(3rd person POV)
Tommy opened his mouth to reply, but found he could only nod in agreement. The girl gave him a small, sad smile, as if she could understand his silence even more than if he had spoken, and went back to her work.
Tommy pried his feet from the ground and begun walking towards the heart of the camp, but the girl's words followed close on his heels. That was the true tragedy, wasn't it? More than the flowers that only bloomed for a day, the bitterest devastation was in the what-ifs.
Tommy didn't understand why, but he found himself lingering one scenario: a different life where he had met that person that he reminded the girl of, where neither of them were young soldiers. You'd make good friends, she'd said, but that wasn't right.
Tommy felt, inexplicably, down to his bones, that if he'd met that boy, they would be brothers.It was only until the royal tent was in view that Tommy realized he didn't even ask the girl for the boy's name.
"—if we move this battalion here, they could provide cover. But we would also run the risk of—Tommy?"
Tommy looked up. He hadn't even realized he'd entered the tent. He found Wilbur standing at the large desk that took up the most room, leaning over a map littered with small carved pieces that represented various troop positions.
Beside him, his hair unbound, was Technoblade. Both were staring at Tommy with concern. "What?" he demanded. "You're—You're crying, Tommy," Wilbur said softly.
Tommy touched his free hand to his cheek, and was surprised to find it come away wet. He rubbed furiously at his eyes until they were clear of tears. This was not the time. This was not the fucking time.
He strode deeper into the tent, ignoring the worried look Wilbur threw Techno, and Techno's answering shrug. Tommy stopped at one corner of the map and pointed to a cluster of carved archers clustered on what would be the hill they were currently on. Eryn listened carefully.
(Eryn POV)
"We don't need that many," he said determinedly. "Just one. Just you, Wilbur." I smirked. "A little too reliant on Wil, aren't you, Toms?" I said.
Wilbur seemed frustrated by the change of topic, but had no choice other than to follow his little brother's lead. "You're overestimating my aim, Tommy."
Tommy drifted away from the map, throwing himself on a spare chair in the corner. He gestured Techno over, and the general silently complied.
"You always pull through when it matters," Tommy said as Techno took a seat on the ground in front of him, his back to Tommy. As Tommy gathered Technoblade's hair into his lap, he added, "Except the many, many times you lost a duel with Techno."
Normally, this would warrant a chuckle or, at the very least, an indignant eyeroll, but Wilbur simply leaned over the map again, his expression shuttered once more.
Techno turned to Tommy and whispered, "We must not break his intense, beast-like focus." "Yeah." I mimicked Wil.
Tommy snorted. "The only beast-like thing about him is that tangled lion's mane he calls hair." "Heh. Nice one." I snickered.
Wilbur's head snapped up to glare at us. "I heard that."
"Of course you did," Techno said, turning back away. "Lions have an unparalleled sense of hearing."
Tommy laughed quietly to himself as he began braiding Techno's hair, his fingers making knots with the ease that came with years of practice. This had been their routine for the past week: Wilbur would pore over the battle plans with wild-eyed obsession that got more and more frenzied by the day, Techno would call out every flaw in Wilbur's proposed changes until they encountered one that seemed to be actually useful, and Tommy would braid.
It kept his hands busy. If it weren't for the distraction of Techno's hair between his fingers, Tommy would most likely join the flower shop girl over the grindstone, mindlessly polishing his spear until doomsday. I noticed and noted this down mentally.
Sometimes, Tommy would wake up in the middle of the night and find his brother still awake, reviewing their plans and muttering to himself—or, not to himself. The voices. The mysterious, omniscient, creepy-as-all-hell voices that had plagued his brother for years. And which Tech had tried to fix. Me, I comforted Toms.
Tommy began to weave the morning glories he'd found into Techno's hair, to hide the fact that his hands had started shaking. Two nights before had been the worst of it. Tommy had been awoken by the noise of glass shattering. I jolted awake as well, as I had fallen asleep next to Toms.
Opening his eyes, he had found Wilbur standing over his cot, a shard of broken glass clutched in his hand and raised over his head, ready to strike it into Tommy's chest. Tommy had stopped breathing completely. "Wil?" he'd said, his voice coming out meek and trembling. I stood up slowly, unsure of whether to make a move or not.
