Chapter Text
The silence was unbearable.
It stretched and stretched, thick as tar, pressing down on all of them. The fire hissed low in the hearth, shadows flickering across the inn’s walls, but no one moved. No one breathed too loudly. Tubbo clung to Quackity’s sleeve, sensing every jagged edge of the tension.
Finally, Techno spoke. His voice was gravel, low and strained, but it split the silence clean in two.
“I could’ve protected you.”
His head rose, crimson eyes finally meeting Quackity’s. His tone wasn’t sharp—it was hollow, aching.
Quackity flinched. His hand moved instinctively to Tubbo’s shoulder, clutching. “No,” he said, his voice thin. “You couldn’t. You don’t understand. It was too dangerous. It’s not your battle to fight.”
Techno’s expression didn’t move, but the faintest crease in his brow betrayed him.
And then Wilbur snapped.
“Then why run?” His voice was a whip crack in the room. “If you didn’t want help, if it was so dangerous, then why run at all? You had everything. Everything we never had. A warm bed, food, safety, wealth.” His voice rose, sharp, bitter. “You never scraped coins together for bread. Never had to worry if the cold would freeze you before morning. Never knew hunger.”
“Wilbur—” Phil started, but Wilbur’s voice barreled over him.
“What could’ve been so bad that you had to leave it behind? Hm?” His laugh was jagged, hollow. “Was the food not up to your standard? Were the beds too stiff? The jewels not shiny enough? What was it, Queen Alexis?!”
Quackity froze, eyes wide and wet. Tubbo pressed tighter into him, confused but frightened by the anger.
“Why us?” Wilbur roared. “Why did it have to be our home, our scraps, our lives you took? Why couldn’t it have been someone else you leeched off of? Why us?”
Phil pushed to his feet. “Wilbur, that’s enough.”
But Wilbur wasn’t listening. His chest heaved with the years of bitterness he’d never said aloud. “You’ve been sitting here, laughing with us, cooking for us, pretending to be one of us—and you never once thought about how our lives could’ve been changed if we’d turned you in! Do you even realize what you cost us? What we could’ve had?!”
Quackity’s throat burned. He searched the room for someone—anyone—to stop this. His eyes caught on Techno, pleading silently.
But Techno said nothing. He just stared, frozen.
That was what broke him.
Tears slipped free, hot against his cheeks. He bent, hand sliding over Tubbo’s curls, pulling him close to shield him. His voice trembled, breaking on every word.
“You think it was perfect?” he whispered. “You think I ran from a perfect life?”
His lips quivered. His shoulders shook.
“Every day was hell.”
The words shattered the air, and with them, Quackity shattered too.
⸻
“I remember the first time he hit me.” Quackity’s voice was low, distant, like he wasn’t speaking to them anymore but to himself. His eyes stared past them, unfocused, as though the room was gone. “It wasn’t even because I did anything. He came home drunk. I asked if he wanted dinner.”
A memory sharpened, vivid.
The clink of a wine bottle tossed carelessly across the floor. The sting of a hand across his face, sudden and merciless, sending him stumbling against the wall.
“He told me to never speak unless he asked me to. That I was his to silence whenever he wanted.”
He shook his head, clutching Tubbo tighter.
⸻
“Friends?” His laugh cracked, humorless. “He didn’t let me have friends. Not one. If I so much as looked at someone too long, he’d accuse me of plotting, of cheating, of planning to leave him. He’d keep me locked away in that castle for weeks sometimes, just so no one else would look at me.”
A memory surfaced—standing at a balcony, watching people in the courtyard below laugh, play, live. Guards at his back, the lock clicking shut on the door behind him.
“I was a bird in a gilded cage.”
⸻
“He tried to kill me once.” Quackity’s voice shook harder. “Held a dagger to my throat while he smiled. Said it would be quick, painless. Just to remind me who owned me. Another time—he poisoned my drink. Told me if I ever disobeyed again, it wouldn’t just make me sick.”
His lips trembled. His eyes glistened.
“I spent every night wondering if I’d see the morning.”
⸻
“But I could take it. The pain. The loneliness. The fear. I told myself I could take it.” His voice cracked into a sob. His hand pressed Tubbo’s head to his stomach, curling over him like a shield. “But then—”
He choked. His chest heaved.
“Then he threatened him.”
Tubbo blinked up, confused, small fists clutching Quackity’s shirt.
Quackity’s tears spilled freely now, soaking into Tubbo’s hair.
“He told me if I stepped out of line again, he’d hurt Tubbo. That he’d make me watch.”
The room froze.
Phil’s face paled. Tommy’s eyes went wide, horror dawning in his young features. Wilbur’s fury cracked, uncertainty flashing beneath it.
Techno… Techno felt the voices explode all at once.
He lied.
He was protecting you.
He played you.
He trusted you.
He’s weak.
He’s strong.
He loves you.
He ruined everything.
Quackity curled tighter around Tubbo, shaking, whispering through tears:
“I could take it for myself. But not for him. That’s why I ran. That’s why I left everything. Not for me. For him.”
Silence.
Raw, crushing silence.
