Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He first tried to kill himself when he was twelve.

Well, perhaps that was too harsh of a term. Maybe… a willing murder victim? Who knew. Not him, at least.

He simply remembered standing in front of the small table in his cell, calloused fingers wrapping around the small cup of tea.

Forbidden tea, given to him as a special prize by his owner for winning first place, for beating or murdering those who had dared to try their luck against what the voices called the Blood God. He lived up to his name, after all; every fight ended with unmeasurable bloodshed, the scent of it hanging around his figure like rose perfume to a bachelorette. 

The crowd cheered his name in cruel joy while the gladiators in the ring would cry in pain.

He won his owner a lot of money, and yet…

Don’t drink it

E

blood?

def poisoned 

It was poisoned. The voices wouldn’t lie about something like that.

So he put it down on the table, ignoring the way his fingers twitched at the sudden lack of warmth. The voices continued their mocking jeers toward the foolish men who would try to kill him. They all seemed so amused at the idea; why would they get rid of a cash cow? A cash pig, perhaps, was a better term.

Do you want to test your luck?

The voices went silent at that one recommendation, but only for a few moments of shock that Techno shared, blinking down at the poisoned cup.

roll of the dice?

Blood for the Blood God!

Chance or fate?

fate or chance?

They wanted him to drink from the poisoned cup.

He picked it up again. His long, fuzzy ear twitched.

Perhaps a normal person would’ve hesitated. Perhaps they wouldn’t be smiling down at the murky cup of quickly cooling tea. 

But when his voices— you’re ours, actually— wanted something, why wouldn’t he give it to them? He had no reason not to.

The cool ceramic touched his lips—it had gotten cold. He thought drinks kept their heat for at least a while, but…

He tilted the cup back, finishing it in one go. 

Nothing happened.

Maybe they lied?

We don’t lie!

Shut up. You all lie all of the time.

He placed the cup down, shifting to go back to his bed. He would need to sleep, if he wanted to be ready for tomorrow’s gladiator match. His master would be betting a lot of money on him today; if he lost, he’d be punished. 

A slave had no right to lose.

There were no blankets to cover up. Why would there be? It’s not like an animal needed one.

take the L

He climbed on top of the uncomfortable, hay mattress, ignoring how it poked against his skin and kept him from sleeping peacefully.

Or perhaps sleep was never meant to be peaceful.

A cough wracked his body, wheezing and unpleasant. Pain shot up his chest, making him tense and grit his teeth… but it’s nothing he hasn’t felt before.

Pain, pain, pain… isn’t it useless? Telling your body something is wrong, but what’s the point when you can’t fix it?

We like pain

Oh, shut up. Let him wallow.

A few fits of laughter escaped the voices as he began to cough harder.

Snake eyes!

Not even a pair, huh?

You’ve pulled a sixteen, L

Eight, nine, three? Yakuza

He didn’t know what any of that meant.

The coughing simply grew worse as he curled up on his bed, eyes glazed.

Shouldn’t he be reacting more to this? It would seem he was dying, after all. It would seem that the poison in the tea cup had done its job. He wondered if only the rim had been poisoned, brushed on delicately with a finger or some brush of some sort, or perhaps they simply poured poison into the drink. Probably the latter–he would’ve smelled the poison if it were on the rim. His strong nose, which sat neatly between his tusks, would’ve protested it. 

Techno wouldn’t know the taste of tea, anyway. No, he’d never had something sweet, like all the noblewomen coo about while they enjoy their poison-free cups of tea with milk and sugar.

Would he die before he got to taste sugar?

Fruits have sugar!

…Guess not.

He tried to cover his mouth, next, the cough rattling his body as he curled up even tighter. His chest tightened, lungs refusing to work like they were stuffed with daffodils and pansies, of the flowers and petals that he could see before they were stomped out by the boots of heavily armored men, and wasn’t he too small for this?

He missed his sounder.

(Tired.)

When he finished coughing, gaze blurry, he pulled his hand away, eyeing the splotches of dark red that splattered onto his pale, scarred palm. The callouses, the scar that ran from his middle finger to his thumb, the way it seemed to all disappear in the background.

If this pain meant he would die, he didn’t mind.

Perhaps surviving hurt even more.

His eyes fluttered shut, so anticlimactic and simple, as if he had simply fallen asleep from exhaustion, hand falling in front of his face. 

His chest stopped moving.

He had rolled the dice, he had tested both fate and chance, and now he must lie here, in the grave he had dug for himself.

How young must he have broken?

But… he woke again.

RETURN POG–

Ow.

The voices grow louder for a moment, and Techno could’ve sworn he heard the snapping of teeth for just a moment before they all went quiet, as if careful of his ringing ears.

welcome back

blood

Technolate lmfao

E

blood 

Blood for the Blood God

Technoblade neva dies!

Ugh, he hated it when they called him by his full name. 

He turned onto his back, taking in a deep inhale–one, two, three, four, hold for seven, breathe out for eight.

Where did he learn that?

No matter.

His chest lacked any sort of aches. He strained his muscles, stretching them upwards as if trying to reach for the sky that he couldn’t see, before letting out a long yawn.

Didn’t he die?

Technoblade never dies, came the whispers, so eerily pleasant, his voices repeating that and nothing else. They were usually unbearable when they talked over each other, but perhaps he could let this lull him back to sleep. Not death–death hadn’t felt like anything. Death, cold, numb, easy, would never be as unpleasant as sleep, burning, touchy, and so, very hard.

Sleep came to him.

He supposed he had to be tired; did dying for hours count as sleeping for hours?

(Sounder.)

Not now.

I keep forgetting he’s part Piglin lololol

He reached up and scratched at his floppy ears at the reminder. He wondered how they forgot that. They were constantly in his head, weren’t they? Or maybe they were the part of him that could stay normal. The only part of him he could be jealous of.

technopet

He needed to get up, even after hearing the cruel laughter from one or two voices. He needed to get up and get ready. Who cared if he had just died? Certainly not his master.

Well… no. His master would care, but only because they’d be able to kill him and not worry about the consequences.

(Nest.)

Nope.

“Nope,” he whispered, popping the ‘p.’ He liked to use his voice, sometimes–it kept it alive, kept it from completely falling apart. He could only speak when completely alone, anyway.

He slowly sat up, ignoring the ache in his bones. 

(Rest.)

Stretching his back, now, he stood, twisting his body as if trying to keep it comfortable. His chest ached. He wondered how long that would last; would dying leave some sort of permanent effect on his body?

No matter.

So he simply started his morning stretches, to get his body working.

Because he needed to be working.

Battles to the death were the easiest to win.

Funny, right? One would think that a simple defeat would be in order. However, when he struggled to contain his strength, struggled to not tear his enemy apart, he didn’t enjoy the fighting. He didn’t know where the line sat between defeat and a blood-drenching victory.

If he messed up and killed his opponent, then they–

A shudder wracked his spine, fingers gripping the throat below him tight enough to leave a wrenching bruise. The crowd screamed his name–well, not his true name, but the name they gave him–as he waited.

His opponent’s face began to turn blue before they hit the ground three times as hard as they could. A buzz sounded, and he let go, watching them drop to the ground, rolling and struggling to breathe, even with an open neck. He lifted his head, watching the crowd as they roared. He could practically hear the gold coins spilling from their pocket into his master’s. They liked the gold coins, but Techno would be punished if he got too close.

He wished he could have gold, but… he shouldn’t think that.

Animals cannot have belongings.

The gates opened back up, slow at first with the clicking of redstone and pistons. He fought back a yawn as a medic leisurely walked out from his opponent’s side, eyebrows raised slightly.

He just turned around, squared his shoulders, and walked to the other gate. He didn’t glance back, but he heard his opponent grunt as they were lifted and subsequently dragged to their gate. They weren’t his problem, though.

They stood at the end of the gate, appraising him with a… look. 

“You didn’t kill him this time.”

He lowered his head, mouth shut. As far as they knew, he didn’t understand them–not outside of specific orders. If he understood, then there would be no turning back from that. No more safety in playing dumb.

At the lack of a response, a smile curled their lips. “Fuckin’ idiot.” Then they cleared their throat, speaking louder. “Your next fight is tomorrow. Train, then sleep tonight.”

Ugh. He’d hoped that he might have a day off. After all, he’d been fighting all day, and he could feel the sun setting on his back. 

He went back to his living quarters after training for an hour or two–well. Not his, no. Just the one he occupied at the moment.

Life couldn’t be that bad. He had a roof over his head and free meals. He could train and… yeah. Those three things. Not so bad. Better than what he’d seen.

Many of the rookies didn’t get any food until they proved that they could do something. He’d seen his fair share of kids who died from starvation. They almost looked normal, dead, but the voices hated it. Always chattering and…

It’s such a horrible battle to lose.

it’d be better if they could go down fighting

He shook them out of his ears, just to stop himself from going insane. His mind always managed to wander back to death–why wouldn’t it? Perhaps his mind just kept trying to process the incident with the tea. Perhaps it had messed him up, but he’d immediately buried it so deep that the only way he could get it out was through his subconscious.

No matter.

His fingers traced the hay bed, scraping against the rough material. He had tried to eat it, once or twice, back when he disobeyed and got punished with no meals. He could never stomach it. He never knew why. Maybe it just tasted too much like grass.

Stop it. He needed to rest. He couldn’t let his mind wander like this; it could be dangerous if he didn’t get enough sleep.

Speaking of… exhaustion weighed down his bones in a way that made his head ache just like his muscles. He reached forward, climbing into the bed and letting his eyes close.

(Sounder.)

Stop.

(Sleepy.)

Not right now.

(Touch.)

No.

He shook his head at himself and forced his stupid mind to shut up.

good night, sleepyblade

Whatever.

He woke the next morning to a hand grasping his wrist, pulling him so hard that he had fallen out of bed, his head slamming against the cold floor. With blurry eyes, he startled awake, the buzzing noise of somebody’s voice drowning out everything else.

It simply sounded like static. Were they supposed to be saying something?

Tired. 

(Tired.)

He wanted to go back to sleep. His eyes struggled to stay open, but a sharp slap to his face made sure he stayed awake.

The ringing started to clear out.

“Your match is in twenty minutes!”

So soon?

“Get up. Now.”

(Sleep.)

He couldn’t.

(Sleep.)

He reached up, gripping the table and slowly lifting himself to his feet. They let go of his wrist, crossing their arms and standing as well.

“Get your items and get to the ring– hurry.”

As Techno hurried to follow their order, he heard them mumble something under their breath.

“Pig.”

His ear flicked, but it would be the only response he could give.

It took a couple weeks for the exhaustion to finally leave him.

He’d nearly lost a few fights there. His weary bones took him down with his opponents, and if it hadn't been for the cry of his voices and the way his skin crawled without something warm–something like blood–on his skin, he could’ve fallen asleep within moments. So ready to just pass out mid-fight.

Probably not the healthiest thing, but whatever.

Now, though, his wakefulness had returned to him. His voices tried to give him an explanation–something about hibernation?–but he didn’t fully understand it.

Fuckin’ idiot.

“Pig.”

He startled at the sudden noise. He’d just been staring at his hands, sitting on top of the hay, lost in his own thought. He looked up.

They stood there, eyes glinting almost dangerously. “It’s time.”

He blinked like he didn’t understand. Well–he didn’t know what they wanted, but he knew what they said.

The cell–cage?–opened with the slight jingle of the keys. “Your tusks.”

He tensed up. Had it been that long already? Perhaps the exhaustion had only skewed his sense of time. Perhaps it’d been a month since they’d dealt with his pesky tusks. 

“Hands.”

He held his hands out obediently, and they were held in handcuffs not a moment later, locking shut easily.

Maybe, at one point, they’d thought of letting him do this by himself. They did hate being around him–they hated touching him. However, the glint of that knife revealed why they wouldn’t.

Why give him a weapon outside of the pit?

He could kill them all, they knew that. 

But he wouldn’t.

The knife pressed up against his left tusk. They began to shave it down.

It didn’t hurt. It felt like a more roundabout way of clipping his fingernails. It didn’t matter much. It made no difference; tusks were too dangerous to be a built-in weapon. He could use them no matter what they tried.

So they just shaved it down.

He watched, as if mesmerized, as pieces–dust–of his tusk fell onto his cuffed hands.

kill him

He ignored the whisper, even as his fingers twitched in the handcuffs. He could break them. He knew that. Well… maybe not knew. Nobody truly knew anything for sure. However, he believed that he could do so easily. They were weak with each pull and tug, but he couldn’t just break them without getting into serious trouble.

The sound of the knife scraping made him squeeze his hands into fists.

Besides, what would he do once they broke? Escape? As if. This entire place, with such human architecture, was like a maze. One step out of here without a guide–unless he went to the training grounds, he supposed–and he’d be lost within a few minutes.

Unless the voices knew how to get out.

We’re not omnipotent, you know.

He suppressed a smile at the whiny tone. Better not smile in front of his master; that spelled trouble.

He’d forgotten his own age.

“I hope you’ll be better for your next fights,” they growled, almost sounding as animalistic as him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how pathetic you’ve been recently.”

He didn’t react.

“Prime, if you had lost me any of my money…” They pulled the knife away, flicking it to get rid of the dust before moving to the second tusk. “But I treat you too well for that, don’t I, pig?”

He snorted lightly at the nickname, the knife nearly slicing his skin open. They didn’t say anything. Why would they? If he got cut, it would be his fault. Just like everything else.

Just like everything else.

Chapter Text

The crowd cheered the name given to him once more.

They loved to do that. Maybe they thought it would instill confidence in him–in it?–and that would improve his fighting abilities.

It just annoyed him. The voices would grow louder, too, in order to be heard over the roaring crowd.

His feet dug into the sandstone beneath him, lightly dusted in actual sand for some odd reason. His–its–eyes flickered to the layered seating. He wondered how many people the stadium could hold. He let his head crane, nearly spinning to see the circle of bloodthirsty onlookers. 

They wanted blood. If he could give them anything, that would be it.

He finally met eyes with his opponent.

A woman. Partly… Kitox, perhaps? She had the tail, the claws, the teeth, and the whiskers.

He (it?) jotted down the information in his head.

The Kitox were fast, and their reflexes would surely beat his own. He could probably overpower her with brute force–she may be stronger than the average human, but nothing compared to a Piglin. She would probably try to test his defenses out before going on the offensive–the Kitox were more cunning than the average beast, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she went for a dirty trick or two.

Maybe he could pretend to be as apprehensive as her, first. She would be more wary; he had a reputation, she didn’t.

He had killed before. If she were here, she must’ve killed, too.

They did what they must to survive.

The announcer’s voice spread over the stadium, the speakers blaring and silencing the entire crowd with only a few words.

He began to prattle on about the fight that would take place soon; too late, still. He had a slight slur to his voice as he spoke, and Techno could’ve sworn he heard the man tap glass. A glass bottle, probably.

He introduced Techno, first, calling him–

His lip almost curled in disgust at the nickname. His stage name, if you would. He hated it. However, he had his appearances to keep up, and Prime knows what would happen if they were dropped.

They would try to kill him. He wondered if he would die the next time. 

Maybe he’d have to roll the dice.

His eyes flickered back to the half-Kitox when the buzzing interrupted its (his) thinking. His body shifted automatically, into a defensive position where he could protect himself. She did the same, claws flexing and tail held impressively still.

The crowd began the count. “Three!”

Two, the voices whispered back.

One.

The fight started, and they began to move, circling each other easily. He had been right; foxes—

Don’t call them foxes. Not when he hates getting called a pig.

Kitox, ever the most elusive and cowardice species. He’d fought some of them before. They liked to use their feet to trip their opponent. He’d learned a thing or two from the matches he had.

What a shame he would kill her this morning. 

There were no weapons. Not yet, anyway–weapons were for when they had grown weaker from exhaustion. Otherwise, the slaves might try to escape.

Techno wouldn’t try. Not really, at least. He had it much better than most slaves–the Kitox began to advance in on him, seemingly tired of their little dance–and if he tried to escape, then he might get a new owner. He quite liked the one he had now. Since he didn’t lose, he got three (pathetic) meals a day and a place to sleep.

He’d mentioned that, hadn’t he?

His owner was—oh, better dodge those claws—much better than the normal ones.

He watched them get beat for messing up when training. He watched them burnt with fire and brands, permanently claimed. He watched the collars tighten and the keys turn. He had none of that; yeah, sometimes, back in the old days before they sufficiently trained him, he would get beat for messing up. He’d deserved that, however, because they were simple, easy orders he should–

He managed to snag her wrist, holding it tight and tugging her closer before his second one wrapped around her neck. He ignored the claws that dug into his shoulder in retaliation.

Anyway. He had learned his lesson, and he’d grown to be a better… a better slave, he supposed. If he made them money and didn’t hurt the people above him, he’d be kept in good condition. Nobody wanted damaged products. 

He held on, squeezing tight until the light drained from her eyes and her pulse stopped under his fingertips. The claws in his shoulder loosened, slipping and falling to the floor. Only a hint if blood escaped the pathetically small wound.

Piglins had tough skin, after all.

Not as tough as yours.

He dropped her wrist, too, standing victoriously and turning to look at the crowd. They all screamed in delight.

The next hour passed in a blur.

They took him back into the room where he’d always go after fights, wrapping up his shoulder easily. They discussed with each other, probably about what would happen next, how much money they planned to bet on the next round. Even if he may be strong, he always had a chance to lose, and they must be very, very careful of that.

Techno hadn’t lost in a long, long time. So long, in fact, that some of his opponents were simply using him as a means to commit suicide–they would’ve never won, anyway, right? Might as well go down in a blaze of glory, being killed by the strongest warrior in the pit.

He wondered if, maybe, some day, he could join them in that. He would lose, and he would die. 

Maybe that would be okay. 

Technoblade neva dies!

Shut up.

It–

He

–could still hear the shouts of the crowd from inside. They would keep fighting, until his turn finally came. He wondered how many slaves they had fighting today. How long it would take until the day ended. He already wanted to go to bed.

The bell rang, and the announcer shouted the winner. The fights would be more frequent now. A thirty minute break, maybe? Half the fighters were dead. Though, since they would be more experienced, the fights themselves would last longer. 

Hands grabbed his arms, and the strangers began to pull him towards the opening of the arena. It twisted its head to look at its master. They watched him go, arms crossed. He could’ve sworn he saw… a bit of trust in their gaze.

He would like it if they trusted him.

They pushed him out. He looked up at the sight in front of him.

A man, with a long, rubbery tail, with equally rubbery skin up his arm until his elbow stared at him. He stood at least a foot smaller than Techno, not uncommon for reptilian hybrids, hair tangled and cut a bit above his shoulder.

Reptile types were hard to differentiate. They weren’t like mammals, with traits more obvious than their personalities. Some had scales, some had rubber skin. They were unique yet similar in all the wrong ways.

He’d have to be careful. He could gauge their species when he fought them and took in their fight style. 

He would manage this. It would all be fine.

The countdown started once more, a simple three seconds of warning.

And the hybrid leapt.

He sidestepped easily, hand shooting out to grab the thing’s–his–shirt, pulling it and tossing him to the side. The reptile stumbled, flashing a grin before putting his hands up in what seemed like surrender.

“Careful with touching me,” came the soft-spoken voice. “My skin is poisonous.”

It froze for a moment. He tried to pretend he didn’t react; that could be so dangerous. If somebody noticed, then what if they realized he understood something?

