Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello! So, my laptop chose death yesterday and I can't really write my long fics since it's dead. It would probably be dead for at least two more days. So to pass time, I thought I should do some small drabbles.

So here are the rules for the requests:

• What I will write about:

1. Fluff (Wholesome)
2. Angst (Character Deaths and other things involving angst)
3. Fundywastaken and other Fundy ships (except the ones that are like... With creators who specifically said they don't want to be shipped and of course with minors cause don't ship minors man).
4. The occasional dark fic (by dark pls refer to my 'Clouds V.2.' and 'Withered Flowers' storylines cause those are the only dark things I can write).

• What I will NOT write about:

1. Smut/All things sexual really
2. NSFW
3. Rape/Non-Con
4. Shipping involving people who said they don't want to be shipped or minors.
5. In-Real Life Shipping, meaning I am only writing fics for the characters. Not the people in real life.

Anyway, pls do send requests! And like I said, this is mostly a Fundy-centric one-shot collection. Why? Because I'm the writer and I get to choose the main character XD

But yeah pls send requests and hope you all are having a great day! :D

(Laptop chose death ;-; so now I am here)

Chapter Text

1. Chapter 1: Rules

2. Chapter 2: Table of Contents

3. Chapter 3: The Fox Won't Come Down

• Characters:
  • Wilbur
  • Fundy
  • Tommy (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Wholesome Father-Son Relationship with Wilbur and Child Fundy

4. Chapter 4: The Stars Shine Bright For Us

• Characters:
  • George
  • Fundy
  • Schlatt (mentioned)
  • Quackity (mentioned)
  • Tubbo (mentioned)
  • Dream (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Wholesome/Angst
  • Ship Fic with FundynotFound

5. Chapter 5: Even Gods Bleed

• Characters:
  • Technoblade
  • Phil
  • Ghostbur
  • Tommy
  • Fundy
  • Quackity (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Angst (with possible comfort)
  • TW: Blood Mention, Death Mention, Cursing, and slight Angel of Death Phil.

6. Chapter 6: Safe and Sound (Safe and Sound I)

• Characters:
  • Eret
  • Fundy
  • Tommy
  • Dream (mentioned)
  • Tubbo (mentioned)
  • Phil (mentioned)
  • Wilbur (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Fluff (with Angst)
  • TW: Tommy-Exile, thus gaslighting. Dream being manipulative. Death Mention. Toxic Relationship between Tommy and Dream with slight mention of Toxic Relationship between Dream and Fundy (at least, in a certain degree, it is).

7. Chapter 7: A Liar and A Son

• Author's Note: uwu

8. Chapter 8: Your New Boyfriend Lyrics (Fundy Ver.)

• Author's Note: It's just lyrics lmao

9. Chapter 9: Your Own Good/Fault (Withered Flowers One-Shot) (DARK ONE-SHOT BEWARE)

• Characters:
  • Wilbur
  • Fundy
  • Phil
  • Technoblade (mentioned)
  • Tubbo (mentioned)
  • Tommy (mentioned)
  • Quackity (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Dark and Sickfic
  • TW: Dark, Implied drugging and kidnapping, and insane Wilbur Soot

10. Chapter 10: The Last Day of Winter (The Last Day of Summer Lyrics)

• Author's Note: It's parodied lyrics from the Lightning Thief Musical

11. Chapter 11: Walls of False Illusion (Walls of False Illusion I)

• Characters:
  • Wilbur
  • Fundy
  • Tommy (mentioned)
  • Tubbo (mentioned)
  • Dream (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Angst with Father-Son Relationship of Wilbur and Fundy
  • TW: Cursing, yelling, and strict parenting

12. Chapter 12: Everything for Nothing

• Characters:
  • Dream
  • Fundy
  • Ghostbur
• Type:
  • Fundywastaken Ship-Fic
  • TW: Major Character Death, Angst, Slight Description of Death, and Hurt no Comfort

13. Chapter 13: A Man of Smiles (Walls of False Illusion II)

• Characters:
  • Fundy
  • Dre (Dream)
  • Wilbur (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Continuation of 'Walls of False Illusion'
  • Shipping or Platonic FwT (though, it has veered into shipping into these past few days, especially in regards to the fic that was inspired from these one-shots).

14. Chapter 14: Picture Perfect Family (Withered Flowers One-Shot) (DARK ONE-SHOT BEWARE)

• Characters:
  • Fundy
  • Wilbur
  • Phil
  • Technoblade
  • Tommy (mentioned)
  • Tubbo (mentioned)
  • Eret (mentioned)
• Type:
  • TW: Dark, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Unhealthy Family Dynamics, Insane Wilbur Soot, and choosing-to-ignore-it Phil and Techno.

15. Chapter 15: The Heart of Clay (Walls of False Illusion III)

• Characters:
  • Fundy
  • Wilbur
  • Dream (mentioned)
  • Tommy (mentioned)
  • Eret (mentioned)
  • Sally (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Sickfic

16. Chapter 16: Your Delusion, His Cage (Withered Flowers One-Shot) (DARK ONE-SHOT BEWARE)

• Characters:
  • Fundy
  • Wilbur
  • Phil
  • Schlatt (mentioned)
  • Tubbo (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Dark Fic
  • TW: Implied Kidnapping, Dark, Slight Graphic Violence, and Slightly Delusional Wilbur Soot

17. Chapter 17: Author's Note

18. Chapter 18: A Story Untold

• Characters:
  • Fundy
  • Wilbur
  • Sapnap
  • Karl
  • Tubbo (mentioned)
  • Dream (mentioned)
  • Tommy (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Wilbur and Fundy Father-Son Relationship
  • Karl Time Travel
  • TW: Pet War and mentions of Blood

19. Chapter 19: The Family of Gold

• Characters:
  • Technoblade
  • Fundy
  • Tommy
  • Wilbur
  • Phil
• Type:
  • Fluff
  • TW: Cursing because Tommy and Mention of Minor Injuries

20. Chapter 20: The Black Dahlia of Love (Withered Flowers One-Shot) (DARK ONE-SHOT BEWARE)

• Characters:
  • Fundy
  • Dream
  • Wilbur (mentioned)
  • Phil (mentioned)
  • Techno (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Dream visiting Fundy
  • TW: Withered Flowers!Dream, Dark, Unhealthy Relationships, a bit of gaslighting because Wilbur is trying to convince Fundy that he's the one in the wrong here, and well... Fundy and Dream's relationship isn't good.

21. Chapter 21: The Iris of Love (Alternate Version to "The Black Dahlia of Love")

• Characters:
  • Fundy
  • Dream
  • George
  • Punz
  • Puffy
  • Tommy
  • Tubbo
  • Wilbur (mentioned)
  • Phil (mentioned)
  • Technoblade (mentioned)
  • Niki (mentioned)
  • Eret (mentioned)
  • Schlatt (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Slight Fundywastaken but they working through some issues.
  • TW: Withered Flowers AU, dark, implied Fundy being forced to drink potions, and Insane Wilbur Soot (mentioned)

22. Chapter 22: You Reap What You Sow (Safe and Sound II)

• Characters:
  • Dream
  • Fundy
  • Tommy
  • Eret (mentioned)
  • Niki (mentioned)
  • Ranboo (mentioned)
  • George (mentioned)
  • Sapnap (mentioned)
  • Technoblade (mentioned)
  • Wilbur (mentioned)
• Type:
  • Fundywastaken Angst
  • TW: Cause we all know Dream was a little shit during the exile arc. Poor Tommy.

23. Chapter 23: Your Sad Green Eyes of Envy

• Characters:
  • Dream
  • Fundy
• Type:
  • Fundywastaken ft. Jealous and Insecure Dream
  • Hurt/Comfort
  • Short Drabble

24. Chapter 24: A Night of Peace (Withered Flowers One-Shot) (DARK ONE-SHOT BEWARE)

Chapter Text

Fundy poked at the small plushie his dad had left him with, its beady little eyes staring up at him from the floor. He scrunched up his nose at the thing, wondering why his dad had left a salmon toy with him. He threw a glance towards the locked oak door, scooping his new plush into his arms before throwing it across the room. It squeaked as it hit the wall, falling to the floor with all the grace of a potato sack. Fundy let out a small huff, curling up on the carpeted floor as those dark round eyes stared at him from the corner of the room. He didn't like it. Not one bit. Why did his dad have to leave him with something so... Stare-y?

"I'm back, Fundyyy. Did you have a good time with..." Fundy's ears pricked up as he heard his dad's voice. A smile crept into his face as he saw his dad's face peeking out from behind the slightly opened door. His father glanced down at him, noticing the lack of plushie in Fundy's arms. Wilbur let out an exasperated sigh, his grin remaining on his face as he finally entered the room. "I take it you didn't like dad's gift? I thought you liked fishes?"

"It wooks at me fuwny..."

"Does it now? Hm... Well, I suppose I'll just have to return it to the ocean then." Fundy glanced up at that, puffing out his cheek at his dad's sudden shift of tone. Just because he didn't want it doesn't mean his dad could take it away! Wilbur let out a chuckle as Fundy raced across the room, picking up the toy and holding it tightly in his arms. Wilbur walked towards him, glancing down at his small son before crouching down in front of him. Fundy shifted the plush in his arms, hiding it from Wilbur's view as if to protect it from Wilbur's grasp. "Hm. I thought you didn't like it, Funds?"

"MINE!" Fundy turned away from his dad, holding onto the salmon plush as if it were a matter of life and death that he hold onto it. He felt a calloused hand ruffle his hair, his tail wagging a bit as his dad patted the top of his head. Fundy glanced at the corner of his eyes, seeing a strange look in his dad's eyes. It was the same look he'd usually see on his dad's face whenever Wilbur willingly took him to the strange beat-up van near their house, his dad busy looking and drawing at a colored piece of paper that had weird symbols all over it. Wilbur's eyes lightened up a bit, a mischievous glint appearing in those dark brown eyes as he scooted a bit closer to Fundy. Fundy clutched the toy closer, "Papa?"

"You know... It took a while for me to catch that fish, but I eventually learned an easy way to catch it. Come closer, son. I'll tell you my secret." Fundy rolled his eyes at that. The salmon wasn't alive... At least he thinks it isn't. He glanced at the plush, eyes narrowing into slits as if to say 'I'm watching you'. Fundy walked closer to his dad, looking up at him with a curious glint in his eyes as Wilbur leaned closer to whisper into his ear. "It's quite simple, my little champion. You gain their trust and then you—!"

Fundy shrieked, giggling as his dad grabbed him and began to throw him into the air, catching him in his warm arms each time he fell back down. Wilbur laughed alongside him, grateful to be able to spend a bit of time with his son after everything that he's had to to do for the day. Fundy's tail was wagging erratically, laughing as he tried to reach for the ceiling... Not that Wilbur would throw his son that high up. Fundy had dropped the plushie, content to simply let Wilbur toss him in the air for a bit. "Does my little champion like this? Do you like to fly someday, Fundy?"

"Higher! Higher! Higher!"

Wilbur pursed his lips, unable to rely deny his son of that luxury. He slowly began to throw Fundy higher, making sure he wasn't going to end up throwing him to the point of Fundy bumping into the ceiling. If there was one thing that he was sure was going to kill him one day, it would be his son's sadness, and Wilbur would be damned before he ever let anyone make his son cry. Fundy began to squirm in his arms after a while, trying to twist and move around in the air as if he wished to change direction. Wilbur thought nothing of it...

Until Fundy ended up on top of the closet.

"OH MY FUC— FUNDY!!!" Wilbur rushed over to the the wooden closet, gritting his teeth at the fact that he couldn't reach the top of it. Fundy's gold-speckled brown eyes peered at him from above, giggling as he avoided his dad's desperate grasps. Wilbur began to panic, hoping that Fundy didn't suddenly gain the urge to jump off without notice. He tried to reach further for his son, but Fundy merely laughed and scooted further away from him. Wilbur could barely see him at this point. "Come down, honey. No. No. Fundy. Stop avoiding my hands, Fundy. Baby, please get down from there. It's not safe, son!"

"Fun!" Wilbur held back the urge to scream as Fundy began to clap his hands, standing up from his seated position to wander around the top of the closet. As if to mock him, Fundy made sure not to wander too close to the edge, as if he knew Wilbur would ruin his so-called 'fun' the moment he got into grabbing distance. Wilbur glanced at the room, terrified of looking away for even a second. There was a chair tucked away into the corner, placed right next to the small bed that his son slept in. Wilbur would remember nights where he couldn't sleep and he would find himself in his son's room, simply making sure Fundy was alright and sleeping well. His heart ached during those moments, scared of how much he'd miss because of that damn war— "Papa, look!"

Wilbur saw his life flash before his eyes as the closet began to creak and groan, his small son jumping on top of it as if was a bouncy castle. "FUNDY NO NO NO STOP STOP STOP." Fundy giggled even more, continuing his little jumps on the closet. This kid is going to be the death of him—

"TOMMY! I NEED SOME HELP OVER HERE!"

Needless to say, Wilbur didn't let Fundy out of his arms for a while after that, promising to never toss his son into the air ever again. 

The promise lasted only two days, and all it took was Fundy giving him the puppy eyes.

How could he say no to his little champion?

Chapter Text

He felt a hand grasp onto his shoulder, breaking him from the foggy daze he had lost himself to. George blinked his eyes open, glancing over as a familiar ginger-haired fox hybrid sat down beside him. They were both on a hill overlooking the bright glimmering lights of Manburg as the occasional citizen flickered in and out of view through the nation's alleyways. Fundy sat down beside him, a content and adorable smile on his face as he glanced up at the twinkling stars in the night sky. George felt his heart skip a beat at the sight, stuttering to a painful stop as he realized he could never hope to see that smile directed at him. It was surreal, being close to someone he could never really have. No matter what he did, Fundy will never chose him. Not after tonight and not for any moment in time either. He was hopeless.

"How was the date? Quackity told me you were out with Dream."

Warm golden-flecked brown eyes met his gaze, a mischievous grin on Fundy's face as he settled a bit closer to George. George frowned, hugging his knees closer to himself as he waited for the inevitable gushing. Quackity had been so vocal about it during the cabinet meeting, enough so that Schlatt had to toss him out because they were there to discuss important matters and not Fundy's suddenly blooming love life. George was glad the goggles kept his eyes hidden from sight, knowing that there was no chance in all three realms that he could keep himself from crying. No matter how much he ached to tell the fox hybrid of his feelings, he knew that it wouldn't matter and he didn't want to ruin their friendship. If only he could've been clearer beforehand. If only he had just gone out and said what his heart wanted him to profess. Now it was too late, and George was going to have to deal with that. He began to pluck at the blades of grass, tearing at them. He needed something to occupy his mind, something to make it seem he wasn't all that interested in whatever Fundy did with Dream during their date. Maybe Fundy would drop it once he realized George didn't really care.

"It was great! We ate dinner, watched Treasure Planet, and um... You know... Dream's not much of a talker, is he?"

"You kidding? He doesn't know how to shut up unless you tell him to. What? He didn't talk to you at all during the date?" George couldn't help the slight tone of anger in his voice, his lips pursing at the thought of Dream and Fundy talking to the point that they probably ignored the entire movie. A wave of silence greeted him as he finally forced himself to look at the fox hybrid next to him. Fundy had a soft smile on his face, a wry grin that didn't quite match the disappointment in his eyes. George felt guilty at that, knowing that Fundy probably came here to talk to him about the date. Fundy didn't have many friends in Manburg. Schlatt was protective and would throw a fit if he heard Dream's name mentioned in repetitive succession. Quackity couldn't be trusted to keep his mouth shut, probably going out of his way to tease Fundy about the whole thing. Tubbo was too young to be pestered by such things. That left George. It stung but that's what he was. A friend. A companion. Someone Fundy could talk to. He'd never be more than that. Fundy would never look at him as if there was the possibility of something more between them. "He probably doesn't like you then if he didn't talk much... He's a talker but only with people he likes... But... You're amazing, Fundy. I'm sure if he didn't like you before, he's certainly in love with you after tonight."

"Hm? You think so?" George wishes he could scream as Fundy suddenly presses closer to him, his head resting on the crook of George's neck... Which wasn't fair as George was the shorter person here. He stiffens under the hold, slowly reaching up a hand to caress Fundy's hair. Fundy's ears were flat against his head, a happy sigh escaping the ginger's lips as his eyes fluttered close. George wished it could stay like that... Wished the world would stop turning so he could savor this moment. It was difficult, being in love someone who could never love him back... Someone who wanted your best friend instead of you. George moved in a bit closer, waiting for Fundy to quickly pull away at the sudden shift of movement. He didn't. Instead, he felt Fundy's tail at his back, wrapping around his waist as it began to wag. Why did Fundy have to make his life more difficult? He felt his heart practically burst inside his chest at that action.

George had tried. Oh, Prime knows he tried. As clever as Fundy was, he was also quite oblivious to signs of affection. The excessive amount of sleepovers and picnic "friend" dates he's invited Fundy to. The fact that he's always made it a point to sit right next to him during cabinet meetings. The "accidental" elbow bumps each time either of them had to stand up to retrieve something. The constant act of making sure Fundy didn't fall asleep at his desk and each time he did George would have to carry Fundy back to his bed. Their small little tradition of meeting up every weekend on the very same hill they currently sat upon so they could watch the stars and fall asleep in the other's presence until either Quackity or Schlatt came up to wake them.

He tried so hard to get Fundy's attention... But it was never enough or maybe Fundy did notice and just didn't know how to turn them down. George closed his eyes, hand combing through silky ginger hair as he took in the scent of freshly-picked berries. He knew that by morning Fundy would be gone, perhaps having run off to his new boyfriend. George would wake up to the sound of Quackity's mocking voice or Schlatt's gruff command, realizing that he was utterly and miserably alone. Fundy would stop talking to him, stop going on small "friend" dates with him. Maybe he'd even stop going to their hill... Maybe one day George would be left to stare at the stars by himself, reminiscing in a love never meant to be.

"I hope not, though. Considering the date wasn't all that great."

"W-what do you mean?" Did he sound too hopeful? Too interested? George cleared his throat, glancing down at Fundy who had shifted to look up at him. George wondered if his heart was beating too fast... If Fundy could hear it and if he knew exactly what it meant. George thanked his lucky stars that that the shadows of the night had enveloped them, his blush hidden by the darkness as he forced himself to stay completely still. This might be his final moment with Fundy, he didn't want to do anything that could possibly mess it up. Fundy was still staring up at him with those cute eyes that made George nearly trip the moment he had first seen them. Quackity had laughed at him at that, not noticing that George was too busy staring at Fundy - too enamored - to even offer a bit of protest against the duck hybrid's teases. "I-I thought you said the date went great. Did something—"

"I lied... We didn't have much in common and Dream clearly didn't want anything to do with me." Fundy didn't sound too upset at that, picking at the edge of his jacket sleeve as if he was contemplating his next move. George tried to keep himself from celebrating, from jumping into the air and screaming at the top of his lungs. Fundy wasn't taken (pfft Fundy wasn't taken—), he still had a chance here. The relief melted away as realization settled back in. Even so, Fundy wouldn't pick him. Even if George tried to make his feelings more obvious... Fundy would probably laugh at him, taking it as a joke on George's part. "Besides... While on the date, I kind of realized something. I think... I think I like someone else. Someone I didn't really realize I liked until, well, tonight."

"Is it... Uhm... Is it HBo—?"

"WHAT?! No! George, what the fuck—" Fundy cackled, gripping George's arm as he burrowed his face deeper into the crook of George's neck. He was laughing, sending goosebumps across George's skin. Fundy finally moved his face away, his eyes twinkling with starlight as he finally glanced up at George. There was a smirk on his lips, his shoulders still shaking with remnants of the fox hybrid's amused laughter. "For one so smart you're so incredibly dumb... Heh... Guess we have that in common. George, I like you. I... I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner, but, I like you. I really do."

George felt his heart stop at that, the world fading away as he lost himself in those gold-speckled brown eyes that looked up at him with such affection. He let out a small chuckle, wrapping his arms around the fox hybrid's form. Fundy laughed at that, both of them moving so fast that they practically toppled to the ground in a messy heap of laughter. At the end, they both laid there against the grass, hands intertwined as they stared up into the starry sky and talked all the way through the night.

They both fell asleep in each other's arms. The stars shining down at them from above, the only witnesses to a love yet to bloom.

Chapter Text

Techno let out a tired breath of air, glancing down at his younger brother who was busy tending to their sheep companion. Ghostbur glanced over at him, a toothy grin on his face as he gave Techno a little wave. A trail of blood was left in their wake as they stumbled towards the cabin they're entire family lived in. Techno wondered when Quackity would finally realize that attacking him was fruitless… and to think the duck hybrid had tried to drag Ghostbur into it. Techno growled under his breath, wishing that Quackity would just get the message and leave them all alone.

"Are you sure Quackity will be alright? I think you killed him with too much force this time." Techno grunted at the question, slightly irritated that Ghostbur had completely forgotten what had just occurred a moment prior. He casted his blood red eyes at his transparent younger brother, feeling all sense of annoyance disappear as he looked into those warm brown eyes. Ghostbur needed to forget, best not let him remember Quackity threatening to kill Friend in front of them. Techno would give up a life if it meant Ghostbur could never remember his trauma. "Friend says thank you, by the way. I don't know what for but I'm so glad you two are getting along. You and Sally used to fight a lot when she…"

Ghostbur stuttered to a pause, an eerie silence following, only interrupted by the occasional loud gust of wind. A blizzard was in the air, he could sense it. Techno simply sighed, knowing what came next. "Oh. Hi, Techno!"

"Hello, Ghostbur." Techno winced, gritting his teeth as though speaking took too much of an effort. He shrugged it off, too focused on getting his younger brother home before any other nuisance decided to show their face. The sun was beginning to set in the distance, the harsh chill of snow biting at the tips of his ears as he took in another deep breath. He'd never thought he'd hate the cold as much as he did right then. "We're headed home."

"Oh? Where did we go before?" Ghostbur's airy voice barely registered, his mind stuttering to a stop as he strained to remember what his brother just said. Ghostbur floated into his view, his eyebrows drawn together. "Techno?"

'Uh oh…'

'Do we tell him?'

'Duck's fault'

'TechnoPain'

'awwww concerned Ghostbur…'

'snow is cold'

'DO WE TELL HIM???'

'no, you nerd'

'Blood…'

'let him find out—'

"Techno?" The voices ceased their chatter, their whispers disappearing into the back of his mind as he simply gave Ghostbur a small nod. Ghostbur placed a hand on his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he searched for something. Techno patted the ghost's hand before trekking back towards the cabin. The sooner they get home, the sooner Techno could retire to sleep. Although why he felt the need to sleep was beyond him. After a few minutes, the pair stopped a few paces near the entrance. Ghostbur still hovered behind him, gaze strangely fixated on Techno's side. Techno gave him a short glance before reaching out towards the nearly frozen doorknob. Darkness had begun to seep into their surroundings, the brutal tundra air beating at his exposed skin. Techno shivered, clutching his blue coat with his free hand. "Techno, why didn't you—"

He threw the door open, cutting off the ghost's sentence as he stumbled his way into their warm home. He waited as Ghostbur and Friend made their way inside, closing the door with a soft thump behind them. Techno didn't stay behind to listen to whatever it was Ghostbur had wanted to say. Quickly draping his coat on the coat hanger, Techno walked deeper into the cabin, intent on making his way to bed. He wanted to sleep. His body ached for it.

"Hold on a second, mate." A familiar chuckle reached his ears as a pair of injured white wings blocked his path. Phil emerged from one of the rooms, a soft smile on his face. "Dinner should be ready soon, would you like—"

'potato soup again?'

'hmmmm no dinner tonight…'

'this should be fun'

'oh whoops'

'potatoes have ruined our lives'

'Phil'

'Tell Phil'

'Philza'

'Dadza'

'DADZA—'

Phil was not a man who was scared easily, having spent nearly half of his waking days nursing his one remaining life. No, he was not a faint hearted man. Once, he was a king. An angel whose very presence struck fear into all those who heard the flap of his wings. He was Philza Minecraft, after all. Yet, as he watched his eldest son topple to the ground, his breathe stuttered to a stop. He stood there frozen for a moment, heart beating madly in his chest until he finally found it in himself to move. He crouched down beside Techno, his hands hovering above his son's all too still form. A metallic scent reached his nose, his eyes flickering about until he saw crimson seeping out of Techno's side. He heard the crack of feathers, his wings morphing into sharp steel at the thought of anyone daring to even hurt one of his sons. Phil tried to keep himself calm, revenge could wait. He had a son to take care of, "Fundy! Tommy! I require a bit of assistance here, please!"

He hears the rush of footsteps from above as he tried to press his shaking hands against the wound. Ghostbur floated into view, his pale ghostly face turning nearly transparent as he took in his brother's unmoving form. Phil wished he could comfort his son but he couldn't, not when he himself was too busy trying to bite down the panic and rage that threatened to spill from his chest. How dare… how dare they try to take away another one of his sons? Phil bit down the bottom of his lip, forcing his mind to concentrate on Techno. His poor son who looked too peaceful, felt too cold to the touch. Phil was going to rip into whoever had the fucking gall to come to their territory and attack one of his sons. He gritted his teeth, nearly cracking them as he tried to quell his fury and horror.

'Killza…'

'Killza…'

'Killza…'

His blood was wet with blood, reminding him of a time where he had been in this situation, where had to watch one of his sons die by his blade. Phil held back his sorrow. Techno wasn't going to die. Phil won't be losing another son anytime soon. It was a deep cut on the side, but Techno will survive it. He will survive it. Techno wasn't going to lose one of his lives like this. Not if Phil had anything to say about it.

Tommy and Fundy finally reached him, their faces stricken with surprise as they saw the limp form of Technoblade. Phil bit back his dry chuckle. Of course they were surprised, no one had ever seen Techno so vulnerable before, but Phil had… once. They quickly snapped out of it, reaching out to help Phil as they all made their way towards Techno's room. They struggled to place the pig hybrid onto the bed, but after a while, they finally did it.

"Tommy, can you get me some bandages and a healing potion." Phil's voice was but a whisper, yet he heard Tommy leave the room anyway. Phil placed a hand on top of Techno's head, petting his son's soft pink hair.

"He'll be okay, right? He isn't…"

"He'll be fine, Fundy."

"... Technoblade never dies…?"

"That's right." Phil smiled at his grandson's words, that old phrase bringing a bit of comfort to him as he glanced over at Fundy. He placed a hand over Techno's, his fingers cold to the touch. Fundy didn't need to wait before grabbing the folded blanket, placing it over Techno to keep him warm as they waited for Tommy to come back. Fundy twitched, picking at the sleeve of his shirt, his gaze never leaving his uncle's form. Phil knew how sensitive Fundy could be at the sight of… probable death. "Thank you. You should probably go check on Ghostbur, I'll handle it from here."

Fundy gave him a small nod before rushing out of the room, nearly bumping into Tommy who had brought more bandages and healing potions than necessary. The blonde tried to mask his fear, but Phil knew his sons, knew their small gestures and what they meant. Tommy's bright blue eyes were blown wide open, his fingers twitching as he made his way to Phil's side. Phil gently took everything from his son's hands, holding onto one of the healing potions as reached out towards Techno. As he slowly helped Techno drink the potion, he could hear Tommy pacing behind him, his sneakers scuffing against the wooden floor. "I'm going to kill the son of a bitch who did this. Ohhhh, when I get my fucking hands on them— I mean, h-how dare they come in here and hurt Techno? What fucking—"

"Tommy, I'm going to need you to calm down. We'll talk to Techno in the morning and strategize, but for now you can help Fundy with Ghostbur." Phil slowly sat back down, empty bottle in hand as he turned to face his youngest son. Tommy looked like he wanted to argue, his hands curled into fists as he glared at the wall. If there wasn't an impending blizzard, he had no doubt Tommy would be rushing to fight whoever had done this. "Tommy, please."

"Is Techie going to be okay?" Tommy turned to him, the shine of tears in his eyes as he rubbed a hand at his mouth. His poor son… they'd recently just saved him from exile. "He's going to be okay, right dad? He's Technoblade!"

"He'll be fine, Tommy."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Now, go ahead. I'll stay here."

Tommy hesitated for a minute, his brows creasing together before he finally stomped off into the hallway, screaming profanity at an invisible enemy. Phil shook his head, taking one of the bandages as he focused his entire attention to Techno. The wound was beginning to heal, the potion's effects fixing the damage done against his son. A scar would remain but he knew Techno wouldn't mind it, scars already littered most of the piglin hybrid's skin, what was one more to him? Phil began to dress the wound, knowing that Techno would still feel sore tomorrow regardless of the potion. He nearly cursed as he dropped the bandage, his hands still shaking from the sudden scare he had just gotten.

New L'Manburg was dangerous, far too risky and too paranoid than any nation he's visited. To come to their home under the pretense of hurting one of their own was an unofficial declaration of war. Phil reached for another roll of bandages, wrapping up the wound the best way he knew how. A part of him thought of how he shouldn't be so well-practiced in dressing wounds, thoughts of the times where he's had to help his own sons flashing through his head. Though he knew quite well that at least two of his son's were grown adults, he couldn't stop the undeniable guilt of knowing that they'd been exposed so badly to the cruelties of the world. He'd lost one son to death, and yet it felt as though he'd lost all three.

Techno was plagued by voices.

Wilbur was dead . His poor son is gone .

Tommy was haunted by his exile.

Phil laid his head against the mattress, a hand still holding on to Techno's. He was going to keep his family safe. He'd let them heal here… in their cabin. Phil wasn't going to let them break. Never again. He was here, and he'll die before anyone dared try to hurt them.

He stayed and fell asleep by Techno's side, his hand's hold never wavering even as he woke the next day. As he glanced up, a pair of warm, blood red eyes greeted him. A smile found its way to Phil's lips.

"Good morning, Techno."

"Good morning, dad."

Chapter Text

"You really need to chart a map, son. You can't keep losing an entire country." Eret ran a hand through their disheveled hair, nearly knocking the flower crown off of their head as they peered around at the forest they had gotten lost in. Fundy scouted ahead, sunlight casting his ginger hair with an angelic glow. "We've been walking for miles, Fundy. I'm quite sure this isn't the way to Drywaters."

Fundy casted a look over his shoulder, traces of exhaustion clear on his face as he finally leaned against a tree. Eret slowly walked up to him, dark shades glancing down at the fox hybrid as they took a momentary break. Fundy's gold-flecked brown eyes traced the area they were in, coming to the horrible conclusion that yes, he had gotten them lost again. "Sorry, ren. I'm not the best when it comes to direction."

"It's alright, Fundy. You're just tired is all." Eret placed a hand on Fundy's head, caressing his hair before settling next to him. They weren't in a hurry, it would do both of them some good to rest. "Tell me when you're ready."

"I should've made a map, ren. Now, we're lost."

"We'll find our way to Drywaters. Think of this as an adventure. We never know what secrets lurk within the wilderness." Eret surveyed the thick foliage of the forest, not a single sign of civilization for miles. They only hoped a mob wouldn't appear out of nowhere. As they looked around, they noticed a thin line of smoke emerging from the treetops a distance away. It was a small wisp of smoke, barely visible in the brightness of day that colored the forest with its golden hue. Eret wondered who could possibly be living in the middle of nowhere, slightly worry that a familiar pinkette would appear to threaten them for being on his territory. Eret shook their head, knowing that Techno wouldn't do anything to harm them if Eret just explained that they were lost. Techno wasn't cruel enough to simply strike them for existing… unless they were orphans. "Fundy, I see smoke over there. We should try to move towards it, if we're lucky we might find the ever elusive Dream's house."

"I have a slight suspicion that that man doesn't even sleep." Fundy rolled his eyes, pushing off the tree as they both slowly made their way towards the smoke. Fundy chewed on the inside of his cheek, picking at the sleeve of his shirt as they drew closer towards what he could only hope was not a death trap. There weren't many of them who wandered this far into the desert, fearful of what horrifying monsters lurked in places where no man dared travel. Fundy knew firsthand how terrible the outside world could be outside the confines of SMP safety zones. His father was a man who travelled the world, and Fundy had had the same urge for adventure… until he had wandered into a dark forest filled with beasts that should never see the light of day. He shook his head, tearing the memories from his mind as he followed after Eret. As they neared, he took notice of the trees, slight indentations of axe markings digging into their barks. Some marks looked fresh and horribly made, as if whoever left them was too weak to hold the axe properly. Someone was here. Eret paused too, their gaze meeting Fundy's. "Uhm… You know we could always turn around—"

"I'm sure we'll be fine, Fundy."

They both stumbled into a clearing, a beachfront that overlooked a never-ending ocean. Eret took notice of the shabby white tents that had been set up, the shelters covered in grime and dirt. Nature was a cruel mistress. A small path led up towards a poorly made cabin, if one could it a cabin that is. The wood was splintering at the sides, threatening to collapse on whoever dared tried to stay in it. It was a pitiful sight, clearly made without the intent of ever finishing the structure… or with no desire to actually finish its construction.

"There's a nether portal over there, we could probably use it to head back home." Fundy walked into the clearing, seeing the familiar hue of purple against the color of dark green grass and soft yellow sand. He slowly made his way over to it, his eyes shifting towards the destroyed nether portal just below the one he was currently standing next to. Maybe he should take the obsidian… "Ren, I'm going to mine the obsidian for a sec, okay?"

Eret didn't get the chance to respond before Fundy began to mine the second nether portal. They shook their head, a strange urge to look around compelling them to head further into the clearing. "I'll be right back, Fundy!"

"Don't die! Or else I'm stealing your stuff!"

"Don't burn the forest while I'm not looking!" Eret heard the indignant scoff, saw the glint of mischief in the fox hybrid's face before they finally headed closer towards the shack. As they walked through the dirt pathway, they looked at the tiki torches that they supposed lit up the path during the nighttime. In the distance, they saw what a Christmas Tree decorated with colored broken glass and pieces of dyed wool. It looked like a mess.

They stopped at the shack's small entrance, barely big enough for anyone to truly fit through. Eret glanced inside, seeing rows of chests within the small cabin. They turned away, heading over towards one of the tents.

Eret paused midway.

There was a pit in the ground, scorch marks tainting the sides as though had set a fire in the middle of the hole. Eret peered down, seeing small chunks of metal sticking out from the burnt earth. They crouched beside it, fingers touching the sides. The ground still felt warm, a residue of gunpowder in the air as Eret slowly backed away from what they now saw as a crater. What had happened here? They couldn't see blood anywhere, but someone has just recently been here. Yet why would anyone throw explosives down a hole in the ground. Something felt wrong here.

"Boo!" Eret nearly fell in as Fundy suddenly appeared behind them, cackling as Eret tried to keep their balance. They gave Fundy a look, one that just made the fox hybrid grin as he finally took a glance at what Eret was inspecting. Fundy tilted his head, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. "I know I burn forests down when I get upset, but this is a bit excessive… is that… are those armor pieces?"

"It seems so. Though why anyone would waste such precious resources out here in the wilderness is quite confusing." Eret looked over at the tent nearby, wondering if this area's tenant was inside. Fundy looked over, a questioning look in his eyes as though he were thinking the same thing. It wouldn't hurt to check. After all, the person living there might be injured from the explosion. They needed to check. "I'll go ahead. Stay behind me, Fundy."

"Thanks for volunteering for death first." Fundy mumbed beneath his breath, following after Eret as they slowly edged their way towards the tent. He held out his hand, his trusty axe materialising in his hold. "Be careful, ren."

"When have I never been careful?"

They reached the entrance to the tent, stopping as they heard shuffling from within. Eret heard labored breathing from inside, a stuttering inhale of breath as whoever it was began to move away from them and into the back of the tent. Eret pursed their lips together, slightly worried that the stranger might run off into the woods. They wouldn't want to chase some poor soul out into the wilderness to be at the mercy of the mobs. Eret tried to peek through the small slit in the middle of the tent, seeing nothing but a moving shadow. They could see the faint outline of blonde hair at the corner, though that didn't give Eret enough information. "Hello? Is anyone here? Are you alright, we saw the crater and wanted to see if anyone was injured."

"Eret?" They froze, a familiar voice reaching their eyes. Neither they nor Fundy hesitated before quickly entering the small tent. Fundy bit back a gasp as dull blue eyes stared at them from the corner, disbelief dancing in Tommy's gaze as he glanced at the two of them. Tears sprung from the boy's eyes as his breath stuttered into gasping sobs. Eret stood still, surprise still filtering through their veins. Tommy was here, and he looked like a mess. Even with only a sliver of light, Eret could see the tattered clothes that Tommy wore, his hair disheveled and long from what must've been months of isolation. He looked thin… too thin. Eret felt a pang in their heart. How could they have left Tommy like this? "No. No. No. Please. Why can't the visions just go away. Just go away. This isn't true. This isn't true."

"Tommy… it's us, man. Eret and Fundy!" Fundy took the first step, his boot crunching against the grass which caused Tommy to curl deeper into himself. Fundy paused before slowly crouching down until he was at the same height as Tommy. Fundy's hand hovered a bit closer as he bit the inside of his cheek, he didn't want Tommy to go into a panic the moment he tried to touch him. "Tommy, it's us! Look, I'm going to tap you on the arm, okay?"

Eret watched as Fundy moved a bit closer, tapping Tommy with one finger. Tommy stilled, confusion flitting through those his dead blue eyes as realization finally dawned upon him. "You're real… you're… you're actually here."

"We're here, Tommy. It's okay. You're safe."

Tommy's gaze suddenly turned to Eret, and for once Eret didn't see a single trace of malice in them. Tommy had never quite forgiven them for what they had done during the first war, regarding as a traitor for the rest of Eret's days. It had stung, but Eret knew that they deserved it. Guilt gnawed at their chest as they wondered if it was their fault that Tommy was in such a state. If it was their fault that it had come to this. Tommy would be happy in L'Manburg if Eret hadn't given in to the temptation of power. Tommy would be okay, Wilbur would be alive, Tubbo wouldn't have been forced into the presidency… Fundy… Fundy wouldn't have been an orphan. So many things gone wrong, and all with the press of a button. Fundy caught their eyes, a warning in them as though Fundy could hear the despicable thoughts that races through Eret's head. A weak voice brought them back to the present, "Eret… I—"

Fundy quickly caught Tommy before he could drop to the ground, the teen collapsing in utter exhaustion. He glanced at over Eret who had raced to Tommy's side, looking over for any injury that could have caused the sudden faint. Fundy sighed as Eret moved away, slight relief on their faces. Tommy must have collapsed from exhaustion. That was probably it. Fundy held onto his uncle's unconscious form, frightened by how he could feel the bones beneath his hands as he tried to hold Tommy in a comfortable position. What had Dream done to him? Fundy felt a searing anger bubble in his veins, but he didn't know who was to blame. Was it Dream for lying to them about Tommy's condition? Or was it Fundy for not stepping in to stop his uncle's exile?

"It wasn't your fault either, Fundy. We made our mistakes but we are not to blame for Tommy's condition." Eret spoke before Fundy's thoughts could go deeper. Fundy bit his bottom lip, but didn't argue, knowing that Eret could tell when he was upset. Fundy shifted his hold, one arm supporting Tommy's back and another supporting the back of his knees. Tommy's head rested against his shoulder, and Fundy wished Dream was nearby so he could take one of the man's lives, for even in sleep Tommy looked absolutely miserable. It wasn't fair. Tommy shouldn't have been left alone like this. Dream shouldn't have dared to do this. Fundy had no doubt that the crater outside was Dream's doing… Tommy wouldn't do such a thing, destroy armor for the sake of it. Fundy let out a growl, ears pressed against the top of his head as he slowly stood up. Eret followed after him, their mouth set into a thin line as they both left the tent. "We can't leave Tommy here. I don't… we shouldn't leave him here. We need to go before Dream decides to come back."

"We could take Tommy to Drywaters, I never told Dream about it. He shouldn't be able to find us there." At least, that's what Fundy hoped. He never saw the purpose of telling his ex-fiance where he planned to live. Why should he? He didn't want Dream knocking at his door one day to apologize for a relationship he probably was never invested in. Tommy would be safe at Drywaters. He and Eret could help Tommy recover there and once things have settled down, they could tell Tubbo and Phil about Tommy's whereabouts. Fundy looked over at Eret who nodded, a smile forming on their face as they began to head towards the nether portal. They could only hope they didn't bump into a familiar masked man during their trek through the nether. Fundy shivered as he realized they'd have to cross New L'Manburg to get to Drywaters. If anyone caught them… well, they were completely and utterly fucked . It was time to be sneaky. He slowed down, trying to match Eret's pace as he realized he has accidentally been walking too fast. "Do you think… Do you think Dream would try to look for Tommy?"

"Dream has a goal in mind. I have a suspicion that he needs Tommy under his complete command for it. That man is a bastard , one could never tell what his true motivations are." Eret shook their head, remembering those piercing green eyes that glared at them when they had tried to protest. "We can only hope he doesn't find us."

"If he does… I'll fucking kill him." Fundy held Tommy closer, still sick at the thought of Tommy being left alone with no one but that tyrant's company. They both finally reach the portal, the harsh sounds of the nether reaching their ears as they both take one final look at Tommy's base. Tommy lived here… for months. Poor kid, not a soul to speak to other than that despicable Dream. "I'm not letting him near, Tommy. Over my dead fucking body."

"No. It'll be over mine." Fundy tossed Eret a look, raising a brow at Eret's statement. It held truth, an undeniable one. Eret didn't know much about Dream, but a part of them knew the man had attachments. They'd seen the way Dream would pause at an empty castle hallway when he thought no one was looking. How he'd bring out a diamond ring from the inside of his sweater pocket, pressing a soft kiss on it before quickly placing it back into the safety of clothes. Eret didn't quite know what had caused the sudden break-up a few days before the scheduled wedding, but they knew Dream cared. If Dream were to ever find them, Eret would be the only to lose a life. It was alright. They had two lives to spare, and they'd gladly toss them all away -even their final life - if it meant giving Fundy and Tommy a chance to escape. Fundy could protect Tommy from then on after, but as long as Eret breathed, they wouldn't let Dream near their son and Tommy. Eret wrapped an arm around Fundy, holding him closer as they brought a sword. "No. If Dream comes for us, I want you to run. Don't look back. You have to promise me you won't look back. Tommy needs one of us to stay alive for him, and I am not letting Dream kill you. Now, do you promise to run if he comes to attack us?"

"I'm not promising that, ren. I'm not leaving you with Dream of all people. I'm staying by your side. I'm not losing another parent figure." Fundy rolled his eyes, inhaling as he tried to shake away the tears. He knew Tommy needed them both, needed someone who could actually serve as a parent instead of a confused nephew who didn't know what to do. Tommy needed Eret. "I can't lose you, ren. And Tommy can't lose you too. We both need you."

"I know, son, but Dream is a stubborn man." Eret gripped Fundy a bit closer, wishing that Fundy would just promise them that. Fundy held his ground, a smug grin on his face. "Can you please just promise me that—"

"No. Insert heart here."

Eret laughed at Fundy's antics. Fine. If Fundy wouldn't promise them that then Eret would just have to fight hard enough to keep them all alive. Dream wouldn't know what hit him. Still, it was a long trek home and the nether is not a place one wishes to be trapped in while being a hunted. Before they could get home, they needed to survive the nether first… and perhaps even Dream.

"Are you ready?"

"Let's go home."

They stepped into the portal, leaving behind the traces of bad memories and misery. Goodbye Logstedshire, you won't be missed.

Chapter Text

Fundy curled closer into himself, pulling his knees closer to his chest as a bout of nausea tore through his senses. His throat ached with each small sound he made in an effort to alert anyone of his debilitated state. The air felt hot around him, nearly suffocating as he clawed at his shirt collar, begging for fresh air to fill his lungs. The window had been closed for the night, trapping him in his own bedroom to choke and die. Well, he wasn't really dying, but it sure felt like he was. His vision was blurry, spots of black weaving in and out of existence as he tried to focus on the lamp desk in front of him. He was in his room, but he couldn't say for sure. Fundy let out a whimper, shivering despite the heat that ravaged his body. He must've caught something yesterday, or maybe a while ago when he had so carelessly jumped into the river after a long hot day of training. Fundy buried his head into the rough pillow, begging the abyss of sleep to take him into its kind embrace. He wasn't sure how long he could keep his eyes open, if he'd even wake once he does fall into slumber.

The day had started quite terribly, with his father practically yanking him out of bed in the godforsaken hours of dawn where even the sun still refused to rise in the east. There had been a chill and harsh wind outside, one that left Fundy shivering in his poorly-made crayon suit as they all began their daily training. Fundy could barely breathe by the time they finished, the sun high in the sky that it's warmth was more a curse than a blessing.

With their training done, Fundy got the "bright" idea to sneak out and jump into the river nearby. The water was cold against his skin, dripping down his hair as he made his way home, hoping that he wouldn't run into Wilbur.

Jumping into the river was a mistake… gods…

He heard the faint creak of wood stuttering open, a muted gasp as hurried footsteps echoed throughout the small room. Fundy groaned, closing his eyes as the sudden loud noise began to make his head ache anew. A warm hand was rubbing gentle circles on his back, another petting his hair before lowering to rest at his forehead. He heard a small tsk from above, hushed whispers asking indecipherable words into his ear as a face came into view. Fundy blinked, his vision a mess of color. He didn't know who was in the room with him, couldn't possibly distinguish the face that peered down at him. He edged a bit closer to the stranger, wishing to feel some semblance of comfort in the haze that enveloped his mind. The stranger moved closer, the mattress dipping as they sat a bit closer to him. Fundy reached out a hand, clutching at what felt like the end of a coat. A blue coat as far as he could tell. That meant one thing… "D-dad?"

"Y-yeah, kiddo… Are you alright, Fundy?"

He felt arms wrap around his form, pulling him closer until his head was resting on his dad's lap. He felt his dad fuss over him, poking his cheek every now and then as if to see if he was still conscious.

"Jumped into the river… sorry…" Fundy sniffed, eyes nearly fluttering shut as he hugged his knees closer to his chest. He expected a lecture, a tangent of words he'd probably wouldn't be able to understand as his dad went on a tirade of how foolish he had been and how dangerous it would've been if anyone had caught him outside L'Manburg. Wilbur had built the walls for him, so Fundy would never have to leave. Fundy hated them.

"It's alright, buddy. I know training was brutal today. It's not your fault." Fingers grazed his cheek. Fundy leaned into the touch, his tail wagging weakly against the bed. "You poor thing… you'll be alright, Fundy. I promise."

The arms around him slowly disentangled.

"You have a fever… Hold on a second, Fundy. I'll be right back, alright?" Fundy whined as his dad moved away, feeling the loneliness of his situation even as he heard the scuff of boots against the wooden floor of his bedroom. A cool breeze fluttered into the room, as pale moonlight graced the room with its ethereal glow. Fundy blinked, turning on his side to avoid the light. "I'll be right back, Fundy. Just try and close your eyes for now."

"B-but…" His dad's footsteps turned muffled, his door creaking as his dad disappeared into the hall. Fundy whimpered, shutting his eyes tight as he could, worried that his dad wouldn't come back. "Dad…"

Silence greeted him. He wanted to cry.

It wouldn't be the first time Wilbur had promised him something and didn't truly mean it. Fundy missed when Wilbur acted like his dad instead of his general. L'Manburg had been nothing but a cabin, the home of a hermit and his small fox hybrid son. There was no war, no drugs, no Tommy nor Tubbo, but them. Perhaps it was selfish to long for the past, but Fundy would have given everything to have his dad back. He hated the general, but missed the musician.

General Wilbur Soot was a cold man, a soldier who loved his country more than he could ever love his own family. Wilbur Soot the Travelling Musician was a loving and doting father, a man who simply wanted to give his son the world.

He's still so young… yet he's lost himself and his father to war. War has no mercy to spare, not to a father and certainly not to a child.

"Dad… please don't leave me here… Dad..."

He felt hot tears sting the corner of his eyes, wet trails slowly cascading down his cheeks as he let out a mournful sob. His dad had left him again. His hands reached out towards his hair, pulling at the tips as he tried to console himself to sleep. He was alone. His dad didn't care. His head began to pound, an ache settling over his entire body as sorrow wracked through his form. The house was eerily silent, as if his dad had truly left him alone to fend for himself against a fever. Still, Fundy held on to the small hope that his dad would come back, that he couldn't hear movement due to the ringing in his ears. He wished his dad wasn't so busy… too busy to even stay— His ears twitched, the slight groan of wood breaking through the silence as someone rushed back into the room. He let out a small noise of joy, sounding more like he was choking as a hand tried to soothe him into comfort. He felt something cold and wet pressed against his forehead.

"We need to go on a supply run soon." Fundy heard his dad mutter under his breath, the drenched piece of cloth left against his forehead as a pair of arms moved him to the center of the bed. Fundy let out a pained gasp, his vision blurring as he was slightly jostled. "Sorry, Fundy. I know it hurts, buddy."

Fundy heard the rustle of bedsheets, the sudden shift on the mattress as his dad turned to leave again. With his remaining strength, Fundy reached out, grasping his dad's wrist though knowing his dad could easily break out of his weak hold. He felt his dad's pulse quicken, the figure shifting until he was gazing into his dad's blurry face. Fundy couldn't really see his eyes, a dark shadow covering the top of his dad's face.

"Stay." His voice was hoarse, a low whisper that Fundy feared wouldn't reach his dad's ears. His dad moved closer, lying down beside him as he placed a hand on the back of Fundy's head. Fundy pressed closer, nuzzling his head against his dad's neck as a small tune tried to pull him to sleep. He'd never heard his dad sing this particular song, it reminded Fundy of the time he and Eret had started to sing while they placed down the foundations of what was to be L'Manburg. Fundy sniffled, remembering the days where his dad trusted him enough to be in charge of the houses… yet that responsibility fell upon Tubbo as his dad was too worried about Fundy leaving the walls to gather the materials they needed for construction. Eret had casted him a look, a worried glance before humming underneath his breath. It had devolved into a round of singing which lasted the entire night. He felt a chin press against the top of his head, and for a moment, Fundy remembered how good of a dad Wilbur was when he wasn't riddled with paranoia and stress. "Mmm… love you…"

His dad froze up and Fundy worried that he had said the wrong thing. He couldn't exactly remember the last time he'd told his dad that… couldn't remember the last time his dad said those words to him either. Fundy tried to pull away but an arm wrapped around his shoulder, shushing him as his dad held him closer. Fundy let out a small yip, too delirious to even be embarrassed about how childish it sounded. "I-I love you too, bud. I love you too."

His eyes fluttered close, exhaustion seeping into his veins as the fever began to pull him into sleep. Fundy clung to his dad's soft singing, wondering why his dad sounded a bit different than he usually did. Wilbur didn't sing as much, preferring to hum a low whisper that Fundy could barely hear at times. He couldn't remember the last time his father had sung him to sleep. The last his dad had been there for him when sickness placed a mist over his mind that Fundy could barely distinguish friend from foe. Still… he knew he was safe in his dad's arms right then and there. No one else in L'Manburg cared for him, it couldn't be anyone else. A smile found its way to his lips. He wished his dad hugged him more often. "Will… you be here in the morning…?"

"I will, Fundy. I'll stay with you for the night if you want me too. You don't have to worry about early morning training, at this rate you might have to stay in bed for a week… god…" A loud hiss followed soon after, his dad's hand trembling against the back of his head as a drop of water landed on his cheek. He heard a  sniffle, the hand disappearing for a moment before settling on his cheek. A thumb wiped away the bead of water, "I'm sorry, Fundy. Don't worry about your old man, alright?"

"... Goodnight, Dad… promise you'll be here tomorrow? Please..."

"... Sleep well, Fundy, and yes I'll be here. I promise. I promise."

"...love you…"

