Things That Need To Pass (passerine!Technoblade x OC) {COMPLETED}

Reinforcements?!

(3rd person POV)

"It's over," Tommy whispered. He leaned against his brother as they both looked over the valley, at the enemies descending upon their army like a swarm of hawks. The pain in his shoulder was now a distant worry. It wouldn't kill him—but he knew death was coming for him regardless. "We're fucked."

Wilbur was very still.

"Wilbur." Tommy turned to his brother. "You know I love you, right?"

The king gave him a sharp look. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Tommy swallowed thickly, trying—and failing—to keep the tears in. "I—I love you. I don't think I ever said it, but it's true. I figured, if it's my last chance—"

"This is not your last chance," Wilbur snapped, his eyes darkening. He whirled around, facing Technoblade, who still stood between them and the mysterious soldier. "Techno!"

Techno glanced back at Wilbur, his expression shuttered. He did not look at Tommy.

"It's time," Wilbur called out.

For a moment, Techno only stared. And then, slowly, deliberately, he nodded. "I'm sorry, Wilbur."

"What?" Tommy demanded. "What are you two talking about?"

Wilbur did not reply. He wasn't even listening.

Tommy could only watch as Wilbur unhooked a blowing horn from his side. He put it up to his lips mechanically, his eyes blank and staring at nothing at all.

"Wilbur?" Tommy begged. "Wilbur, what's going—"

Wilbur blew the horn.

(Eryn POV)

I jolted awake. Who blew that-

I froze. Wilbur?

What? Why the heck would he blow that? That was our last resort, and he blew it? That means-

Oh heck. I picked myself up and started running. I brought up my katana to defend blows, and covered Wilbur. Tommy looked dazed and confused.

Meanwhile...

(3rd person POV)

She heard it. They all did. Heads snapped up at the sound of a war horn echoing through the valley—a low, sad sound like the beginnings of a funeral dirge, or the cry of a lone bird separated from its flock.

The flower shopkeeper met the eyes of a woman across the field. A stranger, only familiar from brief, inconsequential meetings at the camp. But in that moment, they were kindred spirits, united in their determination. The shopkeeper nodded. The woman gave her a solemn salute. It was now or never.

The shopkeeper glanced at the oncoming horde of enemies, butchering all that stood in their way. But the Royal Army was not fighting anymore. No, they were running. They threw down their weapons and ran back in the direction of the hill, stumbling over weeds and irises and vines of morning glories.

 The Green Army—outnumbering them ten to one—gave chase, unaware of what was coming. The shopkeeper took off, the rock in her pocket seeming to grow heavier with every step. But unlike the others, she was headed north, up one of craggy mountains that bordered the valley.

She knew the others—at least those who weren't dead already—must be headed towards the other mountain, crashing through the trees and underbrush as she was. There were fifty of them in total, but only two of them were really needed for the job.

"If you lose heart," the king had said during the midnight meeting where he'd laid out his plans to the volunteers, "just make sure someone else still has theirs. This a last resort—but it might also be our only choice."