But the voices interrupted his panic.

That’s not how fucking posionous works???

omg 

poison has to go IN the body to work fuckin idiot

LIAR ALERT LIAR ALERT

Ah. The reptile lied. How boring. Maybe the skin would still kill him, but it’d be required that–what? It had to go in the body? Yeah, so if he didn’t swallow it, he’d be fine. 

lmfao what if you did swallow it

Shut up. 

Rather than show any understanding, he bolted towards the hybrid, landing a square punch on his jaw with a satisfying crack.

The hybrid stumbled back a few feet before reaching up and simply pushing his jaw back into place.

eww 

“Guess you didn’t fall for it.” He reached up, fingers trailing across part of his rubbery skin and flicking off some sort of slime. “I thought you couldn’t understand Common.”

He gritted his teeth, twisting his hands. The hybrid had an aggressive fighting style, which meant he should focus on speed. If he could land more hits than the reptile could match, then it would be fine.

So he shot forward again.

His fist went to the right, swinging as hard as he could, but the reptile simply twisted his shoulder, dodging the hit. Techno followed that up with a swing from his left, only to be dodged the same way.

lmfao L

His next punch grazed the top of the hybrid’s hair as he ducked, then tilted back when Techno tried to sucker punch him. The crowd screamed louder when his opponent finally struck, landing a punch square on Techno’s nose on his way back up. 

He stumbled back, nearly tripping on his feet as he shook his head rapidly.

The hybrid took that chance to land another hit to his face, and another, then a third one before Techno could finally throw his arms up to block. He could already feel the bruise starting to form on his face.

Well… now his blood boiled with rage.

The sweat gleamed against his skin as the crowd roared, and he accepted the cool breeze as a sign to finally turn the fight back around. He had enough time to gauge the hybrid’s fighting style to its full potential. 

Not that he had much potential.

He wiped the sweat off of his brow before the hybrid advanced on him again. Techno reared his arm back, ready to punch as the hybrid mirrored his action. His leg, instead, shot out, landing a brutal, bruising kick to his calf. The hit sent the hybrid stumbling, so he twisted his body and moved to a better angle. Another hit slammed against their leg, but behind their knee this time.

They crashed, and the crowd screamed.

With the reptile on the ground, the fight would be over soon.

He stepped onto the hybrid’s back, reaching down to grip the brown, tangled hair. He lifted it up, ignoring the way the hybrid lashed, before slamming it back down with yet another satisfying crack.  

But why stop there? The sight of blood spilling from the hybrid’s forehead just made him more excited.

Blood

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

haha murder pog 

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD

He didn’t try to drown them out, lifting the hybrid again and slamming his head down again and again and again and again and again–

He only stopped when he felt somebody grab his own hair, tugging him back with no mercy. He let go, squishing his hands into fists.

…Ah.

He looked down at them as he got to his feet, letting them drag him out. His hands had that… slime on them. 

The dead hybrid said they were poisonous.

He took the time until his next fight to rest. They just had one more match, and then he could use a weapon. Then it’d be so much easier to kill his opponents, and they’d finish the battles up much sooner. Less time for breaks in between, but that meant the day would end sooner. 

Maybe his owner would let him take a bath afterwards. They wouldn’t want its wounds to get infected, because then it would have to be pulled from the fights until they healed.

When the time came, they had pulled him up again. His hands avoided the guards; if he accidentally poisoned them, and they traced it back to him, he could get severely punished. He didn’t really like getting punished.

He stepped out into the ring.

A cougar hybrid–didn’t that species have a name? Well, he didn’t remember it, so whatever–stood in front of him, their tail lashing side to side. Their rounded ears flickered, icy brown eyes staring.

Feline hybrids tended to be egotistical. They trusted their abilities like they actually had these abilities. Their narcissism would be their downfall, but their speed and quick thinking still could prove to be dangerous. If it weren’t, they wouldn’t have gotten this far.

furry 

SHUT UP DON’T RUIN THE MOMENT

What moment? He didn’t even know what furry meant. Or maybe the voices wanted to pet the hybrid because of their fur. They often talked about wanting to pet his ears, after all.

nobody fucking tell him

KEEP CHAT PG IDIOTS

fam he’s murdered two people today i don’t think ‘pg’ is possible rn

It’s FINE

His lips perked at their bantering. They always knew how to keep his morale up… but he didn’t know if they were actually trying to do that, or if they were just stupid.

The countdown started, and he forced himself to pay attention.

“I hope we have a good fight,” the hybrid said, a grin with far too sharp teeth splitting their face.

He tilted his head. Neither of them moved into a fighting stance yet; they were just observing each other.

Techno jolted forward, just to watch the cougar flinch back. When he did nothing but grin, their face flushed red and mirrored Techno’s action.

He didn’t flinch. Why would he?

The cougar adjusted the collar of their shirt before swinging with the same hand. Techno didn’t let himself get hit like the last time. Instead, he brought his hand up, the punch landing on his forearm. He shot forward, too, and the cougar blocked.

He licked his lips in excitement.

When the cougar threw their limb forward to hit him, he leaned back and twisted his body to the side, letting it pass him. They backed up for a moment, staring once more.

The crowd held their breath. They started to circle around each other, eyes flickering at every movement. The cougar shook their hands out.

They circled each other a few times before coming to a standstill. When Techno lifted his leg to kick the cougar, they mirrored him, so he stopped.

This felt like a spar instead of a fight to the death. He liked that about narcissistic slaves–they thought they couldn’t lose, so they played fair. 

He moved faster than they did, this time, kicking out at their leg. They didn’t even wince, bringing their knee up, kicking his own leg once before aiming for a shot at his head. His forearm blocked the shot easily.

With barely any time to breathe, their leg dropped and they aimed for a punch instead, but he blocked that one, too. 

For a moment, all he did was rely on his instincts as they shot forward, aiming punch after punch. He blocked, ducked, twisted, turned.

Easy.

He must’ve fought back instead of just defending, at some point, because when he refocused, blood dripped from their nose.

Ah. Guess he landed the first hint. Another grin perked his lips.

They panted, staring at each other as the crowd cheered their stage names. His name, however, overpowered theirs by quite a bit.

Fucking loser.

TECHNO SWORE??

The cougar twisted their body, shifting left and right as if trying to feint him. He just watched, waiting for an actual strike.

They finally moved forward with an easy, straight-forward punch. He simply lurched to the side.

He liked it when the two of them were nothing but a fury of limbs, nothing but trading hits back and forth, sometimes dodging, sometimes blocking. 

but you’re not really trying your hardest, are you?

Admittedly, no. The longer and more exciting the fight, the more people who bet. He let them think his opponent had a chance, so when they finally bet against him, he could kill his opponent and earn his owner the money.

Techno is just a bastard

get that CASH boi

Not his cash, though. His owner’s.

Wait. What the hell was cash?

lMAO

technodumb 

Y’all he is in a different WORLD don’t be mean

L 

He let out a mildly offended huff, flexing his fingers. They were still somewhat sticky from the slime. He wondered if he could use it.

Would he get in trouble if he did? He could always pretend he didn’t know about its poisonous properties. How would he have known, anyway? He didn’t have a sixth sense, and they all thought he didn’t understand Common.

Oh, shit, get back to the fight.

He came to with the hybrid gripping his arm, trying to force him to the ground with a second hand around his neck. Finally back to reality, he slammed his hand into the hybrid’s stomach. A low blow, he knew that, but he had completely blanked out there for a solid moment. He deserved some leeway.

They loosened their grasp in surprise, and he slammed his elbow back into their face, and he could’ve sworn he heard their bone crack as blood dripped from their nose.

Excellent.

He switched their positions, twisting the hybrid down low with his tight grip on their arm. He dealt a blow with his knee to their chest, earning a cough and a wheeze. They tried to punch him, but he twisted. However, he’d dodged in the worst way possible.

Their arms wrapped around his neck as they steadied themselves to a standing position. He let out an animalistic growl as they choked him.

No matter.

He rammed his elbow into their side, and their grip loosened yet again. He elbowed their face, next, before grabbing their arm and vaulting them over his back.

With them on the ground, he reared his arm back and punched them in the mouth, happily letting the somehow-still-there slime enter their body.

He continued punching until they started to convulse and foam at the mouth.

…He should probably wash his hands, then.

At least the blood had been to a minimum. He hadn’t thought it, not really, but the main reason why he liked using weapons didn’t lie in shorter matches.

They began to drag him back inside.

No, he liked them because of the blood that spilled. After three fights, he became exhausted, and moving his limbs got harder and harder. With blood, though, the voices could take control.

blood for the blood god

BLOOD POG

Murder time???

we’ve BEEN murdering people u idiot

The time until the next fight felt even shorter.

He could hear the excited screams from the audience. He wondered if they would ever go home.

Home? 

His eyes drooped. He’d forgotten about such a word. Home, to him, had disappeared a long, long time ago. It had disappeared with the smoke from the wood. It had disappeared with the screams of his sounder, the blood—

Blood?

— that spilled along with their collapsing bodies. All the adult had died that night, but the shoats were taken in for slavery. They were all separated, though. Never allowed to see each other again.

He wondered if he ever had siblings. 

He wondered if he ever had a mother or a father.

…No. Not the time. No point in thinking these stupid thoughts.

He lived in the present, not the past. He had to focus on earning money for his owner. He had to focus on being a good animal.

Bells began to toll as they dragged him outside once more. 

They equipped him with an iron sword. They did so to the other hybrid that stepped out.

He didn’t bother thinking about what kind of hybrid they were. He had no reason to find out their fighting style in order to match it.

Once he spilt their blood, it would all be over.

The crowd knew it, too. They were screaming before the countdown even began. They knew he would have his opponent dead within a minute.

And when the countdown ended, he proved that to be true.

They clashed blades for merely a few moments before he spun, nicking the hybrid’s side and spilling blood.

blood 

BLOOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

Blood!

Murder pog?

Blood 

BLOOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

He let them take control.

Chapter Text

He’d been bad.

In its defense, they were the ones who pushed it too far. They were the one who surprised and scared him until he had to lash out in order to defend himself.

They wouldn’t have killed him. He didn’t have to. He lied.

They should know better than to interrupt him during his training, especially so suddenly. What would they have expected from him? Relaxation? Understanding? Peace?

Of course not!

But maybe he should’ve done a better job anyway.

He hadn’t meant to throw the punch, really, and he had immediately realized his mistake at the sight of the bloody nose. He hadn’t heard them try to call for him. He only suddenly felt a grip on his shoulder, tight and squeezing with nails digging in easily. The panic shot through him and the voices roared, and he had turned around and simply punched whoever had grabbed him.

Turns out the person? A servant. Not a slave, a fucking servant.

Somebody in a higher position. Fuck him and fuck whatever would happen as a punishment.

They hadn’t known, they babbled to the guard that quickly apprehended him. The servant, however, quickly realized what this meant.

Servants were barely above slaves, after all. If they had a chance to be above him, why wouldn’t they take it? Everyone wanted power in their lives.

So they feigned their anger.

Their master wouldn’t be pleased with this, they shouted to the guard. Don’t you know who I serve? This thing’s owner could be in deep trouble if they fail to properly educate their stupid pig!

So that’s how he got here.

It had been awhile since he got punished. How old was he now? Who knew. He just remembered that he caused his last punishment by accidentally killing one of his opponents in a no-death match.

Whoops.

Its—his—knees hurt from kneeling. He’d been stuck in this position for what felt like hours–it might’ve actually been hours. He had to wait here, hands tied behind his back, gagged and chained to the ground, until his owner got back from whatever trip they’d gone on.

The only thing that had kept him from going insane, really, were the voices chattering inside his head, full of banter and comedic jokes. They had asked him to tell them a story, but he did not have one to tell.

Plus, he didn’t really want to think right now. If he thought, his mind would think about the events soon to happen.

The door creaked open, making him startle, his deep red his flicking to the entrance.

They stood there, heaving with rage.

“What the fuck did you do?” they snarled, grabbing his hair and pulling as hard as they could. “Why did I suddenly get a message that you decided to attack a servant of a noble?!”

A noble? Uh-oh. Even his owner didn’t have the status of a noble; they were certainly upper-middle class, but they were not acknowledged by the King.

They squeezed their eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. When their eyes opened again, the rage had disappeared. Instead, a cold glint had Techno tensing up.

“You are a bad pig, aren’t you?” they cooed, almost as if trying to comfort it. “You know what I do to bad pets, don’t you?”

A little whimper escaped his throat.

No— no. He had no fear. In fact, he found the situation funny! Why wouldn’t he? Yes, yes, all jokes, all funny reactions, not utter terror at what would happen next.

And his limbs certainly weren't trembling. Why would they be?

His owner stood up, glancing around the room. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? But I do still have it in here.”

No.

They waltzed over to a little contraption on the wall, and another whimper escaped his throat. They kicked a bucket along with them.

He didn’t like this room. 

the water room

Please, Prime, no, he fucking hated water, he fucking hated it, he hated it, he hated it, he hated it–

They flicked a lever, and the sound of water rushing out from the wall and into the bucket had him crying out in terror.

He used to spend all of his time here, back when he had first been bought by the man. They quickly figured out what a young shoat fresh from the Nether would be terrified of. Maybe, now that he had grown, water didn’t scare him, but he first mistook it for some sort of blue lava. He assumed he would be killed by this strange lava, but when they–

When they did it, he hadn’t died. 

(Unsafe.)

He knows. Shut up. His stupid fucking insincts made his panic worse.

it’ll be over soon

It’s okay Techno!

Technoblade neva dies

technosupport 

He wanted everything to shut up.

For once, the voices obliged, going quiet. Now he could only hear the sound of running water.

Wait, no, he lied, please come back, he couldn’t go without them–

shush, darling, we’re here

He hated how his body unwound immediately at the soft murmurs of reassurance. He may hate everything they say, but anything would be better than the sound of water. The subtle drip, drop could only be drowned out, not ignored.

The water shut off.

He squeezed his eyes shut as they picked it up, water sloshing around in the bucket. Their footsteps were heavy, nearly echoing in the small room.

So what if he hated loud noises, too? So what? He just had sensitive ears, is all. They were just louder to him than to everyone else, so he had every right to dislike them!

The bucket dropped in front of him, some water spilling out. He let out a yelp as it drew closer, trying to pull away at the advancing water, but it began to wet the clothing at his knees. He couldn’t pull much away, not chained down like this.

A hand grabbed his hair, pulling hard again and forcing his head up to look at those cold eyes.

Okay… okay. It’d been awhile, yeah, but he could remember how to deal with this. He could remember.

Just… stop thinking. Stop thinking, and it’d be over soon, yeah? Listen to the voices soothing whispers, and they might even tell him a story.

we can tell you a story.

They forced his head under the water.

once upon a time,

There was a boy named Theseus

son of Aegeus, king of Athens, and Aethra.

He has many adventures as he ages–

past tense, you idiot!

–until he found himself in the land of Athens.

They let him up, and he gasped and choked, coughing the water out from his pathetic lungs. Drenched hair stuck to his face as a finger stroked his cheekbone.

Athens had quite the interesting beast dwelling in its home.

after all, King Minos had greatly troubled the God of the Sea,

Poseidon. 

They pushed him back under.

Everyone knows you must sacrifice a bull to Poseidon,

but alas!

King Minos failed the simple task.

how do you even fuck that up?

Shhh!

It went to laugh, instead inhaling cold water into its lungs.

Due to his foolish mistake,

his wife became infatuated with a bull.

By the time the Minotaur was born,

King Minos realized his mistake.

He tensed up. Was that how hybrids were made, then? By breeding with poor animals? Well, he supposed some species were just as human as the rest of them…

The Minotaur’s mother was terrified of the sight,

of this tiny child, fresh out of the womb,

staring up at her with what could’ve been love.

Could hybrids even feel love?

She thought the same thing, you see,

and blinded the eyes that stared up at her.

The two of them threw the Minotaur into a labyrinth,

crafted by Daedalus.

He recognized the name, he thought weakly.

The Minotaur spent their days wandering,

learning the maze and its routes,

where it would be fed,

Where it would be watered,

and the warmest places to sleep.

He would like a warm place to sleep.

But King Minos feared the Minotaur,

believing the creature to be unkillable.

so he thought to appease the creature

By sending seven maidens and seven bachelors. 

The Minotaur did not understand what was expected of it,

until the creature was attacked.

Attacked?

Yes, attacked. 

The humans attacked the Minotaur,

and the only thing it could do was defend itself.

Defend itself.

King Minos did not understand that the Minotaur was only defending itself,

so he continued to send in humans.

Or maybe he did understand

and simply tested to see if these humans could kill the Minotaur.

He began to make use of the Minotaur,

and it was required to execute prisoners.

They stopped feeding the Minotaur, 

So it had to feed on human flesh and blood.

Blood.

That’s right, my dear.

War prisoners,

Hybrids,

Misbehaving slaves,

Attempted escapees, 

became the Minotaur’s only food.

It must’ve been very hungry.

It was very hungry.

So hungry 

that it began to plot to escape.

At the same time,

Theseus,

after hearing of the creature’s crimes,

volunteered to be a part of the seven bachelors. 

Why?

To free his lover, 

Ariadne,

daughter of King Minos,

from the reign of the Minotaur.

Shouldn’t he have gone after King Minos?

Greek tales are shrouded in clouds of miscommunication,

and if he were to take the hand of Ariadne,

Theseus would happily 

stay blind to the truth.

Coward.

lies are often easier than the truth.

Anyway,

on the advice of Daedalus,

Ariadne gave Theseus a ball of yawn,

a clew, to be exact,

so Theseus could retrace his steps

and escape the labyrinth. 

Would he get what the Minotaur wanted?

That night, 

Ariadne escorted Theseus to the entrance to the labyrinth

And listened closely when Theseus whispered,

“When I return,

my love,

I will whisk you away to a land far from your father.”

So he knew King Minos was the one to blame yet did nothing about it.

Upon entering the labyrinth, 

Theseus tied one end of the string to the doorpost,

and withdrew his hidden sword.

He followed Daedalus’ advice,

and always went down and forward, never left or right.

He found the heart of the labyrinth, 

where the Minotaur lied, sleeping.

Sounded like Theseus had no such thing as honor.

The voices laughed in his stead.

Definitely not,

but in his defense, he did not know the Minotaur was simply trying to defend itself.

Not really an excuse.

The Minotaur killed many people. 

Is hunger and self-defense an excuse for mass murder?

He couldn’t think of a response this time.

So, Theseus stepped forward,

and killed the monster.

some argue whether it was an epic battle that woke the beast,

a cowardice attack,

or a last-ditch attempt to survive.

Huh.

with the Minotaur’s head,

Theseus escaped with his clew.

he escaped with all the other Athenians,

Ariadne,

and her sister, Phaedra, too

and sailed back to Athens.

His vision was getting blurry.

however, 

when his crew went and searched for water

On the island of Naxos,

they fell asleep,

And Dionysus came forward.

Not Dionysus.

Dionysus found and married Ariadne,

and when theseus woke,

he abandoned his lover and continued on,

forgetting to raise white sails instead of black sails

in his Gods-given grief.

What did that entail?

Well, you see, his father did not know the ship 

held his son and the Athenians. 

So Theseus’ father killed himself

throwing himself off a cliff of Sounion and into the sea.