"Hm… I know, son. I know."

~~~

Eret waited until Fundy's breath slowly stuttered to a peaceful lull, his forehead still creased as though even sleep there was no reprieve from the stress the poor fox hybrid suffered in his waking life. Eret rubbed soothing circles on his back, guilt gnawing and clawing at their chest as their tongue tasted the sickly sweet lie that they had told the poor child. They knew they should have corrected Fundy, should've told him that they weren't Wilbur.

But how could they tell the truth? Fundy looked utterly miserable and Eret's heart couldn't bear the devastated disappointment that would cross Fundy's face, quickly disappearing into indifference as if to show he didn't really care.

Fundy wasn't that good at hiding his emotions.

They pressed a soft pat against the fox hybrid's head before slowly moving away. Fundy stirred in his sleep but didn't try to reach out for them. Eret made their way towards the hall, leaving the door open for when Wilbur came into the house. They paused, leaning against the wall as a sharp pain of despair gripped their chest. 

Dream's proposal hung over their head.

L'Manburg's army consisted of children, Eret didn't know what to do. It was a good offer, one not many could refuse… but to take a child's life much less three for the sake of a crown is nothing short but evil. Eret placed ran a hand through their face, the choice weighing heavily in his soul. They'd said yes, like the coward they were. With one simple word, Eret condemned them all to death. Fundy, Tubbo, and Tommy shouldn't have to go through such a betrayal, but there's nothing Eret could do. The deal was signed, and only the gods knew who cruel Dream could be if crossed. They had to go through with it… even if it meant seeing hate in Fundy's eyes. L'Manburg would be a nation built upon the blood and tears of children lost to war. In the end, it was never meant to be.

They heard the crinkle of bedsheets. They looked over, relieved to find that Fundy had simply turned in his sleep. Eret sighed before walking down the stairs, careful not to step on a creaky floorboard. Eret couldn't stay, it wasn't their place and Fundy didn't need them. Fundy needed his dad, and Eret would drag Wilbur home by the neck if it meant Fundy could have one moment of happiness. Wilbur needed to be there for his son. For once, damn it.

Eret breathed in the night air, the wind whipping against the end of their coat as they gazed up into the starless sky. They took a final look behind their shoulder, praying to any god that Fundy wouldn't wake to an empty room.

Eret left. They needed to find Wilbur.

Chapter Text

Life isn't quite what I thought I'd be

When I was a kid on DSMP

I thought when I get older

I'd be like dad, but better

Now I'm 21, and I work as a foreman

This job is not the best, I'll be honest

If I could change a single thing

I'd make it me and not him

He's in your bed, I'm in your DMs

I'm the starlights and he's just the dull gems

And even though he's got the gold crown

That doesn't mean I am just the clown

Anyway, make the most of him

'Cause he moves on pretty bloody quick, oh-oh

Your new boyfriend's an arsehole (woo!)

Yeah, I've met your George (of course, I've met your George)

The one who took you away from me

You hit it off instantly

I know, 'cause you won't stop telling me

I've seen his jawline, shoulders, and goggles

Push against his fashion sense

I've thought about what he looks like nude

I like you, though

'Cause he's living the dream (living the dream, living the dream)

Oh, he's living the dream

From back when we were 17

He's living the dream (living the dream, living the dream)

Oh, he's living the dream

From back when we were 17

How on earth could I be saved?

When I'm one boom away from insane

I just think that I deserve

A little bit of what I earned

I'm not gonna make another scene

The one I made when I was like, eighteen

Means I'm not allowed in the Badlands

But he's in your bed, and I'm in your DMs

I'm the starlights and he's just the dull gems

'Cause even though he's got the gold crown

That doesn't mean I am just the clown

Anyway, make the most of him

'Cause he moves on pretty bloody quick, oh-oh

Your new boyfriend's an arsehole

I think about you every day (every day)

So how on earth can I be saved? (Can I be saved?)

I think about him a lot as well (I think about him)

Maybe if he wasn't fine as hell (he's really fine as hell)

'Cause you're beauty

And you're grace (and you're grace)

Your fictional house is my favourite place

And I want you to notice me

With no hanging threat of death, please (Jason Derulo)

I want you to care

I want to smell your hair

Chapter Text

Wilbur dipped the washcloth into the river, humming underneath his breath as a school of salmon swam away from his hands. There was a warm summer breeze in the air, sunrays splashing the jetting silver river with streaks of gold. With water dripping past his fingertips, he ran a hand through his hair, beads of sweat on his forehead as he glanced at the treeline that bordered their little cabin. Technoblade had left with Tommy and Tubbo to run an errand. He could only hope they stayed safe and out of Quackity’s grasp. Wilbur quickly stood up, wet clumps of dirt clinging to the bottom of his pants as he walked back to the house. The river water might give Fundy some semblance of comfort, might remind him of simpler times when he was but a child.

He entered the quaint cottage, the door creaking open as he made sure not to track mud onto the polished wood floor. There was the distinct sound of clanging cutlery in the kitchen, the soft rustle of feathers moving about as his dad prepared for supper. Wilbur wished he could stop by the kitchen, give Phil a small greeting and perhaps even chat for a while, but Fundy needed him. What kind of dad would he be if he left his poor son to battle a fever alone? He closed the door behind him, cursing as blades of grass blew into the house. Ah, well, he could clean that up later. He turned towards the stairs, his footsteps muffled by the thick red carpet that Wilbur himself insisted be placed in the case his precious son accidentally fell down the stairs (not that Wilbur would let that happen). He made his way to the end of the hallway, peeking into his son’s room with a smile on his face. He would knock... but the doorway only had a thick curtain as its door.

“Fundy?” Wilbur entered the dimly lit room, the windows shuttered close with no chance of sunlight intruding as his son had complained about the light. “I’m back… are you alright?”

There was a slight movement on the bed, a pained groan plucking at Wilbur’s heartstrings as fever-hazed, gold-flecked brown eyes stared at him from the gloom. He rushed to his son’s side, pressing the damp and cold washcloth to Fundy’s too hot forehead. Fundy weakly held onto his wrist, keeping his hand in place as Wilbur used his free hand to trace comforting circles on the fox hybrid’s back. Much to Wilbur’s joy, Fundy leaned into the touch, too delirious to pull away.

“It’s alright, Fundy. Dad’s here now. I won’t be leaving again, alright?” Wilbur didn’t expect a response, not when Fundy was out of his mind. His poor son had always been too susceptible to sickness, a problem as his little champion was quite the adventurer too. “Just try and sleep, hm?”

He nearly chuckled as Fundy finally let go of his wrist, only to grasp his shoulders as if begging for a hug. Wilbur didn’t like it when his son was sick - no respectable parent would enjoy their own child’s suffering - but he can’t say he didn’t find it sweet how Fundy would be reduced to a clingy mess. At times where Fundy could bring himself to speak, he’d always cry out for Wilbur, wanting his dad not to leave him again. Wilbur blinked, a trail of tears cascading past his cheeks. He didn’t realize he had been crying. It tore a hole in his soul, each time Fundy cried out for him. He’d left Fundy during the exile, left his son to toil and suffer under a tyrant’s rule for two years.

Wilbur sat at the edge of the bed, pulling Fundy into his hold as he ran a hand through his son’s disheveled hair. Fundy clung to the back of his shirt, burrowing his face into the crook of Wilbur’s neck. His son was silent today, certainly an improvement from yesterday’s broken window incident. Fundy was his little champion and as much as Wilbur knew his son would easily bounce back from an illness, he shouldn’t have forced himself to throw a chair through the glass (another reason why the window was shuttered close). Wilbur pulled Fundy closer.

‘Everyone had been frightened, the crash of breaking glass echoing through the cabin. Wilbur had moved before anyone else could, rushing up the steps and into his son’s room just in time to see Fundy trying to squeeze through the window. Beads of blood caked his son’s fingers as he had cut himself trying to hold onto the window’s edge where small shards of glass still jutted out. His son had casted him a look, one so anguished and hate-filled that Wilbur just knew his son was not really seeing him (Cause Fundy didn’t hate him, his own dad, right?). He’d nearly died when Fundy let go of the edge, falling out of view and onto the ground below. Wilbur had turned to leave the room, racing down the stairs in chase of his clearly ailing and hysterical son.’

“You gave me quite the scare, champ.” Wilbur stopped petting his son’s hair, burying his face in Fundy’s ginger curls as if to quell his erratically beating heart. Fundy yawned, not understanding a single word that Wilbur was talking about. “When I saw the blood, saw you let go , I was worried you’d injure yourself even more. I understand why… you were frightened and sick .”

‘Techno had followed after him, seeing the worry (and perhaps even the manic gleam) in his eyes as he nearly tore the door of its hinges. Fundy was darting towards the treeline by the time they reached the back of the cabin. Wilbur let the adrenaline rush through his veins, an unhinged energy he thought he’d long since exhausted pushing him towards his runaway son. Techno had been surprised, caught off-guard by Wilbur’s sudden burst of speed. It had been easy to reach his son, the poor dear still exhausted and weak from the bout of fever he had been suffering from all week. Fundy had screamed, loud and full of unnecessary agony as Wilbur wrapped his arms around him, forcefully dragging him away from the far-reaching and dangerous forest.’

“Did you confuse me for someone else? My poor baby…” Wilbur caressed his son’s cheek, a soft smile appearing on Fundy’s face at the attention. Fundy’s tail wagged a bit as his ears pressed against the top of his head. Wilbur melted at the sight. He’d miss his son, missed being able to hold him without the threat of Fundy biting him or flinching. “You shouldn’t worry. Dad’s here and that bastard’s blown to shreds. He can’t hurt you anymore.. I made sure of it.”

‘Wilbur had thought the fever had gone away, that Fundy was simply recovering after enduring a week of sickness, but he was wrong. He had carried his son all the way back to his room, the fox hybrid cursing and thrashing in his grasp until Wilbur had finally placed him on the bed. The hate in his son’s eyes couldn’t have been for him. Of course it wouldn’t be for him. His son was seeing someone else, he didn’t know he was safe and with his dad. Wilbur knew it would be risky - knew it could cause complications if he tried - but he had to do something about it. He’d left the room (making sure Fundy couldn’t leave the bed) and went to search for his old brewing equipment. His son needed a bit of help. A potion of weakness and health would do the trick.’

His little champion didn’t heal properly the first time, Wilbur would make sure he did on the second try. It pained him to reduce his own son to his current sickly state, but how else was his son going to realize that he was safe and not in harm’s way? Wilbur had brought the fever back. His poor son didn’t understand, had screamed and clawed as Wilbur coaxed him to drink the potion. Fundy had quieted down after a while, lapsing into a blank-eyed silence as Wilbur cooed at him and urged him to take a nap. Wilbur shook his head, a smile on his face at the memory. Fundy would understand. He might even be a bit better behaved after this. Wilbur nuzzled the top of his son’s head, the fox hybrid faintly yipping as his son finally fell into a restful sleep. Wilbur giggled at that, it’s been a while since he’d heard Fundy so happy. This was good, doing this had been good if it meant Fundy could be happy. It meant Wilbur was being a good dad.

“Wil?” A knock against the doorway brought Wilbur out of his thoughts, he looked up at Phil’s blue eyes, a strained look in them as their gaze turned to Fundy (not that Wilbur saw it). Phil had a forced smile on his face, a flash of teeth that looked too fake to show actual care and happiness (not that Wilbur saw it.) Wilbur moved, Fundy still in his arms as he regarded Phil with curious eyes. Phil rarely entered Fundy’s room, saying something along the lines that Fundy might not like feathers strewn about on the floor. “Would you like to help me in the kitchen? I’m sure Fundy will be fine for a few hours, mate. Kid’s got it rough, let’s give him some space, yeah?”

“If you say so, Phil.” Wilbur pressed a soft kiss on Fundy’s cheek before gently placing him back on the bed. He only hoped that Fundy wouldn’t wake up when Wilbur wasn’t in the room. He turned to leave, pausing as he realized a small stream of tears on his son’s cheeks. Wilbur smiled, wiping those crocodile tears away with his thumb. “Oh, Fundy. There’s no need to cry. You’re safe… You’re home and I’m always going to be here for you. Sleep well, my little champion.”

Wilbur stood up, leaving Fundy to rest as he headed out of the room and into the hall where Phil stood. There was a question in his dad’s eyes, one that Wilbur couldn’t care much for. He waited for the pin to drop, waited for the baseless accusation that Wilbur had long expected to come.

“Are you happy, Wil?” He froze. It wasn’t what he expected. Phil looked at him, eyes narrowed as if he didn’t trust Wilbur to speak the truth. Unfair. Wilbur was not a liar. He never lied.

“Yes.” Wilbur smiled contentedly, “This is for my son’s own good” 

‘This is Fundy’s own fault’ was left to linger in the air.

Chapter Text

Tommy:
What do you do when the war has ended?
What do you do when the battle's won?
So many questions left unanswered
So many things still left undone

What do you do
When it's up to you to choose:
Has something ended or begun?
Fix or leave? Pick one

Do I fix our old L'Manburg?
That place where I was exiled from?
I could leave and build a new nation somewhere else
But what about peace instead?

Ugh! What's my deal?
Why do I feel
There's something left I still
Need to do?

Where do you go when it's over?

What do you do when you've come to
The last day of winter?

Sapnap (idk why XD):
Attention, everyone. The war is officially over.
If you still intend to make things miserable in the next few days, please inform us by sundown.
Otherwise, I will burn anyone who causes another war!
Annoying small child, this means you.

Tommy:
It's Tommyinnit, bitch.

Sapnap:
Pssh, whatever.

Tommy:
How come you made up... Snowchester? You could move in with me, you know

Tubbo:
I wanted to, you know. I just wanted to move on, forget the past and L'Manburg
Besides, me moving in with you? It's just asking for trouble.

Tommy:
Sometimes our friendship is worth the trouble. Believe me.

Tubbo:
I guess we both have a choice to make, Mr. Theseus (idk man XD)

This is an ensemble part:
Where do you go when it's over?
What do you when you've come to
The last day of winter?

Tommy:
Furry! (Pls don't murder me for the joke ;-;)

Fundy:
If it isn't the big hero.

Tommy:
I've barely seen you since I got back. You avoiding me?

Fundy:
Not at all. Tough last day?

Tommy:
I thought when we finished my war, everything would make sense.
But it doesn't. It's the last day of winter, but I don't feel like anything's over.

Fundy:
I get it. The second war was the biggest thing in my life.
I came back changed. And yet the rest of you felt like you stayed the same.

(sung)
Eret always says my father made home
As this safe magic space

(spoken)
The truth: it's so he could gain power

(sung)
He never even raised me right
It's time to make the world my own
Time someone put you in your place

(spoken)
All I ever wanted was to make everyone smile
If I can't do that then I'll make you all cry

Tommy:
Surely not?

Fundy:
I'm so tired, Tommy. I'm done with all of you.

Tommy:
Fundy you can't just change sides...
What the fuck is that red vine thing on your face?

Fundy:
It promised me the power to bring everyone together

Tommy:
Whatever that is, it's using you! You're not thinking straight!

Fundy:
Good!

(sung)
I've been here since I was a kid
I did everything they ever asked, yeah I did
And for what?

You know this world will never be mine
As long as you people rule over the stars

Ensemble part:
What do you do on the last day of winter?

Fundy:
So I'll do anything
I don't care if I hurt anyone
It doesn't pay to be a good kid,
A good kid, a good son

You guys were never on my side
So I think it's time I watched you fall
And soon you'll see what I did
Soon they'll be no wars at all!

Ensemble:
Winter, winter, winter, winter
Winter, winter, winter, winter

Chapter Text

“Did you believe I wouldn’t notice your absence?” Fundy froze, a silhouette appearing from behind the tree that stood beside the entrance to L’Manburg. “Fundy, what was my one rule?”

He gripped the bottom edge of his uniform shirt, bits of string hanging loosely from the cloth as he turned around to face Wilbur. The man looked utterly exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes as a cool breeze ruffled his uncombed, curly brown hair. Wilbur stood at attention, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword as Fundy felt his father grasp his arm. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to speak as Wilbur dragged him deeper into the confines of L’Manburg, soft chuckling from somewhere in the darkness (no doubt Tubbo and Tommy watching Fundy be dragged off into another lecture). Fundy bit the inside of his cheek, the hto dog van coming into view as Wilbur practically shoved him inside. Shadows clung to the furniture, the soft hiss of potions brewing the only source of noise within the small space that Fundy nearly wished that Wilbur would just leave him there to sulk for the night as his punishment. Luck was not on the fox hybrid’s side.

“Have you any idea how horrified I was to find out that you were missing? I was this close to sending out search parties, Fundy. I was this fucking close!” Fundy hung his head, his father’s yelling accompanied by the sickening slam of the door closing. He pressed his lips together as Wilbur grabbed him by the arms, his hold nearly bruising as Wilbur glared into his eyes. Fundy felt a trickle of fear, “I can’t have you doing this again. Do you know how reckless and stupid―”

“I just wanted to take a walk, dad…”

“A walk? A WALK?! What if you got caught? What if you ran into fucking Dream? Have you no self-preservation. FUCK!” Fundy flinched as Wilbur let go of him, only to slam his hands against the table. Wilbur was breathing hard, his chest heaving up and down as if he was calming himself down. “I can’t lose you, Fundy. Dream’s a tyrant, he would do anything to win this war.”

“Why? Are you scared they’re going to use me against you? They probably don’t even know I exist since I’m not even allowed to leave this place! How could they even know you have a son to use as blackmail when you don’t let me wander outside the walls?!” Fundy hadn’t meant to raise his voice, stuttering into a fearful pause as he realized the seeping anger in his tone. Wilbur glanced up at him, shock dancing in those dark brown eyes. Fundy leaned against the wall, the cool metal sending goosebumps down his skin… or perhaps that was the rising frustration. L’Manburg was Fundy’s entire world, he barely knew anything outside those depressingly large walls that seemed to reach up into the heavens above. Wilbur had made it clear to everyone that Fundy was to never leave. “Dad, I can’t live my whole life here. There’s a whole other world out there just waiting to be explored. I… I just wanted to see it. You can’t keep me inside forever.”

“It’s not forever, Fundy. It’s just until the war is over.” He felt a gentle hand caress his cheek. Fundy didn’t even realize that Wilbur had moved closer, “Then you’ll be free to… wander.”

Fundy chuckled at that. His dad was a terrible liar, he couldn’t even conceal the hesitation in his voice. Fundy focused his attention on his muddy boots instead, remembering how the wind felt against his hair as he raced through the forest, a skulk of foxes yipping after him as they skittered in and out view among the forest shrubbery. The silver rays of moonlight had been his only guide. Of course he did run into a few trees, even running into a strangely colored lime one that he swore made a peculiar sound when he bumped into it. He had eventually come to a stop by a clear lake at the center of an empty clearing, watching as the dark shadows zipped around the bottom of the water. Fundy had sat at the edge, water falling his fingertips as if they were blue laces of crystal. As he let himself catch his breath, it felt as if someone was watching from afar―

“Give it time. We’ll have our freedom and perhaps I’ll let you leave L’Manburg every now and then.” There was a hand on the top of his head, soothing his ears down as a smile formed on his dad’s face. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to return it. “I promise. Just stay inside for now, hm?”

“You promise?” He moved closer, clutching the front of his dad’s coat. Wilbur placed a hand at Fundy’s back, hesitant as if Wilbur wasn’t quite sure if Fundy was asking for a hug. Fundy gritted his teeth at the idea of even hugging Wilbur at such a time. He took a sigh, willing his voice not to shake or for tears to spring into his eyes as he glanced up to meet his father’s eyes. He hated how he barely reached his father’s chin despite being older than Tommy or Tubbo. “You talk of freedom and independence as if they were inevitable. Don’t you see how hopeless this is dad? You’re fighting a losing battle. You think you can beat a god? A fucking god? We’re all going to die. I-I’m going to die. I’m going to die without ever having lived, dad―”

The rest of his words were swallowed away as Wilbur pulled him into an embrace, a hand pressing his head against his dad’s chest. Fundy could almost hear the erratic beat of Wilbur’s heart, felt the way that his dad held him in as though his words had actually frightened Wilbur. Guilt trickled into his heart but Fundy tried not to hold onto it. “Don’t say that. You won’t… you can’t die. I’ll make sure of it. We’ll be fine, my son. You won’t die on the battlefield.”

“You can’t promise me that. You can’t promise me a chance against death.” Fundy wasn’t sure if Wilbur could hear him - not sure if Wilbur would dare to hear him - but he had to try. Wilbur began to hum, a discordant tune that sounded more like droning as if he was trying to block out Fundy’s voice. Fundy curled his hands into fists, nails digging into the skin of his palm. His dad was doing it again, ignoring the negative as if it didn’t exist. “Dad… you have to let me live a little. We don’t know how much time we have left before… Let me feel freedom for once.”

Silence ticked by as Wilbur moved away, a pained look in his eyes as he looked down at Fundy. There was the shimmer of tears but Wilbur didn’t cry. No. Never in front of Fundy. Wilbur wrapped his arms around himself and Fundy realized that Wilbur was reassuring himself more than he was protecting Fundy. This wasn’t about Fundy at all… this was about Wilbur’s fear.

“I love you very much, my little champion. I love you enough to say no to what you’re asking of me. I… I can’t have you running about in the forest at night doing gods know what. Not when Dream is out there… waiting.” Fundy rolled his eyes at that. For all this talk of Dream, he’s never even seen the illusive man at all. Fundy was beginning to think that Wilbur had made the man up, like did once when Fundy was a kid and Wilbur had jokingly said there was a monster underneath the bed. Wilbur regretted it as Fundy refused to be left alone for an entire month. “Do you know why I built those walls? The walls you are so adamant to hate? I built them for you. I built them to keep you safe, Fundy. I need to protect my sweet little son. Can’t you see that?”

“Can’t you see? I’m not that kid anymore. You need to stop seeing me as if I was still a helpless baby.” Fundy felt his last inkling of hope disappear. Wilbur would never understand, never will for as long as he thought the world would take his son away. Fundy turned to leave, ignoring his dad’s call for him to come back. He stood at the door, hand hovering above the handle.

“Fundy Soot, you get back here this instant. The conversation isn’t over.” He let out a low growl. It was over, Fundy was ending it. He pushed the door open, the cool, night wind blowing through his hair and into the cramped and heated van. “Don’t you growl at me, young man. FUNDY―”

He looked back, snarling loudly that Wilbur immediately backed off, a surprised look on his face. Good . Fundy didn’t want to stay there any longer. Fuck Wilbur and Fuck L’Manburg too.

“You know what, Wilbur? I never asked you to fucking protect me. You made that choice. Now I’m making mine.”

And with that, Fundy was gone.

Chapter Text

Dream gazed at the ruins of New L’Manburg, water trickling past the rocks and pebbles that decorated the crater of a nation that will never win. He could hear their screams in the distance, the fruitless arguments for a war that’s already won. Dream didn’t understand why they tried so hard to fight for nothing, really. With his mask concealing the smirk on his face, he skipped and danced through the remains, waving to the survivors that glared or screamed at him as if he were a demon borne from The Nether. He relished in that, soon they’d understand why he’d done this. For now, he had to play the role of the tyrannical god, the man who takes and takes until that’s left is the memory of broken dreams and discs. He came to a stop, perching on top of a rock that gave him a clear glimpse of the area. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel some semblance of giddiness, of amusement at the thought of everything they loved… gone. Just. Like. That.

He chuckled beneath his breath, turning to see a familiar yellow sweater amongst the grey and black of the rocks. Ghostbur. The most pitiful of them all, really. To be dead yet remain to suffer.

Dream slid down, pebbles skittering past his feet as he landed a few feet beside the ghost. Perhaps the landscape of destruction would bring the real Wilbur back, not this husk of sorrow.

The ghost flitted about, hand wringing in front of him as a trail of phantom blood poured from the fatal wound in his chest. His eyes were the size of pinpricks, his form flickering in and out of view as though he were returning to the afterlife and merely holding onto the physical realm. Dream watched it all with a morbid curiosity, a faint smile on his face as the ghost finally settled to a jarring stop, peering down at a crater in the ground. Dream glanced at the reddening sky, the sun disappearing in the distance as a hint of night began to take over. There was nothing left here. Not for him, and certainly not for the L’Manburgians. He shook his head, turning to leave.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the silence, too guttural to be human and too close to be anyone else but一 Dream turned on his heels, coming to a stop beside Ghostbur who had fallen into hysterics. Trails of blue seeped from the ghost’s fingertips, staining the bottom of the crater with their hue as Ghostbur tried to keep his fractured mind together. Dream would have laughed… if he hadn’t noticed the blood - actual blood puddling beneath a familiar body. He felt his heart stutter to a stop, the wind knocked from his lungs as the world turned to static. The shrieking fell away, everything fell away as Dream’s gaze turned to fix itself on dirt-stained ginger hair. His hands began to shake, his own horror rising in his throat as he jumped into the crater, begging the gods that he would be wrong in his assumption. There’s no way… There’s no fucking way. He felt sick, slipping against the freshly stained blood on the ground. Please, no一

Fundy’s skin was cold to the touch, his eyes staring forlornly into the sky… dead to the world. Wounds littered every part of him, one of his legs covered in bruises and disgustingly bent out of shape. His clothes were torn and singed, the hat he used to proudly wear gone as if he had lost it at some point . Dream held onto the fox hybrid’s shoulders, horrified by the soft and contented smile on his beloved’s face. It terrified him more than Fundy’s current state. He died… happy ?

“S-star?” He pressed a hand against that too still cheek, spots of dried tears still visible against Fundy’s deadly pale skin. Dream felt a shaky breath escape his throat, a choked sound as he scrambled to tear away his porcelain mask. He could faintly hear the soft crunch of footsteps from above, his cries harmonizing with the ongoing wail of a heartbroken father. “Fundy一 You can’t be… I’M RIGHT HERE! LOOK AT ME! YOU CAN’T DIE LIKE THIS! Fundy… star...”

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Fundy had two lives, where did he一 Dream gripped his husband’s (gods, did he have the right to call him that?) body closer, sobs wracking through him as rage filled his mind. Fundy had two lives. He did, Dream had checked everyday... except for these past few days where he had been occupied in preparing for New L’Manburg’s destruction.

Dream felt the chill of rain against his back, the falling of night basking the land in darkness. He could wait. For now, he grieves. Dream buried his face into Fundy’s chest, the heart he’d once so cared for dearly, silenced. Its melody never to play again. He hated that damned smile on his star’s face, that acceptance of death as if he didn’t care for those he’d leave behind. Dream pressed a kiss against the fox hybrid’s cold lips, what once was sweet now tasted of poison and regret. “Don’t leave me. I never even got to say goodbye. Never told you how much I loved一”

Their marriage had been strained, they both knew that ever since Dream had told the world that he cared for nothing but some child’s discs. Dream pressed a kiss against Fundy’s matted ginger curls, their shine gone as if Death chose to take everything that Dream adored. Their relationship wouldn’t die with Fundy, it died a long time ago when Dream chose power over love.

“I remember our wedding. You looked so lovely that I forgot my own wedding vows.” Dream stared into those dull gold-speckled brown eyes, “You were so nervous, twitchy and scared…”

Fundy had held his breath then when all Dream could muster was a short vow of his love, not knowing that Dream had lost himself in the memories they shared. It hadn’t been fair to cut it short, hadn’t been right to sound so hesitant when Dream had spent the previous night tossing and turning in anticipation of their marriage. “I should have told you how much I loved you.”

Dream wiped away the tears that dripped from his cheeks. What right did he have to mourn a man who’d long since despised him? “I should have loved you more than what I gave you.”

He clasped a hand over Fundy’s, a glimpse of yellow at the edge of his periphery as the wailing sobs of a ghost rang in his ear. “I spent hours on my vows, and I never got to tell them. It seems ironic to say now, but I owe it to you... Fundy, I thought I was incapable of a love so pure. I knew love, but not the one you gave to me oh so freely. You showed a heartless man how to love.”

He could eyes glaring at him from the darkness, their battered and exhausted audience no doubt ready to strike the moment he’d so much as move. Dream won’t let them stop him, it was not his final time to lose yet… not when a life he held dear has been lost. “I tried to dissuade you at the start, to turn you down before you’d realize just how unlovable I really was. You insisted with date after date, refusing to give up even after everything I did. At the previous war, the 16th war, I thought you’d finally leave. But you didn’t. If I were to be real, and I want to be real, I fell for you after the fifth date. No, I loved you before then. It scared me, everyday with you. Some days when we’d fall asleep in each others’ arms, I feared the day, feared you’d leave come morning.”

The sleepless nights where he’d lay awake in fear that Fundy would leave him alone and wanting in the morning… he never did. “You never left… You never would, and I’m sorry I can’t say the same. I worried a lot about you leaving me that I never thought that I’d be the one leaving you.”

Dream took a shaky breath, lifting Fundy’s hand to his lips, the wedding ring shining brightly against Fundy’s cold dead fingers. “For whatever it’s worth… I am honored to have met you. To have been loved by you.”

With his free hand, Dream slowly closed Fundy’s eyes. If he pretended, it almost felt as if Fundy was sleeping. Gods only knew how many hours Dream memorized his beloved’s sleeping face, and he knew it was never this peaceful. For only in death could Fundy ever really feel peace.

“I’m happy to be… to have been your husband, though I was never the greatest. If I could, I would do anything to wake up beside you again… for just one last morning.” He held back a choked sob, letting his tears fall for everyone to see. “I love you. I loved you so… but I guess…”

Dream smiled, broken and lost, “It was never meant to be.”

Chapter Text

Fundy fell into an exhausted heap near the edge of a silver-splashed lake, moonbeams illuminating the clearing with their luminescent light. He let his limp hand dangle over the lake, strips of cold water falling past his fingertips as he tried to quell the erratic beating of his heart.

He’d been too hasty, running off in the middle of an argument with his dad. He’d be lucky if he’d even be allowed in L’Manburg after their fight. Fundy bit the bottom of his lip. Would Wilbur disown him? He wouldn’t, right? But he’d been so harsh with his words and his dad sounded so upset. Fundy groaned, tugging at his ear as he thought it through. Would Wilbur chase after him? Did Fundy want Wilbur to chase after him? He let out a sigh, pressing his cheek against the damp ground as he watched shadows dart in and out of view within the lake. Fishes. He hoped.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, sighing as he looked up at the wisp of clouds moving across the sky. Fundy loved Wilbur, he really did, but the man was overbearing as he was loving. Nobody knew who Fundy was, why should it matter if he left L’Manburg from time to time?

“A strange time to be awake, is it not?” Fundy screamed, toppling into the sickeningly cold water as a voice rang from within the darkness. He sputtered, hands slapping against nothing before he finally managed to break free from the lake’s surface. Fundy gasped for breath, nearly falling back into the water as a pair of shiny purple boots appeared in his view. He glanced up, shivering as a porcelain mask with an eerie painted smile looked down at him from the shore. The man was dressed quite casually for someone strolling through the woods, a simple green sweater with black pants making up their entire attire. Fundy couldn’t see much of their face, a strand of blonde hair his only clue to this mystery man’s appearance. He didn’t seem to have any weapon on him... “Would you prefer me to leave you to freeze and drown out here or what?”

Fundy thanked whatever deity watched over him that he did not blush at the comment, embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed the man’s outstretched hand. He slowly reached out, the man’s warm fingers brushing the back of his hand before yanking him out of the lake. He yelped, surprised by the man’s strength as he was pulled back onto the ground. Fundy quickly moved away, cautious at this stranger’s motivations. Daggers could be concealed, after all. The masked man tilted his head, that creepy grin sending shivers down Fundy’s spine as he backed further away from him. “Thank you. For the record, you’re also awake, so… We’re both quite strange.”

“My kind doesn’t need sleep, and I find it useless. Why allow yourself to be so vulnerable?”

“You think yourself a god?” Fundy squeezed the water from out of his hat, catching from the corner of his eyes the way the man tensed up at the question. He hissed beneath his breath, worried that he’d given the man a reason for a fight. He was only glad that he wasn’t wearing his L’Manberg uniform, you could never tell who was a foe and who was a friend. “I’m joking. I mean, really, what kind of god dresses up with a mask that looks like a child drew on it?”

...Why was Fundy hearing a whistling kettle? Is someone brewing tea in the middle of the forest?

“Interesting question.” The man coughed into his fist, which Fundy found to be ridiculous because the man was wearing a mask, why did it matter that he cough into一 Fundy shook his head, forcing a grin to his face as the masked stranger looked up at him once more. He was alive, which meant the man didn’t take his words as an insult. Great. If he was lucky he’d make it back home without a missing arm. Fundy ran a hand through his hair, wondering how he could walk away without making their farewell awkward as hell. “Are you lost or are you… wandering?”

“Does it matter? Why do you even care? You seem like a busy man yourself. Now, shoo!”

That same weird kettle noise again… “You’re a strange one.” Though he couldn’t see beyond the mask, he could hear the smirk in the man’s tone. Fundy found it slightly endearing. “I like that.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Strange people attract or whatever.” Fundy knew that wasn’t the right statement but who cared? He placed his soaked hat back onto his head, sputtering as trails of water still dripped past his cheeks. If Wilbur saw him like that, he’d never get a moment’s peace ever again. “Listen, masked boi, I have to get home. May we never meet again and all that… uh, goodbye.”

Fundy walked away, nearly tripping on nothing in his haste to leave. He paused as he reached the treeline, hesitating before turning around to the masked stranger who hadn’t moved an inch.

The man tilted his head and for a moment - through the beady little holes of the mask - Fundy could see the sparkle of bright green eyes regard him with curiosity. Fundy looked away, tugging at the edge of his jacket. This was stupid. He should have just walked away instead of coming back to ask a ridiculous question. Okay… He could do this. “Hey… what’s your name?”

The man’s shoulders tensed up, his hands curling into fists. Fundy moved away, startled by the shift of demeanor. Just as quickly, the man relaxed, letting out a soft sigh. The man moved closer, towering over him that Fundy - for a moment - felt the overwhelming urge to break the man’s kneecaps. Why did he attract tall people? It wasn’t fair. He jumped, the man had reached down to take his hand, giving it a little shake as if in introduction. “Dre. My name is Dre. And you?”

“I’m一”

“FUNDY!!!”

Oh, fuck . Fundy moved away, ripping his hand free from Dre’s hold as he turned towards the direction of where his dad was probably losing it. Dre had paused, startled by the intrusion. “Sorry, I have to leave.”

He turned to leave, but he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. He glanced up at the man, raising a brow at his peculiar change of behavior. The man stared at him for a few seconds, before slowly letting go of his wrist. Fundy shivered despite the lack of wind. “Goodbye, fox boy. May we meet again… though, this time try not to fall into any lakes while I’m around. It’s flattering, but it gets quite pitiful after a while.”

Fundy sputtered, a bit of indignation rising in his chest at the sheer thought. Like, the audacity . He rolled his eyes, punching the man on the shoulder. Dre seemed surprised by the gesture but luckily he didn’t pull out a hidden dagger to stab him. “In your dreams . See ya around, masked weirdo. I’m leaving now, try not to die on your way home.”

“My kind can’t一 I’ll try.” Fundy snickered underneath his breath. This guy was strange. This whole world was strange. Dre turned to leave, heading the opposite direction of where Fundy was meant to go. “You shouldn’t wander the woods.”

“Neither should you.”

Dre gave him one last look, “Hm. Until next time, I suppose.”

Fundy gave him one last smile, “I suppose… until next time. Goodbye… Dre.”

“Goodbye… Fundy.”

Chapter Text

Fundy poked at the cold meal before him, his gaze lost to the open window that welcomed pale sunlight into the quaint little dining room. He could feel Wilbur’s heated gaze at the back of his head, the man busying himself with cleaning the small cabin. Phil - his grandfather who Fundy had yet the pleasure to have a decent conversation with - occasionally glanced at him from across the table, shoulders tensing each time Fundy would so much as move from his seat. Technoblade - his uncle who had barely spared him a glance since they’d gotten there - was outside, tending to his precious potatoes or gods know what else the blood-hungry piglin hybrid did during his free time. The sharp creaking of footsteps above calmed him down a bit, remembering that he wasn’t exactly the only one who was here against his will. Tommy and Tubbo hadn’t been too thrilled to be dragged all the way out here… wherever here was. Not that Fundy knew or would ever know.

“It’s getting cold.” His ears twitched as he bit the inside of his cheek, a hand settling on his shoulder as Wilbur’s face appeared into view. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to look into those dark brown eyes, fearful that he’d throw up the little amount of food that he’d actually eaten. He stared down at his fingers, gripping the edge of the table as he waited for Wilbur to walk away. There were marks on the table’s surface where his nails had pressed down to the point of leaving their trace, not that he could do that anymore. Wilbur had insisted his nails be cut in case he accidentally hurt himself or someone else… again. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you hungry, Funds?”

“No.” Fundy resisted the urge to smash the plate against the side of Wilbur’s head, the flash of warning in Phil’s eyes keeping him from simply pushing Wilbur and making a break for it. There was a thoughtful hum as Wilbur moved his hand to pet the top of Fundy’s head. He shivered at the touch, but it didn’t last long as Wilbur finally picked up the plate and moved into the kitchen. He held his breath, watching as Wilbur finally disappeared around the corner, relaxing in his seat as his fingers slowly let go of the table. He savored the silence, knowing that Wilbur wouldn’t stop pestering him the moment he got back. He only ever had two options, spend his day with Wilbur or sleep, and Fundy was tired of sleeping. Fundy slowly lifted his gaze, light blue eyes regarded him with slight pity. “I think out of everyone in this hellhole, I hate you most. Sorry…”

“Can’t blame you for that one, mate. You have to understand… if we hold on for a bit, maybe he’ll come to his senses. Wilbur is… he’s not well.” Fundy rolled his eyes, wondering how many days he’d be forced to spend in his room if he kicked Phil on the shin. Why sugarcoat it? Just call him fucking insane since that’s clearly what Wilbur is. Fundy leaned back against the chair, enough that it only rested on the back of its legs. Maybe if Fundy was lucky, he’d slip and hit his head on the fucking floor. Phil watched him, lips curled with distaste as he watched Fundy try and do something Wilbur would deem “reckless” and “dangerous” . “Give it time. I’m sure in a few more days, he’ll come to his senses and return to being the Wilbur we all know and love.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You’re just too scared to admit and see what’s there. Even Tommy and Tubbo can see how fucked this whole thing is.” Fundy didn’t care if Wilbur heard him, his blood boiling at the thought of waiting for Wilbur to calm down . “You’re fucking delusional!”

Phil’s face hardened, his mouth setting into a thin line as he rose from his seat. Fundy flinched at the abrupt movement. “A father would do anything for his son. You wouldn’t understand that.”

With that, Phil disappeared into the kitchen, a trail of feathers left in his wake. Fundy shivered. Phil had that same look in his eyes… that manic gleam that seemed to swallow every bit of the father that Fundy knew. He moved away from the dining room and into the hallway, freezing as a pair of blood red eyes glared at him from the end of the hall. Technoblade was back, his straw hat hanging from a hook on the wall while his boots had been discarded to the corner wall.

“Have you ever thought of silence?” Technoblade looked more bothered than angered, not that he ever changed expressions that often. Fundy never knew how to react to the piglin hybrid and Techno usually chose to not even acknowledge his presence. He swallowed back a scream as Techno moved closer, the man towering over him that Fundy wished the wooden floor would just swallow him whole. He wrapped his arms around himself. He knew Techno wouldn’t do anything, but that didn’t make him feel any safer. Fundy refuses to acknowledge the flash of hurt in Techno’s eyes. Techno wasn’t hurt, if anything, he was probably amused. “You should try it.”

Fundy took a step back, his gaze falling to the floor as he mulled over Techno’s words. It baffled him as he realized what it meant. If it had been Wilbur, or Phil, Fundy would have lost it. He couldn’t possibly sit still and pretend everything was normal, pretend as if life hadn’t changed. Pretend as if Wilbur hadn’t murdered countless people. Silence meant resigning, and Fundy would rather be forced to lose than to give in. Techno’s gaze refused to leave him, sending goosebumps down his skin as he tried to move past the man. Techno blocked his path, grumbling as if waiting for Fundy to respond. Fundy gritted his teeth, “That’s the coward’s way out. Why give up when there’s a chance to win here? Do you want me to be a coward, is that it… uncle ?”

“No.” Fundy felt immediate regret. If he wasn’t Wilbur’s son, he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t have finished his little speech and would have been murdered on the spot. Techno was cruel, was merciless towards those he deemed a threat or pitiful. Fundy could only thank his lineage that he wasn’t dead. He froze, realizing that there was a hand on his head, patting his hair with a gentleness that Fundy didn’t think Techno was capable of. He stood still, hand clasped in front of him as if in prayer. He could only hope that Techno would stop messing with him and move on to doing… whatever it was Techno did. Fundy glanced up, noticing a small frown on the man’s face as he looked down at Fundy. Did he make Techno upset ? That wasn’t right. Fundy hadn’t done anything to make Techno actually sad . “No. You shouldn’t hold onto your hope. If people cared for Tommy, Tubbo, or you, they certainly haven’t tried looking for any of you.”

“They’re looking. They wouldn’t just forget us.” Fundy swallowed down the bitter taste of doubt that crept into his throat. Eret would look for him, wouldn’t they? And everyone else would be worried sick about Tommy and Tubbo. They couldn’t just forget them. Techno rolled his eyes, grunting as he placed both his hands on Fundy’s shoulder. Fundy yelped as he was suddenly turned around, Techno forcing him forward until they came to a stop at the end of the hall. There was barely anything down there except for a rusty old window that refused to open (Fundy knows, he tried escaping through it once). “They’ll find us. Someone has to find us.”

“They’d have to traverse a maze of never-ending trees. Face it, little nephew , you’ve lost.”

Techno’s gaze turned to one of the many pictures that littered the wall, pausing for a second before turning to leave. Fundy watched him disappear into the dining room, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He turned to leave, but his damned curiosity overtook any logic that remained in his mind. He paused, throwing a slight glimpse to the picture that had caught Techno’s attention. His heart froze in his chest, aching with an agony he thought he’d long forgotten. He slowly reached out a hand, finger tracing the edge of the golden frame before pulling the portrait off the wall. There was a sharp pain in his eyes, drops of liquid falling against the glass surface of an old picture that he’d long since erased from his memory. He remembered.

It had been years but he had the faintest memory of that place, that cabin where his father and uncles had been born and raised. The picture had taken a bit of time to be taken, Tommy, Tubbo and him causing all sorts of mischief where Wilbur, Phil, and Techno had to take a momentary break. In the picture, they were seated on the living room couch. Phil was seated at the center, his snow white wings spread out around them all as if to keep them in his embrace. Tommy and Tubbo were both beside Phil, cheeky and childish grins on their faces. Techno was next to Tubbo, a small smile on his face. Fundy turned to Wilbur, a strained smile making its way to his lips as he looked at an old image of his dad. He missed that Wilbur. He missed his dad.

Wilbur looked younger and well-rested in the picture, a carefree grin on his face. Fundy tilted his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he realized that Wilbur wasn’t looking at the camera. His dad was looking down at him, well, a younger version of him. Fundy held back his sobs. Wilbur looked so kind in the picture. His eyes were clear, not a single sign of mania or insanity dancing in his dark brown eyes. Fundy hadn’t noticed at the time, too enamored by the strange device his grandfather - Phil - had brought back with him. He wished he had looked up back then, wished he could still remember the last time Wilbur had looked at him with such innocent affection.

“I remember this.” Fundy sucked in a breath, feeling an arm wrap around his shoulders as Wilbur glanced down at the picture. There was a soft smile on Wilbur’s face, his eyes glazed over as if he was lost in his own world. “Hm… We’re together again, at least… hm?”

The picture was pried from his hands, placed back to hang on the wall. Then the hands were back on him, slowly leading him back down the hall. “So, what do you want today to do, Funds?”

Fundy forced a smile on his face, “Whatever you want, Wil一 dad.”

It wasn’t as if he had a choice.

Chapter Text

“Well, it seems you’ve fallen into a fever. Not surprising since you so insisted on going on a nightly swim while you were out.” Fundy pressed his head into the soft pillow of his bed, holding back a groan as his dad paced at the foot of his bed. He did not need to be lectured when his own body was threatening to kill him. “Honestly. Fundy, if you would just listen to me一”

“Dad…” His eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion clinging to his aching bones as he tried to calm his breathing. Why was his room so hot? “Can you murder me with your words later… please?”

“You worry me, Fundy. You’ll kill your old man with all this worry.” He heard the creak of footsteps move closer, the bed dipping as a hand settled at the top of his head, soothing his frazzled hair. Fundy leaned into the touch, sniffing as tried to move towards his dad. There was a soft chuckle from beside him, a low hum from his dad as the hand in his hair disappeared. He whined at the loss before a pair of arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. He nearly yipped as he sluggishly threw his arms around his dad, pressing his face into his dad’s chest. “I was worried sick last night. If anything happened to my precious son, I一”

“Shhhhhhh…” His hand landed against his dad’s shoulder with a thump, his body too numb to really cause much of an impact. Fundy wished his dad stopped talking. He’d rather not have his dad’s droning voice in his head by the time he’s fallen asleep. Fundy burrowed his face into the crook of his dad’s neck, sleep seeping into his hazy mind. “Dad… song… please?”

Wilbur chuckled at his son’s request, honestly content to forget the events of last night as he began to hum the lullaby he’d composed when Fundy was but a kid. Fundy curled closer in his arm, a soft smile on his son’s face as he tried to hum along, stuttering off into silence as Wilbur changed to the next song. Fundy hadn’t heard this one yet. Wilbur glanced out the window, recalling a familiar river and remembering his first and only love. It was a song meant for her, to the woman he’d loved so dearly. Wilbur had never told Fundy about Sally, frightened that it would only lead his son to the same fate that had befallen the mother. Wilbur held Fundy closer, quelling the rising panic in his heart. His son was in his arms, safe even if he was sick. Wilbur shook his head, amused yet worried by his son’s constant need for adventure in a cruel world.

“I promise. I didn’t build the walls to cage you. I have my reasons, son. I will not lose you too."

It pained him to be so strict, knowing that Fundy missed the man who’d willingly give in to his small son’s demands. Wilbur couldn’t help it. He loved his son, enough to give him some peace and a piece of the world. L’Manberg was safe, safer than any country that dared to exist in Dream’s realm. It was a nation for the free and for those sickened by tyranny. A nation for all.

Fundy was too young to remember when the walls were built so he’d always assumed they’d been there ever since he was born. How could Wilbur ever tell him the truth of their creation? Wilbur placed his head on his son’s hair, the fox hybrid whining as Wilbur pressed a soft kiss against his head. Fundy was still conscious enough to be embarrassed by Wilbur’s affection.

Wilbur knew he’d have to leave Fundy alone by the time he’d fallen into sleep. War was not merciful to a father who only wished to care for his son. He had a plan for the day, half of which he’d have to move for the next day as he’d spent half of the morning taking care of Fundy. Wilbur laughed, a mirthless noise that caused Fundy’s eyes to flicker open. He quickly shushed his poor son, lulling him back to the edge of sleep. As Fundy snuggled closer to him, he pressed the back of his hand against Fundy’s forehead. Shit. This wasn’t going to be a normal fever.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, baby. Don’t sleep yet, Fundy. You should drink a healing potion first一”

“No.” Wilbur sighed through his nose. Too late. Fundy had fallen into what they both called ‘The No Stage’, which was one small step away from ‘The Clingy Stage’. He frowned, pulling the potion from his inventory. Fundy needed to drink it or else he’d never get better. He held the back of Fundy’s head, tilting it up a bit as he pressed the potion to Fundy’s lips. “No. It... yucky.”

“Fundy… This is for the fever. You don’t want to be sick forever, do you?” Fundy groaned underneath his breath, sticking out a tongue before finally drinking the potion. Wilbur sighed in relief. He couldn’t really bear to see Fundy so sick. “There, see? That was pretty easy, hm?”

“Don’t like you.” Wilbur pouted at the comment, pressing a soft kiss to Fundy’s forehead as he slowly lowered Fundy back onto the bed. As much as he wanted to spend his day caring for his sick son, he had a nation to maintain. Wilbur turned to leave, “Don’t leave… I was lying.”

“I know, my little champion, but dad has to make sure our L’Manburg doesn’t lose the war.” He placed a hand on his son’s ginger curls, a discontented groan rumbling through his son’s prone form as Fundy tried to bury his face beneath the pillows. If Wilbur didn’t leave before the fever progressed, he’d never be able to. Fundy wouldn’t let him leave, his poor baby... Wilbur didn’t mind the clinginess, but Fundy had to understand that he couldn’t stay. “I’ll be back by lunchtime, alright? Besides, we wouldn’t want to leave Tommy in charge, now would we?”

“No…” Fundy let out what sounded like a choking wheeze, settling underneath the warm covers as Wilbur finally pulled away. A frown climbed its way to his face. Fundy had barely eaten at breakfast, how could Wilbur just leave his poor son to suffer? A sigh slipped past his lips, he’d have to ask Eret to watch over Fundy. As much as the thought sent a bitter taste down his throat, Wilbur could trust no one else in the army to watch over his son. With one last look at his son, Wilbur turned to leave the room, pausing at the doorway when he heard his son mutter a word beneath his breath. No. Not a word, a name . A name that made his knees buckle with fear, “Dre.”

Wilbur didn’t have the time to ask Fundy why he knew that nickname. The question dancing at the edge of his tongue cut off by his delirious son’s giggling. Why the fuck was Fundy giggling?! He had been too late. Wilbur had let his son wander too far from him. He had found his son too late last night. He hadn’t been there, and now… now一 Wilbur held a shaky breath as he listened to the slurred and hazy words that his son let out, “Dre… stupid fucking name. Pfftt…”

He stood by the door for a while, falling back to reality as the snores of his son finally reached his ears. Wilbur didn’t know how long he had been standing there, frightened out of his mind. His fingers were shaking, cold at the tips as he tried to regain his bearings. It felt as if a hand was strangling him by the neck, a familiar painted smile flashing across his mind as he left the room.

Fundy knew about Dre… Dream.

Wilbur stumbled on his way out, falling to his knees at the top of the stairs.

Fundy met Dream.

Dream knew about Fundy. 

Dream knew.

Wilbur shuddered, wrapping his arms around his chest.

… the walls needed to be higher.

Chapter Text

He was twitching, gripping the edge of the window so tightly that his knuckles were turning white with the strain. Fundy bit the inside of his cheek, a metallic tang against his tongue as he tried to quell the thoughts in his head. How long has it been? How many days has it been? He didn’t know. A small growl rumbled underneath his breath. He shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t right.

The patter of footsteps rang in his ears, a hand settling on the top of his head as Wilbur’s face appeared within the window’s glass surface. He bit back the urge to claw at the intruder, knowing it would be useless against a man who would eagerly pull him under another bout of potions and sleep. There was a contented smile on the man’s face, a contented sigh escaping Wilbur’s lips as he leaned against the wall beside Fundy. Fundy gritted his teeth, a mockery of a smile as he finally turned to look at Wilbur. He looked well-rested. Fundy rolled his eyes at that, at least one of them was getting some sleep. How could Fundy sleep in a house full of strangers and oh, of course, a maniac? Sleep wasn’t an escape, not when nightmares followed him to its depths.

“Do you want to go outside, Fundy? It’s a beautiful day outside, after all. A bit of sunshine might do you some good.” There’s a hand on his cheek, tapping against his skin as though Wilbur was checking to see if Fundy was awake. His arm twitched, instincts screaming at him to bat that insistent touch away. He stayed in place, self-preservation keeping him from turning and biting. He slowly moved away, gaze focusing on the window ledge as Fundy tried to keep himself from screaming. Wilbur tsked, moving away from the wall. Fundy could only hold his breath as Wilbur began to pet his frazzled tail. Fundy couldn’t remember the last time his tail had wagged, perhaps it did when he was still free and not trapped with his manic father in a cabin tucked away in a never-ending forest. The touch shouldn’t feel so comforting. Fundy clung to the window ledge, wishing Wilbur would just leave. “Hm… where’s my happy little son, hm?”

“Not here. You left him back in Pogtopia.” He grumbled beneath his breath. Wilbur laughed, muttering about how funny Fundy was being today before wrapping an arm around him. Fundy glanced at the sweater-clad arm, wondering if it would be worth it to just bite Wilbur right then and there. As if hearing his thoughts, Wilbur slowly moved away from the one-sided hug, laughing awkwardly at the lack of reaction from Fundy. He blinked, a hand was prying his fingers off the window as Wilbur forced him to turn around. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to look into Wilbur’s eyes, terrified by what he’d see. He should’ve known he didn’t have a choice. There was a hand gently gripping his chin, coaxing him to look up at Wilbur who had a small frown on his face. Fundy wished he could cry, “Let go of me, Wilbur. I can’t take this anymore.”

“I’m just making sure you’re alright, Fundy.” Wilbur dropped his hand, standing back as if to look at Fundy in an entirely different view. For a moment, Fundy let himself believe that his dad was back, that the shine in those dark brown eyes was clarity. Then Wilbur blinked and whatever trace of momentary sanity was gone once again. Wilbur chuckled, wrapping a heavy arm around Fundy’s shoulders as he led him towards the hall. “I’m sure you’d love a change of scenery. Perhaps we could even go fishing! There’s a river nearby… or we could go to the farm一”

“WILBUR!” That caught the man’s attention, Fundy moved away from that suffocating hold, his heated glare finally reaching Wilbur’s eyes. Wilbur looked down at him, a myriad of emotions flashing through his face as he tried to reach out to Fundy once more. Fundy snarled, flashing his sharp teeth at those too clingy hands that itched to just pull him back into Wilbur’s grasp. He couldn’t do this anymore. “Wilbur! Do you not get it?! I don’t want to be here! You keep holding me and acting as if nothing is fucking wrong! You blew up L’Manburg, you destroyed the only home I’ve ever known and you’ve dragged all of us here in the middle of fucking nowhere! You killed so many people. You killed… YOU KILLED SCHLATT FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

“Why does it matter that he’s dead? No one cares!” Fundy could feel the trickle of blood on his palm, his nails having broken through skin. How dare he? Schlatt was a good man… sure the man was a drunk but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He certainly wasn’t insane either. Fundy rolled his eyes, only glad that Tubbo wasn’t around to hear that slander against his dad’s name. He couldn’t imagine how Tubbo felt, having watched his dad get murdered during a day meant for festivity. It was a festival, a day of fun… not whatever the fuck happened. “Fundy, honey一”

“NO! NO! NO! I can’t do this! Leave me the hell alone or I’m leaving一” He yelped, stumbling forward as hand gripped his shirt and pulled him towards a shaking Wilbur. He was being hugged. He was being hugged. He screamed, kicking and clawing at Wilbur’s chest. He got a hold of Wilbur’s shirt and pushed with every strength he could muster. He heard the clatter of objects falling to the ground, the crunch of glass against wood as - what he assumed was a framed picture - fell to the floor. He didn’t dare spare a glance behind him, racing into the wall and towards the front door. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, sweat dripping down the side of his neck as he wrestled with the doorknob. He could hear footsteps behind him. No no no一

“You need to calm down, mate.” His ears twitched, tensing as the flutter of wings reached him. Phil. There was a gentle hand on his, a pair of kind blue eyes meeting his own as Phil tried to slowly lead him away from his only escape. Every part of him screamed to move away, to yank the door open and run as far as he could until he was safe. Yet here was his Phil - his grandfather - asking him to come back and apologize , “Wilbur’s hurt. Just… move away from the door.”

“No.” The knob finally turned, the door creaking open as a sliver of sunlight seeped into the room. He could Phil try to wrestle the door close, an exasperated sigh escaping the blonde as he pulled Fundy back into the cabin. Fundy could feel the adrenaline racing through his veins, muddying his mind with a hazy mist. Despite the man’s age, Phil was somehow overpowering him, the door teetering to a close as Phil pushed it back to its position. He could feel his lungs working overtime, his breath coming out of his mouth in erratic spasms as he tried to pitifully claw at the hand that held the door close. “PHIL PLEASE!” His voice was a sharp whine, panic blossoming in his chest. He was caged. He was trapped. He can’t stay. He can’t. HE CAN’T一

His ears were ringing, a metallic scent coating his tongue and nose as he blacked out. Someone was screaming, a rough hand trying to push him away. A growl rumbled from his throat, refusing to move even as a pair of arms wrapped around his torso. There were words being whispered into his ears, a discordious hum trying to convince him to let go. Fundy scowled, biting further into too soft flesh as another scream rang through the cabin. His gold-speckled brown eyes met terrified and pain-filled blue eyes, momentary realization seeping into his mind as he realized what he was doing. He felt a calloused and rough hand grip his hair, a muttered ‘sorry’ in the air.

Fundy yelped as he was yanked back, screaming as he felt his head smack into the wall. He barely had time to react before his head was thrown back onto the wall once more. Fundy fainted by the second hit, crumbling into Wilbur’s arms, whimpering before finally falling into silence.

Wilbur panted heavily, holding his son’s limp form in his hands as he watched Phil stumble to lean against the opposite wall, clutching his bleeding arm to his chest. He gently placed Fundy on the ground, wincing at the trickle of blood that slithered down the side of Fundy’s head. Wilbur could only hope he hadn’t overdone it. He moved towards Phil, wincing as he looked at the marred skin where his son had bit down. “Oh my gods, dad I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Where’s the first aid kit?! I’ll go get it. Fuck. I’m so sorry一”

“Wilbur, can’t you see that Fundy doesn’t want to be here?” He froze at the question, eyes straining to meet Phil’s narrowed eyes. Even in pain, his dad still carried on. He tucked away the question to the back of his mind. Perhaps he could answer that tomorrow. Wilbur forced a smile to his face, moving back into the living room even as Phil tried to call him back. The first aid kit was somewhere in the room, Wilbur was sure of it. Then he’d have to get his brewing equipment (after he’d just put it away too), but that could wait until he was sure Phil was alright. After a few minutes of scouring through the room, tossing every cushion and every knick-knack to the ground, he finally found the first aid kit in one of the drawers. Wilbur held it to his chest as he hurriedly walked back to where Phil and his son were. Phil glanced up at him, eyes settling on his face as a frustrated scowl formed on the blond’s face, “Wilbur, do not ignore my question.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Phil.” It felt weak, a whisper that barely left his tongue as he tried to wrap a bandage around his dad’s arm. Phil sighed, grabbing the roll from his hand. “Phil一”

“Take care of your son, Wil. We wouldn’t want him to die of internal bleeding, would we?” Wilbur pursed his lips, watching as Phil shakily stood up. Blood smeared the floor and walls as Phil staggered to a walk, moving away from him as if he didn’t want Wilbur near him. He shook his head. That wasn’t it. Phil was a grown man, that’s all. He probably didn’t want his own son to actually nurse a wound he was capable of healing by himself. “Wilbur, when will this end?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Phil.” Wilbur moved on to his unconscious son, wincing as he touched the back of Fundy’s head, blood coating his fingers as he brought them back to view. He could still feel Phil’s gaze on him even as he wrapped his arms around his son, hoisting him up as Wilbur turned to smile at Phil. “We’re fine. We’re perfectly fine… right?”

He didn’t like the way Phil hesitated too long, twitching as Phil forced a clearly fake smile on his face. “Of course, Wil. I’ll…” Phil’s gaze lingered on him before taking a step back, sighing as he did so. “I’ll leave you to it. Be gentle, son. He didn’t mean to. He’s under a lot of stress.”

Wilbur clutched Fundy closer to his chest, his son’s face head leaning against his shoulder. His son always did look so peaceful when he slept. Maybe Fundy felt happier when he was asleep.

“My son is perfectly fine. I don’t see what he has to be so stressed about.”

Wilbur was one foot up the stairs when Phil spoke up.

“You’ll be the death of him.”

Now that just wasn’t fair.

“I’m keeping him alive.”

And with that, Wilbur climbed up the stairs. His little champion in his arms.

They were perfectly fine.

Right?

Chapter Text

Hello!

Sorry, not an update but I'd just like to announce I won't be able to focus much on any of my fics because second sem of college begins next week so I might have to focus a bit on that. I'll still be accepting requests but it might take a while for me to actually do them. Anyway, sorry for this! I might update tonight, we'll see.

Chapter Text

“WHERE IS MY SON?!” Wilbur raced into the hall, heart erratically hammering in his chest as he looked through every open door he could find. “WHAT DID YOU TO MY BOY?!”

As he reached the end of the hall, rage burned in his chest at the sight of a familiar white bandana nearly hidden beneath unruly raven hair. Sapnap’s dark blue eyes met his, an apology dancing in their gaze but Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to care. His footsteps echoed in his ears, his teeth clenched tightly that he swore that they would break from the pressure. Sapnap stood up, a hand outstretched as if to greet him - greet him - like that bastard hadn’t just shot his poor son over some duel Wilbur barely knew anything about. Deep down, he knew a small part of him was to blame. Had he left Fundy so lonely that his son had gone off to partake in a pointless duel? Had he left his bedroom closet unlocked that Fundy had managed to steal the bow he’d use during the war? It didn’t matter to him, not then. Not when his son’s possible murderer was standing before him with that apologetic look on his face. How dare he look so fucking guilty?

“Mr. Soot!” He caught sight of a multicolored sweater, a man he hadn’t quite had the pleasure of meeting stepping into the fray with a panicked look on his face. Wilbur glanced down at him, quelling in his anger for the meantime. The man looked between Wilbur and Sapnap, a tense bubble of nervous energy thrumming through the air as the stranger wrung his hands together. He was a short fellow, the strange sweater the only eye-catching characteristic he had. Wilbur rolled his eyes at the intrusion. Only the gods knew how much he hated surprises. Another stranger wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. “Fundy’s fine! He… just got hurt a bit, but he’s fine!” 

“Fine? FINE?! MY SON GOT SHOT AND YOU CALL THAT FINE?!” Wilbur gripped the bottom edge of his uniform jacket, the fabric nearly tearing at the seams as he controlled the urge to wrap his hands around the stranger’s neck. The man flinched, backing off as Sapnap finally intervened. If it weren’t for the fear of Dream’s wrath, Wilbur would have punched Sapnap for even daring to show his face. “I… I don’t care about either of you. Where the hell is my son?”

“He’s in the last room. For what it’s worth, Soot. I didn’t mean to shoot him that badly一” He moved past Sapnap before he could hear another word. As the future president of L’Manburg - and there’s no doubt that the people will vote for him because surely they wouldn’t vote for Quackity of all people - Wilbur needed to be civil. He couldn’t fight Sapnap, it wouldn’t solve anything and it would make him appear horrible to the people. Still, with every word out of the arsonist’s mouth, Wilbur couldn’t help but feel the need to hit him. At least once would be nice.

“Fundy...”

"Dad!" He nearly wept at the word, rushing into the room as he looked over at the tired look on his son's face. Strips of bandages decorated Fundy's chest as crimson stains tainted the white cloth. Fundy slowly forced himself to a sit, wincing and hissing with every breath he made before finally settling into a comfortable position. Wilbur felt a part of him die, wishing he could simply take the pain his son was feeling. Better him than his son. "I'm sorry… You had a presidential campaign, didn't you? You shouldn't have come, dad."

"I didn't even know you were in a duel until Tubbo told me." Wilbur sat down on the chair next to the bed, reaching out a hand towards his son's. Fundy held onto it, his fingers shaking despite the easy smile on his face. Wilbur could tell that Fundy had been terrified. His son only had two lives left and if he had lost one in a duel… Wilbur shook his head, the thought left to dwindle at the back of his mind. No doubt it will return as a nightmare. "Fundy, what were you thinking?"

"I was just trying to make you proud of me! Taking an initiative, ya know?" Fundy's eyebrows furrowed together, his hold tight against Wilbur's hand as though to cement himself to reality. Wilbur felt a pang of guilt, hoping his son hadn't taken his frustration to heart. Wilbur was horrified, any decent parent would be at the thought of their child nearly dying. He couldn't but reprimand Fundy, why hadn't he been told about the duel? Why hadn't his son gone to him instead of facing off with one of their nation's greatest adversaries? Wilbur placed his other hand on top of Fundy's, hoping Fundy would remember that he was safe and that his dad was there to protect him. "I tried to tell you but… you were busy and I couldn't just stand by and let Sapnap get away with murder—"

“Murder?” He couldn’t help but flinch as Fundy rolled his eyes at the question. Wilbur thought that as soon as the war was over he’d be able to relax and spend time with his family, yet it felt as if he had missed a whole lifetime. Fundy leaned into soft white pillows, sighing as his eyes fluttered shut. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with the presidential campaign and L’Manburg—”

“It’s fine, dad... I don’t mind. I-I get it...”

“No. No, I should’ve known. You're my son, Fundy. I should have been there to advise you, should’ve been there to talk you out of the duel.” Wilbur took a shaky breath, wanting nothing more than to pull Fundy into his arms and take him home, but he knew he couldn’t. Not when Fundy was still recuperating from his injury. His eyes dipped down, throat painfully clenching as he took in the blood on the bandages. His poor son, his little champion. Wilbur wished he could bury his face on the bed, suppressing the frustrated groan that threatened to slip past his lips. “I should’ve been there for you. I don’t… I don’t even know what’s going on in your life anymore.”

“Dad, I don’t care. You’re busy, I get it .” Not like anything’s changed since the war...

Wilbur pursed his lips, holding tightly onto Fundy’s hand as guilt clawed at his heart, the accusation left unsaid. He could not deny what was true. Fundy turned to glance at him, gold-flecked brown eyes looked at him with an emptiness that Wilbur felt he had caused. He shouldn’t be there. Maybe Fundy would have even preferred Sapnap’s company than Wilbur’s… yet his son’s hand never left Wilbur’s hold. Fundy let out a tired sigh, gaze flickering to the ceiling, “I’m not sure if you remember, not that I expect you to. But Niki and I had a pet fox named Fungi. Somehow, things escalated and Sapnap killed Fungi. When I asked you what I should do about it, you told me to speak to you later cause you were busy. Ya never did get back to me… So, I did what I thought you’d want me to do about it. I challenged Sapnap to a duel…”

“Fundy, I’m so very proud of you. You didn’t have to risk your life to prove that.” Wilbur raised a hand, cupping his son’s cheek as Fundy turned to look at him. Wilbur felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. He was oh so proud. Wilbur stood up, moving to sit at the edge of the bed so he could be closer to Fundy. “That was very brave of you to avenge Fungi like that. Still, your death or Sapnap’s would not have done anything but cause more aggravation and possible war.”

“I had to do something.” Fundy gripped at the bedsheets, small holes poking through the fabric as Fundy accidentally brought out his claws. Wilbur shook his head, placing a hand on the top of Fundy’s frazzled hair. “I couldn’t let Fungi die like that without even doing anything for him!”

“I know, son. I know. I’m proud of you.” It was difficult, but Wilbur managed to adjust. He slung an arm around Fundy’s shoulders, his son leaning to rest his head on Wilbur’s chest as he held Fundy close. A part of him couldn’t believe that he’d nearly lost his son for a dead fox. Wilbur shuddered at the thought, pulling his son closer to him as he tried to calm down his worries. “I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have focused on my work and ignored you.”

Wilbur was met with harrowing silence.

“Een, twee, drie—” Wilbur closed his eyes, humming underneath his breath as Fundy began to sing in his mother’s language. It took a moment for the implication to sink in. Wilbur nearly fell off the bed, clutching his son’s head closer to his chest as Fundy weakly giggled at his reaction. He threw his son a look, mouth narrowed into slits as his mouth turned agape. Oh, his little prankster. Fundy cackled, moving away from Wilbur’s hold so he could rest his head on Wilbur’s shoulder. Wilbur shook his head, running a hand through the tangle of ginger hair. He knew the song, remembered what it had meant and hated that Fundy had the energy to joke about it. “You taught me the song when I was a kid. I wasn’t going to just forget it and not use it against you.”

“You’re not dying. My little champion couldn’t possibly die in a duel.” Wilbur pinched Fundy’s cheek, laughing as Fundy tried to bite his fingers. Fundy giggled, snuggling closer as his eyes shuttered close. Wilbur had to cancel his plans for the week, he wasn’t leaving his son’s side until Fundy was well enough to be brought home. Wilbur rested his head on the top of Fundy’s head, holding his son closer as the worries finally circled his head. Wilbur couldn’t fathom the thought of what he would have done if Tubbo had told him Fundy had lost one of his lives. He didn’t want his son to be in pain, but it was better than Fundy losing a life. Wilbur pressed a kiss to Fundy’s forehead, content to stay by his son’s side. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I’m sorry I nearly led you to your death. But I promise, once the elections are over, I’ll have plenty of time to spend with you. I’ll make the time. I’m sorry, Fundy... I love you, son.”

Fundy blinked an eye open, a soft smile on his face.

“I love you too, dad.” 

---

“You distracted me. You knew I was aiming for the chest.”

Karl paced the length of the hall, Sapnap trailing after him with a bored expression on his face. The man would never know that in another timeline he would have succeeded in killing Fundy. He didn’t know why he had chosen to turn back time, why he’d thought to save Fundy of all people when many would have begged to have all their three lives back. Karl hadn’t turned back time for Tommy, hadn’t turned back time for Tubbo. Karl glanced back, Sapnap paused behind him, a puzzled look dancing across his eyes. No. He hadn’t turned back time to save Fundy, he’d done it for Sapnap. In the true timeline, he couldn’t bear the merciless look that had engulfed Sapnap’s eyes, the ecstatic laugh that had escaped the ravenette’s lips as he taunted Fundy about how he would never avenge Fungi. Karl didn’t turn back time for Fundy. He’d done it for his friend . Karl would rather have a bored Sapnap over the remorseless one he had bore witness to.

“I know… but it’s better this way. Trust me.” Karl left before Sapnap could ask him what he’d meant by that, he kept moving until he reached the wooden Prime Path. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, a hand clutching his chest as he looked forlornly at the sky. He’d have to chart this incident down on his journal. It was a stupid move to change the timeline, but he couldn’t bring himself to watch the birth of a monster. Sapnap was his friend and he was not about to lose him to the tyranny that ruled over the SMP. Karl shook his head, collapsing to the ground as he pulled his knees close to his chest. His head spun with nausea, threatening to split open as he tried to keep his breathing calm. The abrupt trip through time left him exhausted. “It wouldn’t mess with the timeline. It doesn’t count— I-I did it for Sapnap. That’s reasonable.”

---

Karl coughed, dark smoke curling in his lungs as he traversed through the wreckage of what once was Manburg. Screams of agony echoed in the distance as explosions rang in his ears. Karl’s bright brown eyes looked over at the decimated land, a pang of guilt in his chest as he heard the cries of a father somewhere deep in the rubble. This was the future. This is what he had created in his desperation to save a life. Karl sucked in a breath. He had caused this.

He had to go back, had to let the timeline play as it was scripted to be. Despite the ache in his bones, Karl forced himself to move away from the destruction. He could change fate. Karl walked until his legs finally gave way, the horrors of war still echoing in his head.

His eyes fluttered to a close as he felt the world slip from beneath his body. A rush of wind threw his body mercilessly around the void, his head aching with the effort as he forced his battered mind to return to the cause of all the sorrow, back when he had first tried to change the timeline.

“Karl?” His eyes snapped open, dark splotches in his eyes as he tried to adjust to the sudden brightness. The sun was overhead, mercilessly showering them in sunlight as a rough rush of wind blew through the field. Karl glanced over at Sapnap, a questioning look in those dark blue eyes as he waited for Karl to respond. He slowly looked to the other side, a familiar pair of gold-flecked brown eyes staring at him with concern. “Are you okay, dude?”

“Yeah! I’m fine, sun was in my eyes.” That was enough to make Sapnap look away, enough to make him focus back on the task at hand. Karl swallowed down the bitter taste of bile in his throat, forcing himself to calm down as his gaze looked down at the bow in Sapnap’s hands. “So… you two ready?”

“Yes.”

“Ya…”

Karl took in a shaky breath, forcing a smile on his face. Let the timeline play out, this is how it was meant to be.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

“TEN PACES, FIRE!”

Chapter Text

“YOU CAN’T CATCH ME, CAN YOU?!” Tommy raced across the flower field, patches of grass clinging to the bottom of his pants as he tried to avoid his pouncing nephew. He giggled as he jumped to the side, Fundy landing amongst the yellow flowers as he tried to grab onto Tommy. He could hear Fundy let out a small growl, frustrated at having spent an entire ten minutes unable to chase Tommy down. Tommy was glad he could spend a bit of time with his nephew, his older brother couldn’t really keep a calm head each time Fundy wandered off on his own. Tommy rolled his eyes, darting away as Fundy tried to pounce on him again. He didn’t see why he was barely allowed around his own nephew! He was a good uncle! A better one than his older brother, Techno! “What’s the matter? Too slow? I thought you were a fox hybrid, Fundy!”

“This isn’t fair! You’re… you’re cheating!”

“It’s not my fault you’re slow一!” Tommy cursed underneath his breath as he felt a weight land against his back, screaming as he fell down onto the ground, Fundy cackling in his ears as he gripped the back of his shirt. He scrambled to pull himself up, nails scratching at the earth as Fundy left and began to run away. The little shit got him while he was distracted. Tommy huffed, giving chase as his nephew darted behind jutting rocks and trees. He barely realized where they were both headed, didn’t notice how hard it was getting to run with every hurried step he took. All that mattered was catching his nephew, “You can’t call me a cheater and do that, you little一”

The world turned upside down as his foot caught against a rock. Tommy slammed right onto Fundy, their screams echoing through the desolate land as they tumbled down a steep grassy hill.

Tommy fell onto a patch of flowers, the air filled with Fundy’s loud wailing. “ Fuck .”

---

Techno glanced up from the book in his hands, the parchment creasing against his fingers as he placed the ribbon that kept his page back in its place. His ruby red eyes focused solely on the two figures that stood by the living room doorway, sighing as Fundy raced across the room, only to jump into his lap and cry into his chest. Tommy stood where he was, sniffling as he tried to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. Techno’s gaze turned towards the scratches that marked and littered his nephew and brother’s skins, an idea of what had happened forming in his mind as he beckoned Tommy to come closer. Tommy wasted no time, nearly throwing himself into Techno’s arms as he tried to keep himself from crying out like Fundy. Techno resisted the urge to roll his eyes, this is what happens when Phil and Wilbur decide to sleep in.

“What happened?” Techno placed the book down, adjusting in his seat as he tried to hold Fundy and Tommy closer. He grumbled beneath his breath, this wasn’t really his job to do. “Did you一”

“It was a stupid fucking rock!” He winced at the word, a part of him wondering where his younger brother had picked it up from. Techno had no doubt that within a few years, Fundy would pick up the language from Tommy. Poor kid looked up to him, not that Techno knew why. Fundy was muttering beneath his breath, the incoherent string of words grating against his ears. Techno wondered if it was too late to drag Phil and Wilbur out of their beds. “We were just playing tag and some-some bitch rock appeared out of fucking nowhere and we-we-we tripped down the hill! I… I think Fundy bumped his head. That or he’s just being a baby. I don’t know!”

“We’ll see. I’m sure Phil isn’t going to kill you for this.” A surge of worry raced through Techno’s vein as he looked down at his sobbing nephew. Fundy hadn’t spoken a tangible sentence since he’d gotten there. “Wilbur. Ya know, well, I expect him to throw you off the hill.”

“Pssh, Wilbur wouldn’t. Not that he can, he’d have to fight me first.” A cheeky grin spread across Tommy’s face, his injuries forgotten as he settled into the couch. For a ten year old, Techno really respected Tommy’s ability to bounce back into his irritating optimism. Techno moved away from the couch, leaving Fundy to lean against the cushions. He watched as Fundy buried his face into the pillow, crying his little heart out. “He’s… He’s alright, isn’t he? Surely.”

“Ya, you know the crying emphasizes how fine Fundy is. Look at him, he’s crying tears of joy!” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Techno watched as Tommy curled into himself, biting his bottom lip as he looked away. He always did forget how young Tommy really was. Techno sighed, patting the top of Tommy’s head as a form of his apology. He never was quite vocal when it came to apologies, something that they all - aside from Wilbur - shared with Phil. Tommy leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut as a contented sigh left his lips. Apology accepted. “I’m going to get the first aid kit. Make sure Fundy doesn’t fall asleep. If it isn’t too serious then we can hide this incident from Wilbur. The man’s overprotective enough as it is.”

“It’ll be our secret?” Tommy rubbed a hand on his face, trying to hide the smile on his face as Techno rolled his eyes. He grunted, turning to find the med kit that was probably hidden somewhere in the kitchen. He paused mid-step, feeling a warm hand clamp down on his wrist. Techno kept his face neutral as he glanced down at his younger brother, “Thanks, Techie.”

He kept the smile from forming on his lips at the nickname, surprised that Tommy would even use it. Techno gave him a small pat on the hand before leaving to enter the kitchen, scouring through the cabinets until he finally found the first aid kit tucked away in one of the drawers. He sifted through the contents, glad to see that Wilbur had left a regeneration potion inside during the last time they’d had to use it. Techno took the kit and made his way back to the living room.

Techno paused at the doorway, watching as Tommy tried to entertain Fundy by telling all sorts of nonsensical short stories - half of which were ones that Techno used to tell to Tommy. Fundy refused to listen to any of them, simply sniffling and whimpering underneath the pillow he was hugging. Techno blamed Wilbur for Fundy’s soft demeanor. His twin brother unfortunately got Phil’s overprotectiveness. He had no doubt that Wilbur’s protective nature would cause problems in the future. But that was future Wilbur’s problems. Techno walked back into the living room, kneeling next to the couch as he tried to pry away the pillow from Fundy’s tight grasp. He tried not to scowl as he realized Fundy had dug his claws into the cushions. He’d bought those couch pillows with his hard-earned gold, damn it!. His gold… blood god, he hated trading them away.

With a gentleness he’d never dare show anyone outside his family. Techno slowly moved the pillow away from his sobbing nephew’s hold. Fundy curled into himself, hugging his knees together as Techno gently checked his head for injuries. Fundy sniffed, but he’d stopped crying.

“Good news, I won’t have to dig your grave. Aside from a few bruises and scratches, Fundy’s fine. It was probably the shock. Ha… what a wimp.” Tommy snorted at the joke, his sky blue eyes lighting up with joy. Fundy winced as  Techno began to clean his wounds, placing patches of band-aid on the scratches as he tried to console Fundy from screaming as he applied the antiseptic. If there was one thing that could wake an exhausted Wilbur, it was Fundy’s screams, In a few minutes, he was done. Tommy was laughing at Fundy’s expanse, forgetting that he too needed to get his wounds cleaned. Techno turned to him, raising a brow as a dawning horror appeared on Tommy’s face. He stood up, ready to tackle his brother as Tommy made a break for it, screaming at the top of his lungs as he tried to keep out of Techno’s hold. Pitiful. Nothing could escape Techno’s pursuit. “Tommy, take it like a man! It’s just antiseptic, you little nerd!”

After a few minutes of chasing Tommy and having to pin him down to the floor as Techno tried to fix his wounds, they finally settled back onto the couch, his nephew and younger brother curled next to him as their soft snores reached Techno’s ears. An arm was curled protectively around both of them, keeping them close as Techno stared up at the ceiling. As annoying as they were, he couldn’t bring himself to move away even as they both fell into a deep sleep.

A part of him regretted not knowing much about Tommy or Fundy, the multitude of war and competitions having taken up his time. Techno closed his eyes, feeling the hum of the voices in the back of his head as one half screamed about how adorable Fundy and Tommy were while the other half screamed for him to get up and train or plant potatoes. The first half had the better idea of how he wanted to spend his morning. He brought Tommy and Fundy closer, Tommy muttering something underneath his breath before settling back into silence. He could see now why Wilbur and Phil were so protective... Tommy and Fundy were absolute troublemakers.

Techno felt a soft smile form on his face.

Someone had to make sure they didn’t run into any more trouble. They needed a guardian.

Who better than The Blade?

‘They almost feel as valuable as blood... or gold…’

Techno chuckled to himself.

He was going to protect his nephew and his younger brother.

He swore it to the Blood god.

---

“Awwwww, I was wondering where my little champion had run off to.”

“Your son’s been pestering me.”

“Ah… well... I can take him from you一”

“No.”

“Ah… Techno? Really, it’s no trouble一”

“No.”

“O-oh… um… Phil? Techno won’t give Fundy back.”

“Techno, mate. You can ease up now. Wilbur can take Fundy and I can take Tommy一”

“No.”

“Ah… guess we ain’t getting our sons back for a while, Wil.”

“... yeah…”

Techno tried not to smile at the flabbergasted looks on his twin brother and father’s faces.

He’d protect them too. So long as Techno breathed, he’d never let anyone tear his family apart. 

That, he swore.

Chapter Text

A soft breeze ruffled his ginger hair as his fingers traced circular patterns on the river’s surface. His golden-flecked brown eyes watched as salmon darted within the shadows, disturbed by his presence as they swam away downstream. He wondered if he were to simply lie down and let the river take him, would he too be as free as them? Fundy rolled his eyes at the thought, slamming his hand against the water before finally pulling himself back up to sit. Even alone, he could feel the chains that kept him free from fleeing into the forest, the dark gaze that peered down his back to ensure that he didn’t try anything again. Wilbur had promised him a “wonderful” afternoon (whatever that meant) yet he could feel his father’s suffocating presence from within the cabin. He wouldn’t get the chance to run, not when Wilbur had both Phil and Techno on his side.

“Wonderful, gee, lack of freedom sure does sound wonderful. Thanks, dad. How thoughtful.”

His words were lost to the wind, forgotten by time perhaps for he was beginning to doubt that anyone would ever come to find him. Fundy picked at the grass, twirling them between his fingers before tossing them into the river. It had been two weeks since “incident” in which he realized he accomplished nothing because Phil healed up within a day and Wilbur refused to let Fundy leave his room until Wilbur was sure his precious little son was back to “sanity”. Fundy growled beneath his breath, hand grasping a pebble that he had found. He threw it at the river, water splattering his cheek as he tried his best not to curl up on himself. He didn’t want Wilbur thinking he was having a “relapse” or whatever the fuck delusion he’d concocted in that sick mind of his. Fundy gripped at the grass, hoping his little outburst wouldn’t draw much attention.

He wasn’t sure he could handle another week within his room. Wilbur was the only person allowed to visit and he knew he couldn’t become dependent on his dad. He just couldn’t.

“It is a picturesque home, I suppose. Quite different from the populous country of Manburg or the Essempy but it is much more calming. No noise… no fights… at least, none that would cause a war.” His ears twitched, his dulled instincts suddenly awake as they screamed for him to run, to jump into the cold river. Anything to get away from him . As he had done before in the past, Fundy ignored what his mind told him to do. And isn’t that funny? If only he had listened to his instincts then maybe he would have died with Schlatt during the festival, a better fate really than the hellish world he lived in now. He felt someone sit down behind him, their back pressed against his own as they continued, “A perfect home… to an outsider. Would you not agree?”

“Yeah, sure.” Fundy leaned back, hating himself for melting so easily into his ex-fiance’s charms. “You could stay here. Get the experience, ya know? We could swap anytime you want.”

"As much as I would love to spend time with your… charming family, I'd rather break my legs.” He couldn’t help the sheer agony that he felt at those words, the slight pain as Dream tipped his head back and wheezed like a dying kettle. He felt soft blond hair tickle his cheek as Dream leaned a bit closer. Dream could make those jokes without the fear of consequence or of the possibility of it actually occurring. Fundy didn’t have that liberty, not with Wilbur showing him that he wasn’t afraid to be… drastic when it came to desperate measures. The side of his head still ached with the phantom pain of Wilbur practically smacking it against the wall, twice . “How have you been, star? I apologize for my inability to visit, the Essempy’s in absolute shambles一”

“Blowing up a fucking country and murdering the president of said coutnry would do that.” Fundy growled, his shaking hands gripping onto the poor grass as he tried not to scream.

“L’Manberg is a disease, it would have fallen even without my interference. The number of casualties is unfortunate but it had to be done.” Fundy felt blades of grass cling to the palm of his hands as he tore his fists away from the ground, blood rushing to his ears at how calm Dream sounded. It felt cold, like the way the god had spoken to him on their first meeting. As if he was nothing . “The papers have piled up. I have meetings to attend, councils to appease. It’s… a lot.”

“At least you’re free and alive. Not a lot of people can say that now.” Fundy curled into himself, knees pressed against his chest as he forced himself to look at the salmon darting around in the river. A part of him - one he loathed and wished had died in Pogtopia - wanted nothing more than to turn around and embrace Dream. “Why are you here, Dream? What do you want from me?”

“...I wanted to see you.” Fundy shivered despite the warm sunlight that shone upon them, sparing a glance behind him. Bright green eyes stared back at him as Dream moved to face him, dark circles beneath the man’s eyes from the countless nights he’d surely spent reading through paperwork. A soft smile danced on his lips and Fundy couldn’t help but melt as Dream reached out a hand to caress his cheek. It was an ideal setting, if one forgot the house that was stationed behind Dream. A forest clearing with a beautiful river… if Fundy wanted to, he could close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else. He could pretend that he was with his doting and love fiancé, both of them on a picnic date that would ebb away into a night full of stargazing until one of them fell asleep in the other’s arms. It almost felt real. “With everything that’s happened, I couldn’t find the time to visit, but I’m here now. After all, star, we still have a wedding to plan.”

"No." But it wasn't real, it wasn't true. Fundy couldn't afford to lose himself in a fantasy. He couldn't afford to delude himself into believing what wasn't right. He wasn't going to be Wilbur. Dream froze, his fingers suddenly cold against his cheek as Fundy moved away. His heart wanted to move closer, but that would be a mistake he'd never recover from. "We can't do this, Dream. I can't marry you. Not after what you did, not after hearing you speak as if what happened meant nothing to you."

"Well, I suppose I was too early to propose the idea of marriage. You need time and I understand. We could schedule the wedding for—" He could feel that sharp gaze settle on his hand as Fundy tried to pry the engagement ring off of his finger. Wilbur hadn't minded or dared to make Fundy take it off, going so far as to find it "adorable" that Fundy had gone straight for what he had wanted and proposed to "the love of his life."  It made him sick to remember how Wilbur compared Dream and Fundy's relationship to him and Sally's. Dream was nothing like Fundy's mom and Wilbur never deserved someone like her. "Funds… Star, what are you doing? This isn't— what…?"

"I can't. We can't." Fundy gazed down at the ring that gleamed at the palm of his hand, its sunstone centerpiece nearly brought him to tears as he recalled Dream spending weeks to make him his own ring. He had given Dream a blue moonstone ring when he had proposed. When Fundy got his own ring, Dream had kissed him on the cheek, chuckling at how their rings complimented one another. Fundy could barely part with it, his fingers shaking as he thrust out his hand towards a very stunned Dream. He had to. It was this or throw it into the river where no man - and hopefully no god - could ever find it. "You showed me your true colours and priorities the day you aided my father in the destruction of the only place I ever saw as home."

"As I said—" Fundy didn't need to hear the excuses, didn't want to hear the damning cold in his ex-fiancé's voice. He pressed his hand against Dream's chest, letting the ring slip from between his fingertips and fall onto the man's lap. Dream caught it with a steady hand, barely even phased at the sudden jab. Fundy glanced up to find a dark look on Dream's face. "I apologize, star. But I refuse to accept that. We are not over. Not while I breathe."

"I don't care, Dream. I can't marry you—" He felt a sharp tug on his wrist, his bones creaking as Dream held his hand, still splayed against the lime cloth of Dream's sweater. A chill ran down his spine as he tried to pull away, the man - no, the god's - grip tightening with each desperate move he made. Fundy couldn't find it in himself to beg, but his arm felt like it was going to get pulled from its socket. Fundy whimpered, teeth biting the inside of his cheek as he pulled and pulled. Dream held on. "Dream, let go of me. Dream, you have to— CAN'T YOU JUST ACCEPT THAT I CAN'T… I DON'T WANT TO MARRY YOU?! I CAN'T… I DON'T WANT YOU—"

"No." Dream pried his hand open, placing the ring back into his possession before finally letting go. Fundy shifted away, wrist held closely to his chest as he watched Dream move forward. Dream's gaze was fixed on the ring, eyes dangerously narrowed into slits as they sat in silence for what felt like an eternity yet was only a second. Fundy didn't know what to do. His heart was beating too loudly in his chest, pain coursing up and down his arms as a purple bruise began to circle his wrist. "Wear it."

"Like hell I'm—" He hesitated, a look dancing in those bright green eyes stopping him from finishing. They were dark, boiling with a controlled rage that must have taken years to perfect, but in them was desperation. Dream didn't want to lose him, at least that's what Fundy saw. He couldn't rely on instinct to tell him the truth of what that look meant. He could never be sure with Dream. The god was an enigma, and yet Fundy felt as if this was the truest he'd ever seen him be.

Fundy sighed, the ring slipping back onto his finger with ease. Dream smiled, patting his hand before finally standing up, their gazes never leaving the other. A sense of clarity flooded back into Dream, wincing as he turned to glance at the bruise he had left on Fundy. "Do you hate me, Fundy?"

It was a heavy question. One Fundy wasn't sure he could truly answer without breaking into tears. He chose the easier option. Fundy pushed himself up to his feet, a bitter smile on his face as he took one good look at the god he'd once given his entire heart to. It wasn't fair. Fundy sniffled. He loved them all, and yet it seemed the world would return it in a way that was never really true or wanted. 

"I love you all. You… Wilbur… everyone… Maybe a part of me still does, I don't know, Dream. All I know is, I can't bring myself to hate any of you." No matter what you do, no matter what you've done .

"But I'm starting to think that maybe that isn't healthy." Not like this. Not after everything.

"So… I think…"

Fundy moved closer, forcing a smile onto his face as he looked into Dream's eyes.

"I loved you. I loved Wilbur. But… I still do love the versions of you that were perhaps never real. Maybe they were never real and both of you chose to lie." Fundy moved past him.

"All I know is, Wilbur is not the dad I thought he was and you are not the man who I thought I'd spend my life with. You are not the people I love. The one I love are lost… or perhaps even dead… and their blood is on your hands."

Fundy paused, glancing up at the cabin that was his prison. He'd rather hide in his room than spend another minute with Dream. He needed a moment of silence until he could force himself to believe that he was happy. 

He threw Dream one last smile, hot tears dripping past his cheeks as he finally allowed himself to cry.

"Still... If you find them, please send them my love."

I miss you.

Please...

Please come back to me.

Chapter Text

Fundy watched as the salmon darted within the shadows of the river, a soft breeze tickling the back of his neck. He could feel Wilbur’s gaze from within the house, ever present as though he couldn’t trust Fundy to remain still for an hour. He wanted to make the most of his momentary freedom. Wilbur entrusted him to be alone for an hour, reluctant even as he left Fundy to his musings a few minutes ago. Fundy’s gaze snapped towards the treeline, the dark greenery of the spruce trees a stark contrast to the light blue of the sky. He wondered how far he’d make it before Wilbur came rushing out of the house to drag him back in. Fundy sighed, turning to lie down on the ground as he watched puffy white clouds move across the sky. He couldn’t bring himself to run. Not after what Wilbur had done last time. The side of his head still ached from the pain, his throat still dry from the potions Wilbur had forced him to drink so he would… “behave”.

“Fucking Wilbur. Who the fuck has that many potions in their inventory?”

Fundy pulled at blades of grass, watching as they danced in the breeze before landing on his chest. The wind was not enough to carry them away from that clearing. Like him, they were fated to spend their lives in that field… that sounded too dramatic. Fundy scrunched up his nose. He had to get out of there, one way or the other he was going to leave that stupid fucking place. His eyes fluttered close, breathing in as he tried to keep himself calm. He couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. It would mean giving in to Wilbur, showing the man exactly what he wanted: that Fundy was “unstable.” Fundy dug his fingers onto the ground until he felt the rough earth beneath his fingertips. He can’t lose himself. He just can’t.

He didn’t know how long he had been lying there, but at some point he must have fallen asleep because by the time he had opened his eyes, the sky was a darker shade of blue than it had been before. Fundy blinked, the edges of his mind fuzzy with sleep as he pulled himself to sit. He had been out there for more than an hour and he doubted Wilbur wouldn’t have brought him in the second he had fallen asleep. Fundy groaned, blinking away the dark shadows that engulfed his vision. Another nap sounded good. He shook his head, forcing himself to a shaky stand before moving to walk back towards the house. Wilbur could have forgotten. It wasn’t like the man was in the proper state of mind to remember anything. Fundy ran a hand through his disheveled and dirt-stained hair. What stung the most was having no choice but to go back into his own prison.

Fundy paused before the door, taking a moment to breath before reaching down to grab the door handle. He froze. Hand hovering above the bronze knob as his ears twitched. There was a peculiar sound within the cabin, much lighter footsteps moving across the wooden floor as though someone was searching for something. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew. Techno’s footsteps were heavy, Wilbur dragged his feet, and he couldn’t hear the rustling of wings.

“Wilbur...? Dad…?”

The footsteps stopped abruptly, an eerie and dreadful silence emanating from the house before a series of hurried steps rushed towards him. Fundy barely had the time to react or scream before the door opened, nearly slamming against his face if he hadn’t moved out of the way so quickly.

It was the pair of white and black goggles that caught his attention, dark brown hair framing a face he’d never thought he’d see again. Fundy’s eyes flicked up towards the strange mushroom crown that graced the man’s head, a part of him unable to laugh despite the ridiculous headpiece. Fundy noticed the regal, red cape that his probable savior wore. A part of him worried that this was a test that he was about to spectacularly fail. George didn’t seem to care for Fundy’s startled and frazzled reaction, reaching to grab his wrist before pulling him towards the side of the house. Fundy let himself be led away, stunned at what was happening. From one of the windows that decorated the side of the cabin, he could just about see another figure within the house, the flickering shine of gold his only clue as to George’s companion. He followed George all the way to the front of the house where a ram hybrid he’d never seen before stood waiting for them.

His heart skipped a beat as he realized Tommy and Tubbo were hiding behind the stranger’s coat, clinging to her hands as they watched Fundy from the corner of their eyes. Tommy flashed him a smug grin, one that Fundy was glad to see. Tubbo looked nervous, gaze flitting over towards the open front door where Punz was beginning to walk out of. What the fuck was going on here?

“Explain. Did Wilbur finally kill me and I’m hallucinating heaven, or is this real?” Fundy looked over at George who didn’t seem quite interested in what was going on. He heard Tommy snort at the question, the kid rolling his eyes as if Fundy had just asked the stupidest question of the century. Punz walked over to their small group, a relaxed stride in the way he walked. As he got closer, a metal stench reached Fundy’s nose. On closer inspection, there was a speck of blood that stained the front of Punz’s white sweater and a smear of crimson on his cheek which he hadn’t bothered to wipe away. Fundy felt a chill run down his spine. He didn’t like Wilbur, despised him for trapping Fundy in that hellhouse for what felt like years, but he didn’t hate him enough to actually… he didn’t want… Wilbur wasn’t... “No fucking way. Tell me you didn’t一”

“I wasn’t paid to do so.” Punz looked over at him, steely blue eyes melting to look at him softly. Fundy wasn’t sure how to feel about the sudden pity that was being directed his way, too relieved to hear that Wilbur wasn’t actually dead. “The mission was to escort George for a negotiation and if it went wrong, to intervene. Murder isn’t on my paygrade today… are you okay, Fundy?”

“What do you think, bitch?” That would be Tommy. Fundy laughed beneath his breath as he watched the kid move closer to argue with Punz over something or whatever. He was sure that Tommy was just glad to be able to speak to someone else again. Tubbo watched the small argument with slight amusement, arms wrapped around the stranger’s side as if he couldn’t bear to let go. The stranger was a ram hybrid, long rainbow hair cascading past her shoulders as two horns stuck out at the top of her head. Fundy didn’t need an explanation to know that she wasn’t just any stranger. Schlatt’s tragic death has surely reached the other countries. Fundy wouldn’t be surprised if some of the businessman’s old companions or relatives came to pay their respects.

“Dream made a mistake and he sent me to fix it.” Fundy could almost hear the tired exasperation in George’s voice, “He wanted to resolve the problem peacefully but Wilbur didn’t want to.”

Fundy recalled his last moment with his… fiancé? Ex-fiancé? He remembered the flower that Dream had left him with, the pretty white almond flowers that had wilted by the time Wilbur had dragged him away from Pogtopia. He didn’t know what Dream had meant by them, couldn’t bring himself to think of the implications. Niki had told him what they meant… what was it? Fundy’s mind raced until he finally settled on the answer: ‘promise.’ “He wanted to save you, but he didn’t know if you wanted him to. And he sent me all the way here. Wilbur, Techno, and Phil won’t be awake for a few hours. We have to leave right now if we want to get out of here.”

“Wait…” Fundy could hardly believe it, his heart aching at the promise of hope. To any god that was listening, this better not be a cruel dream. “We’re going home?”

George flashed him a small smile, “You’re all going home.”

