L'manberg.

His own L'manberg

Y/n's POV:
The next day Tubbo after everything was strong, stronger than ever. He was trying to get the L'manberg citizens on their feet and the land cleaned up. Make it his own.

His own L'manberg.

People had been planning a funeral for, you guessed it. Jschlatt. It surprised me at first but thinking back he was an alcoholic but when sober, he was a president. Sometimes it seemed like he actually cared sometimes.

But you'd think after everything Wilbur would have a funeral too. Nope. He'd been labeled as he was, a insane dictator who'd done everyone a favor by dying.

I missed him though. So, i took his body and buried it where he'd died. Tubbo helped and we buried him in his final control room, a small memorial was outside. I took his beanie with me and wore it. To remind me of him.

I grabbed my old guitar i hadn't used in a while. I played some songs Wilbur had taught me, his originals.

Quackity later came and sat by me. "I'm sorry for your loss." i almost immediately cried but, i held it together. "Yeah." i mumbled covering my face not really knowing what to say.

"Do you remember that song?" Quackity asked looking to me, "What one?" i said looking to him. "Uh, 'Well, i heard there was a special place'." he said in a singsongy voice but still with a questioning tone. "Where men could go and emancipate," i sung playing the cords on my guitar, "The brutality. And the tyranny of their rulers." we sung together, "Well, this place is real you needn't fret. With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Fuck Eret A very big and not blown up L'manberg." i smiled looking to quackity.

Steps, behind us erupted. Soft and slow. Yet so loud, Wilburs footsteps.

"My L'manberg, my L'manberg, my L'manberg,
my L'manberg." a voice behind us sung, the voice, Wilburs but soft. Yet it's Wilburs. I slowly turned to the voice, a man or ghost? Transparent as can be, with a yellow shirt and a beanie, a red one.

I kept playing the guitar, "For freedom and for liberty," the guy had joined in despite the lyrics being new, lyrics Wilbur and i wrote. Ones he knew, somehow.

I stopped singing in shock standing up, and kept playing, testing him. "Our nation sought to build on these, a victory for all under our freedom. Well the darkness came and then it went. We built a home and watched it sink, and from the rubble. Emerged my great." he passed. How did he know the lyrics?

"My L'manberg, my L'manberg, my L'manberg
my L'manberg." "With bloodied hands and weakened knees. Our peoplе rose like the phoеnix, our empty fields and canals 'round. L'Mantree." "With sweat and tears we armed our ranks, we laid foundations in our land. And from every lips fro here up to infinity. We sing L'manberg, We sing L'manberg, We sing L'manberg, We sing L'manberg." me and the transparent boy sung as Quackity sat and clapped when we finished singing.

"How do you know that song?" i asked the transparent man, trying to put my hand on his shoulder. Yet failing, my hand slipping through.

"I wrote it."