Midnight Arson (Platonic! Ranboo x Tubbo)

Chapter 14: The Monarch (Part 3)

(!) Trigger Warning: stab wound, blood, poison, mentions of death, character death (!)

The monarch twisted in pain as a loud, strangled yell was ripped from his throat. He fell to his knees, and toppled to the floor.

Wilbur stooped down to tear the dagger out from Eret's back, and smiled. "Yes, the story of Julius Caesar begins in the presence of his friends," the Brit recounted, stepping over his victim. "Brutus had invited Caesar to a meeting, much like our own. Caesar agreed, completely unaware of what was about to befall him." Wilbur chuckled, twirling the weapon in his hand. "And like a fool, Eret- I mean, Caesar, agreed."

Eret groaned as the wound in his back burned and ached. A wave of agony rolled over the king as his attacker continued to monologue. "Once everyone had arrived, Brutus and the rest declared their intentions: Caesar refused to be swayed, and so Caesar was slated to die."

Wilbur came up behind the downed monarch, and with one, hard blow, he drove the heel of his boot into Eret's back. The injured party howled in pain, clawing at the stone floor as agony rippled through him. "But Caesar just couldn't die peacefully, could he?" Wilbur grunted. "He couldn't just roll over and die like the rest of us. No, each and every one of his friends had to help and slay the dragon."

Eret raised his eyes to his other guests, pleading with them silently to release him from his torment. Sinister grins graced both the mayor and the demon hybrid as they each unsheathed their own hidden knives. Tears welled in the young king's eyes as his last hope was snuffed from existence- he was going to die.

Eret grimaced as another jolt of pain shot through his system. How could he have been so blind? To think he had given a notably insane man a second chance was beyond him. Maybe Eret recalled how Wilbur had once been a kind man with a gentle smile, a witty and clever old soul on the server. Maybe he wanted to give that Wilbur a chance to peek through Wilbur's power-hungry persona. Whatever the reason, Eret had chosen forgiveness, and he'd been made a fool.

"Oh, but don't worry, Eret!" Wilbur cheered. The man crouched down next to his victim, meeting the king's glare with his own wicked stare. "We won't have to resort to such brutal measures," the Brit whispered, "because you've been poisoned. You should be feeling the effects right about now."

Wilbur was right; Eret felt ill. The room was suddenly much hotter than a few moments ago, causing the king to break out in a nervous sweat. The air was stifling, choking him as he coughed up what little air he had left. "You won't get away with this," he gasped. "Tubbo will come. He will...avenge me."

"Oh, bless his soul. Haven't you heard?" Bad remarked, his voice sugary sweet. "Tubbo hasn't been seen in days. He's likely dead at the bottom of a ravine."

"It's over, Eret," Quackity stated, his tone firm and final. "No one is coming to save you. You're finished."

The monarch hiccupped as a tear slid down his face. Sorrow filled his dying heart, as he breathed, "Then, I have truly failed my kingdom."