When were Greek myths never a tragedy? Not that Theseus didn’t somewhat deserve it.

However, the old man didn’t really deserve to die for Theseus’ stupidity. Perhaps that’s where the true tragedy lied; not on Theseus’ reaction, but for his father.

So the story ends,

Theseus without a wife and father,

and the hideous beast,

evil, ugly, and murderous,

died the death it deserved.

The Minotaur died the death it deserved.

Maybe it deserved to die like this, too. It had killed hundreds in what could be deemed as self-defense. Did that really make it any less evil?

They pulled its head out of the water, and it finally snapped back to reality.

“Have you learned your lesson, pig?” They cupped its face. It wanted to whip its head away, but it had no strength.

Besides. Maybe it could enjoy this gentle touch, even if just for a moment.

“That’s the thing with you hybrids.” They let him go, standing up and grabbing the bucket. It automatically tensed, but they didn’t seem to notice. “You can’t ever understand your situation. You can’t know what it’s like to deal with politics.”

It blankly stared after him.

“I mean, c’mon. They know better than to touch you while you’re training. Just because some fucking servant of a big, bad Marquess touched you and got what was coming to them, I have to postpone your next fight to make sure you heal!”

…Ah. At least it would be given some time to relax.

“This better fucking satisfy them. Everyone knows you stupid Piglins are scared of water, but what if they wanted something bloodier or some shit? I can’t be whipping you if you’re going to be participating in the Games soon!”

What were the Games?

“Good Prime, sometimes I wonder if I should just drop you back off where I found you.”

It tried not to perk. It almost did, but it didn’t. It managed to handle itself.

“But you wouldn’t be able to fend for yourself, would you? You’d be stuck, desperate, wondering where I am to feed you and water you… hah.” They laughed as they dumped the bucket of water, making it whimper. “Piglins don’t know how to do anything but beg for gold. I would expect you to be smarter, since you’re a hybrid, but you can’t even understand what I’m saying.”

It wanted to snarl. It did understand, but it supposed that if it weren’t pretending, they would be right. But it would have to pretend if it wanted to stay safe.

What would happen if they found out, it wondered. It would be whipped, surveillance would be increased tenfold. A beast that can speak and arouse pity, and a beast that can understand others' speech can figure out schedules and escape routes. 

It’s not the right time yet, the voices reminded softly.

It knew that. It didn’t plan to escape yet.

But it would escape some day, right? It had to, if it couldn’t die from the battles. 

jfc can you stop calling yourself an it?

it’s CREEPY

No response.

Finally, they came over and undid its chains, letting it flex its hands and wrists. They gently patted the top of its head.

“I’m mad at you, yeah, but I’m even more pissed at that pathetic servant. So, for the love of Prime, let’s get you some rest, pig.”

Sometimes it didn’t know how its owner really thought of it. They constantly sent it mixed signals.

They led him back to his cell, and they locked the door behind them. Then they left.

With a long, long sigh, it turned and collapsed onto the hay bed.

Distant shouting lulled it to sleep.

The screams echoed through the village, flames flickering rising high to the sky as smoke billowed through the air. A young child stood there, blood splattered on his skin and pink hair as he stared at the damage.

Who had caused it?

A harsh wind blew his hair, sending the pink strands to the side as he stared at the chaos around him.

Perhaps he had caused it. Perhaps the voices whispering praises and cheers into his head caused it. 

But why had he done it?

Only a few days passed before they pulled it out of its safe cell, muzzling it and chaining it. They tranquilized it, too, but they didn’t seem to know how much to use on it, so it stayed awake but drowsy for most of the journey. 

It had gone to different Pits before, so it just pretended to be asleep the entire time. It didn’t try to escape; bows and swords were drawn by every guard, knuckles white with their tight grips. They had all heard of it; this terrifying Piglin-hybrid who had never lost a fight in the Pit. 

It didn’t ask the voices for a story. This trip would be a good chance for some much-needed rest. They didn’t change Pits often; not when it earned the Pit owners so much money. Maybe it killed too many of its opponents. Maybe another Pit offered its owner a higher pay.

Maybe it had to do with the ‘Games.’

It still didn’t know what the hell that meant.

It watched the sky with hazy eyes. The Nether never had such luxuries. They had a Netherrack ceiling, and those unlucky enough to have a taste of adventure learned that above the ceiling lay a layer of bedrock.

Not a never-ending sky like this. If it reached and reached and reached, it would never reach the top. Or maybe it would, but with its feet stuck to the ground, it would never figure it out.

A light breeze passed over his skin, offering a cool break from the beaming sun. The heat, at least, he could remember. The Nether never had a hint of coolness. Well, it supposed maybe the Warped Forests were the least hot. The fungi radiated a normal temperature instead of a burning hot one, not like the Crimson Forest fungi. 

It still preferred the Crimson Forests, though. Those had the most sources of food, with delicious Hoglin meat. Gods, it could go with some Hoglin meat right now, deliciously prepared by the High Sow. Its littermates would yip and complain, but it had dominance in the group, so it always got the best bits. The childless boars and sows who lived in the sounder would assist the other two Piglins in the group in getting enough food for the little ones. 

It must’ve had siblings, then, if it remembered being the dominant shoat. Piglins… they all assisted with childcare, with three Piglins–one High Sow and two Piglins that were deemed excellent with shoats–being the leaders. The High Sow made all the important decisions, and even if she weren’t physically the strongest, all of the Piglins in the sounder respected what she said.

It’d seen one or two other sounders when they were all migrating. It seems to have a similar hierarchy, right?

Or maybe it imagined it. Maybe it was losing its mind because it had repeated these memories over and over and over again in its desperate hope to not forget them.

Maybe it would forget them some day. 

Its eyes fluttered closed.

They would be at its new cell soon enough.

Chapter Text

It woke to screaming.

Not too uncommon in its life; screaming from the Gladiator pits, from the other slaves taken in. It just got annoying over time instead of heart wrenching. 

A wooden ceiling lay above it as it lay in bed. Wood ceilings were rare. Usually, they were sandstone, with a terrifying amount of dust creaking off of it whenever something shook the arena. That must mean it’s aboveground for now.

Its eyes flickered to its surroundings.

Besides its bed sat a dresser, tiny as could be. It wondered why it even got one; it had no clothes to store inside. No items or anything. It couldn’t have any items; it didn’t even have rights.

lmfao L

Shut up.

Slowly, it sat up in bed, glancing at the thin blankets. Blankets? No, it’d never even gotten one before. 

What the hell? 

It settled its feet on the floor, flinching back at the feeling of cool wood. Okay, even fucking weirder. Had it managed to grow surprise rights? Or did the kingdom somehow outlaw slavery while it slept? Because it’d never received such kind treatment. Next thing it knew, they might be feeding it on a regular basis like some sort of anarchist. 

Okay, maybe it should stop being sarcastic.

The nicer conditions were something to genuinely worry about, though. It hadn’t done anything special recently besides getting punished. Maybe it had earned the death penalty and they did this to make it feel better one last time?

Bullshit. No fucking way.

It stood up, now, something catching its eye.

That—what—it wasn’t alone?!

It twirled around to face the dresser fully, staring with wide eyes at the sight before it.

technodog lmfao

That’s your REFLECTION, dumbass

holyshit he’s really a Piglin hybrid!

It blinked rapidly, watching as this ‘reflection’ did the same. It lifted its hand, so did the reflection.

Oh. 

It stepped forward, inspecting its face closely.

Pale skin littered with scars, shaved down tusks, matted, pink hair. It ran its fingers across its chapped lips. 

Wow. It looked fucking terrible. 

LMFAO

babes ur gorgeous in your own way

Just get a bath and you’ll be fine

a hairbrush wouldn’t hurt either tbh

At this point, he might just need to cut his hair off

If he cuts his hair i will cut HIM

A grin perked its lips at their stupidity–

Hey! 

Shut up. It just wanted to inspect its reflection some more.

So that it did, staring in interest and surprise. Since when did it get this many scars? It thought it fought well enough to stay away from things like that.

Ah, whatever. It would never truly matter, besides maybe an intimidation factor. The more it could scare its opponents, the better. Scary meant safe.

It turned away from its reflection, turning its focus to the small table with a singular chair. It reminded it of the tea cup and the poison. Good Prime, that seemed so long ago. It knew it happened a few Pits ago, but it had no clue when.

Time blurred in places like this.

It spent its time inspecting every crevice in the wall and the strength of the iron bars. Testing the strengths and the weaknesses. 

It could be its escape-place. The Pit it finally escaped from. However, it would need to know the layout first–if it failed, it would piss off its owner, and, well…

It shuddered at the thought. 

When it finally finished its examination, it headed back to the not-hay bed. It did not know what made up the mattress, but damn, it wanted to sleep on it for real, not in a tranquilizer-induced haze.

It plopped down, surprised at the slight bounce it resulted in. It blinked a few times for staring up at the ceiling again.

Then its eyes fluttered close. 

A few hours passed before consciousness forced itself into it. The sound of shouting woke it, so it turned on its side to stare outside of the cell. 

The guards were standing barely in view of the cell. The sound of clinking chains bounced against the wall before iron doors slammed shut. 

…But the iron doors weren’t for its cell. 

“Prime damn, ” one of the guards hissed out as they shook their hands. “Since when did I get stuck with this dirty work?”

Whatever they had thrown into the neighboring cell let out a low snarl. 

It wasn’t completely foreign to the idea of a neighboring cell, but damn, it had been years since something like that took place. They kept it isolated, to make sure it craved blood the moment it stepped into the ring. 

And yet a slave sat so close to it, with only a thin wall separating them.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” came an unidentified voice–a woman, an older one, at that. It heard chains rattle against iron, and it realized she must’ve slammed them against the cell door. “Do you think this can hold me?!”

“Yes.” The other guard let out a low laugh. “If it couldn’t, you would’ve left a long time ago, slave.”

The guards turned and walked away. When they passed by its cell, one glanced over. It bared its teeth, a low snarl on its lips, making them jump and scurry off. That’s good, at least, but…

…Damnit. 

Ignore her.

Yep. It knew.

Don’t even THINK about her fam

she’ll definitely ruin ur escape.

stay completely silent!

Don’t let here know we’re here!

*her 

LMFAO dumbass

It held back a slight chuckle.

Yeah, whatever. It would be quiet for them.

It didn’t need to get attached to other slaves. When it escaped, they would beg it to take them with it, and it couldn’t do that.

It bit back a sigh and closed its eyes again as the woman started to mumble to herself, anger dripping in every word. It wanted to make her shut up.

Finally, she did, seemingly settling in her own bed.

So it fell back asleep. 

“Techno, come here!”

The same small child snapped its head up at the man’s voice. He hurried from the kitchen into the living room, where this man sat.

“I need you to go into town and get me something for tonight’s dinner. Your mom’s not feeling well enough to make something for herself.”

He dipped his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” The man crossed his arms. “Get going.”

He did as he was told, fingers trailing a bruise on his face.

When morning came, they dragged it to the arena to fight. They gave it a sword right away, which caused more distrust than anything else. However, upon seeing the guard towers with loaded crossbows, it understood.

Just like it inspected the room, it began to inspect the arena.

It had to be careful of any jutting rocks, where the ground dipped and raised. It could use everything to its advantage.

The crowd could think that it was just some stupid Piglin with nothing but a thirst for blood. That reputation was ideal, actually. However, it had always meticulously mapped out its arena every time it fought. If it could win a fight with minimal injuries, it would be happy. Considering its owner called this the ‘Games’, that meant it would be multiple fights. 

Better not get injured early.

It ignored the excited announcer; they sounded significantly less drunk, at least. The crowd recognized it, it realized, but it doubted most of them had seen one of its fights by the lackluster response.

No matter.

By the time it had finished its tenth fight, the crowd knew damn well how this entire ‘Game’ would be played out. Every time it walked out into the arena, their screams were almost as deafening as the voices. 

They finally returned it to its cell after that fight, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. They never had someone so strong, of course.

Opening the cell, they let it walk inside itself for some odd reason. “We’ll be back with your food in a minute.”

It didn’t respond, settling down on the bed as they locked the door.

Footsteps. A door closed.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

A low snort escaped it, a single huff as it stood and began to pace.

so much for keeping a low profile lmfao

He’s the Blade, what else can he do? 

it was going to happen no matter what–no point in dwelling on it.

Yeah. No point in dwelling on it.

“Can’t you at least say somethin’?”

Nope. 

The guards returned quickly, sliding the tray into the cell easily. It waited until they left before hurrying to eat it. Hunger gnawed at its stomach, but it could pretend that nothing happened. Like it didn’t have to deal with starvation and malnutrition.

The tray emptied itself in minutes.

It shoved the tray back out the cell before climbing back into bed. 

“Can you at least tell me your name?”

Fuck no. Names meant getting attached, and it absolutely did not want to get attached.

“Well, my name is Eleanor.” 

It growled. Loudly. It had just spent the entire day in the arena, fighting for its fucking life, and this stupid slave wanted to interrupt its sleep? Fuck. No.

She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I should let you rest.”

..Ah.

She understood that much, at least. 

It passed out with a full belly and weary limbs.

It didn’t have to fight for the next couple of days. Its neighbor kept trying to talk to it, to get it to talk back, and it would seem she hadn’t gotten the memo of “it didn’t fucking understand what you’re saying!”

Sorry. Her voice made it irritated. It made the voices snap out in annoyance.

They were pulling it into another fight. They gave it an iron sword, just like last time. It tested it out with a couple swings, enjoying the way the guards snapped their head to it, before nodding.

Then they pushed it out into the arena.

It easily fought its way through its first opponents, slashing and hacking. It let the voices take over while it still had the energy. Usually, it waited until the end of the night, but it didn’t know the environment of this Pit. It needed to be alert.

Once it figured out its routine, it would let the voices have their way.

can’t WAIT

Blood blood blood blood blo

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

As the day went on, it got more and more exhausted. All of its opponents evidently had some experience. It no longer got the break of murdering inexperienced, often young hybrids that put up barely any fight. 

Prime. It might actually get hurt today.

The battles went on with a grueling pace, lasting upwards to ten minutes per match. That might not seem like a lot, but imagine sprinting for ten minutes with no breaks. Exactly. Fuck off, voices.

They snickered in its ear as it stepped out into the arena for hopefully the last time for today. This would be its tenth match, and if they stuck to routine, it could go back and sleep for the rest of the night, and well into morning.

Its owner hadn’t visited it in a while. It wondered why. Were they watching it from the stands, eyes cold and glinting?

No matter. 

Another feline hybrid stood in front of it. Good–a species it recognized. A species it could handle. 

Their black ear twitched. Their eyes met, and they both readied their swords.

Damn, though. Feline hybrids were smart. It hated smart hybrids. Smart hybrids were like it–they paid attention to their surroundings, they would be aware of places in which they could trip.

Its lip curled up in a sneer, and the bell rang.

The feline shot forward, causing it to stumble back as their blades clashed. The crowd roared as if they’d never seen a fight before. It wanted to roll its eyes but held back for the sake of its opponent.

The clanging of iron on iron echoed against the tight walls of the arena. The hybrid didn’t want to give it any time to think. Alright, fair enough. It could respect that.

However, it also excelled in brute strength. Nobody got this far without a mix of everything. If they did, it would’ve been through luck. It didn’t have time for luck.

It took a step back, slinging its sword against their own. Each clash sent a shock through its body, each clash had them moving and stumbling back. Whenever they tired each other out enough, they’d back up, panting for air and circling around each other like a pair of wild animals.

It lurched forward suddenly, clashing blades once more and nearly flinging its opponent’s sword to the side. The feline caught it, though, and retaliated with a swing forward. It almost hit it, had it not leaned back just in time. They got back to their rhythm in mere moments, only for the hybrid to lift their leg up and suddenly jam their foot against its stomach.

Fuck shit ow fuck fuck fuck–

As it stumbled back, the hybrid drove their sword forward. It did the same. 

The sword went through.

Swords. Plural, actually. The swords went through.

Blood began to spill. It pulled back the sword, letting it drop to the floor. The hybrid fell, too. It looked down at its brand new stab wound.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

L

Technoinjured 

technoLAME

It wanted to strangle all of them. It had just got injured–pretty fucking bad, by the amount of pain that spread up its abdomen–and they were making fun of it.

Its eyes flickered to the dying hybrid. It reared back and spit on the body, and the crowd screamed in delight. What cruel, undeserving bastards.

How could anybody watch this and still feel like they had a heart?

(Sounder.)

Not now.

The announcer started talking. They started talking with their booming voice about how it won, despite it being such a close battle. It wondered what commentary they said along with the simple fact; maybe that it wouldn’t be destined to win, after all. It might be destined to die in these battles.

Hopefully that would earn its owner more money, if people bet against it and lost. They would be mad it got injured, sure, but once they hurried up and wrapped this wound up, it’d be ready to go in a day or two. Hopefully.

With weary limbs and dim eyes, they began to drag it out of the arena as screams echoed throughout the large ring. It stared up at the sky, watching the clouds drift with the breeze.

They pulled it inside. 

With trembling limbs, it looked down at its wound. It wondered if it’d even get medical treatment; they had to, unless they wanted it to die before its next fight. Even some simple bandages would work. It always healed scarily fast.

Though, it supposed it wouldn’t matter if it died. It would simply be its second chance to explore its newfound powers. Its ability to just… not die.

Technoblade neva dies!

Great commentary.

They didn’t give it a moment to breathe, dragging it back into its cell. Its neighbor must’ve heard its labored breathing, the way it stumbled.

“...What’s wrong with him?” 

She sounded softer than usual. Almost… worried. How funny–it hadn’t even seen her yet, nor had she seen it. It hadn’t even spoken to her, and yet she…

What naivety. She would be dead soon, if shit like that kept happening.

They shoved it into the cell, and it happily stumbled to the bed and collapsed on top with a low grunt and snort. It reached for the blanket, pressing it against its bleeding wound in an attempt to at least slow it.

Footsteps receded. A door shut.

They were alone.

“...Hey.” She sounded a little bit stronger, now. A little bit more confident. “Are you alright, sir?”

It snorted again. It would very much like it if she shut up right now. It wanted to get some rest.

“You don’t sound very good.”

Rude.

“Did you get hurt in the ring?” 

It would’ve defiantly turned on its side if it didn’t want to hurt itself even further. For now, though, it let out a low growl.

“Calm down.” She did not just tell it to calm down. “I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Prime.

“They talk about you a lot, y’know, when they’re bringing in the food. I don’t know if you understand them, or if you’re even listening, but it’s not very nice.”

Its ear twitched.

“I… I don’t know how bad it is,” she began, tapping her fingers loudly against the floor, nails clicking, “but I’m sure you’ll be alright.”

…Was she trying to comfort it?

“Why don’t you just get some rest, yeah? When they come back, I’ll see if they can get you some medicine.”

It snorted softly, the aggression in its voice significantly lessening.

don’t get attached!

Technosoft 

L

It closed its eyes anyway, letting itself fall into some sort of sleep or haze. Hopefully it would stop bleeding by morning. If it did, it would be fine by the next day. If it didn’t, it would require medical attention. If it required medical attention, it wouldn’t get it.

Voices interrupted its sleep, making its ear twitch again as it shuffled. Its eyes cracked open, even if it didn’t really see anything. 

