Ps：因為一個章節(jié)字?jǐn)?shù)超過投稿限制了，所以up只能分成兩期鵝鵝鵝

The laughter was the worst of it. Wilbur could feel it growing louder in his head, the sound of a thousand different voices laughing at a joke he was not privy to—a joke with him as the punchline. But then the still-healing wound on his hand would ache, reminding him of what he’d done and where he was. He was standing on a rock, feet braced against moss, felling distant enemies with arrows. He was King Wilbur, Protector of the Realm, Ruler of the Kingdom, leader of the Royal Army, and he’d brought all these people here.

?

And he was not going to let them down.

?

He could spot Tommy’s golden head below him, clearing out the enemies that slipped by Wilbur’s shots. He was good. Frighteningly good. It was easy to forget how capable Tommy was at destruction. He was so used to seeing Tommy lose against Techno that he’d forgotten that against anyone else, Tommy was a force to be reckoned with all on his own.

?

But that did not do much to dispel the worry tightening in Wilbur’s gut. He was, after all, also an older brother.

?

Tommy launched himself at an incoming enemy, spear out. The enemy swung with his sword, but Tommy ducked just in time and swept his leg out to knock the man over. Wilbur saw the spear pierce clean through, and the body was still twitching on the ground before Tommy was whirling around to face another. This one didn’t even get a meter near Tommy before Wilbur had put an arrow through their throat.

?

Tommy whirled around and flashed Wilbur a grin. “Not bad, archer boy!”

?

Despite everything, Wilbur managed a small smile. A smile that slipped from his face when a sudden motion flickered in the corner of his vision.

?

“Tommy, watch out!” Wilbur shouted, just as the enemy solider barreled into Tommy. The two of them tumbled into the dirt, a tangle of limbs and blades.

?

Wilbur fumbled for an arrow and found his quiver empty.

?

Shit! he thought.

?

Shit, the voices agreed happily.

?

Wilbur hurriedly slung his bow over his shoulder and, in the same breath, unsheathed his twin rapiers from their scabbards. He dropped down from his perch, his teeth rattling on impact, the pain not registering because Tommy’s in trouble.

?

The enemy soldier had Tommy pinned to the ground, a sword raised over his head and ready to drop. Tommy was thrashing, desperately reaching for the spear that had been knocked out of his hand, but Wilbur was already kicking the enemy violently off him. The enemy rolled across the ground, allowing Wilbur to stand between him and Tommy, the twin swords flashing menacingly in the flickering firelight.

?

“Get the fuck away from my brother,” he hissed.

?

“How touching,” the soldier said mockingly. He was different from the others, Wilbur could tell. He didn’t know how, exactly, but he just was. His eyes and hair were as black as coal, in stark contrast to the blood-stained white cloak he wore around his shoulders.

?

“You…” Wilbur said, brows furrowing. “I saw you walk through the fire. How?”

?

The man scoffed. “You think that little stunt could hurt me?” He raised his blade—upon closer inspection, it looked to be made of pure obsidian, pitch-black all the way down to the hilt. “I was born in fire.”

?

“Are you the leader of this army?” Wilbur demanded.

?

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Me? No, no, I’m merely a pawn in this game. A pawn with a grudge to settle, but still a pawn nonetheless.” He grinned. “Now, show me what he taught you, king.”

?

Wilbur didn’t need to be told twice. He launched himself at the man, blue irises crunching beneath his feet. Their swords met, and from there it was a dance. Blades flashed as Wilbur began pushing the man backwards, but he was matching Wilbur hit for hit. Wilbur thrusted forward with his left sword, but the man dodged fluidly before swinging his sword in a mean arc that would have taken Wilbur’s head clean off if he had not stepped backwards. From there, the man launched his offensive, striking from above, but Wilbur managed to cross his rapiers together and blocked the hit just in time. The blow reverberated down to Wilbur’s bones, but the man gave him no time to recover, pushing his blade harder against Wilbur’s. Wilbur dug his heels into the ground and parried, using the man’s weight against him. He’d hoped it would cause the man to stumble and end this matter once and for all, but instead, the man swung again, feigning another overhead strike before changing to a side hit at the last moment.

?

Wilbur blocked the blow, but the force of it sent him crashing to the ground. The white-cloaked soldier stood over him, a small smile playing on his lips.

?

