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No one knows how they will react to death and war and destruction until they come face to face with it. Most people don’t go into war expecting to come out on the other side unscathed, but you never truly know just how you’ll come out on the other side.
Wilbur was struggling.
He still couldn’t sleep peacefully even months after they were all safely back home, snuggled away in their cozy little cottage. Nightmares plagued him nightly, the only progress he had made was getting better at not screaming as he woke up.
He knew Techno noticed, but neither of them had ever been any good with talking about their feelings. Techno buried his deep and continued to push them down until he didn’t have to deal with them anymore, Wilbur plastered on fake smiles and covered up his thoughts with insignificant conversations and half-hearted laughter.
Neither was healthy, and Wilbur knew that they both knew that, but he didn’t know what to do.
Wilbur wanted to tell his family, truly he did, but he also knew that they had their own problems to deal with.
Tommy and Tubbo never left each other’s sights, one too many close calls on the battlefield making them jumpy and paranoid even after so long in the safety of their home.
Phil would often be up at odd hours puttering around the kitchen, likely either plagued by his own thoughts and nightmares. Wilbur never asked, and Phil returned the favor.
The god of creation and destruction wanted to tell them, but in the end, all he left was a vague note on the table before he stepped out the front door, only taking his guitar and a small pack of essentials with him.
He left because he didn’t know how else to get away from the thoughts plaguing his mind. He disappeared and all he had left behind for his family was a lousy note.
If someone asked him how long he had been wandering around, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them. He knew it had been a few years at least of travelling aimlessly, finding small towns and playing his music in their pubs. He was able to gain a few coins and emeralds that way, and was usually able to snag a bed for the night if the place wasn’t full up by the time he got there.
He always moved on though, never staying longer than a week in one town before moving to the next. He spent many nights under the stars, gradually being able to appreciate the beauty of the world he was living in again.
Time moved strangely for gods, and if he again was asked, he wouldn’t be able to say exactly when he met the love of his life.
Wilbur had first met Sally when he was playing music on the beach of one of her favorite coves. Being the daring thing she was, she had swam right up to him, even though he later learned that sirens were taught not to trust humans.
She was drawn in by him, she had said, drawn in by the beautiful way he played music even though he thought no one was listening, especially because he thought no one was listening.
She sang with him eventually, her voice drowning out all his thoughts besides the ones of her beauty. She was a siren, a being that humans couldn’t listen to without becoming enthralled, but Wilbur could, and they sang together often when Sally learned of his heritage.
They spent a long time together, learning about one another, and eventually falling in love. She was everything he had ever dreamed of having for himself, a light in his darkness, and she was eventually the one that he bore all of himself to, his fears, worries, anger, and his past. She accepted all of him without question.
Wilbur had never truly been in love before. He had seen and felt shadows of the true thing, but with her…
She was different.
It was why it broke his heart in two when she died giving birth to their child.
Wilbur had never been one to consider the consequences when making a decision, and he certainly only thought of the consequences of bearing a demi-god to the world after she had told him she was pregnant.
Wilbur had stayed in the humble little house he had built right by Sally’s cove, the waterways that he had so painstakingly constructed to and from the house now painfully unused.
Their daughter was growing up, though, and no matter how well Wilbur could fight, he couldn’t take the risk of something happening to Fundy. Gods were greedy bastards, and he could only think of one place that she might be safe from anything that could want to take her from him.
He wouldn’t admit to anyone that he missed his family, too. It was his decision in the first place to leave them, after all.
Inevitably, when Fundy was ten, now a boy, and coming into his powers, the few gods near enough to feel the new surge of power, came nearer, and it was time for them to move on.
The situation had already been explained to Fundy, and he already had his go bag packed and ready when Wilbur told him that they were leaving for good.
With one final look back at the house that he had come to love, he turned, Fundy held snugly in his arms, and started making his way back to the only other place he had ever considered a home.
---
It was a long journey.
Wilbur hadn’t realized just how far he had travelled in the years he had spent on the road, but trying to make it back to Phil’s little cabin in the woods in one go was making it abundantly clear that he had travelled much farther than he had thought possible.
It took them weeks before Wilbur finally recognized familiar landscapes, shapes and trees that he had memorized long ago. They were different now, changed by time, but still recognizable. For that he was grateful.
The god reached back and swung Fundy around into his arms from where he had been hanging on his back, resting on the pack he had been wearing their entire journey.
Fundy grumbled and rubbed at his eyes sleepily, glaring blearily into the light the setting sun was casting on to them.
