A/N
Already working on next chapter dw. But the revolution arc will be closing soon :)
ت
Night, Eret
As the cold night settled in for slumber, Eret paced his gilded halls. Never had she seen such a polarizing event–such a assassination gone wrong. He felt for them sure, but never quite acted upon it other than the small gifts he would leave in the woods where he expected the exiled lived near.
Though Eret's friendship was strained he never wanted anyone to get hurt. Especially y/n, those nights spent huddled up with stolen popcorn–her running away from Wilbur's watch even just for an hour.
Eret kept those memories close. He blocked out the horror struck face of y/n when he had pushed the button to damn them all. His stomach never failed to churn when he thought of her young face splattered in blood, the rare open smile turning blank and cold.
In a quick decision he stormed for the throne room. This was ridiculous. They needed to focus on the more important matters at hand. Schlatt was opening his borders and threatening to expand, y/n was little of his worries, as was his past exiled friends.
Swinging open the double doors, he stopped for a moment and took the room in. But was it worth it? They had already been trying to help the exiled; they wanted to walk to y/n many days ago–to help her in whatever she seemed to be going through. That day seemed years past now. All that was left was a shiny throne and polished marble floors. Eret had watched her go up there. He had watched as Schlatt called up Technoblade, watched as The President announced that the girl had defied him in the slaughter of her friends.
Of Eret's friends.
When they went to her house–did she already have the order... Was that why she was so distressed? Her hair was in disarray, clock looking lopsided in her haste to put it on.
Was she having nightmares?
Eret thought back to their earlier years. She used to have them all the time. She confided them. She told him of the locked door, the keys always disappearing and out of reach. She told him of locking up–immobile and for the taking. She told them she felt trapped.
And now Eret realized he didn't do anything about it. He only listened, only listened and spoke on his own problems. 'Nikki was pestering him about getting more sugar' or 'Tommy kept giving him the side eye, and he thought that he didn't like him all that much.'
Eret mentally turned back that clock and saw y/n's shoulders sag at their dismissal, and look away with all but contained tears. She would gather herself though. That's why now they understood why they had not noticed. Never would she let her face go blank of emotion in training or their nightly meetups, not as it was now.
She should have been there for her.
But now she was dead.
A knock sounded on the room's door. The door that led out into the hall and out of the manor. Eret swallowed, fixing his crown of his head not to be off center, and followed the sound, the throne now behind him. She opened the door slightly too meet a favorite guard of his. The young boy blinked fast his eyes adjusting to the brighter room.
His voice was a quiet rasp and a small whisper of fright. "D-Dream calls to be let in, he did not specify the matter your majesty."
Eret stiffened. The palace didn't allow visitors this late. "Where is he?" They asked.
In the dark lantern light he could spot a knife slowly rise on the man's neck, now visible for him. A male voice rumbled from behind him as the dagger dug into skin. "Here."
The soldier's eyes shuttered closed in fear, and Eret gently placed a hand over the knife on his throat, his own skin meeting Dream's gloves. "Please come in," she said with a stiffened smile, breaking her hand away to encompass the room in hope Dream would let go of his neck. Luckily the male lifted the purple metal, kicking the man too the side with the toe of a boot.
Eret had already settled into the throne when Dream stepped over the soldier's shivering body and closed the doors behind him. They were locked in now. Many guards had gone home in hopes to catch up with the news of the festival and reunite with their families–many of whom attended. There would be no backup here.
Dream stalked the floors, the tips of his fingers meeting familiar statues of past rulers and important people. But he didn't seem to mind the history. He wasnt careful with the objects, only slightly touching them in feigned boredom.
Eret spoke. "What are you doing here this late? You know I don't allow visitors past sunset."
"I know." He drawled, his hand drifting from a Greek sculpture's cheek. But with a sudden chill, Dream paused and turned his mask to face him. "There's a saying Eret. Walk like a king, or walk like you do not care who the king is." Eret could see the satisfied smile itching across the male's features.
"I-I have never heard of it."
Dream turned fully from the sculpture now pacing the length of the room, his hands wrapped behind him in his easy stroll. "I learned it in my many travels before..." He gestured to the throne. "This. I met a winged man in the woods. He claimed not to sway to either side of the legend."
The mask tilted at him, and Eret's heart grew cold. "Now Eret... which do you think I am?"
The king contemplated his answer. Dream should be neither. He wasnt King. He should have a care of who the King is–who he is.
Eret's brows drew. "...neither." She admitted.
Dream grinned at their answer, his slight canines showing. She old only imagine his eyes, tales have been told of them. Some say they were black, like pits. Others claim to have seen him in his your years with golden green. But Eret knew in his bones that would not change the expression behind the smile. He was pleased–almost sickeningly so.