“That was disappointing,” he said, spinning his sword lazily between his fingers. As if he had all the time in the world. “At the very least, I expected a man trained under a god of blood to, well, actually draw some.”

?

Wilbur froze. He glared up at the man standing before him, suddenly understanding.

?

“You’re here for Techno.”

?

The man stopped spinning his sword. “I’m surprised he told you what he is. You must mean a lot to him.” His smile was slow and cold. “That makes this all the more fun.”

?

He raised his sword and brought it crashing down.

?

It might have been hours. It might have been days. It might even have been between the space of one breath and another. Technoblade could no longer tell.

?

More and more of enemy were finding ways to breach the wall of fire. The Royal Army’s archers were doing their best to snipe them down before they could join the fray, but their dreadful lack of experience was beginning to show. Cracks were forming. They were nearing a breaking point.

?

No, Techno thought, trident in one hand, a bone-handled chain whip in the other. Not if I can help it.

?

He found himself in the thick of it, drawn not to the violence but to the sounds of Wilbur’s people—his people—calling for help. A god’s help.

?

Blood, the voices demanded. Blood for the blood god.

?

But Techno didn’t want blood, not today. He wanted justice.

?

“Get down,” he told the Royal Army soldiers that had gathered around him. Techno realized with a jolt that they had not come to him to ask for his protection, but to give him theirs. As if their fragile mortal bodies might make a difference when it came to him. Fools, he wanted to say, but all that came out was, “On the ground, all of you, now.”

?

They were quick to comply. They dove into the weeds just as Techno lashed out with his whip. The heavy chain carved an arc through the air before finding its mark, wrapping around the neck of an enemy soldier. Techno pulled sharply, knocking the soldier down. He shook the whip free and spun it around to hit an incoming enemy straight in the head. There was a sickening crunch as the force of the whip crushed bone. Before the body hit the ground, Techno spun the whip towards other targets—aiming for throats, temples, ankles, anything to pull or crush. He was standing in the eye of the storm, his whip cracking through the air like lightning.

?

When the chain whip rattled back into his hands again, it was wet with blood.

?

“You can get up now,” he told the soldiers that were staring dazedly up at him from the ground. “Take care of the stragglers.”

?

“What stragglers?” one of them called out incredulously, but Techno was already moving again.

?

He launched himself into the air, for a brief moment flying weightlessly over the carnage, and then he crashed down with his trident, impaling a man to the earth. He pulled the trident out with a sickening squelch and then threw a throwing knife right into the eye of an approaching soldier. Another came running towards him, but he made quick work of them, too.

?

This was his element. This was where he belonged.

?

More, the voices demanded, more more more—

?

This was not his element.

?

This was not where he belonged.

?

He was under strict orders from the king to keep himself in check, and he would not falter now.

?

And then he heard it. Techno could not explain how he heard it over the sounds of swords clashing and people dying and fires burning. It was as if his very soul had only been listening for that sound, and nothing else.

?

In the far distance, a scream.

?

When he was a child, Tommy had tried to scale the side of the castle. He did not remember the fall, but he remembered the crash. He remembered the feeling of his bones splintering underneath him, the pain so blinding that he almost passed out. He didn’t know who eventually found him, but he eventually woke up in his bedroom, his left arm in a sling and Wilbur asleep by his bedside. Techno had been leaning against the far wall, glaring at him.

?

“He’s been here for days,” Techno had said. “You really scared the Shit out of him, Tommy.”

?

It was the angriest Techno had ever been at him, and that was the moment Tommy understood that what he really meant was that Tommy scared the Shit out of both of them.

?

As the white-cloaked man’s sword broke through the shaft of Tommy’s spear and into Tommy’s shoulder, he remembered that pain, and felt it a thousandfold. He felt the blade break through skin and embed itself in his collarbone, and there was only fire in his veins.

?

“Tommy!” He felt Wilbur’s hand pulling him back, and they both stumbled backwards, Tommy still clutching the broken ends of the spear he’d tried to shield Wilbur with.

?

Tommy fell to his knees, the pain making everything go white. I’m going to pass out, he thought, I’m going to die—

?

“Little hero,” the man grumbled as he approached them once again, the edge of his sword dripping with Tommy’s blood. “You’re only delaying the inevitable. Now sit still as I put you down.”

?

“Tommy.” Wilbur’s hands were on him, pressing against his wound. “Tommy, Tommy, come here, I’ll fix you, I’ll fix you—”

?

