Chapter Text
Being an immortal sounds great. Unless you are one.
Being immortal means centuries of observing the same repetitive story that is known as the human life: They live, they die, repeat. It came with the job, of course. The gods were supposed to look after their domains, their people.
The Sky Gods were some of the oldest gods to exist - they were around since their domain, the sky, has been created after all. They were born as gods and have lived their lives watching the same boring thing over and over. Watching until their gentle kindness slowly but surely disappeared, until the thought of existing and having to repeat the same task left them feeling very, very empty.
So the Sky Gods played games.
Every few mortal decades, the Sky Gods held games with mortal contestants to cure their apathy. They chose a couple mortals (or just one, if they are particularly interesting) and put them in some difficult situation. And then they did what they do best: watch as the mortals die off one by one. Most of them never lasted very long, and none of them have been memorable enough to bring back after their death. But it was exciting; entertainment that gave the Sky Gods something to look forward to.
The mortals used to know about the games they played. Some paranoid villages sacrificed their children, hoping it would satisfy the gods and keep them from destroying their realm. Some idiots sacrificed themselves, thinking they could beat the gods at their own game and return with glory. (Those were usually the most entertaining to kill: their eyes filled with fear as it finally dawns on them that they cannot get out of this place alive. After all, the gods designed their games to ultimately leave no survivors.)
Then the games stopped one day. Mortals begged their patrons and gods to save their lives, and the Council of Gods put a stop to the Sky Gods' games.
"It's immoral," Prime, the king of Gods, said.
"It's dangerous," the Sea God said.
"It's against the rules," the God of the Land said.
Fools, the lot of them, the Sky Gods thought.
The Sky Gods haven't played a game in many, many centuries. It was infuriating, being a god-born and having to listen to mortal-born gods on what they could or couldn't do. They abided by the rules, however. (As much as they would love to smite a few mortals again, getting in trouble with the other gods for centuries was not worth it. Not when the mortals were all so boring.)
Many of the gods forgot about their centuries-old decision on closing the games. Prime, majority of them forgot that the games even existed in the first place. But the Sky Gods never forgot. They remembered every single game they played - even the boring ones. They relished the memories of toying with the minds of the mortals, leading on those who thought that winning meant leaving (there was no true escape from the games, winner or not, death was bound to follow) and throwing out new ideas for their next games. They often discussed amongst themselves what they would do if they found the perfect candidate for their games, even after the games had been stopped. They agreed to play one final game if and when they found them - damn the consequences, a few centuries of trouble with the other gods would be worth it.
So the Sky Gods watched the mortal plane, awaiting a one that they simply had to play with.
And then they found him.
---
Wilbur Minecraft was ordinary. Well, as ordinary as one could be when they had a single father who was never home and zero friends.
Okay, that wasn't exactly true. He had one friend, and his father tried often to be home and sometimes even stayed for a couple of days. So he technically was just a normal kid.
A normal technically-11-year-old kid who was walking back to an empty home alone at nearly 10 at night.
He had stayed over at Schlatt's (see, he wasn't lying when he said he had a friend) after school to celebrate his 11th birthday. It was a small party, and they had no cakes or presents, but it was pretty great. It did help him forget for a while all that had happened at school that morning.
"What kinda loser spends their birthday without their parents?"
He shook his head to shake the memories of Jared and his classmates jeering and pulled his coat closer to himself. The town usually had colder weather at this time of year, and it was barely keeping him warm. He would have to ask his father to maybe buy him a new coat when he returned from his latest expedition. (He had honestly thought his father would have been back by now.)
Wilbur understood, of course, that his father was a busy man. He should be grateful for the monthly letter updates his father sent about the Atlantis city that he was helping build in the server he had left for just less than a year ago. Philza Minecraft was almost a legend realm-wide, being known for his kind and generous personality that mixed perfectly with his partner Technoblade's fierce and loyal qualities. His help was required in many places, and he couldn't turn away people in need. It was understandable that he couldn't return home often. Wilbur knew that. It was just Jared and those jerks who didn't.
He continued to trek the gravelly path to his house when he heard a shout.
"Yo! Wilbur!"
He hesitated, almost turning around before deciding to walk a bit faster to his destination. Maybe, just maybe, he could avoid talking to Jared.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, dumbass!" Wilbur must have severely underestimated how close Jared was (or maybe Jared just drank a shit ton of speed potions like the fucker he is) as he felt a rough shove on his back, causing him to stumble and fall. He barely managed to catch himself from face-planting on the path. Jared was with a few of his friends, who were all laughing down at him.
"Did you have a good birthday, orphan boy?"
Wilbur felt his cheeks heat up despite the cold.