The male coked his head, and his smile dropped to gut clenching severity.
"I am both."
Eret shook his head. No. He wasnt both. He was the King. Sure, Dream could walk these halls without care of his leader but that did not change the fact of his position of citizenship.
A window flew open, as if warning her of the in coming storm, but not one of weather. But a storm of the man in front of him. Was this because of his supply sent to the exiled or something else entirely? He looked hard at him now, no. He would have mentioned it. This was just Dream's infatuation with power–one that he knew of but never looked into deeper.
Eret finally broke the silence, his brown hair whispering across his face in the chill. The crown up top his head seemed heavier all of the sudden. "Dream," they warned. "You do not have kingship. Speaking in such a manner might get you–"
The blonde clicked his tongue. "Such a manner I am not allowed you are correct." He smiled once more, unclasping his hands behind him. "But who cares for rules hm?"
The doors flung open once more, and Eret blanched gripping the throne with white knuckles. A swish of blue and black and the two men where at his side. It took a couple moments to understand that they were George and Sapnap. Her throat tightened, and they were coming for her crown.
Eret's eyes narrowed, and standing up his voice grew stern. "You cant do this. Its unlawful. The people will revolt and the guards would never allow such–"
"Oh please." Dream help up a hand for George and Sapnap to stop just before the dais. "The guards are under my thumb, and the people under their self-made terror. Schlatt is an idiot. If he wanted to rule with an iron fist never half ass it. Be..." He contemplated his wording, a smirk sliding up his mouth. "A monster. be a monster and own it. Own everything. Own everyone. I gave this crown to you Eret. It was only a matter of time till I took it back."
Before they could respond the man snapped his fingers and the two men strided for him. He looked to George who now held out a hand, but his face was blank. "Hand over the crown Eret, and leave the castle. You are not welcome here any longer. You have no title or rank affiliated."
"No."
Wind rattled against the window panes, creaking an eerie lullaby.
Dream smiled. "Okay then."
Sapnap gripped his shoulders in a swift motion pushing him out of the seat and down into the hallway. They didn't fight back, it would only bring shame. But his heart was boiling. A never-ending heat flushed to his fists. George was left behind to talk to Dream. Something about Schlatt. But they never got to hear any of it. Eret was pushed out of the castle, the crown falling beside him.
Sapnap worked his jaw as if he just got punched. "Get out of here Eret, and go far." He turned on the previous king, walking back to the castle. "War is coming."
And then Eret decided that war was coming. But he would damn it all to hell if he didn't fix his wrongs. His friends were still out there gathering themselves to fight. News had already come of Tubbo and Nikki's disappearance, and it was quite obvious where they went. Eret dusted off his cape as he stood, wind flipping the material.
Then there was only one man to gather now. One man he met many years ago.
Eret turned his back on the looming grey castle to find Wilbur's son, Fundy.
➸➸➸
About The Same Time, Fundy
Fundy never returned with medical supplies. But of course he left with the intention to do so. Schlatt and Quackity were hurt, the nation was scared and they needed their leader. But on his dazed walk back to his home he looked up at the towering buildings. He wandered to the slums. Fundy took in the people clinging to each other in alleys. Some men were digging through a company's garbage. A skinny brunette took out a half eaten donut and stuffed it down his throat.
Automatically his hand went for his wallet. The people didn't care to question his bloodied state, only looked onto the leather with hunger.
He broke up the cash he had, giving each person equal. They immediately scrambled away taking to the rafters above it down farther in the alley. They wouldn't care that he was an original founder. They needed the necessities, never dallying in politics or silly games of men. He wondered if they were hiding it. They had to be, for someone bigger may snatch it from them in seconds.
There was no point in much anymore. Fundy had cherished Schlatt's encouraging words. He had loved a position of power when his father never saw him as responsible enough. But what was a position of power without regulation? Schlatt killed y/n. There was no honor in that. As much as he disliked the girl there was no doubt she didn't deserve that. He was only told she would be locked up and given trial.
That was no trial, only an execution.
Fundy turned from the alley and stepped back onto the main street. Everyone had ran home. Work was cut short and school let out. Only the occasional stray dog roamed the empty streets. Yelling from the apartment complexes found his heightened ears. Arguments were held about Arachne's killing. Some said it was justified, others called for rebellion in her name.
But as Fundy cross the threshold into the light something glared in his vision. Against the stark semblance of a sunset, emergency news channels broadcasted the wreckage of the podium. Multiple voices and channels veered across his sights. And as he stepped out into the middle of main street and looked up to the screens, The President stumbled into a newscaster.