~~~

“Hey.”

“...hey.”

Fundy looked over his shoulder, a familiar pair of bright green eyes stared back at him through the open doorway. There were dark circles beneath Dream’s eyes, an exhausted slouch in the way he leaned against the doorframe. Fundy wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull the man into an embrace. He could use a hug… but not from Dream. Eret and Niki deserved the first hug… if Fundy could bring it in himself to seek them out that is. Dream was still on thin ice.

They reached the Essempy after two days of walking through the forest, all of them were glad to know that both George and Puffy - Captain of one of the most renowned pirate ships, Schlatt’s sister, and Niki’s girlfriend, apparently - knew how to navigate foreign lands. George had left him to rest in his and Dream’s shared cabin since Fundy’s old base was blown to shreds during the explosion. Fundy had spent the rest of the day wondering when Dream would appear.

“Are you okay?” Dream walked over, giving him enough space to breath. He didn’t try to reach out, didn’t expect Fundy to do so either. Fundy was happy about that. He didn’t know what he’d do if Dream even tried.

“No.” He wrapped his arms around his shoulders, shivering despite the lack of chill in the air. Dream nodded, hands fidgeting at his sides as though he didn’t know what to do with them. “I don’t know how long I was there with Wilbur… you know you fucked up. Why help us now?”

“Because I was wrong.” It sounded sincere, a tone thrumming with guilt that Fundy couldn’t help but believe him. He watched as Dream leaned against the wall, eyes fluttering open and close as if he was on the brink of collapsing. “I was wrong... I understand if you can’t forgive me. I should not have given into Wilbur’s demands. Supplying him with the bombs is my fault. I should have done more. I’m sorry, sta一 Fundy.”

Dream slid down the wall, choosing to sit on the ground as he placed his face into his trembling hands. Fundy hesitated for a second before moving to sit beside him, knees pressed closed to his chest as he watched Dream pull at the tips of his hair. He wanted to reach out, to do something, but he couldn’t help Dream with that right now. He couldn’t bring himself to forgive him just yet… but they both needed someone to keep them sane. Who in the server aside from George and Sapnap would willingly be his shoulder to cry on? Who would dare see past the tyrant?

“I’m trying. I didn’t want to be the villain of this story. I tried but it’s just so easy to fall into what I’ve always known to be… real. It’s no excuse. I made the choice and I have to live with what I’ve done… with the blood on my hands.” He watched as Dream clawed a shaky hand through his hair, a bubble of frustration ripping from the man’s throat. “I know you don’t want me. You can’t want me. I understand. I… I’ll leave.”

Fundy sighed.

He couldn’t forgive Dream… yet.

But he could try.

And maybe someday he could try to forgive Wilbur too.

Fundy reached out a hand, fingertips grazing the edge of Dream’s as he looked away.

Dream’s fingers tensed up before relaxing.

Fundy found it in himself to smile. From their position, he could almost see into the kitchen. Someone had left freshly picked flower on the vase centerpiece that decorated their kitchen table. White almond flowers complimented the orange of the vase. Fundy leaned his head back against the wall. He was safe. He was home. And though he couldn’t bear to look at Dream at the moment, he had a feeling that everything would be okay.

“One day at a time, Dream. We can do that, right?”

“Yes… yeah…. Yeah, we can.”

“Then we’ll do it.”

“... together?”

Fundy laughed, joyful for the first time in months.

“Together.”

Chapter Text

Dream brought out the ring from his sweater pocket, gaze soft as he took in the moonstone centerpiece that Fundy had crafted into the golden band. He missed his fox, missed his star.

“Where did you go, Funds?”

His engagement ring was a source of comfort and joy in these past tiresome days. Not only had he been bombarded with stacks upon stacks of paperwork, but Tommy had run away from his exile and Fundy had apparently moved away to whatever “Drywaters” was. He had a terrible inkling that “Drywaters” was a newly born country but he doubted Fundy would have done such a thing as found a country. The fox hybrid would have had to ask Dream permission to do so.

Dream ran a hand through his disheveled blond hair, exhausted from the long trek he had taken to get to this “Drywaters” place. It was Eret who had eventually complied to give him the information he sought. He never thought he’d have to threaten anyone to find out where his fiancé had run off to. He didn’t want to threaten Eret. Dream blamed it on the stress. The first straw was Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. Tommy . The kid couldn’t just take a single command without making a fuss, and now he was gone to who knows where and planning to do who knows what. He had asked Technoblade and the man had nothing to say about where his rebellious brother had gone off to. From the worry he had seen in Techno’s eyes, Tommy wasn’t with him. Dream could only hope that Tommy had enough sense not to die out in the wilderness.

The final straw had been Fundy’s disappearance. Dream had spent most of his nights cooped up in the hidden house he had built in the woods, needing the solitude if he wanted to finish his paperwork. Why the gods decided to curse him with Adminship he’ll never understand. Dream had accomplished half of his work and had chosen to spend at least one night with his fiancé in the small little cabin they had both built together. He had wanted to surprise Fundy, picking and buying as many flowers that he could find before heading towards their shared home.

He was greeted by an empty house. Dream had looked around for Fundy. His fiancé hadn’t been in the house for a while. Dream was scared. His relations with the rest of the Essempy was not what one might call “decent.” Any one of his enemies could use Fundy against him. Dream had rushed out of the house, making his way towards Eret’s castle. They would know where Fundy was. Eret had barely opened the door - had barely said hello - before Dream came barreling in, taking the monarch by the collar of their shirt as he demanded to know where Fundy was.

It had taken an hour since Eret stood firm in their decision not to tell Dream anything about where his wayward fiancé had disappeared to. It took one slip of the tongue for Dream to realize that Fundy wasn’t even anywhere in the Essempy, and though it sickened Dream to tell Eret that he’d hurt Fundy - perhaps even Niki and Ranboo - if they didn’t tell him where the fox hybrid was, he did what was needed to gain the information he needed. Eret had watched in frustration as Dream finally left the monarch, yet they were too afraid to follow Dream. Thus, Dream was now here wandering through the desert. He hoped Fundy didn’t build a house made of acacia wood, it would blend into its surroundings and Dream might end up missing where Fundy was. Dream couldn’t afford to waste more precious time searching fruitlessly through the desert. In a way, he couldn’t blame Fundy for being upset. Not after what Dream said to everyone.

After another hour of wandering through the never-ending desert - on multiple occasions, he had to bring out the ring just to keep himself from collapsing and giving up - he spotted the curl of smoke against the sky. He walked closer until he saw a small, nearly dilapidated house in a little man-made clearing. That had to be “Drywaters,” who else would dare live so far away after all?

Dream steeled himself before marching towards the horrid building. As he approached, he saw the flimsy brown curtain move from within the house, the white tip of a familiar tail disappearing to the side as Dream paused a small distance away. He waited… but Fundy didn’t show up at the front door. Dream winced. Oh, his fiancé - his star - was definitely pissed off at him. 

He sighed, choosing to slowly walk towards the door but before he could raise a hand to knock against the scratched wooden door, it shrieked open. Dream jumped in panic, the door nearly grazing him on the cheek as Fundy exited the house, an exhausted and furious look in his eyes.

“What the actual fuck , Dream?!” He flinched back at the onslaught of anger that radiated from Fundy, the fox hybrid’s fist clenched at his sides as though he was controlling himself from taking a swing at Dream. He didn’t understand why Fundy would be outraged as he remembered that Fundy was more sad than angry when Dream had told everyone that he didn’t care about anything or anyone in the Essempy. He expected a grumpy Fundy who would refuse to talk to him until Dream made it up to his fiancé with a myriad of cuddles and kisses. Dream sucked in a breath as Fundy reached out to grasp him by the front of his green sweater. “You threatened Eret?! You threatened my ren?! THE ABSOLUTE FUCK ?! I ran away for a reason, idiot.”

“Fundy, you’re mad. You have every right to be! I was scared, I didn’t know where you were一”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right, you are definitely justified at threatening my ren because you were scared. Nevermind the thought that maybe I ran away for a reason and maybe that reason was you . But fuck that, right Dream?” Fundy jabbed a finger at his chest, the cloth of his sweater tearing as Fundy’s claw accidentally clung and pulled at the cloth. Dream felt his heart race inside his chest. He didn’t expect this confrontation. He didn’t know what to do. They’d never fought like that before. The closest they’d ever gotten to a heated argument was when Fundy screamed at him for leading Wilbur to his death. “I don’t want you here Dream. Go home.”

“But… Fundy… you are my home…”

“Hm, cute but no. You’ve been working on that for a while now, huh? On another day - in an old life - I might have fallen for that, Dream, but I can’t.” Dream’s eyebrows knitted together, the sad tone in Fundy’s voice confused him because he didn’t understand where all of this was coming from. His hand reached down towards his sweater pocket, grasping the moonstone ring that was hidden within. His thumb gently traced over the grooves of the gem, trying to keep himself from panicking as Fundy continued, “Like you said. You don’t care about anyone or anything on this server… except for Tommy’s discs. I’m staying out of your way. I refuse to be another puppet.”

“But you’re not一” He couldn’t finish because Fundy had rolled his eyes, scoffing at Dream’s attempt to “weasel” his way out of the accusation. Dream held onto the ring as tight as he could. All he had wanted was to teach Tommy a lesson (the kid had it coming anyway!) and he just wanted everyone to calm down and try peace for a change. Why does every attempt he does to do good only end with him being labelled as the villain? It wasn’t fair! He held only four people - and animal - dear to his heart yet the Essempy is trying to take them all away from him! He’d already lost Spirit, George, and Sapnap. He thought he still had Fundy, but he was losing him too! Dream could feel his breathing pick up as he placed a shaky hand on Fundy’s cheek. The fox hybrid’s ears flicked down, “I never saw you as that. I promise! Fundy, I love一”

“Maybe.” Fundy batted his hand away, an indifferent look replacing the sadness and anger in his eyes. The fox hybrid sighed, glancing at the sky as though he couldn’t face Dream. “But I can’t, Dream. I know you think you’re doing what’s right, but you aren’t. You have to know that一”

“Then tell me what I’m doing wrong!” He didn’t understand. He was doing everything right! Did his plan have an error in it that Dream just couldn’t see? “Tell me so I can fix it! I can fix it!”

“You don’t even know what you’re doing wrong, don’t you?” Fundy muttered something beneath his breath, a clear look of pity yet doubt appearing in those golden-flecked brown eyes. Dream shuddered as Fundy frowned, gaze darting to his own hand. Dream didn’t understand until Fundy raised it to reveal the engagement ring that he was wearing. There was a sharp pain in the fox hybrid’s eyes as he traced the sunstone with a gentle finger. Fundy looked like he was about to cry, and Dream couldn’t do anything but stare as Fundy slowly began to pry the ring off his finger. He wasn’t… was he? Fundy held up the ring, staring at it with such a look of misery and anguish that Dream held on to the hope that Fundy would put the ring back on… that he wouldn’t do what Dream feared he would. A tear ran down Fundy’s cheek as he reached out for Dream’s hand, placing the ring onto his palm with shaky fingers. “I’m sorry, Dream. We can’t.”

“But…” Fundy was backing away from him, the door creaking close as Fundy tried to go back in. Dream couldn’t help but run after him, hand grasping the wooden edge before Fundy could fully close the door. Fundy’s gaze snapped up, terror in his eyes. “Fundy, please… You can’t.”

“I can. I’m doing it right now.” Fundy tried to slam the door but Dream held on, holding the sunstone ring in one hand as he pried the door open. They needed to talk . Fundy began to shake as Dream forced the door to slam against the side of the outer wall, placing himself against the doorway as though he didn’t want Dream to see inside the house. Dream could care less about the house, too concentrated on his… ex-fiancé’s face to even care. There was nothing of worth in the house anyway. “Dream. Get the hell out of my fucking country before I kick your ass out.”

“I just don’t understand where all of this is coming from! If it’s what I said before then I’m sorry but I had to get my point across. Tommy was threatening to burn Spirit, Funds. He was threatening to take away the one piece I had left of my horse! I’m sorry if I overreacted but Spirit meant so much to me! You know that!” Fundy tilted his head, ears flopping to the side as his downcast eyes looked at the ground. Fundy believed that part, or at least he was considering it to be the truth. Dream felt a glimmer of hope. He had to salvage this relationship. He didn’t know what he’d do once he lost the one last person he thought he would always have. George left, Sapnap left, and Fundy… He won’t lose the last person he cared for. “The exile had to be done. Tommy needed to learn his lesson. He threatened to take away the peace, everyone’s peace.”

“And exiling him - separating him from those who loved him - was all to teach him a lesson?”

“Yes.” Fundy shook his head at the admission, straightening up before reaching for the doorknob. Dream’s eyebrows furrowed as Fundy slowly pulled the door close. Had he said the wrong answer? Fundy hesitated, gaze flicking over to Dream’s eyes. The door was 3/4ths of the way closed, a tiny gap allowed him to see Fundy’s face despite the darkness of the house. Dream frowned, confused as to why Fundy would even care about that. He didn’t understand what was wrong. Fundy should be upset at him but he shouldn’t be so furious, especially for someone Dream was sure Fundy didn’t even care about that much. Dream refrained from pulling at the tips of his hair in frustration. “Why does it matter, star? You don’t even care about Tommy.”

Fundy froze, fingers tensing up as guilt flooded into the fox hybrid’s eyes. It was only a moment though. Fundy scowled, eyes narrowed into slits. “Goodbye, Dream. Don’t come back here.”

And with that, the door slammed with a resounding crack. It felt final. Dream stood there for a moment, surprise coursing through his veins before adrenaline kicked in and forced him into a panic. He tried to knock on the door, hoping despite the circumstance that Fundy would open the door again… but he was met with silence. Dream’s breath came in sharp loud bursts, free hand - the one holding the sunstone ring - reaching into his pocket to pull out the moonstone ring. They both felt wrong in his hands. He was only meant to have one. He didn’t even know why Fundy had given the other ring. Did he expect Dream to someday propose to another person? Dream couldn’t imagine… He shook his head, too terrified of that future. He kept banging on the door, screaming Fundy’s name until his throat felt raw and ached with pain. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go. So he screamed and screamed, begged for Fundy to come back and talk to him.

