Chapter Text
Mud seeped and crusted under the feathers of his wings. He threw back his head and screamed, but his captors laughed and jeered.
He cried for his father, but his father never came.
He twisted and writhed in his chains, but they didn’t break.
His wings grew sore and itchy from the mud and the restraints keeping them pinned to his back, but no one came to free them.
It took days before he gave up, collapsing in a weeping pile on the floor of his pit. He longed for the warmth of his stolen family, longed to hold his brothers again, longed to feel his father’s arms around him.
But none of them came for him.
He was abandoned.
He forgot to sweep the fireplace. Of all the things to remember when he’d just woken up, staring bleary-eyed at the ceiling, it was that he forgot to sweep out the fireplace.
Ranboo was one of the few members of this strange little family who hadn’t left. He wanted to, but his memory sometimes made it hard for him to look after himself and he’d yet to fully adjust to his coping methods. He’d been taken in later than the others; while his adopted siblings had all been small, if not infants, he was in his early teens when he’d been found, lost and confused, his past a blur that he couldn't piece together. He still couldn't remember it, but he didn’t dwell on it too often these days. He had a home and a family, things to do and places to be. To put it simply, he had bigger things to worry about.
Speaking of which…
He slipped out of bed, making his way down the hall and dodging the creaky boards on instinct. He passed his siblings’ empty rooms and banged on the door at its end.
“Big Q! You up?”
Quackity was the resident basement-dweller of the family. He’d been taken in late as well, more or less just moving into their attic one day after seeking shelter there during a storm. No one had bothered to kick him out, and eventually Phil gave him the guest room. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, so he just stayed where he was.
There was a loud groan from the other side of the door. “Hijo de- I am now.”
The door creaked open, revealing a very bedraggled, disgruntled Quackity. “What do you want?”
“Uh...can you sweep the fireplace while I deal with the animals?”
Quackity scowled. “What am I, your servant?”
“No, but you live here, and I’d say that means you’re entitled to some of the work.”
“...fair point.”
Ranboo made his way downstairs while Quackity retreated to his room. He had yet to clean it out like he’d promised three weeks ago, going by the rapid-fire cursing and the constant banging noises. To be fair, though, they had been busy. With four of the seven members of the household missing, the other three had to deal with a workload that had once been divided far more evenly amongst themselves. It’d been a sudden change too, with Tommy and Tubbo having left only a few days before.
Ranboo stepped outside, letting the door slam closed behind him. He grabbed a bucket and began making his way toward the cowpens. Suddenly he heard Quackity start yelling.
“RANBOO!!”
The front door flew open, the winged hybrid rushing out onto the porch and crashing into the railing. “Dad’s gone!”
The bucket clattered to the ground.
“What?!”
They rushed back inside the house. Phil’s room was empty, his hat and coat missing from the rack. There was no note, and at least a week’s worth of their stockpile was missing.
The duo exchanged horrified looks.
“We’ve gotta tell the others.”