Chapter Text
“What does it mean to run a country? Well, if you were to ask me, the founder and your old new president, I would say it means giving purpose to the bits of land that finally have the freedom to run again.”
The beginning of Wilbur’s speech was followed by decidedly way too many cheers.
“Alright.” He sighed, trying to stand up straighter. “There was something I learned while in exile. The whole of it wasn’t really a punishment, I mean, it taught the people of what was Pogtopia how to hope for the right things, how to realistically dream about the future, and, most importantly, how to lose. Sometimes things feel hopeless. Not always within my own life – but looking outward, it seems like tough times always lie ahead of us. The world seems to be caving in on itself in a lot of ways, but through it, we look for the light instead of letting our eyes adjust to the dark.”
Wilbur scanned the crowd, where he saw his people, the ones who gave him this. A smile flickered gently across his face. He had this speech in his head for weeks, maybe even months, who knew at this point.
“My soldiers didn’t give up. Not when the bodies of a thousand men littered the floor, not when we were thrown out of our own homes. Not now, not ever. If this world wants to swallow me whole, tear me limb from limb, so be it. If you like the taste of freedom, then you’ll fight for it when it’s sink or swim.
Life isn’t all about the win.” He continued, “Most of the time, it’s about learning how to overcome the loss of those precious things. Those weeks in exile were probably some of the worst I have ever lived through, but nonetheless, I lived through them, and now we’re back.
But I can’t take this glory for myself. It wasn’t only I who sought freedom, fought for the land of L’manberg. The people of this city see me as a leader, and I’m hardly one. The only thing I did was stand in the front lines of the war and watch the struggle. I owe everything to my comrades, who you should really thank.”
In the middle of the standing crowd, seven proud soldiers stood up straighter than the rest. They fought the hardest and did the most in the battle of Manberg versus Pogtopia.
“Eret, Nikki, Quackity, Fundy, Techno, Tubbo and Tommy are the ones who got on one knee to pledge their lives to this town. Give them a hand!”
Cheers surrounded the brave soldiers. Fundy bowed low and smiled, Tubbo, meanwhile, exploded with euphoria, Techno stood prouder, and Tommy pumped his fist in the air, cheering with them all.
That moment was the happiest anyone had felt in a long time. Some people cried; others went on smiling as wide as they could. The banners above them flickered in the wind, making the whole thing feel like a party. Everyone hung colored banners and L’manberg flags on their houses, and their smiles never left their dirt-flecked faces for a second.
“Yes, thank you, thank you,” he quieted down the crowd. Wilbur’s smile seemed to fade for a moment, before he replaced it with a proud look, clearly fake.
“I understand that you all want your old president back, but I can’t- I can’t take this.” He sighed. The people only stared, waiting for the next word. “I won’t be able to give you the best service I can provide. Not after Pogtopia. Uhm- Tommy, can you come up here please?”
Tommy’s eyes widened, and he stepped back. Correcting himself, he twisted his face into a bold stare and started moving forward. He stood awkwardly on the stage by Wilbur, not knowing what to do with his hands.
“Tommy, you have done nothing but helped to move this country forward.”
“Uh- thanks.” He remarked too loudly.
Wilbur moved towards him, leaning away from the microphone so nobody but Tommy could hear, “I’m not done yet.” Tommy could only stare.
Wilbur scooted back to the mic, shifting to an empty, businessman-like stare into the distance, a look far from what most people knew him to be.
“You have matured so much while in exile-” Tommy couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, quickly gaining more confidence by the second, “-and I must apologize for taking you down with me, but if you can forgive a man, then I would like to hand you the lead. Tommyinnit, my right-hand man, my brother, I hereby elect you as L’manberg’s new president.”
Tommy laughed surprisedly and covered his mouth. There was another burst of loud applause, especially from Tubbo, who was caught jumping in the air. Wilbur clapped respectably, and when the cheers died down, he nudged Tommy in the shoulder, putting him in the position to speak.
Nobody cared that that wasn’t how government worked; the people were too excited.
Wilbur looked at him with smiling eyes. “Good job Tommy. I’m so proud.”
A tear dropped from Tommy’s eye, and he turned to speak. Wilbur exited the large stage, turning behind it to the forest before he could hear what Tommy had to say. He followed a yellowing grass path through the wood, staring at the ground all the way.
Trees taller than most of the unmatching buildings in the Dream SMP stood ominously, necks towards the sky, contemplating the existence of life.
Wilbur balled his fists and sped up. The plan must be executed quickly and quietly, though it would hardly be such, that is, if it even worked. He only had one chance, and if it failed, he was sure he wouldn’t make it out alive. He knew it was over for him no matter if it worked or didn’t.
He stopped abruptly (in the while almost falling over) and stooped down to pull the black leather guitar case out from under a thorny bush. Wilbur cursed when a particularly sharp spike caught at the top of his hand.
