Chapter Text
Quackity wakes up warm, his head pillowed on something soft, and in the moment before full consciousness he hopes it's all been a dream.
Reality settles over him quickly, with a cold finality like the weight of chainmail. Schlatt...
Schlatt must be out there still, because he hadn't been in their dreamland. Quackity had spent the night alone, his soul wandering through their house. White walls and cheerful sunlight, a lake just down the hill. It had been peaceful.
He keeps his eyes closed, as though he can escape back into that elusive dream. But escape is pointless, for him at least. Even if his wings weren't clipped, he's soulbound to this place. To Schlatt. Schlatt is the double-edged sword that protects them all. But now, with the Pit in chaos, blood running down the halls, and angry nobles assembling their lackeys -- maybe the tide is turning. If Schlatt loses control of the Pit, he's a dead man, and so is Quackity, and so are Tubbo and Tommy and Ranboo. Whoever takes over after Schlatt will stamp out whatever supporters he has left. His family will be the first to go.
Quackity's mind races. He needs to help Schlatt regain control of the Pit -- but maybe there's still a chance here for the younger three.
Chaos might be just the opportunity they've been looking for.
He opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings with some confusion. The light is dim and he's disoriented, and it takes him a minute to identify Tubbo's room. Even more of a mess than usual, it's been turned into some kind of blanket fort. Pillows and mattresses and blankets form a comfortable nest with him at the center. On either side, he can feel the warmth of familiar forms. A stray feather tickles his nose.
"Tommy?" Quackity croaks. He clears his throat and tries again. "Tommy?"
"Oh -- you're awake. Good! That's good. That's great, actually." A gleaming pair of mismatched eyes rise up from the mound at his feet. Ranboo has managed to curl his whole tall form into the nest, and now he props himself up on his forearms and stares anxiously at Quackity. "Are you OK? What happened? Schlatt didn't tell us much."
"Uh...I took a hit. Back end of the axe." Quackity is slowly coming around to an awareness of his body, the dull but fading ache in his abdomen and a slight discomfort where Tubbo's horn is pressed against his arm. He's using it as a pillow, and Quackity doesn't have the heart to wake him up or try to move his arm to a more comfortable position. Tubbo isn't the cuddly type. He doesn't even like hugs. He only really seeks out physical comfort and affection when he's truly distressed. And Tubbo isn't his kid, technically -- hell, he's Tommy's age; he could be Quackity's younger brother -- but his damn bird brain is chirping at him to shelter, protect, lay his wing over Tubbo and kill anyone who comes too close.
"Schlatt brought you here, left, and came back with a potion," Ranboo says. He points. Quackity follows his finger to a shimmering bottle, partly full, nestled among the blankets. "He got you to drink some, but said to take the rest when you wake up."
"OK." Quackity reaches for the bottle, but Ranboo hands it to him before he can take it. He steels himself before downing it all in one gulp, cringing. It's smooth and metallic, and the taste isn't even that bad -- but the memories attached to it are. He almost wants to refuse to take it. It reminds him of the time he nearly died following a disastrous match in the Pit. He'd taken so many healing potions then that he would forever hate the taste.
He's lucky to have access to potions at all; he knows that. Schlatt owns one of the few remaining brewing stands left in the world. It's priceless. Normally he keeps it locked in his most secure vault. Quackity lies back and closes his eyes as the potion goes to work on his insides.
"Uh, Q?"
Quackity opens his eyes. "Yeah?"
"Oh. Nothing. Just, checking. That you were still awake." Ranboo sits with his knees drawn in against his chest, large bat-like ears twitching back and forth as he hones in on sounds from every direction. He hugs his knees tight and stares at Quackity with wide, mismatched eyes, looking lost.
"I'm OK," Quackity assures him. "They just got lucky. The pain's already gone."
"Good. Good." Ranboo nods. He's nodding too much. Just looking at him is giving Quackity secondhand anxiety. "What are we going to do?"
That was the question, wasn't it. "That depends," Quackity says. "How's the teleportation going?"
Ranboo gulps. "Um...I've been practicing. It's easier in the dreamland. Out here it's kind of...hit or miss."
"Give me a number," Quackity says. "From one to ten, if you were running for your life -- ?"
"Maybe a six?" Ranboo says.
"Are you asking me?"