“Sorry, bug, we’re almost there. Are you ready to meet your uncles and your grandpa?” Wilbur tried to keep the mood light. He knew they were both exhausted, but they were so close. They would have warm beds and safety soon enough.
Fundy didn’t answer, only burrowing deeper into the fox’s pelt he had kept from Sally. He wore the thing religiously, the fox’s head often covering his own, and Wilbur was beginning to think that he would never let the thing go. He would never say anything about it though. It was important to him too, a little piece of Sally that still remained even years after her death.
Wilbur could see the house now, and he hoisted Fundy higher on his hip as he quickened his pace. He was nervous, but they needed to get indoors before the night completely fell and the monsters came out. He could deal with all the emotions after he made sure his son was safe.
With barely hesitating steps, Wilbur hopped up onto the brightly lit porch, knocked on the door, and stepped back to wait, Fundy now asleep on his shoulder.
He heard commotion from inside before the door was yanked open, a scowling Tommy right behind it.
“We don’t want your fuckin-” Tommy cut himself off, his eyes widening, “Wilbur? What the fuck?”
Tommy was almost as tall as him now, Wilbur noticed with a start. For some reason, he hadn’t been expecting Tommy to shoot up like a weed since he had been gone.
“Hey, Toms,” Wilbur said softly, a subdued smile on his face.
“What the fuck?” Tommy said again, before looking down to the mass clung to Wilbur’s side, “What the fuck is that? Did you seriously bring back a dead fox after being gone for almost fifteen years?”
“Tommy?” That was Phil, “What’s going on? What do they want this time?” Phil came around the corner and into view of the doorway, his presence as dominating as always. He stopped short when he saw who was in the doorway, however.
“Wilbur?”
Wilbur smiled softly, tiredness evident on his face, “Hey, dad.”
Phil walked forward quickly and captured Wilbur into a hug. As much as Wilbur wanted to hug back, it was hard to do with the dead weight of a sleeping ten year old still in his grasp.
Phil pulled back but kept his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders as he looked him over, his eyes almost immediately catching on the form of Fundy.
“Is that…?” Phil trailed off and Wilbur was sure that he could feel the budding power coming off of Fundy in that moment. The god of death shook his head quickly before pulling both of them inside, brushing past a still gaping Tommy in the doorway.
“Close the door, Toms,” Phil called back to the blond as he pulled Wilbur into the house and towards their living room.
As Wilbur was sat down on the couch in front of the roaring fireplace, he noted that the house hadn’t changed much. There was still a medium amount of clutter around the place, books and mugs that hadn’t been cleaned up yet. It was comforting in a strange way.
Phil sat down across from him and looked at him expectantly.
Wilbur heaved a deep sigh, situating Fundy so he was sitting in his lap now rather than on his hip. His son was still asleep, most likely tired out from their long journey. He probably wouldn’t wake up until the next morning at the latest.
Tommy hurried around the corner into the room and sat down as well, watching Wilbur and the lump in his lap with an intense gaze.
“I’m sorry-” Wilbur started, but was immediately cut off by Phil shaking his head and holding up a hand.
“No apologies, Wil. There’s nothing to apologize for. We all dealt with things differently, and as much as we all missed you, we also knew that you needed time for yourself to sort through things. None of us were angry or disappointed. You’re your own person and you have no obligation to tell us everything.”
Wilbur nodded slowly and looked down at Fundy, “Well, to go ahead and get this out of the way, this is Fundy, my son. He’s just turned ten.” He raised a hand and pushed back the fox pelt gently to show the two other gods his pride and joy.
When Wilbur looked back up, Phil was beaming at him while Tommy’s mouth had dropped open in shock.
“That’s wonderful, Wilbur,” Phil said, “We can talk more about all of this later, because I’m sure there’s a lot that you have to tell us, but I can tell that the both of you are tired, so we can pick this up in the morning after the two of you get some sleep. Your room is the same as you left it, we haven’t changed anything, but Fundy will have to sleep with you for a while until we figure out an arrangement for him.”
Wilbur smiled at the other gods in front of him before standing. Sleep did sound amazing at that moment, “Thank you, Phil.”
Phil just laughed quietly and stood up as well, urging him up the stairs towards his old room, “Not a problem, mate, we’ll see you in the morning.”
As Wilbur trekked up the stairs and followed the familiar path to his old room, he could hear Tommy whispering to Phil, asking questions and making observations.
It was more comforting that Wilbur ever thought it would be.