“You can’t just let him die!” It sounded like the woman. It reached up to cover its ears. “Look at him. How else is he supposed to fight? If you don’t help him, he’ll be useless in the ring! So help him!”

Another voice sounded. “If it lives, it lives. If it dies, it dies. We don’t care. It gave us a show, so if it dies, then we don’t care. It’s served its purpose.”

She let out a hiss. “You heartless bastard. He’s a person!”

“No.” A sword clattered against the iron bars, ringing. “It’s a slave.”

Footsteps. They receded before a door shut. 

That meant the two slaves were alone again. It let out a long sigh.

“You still alive in there?” she tried to joke. It huffed in response. It couldn’t muster up a snort or a growl to scare her away. It just wanted to sleep.

She just started talking, voice soft and barely traveling in the hallway. Its eyes fluttered closed again.

She had spent her time like this for the last day or two, just chatting while it huffed or snorted in response. She would wait for a response before continuing whatever useless story she told, almost as if making sure it hadn’t died yet.

It fell asleep to her soft voice, to the gentle way she told her extravagant tales.

And as it finally slipped into unconsciousness, the voices whispered,

you will never die.

Chapter Text

“He’s not breathing!”

Its ear subtly twitched.

“For Prime’s sake, can anybody hear me? He hasn’t been breathing!”

Ah. Had it died? How good of hearing did she have to know when his breathing stopped? Maybe the woman came from a feline species. It would explain the nails–maybe claws–being so loud when they tapped against the floor. She didn’t really seem clever or sly enough to be a feline hybrid, though. She seemed too genuine for that.

It slowly sat up in bed, lifting its shirt in order to inspect where the wound should be. However, the skin remained unmarred. In fact, any previous scars in the area were removed. 

“I don’t—”

“Shut up .”

TECHNOSPEAK????

oh my prime we haven’t heard his voice in so long

his voice is so deep ;-;

She froze, her consistent nail tapping finally coming to a stop. “You—you’re alive! And you’re speaking? I thought you didn’t understand Common—they said you didn’t…”

Holy hell, her voice made its ears scream in protest. It reached up and covered them. “I told you to shut up,” it growled lowly, shaking its head.

She did so. 

you blew your cover :(

Give him a break, he needed the quiet

But he RUINED his cover! 

What if something goes wrong?????

They needed to shut up, too. Its ears were ringing like it had nothing to lose. It groaned softly.

It had felt like shit the last time it died, too. Maybe that just happened after dying. Most people wouldn’t know, let alone have an explanation for it. 

It covered its face. As much as it didn’t want to admit it, the voices were right. It shouldn’t have spoken; it’d broken one of its only rules. If she told one of the guards that it spoke, it could result in yet another murder.

If they find out you can’t die, they’ll experiment on you, the voices helpfully chirped. 

It hit the side of its head to shut them up. It really hated when they were right like this. They would tease it for this later.

and stop calling yourself an ‘it’!

“...Are you alright?” she asked softly, voice quiet and straining as if it pained her to stay quiet. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

It let out a snort. “When did the guards last deliver food?” It didn’t know when it could expect the guards to come again. It needed to know that, if she wanted information.

“Uh.” It heard shuffling from the other cell. “Like, an hour ago. I don’t know. I’m not the best at keeping track of time.”

It collapsed back onto its bed with a long sigh. What a foolish woman. 

“Should I try to call the guard to see if you can eat?” she asked, a hint of desperation hanging on her tone. “You were out all day. I–I couldn’t hear you breathing, and–”

“Don’t.” Its voice cracked. It hadn’t spoken so much in so long—yeah, it spoke to itself when nobody could hear it, but… a conversation… “As far as they know, I don’t understand them, or you, for that matter.”

She stalled. “...Okay. Okay, I get it. I won’t tell them. I won’t.”

The silence lulled over them, and it thought that, maybe, she had decided to leave it be, leave it to focus on its sleep or something of the sort. Dying had made it exhausted.

“You, ah… what’s your name?” She began to tap her fingers again. “If-if you remember, my name is Eleanor.”

It snorted, almost in an attempt to shut her up.

“Do you… not have a name? Besides your stage name, I mean.”

A low growl escaped its lips, tensing up at her foolish words. Exchanging names? She must have some sort of death wish, getting attached to opponents in a death tournament. Besides, it didn’t even like thinking about its stage name.

“...You must’ve been taken in young.”

It snapped. 

Not—not it as in Techno. It had literally snapped the bedpost it hadn’t realized it was grabbing. It blinked, staring down at the broken-off wood. If they caught it with this, it could get in trouble for hiding a weapon.

So, it tossed it towards the cell door, watching it roll safely out of its reach.

“Did I—did I upset you?”

Shut up.

They didn’t seem surprised to see it up on its feet a few hours later, and they quickly sent it back out for fighting. Eleanor kept trying to talk to it. 

“What kind of hybrid are you?”

Always met with a growl.

“My favorite color is purple. What about you?”

A snort and a huff. Day after day, question after question.

“Have you ever had tea before?”

It didn’t growl or snort. It… simply hesitated before tapping its fingers, huffing in some sort of ‘yes.’ 

That seemed to excite her, so she chattered in its ear about what kind of tea she liked for the rest of the day. Earl Gray tea, black tea, the difference between tea and a fusion. She went into detail about the process of making tea leaves until it fell asleep to her soft voice. 

“Would you like to hear a story?” she asked the next day. 

STORY TIME????

Omg please tell me she knows some myths

we haven’t been told a story in YEARS

We’re always the ones telling the story!

Well. For the first time, the voices had a positive reaction to something she said.

Something escaped its throat—a small, quivering sound of interest. It didn’t even mean to.

She laughed. It’d never heard her laugh before. “Yeah, I can tell you a story. What about the story of Echo and Narcissus? Would you like that?”

It stayed silent. Not even a growl escaped its lips. She took that as a ‘yes’.

“Narcissus was known as the prettiest man on Earth. With golden locks of hair, bright blue eyes, dark skin, and thin lips, it made even the Greek Gods jealous. The women in his town would fall in love at first sight.”

Foolish.

“Narcissus couldn’t care less, though—why would he? Being the prettiest man on Earth made him want to focus on nothing but himself.” She paused, as if waiting for a response. Silence. She continued on. “There was a nymph who focused on nothing but him, too. Echo. Flowers decorated her auburn hair, a nymph so pretty that even Zeus had taken in an interest in her.”

Oh, no. Nothing good happened when Zeus took an interest in something.

“However, he did not simply enjoy her for her beauty. You see, Echo had the excellent ability of being able to talk with someone for hours and hours on end.”

Kind of like you, it thought, lips perking at the thought.

“So whenever Zeus wanted to leave and spend his time with another woman, he would request that Echo distract Hera with a conversation to last hours. However, it didn’t take long for Hera to realize what Echo was doing.”

Oof. Poor girl.

“Hera cursed Echo to only be able to repeat what has already been said to her, left without a voice of her own. Echo grew depressed, and the only thing that could raise her spirits was Narcissus. However, the gorgeous man could focus on nothing but himself.”

Humans do tend to be like that. 

“She continued to try and gain his attention, but her every attempt failed until, one day, she spotted him alone in the woods. In a last-ditch effort, she went and threw her arms around the man, only to be quickly shaken off.”

Well, duh. You shouldn’t go around hugging random people. It’s creepy.

“Narcissus claimed that he would rather die than become her lover, so Echo turned and fled in her shame. She ran into a cave and hid there, watching the trees and the birds as she slowly withered away. The sadness turned her bones into stone, her blood to dew, her skin to dirt. Her spirit lived on in the mockingbird’s echo. Whenever you hear your voice returned back to you, that’s her, begging to be heard. Whenever the mockingbird speaks, she is trying to call for Narcissus, as if he could ever hear her.

“The goddess of revenge, Nemesis, heard of what happened to Echo. In order to avenge her, she led Narcissus to a pond, where he became so infatuated with his reflection that he fell inside and drowned.”

A fitting end. 

“When the other nymphs came to give Narcissus a funeral, the only thing they could find was a white daffodil, forever left to signify selfishness.”

She went quiet, and they simply basked in the silence. It gripped the blanket tightly, blinking drowsily up at the ceiling.

don’t do it.

“My name,” it murmured softly. The constant tapping stopped. “My name is Technoblade.”

“Technoblade,” she parroted in a whisper, lacking any sort of hesitation. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m sorry it had to be in circumstances like this.”

It huffed softly. It’s not like they could’ve ever met otherwise. It would be stuck like this until one day when it escaped. If that day would ever come.

It will.

you just need to have patience!

It had been patient its entire life—don’t lecture it. Prime forbid that it just wanted to—

It just wanted to go home.

The voices went quiet before murmuring soft reassurances. Its eyes fluttered closed before letting itself drift off to sleep.

Every night, she would tell it about a tale. Orpheus and Eurydice, Prometheus, Eros and Pysche, Aphrodite, Athena, Hera and Zeus…

Every night, it would fall asleep to the sound of her chattering happily. Every morning, it would tell her something about itself.

“My favorite color is red.”

Just like blood.

“I’ve had tea twice. The first time, it was poisoned, though.”

She sputtered loudly at that.

“I think I’m fifteen. I’ve been here since I was a child.”

It’d never like the word child. Too broad of a meaning. It preferred shoat, hatchling, chick, kitten… anything specific. However, it wanted her to know as little as possible about it before everything went to all hell.

One day, she didn’t tell it a story about a Greek myth.

“I have a kid, back home.” Her tapping stopped. “He’s five years younger than you, though. When the hunters came, I sent him off before they realized what was going on. I don’t think the hunters realized there were two of us.”

It trilled softly, just to let her know it was listening. 

“I hope they’re doing okay. I… I want to make it out of here, Technoblade. I want to go home to him.” 

don’t do it

Jesus Christ DON’T

technosoft???

…If it escaped, then maybe it could try to take her with it.

“Do you have a plan?” it rumbled, voice rough.

“I—” She hesitated. The tapping resumed. “I’ll figure one out. I just want to know if you’d come with me. You don’t deserve to be stuck in here—you’re too young…”

It stared down at its hands.

Fuck no

NOPE NO NO NO

She WILL ruin ALL of our plans!

We’re not ready to leave yet!

we still need to prepare

We have nowhere to go!

A low growl escaped it. Eleanor started babbling—she must’ve thought it growled at her—but it ignored the noise.

Before one voice quieted the other.

Tell her we go when you say so,

No sooner,

No later.

…Okay. It could work with that. 

“We go when I say we go. No sooner, no later.” It just repeated the voice’s words. No point in twisting them to be less aggressive.

She went quiet again, as if trying to gauge the tone of its words. “...How long have you been planning to escape?”

Good question.

since we got here!

Since you could understand what ‘escape’ means

“Years.”

“What’s been holding you back, then?”

“I was weak, at first.” but you’re strong, now. “Didn’t have a weapon.” The iron bars would do. “Don’t know the layout.” That, we will have to work on. “Too many guards.” but they’ve left us alone here. “Not enough experience.” we’ve got plenty of blood on our hands, now, though.  

“So… when do you plan on escaping?” she asked, and it heard the sound of her foot tapping against the floor.

It paused. 

When we know the layout,

The guards' schedules, 

the area, 

And the nearest real weapon.

“I can help with that.”

Oh, shit. It quickly reached up to cover its mouth. It hadn’t realized the voices were speaking through it. They did it, sometimes, when it focused too much.

Ugh. 

whoops sorry

We don’t do it on purpose either!

Don’t get MAD 

L

“You can,” it said after the long pause. “I’ve already figured out most of the schedule. I just—I need a frame of reference.” It felt weird to be talking this much. “Could you ask them what time it is? When they give us our next meal?”

“Yes!” She seemed relieved at having the ability to help. “I can definitely do that.”

It paused again before relaxing, plopping down on the bed. The both of them stayed in a comfortable silence, outside of the soft taptaptaptap, taptaptaptap, taptaptaptap of her fingers.

“You said they don’t know you understand Common.” Bedsheets shifted. “How did you learn it, then?”

It froze. 

Well… obviously, the voices had taught it to talk and read. It would practice in the dirt, writing out letters and numbers before hurriedly wiping it away before the guards could see. However, it couldn’t really tell her any of that.

technosecret! 

E

if she knows, she’ll stop liking us

“...You don’t have to tell me.” She sounded softer, and it took a moment. “I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m sorry.”

Lots of things happened. 

Lots of damn things.

It woke to shouting.

Again.

it’s like a built-in alarm clock!

What the fuck is an alarm clock?

that sounds like Eleanor :(

She sounds hurt!

It blinked open its eyes, listening to the sound of Eleanor arguing with the guards. Honestly, it couldn’t believe she hadn’t been punished for disobeying yet.

It squeezed its eyes shut, trying to wake up fully. They had finally learned what day it was, what time they gave them their meals. 

And, if it remembered correctly… 

Eleanor must be coming back from her turn in the Pit.

Poor girl.

It sat up, cueing in on the conversation. Well, it couldn’t really be called a conversation. The only one screaming was Eleanor, yelling about her baby and her hatred of humans. Yeah, it could agree with that, but it stayed quiet until the footsteps receded and the door closed.

It slowly stood up as Eleanor let out muffled sobs. It walked up to the iron bars before sitting down.

“Eleanor?”

Her next sob came out stifled, almost as if she had forgotten about her neighbor.

“...Are you hurt anywhere?”

She sniffled. “Ah, no, just… just my arm, a little bit.” 

“Okay.” It reached up and scratched at its tusk. They hadn’t shaved it down since before arriving. “Is it bleeding bad?”

“...Not too much, but yeah, it’s… it’s bleeding.” She began to pace, footsteps loud. 

That’s good. “Alright. Rip up some of your sheets to wrap it up. It won’t be the most effective, but it’ll do something. At the least, it’ll stop it from soaking your blanket.”

A long sigh. “Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea. Thank you.” 

It waited, listening to a quick tear before it went silent again. She let out a soft hiss a few moments later. 

“I…” She hesitated. “I’d never killed someone, before coming here.”

It froze.

“I feel like I’m going insane. Every time I look at the poor person I’m facing, I realize I have to kill them. I have to. When I hesitate, the only thing I can see is my baby’s face, and…” She stopped herself with another sob. “I’m going mad.”

A long, long sigh escaped it. It sat down on the floor, back pressed against the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She kept quiet.

“It’s… it’s a guilt we’ll both have to live with, once we get out.” It didn’t have much time until the guards returned. “I’m sorry.”

She sniffled loudly. “N-Not… not your fault.” 

“I know. I’m just… letting you know that I understand. I get it. This place—I won’t lie, it gets easier, but that just makes you feel even more insane. Your… your…”

Empathy?

“Your empathy diminishes. You stop feeling like… like a person.” It would know. “Maybe I am insane. That’s why we’re going to get out of here, okay, Eleanor?”

She heaved a loud breath. “Yeah. When we get out… you’re welcome to stay with me and my hatchling.” She hesitated. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” it admitted. As much as it craved it, it did not have a home to go back to. Not anymore.

“Then you can come with me. We’re stuck together, aren’t we? Gotta make sure you’re safe.”

“Yeah.” It would make sure she’d be safe, too. “We’re bound.”

“Bound by madness.”

Only a day later, they took it out to fight again.

The matches were getting shorter.

The ending must be soon. They needed to escape. 

We will.

Just trust us, Techno!

It better not regret trusting them.

A few days passed. 

9:15—breakfast arrived. The guards stuck around for a minute before leaving.

They only had an hour until one of them would be taken away. Only an hour to polish off their plan.

“I think I know a way out,” Eleanor said the moment the guards left.

It blanked.

“I saw it, when they were bringing me back. They left a door open, and there was a window. An actual window.” She tapped her fingers louder than usual. “There was snow on the ground.”

…Snow?

“We can’t bring out blankets, but—but we can escape. We can make it out.”

“When?” it finally asked, tapping its foot right back. 

She hesitated, going quiet. “...Tomorrow. We need to get a good night's rest, and in the morning… you still think you can break the iron bars?”

“Easily.”

technoescape! 

Please, be careful

We can DO THIS

Don’t let Eleanor slow you down

“Alright,” she breathed out. “Alright. Stay safe. We’ll be alright. I’ll introduce you to my hatchling. Would you like that?”

“Yeah.” It nodded. “What’s their name?”

“Tommy. His name is Tommy.”

The next morning came quickly. They were quiet, the two of them, waiting for their time. They would escape today. They would.

“I think the finales are today,” Eleanor said suddenly, not long after waking.

It blinked. “What?”

“The guards. They were talking about it on my way back.” Her tapping echoed through the room. “I think… I think we need to go. Like… after they give us our breakfast. We need to eat and get out.” 

She sounded nervous. Her voice shook. Should it be nervous, too? “Okay. Okay, once they give us our breakfast, we’ll get out.” They would get out.

“Should… should we just go now? What if—”

The door opened, and both of them shut their mouths like there were flies in the air. Heavy footsteps sounded. It squeezed its eyes shut.

A lock clicked. An iron door swung open.

Its mouth went dry, eyes snapping open.

“Wait—wait!” Eleanor yelled out, limbs slamming against iron bars. It heard the painful-sounding thunk. “What about breakfast? You can’t expect me to fight on an empty stomach, can you?”

“You ate last night,” responded a gruff voice. “Get over it.”

She grunted loudly, her feet moving unsteadily—she must’ve tripped or something. Its hands began to fiddle together.

don’t blow your cover

We told you not to get attached!

“Let me go!” she yelled as they began to drag her away. “This isn’t fair. You can’t do this. You can’t!”

A door opened, then slammed shut. Everything went quiet.

You’ll have to get out on your own.

It couldn’t move.

She would come back, right? Surely she would. Surely she would come back, and they would escape together, find her son and… and… 

Maybe it could go home with them.

Shut up.

get OVER it

We need to GO while they’re distracted!

Before it could even stand to do as they said, the door opened again and guards advanced to its cell. They unlocked it, opened it, and began to pull it out.

It couldn’t even do anything. It couldn’t think.

Everything passed in a blur.

The voices were screaming at it, it was sure. Trying to get it to move. React.

Something. Anything.

They equipped it with an iron sword. They let it put its hair up to keep its sight clear. Then they all waited, the sound of the crowd outside slowly growing louder and louder and louder and louder and—

“Ladies and gentleman, today we’ll be giving you the last fight of the Games!”

Everybody roared. It wondered how long it had been since the Games started.

“As everyone is sure to know, the Games is a once in a lifetime opportunity. As more and more animals lose, cells become more and more packed together, and yet these two lucky gladiators—”

They pushed it towards the gate.

“—have been friends from the start!”

The gate started opening.

“Now introducing, the Harpy…”

It stepped out.

“ … and the Minotaur!”

The cheering turned into ringing.

The sun shone through the clouds, a bright and sunny day. A bird chirped its song as it soared, talons outstretched as it dove in for prey.

The coliseum was packed. Bodies pushed together, screaming and cheering and jumping. Vendors shouted amongst them, offering food and merchandise. 

The two of them stood across from each other, both equipped with iron swords that shone in the daylight. A light breeze brushed past them, its hair moving along with it.

She stood with her wings outstretched, fading from white to a chestnut color on the tips. 

The wind moved her feathers, too.

“I expected a bull hybrid,” she breathed out.

It wanted to cry.

“It’s okay, honey,” she said over the screams. The announcer began to count down. “We can still get out of here, yeah? We’ll still get out. We can—I don’t know, I can pretend I’m dead. Then we can get out of here together.”

that’s not possible.

