My Son {Mcyt, Alt. Traitor Au}

Him and His Aching Joints

The waterfall roared as Wilbur put his hands under the raging waters, splashing the water onto his face. Stress leaked from his shoulders, his shoulders slowly falling to relax. Wilbur sighed has he sat back, letting the water mist at his face, finally taking a break to stop thinking about the war that fell right on his back.

Boulders had been set on his shoulders as the General, the man in charge of his people.

The sun was warm, only small tuffs of clouds in the sky. The water cool and grass a bright green, full of life. The world blossomed in the Dream SMP, showing no sign of a hectic war. Bees buzzed, Tubbo's pets swarmed around his head as Wilbur watched them buzz. The bees small as they peacefully buzzed happily over Wilbur.

The General sighed, rubbing his face with the heels of his hands, pushing at the growing ache that filled his tired eyes. Wilbur put down his hands as the patter of small feet came towards him. He spotted a small fox leap towards him, a crayon, pastel uniform hung over the foxes back.

"Fundy," Wilbur smiled as he watched the fox sit itself next to him. He quickly adverted his gaze away from the morphing fox, he had always hated the sight of his son turn from animal to Man.

"Sorry, Wilbur," Fundy stretched out his long limbs, yawning and popping his joints.

"Son, where have you been?" Wilbur stood, standing next to the man who he had considered a son.

Fundy rolled his eyes at the relationship term, "Nowhere at all. You haven't been giving out orders at all, Wilbur."

"It's tiring, my son," Wilbur sighed, "The war is raging on, its hard to keep up."

"Hard?" Fundy stiffened, "Hard? Really? It wouldn't be hard if you helped us instead of running off to a damn waterfall everyday! This war could be over-"

"Fundy," Wilbur glared at the man, watching his brown eyes flicker back and forth we, anger pooling out. "War takes time. We cannot run in blindly every time."

"We have spent months gathering resources and those months filled with small quarrels that have only held us back," Fundy stared upwards, watching a tuff a cloud drift by, "Wilbur, we need to do something. They burned down Tubbo's house and have tormented our walls and borders."

"Fundy, you cannot rush war. If we do, we'll lose more than we could ever imagine," Wilbur felt himself snap, pressure welling up at a part of him that only carried rage. "Go help Tubbo and Eret, that's an order."

"That's-"

"Fundy, please. Do this for me. I promise I'll find a way to speed up the process."

"Fine. You better keep that promise."

Wilbur sighed as he watched Fundy snort and turn to walk away. He recognized that this war had been going on for long enough and that his men were getting tired, that They'll lose motivation and support for the fight. The only problem was that he didn't know how to win, Wilbur had spent nights with his head in his hands, eyes weary and dry as he thought over plans over and over agin.

He felt like he had aged 10 years, his joints ached as he picked up a quill or sat. This war of independence was taking a toll on him and everyone else. They were losing, and at this rate, there seemed like there was no chance to win. None at all.