”
“I’m sorry, what.”
“Your brother isn’t dead, he’s immortal actually. The only immortal not to be born one.”
“You’re lying to me. You’ve got to be lying- who even are you?”
“I’m Philza Craft, husband of Death herself.”
“Right, of course and let me guess, Kristin’s Death then?” He paled at the nod he was given, using the armchair as support to stand, “this is all wrong. I must have been drugged… or something.”
“Wilbur-”
“Get away from me!” He backed behind the armchair, still using it as a crutch. “How the fuck am I not a ghost? Huh? Surely since I’m dead I should be a spirit.”
“You arrived on the sands the same way you died, actively dying again, so I used magic to stabilise you. Currently, you are hanging in the balance of life and death.” It was at that point Wilbur’s legs gave out and he found himself on the floor, still ready to push Phil away if he dared to step closer.
“Why should I trust or believe any of this? I-I’m aware of being dead and the afterlife but this is all too much. You’re lying to me.”
“It’s weird, I know that. I’ve been where you are but you need to calm down and wait for Kristin because she explains this a lot better than I just did.”
“I want to leave.”
“That’s not possible right now, you’re not well enough to walk down the hallway, nevermind actually leave.”
“Are you going to keep me here against my will?”
“That’s not my decision to make, but Kristen’s not cruel, she won’t control your will.”
Wilbur remained on the floor for some time, backing up whenever Phil tried to get close to offer a hand up. Eventually, once his breathing became normal again, Phil left, saying he wouldn’t cause further upset by staying in the room.
Phil immediately went to find Kristin. She was outside, staring into the vast ocean, wings fluffing and moving in her unease.
“Kristin?” She only held out a hand to acknowledge him, gaze far out, “Wilbur is unsettled, love. I did my best to calm him down, but it’s all a bit much.”
“I suppose that was to be expected, he is mortal after all.”
“So am I.”
“You’re different, you were always into the arcane. Wilbur’s just human and their minds can be quite fragile. What do you suppose we do?”
“I think you should explain everything to him in that soothing way of yours, because I did not do a good job. Also we have an issue: he wants to leave.” Kristin nodded, her gaze remaining on the horizon as she thought. After a moment, she dropped his hand and began to head inside, “Are you going to talk to him?”
“Yes. Once I choose my words that is. You should stay here for a while to try avoid more upset.”
He watched her leave before turning his own attention to the sea. His mind's eye playing tricks to make him see Wilbur pulling himself to the shore all over again. He wondered what would happen from here, how long it would take the wayward soul to accept his new reality and more pressingly, why was he here to begin with?
When Phil ventured back inside, Kristin was sitting cross legged across from Wilbur, who was sitting back against the wall.
“Let me get this straight, when I got here I was dying- again. So you used some weird voodoo magic to bring me back but, I’m not in the world of the living?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“And my brother is still up in that world.”
“He is.”
“Okay great. I want to see him, so will you let me leave?”
Kristen faltered, “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what to do with you. You’re the first soul to return by itself and I’m unsure of what would happen should you die. But… I would hope you could travel to the living world like Phil can.”
“So are you going to let me leave?”
“When I deem it safe to do so, yes. With guidance, of course.”
“You’re going to have me babysat?”
“No, not exactly-'' Phil interjected then, knowing that babysitting was not a good way to word it. Kristin, however, had other ideas.
“Yes.”
The atmosphere was tense, to say the least. Once no longer a fall risk, Wilbur took to wandering the halls, exploring anywhere and everywhere he could find. On multiple occasions, either Phil or Kristin had to steer him away from danger hidden in a room. Kristin always managed to coax him away whereas Phil had taken to hosting him over his shoulder because he refused to listen.
“I don’t get why he’s being like this,” Phil sank to the floor by Kristin’s feet, leaning his head back so he lay in her lap, “what the fuck did I do to him?”
“Perhaps it’s all due to you having free reign?” She began to card her fingers through his hair as she spoke, pondering, “that and if he is mad, it is easier and safer to be mad at another mortal than a god.”
“That’s unfair and gives me a headache.”
A few weeks later, the two mortals crossed paths by the sea. Wilbur staring out to it, convinced he’d find something if he squinted and Phil frantically running towards him incase the madman took a dip.
“You alright there, mate?”
“Hmm? Yeah, I am, just think is all.” He took a step back, turning to face the angel, “when I leave here, everything’s going to be very different, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you’ll figure it out quickly. You’re a smart lad. How about we head inside and I’ll tell you a bit about it?” He began to guide him back indoors. Realistically, he knew Wilbur wouldn’t be stupid enough to dive in to try find a way out but, it was always a possibility.
“Kristin?” She looked up from her mountain of books, they were stacked up to her waist as she flicked between the open ones on top, “You need to let him leave. He’ll go stir crazy and he’s breaking my heart and giving me migraines at the same time.”
“Alright. He can leave in two of your days? That’s a good chunk of time right?”
“It’s a flash to you. Do you, by chance, have any idea where his brother might be? I don’t want to send him in blind with a ‘goodluck, he might be anywhere in the world’.”
“I don’t know the exact location, but,” she removed herself from the book mountain, to hold Phil’s cheek in her hand, “he’ll have you to help navigate and, I have some intel on who he is with. The last Blood god I met- her life force is fading so I decided to investigate, asking around here and there. The next god is seventeen and I can’t get my sights set on him.”
“Do you think he’s in protected land?”
“I think exactly that, you’ll have to start there.” She leaned down to kiss his forehead.
“That will take a while, hopefully he won’t mind the travel.”
She nodded, returning to her mountain as her face creased in worry, “I don’t want this boy falling into my hands too soon, so I think I’ll ask Wilbur to act as a kind of guardian angel. I would hope that if he has a task like that-.”
“It might protect him from being truly mortal?”
“Exactly.”