“Wilbur,” Tommy croaked as the white-cloaked man advanced. “Wilbur, the enemy—”

?

“Say your goodbyes, princeling,” the man cackled, raising his sword one final time.

?

Tommy grabbed Wilbur, even as his entire body trembled with the movement, covering his older brother’s body with his own. He shut his eyes, waiting for the coup de grace.

?

It never came.

?

When Tommy looked back again, he found Technoblade standing over them, blocking the man’s sword with his trident.

?

“Finally,” the man growled, pushing against the shaft of Techno’s trident. “I’ve been waiting for you, you bloody bastard.”

?

Techno cocked his head to the side, considering the man at length. “I,” he said monotonously, “don’t fucking know you.”

?

The man’s eyes hardened. “You killed them. You took them both away from me, and you don’t even remember.” He jumped back, cutting the air between them with his sword, splattering the ground by Techno’s feet with Tommy’s blood. “That’s alright. I’ll just make you remember.”

?

Techno turned to look at Tommy and Wilbur, his expression carefully neutral. He took in Tommy’s wound, Wilbur still frantically trying to suppress the blood flow.

?

“Techno,” Tommy breathed.

?

Techno’s jaw clenched. “Go.” He turned back to his enemy, his braid whipping in the wind. Most of the morning glories were gone. “Take care of your brother, Wilbur.”

?

“What—”

?

“Tommy, let’s go,” Wilbur said sharply. He began to pull Tommy over to the mossy rock he’d been standing on. He leaned Tommy against it and bent to the task of securing the gash in Tommy’s shoulder. Wilbur ripped the end of his red-and-blue coat and began wrapping it around Tommy’s shoulder.

?

“I can’t see, Wilbur,” Tommy protested, straining to look beyond Wilbur’s head.?

?

“You don’t need to see that,” Wilbur insisted grimly, tightening the cloth around the wound. “You don’t want to see that.”

?

“See what?” Tommy demanded, his throat aching. When had he started screaming? “Wilbur, we need to help him!”

?

Before Wilbur could reply, there was a loud crack, like thunder, making them both flinch. Wilbur turned towards the sound, just enough for Tommy to catch a glimpse of the fighting over his shoulder, just enough for him to see Technoblade raise the man up by his collar and drive him straight into the ground, shattering the earth once more.

?

He was supposed to be dead. As Technoblade drove him against the dirt with enough force to crack it, he knew the man should have died the first time around. But he didn’t. Instead, he merely grinned up at Technoblade with bloody teeth, his face drawn in cold and—much to Techno’s chagrin—completely earned arrogance.

?

“Ah. I see,” Techno said with his hand around the man’s throat. “What’s a god of war doing in a place like this?”

?

“I would state the obvious,” the man said calmly, gesturing to the bloodbath around them. “But this is a purely personal affair.”

?

He kicked up, landing a hit on Techno’s gut that launched him backwards. Techno’s braced himself against the dirt, unwilling to give the war god anymore ground. Tommy and Wilbur were somewhere behind him, and that was all the reason Techno needed to pick up his trident again.

?

The war god got unsteadily to his feet, then seemed to merely shake himself out of the experience of having his head cracked against the ground with the force of twenty rampaging bulls. He cracked the tension out of his neck and simply picked up his sword again.

?

“Now that we’re properly acquainted,” the war god said, “l(fā)et’s take this more seriously, shall we?”

?

He moved quick, quicker than Techno expected. Techno barely managed to parry a blow aimed directly at his heart. Techno thrust out with his trident in retaliation, but the war god simply danced out of the way before returning again in full force. Techno took one of the knives from his bandolier and stabbed out, managing to nick the other god—just barely—before they clashed weapons gain.

?

Blow for blow, hit for hit. They could have gone on like that for forever. A god of war and a god of blood. In another life, they might have been allies.

?

Techno tried in vain to remember which of the many people he’d felled over the centuries had belonged to this man, but there were too many—a long line of ghosts he would spend the rest of his immortal life atoning for.

?

Atoning? the voices laughed. What is there to atone for? Does a lion atone for killing the gazelle? Does the fire atone for burning??

?

Techno jumped backwards and threw his knife, which the war god deflected easily with his sword. He threw another, which the war god dodged. Another, which stuck harmlessly into the earth. Techno reached for another, and found his bandolier empty.

?

