Long Live L'Manberg

Chapter 14: The Duel

By now, the sun had set. The night sky was as black as ink, the twinkling stars absent in the mass of clouds that hung above. Fields of grass were cast with darkness, the cool night breeze sending chills down the spines of many. In his right hand, Tommy clutched his wooden bow, his internal anxiety getting the better of him. He spent this time mentally preparing for the battle, taking long breaths to calm his nerves. He couldn't help but pace upon the dirt, wandering around in a circle. The boy had yet to speak to any of his allies, not wanting them to perceive him in such a state of distress. Wilbur, who was assisting his right-hand man in preparation for the duel, sensed his uneasiness. His heart grew heavy as he watched Tommy sweat bullets, his face turning white with fear.

"Wilbur," he uttered softly. "Could we speak in private for a moment?" The brunette nodded, placing a forbearing hand on Tommy's shoulder to pull him aside. Wilbur sucked in his lips, resisting the urge to scream. What the hell had he gotten them into? Tommy finally met the eyes of his brother, his heart pounding.

"Wilbur, what happens if I miss?"

Wilbur only looked down and sighed, stuffing his hand inside his pockets. "I told you, Tommy! The passion and fire in your heart are brilliant for the war, but they're not good in these types of situations." He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke through closed eyes. "You have really got yourself in a mess, haven't you?" A sour look appeared on Tommy's face, afraid of the answer to his succeeding question.

"Do I shoot him, Will? Or do I aim for the skies?"

Wilbur could feel his heart shatter into a million pieces. He didn't want to answer honestly, but a part of him was astounded that Tommy had the courage to ask. The fact that he was considering the life of his enemy equal to his own? Tommy had truly grown up. Wilbur gave a melancholic smile, the corner of his mouth lifting subtly. "Tommy," his voice quavered. "I want you to do whatever your heart says you should do."

The boy nodded, allowing himself to really register what he had just been told. Wilbur could see the gears turning in Tommy's head making, possibly, his last-ever decision. After giving him a gentle pat on the back, Wilbur turned back to the wooden path where the crowd stood, apprehensively awaiting what was hopefully the last bloodshed of the war.

"Let's head back."

--

Wilbur sighed, scratching the back of his head as his eyes trained on the wooden pathway below him, the planks slightly creaking. At this time, the crowd had gone silent, save for the occasional cough. Their attention was either fixated on Dream or Tommy, or their eyes were anxiously darting between the two. Wilbur finally spoke up, raising his hand to steal everyone's attention. 

"Alright gentlemen, meet face to face. I want a handshake and I want a clean fight," he frowned at Dream, who only shrugged in response. Tommy watched as Wilbur took a step back, removing himself from the dueling grounds. All eyes were now on him. He scanned the crowd, each person having the same dreary look glazed over their eyes as they waited with bated breath. Did they not believe in him? His stomach twisted into a knot- he'd prove them wrong.

The blonde took a daring step forward, a potion of poison clutched in his palm. Its sickening olive green color sloshed around in the glass bottle, waiting to cause damage.

Tommy tossed the potion high in the air, the glass briefly reflecting the glint of the evening moon before rapidly crashing to the ground, glass shattering across the wooden path and into the river below. Fumes began to rise, weakening both Tommy and Dream for a fair fight. Now, it was almost guaranteed that whoever was hit first would die upon impact.

"Backs to each other, I will count ten paces," Wilbur announced. "When I say the word 'fire', you may turn around and fire upon each other. Do you both understand?"

"Yes," Tommy spoke while Dream simply nodded. With that Wilbur sucked in a quick breath, laying eyes on his brother for what he hoped what not the last time. "Ready," Wilbur raised his right arm in the air, beginning to count.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

Tommy could feel his stomach drop, nerves overtaking him as he took his first three steps forward. This could very well be his last few moments. He took deep breaths to steady himself, but it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough.

"Four."

"Five."

"Six."

What if he were to be hit somewhere fatal? What if that menacing smile on Dream's mask was the last thing he'd ever lay eyes on?

"Seven."

"Eight."

"Nine."

"Don't fuck this up, Tommy," the boy muttered to himself before inhaling sharply, preparing for those next words. Wilbur then swung his arm down, symbolizing the commencement of the duel.

"Ten paces, fire!"

At those words Tommy whipped his whole body around, clenching his teeth as he loaded his bow. He tightly pulled the jagged arrow back and launched it, sending it flying in the direction of his opponent. Dream tilted his head ever so slightly, allowing the arrow to brush right past his cheek, Tommy's aim off by mere centimeters. A cocky grin was hidden behind his mask as Dream raised his bow, aiming for the boy's heart. Wilbur held his breath as he watched the fight, silently praying under his breath. He couldn't lose his brother- not like this. He couldn't live with himself if he let something like that happen under his watch.

Unaware of his surrounding environment, Tommy stumbled off the bridge and splashed into the water below, just barely missing Dream's arrow. Holding his breath, he pushed his arms forward as he swam underneath the bridge, bubbles rising from his nose. He quickly emerged from the water, gasping for air as he gripped the edge of the wood and hoisted his dripping-wet body onto the path, preparing his next move. He was laser-focused on his bow, fumbling with an arrow when an excruciating pain entered his abdomen, spreading rapidly at a rate he couldn't control. The cold feeling of metal penetrating his core caused him to choke on the air, his weapon effortlessly slipping from his fingertips. His knees fell weak, his hands grew damp with crimson blood as his body collapsed off the bridge and into the water with a loud splash.

Screams of terror clouded the night air as L'Manberg watched their most faithful soldier fall at the hands of a tyrant. Tubbo's legs acted before his mind and before he knew it, he burst into a sprint. The distraught boy shoved past crowds to get to his best friend, wailing as he clasped a hand over his mouth.

Tommy had been hit.

Dream had won.