Fundy never came back.

~~~

Fundy pulled his knees closer to his chest, baring his teeth towards the front door as he sat before the wardrobe that Tommy was currently hiding in. Dream was still yelling his name outside.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, furry.” He rolled his eyes at the nickname. Still, a part of him was glad that Tommy was getting better. If he had to endure the nickname for gods know how long, then it all would have been worth it. Tommy had probably been listening to their argument the whole time, not that Fundy ever tried to keep his voice down. Fundy only wished that Dream would finally leave so that Tommy can feel safe to come out. “Seriously, like what the fuck , Fundy? Out of everyone you had to choose bitch boy over there as the one you wanted to marry.”

“Be quiet, Tommy.” Fundy leaned against the wardrobe, placing his head against the bumpy wooden surface. If Dream could just leave so Fundy could go take a nap, that would be great.

“... I think he cares… in a fucked up kind of way.” Fundy wished that Tommy would stop talking cause they’d both be dead if Dream so much as hears Tommy’s voice. Dream would probably break the door open, the only reason he hasn’t is because he maybe respects Fundy’s wishes. Fundy curled his tail around his waist, the warmth made him feel safe. From somewhere else in the house, he could Batry squeaking, probably disturbed by the noise that Dream was making. At least Fundy could tune in on that. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Dream entered the house and found Tommy. Fundy wasn’t as skilled in combat as the Admin. He had no doubt that Dream would have him beaten in seconds. “He didn’t talk a lot about you during my exile, fucker refused to tell me anything about what was going on in New L’Manburg, but I saw him pull out… what a ring? He made me toss my stuff into the hole when I tried to steal it once.”

“He’s not wearing it so I doubt he cares that much. It was a possible show of power, an excuse to punish you for misbehavior.” Fundy didn’t believe Dream would care about him that much.

“Look, furry I don’t think any manipulator would go so far as to kiss the ring when he thinks I’m not looking. He’s fucking weird that way.” Fundy sighed at Tommy’s insistence that there might be something else going on with Dream in that particular area, not that it mattered anymore. Fundy couldn’t marry a man who was willing to go so far because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. Love or not, Dream was cruel . Tommy had fallen silent when Fundy refused to respond after a few minutes. They waited and waited… but Dream was still outside. Fundy was too scared to look out the window. Dream might take that as a sign to come in or whatever. He slowly rocked himself back and forth, all they can do now is wait. The Admin had to leave at some point.

“I can’t focus on that, Tommy.” Fundy eventually found it in himself to speak. “It isn’t about that anymore. I promise… I’ll protect you. No matter what. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

And though Tommy would probably deny it until the end of his days, Fundy could hear the faint sniffle of tears and the hint of a smile in the kid’s voice.

“Thank you… Fundy.”

Dream was still screaming.

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Dream leaned back against the tree, leaves sticking out of his messy blonde hair as he desperately wiped at the furious tears that ran down his cheeks. His heart ached and cracked at the thought of his fiancé, a piece of him knowing that he was being irrational... But he couldn't help but worry. He had neglected his Admin duties for the day as he tried to find his fox, and found him he did. Dream had spent half his morning picking flowers while scouring through the Essempy to find where Fundy had ran off to. It took a few hours, a large bouquet already in his hands by the time he found his star. Fundy was surrounded by a few people, most of them gazing at the intricate contraption that Fundy had constructed. It was no secret that the fox hybrid had skill unrivaled by anyone in the Essempy - asides from maybe Tubbo or Sam - so he wasn't surprised to find people gawkinng at his fiancé's invention. If anything, he felt pride as they complimented Fundy on his phenomenal talent... But then someone said something that made him freeze. Dream hoped Fundy would ignore it... But the fox hybrid laughed - he laughed - and responded.

Dream ran a hand through his hair, groaning as blades of grass and leaves fell onto his lap. He didn't know how long he had spent listening to those strangers talk and flirt, having chosen to hide behind a building, flowers clutched to his chest as he listened to their laughs of amusement. He had hoped that Fundy would stop and look over at his direction, would spare him a single glance, but he never did. The fox hybrid soaked up all the praise that was tossed his way and Dream couldn't blame him. Fundy deserved the high praises they wreathed upon him. Dream had taken a look at the flowers in his hands, some of them wrinkling and withering as the seconds ticked by. He winced as he realized Fundy might not appreciate the flowers... Remembering the last he had tried giving him flowers only to accidentally mutter George's name. George and Sapnap had laughed at his mistake for a week. It wouldn't have been good to give Fundy flowers, the praises he was getting were much more valuable than what he'd gotten him. Dream felt ashamed for even thinking that Fundy would like flowers that he had randomly picked from the fields.

He had fled after hearing another flirty comment. Dream trusted Fundy but he didn't want to stay any longer than he already had. It burned to hear such compliments, especially when he knew he hadn't been all that affectionate when it came to showering his fiancé with compliments... When was the last time he'd even spoken to Fundy? Dream sighed, propping his head against his knees. He couldn't remember.

"Hey, babe." He nearly jumped at the sudden voice that broke through the silence, his gaze snapping to face a familiar pair of golden-flecked brown eyes. Fundy snickered, amused by Dream's startled reaction. "Thought I saw you stalking me today... Were you crying?"

"Allergies." He heard Fundy move to sit beside him, a hand on his cheek as Fundy traced the teartracks that Dream hadn't managed to get rid of. Fundy made a small noise of distrust, curling closer towards him before wrapping his arms around Dream's shoulders. Dream leaned into Fundy's hold, glad to just be there with the man he loved before Fundy began to interrogate him. "You know the season has shifted and there's more pollen in the air than there was before. It doesn't help that—"

"Dream, you don't get sick." Fundy giggled, burying his face in the crook of Dream's neck which sent goosebumps down his skin. Dream reached to tangle his hair into those ginger curls, carefully petting the tip of Fundy's ears as if to assure himself that Fundy was right beside him. His heart had stopped hammering, the sick feeling of jealousy melting away as he reminded himself that Fundy was there beside him. "What's got you so upset, babe? You know you can talk to me, right? I can't have my fiancé be crying in the middle of nowhere, can I?"

"Don't worry about me, Funds. It's stress, this time I'm telling the truth." Fundy peered up at him, tail wrapping around Dream's waist as though to keep Dream from running away. The fox hybrid frowned, gaze fixed on Dream's bright green eyes that held something Dream was sure Fundy couldn't quite name. It had been a mistake to move his mask away from his face, it left Dream vulnerable to his fiancé's ever-shifting eyes. Dream can only sigh in relief as Fundy finally looked away, choosing to settle his head back onto Dream's shoulder. For all the fox hybrid's intelligence, he was never quite as good when it came to understanding people. Dream couldn't tell Fundy about how he felt, couldn't bring himself to ruin the blissful moment they both were currently sharing. He'd come out as clingy, desperate if he even mentioned an inkling of the jealousy he felt. Dream was terrified of how Fundy would react to that admission. Would he mock him for being so insecure? Would he be outraged that Dream would think so lowly of him? Of the people who wanted nothing more than to compliment Fundy on his skills? Dream couldn't ruin that. He couldn't ruin his relationship because he was too afraid of being alone to get over himself. "I love you, Funds. I love you so much. You know that, right?"

"I love you too, Dream." He could hear the exasperation in Fundy's voice, his tone reminiscent of the times where Dream would apologize to Fundy about the fact that he wouldn't be able to spend the night with him because of the amount of paperwork he had to do. When Dream didn't respond as he usually did, he felt Fundy tense up beside him. Fundy hadn't moved from his spot, but he knew that Dream was hiding something, something he couldn't quite bring himself to say. Dream's heart picked up, scared that Fundy would choose to leave. "I love you, Dream. I do. If you couldn't tell, I chose you, didn't I?"

Fundy moved his hand to grasp Dream's, the engagement ring twinkling underneath the sunlight as Fundy raised their clasped hands. Dream's gaze softened as he looked at the ring. Jealousy be damned. Fundy loves him. That he didn't doubt.

"And... I'll be here." Fundy gave him a small smile. "Once you've find your courage. I'll be here to listen, okay?"

Dream smiled despite himself, "Okay."

Chapter Text

Wilbur stared at him from across the table, a frown on the man’s face as he waited for Fundy to pick up the spoon. His hand held onto the edge of the table, fingers shaking in fear as he looked down at the familiar stew that had been placed before him. Wispy white smoke rose from the bowl, curling in small caricatures in the air above, sickeningly inviting him to eat. Fundy could feel everyone else staring at the back of his head, wondering when he’d finally give in to what Wilbur wanted. He bit the insides of his cheek, wishing that Wilbur would just let it go and send him to his room. Fundy could handle one night without eating. He couldn’t bring himself to eat.

“Do you not like the soup, Funds? It’s perfectly okay! I made it, you know?” Fundy wasn’t sure why Wilbur thought that would be assuring to say. The last time Wilbur had fed Fundy potato soup he got drugged and kidnapped. Fundy ran his hands through his disheveled hair, shaking his head as he looked at that horrible horrible sludge. He’d rather starve than eat potato soup again. “Baby… son… it’s okay. It’s okay! I even added a few more vegetables to the soup than usual.”

He could hear Techno grunt from somewhere in the living room, his uncle’s distaste palpable in the air that Fundy wished Techno would just come into the living room and smack the offending stew off the table. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side as he listened to the heavy thump of footsteps ascend up the stairs. Fundy flinched as his dad Wilbur moved his own chair closer towards him, practically seating beside him at that point. His dad Wilbur picked up the spoon and Fundy immediately regretted not darting away the second he had been left alone on the table. Everyone but Fundy had finished eating an hour ago, quickly enough that even Tubbo and Tommy looked at him with concern as Phil led them towards their rooms. Fundy inhaled sharply as his dad Wilbur pressed the spoon closer to his lips. He wasn’t a fucking child for fuck’s sake.

“Fundy. You’re not leaving this table without eating. Son, I know you’re stressed一”

“Stressed? Wilbur一 Dad, I am far from stressed right now! I’m fucking distraught!” He couldn’t keep the growl from rising in his throat, refusing to back down as Wilbur’s eyes narrowed into thin slits the moment Fundy began to curse. Fundy ran another hand through his hair, fingers tangling in his ginger curls that he had refused to comb through for a few days now. Fundy was starting to lose it, he could tell. He had begun giving in at some points or just letting himself go each time Wilbur wasn’t there to take care of him. Sleep evaded him, he couldn’t eat, he could barely drink, and he could hardly look at anyone else without feeling the urge to just hug. He knew he was slipping. He saw how Wilbur would smile at Fundy’s momentary breakdowns, joy in those dark brown eyes as Fundy would reluctantly fling himself into Wilbur’s arms just to feel a semblance of warmth and touch. “I… Dad, I don’t… I don’t want to eat that. Please...”

“But you love potato soup, and I don’t think your Uncle Techno would be too happy if you wasted his precious potatoes.” His dad Wilbur elbowed him on the side, chuckling as though they were sharing a joke. Fundy didn’t find it funny at all. He tilted his head back, begging his dad Wilbur to let the matter go. It was stupid, Fundy knew that. His dad would have no reason to drug the soup. Fundy had been good, he had been a good son. Fundy wished his dad would just let this one go, spoil Fundy a bit and let him eat something else. “It’s soup, Fundy. You don’t even have to put that much effort into eating it. Come on, son. A few bites at least, hm? For me?”

“... I really don’t want to.” He flinched, knowing how weak it sounded, even to his own ears. He didn’t want to explain why he couldn’t eat. He didn’t want to get punished again. Fundy couldn’t get punished again. Wilbur frowned, placing the spoon back down as he turned to tilt his head up, forcing Fundy to look at him as Wilbur searched for some form of defiance in Fundy eyes. Wilbur cupped his cheek with a warm hand, gaze softening as he saw nothing that could send alarm bells through that deluded mind of his. Fundy didn’t pull away as Wilbur wrapped an arm around him, running a consoling hand down his back as Wilbur promised to make something else for Fundy to eat. He couldn’t help but stay wary… until Wilbur stood up to clear the table, taking the offending bowl of soup with him into the kitchen, humming a happy tune as he left.

Fundy rested his head against the table, sighing as he listened to the noise of cutlery that echoed from the kitchen. He could only pray that this wasn’t a cruel ruse, that Wilbur actually believed him and wouldn’t pull a trick on him. Surely not… fuck, he was thinking like Tommy. Fundy groaned, pressing his face against the cool surface of the table. He needed to talk to someone else other than Tommy and Tubbo. But… Wilbur, Technoblade, and Phil were out of the question…

He yawned, blinking as he tried to occupy himself with his thoughts. Fundy knew that Techno, Tubbo, and Tommy were upstairs… but he knew his grandfather Phil was somewhere in the hallway, wandering he supposed. He could hear the rustle of feathers against the ground as Phil continued to pace the length of the hall. It felt rhythmic. Fundy blinked again, trying to think past the soft thump of footsteps that reached his slowly drooping ears. He didn’t know how long it would take Wilbur to finish cooking, if he was actually cooking that is. Fundy didn’t trust Wilbur just yet. Fundy relaxed, his eyes drooping as he focused on Phil’s footsteps. As Fundy slowly fell into sleep, he thought of high-heeled boots clicking against stone, remembering a pair of shades that hid blank white eyes. Fundy missed Eret. He tried not to whimper at the thought of those eyes… those eyes that everyone used to fear… Fundy whimpered, shaking the thought away.

Fundy didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but he felt Wilbur shaking him awake, a hand caressing his ears as Wilbur tried to coax him back to the real world. He didn’t feel an inkling of embarrassment when he leaned into the touch, a squeak rising from his throat. Wilbur laughed at that as he slowly helped Fundy to sit back into his seat, a plate of steak in the middle of the table which Wilbur moved closer to him as soon as he was sure Fundy was fully awake. Fundy looked at the fork for a moment before reaching out to grasp it with steady fingers. Well, it definitely was the soup that was the problem. Fundy didn’t mind the steak, but he certainly didn’t want to eat potato soup anytime soon. Wilbur sat down beside him as he ate, happily petting the top of his head as he murmured something beneath his breath that Fundy wasn’t able to really catch.

“Is my little champion sleepy? Aren’t you getting any sleep…? Have you been getting nightmares...?” Fundy bit back the urge to growl at the questions, scared that Wilbur would move away and that the hand on his head would disappear. His reality was already a nightmare, he doubted that his mind could ever concoct anything as cruel and horrible as the life he lived in now. Fundy swallowed down a piece of meat, glad that he could occupy himself with something. Wilbur would have usually expected him to look him in the eyes, but he was letting the issue go now that Fundy was too busy eating. “Would you like me to sing you a lullaby to help you sleep tonight? I remember when you were still so small, you always fell asleep during the chorus.”

Fundy nodded as Wilbur rambled on about things of the past and how Fundy used to be so adorable and clingy and whatever the fuck else that Wilbur missed about him. He eventually finished eating and he couldn’t help but whimper as Wilbur left to place the plate into the kitchen sink, missing his dad’s presence even if it meant having to put up with his dad’s insistence to talk a lot. Wilbur came back after a while, patting Fundy on the head before scooping him up into his arms. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to complain as Wilbur carried him towards the stairs - briefly saying goodnight to Phil who was still pacing down the hallway - choosing to nuzzle his face against the crook of his dad’s neck. Wilbur held him until they finally reached Fundy’s room, the soft curtain that served as his room’s door grazing Fundy on the cheek as they walked through the doorway. A part of him - the saner part - felt much happier when Wilbur finally let go.

He curled up on the bed, clinging to one of the softer pillows that Wilbur his dad had given him. Wilbur sat at the edge of the bed, running a calloused hand through Fundy’s hair and tsking as he realized how messy it was. As far as Fundy knew, even the fur on his tail was a bit tangled up.

“Hm… Well, here’s a lullaby I’m sure will help you sleep better, son… your favorite lullaby…”

There was a moment of silence, one that made Fundy nearly freeze with fear. Did Wilbur his dad leave? Then a soft, familiar lullaby broke through the silence, a low tune that nearly made him cry as he recalled the many nights where Wilbur his dad would sing it to him. It was a song that brought him peace after countless nightmares of the war. Wilbur His dad didn’t try to pull him closer, but Fundy couldn’t stand the feeling of being alone. He moved closer, curling near his dad’s side as the man paused, chuckling at Fundy’s action. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to care or to feel ashamed for giving in. It was one night. He could have this for one night. Fundy smiled despite himself. For one night, he could pretend he was with his real dad. For just one night…

He felt peace.

Chapter Text

He could feel his heart beating heavily in his chest, cold sweat prickling the back of his neck as he peeked out into the dark empty hallway of the house. Fundy could hear the soft snoring of the cabin’s occupants, praying to any deity that could hear him that nobody would suddenly wake up while he was sneaking around. A sliver of silver light escaped from two rooms, his and Wilbur’s. Fundy hissed beneath his breath. Wilbur always slept with the door open, that paranoid fuck.

Fundy could only hope that Tubbo and Tommy had taken his advice to heart and were currently sneaking out of their room through their windows. Fundy held his breath as he slowly made his way across the hallway, stopping every time he stepped on a creaky floorboard. He begged that Techno wouldn’t hear him walking around. He deeply hoped that the piglin hybrid was asleep.

He braced himself against the stair railings, breathing a sharp sigh of relief as he made it halfway through his goal. Fundy paused, glancing down at the dark abyss that led to the first floor. He’d hate himself if he somehow managed to trip down the stairs at some point. Although he knew he needed to move quickly, he couldn’t help but look towards Wilbur’s open door. A part of him was worried that he’d be met with dark brown eyes staring at him from the shadows, but luckily, Wilbur was fast asleep on his bed. In another time, Fundy would have laughed at the fact that Wilbur drooled while he slept and that he was one turn away from falling off the bed… oh fuck.

Fundy sank down to the floor, sitting against the top step as he made his way down the stairs one step at a time. He kept low to the ground, hoping that it would make his way down easier since he could hold onto the railing while testing each step to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally miss a step. Fundy froze with each groan that echoed from the floorboards, ears twitching erratically as he tried to pick up a hint of someone waking up from their slumber. He heard none, and so he kept moving until he reached the bottom step, nearly crying as he stopped. He was so close. Just a few more steps and he’d reach the kitchen. He looked up at the stairs before crawling his way towards the kitchen, refusing to stand now that he was close. It was much easier to crawl than to walk, at least this way he’d be able to control the amount of weight he placed against the floor.

With each creak and groan that echoed through the house, a piece of his courage dwindled, yet he moved forward. His ears were perked up, listening intensely for any movement upstairs. As his eyes peered through the darkness, he let out a small sigh of relief as he realized that he was utterly alone. Fundy knew that Techno could have been awake, could have thwarted his plan the moment he saw Fundy crawl into the living room. He nearly let out a snicker at the thought, wondering if his uncle Techno would have jumped in surprise if Fundy had just entered the living room like a spider scuttling across the floor. It certainly wasn’t something one would expect to see on such a normal night. A misty memory of that scenario formed in his mind… almost as if he had done that before when he was a child. Fundy shook the thought away, passing through the quiet and desolate living room before finally making it to his destination: the kitchen.

His hand gripped the edge of the countertop, pulling himself on shaky feet as he slowly opened every cabinet drawer he could find. Phil had to keep the matches somewhere around in the kitchen… As he searched through the drawers, his eyes caught a familiar gaze right outside the window. He would have screamed in fear if he didn’t remember that he’d told Tommy and Tubbo to wait for him outside. Fundy gave Tommy a tense smile. At least if he failed, Tommy and Tubbo had a fighting chance of booking it into the forest. They were resourceful, Fundy was sure they could survive and find their way out of the forest. Fundy was climbing the countertops by the time Tommy finally spoke up, a harsh and low whisper that barely reached Fundy’s ears.

“Hey, dickhead! What the fuck are you doing?! Hurry the fuck up and let’s go already!”

“I’m causing a distraction, what does it look like I’m doing?” Fundy bit back his growl, flinging the cabinet doors open. Where the actual fuck were the matches?! He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to take a deep breath before climbing down to the floor. They had to be in here somewhere! Where else would they even be? “Where the fuck are the matches? Tommy一”

“Are you fucking serious? The matches一 they’re underneath the vase.” From the tone, it felt as though Tommy was surprised that Fundy would even ask him that. In Fundy’s defense, he barely knew Phil enough to know where the man kept his matches away from the grabby hands of “the children, aka Tommy and Tubbo” and whatever the fuck Phil saw Fundy as. Fundy scrambled to lift the vase, grasping the box of matches as if they were a lifeline.  “Wha一 Fundy, surely not.”

“Do you have any better suggestions, Tommy?” He hissed back, tearing the box open in his haste to grab at least one match. Thank gods the floors were made of wood and covered in carpet.

“Is he seriously burning the house down?” Fundy heard Tubbo’s muffled whisper, an incredulous yet curious tone in the ram hybrid’s voice. He couldn’t blame him for not really caring, not after what Wilbur did to Schlatt. Fundy felt tears prick the edge of his eyes as his fingers grasped one of the matchsticks. They were nearly free. The fire would cause enough of a distraction for them to flee into the forest, but he’d be lying if he said they wouldn’t encounter any problems after that. The forest was seemingly never-ending, but at least they would have a head start advantage. “Fundy, what if you get stuck inside the house? Can you even fit through the kitchen window?”

“I’m doing it by the front door, at least that’s one exit down and the only way for them to get out would be through the upper windows or the back door. You two meet up front. If… something goes wrong, both of you need to run. Run until you find some semblance of civilization or Manburg or L’Manburg or whatever the fuck, just get out of here, okay?” Fundy threw them one final glance before scurrying out of the kitchen, matchbox and matchstick in hand. He could hear Tommy hissing for him to come back, to consider something else, but Fundy ignored him. Tommy was worried for his family, of course he was, but Fundy had a distinct feeling that no one was going to die tonight. Not by fire nor by blade. The worst case scenario would mean all three of them being captured, and Fundy intended to at least let the kids escape. No matter what.

His hands were trembling as he made his way to the front door, his knees buckling with each step that he feared he was going to faint, the match weighing heavily against his fingers. Fundy remembered this feeling, remembered casting his gaze up into the sky, catching a radiant glimpse of hues flying across the blue. He remembers how it felt, numbly grasping at the match he had found in the bakery he and Niki shared, legs trudging until he came face to face with the flagpole. He remembers climbing up, block after block until the flag was in reach. He remembers the warm glow of the fire, the flames licking at his fingertips as he threw the match onto the cloth. He remembers the way those whites, blues, reds, blacks, and yellows melted away into crimson, the distant cacophony of screams and cheers ringing in his ears. He remembers tearing his gaze away, catching a small glimpse of an exiled, heartbroken general in the murky distance.

Fundy didn’t even realize he was at the door until his head knocked against the wood. He blinked, pain blooming on his nose as he tried to rid himself of the memory. He couldn’t think about that, because that memory would lead to guilt, and guilt would lead to doubt. Fundy didn’t know why he had done what he had done. Why he chose a man he barely knew over the man who had raised him, over the man who had loved and cared for him as if he deserved the world. He didn’t know, and Fundy would have to live with that. He had to live with his choice, forever.

He wonders… would anything have changed if he had stayed loyal? Would L’Manburg remain standing? Would his dad be the same man as the one who had left? Was all this sorrow his fault?

Fundy doesn’t know, would never know. Maybe… maybe this reality was the better outcome.

He made quick work of the locks, glad to know that no one had tried to set an alarm system for them. The door was open within just a few seconds, the cool night air brushing against his cheek.

The breeze was a welcome change, and in the distance he could see Tommy and Tubbo waiting for him by the riverbank. He relaxed, yet he knew he’d have to close the door so the fire could spread. Fundy waved at them before nudging the door close once more. Throw the match, wait for it, and run. That was all he had to do. He leaned back to calm his beating heart, matchstick in hand as he looked at the empty hallway before him. This used to be a better place, he knows that. There were pictures on the wall that displayed happy memories that Fundy couldn’t really recall.

His child-self lived a perfect life. Too bad, he’d grow up to live in a nightmare of what once was.

Fundy lit the match, the flicker of fire dancing amongst the shadows in all its luminous beauty. He watched, enraptured by the flame until he felt the heat lick his fingertips.

He had to let go. Fundy walked forward until he was at the foot of the steps, dropping the matchstick onto the red carpet that decorated the staircase. The response was immediate. He giggled as the flames spread across the cloth, brightening the room with a dark red glow.

Fundy could practically taste the smoke, giddy as he watched the fire grow and grow and一

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, pulling him from the gorgeous display of destruction and out into the cold air of the night. Fundy blinked, joy gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Were you planning to die in there or what, you fucking一”

Tommy was cut off by the sharp scream that rang from the house, both of them freezing as they realized who was screaming. Fundy took a deep breath before grabbing Tommy by the waist and running, grabbing Tubbo with his other arm as he passed by him.

With the kids in his arms, Fundy ran past the river, water splashing against his cheek as he tapped into his instincts. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he darted past jutting rocks and across the flower field that he had grown so accustomed to in the following - months? weeks? days? - since Wilbur had brought them all there. His ears ringed with the croak of frogs and the shriek of crickets, yet he couldn’t hear the flapping of wings, nor heavy footsteps, nor his father screaming. No one was chasing them, and there won’t be anyone to pursue them for a while.

Fundy stopped as Tommy pinched his side, all of them collapsing by the edge of the forest in a heap. They were reeling from the shock of it all. Fundy with disbelief that they had gotten this far, and Tubbo with surprise that they had gotten that far at all. Fundy spared one glance towards Tommy, a different shock dancing in the boy’s sky blue eyes as they watched flames engulf the front of the cabin. Tommy had grown up in that cabin… and in a way, Fundy and Tubbo did too.

“Tommy… I am so一”

“We have to go.”

Tommy moved past him, brushing off the hand that Fundy had tried to place on his shoulder. He watched as Tubbo gave him an apologetic look before sprinting after Tommy.

Fundy waited for a moment before chasing after them, the crackle of fire ringing in his ears.

And just like that fateful day where he had chosen to burn down the flag that held all his father’s hopes and dreams…

Fundy could hear his dad, in the distance, crying out his name.

Chapter Text

He could feel calloused hands running through his hair, a low chuckle reverberating through the room as Fundy leaned closer to that comforting and welcomed touch. He almost felt at peace.

“I don’t know why you insist on being so difficult… isn’t this much easier?” A voice whispered from somewhere beyond the mist that circled Fundy’s mind. “We don’t have to fight anymore...”

Fundy stilled, fighting against the haze as he realized who was trying to comfort him. He could barely move, his head aching as he tried to roll away from Wilbur who laughed - laughed - at his attempts to escape. He felt Wilbur move him closer, his head settling on Wilbur’s lap as the man continued to console and coo at him as if he was being a petty child who refused to go to sleep.

“I just… I don’t understand where my Fundy went. Where did my little champion go?” He could hear the frustration making its way through Wilbur’s tone. “You were never like this before!”

Fundy weakly grasped the edge of the bed, grounding himself to reality as he forced himself to wake from his confusion. Wilbur’s ramblings fell away into static, indecipherable words that Fundy couldn’t bring himself to care for. After what felt like years, his finally eyes snapped open, the bright sunlight that seeped through the window nearly blinding him as he tried to maintain focus. His head felt heavy, numb with the occasional flash of agony that ran down his nerves and sent tears to his eyes. Despite Wilbur’s shushing and insistence that he not move, Fundy struggled out of the man’s tight hold, curling into himself by the center of the bed.

“Wil…” He winced, his injury flaring with agony as he forced himself to speak. It felt horrible, his whole body felt numb while the only source of feeling he got was from the pain that Wilbur had caused. Fundy reached up a hand to his forehead, the gauze sticky with blood. It would take more than a few regeneration potions to fix what Wilbur had done. Fundy shivered at the memory, his head being knocked against the wall until he passed out. He picked at the edge of his shirt, the motion comforting as his gaze snapped up to meet Wilbur’s. Somehow, he found the courage to speak. What else was Wilbur gonna do? Smash his head again? “Let me go. Let Tommy and Tubbo go. We don’t want to be here. What you did… that isn’t going to disappear.”

"I did what was best for us! For all of us! L'Manburg had to go! Schlatt had to go!" He watched as Wilbur began to pace the length of the room, hands combing through his hair and tugging every so often as though the habit kept him calm. There was a distressed look in the man's eyes, his face burdened with a pain that rarely ever presented itself. Fundy took a deep breath, encouraged at his sudden bravado to continue on. Wilbur had to see that his idea was flawed, that what he had done was wrong. Even if… even if Schlatt had been an asshole, that doesn't change the fact that hundreds of Manburg citizens lost their lives. Wilbur had to see that. "You don't understand. You don't know Schlatt like I do, that bastard is a crook, a businessman who only cares for the riches that he can gain. Fundy, he lied to you— he lied to all of you! You have to understand—"

"Wil, please. I may have a head injury, which you caused, but I think we both know that I'm the only sensible person in this fucking room."

"I just don't understand." A twinge of guilt blossomed in his chest as Wilbur collapsed to the ground, curling into himself as he looked at the ground. Wilbur's bottom lip was trembling, tears dotting the tips of his eyelashes as he tried to bat the tears away. Fundy turned his gaze to the soft pillow that his head currently rested upon, the sight so pitiful that he couldn't bring himself to look. "I did everything right. I fought so damn hard, and for what?"

"That's what you get for having a dream." Fundy whispered, keeping his voice low so that Wilbur wouldn't hear. He wasn't cruel to stomp on his father's crushed spirit, he wasn't hateful enough to try it. Wilbur sniffed, pulling the tips of his hair as he tried to make sense of it all. In another time, Fundy would have stood and pulled his dad into an embrace, assured him that they would be alright. But not then, and perhaps never again. "Wil… Dad…"

"And you— You left. Where did I go wrong, Funds? When did you decide that you were better off without me? When did you decide that a complete stranger was a better man than your own fucking dad?!" Fundy held his breath, eyes widening in fear as Wilbur's tone began to shift. "I raised you. I fought for you. I made a country to protect you. I admit it, alright! I was not the best father in the fucking world but I gave you everything you wanted. I love you—"

"I know. I know you do, and I know a part of you - the saner part - still does. And… I love you too." Fundy felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes, and he scoffed as sentimentality and nostalgia began to flood into his heart. Fundy forced himself to sit, a grief-stricken look crossing Wilbur's face as he let out a whimper at the sudden movement. "Dad, I missed you. I told you, remember? But I had to grow up when you left. I grew up, but I still missed you."

Wilbur had grown eerily silent, pulling himself up to a kneel as he regarded Fundy with blank-filled eyes. Fundy swallowed down the pessimistic thought that raised its ugly head at the back to his mind. His dad - the real one - had to be in there, Fundy wouldn't take any other alternative. "Schlatt gave me the chance to be my own man, be me. You love me, yes… but you saw me as nothing but a child, dad. You still do. I know you do. Everyone can see it."

He wiped his tears away with the back of his jacket sleeve, hoping and praying that his dad would just listen. "Losing mom was hard… and we both miss her, even if she abandoned us the first time and left permanently during the second. But I'm not her, dad. And you know what? You left me first when you chose your new country over actually raising me. I never left you, and I never stopped loving you. But I don't think the same can be said about you."

Fundy had turned his eyes away the moment he heard the scuff of boots against wood, the drag of footsteps against the ground as Wilbur moved closer towards him. He felt a hand land on top of his shoulder, sending shivers down his spine and more flashes of pain as Wilbur cupped his cheek and lifted his head up. He took a shaky breath as those piercing dark brown eyes met his own golden-flecked brown ones. There was something much sinister in the man's eyes. It wasn't manic. It wasn't the insanity that had taken over Wilbur's gaze. It wasn't the same look that he had first seen when he had first arrived in Pogtopia. No. This was his dad. This was the same Wilbur who had raised him. This was the calm and collected anger that graced his dad's eyes when he was younger and someone had either hurt Fundy or Fundy had broken a rule himself. He scrambled to move back, whining as his vision blurred and his head began to pound. Wilbur had made no move to offer him any comfort, his hand simply moving from grasping his shoulder to snaking behind his back, keeping Fundy from moving away. Fundy felt whatever bravado he had acquired disappear as Wilbur suddenly pulled him into a suffocating embrace, keeping him still and limp in the man's arms as Fundy collapsed out of pain and exhaustion.

"Sally left me. I'm not letting you leave me too." He felt one of Wilbur's hands disappear against his back, barely giving him time to react as he caught the glimpse of a potion appearing from within Wilbur's coat pocket. Fundy started to pull away, his own screams ringing in his ears as Wilbur began to press the potion bottle to his lips. Regeneration… with a hint of weakness. "I did what I had to. For L'Manburg. For me. For Tommy. For Tubbo. For you."

The vile taste sipped past his lips as Fundy quickly swallowed the potion down, nearly choking as he began to cry. The bottle disappeared and Fundy didn't even have the energy to fight back as Wilbur pulled him back up on the bed, tucking him in as though everything was perfectly fine and normal.

"I'm doing what's right. I've lost my country. I've lost myself." Fundy's eyes began to droop, but he could still catch the sorrow in Wilbur's voice, the sob that escaped his lips. "I won't lose my family too."

The potion was beginning to take effect, the world plunging back into haze and mist.

Fundy felt a kiss press against the top of his head, and he heard his dad's voice before finally succumbing to slumber.

"I'll fix everything. I'll fix us. I'll fix you. Don't worry, Funds. Just leave it to dad, hm? … sleep well, my little champion. I love you."

Chapter Text

Fundy didn’t know how long he had been out, but it was the distinct smell of smoke and meat burning that made his eyes snap open. The hallway was dark, save for a small sliver of light that came from beneath the kitchen door. He yawned, wiping at his eyes as the world slowly focused into view. It took him a moment to realize that he was on the floor, a tattered blanket draped over him as though to keep away the chill of the night that seeped into the thin walls of the house. He forced himself to sit, startling awake as he realized that he must have fallen asleep while waiting for Dream to leave. Dream to leave… Dream… Dream had been there… Tommy…

Tommy! Fundy flung the closet door open, heart pounding in his chest as he found it to be empty. He took a deep breath, the smoke strong in the air as if… Fundy stood up, the blanket left discarded on the ground as he made his way to the kitchen, nearly tearing the door off its loose hinges in his haste to get there. A strong and sickening torrent of heat attacked him, choking as he tried to bat the gray smoke away from his face. “Tommy! Tommy! Tommy, where the fuck一”

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SHOUTING AT THREE IN THE MORNING?!” Fundy jumped at the response, coughing and wheezing as he moved away from the direction of the smoke. 

As the smoke began to clear, Fundy saw Tommy standing by the poorly made table, two smoking plates of steak - if they could be called that - on top of it. Tommy had an exasperated look on his face, as if Fundy was being hysterical for no reason. “Tommy, why are you cooking at 3 AM?”

“I couldn’t sleep, and you told me not to leave the closet until Dream left. He left an hour ago. Honestly, man. I don’t know what you ever saw in that psychopath.” Fundy rolled his eyes, not ready to continue that point of conversation. He wasn’t sure if his heart could take it. The fox hybrid eyed the meat that was on the table, surprised that Tommy had even thought about making him food. Well, the meat looked awful and burnt to a fucking crisp but Fundy wasn’t going to say that outloud. “Are you going to keep standing there or are you going to sit and eat?”

“I would but… eh… I usually eat when the sun is up.” As if to emphasize his point, a yawn escaped him as Fundy settled on sitting against the creaky window ledge. Tommy shrugged, turning towards his meal. Fundy tried not to wince as Tommy began to eat. “Nightmares?”

“What fucking else? How the fuck could you sleep with Dream threatening to bash your door in? I couldn’t sleep a wink.” Fundy ran a hand through his hair, sighing as guilt ate at his heart. Tommy was right, he wasn’t sure how he’d fallen asleep. He forced himself to stand, moving to sit next to Tommy in some semblance of comfort. Fundy wasn’t really sure how to comfort someone after a nightmare. No one ever showed him how. He spared a glance at the teenager, shivering as he noticed soot clinging to Tommy’s shirt sleeve. “You know I think it was good that you found me. We both know Dream could’ve broken down the door if he really wanted to. Guess that’s what you get for being on his good side. He doesn’t act like a bitch around you.”

“Can we talk about something else? I’d rather not discuss my ex-fiance and the many reasons why he didn’t just smash my door.” They settled into an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t unnatural. Ever since Fundy and Eret brought Tommy to Drywaters, there has been an atmosphere of awkwardness and tension that permeated the air. Fundy couldn’t recall the last time he had even spoken to Tommy, the memories of tragedy and war muddling whatever positive moments he’d had in the past years. When was the last time they’d had a proper talk? When Tommy had mocked him in Pogtopia or when Tommy had publicly disowned him and threatened him during the elections? When did ‘uncle Tommy’ slowly change into just ‘Tommy’ ? Fundy couldn’t recall. “When you were in exile… what did you… you never told me一”

“Well I don’t want to fucking talk about what I did during exile either, Fundy.” Tommy cut him off, snarling as he did so. Fundy looked away, not quite sure how to feel about Tommy’s sudden feralness or hostility. He wasn’t like that before the exile, and even though Tommy explained what Dream did, Tommy never went outside of what he did when Dream wasn’t there to torment him. It felt like he was missing a piece of the puzzle. Fundy pursed his lips, knowing that one of them would have to cave in, and he couldn’t expect Tommy to do that. Fundy leaned back, eyes fluttering shut as he steeled his nerves. He could feel Tommy staring at him, as if he’d realized what Fundy was going to do. “Sorry. We could both just shut up about it. Die with our secrets一”

“It was during Manburg when I first met him.” Tommy fell into shocked silence, and Fundy took that as a sign to continue. “I don’t remember much about that day, but I know that I was upset. So, like I usually fucking do, I ran away to the forest until I collapsed by a lake… He was there.”

Fundy ignored Tommy muttering underneath his breath and continued with the story, “Ya know I thought he was going to kill me but he surprisingly left the moment I got there. So, I kept coming to the lake each time I was upset and he was always there, staring into nothing like the idiot he is.” He wished he could keep the amusement and endearment out of his voice, but he couldn’t help but remember the man that he’d fallen in love with. “One day, he decided to stay long enough to ask why I always looked upset each time I went near the lake, and it was stupid of me to tell him but… all I ever wanted was for someone to care enough to ask. So I told him why.”

“Horrible decision, really. 0/10 shouldn’t have done that.” Fundy nearly laughed as Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes that they were practically disappearing into his skull. “You could’ve chosen anyone but you chose the green boi. I’m not fucking surprised, you got Wilbur’s tastes in people. Should’ve taken lessons from me, big man. I’m a fucking expert in people.”

“Sure, you are. Is that why you’re still single?”

“Oh shut the fuck up, furry.” Fundy found himself cackling at the nickname, somehow not as irritated as he should be at 3 AM in the morning where he was usually ready to just kill anyone who decided it would be funny to wake him from his slumber. “Go on. Tell me about how you fell in love with Dream of all people. I won’t judge your tastes, but they’re clearly fucked.”

“Whatever, Tommy. I told him. It was hard, do you know how painful it was to pretend to be someone I wasn’t? To act like I hated my own dad, to be hated by everyone all for a part that ultimately never even gave me anything? Dream was so nice about it too… he listened. He actually listened. He didn’t mock me or ridicule me or insult me… he just listened. I know. I know. I shouldn’t have revealed what I was to an enemy, but I just… someone had to know. I needed to tell someone.” Tommy had remained disturbingly quiet as Fundy spoke, his lips pressed into a thin line. “And he understood, at least that’s what he told me. He said he knew how I felt. He knew my pain and it was so easy . It felt like it was meant to be and I… I fell, hard. He knew what it felt like. He knew my pain and it was felt so good and so real that I一”

Fundy hadn’t meant to cry, or let out a whimper. He quickly tried to wipe his tears away. Gods, he was supposed to be the fucking adult here. Fundy felt a hand pat him on the back, an awkward gesture that helped Fundy cement himself back to reality. He sniffed, casting Tommy a smile. “I proposed. We were supposed to be married in a few weeks… guess I have to cancel the wedding invitations and preparations. I feel… stupid. I clung to the one person I thought… fuck it.”

“You could have talked to us. You had Niki. You had Eret. Why Dream?”

“I had no one, Tommy. In Manburg, I was alone.” Fundy ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the tips as his tail curled around his waist. “And I… I thought he understood. I really thought…”

Fundy took a shaky sigh, recalling the signs that he should have seen. “You probably said it to cheer me up but Dream doesn’t love me. I don’t think he ever did looking back on it now.” He felt the urge to curl into himself, to pull his knees closer to his chest and just bury his face in his arms. He glanced over at Tommy, a frown playing on the teenager’s lips. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to act childish, not around Tommy. “I should have seen the fucking signs. The way he wanted to keep us a secret, the way he never even looks at me when we meet in public, the way he had chosen to spend all of his time protecting George . It was always fucking George. It was so fucking stupid of me to even think that he cared. Slip of the tongue, what a fucking joke. Those flowers were always meant for George. It’s never me, Tommy. No one ever chooses me.”

“George?! Dream… what the fuck . I’m going to kill that son of a bitch一 How fucking… No one messes with the fucking Soots!” Fundy forced a laugh, hoping that his tears weren’t showing as he turned towards Tommy - who had forgotten about his steak, much to Fundy’s relief cause Tommy needed better food than that. Tommy’s eyes were narrowed, his hands gripping the edge of his seat. Fundy smiled, even if he knew that Tommy’s bravado and threats were nothing but for show. Tommy only cared about him because Fundy was protecting him. Once Dream was no longer a threat, Fundy would go back to being forgotten. As it should be一 “Hey! Stop that! I can see the self-pity in your eyes, stop it! You shouldn’t be this fucking sad... I mean, don’t be sad!”

“I’m not sad.” He rolled his eyes, tail lifting and falling as Fundy looked down at his boots. “It’s fine, Tommy. I get it. I’m okay with it. We barely even care about each other as it is. I’m not一”

“Going to lie to yourself? Yeaahhhhhhhhh, I can read you like a damn book, big man. You aren’t getting anything past Tommyinnit.” Fundy shook his head, conflicted on how he should feel by it all. Tommy was acting like his old self and he felt guilty at doing a shitty job as a caretaker. Fundy was supposed to be helping Tommy, not the other way around. “HEY! STOP IGNORING WHAT I’M SAYING AND LISTEN! I’m not just gonna… fuck off once this whole thing is over. Hell no. We’re all gonna be living in L’Manburg, every single one of us. One big fucked up family. We might even get Technoblade back if we convince him to break up with anarchy.”

There’s a smile on his face, Fundy can tell despite the ache in his chest. For a moment, he feels like a little kid again, looking up at his - at the time - taller uncle. He had been embarrassed, being older than Tommy but still somehow less mature. And now… he was tired. “Promise?”

Tommy scoffed, reaching out to smack him on the back of the head. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Fundy laughed at that. It was the same response that Tommy had given him all those years ago. The war was just beginning at the time, and Fundy had been frightened that he had decided to dig himself a little fox mound to hide in. Wilbur had tried everything in his power to get him out, but Fundy had refused to leave… until Tommy showed up and jokingly mocked him for being a baby and to “get out and fight like the man Fundy was” . What got him to leave was Tommy promising him that they’d all be alive by the end, that “uncle Tommyinnit was going to beat everyone and win the war for us!” Tommy always did have a way of making everyone feel hope.

“Thanks. Sorry for一” Fundy stopped as Tommy casted him a glare. He had nothing to apologize for… wow, that’s a first. He shook his head, trying to clear any negative feelings he may still harbor. There were many problems to be spoken about, and they both couldn’t say everything in one night. “Well, you’ve heard my shitty life problems… You don’t have to talk about yours, Tommy. What you went through, it’s a lot. I understand if you can’t really talk about it yet一”

“WELL TOO BAD BECAUSE FUCK YOU, I’M TELLING THE STORY, BITCH!” Fundy groaned as Tommy practically threw himself on top of the table, the plates rattling and nearly falling off the edge if Fundy had reached out to grab them. The table shook as Tommy began to pace on top of it, his energy a little too much than what Fundy could handle for a 3 AM talk. He leaned back, ears pressed to the top of his head as Tommy finally settled on sitting on top of the table, facing Fundy with a grin on his face. Fundy frowned, noticing how Tommy’s smile didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. It felt like Tommy was putting on an act, and Fundy knew all about acts and pretending. “Now, I’m a big man, you know? I can handle myself! I’m Tommyinnit! But… this exile, wow, it uh… it sucked bigtime. I fucking hated every moment.”

A somber look appeared on Tommy’s face, guilt appearing in eyes that had seen too much of the world despite Tommy’s youth. Fundy bit his bottom lip, knowing that look far too well. “I fucked up. I get that. I fucked up and I said shitty things to Tubbo when all he was doing was looking out for everyone. Selfish… Maybe… Maybe I was selfish. We had peace and I screwed it up because… for some discs?” Fundy felt a pang in his chest as Tommy raked a hand through his hair, shaking and pulling as though trying to make sense of it all. “I missed him. I missed L’Manburg, sure but I missed Tubbo. The thought of seeing him again kept me going because my exile had to end sometime and then I could go back and see Tubbo again. The thought of going home again kept me sane… at least it was holding me back from… from…” Tommy began to tremble, fear flashing in the teen’s eyes as his breath began to quicken in pace.

"You don't have to say it, Tommy. If you're not ready to say it, then you don't have to." Fundy reached out to tap Tommy on the arm, breaking him out of his panic as he looked around the room, as if cementing himself back to reality. Fundy's tail hung low, sad to see that Tommy was still suffering even if he did try so hard not to show it. Fundy didn't like seeing Tommy so… scared. "You can… tell me another day, ya? It's difficult, I get that. Maybe you can tell me one day, but maybe not today. You don't have to force yourself, you have every right not to talk about it. Tommy—"

"I want to. I want to get it off my chest because who the fuck else is going to listen to me?" Tommy snapped, rubbing a hand at his mouth as his eyes shut tight. Fundy wasn't sure if it would help but he reached to hold Tommy's hand, squeezing it. Tommy didn't let go, his hold tightening around Fundy's as his eyes finally blinked open. "I… I wanted it to be over. I wanted it to be so fucking over that I… I thought of… leaving. Just leaving, one final goodbye to the world. All it would have taken was one step off the platform. The lava looked so inviting, so warm and Logstedshire felt so fucking lonely and cold I— I wanted to go. Dream fucking stopped me but I doubt he did that out of the goodness of his heart. He said he cared about me too, about how he was the only one who cared about me… Fundy, how is Tubbo? Does he? Does he miss me? Dream said Tubbo didn't care, he was lying, right? Tubbo missed me, right?!"

"Tommy. I don't what the fuck Dream told you but Tubbo missed you. He didn't want to exile you, you know that." Fundy felt that Tommy needed more than assurance, needed more than words to quench his fears. He stayed where he was, unsure if Tommy would even want a hug from Fundy of all people. For the time being, all he could say were what he hoped would help Tommy realize that Dream had lied. His blood boiled at the thought of Dream wondering what he had done wrong, how could that idiot be so fucking stupid? Tommy was hurting and Dream continued to rub salt into his wounds. He shivered, wondering what would have happened if he and Eret hadn't found Tommy. Gods… would Tommy have been— Fundy felt sick at the thought of having another ghost haunt L'Manburg. "When you left, Tubbo threw himself into his work. He barely went out of that stupid office and he just kept planning and planning. He never said it out loud but everyone knew he missed you. He's… he's not doing so great either, ya know? I think it would be good if you two meet up! Oh! I could bring him over to Drywaters sometime… We could go to L'Manburg but I don't trust Dre— Dream enough that he wouldn't send or stay near Drywaters for a while. But, whatever. Fuck Dream. We're… we're going to plan a good ol' reunion. That would be good, ya? We could do that, right?"

"Yeah… that would be fucking great… AND OF COURSE TUBBO MISSED ME. FUCKING DREAM AND HIS LIES." Tommy jumped off from the table, nearly sending the plates to the ground, again. Fundy laughed, weak and almost pitiful in his ears as he looked over at Tommy's smile. It felt so surreal about how Tommy could still remain smiling despite everything he had just been through. "One day, I'm gonna beat the shit out of that fucker—"

Tommy paused, gaze snapping towards the curtain-covered windows. There was a worry in his sky blue eyes, a terror that was gone just as quickly as it had come. "That bitch better not be out there or I'm gonna kill him myself. Yeahhhhhhhh, I could do that. Show him what happens when you mess with Tommyinnit and his fucking family. How dare he…" Tommy began to tap his foot against the floor, anger burning in his eyes as he continued to rant.

"Tommy… are you okay? Are you okay now?" Fundy hadn't missed the way Tommy had glossed over the whole… he had wanted to give up. He couldn't help but fear what pain Tommy had through. Fundy wanted to cry, wanted to cry for both of them when Tommy refused to do so for himself. He couldn't help but move closer, wanting nothing more than to just hug his uncle until both of them felt somewhat better."Did you… Did you really want to?"

"I did. I was just so tired, so alone and stuck that I didn't know what the fuck I was supposed to do. I was exiled from my own country and I screamed and kicked the whole time. Tubbo… I hurt him. I hurt a lot of people. Fuck, I hope I didn't cause Ranboo problems since he tried to defend me. I—" Tommy took a deep breath, finally collapsing back into his seat, exhaustion in his gaze as he rubbed his hand on his mouth. Fundy moved a bit closer, hesitating before finally placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder. It wasn't a hug… neither of them were really good with giving those anyway. It was either Tubbo or Wilbur who started them and it was always Fundy or Tommy who would quickly pull away. "Thank you. I'm happy to know that he isn't mad at me, I wouldn't fucking blame him. I was a dick. I'd like… I'd like to see him again. Maybe plan ahead for whatever awful shit Dream wants to do."

“Ya… I’m sorry about what you had to go through.” Fundy patted him on the back, Tommy scoffing at the awkward display of assurance… but it was the best they both could do. Tommy patted his hand in return. “Dream’s gonna pay for that, he has to pay for that.”

“I just want to go home.” Tommy sighed, closing his eyes. “I just want—”

“You’ll see L’Manburg again, Tommy. Not today, not tomorrow but someday. I’ll make sure of that.” Fundy wished that they could leave right then and there, but he couldn’t risk it. Not with Dream still out there, waiting and plotting. “You’ll be home again. You’ll be happy again.”

Tommy hummed a low tune beneath his breath, a habit that reminded Fundy of Wilbur. 

After a moment, Tommy finally looked up, a hint of tears in his eyes. “Promise?”

“Ya…” Fundy wasn’t the best protector, but by the gods was he going to try.

“I promise.”

Chapter Text

“This is so stupid.” Fundy’s hands trembled as he looked down at the letter, tears beading at the corner of his eyes as he reread every word that was hastily scribbled onto the parchment. 5up regarded him from across the room, frozen in his seat as he watched Fundy’s smile crumble into a frown. Crumb looked up from where she laid, tilting her head as Fundy suddenly threw the letter onto the table, stricken with a pain that they’d only ever seen when Fundy’s mother - Sally - had passed away. He moved to the other side of the room, curling up into the corner as he buried his face in his hands. “Why now? Why does he want me now? It’s not… It’s not fair!”

He could hear the soft shuffle of footsteps as 5up or perhaps Crumb moved closer, the crinkle of paper making his ears twitch in irritation. After a few seconds, an arm snaked around his shoulder, pulling him into a semi-hug. Fundy threw his arms around them, crying and shaking as 5up began to run a hand up and down his back. The plant hybrid was whispering words of reassurance, of understanding if Fundy really had to leave. Fundy shook his head, whimpering at the thought of leaving 5up and Crumb by themselves to survive in a horrible wasteland. Ever since Fundy’s mother passed away, the three kids had to strive for everyday survival. “Hey… it’s not that bad. He probably wants to see you again. How long has it been? Five? Six? Seven一”

“Eight. He left mom and me eight years ago.” Fundy sniffed, pulling away long enough to wipe away his tears with the back of his hand. 5up nodded, the leaf that grew from the top of his head casted low despite the sweet smile that was on his face. Fundy curled closer to his best friend’s side, miserable even as Crumb moved to sit by his left, placing her head against his shoulder. Fundy wasn’t sure if he could ever leave them. How could he just leave the only home he’s ever known? He bit the inside of his cheek, wishing his dad had just forgotten he even existed. “I don’t want to go. He’s probably old and mean now. And leaving means I won’t see you two again!”

“He’s your dad, isn’t he?” Crumb had moved from leaning against his side to lying her head on his lap, sleepy despite the naps she usually liked to take. “Don’t you want to see him again?”

“No! He left. He shouldn’t want to see me again.” Fundy huffed, wishing he could just tear that letter into two or burn it or-or-or something. “He didn’t even ask if I wanted to go with him.”

“...he misses you, I think.” 5up’s gaze was downcast, his legs kicking at the air as he looked at anywhere but Fundy. “I bet he just wants to take care of you, like a real dad is supposed to do.”

“But why now?! He didn’t care before, why does he think he can take me with him without even asking me if I want to go with him!” Fundy buried his face in his hands once more, the tears freely flowing past his cheeks as both Crumb and 5up tried to calm him down. He didn’t want to go! It wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t fair! “He wants me to leave both of you and I know he’s not gonna take you because he only wants me but I don’t want to leave you two! You’re my family! Why does he think he has the right to take me away from the two of you?! It’s not fair! It’s not fair! I don’t want him to take me away. Don’t let him take me away! I don’t want to go!” Fundy screamed and screamed, stomping at the ground with every shout he made. 5up and Crumb didn’t flinch, all of them having had to deal with each other’s tantrums in the past few years.

“We can’t do anything, Funds.” Crumb murmured, hugging him tightly as she tried to keep from crying herself. Fundy hugged her back, pulling 5up with him as they all held onto each other tightly. Fundy knew it was stupid to cry and scream, it wasn’t like they could do anything. His dad would probably just pick Fundy and up leave, mom did say his dad was very tall. Fundy wrapped his tail around his waist, his ears pressed to the top of his head as he tried to keep his focus on his two best friends. He didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t have a choice. “What if… what if we give you something to remember us? Something so cool that you’ll never forget us!”

“Bracelet! We could do a bracelet!” 5up moved away from the group hug, making his way towards the chest they had tucked away into the corner, pulling out every scrap of metal they had scavenged from their time of stealing and mining. Crumb grinned, pulling Fundy along with her as they helped 5up find something that looked like it could be a bracelet. They eventually found a bit of metal wire, Crumb bending it until it looked somewhat like a circle, despite the odd bumps here and there. She handed it to 5up who - the moment he touched it - began to summon vines to form around the metal, small white, orange, and white with patches of orange flowers began to bloom from the plant. 5up gave it to Fundy who held it close to his chest, mindful of not accidentally squishing the flowers. After a few seconds of trying, he finally got it into his arm. “There. Now you can’t forget us! You can look at that and think about me and Crumb!”

“Thanks, guys.” He held his right wrist close to his chest, tracing the soft petals with his fingertips as he tried to remember this moment. Fundy looked up, forcing a smile to his face as he watched Crumb toss everything back inside the chest. He looked over to 5up, freezing as caught the glimpse of sadness dancing in his best friend’s bright pink eyes. 5up jumped as he realized Fundy was looking at him, tilting his head and giving Fundy a small laugh. Fundy frowns at the odd display, not wanting to ruin the moment by asking anything. “I’ll miss you both so much… and... I promise I’m going to write to you guys every day until I get back! I swear it!”

---

Fundy sat curled against the crumbling foundation of what was once the house he and his mom had lived in. His tail was curled around his waist, a small duffel bag by his side as he folded and unfolded the letter that his dad had sent him. He wished he hadn’t gone back, maybe then he wouldn’t have found the letter among the ruins of the cabin. Fundy wasn’t really sure how mail worked there since his mom didn’t want them to live near the desert village… did the village have a mailman? Well someone had to deliver his dad’s letter. Fundy frowned, wondering why they didn’t just toss it away. Fundy moved away when his mom died and their house chose to collapse.

“What the… Sally!” Fundy’s ears perked up, looking over the remains of what used to be a stone wall. He watched as a man dressed in a blue coat stood at the front of the house, shock dancing in the man’s dark brown eyes as he looked around. Fundy knew who he was. Mom used to have a picture of his dad that she would show him everytime he asked what his dad looked like. His dad looked more tired in person though. “Oh my fucking gods… SALLY! FUNDY! No no no no…”

“Dad…?” He stood up from where he was hiding, wishing he hadn’t done so because as soon as he did, the man had turned his attention towards him. His dad stood there for a moment, a kaleidoscope of emotions flashing through his eyes, blinking profusely as though to make sure Fundy was really there. He stayed where he was, nervous and unsure about this man who was supposed to be his dad but felt more like a stranger than someone who was supposed to be family. As Fundy looked away, the man snapped out of his shock and quickly moved towards him. Fundy squeaked in surprise as he felt himself get lifted, a pair of arms holding onto him tightly as he felt (huh… Fundy was sure it wasn’t supposed to rain today) water drip on top of his head. The man held onto him, murmuring something underneath his breath as he pressed Fundy closer to his chest. Fundy began to squirm, embarrassed and confused by this unknown affection.

“Oh my gods… You’re okay. You’re okay.” He wasn’t sure why the man had begun to shush him, it wasn’t like Fundy was saying anything. The man reached down, still keeping Fundy in his hold as Fundy caught a glimpse of the duffel bag that Crumb and 5up insisted he take with him. “Why didn’t I… why the fu一 How? Why? Where’s… Hey, champ. Can I ask where your mom went and why the house is like this? Oh my gods, why are you so dirty? How long have you been alone?”

“Wasn’t alone… Mom died four years ago… I think.” The man looked grief-stricken, his hold tightening even more that Fundy was scared he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Fundy began to play with his bracelet, “House got set on fire… mom… mama didn’t make it out. I miss mama…”

Fundy kept his tears to himself, refusing to show any form of weakness to this stranger who was going to steal him away from 5up and Crumb. As if to prove his point, the man began to stagger away from the house, Fundy still in his arms as his dad turned on his heel and began to walk away. He growled beneath his breath, irritated that he wasn’t being put down. He was perfectly capable of walking! He struggled in the man’s arms, pushing and shoving, but his dad continued to hold onto him. His dad began to coo, pressing a hand at the top of his head as though to comfort him. Fundy wondered if he’d be abandoned if he decided to just bite. As he came to a decision, he felt the man pet at his ears, scratching behind them that Fundy couldn’t help but relax into the hold. He blinked, eyelids feeling heavy as the man continued to pet his ears. Why was he so sleepy? He felt himself yawn, eliciting an ‘aww’ from his dad as they kept on moving.

“I shouldn’t have left for so long. Gods know what you had to endure. But don’t worry, papa’s here now. And I’m sure Sally would prefer it this way.” Fundy curled against his dad’s chest, too tired to process what the man was saying. “She’d want me to raise you in L’Manburg instead of leaving you here… Gods, I should have been there. Why wasn’t I there to protect both of you?”

He could feel his dad’s hand shaking as he pauses in petting his ears, only continuing once Fundy began to whine. “I should have been there... I should have been there… why wasn’t I?”

Fundy huffed, closing his eyes as he kept his right wrist tucked near his chest, the groove of the bracelet reminding him of the home he was leaving behind. He wasn’t sure where his dad was taking him, knowing only that his mom said that his dad lived in a very very bad place. Fundy didn’t want to go with his dad if that was the case. He wanted to be with 5up and Crumb!

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you, my little champion. I won’t leave you again, I promise.”

---

Fundy stared down at the piles and piles of unread letters, guilt washing away the pain and hysterics he had fallen into a few hours ago. He collapsed into the chair, burying his face in his hands as he realized what he had done. He’d been so busy these past few years that he forgot.

“Stupid Wilbur and his stupid rules. This… This is his fault for being so overbearing! AHHHH!”

His head thumped against the wooden desk as he ran a hand through his disheveled and blood-stained hair, his claws biting into the scalp and possibly drawing even more blood. After everything, he just couldn’t bring himself to calm down. For the third time, he had watched as his home was destroyed by the people who were supposed to be “family.” He had a fight with Ranboo over fucking sides and people and… Fundy was just so fucking tired. Then the letters… the letters he had kept but never read were bringing back promises that he made to friends he had forgotten. Fundy was a terrible friend, and though a part of it was Wilbur’s fault for refusing to let him send any letters back to Cogchamp, he was still the one who followed his dad’s orders. Like the good little boy that he was supposed to be, he gave up his true family for a man who barely had the right to be his dad. Fundy whimpered, truly and utterly alone for once in his life.

He looked over the top letter, sniffing as he pulled himself back up into a proper sit. After how many years of silence, would anyone even care if Fundy suddenly wrote back? He reached out a hand, freezing before finally settling on picking up the top letter. He looked over at the crudely written handwriting, laughing as he realized that 5up had been the one to write it. Slowly, he opened the letter, scouring through the words that until he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. This was an old letter, one that was sent right after Fundy had left Cogchamp.

‘... Crumb and I found something by the way. I think it’s supposed to be copper? We’re not sure. We might ask some of the villagers about it… and oh! We found this cool red dust thing. It gets everywhere but it lights up sometimes. We’re still trying to figure out how it works. We miss you! And I hope you’re doing good over there in L… L’Manburn (???). Crumb says hi too! Bye!’

He couldn’t help but smile, moving on to the next letters until he found one that was written during the Manburg Era. Fundy shivered, tearing it open before he lost himself in the memories.

‘... Crumb and I have been doing well, still haven’t received word from you in a very long time but I’m sure you’ve been busy. How are you faring with your dad? Did you two make up yet? Well, I’m sure you both did. Cogchamp’s doing great, I’d think you’d like to know. Crumb and I have been putting our skills in redstone and engineering to use, and the villagers have been paying us in food and money. We haven’t had to steal in a few months now! Isn’t that great? Crumb’s planning on saving enough money to get herself a pet and I’ve saved enough to get us both a house. Just thought you should know, so don’t worry about us too much! Bye, Fundy!’

Fundy laughed at that, a part of him relaxing as he realized that they were doing so much better than he ever gave them credit for. He placed the letter aside, eyebrows furrowing as he noticed there were more letters than there really should have been. 5up had to stop sending them at some point. He gave off a nervous laugh, wincing as the sound echoed back at him, further reminding him that in a nation that was once so full of noise and laughter… he was alone. He read through the letters, reaching the final one, surprised to find that the letter was just recently sent.

‘Hey, Fundy! Are you doing alright? Crumb and I are doing well! The city is really coming along and all our inventions are working perfectly. You should really visit sometime! We miss you…’

The letter fell from his hands as tears finally spilled down his cheeks. Even after all this time, they never stopped writing while Fundy never even sent them a single letter. Fundy hugged his hand closer to his chest, the groove of the bracelet reminding him of the promise he had broken.

---

“5! 5! LOOK!” He looked up, his goggles caked in soot as he wiped away the redstone against his already stained brown pants. 5up laughed as Crumb rushed towards him, an envelope in her hands as her tail flicked back and forth. She stopped at the edge of the pit, crouching low enough that 5 could reach up to plush the letter from her hands. He wonders what she was so excited about now… “It’s from FUNDY! He finally wrote back! About time, that silly, stupid fox.”

5up felt his heart hammer in his chest, masking his eagerness with a calm smile as he slowly unfolded the letter open. He blinked, surprised to find an entire story written into the letter (well, pages). Crumb had a smile on her face, but there was concern in her eyes. 5 continued to read on, each paragraph sending him into distress as Fundy recounted everything that’s happened in the past few years. “Oh cogs… what… what horrible and terrible place did Fundy get dragged into?”

“I don’t know but it sounds awful, he shouldn’t be there at all. He should come back here and live with us! And I know he definitely misses you!” 5up coughed as Crumb began to giggle, winking at him as he tried to keep himself from blushing. He could agree with one thing, Fundy needed a better place to heal… maybe he should go back. “Seeeeeee! Fundy should come back!”

“Yeah… only if he wants to…” 5up ignored Crumb as she began to whine, his warm gaze falling back to the letter. A smile played on his lips as he reread the words Fundy had left off.

‘I missed you too.’

---

Fundy nervously paced around the empty plot of field that 5up had told him to find, the suitcase heavy in his hands as he looked at the distance. He wasn’t sure what to feel after everything.

He was scared, nervous, excited, and ready to faint or puke or both, if he was being honest. He stopped, placing the suitcase on the ground as he took a calming shaky breath. This was fine, everything was perfectly fine. 5up told him to find an empty field and send him the coordinates.

Then he heard it. The low whistle of machinery that sent a shiver of surprise down his spine. Fundy glanced up, seeing light smoke appearing in the distance as - what he could only assume was the “locomotive” that 5up had mentioned within his letters - a train made its way through the field. He was ecstatic to see that the train somehow had the capability of adding rails in front of it and removing rails behind it as it moved. Ohhh, he had to know how that thing worked!

Fundy felt his heart skip a beat as the train slowed to a stop in front of him.

He took a shaky breath as the train doors began to open, a familiar silhouette appearing against the warm yellow light that decorated the inside of the train. Fundy felt his breath stutter, eyes blinking in disbelief as a familiar plant hybrid walked down the steps and into the sunlight.

“Fundy…” 5up breathed out.

“5…” Fundy nearly cried.

They didn’t waste a single moment, both of them rushing into the others arms, laughing and smiling. Fundy felt somewhat whole again, not as alone as he had felt in the past few days. He held onto 5up, both of them crying as they held one another. 5up smiled, feeling the familiar groove of a bracelet against his back as Fundy held onto him tightly. After a few moments, they both let go, but their hands were entangled, refusing to truly let go again. Never again.

“Ready to go…?” 5up smiled.

“Ready to go home.”

A sharp whistle cut through the air… 

And then they were gone.

Together again, once more.

Chapter Text

Ghostbur hummed a soft tune underneath his breath as he picked at the flowers by the lake, eyes flitting up towards the sky every now and then as a soft breeze ruffled his translucent hair.

His gaze turns towards the lake, the symphony dancing at the edge of his tongue quelling to a silence as he caught the glimpse of familiar ginger hair in the distance. His heart raced as he watched his little champion’s boat glide along the glimmering surface of the lake. Ghostbur hadn’t seen his son since… he couldn’t remember when was the last time, but oh well! He smiled to himself as he thought about how great it was that his son had found a new hobby to partake in. Ghostbur wasted no time as he floated over to where Fundy was, a soft smile on his face as he hovered in front of his little champion. He waved a hand in front of the fox hybrid’s face, hoping to catch his son’s attention before Fundy panicked and fell off the boat. Ghostbur was pretty spooky if he did say so himself! “Fundy! Hey, Fundy! Enjoying the lakeview, son?”

Fundy didn’t glance up at him, a blank look in his son’s eyes as he continued to stare past the spectre. Ghostbur awkwardly chuckled, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck as he waited for Fundy to look at him. He floated closer, wondering if his little champion hadn’t heard him. His son didn’t flinch, even as Ghostbur sat down at the edge of the boat, flower basket in hand.

“Fundy?” He hesitated, form flickering before placing a hand against his son’s shoulder. He frowned as Fundy didn’t twitch, eyes glazed over as if lost in a world of his own. Ghostbur couldn’t help but panic, wondering what was wrong with his little boy. “Fundy! Please, son!”

The ghost felt a pinch of pain in his heart as Fundy continued to ignore him. He didn’t know what to do! He wrapped his arms around himself, hyperventilating as he tried to calm down.

Ghostbur couldn’t help but wonder what he had done wrong, what he had done to cause his little champion to ignore him so - and that had to be what was happening! Why else would Fundy not respond to him? He bit the inside of his cheeks, wishing that he could feel some semblance of pain to drown out the ache in his heart and the whispers in his head. Fundy wasn’t talking to him, why wasn’t his son talking to him?! Ghostbur couldn’t help but curl into himself, rocking back and forth, the boat creaking under the sudden shift of movement. What did he do wrong?!

Then all fell still, the sound of birds chirping in the distance the only sound that broke through the silence. If one were to look out into the lake, they’d see a ghost and a fox… both unmoving.

“Well, Fundy… it was great talking to you but I really ought to get back to Phil and Techno! So, um, here have some blue and uh… oh! A flower! You like flowers, right?” Ghostbur snapped out of whatever daze had fallen into, honestly, he should stop spacing out! He shook his head, his signature smile appearing back on his face as he placed some blue in his son’s unresponsive hand and a flower tucked behind his son’s ear. “I have to go now, Fundy! I’ll talk to you later! Bye!”

Ghostbur wasn't sure what had happened, but he was happy to know his son was enjoying the fresh sun and the cool air. He had hardly seen his little champion since… well, he couldn't remember and if he didn't remember then it probably didn't matter anyway! Ghostbur floated away from the small boat, pausing at the edge of the lake as he turned to give one glance towards his son. Fundy sat in the boat, eerily still and staring into the distance… almost as if he wasn't truly there… but that was a silly thought! His son was probably just busy thinking about one of his crazy contraptions! Ghostbur could only hope that Fundy didn't overwork himself too much. His little champion shouldn't tire himself out. Ghostbur gave his son one last wave, before disappearing further inland, humming a soft tune underneath his breath. He'd see Fundy again, maybe tomorrow if Ghostbur looked for him. Hm… no, maybe his little champion wanted some peace and if so… Well Ghostbur was not going to deny his son what he wanted!

Fundy wakes to blue melting off his fingertips and a wilted flower tucked behind his ear.

---

Niki tugged the collar of the dark brown coat closer to her chin, scowling as she felt the harsh wind against the landscape, ruffling her pink hair as she looked up into the sky. She didn't know what had compelled her to visit the remains of a country no longer worth fighting for, but here she was, basking in the beauty of the lake. She took a deep breath, calming her shaky nerves. Techno had just offered her a position she couldn't refuse, and she'd be damned if she let another country rear its ugly head into the peace they had so clearly established. Countries brought war, governments brought misery. Why let a new one rise from the ashes of the past? Doesn't she have the power and the right - the responsibility - to make sure no one ever loses themselves to the idea of a nation ever again?

She sighed, wishing people could just open their eyes and see the truth for what it was. As she ran a hand through her hair, she noticed a boat in the distance, floating and drifting as though no one was controlling it. Her eyes narrowed as she moved a bit further up the dock, the wood creaking beneath her boots as she finally came to a stop at the edge. From there, she could see the glimpse of ginger hair, the sun casting it in an ethereal golden glow. Niki's eyebrows furrowed together as she watched Fundy's boat continue to float through the lake, the fox hybrid unmoving even as his boat began to hit jutting rocks or the edge of the lake. Niki waited until Fundy finally settled, the boat stuck against the shore. She made her way towards him, concern flitting in her mind before his betrayal casted anger in her heart. Of course she'd find him here, where else would he be? Gods know the fox was sentimental. He'd never abandon L'Manburg so long as a part still remained. Maybe getting rid of the lake would make him leave too.

"Fundy!" She trampled past the flowers growing by the edge of the lake, her hands curled into fists by her sides as she reached the fox hybrid. She glanced down at him, pausing as she took in the dark circles underneath his eyes and how thin he seemed to have gotten. She felt her anger disappear as she crouched beside him, hands twitching as she thought of what she should do. "Fundy? It's Niki. When was the last time you slept or ate? … Fundy?"

The fox hybrid sat ther, silent and eyes empty of emotion. She winced as she reached out a hand to pat him on the cheek, pulling back as she felt his too cold cheek against her palm. If it weren't for the subtle movement of his chest rising and falling, she would have thought him to be dead. She sat down against the grass, feeling the blades tickle against her ankles as she tried to coax the fox hybrid into looking at her. Fundy didn't look at her once.

"Fundy… are you ignoring me?" Niki couldn't help but feel hurt. He was the one who betrayed her, who betrayed their belief, and now he was pretending as if she wasn't there?! Niki felt her fury rise once more, all previous concern lost as she rose up from where she sat. "Well, FINE! You know what?! I thought we could be friends again! I thought you were on my side again! I wanted to trust you but you're still nothing but a no good traitor! That's what you'll always be!"

She expected him to turn towards her, eyes blazing at the words she had just spoken, but he didn’t even move. Niki ran her hands through her hair, nails biting into her scalp as she let out a scream of frustration. Why wasn’t he looking at her?! Was he that adamant about keeping quiet that he’d let her insult him like that? She took a deep breathe, anger clouding her judgement.

“I’m leaving, Fundy. I don’t want to see you again. If you’re going to pretend I don’t exist…” She gritted her teeth, her whole body trembling with rage. “Then you don’t matter to me either.”

Fundy didn’t twitch, didn’t cry, didn’t scream. Nothing. Almost as if he was but a corpse.

“WHY WON’T YOU SAY ANYTHING?!” Niki felt tears at the corner of her eyes, gliding past her cheek as she shrieked at him, a part of her begging him to turn around and look at her - just look at her. She wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her coat, sniffling as she looked at the frail form of a man who she thought would always be her friend. Her bottom lip trembled as she stared at him, dead and unhearing to her please. “Fine. Be that way, but don’t come crawling back to me if you ever want to talk.” Although she shouldn’t have done it, Niki roughly pushed him off the boat, knocking him to the muddy edge of the lake. With that, she walked away.

Fundy wakes to mud tangled in his hair and a burning ache on his shoulder.

---

Tommy wasn’t sure why Sam Nook had thought they needed flowers for the hotel and why he had sent Tommy of all people to do it. He picked at the flowers without care, trampling over some of them in his haste to pick the best among the rest. He grumbled underneath his breath, nearly slipping into the lake for the tenth time that day. Honestly, why did he have to be the one to pick fucking flowers? He was Tommyinnit, he shouldn’t have to do this shit.

The wind ruffled his hair as he looked over at the lake, a pang in his chest as he tried to ignore the ruin behind him. L’Manburg was gone. Tommy took deep breaths, like the ones Puffy taught him to do each time he got frustrated. As he tried to calm his thoughts, he saw a boat gliding against the surface of the lake, a familiar pair of fox ears catching Tommy’s attention. He was surprised to find Fundy there of all places. Actually, when was the last time he’d seen Fundy? Whatever, right now, it was clear that the furry didn’t even know how to properly row a boat.

“Oi, Fundy! You have to use a paddle or else you’re just going to drift further away from the lake like an idiot!” He waited for a response, a cry of protest or fear… but it never came. Tommy furrowed his eyebrows, worry crossing his mind as he realized Fundy was slightly slumped over, not that he looked like he was unconscious but he certainly looked as if he wasn’t really present. Tommy dropped the flowers, running to the edge of the dock as he watched Fundy’s boat continue to float, following the direction of the wind as it continued to push him further and further away from the dock. “FUNDY! Come on! What the fuck are you even doing, I一 I’m going to get you, alright? Just… stop acting like an idiot by the time I get there or fucking else!”

He kicked off his shoes, grumbling underneath his breath as he jumped into the icy cold water of the lake, shivering as he began to swim his way towards Fundy’s boat. He was going to kill that furry for fucking ignoring him. Tommy nearly shrieked when he felt a fish swim against his arm, sputtering dirty lake water as he splashed around. After a moment of floundering and shrieking, Tommy finally made his way towards the boat, clutching the rotting edge as if it were a lifeline.

“Fundy, seriously, have you gone deaf or some shit?” With ease, Tommy pulled himself onto the boat, surprised to find paddles hanging from the edge. Tommy took them, the paddles seemingly unused as they looked newer compared to Fundy’s boat which was slowly rotting away with moss clinging to some parts of the wood. He turned towards Fundy who stared glassily into the distance, his head slumped forward as though he had fallen asleep with his eyes open. Tommy chuckled, awkward and wrong against his ears as he sat down at the front of the boat. “Fundy?”

He waited but Fundy didn’t even look at him, silent even as Tommy began to pester and curse him. Tommy sighed, shaking his head at the furry’s choice of silence. He rubbed his hand on his mouth, wondering whether throwing Fundy into the lake would wake him up. He decided against that and decided to just row the boat back towards the dock and hope that the sudden movement would wake the fox hybrid up. Tommy began to row them back home, casting side-glances over at his… his silent nephew. He didn’t like how quiet Fundy was, didn’t like it one bit. Fundy should be complaining or… or something. “You know, I haven’t seen you since fucking Doomsday. What, did you fall into a ditch or something? ...I’ve been doing great, man. You know I’m helping Sam Nook with the hotel and shit. Yep, no more fucking wars for me, you know? It’s nice. The peace, that is. You know, you could help out over at the hotel if you want to.”

Tommy shuddered at the lack of response, not even a stutter or protest. What the fuck was wrong with Fundy? He shook his head, forcing his aching arms to keep rowing until they reached the dock, Tommy letting out a sigh of relief as he let his limbs rest from the growing soreness blossoming on his shoulders. He walked onto the dock, freezing cold from his impromptu swim.

