Chapter Text
“PHILZA!”
“....Mmm.......mnno mate. Mm’ sleepin,”
“PHILZA WAKE UP”
Phil grumbled, pulling the covers more tightly on and scrunching up his eyes. As if not seeing could shut out the sound of Techno ringing his bell faintly in the distance.
“Oh, my fucking god.” Phil rubbed his eyes, stretching his arms and legs and wings out as he prepared himself for whatever mayhem was happening today. He only just had enough time to sit up on his bed before Techno came bursting through the door.
“Oh, good. You’re awake,” he said quickly, “We gotta go, Phil”
“Seriously?” Phil complained, “You’ve been hibernating for – what? – a month?? And as soon as I get some rest-”
“Phil, as much as I would appreciate a good snide comment now is not the time.” he tossed Phil’s gear to where he was still sitting on his bed and turned around, rummaging through the chests until he found bottle and potion ingredients. With a puff, the brewstand started to burn, smoke curling up as a small wisp.
Sighing, Phil resigned himself to his fate. “What happened then, mate? New government sprout up or something?”
For a moment, Techno pauses his hastiness, resting a hand heavily on the counter. Like the recalling of the knowledge itself was a heavy weight on his shoulders. His conscious. His heart.
“Ranboo’s uh...” he scratched the thin pig hairs racing down the back of his neck.
“He’s missing.”
The statement was carefully emotionless, like he was sharing some passing detail about the weather. Phil straightened up his posture, the tired fog clearing in his mind as he focused on that one statement. His wings moved unconsciously, tensing in preparation for action.
“How do you know?” he asked as he put on his armor.
“He’s supposed to meet with me right now.” Techno explained, “I waited for, like, ten minutes. Went to his house. Nowhere to be seen,”
“Maybe he’s busy with something else?”
Techno let a chest lid fall down with a clank, fumbling with torches and tucking supplies away into his bag. “No... No, he said he was going to Snowchester early morning before we went adventuring.”
“What? Why??”
“Don’t know. Maybe Tubbo blackmailed him. Threatened him to come over for something.” Techno speculated, pacing. The floorboard creaked and groaned under his snow boots. “He said he was going there to find out more info; do a scout about the commune. Maybe it was just a cover-up, though. Or maybe he’s like – I dunno – sleepwalking again.” an annoyed grunt came from his lips.
“Well, I don’t think it’s very likely Tubbo blackmailed him,” Philza said placatingly, finally securing his armor.
“How do you know?”
“Uh..........”
Don’t say they’re married don’t say they’re married don’t say they have a kid they’re raising in Snowchester and that they are married-
“Dunno!” Phil shrugs, “Tubbo seems uh... changed for the better? I don’t think he means Ranboo any ill will.”
“Ah yes. The ‘secret’ nuclear facility and big ‘god-killing’ crater are very indicative of good intentions.” he snorted at the bleak sarcasm, “I mean, I can appreciate it from an anarchist’s point of view. But right now? Pretty sus.”
The potions were swiped from the brewstand. Phil caught them as Techno threw the extras to him.
“Look, fine.” Phil sighs, “We’ll go over there, okay? And we’ll ask around for Ranboo’s whereabouts. If things get messy, well....” he eyed the potions stuck on Techno’s belt.
“We’ll be prepared.”
Techno nods.
Phil grabs his own weapons, securing his bucket hat on his head before stepping out into the barren and windy arctic, snow aggressively hitting them as soon as it could. And he looked up at the growing growling grey clouds, he wondered with a shiver if Ranboo was stuck in this weather as well.
~
Miles away, Tubbo wonders the same.
He watches the snow tumble down in heavy droves, covering the place he now calls home in a heavy flood of snowdrifts. The snow is flat, smooth, and disturbed by any boot-tracks.
It should have been disturbed. The flat plains of white should have been broken by the big heavy-duty boots Ranboo always wears to protect himself from the melting snow. He should have been here by now. He promised to watch Michael while Tubbo and Tommy went to get supplies for Tommy’s new house in Snowchester.
But there was no hollow knock at the door, no matter how much he strained his ears at every creak of the wood and stone of the house. No indicative laughter of Micheal and Ranboo playing upstairs, footsteps echoing down and shaking dust from the roof. The only sound accompanying him was the lonely howl of the wind as it rattled the branches of spruce trees.
“You don’t need him anyway,” Tommy announced loudly from behind him, “He’s a bitch and I hate him and you are better off with me because I am a big strong man and much better than some Enderman... weirdo."
“Hey!” Tubbo smiled, tension leaving his shoulders. “That ‘Enderman weirdo’ happens to be my platonic husband, so watch your mouth.”
“He can be your husband and still be a weird and annoying bitch.”
Tubbo crossed his arms. “Okay, fine. But you’re not allowed to hate him,”
“Fine, fine.” Tommy kicked at the ground, mumbling and swearing under his breath.
“I’m just...” Tubbo sighs, “I’m worried about him, that’s all.”
His eyes drift again towards the window, willing the view to not be so empty and desolate. The wind howls again, shaking the foundations of the house and carrying a shiver of dread down Tubbo’s spine.
“Where did you say he lived again?"
“Near Techno and Phil.” Tubbo says quietly.
“Well...” Tommy shrugs. “Let’s go over there then.”
“What?”