"We're meant to kill you," Wilbur had croaked, blood dripping down his arm from how tightly he was holding the broken glass. "We're going to kill you, Tommy. It's fate, it's meant to be—" "Wilbur." Tommy had reached out to clutch at his brother's shirt. "Wilby, please, don't hurt me.""Wil. What are you even doing?" I spoke, startling both.
Wilbur had blinked rapidly, his eyelashes glistening with unshed tears. "You haven't called me that in such long time." And the glass shard had dropped, but not into Tommy's flesh—into the ground beside his cot, driven into the soft dirt.
Wilbur had kneeled beside him for the rest of the night, whispering apologies that chased Tommy into his uneasy sleep. By morning, Wilbur seemed to have completely forgotten the incident, or chosen to ignore it completely, and Tommy was already plucking flowers off the hillside with shaky fingers. I wanted to accompany him, but Tommy said he was okay.
Tommy looked up now to find a white cloth tied around Wilbur's left hand, where the glass had cut into his skin. It was the only evidence that that night had not been a dream, and that Wilbur's voices were slowly taking over.
It must be the stress, Tommy thought as he braided the last of the morning glories into Techno's hair. When the war was over, Wilbur would be back to normal again, and Tommy could go back to not being absolutely terrified of his older brother. I felt sad for Toms. Having to deal with this. I wish I could help. But there's only so much I can do.
"Done," Tommy said at last, flicking Techno's finished braid over Techno's shoulder.
"Finally." Techno stood and plucked one of the morning glories off his hair. He tucked it behind Tommy's ear before moving over to one of the chests tucked under the table. "Consider this as a sign of my gratitude."
He opened the chest and pulled out something dark and folded. When he unfurled it, Tommy shot to his feet, his eyes going wide at the blue-and-red coat Techno held up, its golden buttons gleaming, the royal coat-of-arms stitched over where Tommy's heart would be.
"They finished it." Tommy couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. "They actually finished it." "Gods, Tommy," Techno said with a small smile. "It's just a uniform."
But it wasn't just that, and Techno knew it. He and Wilbur had received their own uniforms weeks before, the general and the king in their bold colors. In the chaos of preparation, no one had noticed the prince following in their wake in a simple white tunic until the very last minute.
And now the tailors had done it. They'd actually finished it.
Tommy bounded up to Techno, grinning so hard he thought his cheeks might split from pure glee. Techno rolled his eyes, but held out the coat for Tommy to slip into. It fit. Perfectly. Tommy spun in a small circle before giving Techno a mocking bow. "Sir General."
Techno returned the gesture. "Your Highness." "You two," Wilbur said, and Tommy could hear the smile in his voice, however faint, "are so stupid."
Tommy waltzed over to his brother, knocking the carved piece that Wilbur was about to put down on the map. Over the sounds of Wilbur's protests, Tommy grabbed his hands and pulled him along, humming a vaguely-familiar tune, spinning him in slow circles that could be called a dance under the loosest of definitions. Wilbur went slack as Tommy continued to hum the song, allowing Tommy to spin him more and more. I smiled faintly as well. How I wished this could last.
"I can't believe you still remember that," Wilbur said softly, his expression unfathomable.
"Remember what?"
"That song—"
And then they heard it. The sound that turned Tommy's blood cold. The sound that made Tommy and Wilbur freeze in their tracks. The sound that made Techno reach instinctively towards both of them.
The drums of war, echoing over camp, eclipsing the music of a guitar, the conversations of friends, the screeching of a blade against a grindstone, the thud thud thud of a seventeen-year-old soldier practicing his archery against a dark oak tree, the thud thud thud of the army's collective heartbeat, the thud thud thud of a thousand feet marching closer and closer.
The enemy had arrived at the Blue Valley. Finally. I could slaughter some people.
(3rd person POV)
They emerged from the mist like specters, the hazy sunlight glinting off their polished blades. Up on the hill, Techno could see them moving through the valley in a steady stream, the soldiers indistinguishable in their tight formation. At the front, someone bore their flag: two swords crossed on a simple green background. The sight of it made Techno ball up his fists with a sudden, unidentifiable anger.