Fundy's eyes widened. Schlatt was doused in bloody red, cuts in his forearms and head dug to flesh. But still as broken as he was, The President snatched the woman's microphone speaking directly to the camera.
"The exiled will be brought to justice. There will be war. My Vice President is gone..." He leaned over and coughed blood onto his palm, looking over at the debris. Several firemen were digging through the concrete to find y/n's body but to little avail. "Now my citizens of L'manburg. With total authority I announce Fundy as the acting Vice President in Quackity's absence."
Fundy's jaw slackened . No. He couldn't now–not with Schlatt. It was too cruel. But Schlatt continued his hands trembling over the mic. "y/n l/n is dead... Wilbur Soot and Tommyinnit will soon join her." In a flick of the hand Schlatt reached over to the camera swatting it down to the dirt, the glass shattering.
The live feed cut out and went to snow, and Fundy looked at his hands. There were somethings that no man could ever do. Being second in command to a leader that killed a girl in front of his own citizens? He couldn't force himself to be by Schlatt's side anymore.
Fundy turned back to keep walking. He veered back on the sidewalk, keeping a steady pace and wringing his hands furiously. What was he going to do now? Schlatt would be after him soon. He would be after him to help with this war he just declared. Fundy loved L'manburg but now he wanted it like the way it used to be. Though y/n and him never got along, always competitive with one another, he already hated the idea he would never see her face again–to hear the voice that drove him insane.
Time ran by fast as anything. The empty streets soon turned dark, only the mist rising right above the pavement giving it any sort of color. When Fundy finally looked up from the ground, a shadowed hand pulled him into the alley to the right.
"What the hell–"
"Quiet down."
The hand that had come over his mouth loosened slightly. Fundy pulled back against it, fumbling for air as he turned to the stranger. Wavy brunette hair stood stark against the gray. A crown jeweled and shiny upon the mans head. He took a startled breath, "Eret? What the fuck are you doing out here?! Schlatt would–"
Eret held a finger to his lips, "Exactly." He whispered, looking around him as if someone was watching. "I'm not–nevermind that. Its not important anymore. Have you seen the news?"
The fox's brows furrowed. "What do you mean? I saw my leadership position but got out of downtown fast." Eret grimaced, and started to pull Fundy further down the alley. The King wound through endless buildings like he knew the layout on the back of his hand. Several people hiding in the shadows scrambled away, others giving the two a curious look or malice filled eyes.
Fundy suddenly stopped in a clearer spot of the alley, and in turn Eret faced him. The hybrid cursed. "Eret, what the hell is going on. I'm not going anywhere until you answer me."
She turned fully to him now, his eyes darting the walls once more for threats. Eret sighed, "When I came here–when I came here to get you I needed to pass main street yes?" The other man nodded impatiently. "The news came back on air. Fundy,
y/n wasnt found in the wreckage."
The boy's throat closed up. His eyelids felt to heavy, prone to close and let out stressful tears.
"A-are you sure?"
"I am."
Fundy's eyes quickly widened, and he started to move back the way they came. "We shouldn't be running then, she could be out there on the streets bleeding out. No way will she make it out here alone!"
"She wouldn't." Eret agreed, pulling Fundy's shoulder to a stop. "That's why I don't think she's here at all."
Silence brewed between them, and the starry night hung as witness when Fundy realized what Eret was thinking. "I-I left before she was uncovered! Technoblade started digging I–" She was with them? The fox started to huddle in on himself in shame but Eret's jaw clenched in opposition, pulling him up again by his side.
"We both know this country is going down in Schlatt's reign..." Fundy turned his head down in shame. "But I'm going to ask you now to save it with me."
Fundy allowed his past friend to pull him to his feet fully. He knew what she meant. Save L'manburg in the one way they still knew how.
Revolution.
But that entailed his father. That entailed war and fighting–
Eret looked down at him with something like understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes you have to think of the people Fundy." He cast a glance to a couple hidden in the shadows, and another roaming the streets in stolen coats. Despite himself his ears focused on the dozens of flats. People in scared whisperings and loud fights.
The prick was right and he hated it. He needed to help save the nation, or damn it to hell to Schlatt's madness.
"Fine." Fundy amended, pulling up his bloody collar farther and smoothing out wrinkles. His heart jolted a bit at seeing y/n again, but he ignored it. "Where are these fuckers anyways?"
The King bit his cheek in a smile. "Follow me."
ت
A/N
Hey besties, question please answer honestly ☟︎
Do you prefer many choices or not so much, I need to control the story a little bit so I'm thinking I will just include smaller choices that don't majorly affect the plot. That good?