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The Gods watch their mortal walk away into the night, a heavy silence settling between the three. No one talks and no one moves, red, grey and blue eyes fixed on the spot he stood last. It is Technoblade that acts first, turning away from the door and growling under his breath

"Phil, he's old enough-"

Wilbur replies, interrupting his brother with a tone hardly ever used amongst their family "No. absolutely not."

Techno opens his mouth but Phil finally blinks, looking back at his sons with a torn expression.

"Techno, Wilbur's right. He's too young, if it went wrong, if anything happened to him-"

"Wil and I did it when we were barely older than him!"

"Four years older"

Techno, ever the pedantic shit, wants to correct him, that the twins were actually three years and ten months older, but that wouldn't help his case. Instead he just grumbles and silences.

Phil pinches the bridge of his nose, dark wings unfurling in discontent as he begins to pace, feeling the sharp eyes of Wilbur on his back

"We can't ask him to do that" he says under his breath and Wilbur nods in dismay

Techno looks up from the corner he has migrated to and raises an eyebrow

"You don't want him?"

It was bait, and Phil unwittingly takes it. His pupils dilate and his wings flap in frustration

"Of course I want him! I want him to stay with us, safe and protected and loved- but you know better than most Techno, what it will cost him!"

The Angel of Death shakes his head and fiddles with a feather that hangs over his shoulder. He suddenly drops it and runs tired hands down his face, looking for all the world like a terrified father "We cannot ask him, we cannot risk him- not under my watch. I will not risk his life" Phil glares, expression breaking as he glances at Techno's stoic satisfaction.

Wilbur had been watching the entire interaction, heart breaking. He steps away from the others in favour of watching the sky litter itself with the first light of stars and moon. His chest aches. It physically aches. He didn't know he was capable of pain as an immortal. It was a new, but not entirely unwelcome feeling. He absently searches for a trace of the mortal but Tommy has long since been taken into the night.

If he could change himself into a mortal he would do so without hesitation.

The thought is sudden and terrifying, but a boy alone in the world relying on the love of Gods is a boy unprotected. But they couldn't turn him.

He couldn't bear to watch his little brother die to become one of them.

*

Tommy fought with himself the lonely walk back to the village. He was in no rush, he would have no roof tonight.

Gravel reminds him of his progress as he trudges down the road, away from the church. He can't find it in himself to properly cry, instead he allows the aching abyss in his chest so chew at his thoughts.

Was he stupid for thinking this was forever? That Gods were permanent? Omnipotence to him meant omnipresence- it meant safety from something so untouchable. Could he be blamed for his attraction to something to powerful? Perhaps that was it, he was nothing but a leech to what he desired to be- untouchable.

He coughs back a sob and swallows his pain, adjusting his bag over both shoulders. It felt lighter, devoid of pointless gifts now. He stops suddenly, overwhelmed with the urge to charge back to the church, to burst thought the doors and beg them to stay. Perhaps the people didn't need them- but he did! His pride could take it surely, if it meant more time with his famil- Gods. With the Gods.

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