Chapter Text
Wilbur was sat at the head of the table as Tommy stared at the jukebox. The young fighter was in a state of being ruminative, which was a rare sight. Usually, he would be running his mouth, but he wasn't. Wilbur looked up as Fundy returned with Eret. No luck.
The leader sighed. Fundy, his so-called son, whose mother was a salmon, sat on Wilbur's right. The vulpine's ears went back as his leader sighed. He placed his paw on Wilbur's shoulder. Eret sat down next to Wilbur and hugged his arm, "He'll be fine. Let's go out together, all of us. Let's craft a locator map and find him that way. We got enough sugar cane for it."
Wilbur nodded quietly, "All right, Eret. Let's craft a locator map. Did Dream steal our cartography table?" Tommy looked up, "Why would we need a cartography table?" Wilbur glanced at Tommy. He took a deep, distressing breath, "We can zoom it out all the way. That'll be a huge help to our endeavors." Tommy stood up, "Well... let's go get Tubbo. He could be getting torture as we speak for all we know. He might have been poisoned. He might be... I can not begin to contemplate the alternative thought." Wilbur sorrowfully agreed and rose.
Tubbo wasn't dead. He was actually in a dark room, tied up, with a pounding headache. He couldn't remember much. His mind was a mush of panic and anxiety. What had happened?
(Luckily, you are the reader. And I am nice enough to tell you what happened to Tubbo. It went a little something like this.)
"Tubbo. I have a task for you," His leader's warm grin met his gaze. It had grown comforting to see Wilbur's smile. Tubbo walked over to the Brit and sat down by him, "What is it?" He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. He wanted at least one day to spend with his best friend, Tommy. Maybe they could have gone to the meadow or perhaps just talked on the hill's bench.
"I need you to go get us some iron. You know where the mine is, right?" Wilbur asked. He placed a warm palm on Tubbo's shoulder. This was home, though. He'd do anything for L'manberg. Tubbo nodded and got up, "Yeah. Let me just go grab my pickaxe." Wilbur smiled gently, "Thank you, Tubbo."
Tubbo ventured out to the jungle. They had to put a mine there instead ever since Dream invaded their previous one with his goons. He looked around the place and slipped into a bush and walked down a flight of stairs. He pulled out a lantern and looked around. He heard a footstep. Maybe it was merely his imagination. There was an echo in this cave, but it was from behind him.
Someone placed their hand on their shoulder. It was cold but gentle. He trembled at the touch and turned around. There he was, the infamous green bastard was right there. The enemy leader stared down at him. He fell down the rest of the stairs and scrambled to get up. He was bleeding from the forehead now. He looked up in terror as Dream cornered him. Blood trickled to his lips as he quivered. He reached for his sword, but Dream blocked his attack.
Dream had the upper hand. He pulled out his shield and smacked Tubbo upside the head. He stepped away from the nearly unconscious Tubbo. 'Jeez, I hit him way too hard,' Dream thought to himself. He put his sword away and walked over to Tubbo.
The world was spinning for the young soldier. His head hurt like hell. He felt himself falling into the realm of unconsciousness. He looked up at the green leader with fear. He held the right side of his head in pain. His vision was blurry.
Dream crouched down and picked Tubbo up. The brunette struggled but gave up. It wasn't worth it. He closed his eyes and found slight comfort in Dream's grasp. It was foreign to him, but it was warm.
Tubbo glanced around at his surroundings. It was a meager makeshift hostage room. It was made of cobblestone, dirt, maybe some gravel. Someone walked in, "Hello Tubbo." The young soldier snapped his gaze to the stranger.
"Dream..." he whispered.