Fundy didn't hate working with Phil because it was a betrayal of his country and friends. It wasn't that it felt wrong or scummy to eagerly detail the locations of weapons and armor on a hand-drawn map for the enemy, and he certainly wasn't still attached to the nation his father had built.
None of those things bothered him in the slightest as he unabashedly revealed state secrets and plans for the trial, telling Phil everything he knew about the time, location, and schedule Quackity had laid out.
No, what made Fundy upset was how familial it felt to stand alongside a man who had been strangling him an hour ago. How easy it became to pretend they were on the same side of this conflict once Phil dropped his threatening composure and began to talk to Fundy without a knife in his hand. It was as if he hadn't double-crossed his grandfather and warred against the rest of his makeshift family; as if all of the lying and cheating and bloodshed had been erased, simply taken back, leaving something sentimental in its place.
Fundy despised himself for reaching for that saccharine emotion, hated how much he wanted to embrace it. He felt pathetic, longing for the guise of family when he was the one who had broken it in the first place.
"And you're sure no one will be there?"
"Positive." Fundy said, his finger hovering above the crudely drawn armory.
He was terrified too, the prospect of even having a family again sending his mind swirling with panic. There was no logical reason to be frightened, but just thinking about it made him feel uneasy, fear webbing cracks through his brain. A part of him was convinced family was dangerous, and it was colossal compared to the part that dared dream for connection, swallowing hope in a tsunami of worry.
It wasn't safe to wish for things like that. It wasn't worth it.
The pain would outweigh the joy by tenfold, Fundy told himself sternly.
Better to avoid it all together.
"You said I'd need a key to open the dungeon. Where can I find it?"
Fundy hesitated a moment before dragging his finger downwards, making a straight line from the armory to a decrepit government building.
"Here. There's a... a shortcut I know. We'll take that."
Phil nodded and moved on, peppering Fundy with questions about entrances to buildings and the least populated streets. He answered them quickly, not looking at Phil as he traced paths on the map.
As long as he was alive.
---------
The dungeon smelled like mold and rot. The heavy oak door to the cell hadn't been opened since Fundy had brought the prisoners a meager amount of food and water, and the lack of fresh air was suffocating. An occasional stale draft entered the room through a cramped window in the door, the rectangular hole covered with an iron grate that was too small for Tommy to fit his hand between.
He had slept restlessly last night, waking every hour with a jolt, scared that Techno might no longer be by his side; but each time he stirred, his brother was still there, gently stroking Tommy's hair as he was lulled back into a fitful slumber.
When the sun rose, transforming the pitch-black cell into a dimly-lit prison, he didn't move his head from Techno's lap, unwilling to lose the feeling of comfort it brought him. He yawned, opening his unseeing eyes, and stretched, reaching upwards until his fingertips found familiar skin.
"You're poking me."
"Sorry," Tommy mumbled, retracting his arms. "Didn't mean to."
"'S alright. Don't mind it too much. As long as you don't start gouging out my eyes, that is."
"No promises."
Techno chuckled.
"You hungry?"
"Not really," Tommy lied.
"Me neither. Too many nerves to eat."
"Yeah. Makes sense."
They fell silent, absorbed in their own thoughts. A few minutes passed, and Tommy sat up, pressing against his brother.
"It's gonna be ok. You just have to go through the stupid trial, let them sentence you to however long they want, and then me an' Phil will come break you out of this shithole. It won't be more than a week until you're back in the cottage with us. Then, after you rest up, we'll go find the antidote, and everything'll be fixed," he said, continuing when Techno didn't respond. "Right?"
"No. Not right. Not right at all."
"What do you mean?" Tommy said, laughing nervously and repeating the question. "What do you mean? Look, I know I can't see, but I can still pick a lock decent enough."
Techno made a shaky, hysterical sound, somewhere between an exasperated chuckle and a lightheaded exhale. "It's not 'just a trial', Tommy. They didn't drag me out here to give me a slap on the wrist and assign some community service. It's a fucking execution."
"What?! But that's what Quackity said! That's what they were talking about in the canoes, a trial, with judges and jurors and other trial stuff, not a... a..." He trailed off, the sharp word digging its claws into his throat.
"And you believed them?"
It took Tommy a few minutes to sift through his racing thoughts and arrange them into coherent words.
"I thought I could trust Tubbo."
Tears gathered in his eyes at the admission, pooling at the precipice of the glassy orbs before spilling over the edge all at once, rushing down his cheeks in a cascade of pent-up emotion. He sobbed, mouth contorting with the heaving breaths, and when he attempted to pull himself together he found he no longer could; that he had been swept away in the currents of his sorrow. Each time he tried to resurface, another wave crashed down upon him, forcing him deeper and deeper into his misery.
Then there was a hand around his, pulling him upwards, away from the depth as Techno wrapped Tommy in a tight hug, squeezing his torso as if to say, "I'm not letting go anytime soon." Slowly, his breathing returned to a steady pace. Slowly, the tears ceased to flow.
And slowly, he became aware that he was hugging Techno back just as hard.
When he had calmed down, Techno explained the situation in greater detail to Tommy.
"Tubbo was supposed to be in charge as the parliamentary leader. For a while he remained in power, but ever since you were exiled, Quackity has been gaining more and more influence. Right now, he calls the shots. Tubbo technically has greater jurisdiction than him, but he lets himself be bullied into capitulation, along with Fundy, who does even less to stop Quackity from gaining power. That means I doubt my execution was planned by Tubbo. More likely, Quackity ordered everything, and the other two have gone along with it to protect themselves from his wrath."
"How do you know all this?"
"I've been spying on L'Manberg from the moment you were exiled. At the time, I was worried Dream might attempt a coup, being as power-hungry as he is, but it turned out Quackity was a bigger threat to the stability of the government."
"But I thought you didn't want L'Manberg to succeed. Why would you care if the government collapsed?"
"The bloodshed Dream would have caused by overthrowing the parliament would have been worse than the original war for independence."
"And Quackity?"
"You probably noticed how manic he is, right?" Tommy nodded. "He's been like that for months. It's like his life is tied to the country. He won't let L'Manberg fall, no matter what. He'll fight until he's dead to maintain it, and that includes doing whatever he thinks will increase its longevity; murdering me, for example"
"So, what do we do? There's got to be a way to stop him."
Techno sighed. "To be honest, I don't think there's a way out."
"You can't just give up!"
"I don't want to, but I don't see how I leave this place alive."
"What about when they let you out of the cell for the execution? You could overpower them easily!"
"I could. But Quackity wouldn't hesitate to slit your throat if I did. I won't risk your life to save my own."
"Then that's it? That's how you want to die?"
"I don't have a choice, Tommy."
"There's always a choice."
"Then it's a choice I'm not willing to make."