He tugged the awkwardly shaped case out of the leaves, perhaps he’d hidden it too well. Nobody would’ve guessed it was there if they didn’t know what to even look for. Such a random object to hide in the wood.
Wilbur ran his fingers over the case’s scars, silently apologizing to it in his mind. He told himself he didn’t care, for the magic of playing wouldn’t last much longer.
He pulled the strap over him in a practiced grace and started off on the familiar trail. Nothing interesting caught his eye, for he didn’t let it. In his heart he knew there was so much to live for, but his head convinced him otherwise. The people moved on without him, meaning it was his time to move on too.
He hiked a small way up the mountain over L’manberg and glanced down to the party of a thousand. People danced and sang and talked and chatted. Poor things.
He walked through the small entrance of the cave. Wilbur subconsciously ran his hand against the wall, his fingers moving over the various words and pictures etched in the stone.
He arrived in the room he’d been in too many times before. He sat against a bit of the space that was not covered by signs, right next to an oak button.
Wil took out his polished guitar and put it on his knee, plucking each of the strings one by one, tuning each as he went. He played a C, then an F, and it echoed through the cave beautifully.
With a heavy heart, he began a song about guilt.
“I thought I couldn’t love anymore
Turns out I can’t
Not for the same reasons as before”
In a practiced fashion, he strummed the guitar, playing an old song he wrote himself.
“I use everyone I ever meet
Can’t find the perfect match
Abuse those I love
And ostracize the ones who love me back”
By the second he was getting more frustrated with the music. It was meant to be played softly, a song for a sad sack, but he wanted to let it all out.
“On the path of least resistance
I find myself salting the earth
Every time that I miss you
I feel the way you hurt”
It always took too long to get to the good bit. He liked to think it was a hidden sadness finally giving way to an aggressively angry guilt.
“And I don’t deserve you
You deserve the world
Though it feels like we were built from the same
Dirt”
He poured his heart into the song as he thought of the beginning. Before this, before anyone, for independence and freedom, for Tommy, for Fundy. Way back when he quoted Hamilton to see people smile and played war to see what it was like.
A sharp sound pierced the air as he realized a string broke, stinging his pinky, but nonetheless, he kept playing.
“I hate to say it, but your sister was right
Don’t trust English boys with far too much free time
I hate to say it, but your sister was right
I’m nothing but a problem, leave you crying overnight
I hate to say it, but your sister was right
I can’t focus on the future, only my short sight
I hate to say it, but your sister was right
I’m a wanker, complete wanker
A fucking waste of time.”
He sighed loudly and looked at the position of his hands on the guitar before putting it away. Wilbur stood up and faced the button.
“Fate is strange, so is destiny. I’ve just won back a nation that is done with me. What else am I to do with myself?” He asked the piece of wood. “This was all destined to end, it was never meant to be!”
He hit the button with so much force it made his fist ache, and he waited. Nothing.
“Wil,”
“Oh my- Tommy I-” He turned to meet not only Tommy, but also Techno, Quackity, and Tubbo.
“Wilbur, what were you about to do?” Techno demanded, looking genuinely angry for once.
“Since when was this here? Was anyone ever going to tell me that we all could’ve died like that? Why was-”
“Big Q, I wouldn’t.” Tubbo interrupted shakily. His arms were crossed concerningly tightly and he stood stiff as a statue.
Wilbur pocketed his hands aggressively and stepped back, “I’m sorry. Tommy, you forgave me once, will another chance do? Please? For your brother, I mean?”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it. Do you know how many innocent people could’ve fucking died because of your stupid whims?” he whispered.
Wilbur looked at his feet, “I might’ve taken it into account.”
Tubbo pushed forward and speed walked to where Wilbur stood, balled a fist, threw himself forward and cuffed him in the throat. Wilbur coughed, splattering blood all over himself and the wall.
“You thought about it?! Is that all you did? Is murder of about 1,500 people so insignificant to you? If it’s so simple, then I don’t think I’d have any trouble killing you too!” Tubbo screamed, tears dripping off his face.
Techno raced forward and pulled him back as he unsheathed a sword. Wilbur, who was leaning against the wall breathing heavily, thanked Techno, who responded by spitting at his feet.
“I really don’t think anyone here is willing to forgive you, Wilbur Snoot.” Tommy shot as he looked his pathetic brother up and down.
Quackity burst out laughing, “Snoot! HAHAHA! What the fuck Tom?”
“Take a walk Big Q, you obviously have no idea how serious this actually is.” Tubbo snapped. He obeyed and ran outside cackling all the way.
The silence was loud as the remaining people stood in the cave stared at each other.
“Why, Wil,” Tommy asked, “What made you want to end it? Were you not happy? You had to be. I saw it in your eyes.”