“This is futile,” the war god said. “Just put down your weapons, and maybe—maybe—I’ll give you the merciful death you never gave them. You fight and you struggle, but we both know how this ends. Mortals and their bloody games… there can only be one outcome, right?”

?

“The war isn’t over yet,” Technoblade replied.

?

The god of war smiled, his eyes drifting to something over Techno’s shoulder. “Are you sure about that?”?

?

Techno looked behind him, his eyes finding Tommy and Wilbur first, crouched underneath a rock. Techno could not bring himself to linger on the look of fear on Tommy’s face as he stared back at him, and so he continued searching the horizon for what had caught the war god’s attention.

?

His heart—what remained of it—sunk, as he took in the thousands of enemy reinforcements flooding into the Blue Valley.

?

Tubbo stood in the knee-depth waters of the river that cut through the valley. Once clear, it now ran red with blood. Friend or foe, it didn’t seem to matter—they all bled the same.

?

The river’s current was tugging at him. It’s alright, it seemed to say, you can let go now.

?

And Tubbo wanted to. By gods, he wanted to, more than anything. His quiver was empty of arrows. He’d lost his bow and sword in the chaos. All he had now was a dagger, its blade no longer than his hands and just as frail. His body felt like it had been fighting for weeks, but a glance at the sun high overhead told him it had only been hours.

?

Hours of senselessly slaughtering his way through the fray. It was better when he still had arrows—when he could stand and shoot at distant enemies without thinking of them as people. When he’d resorted to using a sword, when he’d gotten close enough to see the fear in their eyes as his blade pierced through cloth and skin, when the blood had colored him crimson, it was suddenly, frighteningly real.

?

Once, he had wanted to see their enemies burn. Now, he just wanted it to be over.

?

Tubbo looked up at the sound of shouting. Before him, enemies were running through the wall of flames, cutting through the fire like one after the other in an unending tide. The words reinforcements and too many and retreat echoed in Tubbo’s ears as the breath was knocked out of him.

?

He tightened his grip on his dagger as the enemy reinforcements advanced, cutting down people who were too weak, too inexperienced, too tired, to fight. People like Tubbo.

?

They drew closer. An infinite army.

?

Tubbo felt bile rise in his throat. Too many, too many, too many. He felt hot tears slipping down his cheeks. Too many, too many. He felt his fear and dread like a physical weight, almost driving him to his knees. Too many.

?

In the end, Tubbo was not a hero. But he raised his dagger anyway.

?

“It’s over,” Tommy whispered. He leaned against his brother as they both looked over the valley, at the enemies descending upon their army like a swarm of hawks. The pain in his shoulder was now a distant worry. It wouldn’t kill him—but he knew death was coming for him regardless. “We’re fucked.”

?

Wilbur was very still.

?

“Wilbur.” Tommy turned to his brother. “You know I love you, right?”

?

The king gave him a sharp look. “What the hell are you talking about?”

?

Tommy swallowed thickly, trying—and failing—to keep the tears in. “I—I love you. I don’t think I ever said it, but it’s true. I figured, if it’s my last chance—”

?

“This is not your last chance,” Wilbur snapped, his eyes darkening. He whirled around, facing Technoblade, who still stood between them and the mysterious soldier. “Techno!”

?

Techno glanced back at Wilbur, his expression shuttered. He did not look at Tommy.

?

“It’s time,” Wilbur called out.

?

For a moment, Techno only stared. And then, slowly, deliberately, he nodded. “I’m sorry, Wilbur.”

?

“What?” Tommy demanded. “What are you two talking about?”

?

Wilbur did not reply. He wasn’t even listening.

?

Tommy could only watch as Wilbur unhooked a blowing horn from his side. He put it up to his lips mechanically, his eyes blank and staring at nothing at all.

?

“Wilbur?” Tommy begged. “Wilbur, what’s going—”

?

Wilbur blew the horn.

?

She heard it. They all did. Heads snapped up at the sound of a war horn echoing through the valley—a low, sad sound like the beginnings of a funeral dirge, or the cry of a lone bird separated from its flock.

?

The flower shopkeeper met the eyes of a woman across the field. A stranger, only familiar from brief, inconsequential meetings at the camp. But in that moment, they were kindred spirits, united in their determination. The shopkeeper nodded. The woman gave her a solemn salute. It was now or never.

?

