𝑨𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 || Dreamnoblade || Discontinued (?)

Chapter 31

A/N: I was planning on uploading earlier, but apparently, the Wattpad draft was being a bitch and deleted everything, so I spent some time malding. But I'm back— and so is this book. I am alive do not fear.

Third Person POV:

Upon the first arrival in Crafian Square, Techno's shoulders immediately felt weighted and his tongue soured. Not by the pads of his grandiose cloak or the cake he had earlier— god, did he wish it was — but by the heavy atmosphere of looming execution.

It was the way his breath hitched when eyes met the looming gallows centered in the middle of the clearing square. The darkened oak, over-stretching, towering high, high, high. Colossal— both in presence and size, foreboding dark tines cast shadows. And most importantly, the silhouette of a singular, dangling rope of browned hemp.

'Excessive...' Techno noted— though not quite fazed as most would be.

It was the way eyes of tensed civilians would grace the gallows, before flinching away, almost cowering at the sight. The idea of someone on that stand— the idea of someone dying. The people were startled.

From beside Techno, was Tommy, sitting slouched and blue eyes a little wide. He's never seen such a structure before, let alone execution. The last time this happened was nearly two decades ago when Phil first ascended the throne and executed the treasonous opposers. Tommy was but an infant at the time.

"Tommy, he'll be alright," Techno mumbled lowly, subconsciously shuffling closer to the younger. He looped an arm around him, patting his back, "We'll save him."

From beneath the embrace, Tommy relaxed, yet his mouth still hung in a straight, hard-line.

"Badboyhalo, committed a crime, right? Sabotage? As a spy? I-Isn't that what Tubbo's doing?" the blonde began weakly, tracing his shoe with nervous eyes. Breath hitched, caught in the throat like an ensnared rat. "Would Tubbo get... removed... if he got caught?"

...

There was a flash— a flash of fear in Tommy's eyes at the silence. The darkened glint of horror— the idea of his clumsy, yet intelligent friend walking in place of Bad— walking to the hanging rope. Fearful. Tommy was fearful.

And Techno pulled the teen closer, this time, pressed his head comfortingly to his chest, before wrapping tentative arms around. Tommy's noticeably relaxed, so he smoothed a hand on the silky blonde of hair.

"Tubbo and you— both of you— I'll protect you. You won't get hurt."

I won't allow it.

╒══════════════════╕

The inky hair hung low and messy, resting over a brilliant white of a man's face. There, one half was obscured, hidden behind a darkened, ebony mask, like the sun in stormy clouds. Whilst the other side, laid open, revealing murky eyes the shade of amaranthine.

The man, poised across a red-marked tree, graced gaze to a target. He winded an arm, thimble finger clasped over the naked hilt of a dagger, narrowed eyes, measured his distance, and threw— right on center. Bullseye.

"And your turn," he rumbled lowly, lowering lean arms and pulling up another blade. He turned toward a lady friend, offering the silver weaponry over.

"Aren't we supposed to be hunting the fiance kid right now?" The lady mused, receiving and prickling her finger over the blade point. Fresh red trickled, "Schlatt said the first group to get his head, gets paid double."

With that, a cough came in response, then rumbling, rasped laughter. The deep-voiced man smirked, puffing his chest and crossing arms in cockiness. And he teased.