Not Your Typical Insurrection 👑 TnT Duo !!!

convalescence

When Quackity was young, he used to wander the castle aimlessly. Whenever his mother would catch him, he would be sentenced to cleaning the servant's quarters, for fear of noblemen and other castle visitors seeing him.

It was a habit he never grew out of. Infact, he grew quite fond of some of the servants, the ones that didn't scorn him because he was of royal blood (the highest privilege in a place like Gold Spire).

He made friends. Most came and went, but Charlie was always there. Charlie was born into the royal servant family, around the same age as Quackity.

They grew quite fond of eachother. Since neither of them knew their birthday, they decided to share a birthday. They spent every afternoon together, every dinner together, and Quackity even helped out with Charlie's chores.

The first time they had ever snuck out together- Quackity's idea- Puffy found out. She forbade Charlie from ever doing such again. Quackity didn't understand why.

Well, of course she didn't want him sneaking out, but why just Charlie? Quackity received no lecture about what could've happened to him, only what could've happened to Charlie. What the Queen and King would do to Charlie, what trouble Charlie could get in.

It didn't sit right with him, and once he got older, he understood why. The royal blood in Quackity was a curse. It made him different. It made people believe that if Charlie got caught, he would be put to death, but if Quackity got caught, he would simply be slapped on the wrist. Bitterly, Quackity wished that was the case.

Charlie never snuck out with Quackity again, though.

When Quackity opens his eyes, he is in a big, empty room. He groans, initial thought being that it isn't his room. And then someone makes a noise. Quackity looks over, meeting the wide eyes of Charlie.

"Quackity! You're awake! Oh, wow! You're awake!" His hands poise on the edge of the bed, and he looks half ready to pounce on Quackity.

Quackity looks down, avoiding Charlie's overjoyed expression, and rubs the bandage wrap covering his chest. His wings feel awful, cramped. He sits up, stretching them with a whine. "Owww." No doubt his awful state was a result of one of those beatings.

Charlie was as familiar to the beatings as Quackity was. The "parties", as she called them. Charlie had offered to fight the queen for Quackity, when they were young and foolish, or to just give her a "real stern talkin' to" if Quackity didn't like the idea of violence.

Quackity made Charlie swear to never ever attend one of the parties, never ever try to fight the Queen for his sake. The thought horrified him then, as it does now.

Still, something about this morning is different. "How long have I been asleep? What- What happened, Charlie?"

"The Queen- They're dead, Q. Really dead. Both her and his highness. The rebels- they really killed them. That one you're always fantasizing after? Wilbur? He crashed your torture party and killed them. Quite the hero." The last sentence is said sarcastically.

Quackity makes a noise, looking around. "You shouldn't talk so loud. And I do not fantasize about him. Wilbur..." right. Quackity remembers now. The rush in his ears as the noblemen moved in and the shrieking and ringing as they fled, the bodies of people that wouldn't recognize Quackity packing against him in a tight circle, and Wilbur. Wilbur, positioned over him, touching his face like he hadn't just killed Quackity's father and the closest thing to a mother he's ever had... the High King and Queen of Gold Spire. "Holy fuck."

Charlie clears his throat, grabbing a glass from the nightstand next to Quackity's bed. He offers it up, and Quackity eagerly takes it, gulping the water down.

"He's moved his family into the castle. I made sure they didn't mess with your room."

"And?" Quackity prompts. "What else has he been doing?"

"Well, it's only been two days, but there's a huge revel being hosted at the end of the week, and you're expected to attend. Lots of people are skeptical. I mean, you don't just go and kill the rulers of a country, not really, and a lot of people didn't know that the King had a son, so they're beginning to thi-"

Charlie is cut short when the door creaks open and in steps Wilbur. He says something to whoever was standing guard at the door and shuts it behind him, approaching Quackity's bed with his arms wide. It's a spacious room, but Wilbur makes it feel small. In Quackity's opinion, anyway.

"Quackity! Man of the hour!"

Charlie huffs, looking to Quackity, who's posture straightens automatically. He tries to fix his hair with a quick brush of his hand, but that only makes it worse. Wilbur said his name.

"How are you? I was fearful you'd never wake up." Wilbur smiles wide, hands coming together behind his back. He only moves them to fix hair from his eyes.

"Im.. fine. Wilbur.." it still feels odd, saying his name to his face. Quackity looks at Charlie for a moment. "I hear you've moved your family in?"

"Yes, indeed... Your friend here was really against it, but I uh.. hope you'll see my reasoning. You know of my family, if I recall correctly." Wilbur smiles briefly, glancing at Charlie as he speaks.

"Charlie just worries. How are they? Your family?" Quackity rubs his hands together anxiously, offering his most polite smile.

"They are quite well. It was tough work convincing my father to move in. Tommy- ah, my little brother, I mean- he was thrilled."

"Yes, I'm sure." Quackity rubs at his neck. He wonders how much has gotten out, what Wilbur has allowed to escape, what rumors he's been pushing and pulling. It's no surprise that people don't think Quackity is really the King's son, but more than a few people knew of his existence. "So.. what of the people? The kingdom?"

"Well, if you mean your position as ruler... I'd rather not discuss that with him here." Wilbur gestures to Charlie, who narrows his eyes and frowns.

"Why not?" Charlie prompts.

"I believe it is something I'd like better kept between myself and his highness. Are you on the ruling council?" He asks, raising a brow.

Charlie scowls. "No, but-"

"It's okay, Charlie. Please, I'd like to hear what he has to say. And I.. I think you've done enough fretting over me. I'm okay now. You can leave."

Charlie, incapable of feeling any sort of animosity towards Quackity, glares at Wilbur. He stands, fixing his shirt, and makes his way towards the door. As he passes Wilbur, he purposely bumps his shoulder.

Wilbur blinks, but says nothing. Not until Charlie has shut the door.