Shut up.

They both readied their fighting stances, chests heaving.

They will know if she fakes her death.

Shut up!

you have to kill her.

Shut up!

It knew that. It knew that, but couldn’t they try something else? Couldn’t they still try to escape together?

She darted forward, and their swords clashed. Neither of them could put their full strength into it.

“We’ll be alright. You can just… you can just scratch me! We’ll be fine.”

neither of you will get far if she has a wound.

It knew that.

“Please… please, tell me you’ll at least try with me.” It watched her eyes well up with tears as it shoved her sword to the side. She backed up, it advanced, and then they were locked together once more. “Please, Techno, I have to get back to Tommy. I have to get back to my son.”

Did it deserve to live over her?

Don’t start this bullshit, Techno.

either you kill her painlessly,

Or we do it for you.

Please, just make it stop.

We want blood.

we want HER blood

blood for the blood god

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

GIVE US BLOOD

It snapped, diving forward. Its limbs moved on its own. It had taken the backseat in its own mind, watching through its own eyes like they were windows.

Hands that weren’t its own gripped the hilt of the sword. It watched as they slammed the sword against her own sword so hard that she cried out and dropped it.

It watched as it drove the sword into her stomach.

Blood began to spill. She looked at him.

“I just… want to see my son,” she whispered, voice breaking. The world seemed to still around them. She let her eyes close.

She fell. The hands let go of the hilt, the sword falling with her. It clattered against the ground alongside her body with a loud thud.

The announcer screamed something. The crowd screamed, too. 

Just like nothing had happened, it regained control of its own limbs, stumbling. It stared at her body.

It dropped to its knees, staring at her. It stared as her chest stopped moving. 

If this is it—this was it—

Maybe it could savor it.

Slowly, it moved forward, pathetically crawling closer until it could grab her warm hand. It squeezed tight.

Where was Theseus, here to slay the Minotaur?

Chapter Text

How could it do that?

She hadn’t done anything. She just wanted to survive long enough to see her son again.

And why did it want to live? To… to run away and hide? Go back to the Nether?

She had a home. She had a family. 

It had neither. It didn’t even know its fucking parents, so why didn’t it let her win? Why—why couldn’t it die?

It couldn’t have even lost! It couldn’t have, because it couldn’t fucking die. So what if it wanted to die? Why couldn’t it die? 

It didn’t even make sense. No piglin-hybrid just popped out with the ability of coming back to life. What the fuck was it?

It wanted to scream, but it couldn’t. Of course it couldn’t. Not with the guards in the next room. It could get punished, and that would be useless. 

It stared down at its trembling hands, curled up right into a corner. It hadn’t wanted to hurt her. It really didn’t, and just thinking back to the memory of her falling to the sandy floor had its stomach lurching. She had done nothing wrong. She had done nothing but be kind to it. 

Yet it killed her.

It reached up and began to chew at its fingernails, ignoring the slight taste of metal that entered its mouth. It chewed and chewed and chewed as if that would somehow relieve its anxiety. 

It hadn’t been anxious since the last time its owner punished it. It didn’t get anxious, yet just sitting there, thinking about Eleanor and her last words, about how she had died so easily, why hadn’t she put in more of an effort, why did she let it kill her, why was it blaming her for its own choice?

A strangled cry left its lips as if that would help with anything. 

Nothing would help anymore, though, would it?

It could hear the voices trying to calm it, trying to soothe its fears and anxieties, but nothing would work, not when it couldn’t even tell if its chest moved. Did it even have a pulse? Did its lungs expand when it inhaled? Did its body still feel warm to the touch, or ice cold like Eleanor would surely be right now?

It wondered where they buried her. It would hope somewhere nice, but it knew better. They probably didn’t even hold a funeral for her. They probably threw her in a mass or unmarked grave.

It would say how cruel they were, but surely it had no right to speak. Not when it caused her death.

The door to the room clicked open, and suddenly, it startled out of its crisis, head shooting up and body freezing. 

even a crisis can’t beat instincts lmfao

Heavy footsteps sounded through the room before a guard and—

“Hello, pig.”

Its owner stood there in front of the guard, a cruel grin spread across their lips. Keys flashed in their hand, jingling as they worked to unlock the cage.

“You did very well,” they soothed as the door opened, gently bumping against the wall. They advanced closer, and it couldn’t help the way it tensed up. “I knew you would win the games, but to think you would even kill your friend so easily.”

It almost reacted, almost lashed out. Instead, it just looked up at its owner as they moved their hand closer, threading through its long hair.

“I think you deserve a treat for this, don’t you? Have anything you’d like?” 

It just blinked up at him.

“Didn’t think so.” It let out a huff of laughter. “Up.”

They watched as it scrambled to stand, nearly tripping over its shaky legs.

“We’ll get you washed up, then I’ll treat you to an actual meal. Some pork would do, don’t you think?” They laughed, arms crossing. “Not that you know what that means, hm?”

Pork? How stupid. Pig meat and hoglin meat were just about the same thing, so it had no issue eating pork. Did they think it had to do with cannibalism? Good Prime, its owner could be so idiotic at times.

“Yeah, some pork, and I’ll even give you some wine. How does that sound?” They reached forward and gently poked its chest. 

It simply snorted in response.

“Good.” They pulled back, a satisfied smile pulling at their lips. “We’ll head back home before any of that, but we do have something special.” They turned to the guard, who awkwardly shifted on their feet. “Would you mind if I see those cuffs?”

The guard startled as if they weren’t expecting to be spoken to. They snatched the cuffs from their pocket, tossing it to its owner.

With that out of the way—it saw the little roll of its owners eyes—they moved forward with the cuffs and grabbed its wrists with a tight grip. The cuffs wrapped around its wrists, locking them in tight.

“We’re doing a walk around first, so let’s get you washed up, alright?” They grabbed it by the chain of the cuffs and began to pull it outside. The guard jumped back, watching it with a wary gaze as if half-expecting it to lash out.

It didn’t.

what did they mean, going back home?

They began to walk out of the room. Unable to help the habit, it began to look around, taking in its surroundings.

If they meant going back to the old Pit, we need to get out before then.

We can’t escape from that place?????

who knows when we’re gonna be moved to a different place!

So this is our last chance?

Its ear twitched at all the noise. It didn’t even know whether it wanted to escape anymore. What would the point be?

boi stfu 

We’re getting out of here whether you like it or not!

Suddenly, they shoved it into a room that had its body instantly tensing. The tile cooled its feet, making it shift as it glanced at the faucets littering the room. They moved forward to unlock its cuffs before turning back around.

“Strip. We’re giving you a quick wash.”

It hurried to do so, and a moment later, the sound of rushing water filled the room. Its breath got stuck in its throat before they began to hose it down with ice cold water.

The water chilled it down to its bones, but it obediently stood still as grime and sand washed away from its skin. They were careless with the water, letting it splash its face and choke on it as they washed its hair, too.

They let it keep its hair. It didn’t know why, but it didn’t touch it or even acknowledge its hair. If it did, perhaps they would cut it just to spite it.

Once they deemed it sufficiently clean, they turned the water off, allowing it to relax before throwing a towel at it. Without needing to be told, it began to dry off as they started talking.

“The judges were quite impressed with your fights.” They were looking off at something that it didn’t particularly want to know.

judges? 

“They’re thinking about giving me a sponsorship to keep you fightin’ strong, pig.” They turned to it with a grin, tossing it some far-too-nice clothing. “First we gotta show you off to all the losers. They’re pissed, because some of them dropped a lot of money on stronger slaves. You did a nice job.”

It shifted on its feet at the praises as it dressed itself, ignoring the satin feeling on its skin. It looked like clothing meant for some sort of obnoxious noble, the collar dipping but luckily button-less. 

you’ll like buttons once you know how they work lol

If it would ever learn how buttons worked.

Once it finished dressing, it fiddled with its hands, avoiding the gaze of its owner.

“...Alright. You look better than what you could look like. Have you brushed your hair recently?”

Not in their sights.

“Well, not like you know what that means. You probably haven’t even seen a real brush before. Let’s get you a brush.” They cuffed its hands once more. “C’mon.”

Together, with it dutifully trailing behind its owner, they exited the room, heading to an area it didn’t quite recognize. 

There were… what were they called?

Mirrors, the voices helpfully supplied.

There were mirrors on the walls with a table or two strewn throughout the small room. A woman, too focused to hear them enter, pushed a needle through the fabric she held. Dim brown eyes stared, gleaming in the light of her lamp—there were no windows, it noted. 

They cleared their throat, startling her and causing her to drive the needle through with no caution. A sneer crossed her face before she looked up, and any angry demeanor of hers switched to fear in a split-second.

“Ah, you’re here! The Champion of the Games.” She let out a nervous laugh, placing down her work on the table and standing. “How may I help you?” Her steady hand ran through her black hair. 

“I just need its hair brushed.” They grabbed its collar and pushed it forward, nearly making it stumble. “Its walk-around is an hour. Think you can fix this mess in that time?”

“Ah, yes, yes, definitely, just…” She moved closer, leaning to the side in order to gauge the state of her new project. “I may have to cut some of it. Is that alright?”

It tried not to sneer as they nodded. “Sure. Just make it look nice. I have a sponsorship on the line here.”

“Alright, alright. Come, come, sit,” she ordered, gesturing it forward. It gave its owner a nervous glance before doing as told, and she hurried it into a seat in front of a mirror.

It stared at itself as she began to go through her drawer of things.

Sure, it had a mirror in the cage, but it ignored that at all costs. It didn’t like knowing how it looked after fights, caked in dry blood and sand. It hated its own eyes staring back at it, a gleaming red in the dim light. With no other place to go, though, now it had to stare at its own reflection.

It wished it were human.

human is such a boring race tho

^dnd vibes lmfao

Its ear flicked at their useless chattering. It watched her pull out a hairbrush from the drawer, grabbing another chair and dragging it forward. 

Slowly, as if testing the waters, she tried to make a single stroke in its hair.

It got stuck.

A long sigh escaped her before she turned to its owner as it watched through the mirror. “This is gonna take a hot minute. Do you want to be in here the entire time?”

They shifted on their feet, seeming to hesitate. “...Will you get scared of it?”

“No, no, don’t worry.” She laughed to herself. “It seems well-behaved, so you can leave. Just… make sure you tell me before that hour is up.”

“Alright.” They nodded. “I’ll take my leave, then.”

It listened to their footsteps, then the door open and close. She went quiet and began to focus on slowly combing through its hair.

It had never seen a real, actual hairbrush before. It only ever used its fingers, meticulous in pulling knots and tangles from its hair. It hadn’t done that recently, though, so it made sense why she struggled so much.

He stared back at his reflection. There were no scars, no tusks or elongated face. Just a bruise that spread from his cheek. Brown eyes stared at him, unblinking and dull.

He could’ve sworn he heard a whip crack, but he couldn’t be damned to care.

What would they do? Hurt him worse?

He watched as his eyes flashed a golden color, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. 

He did not have the time to be hurt anymore. The blood boiled in his veins. He did not have the will to hold back the voices any longer.

A soft hiss of an oncoming firework could be heard outside of his window.

“I’m going to start cutting your hair now, alright?”

It startled back to its senses, blinking off the… what had that been? Some sort of day dream? Some… something. It didn’t know.

It tensed at the sound of snipping, her hand gently tugging at its strands of hair. What in the world?

it’s scissors dumbass

She’s cutting your hair!

dude imagine how many split ends he has lmfao

Scissors?

The snipping continued, and it finally glanced at the mirror. Its hair… well. It looked better than it had ever looked before. Still greasy, though, but it couldn’t spot any tangles or knots. It looked smooth.

Its eyes flickered to her reflection, watching her work with a focused gaze. Her eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted. How odd, to be focused on something so simple like this. It had only ever seen someone so focused on surviving.

“You have pretty hair.” Her eyes flickered up to its own, and it startled, hurriedly looking away. “My name is Cebci. I always come here for the Games.”

It didn’t respond. 

“It’s been a few years. I’m supposed to make the winner look pretty for their celebration.”

Snip.

“The security’s been getting more and more lax every year. They used to have guards in here with me, you know.”

Snip.

“But none of the slaves ever fought back. They’d already accepted their fate. It… it’s sad to watch, but it offers some good money, to work here.”

Its ear flicked. 

The snipping stopped, and she grabbed the brush again, beginning to slowly ruin it through its hair. “I usually talk to you guys about what will happen. You’re all traumatized, the lot of you, so it’s easier to warn you about the fireworks, and the crowd will be closer to you.” She sighed softly in its ear. “But they told me you didn’t understand Common.”

It bit its tongue.

“Besides simple commands, they said. I don’t really believe that.” She laughed softly. “You don’t need to say anything. I won’t tattle. Honestly, I’m just surprised that they believe it.”

she has a point

Our captors are really stupid

“There won’t be too many guards around you. They’ll be more focused on keeping the crowd out of your way. Their weapons are dulled in case they need to attack civilians. It’s happened before.”

That’s a funny thought.

“Your main obstacle will be your chains, and, well… finding the exit.”

Fair point

We can snap those chains easy af

is nobody going to question why she’s helping us????

“It’s on the east side. Do you know how to tell the east? It’s where the sun rises.” 

human GPS!

He’s not human right now, dumbass

Yeah, it could escape—wait, what did they mean by ‘right now’?

“If you go to the east, you can get through the doors there. Make a left, then go into the first door on your right. That’s where the servant’s quarters are. There are windows in there. They should be breakable.”

Make a left, first door on the right

WRITE IT DOWN WRITE IT DOWN

She put the comb down. “The money’s nice,” she said slowly, grabbing something off to the side. She stood, and it watched her in the reflection carefully. “But I wish I had enough money to move out of this hellhole.”

It just wished it could escape.

“You can stand up now.”

It did so, not bothering to hide that it at least somewhat understood her. It turned to face the short woman, eyes flickering to the item she held in her hand.

scissors.

“Hide it in your pocket or whatever. It’ll be useful to you, won’t it?” 

It took the scissors, inspecting them closely and ignoring her watchful gaze. It looked back up to her. 

Why did she look at it like that? Pitiful. Sorrowful. Remorseful.

It bared its teeth, taking a threatening step forward, watching that look drop from her face as she scurried back. 

Good. It preferred it like this.

So it gently placed the scissors in the pocket of its dress pants. Why the hell had they given it pockets?

Did they really think it cared that little about its freedom? Because maybe it could escape. It couldn’t escape if it went back to its previous Pit, so it had to escape now.

We gotta escape 

i really like this body :(((

c’mon lets commit some MURDERS

Shit fam that sounds so creepy ooc lmfao

“...Alright, you’re a little bit freaky, then.” She let out a nervous laugh. “We’ve still got plenty of time left before you have to do your celebration, if you’d like to rest.”

It just stared at her, unblinking.

She cleared her throat and turned around, so its eyes traveled down to her vulnerable neck. It could kill her now, start its escape as soon as possible. Maybe give it a head start before the guards noticed that it disappeared.

Don’t be a dick!

lmfao killing another ally?

It winced at that, and any thoughts of murder disappeared from its mind. 

Prime damn whatever would happen next.

When the time finally passed, spent in complete silence from both parties, its owner finally walked through the door without bothering to knock. They quickly froze at the sight of Techno.

“Hah!” They hurried forward, inspecting its hair. “You managed to fix this mess. I’m in shock.” They lifted up some strands, running their fingers through it. It had to bite back a snarl.

“Just glad to help, sir,” Cebci said, shifting on her feet. “It’s not long till the show, right?”

They nodded. “Not long at all. Come on, let’s go, pig.”

It obediently ducked its head as they began to lead it out the door, its chest terrifyingly light. It watched the floor, noting the strange ropes in place.

Ah. Was it anxious?

Technoescape??? 

i hope this doesn’t go terribly wrong again

Don’t jinx it dummy

Right, of course. Anticipation might be a better word. With every movement, it could feel the sharp edge of the scissors poke its skin. 

Breathe. In and out. Simple breaths to keep its feet on the earth.

They pulled it into a different room soon enough, and they listened to the noises of a crowd slowly grow louder outside the door. It fidgeted with its chains, listening to that instead of the overbearing voices.

“You can’t hurt anyone,” they spoke, and its head whipped up to stare at them. “This is not a battle. Keep your head down. They’re just excited to see you.”

Not hurt anyone? It couldn’t imagine that. How hilarious, for them to tell the Minotaur not to hurt someone.

They stared at the watch before a grin spread their lips.

“Let’s go.” They grabbed it by its wrist, yanking it forward and closer to the door. Their free hand gripped the doorknob and swung it open.

The screaming made it wince back. 

A crowd stood outside the door, blocked only by the thin ropes. Guards stood by them, occasionally shoving them back as they all lurched forward to get a better look at the monster before them.

“Follow me,” they shouted over the noise, and began walking. 

It didn’t keep its head down. It stared out into the ring, trying to gauge the position of the sun.

East. Right in the opposite direction it currently faced. Were they walking in a circle? It looked like it, if it could tell by the ropes.

A hiss sounded, then another, and yet another, before something boomed into the sky. The setting sun shimmered as fireworks lit up the dimming sky.

That’s what she meant by fireworks, huh? It didn’t know where it knew the word. It didn’t know where it recognized the noise of a hissing whistle. Its ear flicked, and it watched the colors explode.

pretty

E

Can we make our own fireworks???

It ignored their chattering as it shambled forward, pace just as slow as its owners’. They must really be milking its fame. 

Hands from the crowd reached for it, and some managed to get through the guards’ watchful eyes. It seemed they wanted to get their hands broken, that they wanted to test their luck, but the fools were still scared of it. When they touched it, it would offer a glare and a growl, and they would quickly retreat.

Why even try if they were so scared? Not that it didn’t enjoy watching the humans cower away, staring with wide eyes and parted lips. 

It had never killed a human.

BLOOD

BLOOD

Blood for the blood god?

KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

It winced at their burst of chattering at the reminder. They were far too excited. They were going to sabotage its escape at this point.

They were getting closer to the east entrance. There were large doors on every side, looming and tall. It could only imagine the amount of cells that lay behind the thick wood. One of these doors had a kitchen behind it, surely. Something normal mixed with all of the not-so-normal slaves. 

Its ear flicked as it began to block out the crowd’s cheering.

It watched the east door as they walked, counting its steps. It took too long to get there; the gladiator ring was huge, and its legs were going to start hurting at this rate.

…Not really. Its legs hadn’t hurt since the last time somebody managed to strike at them—it probably shouldn’t over exaggerate in case it freaked out the voices.

They were getting closer and closer, now.

Every step had the voices whispering louder. Every step got it closer to freedom. Every step, every step, every step…

When it finally had to turn its head to continue watching the door, it knew.

Time to put its money where its mouth was.

It looked down at the chains, and with one swift movement—

SNAP.

Chapter Text

The sound had its owner whipping their head around.

It reached into its pocket, gripping the cool metal of the scissors in between its fingers. It pulled them out.

It lunged.

The scissors weren’t too intimidating of a weapon on its own, but with this monstrous Piglin hybrid holding it, it could send anybody screaming. Its free hand reached forward until it gripped its owner by the neck, tackling them to the ground.

“Pig—!”

It brought the scissors down with enough brute force to stab them right through the eye.

