Violence Arising

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(3rd person POV)

They were going to destroy each other tonight.

And Wilbur was going to enjoy every damn minute of it.

"I told you," Technoblade growled. "I told you I would take care of them, didn't I? I could have stopped this at the border, but you wanted to play the peaceful dignitary even when the bloody facts were staring you right in the face."

Wilbur remembered that day clearly—the day the first of the spies' reports had come in, confirming what the voices had been whispering tauntingly for weeks. Wilbur, as always, had called for Technoblade's advice. 

And Technoblade had read the missives once, looked up, and simply said, "I could kill them all."

Wilbur had flinched. "Techno, that's not—"

"I could. You know I could." Technoblade had leaned over his desk, meeting Wilbur's incredulous stare with hazy eyes. "Just say the word."

Wilbur had not. They'd argued, like they'd never argued before, like they were arguing now. And Technoblade had left, slamming the doors of Wilbur's office with such force it rattled the books off his shelves.

And then not even a day later, the Green Army had massacred an entire city at the borders.

Had Technoblade been right then? Was Technoblade right now? Wilbur found it didn't matter. He didn't care. All he wanted was to rip and tear. His fury would not discriminate.

"Ah, Technoblade." Wilbur shook his head ruefully. "Always choosing violence, at every turn."

Technoblade inhaled slowly. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Oh, don't I?" Wilbur watched Technoblade's features twist in surprise and grim anticipation, quickly hidden by a veneer of indifference. Did he know what was coming? Did he fear it as much as Wilbur was eager to twist the knife? 

"Tommy didn't know about where you go off to on your little nighttime escapades. But I do," Wilbur finally said, finding a grim sort of delight in the way Techno froze on the spot. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I wouldn't ask questions or follow you?"

"You're an idiot, Wilbur," Techno said, his words nothing less than venomous.

Wilbur only smiled in the face of his fury. "Did you at least have fun murdering your way through the woodlands, Techno?"

He'd been seventeen when he found out. In truth, he didn't even know how he'd arrived at that forest. It was exactly like the first time he'd ever seen Techno leave, all those years ago, when the raging voices had followed him into the darkness and he'd woken up somewhere with no recollection of who he'd gotten there. 

But all of his confusion had been quickly replaced with fear as he spotted Techno moving between the trees, stalking after something crawling across the forest floor. Or, not something. Someone.

Wilbur had pressed himself against the trunk of a tree, his hands clamped over his mouth, barely able to breathe as Techno's prey begged for his life. And then he'd heard the distinct sound of a sword being freed from its scabbard. One scream, and then a wet thud. 

That was all, before Wilbur passed out once more. When he awoke, he was in his own bed at the castle, his heart thudding in his chest but completely unharmed. He'd taken a deep breath, glad to brush it all off as a nightmare, before he noticed the single green leaf clutched in his hand.

He'd never spoken of it—until now.

"Go on then," Wilbur said as Technoblade simply stared at him, breathing heavily. "Tell me you've changed. Tell me I don't know what I'm talking about. Tell me you aren't the same bloodthirsty god from the stories."

"I expected you, of all people, to understand." Technoblade's voice sounded strained, like a taut rope one pull away from unravelling. "You know the voices—they don't let go. They demand their fill, Wilbur, and sometimes it's unstoppable. "

"But I've been trying so godsdamned hard." There it was. The crack—a hairline fracture slowly fissuring into something more. "If you really were following me, you'd know I haven't killed anyone for years before today. "

"I stopped. I fought the voices off, even if it took everything from me. You think you got me pegged, Wilbur? All you needed to define me by was you, and Tommy. But go ahead and find other definitions if that will make you happy. Let's see if I still have anything left in me to care."

That made Wilbur pause, if only for a second. "Then where have you been going...?"

"Looking for your father," Technoblade spat, and the words fell between them like a dead weight.

Wilbur turned towards the man in question, but his father had not moved in ages, stuck sitting with his head in his hands, oblivious to the thunderstorm around him. Not one word, not one move. 

Of course, he thought bitterly, taking in his father's slumped shoulders and the obsidian wings tucked close around him. Why would I expect anything different? Wilbur wanted to feel angry at him, wanted his vision to go red every time he caught a glimpse of his father's golden hair in his periphery. 

But he only had his pity. Wilbur had not seen his father in years, but looking at him now, he didn't see the cold, distant king of the past. He only saw a pathetic excuse of a man, someone who'd abandoned his sons, who only returned after all the hard decisions had been made. 

After Wilbur had been forced to make them. He didn't want to spare a single thought more on the laughable sight of his father sitting leagues away from his Tommy's body, not even bothering to meet the eyes of the only son he had left.

"That's right," Techno said roughly, catching Wilbur's attention once more. The blood god stood with his fists clenched at his sides, trembling with fury. Wilbur had never seen his eyes so hateful, not even when he was carving his way through the battlefield. 

Wilbur reveled in it. "I went out, every night, for years, ignoring the voices, ignoring everything, to look for your father. To give him back to you. Because I saw you. Every meal you missed, every hour you spent studying politics instead of sleeping, every time you felt you were choking, I saw it. 

I was there for it, and it killed me, so I went off to look for someone to help you. I tried telling you I've changed. I only bite when my family's in danger, but you still see me as some sort of rabid dog. And those people I did kill in the forests? They were criminals, Wilbur—"

"As if that changes anything."

"Tell that to the army you just blew into smithereens!"

"You set those explosives!"

"And you gave the order. So where does that leave us?"

For a moment, they simply stood there, staring at each other, and catching their breaths. The storm still raged outside, but some bit of it was living inside Wilbur's chest.









a/n

hiiiiiii we got sm angsty feelss

hehhe

soooooo

have a good day, afternoon or night wherever you are!

byeee mah bootyful muffinss!!!

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