And then, softer still—so quiet it barely carried across the room—
“I just wanted him safe.”
And the room broke with him.
The room was heavy, thick with silence after Quackity’s last words. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his hand still resting protectively on Tubbo’s hair, fingers tangled in the boy’s dark strands. His wings trembled faintly behind him, feathers bent out of place, as though they too were bracing against the weight of truth.
“That’s it,” Quackity said at last, his voice breaking against the stillness. “That’s the whole truth. We’re not hiding anything more.”
Philza exhaled slowly, leaning back against the chair as if the words had pressed down on him physically. His eyes—normally steady, calm even in storms—searched Quackity’s face. “So what was your plan, then?” Phil finally asked, his voice low but firm. “Was it just to run away and never look back? To vanish and leave everything behind?”
“Yes,” Quackity said without hesitation, though his voice cracked on the word. “That was my plan. To run as far away as I could, somewhere safe. It didn’t matter where—just… not there. Not with him.” He squeezed Tubbo’s shoulder a little tighter.
Techno’s jaw worked, his teeth grinding together. For a long moment he said nothing, his crimson eyes staring into Quackity’s like he was trying to peel apart the truth even further. Finally, his voice came, deep and rough.
“So your plan was to leave behind a kingdom of people who work themselves into the ground every day—people who trusted their queen to fight for them—and just let them rot under Schlatt? You knew how bad he was. And you were still going to walk away.”
The words landed like a blade. Quackity flinched visibly, his whole body shaking with rage. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. His face tightened, and for once his voice rose in anger, sharp and raw.
“Maybe it was selfish of me to stay with you all and not tell you who I really was. Fine. I’ll admit that. But it was not selfish of me to leave if it meant keeping Tubbo safe.” His arm wrapped fully around the boy, pulling him closer until Tubbo’s cheek pressed against his stomach. “Tubbo is—and always will be—my first priority. You can hate me for it if you want, but don’t you dare tell me I was wrong for protecting him!”
Techno blinked at the sudden outburst, shocked. He wasn’t used to Quackity shouting, not like that—not with fire in his voice instead of fear. Something inside his chest twisted, a dull pang of guilt threading through his ribs.
The voices stirred, restless.
He’s right. You’re being cruel.
He’s just trying to protect the kid.
No. He abandoned them all.
He’s weak.
He deserves every word.
But he’s fighting back—finally.
Doesn’t that count for something?
He lied.
He played you.
Don’t forget that.
Techno pressed a hand against his temple, trying to silence them, but their muttering clung to him like static.
Philza rubbed his face with both hands, exhaling heavily. “So what’s your plan now, then?” he asked tiredly, looking at Quackity again. “You can’t just keep running forever. You’ve got a kid. You’ve got responsibilities. You can’t pretend you’re invisible.”
Quackity’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes darted down, away from their gazes, and he whispered, “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just… keep running. As long as I have to. As far as it takes.”
The words made Tommy’s face fall, his shoulders slumping as though Quackity had knocked the air out of him. “So you’re leaving us behind,” Tommy said, his voice small, trembling at the edges. “Just like that.”
Quackity froze. The boy’s words pierced deeper than Wilbur’s anger or Techno’s silence. He looked down at Tommy, whose eyes were wide and wet, and guilt bled across Quackity’s features. His mouth opened, but no sound came out—he couldn’t bring himself to deny it, not fully.
Wilbur stepped forward then, his voice sharp as a blade. “Or,” he cut in, “you could fight back.” His eyes burned, wild with frustration and something else—hope, maybe, buried deep beneath the bitterness. “You could take back your kingdom. Free the people from Schlatt’s tyranny. Don’t you see? That’s the only way any of this ends. Not running. Fighting.”
Quackity’s jaw tensed. His hands flexed at Tubbo’s shoulders. He shook his head slowly, despair carving lines into his face. “I’m not strong enough for that. You’ve seen me—I can barely keep myself together, let alone rally an entire kingdom against him.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Techno said suddenly, his voice firm. His eyes finally lifted from the floor to meet Quackity’s. “Wilbur’s right. You could get people who are willing to fight back. You could live in peace with Tubbo and fix what Schlatt’s broken.”
Quackity stared at him, stunned. For a moment, he wanted to believe it—to let the image sink in, of Tubbo safe and free, of a kingdom where laughter wasn’t punished and the people weren’t starved by greed. But fear pressed down heavier. He shook his head again.
“I don’t know anyone,” he muttered. “I don’t have any friends left. Everyone I knew turned their back on me, or Schlatt made sure they disappeared. I have no one.”
Techno leaned forward slightly, his crimson eyes unwavering. “You’ve got me,” he said simply. “And I know a couple of people who’d be willing to help. And I’m sure they know some others.”
The room fell into silence again, but it was different this time—charged, alive with something heavy and unspoken.
Quackity’s breath hitched. He looked from Techno to Wilbur, then to Phil, then to Tommy. His grip on Tubbo tightened. He wanted to protest, to shut it all down, but his heart thudded painfully against his ribs. For the first time since he ran, he saw something beyond the endless road ahead. He saw possibility.