The shopkeeper glanced at the oncoming horde of enemies, butchering all that stood in their way. But the Royal Army was not fighting anymore. No, they were running. They threw down their weapons and ran back in the direction of the hill, stumbling over weeds and irises and vines of morning glories. The Green Army—outnumbering them ten to one—gave chase, unaware of what was coming.

?

The shopkeeper took off, the rock in her pocket seeming to grow heavier with every step. But unlike the others, she was headed north, up one of craggy mountains that bordered the valley.

?

She knew the others—at least those who weren’t dead already—must be headed towards the other mountain, crashing through the trees and underbrush as she was. There were fifty of them in total, but only two of them were really needed for the job.

?

“If you lose heart,” the king had said during the midnight meeting where he’d laid out his plans to the volunteers, “just make sure someone else still has theirs. This a last resort—but it might also be our only choice.”

?

He’d told them all they were free to leave. None of them had.

?

The rest of camp had all been told two things: “When you hear the horn, run for your life,” and “Don’t tell Prince Tommy.”

?

The shopkeeper bounded over boulders and overgrowth, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

?

“Hey!”

?

She risked a glance back, and found three Green Army soldiers running after her. They were less used to the terrain than she was—she’d walked this path a million times over the past week—but they were gaining on her quick, their swords raised and ready.

?

The shopkeeper kept running. But her knees were screaming, her lungs on the verge of collapse. She was tired. So, so tired—

?

A yell came from behind her. She tried to ignore it, until it came again. She glanced behind her once more, stopping dead in her tracks when she realized what was happening. One of the enemy soldiers was on the ground, a small dagger embedded into the nape of his neck. The other two were doubling back, facing the attacker that must have followed them up into the forest.

?

She caught sight of brown hair, a small frame. Oh, gods.

?

It was the boy who’d lied his way into the army, and had fought bravely in it until the very end. The shopkeeper glanced behind her, to the cave where her main objective was. She was so close.

?

But the boy, she saw, was unarmed.

?

The decision was already made. She ran back down the mountain, her axe in her hand. The soldiers had cornered the boy against a tree, their blades ready to cut his life at seventeen years. But that meant that their backs were to her, and they never saw her coming.

?

“Just pretend you’re chopping down a tree,” the general had taught them during their training phase at the castle. “The axe will get the job done, but it’ll take a few swings.”

?

It only took her two: one through the neck, the other into the skull. The two soldiers dropped dead at her feet. The boy stared up at her, breathing heavily, his face streaked with blood and dirt. It looked as if he had aged fifty years in a day. The shopkeeper no longer recognized the young, foolhardy boy who’d run around camp doing the most menial chores, grinning from ear to ear, taking pride in being part of something bigger than himself. He was battered and bruised and bleeding, with eyes so haunted the shopkeeper couldn’t help but wonder about all the things he’d seen since the sun rose over the battlefield.

?

What has the world done to you? she thought. But all she said was, “Are you alright?”

?

The boy could only nod wordlessly.

?

“You need to get out of here,” she said hurriedly, already hearing more soldiers coming up the mountain. “Here. Take this.”

?

She shoved her axe into his hands. The boy shook his head vigorously. “I can’t,” he croaked. “You need to protect yourself—”

?

She gave him a bitter smile. “Trust me, kid, you need it more than I do. Now, go. You know your orders. Back to the camp. Follow the sun.” Before she could think better of it, she pulled the boy into her arms, hugging him tightly. For a moment, he could only stand in listless surprise. And then she felt his arms close around her. He buried his head into her shoulder and let out a single gut-wrenching sob.

?

When the shopkeeper let go, there was a new spark in the boy’s eyes, faint, but better than nothing.

?

The boy turned to go, but lingered at the tree line. “What’s your name?” he asked.

?

“Niki,” she said. “My name is Niki.”

?

“I’ll see you later, Niki,” the boy said, and was gone.

?

She stared after him for a while, her heart feeling lighter in ways she could not explain. But then a twig broke in the distance, heralding the arrival of enemy troops. The shopkeeper steeled herself one last time, and headed for the cave.

?

Inside, stacked from one end of the cave to another, connected to natural underground caverns that ran the length of the mountain, was the king’s last resort. The only thing that stood between their kingdom and the certain doom.

?

We will see our enemies burning, the king had promised them on that first day, lifetimes ago.

?

It wasn’t exactly burning, but blowing them to kingdom come was an acceptable compromise.

?