"I'm not an orphan," he mumbled, shoving his shaking hands into his jacket pockets as he stood up and keeping his eyes fixed on the ground next to Jared's shoes. He wondered whether he should just sprint away or call Schlatt for help.
"What was that?"
He gritted his teeth. He wasn't as tall as some of the boys, but he was able to look at Jared without looking up at him. He held his ground as he looked at the group's leader's nose. He didn't feel confident that he wouldn't have a panic attack if he looked at Jared in the eyes. "I said I'm not an orphan, Jared. I have a dad."
"Right, cause he definitely cares enough about you to celebrate your birthday with you. Honestly, I can't believe the Philza Minecraft as a son like you. It's no wonder he doesn't come back to this town." Wilbur bit his bottom lip. It wasn't because of him, Phil was just busy. That was it. That was what Phil said. His father wouldn't lie about that, would he?
"You know, I wonder how bad you must be to live with when your own father doesn't want to spend more than a day with you." Wilbur flinched and shrunk into himself. Jared's friends laughed again.
"You're literally walking to your house alone! Even Schlatt didn't want to spend longer time with you!" His breath hitched. That wasn't true, Schlatt had asked him if he wanted someone to walk with him, it was Wilbur who turned him down, Schlatt was his friend. (Wilbur only has one friend he can't lose Schlatt-)
"I wonder if he actually likes spending time with you. I mean, who would? I kinda feel bad you were with him the whole day. He must be so sick of you." Schlatt liked Wilbur he said so himself and he asked Wilbur to come over Wilbur didn't want to bother him he should have just turned it down he's been alone on his birthday before-
"Literally no one cares about you. You're a fucking loser, Wilbur." Jared laughed, and seemed to be satisfied with his taunting for the day, because he turned away and casually strolled away as though he didn't just rip into everything Wilbur was insecure about. (When did a three week exploration trip turn into a year of not coming back home? Was Phil even coming back home? How long would it be before Schlatt would leave him too just like everyone else?)
After the group was far enough away, Wilbur released a shaky breath. In and out, like Schlatt taught him. Schlatt- He wouldn't have done that if he really wasn't his friend, right? Wilbur wondered for a brief second if he should call Schlatt about Jared. (Schlatt never hesitated to punch Jared in his face, even if it got him in a lot of trouble. Surely, that has to mean that he cared..?) He shook his head and turned back to his house. It was fine, he shouldn't burden Schlatt with every little thing Jared said. He had already done plenty for him today with the birthday party.
Wilbur tried his best to hold back the tears the whole way back.
When Wilbur arrived at the front door of his house, he hesitantly checked the shoe rack just in case his father did show up. He knew it was futile; his father would not be here anytime soon. Still, he checked just in case.
Maybe Phil showed up and was planning a surprise for him. There would be a large cake on the dinner table, and his father would be sitting in his spot with the Blade next to him (and maybe when Wilbur finally meets his father's partner in crime he'll figure out what Technoblade can give that he can't) and they would give him birthday presents and he would have a normal birthday with his family and family friends. He would finally show Phil all his new songs and see his dad's eyes light up with pride as he praises him and tells him that he loves him. Wilbur would tell Phil about Jared, and he would hug him and say that Jared is a big fat liar and that he was going to stay (even just for a little while), because he wants Wilbur to stand up to Jared without having to fear that he is right. And then Wilbur and Phil (and maybe Technoblade, because he decides to stay too so that Phil doesn't feel like he has to pick between his inferior son and best friend) would make lanterns together and be a happy family. And Phil would say that he was sorry for leaving him alone after his mother died because he was a kid and he was grieving alone without knowing if his dad had also just left him forever and then he would promise to stay forever. Phil would then realize that all he really wants is to be with his son and friend, and Technoblade would join their small family because he also doesn't want to leave and he would protect Wilbur whenever Jared tries to bully him again (it would be hilarious seeing Jared get told off by his icon) and would buy him ice cream even when Phil says he can't and wink at Wilbur like it's their little secret. Wilbur would then introduce Phil and Techno to Schlatt and his dad and Schlatt would laugh and tell him that he shouldn't care about what Jared said to him because he is Wilbur's friend through and through and they would play Wii as their parents drink coffee together and Schlatt would get mad that he lost and demand for a rematch. Phil and Techno would teach him how to fight properly, and how to hold a sword without swaying due to lack of balance. They would train together and Wilbur would try so hard and be good enough that when Phil has to leave he takes both Techno and Wil and after they finish the quest his father would ruffle his hair and tell him that he was glad he brought him along-.
Phil wasn't at home. (Neither was Techno.)