“Time to get out of the boat. It’s nearly night and I’m not leaving you out here to get eaten by a fish or whatever the fuck else lives in this lake.” He waited but Fundy stayed where he was, almost slumping over if Tommy hadn’t reached out to keep him steady. Tommy shook his head as Fundy continued to give him the silent treatment, choosing to take the rope of the boat and tie it to one of the wooden posts on the dock. As amusing as the thought of Fundy waking up at night to find that he had drifted out to sea was, Tommy wasn’t going to let his nephew drown (not again) . He reached down into his shorts pocket, grasping the pen Sam Nook had given him. He took it out, gently grabbing Fundy’s cold and unfeeling wrist. “Whatever, stay here all night if you want to, but at least stop by at the hotel tomorrow, yeah? You better be listening, furry…”

Tommy scribbled the address of the hotel onto Fundy’s palm, wincing at how Fundy didn’t wake up from the chill of the ink. He watched as Fundy’s hand banged against the side of the boat, the fox hybrid not crying out in pain despite the blossoming patch of red against his skin. It would bruise, but at least it wouldn’t bleed. Tommy hesitated, wondering what he should do, what he could do. Fundy wasn’t reacting to anything, not to Tommy and certainly not to whatever was happening to his own body. Maybe pushing him into the lake wasn’t such a terrible idea at all. He waited and waited. A part of him hoped that Fundy would wake up at any second, but when the chill of the day turned to the freezing cold of the night, Tommy found himself walking away. He gave Fundy one last glimpse before heading off towards the hotel, wondering what he could have done to wake his nephew up. Whatever. Tommy tried to help, and that was good enough.

Fundy wakes to find his boat tied to the dock and fading black ink against his palm.

---

Ranboo scurried about the edge of the lake, a grass block in hand as he looked out wearily into the lake. He couldn’t quite remember why he was there, his mind fuzzy with muted memories that he was sure he wouldn’t recall anytime soon. He turned to head towards the dock, the wood groaning beneath his feet as he took a nervous step onto the walkway. He didn’t want to step onto it and gain a nasty surprise in case the dock decided to collapse underneath his weight. He wasn’t quite sure how long it had been since anyone had visited the lake, the place too close to the remains of New L’Manburg to really invite anyone over. He wasn’t sure why he was even there to begin with. Somedays he wished he could just remember where he ran off to in his sleep.

As he slowly walked across the wooden surface, he caught a glimpse of a familiar fox hybrid at the edge of the dock. Ranboo paused where he was, terrified of confronting Fundy, especially on a day where he was already frazzled and scared. He just wanted to go home to Phil and Techno!

“Hey… Fundy…” Ranboo pushed down the terror he felt. It was just Fundy. Fundy couldn’t do anything to Ranboo, not without inciting Phil and Techno’s wrath. He was safe. He was fine. Fundy wasn’t going to hurt him. He stepped closer, surprised to find Fundy’s head resting against the wooden dock, the rest of his prone body sitting on a boat that looked ready to collapse at any moment. He felt a strike of fear in his chest as he crouched down beside the unmoving fox hybrid, his hand hovering above dirty ginger hair as Ranboo wondered if he should wake Fundy up. His fingers were shaking, small tremors racing up and down his arm as he slowly retracted his hand away from the fox hybrid. He couldn’t help but feel safer that way. Fundy wasn’t… he wasn’t in his body. Ranboo knew this trick, knew that Fundy wasn’t really there with him.

Ranboo sat down next to Fundy, curling up into himself as he looked down at the shell of - his used to be - best friend’s body. He liked it better this way. At least he now felt safe next to Fundy.

“So… this is where you’ve been… you’re not really here so I guess I’m talking to myself.” Ranboo glanced over at Fundy, praying that Fundy wasn’t in the area. He didn’t want to think what would happen if Fundy’s soul was sitting right beside him, listening to him talk. Ranboo would scream and teleport away if Fundy suddenly woke up. He didn’t want the confrontation. “I… uh… I’ve been doing great. I see you’ve… lost yourself… I’m not surprised, I guess.”

He pulled his knees closer to his chest, grass dirt block forgotten on the ground as Ranboo felt pain inside his chest. He missed talking to Fundy, even if it was just the husk he was talking to.

“Fundy… why are you doing this to yourself… you look… horrible. Like, really horrible, when was the last time you were… awake?” He didn’t expect to gain an answer, he’d be horrified if Fundy suddenly spoke. Ranboo wiped away the dirt on his hands against the bottom of his pants, wincing as they left a mark on the dark cloth. “I guess it’s better this way. You’re not on any side but your own, and I honestly think you’re safer this way… I guess. You… you’re probably happier in your own world… good… stay there. I don’t… I don’t want to fight you again, Fundy. If this is how we… avoid fighting… then okay. I’d rather you like this than us fighting again.”

Ranboo stopped himself, words stuttering against his throat as the fear flooded back into his mind. He couldn’t bring himself to stay a moment longer. Fundy could wake up at any moment and he did not dare provoke the luck gods by staring any longer. Ranboo stood up, his knees shaking as he turned to go, pausing only when he realized how he shouldn’t leave Fundy in such a position. Despite his terror, he turned back to help Fundy off the boat, placing him down on the dock. Ranboo stared and stared, feeling a stinging pain at his eyelids the longer he looked.

“I… I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I thought it would be easy but seeing you like this, I一 I can’t deal with this, Fundy! Just… please… be awake when I come back, okay?” Ranboo winced as he felt a tear drip down his chin, his skin burning as he felt more tears spring from his eyes. He couldn’t stay a moment longer, being near Fundy - even seeing Fundy - pained him. Ranboo walked away, nearly tripping on his own two feet as he forced himself to leave. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay. “No. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry… goodbye...” Then he was gone.

Fundy wakes to find himself on the dock and blades of grass floating over his head.

---

Phil flew over the ruins of L’Manburg, his heart beating heavily in his chest as he looked over at the rising moon in the distance that bathed the ground in its silver glow. A few weeks ago, Ranboo had come home with the remnants of tear tracks on his cheek, the enderman hybrid couldn’t remember what had made him so upset and Phil didn’t press him. At some point during the night, on this particular night, Phil heard Ranboo mutter Fundy underneath his breath and felt rage at the thought that Fundy - his disowned grandson - had somehow made Ranboo cry.

As he glided through the night sky, he found himself looking down at the lake where he had once spent an entire afternoon with Fundy, catching fish and laughing as he tried desperately not to think about how Fundy reminded him of his own son, Wilbur. He flew down, closer to the lake.

The lantern in his hand served as his beacon as he landed at the old dock, illuminating the rotting path with its golden glow. Phil walked closer to the edge, pausing as he noticed a figure lying down on a boat. He hesitated before moving closer, his sandals clacking against the wood as he drew near. Phil lifted his lantern, catching a glimpse of ginger hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in nearly a month. His breath caught in his throat as he fell to his knees with a thump, hands reaching out to pull the prone form of his grandson out of the nearly collapsing boat.

He couldn’t help but panic, all previous anger gone as he felt how cold his grandson’s body was. Phil held him close to his chest, wings wrapped around them to keep away the chill of the night. Alone as he was, he couldn’t help but think of another memory such as this, another time where he had held his own son's cold body to his chest. He had cried then, screamed his throat raw until he’d lost the ability to speak for a few days. Wilbur, his boy, who only ever wanted to let the world hear his symphony. Phil wasn’t sure why Wilbur’s death had hurt him so much. It was inevitable. He was Philza Minecraft. He had lived through centuries of death and misery, had lost so much to war or to nature, yet it was Wilbur Soot’s death that caused him grief after centuries of apathy and detachment. Holding his grandson - who you disowned, the voices in his head cackled in glee - he felt hollow and empty, like he’d lost another child that he couldn’t keep safe.

He stopped as he felt Fundy’s beating heart, faint as it was. Phil relaxed his hold, still keeping Fundy in his arms as he tried to calm down. Fundy was alive. He hadn’t failed Wilbur again.

Phil couldn’t help but keep his grandson close, the false scare was enough to keep him from flying back home. He was unsettled by Fundy’s glassy eyes, how they barely held any life in them despite his grandson’s clearly beating heart. Fundy hadn’t moved at all, almost as if he was nothing but a statue, frozen in time. Phil couldn’t help but wonder if his grandson had died along with L’Manburg, if - just like the nation - he was nothing but a husk of what was. Phil shivered, his wings curling closer around them. No. That wasn’t the case. Phil knew that. He knew this particular form of magic, how his own grandson came to know it he’ll, perhaps, never know.

He’d heard stories of it, hadn’t mastered the form of magic himself as he never found a reason to in his lifetime. He knew tales of people - lost to history now and remembered only by those who lived long enough to remember - who lost themselves into a world unseen by any other. They would lay down somewhere, most of them having an item or particular ritual to help ease the transition of their mind from the physical realm to the spiritual realm. Then they would be like what his grandson was right now, empty shells as their spirit disappeared to do what they wanted to do in the realm of their own making. Some said that form of magic wasn’t harmful, that it was merely a ticket to a world of fantasy that the users would eventually snap out of, but Phil knew better. What people forget - what they chose to forget - was the inevitable ending. At some point, people would begin to lose themselves to their own fantasies, their bodies rotting away as they一

Phil took in a shuddery breath, resting his chin against his grandson’s head as he gently closed Fundy’s eyes with his hand. Fundy would wake eventually, he had to. The other option was downright unforgivable. He looked down at Fundy, the lantern’s light revealing dark circles underneath the fox hybrid’s eyes, his body much too thin for someone of Fundy’s height. His clothes had tears and holes in them, his hair having grown past his shoulders and matted with leaves and mud. Phil couldn’t help but pull Fundy closer to his chest, wondering how anyone - how he - could have let this happen. He wished he could take the fox hybrid away, take him home where he could be cared for, but taking the body without the spirit inside could prove fatal.

Despite his senses screaming at him to take Fundy, Phil knew he couldn’t. He stood up, his grandson in his arms as he made his way towards the edge of the lake. He placed Fundy down on a patch of grass, wishing he could pretend that Fundy was sleeping and would wake up at any time. Phil placed his lantern beside his grandson, wings rustling behind his back as he turned to leave. He’d be back. Maybe he’d send Techno to watch over Fundy if Phil couldn’t make it. For now, he had to leave. With a flap of his wings, he was off, once more, into the night sky.

Fundy wakes to the sound of flapping wings and a newly lit lantern by his side.

---

Technoblade looked up into the starry night sky, boots thumping against the ground as he made his way through the wreckage of New L’Manburg. He wasn’t quite sure why Phil had begged him to pay a visit to the New L’Manburg lake, his father adamant that he go and… watch.

He wasn’t sure what he would find, but he’d brought along an axe in the case that he’d need it. Techno didn’t expect a lot, unsure of what Phil had meant by ‘Please… he might respond if he hears your voice.’ The voices in his head certainly weren’t any help, most of them screaming about blood or death, a few begging him to sleep (those he didn’t pay attention to because sleep was for nerds). Techno paused by the edge, the lake water silver as beams of moonlight blessed the land. He waited for a moment, his ears twitching as he picked up the sounds of crickets and fish darting through the lake. Techno wanted to turn around and go home, tell Phil he hadn’t found the so-called ‘he’ that he had wanted Techno to talk to. Just as he was about to turn and leave, he paused, eyes narrowing as he noticed a boat in the distance. Someone had clearly missed the water because the boat was on dry land, unmoving despite the passenger in its seat.

Techno made his way to the boat, taking note that it was recently made. He stilled as he spotted Fundy on the boat, his nephew (???) sitting eerily still, his hands in his lap as he stared out onto the quiet lake. Any other normal being would have shivered at the sight, but not the blood god. 

“Fundy.”

He noticed the twitch of an ear, as though Fundy had heard him but didn’t dare move from where he was. Techno moved closer, taking a hesitant step forward until he was close enough to touch the top of Fundy’s head. He hesitated before placing a hand on top of his nephew’s hair, the voices in his head encouraging and mocking him as he slowly began to pet Fundy’s hair. Someone had recently cut his hair, the style reminiscent of what Phil would do to Tommy, although Tommy’s haircut was usually uneven since he couldn’t sit still for even a second. Fundy had no such problem, unmoving and dead as he was. Techno had heard tales and legends from Phil of this kind of magic, knowing full well that he couldn’t just take Fundy and leave (despite the protests of the voices for him to either take Fundy home or to punt him off a cliff).

Techno sighed, unclasping his cloak from his shoulders before settling it over Fundy, his clothes cold from the night air. He wasn’t sure how, but it seemed as though Phil had either forgotten the concept of making a house where Fundy could stay in or that Fundy had made his way outside again to disappear into the fantasies of his mind. Techno sat down beside his nephew, waiting.

He wasn’t quite certain what Phil had hoped to gain by sending Techno of all people to speak to Fundy, not that he ever had much interaction with twin’s son before. The piglin hybrid turned towards Fundy, sighing underneath his breath as he moved the fox from the boat and onto a soft patch of grass. The fox hybrid continued to lay there, unmoving, the only indication that he was still alive was the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. “Hey, uh, kid. Uh… mind waking up soon?”

All he got was a slight twitch of the ears, as if Fundy’s spirit could hear him. Techno let out a huff before settling back to where he was seated, knowing deep down that his nephew’s spirit was somewhere nearby, perhaps even listening. He couldn’t fathom why his voice would attract Fundy as they weren’t even close. Neither Phil, Ranboo, nor Niki could wake him, why could Techno, even if it was just a twitch of the ear? Techno shook his head, pink hair framing the sides of his face as he looked up into the night sky. “You know if you weren’t unconscious, I’d probably tell you the story of the stars. I used to tell Wilbur and Tommy the tales before we grew up and went our separate ways. Fundy... I’m not… good at this uncle thing. I don’t have anything to say that could make you wake up, and really, you’re probably better off never waking up.”

He winced, ears flicking as he realized how terrible that last line sounded. Phil really shouldn’t have sent Techno of all people. He rubbed a hand on his face, trying to compose the right words to say. Wilbur was the poet, not him. “Kid, just... don’t go to where we can’t follow.”

Techno could have sworn he felt Fundy move just a bit closer towards him.

---

Eret raced through the ruins of New L’manberg, their cape fluttering in the wind as they looked behind every piece of debris that jutted from the ground. Their heart beating erratically against their chest as they looked everywhere for a single sign of their son. They couldn’t find a single trace of Fundy anywhere, panic blooming in their head as they headed towards the lake.

They had been away due to a meeting with some of the local monarchs in the area. When they had gotten back, Eret didn’t expect to be hit with the news that Fundy wasn’t quite… conscious.

Eret supposed they should have pressed for more details from the frazzled and scared grandfather who looked like he hadn’t slept a wink in a week, but the panic had overridden their logic as they had quickly rushed towards the ruins of New L’Manburg. They had to find Fundy immediately.

“Fundy! Fundy, it’s Eret! I’m back! I’m back!” 

They paused at the edge of the lake, finding a prone figure in the grass, a familiar red cape draped over who Eret could only assume was Fundy. They broke into a sprint, stopping a few steps away from their son who didn’t even flinch at their oncoming footsteps. Oh gods…

Eret pressed a hand against Fundy’s cheek, nearly pulling away as they felt how cold it was. They looked at the dark circles underneath the fox hybrid’s closed eyes, almost as if someone had closed them to look as if he was sleeping. From what Eret could remember from their conversation, Phil had told them enough about what was currently happening to their son. They crouched, a part of them unable to leave Fundy alone in such a secluded area. Phil had told them not to move or take the body away, but Eret couldn’t and wouldn’t bring themselves to leave Fundy’s body alone. Their hands gently slid underneath the fox hybrid’s shoulders and knees.

“Funds? It’s Eret. Can you hear me? Are you anywhere near me, right now?” Eret hefted Fundy up into their arms, panicking at how light he was. “Fundy, please. I’m here now. I’m right here.”

They nearly gave up until they felt movement. Eret looked down and nearly cried tears of joy as Fundy slowly moved his arm up, resting it on Eret’s shoulder before the arm flopped back down again. There were soft murmurs coming from the fox hybrid’s mouth, words that Eret couldn’t quite understand nor hear but was enough to make them feel relieved. Fundy was somewhere nearby, he had to be. Eret wasn’t sure how this form of magic worked, but they would do anything to fix this. There had to be a reason Fundy wasn’t going back into his body, had to be a reason why he wasn’t waking up. “It’s alright, Fundy. I’m taking you somewhere safer, alright?”

They felt Fundy curl closer towards them as they felt what Eret could only describe as “ghostly” hands run through their hair, nearly jumping when they felt a hand hold their shoulder before the touch disappeared once more. Eret tightened their grip on Fundy’s body, moving back towards the ruins, careful not to move too quickly in case Fundy’s spirit lost Eret within the wreckage. Phil would probably panic if he saw Eret with Fundy’s body. Hopefully they could tell him what had happened before the frantic grandfather started flying around the Essempy, looking for any telltale sign of a lost and very confused fox hybrid. Every so often Eret would stop, feeling a hand touch their back before disappearing again, a sign that Fundy’s spirit was still there. Eret kept walking until they saw their castle in the distance. Home. They were bringing Fundy home.

And as Fundy kept muttering underneath his breath, Eret swore they’d bring Fundy home.

No matter what.

---

Wilbur walked down the length of the castle hallway, refusing to stop even as his father and Eret kept screaming for him to come back. His heart was dead set on finding his son as he could. He remembered Ghostbur’s memories, remembered his last memory of Fundy. Despite his feet wobbling against the carpet and his knees shaking with new life, he forged onwards.

He hated how he had left his son alone on that boat. Even though he knew he wasn’t to blame for his ghostly counterpart’s action, Wilbur felt the guilt and shame as he realized he could have spared his son the agony if he - as Ghostbur - had just tried to wake Fundy up. It had gotten out of hand. Phil had given him some of the details, most of them fuzzy as he had just woken up from literal death by the time Phil had begun to speak. Fundy’s spirit - gods did he end up killing his son? - couldn’t return to the body, having spent too much time in the spirit realm without anything to ground him back to the physical realm. Wilbur brushed past everyone who tried to stop him in the hallway, pushing past Technoblade, Niki, and Ranboo (who he had yet to formally meet), only pausing briefly when he caught Tommy’s eyes. Unlike everyone, Tommy didn’t try to stop him, letting him through with a solemn nod. The two of them would talk later.

Wilbur walked until he nearly collapsed against the doorway of Fundy’s room, his legs still not used to being, well, alive. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the untouched bedroom, his son’s too still form lying on the bed for, what he could only assume, was a very long time. He forced himself to stand, to stagger to his son’s side, grasping his son’s too cold hand in his as he tried to keep himself from sobbing. He heard footsteps pause outside his room, a brief moment of silence before he heard the door shut close. Low and worried whispers faded down the hallway.

“Fundy… My poor boy… I’m so so sorry.”

Wilbur pulled himself to his knees, grasping his son’s hand with both of his hands as he kept his breath steady and calm, the panic rising in his throat with every second that he was forced to watch his son lay there… dead to everything and to the world. As if he was barely holding on.

“Dad’s here, Fundy. I’m right here.” He pressed his son’s hand closer to his chest, on top of his beating - and alive, gods he couldn’t believe he was alive - heart. Fundy didn’t stir and despite the pain he felt, Wilbur couldn’t blame Fundy for not wanting to wake to his voice. After everything they had gone through, he was the last person Fundy wanted to see. “I’m here, son.”

He hesitated, pausing before deciding to move closer, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed as he finally got the chance to take a good look at his son. His son was thin, too thin. The dark circles underneath Fundy’s eyes reminded him too much of the ones he used to have when he was alive and wasn’t quite as sane as he was now. Fundy’s hair and tail looked perfectly well groomed, as if someone had taken the time to brush them, possibly Eret since they were the only ones who knew how. Wilbur tucked a stray hand of hair, tracing circles against the knuckle of his son’s hand. “Funds… I’m here. I’m really here. I wasn’t the best dad, I know. Gods, please wake up. Please don’t leave me now that I’m back. I could take you fishing, like you always wanted. We could do whatever you want, start a forest fire or-or something. Please, just don’t leave.”

Even if he knew that there was a slim chance that Fundy would break through the bounds of reality and enter his own body just to push Wilbur away, he moved closer to his son. Even if Fundy came back just to yell at Wilbur about his shitty parenting job, he wouldn’t mind. Anything, if it meant Fundy would wake up again. He pulled his son into a gentle embrace, arms wrapping around his son’s prone form and sobbing as he realized that Fundy wasn’t trying to push him away - not that he can, but his spirit probably wanted to. “Please, just wake up, please. Yell at me. Shout at me. Curse at me. I don’t fucking know! Punch me if you want. Just please please please wake up. You can’t go like this. Please! Come back, son. Please don’t leave. Please, don’t leave me again. I couldn’t handle it the first time, how much more now that there’s a chance you’re going to leave me forever? Please… just wake up, Fundy. Please, wake up.”

Wilbur held onto his son, his hold never wavering even as fatigue began to take its toll on his resurrected body. He didn’t dare leave, didn’t dare sleep in the case that Fundy… Wilbur tried not to think about what he’d do if he lost his son a second time. He buried his face in his son’s ginger curls, singing a lullaby that he used to sing to Fundy when he was just a kid, when he was Wilbur’s little champion - all bright eyes and puffy cheeks as he tried to stay up and prove that he was old enough to stay up late. His voice cracked as he reached the last verse, breaking down into a sob. “Gods, please, don’t let his last memory of me be the time I told him I despised him.”

He continued to sob, begging any deity with a heart to save his son.

He only stopped when he felt Fundy shift, his son’s tired golden-flecked brown eyes - life, weak as it was, dancing in his gaze - fluttered open. He held his breath as a tear rolled down his son’s cheek, a weak smile finding its way to Fundy’s lips.

“Hi, dad.” Fundy let out a sigh before falling back to sleep, the beating of his heart much stronger than it had been before. Wilbur nearly sobbed, clutching his son closer as he wept.

Fundy was alive.

His son will be okay. Wilbur would make sure of that.

(+1)

Fundy woke to the sun in his eyes, hissing as he turned over on his bed, his head still heavy and drowsy with sleep. Despite the ache in his bones, he forced himself to stand up and walk.

He looked around the room, surprised to find that nothing had changed despite what felt like years of wandering in the spirit realm. He nearly collapsed as he took one step out of the bed, his legs weak with disuse as he slugged his way towards the door, pausing as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked frail, which wasn’t a surprise to him at all. He looked much healthier for someone who had been “unconscious” for an entire… two months? Three? Four? Fundy wasn’t sure. He shook his head, wincing as a spike of pain tore through his head, almost pushing him back to unconsciousness. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself from collapsing again. He couldn’t go back to sleep again. He wasn’t sure he could after everything. Of course, with the dark circles underneath his eyes, he was sure that Eret or Wilbur would tell him to sleep a few more hours. That conversation could wait after breakfast. Fundy was starving.

His hand reached down for the doorknob, pulling the door open before he stumbled into the empty hallway, keeping a hand to the wall as he made his way towards the dining room (if Eret hadn’t chosen to move the rooms around while Fundy was away). From the sounds of murmurs and laughter, Fundy knew he was going the right way. He finally made his way to the doorway of the dining room, pausing only to watch the nearly domestic scene before him. Eret and Niki were happily chatting away as Tommy and Tubbo helped Niki with what she was baking. Phil, Techno, and Wilbur were talking while Ranboo listened to their conversation intently.

Fundy leaned against the doorway, pressing all his weight against his shoulder as he listened to (family? friends? acquaintances?) their conversation. His eyes drooped close, stuttering to a wake when he nearly slipped on the floor, quickly adjusting himself as to not alarm anyone. Unfortunately (Fortunately?), the noise caught everyone’s attention, eyes turned towards him in surprise. Wilbur was the first to break out of his stupor, rising from his seat to pull Fundy into am embrace. Fundy held onto his dad just as fiercely, not wanting to ever let go again.

Fundy felt himself smile.

“Missed me?”

Chapter Text

Sally cradled the precious bundle closer to her chest as Wilbur guided her down the steps that led from the captain’s quarters to the deck of the ship. She scoffed as he quickened his pace, stretching out a hand as though to help her down the last steps. Ever the gentleman, her king of music. She took his hand, refraining from jumping down with the precious cargo in her hold. The sun was bright in the sky as they looked out into the sea, her people flocking near the edge of the boat to catch a glimpse of the small prince of the land and sea. The baby gurgled happily in her arms as she rocked him back and forth, waving a hand towards her sister who had settled nearby. Niki waved back, crooning sadly that she wouldn’t be able to actually see their new addition to the family. Fundy wasn’t quite like the mermaids - like Sally - taking on a more human-form with the addition of fox-like attributes that Sally just knew came from Wilbur. There was no other option.

Chapter Text

His head was buzzing, ache settling deep into his bones as he struggled to breath through the harsh winter wind. The pale white sky smiled mockingly at his pale and flailing form, not a single ray of sun to caress his cheek and assure him of safety. A chill ran down his spine, his fingers clutching at cold cold earth - or perhaps it was a snow? - as he struggled to keep his eyes open and his head afloat. Through the fog in his head, he could hear joyous laughter, grating against his sensitive fox ears. He took in a shuddery breath, throat unbearably dry and gasping for the lifeblood that was air. He blinked, the world falling into darkness and shadow before disgusting bright light flooded into his vision once more. There was a numbness settling at the back of his mind, every piece of him wanting to succumb back into that warm and comforting land of darkness. His eyes began to droop, his fingers uncurling against the harsh ground.

“Alright, alright. You can have your stuff back, mate. Game’s over.” A heavy weight settled against his chest, almost as if the sky had dropped it from above. He couldn’t bring himself to look, to gaze at the item he had… he couldn’t bring himself to remember. He kept still, unmoving even as he felt an awkward shift in the air. A shadow fell over him, taking away the sliver of light  that dared seeped past his closed eyelids. “Heh… come on now, get up. It’s over. You can leave.”

“Come on, this isn’t funny. Get up. ”

There’s a hand pressed against his cheek, weak as the touch was against his dying senses. Whispers faded into shouts, muted footsteps turned into heavy thumps as - what he could only assume - were people running towards him. For a moment, the world spun. Up became down. High became low. Cold became warm. Warmth, as if a blanket of feathers had been draped over his body. There were two hands holding his cheeks, turning his head up as though to force him to stare into… a face? Eyes? He didn’t know. “You were on your last life… Why didn’t you tell us!”

He didn’t know… He didn’t know why… He just did. And now…

“FUNDY!”

He was gone.

---

Wilbur looked up from the deck of cards he had laid in front of him, eyes catching a glimpse of his drunken and unconscious rival from across the table. He sighed. Guess he won, as per usual.

He ran through his disheveled and soot-stained hair, relaxing back into the soft couch that he had manifested the moment he had arrived in the afterlife. His chest ached at the movement, his fatal wound a constant agony upon his already tortured mind. His dark brown eyes stared out into the vast void that served as their view, the expanse as irritating and insufferable as it always was. He tore his gaze away from the sight, content to pretend he was safe in the home he shared with…

Schlatt. Wilbur ran a hand through his hair, suppressing the urge to groan, especially as the man was literally five feet away from him. After a moment of terrible, boring silence, he stood up from the couch he had draped himself upon in favor of staring out into the abyss. Staying in the same room as Schlatt was overbearing and Wilbur was too tired to sleep for gods know how long sleep worked in this lawless place. He stopped by the front door, grabbing the first coat that he could grasp (begging whatever deity wanted to fuck with him that day that he wouldn’t grab Schlatt’s suit jacket) before walking out the door and into the vast and painfully dull white void.

He did what he always did: curse at the stupid abyss and scream blasphemies at the gods.

Once he had yelled to his heart’s content, he stepped forward, feet gliding on an invisible surface as he walked further and further away from the safety and confines of his and Schlatt’s abode.

The void - as suffocating and damning as it was - helped with the thoughts that raced through his head, ones that he could never die out of no matter what he had tried to do in his life. He kept a brief pace, no particular place in mind, only mindful to keep the house in view as he went farther away from the house. There was no noise within the void, no screams, no explosions, but the silence somehow kept his thoughts at bay. The thoughts that reminded him of what he had lost and what he had failed to. The thoughts that urged him to return and take what was rightfully his. The same dark and troubling thoughts that had taken everything from him to begin with.

Wilbur wasn’t quite sure how long he had walked, stopping only when he caught the faintest hint of color in the distance. His heart stuttered to a stop, his conscience rising to the forefront as he rushed forward. There was nothing but white in the void. Colors never appeared within the void, even when his bones ached and told him it was night, the white void never wavered.

He paused, a few feet away from the figure who had begun to rouse from their confusion. Wilbur’s heart ached and burned, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he took in the familiar form. It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. But it was. It was. It was. It was. And now…

“Fundy…” He breathed out, lurching forward to cling to his disgruntled and groggy son who held onto him just as strongly as he did. Wilbur held him closer to his chest, wincing as his wound ached at the pressure. Fundy blinked up at him through haze-filled eyes, and Wilbur can’t help but nearly sob as he gazed upon his son’s forehead. “Fundy… oh my son, what happened?”

He couldn’t help but gingerly reach for his son’s ears, the edges frayed and bent in a way that one would call broken. His fingers hovered the cracks that formed around his son’s skin, snaking past the scalp of his hair and decorating his forehead with their presence. His own fatal wound stung, phantom blood seeping past the sword wound and coating his son’s white ( white? ) jacket. Wilbur kept him close, waiting for his son to fully wake as he took in the chill that clung to Fundy’s skin, grieving over the coat of blue against his son’s lips. It had been Fundy’s red hair that had caught Wilbur’s attention, the vibrant hue sticking out like a sore thumb against the background of the void. His boy’s clothes had turned white and blue though, that wasn’t right.

He ran a hand through his son’s hair, shivering as he felt liquid drip against his fingertips, phantom blood appearing against the palm of his hand before disappearing into nothing. Wilbur swallowed through the lump of his throat, panic coursing through his mind as he thought of how Fundy could be there, with him . It wasn’t meant to be like this. Though he had despised him, his son was meant to live a carefree and happy life as soon as Wilbur was gone. What went wrong?

With trembling hands, he adjusted his hold, one arm supporting his son’s shoulder and knees as he quickly stood up. He staggered home, mind delirious with pain and denial as he kept gazing down at Fundy who had begun to stare at him with wide, panicked eyes. There were nearly at the front door when Fundy screamed, Wilbur’s heart hammering in his chest as he looked down at his ailing son, wondering what was wrong. He felt a punch land against his chest, painless, but it was enough to startle him. Fundy wailed and kicked, thrashing out of his hold before landing on the ground with a graceless thump. Wilbur stood there for a moment, blinking as Fundy scrambled away from him, back pressed against the wall of the house as he snarled - snarled - at his own dad. Wilbur felt his short temper boil over, his anger rising to the front of his mind.

“If you insist on being a brat then you can stay outside.” Wilbur huffed, opening the front door to the house before the sound of a window creaking open reached his ears. Schlatt leaned out the sill, a bit of drool on his chin as he looked at Wilbur with raised brows. The man was still disoriented, his attention too focused on Wilbur to notice their new companion. The ram hybrid held an alcohol bottle in hand, his fingers shaking as he held onto its neck. It wasn’t a surprise to see him drop it, the bottle smashing against the top of Fundy’s head, sending the fox hybrid into another bout of unconsciousness. Wilbur blinked, the shards of glass sending him to a memory. He was suddenly back at the van, watching as Schlatt antagonized his son with bottle after bottle of alcohol, the shards of glass flying everywhere. Blood tainted the scorched earth一 “FUNDY!”

He caught his son before he could slump down onto the void, casting Schlatt a side-eyed glare as he brought Fundy into the house. Schlatt looked up at him as he came in, still slumped against the window even as Wilbur laid Fundy down on the couch. There were only two bedrooms in the house but Wilbur was sure he could manifest a bedroom for his son to stay in… if Fundy decided to stay with them. Schlatt let out a cough, sounding more like he was being choked as he made his way to where Wilbur was fussing over Fundy. The ex-president took a step back as clarity finally flooded into Schlatt’s golden eyes. He sputtered, gesturing to Fundy with both hands. Silence from Schlatt meant distress. He didn’t really expect to see Fundy in the afterlife either.

“What the fu一” Schlatt had tried to reach down for Fundy’s head, as if to convince himself of Fundy’s presence. Wilbur growled, batting his best friend’s (debatable) hand away from his son - the son who he had let Schlatt ruthlessly attack during the confrontation at the van. Schlatt raised a brow at him, but he backed off, muttering underneath his breath that he wasn’t sober enough for an argument. As he was still reeling from the memories of what Schlatt had done, Wilbur sighed, leaning down to grab his son so he could move him to Wilbur’s room. He was going to manifest a room for Fundy… but then he realized he didn’t know his son enough to place the proper items into it. “You know… We’ll fucking talk about… Fundy… when he’s awake and一”

“Someone killed my boy… my son… my little champion.”

He barely heard Schlatt’s response as he brought Fundy into his room, wincing at the horrid mess of clothes that was strewn about on the floor and on the unmade bed. The dead didn’t require any sleep - and anytime he or Schlatt did sleep they’d feel as if they had slept for months - but it was nice knowing that there was a place where they could both be alone… not that it was any better than spending time with each other. Wilbur sighed, shaking his head as he placed his son at the center of the bed, pushing the clothes that had gathered on the mattress to the white tiled floor. He tucked his son in, Fundy curling up immediately underneath the comforter as a soft smile appeared on the fox hybrid’s face. Wilbur remembers a time where his son - the tiniest little boy, his words slurred and undeveloped - would try to stay up and wait for him, even if Wilbur always returned home late. Fundy would insist that his ‘papa’ tuck him in and wish him a goodnight.

Those were better times, where L’Manburg was nothing but a van that he, his son, and his two annoying (gods, he missed them) little brothers used to live in. On most days (???), when the memories got too strong, he would sit and wonder what his life would have been if L’Manburg was never founded. He shuddered. Would Tommy still be that same kid who used to be so unafraid of the world around him? Would Tubbo still be that same kid who only wanted to spend time with his bees and his best friend? Would Wilbur still be alive? Would Fundy still be一

He stumbled out of the room, his legs suddenly weak as he tried to reach out for the doorway. He nearly fell, a pair of arms caught him before he could fall to the floor, a grunt reaching his ears.

Wilbur couldn’t bear to look at his son. His son who was supposed to be alive and not with him.

Schlatt was speaking to him, his mouth moving but the words didn’t reach him. He was trembling, his anger - the anger he thought he would hold against Fundy once his son came up to the afterlife - dissipating. Fundy wasn’t supposed to be here yet. He wasn’t supposed to be dead.

Despite everything, he wrapped his arms around Schlatt, the man flinching in his hold before placing his own arms around Wilbur’s shoulders. Wilbur could feel his tears against his cheek. 

“They killed my boy. They killed my boy. They killed my boy.”

Oh gods, someone killed his little champion.

---

Phil sighed, wings outstretched behind him as he looked down at the remains of the nation his son once loved. This was his final farewell to a land that had caused him nothing but grief and loss. He pressed his hat against his chest, his way of respecting a country that, perhaps in another time, would have been more than a crater filled with the broken hopes and dreams of its people. If anyone saw him mourning, no one bothered to approach. If anyone saw the tears he shed, they did not reach out to ask him why he wept. Phil did not expect pity, nor did he expect a caring hand to be held out to him. If anything, he expected a knife to the back for even daring to show up at the remains that he had caused. That pile of rubble and ash, where he could faintly recall his son - both the ghost and the madman - yelling at him with tears and with a broken heart.

“Gwampa?” He flinched, wings folding into his back as he looked behind him. A ghostly visage of his grandson - the one whose death he had caused - looked up at him with wide eyes. Ghostdy’s tail wagged back and forth, his ears pressed against his snow-white hair. “Wu okay?”

Phil felt his heart ache against his chest, Ghostbur had been a reminder of his son who he had no choice but to kill, and now here was Ghostdy - a mockery of what his grandson used to be. Ghostdy was younger, much younger. A child. A child who barely knew anything or anyone aside from his family. It made him sick, the realization that the last time Fundy was truly happy was when he was a kid. The ghost child was small, barely above Phil’s knees and his words were slurred… He tried not to wince as Ghostdy suddenly clung to his leg, yipping happily despite the phantom blood that dripped down the edge of the little ghost child’s head. It was fucking fall damage . Phil had killed Fundy via fucking fall damage . He gritted his teeth, wiping away his tears on the sleeve of his coat. At the time, he thought it was necessary. Fundy should have just fucking told him that he was on his last life. Fundy should have told him, why didn’t he tell him?

“Grandpa’s fine.” He reached down, hesitatingly placing a hand against Ghostdy’s hair. Everything about him was muted, the orange drained, leaving nothing but a white husk of what Fundy used to be. “Just saying goodbye. You can say goodbye to L’Manburg too, if you want.”

“Gwampa… wat’s a L’Manburg?” He stared down at his grandson at the question, feeling tears prick at the corner of his eyes again. “Is that a candy? Can I have candy when we get howme?”

“Sure, mate. Anything you want.”

He picked up the ghost, not minding the chill that ran up and down his arms. Ghostdy curled up in his hold, purring as he wrapped himself around Phil’s heavy blue cloak. The sight would have warmed his heart if Phil wasn’t so wracked with grief and self-loathing. This wasn’t right.

Fundy shouldn’t be dead… Still… there was nothing to be done.

“Let’s just go home, mate. Let’s… go home.”

---

He watched them walk away, his eyes following the grandfather-grandson duo as they left the remains of a nation that once was. He continued to watch, stopping once the two figures disappeared into the treeline. No doubt headed once more towards the sharp cold of the tundra.

He stood between two gravestones, hands pressed against the stones - one chipped away from age and one smooth with its recentness.

He looked down at the only one that mattered.

‘Here lies Fundy Soot.

A soldier. A friend. A grandson. A nephew. A son.

May he rest in peace, wherever his soul may be.’

He looked down at the one he couldn’t care less about.

‘Here lies Wilbur Soot.

A great general. A kind friend. A caring brother. A loving father. A good son.

May he find peace in death.’

Someone…

Someone had to pay .

Chapter Text

A scream tore through his throat, his arms flailing against the orange sheets as he blinked away the image of a smile that remained in the forefront of his mind. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, sweat pouring down the sides of his neck as his eyes stared up at the ceiling. His legs felt numb, his entire body felt as if it was on fire. He groaned, the nightmare still sending goosebumps down his pale skin as he curled up tighter around himself. His hands dug into his dirt-stained, messy ginger hair, sharp claws biting against the scalp of his head.

It was the same routine, the same old nightmare that left him breathless and terrified for his waking life. He felt something warm trickle down the side of his cheek, a metallic scent reaching his nose as he detangled his hands from his head. He sniffled, wiping the blood against his shirt sleeve, the red spreading across the white as he tried to ignore the buzzing pain on his head.

He barely heard the soft pitter-patter of paws against the floor until he felt a weight settle against his lap. His shaky sobs stuttered to a pause, gaze turning down to look at his unexpected guest.

The cat curled up against his chest before he could take a good look at it, its brown ears flicking as it meowed and hid its face against his shirt. He looked towards the door, eyebrows furrowing as he wondered how the cat got into his house. He could have sworn he had locked the door… He was broken out of his thoughts as the cat meowed impatiently at him, claws digging into his shirt. Fundy winced, placing a hand against the top of its head, the cat purring as he began to scratch it behind the ears. He knew that it wasn’t one of his cats, and he didn’t own a cat with tan and brown fur. Fundy felt his tail wag behind him happily, glad to have a new companion.

He froze, hand brushing against what felt like rope. He glanced down, eyes taking in the cat’s fur, heart nearly pausing as he noticed the flecks of red that shone from underneath the fur. There were red vines wrapped around the cat. As though feeling his panic, the cat finally looked up at him, its crimson red eyes regarding him with such madness that he screamed. Fundy moved away from the cat, reaching the other side of his bed as the cat jumped down the floor. It began to grow, bones cracking as it shifted back into its true form. He felt faint as his golden-flecked brown eyes met Ant’s crimson eyes. The cat hybrid gave him a sly smile and a little wave.

He felt strong arms wrap around his chest, his eyes widening in fear as he felt himself get lifted away from the warm safety of his bed. Fundy shrieked, slashing backwards with his claws as he struggled in his captor’s hold. He felt sharp claws dig into his skin, warmth blossoming beneath his shirt as blood trickled down from his sides. He shuddered, claws barely grazing his captor’s skin as they dragged him towards the door. Ant followed after him, that dazed look in his eyes as he giggled at Fundy’s fruitless struggle. Fundy felt the chill of night against his neck as he got carried outside and down the stairs. One of the arms holding him shifted, moving to press against his mouth as though to keep him from screaming for help. Fundy gave up on slashing, putting all his energy into squirming and writhing his way out of the unyielding hold that kept him in place.

“Red already looks so good on you!” Fundy groaned as the claws dug further into his pale skin, wincing as rough fingers brushed against the wounds, spreading red across his shirt. Ant watched him, a giddy look on the cat hybrid’s face as Fundy grew weaker and weaker. He felt his head thump against his captor’s chest, eyes flicking upwards to see Bad - or at least it looked like Bad - grinning down at him with a mock look of sympathy. The demon was cooing at him, muttering words that Fundy couldn’t quite understand. He stopped fighting. The loss of blood making his head spin as Bad’s claw dug into his skin once more. “Oh, the egg is so going to love you!”

He spoke, though muffled. “Please, I-I don’t… I don’t like that stupid fucking eggー”

“Shhhhhh!” Fundy cried, the pain at his side increasing as Bad squeezed him. He could hear Ant snickering at his agony. “We do not insult the egg! Don’t you want to serve the egg, little fox?”

He couldn’t bring himself to reply, whimpering as he tried to curl into himself. His side burned as if it was on fire, as if lava had been poured onto his skin. Bad continued to mutter, but his words were lost to the wind as Fundy focused on his thoughts. No one was going to save him, not at this time of night, and because his dreams told him so. No one cared enough to save him. No one was going to save him. Tears rolled down his cheeks, sobs held back by the hand against his mouth as he felt every part of him surrender to fate. He could feel a hand brush against his cheek as though to wipe away his tears. He met Ant’s eyes, the cat hybrid’s words reaching his ears. “Just go to sleep…” And so he did. There was no point in fighting anymore. He’d lost.

---

Eret traversed through the forest, the golden crown on their head shining underneath the sunlight that poured from between the leaves. Their hands were covered in dirt from their afternoon of digging and planting for the castle garden. Now, they were simply taking an afternoon stroll.

A soft summer breeze caressed their cheek the further they went, the branches snapping beneath their boots as they tried not to dwell on the thoughts that circled in their head. It felt off and strange to live with and in such peace, now that the wars were over and the tyrants were gone.

As they came across a small clearing, the blinding shine of white caught their attention as they turned to see a figure lying face down on the ground. Eret’s heart nearly skipped a beat as they quickly raced towards the figure, a chill running down their spine as they noticed a familiar pair of fox ears - albeit white, so unlike their normal orange hue - twitch at the top of white-colored hair. Eret leaned down, hands shaking as they tried to keep their breath calm. Fundy. Fundy. Oh gods, Fundy! They pulled the unconscious fox hybrid into their arms, letting out a relieved sigh as they saw Fundy’s chest rise and fall. Guilt crept in after the relief, their mind berating them for not even realizing where their… son? friend? companion? had gone off to. Eret placed a hand against Fundy’s pale cheek, letting out a sigh as they took notice of his too pale skin and sickly demeanor. Eret couldn’t fathom why Fundy’s hair, ears, clothes, and tail had turned white.

“Fundy? Fundy, are you alright?” They gently shook the fox hybrid, hoping the sudden shift would cause him to wake. Eret ran a hand through Fundy’s hair, suppressing the uneasiness that they felt. What had happened to Fundy? The king hadn’t seen him for a few weeks now, but no one had tried to raise any concern so they had assumed that Fundy had holed up in his tower. A prick of regret poked their heart at the thought that Fundy had been suffering and no one had even tried to come to his aid. They held the unconscious fox hybrid closer to their chest, muttering underneath their breath as they thought of what to do. They needed to bring Fundy back to the castle, find a doctor, a healer, something! They readjusted their hold, a hand snaking underneath Fundy’s shoulders and knees as Eret moved to crouch beside him. “I am taking you home, Fundy. I promise, you will be fine. I will get you a healer, anything that could help you一”

“R-Ren?” They stilled, a hand weakly reaching out towards them as Fundy took a shuddery breath. Eret immediately grabbed onto Fundy’s hand, rubbing circles his knuckles as he tried to cement Fundy back into reality. Eret found a smile form on their face. Fundy was alright, he’ll be alright. “R-ren… I’m cold… Please, ren… I don’t want to feel the cold anymore… please…”

“It will be alright, Funds. I’m here now. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

They turned to unclasp their cloak, fingers fumbling as their hands continued to shake with a fear they couldn’t quite name. Fundy hadn’t opened his eyes yet, perhaps too tired or too out of it to force himself into full consciousness. Eret sighed, cloak falling past their shoulders as they managed to unclasp it. They turned around to grab the cloth, intending to keep Fundy warm.

They placed the cloak over Fundy’s shoulders, the fox hybrid curling up beneath it as though savoring the warmth. Eret would have chuckled… if Fundy hadn’t opened his eyes. Their heart stammered in their chest, a pair of crimson red eyes stared up at them with such sorrow that they weren’t sure whether to feel fear or pity. “Everything is not fine, Eret. It will never be fine, not unless everyone is with the egg. The egg is our only salvation. The egg is all that we need now.”

“Fundy… Fundy, no! You can’t一 Funds, I need you to listen to me, the egg is lying to you. It does not care about you! It controls people, Funds… you know that!” Fundy smiled wryly up at them, pity dancing across the fox hybrid’s gaze as though he was listening to the ramblings of a madman. “Fundy, you need to snap out of its hold! I know you can do it! You are stronger tha一”

The last thing they saw was Fundy’s gritted, sharp teeth, their blood dripping from his claws.

---

“You’re doing well…” Fundy refrained from beaming at the compliment, though the sharp smile on his face showed how much he craved the compliment. He ran around the egg, tail wagging behind him as he found none of those disgusting, vile heathens who refused to even listen to the egg. There had been close calls, a little sheep having blown up a portion of the egg’s empire though that was nothing compared to what the egg could do. Fundy had chased her off. She won’t be back after that precise stab through the chest that he’d inflicted upon her . He hummed, a tune he’d long since forgotten the name of as he continued to patrol around the egg. In the background, he could hear the Essempy’s former king screaming. Ah, well… not everyone could see how much the egg loved them… they just had to be… taught. Eret would get it soon enough.

He chirped in reply. He’d long since he realized he hasn’t been given the right to speak, just yet. The egg murmured, the words undecipherable though Fundy didn’t mind. The egg was happy, and that’s all that mattered. He went further out, the egg allowing him to - he’d long since realized that running away wasn’t an option - as he looked around their empire. He wouldn’t want any sneaky bastards to come in and harm the egg. Oh no no no no no, that wouldn’t do at all! He eventually reached the border of their area, the disgusting green grass slowly morphing into a beautiful shade of red as the egg’s power continued to dominate the land. Soon, everyone will get to see that the only option was the egg. There was no other option! The egg was all they needed, after all! It was everything he needed! Soon, soon everyone will see that too! He felt a grin stretch across his face. Soon. Soon. He was a patient fox, everyone will join them in the end.

“So obedient… so loyal… so loving… my little soldier.”

He nearly purred at the praise, his heart beating faster with every kind sentiment that the egg threw his way. Fundy knew he was happier with the egg, his old life was nothing but misery until the egg came to save him. If he had known that he’d be this happy, he would have surrendered to the egg the moment it was first discovered. He had thanked Ant and Bad profusely once he had awakened, newly birthed into a life meant to serve the egg and only the egg. They had welcomed him with open arms, smiles etched upon their faces. It felt freeing, to finally have a family, to finally have people who cared for him - though of course the egg’s love came before any of theirs! He felt vines wrap around his legs and arms, a tugging sensation formed at the back of his mind as the egg called for his attention. His smile returned, the egg wanted him to come back!

“Return home, little fox… though the enemy will return, I believe my favorite little soldier deserves a treat… would you like that?” He tried to keep his surprise and giddiness suppressed, he wouldn’t want to look desperate in front of the egg, after all. The vines beckoned him closer, snapping against his knees and ankles each time he dwindled for too long. Soon enough, he was back at the egg’s main chamber. His tail wagged behind him, a smile stretching across his face as he dared to look at the egg. He climbed up the platform, heart hammering in his chest as the whispers in his head grew louder. The vines pushed him down to the ground, his knees thumping against the dirt as he looked up at the egg with wide eyes. “You have been a good little soldier… and all hardworking followers deserve their rest… When was the last time you slept, little fox? Would you wish to taste the fruits of slumber once more? Tell me… speak, my little fox.”

If it were possible, his heart would have exploded in his chest. It had been… days? weeks? months? since he had last spoken, and now the egg had given him the right to. He opened his lips, his throat creaking in protest as he coughed out an indistinguishable word. He felt a chill run down his spine, worried that the egg might punish him for daring to mutter such indecipherable nonsense, yet the egg was kind and allowed him to find his voice once more. His ears twitched up, happy at the lack of punishment, though of course he’d be glad to take whatever punishment the egg deemed fit for him. He deserved it after all! He remembered his screams of agony as they held him down, the vines wrapping around his throat as they all but pushed him into the glowing red liquid. He had choked on the taste, bitter sweet nectar tainting his tongue and his lips…

“If the egg may so permit it, then I shall sleep.” Fundy’s tail wagged behind him, the vines wrapping themselves around it as his tail continued to do so. “Thank you, for letting me speak.”

“My little soldier deserved it… now… sleep! You shall awaken once I require your skills, until then… rest, little fox.” A heavy weight settled over his mind, pulling him under as his body began to lower itself to the ground. His bones ached with exhaustion. “Now, sleep… hush…”

His eyes closed, a warmth settling over his shoulders as a cluster of vines began to wrap around him. He lost sight of the cavern, swallowed and hidden underneath the cocoon of red shrubbery.

As sleep began to pull him into its embrace, a no-good, traitorous part of his mind fought against the haze. A part of him screamed for him to wake, to claw against the vines until he was free. A part of him screamed at him to WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP . He pushed the thoughts away, pleased to accept the egg’s kind blessing. Thus, the little fox went to sleep, lulled into slumber by the egg’s whispers and by the cries and screams of the former king.

---

Fundy watched over their people, a small smile on his face as everyone went about their designated purpose. It hadn’t been easy. No no, of course it hadn’t been easy, not when everyone decided they’d rather kill the egg than let it roam free. Oh, how foolish they were to think that they could have done anything against the egg. It had been a ridiculous idea ever since that little sheep thought of it. Fundy frowned, gaze flicking over towards the sheep hybrid. There was a perpetual smile on her face now, vines entangled in her gray-colored hair up onto her horns… well, horn . The other one kinda snapped off during their last fight. She doesn’t need it anyway.

He hummed - though it felt off and wrong - underneath his breath, tuning into the egg’s low whispers. The egg had nothing in particular to say, though hearing its calm and gentle murmurs made him feel happier. His eyes flicked about, settling over a familiar figure that sat near the egg in a mockery of what looked like a throne made of red vines. The former king had had their sunglasses snapped and thrown away, now their beautiful, glowing red eyes shown proudly in the darkness. There was a wreath of vines and red crystals on top of their head, a wonderful replacement for that crown that Fundy had chosen to burn once the former king had joined them.

A sharp sting echoed at the back of his mind, he winced at the intrusion. The egg was displeased, something - no, someone - was disobeying the egg. With a smile on his face, Fundy turned to look behind him, unsurprised to find a white and black-cloaked figure standing in the shadows. He looked down at the demon’s claws, a part of him remembering when those things had dug into his skin, sending cascades of fire through his body. What made Nether-based demons unique was their capability to send their foes into debilitating agony with just their claws, if those things were to get under one’s skin, it would feel like lava burning one’s insides over and over again. Fundy had gotten used to the feeling though, relishing in those times where the egg had him punished for his disobedience. This time, he wasn’t the one who was going to be punished.

“Hello, Fundy.”

“Hi, Bad.” He could feel his own claws itching to come out, but no. Not without the egg’s permission. He tilted his head to the side, smile never wavering as the demon drew near. Fundy wasn’t scared anymore. There was nothing to fear from Bad anymore. “What are you doing?”

“Gaining back the egg’s favor, what I had before you came along.” The demon growled at him, sharp teeth emerging from the shadowed figure. Fundy couldn’t help but chuckle at the attempt of a threat, the egg buzzing at the back of his mind to punish the disobedient. Vines wrapped around his arm, a staff forming between his fingers as a scythe took form. In another time, he would have stopped to admire the glimmer of red that shone against the dark blade, stopped to gawk at the red vines and crystals that wrapped around the scythe’s dark wooden handle. Now, now was not that time. The egg screamed its will, and it wanted one thing. He gripped the scythe tightly, baring his own sharp teeth against the demon. “I cared for the egg first, you little thief.”

“Should have done more. Clearly, you were insufficient. I did your job much better than you could have ever done.” Bad growled at his words, lurching forward, his claws striking against Fundy’s chest. Blood seeped down his shirt, but he couldn’t care less. A giggle tore through his throat as he lunged, claws clashing against the blade of the scythe as they continued their little dance. Bad knew nothing but offense, the scraps and cuts gradually began to form against the demon’s skin, Fundy laughing at each hit that managed to actually injure. He could feel the egg’s presence in his mind, urging him to punish the offender, to make the egg satisfied. Fundy swung and swung, blade hitting its mark every time. He could have cared less for his own wounds.

He felt dozens of eyes on him, voices chanting against his head. His mind grew restless, the voices mixing in with his thoughts, and all he knew was that the demon had to pay. The blade struck down, again and again and again and again. The red in his eyes grew brighter, nearly glowing as he cackled with each strike. His laughter strained against his throat, blood coating the air as the blade broke through skin, again and again and again and again. He felt euphoric, his mind - his own - crooning with sheer joy as the scythe met its final mark. He shuddered, liquid dripping down the sides of his cheeks - blood or tears, he could not tell - as he finally stuttered to a stop. There was something shrieking at the back of his head… the egg. The egg was displeased.

He felt vines wrap around him, thorns digging into his neck and into his skin as the egg dragged him away from… from… he glanced down at the remains, uncaring for the scraps that were left.

He’ll be punished for this terrible grievance.

He closed his eyes. It’s okay.

He deserves it.

---

The final fight comes down to a few stragglers, but they should have known that they were powerless. It was a pitiful sight to watch, the egg’s whispers ringing through his mind as he circled his opponents, blade light against his hand as he fought for the egg. For the egg, and nothing more. He could sense their hesitation, their dull weapons barely touching his skin as though they had refused to actually strike. What a shame that the final fight that he had craved was nothing but a ruse, the unruly group feeling nothing more than weeds that dared to grow in the egg’s garden. Nevertheless, the egg will turn them into beautiful flowers soon enough.

It ends like this…

The fox striked against the baker. Her pink hair fluttered against the wind as she reached up with her sword, blocking the blow. Her eyes sung of grief and anger, free hand outstretched towards him as if to brush against his cheek. He lets her for a moment, her fingers touching his skin as she lowered her guard. The sword lowered to the ground, clanging as it fell to the ground. She lunged forward, pulling him into a warm embrace, muttering words that he dared not to understand. She was swallowed by the vines a moment later. She was the first to be freed.

The fox striked against the amnesiac. His ears twitched against the barrage of words, screaming at him to WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP . He hated him for daring to reach out with those despicable words. He swung the blade down, the back of the scythe catching him off-guard as he toppled over. He screamed at him, asked him to wake up, but his words fell on deaf ears. He was swallowed by the vines a second later. He was the second to be freed.

The fox striked against the ex-president. He could hear him try and reason with him, then the words began to fall into threats and screams. There was the mention of countries, of friendships, of traitors, of explosions, and of nukes. He paid him no mind, scythe twirling around his fingers as he jabbed the end of the handle against his chest. He was yelled at for his action, but he didn’t care about that. He was swallowed by the vines a minute later. He was the third to be freed.

The fox striked against the hero. For this one, he paused, blade pausing mid-way as his eyes caught that familiar shirt. He heard his words, asking him what was wrong and what they could do to help him. If the egg wasn’t encouraging him, assuring him of his victory - reminding him of his duty - he might have answered. Ah, but he was too late to save this lost soul . He was swallowed by the vines, words disappearing beneath the cluster. He was the fourth to be freed.

The fox striked against the ghost. This one didn’t try to fight. His blade cut through him, but it did nothing against his spectral form. He felt those cold arms wrap around him, tears falling against his shoulder as he sobbed and sobbed against him. He held onto his scythe, rage simmering as the embrace got tighter and tighter. He could only smile as he felt him get dragged away. He was swallowed by the vines, sobs disappearing beneath. He was the fifth to be freed.

The fox striked against the tyrant. An axe blade met his own, eyes glancing up at him with pain in their gazes. He couldn’t bring himself to care, his heart numbing against the heartbreak that swam in those beautiful (how could he call it beautiful?) forest green eyes. He struck him down, ignoring the ring that shone brightly on his finger. He was swallowed by the vines, the tyrant screaming his name until he was finally silenced. He was the sixth to be freed.

The fox striked against the anarchist. A grunt reached his ears as their blades danced and met one another. This one refused to back down, blood red eyes glowing with rage as he slashed and slashed. It was the best fight of his life, but even the greatest things come to an end. He struck him down, ignoring the threats of his demise for his crimes. He was swallowed by the vines, the anarchist vowing vengeance until he was whisked away. He was the seventh to be freed.

The last… the Angel of Death himself.

Phil kept his arms open, concern dancing in the man’s gaze as he hesitatingly drew near.

“Fundy…”

“Angel of Death.”

The man winced, raising his sword… and then letting it fall…

There was no point in fighting anymore.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The man’s words reached his ears… but so did the egg’s.

He laughed… and laughed… and laughed… and laughed…

“A nice sentiment, grandpa…”

The man looked up, hope dancing across his face.

Ah, how stupid…

He moved closer, scythe dragging against the floor.

“Consider him… a treat.”

“But don’t you see…”

He paused before the man, scythe rising to strike.

“Don’t you see…”

His crimson red eyes glowed bright, red vines wrapping themselves around his face.

“You’re fucking dead to me.”

He struck down.

The eggpire gained seven new members that day.

Chapter Text

“No.” Technoblade barely looked up from his book, his eyes fixed forward as his twin began to shuffle awkwardly in front of him. He sighed, blood red eyes meeting dark brown ones as he finally closed his book. Wilbur smiled down at him sheepishly, a familiar little bundle squirming in front of his chest. He rolled his eyes, “For the last time, I am not babysitting your child.”

“It’s only for an hour, Techno. I promise I’ll be right back, I just have certain matters to take care of.” Without another minute wasted, the whining bundle was suddenly thrust towards him. He grunted, arms wrapping around his nephew’s form before the baby could tumble to the floor. He casted his twin an irritated glare, growling as the baby began to pull at the tips of his pink hair. Wilbur gave him an apologetic look, laughing nervously as he began to back away from him and towards the front door. If there wasn’t a child in his arms, he would have dragged Wilbur back and swatted him with a book. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be good for Uncle Techie, Fundy!”

“WILBUR一” The door slammed shut, the loud sound echoing around the small family cabin. Technoblade winced at the noise, his sensitive piglin ears flicking downwards as he tried to ignore the ringing. His twin must have been in a really big hurry that he forgot about closing the door gently. The ringing continued, his heart sinking as he realized it wasn’t ringing but crying.

He glanced down at his nephew, the little fox hybrid crying as he began to tug at his ears. Damn it, Wilbur. Techno could feel his panic rise as he tried to rock Fundy back and forth, his thoughts fumbling and the voices weren’t really any help. Of all the days, today was the day everyone had chosen to leave the cabin. Phil had taken Tubbo and Tommy to the market, and now Wilbur had gone off to do blood god knows what. Techno grumbled, wincing as he tried to shush the shrieking little bundle in his arms. Every cry sent the fox hybrid into another flurry of tears, his hands tugging at his ears that Techno feared he might tear them off. He sighed, finally coming to a realization. He pressed his hands against the fox hybrid’s ears, hoping that it would be enough to mute out the noise. As was the problem with most hybrids, they couldn’t stand loud noises. Techno had gotten over that weakness a long time ago… he’d have to teach Fundy to do so too…

The sobs simmered down, his nephew falling back into his mumblings as he began to pat Techno’s hands. He grunted, moving his hands away from Fundy’s ears. The fox hybrid whined, hands reaching out, but Techno wasn’t going to give in. Giving in meant surrender. And his nephew needed at least one family member who wouldn’t spoil him. Fundy huffed at the lack of attention, fingers reaching out for a strand of his pink hair instead. Techno let him, it was fine… 

… Until the tugging began. He scowled, the child in his arms giggling happily as he pulled at Techno’s hair. It was a regular occurrence for him to face, not that Techno ever got the chance to hold Fundy - not with Wilbur insisting that he continuously hold his little champion - but it didn’t erase the slight pain his head felt each time. Techno breathed out through his nose, sighing as he adjusted his hold so that Fundy was relaxing in one hand. He reached down for his book, opening to the page he had been reading before his twin had disrupted him. Techno left Fundy to his own devices, knowing that the child would occupy himself with Techno’s hair for at least an hour or two, just enough time for Wilbur to come back. His head twitched with each painful tug, but Techno didn’t mind… until he noticed Fundy trying to chew and swallow down his hair.

“Did Wil forget to feed you, kid?” Techno held the child at arm’s length, nose scrunching up as Fundy continued to bite at his hair. “Hm… You hungry or do you just have an affinity for hair?”

The baby gurgled up at him happily, his little fangs poking out from beneath a clump of pink hair. Techno sighed, rising from his seat. His book was left discarded on the couch as he headed towards the kitchen, the baby yipping contentedly in his arms. He looked around the room, brain wracking for any idea as to what baby fox hybrids usually eat. Techno remembered Wilbur feeding Fundy some orange mush the night before, recalling the distinct smell of carrots.

He looked through the cupboards, shaking his head at the lack of food he deemed good for Fundy. Techno looked down at his nephew, frowning as Fundy continued to chew on his hair.

“Not food.” Techno pried his hair away from his nephew’s hands, the baby immediately began to whine, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Techno panicked, giving his hair back before Fundy could start crying again. He sighed as the baby clapped happily. “You are a handful…”

He headed towards the farm, knowing that he had planted some sweet berry bushes ever since Wilbur came home with Fundy. Foxes liked sweet berries, he hoped Fundy would too.

The sun shone brightly down at them, the screen door shutting behind them with a soft click as Techno walked to the side of the house. The baby crooned, yipping happily as beams of sunlight caressed his cheeks. He rolled his eyes as Fundy began to reach his little hands towards the sky, hair momentarily forgotten as his little fingers tried to follow the clouds that drifted away into the horizon. He snorted, crouching down near one of the bushes, the baby in one arm as he began to pick those that looked ripe enough to eat. Techno managed to grab a handful, face impassive despite the thorns that pricked at his knuckles. He’d felt much worse. He stood up, balancing the baby in one arm as he held a bundle of berries in the other. Techno glanced down at his little nephew, shaking his head as the baby continued to look up at the sky. “Now don’t be an Icarus.”

Fundy glanced up at him, golden-flecked brown eyes looking up at him with such confusion that Techno couldn’t help but chuckle. He went back inside, the baby whining at the loss of sunlight but at least he didn’t break down into tears. If the baby doesn’t cry, then Techno has won.

He settled them back on the couch, placing the baby against the pillows as a support. Fundy reached out his hands, frowning as Techno moved away. He gave Fundy one berry, the fox hybrid’s eyes narrowed into slits. He reached out a hand, swiping the berry from Techno’s palm.

Fundy looked up at him, raising the berry to his nose as though checking for poison - as if Technoblade were the type to use such schemes. After a while, Fundy deemed it safe enough to eat, scarfing the berry down with one bite. The baby giggled, hands reaching up towards him for more. His hands were making that grabby gesture that Fundy did when he wanted someone to give him what they were holding. Techno sighed, handing him another sweet berry, watching as he scarfed that one down too. He raised his little hands for more, growling with impatience.

If it were any other person, Techno would have drawn his sword at the threat, but this was his nephew and a baby couldn’t possibly beat him in armed combat. It just wouldn’t be a fair battle. Techno continued to give Fundy the berries, making sure he actually chewed before swallowing.

After ten minutes of feeding, Fundy had begun to play with the berry in his hand, ears flicked upwards as his tail wagged from side to side. Techno sighed as the fox hybrid squished the berry in between his palms, clapping as the red juice began to drip from his fingers and onto his shirt. Techno picked him up, wincing as Fundy quickly latched onto his hair. He grumbled, dragging himself into the kitchen so he could watch off the sticky red juice. Fundy whined the entire time.

It took quite a while, ending mostly with Techno’s hair being drenched and Fundy sneezing at the cold water that had dropped on his nose, but he managed to get them both back to the couch with all their limbs intact. Techno could feel water trickle down his back, his white tunic pressed against the back of the couch as he let Fundy curl up against his chest. The warm weight that he held made up for the chill at his back. Fundy squeaked happily up at him, wide eyes looking up at him as he felt a fluffy tail wrap around his waist. Techno let out a content grumble, running a scarred hand through his nephew’s messy ginger hair. He rolled his eyes, feeling the uncombed tangles within the fox hybrid’s curls. Poor kid, being Wilbur’s son must be such a laborious task.

“How do you cope with it, kid? Being his twin is exhausting in itself, blood god knows what you must endure on a daily basis.” Techno ran a hand up and down the baby’s back, Fundy having settled on lying against Techno’s chest. Fundy purred, ears flicking up and down as his little eyes fluttered close. Techno sighed, hoping that Wilbur would come back soon so he wouldn’t be forced to lie on the couch for an inconsiderable amount of time, not that he’d ever dare to move in the case that his nephew did fall asleep. He settled on relaxing a hand on Fundy’s back, the fox hybrid snuggling closer as though Techno was actually comfortable to lie on. Techno rolled his eyes at the thought. Impossible. Nope. No. Kid was just not picky about where he chose to sleep. That’s all. “This is not going to be a regular occurrence. I’m letting you do this just this once.”

He heard the muffled thump of footsteps before he heard his twin’s muted laughter. Techno immediately clasped his hands against Fundy’s ears, the fox hybrid snapping awake at the action, a whine bubbling from the baby’s throat just as the door opened with a creak. His ears flicked up, expecting the same loud thud that Wilbur had caused when he had left. He sighed in relief as the door closed with a soft click, looking up to see Wilbur enter the living room, his clothes disheveled as if he had been thrown in a wind turbine. His twin beamed up at him, which gained him a grunt of disdain. Fundy began to squirm in Techno’s hold, catching Wilbur’s attention as he quickly reached down to hold Fundy on one arm. Techno relaxed in his seat, eyes narrowing as he realized that Wilbur’s left hand remained hidden behind his back. His mind raced with the countless possibilities, all of those thoughts disappearing once Wilbur revealed a fish plushie.

“Were you a good boy for Uncle Techie?” Wilbur cooed, handing the plushie towards Fundy who had lunged for it as soon as it had appeared in front of him. His twin laughed, cuddling his son closer to his chest before gazing down to meet Techno’s unamused glare. Wilbur shuffled on his feet, a nervous smile appearing on the brunet’s face. Techno crossed his arms across his chest, arching one eyebrow. At any other point in time, he might have let out a tired sigh to show his discontentment, but he didn’t want to do it in front of the kid. Techno knew what that toy meant, and he knew Wilbur wouldn’t rush out of the house for a simple plushie. “I know. But she wanted me to give it to him, as a reminder. She’s gone now, if that’s what you wanted to hear.”

“Wil…” He moved further into the couch, averting his gaze as the weight of the matter fell over his shoulders. Where was Phil when you needed him? Techno wasn’t sure if he could - if he should - say anything about it. He heard his twin mutter something underneath his breath, feeling the couch sag as Wilbur sat down, Fundy lying on his chest as he cuddled the fish plushie in his arms. Techno sighed, wrapping an arm around his twin as he let Wilbur rest his head against his shoulder. Words… Techno wasn’t good with words. “It… If it helps… then I don’t care.”

“Thanks, Techno.” From the corner of his eye, he watched as Wilbur rubbed at his eye with the back of his hand, laughing despite the unseen tears that Techno knew were there. He shuffled closer, hoping that his presence would be enough to make his twin feel better. “Thank you.”

‘Technosoft???’

‘Poor Wilbur! ;-;’

‘BABY POG POG POG’

‘punt it’

‘EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE’

‘protect Techno protect’

‘no punting the baby >:(‘

‘Wilbur sad ;-;’

‘FISH FISH FISH’

‘baby Fundy wooooo’

Techno sighed, tuning out the voices as he focused on Fundy who had taken up a habit of staring at him. The fox hybrid’s tail wagged as soon as Techno directed his attention towards him, the fish plushie discarded as he made grabby gestures toward Techno. Wilbur looked down, laughing as he noticed Fundy trying to squirm his way into Techno’s hold. He glared at his twin, refusing to take Fundy in his hold. He’d done his time, let Wilbur deal with his son. It wasn’t his respon一

“T…” He froze, as did Wilbur. They stared down at the fox hybrid, Fundy’s face scrunched up in concentration as his little mouth tried to force out a sound. Wilbur looked absolutely grief-stricken as Fundy let out his first word, “T… Te… Te… Tech… Tech! Tech! Tech!”

“I一” Wilbur pouted, though he didn’t stop Fundy from crawling over to Techno. He held Fundy in his arms, surprised that he had been given the honor of being his nephew’s first word. Fundy squealed happily, holding onto him as his tail wagged back and forth. “Fundy, you little traitor.”

Techno let out a chuckle, pulling his twin closer as he rested one hand on his nephew’s back. He couldn’t help but smile, “Shouldn’t have left your child, nerd.” Wilbur sputtered in indignation.

Techno couldn’t wait to see Tommy, Tubbo, and Phil’s faces once they came back.

He reached down, pulling his nephew up until they were eye-level.

Fundy giggled, patting Techno on the cheek. He laughed.

“Maybe you aren’t so bad, kid… maybe you aren’t so bad.”

Chapter Text

His head rang with pitiful agony by the time he woke up, his entire body aching as though he had been dragged through countless rocks and hills. The warm mattress beneath him brought him some semblance of comfort, his head nuzzling into the pillow as he tried to catch the wisps of sleep that were fleeing away from him the longer he stayed awake. He could hear footsteps nearby, pausing with each breath that he took before resuming that normal - yet slightly panicked - pacing. As consciousness slowly returned to him, his hands grasped at the soft and fluffy sheets that had been draped over him, his heart sinking as he realized that he wasn’t in his bed at all.

Fundy grabbed at the sheets, forcing himself to sit despite the ache in his bones. His eyes felt heavy, drooping despite his best effort to stay awake. He felt a hand press itself on his forehead, a muffled whisper as his… savior? captor? gently helped him back on the bed. He groaned, eyes fluttering as he blinked away his sleep, but the world remained blurry. There was something being pressed to his lips, fingers tangling themselves in his hair as he was coaxed to drink down what he could only assume was water. The bottle was moved away as he choked. Fundy flinched away from the hand on his hair, but it only seemed to follow him, even going so far as to scratch behind his ears. He bit back the yip that threatened to rise from his throat, knowing deep down that he’d die from the embarrassment alone if he so much as yipped in front of a stranger. As he adjusted to the waking world, his vision began to clear as his mind returned to clarity.

It was a house he had never been in before - not that Fundy’s snuck inside other people’s houses, ahem. Sunlight poured in from the window… he felt his nose scrunched up, the scent of mushrooms in the air had caught him off-guard. The house felt homely, nearly quaint as though the person who’d lived there had never once engaged in anything stressful. It felt serene. He would have curled up further into the soft blankets, if the memories of the previous day hadn’t catched up to him. He jerked up, nearly falling off the edge of the bed as he looked around. This wasn’t his home. This wasn’t L’manburg. And the person in front of him was not a friend or ally.

“What… WHY THE HELL AM I HERE?!” He watched as George flinched back, eyebrows furrowing together as Fundy ripped the blankets off of him, grimacing as he realized that he was still wearing his L’Manburg uniform. The uniform that still had his father’s blood on it. Fundy tried to make a break for it, legs failing him the moment he tried to stand. He scowled as George caught him, placing him back down on the bad as if he was a fragile bowl that nearly dropped from its shelf. Fundy scooted away from him, “What is this? Am I a prisoner? A hostage一”

“As if you’re valuable enough to take as a hostage. Don’t be ridiculous.” Fundy tried not to flinch as those words left George’s mouth, the man didn’t even look at him as he walked away, placing the empty glass bottle of water inside one of his chests. His heart sank as he realized that he was far from home, and perhaps even deep within enemy territory. He froze as George finally directed his gaze at him, cursing as he realized he wouldn’t be able to understand what the man was thinking due to those stupid goggles that he wore all the time. Fundy chose to glower instead, hoping that George would take the message and leave, then he could try to escape through the window, and soon he’ll be home一 “Don’t try. You’re still hurt, you won’t get far.”

He tried not to whimper at the threat, pulling his knees up to his chest as he desperately begged the gods that he would not accidentally cry in front of the enemy. George seemed to freeze at his reaction, looking to the side as though he was embarrassed. Fundy could feel tears at the corners of his eyes, but as he reached up a sleeve to wipe them away, he noticed the splatter of blood. It was his dad’s. Tubbo and Tommy were killed first. Wilbur hadn’t had the time to react, but he did have enough time to shield Fundy from the attack. He remembered standing there, frightened out of his mind. He remembered - gods he can’t bring himself to say their name - their betrayal. He remembered his dad stepping in front of him, protecting him even at the cost of his own life.

His dad’s last words had been: ‘Run Fundy… RUN!’ Then his corpse had collapsed right into Fundy’s arms, poofing a second later as most bodies did once the person had respawned. There had been a sword pressed against his throat, a familiar pair of goggles glaring down at him from above. He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. He looked back up at George who - without him even noticing - had sat down at the edge of the bed. Fundy glared at him, reaching for his chest as he tried to find the scar that George had left on him. He felt nothing. Fundy blinked, unsure of why he hadn’t gotten a life-scar. He died, right? But if he had died then why一 “I’ll escort you back to L’Manburg in a week. A week is enough time for you to heal, I think.”

“Sooooooo, I’m not getting executed for crimes against… whatever the fuck your country is called?” George threw him a side glance, though Fundy was not quite sure if it was out of anger or confusion. Fundy looked away, choosing to grab the blanket that he had so carelessly tossed away, rolling it into a ball that he began to hug close to his chest. What could he say? It was soft! “If you’re not going to kill me… can I have your blanket? It’s warm and soft, I like it. I want it.”

“You act as if you’ve never had…” George snapped his gaze towards him, his sudden silence unnerved Fundy who immediately scooted away, his back pressed against the headboard as he tried not to show the panic he felt. He sighed as George looked away, the man shaking his head for no particular reason. Fundy buried his face in the blanket, wincing as the smell of mushroom clung to the cloth. It wasn’t as if he was opposed to the smell, but after countless dinners of mushroom stew, he was beginning to get sick of the scent. “Your injuries were minimal, at least that’s what Bad told me. You don’t have any broken bones, but he did say you were a bit… thin. What? Do you not have any food in… Don’t answer that question. Dream said you were to stay here for the entire week, and that if he were to see you outside, he won’t hesitate to slay you where you stand. Follow that one rule, and you’ll make it back home alive. Do you understand?”

“Huh? Did you say ‘no leave house or I die’ or ‘I die if I no leave house’? I don’t know. Can you repeat that? I didn’t get the obvious threat to my life at the first hearing.” Fundy rolled his eyes, causing George to glare at him again but at this point Fundy was too confused to even care. He looked down at the bundle of cloth in front of him, running his hand against it as though he were petting a cat. He frowned, “Why am I here? Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”

