Chapter Text
“another song?” wilbur smiled at the villagers and they all nodded. “alright, well, if you insist.”
he played his guitar for them like he did every night after a folklore. the days were filled with laughter and joy and celebration of coming together as a community. he loved his home and held onto it dearly.
though, his childhood became blurry. a fog of memories you had to squint at just to see clearly, but the good bits always stayed fresh in his mind.
he danced and played everyday with other kids in his neighborhood. he had loving parents who put food on the table consistently.
the sound of screaming pulled him out of song. not playful screaming. villagers were getting out of their homes, weeping as everything was engulfed in flames. wilbur’s eyes widened and he strapped his guitar to his back, rallying up the kids. he had to get them somewhere safe. the emergency shelter.
his perfect home was being torn apart right infront of him.
everyone was scattered, running, trying to save their belongings or their children. the kids that were rallied together ran in the direction of the forest where they were taught to go incase of an emergency. pig-like creatures came from the shadows, holding gold swords in hand, ready to strike.
they must’ve started the fire.
a poor woman’s dress was stuck to her front door. she pulled on the fabric, trying to pry it free. she was panic induced and pigmen were beginning to surround her.
wilbur couldn’t let that happen.
he unstrapped his instrument and thwacked one of the pigmen from behind, his poor wooden guitar snapping in half. he was only a kid. only thirteen. defenseless and still fighting for someone else’s life. the woman’s dress finally pulled away from the door and she ran in the opposite direction, completely leaving the teen to fend for himself.
the pigmen took him away and he never played again.
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the sun was beating down on tubbo’s face. he was practically a puddle of sweat, melting away into nothing. he was gardening on a sunny day, picking out flowers, and putting them into a different pot.
his parents ran a flower shop in his village and he couldn’t feel happier helping them around. the eight year old boy didn’t have much friends. well, any friends at all actually, if you didn’t count bugs. bee’s were friendly to him.
he dug more dirt and wiped his forehead, planting a rhododendron flower in a hole of his garden. on the other side of his home, he had a farm for carrots, potatoes, and other foods. living there was a bit lonely at times, but it was serene and nice.
tubbo felt like he could be doing this for the rest of his life with no complaints.
till he watched all of his gorgeous flowers wither away by the essence of fire.
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tommy was sat on the roof of his house. it was small and barren, compared to the fairly stable homes near his village. the roof was made out of rusty wooden steps and a small concrete chimney that led to a furnace down inside.
he was perched up against it, listening to a music disc that was playing on his jukebox. it took a fortune to get it; a family heirloom that was passed down. he was possessive over it.
after all, he was an orphan. the house he was ontop of, was an orphanage. every kid wanted to steal his discs from him, but he never took his eyes off of it, not even for a second. the boy was poor for most of his childhood and he found himself stealing from others because there wasn’t enough to provide him at the orphanage.
the blond made a couple of friends here and there, but they never really stuck around. they said he got annoying after a while. he could careless, really, about those two timing dipshits.
for an eight year-old, he held his ground pretty well and independently.
smoke poured out from the chimney and he threw himself into a fit of coughs. the discs and the jukebox burned that day.
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wilbur held onto his brother for dear life. it tore him apart, absolutely shredded him inside, to see techno like this. over him and bleeding from his eyes. it made him nauseous, but he kept a firm grip.
he was caught by surprised when he saw something flying over towards the bastion, carrying two kids; his brothers. the brunettes eyes widened at phil’s large black wings. despite the confusion that spurred within him, he began waving at them from below.
”over here!”
philza caught onto his voice and flew down, nearly dropping tommy in the process from lack of flight.
“holy shit, wilbur! you will not believe what it looks like from up there- it’s so scary seeing all that lava and— what the fuck happened to techno?!” tommy stopped his rambling to kneel down infront of his bleeding brother. tubbo and philza followed suit.
wilbur looked up at them and squinted his eyes softly. “when schlatt threatened your guys’ safety in exchange for getting techno, i went to find him. i was spying for a while till he got went through the portal. then, i followed him in after knocking out two of his friends. he was like this when i found him. how did you guys get out?”
”long story..” tubbo chuckled nervously and nodded his head in the direction of philza’s wings.
the air got tense again as they looked down at techno, who seemed to be having trouble breathing properly. there were bruises and scars littered over his body. wilbur would sometimes think that techno was immortal from how many times he’s cheated death.
tommy leaned over to look at the blood god closely, as if he was some sort of cadaver. “how do we heal him...”
that’s when phil stepped in, pulling out a healing potion from his cloak. “before we left, while i was making some tea, i made sure to bring potions. i saved it for something like this.”
the blond man held it out gently to wilbur, who took it and opened techno’s mouth for him. blood spilled out, causing tommy to gag and look away for a moment. once it was in his system, they would have to wait for it to settle. healing potions didn’t bring somebody back from the dead. only healed slightly.
not that techno was dead.
just on the brink.
not even a minute passed before techno rolled over and started coughing profusely like a fish out of water. his wounds were thinning out and covered back by skin, but it hurt him immensely. the potion made him feel like he was burning from the inside out.
because the only way to get rid of the pain was through the pain.
wilbur looked at him worriedly, as he always did before, and ran a hand down his back in comfort. “techno?”
the man didn’t respond, but stopped coughing and rolled back around, breathing shallow breaths. wilbur tried to calm him down in his arms. tommy and tubbo stared blankly at the scene infront of them, not really knowing what to do. they’ve never seen techno so vulnerable before.
phil gave a sympathetic smile and put a hand on the pink haired man’s shoulder. “it’s gonna be alright, mate. just hang in there.”
techno most certainly was hanging in there. his eyes were half-lidded and red from blood, along with his ears, and nose. if anything, he looked exhausted.
“dream.. where’s dream?”
the brothers glanced between eachother in shock before wilbur cleared his throat.
”he’s gone, techno. you threw him into the lava.”
he closed his eyes and breathed out. the potion finally took full effect and he was healed. however, this didn’t mean he wasn’t drained. far from that.
the man sat up slowly in wilbur’s arms and everybody tried to get him to lay back down, but he refused. he began walking stubbornly, limping towards the sword. it beckoned for him to grab it in his hands and finally conceal all the power.
his body surged with it and nobody was stopping him this time. fire crackled and lava hissed from around.
the chosen one unsheathed the sword and the world crumbled beneath him.
game over.