WILBURSOOT'S POV

Wilbur smiled to himself as he easily slunk away from the gathering. No one was watching him. No one saw him disappear.

He wasn't done yet. He still had a mission to accomplish, and he would be damned if he didn't accomplish it.

He could still hear their cheers. Their celebration of their new president and a new time, still echoing in the background. As he trudged farther away from the podium and the crowd, their cheers slowly faded into silence. And then, he was alone on the hills, surrounded by a thick silence punctured only by the wind whistling through the empty plains.

Wilbur continued walking until he found his marker. Glancing around subtly, he mined up the cobblestone and replaced it behind him, entering a long tunnel that led to the room that he had been dreaming and tossing and turning for so long over.

He gazed upon the walls, the desperate scribbles of black graphite spelling out the words of the song. He stepped closer, outlining the forms of the letters with a single finger. When he dropped his finger from the wall, it was stained grey.

He smiled wordlessly at himself, circling around the seat he had built, tracing a finger over the cheap linen covering the seat.

"There's nothing left for L'Manberg." He convinced himself aloud, staring up at the ceiling. The button was just there, so close, with such power. Was it just his imagination, or did the button seem to shimmer with energy and promise?

"Even with Tubbo in charge, there's no way that special place will come back. It's gone."

Wilbur stopped pacing, staring at the button.

If I'm ever going to press it, the time is now.

He stepped closer, a single finger reaching out. "It's over. I have to do it."

"What are you doing?"

Wilbur froze. He recognized that voice. The voice who had nurtured him from childhood.

"Phil?" He turned around slowly. Phil was standing in the doorway of the room, watching him wordlessly.

"What? How?" Wilbur gaped.

"That's none of your concern." Phil smiled coldly. "What's going on?"

Wilbur forced a smile with an air of desperation. "Oh, nothing. We just won the war, Tubbo has been made president, Schlatt's gone, everything's fine."

Distantly, Wilbur heard screams, but he didn't pay them any attention, instead focusing on Phil.

Phil wore an expression of disbelieving calm. "Is that so?"

Wilbur hesitated, then finally broke down. "I will admit... I-" Wilbur pressed his mouth into a straight line. "Phil, do you know what this button does?"

"I do." Phil replied coolly.

Wilbur smiled with a manic glint in his eyes. "Have you heard the song on the walls? I mean, what I was trying to say was that there was a special place where men could go and emancipate, but... it's not there anymore."

Phil's brows furrowed in confusion. "It is there. You've just won it back, Will." He insisted.

Wilbur laughed humorlessly, burying his face in his hands.

"Look, Phil, I've been here so many times." He began, his voice muffled by his hands. "Every night, I can't sleep, and I just come to the room, and wonder whether or not I should press the button."

He looked up at his father, pleading for him to understand.

"I don't even know if it works anymore!" Wilbur ran a pained hand through his hair, and glanced back at the button. He stepped closer to the button. "I could try it..."

"Do you really want to take that risk?" Phil asked, his once calm and measured voice leaking a bit of panic.

Wilbur was silent for a long time, the silence only punctured by the sounds of fighting and distant shouts. He stared down at the ground.

"There was a saying, Phil, by a traitor. Eret, you might know him." He began. He slowly raised his eyes to meet Phil's gaze.

"Yeah, I do." Phil said, his tone clearly alarmed now.

Wilbur smiled, a glint in his eye. He turned away from Phil, staring at the button.

"It was never meant to be."

Still with that manic smile lacing his face, he closed his eyes, and his fingers reached out for the button. There was the sound of TNT being lit, and Phil's jaw dropped.

"No!" Phil shouted, and he lunged forward to drag Wilbur back as the TNT exploded, shielding his son desperately with his wings. Pain shot through Wilbur as bits and pieces of shrapnel sunk into his skin, but he wore a crazed smile on his face.

"Oh my god." Phil gaped at the damage done, pushing Wilbur behind him to hide from the last few bits of flying debris. "Will!" He exclaimed.

The grin only grew wider on Wilbur's face.

"My L'Manberg!" He announced to the world. People were starting to stare, to figure out that it was him who had set off the TNT.

"My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished!" He let out a humorless laugh. He stared out at the ruins, then turned to Phil.

Wilbur pulled out a sword. Phil stepped back, alarmed. Instead of attacking his father, Wilbur knelt before Phil and held it out like an offering.

"Kill me, Phil." Wilbur grinned, baring his chest to Phil. "Do it, Phil. Look, they all want you to."

Wilbur pointed at the people that were starting to gather, and for the briefest moment, when he met Tommy's gaze amongst the confused and devastated crowd, he felt a stab of regret. But it was gone when he looked back at Phil.

Phil's eyes were squeezed shut. "You're my son!" He exclaimed, casting the sword away from him. "No matter what you do, it doesn't change the fact that you're my son."

Wilbur picked up the sword and held it to Phil again. "Do it. Look at all the work that's gone into it, completely wasted." He taunted.

Phil stared at the ruined landscape, then turned back to Wilbur. Finally, Phil extended one hand to Wilbur, helping him stand. He squeezed his eyes shut and drove the sword straight through Wilbur's chest.

He only felt pain for a brief moment before it was all gone.