Butterfly Reign

17. Judge Me, I Know I Used To Care

Tommy’s body moves on its own: right foot, left foot, a sequence of mindless steps dragging him along a familiar path. Just a few minutes ago he bid his goodbye to Dream and Marchioness Beau; he told them that he’d be retiring for the night, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep any soon.

The last time Tommy had rested was on the hard wood of his desk, in the very literal sense of the word passed out from exhaustion. He can't remember one recent night where his sleep wasn’t cut short by a nightmare or an urgent matter. His muscles sting with weeks’ worth of strain, his stomach shrivels with hunger and his spine begs to be propped up against a support.

By the time Tommy tumbles into his chambers, his knees threaten to give out under him. He climbs into an armchair and all but sinks into it. The servants disappear in a matter of seconds, and Tommy wonders whether it’s the command he mutters or they were scared off by the blank expression on his face. Either way, in the reign of silence, he can finally let the thoughts rush in, and the very first thing that comes to his mind is, What the fuck, Quackity?

Last time Tommy had spoken to the baron, he was fourteen years old. Quackity was a great advisor and a helping hand, and Tommy kept him around for over a year at that point. First, because he needed a teacher, and after that it was common history sealing them together. Tommy owed Quackity more than just a few pieces of advice: those few months that he had to step up in the Emperor’s place, he survived only with Quackity’s help. He was getting back on his feet, building himself back up - and then Wilbur showed up and ruined it all in a day.

To think that Tommy was angry back then, had tried to express his frustration- it’s a thought full of bitter amusement. If he could have gone back to that day and looked his younger self in the eyes, he would grip his shoulders and whisper, in the softest way possible, ‘Believe me, it’s going to get so much worse.’

The Emperor should’ve lent his full support to Tommy in establishing his authority as the crown prince. Instead, their father let Wilbur get away even with whatever he wanted – insulting other nobles, risking the family’s reputation every step of the way and challenging Tommy’s standing. The joint network created by him and Quackity was destroyed, reconstructed and twisted to fit another predator’s liking, and suddenly it was Tommy who had become the prey. With Wilbur circling him, breathing was a luxury, a peaceful day an unreachable dream, and anybody who ever attempted to get closer to Tommy was chased away by the snap of sharp teeth.

Tommy is seventeen now. Three years after Wilbur forced him to leave, Quackity returned to the capital- claiming that Ranboo is related to him by blood. The baron had never told Tommy that he used to have a brother, but he wouldn’t be all that surprised if he did. Quackity is a card turned facedown; a mysterious lurker, a man whose mood changes from playfulness to grave seriousness in a flip of a coin.

“I’m a player,” he used to say, flashing Tommy a toothy grin. “I risk it big or I do not risk it at all; either is going to kill me one day.”

Tommy would’ve thought that such a day would come sooner than later but he knows Quackity well enough to say that his appearance today wasn’t a coincidence. He couldn’t have waited for this long, lying low and skittishly avoiding any sort of interaction with the Imperial family to step up onto a shaky platform of a bold lie. If he could have afforded the risk of confronting Wilbur before, he would’ve done that already.

Or so Tommy hopes.

By being the crown prince’s advisor, the baron squirmed his way into the very heart of the court. Quackity had made it clear to Tommy from the very beginning that their relationship is based purely on mutual profit, but the nature of loneliness is that it doesn’t want to exist. Tommy couldn’t stop himself from getting attached to the person who steadied him on his feet when he felt most unsure of walking.