“We have to!” he argues, “We - I don’t - ah...” his breathing shakes and tumbles uncertainly from his throat. “I-I don’t trust Techno, okay? We should go make sure Ranboo’s okay,”
“Tommy?”
“Yeah? Yeah, what?” Tommy says aggressively, defending himself against an accusation that Tubbo hadn’t made. “Look, maybe he fucking kidnapped Ranboo. He’s an anarchist, mate; gonna cause anarchy and shit-”
“ Tommy ,” Tubbo says, “What’s up?”
“I don’t wanna-” he makes a sound of frustration. And fear.
“He owes Dream a favor, Tubbo.” The laughter bubbles broken from Tommy’s lips as tugs at his hair and tries to get out the words. “He owes.... Tubbo, what if he – what if Techno, like-”
“Hey. Hey,” Tubbo reaches out towards him and Tommy stops, “You don’t know that.”
“He could.” he says voice deadly certain, “He could. That’s the problem,”
“Well...” Tubbo relents. “We’ll kill two birds with one stone then.” Tommy nods along, not saying anything. So Tubbo continues, “We visit Techno and Phil, ask them where Ranboo is... Maybe-ask-them-politely-to-not-cash-in-the-favor-that-might-lead-to-the-inevitable-doom-of-the-entire-world???”
Tommy smiled hopelessly. “How would we even convince them not to?”
“.... I have nukes???”
“We aren’t threatening them-”
“Look, it was just a suggestion-”
“We are not starting another war, Tubbo please.”
“Fine! Fine....” Tubbo pouted, “... It’ll be plan B.”
“TUBBO-”
“Plan C?”
“... Fine.”
“YAYY!”
Tommy made a face. “You are a ridiculous bastard, you know? You and Ranboo deserve each other.”
Tubbo smiled “I’m gonna take that as a compliment,”
“It wasn’t.”
“Too bad.” Tubbo said, “I’ll get our armor. We’ll wait for the snowstorm to die down. Then we leave.”
Tommy nodded and Tubbo left the room, new purpose straightening his posture and sending confidence into his gait. It was an improvement from before, or so Tommy thought.
He looked out the window at the snow falling, twirling downward and tossed about by the wind, thinking about Phil and Techno. He could almost see Techno’s cabin, covered in a fine dusting of snow. Techno himself, sharpening his pickaxe to a deadly point and ranting about anarchy and betrayal and vengeance and right and wrong-
-and there was not snow anymore. But dust. Ash. Ash and gunpowder smoke making his eyes tear up and his chest spasm with coughs and Techno. Stood on the other side of the wreckage. The crater. The sound of explosions and Dream’s laughter ringing in his ears as he and Tubbo clung on persistently to a place that was no longer hospitable. Hadn’t been for a long time.
Tubbo had always been clingy, hadn’t he? Clinging to Tommy. Clinging to the idea of a nation that no longer existed.
Tommy blinked away tears from his eyes. Was he in mourning? Of a place? A place that didn’t exist anymore? An idea that had corrupted and eventually been destroyed in a dazzlingly horrifying display?
Or had it been destroyed long before then, with Schlatt’s beating heart?
“You’re doing it again.”
Tommy jumped and turned around and-
It was just Tubbo, who smiled a bit.
“You’re thinking too hard, big man. Your brain’s too smooth for all that big thinking,”
Tommy barely heard him over the rush of blood to his ears. He stepped around a bit, tapping his foot, relieved to hear the hollow sound of wood instead of hard obsidian. And the wind, howling outside. And cold snow, drifting down softly.
“Not cold in the prison,” he muttered aloud before he could stop himself. He froze, looking up the Tubbo for his reaction.
“No, it’s not.” Tubbo agreed wholeheartedly, facial expression mostly neutral from what Tommy could tell, “It’s definitely not the prison. It’s Snowchester. And Dream isn’t here,”
“I know, I know!” he complained, throwing his arms up in mock surrender.
It was too much, the anticipation of the travel. The confrontation with Techno, who killed like it was a sport and him an athlete. He needed to get out of the room. Out of its walls that seemed to close in and suffocate him.
“Let’s just go, okay Tubbo? We need to go confront this and find your husband and-and stop Techno. Now.”
“Tommy, are you sure?” Tubbo asked. Tommy knew it was with the best intentions, but he still grimaced. “You’re acting all weird and stuff, Big man.”
“I’m sure.” Was he?
Tommy tried again:
“I want to go with you,” that part was true.
“I-” Tubbo stopped. Tommy was too stubborn for him to change his mind.
Instead, he said:
“Okay. I’ll be here if you change your mind.”
If you need a support. An anchor. Someone else to share the burdens and tortures of your mind.
Tubbo was a hell of a friend.
Tommy nodded in understanding of the enormity of the statement, hand going to grab the extra chestplate Tubbo had in his hands.
His hand never connected with the object though. Instead, he froze. His breathing slipped out of his control again, shaking and erratic.
“Tommy?”
The blood in his ears roared.
“Tubbo,” he whispered. “Look. The window.”
And he looked.
In the once-barren snowdrifts were boot prints. Two sets. Fairly big. Disturbing the smooth white plains of Snowchester. He could make out voices as well. Two of them. One deeper than the other. Familiar voices.
And finally. The sound Tubbo had been waiting for all morning, but now only filled him with dread:
Knock knock