This was it. It seemed like the entirety of the Green Army was here, as expected; while the valley would serve as a chokepoint in the Royal Army's favor, it was also the only direct path towards the heart of the kingdom. So now both sides were going to throw all their pieces on the board. One decisive battle, a quick end. Only one army would emerge from this valley intact—and Techno would be damned if it wasn't Wilbur's.
Techno turned to the king standing beside him. "Are you ready?"
Wilbur's eyes were looked on the mountains. "Ready as I'll ever be." Eryn also nodded confidently.
The camp behind them was empty. Everyone was in position, moving like clockwork under orders that they'd been practicing for days. The only ones left on the hill were Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno.
And the archers.
Tommy bounded up to them at last, his chest heaving with effort. "They sent up the flare," he announced breathlessly. "It's go time."
Wilbur turned towards the group of archers behind him. Between them was a raging campfire, sending flickering shadows over Wilbur's face as he took one arrow from his quiver and dipped its cloth-covered point into the flames.
The dozen archers—the best of the best, handpicked by Wilbur himself—copied him wordlessly. The cloth, smothered in a special incendiary fuel, would burn faithfully until it reached its mark.
Wilbur turned back towards the Valley, nocking the arrow into his bow. With a deep breath, he pulled the arrow back and aimed towards the sky. Behind him, the archers did the same.
"Hold," he ordered. Eryn stared hard at the enemy.
The Green Army marched closer.
"Hold!"
Techno felt a hand close around his, nails digging into his palm, and looked down to find Tommy staring intently at the encroaching forces, his eyes unblinking. They were close enough now that Techno could see the glare of the dawning sun bouncing off their breastplates.
Wordlessly, Techno squeezed Tommy's hand.
Now, Techno thought. It has to be now. At the same time, Wilbur called out, "Fire!"
A dozen and one burning arrows arched out over the valley like comets of red and gold. The Green Army paused, perhaps in confusion at the pathetic display of force—just thirteen arrows soaring across the air. It would not even hit their frontlines.
But that didn't matter. They were not the intended target.
Once upon a time, Wilbur's aim had been so poor, it would have taken nothing short of divine intervention to correct it. So Techno corrected it. Now, Wilbur shot true. His arrow landed amongst the weeds, and then there was fire.
It felt like the whole valley was set ablaze, the heat searing Techno's skin even from where he stood. The burning arrows had ignited a line of fire that ran horizontally through the valley, cutting the Green Army off completely.
Soldiers from the Royal Army had doused that area in the ever-burning fuel the moment they saw the enemy coming, and then promptly fell back into the mountains, taking shelter for the next phase. The fire would not hold them off forever. Eryn and Techno leapt into action.
(Eryn POV)
Wilbur gave a signal, and the archers scattered to their next positions, leaving the three of them truly alone, watching the wall of fire for the first signs of life. It came in the form of a man in a white cloak, stepping through the flames like it was merely an inconvenience. I scowled.
He shrugged off the heat, flicking an ember off his shoulder before his eyes found them on the hill. He pointed his sword, straight at Wilbur. "That isn't a white flag of surrender, Techno," Wilbur said quietly.
"No, it is not," Techno replied, finally letting go of Tommy's hand and reaching for his trident. "It was a long shot, anyway. A little heat is nothing to mass murderers." You should know, his voices purred. This is not the time for your sass, Techno thought back, as if that might stop the age-old melody that was starting to play in his head.
The rest of the enemy army followed after the man in white, less gracefully, but stubbornly—like godsdamned cockroaches crawling over the valley. And then there was a battle cry, ringing from all directions as the Royal Army appeared from their hiding spots—in trees or in the weeds, from the river and from the mountains—and catching their enemy by surprise.
But the Green Army was well-trained. They recovered swiftly, and though most of their army was stuck behind the fire, they were biting back. It wasn't long until bodies were dropping—and not just the enemies'.
Techno's hand tightened around his trident as the valley filled with sounds of war, but it was not out of fear. Techno would never admit it out loud, but he could feel something almost like excitement pounding through his veins. This was familiar.
This was something he knew, deep in his bones, he could do without failure. Being Wilbur's teacher, and then Tommy's—that had been terrifying. But this? This was nothing. This was just another battle to fight, just another war to win.
