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"Tommy, are we the bad guys?"

Tommy immediately furrowed his brows at those words, taking a hesitant step back as he looked up to his brother with cautious eyes. He couldn't be serious... right? After everything they've done to get this far, now he was beginning to have doubts? Frankly, the blonde felt pissed, and maybe a bit offended, too, that the older was thinking this way. There was no way, no chance, that they were in the wrong here - they were just winning back what was rightfully there's! Schlatt's the one who fucked up.

"Cause... I mean, we- we just kind of made ourselves the leaders after the earlier generation wars... and then, Schlatt had a vote and he won in a coalition government which was completely legal... and now we're trying to overthrow him- this- I-I..." he trailed off as his words began to pace, running a hand through his knotted hair. Tommy merely watched him unfold, speechless, though taking his words into deep consideration, too. He made a point, several actually, but... no, that can't be right...

"It's feels like we're the bad guys, Tommy. This doesn't feel correct."

The teen lifted his gaze from where it had fallen to the muddy ground below, the wind picking up and reminding them of their current position. Tommy noticeably shuddered as a certain gush of wind passed straight through his clothes and skin, whether it was truly from the weather or the eerie atmosphere, he wasn't so sure. He did know, however, that he didn't like this - not one bit. They continued to track back to Pogtopia, when Wilbur out of nowhere after moments of silence, spun around to face his brother with a much more worrying glint of insanity in his eyes.

"Tommy am I the villain in this story?... Am I the villain in your history?"

As if it were possible, all traces of the harsh weather vanished instantly, as if his words had somehow been the ones coercing this spiral of a storm to begin with, and had halted at the brunette's realisation. This was... worrying; his eyes, the storm, the... the stupid and certainly false statements that were passing from his tongue, all of it. They couldn't be true. Tommy immediately went to shake his head 'no', a whole mush of mixed words and stammers passing his throat as he fought to find some sort of words to say - anything.

"No." He finally spoke, his tone stern and certain. Wilbur let the slightest smirk tug at his lips to his denial, shaking his head slightly at the fact that his own blood hadn't realised it like he had. Still believing in this false fantasy where 'everything was okay'. Childish dreams.

"Why not?" The male challenged, confident. Tommy immediately pushed past his brother, now taking the role of leading the way as they hopped over small stepping stones of the lake that sat ahead, a sour expression written on his face.

"Cause... we started L'manburg... n' we should've won that vote." His voice was a mere grumble, almost unintelligible to the taller if it wasn't for the close proximity of their distance. He quietly scoffed at that, shaking his head before not bothering with the stepping stones and just walking right though the shallow blue beneath his feet.

"The people decided we shouldn't of. On that day, that red slip said they were in a coalition, you and I both both saw it, Tommy. That envelope was sealed with those votes, and our fates were sealed along with them. Our arrogance got ahead of us and we allowed it and yet here we are, trying to overthrow them." He shot back, startling the boy slightly from the bitterness of his tone. Tommy glowered at the ground in disgust, trying his hardest to snap at his sibling for his idiocy and lack of sight.

That coalition wasn't fair. Letting teams collaborate as such is not the rightful way to win an election, let alone rule a nation. It showed cowardice, fear - lack of the true components needed in order to have a faithful and rightful ruler. Wilbur filled those boxes, and not a single tux-wearing, arrogant, piece-of-shit ram-hybrid could convince him otherwise. He could choke on his 'oh-so-powerful' aspirations, for all he cared, and he could choke hard. Wilbur released the boy from his hard-hitting thoughts, his voice clearing away all that remained in his complexed mind.

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