A Confession? Or A Conviction?

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(Eryn POV)

I watched the Captain battle. Not bad. "You little shit," one of them spat at her. "You think you're so brave, all on your own?"

They surged towards her, and the Captain raised her shield instinctively for a blow that never came. When she looked again, she found all four soldiers dead on the ground, with a man in a red-and-blue coat and flowers in his hair standing over the still-twitching bodies, and a girl with a glinting, blood-stained katana.

 Blood dripped down the prongs of his trident, too much to have come from just the four bodies. Four throwing knives were already missing from the bandolier across his chest, and the expression on his face was cold enough to freeze hell. I had the almost exact same expression.

"Stop staring and get to work, soldier," Technoblade said—the very same Technoblade the Captain had seen carrying the small prince on his shoulders around the castle, the same Technoblade that shuffled uncomfortably in too-tight suits at formal functions that he nevertheless always saw through to the end, the same Technoblade that the past king, the Captain's savior, entrusted with his sons.

The Captain could barely recognize him.

But then again, something in the back of her mind told her that she was truly seeing him for the first time. She'd heard the rumors, the whispers, the questions about how he never seemed to change over the years. She disregarded all of that now. He was the man who'd just saved her life. Nothing else mattered in war.

She saluted. "Sir, yes, sir!"

With a curt nod, Technoblade was off, merely a blur of color cutting a violent path across the valley, his trident flashing in the sunlight.I followed. A whimper caught the Captain's attention, and she turned back to the Royal soldiers that she had been trying to rescue.

"Are you alright?" she asked them. One of them—a fresh recruit she did not recognize—blubbered, "Who the hell was that?" "That was your bloody General," she snapped. "So you can stop cowering in your corner now. The Blade has just joined the fight."

(3rd Person POV)

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. 

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