The flint was in her hand. All she could smell was sulfur, and the distant scent of irises. Her pursuers were at the mouth of the cave, screaming as they realized what she was about to do. They might have begged. She would never know.

?

“I’ll see you all in hell,” she said bitterly, and struck the flint into flame.

?

At the summit of the opposite mountain, in a cave almost identical, the Captain did the same.

?

“For my kingdom,” she whispered to the empty cave, and let the fire fall.

?

Niki hoped, at the very least, that they would plant the prettiest flowers over her grave.

?

The explosions rocked the world. It rattled the very sun from its loyal orbit. Wilbur braced himself against the rock he’d once stood fearlessly on, and watched the mountains fall.

?

Yes, the voices chorused, this was always meant to be.

?

Wilbur had been here before. He’d dreamt it. He’d lived it. As an avalanche of rocks and earth cascaded into the valley—crushing anyone unfortunate enough to be left behind, friend or foe—Wilbur felt a tug of familiarity at his core. His ears rung from the violence of it all—the voices, the screaming, the blasts that went on and on and on.

?

Flocks of birds soared up into the sky, disturbed from their perches. They were the only survivors.

?

When the dust settled, all Wilbur could see was a pile of devastation where the Blue Valley used to be. Their enemies, crushed by the thousands or buried alive on Wilbur’s orders. And their allies…

?

Wilbur bent over the ground, and vomited.

?

“Wilbur.”

?

Wilbur’s ears were still ringing. He heaved the last of his stomach’s contents, coughing up blood and spittle. There was no end to it.

?

“Wilbur.”

?

Wilbur turned, almost afraid of what he would find behind him.

?

Tommy, his face pale, his eyes wide and staring, as if he had never seen Wilbur before.

?

“Tommy,” Wilbur croaked. Stop looking at me like that. Look away. Look away. Look away.

?

“What…” Tommy’s voice was so small. “What the fuck did you just do?”

?

“What the fuck did he do?” the war god demanded. He tried moving towards the king and the prince, but Techno was there, forever blocking his way.

?

“Don’t take another step.” Techno raised his trident, its prongs aimed towards the war god’s chest. “Your army is gone. There is nothing left to fight for.”

?

“You bastard,” the god growled, his obsidian sword trembling in his grip. “You think this hurts me? I died years ago.”

?

Techno took a deep breath. His hands still reeked of sulfur.

?

“Come, then,” he said, exhaustedly. Blood for the blood god. “I shall kill you again.”

?

The war god jumped towards him, starting the cycle anew.

?

“You said ‘no more secrets.’” Tommy’s nails dug bloody crescents into his palm. “You promised, Wilbur.”

?

They were all dead. They were all dead, because of the man that Tommy couldn’t bear to call his brother. He wanted to dig into his skin and rip out every part that was Wilbur’s. He wanted to gut himself, tear it all apart from the inside out, if that was what it took to the get rid of the screaming in his head.

?

Wilbur wasn’t meeting his eyes. Tommy marched up to him and grabbed him roughly by the collar.

?

“fucking look at me, you piece of Shit!” Tommy screamed. The ground was still shaking, or maybe it was just him. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, tears of a rage too big for his body. “How long have you been planning this? Was it from the beginning? Did you look our people in the eyes and never bothered telling them you were leading them to the slaughterhouse?”

?

“Some of them had to have survived,” Wilbur whispered, his words almost lost to the winds. “I warned them.”

?

Tommy shook him violently. “That’s not the fucking point!” he sobbed.

?

Wilbur finally looked at him, but there was nothing behind his dark eyes. “I did what I had to do, Tommy,” was all he said.

?

Tommy shoved him viciously away. His hands felt dirty. He felt unclean. In his head, he could still hear the strings of a lonely guitar, playing over the soft laughter of soldiers that were now simply… gone. Gone in a flash, between one breath and the next. It had come so easily to Wilbur.

?

Would it come easily to Tommy, too?

?

“You fucked up,” Tommy spat. “You fucked up, Wilbur.”

?

“Tommy—” Wilbur reached out for him, but Tommy flinched back.

?

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

?

In battle, when two opponents were evenly matched—in strength, in wisdom, in anger—it would only take one thing to bring it all down. One soldier. One mistake. One move.

?