The scream echoed through the pit as it pulled the scissors back. 

KILLKILLKILLKILL

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

FREEDOM

MURDER MUDER 

BLOOD

The guards, who had stopped in their shock, began to advance forward, so this time, it dug the scissors into their neck. 

There. It didn’t know if it would kill them—it’d never fought a human before, remember?—but that would surely keep them down for a bit.

It hurriedly stood, glancing around once before darting forward. The crowd screamed, but not from excitement like before. They were all terrified.

Good.

The chaos helped as it slipped through the crowd. Despite the voices screaming for more blood, it did its best to ignore them. It had to focus on escaping, not killing the humans. 

(Even if it would like to do that.)

It barged through the doors, crashing them open and startling the occupants inside. Servants worked on useless things, sewing or carving. It didn’t have the time to stop and check. Wooden walls towered above it, creaking with the movement of the crowd. It dashed forward, knocking over a poor servant—it wouldn’t get punished for that this time!—and hurried to remember her words. 

HAHA I GOT THIS I WROTE IT DOWN

TURN LEFT TURN LEFT TURN LEFT

It steered to the left on the first turn. It sure hoped that this would be right. She hadn’t specified, after all. 

Cool tiles made its feet ache with every movement as it damn well sprinted to the first door on the right. It could hear shouting and clanky footsteps from what had to be guards as it threw the door open, stepping inside and slamming the door shut behind it. Maybe it would’ve tried to be quieter if there weren’t servants already inside, and they turned and screamed at the sight of it.

How amusing.

Wielding the scissors high, it took one look around.

this might hurt

It took a step back, squeezed its eyes shut, and slammed its shoulder into the nearest glass window.

The glass shattered on impact, sending it forward and out into the free world. It skidded a few feet, glass digging into its skin and something shockingly cold surrounding him. It blinked its eyes open and scrambled upwards, nearly blinded by the bright light.

It glanced back to see the guards barrelling through the door, servants shouting and screaming.

And it ran.

WHERE THE FUCK DO WE GO FROM HERE?

It ignored the buildings and homes as it ran through the streets.

Did she try to sabotage us???

Maybe this was just for her own amusement!

WHERE DO WE GO

Against all odds, a different voice appeared in its head.

Take a slight right here.

It nearly froze, stumbling over its own feet as it turned. That voice—it kind of sounded like—

Good. Keep going in this direction, and you’ll make it out just fine.

A soft whimper escaped its throat as it ran, ignoring the cold that shot up its feet. It would blindly trust this voice that sounded like her. Maybe it could get out of this maze of a town. She had said to just keep going.

Then it heard a whistle.

It barely had time to look back at the oncoming arrow. It barely had time to try and dodge. It barely had time to react when the arrowhead lodged itself in its shoulder. 

“ Fuck!”

That hurt like a bitch.

KEEPGOINGKEEPGOING

GOGOGOGGO

The voices' sudden rush of encouragement drowned out the pain like nothing had happened. The only thing it could feel, now, was the warmth of its own blood painting its skin.

But it kept on.

More arrows rained down from the sky, but it could dodge these ones much easier, now that it knew about them. It ignored the stiffness in its shoulder. 

It blinked up at the tall, cobblestone tower that came into its view. A large wall stood next to it, surely encircling the entire town. It couldn’t help but wonder if it was meant to keep enemies out or slaves in.

The guards at the top of the tower noticed it quicker than it would’ve liked. 

Their own arrows were drawn back in a second, and just as it ran through the open gates—

HOLY SHIT 

OW

OWOWOWOWOW

The arrow landed itself in its thigh.

But it didn’t feel the pain, for some reason. It didn’t feel it, even with the voices cursing out like they were going to die.

It made it through the other side of the gates, trying not to freeze in surprise at the large, looming trees. It’d be a good place to hide, but… kind of intimidating. It would be fine.

It just needed to keep going. Keep going until they couldn’t follow it anymore.

Blood dripped onto the snow as it moved forward. It ignored how every movement made the bleeding worse. Because it would be fine, and nothing worse could go wrong. It glanced up at the sky.

The sun had already begun to set. It had less than an hour until dark, and hopefully they would leave it be after that.

Hopefully.

It disappeared into the woods. The looming trees blocked out some of the sun as another arrow hit a tree far too close. It hurried and hurried, before realizing—

Why the hell am I just going straight?

It steered to the right, an arrow whizzing past right where it once stood. 

Hm. Guess it should not be running in a straight line. 

So it began to zigzag, relieved that the arrows had become less of a problem. They were wasting a lot of arrows on something like a slave, it noted to itself. It must’ve pissed them off, and bad. 

Maybe it had killed its owner. It didn’t know. Maybe humans were just that fragile.

It gripped the scissors tighter. The shouting of the guards were still loud in its ear, even after its pounding heart taking up most of its hearing.

It glanced behind it, noting the blood trailing after it. Its ear flicked in slight amusement.

Blood?

Ow—

don’t get distracted u fucking idiots

SORRY I JUST WANTED SOME BLOOD

Blood’s not important right now, we need to stop the pain

Excuse me? blood is ALWAYS important 

holyfffff shut up

Great. Now they were arguing. What kind of idiots got this distracted during an escape attempt?

An arrow sliced through his hair, cutting off a few strands.

where do we go from here?

We could probably take shelter in the Nether

Piglins would be nicer to us than this :(

As long as we had gold on, yeah

How the hell did it get to the Nether?

Nether portal

Great addition, Chat. Oh, hello arrow. Wait, why did it call them Chat?

chatchatchatchat 

Bc we chatter so much :)

E

You need obsidian for a Nether portal!

Fantastic. How did it get obsidian?

MINING TRIP!!!!!

omg we are gonna have to teach him the basics of minecraft aren’t we

He can get tools super easy dw

Technoblade neva dies!

It huffed out a soft laugh at that, ignoring its heaving chest and panting. 

The sky progressively became darker. They should give up soon, right? They should give up and resume the search in the morning like normal people. 

Another arrow came whizzing by. It stumbled to the side in order to dodge it. The guards’ voices were growing softer.

It didn’t hear the second arrow until—

uh-oh 

The arrow embedded itself right in its back.

Immediately, it bit its hand to muffle the cry of pain that escaped its throat as it stumbled forward. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Once the cry passed, it spit out the blood from its hand and hurriedly looked around. It needed to hide. It couldn’t go far with a wound like this. 

It trembled in the cold wind—or maybe it trembled because of the blood loss.

Its world spun around it as it stumbled towards the shortest tree it could find. Its hands grabbed the lowest branch and, in one fell swoop, climbed on top of it. 

Right. Just a little bit higher, just out of sight, then it could rest. 

So it grabbed the next branch, hauling itself on top, then another, and another.

The branches any higher would be too thin to hold its weight, so it leaned against the wood. It gazed down at the snow beneath it, eyes locked onto the spots of red.

Why had it been running, again? To escape? From what, exactly?

The guards

the SLAVERS dumbass

Oh. Right.

It shuffled. It couldn’t lean back with the damn arrow in its back, so maybe… maybe…

DON’T

holy shit you dumbass do NOT

NO NO NO STOP

STOOOOOP

It pulled the arrow out in one fell swoop.

oh you’re so dead.

It continued on, pulling the arrow out from its shoulder, then its leg.

Now, finally able to relax, it leaned back against the tree. It let its eyes flutter closed as the world kept spinning and spinning and spinning…

rip techno 

We’re never letting him live this down, right?

^lmfao of course we aren’t

Techno you dumbass 

It stopped, hand falling limply to the side, blood steadily dripping.

He stood in front of a shrine, staring up at it with blank eyes. The statue stared down at him with an equal amount of coldness. Perhaps they even glinted in the moonlight.

The statue, made out of a hefty stone, was that of a man, but one with tusks that were sharper than a sword. Excellently carved muscles trailed every inch of his skin, expression somber yet dangerous.

Long hair flowed down his back. 

They looked nothing alike. One human, one something more. And yet, something about them seemed eerily similar.

“I like this body.”

Those hidden in the shadows froze. Who in the world were they talking to?

“I don’t want to give it up just yet. I can still get more blood.”

Another pause.

“I know, I know. You all just know how much I hate the reincarnation process. Besides, I’m still young. I can just go to a different nation, some place they won’t recognize me.”

The hidden one leaned forward, trying to hear better when the man began to mumble.

“What do you mean, somebody is here?”

“Have you ever heard of the Angel of Death?”

A long pause sounded as he turned his head to look at her. “That’s the immortal, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, twirling her golden hair with her finger. “I heard he’s taking up space in that one really cold area.”

He shifted on the couch, lounging back lazily. “That’s not very descriptive.”

“It’s the one that’s supposed to be inhabitable.”

His eyes flicked up to her. “Really?” He sat up straight, head tilting. “That’s interesting. Have we gotten any information on how he’s getting by?”

She twiddled with the golden sigil that looped around her neck. “We’re not entirely sure. He brought in supplies from the nearby kingdom—the one town? Ashook?”

“Ashook?” he repeated. “Isn’t that the slave-ring town?”

“Yeah.” 

He sighed lowly, a dark look crossing his face. “Well. We may need to discuss not trading with a slave-town, but as long as he doesn’t hurt anybody, I see no point in interfering.”

“Alright.” She stood up from her place on the seat across from him. “I’ll be sure to let the Commander know.”

He nodded with a wave of his hand. “You are dismissed. Make sure you get something to eat and rest up, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

He snorted. Loudly.

“Sorry—sorry. That’s such a dumb question, but you said you’ve lived… quite a few lives, haven’t you? So have you fallen in love before?”

He stared out the window, watching the stars. “I don’t remember.”

Why would he?

Screams echoed through the building.

stopitstopitstopitstopit—

Blood, so much blood, so much pain, don’t let him revive again, just let him die let him die lethimdielethimdiepleaseprimejustlethimdie—

“Did you have a favorite life?”

He snorted. “It’s not like that to me. To me, this is all just one continuous life, with some breaks in the middle.”

“But you die a lot, don’t you?”

“Please,” she cried out pitifully as he pressed down against her wound. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t die.”

Liar.

“I’m going to stop the bleeding, and you won’t die.”

“I’m not like you!” She began to cough, choking on her own words. “I’m not like you. I’m going to die, and I’ll never wake up.”

“Shut up,” he snarled, pushing down harder.

“You can’t understand. You can’t! You can’t get scared like this because you can’t die. It’s not fair. Why are you so special?”

He ignored her biting words. He just needed to save her, and she could cry and sob and apologize later.

“You should’ve just let me die back then. Then I would never have met you. Then I would have never gotten my hopes up!”

“Stop talking! You’re making it worse. You need to save your breath!”

“Some God you are. Can’t even save your own disciple, can you?”

He gritted his teeth, the voices screaming. 

And he loosened the pressure, staring down at his bloodied hands.

“You let her die!”

“I did no such thing.”

“That was not a wound she should’ve died from. I know you could’ve stopped the bleeding until help arrived.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know that you’re full of shit. You’ve always been a damn liar. You only care about getting your hands dirty with blood. You’re a damn monster, no matter how human you look.”

He didn’t respond, staring back at the man in front of him. He couldn’t even remember his face.

“That’s what I thought.” 

“Hey, Commander!” A wide-eyed, young soldier hurried up to him. “Have you got any stories to tell?”

The large man stood, tail flicking from side to side. This life, he’d awoken to a tail and claws. “No.”

“Okay, but why’d you change your name?” The soldier leaned forward, not bothering to be scared by the lumbering figure in front of them. “Everyone says you changed it when you joined the military.”

He blinked down at them, trying not to show any amusement on his face.

He didn’t make friends anymore. No relationships, no companionships of any king. Not after last time. 

“Soldier,” he said, voice gruff. “I didn’t realize I gave you permission to speak to me.”

They froze.

“Twenty laps. Go.”

With a hanging head, they began to run. 

He ignored the guilt that soured his chest. He even ignored that strange sense of…

No. He wouldn’t be that pathetic. He had a life to live, and with Chat, everything would be fine. Everything would be perfectly fine.

For a moment, it thought that it may have woken up. It no longer felt cold. Rather, it felt strangely warm, with a lot of pressure holding it down.

Did it get captured again? It hoped not. It didn’t have the energy to deal with whatever punishment awaited it. In reality, they would probably kill it right away.

It just wanted to go back to sleep.

Maybe he could save them. Maybe he could save all of them, and it wouldn’t really matter, because he didn’t care about them, but he couldn’t just let them all die. They were young, too young to die here.

So he saved them. He murdered and he killed his enemies, he didn’t let any of them live, he didn’t even notice when his allies retreated. He didn’t notice when they left him to die alone.

When he woke up, he was in the enemies’ base. 

(The only thing he knew for the rest of that life was pain. The voices kept reviving him, thinking that he could escape, but he never could.)

Never trust others.

Whenever he regained the memories of his previous lives, he abandoned whatever home he had made for himself. He would run from them, disappear without a word.

He knew that they would betray him the moment they were in danger.

Mortals were like that. Mortals would never be trustworthy.

“█▬█▀!” 

The voice came out like some sort of monstrosity, glitching and unrecognizable. However, he still remembered that it was meant to be his name.

“Don’t go. I don’t know what we did wrong, but you don’t need to leave! We can work it out, honey, I swear, just don’t leave us. We love you!”

It still ran with no explanation. It would forget its old name in a month or two, and it would be replaced with its true name. 

The name that mortals feared. The name that still slowly forged its way into myth and legend.

The name that they would not forget.

Maybe it never should’ve happened.

Maybe he should’ve died a long time ago. The curse put on him did not match what one would expect. Not when they hear the word ‘God.’

And yet the curse still stuck.

It’d been so long that he may have forgotten who put the curse on him. Only another God could remove the curse, but Gods avoided each other like the plague. After all, only an immortal could kill another immortal. 

It’s safer to just stay as far away as possible.

Part of him just wished they had killed him instead of cursing him. It would have been easier than this half-mortal life. 

A mortal who couldn’t quite die. 

Technoblade never dies.

It woke with a startled gasp.

Chapter Text

It had been a normal day for Phil. For once , it had been a normal day. No more surprise children showing up at his doorstep. Just a simple day of avoiding his duty as Emperor and going out to collect supplies he needed for whatever project he would work on, next. 

He needed to travel to Ashook in order to buy some more spruce logs. Normally, he’d just get himself, but they were right next to each other—bad choice for a capital, he knew—and he had to get back home to his flock, especially with the new one.

His wings fluttered at the reminder, a frown etched across his face.

Poor boy. He had just shown up outside of the gates one day, frantically shouting for his mother, and it took a week for him to finally explain what had happened.

Phil hated slavers. Who wouldn’t? 

So he kept foraging on for more supplies, more builds to expand his Empire and save those who had suffered a hard life. He simply wanted to help those in need. 

What? After living his entire life as the Angel of Death, maybe he wanted to do something nicer, something that wouldn’t terrify every living person.

Yep. An entirely normal day.

He hadn’t built a path to Ashook; with the kingdoms so close, he didn’t want there to be a clear path in case an… invasion occurred. The Empire could so easily take down the city’s Kingdom, but he would prefer a heads up in the form of lost soldiers.

His wings fluttered again.

The snow began to fall from the sky as the sun began to rise from its slumber. He always enjoyed going out to see it happen, all the beautiful pink and red. 

What a beautiful day. 

Humming cheerfully now, he hurried through the woods.

But something out of the ordinary had him skidding to a halt. 

He backtracked, eyes stuck on the hint of red, watching as it got snowed over.

An injured animal, maybe? Surely. It couldn’t be anything else. 

His eyes trailed until they met a small figure in the snow.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He dashed forward, heart already beginning to beat hard in his chest. How the hell hadn’t he noticed right away? How could he not have noticed the man curled up in the snow, surrounded by blood and three broken arrows? 

He really needed to not get distracted.

Kneeling down in the deep snow, he quickly brushed the snow off from the man. At least he still trembled. That meant he hadn’t died quite yet. He reached forward and pressed his hand against the man’s skin.

…He must’ve been out here for damn hours.

He chewed his lip before shedding his own coat, ignoring the shiver that ran up his spine. He bundled the man up in the fabric—maybe it would do something.

The man needed to get to someplace warmer. Phil could bring him home, using his wings to shield off the cold weather.

But could he even lift him? He looked big. He had enough muscle for the both of them, and Phil had a good amount of muscles on him from the life he’d lived.

Biting his tongue, he squeezed his arms under the man, gripping him tight, and he lifted.

Oh.

That’s not good.

He had managed to pick the man up and stand in one fell swoop with little effort. The man was frighteningly light in his arms. He bit his tongue even harder, wings flaring out and shielding them both from the wind and snow.

He hadn’t even checked for injuries; hopefully the man would be okay. He couldn’t feel any rush of warmth from blood, so…

They needed to go. Forget trading supplies; the man needed medical attention. Quickly.

So he rushed forward, heading back and hopefully warming the man up on their way. 

He barged through the castle doors, spotting the nearest servant, innocently walking by.

“Start a fire,” he ordered, gripping the man tight. “Get a change of clothes, and some extra blankets, too.” Wet clothing stuck to both of their skins at this point. Not exactly the best for dealing with cases of hypothermia. 

The servant, startled, now, shot to attention. “Uh—yes, sir!”

“I’ll be in the left wing’s guest room.” With that out of the way, he hurried to said room, rushing through empty halls and tall ceilings. Sure, they had servants, but not many.

Once he got into the room, nearly kicking the door open, he set the man down onto the bed and got to work stripping him. A little bit creepy, yeah, but being stuck in wet clothing would make it so he would never get warm. 

The man grumbled, shifting slightly, and Phil couldn’t help the relief that rushed through him.

He bundled him up in the blankets before laying him against the pillow.

The servant came and lit the fire in the fireplace with plenty of wood to keep it burning. Phil simply motioned for them to place the clothing and blankets to the side. When they safely left, he wrapped the man up in even more blankets, hoping to warm him.

Then he would just stay here until the man woke, just to make sure he’s safe.

Consciousness came in bursts.

Sometimes, it would wake in warmth, one that it hadn’t felt since being a shoat. It could hear the soft, muffled noise of the voices ringing in its ears, but it ignored it. Why would it listen?

A soft trill escaped its throat as it gripped the blankets tightly.

“We… see him!”

“Dad, you brought… kid?”

These voices, not belonging to those in its head, faded in and out.

“... Okay, okay, but you can’t but you can’t be loud. He’s recovering—and fast asleep!”

It heard the door creak open. It barely registered that, barely registered what might happen if more people entered the room. It simply snuggled into the blankets. 

“Are you sure he’s a man?”

rude.

“Uh—I don’t know. He’s just got a lot of scars, so I assumed…”

“Dad, he looks like he’s a literal infant.”

Its ear flicked at the noise, and they all went quiet, as if waiting for it to wake. It simply mumbled something sleepily.

“He looks younger than I do, but that’s not hard, because I am the Big Man.” A whiny voice filled its ears. 

“No, he does not look younger than you.”

“Yes he does—!”

“Can you two please quiet down—”

“What kind of hybrid is he?”

It snapped awake, terror gripping its chest at those simple words. The sight in front of it had it scrambling to the side in order to escape, and it tumbled off the bed in its pathetic attempt, taking the mound of blankets with it.

“Woah, woah, woah, it’s okay! You’re fine!” the tallest one said, adorned in a green robe with dark gray wings tucked against his side. 