“The more time I spend in this room with you, the more I’m beginning to wonder why.” George rose from the bed, patting imaginary dust away from his pants as he moved further into the room. Fundy took the moment to look around, heart hammering in his chest as he realized he hadn’t been confined to a medbay. This was someone’s bedroom. He glanced up at the large portrait that had been placed near the door, eyes taking in the three figures depicted in the image. He knew Dream - remembering the nights where his dad had woken up, screaming himself hoarse as he woke up from a nightmare that featured the tyrant himself. He knew Sapnap - remembering the time he nearly died in a forest fire that the arsonist himself had caused. George… Fundy didn’t have anything to say for… him. “This is my room. After all I went through to make sure you didn’t die, I wasn’t going to let them restrain you to one of the medical beds. So… you’re here.”

“Yes, because being locked in your bedroom was the better option…” Fundy whispered, mostly to himself, realizing now that George had dared to scratch behind his ear. The fucking nerve!

He watched as George turned to leave the room, deserting him with his thoughts. Fundy thought back to yesterday, sorting through his frazzled mind for the memories. He froze, remembering…

“You ran.” George looked back, for just a moment. Then he was gone.

Despite the horrible circumstance that he had been placed in and the fact that George had already left, Fundy couldn’t help but smile.

“And you let me…”

He curled up on the warm bed, burrowing his face in the soft blanket.

He ran… and then he had tripped down a hill.

Fundy frowned.

At least… he thinks he did.

Chapter Text

Fundy plopped down on the couch, groaning as he felt a heavy weight settle against his stomach. He closed his eyes, pushing back the scowl that threatened to form on his face. He could feel his eyes on him, muffled squealing reaching his ears as a hand began to aggressively pat him on the cheek. Fundy nearly growled as he felt that hand reach up to his ears. A finger poked at one of them excitedly, causing it to twitch and thus, causing Michael to gurgle happily. Fundy would have let Michael continue on with his little game, but then he felt a hand reach down for his tail.

“No. No no no no no. Fu一 no.” He grimaced, teeth biting down on his cheek as he refrained from cursing in front of Michael. Fundy would rather spend tomorrow not being chased around by a very angry Ranboo or Tubbo. The piglin looked up at him, a frown forming on the child’s face as he moved to the far-end of the couch, crossing his little arms together. Fundy rolled his eyes, giving Michael a side-glance before getting up. Fundy headed towards the window, shivering as his hand touched the frosted glass. There was a snow storm brewing outside, at least, one was coming. Fundy could smell it in the air, and he knew Michael could sense its presence too. He sighed, “Your dads and… Phil, might take a few more hours. Sorry, Michael.”

Michael looked up at him, wide eyes - well, eye - reflecting his disappointment which quickly turned into a brave front of indifference. Fundy felt his heart hammer in his chest. He knew that look. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing before heading back towards the couch. Michael didn’t make a move to sit by him, even going so far as to curl even further into the couch. Fundy nodded, mostly to himself. It was fine. He understood that Michael wouldn’t really like him.

“I heard they were planning a party for you.” That got the child’s attention. Michael scooted closer, head glancing around - settling on the chicken - before snapping back to look at Fundy. Fundy felt sick, knowing that he was lying to a kid about why his parents weren’t home, but it was better than the truth. He leaned down, ears perking up as he casted a look at the chicken. He couldn’t help but smile, remembering the days where Tommy would do the same for him during the times where Wilbur would spend his nights holed up in that stupid van they called home. It was as though he was telling Fundy a secret that no one, not even Wilbur, should ever know. Now... he was doing the same. “Don’t tell them I told you though. They want it to be a surprise!”

Michael let out a high-pitched squeal, Fundy forcing himself not to wince as Michael began to run around the room. The kid was happy, enough so that he was practically jumping off the walls in his excitement. Fundy laughed, pressing the back of his hand to his eyes as he tried to conceal the horrible regret he felt for lying. He’d have to tell Tubbo and Ranboo when they get back that they needed to plan a surprise party for Michael. Fundy watched as Michael finally tired himself out, collapsing back onto the couch with a tired grunt. He shook his head, laughing despite his previous guilt. Michael glanced back at him, indignation flashing in the small piglin’s eye before Fundy found himself being tackled. Fundy flinched, letting Michael cuddle up to him, though he was unsure of what to do now that Michael had chosen to wrap his little arms around his chest.

He chose to let his hands rest above his head, getting lost in his own thoughts in the hopes that Michael would get bored and leave him be. After a few minutes, Fundy looked down, surprised to find that Michael was glaring at him. He chuckled nervously, “Hey… what’s with that face?”

Michael pointed angrily at his hands, high-pitched squeals and grunts reaching his ears as the kid continued to wave angrily at him. Fundy’s eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes glancing towards his hands. He lowered them, the little piglin grabbing them as soon as they neared him.

“What are you…” Michael adjusted his arms, moving them until they were wrapped around the piglin in what could pass as a half-hearted embrace. He blinked, “Oh… you wanted… a hug?”

Michael nodded his head, a smile forming on the kid’s face as he continued to snuggle closer. His confusion rose, gaze focused entirely on the piglin that refused to give him his arms back.

“You… Michael… you… wanted a hug… from… me?”

Michael rolled his eyes as though he was the one who was exasperated. Fundy would have scoffed if he didn’t feel the tears form in his eyes, he looked away. He heard Michael snort, before relaxing into his hold. Fundy hugged him just as warmly as Michael was hugging him.

After a moment of silence, Fundy let his tail wrap around his waist. His… cousin squealed, latching onto his tail with glee as though it were a stuffed plushie that he had been given. Fundy chuckled, choosing not to complain even as Michael accidentally tugged and pulled his tail. He ran a hand through Michael’s head, his touch surprisingly gentle as the piglin began to calm into a quiet lull. He let his fingers touch one-half of the kid’s head, frightened that he’d hurt Michael if he so much as tried to pet him on the skull. It took a while, but Michael eventually fell asleep.

The smile that had traitorously crept up to his lips instantly disappeared the moment he heard the window rattle against the window. He shivered - but not from the cold - wanting nothing more than to curl up into himself and let the world melt away, but with Michael sleeping against his chest, Fundy could do nothing but shield Michael’s ears from the screaming gusts of the oncoming blizzard. He remembered what he had said to Michael, about the surprise party that his dads were undoubtedly preparing for him. It was a kind tactic Tommy used to do for him when he was a child who couldn’t help but cry and whine about why his dad didn’t want to spend time with him. Tommy didn’t like seeing him cry - or, at least, he used to  - so he would tell Fundy all sorts of wondrous excuses to get him to calm down. It was a nice effort on his part, but at the end it was… a child consoling a child. There were no surprise parties for Fundy. There never will be.

He ran his hands gently against Michael’s ears, sighing. He’d have to convince Tubbo and Ranboo to throw a party for Michael. Fundy would pay them, he’d even decorate the venue if they wanted. He refused to give Michael hope only to take it away. He wasn’t going to do that to his cousin. Fundy sniffed - unsure if that was because of the cold or because of the tears falling past his cheeks - he refused to let another child feel disappointment. Once Tubbo and Ranboo got back, he’d help them set up a huge party for Michael. Michael deserved to feel happy, damn it!

Fundy nodded, he won’t let Michael suffer what he went through. He’s going to have the best childhood that a kid could have, continue to live with his dads who love him unconditionally, and  Fundy will make sure that Michael never feels the pain of losing everything he loves.

He looked up, gaze focusing on the window.

And as Michael slept on peacefully…

Fundy could only pray that Phil brought Tubbo and Ranboo back home safely.

He sighed, casting a look towards a sleeping Michael.

‘Gods… where did those two go?’

Chapter Text

“What happened?” Wilbur ran a hand through his son’s disheveled hair, wincing as his fingers traced along the cracks and phantom blood that dripped down Fundy’s forehead. The fox hybrid winced, ears pressed to the top of his head as he focused his attention on the soft comforter that Wilbur had wrapped him in. He tried not to scream at his son’s silence, knowing that it wouldn’t lead him to anything useful. Schlatt stood by the doorway, not a single alcohol bottle in sight. Fundy looked up, casting a look at the ram hybrid before burying his face in the blanket, shaking his head so violently that if they were alive he’d have given himself a headache. Wilbur sighed, gaze flicking over to Schlatt who took the hint and immediately disappeared off into the hallway. His son remained still despite the obvious thuds of footsteps moving away from the room. “Fundy, please. I need to know what happened. Who did this? Why? Why would they kill you?”

“Redemption.” His son managed to whisper out, face still buried within the blanket that Wilbur nearly didn’t hear it. His heart ached at the thought, wondering what crime his son could have possibly done to warrant such an action. Wilbur reached down, hesitating before holding onto Fundy’s hand. His son whimpered, a small sob escaping the fox hybrid’s lips as he moved his hand away. Wilbur didn’t mind. He understood why. “Gran一 Phil said he’d accept me if I went along with their fox hunt. They took my sword too… I… I thought if I managed to succeed…”

“Fox hunt?” Fundy grew silent, curling farther away until he was at the other end of the bed. Wilbur didn’t try to follow after his son, knowing that he was overstepping by simply being in the room. Still, he had to know. He had to know who was the fucking bastard who brought his son back to him in the worst way possible. He leaned back against his seat, mulling over Fundy’s words. Phil had been mentioned. He shuddered, Phil wouldn’t… “What did you do? Why would Phil do that? Did he kill you? Did he send you here? No, wait. Who took your second life?”

“It doesn’t matter, Wil. I’m dead一”

“Of course it matters! Why wouldn’t it matter?” Fundy looked at him, his eyes hazy with tears that rolled down his cheeks in cascades. Wilbur wanted nothing more than to pull his son close to his chest, whisper into his ears that everything was going to be okay… but he was tired of lying. His life had been riddled with regrets and lies, and he’d long since grown tired of the person he used to be before his demise. Fundy sniffed, tail curling around his waist in a semblance of comfort that Wilbur couldn’t give him. Instead, he sat on the opposite side of the bed, his back turned to Fundy as he chose to stare at the wall in front of him. “You don’t have to tell me about that now, but at least tell me who brought you here. Who… Who killed my little champion?”

“Don’t fucking call me that, Wil.” He heard the snap of teeth, catching a glimpse of Fundy baring his teeth at him from the corner of his eye. He tried not to hold it against his son, ignoring his sudden urge to berate his son for daring to go against his own father. “I fucking hate it.”

“I know.” Wilbur sighed, running a hand through his tangled - he wasn’t even sure how long it’s been since he’d last looked in a mirror - hair. “I’ll stick with ‘Fundy’, if that’s what you want.”

A silence pursued after that, one that made his skin crawl in a way that reminded him of what it felt like to be alive. He clutched the edge of the bed, the springs creaking as he did. Wilbur wasn’t even sure why he’d manifested a bedroom for himself, knowing that he’ll never even use it since he was used to sleeping on couches. His hands relaxed, though the bed continued to groan and creak as if someone was… Oh. He felt a warm weight press against his back, a familiar fluffy tail appearing at the corner of his vision. He looked back, Fundy’s golden-flecked brown eyes lowered as though he didn’t want to make eye contact just yet. His son looked away the moment Wilbur pulled him into a hug, his attention focused on the blanket that he had rolled into a ball. He couldn’t help but smile at that, remembering those days when Fundy was little and he would roll his quilted blankets into balls, trying to find a way to cocoon himself in them.

“I missed you… dad…”

Wilbur didn’t expect Fundy to wrap his arms around him, blanket forgotten as Fundy began to openly sob into his chest. He hugged his son close, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes as he caught a glimpse of that fatal wound on his son’s head. He let his son sob, holding him close with no intent of ever letting his son go again. He just wished they didn’t have to meet and reconcile this way. He buried his face in Fundy’s hair, letting his son cry.

“I missed you too, son… Fundy…”

Wilbur gasped, tears falling past his cheeks. “I missed you too.”

Who… who would do this to his boy?

---

“Hi Phil!” Ghostbur smiled as he caught a glimpse of Phil through the window, waving a hand at the man before quickly phasing through the wall. Phil’s blue eyes stared up at him blearily, almost as if he was seeing past him. Ghostbur tilted his head, wondering what could make the man so upset. Was it Ghostbur or something else? “You look sad, Phil… Here! Have some blue!”

He placed a clump of blue onto Phil’s hand, frowning as he watched the blue drip past the man’s fingers, staining the dark wood floor beneath. He chuckled nervously, wringing his hands together as he floated closer to Phil. Almost as if waking from a bad dream, Phil suddenly looked up, gaze snapping towards Ghostbur so fast that he was sure the old man was going to break his neck doing so. He gave Phil a smile, hoping that he wouldn’t be kicked out of the house for intruding. “Son… Ghostbur… Now is not the time, mate. I need you to leave the house. Please.”

“Oh… Okay… Bye, Phil…”

As the ghost turned to leave, he saw a sliver of white fly into the room. He paused, eyes widening as a little ghost child appeared in front of him. The child looked up at Ghostbur with a wide smile, bushy tail wagging behind him as his fox ears flicked upwards. Ghostbur barely had the time to react before the child was throwing himself into his arms, cuddling into his chest and giggling as he rubbed his cheek on Ghostbur’s yellow sweater, “Papa! Papa! Mished you, papa.”

“Ghostbur…” As he held his son in his arms, Ghostbur turned to look at Phil. The man’s wings were cast low to the ground, some of the feathers having fallen out and Ghostbur wondered how he hadn’t noticed them before. Phil reached out a hand to him, his eyes reflecting a sorrow that Ghostbur… He knew that sorrow… He saw it every time Phil looked at him. There were more profound this time, as if the man had lost all reason for keeping his pain hidden. Ghostbur looked down at the cooing child in his arms… his son… Fundy… “Ghostbur, I am so sorry. I didn’t…”

Phil’s words fell into static as Ghostbur sunk to the ground, the child still in his arms as he lost himself to the haze in his head. He held on to Fundy, phantom blood dripping down his sweater as he rocked himself back and forth. His mind was abuzz with mist and white noise, liquid dripping past his cheeks - was he crying? he couldn’t tell - and staining the floor with blue.

Why was his son a ghost? What had happened? His son felt so cold, why did he feel so cold? His son shouldn’t be cold! His son should be warm and full of anger and spite and… why was Fundy dead? Why was his little champion dead? Did Phil do this? Did Phil kill Fundy? Why? WHY?!

“Papa?” He could feel a hand on his cheek. Ghostbur looked down, his little son looking up at… oh thank gods, his eyes were still the same color as they were when Fundy was… His son’s hand was covered in blue, the little ghost’s attention flitting over to his hand in slight wonder. The child giggled, before looking back up at him, his ears flicking down as he frowned. “Papa sad?”

“Sad?” Ghostbur blinked, raising a hand to his cheek. Had he been crying? Huh… Ghostbur smiled down at his son, causing Fundy to perk up immediately. “No, papa not sad. Papa happy!”

The ghost floated up, his little son in his arms as he held Fundy closely to his chest. The boy nuzzled his head into the crook of his neck, purring contentedly as he let Ghostbur rock him back and forth. Ghostbur looked up, Phil’s gaze having never left him, not even for a moment. The man looked devastated, his hands clasped above his heart as he looked at Ghostbur with a look of anguish. Ghostbur frowned, wondering why Phil looked upset. Everything was completely fine! Ghostbur was here and so was little Fundy! “Look Phil, isn’t my little champion just adorable?

“Yeah, mate… he is.” Phil looked down, gritting his teeth.

Ghostbur shook his head, happy to have his son in his arms.

He didn’t remember Fundy being this small.

---

Eret forced a smile onto their face, plucking flowers that they placed inside their basket. Ghostdy walked beside them, not helping, though Eret didn’t mind. They stopped after noticing a tulip nearby, heart clenching as they remembered how much Fundy loved tulips. As though hearing their thoughts, Ghostdy looked up, eyes widening as he noticed what Eret was looking at. They let the child wander off. Ghostdy giggled as he ran towards the tulip. They preferred it that way, at least for a moment they could pretend they weren’t picking flowers for their dead son.

They collapsed to the ground, knees hitting the soft earth as exhaustion finally hit them. When they had learned about Fundy’s death, Eret had thought Niki was playing a cruel prank on them. But when they saw her, angry tears streaming down her cheeks, they knew it was true. Today was the first time they had seen the ghost child. Eret had nearly cried when they first saw him.

Fundy’s death had been a rumor, one that Eret had refused to entertain because they thought Fundy hadn’t come home yet. The last time Eret had seen Fundy, he had been a mess. There were bloody scratches all over him and a manic look in his eyes. Then, he left… promising一

“Ewet!” They looked up, grinning as Ghostdy suddenly jumped into their arms. The ghost child held a tulip in his hands, his tail wagging as he held the flower gently. Eret placed a hand on top of Ghostdy’s head, wincing as they remembered that Fundy’s ginger curls were gone, replaced with Ghostdy’s white and almost angelic hair. Their hand shook at the cold, but their hold didn’t budge. It didn’t matter if Ghostdy was cold, they would still hold on to their son as much as they could… not that Ghostdy even remembered who Eret had been to him. “Ewet, look! Pwetty!”

“Yes, pretty.” They wished they could ruffle Ghostdy’s hair, remembering how it felt when Fundy was still alive and well. Eret could see the cracked lines along the ghost child’s forehead, terrified that if they tried to ruffle Ghostdy’s hair that he might start crying in pain. They settled on pulling Ghostdy closer, letting the child rest his head against their chest. “Do you want it?

Ghostdy nodded, a small smile appearing on the child’s face as he kept the flower close to himself. Eret chuckled, looping one arm around their basket and using the other to hold Ghostdy. They stood up, glancing at the flowers that they had managed to collect. It wasn’t enough, though Eret knew that no matter the amount of flowers, they would have never been satisfied.

How could anyone expect them to be? They were planning their son’s funeral, their friend’s funeral. Eret shook their head, forcing down their emotions. They didn’t want to make a scene, not when they knew that Fundy wouldn’t want them to be angry. Fundy would have wanted Eret to move on. Fundy would have wanted everyone to move on. They knew what Fundy wanted.

But as they held onto Ghostdy, feeling as if they weren’t even carrying anything asides from their basket, they couldn’t help but tap in into what they wanted. Niki had been devastated, stomping her way through the throne room before letting out her screams of frustration and despair. Eret had watched from their throne, tears threatening to spill from their eyes as they listened to what Niki had to say. Eret had wasted no time after that, rushing to where they knew Phil resided. The man had told him… that yes, Fundy had died… from fall damage that Phil himself had inflicted.

Eret couldn’t help but seethe with anger. How could Phil do that to his own grandson? Did he hate the concept of family so much that he decided to take away all those that he had? Eret knew the man was remorseful, they could see it in Phil’s eyes, but they couldn’t forgive them. But then… who was Eret to speak? They too, once upon a regretful time, had caused Fundy’s death.

Eret took a shuddery breath, looking down at the child in their arm. Ghostdy looked up at them, flashing Eret a sweet little smile before his attention snapped back to the tulip. Eret smiled.

Fundy wouldn’t want them to be angry.

Fundy wouldn’t want Eret to avenge him.

They just wish they had managed to say goodbye… for one last time.

---

His footsteps pounded against the wooden walkway, his heart racing in his chest as he went past the broken landscape before him. He had to know. He had to see if it was true, what they said…

He nearly fell as he skidded to a stop, the guests barely even looking at him as they kept their gazes towards a casket. His knees felt heavy, his hands shaking as he stumbled to the front. He felt someone’s hand reach for his wrist, trying to pull him back, but he shook it off. All he could think about was the person inside that casket. It couldn’t be true. Surely not… No. No. No, No一

All hope was dashed as he saw Fundy’s peaceful face. He gripped the edge of the casket. He didn’t need to look and see who made it, all that he cared about was that Fundy was dead. There was a glass frame in the way, preventing him from reaching down and slapping Fundy awake. He would have tried, out of sheer desperation. He felt tears fall past his cheeks, which he quickly rubbed away with the sleeve of his shirt. Fundy looked like he was sleeping, and if he didn’t look closely, he could pretend that Fundy was sleeping. Someone had placed Fundy in a clean suit, the pristine clothing doing nothing to mask the fact that Fundy was dead and that he was never going to come back. He felt guilt claw at his chest, knowing… that Fundy shouldn’t even be dead.

He clutched at his heart, the regret tearing him from within as he slowly fell to his knees. He could feel everyone staring at his back, could hear their footsteps as they tried to reach for him.

He scowled, glaring at anyone who dared to approach him. They immediately backed away. He hated looking into their eyes, knowing that some of them didn’t even care enough to be here. Those that mattered were still in their seats, covering their faces as they mourned the loss of someone they had once cared for. He looked through the crowd, looking for the one face that he wanted to see. It was the disgusting color of green that caught his eye first. He looked at that ridiculous bucket hat, his gaze meeting dull blue eyes that looked at him with a pained grief that he knows shouldn’t be in there. He had caused this. In a time of peace, someone had still died.

He forced himself to stand, hand clutching the edge of the casket as he made his way onto his feet. He let the man stare at him, a silent battle that waged between them… only to be disrupted as he smashed a fist against the glass frame of the casket. The glass broke, but didn’t shatter.

He felt hands rip him away from the casket, the ruffle of feathers ringing in his ear before he was let go. Phil had moved him away from the funeral, practically dragging him by the collar of his shirt. He couldn’t understand what the man was saying, but he knew Phil was screaming at him.

He let him scream, too tired to try and ruin his vocal chords this time around. He waited until Phil was done before glancing up into those blue eyes that he’s sure will begin to seep into his nightmares. “Congratulations. You killed Wilbur. You killed Fundy. Who’s next? Me? Tubbo? You-you seem to have a list, big man! I must say I’m really impressed you’ve gotten two down.”

Phil sighed, hanging his head before looking back up at him. He didn’t give him the chance to speak. “Am I next, Philza? Am I next on your fucking death to-do list? Because you seem really eager to kill everyone in our family that at this point I wouldn’t be too surprised. But guess what, big man? You fucked up. And if I see you anywhere near me or Tubbo, I will kill you myself.”

“Tommy…” Phil tried to reach for his wrist, but he was walking away. He didn’t let himself look back, knowing he couldn’t handle himself if he did. He let his feet carry him home, knowing that Sam Nook would at least help console him. He felt the tears spring up in his eyes again. He just couldn’t believe it. He thought… he thought with Dream gone everything would be alright. 

He thought they’d finally live in peace.

He was wrong.

Phil… you bastard.

---

The clock ticked endlessly in that dull little room he supposed he’d call his dwelling. He remained where he sat, head hung low as he let the ticks consume his thoughts. He was still, eerily so that if one were to look at him then, they’d assume him to be dead. He kept his gaze fixed to the boring purple walls of his prison. The clang of machinery and the rush of lava in his ears broke him from his reverie. His head snapped up, wondering who would dare to visit him.

Sam looked down at him impassively, a frown etched onto the creeper hybrid’s face. Dream tilted his head, wondering why the Warden would grace him with his presence. “I have come to deliver some news. Eret insisted I tell you, though I doubt a monster like you would care at all.”

“Now what would Eret wish to tell me that they would send you here? We both know you hate seeing my face, dear Warden.” Sam tensed up, trident appearing in hand though Dream knew it wasn’t quite time for his punishment yet. The creeper hybrid stabbed the trident into the obsidian floor, the metal clanging against the stone as it refused to leave even the smallest of indentions. “What news could the outside world possibly wish to share with me, their so-called nightmare?”

The creeper hybrid cleared his throat, and for once, looking away as though he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Dream raised a brow at that. Now, what could cause such a nervous reaction from一 “Fundy… Fundy Soot is… officially dead. They held a funeral for him this morning.”

Dream went silent at the news. The warden gave him a wary look before disappearing beyond the lava walls. He didn’t watch the creeper hybrid leave, his mind processing the news. He wasn’t sure how to act. He looked back towards the curtain of lava, mentally cursing himself for not asking the cause of death. He certainly hadn’t planned on Fundy… on someone dying while he was in prison. How peculiar. How odd. A death… that he didn’t cause, one way or the other.

He blinked. Surprised to find that he had… sunk to the floor at some point. He would have chuckled, if the noise didn’t grate on his ears. He hummed instead, planning… thinking…

There was bound to be chaos, no matter what choice they had made. With Dream in prison or with Dream dead, there was bound to be a fight no matter the outcome. Soon enough, they would all fall back into routine, war after war after war. Even with him gone, there will always be a war.

Dream leaned back, his head resting on the mattress Sam had provided him as a bed. His brain processed the news. Fundy… was dead. Fundy was dead. Dream looked at the ticking clock, the moving arrows mocking him as the seconds ticked past. Someone had died, and yet time moves on as if nothing had happened. Fundy was dead. Fundy was dead. Fundy was dead. Fundy was一

He heard the clang of machinery once more. Oh? Another visitor? How… strange. Dream stood up, moving back to his original position on the edge of the bed. He didn’t know who would be behind that bright curtain of lava, but he could already tell what their reason for visiting was. He hummed underneath his breath, looking down to see that his hands had clenched into tight fists.

He found himself reaching towards his neck, almost expecting to feel that familiar chill of metal against his fingers. He frowned… ah… they’d taken his ring from him too, hadn’t they? Dream shook his head. Ah, well. If he was lucky perhaps they’d spared it. He’ll get it back at some point in the future, he’d make sure of that. For now, he turned towards the lava, his visitor stepping into the room as the lava fell back into place. He caught a glimpse of their face, and smiled.

So… Fundy was dead, hm?

How…

Interesting.

Chapter Text

“What in the gods’ names were you fucking thinking?!” He kept his gaze to the ground, wincing as glass shattered in front of him. He looked down at the broken shards, feeling sick as he realized what his dad had just thrown down. Fundy could feel his dad’s gaze as Wilbur paced across the room. “Have you any idea what you’ve just done? How could you be so stupid!”

“Stupid?” Fundy looked up, refusing to feel guilty over seeing his father’s nearly disheveled state. Wilbur looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, he looked weak and his coat seemed to sag against his shoulders. Wilbur’s dark brown eyes glared back at him, his pacing halting to a pause the moment Fundy spoke up. At that sharp look, Fundy should have immediately apologized, promising to his dad that he’d never do what he did again... but how could he let the matter drop so easily? Fundy clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists despite the ache on his left shoulder where that fatal arrow had lodged itself into his skin. Wilbur didn’t even ask if he was okay. No. He never asked. “I don’t think fighting for what’s right is stupid! Sapnap… he killed Fungi! What did you want me to do, Wil?! Do nothing and just go on like nothing’s wrong?!”

“Son, I am running our country to the best of my ability. What would the people think, hm? What would they say once they found out that the president’s son is running around challenging our already unstable allies into duels?” He watched Wilbur run his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends as his face scrunched up in fury. Fundy couldn’t help but growl, tail bristling as Wilbur moved closer to him, glass crunching beneath the man’s boots as he placed his hands on Fundy’s shoulders. He refused to wince in front of Wilbur, knowing that the pain he felt was nothing but a phantom ache of a wound that wasn’t even there. “How could you be so reckless?”

“I wasn’t being reckless, I was fighting for Fungi! If you had taken the time to talk to me you’d understand how much I loved him!” He gripped his dad’s wrists, claws threatening to come out but he could never bring himself to hurt his own dad. “He was my pet fox… He was Niki’s pet fox. He was the best fox, I… You want me to just… let Sapnap get away with Fungi’s murder?”

“Fundy… son… my little champion, would you please come to your senses? Fungi is a fox. As you said, a pet. You can tame another one and call it Fungi. L’Manburg does not need any more tension between it and the Essempy. We’re lucky that Sapnap hasn’t instigated another war against us.” Wilbur’s words stung, his ears flicking down as he looked up into his father’s eyes. There was no hint of regret or even pain at having to tell Fundy to move on, his dad was being serious. His heart burned even as Wilbur pulled him into an embrace, resting his chin on top of Fundy’s head as he ran a gentle hand on Fundy’s back. The gesture should have calmed him down, but all he felt was nausea. “You shouldn’t have challenged Sapnap. You’re lucky, it didn’t cost you a life. You’re too young to be worrying about things such as duels and revenge一”

“Revenge? It wasn’t…” Fundy squirmed out of his dad’s hold, surprised to find little resistance. Wilbur stared down at him impassively, a tired look on the man’s face as if he was dealing with an unruly toddler when all he wanted was to go back to his fucking desk of papers. Fundy growled at the thought. “It was justice! And how… How could you say that to me?! How could you tell me to replace Fungi?! How could you tell me that?! You know what? I’d do it again if I could. I’d fight a thousand duels if it meant avenging Fungi’s death. I’d die again if it meant一”

His cheek burned. Fundy took a step back, nearly tripping over a chair in the process. He held a hand to his face, trembling as he realized what Wilbur had just done. Wilbur looked at him, hand still raised before falling down to his side. The man had regret in his eyes, but all Fundy could think about was what he had done. Wilbur had slapped him. His dad just slapped him. He could feel tears form at his eyes, glaring as he desperately tried to wipe at them with his sleeve. He heard Wilbur move, but as he looked up the man had his back turned to him. “I’d ask you not to say that again, Fundy. I won’t allow you to throw away one of your lives for a fucking pet.”

He heard Wilbur sigh, “You need to calm down. Take some time for reflection. For the next few days, I don’t want to see you in L’Manburg. Until you can calm yourself and think rationally, you’re officially exiled from our nation.” His hands curled into fists. He should be scared… horrified at the thought of leaving L’Manburg’s protective walls, but all he felt was a simmering rage. Wilbur didn’t even look at him as he went to sit behind that stupid mahogany desk. Fundy looked at the plaque, sick to see the words ‘President Wilbur Soot’ engraved into the gold. If you’d ask him, he would have voted for anyone other than Wilbur. But would you look at that… they didn’t even get a choice. “I’ll escort you in the morning, help you build shelter, then一”

“You’re exiling me?” Fundy could feel his heart race in his chest - but he wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or rage. Wilbur refused to look at him, eyes cast low as if the blank piece of paper in front of him was more important than Fundy. He took a step back, looking around the room for what felt like the first time, because it was. It was the presidential office. He looked at the tall windows, giving a glimpse of L’Manburg in all its beauty and splendor. He looked at the bookshelves, decorated with books that Fundy was sure Wilbur hadn’t even read. He looked at his dad, the president of L’Manburg. He looked at the broken glass shards at his feet, feeling the tears fall past his cheeks. “Don’t bother, Wil. I’ll leave on my own… Fuck you, dad! Fuck you!”

He raced out of the room, trying not to feel pain as he realized that Wilbur didn’t even try to call him back. He ran, his feet carrying him away from that horrible office. He wasn’t sure when marble turned into grass, but his heart knew where he was going. He burst into the house, nearly collapsing at the front door in utter exhaustion. He closed the door behind him, sinking down as he finally let himself cry. He had made it home, his heart burning inside his chest as he cried and cried. His nails dug into his scalp as he gripped his hair, burying his face in his knees as he did everything he could to keep himself calm. It felt like everything was on fire. He let himself cry, unsure of how long it had been, but he could see moonlight entering through the window. He sniffed, wiping his face on his jacket sleeve. It was nighttime… he’d been crying for six hours, or maybe he fell asleep at some point he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t stay there.

He stood up, filled with a new purpose.

Wilbur didn’t want him in L’Manburg?

Fine, he won’t be staying for long.

---

“Fundy… my little champion? Can we talk?” Wilbur knocked on his son’s door for what felt like the hundredth time. His heart ached as he didn’t get a response, not that he could blame his son for the sudden choice of silence. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before trying again. No response. Again. Wilbur pressed his ear against the door, hoping he could hear a hint of noise from within. Silent. He looked down in shame. Of course Fundy would try to stay really quiet. “I didn’t mean it, Fundy. I promise. Can you… can you open the door, please? I… we need to talk.”

Nothing. He sighed, sinking to the floor as he rested his aching head against the door. Regret tore through him, enough so that he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house without seeing his son. He had stumbled home at some point during the night, exhausted that he didn’t even care that the front door had been left open. Fundy must have forgotten to close and look the door on his way in. He had only remembered what he had told his son the previous day when he was preparing breakfast during the hours where the sun hadn’t even risen in the distance yet. He had wanted to barge into Fundy’s room, terrified that his son had already left, but he consoled himself with the thought that Fundy wouldn’t have left. His son wouldn’t leave the safety of L’Manburg, at least, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to do so since Wilbur had been practically awake all night. He hadn’t wanted to disturb his son’s sleep, so he went back to the dining room and waited.

But it was nearing lunchtime, and Fundy hadn’t come down. Wilbur had to control himself from kicking down the door, knowing that his son wouldn’t appreciate having his privacy be intruded upon. He adjusted, moving to sit up before wincing as he placed his hand against the floor. It stung. Wilbur hated knowing that his hand was hurting because he had hurt his own son. Wilbur sighed, his remorse and self-loathing growing more and more the longer he stayed on that floor. He wasn’t leaving until his son came out. “Fundy, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry. You’re hurting, I can see that. So, please let me in. I… I’ll make it all better, hm? Just let me in. Please?”

Wilbur didn’t expect a response, not after what he did to Fundy yesterday. He took a deep breath, hoping that Fundy would come out soon. His son needed to eat. Wilbur closed his eyes, sighing. He had been so stressed lately, his mind consumed with the need to solve their country’s problems that he had completely ignored his son. When Tubbo had come into his office yesterday, panicking about Fundy getting shot in a duel, Wilbur had nearly lost it. How could he have not known until it was too late? He could only thank the gods that his son hadn’t lost one of his two remaining lives. “I’m sorry, Funds… Come out, son. I don’t want you to starve in there.”

He recalled what he had said to his son, the exile that he had so “officially” declared. He hadn’t meant it, he just needed Fundy out of the room before he could make another mistake. He didn’t want to hurt his son again. The moment Fundy left, he tore into the paperwork, eyes barely scanning the words as he signed whatever the fuck document they needed him to sign. All he could think about was his son, who had probably gone home crying his little heart out. “I won’t exile you, I wasn’t thinking straight yesterday. I could never… I would never send you away.”

To think he’d ever let his son out of his sight... Wilbur shuddered at the thought. “You’re not getting exiled, I swear. I’m entering your room now because I’m not leaving until you eat lunch.”

As he reached up for the knob, he was surprised to find the door wasn’t locked. He hadn’t tried before as he didn’t want to barge into his son’s room without permission. Wilbur entered the bedroom, heart pounding as he noticed the clothes strewn about the floor. His son’s bed looked untouched, as if he hadn’t slept in at all. He began to tremble. His little champion wasn’t in the room. “Fundy… Fundy! Where are you?! Son, please, now is not the time for games! Fundy!”

The open front door… Wilbur staggered back, his back hitting the door frame as he stumbled back into the hall. His son had left last night… He’d left because of Wilbur. He nearly tripped down the stairs on his way down, almost tearing the front door off its hinges as he left the house.

He was moving on instinct, racing across the field as he went out into the forest. A few people had tried to stop him, but he didn’t care. His son was out there, alone and possibly in danger. Wilbur went through the forest, screaming for his son to come back, that he was sorry. ‘I didn’t mean to…!’, ‘Please, come back!’, ‘Fundy, please come home!’, ‘Fundy!’, ‘son…’, ‘FUNDY!’... 

In the end, he came back… alone. He made his way to his office, the last place he had seen his son. Wilbur went to sit down, pausing as he heard the distinct crunch of glass beneath his boot… 

Wilbur kneeled down, picking up the shattered picture frame that he had thrown in his anger.

He looked down at his son’s smiling face…

And wept.

---

“Well…” He could hear Tommy yelling at his ear, but he could hardly bring himself to think as Schlatt began to speak from above. Wilbur could feel his heart ache, “That was pretty easy.”

Of course it was. Wilbur hadn’t even tried to win. He couldn’t bring himself to…

“Y'know what I said, the day I got unbanned from the Dream Essempy? And the day I said I was running? An election that I won, by the way…” Wilbur nodded along as Schlatt went on and on about whatever the fuck it was. He couldn’t bring himself to care. His hand reached inside his coat pocket, wishing that he could pull out the picture of his son and pretend he was in his empty house again. The house was never the same after Fundy left. No random shouts of joy, no explosions as Fundy accidentally made a mistake on his inventions, no tune of a piano playing, and no Fundy. Wilbur hadn’t seen his son in two years. Two years of regret as he desperately prayed to the gods that he could turn back time, that he could redo that argument, that he could pull his son into a warm hug and tell him that he was sorry… “I said things are gonna change.”

Wilbur knew why he’d suggested an election, because he knew he would lose. In the past two years, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything for his country. Not with his son missing…

“I looked every citizen of L'manburg in the eyes and I said 'You listen to me… ” Wilbur hadn’t expected Schlatt to come back, but it didn’t matter to him who won anyway. The sudden loss of responsibility gave him more time to search for his son. Fundy had to be alive somewhere out there… he had to be. “ This place will be a lot different tomorrow.' Let's start making it happen.”

He heard Schlatt take a momentary pause, a devilish tone appearing in the man’s voice, “My first decree, as the President of L'manburg... The emperor of this great country ! Is to revoke… THE CITIZENSHIP OF WILBUR SOOT AND TOMMYINNIT! GET 'EM OUTTA HERE!"

“Wil… surely not…” He felt Tommy cling to his arm, his eyes widening as he realized that everyone had pulled out their crossbows. Wilbur didn’t think, he grabbed Tommy and pushed him forward, telling his brother to run just as an arrow lodged itself onto his shoulder He bit his scream, forcing himself to run away. His heart burned and ached with every step that he took. What if Fundy came back from his exile and Wilbur was long gone by then? The only home his son’s ever known was L’Manburg, he would have nowhere else to turn or run to一 “WILBUR!”

He heard the whizz of an arrow through the air, his life flashing before his eyes - all the regrets and mistakes he’s made taunting him - as he waited for that fatal strike. Yet as he continued to run through the field, he never once got hit. He heard his communicator buzz in his pocket, pausing to hide beside Tommy who had chosen to hide behind one of the jukeboxes that he was sure Tommy himself had placed down. Tommy handed him a potion of invisibility, his brother stumbling to even open his as they both drank their potions down. Wilbur brought out his communicator, confused as to why their pursuers hadn’t chased them down yet…

JackManifold was shot by Fundy using [Your Fault].

Ponk was shot by Fundy [Your Fault].

Punz was shot by Fundy [Your Fault].

Wilbur watched as the messages continued to pop up, his heart heavy as he began to look around. Fundy… Fundy was back. Tommy looked at him, pulling at his sleeve and screaming at him that they needed to run. Wilbur let Tommy pull him, his gaze flicking as he looked everywhere for even a glimpse of his son. His communicator was buzzing like crazy, and all he could feel was nausea that his son was being forced to take so many lives. Tommy was pushing him into the secret entrance by the time he finally spotted his son, or at least… a hint of his son.

Wilbur watched as a lone figure stood atop the blackstone walls, firing arrow after arrow on the onslaught of enemies…

Then, as if knowing that Wilbur and Tommy were safe… he watched a familiar orange tail disappear down the side of the wall.

Gods… his little champion was alive.

---

When Dream had said he'd give them assistance, he wished he'd known what the man before he'd introduced them all to… Todd. He had gritted his teeth as Dream revealed his secret knight, pulling out a child in front of him as though offering Wilbur another soldier to send off to war. Todd had been forced to wear a fox mask (good, Wilbur wasn't sure what he'd do if Dream had forced his son to wear a mask like his), the edges cracked as though it hadn't been replaced in a very long time. He tried not to wince as he took in Todd's ears and tail, the poor things looking like they haven't been properly taken care of in a while. The young kid's hair was a mess, hair reaching down to his shoulder with bits of leaves and mud still clinging to the strands. Wilbur could hardly believe it as Dream left Todd with him, chuckling underneath his breath and refusing to come back even as Wilbur screamed at him to explain what he'd done.

Now, Wilbur wasn't fucking stupid . He would recognize his son anywhere. So here they were, at the front door that led to Pogtopia. He watched as his son stood guard at the entrance, back completely stiff as he raised his crossbow at even the slightest of sounds. Before the night came, he had led his son to one of the beds they had managed to make, insisting that… Todd (gods, he was going to kill Dream) go to sleep. The child had looked up at him, nodding his head. Wilbur then woke up in the middle of the night, intending to watch over his son to ensure to himself that Fundy was with him again. He nearly died when he saw the bed was untouched, his fears only easing once he found the fox hybrid at the entrance.

"You should sleep, and it's cold out here. Come inside." His son's ears flicked up, crossbow suddenly aimed towards him before Todd lowered it. Wilbur had managed to convince his son to take off the mask, promising him that Dream wouldn't get mad (oh he was going to beat the shit out of Dream). As if he had needed further confirmation, his son's dull golden-flecked brown eyes had stared up at him from behind the mask, and Wilbur nearly cried right then and there. Now, his son was looking up at him again, a wary look in his eyes. Wilbur sighed, pulling the fox hybrid inside, swaddling the child with his coat before closing the door shut behind him. "Don't just leave without a warning… if you wish to leave, tell me or Tommy, alright?"

"I don't need to sleep much… Dream usually had me guard the door to his room and would get mad each time I fell asleep." Wilbur held onto his son's shoulders, feeling his heart burn as Fundy - cause gods he was not going to call his son by a fake name - murmured his story. The child didn't trust him, actually moving away from Wilbur's hold as if he was frightened. Wilbur could see the scars on Fundy's face and arms, anger coursing through his veins at the thought of Dream even going near his son. "I thought… I thought you'd want me to guard the entrance. Dream said that's what you'd want me to do."

"Well, Dream…" is a bastard , is what he wanted to say, but he wouldn't dare curse in front of his son right now. He settled for something easier, slowly trying to pull Fundy back into his hold. "... is wrong."

His son looked up at him, a frown etched onto his face. He didn't feel like Fundy anymore. His son didn't smile anymore. Wilbur knew what this was. Dream didn't want to make a soldier or another puppet to control, no, he didn't want Fundy to be either of those. He wanted Fundy to be broken. Let Wilbur suffer for ever daring to go against him. Dream was offering to help Pogtopia but not before showing them what happens if they ever tried to go against him again. That bastard .

"He can't get you here… I'll protect you." Fundy's ears flicked up, his tail wagging before stilling. His son's lips had tried to curl up into a smile, but he paused as though he was afraid of smiling. Wilbur felt the tears rise in his eyes. What did Dream fucking do?! He took a deep breath, guiding Fundy back into the safety of Pogtopia. He's going to fix this. He will fix this. "You can sleep tonight and I'll watch over you, alright? Just rest for tonight, Fundy—"

"Todd." He froze, watching as Fundy went down the last steps and into the small room he had given him. He stood by the doorway, watching as Fundy sat down on the edge of the bed, clearly uncomfortable to even try and lie down. Another thing that Wilbur was going to kill Dream over… Fundy couldn't remember anything at all, not his own father and certainly not who he used to be. His poor little champion... "My name is Todd. Not Fundy."

"Of course…" He helped his son lie down, pulling the torn quilt that he had found over his son's shoulders. He ran a hand through those messy ginger curls. He'd have to wash and brush it. "Just go to sleep, son… I'll be here when you wake up."

"Not your son…" He nodded along, knowing that he couldn't say anything that would convince Fundy of who he was. He began to hum a lullaby, and after a few seconds… his son had fallen asleep.

He won't leave his boy's side.

Not again.

He can't handle losing his son again.

He'd lost his son once.

He won't lose him again.

Sure… he got his son back.

His poor broken son.

But he'll fix it.

Wilbur will fix it.

He'll make sure his son can smile again.

Chapter Text

He’d stumbled home just as the sun was rising in the distance, his clothes disheveled and his hair covered in leaves. Wilbur was pacing by the entrance to L’Manburg, the general’s attention snapping towards him the moment he ran out the forest. Fundy barely had any time to speak before Wilbur was pulling him back inside, the grip on his shoulder nearly bruising as they walked further into the safety of L’Manburg. He blinked, trying to cast away the sleep from his eyes and the fatigue that had seeped into his bones. Wilbur stopped walking once they reached L’Mantree, the leaves rustling as the cool breeze of dawn permeated the air. He leaned against the bark, ears pressed to the top of his head even though he knew Wilbur was lecturing him about something or the other. Fundy didn’t care. He was tired. He was too tired to do anything now.

“Where have you been, Fundy?” Wilbur ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his erratic breathing breaking through the calm of the morning. Fundy opened his mouth, rolling his eyes as he was immediately cut off. “I have been searching for you all morning. You can’t just leave like that! And Tommy… have you seen where Tommy is? He’s missing from his room and I一 Why did everyone just decide today will be the day you all disappeared into gods’ knows where?”

Fundy kept his gaze low, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jackets as he let Wilbur yell himself hoarse. It didn’t matter anymore. He sighed, resting his head against the tree as he let his eyes flutter close. A moment’s rest. He could have that. He hadn’t slept a wink at all last night.

It had been a lovely night, a time where lovers could cuddle up in the middle of a field and watch as the world went by. The mobs hadn’t been out last night, not a single groan, whizz of an arrow, or hiss. Just peace and silence. The darkness of the forest had been welcoming, as if it knew what he had planned to do. The moonlight had graced his path with its presence, leading him to一

“Tommy, where have you been? I was worried sick!” His eyes snapped open, surprised to find that Tommy had made his way to them. He looked like he’d run a mile, his eyes blown wide as his hands began to shake. Wilbur placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “What’s wrong, Toms?”

Tommy didn’t answer him, heading straight towards Fundy who had straightened up the moment Tommy’s gaze snapped towards him. Fingers curled around the collar of his shirt, Tommy yanking him forward with such animosity that Wilbur immediately tried to pry Tommy off of him. Fundy let Tommy hold onto him. He could see it in his eyes… he knew. There were tears at the corner of Tommy’s eyes, his teeth gritted so tightly that Fundy was scared he’d crack them. “What did you do? What the actual fuck did you do Fundy?! H-how?! Why?! How could you?!”

“Tommy, please let go of Fundy. Just… calm down, alright?”

“I’m not going to fucking calm down, Wilbur! Do you even know what Fundy just did?!” Tommy shoved him away, his back hitting the tree. Wilbur stepped in between them, the man looking absolutely perplexed as to what Tommy was stammering about. He flinched, pressing further into the tree as Tommy leaped towards him, stopped only by Wilbur wrapping him up in his arms. Tommy struggled in the general’s hold, a string of curses leaving his lips as he pointed an accusatory look at Fundy. He couldn’t help but smile, causing Tommy to scream even more as he fell further into his rage. “Why? Fundy… why the fuck would you do that?! You know who Dream is! You know what he did to us! Why… Why would you do that? You should have let me handle it. You should have let me give him my fucking discs, Fundy. Why? Why would you…”

Tommy collapsed into Wilbur’s arms, tuckering himself out, though his heated glare never once left Fundy. Wilbur turned around, his dark brown eyes regarding Fundy with fear and hesitation. Fundy couldn’t help but feel a deep and dark satisfaction at that, though he’d never truly admit it to himself. Wilbur took a deep breath, “Fundy… my little champion… what did you do?”

He looked down at, his messy ginger curls blocking his view of Wilbur’s horrified stare. As much as he felt a sick sense of joy at what he’d done, he couldn’t help the guilt that came along with it. Wilbur would simply have to get used to the fact that… he could never see his son again.

He felt tears fall past his cheeks - whether from happiness or remorse, he didn’t know.

He looked up…

And forced a bitter smile on his face, “I got you independence, dad.”

---

‘Dream looked gorgeous.’ It was the first thought that came to his mind as those large oaken doors opened to reveal the bride. The man had worn his mask underneath the veil, not that Fundy expected him to come without it. The church had been decorated with white asides from the red tulip petals that littered the carpeted aisle. He could feel Dream’s soft gaze on him as Sapnap led him down towards the altar. Fundy had to keep his tail from wagging. He wouldn’t want anyone to think that he was enjoying this. As the bride made his walk through the center, nobody once dared to look at Dream, scowls hidden from Dream’s observant gaze. Fundy wasn’t surprised. Who - within the crowd - could possibly bring themselves to be happy at a time like this?

Dream held a bouquet of red roses and snapdragons, the arrangement having been prepared by Fundy himself. He wrung his hands together, nausea racing through his veins as Dream drew nearer. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bad - the officiant of their wedding - smile at him, consoling him. He smiled weakly at the man, but his heart didn’t stop pounding in his chest. Fundy couldn’t believe he was doing this. Oh gods, he was actually going to marry Dream!

As his ears picked up on the soft tune of an organ playing in the background, his eyes turned towards the guests. Tommy was the first person who met his gaze, a scowl on the boy’s face as he turned to look away from him. He then turned to Tubbo who had seated himself next to Tommy, there was understanding in his stare, a peaceful look on his face as if he knew. The next person was Niki, his poor friend shedding tears of anguish that she couldn’t even look at him through the haze of tears in her eyes. Seated next to her was… Eret. Fundy turned away before he could even look at them, their betrayal still brought an ache to his heart that would take time to mend. As he moved on, he caught a glimpse of a familiar pair of goggles. George looked at him from the front row, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he raised a brow towards Fundy. 

He winced, knowing he’d receive a lecture once Dream had brought him back to the Essempy. Fundy gave the man a small smile, turning away to look for the one person he knew he needed to see for one final time. He caught a glimpse of that familiar red beanie just as Dream reached the altar. He turned towards Dream before he could so much as look into Wilbur’s dark brown eyes.

Dream tilted his head at him, and though he couldn’t see the man’s face, Fundy could tell that he was smiling underneath the mask. Fundy wished he could actually see it, knowing that seeing Dream’s face would be better than the painted smile on that porcelain mask. He heard Bad clear his throat, glancing at both of them with an eager smile on his face. Dream nodded. Bad’s smile grew wider, “Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Dream WasTaken and Fundy Soot in marriage…” The demon’s voice drawled on, but Fundy could barely understand a word he spoke. He could feel cold sweat drip down the side of his neck, his panicked breath catching in his throat. Dream continued to stare at him. It was nearly unnerving, but he kept himself still. He wouldn’t dare to ruin such a beautiful wedding.

During the vows, with Dream speaking his part, Fundy’s gaze drifted to the side. He caught a familiar wisp of unruly brown hair, Wilbur still wearing his L’Manburg uniform unlike everyone else who had chosen to don their formal attires. The general stared at him with an empty look in his eyes. If Fundy dared to look closer, he could have sworn that Wilbur almost looked… broken. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, he could hear in Dream’s tone that he was almost finished. Fundy turned back to Dream, glad that he’d already said his vows before he’d looked at Wilbur. He didn’t need the pressure of knowing that Wilbur had been looking at him the entire time.

Then came the exchange of rings. His hands shook as Sapnap - nobody had wanted to be the ringbearer and neither Fundy nor Dream could convince George to take up the position - handed him Dream’s ring. He reached for the man’s hand, his fingers trembling as he slipped in the moonstone ring that he had spent countless hours on making. Dream reached down for his hand afterwards, slipping in his sunstone ring with a confidence that Fundy couldn’t help but envy.

Dream held onto his hand a little longer than he should have, causing Fundy to traitorously blush as he pulled his hand away. He swore he could hear Dream wheezing from beneath the mask.

Bad clapped his hands together, and Fundy wondered if the demon had stopped smiling at all during the entire ceremony. “I now pronounce you… masked husband and furry husband.”  Fundy gritted his teeth at the title, unsure if he was angry or if he was going to laugh. Dream certainly had no qualms about laughing, the idiot. Bad gave Fundy a little smile, “You may now kiss the bride!” There were no claps, no screams of joy or excitement. It felt more like a funeral than a wedding if you asked him. Dream reached up for his veil, throwing it up, giving Fundy a better view of the mask that he wore. He scrunched up his nose, was Dream really going to make him kiss his mask? He heard the man - his husband now - chuckle, reaching up to lift his mask, revealing the lower half of his face. Dream snaked a hand around his waist, pulling him closer.

Dream leaned down, his lips curling into a smirk… before pulling him into a passionate kiss.

As they kissed, Fundy tried to conceal the smile that threatened to appear on his face.

“You’re a terrible actor.” Fundy gazed up into Dream’s eyes.

Dream wheezed, “I tried my best. You love me either way, don’t you?”

Fundy tried not to laugh, “I do.”

“Pretty.” He watched him tense up, axe raising mid-air before their eyes met across the field. Fundy smiled as Dream lowered his weapon, scooting over as Fundy took a seat beside him. The stars shone brightly overhead, the moon taking center stage as it illuminated the clearing with its soft silver light. He reached down, plucking a dandelion from the ground and twirling it between two fingers. He could feel Dream’s gaze on him, the blond having tilted his head to the side as he waited for him to make the first move. He had asked Dream to meet him, knowing that the man couldn’t resist the sudden invitation to simply… hang out. It had been so long since they’d watch the stars together, the war having taken its toll on both of them. As Fundy looked into Dream’s freckled face, he wondered when was the last time he’d seen Dream without the porcelain mask.

“Why are we here, Fundy?”

He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, having taken care that he didn’t wear his L’Manburg uniform to this meeting. His heart pounded in his chest despite the easy smile that he forced onto his face. Fundy knew he had to do this. There was no other option, and he’d be damned if he let Tommy play hero. The kid… the kid doesn’t deserve to lose anything else in this war. He’d already lost two of his lives. He looked up, giving Dream a small smile. “Let’s get married.”

“WHAT?!” Dream’s gazed at him with wide eyes, his mouth open in a silent gasp that never really left the man’s lips. Fundy fiddled with the inside of his sweater, looking away as he let his proposal linger. It had to be this way. He knew it had to be this way. “Wha一 You can’t just一 Fundy now is not the time for any of your tricks or schemes. A marriage proposal is serious一”

“I am serious. Marry me, Dream. We’ve talked about the idea before, haven’t we?”

“That was… That was before the war.” He looked down at the grass, catching a glimpse of Dream’s shaking hands that were curled into fists. Fundy would have loved to reach for them, hold them tightly like he used to do back before the world went insane. “I thought… I thought we said we’d never talk about it again. You didn’t want to upset your dad with the idea of… us.”

“Wilbur can handle himself. He’s proven that L’manburg matters more to him than his own family.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers caught through the tangles. Fundy didn’t even notice Dream had moved until he felt the other’s hands combing through his hair, he nearly purred as Dream began to scratch at the back of his ears. He wondered why he’d ever given up his perfect life for a man he’d never even known. They say blood is thicker than water, but Fundy felt nothing for the man who was supposed to be his father. “Marry me, Dream.”

“And in exchange… you want me to grant L’Manburg its independence.” He could hear the exasperation in the man’s voice, and Fundy couldn’t blame him for seeing right through Fundy’s plan. It wasn’t much of a sacrifice on his part, not really. He’d had a life before he’d been dragged into the war. He’d had a life before Wilbur had decided to barge in as if he’d never abandoned Fundy at all. He felt an arm snake around his shoulders, a chin resting against the top of his head as Dream pulled him closer. His hands shook, tremors running through his fingers as he slowly reached up to return the embrace. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d done this. “You should have proposed before Tommy had decided on the duel. Now the child’s down to two lives… Well, he’s a smart kid. I'm sure he won’t lose it at some point in the future… Are you sure about this? You know you could never go back to L’Manburg after the wedding, right?”

“Dream. I already had a home before L’Manburg. And honestly! I’m so fucking tired of those stupid walls, have you seen them?” Fundy buried his face in Dream’s chest, feeling the small rumbles as Dream began to wheeze. Gods, he’d missed his - ex-boyfriend? nahhhhh - boyfriend so much. Dream wrapped his arms around him, both of them cuddling as the chill of the night began to descend on them. “You’ll marry me, right? We could have a real wedding in private.”

A finger lifted his chin, sparkling forest green eyes that reflected the night sky looked down at him in pure adoration. Fundy nearly swooned, “ItsFundy… I would be honored to marry you.”

Fundy smiled, his heart soaring.

“I missed you.”

Dream laughed, “I missed you too.”

Chapter Text

He wipes the sweat off his brow, collapsing underneath the shade of a great oak tree that sent memories through his mind. He remembered the tree his father had once planted, remembering how he jokingly called it his sibling for it had been planted the day he had been born. He remembered the ember that reached up towards its branches, consuming it until all that was left was ash. In his manic glee, he had laughed. Why mourn for a symbol of what was long gone?

Fundy shook his head, snapping away from those terrible terrible thoughts that plagued his mind. It had been a month since he’d chosen to leave the Essempy behind for good. He’d overstayed his welcome, and it was time that he had left. Everything that he once had, taken from him by a man in a mask who he had once considered worthy of his love. If he hadn’t left when he did, he was sure he would have lost mind and perhaps even his remaining two lives. Fundy raised a hand to his chest, fingers trembling as he traced over the life scar that marred his skin. He still remembers how it felt. The screams. The cries. The pain. His father once warned him that all deaths - may they be final or not - felt the same, but he was sure Wilbur didn’t know fucking shit about dying at the time he’d told him that. Funny, he was sure Wilbur knew all about dying now .

He reached into his inventory, plucking an apple before biting into it. He had been walking for hours. He had left his makeshift camp in the desert the moment the sun had risen, having reached the forest by the time the sun was in the middle of the sky. His bones ached, and his lungs burned in agony. He clawed at his suffocating black jacket, tearing it off to give himself room to breathe.

Apple juice dripped past his fingertips as his eyes darted around the forebodingly silent forest. His ears flicked up, waiting to hear a semblance of noise. Yet, there were no chirping birds. There were no yipping foxes. There were no howling wolves. There was nothing but the sounds of his own labored breathing. He clutched the apple tighter to himself, a sense of dread pouring into his chest. Although it was day, he couldn’t even hear the tell-tale sign of a monster ready to pounce. He swallowed the last piece of the apple, willing himself to stand. His golden-flecked brown eyes scoured through the landscape, but he could not find a single hint of a threat coming his way. Fundy took a shaky breath. He needed to leave before trouble chose to show itself.

Before he could take a single step forward, a red blur entered his field of vision. He barely had a moment to react before a weight pushed him down to the rough earth below. Fundy snarled, baring his teeth at his would-be attacker who held a diamond blade to his throat. They wore a fox mask - and gods he was sick of seeing masks - their long ginger hair falling past their shoulders in soft, curly cascades. They wore a simple red and green dress that reached down to their ankles, with an oddly familiar yellow sweater tied to the back of their neck. A hand was pressed to the side of his head, and though Fundy couldn’t see past the mask, he could tell they were staring intensely into his face. He gritted his teeth, claws digging into the coarse soil. He could scratch if he wanted to, but he’d rather not test them, not with a sword threatening to cut him down. They stayed that way, the stranger tilting their head here and there before finally moving off of him.

Much to his bafflement, they tossed their sword to the ground, holding up both hands in a signal of peace. His eyes narrowed, but he dared not lunge or make a break for it. Deep down, he knew he didn’t want to harm anyone else ever again. He stood there instead, taking his time to assess the stranger as they assessed him. In this angle, he took in their petite and lithe stature, surprised to find that they were practically the same height… Fundy being shorter by just an inch. The mask prevented him from forming any conclusion as to who the stranger was, a part of him only registering the tenseness in their shoulders. He tried not to flinch as a hand reached out to him.

He blinked, feeling a finger poke at his cheek. It grew insistent, the stranger moving higher and higher before their finger paused right near his eyes. He gulped, terrified that the stranger would reach up and blind him. They moved closer, gaze fixed at his eyes, enough for him to back away in absolute discomfort. Another hand reached up to his face, cupping his right cheek in a way that almost reminded him of his dad… when he used to care. He desperately tried not to lean in.

The other hand moved to cup his left cheek, and though every instinct he had screamed at him to growl, he allowed them to move his head around. They were gentle, head tilting here and there. Their focus flicked up towards his right temple, tutting at the scratches that they saw on his head.

Their hands moved up, hovering just above his head before he felt a hand brush against the top of his ear. He whined as though burnt, backing away as his tail curled around him protectively.

The stranger froze, but they remained where they were. They gave Fundy a moment to take a breath before slowly walking towards him, hands outstretched to show they meant no harm.

“Please, don’t touch me… I don’t want to remember him, I don’t want to一”

He felt arms wrap around him, hesitant until Fundy quickly melts in their hold, burying his face against their shoulder as he held onto them tightly. They returned the warm gesture, a hand reaching up to caress the back of his head. He tried to hold back his sobs, knowing that he’d regret crying in front of the stranger the moment they decided he had too much emotional baggage for them to handle. He had flinched back from their touch, the kind hold forcing him to remember the time when he was just a kid who had a father who had wanted nothing but to give him the world. His father used to scratch behind his ears or gently pat them at the top before pulling him into a tight embrace. Oh, the simpler and better times… In the end, the father who had wanted to give his beloved son the world, destroyed his world and forgot his unloved child.

The stranger slowly pulled away, though a hand remained on his shoulder. He watched as they gripped the edge of the mask, pulling it up to reveal a kind face that his childhood memories could faintly remember. Warm yellow eyes gazed down at him with concern and with care.

His throat caught in his throat as his attention snapped towards the gills. Though as he took the time to look at them, what made him shiver in surprise was the long scar on the woman’s neck. A hand brushed his cheek gently, a smile forming on the woman’s face as she mouthed words:

‘Hello, sweetheart. I missed you, my little Fundy. I missed you so much.’

Chapter Text

His breath came out in white smokes, the air tinted with the stench of metal. With no enemy to watch him crumble, he fell to his knees, a hand clutching the lead that was tied to Carl. The horse nudged him, his crown falling off his head and into the soft and red-stained snow beneath. His heart beat wildly in his chest, the voices in his head circling and screaming for more. They could never be satisfied, could they? His throat tightened, the sword that he had wielded falling from his hold. In his ears, he could faintly hear one single loud pop, the communicator that hung by his belt pinging out a death message for all the land to see. That would instill fear on anyone who dared to come near his home again. They had threatened to take his horse, and he’d be damned if he’d let them do so. One pathetic life was enough to pay for their atrocities against him. He’d take that small meager sacrifice over slaughtering them all for daring to threaten the Blood God.

He heard muffled footsteps behind him, a gasp before a figure raced forward. Techno lifted his head, watching Tommy, his younger brother, pull an unconscious Tubbo into his arms. His bones ached, but he forced himself to a stand. He let Tommy dote over Tubbo, checking for any injuries that could prove fatal, not that Techno had dared to inflict such a grievous wound on his already on-one-life younger brother. He shivered, knowing that one of Tubbo’s deaths was his doing.

He staggered forward, pausing before his unconscious nephew who had been the first to be taken down. He kneeled, unclasping his cloak before wrapping it around Fundy’s trembling shoulders.

“N-no… please…”

He huffed, groaning as he pointedly ignored Fundy’s murmurs. He slid his arms beneath the man’s shoulders and knees, pulling him into his hold before heading towards Tommy who had pulled Tubbo onto his back. The ram hybrid’s arms dangled uselessly, small horns pressing into the back of Tommy’s head who winced each time he tried to move forward. Techno raised a brow, adjusting his hold on Fundy so that the fox hybrid was resting on one of his shoulders. Tommy flashed him a smile - though it appeared more like a grimace - as Techno pulled Tubbo onto his other shoulder. He rolled his eyes at the sudden onslaught of screams in his head, the voices going wild as he and Tommy made their way back to the cabin. Tommy had wrapped his own cloak around Tubbo’s shoulders, glancing ever so slightly in Techno’s direction as they got nearer to the cabin. He could see the question and concern in his brother’s eyes. He ignored it.

As they reached the cabin, Techno took a moment to glance back, a small lilt forming on his lips as Carl went back inside his stable. Tommy, unfortunately, was impatient and pulled the front door open so roughly that it banged against the side of the wall. He refrained from rolling his eyes before entering the warm cabin, the door closing behind him as Tommy followed after.

He gently laid Tubbo on the couch, his brother immediately latching onto the ram hybrid. A warm feeling bubbled in his chest from the sight, content to know that at least five out of six of his family were now underneath his protection. He’d have to sneak into New L’Manburg to get Phil out but soon they’ll all be back home, where they should be. Techno shook his head at the thought, willing himself not to go overboard with the idea. Quackity would either return to fight him once again or he’d reinforce the security of New L’Manburg, either option would require dutiful planning and Techno couldn’t let himself fall into a sense of early victory. He turned his affectionate gaze away from his two brothers, turning to place his nephew on a chair.

A cool breeze drifted past him, a flash yellow appearing at the corner of his eye. He didn’t acknowledge his twin’s presence, unsure if he could bring himself to look at the ghost of what was once his brother. It had always been that way since Ghostbur had first come to visit him.

“Fundy!” The ghost lunged forward, arms wrapping around the fox hybrid who jolted awake the moment Ghostbur pulled him into an embrace. Techno winced, backing off immediately as his nephew’s gaze turned towards him. He’d be lying if he were to say that he wasn’t hurt by the fear in Fundy’s eyes, but it was to be expected. He did hit him over the head with the butt of an axe.

‘Furry awake?!’

‘He scared hahahahhaha’

‘Lol imagine getting hit with an axe, couldn’t be me.’

‘Furry pog!’

‘EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE’

‘GHOSTBUR!’

‘LOOK AT TUBBO AND TOMMY!!!’

‘No execution? Not pog.’

‘Kidnap family arc? Pog???’

‘BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD’

“Hey, furry! Who’s fucking bright idea was this?!” Techno stumbled as Tommy pushed past him, grasping Fundy by the shoulders before shaking him - though not cruelly. Fundy blinked, surprise filtering in his eyes. Fundy moved forward, wrapping an arm around Tommy’s shoulders before pulling his uncle into a hug. Techno tried not to smile at the display of affection, preferring to watch Tommy sputter curses despite holding onto Fundy just as tightly. It had been a while since their family has had the time to simply… hug it out, and though Techno was not all great at reading the situation, he’d have to assume that Tommy missed Fundy as much as Fundy had missed him. “You fuckers, who told you two you could fucking ambush Techno and not get fucking decimated in an instant? Why? Guess I took the only brain cell when I got exiled.”

Fundy let out a weak laugh, still curled up into himself as he looked past Tommy and towards Techno. He held his nephew’s gaze, ignoring his twin brother’s ramblings as Ghostbur flitted about. The fox hybrid opened his mouth, hesitating before, “Why… Why are we still alive?”

Fundy looked over at Tubbo.

He understood why it was asked, but it didn’t hurt any less.

“My home is your home. I’ll protect all of you with my life… you’re safe with me, Fundy.”

‘You’re safe with me.’

Chapter Text

His mother had called his father a bastard. A man left to the sands of her past and to the dark corners of her mind. She had brought him here when he was but a baby, to this newly budding country where peace reigned and no conflict ever arose. His mother had done everything for him, raised him and loved him to the best of her ability. He knew it hadn’t been easy to raise him, recalling faintly the faded scratch marks on the stone walls of their little burrow. They had lived within a hole, the only place she could afford with her meager salary as a fisherwoman, but they had made it work and he hadn’t minded the silence that came with living underground. She was everything to him, and he was everything to her. But she had been gone for years now. He’d long since moved on from the tragedy, but he remembered her. He remembered her voice and smile…

He hadn’t known who his father was, content to listen to his mother’s short rambles about how Fundy deserved more than to ever know him. He was perfectly fine with never knowing, accepting his mother’s choice though he wished he had been told what had caused their fallout. He knew his mother loved his father despite the hatred in her voice, at least, it was her eyes that conveyed a pain that seemed much different than that of her tone. She had died with the secret of his father’s identity. Fundy hadn’t dared to ask who he was on her deathbed. He didn’t care to.

Now he wishes he’d been told a single clue as to who his father was, maybe then he wouldn’t be in this predicament. Fundy stared, eyes narrowed at the man who stood before him. The man had curly brown hair that nearly concealed his dark eyes. There was a smile on the man’s face, a look of adoration in his gaze that made Fundy wince back. He didn’t know who this man was at all.

He could only let out a sigh of relief as the man’s attention turned towards Dream - the ruler of the Essempy who had escorted whoever the fuck this stranger was to his house. Fundy’s hands curled into fists, tail wrapping around his waist as he tried not to whimper. There was an elegant carriage at the front of his home and this man who was dressed in princely attire had looked at him as if he was a long lost treasure finally reclaimed. After years of living by his lonesome, he wished for his mom. He didn’t know what to do. Even if he tried to run, he was sure Dream would chase him down and drag him back. He dared not fight in case he had guessed wrong and the man decided to kill him where he stood. All he could do was watch as the two monarchs talked between the two of them. They spoke in whispers, as if they didn’t want Fundy to hear.

His tail bristled, growling when the two ceased their conversation. Their eyes bore into his skull, enough so that he wanted nothing more than to go inside his burrow and pretend they weren’t there. He wanted to hide underneath his bed and pray to the gods that they’d leave him alone.

“Take him and leave, we don’t want any trouble.” The masked man nodded at him, a nearly apologetic tone in his voice before he turned on his heel and left, leaving him alone with the stranger. The man smiled brightly at him, not even hesitating to close the gap. Fundy flinched, trying to move back but the man had already pulled him into his arms. He shrieked, feet leaving the ground as the man carried him up. Fundy couldn’t help but growl at the childish treatment.

“Oh, my little champion! You’ve grown so much!” He yelped, holding on for his dear life as the man spun around. He hated him already. “Did you miss me? Papa missed you a lot, you know?”

The man hugged him closer, cooing even as Fundy growled and began to hit him on the shoulder. His instincts screamed for him to get away, to claw his way out, but the man’s dark gaze turned towards him the moment his claws unsheathed themselves. “Don’t try that with me,  Fundy.”

He whimpered, backing off as the man ran a hand through his hair. It was demeaning. He wasn’t a baby anymore, and he didn’t feel like a child either despite being twelve. He didn’t know who this man was, but the stranger seemed to know him. From the way he had called himself, Fundy could only assume that the man was his father. But Fundy didn’t like him. His fox instincts screamed at him to run, but he couldn’t wriggle his way out of the man’s unrelenting grip.

“You’re confused, I suppose. But don’t worry, you won’t have to live on your own anymore…” A brief flash of agony crossed the man’s eyes, his smile dropping to a wince. Fundy raised a brow, pulling his tail closer to himself. He didn’t like that look in the man’s eyes. It reminded him too much of his mother’s pain at the thought of his father. “I’ve been looking all over for your mother and you. I’m honestly relieved to find that at least one of you is still alive… but I promise, my little champion, you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. Papa’s here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!” His temper rose, a warning growl escaping his throat, but the man only tsked. A finger tapped his nose, the man chuckling before he suddenly began to move. Fundy felt panic rise in his chest. They were moving away from the burrow, the man was taking him away from his home. He pushed against the man’s shoulders, little sobs breaking through the anger and fury that he’d initially felt for the horrible stranger. He didn’t want to go with them. He wanted to stay even if it meant having to live his life alone in the burrow his mother had worked so hard to acquire for them. The man didn’t even glance at him, reaching out to pull the carriage door open before slipping inside. He placed Fundy on one of the seats, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The man frowned, finally noticing his tears. A hand tried to cup his cheek, but Fundy curled deeper into the soft seat of the carriage. “Fuck off! I don’t fucking need you, let me go!”

“You’ll get along well with Tommy.” Fundy frowned, eyes darting towards the door before a hand reached out to pull him to the opposite seat. The carriage moved forward at the same time, forcing him to the ground. He glared up, the man pulling him to sit next to him as an arm wrapped around his shoulders. “You’ll be home soon, son. I’m sure you granza and uncles will be thrilled to meet you. OH! The kingdom is going to be so happy to hear you’ve been found.”

As the man continued to ramble, Fundy chose to tune him out.

He didn’t want to hear the delusions of a mad man.

The stranger hadn’t even acknowledged what he’d said. Fundy didn’t want to leave.

“You’ll be a prince! Prince Fundy Soot of the Antarctic Empire! My son. My little champion.”

He curled his lips in distaste. Prince Fundy Soot…  

He hopes the carriage crashes on the way.

Chapter Text

He’d stolen his father’s bow, a discarded relic of a war that he’d swore was not yet won. His hands trembled, throat dry with the fear of what was to come. Tubbo eyed him from the sideline, a concerned frown etched upon his younger uncle’s face. Tubbo had wanted to call for Wilbur, wished for the conflict to end in a peaceful resolve but he would not have it. His father hadn’t even noticed his cries in the middle of the night and he certainly would not have cared for what he was about to do. His hand found its way to his chest, tracing the life scar of a death that was still too fresh on his mind. He looked down at his fingertips, the marks of fire marring his hands from a death of explosion and heat. They did not know, no one knew for how could he have ever told his father? If he were to say what had been done, he’d never have been allowed to leave the walls ever again. He’d rather die free than stay stuck inside those horrid blackstone walls.

“Scared? All you have to do is apologize and maybe I’ll let you go back home to daddy.”

His attention snapped forward, teeth raising in a snarl. Sapnap had made his way to Fundy’s side of the field, an old bow resting on his shoulder. The arsonist flashed him a toothy grin, twirling the arrow in his hand. Fundy would not be intimidated. He couldn’t be. Sapnap leaned closer, his smug face inches from his own that Fundy had to restrain himself from reaching and clawing.

“Fuck you.” It was not eloquent, not even an insult. He could not bring himself to speak any longer, not if it meant having to prolong the agony of what was to happen. A smirk found its way to the arsonist’s face, this close, Fundy could see the mirth amusement in his eyes. This was a man who could care less for the hearts of others, he’d already displayed that when he had gone out of his way to kill Fungi. He would not lie, he knew he was also in the wrong for provoking the man into a fight. He should have just ignored the burning rage in his chest, and then perhaps he’d move on and be the bigger man in the situation. But Fundy couldn’t let it go. He wouldn’t.

“I know I’m good looking but you’re not my type.” Disgust raced through his veins at the thought of even一 Sapnap mockingly patted his cheek before heading back to his place, a relaxed stride in his step as though he already knew what the outcome would be. Fundy hated him. He hated how he could be so confident and so free. In another time he might have even been in awe of him, but now was not that time. “Take me out to dinner first, babe! Then we can fuck.”

His tail bristled, his cheeks turning a furious red at the callousness and teasing that he was being subjected to. Tubbo glanced over at him, eyes wide with surprise but his uncle could do nothing. After all, he was invited to be a referee. He could not step in to help Fundy, lest he showed a clear bias. Fundy forced a smile on his face, knowing that he had to give Tubbo some form of encouragement, especially since… He held the bow tighter in his hand. He would not think it. He took a shaky breath before stepping forward, Sapnap having already made his way to the center. They stood there, gazes baring into each other’s eyes. Fundy’s eyes glinting with righteous fury and Sapnap’s showing a flash of dull boredom. Fundy hated him, he really really hated him.

“Gentlemen, please turn around.” Tubbo’s voice rang through the still silence, and Fundy quickly turned on his heel. “I shall count to ten, with each number both of you must take a step forward.”

He took a deep breath. “On the count of ten, both of you must shoot… I shall begin.” Tubbo began to count, his feet moving on their own as he notched his arrow into his father’s bow. He had to be ready. He needed to be. He kept his gaze forward, his heart hammering inside his chest.

His fingers trembled. Could he do it? Could he really shoot a man? Would that mean justice for Fungi or was it merely petty revenge? He hadn’t been kind himself in this war, knowing that he had committed his own share of crimes. He hesitated at the seventh count, clear clarity flooding into his mind for what felt like weeks of nothing but sheer anger. He glanced down at his hands, his scarred hands that have felt the warmth of blood. He had killed in this war, he had killed in the first war too. He wasn’t innocent, and in this duel, he won’t be a hero for winning. He’d just be… the victor. And he’d gain nothing but a momentary feeling of triumph and justice…

But was it justice when they’d both already taken so much from the other? He knew it would be cheating, but he casted a look back. Sapnap was a few feet away, but there was a visible tenseness in his shoulders now, the mockingly nonchalant pace that he once had was gone. Fundy looked away, the ninth count ringing in his ears. He was trembling. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. He took a shaky breath, recalling a story his father had once told him. He knew how the story ended, but he wasn’t going to take a life today despite… He smiled, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. He couldn’t do it. He steadied his hold on his bow, closing his eyes as he imagined a better place. He saw his mother on the other side. He saw Fungi on the other side. He heard the tenth count. He took a final breath, and aimed his arrow to the sky.

