A/N
Gonna have a mix of fan art and Pinterest photos I think fit well. Also I have a idea for this story to go I think no one has ever though of before? We will see but i'm so excited to write it.
ت
Exhaustion washed over me unrelentingly. I shifted in the stale wood seat that I had presumably been in for some time. My body was too sore, it was the only explanation.
Tearing my eyes open I finally get to gleam my surroundings. Smooth stone enclosed me into a homely space. At least I think it was homely. It's hard to know with Wil.
Strapped to a wooden chair in the middle of the room there wasn't much I could do. Someone had wrapped my hands separate, my middle and legs also tied to the dreary wood. My weapon's disappearance was evident by the little weights on my side. It felt almost as if a limb was missing, something functional gone.
Fairy lights swung over head, a twin mattress in the corner of the room. Despite being in what seemed to be a cavern, they had tried to make my time spent here... nice. Or perhaps they didn't think of this as a temporary solution. More of a permanent stay.
Shit.
The iron door, and the only sense of a cell, swung open with little warning. I didn't stop my inspection of the room, "Is this how you treat all of your prisoners Wilbur?" A deep laugh echoed across the stone.
He shut the door with a resounding click of a lock. I whipped my head to him, "Why did you lock that?" I couldn't move much even if I wanted to. The potions effects were still wearing off and whoever tied me clearly wanted me to stay put. There was no need to lock the door... only if you didn't want another to get in.
Wilbur held a hand to his lips to try to calm me, his cloak sweeping the floor as he grew closer. My throat tightened, "No. No stop."
Surprisingly he complied, stopping short of my chair and kneeling to my level. He tilted his head when I said nothing, "Well love, please continue." I shifted away from him and he sighed, "I'm not going to hurt you y/n just let me-"
Wil reached again and I desperately tried to create more distance. I kept it together at the election. I did. But now I had no weapons. No backup. I was in the lion's den without anything to get me out. And apparently I still had to somehow kill him. Tommy as well. I still had to figure out if it was worth it.
In the short time since Schlatt and I's meeting, I haven't found a way to get all of us out of here unscathed. Knowing the newly elected president, he would likely just threaten another citizen. As much as I have grown to enjoy fighting, I do not enjoy killing. Neither bartering for lives. But I have less than a week now. A week till Tubbo's life was in his hands, though I was deluding myself to think it wasn't already.
But that memory still had a hold on me. My hand. My throat. All because of a president who seemingly had no use for me, only to bring me down to a pretty little room.
The man sighed ignoring my protests, he drew closer taking a hold of the rope enclosing my stomach. It was untied in seconds.
I mumbled, too preoccupied with the release of tension on my stomach. "What are you doing?" He gave me an amused look before going to untie my feet.
What was he doing? Where was I? Why was I in a room not a cell? Too many questions for a mind riddled with weakness.
Wilbur scoffed at my hands still wrapped in rope, "Really? I trained you better than that. You would already be out of these ties and across the fucking country once your ankles were released."
I swallowed, grabbing the sides of the chair under my bonds. "Wil?" I coughed, reeling from the sudden nausea that had taken over me.
"Yes?"
"Please shut up."
He bit his cheek in an effort to keep his smile at bay. In a swift motion he untied the rest of the rope. I jumped from the creaky wood, the material groaning in protest. My whole body felt like lead.
"Hey, hey, hey, calm down," Wilbur whispered, securing an arm under my own just before I would have fallen to the stone.
Calm down? Hmm.
No.
I squirm in his grip but he holds steady, glancing down at me like I'm his great entertainment for the evening. Slowly, he shuffles me over to the bed. I scoff, "I am fully capable of walking, you make me out to be a weak fool."
Wil nods in agreement, a curl of his lips showing he disagreed whole heartedly. I stopped us and he allowed the motion, looking down at me and to the bed as if I was about to pass out in a matter of seconds. My feet felt unmovable, ridden with cement. My voice comes out more feeble than I wanted it to be, the events of the past few days catching up. "What do you want with me?"
Wilbur smirks slightly guiding me to the bed which seems to be made with care. I can't protest, I curl into the sheets, not having the strength to pull the comforter over me. Wil senses the struggle and pulls it over my shoulders himself, a hand caressing my cheek and I'm pulled into darkness.
"What don't I want?"
➸➸➸
3 years ago, Outskirts of a Nameless Village, 10 miles west of what is soon to be named L'manburg
There's something my mother didn't tell me as a child. Something she kept secret in that maternal way of hers.
People don't care.
They will hurt. They will bribe. They will mutilate and kill for anything and anyone they want dead or alive. She missed that lesson herself. Too late to learn it before she got called to death. Her corpse lay dead beneath the ground at my feet. Too poor to afford a gravestone, I let her grow into the earth. To be with her family.