How the hell could it be fine? It had managed to escape, but they fucking captured it again, and how could it ever hope to find its freedom—

“Woah, Big Man’s a pussy, is he?” the blond mocked as it looked around for some sort of weapon.

“No— nope. Now’s not the time. Both of you need to leave. Right now.”

“But Dad—” the brunet started.

“Now!”

With hanging heads, the two smaller ones scurried out of the room, their own wings bunched up tight.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. They were just my flock—a little overwhelming, but they wouldn’t hurt you.”

A low growl escaped its lips, hoping the act of aggression would hide its terrified, wide eyes and heaving chest. 

“I found you in the snow this morning, and I didn’t think I should leave you alone, because you had hypothermia pretty bad—”

Considering its lack of wounds, it must’ve died out there. Had it fallen from the tree? It must’ve. This avian—an avian, oh Prime, Eleanor, it’s so sorry— found it and… and…?

“I’m Philza. Phil, for short, and I’m not here to hurt you, so please, calm down…”

Philza?

ANGEL OF DEATH!

safesafesafesafesafe

He’s anti-slavery isn’t he????

still trades with ashook tho

The voices made it calm down with their sudden reappearance.

Angel… of Death? Safe? Those were not words usually put together.

Trustworthy

trustrustrust

SAFE SAFE

WE’RE SAVED YESSSSSSS

Its breathing slowed down as it took a glance around. It simply sat in a small room, with a bed and a dresser and a closet and… 

An actual bedroom?

“Have you… calmed down?”

Its gaze snapped to the Angel. Its eyes caught the sight of his wings, and it averted its gaze once more. It didn’t want to think about Eleanor.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“ Technoblade. ” That was not it speaking. 

Phil blinked down at him, face warping into a look that could only be attributed to anger. It froze at the sight. Had Chat screwed it over? Had they made this ‘safe’ man want to hurt him?

“Technoblade,” he repeated after a moment. “It’s nice to meet you.” The angel’s expression finally relaxed, sighing softly. “There’s some clothing over there, if you’d like to get dressed. I can leave you alone, just… let me know when you’re dressed. I can get you some food, then…” 

It didn’t respond, just staring at him as he motioned towards the clothing on the dresser. 

“Okay. Please make sure you let me know.” He backed up and shifted to the side to leave through the door. 

Then he left, closing the door.

WE’RE SAVED

It flinched at the loud shouting from the voices, all cheerful and excited.

It cleared its throat, dropping the blankets and standing. “I don’t think we’re safe, yet, Chat,” it murmured.

nononono you don’t understand

we like Phil :)

Protectprotect

afesafesafesafesafesafe

“Quiet down,” it hissed under its breath, climbing over the bed to reach the clothing on the…

Nightstand.

On the nightstand. 

It noted the ache in its leg as it moved, where the arrow had been shot. Its back and shoulder hurt, too.

PHIL PHIL PHIL PHIL

Angel angel angel angel

E

TECHNOSAFE

Phil can help!!

trust phil :)

Prime, it might have a stroke at this rate. 

Slowly, it got dressed in the silky, high-quality clothing. The soft material didn’t irritate its skin. It shifted its arms, testing how much the fabric could stretch.

It could fight in these. It couldn’t be harder than the damn-near restricting clothing given in the pit. It would be fine if the voices were wrong—or worse, lying—and it needed to fight its way out of here.

It stepped forward to the door, reaching up and playing with its hair. It had already gotten tangled, it noted. Cebci’s work lasted less than twelve hours in the harsh weather conditions.

Fingers gripped the doorknob, noting the cool feeling of…

Brass.

Brass, yeah. Brass must be expensive, if this castle had it.

It opened the door.

Phil stood outside, startling as if he hadn’t told Techno to do just this. “Ah, Technoblade, you’re done! You should lie back down, get some rest, and we’ll get you some food…”

Techno blinked at him.

“I, uh… you could leave, but please, eat first. You’re… you’re very thin, and it’d be best if you ate first to keep your energy up…”

SAY YES

c’mon tell him yes

FOOD FOOD

Something that’s ACTUALLY edible??

It slowly nodded, releasing the doorknob and taking a step back. It didn’t take its eyes off Phil as it backed up towards the bed.

Taking the hint, Phil turned and disappeared down the hall in a hurry. Techno waited until the footsteps faded.

Then it sat down on the bed, hands reaching for the blankets. It still wanted to warm up; the memory of the snow did more than enough to chill its bones. 

So it wrapped the blankets around itself, staring down at the fabric. 

warm :)

SAFE

I cannot WAIT to get some food

Ikr, it’ll be even better than hoglin meat

“Better than hoglin meat?” it repeated, rubbing its arm. “Chat, you must be insane.”

IT’S TRUE

shit fam at this point anything but that sludge is going to be great

It nodded in agreement, trying to ignore the airy feeling in its chest. “...Chat, what exactly do you know about Phil?”

PHILZA

Angel of Death!

“Besides his name, I mean.” It huffed a soft laugh. 

He’s the Emperor of the Antarctic Empire, for one,

It nearly choked on its own spit. “Emperor?”

yep, has been for awhile!

He’s an immortal

he’s immortal because he’s an angel for the Goddess of Death

“Chat, I don’t know what that means.”

Well we’re all fairly certain he and the Goddess of Death are mildly in love

So she gave him immortality in exchange for him working for her!

“How fun,” it commented dryly, leaning back in the bed. “And why do we trust him?”

Trade partner :)

SAFE! 

Slavery is outlawed here

It froze.

…Outlawed? As in illegal? As in not allowed?

yeppers! 

“Holy shit,” it said, louder than its usual whisper..

Perfect timing, of course. A loud knock at the door startled it out of any sense of safety. Dread settled in the pit of its stomach.

calm down, he’s just knocking

He’s making sure you’re alright with him coming in!

Say “come in” dumbass

“C…” Its voice failed it.

Smh

“ Come in. ”

Oh, wow, it didn’t like that.

Phil hurried in, carrying a tray with a bowl of… something—sludge? Hopefully not—and a spoon to the side. “It’s, ah, it’s stew. Got rabbit in it. I thought you’d like it.” He looked down at Techno, and a soft smile spread across his face as he held it out.

With the slightest hint of hesitation, it took the tray, nearly flinching back at the warmth.

“Do you mind if I, ah… sit with you while you eat?”

SAY YES SAY YES SAY YES

FRIENDFRIENDFRIEND

PHIL!!!!

It nodded, setting the tray in its lap, simply basking in its warmth. Phil went ahead and sat down at the end of the bed, watching with a hesitant look of concern.

“Do you think you could tell me what happened?” the angel asked, wings shifting. Its eyes snapped to the movement, and Phil stopped. 

ehhhhhhhhhhhhh

Maybe not.

It didn’t move, simply staring Phil down and waiting for some sort of fearful reaction. It waited for him to shift back, to get up and leave.

But Phil just sighed.

“No worries, then, mate. It’s not my business to pry, is it?” He tilted his head, blinking softly at Techno.

Phil’s probably one of the few people who could beat you tbh

Its entire body rapidly tensed, and it squeezed the tray below it.

Chill fam he won’t attack you

he’s safe :)

(Safe?)

Shut up, all of you, it thought to itself, glancing back down at the stew. It didn’t really know how to… eat this. It picked up the utensil between its fist, inspecting it.

Phil stiffened, and it froze again at the movement. 

The angel chewed his lip before speaking. “My name is Phil, like I said earlier. I’m the Emperor of the Antarctic Empire, and you’re in the capital’s castle.”

Its ear flicked. 

hold it in between your middle and index finger, then use your thumb to keep it steady

“You don’t have to stay here, but you can stay as long as you’d like.” Phil looked down at his hands, most likely to avoid the embarrassing sight of Techno trying to figure out how a damn spoon worked.

It would need to leave soon, then.

nONONO STAY

Stay for at least a while

at least until you’re back to normal

“If… if you stay, I— we can help you with some stuff. Get you on your way and whatnot…” 

It tested a bite of the stew, and the taste immediately melted in its mouth. Its eyes widened at the earthy, meaty rabbit it chewed on and the rich broth that accompanied it. It had never tasted something so… good. Maybe the sludge was worse than it thought.

When it glanced up, Phil flickered his staring eyes away but couldn’t help his smile. “It would be great if you could tell me a bit more about yourself… that way I know what you need to know.”

It blinked at him, taking another spoonful of stew.

“Alright, well, uh… how old are you?”

Great question! Did Chat know?

you’re sixteen rn.

Oh.

Older than it thought.

“S…Sixteen,” it croaked out after a few moments of silence.

Phil’s face morphed, but only for a second before it returned to a calm expression. “Sixteen?” he repeated softly. “You’re pretty young.”

not for long lmfao

“Am I?” it responded, ignoring the cryptic words of the voices. It took another spoonful of stew, trying to eat slowly even as all of its instincts told it to scarf it down.

“You are,” Phil confirmed. “Do you have anybody to go back to?”

It looked away.

A long sigh escaped the angel. “Alright, that’s okay, mate.” He tried to laugh. “How are you feeling?”

It simply took another spoonful of stew. It didn’t think it could respond to that with the truth. It just… couldn’t.

“...Okay.” Phil started playing with his hands. “I saw blood around you, but when I checked, I didn’t see any injuries.”

He checked?

“Did I… miss any?”

It shook its head. All the wounds would have healed by now. Dying would fix it all. 

Phil just stared at it as it ate. The silent question hung in the air— where did the blood come from, then?

It would not have a response to that question.

Much to its own disappointment, it finished the last spoonful, placing the spoon down on the tray. Phil stood slowly, its eyes following him the entire way.

“Can I take your tray?”

It stared, hesitating. 

C’mon just do it

It lifted the tray up, holding it out for Phil, who gratefully took it. “Thanks, mate. It’d be good if you got some rest, yeah?” He gave Techno a wide smile. “You’re still recovering, so try to get some sleep. I’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”

“...Okay.”

With that out of the way, Phil turned and left for the door. He shut it behind him, clicking softly. 

How strange.

Whatever. It would need to get some sleep if it planned to leave soon. The voices quickly voiced their protests, but it ignored them as it plopped back down on the soft bed. It’d never been in such a soft bed.

It just curled up in the blanket and let its eyes close.

Chapter Text

Techno slept for the entire night, something it hadn’t done in ages. No nightmares, not usually, but it would wake and stare at the ceiling for a while before falling back asleep. Not tonight, though. It didn’t wake until the sun had once again begun to rise.

The blankets were warm, though, so even when it blinked its eyes open, it didn’t make a move to get up. If it could sleep with these blankets forever, maybe it could stay here. That would be fine.

Chat hummed a soft song in its mind, so soft that it wanted to fall back asleep, eyes drooping. 

But a soft knock rang through the room, and it startled up, heart racing again. It clutched the blankets beneath it, trying to calm down the harsh pounding.

“...Come in,” it called, biting its tongues. The voices murmured their approval. 

Phil opened the door and poked his head through, smiling softly at it. “Good morning, Techno.” He paused, as if waiting for a response, so it just nodded. “Would you… like to eat breakfast in here, or in the dining room?”

It tensed. 

“In here’s fine,” Phil rushed out before it could panic. “I can just drop off some food here.”

…How did he know it didn’t want to eat there? It shouldn’t want things. 

“Let’s just do that, then. I’ll be right back, okay? Do you want me to close the door or leave it open?”

“C-Close,” it stammered after a moment of Phil just staring at it.

Phil nodded and shut the door, footsteps receding once more. It relaxed its shoulders at the sweet silence.

It turned and looked at the window across from its bed. It stood up, noting the curtains drawn to prevent all of the light bleeding through the room. It stepped forward.

The room had a window. It didn’t usually get a room with a window.

you’re not at a slave-master’s place, the voices helpfully reminded.

“Thanks,” it mumbled to itself, reaching out to the curtains, but it hesitated. Would it be allowed to open them? It wanted to see the area. See if it needed to worry about anything dangerous, see if something would impede its escape…

we’re not ‘escaping’ you idiot!

Just open the curtains

It’s safe :)

It opened the curtains in one quick motion, though it quickly regretted that decision. A blast of sun hit its face, and it winced away. Once it adjusted to the light, it couldn’t help but stare at the landscape.

Huge trees of spruce reached for the sky, the ground covered in glistening… what had Eleanor called it? Snow? Yeah, glistening snow. 

It’s pretty.

However, before it could bask in the landscape more, a knock at the door sounded again. It jumped, heart racing again.

Prime, when would it ever get used to that?

“Come in,” it called, a little more confidently now, as it turned back to the door. Phil hurried inside, smiling at the sight of Techno up and around.

“I got you some scrambled eggs,” he said, moving closer with slow steps. “And some milk, too.”

trying to be soft on the stomach, I see

Phil’s so nice :( 

Techno nodded, stepping forward and watching as Phil held out the tray. Careful not to touch the angel, it took the tray and held it tight.

“Would you like to take a bath after eating?” he asked as it carefully went to sit back down on the bed.

Its eyes flickered back up to him, head tilting. It didn’t know what a bath was. 

Phil blinked down at him, taking a moment to realize. “Oh— oh.”

It winced. 

“Uh—sorry, I didn’t mean to… it’s just, ah, to keep you clean, mate. Since you were out in the snow, it’ll be good to take one.” Phil awkwardly shifted on his feet, wings flaring. However, once the movement was met with another sharp gaze, he stopped and settled them behind his back.

Plus baths are warm!!!

SO warm

Bath time pog????

“...Okay.” It nodded, picking up the…

Fork.

Fork. 

Just stab the eggs with it, it’ll stick 

It did just that, albeit a little violently as told by Phil’s wince, bringing it up to eat.

“Alright. I’ll be back in… fifteen minutes, let’s say? Then we’ll get you a bath.” Phil shifted on his feet once more as Techno nodded. With that out of the way, he left the room and shut the door behind him. Techno just dug into his food.

can we please stay here for awhile :((((

At least until we’re fully recovered!

I like Phil :)

At least till we get the gear we need

“A sword would be nice right about now,” it mumbled to itself, chewing absentmindedly at the… ah, eggs. It stared out the window as it ate. “Why do you all want to stay here so bad?”

Phil’s a name we recognize, is all

“How do you even know him?”

Complete silence from the voices—a rarity that would’ve freaked it out if it weren’t so amused.

“Chat?”

caaaaaan we save the story for later?

Yeah it’s a bit much to explain :(

They didn’t usually hide things from it, so… it would let this one thing slide. “Fine, but you’re explaining it to me later.”

Ugh fine

don’t be a baby 

Haha literal infant 

officer i drop-kicked that child in self-defense

It rolled its eyes as it finished off the eggs, moving onto the glass of... milk? 

Milk, the voices confirmed.

Cool. Milk. A drink it totally had before coming to this place. Yup.

“...I still don’t understand why he’s being so nice,” it finally said before taking a sip. It tasted rich on its tongue, but it wouldn’t let the thought of it drown out the voice’s response.

he’s kinda just known for being like this tbh

He adopts random kids and sends em back out when they’re ready

Imagine the family reunions lmfao

He’s ‘just like this’ is not an explanation that soothes its anxieties. 

get over it sis

Its ear flickered. “Rude.”

The voices simply laughed in its ear, going quiet after a few moments and letting it just sip the milk and stare out the window. Cold radiated from the glass pane, so it would simply stay underneath the blankets, watching in the safety of warmth. 

It lost track of the small bit of time it had before Phil returned, placing the finished glass on the tray. When Phil knocked, it startled, heart racing like always.

It really needed to fix that.

“Come in.” It shifted awkwardly, reaching to play with its hands.

Phil popped his head in, offering the young thing a soft smile. “I hope you liked it, mate.” It hesitantly nodded as he stepped in further. “Alright, how about that bath, now?” 

It hesitated once more before slipping out of the bed, leaving the tray. It winced at the ache in its leg. Hopefully moving around would help it lose its stiffness. 

“I got a change of clothes for when you’re done, and a towel.” Its eyes flickered to said items in his hands, watching as he held it out. It stepped forward, keeping a safe distance between them as it hesitantly took it. 

manners

shhhhhut up he’s TRAUMATIZED

It snorted softly to itself as Phil gave it a look, but he didn’t comment. “It’s not far, if you’re alright with coming outside the room.”

That made it hesitate. Would those two hatchlings—Phil’s flock?—be outside?

“Uh, I sent everyone away, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not even any servants. It’ll just be us two.” Phil shifted on his feet, running his fingers through his hair. “O-Or I can call some servants to be nearby, if you’re worried about being alone with me…”

It shook its head. “It’s okay,” it murmured, noting the way its voice cracked. It would still need to get used to speaking more often, then, since it didn’t have to play horrendously dumb around these people. 

Phil brightened. “Alright!”

lmfao he’s so easy 

What did that mean? It thought they liked him.

Well, we do,

But yk

supplies are supplies

It ignored them as Phil gestured it to follow, practically skipping down the hall. “I’ve got some soap for you—it’s got a kinda flowery scent, I hope you don’t mind, but it’s me and Wilbur’s favorite, and I kinda assumed you wouldn’t want to smell like…” Phil trailed off, eyes squinting before he burst out into a soft laugh. “Ah, never mind. That’s too long of a story.”

It wouldn’t be too interested in talking to it, either, so it just mutely nodded.

Phil continued to chatter about useless things, so it turned to look at the castle’s architecture. Cobble walls rose from the floor, steady and intimidating. Paintings decorated the walls, full of dim colors of the landscape. They must’ve been worn down. The wood floor underneath its feet stayed cold.

In no time, they were at a large, spruce door. 

“Right in here, mate!” Phil opened the door with no hesitation, letting it fly open.

It couldn’t help but blink at the size of the place, stepping inside after a few moments of Phil staring at it excitedly. Tile stretched for too long, with a sink and a—

Before it could process anything, it whipped its head away from the mirror and to the ceramic, black bathtub before it. Golden faucets contrasted the dark color, shining in the light of the lit lantern.

“Ah, I—let me show you how the faucets work, real quick.” Phil hurried forward, slipping from behind it and brushing his wings against its skin. He didn’t notice the way it jumped back as he placed his hand on the left handle. “This one is for hot water, the other one is for cold. I’d suggest testing the water before you really hop in, so you can adjust it as much as you’d like… don’t worry about using up the hot water!” Phil laughed again, a loud, bright sound.

It nodded hesitantly, and it lifted its hand to reach for the faucets, but… it looked so expensive. Maybe it shouldn’t touch it. What if it broke beneath its rough fingertips? It should stay away from such things, shouldn’t it?

“Here, mate, I got it.” Phil turned the left faucet before moving to the right one, not noticing how its entire body stiffened. “You can just test the water, tell me how you like it. You’ll probably like it really hot, though, so—”

Finally, he turned around to face it, blinking at the sight of Techno rapidly tensing. 

Its eyes blew wide, chest no longer moving as it stared at the rushing water. The sound of it hitting the tub had it struggling to think. 

Would it be getting punished again?

nononono calm down—

It didn’t want to get punished; it must’ve done something wrong, it did something wrong, what did it do wrong?

“Hey—hey, mate, are you okay?” 

It couldn’t help the panicked whimper that escaped it, reaching up to cover its ears, dropping the clothing and towel on the floor, as if that would help calm it down, but its eyes were still glued to the rushing water, and it really didn’t want to get punished today, it didn’t understand what it did wrong—

Before it could focus even more on the sight of the water, feathers flew in front of its face, blocking its few and herding it out the door. 