---

“Tubbo! Good to see you, is there any reason why you’ve come to visit?” Wilbur glanced up from his paperwork, smiling at the blonde who stood before him. Tubbo didn’t meet his gaze.

“Wilbur, I…” Tubbo fidgeted in his place. Wilbur took the time to put his full attention on his brother, gasping at the sight of blood on the blonde’s shirt and fingertips. A flicker of pain danced in Tubbo’s light blue eyes. “I’m so sorry, Wilbur. No one knew. We thought一”

“Tubbo, calm. Breath, alright? What do you want to tell me?”

Tubbo glanced up, tears in his eyes. “A-as of this afternoon, Fundy Soot was shot d-dead by Sapnap in a duel for The Pet War… Wilbur, Fundy was on his last life. We don’t know how一”

There was a harrowing and suffocating silence that pursued after.

“Wilbur?” He barely heard Tubbo’s voice, his mind going completely numb at the proclamation. He swallowed, forcing himself to breath. Tubbo was looking at him, unsure of what to do and clearly looking for advice. Wilbur didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to without crumbling into tears. Tubbo tried to reach a hand for him, but he moved away, hands rising to hold his head. The ringing in his ears refused to stop. “Wilbur, what do we do一”

“Get out.” He sunk into his seat, face pressed into his hands. He couldn’t deal with the presence of another being right now. He could hear Tubbo hesitate, but after a moment, he heard the door to his office close with a soft click. Wilbur was left alone in the silence of his office. He fingers curling into his hair as he pulled at them in frustration. His heart felt like it was breaking.

A hand reached out, scrabbling at his desk until his fingers gripped the edge of a small picture frame. He pulled it closer to himself, eyes focusing on the nearly faded picture. His own face stared up at him - his past self still wearing the yellow sweater that Wilbur wasn’t sure where he’d last left it. He looked much younger in the picture, a man who couldn’t have thought that he’d one day be the president of a country he himself had founded. Oh, to live in ignorant bliss…

He looked over at the small kid that his past self carried in his arms, the little fox hybrid smiling brightly at the camera as his tail smacked right onto Wilbur’s chin. He chuckled, laughing until his joy turned into tears wailing and tears. He pressed his head against the top of his desk, the weight of what had happened finally hitting him with full force. His son was gone. He was dead.

His heart was crumbling into shards, but he couldn’t bring himself to fall apart. He had a country to run… that didn’t mean anything anymore. He screamed, burning anger mixing with the pain.

“Fundy… oh gods… Fundy!”

When was the last time he’d spoken to his son? When was the last time he’d even seen his son? He trembled, trying to remember. He couldn’t remember. WHY COULDN’T HE FUCKING REMEMBER?! Did he say goodbye before he had left for the office? Had he ruffled his son’s hair on his way out? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember. Wilbur couldn’t remember.

Duel… why hadn’t he known about the duel?

Had his son told him and he hadn’t been paying attention? Wilbur shook, terrified at the thought that he could have prevented his son’s death if he had just looked after Fundy more closely.

He didn’t know, all he knew was that his little champion was dead.

He stood up, tucking the picture frame into his pocket.

He had a funeral to plan.

Chapter Text

His mind was abuzz with the remnants of his dream, the nightmare still haunting and taunting him despite the perfect and beautiful day that graced him with its presence. His tail was drooping and his ears were pressed to the top of his head. He felt like a dark cloud in the sky, coming to ruin the sunshine-filled morning that made everything around him seem bright and warm. His stomach burned, and his heart felt weak inside his chest. He couldn’t remember if he had eaten breakfast at all that day. His waking had been a blur of color, senses having returned to him once he’d gotten out into the sunlight. He hated it. It stung his eyes and it stung his sickly pale skin.

He let his limbs take him to wherever it wished to go, exhaustion still clinging to his bones despite all his efforts to keep his eyes from closing. If only slumber meant salvation, but it did not. For his dreams were nothing but visions of a future to come. Fundy didn’t know what god had cursed him, but he could only hope that they fucked off and let him be. He hadn’t wanted this. If anything… he shouldn’t have come back. Nobody in this stupid place wanted him. Not Phil. Not Ranboo. Not Tommy. Not Eret. Not Niki. Not Technoblade. He had no one. He had一

‘Was that Da 一 Wilbur?’ He paused, eyes blinking away the sleep that still clung to them. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of a familiar brown coat. It haunted him, that symbol of Wilbur’s madness. The man climbed up the hill that Fundy stood on, taking a moment to breath.

He took a step back, this wasn’t real. He tripped against a loose rock, causing him to stumble back with a loud yelp. Fundy looked up, a pair of dark brown eyes stared right back at him.

“Fundy…” Despite the distance, his ears picked up the low whisper that Wilbur breathed out. His heart began to hammer inside his chest. Oh gods, this couldn’t be happening. He flinched, eyes turning wide when the man jogged up to him. He needed to get away. He needed to get away. He needed to get away. Wilbur paused right in front of him, “I’ve missed you, my little champion.”

Wilbur had a kind smile on his face, hands outstretched towards him as though he wanted to pull him into an embrace. Fundy scooted away, breath coming out in short bursts. The man only seemed to follow after him. He looked horrible, at least to Fundy. He wore that brown coat, although somehow cleaner than it had been before he had… Wilbur was also wearing a yellow sweater, dangerously similar to that of what Ghostbur wore. What caught Fundy’s attention the most though was the long white streak in Wilbur’s hair. Looking at it made him nauseous.

“Oh, it’s a side-effect of being brought back to life. Now we match, hm? Now you look just like your old man.” A hand reached down for him, but he shrieked, kicking until he finally found his way back to a standing position. Wilbur looked up at him in surprise, but that didn’t deter him from moving closer. “I-I know we didn’t part… in a good way. But Fundy, you can trust me一”

DON’T TRUST HIM. DON’T TRUST HIM. DON’T TRUST HIM. DON’T TRUST HIM.

“No. You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not real.” He grabbed at his hair, pulling until he felt some semblance of pain. Pain meant that the dream would stop. Pain meant freedom from this cruel phantom that pursued him even in sleep. “Get away from me! Get away from me!”

“Fundy, it’s me! Dream brought me back. I am real一” He couldn’t bear to hear anymore. He turned on his heel and ran. He could hear the thump of footsteps behind him, the phantom’s cries shouting at him to come back and listen. No. No. No. Fuck this. Fuck this stupid neverending nightmare. Fundy wasn’t going to look back. He wasn’t going to let that horrible thing take him.

He needed to get home. He needed to get home. He needed to get home. He needed to一

His hands scrambled against the knob of the door, nearly crying as he toppled inside his dark and silent house. Yet his relief was cut short when he heard the door close behind him. He turned around, the vision of Wilbur stood there. The man looked exhausted, hands clutching his knees as ragged breaths tore through his form, yet he never looked away from Fundy. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Why were his dreams so cruel? Why did they mock him with this vision of his late dad? He began to cry, curling into himself as warm hands wrapped around him.

“Dad… Dad… Dad… I miss you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Come back… Please, just come back.”

The mirage only seemed to hold him tighter.

“I’m right here, Fundy. I’m right here.”

Chapter Text

He wakes to a wet cloth on his head and to a hand petting the back of his hair. His throat felt unbearably dry, bones aching with newly restored life. The warm touch disappeared the moment he roused from his slumber, causing him to whimper before a cool glass pressed against his lips.

Fundy couldn’t help but drink the water down quickly, sputtering every few seconds as he greedily tried to ease his aching throat. He heard a ‘tsk,’ the bottle disappearing, much to his dismay. His caretaker disappeared from his side before he could turn to get a look at them, but from the tell-tale ruffle of feathers, he could immediately tell who they were. He sighed, turning on the warm bed that they had placed him on, his hands mindlessly reaching for his head. They had taken his hat. Hopefully, they hadn’t given it to Michael for “safekeeping.” He curled closer into himself, the memories of what had happened slowly trickling into his mind the longer he stayed awake. He had died, hadn’t he? After the fox hunt, he was sure they’d let him go. After his second death, he was so sure they’d let him go. Then why was he still in Techno’s cabin?

“P-Phil… W-why?” He coughed into the back of his hand, body protesting the moment he tried to sit up. The moment he managed to place a foot on the floor, Phil returned. There was a neutral look on his face, yet - although Fundy could only hope he was seeing that correctly - a sliver of concern in his eyes. The man made no move towards him, his wings blocking off the only exit to freedom that Fundy had. He took the silence as an opportunity to look around, gaze darting around the room before settling on the pink sheets of the bed he was on. He wasn’t sure why he was on Techno’s bed. His spawn bed was back at his tower, he shouldn’t be anywhere near this area at all! He shivered, “Did… Did you take me from my spawn bed, Phil? What the fuck…?”

He wasn’t expecting any answer, not when Phil merely leaned against the doorway. Fundy tried not to panic. His grandpa wouldn’t kill him, not when he was on his last life. He hoped so… He looked around, gaze zeroing in on the window that showed a blizzard brewing outside. Well, fuck. Even if he had planned to escape, he’d get lost in the storm and either freeze to death or get dragged back into the cabin by Phil or Techno. As though hearing his thoughts, Technoblade appeared right behind Phil, the blonde letting the piglin in without so much as a glance his way. Panic began to bloom in his chest. Maybe they did bring him here to kill him. Maybe this was payback for nearly executing Technoblade all those months ago. His ears drooped, tail wrapping itself around his waist the moment the piglin stood in front of him. He should’ve never came back. He should have stayed in Cogchamp with 5up and Crumb - where he was safe and wanted.

“We have a proposition for you.” That… was not what he was expecting. He looked up. Techno sat down on the chair next to the bed, hand intertwined in front of him and resting on his lap. The piglin wore no armor, his long pink hair cascading down to his back. Still, despite the casual way he presented himself, Fundy didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust Phil either now, despite still wanting his grandpa’s approval. He leaned away, settling on the far end of the bed where Techno couldn’t reach him. The piglin frowned at him, almost looking hurt but Fundy chalked that up to his mind playing tricks on him. He did just respawn, after all. “How do you feel about government?”

“I一 wha?”

“Answer the question, Fundy.” Phil stepped into the room, his mouth set into a thin line. He looked away from both of them, unsure of what to say. He didn’t have a home as of recently, except for his tower and Cogchamp. Cogchamp wasn’t a government, more a small commune of people who looked as if they hadn’t seen war at all in their life. Fundy envied them and how they didn’t have to flinch each time someone brought out a piece of dynamite or sword. He should have stayed in Cogchamp. He glanced over at Techno who hadn’t moved an inch, although he could see that the piglin was beginning to tap his foot on the floor the longer Fundy stayed silent. What did he think about government? He wasn’t sure anymore. It had been a year since his mental breakdown. He wasn’t sure if he still held the same sentiment as before. “Fundy一”

“I don’t care.” He snapped, biting down the urge to growl in case Phil lost his temper and decided to take his last life. He glared at both of them, refusing to budge from the small corner he had tucked himself into. He wasn’t sure why they were asking. Maybe it was to see whether he deserved to live or whether he should be punished or not. “I don’t care. Can I go home now?”

“No.” Techno didn’t even look at him, eyes turned towards Phil whose face was pinched with utter confusion. Fundy watched them, knowing that there was a silent conversation going on between the two. He looked over at the window, contemplating the better outcome. He could stay here with Phil and Techno, and get possibly killed, or he could brave the blizzard and perhaps die of his own terms… He wasn’t sure. He wanted to go home to Cogchamp. Fundy didn’t want to die here. He didn’t want his two estranged family members to be the last people he saw before he went to the afterlife. He wanted to see 5up and Crumb again. “You don’t care about the government… Well, would you like to join the Syndicate? Would you like to join us, Fundy?”

“What…” He looked between the two of them, expecting some semblance of mockery to show once Fundy allowed himself to hope… they both just stared at him in silence, waiting for an answer. He focused on Phil, the man glaring down at him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Fundy felt as though he didn’t really have a choice. He looked down at his hands, biting the inside of his cheek. This wouldn’t be good for him. He knew that. Still, what if they decided to kill him for refusing? He found himself nodding along, choking on his words. “Y-yes. I-I do.”

“Whatever, mate. Your Syndicate name now is Sisyphus.” He looked over at Techno, the piglin hybrid grunting, eyebrows furrowing together. “You have a lot to redeem yourself for, after all.”

Phil casted him one last glare before stomping out of the room, wings trailing after him, leaving a path of black feathers. Fundy watched the man go, feeling emptier than he’d felt a year ago. He didn’t want to join the syndicate, he’d gotten over that horrible mentality once he went through therapy in Cogchamp. Now, his estranged family was dragging him back into their madness.

He felt a hand against his shoulder.

He looked up into dark crimson eyes.

“Welcome to the Syndicate… Zagreus.”

Chapter Text

It was meant to be a beautiful wedding. The flowers a combination of pink and orange tulips, the venue decorated in their colors. It was an outdoor wedding, they had chosen the perfect time to hold it too. The sun had been up in the sky, yet its warm rays didn’t burn or scorch their skins. Crumb had spent so long looking through the outfits, picking the purrfect ones, and insisting that she be both the ring bearer and the flower girl. They were both meant to wear suits, 5up wearing his pink suit with an orange tulip pinned to his chest and Fundy wearing his orange suit with a pink tulip pinned to his collar. The ceremony should have taken an hour to finish. The ceremony was supposed to have finished with them being married. It was meant to be a beautiful wedding.

How silly of him for having such childish dreams. He shivered underneath the ropes they had tied him in, wishing desperately that his claws could reach back and tear himself free. His clothes were stained with red, a familiar leaf clinging to the bottom of dress pants. His heart was pounding, tears streaming down his face. The cloth tied around his mouth muted his screams.

“Found you, love.”

He felt a kiss press against the back of his hand, the white glove he had been wearing for the wedding carelessly tossed aside and hanging from one of the bloody chairs nearby. There was another kiss pressing against his cheek, the edge of the goggles biting into Fundy’s skin. He struggled against their hold, wanting nothing more than to get away from both of them. The moment he started to struggle, a hand pinned him down by the chest, the desert sand biting into the back of his neck. He felt tears sting at his eyes, his cries muted by the pink cloth - oh gods, it looked like 5up’s scarf - that they had tied around his lips. They continued to kiss him. On his hands, at his neck, on his face. He felt sick. His screaming began once again when one of them reached upwards, placing kisses against the tips of his writhing ears. He didn’t dare wrap his tail around his waist, terrified of one of them choosing to pet it. He just wanted them to go away.

“Did you miss us, darling? Did you have fun running around with that useless weed? ” George whispered into his ears before pressing a kiss behind it. Fundy whined, moving his head to the side and away from his intrusive presence. George only seemed to follow after him, whispering nonsensical words of apologies and how he should have told Fundy beforehand about what he and Dream had planned to do since the very beginning. It stung, the thought that both of them had plotted to ruin his and Dream’s wedding. “Don’t worry. We’re here to bring you home now.”

He shook his head, hand smacking against the side of a porcelain mask. Finger gripped his wrist, gentle yet they felt as though they were burning right through his skin. A rough hand reached for his right cheek, wiping away his tears as a pair of familiar forest green eyes loomed over him.

“It was cruel of me to leave the wedding, I know. But it was ruthless of you not to even seek me out. You didn’t even hesitate, did you? Ran right into another man’s arms without so much as a glance back.” He groaned, Dream’s fingers holding his cheek so tightly it was sure to leave a bruise. There was a rage dancing in the man’s eyes, his teeth gritted and snarled, nearly animalistic in his demeanor. Perhaps George was the lesser evil, he hadn’t stopped kissing him on the head even with Dream threatening Fundy. “Did you even love me? Or was that for show? What did you want from me? Power? Money? ...Recognition? Is that what you wanted, star?”

He whined, ripping his head away from the man’s grip. Dream huffed, his hand clenched into tight fists that eventually relaxed once he met Fundy’s eyes. He was lifting Fundy’s hand again, rubbing gentle circles against his wrist before pressing a soft kiss that sent goosebumps down Fundy’s skin. He hated it. After a moment of touching, their hands finally moved away, leaving him shaking against the desert sand of his second home. He had thought Cogchamp was safe. He cursed himself for thinking that he ever had the luxury of safety. He had doomed everyone.

Pink and orange petals were strewn about the red-stained sand, the guests - in all their formal attire - slumped against the ground, their throats slit even though he could hear a few of them struggling for breath. He shook, eyes looking around the sea of bodies until a familiar pair of cat ears caught his eye. Newly sprung tears fell from his eyes. Dream and George hadn’t shown mercy to anyone. Not even Crumb. The worse thing was that he could still hear her breathing.

“What a waste, the decorations looked pretty. Pink and orange… I won’t lie, they’re a much better combination than blue, orange, and green.” George brushed a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his face, a little smile on the man’s face despite the splatter of blood that stained the corner of his goggles. Fundy sickeningly wondered whose blood it was. Dream stood behind George, a forced grin on his face, hands intertwined in front of him in a tight grip. It seems that Dream took Fundy’s “betrayal” the hardest. He flinched once more, feeling a kiss against his cheek, a hand rubbing the bottom of his neck. “But we’ll make it work, won’t we? You’d like that, right? Oh! We can plan our wedding as soon as we get home. That’ll be fun, right love?”

“He’s lucky we still want him.” Dream answered for Fundy, reaching down towards the bouquet that Fundy had dropped. The man looked at it for a second, his eyes watering as though he were lost in a memory of his own. Then, without a second thought, he threw the flowers away.

“Don’t be like that, Dreamy. We both wanted him since the day we first saw him! He’s ours now…” He shivered, George’s voice going lower than usual. Dream huffed behind him, but Fundy could see the tinge of red on the man’s cheeks, the way he fidgeted in his place as though he wanted to grab Fundy and never let go. He gritted his teeth, finally allowing his tail to curl around his waist. He couldn’t take it anymore. George grinned, petting his tail excitedly before gesturing for Dream to move closer. He tried not to squirm when he felt arms slide beneath the back of his shoulders and knees, the ground disappearing underneath him as Dream held him close to his chest. Dream leaned down, kissing him on the forehead before turning to leave the wedding venue. George trailed after him, giggling and occasionally reaching to touch Fundy’s ears. He wished he could bite those hands away. “You like that, don’t you love? Being ours.”

He ignored them as best as he could, turning his head to look back at the altar.

5up’s unmoving body looked back at him with dull, empty eyes.

Fundy blacked out.

Chapter Text

“It’s only for a day, my little champion.” Techno watched as Wilbur helped Fundy sit down on the carpeted floor, the fox hybrid whining as he reached up his arms towards his dad. His twin sighed, moving towards where Techno stood, as he lugged a heavy bag around his shoulders. Techno took it without so much as a word, his frown etched onto his face as Wilbur looked up at him apologetically. His ears twitched, flicking down as he noticed his twin’s trembling hands. In another time, he would have reached down and helped Wilbur calm himself, but today wasn’t that time. Wilbur handed him the bag, murmuring apologies underneath his breath before heading back towards a whimpering Fundy. The fox hybrid tried to jump into Wilbur’s arms, deterred by Wilbur moving away, his twin flinching as Fundy got near. Wilbur ran a hand through Fundy’s hair, “I’ll be back. I promise. You’ll stay with Uncle Techie until then, alright?”

“Noooo, I want papa!” Fundy tugged at Wilbur’s hand, growling as Wilbur pulled away. His twin moved across the room, pausing at the door frame that connected the living room to the front hall. Techno gathered his nephew in his arms, the fox hybrid screaming at him to put him down.

“It’s just a day, Fundy. I’ll be back before you know it. Then… we can do whatever you want to do, alright?” Wilbur smiled down at his son, hand reaching out before pulling away. Techno held on to his nephew tightly, barely wincing as Fundy began to claw and bite at his arms. He’d felt much worse pain than what a child fox hybrid could inflict. His twin moved his gaze to him, that smile still playing on his lips. Techno wished it were gone. “You can take care of him, right?”

“Better me, than you.” The words were low, unwelcoming as he took a step back from Wilbur. His twin flinched, but he didn’t even try to come back. Wilbur took a step back, and then another, until he was out into the hallway. There was a pain in Wilbur’s eyes, his hands rising and falling as if he didn’t know what to do. “Wilbur. If you step out that door, I expect you to一”

“You know me, Techno. I’ll be back before Fundy begins tugging at your hair.” Wilbur gave him that ridiculous lopsided smile, the one that he’d give Techno when they were kids… Techno watched as his twin turned on his heel, footsteps thumping down the hall. He heard the door creak open, but he didn’t hear it close. With a squirming Fundy in his arms, he followed Wilbur to the hallway. The sun was setting outside, the night already making its presence known by the cold breeze that flew in from the open door. Sunlight blended into Wilbur’s brown hair and yellow sweater, casting him in a warm golden glow that reminded Techno of home. “Tell Phil I’m sorry for the short notice, I know I should have written a letter before… I’m sorry, Techno.”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me, Wilbur.” Techno, despite the voices screaming at him to yeet Wilbur out the door, placed Fundy down on the ground. The fox hybrid wasted no time in clinging to his dad’s leg, Wilbur wincing as Fundy’s claws dug into the cloth. Techno stood there, motionless as Wilbur finally forced himself to kneel in front of Fundy. He could hear his twin’s whispered promises, the hope that he was vowing as he pulled the child into an embrace. His nephew didn’t know any better, giggling as he wrapped his arms around Wilbur, asking Wilbur to get him this and that and that he’ll be waiting for him to come back. He felt something sting at the back of his eyes, though Techno would never admit to himself what it was.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my little… c-champion.” Wilbur ran a hand through Fundy’s hair before standing up. He walked out, casting Fundy one last smile before closing the door behind him. Fundy began to whine, Techno immediately picking him up as he let Fundy cry into his shoulder.

He held onto his sobbing nephew until the fox hybrid fell asleep and the sun had dipped in the distance. He stood by the door for what felt like hours, consoling Fundy each time the kid woke up in a fit of tears. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there before he finally turned around.

The house felt colder and emptier than it had before. He wished that Phil had been home, then maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. He let out an angry huff, holding the fox hybrid tightly in his arms. Fundy nuzzled closer to him, purring when Techno ran a hand through his disheveled ginger hair. He made his way to his bedroom, placing his nephew on the mattress before settling on the chair nearby the bed. He sighed, placing his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure what to do now. Phil would know what to do. He would’ve stopped Wilbur from leaving. He would’ve done something more than just stupidly stand there and listen as Wilbur continued to spout lies.

He ran a hand through his hair.

He needed to be strong, but how could he be?

All he could do was pray and hope that Wilbur came back…

But no, Wilbur never came back.

He’d never come back. Not for Phil. Not for Techno. And not for Fundy.

---

“Did you miss me, my little champion?” His nose crinkled at the endearment, teeth baring against the man who had emerged from what smelt like a den of stone and dust. The stranger in front of him wore a dark brown trenchcoat. It nearly hung off his shoulders. He was lanky, dark circles beneath dark eyes that looked like they’ve seen too much for one lifetime. A hand darted out towards him, long fingers marked with callouses that looked too much like they came from an instrument than any sword. He backed away, clinging to his dad’s long red coat, a sharp growl rising in his throat. “Now, Fundy. Don’t you recognize your own dad? I missed you so much!”

“You’re not my dad!” He clung tighter to his real dad’s leg, wishing that his dad hadn’t taken them to this strange and foreign land. He wanted to go back home to grandpa! He felt a hand scratch the back of his ears, his dad glancing down at him with a smile. “He’s my dad, not you!”

The stranger froze, eyes blown wide before an accusatory look appeared in them. Fundy huffed, ears pressed against his head. He didn’t like this man at all! He was weird. He was about to beg his dad for them to go home when a familiar face showed up behind the stranger. A giddy smile appeared on his face, tail wagging happily before he lunged himself forward. “Uncle Tommy!”

His uncle seemed confused, but he didn’t try to push him away. Fundy clung to his arm, glad to see that there was someone familiar in this strange place. His dad looked over at him, a small smile on his face, though it quickly disappeared when the stranger barked out his dad’s name. He felt his sharp claws unsheath themselves, teeth gritting tightly. But before he could lunge himself at the stranger, his dad put up a hand. He whined, stomping his foot against the ground. He didn’t like it when people disrespected his dad. He wanted to bite and claw at those people until they apologized, but his dad always stopped him. It wasn’t fair! He was just defending his dad!

“Tommy, can you take Fundy inside? Wilbur and I have to talk.” His dad looked over at his uncle. Fundy frowned. He didn’t want to leave his dad with this stranger. Plus, Wilbur was a stupid name, hearing it made him want to bite something - preferably a chicken. He felt hands on his shoulder, his uncle flashing him a grin before leading him inside the hut. He looked around, eyes adjusting to the darkness. There was a set of stairs that led down into the earth, the stench of dirt hitting him. His uncle was trying to lead him down, but he took a moment to look back. The door to the outside had been left open and he could see a glimpse of his dad behind the man called Wilbur. His dad looked calm, but he could tell from the glint in his eyes that he was furious. He followed after his uncle, wondering if Wilbur would still be alive in a few minutes.

With Technoblade, he wasn’t quite sure how to explain to his estranged twin brother as to why Fundy couldn’t seem to recognize him. His brother was pacing in front of him, a manic look in his eyes that Techno tried to ignore. Wilbur had been fine when they arrived, all smiles and kind charisma… until he had tried to talk to Fundy. He cursed, knowing that he should have left his son with Phil. He had wanted to, but he didn’t want Fundy to think he was being abandoned. It took years for the fox hybrid to realize that “his dad” was never coming back, and another few years until Fundy had completely forgotten about Wilbur. He couldn’t bring himself to put Fundy through that pain again. He could only pray that Wilbur didn’t get any bright ideas about making his son fight in this revolution he was planning. Techno brought Fundy here for one reason and one reason only. He wasn’t going to hurt Fundy like Wilbur did. He was a better person than that.

“My son doesn’t remember me...” He looked up, surprised to find tears running down Wilbur’s face. He looked like a broken man. Techno couldn’t bring himself to care. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” He snapped, hands curling against his side before relaxing. He would not argue with an unstable man. Wilbur stumbled towards him, a hand reaching to cling to the collar of his shirt. He raised a brow, wondering if his twin was trying to intimidate him. If so, he was doing a terrible job. Techno could even hear the voices telling him to punt Wilbur. He snorted, prying those cold fingers away from him. It’d take more than that to scare him. His brother gazed up at him, a familiar gleam in his eyes - a look of utter betrayal. Techno rolled his eyes, stepping back to give himself a bit of space. He couldn’t think with Wilbur being that close. “I cared for him. I raised him. I trained him. I held him each time he cried, wondering why you left him.”

“He calls you dad…”

“That’s what I am to him.” His twin brother bristled, face curling into anger. Techno stood his ground, giving his twin a harsh glare. He hadn’t asked to be a father, neither did Wilbur but at least one of them stayed to actually do the job. Wilbur’s hands curled into fists, and Techno didn’t miss the way that Wilbur reached to his right, as though reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. “You abandoned him. I took him in. Do you blame either of us for moving on from you?”

“A piglin hybrid can’t raise a fox hybrid.”

Techno laughed, a low and threatening chuckle that sounded more like a growl than a laugh.

“Wil… You’ve forgotten what you told me all those years.”

He stepped closer. His twin stepped back.

“Don’t you remember? ‘A human can’t raise a hybrid.’ You said it… now live with it.”

---

“FUNDY!” He flinched, turning around to face his very furious dad. His dad had small scratches on his arms, blood caking his skin - though Fundy knew it wasn’t really his own. Before he could explain himself, another explosion rang out behind them, the earth shaking beneath their feet. He felt the adrenaline in his veins, the rush of war filling him with excitement and a sense of adventure. His dad sighed, running a hand through his dirt-covered ginger hair. Fundy knew he was going to get in trouble for being out in the warzone, but he couldn’t help it! It looked so fun! They were tearing down Manburg, after all! “I told you to wait for me. Why are you out here?”

“I wanted to join the fight!” He looked down at his blood-stained claws, feet tapping against the ground impatiently. He still wanted to chase someone down. “I can fight, dad! Let me fight!”

His dad let out a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do we say?”

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” He yipped happily, tail wagging behind him as he darted away from an approaching wither skull. Smoke and dust broke through the air, causing him to cough and close his eyes. By the time he opened his eyes again, his dad had moved closer. A sword was in his hand, bloodied and dripping with the ichor of his enemies. There was an exasperated look on his dad’s face, but he could only grin up at him. Of course Fundy knew that wasn’t what his dad had wanted to hear, but he had wanted to say it. “Please. Please. Please一”

“Okay, okay! Try not to die, pipsqueak. I’ll see you after the fight.” His dad patted him on the head before jumping back into the fray. Fundy stood there for a moment, marveling at the way his dad gracefully cut down his enemies. He hoped he’d grow up to be like his dad someday. His thoughts were caught off when he heard another explosion, dust tinging the air, his dad’s form disappearing into the chaos of the battle. He turned on his heel and ran in the opposite direction, laughing and jumping past the holes that decorated the earth. No one tried to chase after him, most turning their heads each time Fundy sprinted past them. He wasn’t sure which prey he should pursue. They all looked so fun to chase down… He could feel warm and sticky blood drip down from his claws, his first victim being a stranger who wore a flower crown on their head. He wasn’t sure if they were a king, but they wore a crown so that means they probably were one.

From the corner of his vision, he caught a shadow darting away from the wreckage. They were shouting his uncle’s name. He looked at the stranger for a moment, recognizing them as the new president of… well, the big crater they were standing on. His teeth curled up into a wicked smile.

His tail wagged behind him, claws itching to dig into skin. He wouldn’t kill, just maim. His dad didn’t want him to kill… unless it was out of defense. Blue eyes met him across the field, those eyes widening in fear before the stranger turned around and ran. Fundy liked a good chase. He sunk low to the ground, letting his energy return to him before pouncing across the field. There was still some semblance of distance between him and his prey, but foxes were faster than rams, after all. His legs propelled him forward, the distance between him and the ram hybrid growing smaller until he could almost hear his prey’s ragged breathing. He smiled, and then he pounded. The person beneath him screamed, trying desperately to push him away, but Fundy stayed where he was. Fundy looked down at his hand, smiling sharply before letting his claw plunge down.

His claws dug into warm skin, the splatter of blood hitting him on the cheek. He had merely grazed the ram hybrid’s shoulder, a long gash that would need a lot of bandages to cover up. The new president screamed, light blue eyes turning completely gold - looking exactly like how a ram’s eyes are meant to be. The world suddenly blacked out, his back hitting the ground. His head was aching. He looked up, the ram hybrid had forced himself to his feet, clutching at his own head. The child president looked down at him for a few seconds, before turning around and disappearing back into the warzone. He touched a hand to his head, wincing. He had been headbutted. That was okay. He’d chased down his prey in the end. He’d won the game of chase.

As he waited for the numbing pain to subside, he looked around at the devastation around him. In the distance, he saw a familiar pair of inky black wings. He yipped in surprise, “Grandpa!”

Despite the pain in his head, he forced himself to stand, making his way towards the hill where his grandpa stood. He hadn’t seen his grandpa in two years, and Fundy wanted to tell him about all the trouble he and his uncle Tommy had caused. His tail wagged happily behind him, his joy disappearing when he finally reached the bottom of the hill. His grandpa was hunched over, hat covering his face. He could hear his grandpa screaming at… Wilbur. Fundy hadn’t seen the strange man since that morning when he had taken Fundy aside and tried to talk to him. He still didn’t like Wilbur. He was mean and he didn’t like his dad. Everytime Fundy was in the room with both of them, they’d only argue. Wilbur was very insistent that he was Fundy’s “real dad” but that wasn’t right. He didn’t even know who Wilbur was. He didn’t even like Wilbur. He watched the scene play out, gasping when his grandpa lunged forward, a diamond sword in hand.

He turned away.

He didn’t need to look back to know that Wilbur was dead.

He ran back into the battle, intent on finding a new victim to chase.

Yeah… he needed someone new to chase.

… He didn’t know why he was crying.

Chapter Text

He woke from his alcohol-induced sleep coma, a bit of drool dripping down his chin and an empty bottle of old whiskey lying on the carpeted floor. He blinked away his exhaustion, eyes flicking towards the half-finished paperwork that he had neglected to do that afternoon. He’d do them tomorrow. He let out a small yawn, gaze turning to the large glass windows of the office.

Moonlight flooded into the suffocatingly quiet room, casting him underneath the cool glow of silver. He chuckled at the irony of that angelic light shining down upon a devil such as himself.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, fingers scraping against the bottom of his horns before he realized he wasn’t alone in the room. He froze, wincing in the realization that there were three figures slumped near the long meeting table. He pinched the bridge of his nose, picking up the alcohol bottle before throwing it in the trash, realizing that it was overfilled with various other bottles. Schlatt sniffled, wiping his nose against the sleeve of his suit. He was a fucking mess.

He staggered towards the table, nearly collapsing on his way there, his feet catching against the carpet that only seemed to want to drag him down. Schlatt placed his hand against the mahogany table, steadying his shaking body. He should not have drunk himself to this debilitating inability.

He looked over at his snoring cabinet, a soft chuckle escaping him despite knowing that they probably fell asleep doing his job. He should not be this pathetic. He was literally letting a teenager and two children do his job. He ran a hand through his hair, subconsciously reaching to pull on one of his horns. Their sleeping positions… were not very comfortable to be in.

“Alright, let’s get you all to bed. Here we go…”

He reached down towards Quackity, the duck hybrid having somehow fallen asleep on top of the table. Schlatt tried not to wince as he looked down at the clipped yellow wings, his heart not bearing the idea of what the teenager had to bear to get inside the Essempy. Dream didn’t like the Winged. He slipped his hands beneath Quackity’s shoulders and knees, pulling him into his arms.

Schlatt tried not to drop Quackity the moment the duck hybrid threw his arms around his neck, a giggle leaving the teenager’s lips before his head drooped down. By the way he acted, Schlatt couldn’t tell if he was actually asleep or if he was fully awake and enjoying the sudden attention. He rolled his eyes, turning to leave the room and head towards one of the guest rooms nearby. He wasn’t sure why Wilbur had made rooms within the white office, but hey, Schlatt wasn’t complaining. He reached one of the bedrooms, taking note of the red decor and the red bed tucked into one of the corners of the room. He looked down at Quackity, wincing. He wasn’t sure which position to put Quackity in without him accidentally squishing his wings. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to place Quackity lying on his left side. With a kind gentleness that Schlatt didn’t know he was capable of, he placed the loudly snoring duck hybrid onto the bed.

He sighed, easing the beanie off Quackity’s head before brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. The duck hybrid giggled again, batting Schlatt’s hands away before snuggling his face deeper into the pillow. Schlatt wondered if Quackity had taken one of his bottles of alcohol and had drunk himself into a giggling and sleeping fit. He shook his head. He hadn’t seen a bottle near the table. He grabbed the edge of the blanket, tucking the duck hybrid into the bed. The moment he let go of the blanket, he looked out of one of the small windows that the room had, pausing when he heard the rustling of leaves outside. He shook his head… it must be the wind. He gave Quackity one last look before exiting the room. One down, two more kids to go.

Schlatt made his way to the office once more, pausing at the doorway to look at the nearest person that he could carry. He looked down at Fundy, the fox hybrid was drooling in his sleep. His laugh was cut short.. He lunged forward, realizing that Fundy had fallen asleep near the edge of the table and was currently slipping off of it. The fox hybrid fell into his waiting arms, one of his ears flicking up and hitting Schlatt against the cheek. He grumbled, not really annoyed by it. The kid’s ear was practically fluff. He pulled Fundy up into his arms, the fox hybrid curling closer against his chest, a content smile on his face. Schlatt’s heart broke at knowing. Fundy didn’t know it was Schlatt who was carrying him. He breathed out of his nose, reaching up to scratch behind the kid’s ears. Fundy purred, leaning closer. He sighed, praying that his body didn’t choose to fail him. With only one arm, he carried the fox hybrid to one of the guest rooms.

He found himself stumbling into an orange-themed bedroom, swallowing down his guilt at the dawning realization that these weren’t guest rooms. He placed the fox hybrid on the bed, Fundy immediately disappearing underneath covers before Schlatt could tuck him in. He chuckled, running a hand through the ginger’s hair. After a few seconds of making sure that Fundy was fully settled, he turned to leave, pausing when a hand clamped down on his wrist. “Dad…?”

“Sorry, kiddo… no.” He patted the fox hybrid’s hand, wondering what kind of man would separate a son from his father. He’d done it… twice. Fundy whined, but he didn’t wake from his sleep, merely turning on his side so that he was facing the wall. Schlatt sighed, making his way to the doorway. He took a moment to look back, his heart pounding in his chest when he looked out the window. A pair of dark brown eyes stared back at him through the glass. He shivered, blinking away the apparition. Sure enough, the moment he opened his eyes, the vision of his old friend was gone. He shook his head. He was seeing things. Of course he was. He was drunk!

He moved back to the office, content to forget the apparition that haunted him so. Schlatt didn’t waste any more time gawking at his last ward, picking the younger ram hybrid up from the cold floor he had chosen to lay on. One of the rooms belonged to Tubbo, he could tell, and he was betting on it being the room across from Tommy’s. With Tubbo in his arms, he headed out.

He entered what he assumed was Tubbo’s bedroom, though he didn’t need to wonder as he took note of the green decor and the painted bees on the walls. He smiled, an old guilt climbing into his chest as he settled his so一 Tubbo onto the bed. The younger ram hybrid let out a content sigh, nose crinkling as Schlatt covered him with a blanket. Seeing Tubbo sleep peacefully forced him to remember a moment in his past. A baby. A box. A bee plushie. A drunkard father.

He walked away. Gods, he needed a drink.

---

He took another swig of alcohol, the world spinning beneath his feet.

“Schlatt… are you fucking drunk? Schlatt, you-you fucked up the country. You fucked up everything. You had a dream and I followed it but you brought it down hill. Everything! You-you ruined it! You ruined everything we’ve done! I thought you were something!”

“Yeah… yeah, I am something. I’m what you’re not, Fundy… I’m a man.”

Please… he hadn’t meant it.

“You could have had it Schlatt. You could have had it all.”

“In my time of need, everybody left. You left!”

Had they left… or did he push them away?

“KILL HIM!”

Gods , even his own son wanted him dead. He didn’t blame him.

He opened another bottle. It was all he could do.

Schlatt looked up into the eyes of a man he once called friend, heart beating against his chest.

Everyone was screaming.

“Schlatt, what do you have to say for yourself?”

"Can I get a last… you do some loud noises…”

He feels something break.

Quackity stares, “What?”

Tubbo laughs, “Did he just have a heart attack?!”

Fundy waits… and picks up the sword Schlatt left behind.

Chapter Text

He stumbled into another hole, his scream breaking through the solace of dawn, unheard by any except for the little critters who had made a home near the area. He groaned, claws grappling against rock and dirt before crawling his way out of the ditch. His clothes were caked in mud and dust, the faded scent of gunpowder lingering in the air. This was the tenth hole he’d fallen into.

He patted at his pants, wincing at the cloud of soot that reached his nose. He let out a small sneeze, eyes looking out at the ever-growing number of creeper holes - though he was beginning to suspect they were more than that - that littered the land. He shivered at the thought of what was going on. Of course, those holes had been appearing quite frequently, he’d heard people here and there complaining about falling into randomly appearing ditches. He’d even be blamed for a few of them, after all it was easier to blame him, the trickster fox and all that. Fundy sniffed, smiling despite remembering the insults that had been thrown his way in the past few days. In truth, those people were right… he had caused these holes, but not in the way they thought. He crouched down, hand tracing the edge of the hole he’d just fallen into. He had caused this.

Fundy could remember every single detail about his dreams, no matter how much he wanted to forget. He remembered the desert, the bunnies, the cactus, the books, the cloaked figure, and… He shook his head. He had a different dream a few nights ago, one that he thoroughly enjoyed because nothing had happened. He woke within the dream, a large stack of dynamite already in his hands. Who was he to deny his subconscious? It was obvious what it had wanted him to do.

He had giggled at the explosions, laughed himself to tears until the world that he’d once called a home was nothing but rubble and destruction. His heart soared, beating in his chest in a way that made him feel alive. He hadn’t felt such a freeing feeling since he had been a child and his dad was tossing him in the air, always there to catch him when he fell… But that was another life… that was another world, when he was a young boy. Fundy blinked, his senses piercing through the misty memory of his father, reminding him of his present. He dug around his inventory, glad to find that he had a few bits of dirt on him. He needed to fix what he could, though he had a sick feeling that the holes will still continue to grow. He’d blown up the fucking country in his dreams, and it was bleeding into their reality. Fuck, even in sleep he was nothing but a problem.

He began to place dirt back into the hole, his confidence in rectifying the problem dwindling as he watched the dirt magically disappear and reappear inside his inventory. He huffed, finding his efforts useless. He couldn’t fix this. He can only hope that it didn’t grow worse and that he won’t wake up one day to find the whole Essempy destroyed. Fundy bit the inside of his cheek, looking around him before jumping back down the hole. He needed a moment to be alone - which wasn’t an issue since he’s always alone… but that’s because everyone was busy and… they were busy! He sat at the bottom, gazing up into the waking sky above with a smile that quickly disappeared. If he stayed inside the hole while it was growing, would he… die? Or fall deeper into the dirt pit?

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed down there until he heard the distinct sound of footsteps above him. He blinked, eyes turning up, only to immediately regret it once sunlight met his gaze. The sun was high upon the sky… had he really stayed down there for nearly half a day? He gently shook his head, turning his attention towards the silhouettes who stood over him. Before he could open his mouth to call out to them, he felt a heavy weight land against his stomach.

“Michaaeeeellll, please! Don’t do thaaattttt!”

“Are you okay, Fundy?” No, he was not fucking okay, Ranboo!

Fundy curled into himself, groaning in pain even as Michael began to playfully tug at his tail. He cared for his cousin, he really did, but getting a piglin dropped on your stomach was not a pleasant thing to endure. It only reminded him of how hungry was, he hadn’t eaten breakfast and Fundy was pretty sure he’d just missed lunch. As Michael continued to pat his little hands against Fundy’s side, he heard a loud thump behind him. He casted a look over his shoulders, watching as Tubbo reached down, laughing as he pulled Michael into his arms. The piglin child squealed joyfully, reaching up to pat Tubbo’s cheek instead before pointing a finger towards Fundy, head tilted in confusion - a habit that reminded Fundy of Ranboo. Tubbo raised a brow, gazing at Fundy with a perplexed look on his face. “Fundy… why were you sitting in a hole?”

“Maybe I like sitting in holes, Tubbo. It’s a new hobby.” He looked away. How could he explain to either of them what was going on? The only response he got was a small huff, accentuated with the sudden noise of Ranboo teleporting in and out of the hole. He didn’t need to turn and check to know that Tubbo was no longer near him. Although… he could still feel their stares.

“You… you’re just going to lie there?”

Fundy didn’t give Ranboo an answer. He heard Tubbo sigh.

“Have fun, Fundy…” There was a pause. “And… hey, um, you look like shit.”

Thanks, Tubbo. He already knew that but thanks for the confirmation.

He waited… and listened to them walk away.

---

He ripped at the tips of his hair, his entire body shaking against the ache in his bones. He hadn’t slept in a long long time. He couldn’t remember a single moment of sleep where he didn’t wake up in that stupid fucking desert. His senses were failing him. He was forgetting memories he shouldn’t be forgetting, and he was falling into those damn holes that have only accumulated in number since he’d first fallen into one of them. His breath came out in short bursts, every single one feeling like it would be his last. He wouldn’t be surprised if one day he just keeled over and died. He was losing it. The dreams were getting worse, tearing at his already dwindling sanity.

His feet slid against the slick glass floor, heart hammering inside his chest despite the serene calmness of the world around him. It sickened him. It truly did. Looking up into the dying sky while he stood upon the grave of a nation his father once loved… he despised that very moment.

He heard the flutter of wings, a black feather falling by his side. He looked over at Phil. The man’s face was creased, a pain in his eyes that made Fundy wish he’d never agreed to meet him. Phil’s eyes met his, and the man flinched away. He tried not to feel hurt by the rejection. He was too tired to even care. Fundy waited for the ball to drop. From the look in Phil’s eyes, it couldn’t be good. Fundy just wanted to move on and leave. Why did the world insist on stopping him?

“Fundy… I一 You’re not well, are you mate?”

“No, I’m, uh, perfectly fine. Yep, I’m absolutely fine. I’m the finest person here, Phil! Obviously.” He tried to blink away the sleep from his eyes, to push down the yawn that threatened to move past his lips. The man’s eyes narrowed, a hand hesitating before finally clamping down on Fundy’s shoulder. He looked up, trying to muster a nonchalant smile on his face. He couldn’t tell Phil. What would he say? ‘Hey, I’ve been having weird fucking dreams where sometimes things that happen in the dream appear within reality, surprise! Cool trick, huh?’ Yeah, cause that’s fucking believable. “Uh, why’d you ask me to meet you here, anyway?”

“Fundy, when was the last you got any sleep? You… you look like a mess mate, to be honest.” He tried not to growl at the question, knowing that it was a normal question to ask, given how he looked. He hadn’t checked, but he knew that his clothes were crumpled, bits of soot and gunpowder still clinging to the cloth. His hair was a tangle that reached down past his shoulders. He couldn’t bring himself to fix it, it was messy, just like his life was… hehe. Even his tail, once fluffy and always wagging, now reduced to a dirty clump of orange fur and curls. Phil’s grip tightened around his shoulders, eyes turning wide with a realization that Fundy hadn’t reached yet. “Fundy… I don’t like that look in your eyes, mate. And your clothes! They’re covered in…”

“Soot.” He chuckled, how could he have forgotten? He knew exactly what Phil was worried about. “My clothes are covered in soot. Why? Do I remind you of anyone important, Phil?”

Those words were cruel, he didn’t need to see Phil flinching away to know that he fucked up. Fundy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry… I haven’t been sleeping well lately. Phil… can I tell you something? See, recently I… I haven’t been getting any sleep because I’ve been having these dreams一 these-these nightmares! And I um, I just. I’m so fucking tired. I haven’t slept in so long and I don’t know what to do. They’re getting worse every night and一”

“Fundy. Stop, mate, I一” Phil raised a hand to his face, the other pressed to his heart as though he couldn’t bear his words. He waited with held breath, daring himself to hope that everything will be okay. That his grandpa would reassure and ease his mind with kind words. That he’d do something before Fundy completely lost it. He just needed someone一 “You’re… You’re sounding just like him, mate. The way you are right now, you look just as manic as he had been.”

Fundy didn’t need to ask who he was.

“I look… like him right now?”

“Yeah, mate. You do.”

He forced a weary smile on his face.

“I have to go.”

He ran before Phil could call out to him.

---

The first time he saw it, he had been lying above the chasm that was - or had been - L’Manburg. With the cool glass pressing against the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine, he saw a glimpse of a cloaked figure in the distance. He felt his heart stop, head reeling before he looked up to try and confirm what he had seen. Its cloak flapped against the harsh wind of the morning dawn, its hood concealing its face from Fundy’s view. He blinked once, and it was gone…

The second time he saw it, he was lying inside one of the many ditches that littered the land of the Essempy. They’d stopped forming… eventually. He wasn’t sure how he ended up there, but from the searing pain that ran through his entire body, he can see how. He had been staring up into the sky again, eyes blinking lazily despite his fear of falling asleep again. He had let out a little yawn, eyes scrunching up just when the cloaked figure appeared above him once more. Fundy stared at it, expecting it to drop down to his level. He blinked once, and it was gone… 

The third time he saw it, he was on his way to Eret’s castle, thinking that he had been hallucinating the past two instances. Eret had invited him over, offering him a new home in their castle. He wasn’t sure if he wanted a new home, but it was nice to think that someone cared. He stopped along the way when the cloaked figure appeared along his path, staring him down until he was forced to flee home. He looked back, it was there. He blinked once, and it was gone…

The fourth time he saw it, he was on his way to the Antarctic. The nether air bit at his skin. He didn’t dare to stop. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to visit Phil, but he had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that he had to. The figure stopped him once again, blocking the portal this time. Fundy turned away, casting a glance behind him. He blinked once, and it was gone… 

The fifth time he saw it, he had been standing at the top of his tower, the warm afternoon air caressing his cheek. He had an unlit cigarette in his hand, a lighter in the other. His fingers shook. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through with it. He looked down at the cigarette, wondering if he should just give in. If he should just let himself drown in the pain. He hadn’t seen anyone in such a long time. He’d been avoiding everyone. Every time he’d come across someone, they’d yell at him to go home and not to leave. He wondered if it was because they didn’t want to see him. He threw the cigarette stick away, watching as it gently landed on the cloaked figure’s head. It stared up at him from the ground. He blinked once, and it was gone… 

The sixth time he saw it, he had just woken from another nightmare. His hair - long and frayed and reaching past his waist - ruffled with sleep. He hadn’t wanted to wake up at that point, but his heart screamed at him to rise from slumber. So he did. He opened his eyes, and it was there… 

He didn’t even get the chance to scream.

A cold hand - one that he swore felt like that of the dead - clamped around his ankle, yanking him off the bed so violently that he hit his head against the stone floor. He groaned, hands reaching to clutch his pounding head, not even minding the cloaked figure that was beginning to tie his feet with rope. He didn’t understand what was happening, but it wasn’t good. He lunged forward out of sheer panic, teeth gnashing against the edge of the hood, pulling until cloth finally gave way. Unfortunately, he didn’t tear the entire hood off. He still couldn’t see who they were.

His only hint of their identity was the strip of white hair that appeared but quickly disappeared in the folds of their cloak. A hand reached out, grabbing the top of his hair before smacking his head right back onto the ground. He yelped, blinking back the dizziness and agony that ran through his head. His hands were being tied. He could feel that at least. As he waited for the pain to subside, the world spun on its axis. Down became up. Right became left. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He felt arms slid beneath his shoulders and knees, the ground disappearing from underneath him. For a moment, all he could feel was movement, then there was a sudden rush of cool night wind that stung his cheeks. He groaned, trying to squirm his way out of that unrelenting grip. He was jostled, causing him to quiet down as the pain in his head began anew.

He was being carried away, taken by an apparition of his nightmares. What was he to do against them? Against this monster who had torn their way through his dreams just to haunt him in his life? Fundy shivered, but not from the cold. He felt a hand run through his hair, a small ‘tsk’ when their fingers caught against a really rough tangle. They chose to pet his ears instead, humming a tune that he dared not think of. He wasn’t sure if he could handle thinking about it.

He looked up into the starless night sky.

Wanting nothing more than to ignore the face that stared down at him.

For his own sake, he couldn’t look at them.

“Shhh…”

He mustn't look.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

He had screamed himself hoarse, his voice drowned by the explosions.

His heart hammering in his chest, he looked around the destruction of what was once his home. He'd lost Tubbo in the wreckage, both of them separated by a sudden drop of TNT that had fallen from the sky. He raced through the rubble, wishing desperately that he would catch a glimpse of blonde hair.

With his best friend's name poised at the edge of his tongue, panic dulling his sharp senses, he barely noticed the giant pit before him. He yelled, cursing when the ground disappeared from underneath him, his head bashing against the rough stone. He held a hand to his head, feeling warm trickles of blood deep past his fingers. While the war waged on above, he took a moment to look around him.

He wrinkled noise, glancing at the scorched Blackstone walls of a room that he'd once lost his life to. The chests were still in their places, nearly untouched by time and the explosions. Even the damn button was still there. He grumbled, eyes turning upwards just in time to see an orange blur hurtling towards him. His eyes widened, scrambling back before he could be crushed. With his hand on his chest, he slowly turned to look at which poor soul had decided to join him at the bottom of the pit. He noticed the blood-stained tail first before he’d realized who it was. He reached out, grasping too thin shoulders. What the fuck… Fundy just fell from the fucking sky!

“Hey, bitch. What the fuck?! Hey! Hey! Asshole, I’m talking to you!” Fundy groaned, a pair of dull brown eyes turning to look up at him. He nearly froze. He knew that look. No. Surely not. He was seeing wrong. Fundy would never一 “What the fuck were you even doing? You idiot.”

“Unc一 Tommy?”

“Yeah, yeah. You know you look like shit man, I really must say.” He turned towards his inventory, glad to find at least a few bits of cobblestone. He could make them both a staircase and get the fuck away from that stupid room. He reached out, wrapping one of Fundy’s arms around his shoulders. The fox hybrid whined, a hand clutching at his stomach. “Shit! Are you一”

“You should leave me here.” Fundy let out a low, dark chuckle, his gaze snapping up to meet Tommy’s. He took a deep breath at the sight. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Tommy. You’ve lost.”

“Shut the fuck up, Fundy. You’re sounding like… like him.” He could feel sweat pouring down the sides of his neck, his throat impossibly dry. With Fundy leaning against him, he began to construct a small staircase. A wither flew past them, thankfully choosing not to bother with them. He took a deep breath, clutching Fundy’s arm closer around him. Fundy was clearly fucking injured, he needed help. Tommy needed to get him somewhere safe. “Listen, big man. You’re not thinking straight right now. I-I get it! We’ve both been through all of this before, haven’t we?”

“... yeah…”

Fundy sagged in his hold, ragged breaths coming out of his lips. Tommy cursed, quickly ascending up the cobblestone staircase. He wanted to go find Tubbo. He had to go find Tubbo. Technoblade - that son of a bitch - would be going after his best friend. He gritted his teeth. He could do this. He could protect Fundy and he could protect Tubbo. The fox hybrid trailed behind him, eyes fluttering close every now and then. Tommy looked at him carefully, taking in the warm path of blood that dripped down the fox’s temple. They looked like scratch marks. He glanced down at Fundy’s sharp nails, bits of blood clung to the inside. He swallowed down the nausea that he felt. Fundy needed serious help. They could get him help after the war was over.

“Hey… Tommy?”

“What Fundy?” They finally reached the top, the strong heat of war hitting them on the face, all he could taste was ash and gunpowder. He sniffled, hand reaching for the bandana he had wrapped around his neck. He gave it to Fundy, helping the fox hybrid tie it around himself in a pitiful attempt to keep him from breathing in the soot. Fundy didn’t move the whole time, those oh too familiar eyes bearing into Tommy soul. He hated that look. It reminded him of a ravine, of an older brother long since gone. He felt hands settle against his shoulder, he barely even noticed them. That is until he found himself falling backwards, the loud rush of wind ringing in his ears.

His back hurt. He groaned, clutching at his back. He looked up at Fundy. The fox hybrid stood at the edge of the hole, that manic gleam dancing in his gaze. There was a wicked grin on his face, one he’d never thought to see on his own… on his own nephew. Fundy was cackling, holding his face in hands while tears escaped past his fingers. Tommy could do nothing but watch. The laughing ceased and dissolved into coughing, Fundy doubling over, hands reaching down towards his blood-soaked shirt. With blood dripping down his chin, the fox hybrid threw Tommy a satisfied look. “You’re lucky, ya know? At least I didn’t push you into a river. But that’s the past, ya know? Now is now, and, what a beautiful day it is to watch a nation crumble into dust.”

Fundy reached to his neck, ripping the bandana off without so much as regret in his eyes. Tommy winced, noticing the new scratch marks on Fundy’s neck. Fundy didn’t seem to notice, his attention turned towards the bandana, eyes filled with indifference. The fox hybrid let out another giggle, tossing the bandana into the hole. Tommy reached out, the cloth gently falling into the palm of his hand. By the time he looked back up, Fundy wasn’t there anymore. His laughter fading into the distance. He hissed, tying the bandana back onto his neck. He climbed up the stairs, hoping to catch a glimpse of Fundy in wreckage. It was too late. Fundy was gone.

---

He ripped the arrow right out from his squirming opponent, the fox hybrid howling out in pain. He could feel sharp claws ripping at the bottom of his pants, some breaking through the cloth and biting at his skin. He chuckled, it wouldn’t have done anything. He’d felt worse pains in his life. 

“I warned you to run.” He chucked the arrow over his shoulder, barely glancing at the blood that covered his hand. “I would have thought that you would at least know how to evade an arrow.”

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD”

“L’MANBURG IS GONE”

“CRABRAVE”

“Kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him”

“Canon death? Pog?”

“Furry dead?”

“He already looks dead”

“DOWN WITH THE GOVERNMENT!”

“Fundy slow”

“Rip Fundy”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the voices away before reaching out a hand towards his estranged nephew. The fox hybrid glanced down at it, a dull look in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he should be worried by the empty yet somehow manic look in Fundy’s eyes. He grunted, rolling his eyes. At least there was no one to witness this. He had found himself running through the prime path tunnel when Fundy appeared from the other side. It was war, and so, he attacked.

Still, he had aimed to maim and not to kill. It would have done him no good to slay Fundy either way. It was safer in the tunnel, if you were to ask him. The explosions and the war seemed distant and muted within the safety of those wooden walls. He took a slight glimpse towards the battle, cursing at the dense smoke that blocked his view. An enemy could rush him if he didn’t leave immediately. He glanced over at Fundy, the fox hybrid curled up into himself, a hand clutching at his chest. His skin looked too pale. His breaths coming out in short bursts. He reached out a hand, clutching his nephew’s hands in his own. They were cold. He knew what it meant. Without waiting for another second to pass, he gripped the bottom of Fundy’s shirt, lifting it up just enough to see the bloody and mangled flesh of Fundy’s stomach. The fox hybrid screamed and whined, the biting wind digging into his skin. He immediately dropped the shirt.

“When did you get injured?”

“Like that matters now.” Fundy sputtered, blood dripping down the sides of his mouth. It took a moment for him to realize that Fundy was giggling. The fox hybrid wiped the blood with the edge of his jacket, a sharp grin marring his youthful face. He’d seen that look. Once upon a time. He took a deep breath, mouth setting into a thin line. He looked down at his inventory, glad to find that he still had a few regeneration potions. Like he’d let his nephew die in front of him without doing anything about it. He went to uncap one of the potions, but a hand stopped him. “Don’t. Don’t save a dead man. It’s too late for me anyway. But… thank you. For all of this.”

“For what, kid?”

“For opening my eyes. See, Uncㅡ Technoblade. I realized. None of this matters. This whole shit doesn’t matter.” Despite the obvious pain that appeared on Fundy’s face, he still had the energy to stand on his own two feet. “L’Manburg? Who fucking cares? I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Fundy held up his trembling hands to his face, cheeks bloodied and marred with scratch marks. He knew immediately where those came from. Techno stood up, following after his nephew who had leaned against the wall, blood marking the wood behind him. Fundy was shaking, or maybe he was laughing. Techno didn’t prefer either of the options. He reached out a hand, but Fundy slapped it away. He let out an annoyed grunt. Fundy needed to take a potion. He, perhaps, needed therapy but Techno was not good with those kinds of conversation. He wished Phil was there. He’d know what to say. “Wilbur was right. We shouldn’t have tried so fucking hard for… what? L’Manburg? Who fucking cares? IT’S ALL GONE TO FUCKING BEDROCK NOW, RIGHT?! We should have just fucking let go. It doesn’t matter anymore. None of this matters anymore.”

The laughter boiled down into sobbing, the fox hybrid letting out bursts of screams that rung in his ears and put a sword through his heart. He wished he knew what to do, what to say. All he could do was reach out a hand and place it on Fundy’s shoulder (the uninjured one, the one he hadn’t shot at). Fundy sniffed, glowering down at Techno’s hand. He tried to listen to his mind, but all he could hear were the voices. They had nothing of value to say to him. “Fundy… stop.”

“No. It’s too late.” Fundy reached up, claws unsheathing before digging into Techno’s wrist. It wasn’t the pain that made him back away, but the suddenness. He held his bleeding hand to his chest, glaring up just in time to see Fundy shifting. His eyes widened, his scream on the edge of his tongue, but it was too late. He heard the crack of bones, the guttural shriek that tore through Fundy’s throat. His body grew smaller, blood staining the floor more and more until all that was left was a small shivering fox on the ground. His heart was pounding in his chest, panic - an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time - rushing through his veins. The fox, bloodied and limping, looked up at him. Fundy snickered before turning on his heel and running out of the tunnel.

He huffed, turning to chase after his injured and stupid (why would he shift when he was on the verge of the death?!) nephew. Before he could follow after Fundy, he heard someone yell out his name. He looked behind him, growling lowly when Quackity appeared from within the smoke.

He looked between the two tunnel exits, debating on whether he should follow Fundy or attack Quackity. The voices screamed for blood, but what did he want? He wanted to save his nephew. The duck hybrid glared at him from the end of the tunnel, a netherite sword glinting in his hand.

In the end, he wasn’t given a choice.

---

He flew above the wreckage, a smile on his face despite the horrible view that he had of the fight. He’d been trying to find Techno, wanting nothing more than to leave and never come back.

He flapped his wings, dark feathers falling to the ground, looking almost like an omen. He nearly chuckled at the thought. A few lifetimes ago, they were an omen. He shook his head, chuckling to himself before a bright burst of orange caught his eye. His eyes narrowed into slits before slowly darting towards the ground. He stopped by the remnants of a tree, the leaves burnt to ash with its trunk littered in scorch marks. That wasn’t what he had come down to see though. He looked down. Lodged between two large roots, Fundy looked back up at him with misty eyes.

He raised a brow, settling down beside the unmoving fox hybrid. He felt no remorse for Fundy, knowing that he had brought this down upon himself. Everyone within that country had it coming. He scoured the blood that clung to Fundy’s clothes, both jacket and shirt drowning in the sea of red. Fundy’s hands - claws still unsheathed because of course his grandson would dare to attack him if provoked far enough - gripping weakly at his chest. It was pitiful, but deserved. Fundy’s eyes were turned to look up at him, but it felt like he was seeing past him. “G-grandpa?”

“Fundy.” His tone was cold, no room for any semblance of emotion. How could he even sympathize with his estranged grandson? He’d tried to kill Techno! He sighed, shaking his head before crouching down beside Fundy. “I don’t know what to say, mate. But you deserved this.”

“Heh… yah, probably.” Fundy giggled, wincing before blood began to drip from his mouth. He sighed, moving closer to his estranged grandson whose eyes had turned towards the sky. His hands remained against his chest, tears falling from his eyes. Phil refused to do anything. There was no reason to. With his wings covering both of them from the view of anyone else, he waited for Fundy to speak his last words. It didn’t matter. He’d be back in a few seconds, hopefully by that time he’d realized that Phil would never forgive him. Fundy forced a smile on his face. “I… Yah maybe I do deserve this… It doesn’t matter anymore, Phil. L’Manburg’s gone. Wilbur’s gone. There’s nothing left anymore. It never mattered… I’m sorry I didn’t see that earlier, Phil.”

“Fundy. Listen to me, mate. I’m not going to forgive you even if you一”

“I know. I know.” Fundy sniffled, managing enough energy to wipe his tears on the sleeve of his jacket. Phil winced, the blood painting Fundy’s face in red. It reminded him of a different time, a different hue of gray and soot, but it felt like that all the same. Fear crept into his mind despite his insistence on staying cold. Fundy was fine. He had one more life. One more life to waste. Besides, he was Philza. He’d seen mortals die. He’d said goodbye to old friends and old loves. He had killed his own son. This should not scare him. This mortal - this fox hybrid - was not going to die yet. In his ramblings, he didn’t see the hand reaching for him until he felt warmth against the palm of his hand. He looked down, surprised to find that Fundy was holding onto him. “You don’t have to forgive me… But please, don’t let me die cold. Please, grandpa, plea一”

“No, mate.” He ripped his hand away, ignoring the pained whine that tore through the air - ignored the hand that desperately tried to reach for him. He looked away, his hand against his chest. He didn’t like the way Fundy spoke. He didn’t like Fundy’s insistence that Phil be there for him when all Fundy ever did was backstab him and backstab his own damn family. Through clenched teeth, he turned and glared at the crying fox hybrid. He shouldn’t have hated him. He shouldn’t have hated his own grandson. But he did because… “You are not dying, Fundy.”

His estranged - no, his disowned - grandson flinched, curling further into himself. He ignored the pained flinch that appeared on Fundy’s face the moment he tried to bring his knees up to his chest. His hands curled into fists, a snarl appearing on his face. He didn’t like the pitiful look in Fundy’s eyes. He didn’t like the way he looked at Phil, in fruitless hope that he would give in and help him. No. He won’t. Phil scratched at his hair, nails scratching at the scalp, but not enough to draw blood. He’d long since learned how to control his terrible habit of scratching at his hair. But Fundy… He glared at the scratch marks that littered the sides of Fundy’s paling face. He knew that some of the blood on the fox hybrid’s clothes weren’t even anybody else’s.

“I will see you when you respawn, mate. Yet do not look for me yourself.” He glared down at Fundy. He hadn’t given up on reaching for Phil. If they were on better terms, he would have leaned down and held his grandson in his arms. He would have let him die with the promise that he’d be there when he woke up again. But no. He hated Fundy. He hated him because…

“Fundy. I killed my own son. I had to hold him in my arms while he slowly bled to death. I had to watch as his eyes dulled and closed for one last time. I had to wait and listen as he finally took his last breath. I had to bear the burden of his body falling into my arms, his soul purged from this world by a nation who took everything from him and never gave him anything in return. I had to hold my son as he died.” He sobbed, a hand clutching at his chest. He could feel hot tears rolling past his cheeks. He missed his son. He missed him so damn much. Ghostbur would never be Wilbur. He would never be the son that Phil had raised a long long time ago. He looked down at Fundy. Fundy… his son’s legacy. And what a legacy to leave behind. Yes. Phil truly hated him because… because… “Don’t you dare ask me to hold you now. You no good little shit of a grandson. You aren’t dying for the last time. You aren’t dying like Wilbur. You don’t deserve to.”

“Grandpa…” Fundy still reached out for him. It was pitiful. It really was. Phil shook his head. He didn’t want to stay here any further. Fundy was relentless. He should know by now that he would never be welcomed back with open arms. Even after everything Phil said, Fundy still dared to hope. Phil took a step back, wings rising to their full length. He needed to find Techno. He needed to make sure that he was doing alright. Gods know how many people are going to go after him. He had to watch over his one last remaining family member. Like Fundy, Tommy had betrayed them too. He gave Fundy one last look. The fox hybrid’s face was scrunched up in agony, a twitching hand raised to grab at his wrist. He moved back before Fundy could even touch him. He’d wasted enough time. He had a war to partake in. Fundy will be fine on his own.

With one flap of his wings, he was back in the sky. An anguished cry rang in his ears, but he didn’t look back. A smile found its way back to his lips, his eyes taking in the landscape. The war was dwindling. Everyone was beginning to slow, and the gray smoke was beginning to fade. They’d won. L’Manburg was gone, and it will remain gone for the rest of eternity. He sighed, taking in a deep breath. This was the beginning of a new dawn. A new era. He didn’t look back. With the cool wind against his wings, he flew away from the remains of a once beloved tree.

He caught a glimpse of red and orange among the roots. Unmoving and still. He sighed. Fundy would be fine. He had one life left. Phil would see him again. Fundy was desperate, after all.

If he’d stayed long enough, he would have heard Fundy take his last and final breath.

---

Ghostbur held tightly onto his blue, the dye dripping past his fingers. He took in the ruins of his home, of his nation. His breath came out in short bursts. He couldn’t find anyone. He couldn’t see anyone. He hadn’t seen Tommy. He hadn’t seen Tubbo. He hadn’t seen Techno. He hadn’t seen Phil. He hadn’t seen一 FRIEND! Where was Friend?! He floated above the wreckage, looking for Phil’s house, but everything was nothing but broken and ruined and-and-and… He took a deep breath, holding the blue to his chest. He needed to talk to Phil. He needed to see Phil.

While he flew around what was once New L’Manburg, he took in the lanterns that somehow still remained against the sky. It stung. He didn’t know why. He sniffled, wiping his hands against his face, staining his cheeks with blue. Phil would have a reason for this. He’d have a reason why. He could feel tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t know why. He was sad… but why? Ghostbur blinked, feeling a trickle of warmth against his chest. He hadn’t felt warmth in such a long time. He glanced down, surprised to find red blooming against his yellow sweater. He gently reached up, hand pressing against his chest. A memory of long ago came to the front of his mind. He remembered a room scribbled with an anthem that he had written. He remembered a button against the wall. He remembered Phil. He remembered the sword, the breaking pain…

No. He didn’t want to remember. He refused to remember. It didn’t matter anyway.

He shook his head, floating away until the memories disappeared once again, yet they lingered the longer he stayed above the wreckage. He whimpered, turning to find a place where he could stay, a place where he wouldn’t be forced to remember. He needed to hide. He needed to leave.

He saw Phil in the sky, leaving the place where… where L’Mantree once stood.

He wanted to follow Phil, wanted to demand an explanation for what he’d done and ask where Friend was. But before he could follow after him, he noticed from the corner of his eye a slight glint of orange among the roots. His heart burned - despite no longer beating and Ghostbur knew that he didn’t really have a heart anymore. His chest burned - that was better. He floated towards L’Mantree, taking in the soot that littered the ground beside it. Someone had left their mark. Yet the closer he got to the tree, the more he realized what - well, who - was the source of orange. He fell to his knees, his mind screaming - or maybe that was him, he didn’t know. Fundy. Fundy一

He held his son - his little champion in his arms. He was cold. There were tears still in his dull eyes, his right hand having dropped to the side. Ghostbur didn’t know what to do. All he could do was hold his son, Fundy. Fundy who used to have the sweetest smile. Fundy who used to shine much brighter than the sun. Fundy who was - and still is - his pride and joy. Fundy who he had disappointed time and time again. Fundy… his son… who was now dead in his arms.

He didn’t know he was crying until he saw droplets fall against Fundy’s unmoving chest. He sobbed, holding Fundy closer until his head was buried in the crook of Ghostbur’s neck. He could see the blood on his son’s clothes, the red that stained the ground and the roots of L’Mantree. Ghostbur reached down, wanting to see what had… what had taken his little champion away… His hands paused before the bottom of Fundy’s shirt. He swallowed, before withdrawing. He didn’t want to see it. He just wanted to hold his son. His poor, cold, still son.

He reached a hand behind Fundy’s ears, gently scratching. Fundy used to love that. He used to love head scratches. He stopped once he noticed the scratch marks on his son’s face. He wasn’t a a fool, not when it came to his son. He knew fox scratch marks when he saw them. He sniffled, an agonized scream tearing through his throat. Oh gods, his son was gone. His son was gone and he hadn’t even been there to save him. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there. He一

Ghostbur comes to his senses later. A freshly dug grave in front of him. His nails burned.

He stared, confused.

He felt a rush of wind behind him.

“Papa!”

He looked down, and smiled. But why was he still crying?

“Fundy!”

Chapter Text

He sighed, glaring at the sun that glared from above, sweat clinging to the sides of his neck. The harvest was bountiful, and he did not truly mind the heat, but he was quite annoyed with the day.

“‘Tato!” He grumbled, leaning down to pick his rambunctious nephew off the ground. The fox hybrid giggled, holding onto one of his prized potatoes. He watched, letting Fundy open his mouth, fangs glinting into view before trying to bite down on the potato. Before his nephew could take a bite, Techno snatched the potato from his hands, the fox hybrid biting into air. Fundy blinked, eyes blown completely wide. He glared at Techno, a look of betrayal dancing in those golden-flecked brown eyes. He threw the potato into the basket, settling his nephew into the crook of one hand. Fundy huffed, little arms crossed over his chest. “Mine! My ‘tato! Mine!”

“No, you’ll get sick if you eat it raw.” He leaned down, picking up more potatoes and placing them inside his basket. Fundy clung to his arm, little claws digging into his shirt. He held onto his nephew tightly, but it was difficult when he insisted on squirming. Techno appreciated that his nephew seemed to enjoy the idea of farming, but Fundy didn’t understand that he needed to wait and cook before eating the harvested crops. Today had been the best day to gather the potatoes, but Wilbur - his incredible twin brother who he was going to bash over the head with a shovel the moment he got back - decided to wander off, leaving him alone with his nephew who had violently woke him up by bouncing on top of him. “Wait until we finish, Fundy. Patience.”

“Pashens?”

“Patience.” He repeated, letting Fundy forget about the potato in favor of repeating the word. His nephew’s face was scrunched up in concentration, mouth trying to follow after how Techno had said the word. With Fundy preoccupied, Techno managed to gather a few other of the potatoes. Unfortunately, the calmness didn’t last and soon enough Fundy had stopped trying to repeat after Techno and was instead trying to get back to the ground. Ever since he learned how to run, Fundy always insisted that he didn’t need to be carried anymore. “Please, I am nearly done一”

Fundy disappeared from his hold, falling to the ground with a thump. Before he could panic, the fox hybrid was up and running again, darting in between Techno’s legs. He sighed, dropping the basket of potatoes before reaching down again to pick up Fundy. His nephew tried to kick at him, a fruitless effort for he was already captured by his opponent. “Down! Fundy want down!”

“No. Fundy will wait for Uncle Tech to finish harvesting the crops before Fundy is put down.” He huffed, the corners of his eyes twitching. Of all the days to be alone in the cabin… Phil had gone off to who knows where, Tommy and Tubbo were out playing with the other village kids (and Techno did not trust Tommy with his potatoes), and Wilbur had left without so much as a notice of when he’d be back. His little nephew flicked out his tongue, tail bristling while his ears pressed against the top of his skull. His cheeks were puffed up. “Fundy, you know that won’t一”

Fundy began to sniffle, tears appearing in his eyes. Techno’s eyes widened, panic blossoming in his chest. Fundy began to wail very loudly, screaming with hot tears running down his cheeks.

He cursed, holding his nephew close to his chest. The fox hybrid only cried even more, little fists beating at his chest. The voices were panicking in his head, most of them call him dumb for not realizing what Fundy wanted while the others were screaming along with him. One of Fundy’s flailing arms hit him on the cheek, but it was enough to snap him out of it. Alright. There was a screaming child in his arms. Punt it一 No, the screaming child was his nephew. Fundy’s eyes were closed, screams turning more into shrieks that began to ring painfully in Techno’s ears.

With Fundy in his arms, he looked around, hoping for a solution to appear within view. He knew how to handle the wage of war, knew how to handle an entire army, but he had no idea what to do with a screaming toddler. Wilbur should learn to not leave Fundy with Techno. He was beginning to panic, eyes finally turning towards the house. The house… Berries. Fundy liked berries. He could only hope that they’d grown back since the last time Fundy decided to devour most of the berries. With his crying nephew in his arms, he turned back towards the house, neglecting the basket full of potatoes that he had left behind. He needed to calm his nephew first.

And that is how he found himself sitting underneath the shade of their cabin’s roof, his nephew sitting on his lap and happily munching on a pile of berries that Fundy had gathered himself. Techno was beginning to suspect that the crying was all an elaborate plot to get him to do what Fundy wanted. He was very proud. Using his weakness against him, very clever. He patted Fundy’s head and ears, the fox hybrid’s tail wagging at the warm touch. He sighed, letting his fingers run through Fundy’s messy hair. At least his little nephew was enjoying himself today.

“Bewwy! My bewwies!”

“I planted those berries.” Fundy looked at him, hands covered in juice and bits of berry clinging to the bottom of his chin. Techno patted his head again, ignoring the indignant hiss of ‘mine!’ that Fundy mumbled out. He looked out into the distance, towards the path that led down to the forest and, just beyond it, the village. It was nearing lunch, or at least the hour when they usually ate lunch. Tommy and Tubbo will be back soon, probably dragging back one of their friends to eat lunch with them. Phil would be back too. Wilbur, on the other hand… Techno didn’t know.

He knew exactly where his twin brother was, knew that his brother couldn’t stay away no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he could. Techno wished at times that he could lend his strength, maybe then Wilbur wouldn’t go off searching for something that wasn’t there. He glared down at his hands, glancing at the scars that littered his skin. He’d gone through countless battles, won a thousand victories, and yet he didn’t have the heart or the courage to solve the simplest of problems. He sighed, finding himself hugging Fundy closer to his chest. His little nephew looked up at him, eyes wide with confusion before it melted into joy. Fundy gave him a smile, his teeth painted red from the berries he had consumed. Techno chuckled despite himself.

For Blood God’s sake… Wilbur stop searching and come home.

Chapter Text