The war god had seen his fair share of battles, and had won all of them, except one. The only battle to matter, and he’d lost everything, because a blood god had decided to throw his lot in with the opposing forces. One soldier. Afterwards, the war god had dragged himself through the battlefield, his throat burning from screaming his lover’s name into the quiet sky. When he’d found him, the war god had crawled towards his broken body, curling around it as if he could somehow warm it back to life, and he had stayed there for years, letting the moss and the weeds grow over the two of them. He would have stayed there forever, beside the carcass rotted down to the bones, but a fire had grown inside him, a fire that would not be satiated until he had the head of the god that taken everything from him.

?

Now here he was, facing off against the very culprit. It was a bloody dance. The war god slashed and the blood god parried. The blood god lunged and the war god ducked. Like the push and pull of the tides, drawn to each other by a gravity of violence.

?

But all the war god needed, he knew, was a single chance. He would not waste it.

?

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

?

The words were the high-pitched shriek of a frightened child. A familiar sound on a battlefield, indistinguishable from every scream that came before it.

?

But the blood god turned towards it, leaving his defenses completely open. One mistake.

?

The war god raised his sword high above his head. It was very difficult to kill a god, but not impossible. In the right hands—like the hands of a warrior with fire in his heart and carnage in his smile—it would only take one blow.

?

Goodbye, blood god, he thought. My vengeance is complete.

?

Technoblade turned instinctively at Tommy’s scream, just in time to see Tommy draw back from Wilbur’s reaching hands. Pain flashed across Wilbur’s face, but he was otherwise unscathed. Both of them were safe. No knives in their backs, no arrows through their throat.

?

A shadow fell over Technoblade, and by the time he remembered where he was, it was too late.

?

Technoblade turned and faced the tip of a bloody sword, a breath away from his face. But it was not the war god’s obsidian blade, coming to reap his soul. It was a familiar silver broadsword, pierced right through the war god’s chest.

?

Technoblade could only stare as war god looked down at the blade embedded straight through his heart, his sword arm still raised in what would have been a killing blow. Instead, the obsidian sword fell harmlessly out of his limp hold and onto the dirt, and the war god followed close behind.

?

Behind him stood a winged man, his golden hair catching the rays of the setting sun.

?

No, the voices screamed. Not you. Not you. Not you.

?

“Hello, Techno,” said Philza.

?

Wilbur saw him first. Perhaps that was how it was always meant to be. Some part of him would always, unfailingly, be looking for him. Tommy followed a beat later.

?

Wilbur saw his brother’s shoulders go slack, like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut. “Dad…?”

?

Their father was standing before Techno and the unmoving body of the white-cloaked soldier. At the sound of Tommy’s voice, he turned, and looked at his sons for the first time in a decade.

?

And so he enters the scene once more, the voices whispered.

?

And before Wilbur could say anything, Tommy was already running.

?

One move. That was all it would take.

?

On the ground beside him was one of the blood god’s throwing knives, lost during their battle. With the last of his strength, he curled his fingers around the hilt. His love was calling him home. He could hear it in the warm wind. But he could not face him before he was avenged. And so with all he had left, the war god aimed.

?

And threw.

?

Dad. His father was here. His dad, standing among the blue irises the same shade as his sad eyes. The years fell away like smoke, and Tommy was a boy again. There was no explosion. There was no war. There was no leaving. There was only a son, and his father.

?

Tommy felt a hysterical laugh bubble out of him as he ran, even as his cheeks still stung with tears. There was everything. There was confusion, there was grief, there was anger, there was relief, there was disbelief, there was joy—

?

“Dad!” Tommy shouted, spreading his arms wide as he ran, like a bird about to take flight.

?

“Tommy.” Dad’s smile was still the same, after all these years. He opened his arms, welcoming Tommy into an embrace. “My boy. You’ve grown so much.”

?

—and then there was pain, as the knife found its mark in the prince's heart.

?

Techno watched Tommy fall backwards, impossibly slow. It took a moment for the reality to sink in, and by then, Wilbur was screaming, screaming so loud it drowned out everything else, even the voices that began screeching inside Techno’s head.

?

“Tommy!” Philza shouted, running towards Tommy’s unmoving body, but Wilbur was already there, cradling his brother to his chest. Techno could only watch, utterly numb, utterly cold, utterly lost inside his own head.

?

No, no, no, no, no—This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening. It was over. The war was over. He’d done everything he could to protect them, to protect Tommy. Why was this still how it ended?

?

“That is what it feels,” someone gasped, “to lose everything.”