“I don’t know who you’re trying to protect here- me or you,” Wilbur filled the silence.
“I’m not protecting- You aren’t a good person. You don’t make anyone around you a good person. Your words are like a little caterpillar, it crawls inside your ear, makes a cocoon, and then hatches an idea of a butterfly. Then before you know it, you’re making all the wrong decisions.”
“If you say that about anyone it sounds bad.” Wilbur told, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, leaving a small bloodstain on it.
Techno sighed, “I gave up so much for you, and you repay my trust with what could’ve been death to everyone in this room and then some. You haven’t explained yourself, all you’ve done is nothing, and we can’t trust you anymore.” He looked him dead in the eye, “I don’t say this often, but Tommy’s right. I should’ve trusted my instincts and stayed home.”
Techno’s words hit him like a sucker-punch to the stomach. It was that bad, wasn’t it?
“Are we just going to stand here or are we going to decide a punishment? He did almost brutally murder everyone, actually. I’m not sure if you missed that or not.” Tubbo, at this point, wanted nothing more than to see Wilbur hurt.
“Let’s let him explain himself first,” Tommy crossed his arms loosely and leaned against the wall, “We’re going to be here for a while.”
Tubbo plopped down in a W sit on the floor, and Techno crossed his legs. Tommy walked over and picked up Wilbur’s guitar still in its case.
“Oy! You can’t take that! Give it back.” Wilbur shouted as he stepped forward. Tommy held his hand out, signaling for him to stop.
“Wanna test that theory, bomb boy?” He retorted sharper than meant to be. He set it near the cave exit out of Wilbur’s reach. Tubbo looked over wearing a questioning expression. “In case he uses it to hurt us.” Tubbo nodded.
“That’s kind of ineffectual, Tommy.” Techno pointed out, “He’s just as capable with his fists or a hidden knife. I don’t regret teaching him though. It’ll be nice to have someone on my level or at least close to such.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be just fine if he kills us, because at least we were matched correctly. It was a close win though,” Tommy spit.
“Enough lemon boy, you said yourself we’ll probably be a while, and I don’t want to stretch that time.”
Tubbo, now slightly calmer, was ready for his turn to speak, “This is a chance to prove yourself innocent Wil, and if I were you-” to this Wilbur whispered a soft ‘You’re not though.’ “-I would take it.”
“Well, the only thing I can provide is my thought process, and I’ve already proven I’m hardly innocent.”
“Get to the point.” Tommy bit.
“Fine, calm down.” To this, Tommy’s face twisted into a glare. “Back when we were in Pogtopia, I thought to myself, we’re the bad guys, aren’t we? Fighting for something we lost because we lost it and for nothing else. Sure, Schlatt was a bitch, but we didn’t know that at first. After we won, I couldn’t take back presidency because I sure didn’t deserve it.”
Techno nodded, “So you knew you were guilty, but didn’t bother to bring it up.”
“That- yes. So, I gave the presidency to the next best guy, Tommy. He took it and I went up here with my guitar, so I could play one more time and-”
“You played Your Sister Was Right. A string broke near the end, but you didn’t care. It sounded good.”
“Tommy? You were listening?” He was touched by the fact.
“Not just me, but that’s off topic. Get back to your story.” Tommy replied sheepishly.
“It was a song about guilt, and that’s what I felt at the moment, so I played. I was angry, and I wanted to let it out. I felt that L’manberg had moved on without me, so I should move on too. What I wanted was to go down with my country, as I said, it was never meant to be. People will only continue fighting over the thing I started. I will admit- I don’t feel as much remorse as I think I should.”
Tubbo stopped tapping his fingers on the floor to look up at Wilbur, “No kidding. I clocked you for that.”
“You feel guilt, but not remorse. Odd. What I’m getting from this,” Techno briefly paused, “is if you can’t have it, nobody can. L’manberg meant something to you, but you didn’t want to admit just how much. An ending isn’t as good as the beginning, but you can manipulate each one with just an idea. You might’ve almost overdone it.”
Wilbur’s eyes scanned the walls full of memories. The signs with the country’s anthem, Wilbur’s album posters, pictures of big times. One was from way back when Tommy first won back his disks. His blonde hair was flung back by the wind (he was running whilst taking the picture) and he held the disks up to the camera.
An especially old one, much before the thought of L’manberg was in his head. A picture of Wilbur sitting in a worn-down lawn chair pointing at something in the sky while talking to an attentive small baby with two little fox ears. The photo was taken unknowingly, but it was everyone’s favorite.
There were drawings of maps made by techno that were a jewel of a hidden talent. Pictures of when L’manberg was first started with the members stood in front of the van.
Techno was right. Fundy might even be by his side right now if he had thought about how everything would affect him first. Wilbur should have put his son first, but he didn’t, and he didn’t have another chance to see him grow up again.