"We need to help," Tommy said, his feet already moving down the hill.
Wilbur's hand shot out, dragging Tommy backwards. Both Techno and Tommy looked at him in surprise, but Wilbur was looking past them, at the carnage happening right below their feet, his eyes dark as the earth of a freshly-dug grave.
"Wilbur?" Tommy asked in astonishment. Wilbur blinked rapidly, like he was coming out of a dream. "Not yet," he said quietly. "What do you mean not yet?" Tommy demanded, pulling himself out of Wilbur's grip. "Our people are dying down there!"
"Wilbur." Techno spun Wilbur by the shoulders towards him. "We have to go. Now." Wilbur took a rattling breath. "I know. Gods damn it, I know." He glanced at Tommy, standing beside them with his face drawn in confusion. "But I can't let Tommy—"
"Don't talk about me like I'm not fucking here!" Tommy spat angrily. "Wilbur, this is neither the time nor place to underestimate me. We need to fucking go!" "Tommy," Wilbur said, staring at Tommy in shock, "I never underestimate you—"
"Then prove it! Let's go." "You're right." Tired resignation colored Wilbur's words. "But stay close to me." He looked grimly back at Techno. "Don't lose yourself out there." Techno could hear the warning in his voice.
"Take your own advice, Your Majesty," Techno replied sourly, taking in Wilbur's wide eyes and trembling hands.
"I'm serious, Techno." Wilbur's expression hardened as he lowered his voice, speaking to Techno and Techno only while Tommy was distracted by fight below. "This is a direct order from your king. Keep them in check."
He thinks he can control you, the voices whispered. He thinks he is your master. Will you prove him right, like the loyal little dog you are? "I promise, Wilbur," Techno said. After all, domesticated dogs, someone once said, still fucking bite.
"Alright," Wilbur said, shouldering his bow with a look of determination. "Let's go to war, boys. And girl." I smirked devilishly. Oh hell yeah.
(Captain POV)
The first time the Captain killed someone, she was fifteen. He would have killed her. She had seen it in his eyes, lost to a drunken frenzy in a small, lonely tavern far from here. He'd come at her with his heavy hands, and so she'd taken a bottle from one of the tables and broke it against the side of his head.
And when that hadn't been enough to stop him, she'd shoved the sharp pieces clean into his throat.
She'd ran from the tavern right after, ran from the town and didn't stop running until she reached the kingdom capital, where a king with mercy sewn into his smile had offered her a job, a home, and a life that ensured no man would ever dare cross her again.
But even after all these years, the Captain could still remember the feeling of skin giving way beneath the sharpness of her weapon. She could still see the man's face, contorting with pain and disbelief, barely able to process what was happening before the death throes took him.
She could still hear him choking on his own blood, gurgling wetly before he was finally, finally still. But there was a moment, between the killing and the running, where she merely sat beside the corpse of her own doing, numb and empty and cold.
The soldiers this time would not be so lucky.
She could see it in their faces: the ones who'd never seen a day of violence in their lives, making their first kills right in front her. She could some of them hesitate, panic, fall into the same abyss she did once before.
Most shook themselves out of it, their brains shelving the damage for another day. But others stood frozen, caught in their own thoughts, until their comrades found them—or their enemies did.
The Captain could not help. She wanted to, more than anything, because wasn't that her job? Wasn't she meant to protect them?
And then another enemy would come flying her way, and all she could think about was staying alive and surviving to the next hour, the next minute, the next breath.
The Green Army had already begun to find ways through the wall of fire, and it wouldn't be long until the rest of them would arrive with a vengeance.
The Captain swung her gladius, deflecting the oncoming blow of an enemy before thrusting her blade deep into his chest. She did not look to see him fall; she was already moving across the battlefield, slicing her way towards a group of Royal soldiers pinned between a rocky incline and half a dozen enemies.
She took two down before the rest noticed her, and the Captain found herself facing four people at once. With a shield in one hand and her sword in the other, there was little the Captain could do but face them down.
This is it, she thought, this is my final stand.
a/n
okay um next chap is the surprise part bro im so sorryyyyy
TwT
anyways have a good day, afternoon or night wherever you are!
Byeeee mah bootyful muffinss!!