Wilbur took off his shoes and placed them neatly on the shoe rack before entering the house and flicking the light switch. The house was exactly as he left it. He hesitantly walked over to the kitchen (it was dumb that he clung to the hope that Phil would return but he just had to make sure one last time) and turned on the lights to an empty table. He walked back to retrieve the mail in his mailbox (just in case, he had to check) and took out all the mail. He shuffled through them to see if there was any for him. Majority of them were for Phil (why they sent the mail here Wilbur would never understand), but he found two envelopes meant for him. He quickly walked back to the living room to open them. He gently placed the letters meant for Phil in the steadily growing "Mail for Phil" pile in the corner of the room. He lingered next to the pile for a moment before turning back to look at his mails - if any of them were by his father.
The first envelope was from his school, addressed to his name but held financial stuff meant for Phil. Wilbur sighed and put it with the other mail.
The second was a fancy advertisement to register for a communicator now that he was of age to have one. Wilbur nearly threw down the paper at the reminder.
At 11, kids are able to register for a communicator device. He had sent a letter to Phil a few months ago (it was one of his bad days, everyone had been bustling about the new version for the device, and many were bragging about how they were gifted it for their birthday by their parents) and asked whether Phil would be back in time for his birthday for them to go buy one together. The new version apparently had cross-dimension functions, where it was possible to talk to people in different realms (it would mean that Wilbur could send a text and get a reply within seconds instead of waiting weeks for Phil to even see his letter), and a selfish part of him wanted it. He had gotten a letter a few weeks after that (Phil had replied hopefully and if I am back, of course, that sounds wonderful and that should have been a telling sign that he was going to be alone again this year because it wasn't a definite yes) and Wilbur had carelessly let himself get his hopes up. He had forgotten he signed up for a reminder to be sent on his birthday. It felt like salt in a wound from how horrible its timing was.
Jared's taunts lingered in his head as he sat on the sofa. Would Phil come back if Wilbur asked? Did he even care? Wilbur thought back to when he last saw his father, when he tried to find him because he really did not want him to leave why does he always leave does he love Wilbur enough to ever stay-?
His pocket burned where his inhaler was.
Wilbur wondered if his father knew about his asthma. He wondered if he knew that he had gotten it from running around in a snowstorm trying to convince him to come back. He wondered if he would care or despise him more now that he was damaged.
He waited in the living room, closing his eyes and pretending that he was living in a reality where his father was here. He faked blowing out an imaginary candle.
"Happy birthday to me." He whispered sullenly, hugging himself in an empty house.
He blinked.
He blinked again to make sure he wasn't hallucinating or dreaming.
His house was.. gone? He was on a single piece of bedrock amongst the vast sky. He slowly uncurled himself from the position he was sitting in and looked over the edge of his platform. What he thought would be ground was an endless sky that faded to a black void. He leaned back and pinched himself hard.
He yelped as the pain blossomed and faded. Okay... he was not dreaming.
Something about the void called to him. A dark, haunting song that made him feel safe. Like a mother's embrace. He reached out a hand over the edge, leaning forward and-
An object was dropped into his inventory. He wasn't even sure if it was possible, but he decided against questioning the logic.
It was a leather-bound book. On the front page, written in a careful blue ink was "Happy birthday, Wilbur :)" and it was so similar to how his dad wrote that hope couldn't help but blossom in his chest. (The fact that he keeps hoping even when its been stomped on over and over makes this even more pathetic, doesn't it?)
"Dad?" he asked. Did his dad bring him here? It was a little ominous and creepy wherever "here" was but the possibility that his dad wanted to see him-
Oh. "Signed, Sky Gods" (If fools are people who do the same thing over and over and hope for change then Wilbur is the biggest one out there.)
"Sky gods." He murmured. He could vaguely remember reading that name somewhere, but before he could remember where, another object dropped into his hand.
Wilbur's eyes widened when he saw what it was. "Diamond boots? For... For me?"
Diamond objects were not given out freely (and if they were, there were usually in exchange for severe compensation). Right behind netherite, diamond was the highest currency and the most efficient and protective ore. (Many economists even go further and claim that diamond should be above netherite, as netherite is useless without diamonds.) Only the most wealthiest and/or skilled people have had diamond gear and tools manufactured for them by the worlds' top blacksmiths. They had to be recognized realm-wide, and only a few people (including Phil and Technoblade) had the full diamond set. Diamond objects are priceless; even a diamond shovel was worth a hundred times more than the entire iron and gold set combined.
It was rare to have diamond manufactured; it was even more so for it to be given out freely. (And for them to give it to Wilbur just like that, what does that say?)
"T-Thank you." He whispered and put them on gently. They fit perfectly.
He smiled.
Whoever the Sky Gods were, they were helping him (right?). Maybe they realized that he had a pretty pathetic 11th birthday and wanted to make it a little better.
Maybe he wouldn't have to be so alone anymore with the Sky Gods.