Swords through her eyes. One for each. That's what the townspeople had done to her. In the witching hour she was stolen away, grimy mudded hands clawing at her arms and legs.
She wasn't a hybrid, no, they were just the dirty after thought. She was the monster. They had to rid the world of a mother that only had wanted the best. A mother that had gawked at her daughter learning how to defend herself. A mother who shook her head when the daughter aimed her daggers at the man holding her down. At the men who held the swords. A mother who told her there was good in everyone. A mother that told her killing was never the answer.
A daughter learned that people don't care.
A daughter learned that they never will.
I really thought I had grown up. 18 was a special day wasn't it? It was supposed to be. But on my birthday I knelt at her grave once more, the growing grass already sweeping over the upturned dirt. Nature taking her in open arms.
With care I unpocketed the kitchen knife I had used in her abduction. Almost used.
Wind weaved through my worn hood sending shivers down my spine. But as I was about to place the rusted metal down nature carried an unwanted melody. A melody from the forest.
I straightened, pulled the knife behind me and threw it over my shoulder. It struck the bark of a pine tree, not a centimeter from a man's head. He didn't flinch in the slightest.
Long unkempt hair swished in front of his face as the wind carried it. The tall man didn't move a muscle. Not a single inch as his golden eyes thinned at my form, my clothes. A glance at the extra sets of kitchen knives I had stolen from the local bakery strapped to my thigh. His eyes found mine again. He looked at me. I wasted no time to cock another knife behind me, posed to throw. But I stopped short.
He looked at me.
The brunette tore his gaze from mine slowly sliding the knife out of its position beside his head. All of his movements were utterly calculated. His hands leisurely brushed over the metal, trying to balance the knife on one finger.
He smiled to himself and my breathing hitched. "Not even weighted properly," he sighed in delight, finally looking up through his brows at me. My grip on my stolen weaponry tightened.
I swallowed, "Who are you?" The man snatched the knife off his finger and began twisting it in his other hand. He tilted his head amused, "Wrong question." I stilled as he sauntered towards me.
"Who are you?"
The man ignored me, "You know I heard about a killing in this region of the smp." He stopped at my mother's grave, leaning down to place the knife on the tilled dirt gently. "Dream didn't allow it to go to court."
"Yes." I answered numbly, trying my best to contain tears at the remembrance. I still held my knife ready, but it was like a weight was pulling me from the flick of my wrist.
The man nodded, looked over to the rising sun. His face gleamed the red and oranges of a new dawn. "I can assume that you might think now that all things cannot be solved by the Greater Smp, yes?" I looked down, pulled by tattered hood farther down my face with a spare hand. "I do."
The man looked back at me, grinned in such a genuine manner I was momentarily stupefied. "I agree."
My arm fell to my side like lead. "You do? But the townspeople all agree with him, they practically worship him why do-"
His movements stopped me, stepping around my mothers grave to grow closer. "I disagree quite strongly on his motives," he waves a hand in the hair dismissively. "Well his whole nation in fact."
My fist tightened in anxiety, the knife growing warm under my grip. "So? My mother was killed. You hate the nation. I despise its people. What do you expect from me? How do you so graciously stumble upon a spider hybrid? If you are asking me what I think you're asking, you will have better luck elsewhere stranger."
The man contemplated my answer to him, looking to the sky for a moment. Finally he peered down at me again. "You clearly have a foundation of assets," he gestured to the knives. "If you were to join me-"
"There have already been rebellions. Go join one and leave me out of it," My eyes leave him to look down at the turned dirt. As if maybe if I looked hard enough, if I listened clearly enough I might be able to hear my mothers heartbeat, see her eyes if not for the wounds.
The stranger followed my eyes, gleaned a smirk I didn't catch in my saddened state. "This is no rebellion. I am creating a country, a better one. A just one."
He tilted his head again, studying me. "I don't know you yet, but your mother did. Wouldn't she want her death avenged? Create a safe place, cut the root of the problem in the process. The people are only the branches of the main force. Wouldn't she want justice? For her? For anyone that might follow in her footsteps?"
For a long moment I kept my gaze trained on the dirt. A new nation? Justice for her. Justice for those who were wronged by this pitiful tyrant who called himself a king. I could cut the problem from the root. Yes. He was right. A new nation where people like me could be safe and protected. A new nation where i might be able to get revenge.
With finality I looked back up at the man, "What do you want from me?"
The stranger smiled once more, pulling the hood that covered my face back over my head. He hummed to himself brushing a lock of fallen hair out of my face.
"What don't I want?"
ت
A/N
Wilbur quite sus 😀🔪 thoughts?
No choice today lmao sorry again.
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