He didn’t even realize how much he was crying until he closed his eyes. “I fucked up. Really bad. I’m so sorry for not putting everyone first. I wasn’t- I-” He put his head between his knees and sobbed.
Tubbo and Techno exchanged glances, but Tommy stayed still. His mixed emotions were put at the back of his head as he tried to figure out Wilbur’s.
Yeah, he wasn’t the best person, but he was still Wilbur. No matter what your loved ones do, you can’t love any less, the bond only gets stronger over time. Tommy knew that Wilbur was feeling some intense guilt, but the worse part is that deep down, he didn’t care.
Wilbur sniffed loudly, “Can I speak to you alone?” He directed to Tommy.
“No. If you want to say something, you can say it in front of all of us.”
“’Kay.” He sighed. “Do you believe in second chances?”
“Do I what? Why?”
“Do you?”
“No,” He said honestly, “I do believe in people though. I believe that deep down, everyone has a little bit of good in them. No matter what people do, there is always reason behind it, whether you know it yourself or not. You- you have reason, and I respect that, but your good is deep. Deep, deep, deep down inside you.”
“Do you really believe that?” Tubbo asked, “That was mighty poetic for you.”
Tommy glanced at him before helping himself up, “Why would I lie?”
Wilbur stood and the other two followed. “I take it we aren’t going to be here for much longer?” Techno asked.
“Sure, I don’t know.” Tubbo answered because Tommy was staring at Wilbur.
“As the president of L’manberg I make this decision. Such actions will not be- uh- tolerated,” he waved his hand as to make a point, “so unfortunately, even though you are my brother and you are going through one hell of a time, I’m going to have to send you to the prison.”
Everyone gasped, and Techno waved vigorously to try to get Tommy’s attention. “Your sentence will be conversed among me and Techno and Tubbo and maybe Big Q, but for now, I’m putting you on house arrest.”
“Tommy!” Techno shouted.
“What, he deserves it!” He barked back.
He ran his fingers through his hair in a calm-but-frustrated manner, “Not that! Can we talk outside? You aren’t thinking this through correctly.”
“Can we just go? I don’t want to be left with him.” Tubbo gestured to Wilbur’s character, who gave an awkward wave. Tubbo could only glare at him.
“Y’know what? Yeah, let’s go. I don’t want to deal with this guy anymore.”
Wilbur nervously interrupted the conversation, “Are you going to walk me to the prison, or should I just escort myself?
“Forget it, just go home and don’t talk to anyone about this conversation. It is completely confidential. If you do, that’s when it’s prison time.” Techno answered while looking at Tommy as if to ask permission, to which he nodded for confirmation.
Wilbur let out a huge sigh and clutched his chest like he had to do so to live. “Thank you Techno. I’m sorry once again, thank you so much.”
He only replied with a grunt and didn’t look back as he exited the cave. Wilbur knew that Techno would be on edge for quite a long time, probably longer than it took to gain his trust in the first place.
“Tubbo,” Wilbur called out. He turned around, looking deeply upset about being interrupted while leaving. “You’re a good man. You’ll go far in life.”
“Sure.” He smiled. Wilbur was happy that someone appreciated him at the moment.
Then he looked at Tommy. He leaned against the exit with his arms crossed staring at the floor. All was quiet. Wilbur was torn between moving to the boy and waiting for his lecture.
He waited a second more before choosing to step. As soon as his foot hit the floor, Tommy looked up.
“Why?” he asked in a shaky breath, “Why weren’t you there when I needed you the most? When I was on that stage in front of thousands of people you left me. What did you want to happen up here?” tears started squeezing their way out of his sapphire eyes.
“I don’t know what I wanted to come of it, but it’s okay. Nobody died and you made it up here and stopped me before- you know.”
“But what if we didn’t. I would’ve lost you forever and I don’t even know what I would do then! You would have died, and I would be stuck with the guilt of thinking it was all my fault.”
Tommy looked at the ground and sighed long and loud. Wilbur slowly walked over and embraced the crying boy. It took them back to when they were kids. Tommy leaned into the bittersweet hug and breathed in the sour scent of cigarette smoke burned into his long coat. He felt like a kid all over again, it hadn’t been long since he was one anyway.
“Don’t ruin this, Wil. Don’t ruin it for me.”
Like that they stood for a while, both filled with similar thoughts. Like that one time when Tommy tried to run away when they were little. Wilbur was the first one to find him huddled barefoot by a tall tree not far away. Wilbur made him pinky-swear to never do it again.
“I’m so sorry.” Wilbur remorsefully spoke into Tommy’s shoulder.
“Me too, but I don’t forgive you. That’ll take some time.”
“It’s okay,” he replied, “It’s alright, and I forgive you. No matter what, Tommy, I will always always love and forgive you.”
“Thanks.”