"Six," Ranboo repeats. "Yeah, around there. I get it more times than I fail, but it's hard. I don't know if I'm not concentrating enough or concentrating too much or...what. If I was being chased...I think that might help me, actually. I might get injured, but I don't think I'd be caught."
"OK." Quackity rubs his face, thinking. Now would be the ideal time to make a run for it. If they can escape the fighting, Schlatt's forces will be spread out looking for Dream and Technoblade and taking control of the Pit. Fewer people to look for them. "You haven't tried taking two people with you, though, right? Just Tubbo?"
"No..." Ranboo frowns. "Wait, two people?"
Quackity sighs. "Yeah. Plan hasn't changed."
"But I thought you said -- "
"I lied to Tubbo so he'd keep helping you," Quackity says flatly. "You guys can get out. If I come with you, Schlatt will never stop hunting us. Plus..." He shivers slightly. "I mean, we share a dreamland for fuck's sake. He'd get it out of me eventually. You wouldn't be safe."
Ranboo lowers his eyes, his chin on his knees. His ears droop. "Yeah," he says, voice quiet. Ranboo has understood this from the beginning. It was Tubbo Quackity had had to convince. "What will you tell Tommy?"
"Whatever I have to." He sounds confident, even cold, but internally Quackity feels Iike he's about to burst into tears.
They aren't brothers because they share parents or a flock, but not quite in the same way humans and other hybrids practice adoption, either. Their bond is a result of trauma, survival instincts, and bird brain taking over for two kids who had lost any other sense of a family or flock.
Bird hybrid instincts are...interesting. Quackity remembers being a kid barely older than Tommy. His primaries had just been clipped for the first time. His captors had left deep bruises restraining him long enough to clip his wings. But then a blond kid had come up to him in the holding pen. Tommy's wings were still all fluffy baby down, and he had innocently asked Quackity how his feathers grew that way.
Tommy had imprinted on him, the only other bird hybrid around and probably the first person in the Pit to be nice to him. Soon Tommy was huddled up asleep under his wing and, whether it was losing his own family or some instinct in him that sought to protect and be protected, Quackity had imprinted on the other boy, too. He feels something similar for Tubbo, though not quite as strong. Damn bird brain, chirping at him to protect his mate's kid. Quackity loves them all, but the bird brain shit is only going to make all of this more painful in the end.
He, Tubbo, and Ranboo haven't told Tommy about the plan supposedly because Quackity worries Tommy will give it away. His brother is very easy to read.
The deeper reasons are because Tommy is safer if he doesn't know, and he'll object to it when he does find out -- and most of all because Quackity is so afraid to tell him. He wants to delay the moment as long as possible. Tommy will see it as a betrayal, as Quackity abandoning him and choosing Schlatt over all of them, the ones he's supposed to protect. And there's nothing he can do to change that or soften the blow for Tommy -- because Tommy would be partially right. Maybe Quackity is just making it worse the longer he waits, but he can't bring himself to tell him. Not yet.
Tommy lies on his other side, sleeping peacefully. The nest is Tommy's work; Quackity doesn't even have to ask. Tommy is the one who cares about that stuff. He only really did it in the past so that Tommy would learn how. Tommy took to it like, well, a duck to water. He would always make a nest wherever they ended up, even trying to spruce up Quackity's room for him with little twigs and flowers and shiny things he'd found. Quackity had always let him, but where Tommy nests for comfort, Quackity finds this part of being a bird hybrid painful. He gets too attached to a nest, and hates when he has to clean up or change rooms and it is inevitably destroyed. It reminds him of places that should feel safe and aren't.
This is nice, though.
"I'll let them sleep for now," Quackity says, lying back on the mattress. His stomach aches a bit. "You should try to rest, too."
"Are we going to...you know..." Ranboo trails off, like he's afraid to give voice to the hope of escape in case someone will hear.
Dream and Technoblade had done it. Why not us -- them? With Ranboo, they'll have a better chance at getting away clean than anyone on foot. And when Tommy molts and his primaries grow and there's no one to clip his wings, they'll have the advantage of flight as well.
This is real. It's really happening.
They're really leaving.
Quackity stares at the ceiling. Despite what he tells Ranboo, he doesn't want to rest. He wants to lie here and absorb this nest and the people in it into his memory.
"Q?"
"Yeah," he says, quietly determined. "Soon. You'll never get a better chance than this."