One Day

A Start

"One day you will look to the stars and realize that you are one in the same."

Years ago things were better. Far better. His new son was finally born, everything was bright. It felt as though he were in heaven. He had it all, three talented sons and a wonderful wife. It was surreal, straight out of a dream. Sometimes it felt too good to be true. Of course, it would be stressful at times.

He was Philza Craft, the emperor, after all. He had his job but he always made time for his family. He'd drop anything for them. It didn't matter where he was or what he was doing, if they called, he'd come. Nothing was better than watching his sons grow and holding his wife. It made him feel fuzzy, and the good kind.
The first time he felt 'fuzzy' he wondered if he was poisoned. But he wasn't.

It felt as though it would never end. The laughs, playing, being silly, even the arguments! He cherished them, good or bad. It was his family, they came before everything, everyone. If he had the choice between the empire or family, he'd choose family.

Every time the twins would do something silly, every time his youngest ran around, every time his wife smiled, Prime, it felt so surreal!

But it all came crashing down...

His wife became sick. At first, it was no big thing. It looked like the common cold, completely normal for the snowy biome they lived in. But when she didn't shake it off within a couple of days, he started to worry. Just a bit. It lasted more than a week, it was fine.
But it only became worse.

They tried everything, not even the best could help. Or the best of the best! No one. They hoped for some kind of miracle. Something to save her, people always said 'it gets worse before it becomes better', he hoped they were right.

It seemed like they were right! After about a month she was standing again! Walking again! Though she was still weak she was better, an improvement. She walked around with him, occasionally stopping to catch a breath. When they finally got outside their boys stopped playing. They ran to her, instantly hugging her. It was nice again. Things looked up again.

But in the middle of the night, she passed. When they heard what happened they rushed in. Phil was first to hear, he'd been sleeping in a different room just in case he got sick. He ran into the room, he checked, no pulse, no heartbeat... Nothing. He dissolved into a mess, holding his lost love. His dead love. The twins came next, scrambling next to him.

His piglin son was quiet, he just watched. Unmoving. His human son held onto his father, not sure who he was trying to comfort. His youngest was last. He was only three, he didn't understand. Three-year-olds don't understand death, they only understand the pain. Watching them made him cry.

His youngest crying seemed to snap Phil out of it. He looked over, through blurry eyes. He looked at his sons. Nothing would ever be the same... He needed to calm down, he needed to tell them that everything will be okay, even if he was lying through his teeth.

He breathed in sharply, pulling in his twins and gesturing for the guard to hand over his youngest. He held them close, trying his best to calm them.

"Everything will get better..." He told them. It wasn't what any of them needed to hear but it would hold them up, even by a few threads.

×××××

It had been a year. They were starting to heal again, starting to smile. It was slow, but it was better. Before, at any mention of the wonderful woman who loved the emperor and her children, they'd break down. Now it only happened occasionally.

The youngest had been their light. The smallest had noticed the missing mother figure but slowly forgot. He was only three when she died. Now he was four, causing chaos, playing. He'd been the one to help pull them all up. Help them escape from their mind prisons, he did it unknowingly.
They found ways to cope with themselves, a way to calm down. Slowly but surely they were freeing themselves.