?

By the time Techno turned towards the war god, ready to rip him limb from fucking limb, he was dead, a smile on his face. fuck you, Techno thought furiously, fuck you fuck you fuck you—

?

“Techno!” Wilbur’s scream brought him violently back into his body, with the force of a comet crashing into earth. “Help me!”

?

Techno staggered towards them, his blood as heavy as lead, his vision hazy. But he could see the one thing that mattered. His Tommy, lying so still in his brother’s arms. His Tommy, who braided his hair with sweet-smelling flowers. His Tommy, who was quick to anger but quicker to laugh. His Tommy.

?

The sun was setting over the Blue Valley.

?

There was a terrible, terrible silence—the kind of silence that always came before something devastating. The calm before the storm. Tommy had always hated silences. It gave his mind too many spaces to fill with darkness. So he brought light, instead. Noise and laughter and jokes and jibes, anything to keep the quiet at bay.

?

Wilbur had helped with the weight, like he promised, but now it was back, pressing against Tommy’s chest, suffocating him under its burden. There was pain. So much pain. He thought he’d already felt pain, but what did he truly know? He was only fifteen.

?

Tommy felt himself lifted into someone’s arms. The arms of the man that had snuffed out the lives of two armies in one fell swoop. Tommy wanted to push him away again, to spit his anger and his disgust, but he was too weak to do either. He could only lie there, staring up at his brother’s face, twisted with anguish. His mouth was moving, speaking words Tommy could barely hear.

?

Let me go, Tommy wanted to say. Give me back to the ground.

?

But then Wilbur started humming. It was a song. The song. The song Tommy had been humming just this morning, lifetimes ago.

?

“What…?” Tommy breathed, the rest of the question dying on his lips. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. He should. He knew he should, because otherwise he’d be—

?

“Your lullaby,” Wilbur sobbed, his tears hitting Tommy’s cheeks. “It’s the lullaby I used to play for you on my guitar, when you were younger.” And just like that, everything that came before was forgiven and forgotten and

?

—gone. But was that such a bad thing? Rest would be nice. If it meant his lungs would stop hurting. If it meant his chest would stop aching. Sleep. Sleep was good. Sleep was—“I miss your music, Wilbur.”

?

Tommy could feel someone stroking back his hair, so gently. So lovingly. “Keep your eyes open, Tommy.” Techno. “Keep your godsdamned eyes open.”

?

—bad. He needed to keep awake. Techno was telling him to, and Tommy always did what Techno said. Because Techno was his tutor, his teacher. His big brother. “I would have…” Tommy coughed. He felt blood trickle down his jaw, and then nothing at all. “I would have liked to hear you play together again.”

?

Wilbur’s hold on him tightened. Somewhere far away, someone was screaming for a medic, and Tommy knew. Tommy knew it was—

?

“We’ll play for you,” Techno vowed. “When we get home, we’ll play for you as many times as you want, Tommy. I’ll let you beat me when we spar. I’ll let you braid my hair, or even cut it all off if you want to. Anything you want, just keep your eyes open.”

?

A shadow fell over them, in the shape of wings that Tommy had only seen once before, when he had flown out of Tommy’s bedroom window and out of their lives forever. Or, not forever. Tommy tried to raise his head, to see his father’s face, but the pain was too much.

?

“Dad,” Tommy whispered. He still wanted to do so much. He still wanted to scream at Wilbur and then embrace him. He still wanted to find flowers for Techno’s hair. He still wanted to go home, to the kingdom that they had protected. He still wanted to hug his dad.

?

But a darkness was quickly gathering.

?

“Tommy?” Tommy had no idea who had said his name. It all sounded so very far away.

?

“Don’t leave me,” Tommy begged. “Please. I’m so scared.”

?

“We’re here, Tommy.” A kiss on his forehead. Someone holding his hand. Strong arms around him. Wilbur, humming his old lullaby. Warmth, even in the dark. “We’ll always be here.”

?

—too late.

?

“Thank you,” Tommy breathed. “Thank you. I…” He had so much left to say, so much left to offer. Love. Forgiveness. Cheer. But he would leave it there, until he woke up again.

?

Tommy’s eyes drifted shut.

?

His mother’s laughter had never sounded clearer.

?

Somewhere in the distance, the Green God began to smile.

【所有內(nèi)容版權(quán)均歸原作者所有，up只是搬運】