He sniffed, rubbing his nose against the silk blanket that had been placed on top of him. His head felt like someone had taken an axe and bashed his skull in. His lungs burned with exhaustion, long fits of coughing making him lose breath that he could barely inhale without wheezing.

His sharp claws had dug into one of the soft pillows, feathers falling past the mattress and onto the carpeted floor below. He shook his head, leaning against the pillow before hugging it tightly to his chest. Sunlight was flooding into the room, its bright glow not helping his pounding head which… he was sure there had been a wet cloth on his forehead when he had woken up, but now it wasn’t there. He groaned, burying his face against the pillow. He didn’t want to see the sun, he didn’t want his head to scream at him for daring to look at the light. He curled against the pillow, legs - entangled underneath the blanket - looping around the pillow’s form while his tail wrapped around his waist. He begged for sleep, begged for an end to his suffering, but he’d just woken up and his stomach was painfully rumbling. He didn’t know where he was and he just wanted to eat.

The sharp click of a door opening behind him made him turn around, his blurry gaze taking in a familiar red regal attire. Eret stood at the doorway, a few potions in hand, Fundy felt a smile climb to his face, though he knew it probably looked silly. The monarch moved closer, placing the potions on the desk before turning towards him. A hand found its way to his forehead, Eret wincing before finally withdrawing their hand. Fundy whined at the loss of that gentle touch.

“The fever’s gotten worse.” The hand returned, ruffling his hair for a moment before reaching up to scratch his ears. Fundy purred, a shaky hand reaching to hold onto Eret’s wrist. They chuckled, sitting at the edge of the bed for better reach. Fundy wished he could move closer and cling to Eret so that they couldn’t leave him, but the sensible part of him - one he knew was about to slip away the longer the fever persisted - wouldn’t want to keep Eret from their duties. Fundy turned, squirming against the bed until he was finally facing Eret, the pillow completely discarded behind him. Why settle for a pillow when Eret was right there? He wished he could ask for a hug. “How many hours of sleep did you get? You’ve been sick for three days now.”

“Sorry…” He sniffed, reaching a hand to his nose. It was itchy. He heard Eret sigh from above him, the sheets moving while he watched Eret reach for one of the potions. A low whine escaped from his throat, his face burrowing itself underneath the blankets before Eret could force him to drink a regeneration potion. He could smell the stench of spider eye, and even though he was starving, he couldn’t stomach a potion right then and there. The last time he’d been so sick that he had needed potions, his dad had still been… Fundy shook his head, eyes burning with unshed tears. With his ears poking out from beneath the blanket, he could feel Eret’s fingers against the tips, the monarch gently trying to coax him out. Despite himself, he let out a sharp growl, burying himself deeper beneath the sheets. His claws had dug into the soft mattress, his muddled brain feeding him dark thoughts of being dragged out and being forced to drink those potions.

“You need to take these potions, Fundy.” Light flooded into his eyes, the covers disappearing from above him. He whimpered, backing away until he was on the other end of the bed. He was shaking, mouth pursed into a thin line. He hoped his pitiful look would be enough to keep Eret from following after him. A frown formed on the monarch’s face, in their hand was a swirling pink potion, but it was quickly placed away once their eyes met Fundy’s. He let out a sigh of relief. “Fundy, why do you not want to take a potion? It’ll help with the fever. The longer you continue to resist proper medication, the longer your sickness will remain. Fundy, please一”

“Noo! I don’t want to!” It sounded whiny and childish even to his own ears, and he could feel his face heat up with embarrassment (or maybe that was the fever. Fundy shook his head, burying his head underneath the pillow instead. If he couldn’t see Eret, then maybe they’ll go away. He heard the sheets move, a hand settling on his shoulders, rubbing gentle circles while Fundy continued to whimper. “I don’t… I don’t trust potions. At least, the potions not made by Wil.”

“You won’t drink any other potion?”

“It’s stupid…” His voice was muffled by the pillow, but he knew that Eret had heard him. He didn’t want to see the confusion on Eret’s face, even worse, he was terrified that if he looked up he’d see a mocking smirk on their face. His senses were slipping, Fundy knew that Eret would never look at him that way. They felt arms wrap around him, a gentle tug pulling his face away from beneath the pillow. His hair clung to his forehead, mixing with the sweat of his fever. He didn’t need a mirror to know that he looked like a mess. He averted his gaze when Eret lifted his head up, ashamed to look their friend - and possible parent - in the eye. He’d been in Eret’s house for three days and already he was a burden. He shouldn’t have accepted Eret’s offer of shelter, he should have just gotten on his wagon and left. That had been the plan. But then he had come across Eret, and he just couldn’t bring himself to leave without saying goodbye to them.

“No, it’s understandable, Fundy. There is no need to apologize.” A hand ran through his hair, petting his ears. He glanced over at Eret, smiling once he saw the small smile on their face. It made him feel better. He plopped back down on the bed, letting Eret pet his ears while he tried to keep his remaining senses from slipping. He couldn’t take the potions. He’d just have to fight the sickness off by himself. “Do you need anything else then, Fundy? Anything that could help you.”

“Chocolate.”

“Absolutely not.”

Fundy huffed, it was worth a shot.

“... Stay?”

“Of course, Funds. I’ll be here, I promise.”

---

They shivered, holding the cloak closer, the snow clinging to the bottom of his boots. The cold seeped into their clothes, the thick winter coat that they had worn did nothing against the chill.

Eret had to take a chance. They had no other choice.

Fundy had been horribly sick for two weeks now, growing weaker and paler with each day that passed. They had tried to coax him into drinking a potion, going so far as to beg, but Fundy had refused to. Eret couldn’t bring themself to force a potion down Fundy’s throat, the thought of doing so made them sick. Fundy would have never forgiven them for that betrayal. It didn’t help that Fundy was having nightmares at night, sleep evading him until Fundy was left tired and exhausted during the day. Eret had heard the screams, had thought that someone had snuck into their castle and was hurting Fundy. Imagine their surprise when they found out about the dreams.

The combination of sleep deprivation with the fever did not bode well for the poor fox hybrid, within a matter of a few days, he was reduced to a whimpering and mumbling mess. Eret had done everything they could, but Fundy was worsening. They needed to help Fundy, but it wasn’t Eret that Fundy truly needed. That’s why Eret had geared up for a long trek towards Phil and Techno’s cabin, hoping that they wouldn’t kill them the moment they appeared at the front door.

They took a deep and steady breath. They were doing this for Fundy. Eret continued on forward, refusing to stop until they caught the wisp of gray smoke against the white sky. They were close.

After a few more minutes of trudging through the thick snow, they reached the steps of the cabin’s front porch, warm yellow light illuminating their path up to the front door. Eret winced at the groans and creaks that the floor made each time they took a step forward. They wondered if they even needed to knock when the floor was already making their presence known. Sure enough, before they could raise a hand to knock, the door slammed open. Eret jumped back, eyes widening slightly, the door had nearly grazed them. They flinched at the loud bang that followed, the door slamming against the wall of the house. Eret took a shuddery breath, forcing their gaze towards who he thought was Technoblade. They froze, backing away immediately with their hands raised in front of them in a calm and placating manner. That… That was not Technoblade.

It was that one streak of white hair that first caught Eret’s attention, so familiar and reminiscent of a certain someone. Wilbur’s dark brown eyes - tinted slightly red now - glared down at them with contempt and hate, his teeth gritted into a harsh snarl. He was wearing the same coat he had worn the last time Eret had… seen him alive, a series of bandages wrapped around one of his arms with blood still seeping out of it. Wilbur was wearing a yellow sweater beneath the coat, Ghostbur’s yellow sweater. Eret blinked, taking another breath. Wilbur was alive. He was alive. Eret opened their mouth, unsure of whether they should welcome Wilbur back with happiness or fear. He was back… but he didn’t look like he’d changed a bit. He still had that look in his eyes.

“Wil, you’re back.” It was all they could say. Eret tried to take a step forward, but a diamond sword pressed itself against the side of their neck. They gasped, tensing up in fear. “Wilbur…”

“Hello, Eret. Missed me? Cause I really didn’t miss you.” Eret swallowed down their terror, letting the madman in front of him continue on in his tirade. Despite the blade that threatened to slice through their skin, Eret trusted Wilbur. He wouldn’t… At least, Eret hoped he wouldn’t. Wilbur chuckled lowly, raising a hand to his hair, clutching at the side of his head while his nails dug into his scalp. Eret remembered a time where Wilbur had given him the exact same manic and desperate look, his old laugh still echoing in their ears. It had been the Manburg-Pogtopian War, and Eret had changed sides, stripped of their throne and their title. “Did you come here thinking you could make amends? Did you think I would forget? You see, Eret, I remember every memory that Ghostbur had. I remember what you did. What you took from him, from me.”

“Wilbur, I couldn’t just leave Fundy to fend for himself.” They leaned their head away, the blade digging into the skin of his neck. Wilbur would. “You have to understand, I did what I had to.”

Wilbur smiled.

“Then you should understand why I’m doing this.”

The blade dug in deeper.

Blood trickled down their neck.

Then a voice broke through, “WILBUR!”

---

Eret pressed the bandage on their neck, wincing at the jolt of the pain that ran through their nerves. Wilbur sat across from them at the table, his heated glare never leaving them despite Phil’s best efforts to mediate the tension. Techno stood by the kitchen doorway, shuffling on his feet and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than there. Eret shared the same sentiments.

“So, what are you doing out here, mate? We don’t get a lot of visitors, most people would rather stay away, what with Techno being around and all that.” Phil broke through the silence with an awkward chuckle, glancing over at Techno who shrugged in answer. Eret glanced down, staring for a moment at the piping hot cup of tea that Phil had given them in compensation for Wilbur’s actions. It warmed their shivering hands and calmed their rapidly beating heart. If Phil hadn’t stepped in when he had… Eret cleared their throat, turning to gaze into Phil’s eyes. There was a desperate and sympathetic look to the man’s gaze. “Sorry about Wilbur, he’s… he’s trying.”

“I do not hold it against him. For what it’s worth Wil, I never intended on replacing you. Fundy loves you. There’s no one in the world who could take your place. He misses you, a lot.” Wilbur’s glare lessened, but the hostility never faltered. Eret had to sigh, they expected that. Phil was frowning in his seat, eyebrows furrowed together in thought. Eret raised the cup to their lips, taking a sip of the bitter green tea. It helped calm their nerves. When they had decided to visit Phil and Techno, they had hoped it would be just the two of them. How was Eret to know that Wilbur would be the first to greet them at the door? They reached up once more to the bandage, concocting an excuse of how they’d got in the case that Fundy asked. Wilbur will kill Eret if they ended up ruining what already fragile relationship that he had with Fundy. “I came here to ask for assistance. Fundy has been sick for two weeks now, and… I don’t know what else to do.”

Wilbur had frozen in his seat, eyes blown wide with shock and his mouth opened in surprise. Phil winced, but he didn’t look all that surprised. Eret turned to look at Technoblade, taking note of the piglin hybrid’s change of stance, the way his eyes had narrowed into thin slits. They looked back towards Phil, the avian looking down sadly at the edge of the table. “You know, I一 I thought that he was in danger of falling… into a terrible sickness. I met him three weeks ago and he looked like shit. He said he’d been having dreams, terrible ones and that he hadn’t slept in a week. I thought… I thought he was going to be alright. But, you didn’t know that Wilbur was back, so um, why’d you come over here? If you needed some potions, I’m sure Techno could一”

“I’ve tried, he refuses to drink any potions and I would never force him to.” Eret swallowed, noticing the sharp glare that immediately appeared on Wilbur’s face. His mouth was set into a thin line, hands gripping the edge of the table that Eret had to brace themself for the inevitability of the table flipped onto their face. They just couldn’t stomach the thought of coaxing Fundy to drink any of their potions, not when the fox hybrid was persistent in his fear of consuming any potion that wasn’t made by一 Eret glanced up, meeting Wilbur’s gaze despite the animosity. Wilbur was right there, but Eret was unsure if Wilbur would be willing to even visit Fundy. “He wouldn’t drink any potion that wasn’t made by Wilbur. As I said, Wilbur. No one can replace you. Fundy still thinks of you a lot, and he doesn’t trust anyone else when it comes to potions.”

“That idiot.” Wilbur ran a hand through his hair, an irritated look crossing his face before he suddenly stood up, surprising everyone. Even Techno had backed away, though his face remained impassive. Eret stood up, following after Wilbur who stormed his way out of the kitchen and past Techno. They could hear the ruffle of feathers and the thump of heavy footsteps behind them, both Technoblade and Phil both confused by Wilbur’s sudden burst of energy. Eret followed him all the way to the living room where Wilbur was wrapping his coat back around himself. “How he handled himself these past thirteen years I will never know! No, why didn’t you tell me he was having nightmares, Phil?! For fuck’s sake!... oh, my poor little champion…”

The last part had been murmured, spoken with a soft fondness that made Eret smile despite themself. They turned to glance over at Phil, the older man wincing while he watched Wilbur struggle to quickly put on his boots. They could see and understand why Phil hadn’t told Wilbur.

But it was the thirteen years that caught Eret off-guard. It hadn’t been thirteen years. Eret knew it hadn’t been thirteen years. They looked intently at Wilbur, taking note of the dark bags underneath his eyes and at the paler skin that he sported. There were strands of gray hair in his dark brown hair, not being the same vibrant white as the one he had on the front of his curls. Wilbur looked older. Older and more manic. Eret supposed that was what death did to a person.

Phil stepped forward, placing a hand against Wilbur’s shoulders. The man calmed down instantly, breathing out with a loud huff of breath. Eret watched the silent display, feeling out of place despite Techno who hadn’t moved from beside them. Techno observed it too, but he looked like he understood what was going on between Wilbur and Phil. Eret directed their gaze towards the front door, slipping past the father-son duo who were both conversing through gestures and brief eye glances. Eret would rather not get in between their conversation. They opened the door, the biting wind of the outside clinging immediately to his skin. The sudden burst of cold brought Phil and Wilbur back to reality, Wilbur casting Eret one last look of anger before storming past him and out into the front porch. Phil stayed where he was, giving Eret one last apologetic smile.

“Thank you for being there for Fundy, Eret. I mean it.”

“I care for him, of course I’d be at his side.”

“Are you going to waste time fucking talking or what?”

Eret winced.

“Thank you for the tea.”

He gave Phil a smile, before turning to follow Wilbur back to the Essempy.

---

He’d left Eret at the throne room the moment they’d directed him towards Fundy’s room. Wilbur didn’t even cast them a second glance, his mind rushing with thoughts of his son - his little champion, his boy! - who he hadn’t seen for thirteen years. It was sickening really, how ecstatic he had been to hear that Fundy was sick. He didn’t like the thought that Fundy was sick, but how else would he have been able to connect with his son? He wouldn’t have known how to. Fundy would have asked him to leave, to stay away from him even though Wilbur wanted nothing more than to hold his son and apologize for the pain he had caused and the hateful words he’d said.

He ran through the empty hallways, the soft beams of moonlight illuminating his path. He cursed Eret for making their castle so confusing and large, how was Wilbur to navigate this maze of a structure? He tried to follow after their directions, looking for a white door with a fox engraved into the wood. Wilbur had nearly knocked into a vase by the time he found Fundy’s room.

Wilbur slowly opened it, glancing into the dark room before gently calling out, “Fundy?”

He heard the shift of the sheets, a murmured groan coming from a lump underneath the blanket. Wilbur felt his heart beating painfully against his chest, he closed the door behind him, letting it close shut with a soft click. He made his way to the bed, hand reaching towards the blanket to pull it down a bit. He heard a soft whine but Wilbur continued to pull the blanket away until he saw two fluffy fox ears poking out from beneath the cloth. He smiled, reaching out to pet at them before gently scratching. He continued to do that while pulling away the blanket down, finally revealing his son’s misty golden-flecked brown eyes. Fundy was looking up at him, blinking while tears ran down the sides of his cheeks. Wilbur knew that Fundy couldn’t really see him.

“Hi, my little champion. I’m here. Dad’s here.” He pulled the blanket until he could see Fundy’s entire face, the fox hybrid reaching up towards him with a shaky hand. Wilbur smiled, grasping his son’s hand before giving it a gentle squeeze. He sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for a moment before grasping Fundy by the arms and pulling him to rest his head on Wilbur’s lap. Fundy immediately clung to him, arms wrapping around Wilbur with no intent of ever letting go.

“You’ll be alright, son. I’ll be here for you this time. You won’t have to suffer alone anymore.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of Fundy’s ginger curls, humming underneath his breath.

Fundy’s gaze turned up towards him, eyes blurry with tears and with fever. The fox hybrid opened his mouth, but no words came out. His nose wrinkled up in frustration, but he chose to ignore his sudden lack of words, preferring to cling closer to Wilbur. Wilbur smiled, holding his son in arms with the same intent of never letting go. He was finally alive again, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make the most of this precious second chance. He held Fundy more tightly.

“Shhh, dad’s here, Funds. I’ll be here.” A small smile found its way to Fundy’s lips, and Wilbur couldn’t help but pinch Fundy’s cheek a bit. His son wouldn’t mind. “I missed you so much.”

He adjusted his hold, holding Fundy up by one arm.

He reached inside his coat, hoping that his memory served him well.

Wilbur felt the indent of a glass bottle.

He hadn’t forgotten.

He pressed another kiss against Fundy’s hair…

Before uncorking the potion.

Chapter Text

He hid inside one of the chests, sniffling while his hands clung to his ringing, sensitive ears. The ground beneath him shook, the roar of a loud bang tearing once again through the screams and cries from outside. His fingers were shaking, little tears falling past his cheeks while he begged for his mama to come back. She had left him there inside, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before promising that she’d be back for him later. Small whines and pitiful yips escaped past his lips, but he knew nobody could hear him. He just wanted mama. He wanted mama to come back, to hold him and promise that they’ll be okay. He wanted his mama. He wanted the noises to stop.

He looked around the dark and small space, little hands moving around until he found the hat that his mama had given him. It had fallen off of his head when he was crying. He held it closer to his chest, curling into himself while his tail wrapped around his waist. The loud noises didn’t want to stop, and everyone was screaming. He whimpered, closing his eyes tightly. Mama said that whenever he was scared, he should close his eyes and sleep, and that the monsters won’t be there when he wakes up in the morning. He sniffled, trying desperately to fall asleep but the noises were too loud, too disturbing to let him fall into the safety of sleep. He wasn’t comfortable inside that cramped little box, his legs completely pulled up to his chest in an attempt to make himself smaller. He wanted to go back to bed and wake up to another day. He wanted his mama.

He glanced down at his hat, fingers tracing the edges. It kept him calm. Mama said the hat belonged to his papa, but he’d never met his papa, his mama saying he was too young to remember when papa had left them. He placed the hat on his head, right between his flicking ears. He leaned down a bit, reaching for his tail until his fingers grazed its soft fur. He pulled it closer to his chest before finally closing his eyes. He could fall asleep. He’d fallen asleep like that before. With his eyes closed, he tried to hum himself to sleep with a song that his mama said his papa had composed for him. The world seemed to fall silent outside. Then, he heard the familiar scream of a woman. Then, there was a very loud bang. Then there was一 he fell asleep.

When he woke up again, it was morning. He let out a small yawn, surprised to find that he was no longer inside the chest. He looked around him, blinking with the dawning realization that his house was gone. All that remained was a scorched land where bright green grass used to be. He looked around, taking in the craters that littered the place he once called home. There wasn’t a single person in sight, but ash and soot covered every surface of the ground. He whimpered, reaching up for his hat which, luckily, hadn’t fallen off his head. He stumbled out deeper into the wasteland, eyes wide with tears and fear. He was alone. There was nothing there except for him.

“Mama! Mama!” He called out, slipping and tripping against the ground. He yipped, begging for anyone to come and help him. Maybe some of the village elders were alive. Maybe they could help him. He didn’t want to be alone. He pulled himself back up to his feet, surprised to find that the ash hadn’t clung to his clothes. He gave his hands - his clean hands - a perplexed look. At least he wasn’t dirty, mama didn’t like it when he was dirty. “Mama! Mama, please, I’m scared!”

But nobody answered. He sniffed, giving his home one last look. There was nothing for him there. No more mama. He looked out, towards the forest. He wept, but in the end, he had to leave.

In the next few years, he found himself living within the woods and scavenging for anything that he could get his hands on. He moved with each month that passed, pillaging every village that he came across. He had to. He needed to survive and everyone he’d seen had enough items to spare. Some villages had noticed him though, forcing him away with screams and pitchforks.

Right now, he was hiding inside a bush. The sound of loud footsteps reaching his ears made him curl up deeper into himself. He’d gotten caught again, and now they were trying to find him.

It was a new village, filled with strange looking people that he hadn’t seen anywhere else before. One of them looked really sparkly and was even floating in the middle of the air. One of them had wings, and he was sure he’d seen one of them teleport! He whimpered, burying his face in his arms. They had caught him stealing from one of their farms. They’d tried to call out to him but he had panicked and ran off. Now here he was, hiding and praying that they wouldn’t find him.

He didn’t want to die. He felt tears run down his cheeks, his cries growing louder when he heard the rustle of leaves in front of him. He looked up, meeting light brown eyes. The being in front of him reached out towards him, a small smile on his face. He moved away, growling and snarling.

“Shhh… It’s okay! You’re okay!”

Cold arms wrapped around him, pulling him away from the bush.

He whined, but leaned closer to the stranger, burying his face against their yellow sweater.

“Hello there… poor little thing. It’s okay… You’ll be safe with us.”

Despite everything, he trusted those words.

---

Their laughter still rang in his ears, the smell of scorched earth still clung to the walls of his den. He had desperately tried to wash it away, to tears at his ears until the noise of their glee finally stopped. His hands were bloodied and raw, nails aching from hours of rubbing cloth against the stone walls. He sniffled, wiping his tears on the end of his jacket sleeve. His hands were shaking, he didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t even organized the chest area yet. What if Wilbur came back and saw it? What if he thought that Fundy hated how it looked and had torn it down? A small high-pitched whine escaped him. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in Wilbur’s face, scared that it would turn into anger. Then Wilbur would leave and Fundy didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want Wilbur to hate him. He didn’t want his brother to disown and leave him.

“Fundyyyyyy!” His ears flicked up, heart hammering inside his chest. Wilbur was somewhere in his house. Gods, Wilbur was somewhere in the house. He glanced over at the small pit in the middle of the den, sweat dripping down the sides of his neck. He didn’t have time. Fuck, he didn’t have time! His breath began to quicken, his legs carrying him towards the line of chests where his items were. It was a temporary set-up, just until Fundy had finished fixing the chest area again. He needed to fix the entrance of the house too… there were even holes in the ceiling!

His throat felt like it was on fire, his tears falling past his cheeks while he huddled next to one of the chests. He hoped Wilbur would go away, would decide that Fundy wasn’t home and decide to go bother someone else. Fundy didn’t want to explain what happened, didn’t want him to see the ruined entrance and blame him for it. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, quietly sobbing.

“Little ghost brother…? Fundy…?”

His brother’s voice echoed through the walls of his home, and that only made his heart ache. What was he meant to do once Wilbur found him? What could he possibly say? Wilbur had taken the time to help him fix the chests, and here was Fundy… ruining everything. As he always does.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, wincing when he felt warm liquid trickle in between his fingertips. Right, he had clawed at his ears. He held his hands close to his chest, closing his eyes. He hadn’t meant to. But the laughter wouldn’t stop and the explosion had caught him off-guard. Of course he knew he shouldn’t have stolen… but he was used to it. It was his life. It was instinct. He sniffled, burying his face in his arms. He wished he hadn’t stolen anything now.

The tears wouldn’t stop. Everything ached and burned. He was supposed to be dead, so why did he still feel pain? It was meant to be funny. He had thought it would be funny. Fundy rubbed at his eyes. The near destruction of his home reminded him of his past, and he didn’t like that at all.

The scent of ash and soot hung in the air, and though nothing could really cling to him anymore, he could almost feel the dust against his skin. He felt sick, stomach twisting at the thought of being covered in stardust. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the smell. He didn’t like the loud noise. He didn’t like the memories it brought. He didn’t like remembering his old him. He didn’t like一

“Mama…” His last memory of her had been a smile and the kiss she had pressed against his cheek. He thought it unfair, that she got to move on to the afterlife while he was eternally cursed to wander the earth. He glanced behind him, noting his long two fox tails. He only had one before. When he had left his home all those years ago, he had wandered the forest for a long time. He realized at some point that he was already dead and that he had a new tail. “I miss you.”

He clung to his tail - the original one and the only one he should have, holding it against his chest. He tried to let his fingers run through the soft fur, to put his mind at ease from the pain that ran through his entire body. He didn’t know why it had to be him, didn’t know what he’d even done to deserve it. He continued to sob, his agonized yips echoing against the stone walls of the den. Fundy wanted nothing more than to scamper off into his room, to hide underneath covers and forget. He just wanted to forget. He closed his eyes tightly once more. He wished he could fall asleep there, wished that he could just disappear from the earth and go home to his mama.

He wished he knew why…

Why he’d been cursed to live forever, even in death…

He continued to sob.

At some point, he heard the sound of footsteps stop in front of him.

“Fundy…?”

Chapter Text

The roar of the fire broke through the silence of the forest, the sharp smell of ash in the air felt like a haze in his mind. He held the picture in his hand, fingertips grazing the edge of the worn photo. Bits of dirt and grime clung to the bottom, a brief memory resurfacing in his mind while he held the photo close to his chest. He remembered the betrayal, the side glance thrown his way before he - that person he’d once adored, that person he’d once considered a brother - had turned his back on him. He remembered staring up into the bright blue sky above, breath ragged while blood dripped down his chin. He remembered how they grew apart, and he remembered how he’d promised him that they’d be brothers forever. He remembers many things, but those were moments of a distant past, a past he wanted to burn away. Maybe then the scars would fade.

He glanced down at the picture in his hands. Three faces stared back at him. They were all still smiling in the photo, three children ready to conquer the new land that they had set for their own. Sapnap had to wonder, along the way of their destruction, when did they forget to smile?

His thumb traced those faces, those ghosts of a past long gone. All that could catch his attention was the fact that Dream looked so happy back then. He looked like the brother he remembered.

With tears falling past his cheeks, he threw the photo into the pit of fire, watching the flames consume that joyful smile he’d once adored and would have done anything to see. He let out an anguished scream, collapsing to his knees while he grasped a hand to his chest. It still burns.

He didn’t know how long he’d stayed there, screaming until his voice disappeared into the wind. He didn’t know how long he’d let his tears flow until they dried up and all he could muster was a weak whimper. He didn’t know how long it had been, but he knew it was long enough for the fire to fade away and take away the last memento of a life he wished he could go back to. His heart burned, and it continued to burn despite the last traces of light finally disappearing into floating embers, leaving him in the darkness of the forest. He sniffed, pulling his knees close to his chest. He buried his face in his arms, letting himself sob in what felt like such a long time. He couldn’t even remember when was the last time he’d cried. Maybe it was when he was a kid and he’d accidentally scraped his knee. Maybe it was when Dream said he didn’t care about him.

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” A voice broke through his self-pity. He quickly wiped away his tears, glancing up to find a familiar fox hybrid standing on the opposite side of the pit. “Hey…”

“What the hell are you doing here, furry?” He blew his nose on the sleeve of his shirt, uncaring of whether or not he ended up disgusting Fundy at his indecent behavior. Yet, the fox hybrid wasn’t exactly looking at him, his gaze stuck to the remains of the fire that had once roared so proudly before Sapnap. Bits of ember decorated the air, their warm orange glow was dim and slowly fading, but somehow their warmth shone within Fundy’s eyes. He knew Fundy’s eyes were mostly brown, but underneath the embers, they looked more like molten gold. He stayed silent, choosing to watch along with Fundy while they waited for the embers to die. It had been so long since he’d admired the beauty of fire. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d taken the time to lay down on a burning pit and let the warmth engulf him in its homely embrace.

“I wanted to make sure nobody accidentally set the forest on fire. There are a lot of foxes in this area…” Fundy’s voice trailed off, his eyes following after the last ember before it finally faded away, leaving them in the darkness of the night. Sapnap was never good at seeing in the dark, his kind wasn’t built for it. In the nether, there was only fire and heat. He heard footsteps move close towards him before Fundy appeared by his side, settling down to sit next to him. Sapnap couldn’t help but notice how sad Fundy looked now, disappointment in his eyes while he stared at the empty pit. “I used to burn a lot of my stuff when I got angry or sad. I thought it would make me happier, but the fire grew and consumed me. Do you know what that feels like? To burn inside?”

He thinks back to the little kid he once knew, that happy smile looking down at him while he helped draw a smile upon that porcelain mask. He thinks back to a brother that has long since died. Sapnap forced a smug grin on his face, refusing to answer the fox hybrid’s question. He looked to the side, feeling tears form in his eyes again. He wouldn’t cry in front of Fundy. He didn’t want to be mocked. He felt a hand settle on his back, hesitation, then Fundy was running a hand on his back. Sapnap tried to force down the sob in his throat, “Me? Burn? As if.”

They stared there in the silence of the night, not a single monster daring to show itself despite the lack of light to keep them at bay. Sapnap wasn’t sure when the dam finally broke, when he found himself gripping at that black jacket that Fundy always wore, crying his heart out into the chest of his once-enemy. Fundy didn’t say anything, letting him cry and cry until he couldn’t anymore. Hands rubbed at his back, once even reaching up to ruffle his hair and gently pat him. He was glad with the silence, glad that Fundy wasn’t trying to force him to talk and all that shit. He let himself be held, and in what felt like such a long time, he finally fell asleep without the thought of Dream in his head. When he awoke in the morning, he was alone. He thought it had all been a dream… but then he saw the black jacket draped over him… and just knew it had been real.

They lay side by side next to a bright pit of fire, the embers dancing against the black sky were like stars - no - they were prettier than stars. Fundy’s head was next to him and Sapnap couldn’t help but turn to look at the fox hybrid he’d once hated. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since they’d begun to meet up like this. Sapnap would come here every night, start a fire, and sooner or later Fundy would appear and watch the flames with him. At times, Fundy would bring his own stuff and throw it into the fire. Sapnap had once watched him bring a photo, a younger version of Fundy and Wilbur smiled up at them from the picture. There were tears in Fundy’s eyes, the fire turning them into gold before he threw the photo into the flames. Sapnap didn’t say anything, letting Fundy bury his face in his shoulder instead until they both fell asleep to the roar of the fire in their ears. Somehow, Sapnap had begun to like Fundy’s presence. Expected it even.

He didn’t realize he had been staring too long until Fundy had turned to look at him, the fox hybrid raising a brow at Sapnap’s odd behavior. He felt his cheeks flush, gaze turning away from Fundy before he could ask what Sapnap was thinking. He didn’t need to creep his… technically only friend. George hadn’t been around that much, if anything, Sapnap would say that he hadn’t seen George in a long time now. Dream… Dream was still in prison. He felt his throat clamp up at the thought. He missed him. He missed the brother who would randomly challenge him to a game of tag, eventually growing into a game of manhunt. He shook his head. He’d rather move on from him. The Dream he knew was… well, Sapnap hoped that the Dream he loved was still in there, but he knew he needed to move on. Fundy was trying to move on. Everyone was trying to move on. Why can’t Sapnap have that same freedom? Wasn’t he allowed to move on too?

“Are you okay, Sapnap?” He flinched, turning back to look at Fundy who hadn’t stopped staring at him. There was a small smile on Fundy’s face, the fire glimmering in his eyes made Sapnap feel like he was staring into home. Fundy turned to lean on his side, his head resting against his hand. “You’re thinking too loudly. Is something wrong? Want to talk about it, bandana?”

He snorted at the stupid nickname. Fundy had taken up the habit of calling him that ever since Sapnap had tried to return Fundy’s jacket back to him and Fundy had jokingly reached out to wear Sapnap’s bandana. Sapnap had panicked, obviously, but Fundy had quickly withdrawn once he’d noticed Sapnap’s fear. Dream had given him that bandana when they were kids.

“Nah, it’s nothing.” He scoffed, wrinkling his nose before tossing Fundy a nonchalant grin. The fox hybrid rolled his eyes, turning back to lie down and stare into the sky. Sapnap pursed his lips, glancing over at Fundy’s hand. He scooted back, enough that he could reach out and hold onto Fundy’s warm hand. The fox hybrid jolted back in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. He glanced over at Sapnap, their hands intertwined between them. “We can just enjoy the silence together.”

A soft smile appeared on Fundy’s face, “Okay.”

Fundy squeezed his hand…

And there they stayed, until the fire eventually faded away.

Chapter Text

He shivered, keeping his knees close to his chest while he looked around the writhing cavern that they had dragged him into. Sharp gleaming eyes stared at him from the darkness, some of them even daring to go near him, their smiles mocking him with their malicious and torturous glee.

“Why? Wha一 What the fuck are you planning to do to me?!”

“Nothing.” Dream - or at least he hoped it was still Dream - spoke up from the cluster of dreamons, appearing from within the shadows with a nonchalant stride in his step. His mask was still on his face, but his hood had been dropped down to reveal large horns protruding from his head. He wasn’t sure if that thing was even Dream anymore. “We just brought you back home.”

“What the actual fuck are you talking about you beast?!” He snapped, baring his teeth while a low growl ripped through his throat. Dream hissed, showing his own teeth, but he didn’t try to attack him. Fundy sniffed, biting the inside of his cheek while he tried to endure the heated gazes that glared at him from the gloom. He’d get ripped to shreds in moments, that is if dreamons ate people. Tubbo hadn’t told him anything about their dietary habits. He didn’t know why none of them had tried to attack him. He didn’t know why none of them had tried to take over his body. It was what they did, at least that’s what he’d been told. He should be dead, but then again, he’d hunted down one of their people. Maybe they didn’t take too kindly to their own kin being hurt.

“No need to be rude, you’re insulting yourself in that regard.” He scrunched up his nose, pulling his knees closer while his tail wrapped around his waist. Goosebumps began to run up and down his arms, his hair bristling while his ears flicked up and down. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand anything at all. “You’re fine, Fundy. No one is going to hurt you here. You’re safe.”

At that sentiment, another familiar face appeared from within the shadows. He looked into his kind smile, feeling nothing but betrayal even when Ranboo tried to sit next to him. He flinched away, wishing that the stone wall that he had backed into would just swallow him whole. Ranboo frowned - a pained look in his eyes - before following after him no matter how much Fundy tried to back away. In the end, there was only so much room that he could move around in.

Ranboo had draped his arms around him, holding him in an embrace that Fundy couldn’t help but lean into. He felt tears bead at the corner of his eyes. It hurt so much. It hurt so fucking much to think that Ranboo had somehow been possessed without Fundy knowing. He’d spent so much time with the enderman hybrid, how couldn’t he have noticed? Why didn’t Tubbo notice? Soon enough, little sobs tore through him, his body shaking. He’d failed one of his friends. He’d failed Dream. The dreamon had been lurking, the exorcism hadn’t worked and Dream was… he was一

He swore he could hear the dreamons crooning at him.

“Come on, Fundy. Why are you crying? Well, I know the caverns aren’t very pleasing but you’ll get used to it, and hey! We get to spend a lot more time together. Oh, maybe we could make an ice cream shop down here. You haven’t even seen the town area…” He tried to listen in to Ranboo’s - gods, was that even really Ranboo or did the Ranboo he knew never existed? - ramblings. The enderman hybrid reached up a hand, trying to scratch behind Fundy’s ear but the fox hybrid pulled away. The thought of being touched so personally by one of those things made him want to puke. “Are you… are you mad at me? I’m sorry, did I forget something again?”

“NO!” Guilt trickled in when Ranboo flinched back, hurt appearing in his friend’s eyes. Fundy sighed, looking away. He can’t believe he felt sorry for a dreamon. “No, Ranboo. You didn’t.”

“Oh, good.” Ranboo looked like he had wanted to say more, but his ears flicked up, his attention turning towards where Fundy assumed the entrance of the cavern was. He couldn’t tell since Dream had dragged him by the ankle and he had been too busy screaming. “She’s here.”

He didn’t have the chance to ask what he’d meant before Ranboo had run into the shadows. Even Dream turned to leave, casting him one last look over his shoulder before joining his brethren.

He shivered, the lack of familiar faces tearing at his chest, leaving him bare and alone in a place filled with creatures that could rip him to shreds if they so wanted to. The sound of heels clicking against stone caught his attention, his ears flicking up in surprise while he looked around, taking notice of how the dreamons had begun to disappear further into the cavern. They were leaving. He could feel panic rise in his chest. Why were they leaving? Were they leaving him to die?! He pulled himself to his feet, heart hammering inside his chest. He needed to get out of this hellhole.

Before he could run away, he ran right into a pair of arms that quickly wrapped around him in a suffocating grip. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm even when his body began to shake in fear. He felt a hand run through his hair, sharp claws raking through them with a gentleness that Fundy couldn’t help but melt into. He slowly forced himself to look at his captor.

Long, curly ginger hair reached up to their waist, bits of fish scales dotting their pale skin and they glistened despite the lack of light. They wore a regal red dress, one reminiscent of a queen’s, and Fundy had to seriously wonder if the dreamons even had a monarchy. He continued to turn his gaze upwards until his eyes met a pair of warm golden eyes that stared down at him with so much affection that he couldn’t help but tear up. A hand reached down to cup his cheek, a low croon reaching his ears as she kneeled down to face him. A small smile appeared on her face.

“Hello, darling.”

His mom kissed him gently on the cheek.

“Welcome home.”

Chapter Text

“Why?” He paused, fingers grazing the edge of a red rose petal. He glanced up, his reflection staring at him from the window. He was dressed in a black suit, a red rose pinned to his chest and a red necktie tied around his neck. His tail bristled, those sky blue eyes glaring holes into the back of his head. He should have known that someone would have visited him. They won’t let him go that easily. With a deep breath, he turned to look at the teenager before him, a soft smile finding its way to his lips. Tommy looked healthier, the war’s finality having returned a bit of color to his face. There were still a few white bandages wrapped around Tommy’s hands, but those were better than seeing actual blood on his skin. The war had taken too much already, he’d done what he had to do. “Fundy, why the fuck? Why would you do that? Why? Why? WHY?!”

“Because I wanted to.” He leaned back against the desk, mindful that he didn’t accidentally knock over the vase. “I love him, Tommy. I really do love him. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“BULLSHIT!” Tommy grabbed the dressing chair, tossing it at one of the windows that lined the wall. He flinched away from the sound of shattering glass, hands reaching for his ears that he barely even noticed that Tommy had moved. He jumped in surprise, gaze snapping towards the teenager who glared up at him with tears in his eyes. Fundy felt guilt gnaw at his heart. He looked away, feeling ashamed underneath that pained stare. He wondered what it would have been like if Wilbur had the guts to actually visit him, but no, it had been Tommy who had enough courage to talk to him. Emotions shifted in those light blue eyes, Tommy having gritted his teeth that Fundy wanted to chuckle on how they hadn’t cracked yet. Tommy’s hands were curled into fists, before they relaxed, a desperate look appearing in Tommy’s eyes. “Fundy, for fuck’s sake, you didn’t have to do this…! You don’t have to do this! I’ll give Dream my discs! Then you一”

“Have many lives do you have left, Tommy?” He frowned, moving past the teenager to sit on one of the chairs in the room. He tried not to curl up on the soft chair, not wanting to crease his suit before the wedding. “You have one life left. And I know you. I know what you’ll do.”

“What the fuck do you think I’ll do?” Tommy had thrown himself on the large sofa, burying his face on one of the cushions. His voice was muffled, but it still reached Fundy’s ears. He watched Tommy dig his nails into the pillow, if anything, he was sure Tommy wanted to rip through the cloth until there was nothing but feathers. Tommy glanced up, tears in his eyes despite the scowl on his face. “You don’t know what I’ll do, you fucking asshole. I had a plan! I had an idea and you fucking… you fucking ruined it! Just let me do this, you damn bastard. Just let me do this!”

“No. Listen! No one has to sacrifice anything this way!” Fundy sighed, leaning his head against the chair. He closed his eyes, letting himself breath for a moment. He hadn’t expected Tommy to be the one to visit him. He had expected Wilbur… maybe even Niki or Eret, but not Tommy. They weren’t the closest friends, and they didn’t really share the whole uncle-nephew dynamic that Wilbur had shoved down their throats the moment he’d managed to convince Fundy to help him in his revolution. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Life had been so much simpler back then. He had his little burrow. He had his Dream. He had a life before his father came to ruin it all. To all of L’Manburg, their lives would change with Fundy’s so-called sacrifice. But to Fundy? He was returning to the life he’d put on hold for the man that was supposed to be his father. “I want this, Tommy. You don’t have to worry about me. You never had to, you know?”

“Wha一 WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NEVER HAD TO?!” He winced, reaching towards his ears. Tommy really did know how to hurt someone’s hearing. He shook his head, glancing over at one dressing table. Tommy followed his direction, stilling once he noticed the small picture frame that was among the bottles of perfume and other stuff that Fundy hadn’t really bothered to use. It was an old picture, taken years ago when the Essempy was just a small town with… only six people living in it. Fundy had taken a picture of him and Dream, the blonde had an arm wrapped around Fundy’s shoulder while Fundy pressed a kiss to Dream’s cheek. He had left the picture with Dream the day they ‘broke up.’ “What… WHAT?! Fundy?! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Tommy, you know I’ve been here longer than you!”

“WELL I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE FUCKING DATING DREAM!” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. Of course Tommy didn’t know. Why would he have told the random child that Dream had allowed into their lands that he was dating said land’s leader? It didn’t matter at the time. “What do you even see in that dickhead?! He’s like a lunatic and he’s一 He’s Dream!”

“He’s not the tyrant Wilbur made him out to be! You should know, you’ve been here longer than Dream!” He bit the inside of his cheek. Tommy’s eyes had narrowed into slits, a low growl rising in the teenager’s throat. “Tommy. I know Dream. You know Dream. He had three rules and you… you fucking broke two of them in the span of a day, man! The Disc War? Yeah, I remember all of that! And, I won’t let you lose your discs again. Not after everything, Tommy.”

He stood up, moving towards the door. Fundy opened it, gesturing for Tommy to leave the room. The teenager scowled, refusing to get up from the sofa. “Tommy. L’Manburg loses nothing from this. I love Dream. He loves me. You keep your discs, and Wilbur gets his nation’s freedom.”

“But we lose you.” He shook his head, smiling despite the anger that Tommy was displaying. Dream wouldn’t stop him from visiting L’Manburg, but he would make a “show” of it, in case anyone else realized what was going on. After a moment of silence, Tommy stood up, his eyes creased together while his bottom lip trembled. Fundy should try to comfort him. But he couldn’t bring himself to. There was nothing to fear anyway. This way, they all get what they want. Tommy made his way to the door, nearly stumbling on his own two feet. He paused by the door, hands gripping the edge of the wood in an almost defiant way. Tommy’s mouth was set into a thin line, his eyebrows furrowing together in concentration. “We can still stop this! I can give him my discs and then you wouldn’t have to marry him. You wouldn’t want to spend the rest of your life with him, man. I一 I can stop this. Let me stop this! Wilbur wouldn’t want this for一”

“Who fucking cares what Wil wants? He got his stupid nation’s freedom, didn’t he?” He rolled his eyes, pushing the door close so that only a sliver of space was left. He could hear Tommy on the other side of the door, his breathing loud and harsh against Fundy’s ears. If there was one person he should feel sorry for, it was Tommy. He’d lost too much in this war. “I know you too. I know what you’d do for your discs. You’re on your last life Tommy, enjoy it while you still can.”

“Then answer this at least, you bitch.” Tommy poked his head back in, sharp eyes piercing straight through his soul. Fundy only smiled in response. “Why didn’t you just tell us the truth?”

“Because you wouldn’t have believed me… but I guess I should have trusted you, Tommy.”

Fundy chuckled despite himself. “I thought it would have been better if nobody knew the truth.”

He shook his head and sighed.

“Make sure dad doesn’t go insane for me, yah?”

Chapter Text

There was someone knocking at his door. The sun hadn’t even appeared in the sky, yet someone was at his door. He blinked back sleep, his head abuzz with nightmares and terror that refused to disappear. Another two hours of sleep. He wasn’t sure why he ever even bothered anymore.

His bones ached from the top of his shoulders and to the tips of his fingers, he couldn’t bring himself to get up. He glared up at his bedroom ceiling, a low groan seeping past his parched lips.

“The door’s unlocked…!” His vocal chords - after weeks of barely even using it - finally croaked out. He hoped whoever was at the door had heard him. He knew he looked like a mess, but if he was lucky then maybe it was just someone looking for some food. He’d just tell them to make their way to the kitchen and get out once they’d gotten everything they needed. He waited for a few painful seconds, but then he heard the loud creak of a door. He let out a sigh of relief, eyes fluttering shut once again while he tried to bury himself underneath the blankets, his ginger hair sticking to his sweaty face. He wasn’t even sure when was the last time he’d taken a bath. He heard footsteps right outside his bedroom door, another knock ringing through the air after a few moments of silence. “Take whatever the fuck you want and get out! I’m busy… doing… stuff.”

“...Fundy?” The voice sent a chill down his spine, his fingers gripping the edge of his blanket while his body shook in fear. His breath quickened, his chest tightening that he could barely even breath. Fuck, the nightmare hadn’t stopped. The nightmare hadn’t一 He heard him knock at the door again, the sound somehow gentle to his ears. It made him sick. It made him nauseous. He curled deeper into himself, hugging his tail closer to his chest with his eyes shut tight. If he tried to fall asleep again, the nightmare will stop. The nightmare should stop. He heard knocking again. “Funds? I know you don’t want to see me… but I wanted to visit you… I’m back, son…”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He’d known for an entire week about Wilbur’s… return. He buried his face in his tail, regretting it the moment he felt fur cling to his face. He desperately needed to take a bath. The man hadn’t knocked again, but he could hear nervous shuffling from outside the room. “I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m… I’m happy that… I missed you, son.”

“...You’re allowed in. But only for a few minutes! I still don’t want to see you.” There was a bit of hesitation, but soon enough he heard the door creak open. He heard him enter the room, and from where the footsteps had paused, Wilbur was at the foot of his bed. “What do you want?”

“I一 I wanted to see you, son. I wanted to apologize.” He hears shuffling, the mattress dipping to the side a bit. Wilbur was just a few feet away from him. He kept his eyes closed, terrified that if he’d open them, Wilbur wouldn’t be there anymore. It wouldn’t be the first time his nightmares had cruelly tortured him like that. He sniffled, wiping his nose on his damp shirt sleeve. It was probably dirty and crinkled by now, he didn’t even have the energy to fix himself up. He hadn’t seen the point in doing so. “Fundy… Can I…? Can I see you, please? I just want to see you.”

He whined, but didn’t exactly answer. Did it even really matter? What if it was just a nightmare? Would it even matter if this apparition saw him? He’d wake up in the same bed anyway, having lost nothing but a sliver of his already dwindling sanity… which was a thin string by this point. He felt the blanket move, cool air hitting the top of his head, his ears flicking up happily despite his misery. He expected the nightmare to begin. He didn’t expect a hand gently petting his ears.

He froze, breath stuttering in his throat. His body shivered, but he didn’t try to disappear back into the blanket. He let Wilbur pet his ears, letting the gesture cement him back to reality. He took a sharp inhale of breath before opening his eyes, the silhouette of his father appearing in front of his eyes, only concealed by the flimsy cloth that he called his blanket. He felt tears pool at the corners of his eyes, a small whimper leaving his lips. He begged whatever god had cursed him with his fucked-up nightmares not to do this to him again. He moved slowly across the bed, the hands disappearing from his head while he tried to latch onto the shadow of his father. With his blanket raised slightly up, he reached out a hand outside, the air biting at his exposed wrists. He blindly tried to grab anything that he could, jolting when a hand reached out to hold his own.

That opened the floodgates. A loud sob tore through him, tears running past his cheeks before he lunged forward, burying his face in his dad’s sweater. Wilbur stilled beneath him, but eventually he felt arms wrap around him, the blanket still covering and protecting him from his dad’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry, Fundy. I’m so sorry.” He felt a weight settle over the top of his head, a calming hand running up and down his back while his dad kept him tightly pressed to his chest. Fundy choked on his cries, embarrassed that he was potentially ruining his dad’s clothing by letting his runny nose wipe against the cloth. Still, Wilbur didn’t try to push him away, didn’t mock him for being so childish. His dad held onto him, a broken hum filling the air, combining with Fundy’s loud wailing. His hands clung to the back of his dad’s coat, unsheathed claws tearing through the clothing. He winced, but Wilbur didn’t berate him for it. He let himself listen to the song his dad was humming, noticing faintly that it was the lullaby he’d used to sing when Fundy was a kid and he’d had a terrible nightmare. He hadn’t heard that sweet song in such a long time. “I’m so sorry, my little champion. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I shouldn’t have said I despised you.”

The blanket was slipping from his shoulders, panic bloomed in his chest. He tried to hide his face, ashamed to show how much he’s fallen since the last time he’d seen Wilbur. He felt the blanket fall away, perhaps falling off the bed by that point. He curled his tail around his waist, but he knew it was too late. His dad tensed up, a hand reaching down to graze the tip of his tail.

"You're not okay, are you?" His father's voice was soft. "Fundy, do you… Can I help you with anything? How long have you been here in this house… alone? Phil tried to show me your old house but it's been turned into a smoking crater. Heh, that's… Are you… Are you hurt?"

He shook his head, "Please just stay, for once."

His dad held him closer.

And they stayed like that… locked in silence.

For as long as they needed until they could find the right words to say to a resurrected father…

And to a tired son who was promised the world, only to be given its ashes.

Chapter Text

He stuffed the diary inside his bag, sweat dripping down the sides of his neck despite the cool breeze of night air that came from the open window. His fingers shook, his throat tight with fear. He could nearly feel what it’d be like if he got caught. He’d feel hands on his neck, leaving him breathless and choking while that bastard stared down at him with a sharp grin. He’d wake in the room once more, the devil waiting right where he had watched him die the first time. He’d die again, and that would be the end of him. He took another gasp of air, piling object after object inside the little bag that he had found tucked at the back of his closet. It was old and the scent of river water still clung to it despite years of disuse. Fundy wondered if it had been his mom’s.

With his tail thumping wildly against the wooden floor, he nearly missed the creak of the door if it weren’t for the sudden sliver of light that illuminated the room. He gasped, eyes turning to see a familiar silhouette slumped against the doorway, the scent of booze hitting his sensitive nose. He clutched the bag close to his chest, stumbling back until his back was pressed against the wall. Schlatt walked deeper into the room, unsteady feet ungracefully stumbling across the floor.

“Fundy? What the fuck are you doing?” Schlatt must have found the light switch, because the bulb flickered on, casting the room in light and revealing his act of treason. His tail bristled, ears pressing to the top of his head. His room was a mess, a flurry of clothes and objects that Fundy thought he’d need with him but decided not to take. “What… Why the fuck are you packing?”

“Schlatt… I一” He shivered, feeling the man’s gaze on his trembling form. What could he say? The man was drunk as hell, but Schlatt wasn’t a fucking idiot. He knew exactly what Fundy was doing. “I have to go. Believe me, I was on your side once but I-I… I can’t follow you anymore.”

“So, you’re leaving, huh?” His voice was devoid of emotion, Schlatt’s mouth was set into a thin line. Fundy glanced down, taking notice of the alcohol bottle - or at least he had to assume it was an alcohol bottle - that was in Schlatt’s hand. His claws unsheathed themselves, digging into the wood behind him. He had two escape routes. One was the open window, which was not a good idea since he was on the second floor. Two was the door, but Schlatt was in his way. “You’re leaving me. Of course! Everyone fucking leaves. Just like Tubbo. Just like fucking Quackity!”

“Tubbo didn’t leave! You executed him, Schlatt! You killed him in front of a lot of people! It was supposed to be a festival, man.” He buried his hands in his hair, feeling the claws dig into his scalp. He shouldn’t be antagonizing Schlatt, but he was not about to let this man play the victim. “Quackity left because you didn’t listen to him! YOU DIDN’T LISTEN TO HIM, SCHLATT!”

“Like that bitch had anything worth listening to. I’m the president, I get to say what stays and what goes. The White House had to fucking go. I don’t give a shit that Quackity wanted to keep it standing, it had to go.” Fundy growled, baring his teeth. Schlatt was wavering on his own two feet, but Fundy didn’t trust it. Schlatt’s eyes were too focused, too awake. He wondered if Schlatt was even drunk at all. Schlatt crossed his arms, that alcohol bottle hanging from between Schlatt’s fingers. He didn’t seem to care whether or not it fell. “Now you want to fucking leave me. Why? I didn’t pay enough attention to you? I didn’t give you enough fucking praise? I didn’t thank you enough? You want to go back and hide behind your daddy, you little fox fuck?!”

“Schlatt, listen to yourself, man! I used to believe in you! I thought you were something but now I see you for what you really are. You’re a washed-up old man who’s still clinging to whatever semblance of power that you can cling to! I wanted to follow you. I trusted you once! Now look at you. You’re… You’re not the same Schlatt I followed without question.” Fundy let the bag fall from his hands, the diary clattering out of it in an almost confessatory way. Schlatt’s eyes flicked down towards the book, eyes hardening into steel. Fundy didn’t see any reason to hide what he was anymore, not when Schlatt had already taken offense to his leaving. Schlatt tsked, wiping his mouth with the edge of his suit sleeve. The man was drooling. So he was drunk, but he was at least sober enough to understand the situation. “You had a dream, Schlatt. But now you’re nothing but a no-good, sad pathetic man. I shouldn’t have trusted you. I should have left with一”

Schlatt was chuckling. He looked up, watching while Schlatt slumped over, a hand on his stomach and a dark laugh seeping past his lips. Fundy swallowed, crouching to the ground to grab his bag. Schlatt was losing it. He needed to get out before the man went off the actual deep end. He glanced over at the window, slowly edging towards it while Schlatt’s laughter continued to ring in his ears. He dropped the bag first, waiting for the soft thump that would mean it had reached the ground. Fundy could handle a twisted ankle if it meant escaping. Schlatt was still in the way of the door, and he refused to go anywhere near the cackling ram hybrid. He took a deep breath, fingers curling against the windowsill. He could handle the fall. He could handle the一

He heard the crunch of glass before he felt the pain. He screamed, stumbling away until his back hit the solid floor. His hands reached up towards the back of his head, agony ripping through his body when he felt another bottle crash on top of him. He glanced up, with blood trickling past his fingers. Schlatt was pulling out bottle after bottle from his inventory, and he was throwing them.

“You think you can fucking leave me just like that, you little shit?”

He could do nothing but watch while Schlatt pulled out his sword.

“But you’re right, Fundy. You should have left with Quackity when you had the chance.”

He felt the sword wedge itself inside his stomach.

ItsFundy was slain by jschlatt using [Shclatt]. 1/3 lives remaining.

---

He woke to the smell of gunpowder in the air. He coughed, trying to reach up to wipe his nose on his jacket sleeve, but he found that he couldn’t move his hand. He shook his head, trying to blink away the phantom pain and nausea. He tried to move his head, only to smack it against the wall.

“Wakey wakey, it’s the dawn of a new day.” He groaned, gazing around the dark and damp cave that he had somehow woken up to. His hands were tied behind his back, and his feet were bound in rope. He tried to struggle out of his tight binds, hissing when the rope began to chafe against his skin. He tried to unsheath his claws, but it felt like someone had placed really restrictive gloves on his hands. He looked around, a pair of familiar golden eyes stared back at him from the gloom. Schlatt was staring at him. He shivered. “Do you know where you are right now, Fundy?”

He glanced down, the sound of water dripping from the ceiling reached his ears. They were underground, but he couldn’t tell where Schlatt had really taken him. There was a sliver of light in front of him, a small entrance way had been carved into the rock. Did Schlatt dig into a random cave? He tilted his head back, eyes straining in the dark until he saw the tint of red glare up from the shadows. His breath stuttered against his throat. He hadn’t hit his head on a stone wall… he was leaning against a huge pile of TNT. He screamed, trying desperately to move away, but he couldn’t move. Schlatt had made sure that his hands were tied around a really huge barrel of dynamite. Schlatt chuckled, watching from his position against the far side of the room.

“Where… Where the hell are we?” He could feel his breath quicken, his head dizzy with the sudden onslaught of fear. He didn’t know where they were. “Schlatt, what the hell did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. See this? This was made by the man you all so desperately want to follow. You think Wilbur was the good guy here, Fundy? You think he was the hero of this story? Well, look around you! This is his doing! This is his fucking mess! You know what? Come the day of reckoning, Manburg will be nothing but a crater on the ground. I know Wilbur. I know who he is. And I know what he does when he doesn’t get his way.” Schlatt shook his head, the grin on his face turning into a grimace. Fundy frowned, biting the inside of his cheek. His dad couldn’t have done this. His dad loved L’Manburg more than anything. More than his own son. He wouldn’t blow it up. He wouldn’t. “I used to go on the shittiest adventures with him, you know? We went through hell and back. I should know him better than anyone. I do know him more than anyone. This… This is his response to losing. He’s going to blow this whole fucking place to shreds.”

“Wilbur would never一 Dad would never do that! He loves L’Manburg! You’re lying! You—!”

“Why would I lie about that, kiddo?” The endearment was mocking and grating against his ears. Once upon a time, he would have been grateful for it, would have liked the praise that came along with the nickname. But now he just felt sick. Schlatt was leaning against the wall, an alcohol bottle in his hand. He was drunk, even now he was drunk. “To be honest, I didn’t think loverboy had it in him. Guess he’d reached his breaking point. I wonder who caused that…”

“He’d never! He wouldn’t have thrown his whole country away! You’re lying to me! You want me to side you because you want someone on your side. Well, guess what, Schlatt? You might as well kill me because I won’t follow you again. You’re fucking insane is what you are!” Schlatt huffed at his exclamation, rolling his eyes before tossing the alcohol bottle at Fundy’s feet. He flinched, the phantom scars on his skin writhing with pain. He’d died twice now, the new scars on him proved that. He shivered, scooting away from the scent of alcohol that began to fill the air. Schlatt sniffed, wiping his mouth on his suit sleeve. The ram hybrid made his way towards Fundy, crouching down until they were both eye level. He yelped when he felt a fist slam itself against his cheek, forcing him to fall on the barrel of TNT that he was leaning on. “You know what, Schlatt? Fuck you! I hope you lose! I hope you fucking lose the war, you fucking asshole!”

“I know I will.” Schlatt scoffed, standing up. He patted down his suit before tossing Fundy a disgusted look. Schlatt headed towards the entrance, pausing for a moment to look through his inventory. Fundy paled once he noticed the blocks of stone that Schlatt held in his hands. He squirmed in his tight bounds, shaking his head. Schlatt couldn’t leave him here. He just couldn’t!

“And, Fundy?” Schlatt paused by the entrance, a smirk on his lips. “Even if I did lie to you about Wilbur blowing this whole place up, how much do you want to bet that they’d find you, that they’d even look for you? You know what, kiddo? You’ll die of starvation before they even think of looking for you. You’ll die alone and unloved. I’ll meet you in the afterlife, kiddo. See ya!”

Schlatt covered the entrance, leaving Fundy in total silence and darkness.

That was the last straw.

Fundy started to scream, crying for Schlatt to come back.

Begging for anyone to save him.

In the end, he was left to suffer alone. Praying that his dad would come find and save him.

---

He slammed his fist against the stone wall, a low hiss seeping past his gritted teeth. He was so tired. He’d done what he had to. He could finally rest now. After all these weeks of meticulous planning, of bargaining and lying, he’d finally be free. He glared at the button. The one that’s haunted his waking life and pursued him to the darkest and deepest edges of his mind. With one click, it’ll all be gone. In one click, it would be over. He’d be free. They all would. He started to chuckle, a low sound that turned into manic laughter. He slumped to the ground, his head pressed to the wall. It was one push. One push away from freedom. They’d made it. He shook his head, feeling tears fall past his cheeks. He’d finally reached the denouement of the story he’d written.

In this tale of tragedy, he did have one conclusion that he wished to know— He heard the loud beating of wings in his ears, a familiar voice echoing against the walls. He didn’t dare to turn back. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t bear to see his face. He didn’t want to. “What are you doing?”

He chuckled bitterly, letting the words of misery slip past his lips. There was nothing that man could do to save him. He was too far gone. He shook his head, smiling through the agony in his heart. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He was going to press that damn fucking button. He would let the flames consume him, destroy him the same way it would the nation he’d once loved.

“Phil... There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor… They had a saying, Phil” His fingers brushed against the button, his throat choking on his sobs. It was finally over. “It was never meant to be.”

He heard a scream in his head, wings wrapping around him before a scorching heat grazed his entire body. There was the scent of blood in the air, Phil’s arms wrapped around him tightly while Phil forced him to bury his face against the man’s shoulder. He could do nothing but let his dad hold him, shaking once his eyes caught a burnt feather floating through the flames. Phil only held him closer, the man’s eyes closed with pain. He felt guilt and shame course through his veins. His dad shouldn’t have tried to save him. He should have let them die with the nation that had taken everything from him. There was a ringing in his ears by the end, and he stumbled away from his injured father, taking in the dying sky above them. A beautiful end for a worthless man.

“MY L'MANBURG, PHIL! MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED! IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS, NO ONE CAN, PHIL!” He giggled, his bloodied hands pulling at his hair while the screams of people reached his ears. He’d done it. They were free! They were all free! He wavered on his own two feet, collapsing on the ground, the heavy smell of soot reaching his ears. Now they could all be free. With trembling hands, he reached for the communicator inside his coat pocket. He hoped no one died in the explosion. He wouldn’t wish death upon anyone today. The only person who deserved to be taken into death’s embrace was him. He looked at the communicator, wincing once he noticed that there was one message flashing through the screen.

‘ItsFundy blew up. 0/3 lives remaining.’ That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. He let out a nervous laugh. It was a malfunction, a stupid one at that. He continued to scroll up anyway.

Then he saw it. ‘ItsFundy was slain by jschlatt using [Shclatt]. 1/3 lives remaining.’

The communicator clattered to the ground, slipping in between the rubble before falling down the edge of the small stone platform he was standing on. He felt his knees give way, his heart pounding in his chest. No. No. No. NO NO NO. He screamed. A loud and agonized wail that reached the heavens and broke through the silence. He clamped a hand against his mouth, nails digging into the sides of his cheek. Schlatt deserved a greater death than a fucking gods damn heart attack. How couldn’t he have noticed? How couldn’t have anyone noticed? When did— How did— How? HOW?! His son. His son who he hadn’t thought of since-since… Why hadn’t he noticed? Why didn’t even notice that his son had died? Gods, his son was dead. He bit back a sob. His little champion - his little boy! - was dead because of that bastard and because of him.

His son had died alone… He never got to hold him for one last time.

Gods…

His baby was gone.

“Wil…?”

He knew what he had to do.

“Kill me, Phil.”

Chapter Text

“Mama?” She gazed down at her son, forcing a smile upon her face before crouching down to pick him up and settle him on her lap. Her little fox stared up at her with a questioning look on his face, his mouth set into a pout. He felt a hand reach up for her cheek, patting her in a kind gesture of comfort. She giggled pressing a soft kiss against her son’s forehead, the little boy laughing after her before turning his attention to the open letter on the table. She sighed, grateful that he hadn’t learned to read yet. He was still so young. He wouldn’t have understood the letter’s message even if he tried to. Besides, she’d never let him know. “Mama? Papa home? Papa home next day?”

“No, baby. Papa is still busy, but he’ll be home soon, my little darling. I promise.” The lie tasted bitter against her tongue, but it was enough to appease her son. He nodded happily, climbing down from her lap before running back to the small pile of toys that he had placed in the middle of the living room carpet. She sighed, placing a hand on top of her lips. How could he ever tell him the truth? She picked up the letter on the table, scrutinizing every word that her oh so beloved husband had written to her. It had been the last letter she’d gotten from him in two months. If she didn’t know him – if she hadn’t loved him so, she would think he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere. She left the letter at the table, choosing to follow after her son who had pulled out a bunch of his crayons and a piece of paper he must have hidden from her sight at some point. “Fundy, sweetie?”

“Hmmm?” Fundy barely looked up from his drawing, a red crayon in his hand while he scribbled two people on the white space. She tried not to chuckle when Fundy accidentally drew one of his ears much longer than the other. Before she could ask him her question, he turned his attention to his pile of crayons, eyebrows creased in thought. “Mama? What color papa? What color hair?”

“Brown, sweetheart.” She patted him on the head, a tense smile appearing on her face while she watched Fundy grab for the brown crayon. He was forgetting. It didn’t help that she had tossed her husband’s pictures into the river a month ago. She let her son draw for a bit, humming underneath her breath until she found the courage to go on. With her hand petting her son’s ears, she gently turned his attention towards her. “Fundy, baby. Would you like to go on a little trip? Just us two?”

“But… papa? Papa won’ fin’ us! Papa get lost!”

“Fundy, papa will always find you. No matter where we go, and no matter how far. He’ll always find his way home to his little champion.” She ruffled his hair, pressing a kiss on Fundy’s ginger curls. He pouted, but stood up from where he was lying down. He glanced down at his toys before running off to his room. He knew what to do. It wasn’t exactly the first time that they’d travel. Of course, the first time had been with her husband, the three of them looking for a place where their Fundy could grow up happy. If she had known that after a few years her husband would leave them, she would have insisted on staying home with her parents. She let her son gather his belongings, knowing that at some point he’d tucker himself out and she’d be left to pack on her lonesome. She didn’t mind. It would let her baby rest and not think about the sudden move that she had proposed. She headed back towards the table, picking up the letter in between two fingers.

‘I seem to have found myself in a bit of an issue. But don’t worry! I swear that I’ll be back as soon as this whole problem has been sorted out. I miss you. I miss our little boy. How is he? Still the little rascal that I remember, I assume. You wouldn’t believe the sights I’ve seen, love. I wish we all could have gone together but we both know Fundy wouldn’t bear a life of travelling. You still don’t mind our arrangement, right? I leave every now and then, you stay with Fundy, and I come home with the strangest gifts that only the mind could ever create. You know you can tell me, right? I promise to stay home, if that’s what you ask of me… Oh! And you wouldn’t believe who I’ve met on my travels. Remember Schlatt? You know, the kid who used to hang out with us when we were by the river and would occasionally smash his head against our arms? I met him recently. He’s done a great job for himself, love. He’s an actual business man! I would have never imagined it…’

She scoffed. Promises of staying home were common in her husband’s letters. Not that he’d ever fulfilled them. She couldn’t fathom why he insisted on writing it when he knew the truth of its lie.

Then again, she didn’t know why she’d believed in his words for as long as she did.

“Mama!” Her little boy’s cry broke her out of her thoughts. Fundy needed her. She folded the letter, refusing to even glance at that familiar signature that had once graced love letters and heart-stopping sonatas written for her and her alone. She gave the letter one last glare, a final goodbye to a man not even worth thinking about. She glanced over at the blazing fireplace, tossing the letter in without a single hint of hesitation. It was over now. She left the room. Her son needed her.

The next day, they left home.

With her son sleeping in her arms…

… and with a handful of possessions within her grasp.

They left, and never looked back.

Sally didn’t bother to leave a note.

---

He bit the inside of his cheek, kicking at the water while he glanced over at his mama who was busy conversing with the kind fish lady that they had bumped into a few minutes ago. With his arms crossed in front of his chest, he tossed a glare over at the younger boy who had latched onto the ends of his sweater. The boy’s questions were grating in his ears, loud and whiny each time he refused to answer them. He didn’t like the lady’s son. He was a no-good meanie who kept pestering him and, at some point, had taken his cardboard mask from him. His mama told him to share with his new “friend” but he didn’t want a new friend! He already had Pandas and Gogy! He didn’t need this stranger who had now begun to poke at his horns. He didn’t like him! He was too nosy.

“Helllloooooooooooo? Can you hear me? I asked for your name!”

He huffed, turning away until his back hit one of the boxes that they had placed on the pier. They were supplies, his mama said, though he wasn’t told what kind of supplies they were. The boy only seemed to follow him, his fox tail wagging behind him happily while his fox ears flicked up. The boy would be a nice friend to have since he was also a hybrid like him – unlike Pandas and Gogy who weren’t exactly like him, but he was too irritating! The boy settled next to him, their shoulders touching while the younger boy rested his head against the box. He wasn’t even allowed his own space with this strange kid! His mama was too busy to shoo the other kid away. It would be up to him to get this brat to leave. Maybe if he actually answered one of the kid’s questions, then maybe he’d finally go away and leave him alone. “Dream. My name’s Dream. Happy now?”

“Mmhm!” The boy nodded, his grin showing very sharp teeth he couldn’t help but shudder away from him. He wasn’t scared though! “’m Fundy! I like your mask, it looks cool. Did you make it?”

“My dad made it.” The moment Fundy held the mask close to his face, he reached out and grabbed it, tearing it away from those grubby hands that dared to steal it from him in the first place. He scowled, tying the loose black string around his head until the mask covered his face again. He didn’t like it when people stole his things, especially not his mask. It was the last gift his dad had made him before— he had mama now, it didn’t matter anymore. “Don’t take it away from me!”

Fundy was silent for a moment, a bright look appearing in his eyes before he reached up towards his hat. He watched him with wary eyes, blinking when Fundy handed the hat over to him. He hesitated, carefully reaching to touch it. “My papa gave me this hat. It was his last gift to me.”

He took the hat into his hold, gentle in case he accidentally tore a piece of cloth off of it. Fundy watched him from his side, tail cast low while his ears were pressed to the top of his head. There was a small smile on the other kid’s face, a hint of tears in his eyes that never fell. He held onto the hat, letting his fingers run across the rough cloth, mindful that he didn’t accidentally touched some of stains that clung to the hat’s edges. After a few minutes, Fundy took the hat from him, putting it back on his head with a contented yip. Fundy settled back into leaning against the box, his fluffy ears grazing the sides of Dream’s cheek when Fundy turned to tilt his head up so that he was staring up into the clouds. “Mama thinks that I don’t know any better, but I know papa isn’t going to come home. He left us years ago. He’s not coming home. He’s out there… somewhere.”

“My dad left years ago.” He answered, pulling his knees close to his chest. He didn’t like talking about it, but since Fundy was so open… Dream looked out at the water, feeling hot tears collect in his eyes. He really didn’t like thinking about it. He turned his attention instead to his mama who had laughed at a joke that Fundy’s mom had made. “He left me alone. He left me alone and left my brother to the wolves… I have mama now… I don’t even remember what he looked like.”

“Me too!” Fundy shouted, letting out a gasp. He had to laugh at that. It was so stupid, but Fundy’s reaction made him want to laugh. “I don’t remember my papa’s face or what he was like at all!”

Dream rolled his eyes and scoffed, puffing out his cheek before turning to glance at the water again. Another similarity. If he wasn’t so annoying then maybe he would have made a great friend. But Dream didn’t like annoying people, even if they did understand him. He felt Fundy shift behind him, his face suddenly popping next to Dream’s. Fundy whispered, “What are we looking at?”

“Nothing—”

“Fundy! Sweetheart, we’re leaving!”

Before he could say anything, Fundy was racing back towards his mom.

Dream huffed.

Rude. Fundy didn’t even say goodbye.

---

“Today is a solemn day for many of us…”

He held Fundy close to him, letting the boy sob against his chest while he kept his mouth set into a thin line. He could feel the crowd staring at him, his fingers trembling against Fundy’s shoulders. He couldn’t bear to look at any of their gazes, knowing that they’d judge him based on what emotion was to show itself within his eyes. He felt a gentle hand settle at his back, glancing up to find Bad staring down at him with a somber and apologetic look on his face. He sniffled, willing himself to be strong for all of them. He latched onto the only person he could hold. With his hands clinging to the back of Fundy’s black jacket, Dream continued to listen to the pastor’s sermon.

“We come together to mourn the passing of our beloved Queen of the Essempy and her royal advisor. May their souls come home from their watery graves, that they may find solace and peace. It is with great suffering that the kingdom says its farewell to its ruler, and with it comes the hope of what the future may bring.” The pastor paused, letting his words hang over the crowd. Dream wanted nothing more than to scowl. These people didn’t know his mother. These people were strangers, they could not possibly know or understand his pain. He held Fundy closer to himself. “Queen Puffy of the Essempy was a noble woman, brave and caring towards her people…”

He could feel Fundy’s hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles even while he continued to sob into Dream’s chest. They were orphans now. Them with their deadbeat dads and their moms who were taken too soon from this earth. He knew Sapnap and George were next to him, maybe they were trying to catch his attention and he was accidentally ignoring them. He felt numb. He knew he should have stopped his mom from leaving, Fundy had a bad feeling about the trip too. They were too late now. He heard Bad whisper in his ear, a consoling statement maybe, but all Dream could focus on was the drawl of the pastor. He hated his insincere words. He knew nothing of their pain.

“The Royal Advisor Sally Soot was a woman of compassion and intelligence. She knew what the people wanted and delivered just and sound advice to the queen. An outsider who was welcomed into the Essempy by the queen herself, the royal advisor found her place among the nobility until she rose into her royal position.” He could feel Fundy shake his head, sharp claws digging into the back of his shirt the longer the pastor continued to speak. Dream took a deep breath to keep himself from losing it. “These two women will be remembered by the nation’s people and by its history.”

The pastor met his eyes. “Yet with sorrow comes the dawn. May we not drown in the tears of our agony, but recall that we have come upon a new era. Where one ruler falls, another may rise—"

He grabbed Fundy’s hand and hurried out of the chapel.

He didn’t care about the crowd’s judgment. Dream couldn’t bring himself to listen anymore. With Fundy stumbling after him, he led them out of those heavy oaken doors before breaking into a run.

Bad watched the two of them go, holding back his own son from following after the two. George – silent child as he was – stayed where he was, but there was a frown etched on his face. Dream was a stubborn child, and Fundy would follow Dream until the end, it would be best to leave the two of them alone. He sighed, hearing the murmurs of the crowd while they gawked at where the young prince once sat. He pitied Dream. He was too young to rule a kingdom, too young to be burdened by the power of a crown. He may be royalty but he was still a child. Bad couldn’t help but hold onto his son just a little bit tighter. He’d lost two friends today, but he couldn’t imagine what Dream and Fundy were going through. At least they had the other to share their pain with.

His gaze flickered to the two caskets wreathed in flowers. A pity that they were empty. Fundy and Dream didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Sally and Puffy would have wanted someone to watch over their sons. Bad looked down at Sapnap, his son looked back at him with a confused pain that he probably didn’t understand. Bad had to be strong for his four wards now. He’d raise them to be strong and to be kind. He’d protect them.

So, when the two finally came home a few days after running away…

Bad didn’t question why Dream refused to remove his mask – porcelain now.

Bad didn’t question why Fundy’s hat had been replaced with a scale earring.

He didn’t question them.

After all, why should he fault their ways of coping?

---

“You should have seen the look on their faces!” He felt a pillow slam against the side of his head, Sapnap’s loud cackling breaking through the silence of the room. Fundy scoffed, tossing it back to the blazeborn who had decided to take up most of the bed now that they were back from their little meeting. The pillow struck Sapnap right on the face, the man dramatically gasping for air before settling into “death.” His mouth still moved though, unfortunately. “Dream was all like, ‘I want to see white flags or you’re dead!’ and they all had looked so scared. Like little babies!”