“I’m so sorry, mate, I didn’t think you would get all freaked out from the water—” he rambled as he shut the door behind him, and Techno couldn’t help the way it relaxed. 

safe

You’re okay, darling 

Baths aren’t meant for drowning!

“Could—could you tell me what happened, Technoblade?” Phil asked softly, his wings still outstretched as if to shield it from the outside world. 

It bit its tongue, eyebrows creased. It shifted on its feet.

C’mon just tell him something

Anything would do at this point 

rip techno

“P—” It… it… “Pun…ish?”

Phil stopped. “Oh. Oh.” 

His reaction just made it panic worse. Should it not have asked? It should’ve just stayed quiet. Why did it speak? It should never speak.

“Mate, you won’t—you’ll never get punished here, okay?” He reached his hands up, but when it flinched, he just kept them there, in the open. “Let alone with… with water. Nothing like that will ever happen.”

see? 

phil’s safe :)

SAFE 

It nodded, but it still couldn’t stop the heavy breathing. Phil didn’t mind. He just stood there, wings hiding the two of them, and waited for it to calm. 

And it did. Somehow, for some reason, its breaths evened out and it stopped trembling.

“You doing better, mate?”

It nodded again. 

“Alright… if you don’t wanna take a bath, you don’t have to, but I don’t really know how else to keep you, ah… clean…”

It hesitated, because it couldn’t even refute that. It had no idea what freaked it out so bad—it didn’t usually do that…

It was the rushing water dumbass 

don’t be mean to him he’s traumatized :(

Tell Phil you want to wait until the water’s done

Okay. It could… it could do that…

“The-the water’s… fine.” It shifted on its feet. “Just don’t like it when it’s… going.”

Phil took a moment to understand. 

“Oh!” he finally said, clapping his hands together and wincing when it flinched. He didn’t mention it, thankfully. “Would you like to stay out here while I finish running the bath?” He pulled his wings back, tucking them at his side once more. “Though, it’s probably almost full now, anyway…”

It hesitated before nodding, beginning to play with its hands again. 

“Alright.” Phil hurriedly turned and slipped back into the bathroom, careful to let as little noise as possible slip out. He closed the door behind him.

It stared. “...Think you might’ve been right, Chat.”

we’re always right

whOOOoo

“It’s still a maybe, though.” It would’ve laughed if its wary gaze wasn’t stuck on the door, half-expecting Phil to burst through with some sort of a weapon. It wanted to trust Phil; it really did. Yet it couldn’t.

It just couldn’t. 

Soon enough, Phil poked his head back out from the bathroom, opening the door all the way. “There, the bath’s all ready for you. You can take as long as you’d like. Do you know your way back to your room from here?”

Its room? “Uh… yeah.” Just down the hall.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be, if that’s alright.”

It nodded.

“I’ll probably be back by lunch to drain the tub and get you some food.” At the reminder, his gaze flickered to the man’s no doubt skeletal-like figure. It shifted on its feet. 

But he didn’t comment, just dipping his head and slipping by, walking down the hall. Techno waited until he turned and the footsteps receded until he actually went inside the bathroom once more. 

The bathtub… Phil filled it with water, unsurprisingly. Did it just…

Get undressed and slide in!

BATH TIME POG

WHOOOOOO

“Alright, alright, calm down,” it murmured, huffing a soft laugh as it slid off the clothing Phil gave it yesterday. It glanced at the sink. Phil had put the new clothing and towel on top of it after Techno had dropped it, it would seem. 

Soon enough, it tentatively approached the bathtub. It tested the water temperature with its hand, nearly recoiling at the heat that rolled off of it.

omfg yes a burning hot bath

BURN OUR SKIN BABY

Warmth warmth warmth—

At their excitement, it laughed again and stepped inside.

Oh, hell, that felt… so nice. Even though it seemed obvious, it hadn’t really thought about the concept of hot water. Yeah, it had stew and (poisoned) tea, but…

It slowly settled in the tub, sighing as it began to warm its bones. Its chest spiked in anxiety when its face got too close to the water, so it stayed sitting up. 

Phil had mentioned soap, right? It glanced around for that.

Alright. It could clean up.

When it returned to its room, sufficiently dressed, it began to comb its wet hair with its fingers as it stared out the window. It liked this; it would have some alone time before Phil came back for lunch. It would just listen to Chat chatter endlessly about whatever topic they felt like.

They’d been nice for these past two days. Not even a mention of blood or murder. They must be feeling especially nice.

However, peace could never last long.

Loud knocking startled it to its senses, sending it shooting up straight and nearly falling off the bed. Phil didn’t normally knock that loud, and its heart kept beating harder and harder, but who else could it be?

“Come… in,” it croaked out weakly.

The door practically slammed open, and it scrambled to grip the blankets tight, as if that would protect it from anything. Two young boys—younger than it, probably—hurried inside, grinning widely.

“Hello!” the smaller one shouted, golden locks spilling from his forehead. It couldn’t keep its eyes off their wings, though. They weren’t like Phil, keeping it safely tucked to their sides. Instead, they were everywhere, nudging against each other and bouncing with every movement.

“Hello,” said the other, and though he seemed much calmer, he still radiated enough chaos for Techno to worriedly tense up. What if it needed to escape? “Listen, I’m not gonna lie, we’re kinda here without Phil knowing.”

Well, that’s not dangerous at all.

“He won’t let us see you, but we wanted to!” the blond chirped, wings fluttering. It tensed, trying to control its breathing.

“Yeah, the last kid Dad came home with was you—” The brunet nudged the boy. “—so I was wondering what was up with you. He wouldn’t tell us your name.” He stepped forward a few paces, and it leaned back.

It opened its mouth to speak, but nothing came out, its eyes still latched to their wings. The blonde’s white feathers shimmered in the sunlight, contradicting the other’s dim, brown ones.

“Anyway, I’m Wilbur.” He dipped his head. “I’m Phil’s only blood-related son.” He crossed his arms next, posture straightening. How smug.

“You don’t even know that,” the other complained loudly, shooting the boy a glare. “He could be lying to you.”

“Dad would never lie!”

“I dunno, Wil-by,” he over-exaggerated. “At least we have the same hair color, unlike you.”

“Oh my Prime, we’ve gone over this. Phil’s not the only one I get my handsome looks from!”

“Oh, yeah, sure, little man. If you were a Big Man like me, you’d look more like Phil.”

What the fuck was going on?

“Anyway!” Wilbur turned back to the cowering figure on the bed. “I’m Phil’s son.”

“I’m Tommy.”

It froze.

“I’m staying here temp-or-air-ah-ly.” Wilbur snorted at Tommy’s slow pronunciation. “Just till we find my mum.”

Oh.

Oh, okay. That’s fine. This is fine.

It ignored the way blood rushed to its ears. It ignored the way it couldn’t bring its chest to move, couldn’t get itself to breathe.

“What’s your name, then?” 

It opened its mouth to respond, but once again, no noise came out. It could feel the dryness of its mouth, and oh Prime they were looking at it, waiting for a response, but that little hatchling—he—

Oh, Prime, oh, Prime, oh, Prime, fuck, Eleanor, she just wanted to go back to her son, yet now it could see him instead, it couldn’t be a coincidence, could it, of course not, nothing would ever be a fucking coincidence, everything went wrong went wrong wentwrongwentwrong it should’ve let her escape instead of it, its all its fault it should’ve died instead of her it should’ve died instead of her it should’ve died instead of her it should’ve died instead of her it should’ve died instead of heritshouldvediedinsteadofheritshoudlvedieditshouldviedieditshoudlveided—

It could’ve sworn it heard yelling over its own thoughts as it reached up to clutch its head, shaking. The voices weren’t helping—maybe they were trying to soothe it, but they were so loud, its ears hurt, its head hurt, it couldn’t think, it could’ve breathe, it couldn’t, it couldn’t, it couldn’t—

Before it could panic any further, a pair of dark wings wrapped around its body. The feathers brushed its skin, making it jump back from the touch. 

A voice. Not the ones in its head, but an actual voice from the owner of the wings. It couldn’t untangle the words from their mouth, though, couldn’t understand the frantic murmuring. 

Yet it accepted the comfort of being hidden from the rest of the world, being hidden from its own mistakes. Its shoulders slowly unwound, the buzzing growing quieter with each passing moment. It grew quiet enough to finally hear the words.

“I’m so sorry, Techno, I told them not to come in, they didn’t listen, they didn’t mean to scare you, I promise, you’re alright, no one’s gonna hurt you…”

How agonizingly kind.

Its breathing slowed, a pathetic whimper escaping its lips. Its eyes started to come back into focus. Since when had it curled up into a ball, tight and small? Since when had it scrunched up the hair in its hands by grabbing at its scalp? 

It finally looked at Phil, looked at the trembling man who dug his fingernails into the palm of his own skin, hands outstretched but never touching. 

Never touching without consent. 

It unwound its body, putting its legs back down and leaning against the headboard. Its chest heaved with heavy breaths, but they came in and out slow.

“A-Are you alright, Technoblade?” 

Its ear flicked.

we have to tell him

TECHNOSUPPORT

Tell him what, exactly? No way it wouldn’t get kicked out for doing something so terrible. It would be beat or whipped or drowned—

just tell him what happened to eleanor.

He doesn’t need to know that it was you lmfao

I cannot BELIEVE you killed this random boy’s mom and then MET THE BOY

“Eleanor—” It choked on its own words. It didn’t like having to think about her. “She’s dead.”

Phil blinked. Once, twice. Confusion flashed across his gaze. “I’m sorry, mate, I don’t think I know who that is…”

It glanced out the window, staring at the falling snow. “Tommy’s mother.”

Chapter Text

Phil did not know how to feel about Technoblade, the stranger in his guest room.

He didn’t like to talk, Phil noted. Any movement from his wings made the young boy nervous. He hated the sound of water. He talked to himself when he couldn’t see Phil.

And he knew Tommy’s mother.

Upon first hearing about Tommy’s reasons for coming here, Phil had been heartbroken. He hurried to increase the security around the border towns, hoping to save anyone else from the grief of hunters. He assumed they wanted her wings; a tragic thought but terrifyingly common in the world. 

A young avian, left alone in the world in freezing weather with nothing more than a coat and the clothes on his back. He hadn’t had time to get anything in his escape. His flying feathers hadn’t grown in yet, after all. 

It really hadn’t been long since Tommy joined their little flock. Although Phil would usually always be raising a kid or two, Wilbur would be the first child of his to share his blood, so he’d been rather preoccupied with that. Because of that, he hadn’t really adopted anyone recently. 

So hearing these words come from Technoblade’s mouth had his wings flaring, spreading so wide that they hit the walls on both sides. The poor little thing startled, hitting his head when he flinched back. 

“Technoblade.” Phil barely managed to keep his voice steady. “What do you mean?”

But he scared the boy too much. He started cowering, wrapping his arms around himself, but Phil couldn’t not be suspicious.

No one named after a God could be good news. He ignored the reminder that the last man he’d heard of, named after the same God, had been well-respected until… well. 

He inhaled softly to calm himself down, chest rising and falling slowly as he tucked his wings back to his side. He watched Technoblade’s gaze follow it, relaxing when they were no longer outstretched. 

“Technoblade,” he repeated, softer. “Tommy is a part of my flock. If you could tell me what happened, I could protect him better.”

Nails dug into skin, and he winced at the sight. He’d have to get the boy nail cutters. “...part of the Games.”

“The Games?” Phil repeated, trying to give this boy the benefit of the doubt. 

A sharp nod, jerky and fast. “M-Makes us… fight.”

Uh-oh. “Us?”

“...Slaves.”

Phil nearly lost it, right there. He stopped, though, reminding himself of Techno’s fearful reaction to just about everything he did. He’d have to be careful with his movements. 

So they weren’t just regular hunters. They were slave hunters.  

What the hell? Hadn’t slavery been banned in most places? No way they were just holding a competition for slaves out in broad daylight. He would have to figure out which damned nation did this and send them a… stern warning.  

Nobody upset his flock. 

Oh. Wait.

Us.

Oh, shit.

Oh.

Okay.

“...Thank you for letting me know, Technoblade.” He played with his hands. He originally assumed the boy ran from hunters, just like Tommy, but no. He ran away from slave masters. “Did you know Eleanor personally?”

The boy hesitated before nodding, averting his gaze to the window. Phil finally understood why he liked looking out the window so much. 

He inhaled softly once more. “Alright. Okay.” 

How the hell did he tell Tommy? The boy always insisted on finding his mother soon. Phil conducted his own private searches, yes, but… nobody would be found.

“Do you not want to be around Tommy?” The hybrid must’ve had some sort of (hopefully positive) relationship with Eleanor to cause this reaction, especially of this magnitude. 

Technoblade hesitated. His face contorted, lips parting to speak. He just stayed quiet, though. 

“You don’t have to be. I can keep both him and Wilbur away from you, if you’d really like.”

He watched the boy suddenly wince as if hit, subconsciously rubbing at his ear. “...Not alone.”

It took Phil a moment, like it always did. “Oh—oh! Of course not, you don’t have to be around him alone. Me or Wilbur will always be around him, alright? Especially if you want to go exploring.”

His eyes snapped to Phil in that mildly creepy way he did sometimes. His head tilted in question.

“Have I not said that yet?” Phil laughed awkwardly. The boy just shrugged. “Yeah, well, you can explore whenever you’d like. Wherever you like.” Did he not already say this? Maybe they’d both just forgotten, or maybe the boy wanted a reminder to soothe his worries. He didn’t know. Prime, he’s too clueless for his own good. “The castle is really big, and there are a lot of twists and turns, so just make sure you don’t get lost, mate!” 

Stupid human architecture. 

“If you need a tour guide, I can come with you, or some servant can come help—you could always just go by yourself, of course, but, y’know…” Phil rambled on nervously, beginning to play with his hands. 

The boy in front of him hesitated. “...Okay.”

Not a hard answer, Phil noted. Avoiding the question, especially with that averted gaze. He let out a long sigh, trying not to seem too disappointed. Techno could take his time to adjust, take his time to relax. 

Everything would be fine. 

“I’ll leave you be, then.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, standing up and off of the bed. “I can drop off your dinner in a couple hours. Is there anything I can get for you until then?” The poor boy must be so bored, being stuck in here. The guest room didn’t really have anything entertaining, unless you counted the window…

But he shook his head as Phil backed up towards the door.

“Alright then, mate. I’ll be back for dinner, then.” He opened the door and slipped outside, shutting the door quietly and waiting for just a moment.

“...He talks almost as much as you, Chat.”

Phil cringed and walked away as Technoblade ran his fingers through his hair. 

even WE aren’t that bad

“I don’t know,” it teased lightly, standing up from the bed. It ignored the slight tremble its limbs still had. “At least he can take the hint to shut up. You guys only quiet down during emergencies, and that’s still only sometimes.” A soft chuckle escaped it as it headed towards the window. It perked, staring at the woods.

i’m super offended

At least we don’t ramble that much

Yeah we know what we’re talking about!

It rolled its eyes, sighing. “...Do you think you guys will ever explain to me how you know Phil?”

Silence.

“Guys…”

give it time

We’re not purposefully keeping it from you :(

You’ll learn soon enough, we promise!!

It sighed again, long and loud. “You guys are so cryptid.”

fam we’re the mildly omniscient voices in your head

I think we’re, like, MEANT to be cryptid

“Uh-huh.” It leaned closer to the window, eyes fluttering shut and the coolness radiating from the window. “And you’re sure we’re safe?”

The voices murmured their assurances. It couldn’t help but sigh for the third time.

“And… Wilbur and—uh. Wilbur n’ Tommy.” It cleared its throat. “Do you guys know them?”

no clue lmfao

Well we know Tommy is your friend’s daughter!

stooOOOOP OMFG

Techno winced. They really didn’t sugarcoat anything, did they?

Ah, whatever.

“Alright. They’re both avians, though. All three of them are avians. Are those… supposed to be common?” It shifted on its feet, a fleeting thought about how maybe it shouldn’t be speaking crossing its mind. It ignored it, though—it needed the practice. 

lmfao no they’re up there in rarity 

Yeah, they used to be from the Aether before that dimension gave up

“The Aether?”

kinda like the opposite of the Nether

just. Don’t worry about it. That dimension got yeeted n yoinked

Alright. It would take their word for it, it supposed. “So are they… not hybrids?”

well. Not phil 

Phil’s origins are from the Aether, and Wilbur’s his son, so they’re not hybrids

Not sure about the little one, tho 

might be an avian hybrid or a pure avian or somethin

“Alright.” It nodded slowly, taking a moment to process their words. “Phil and Wilbur aren’t, the little one is a big maybe.”

‘Little one’ lmao that’s so cute

don’t get TOO attached

Its ear flicked. “Never.” Not again. 

The only person you can trust is yourself, Techno

“I know.” It huffed, shifting on its feet.

they may keep you safe, but you can’t rely on them forever

“I know.”

Phil isn’t as innocent as he looks. He was going to trade with the slave-town when he found you!

It gritted its teeth. 

Don’t let your guard down. 

You’re safe for now, 

but not forever.

“Stop talking.” They finally went quiet. “I know. I’m aware. In fact, I’ve been the one telling you guys that this entire time, and you were the ones who wanted me to rely on Phil.”

…only temporarily, the voices mumbled awkwardly. 

“Yeah. Whatever you say.” Its ear flicked again. “Whatever you say.”

After it finished dinner, it stood by the window and awaited darkness.

Phil’s words piqued its interest. It wanted to explore the castle grounds, find every nook and cranny, and figure out the best escaping points, just in case. Besides, Phil had given it permission—it just didn’t want to explore if somebody else could find it. Human contact? Nope, big no thank you.

So when the moon rose to the middle of the dark, starry sky, it went and slipped out of the room.

Silence. 

That’s what it expected, yeah, but goosebumps still settled on its skin. It still hesitated when it closed the door behind it. There weren’t many windows down the hall to let in the natural light from the moon. Instead, doors littered the hall, probably to rooms it would never be allowed in. Probably to rooms with valuable items or food or comfortable beds and expensive dressers.

Things Phil gave it even if it shouldn’t have them.

It wandered over to a table, one of those things with drawers with golden handles. It traced the top.

No dust or dirt. 

It couldn’t imagine ever being in such a clean environment. It wondered what kind of things it had inhaled or swallowed during this life. 

The voices happily murmured to themselves about the architecture and whatnot as it continued on. It’d been this far before for the bathroom. It stopped right at the door, facing the seemingly never-ending hall. If it stepped beyond this point, it would be completely new territory.

It forged on.

The hall stayed the same. The same floor, the same cobble walls, same dressers, same flowers and decorations, and it swore even the paintings were the same.

How boring.

There were turns, sometimes, and it would keep note on which way it turned if it didn’t only go right. 

After the second turn, it stalled at the sight of an opening. Its steps slowed, hesitance creeping up its skin at the large, open and looming tall. A gold railing took most of the space, but there were two openings within them. It moved forward until it stood in the middle of the opening, gripping the railing tightly as it took in the sight before it.

Stairs.

How anticlimactic.

The two openings met together to create even wider stairs, revealing a large ground floor. It looked basically the same as the top floor.

Boring. How boring. It would just go back to bed at this point.

The next morning, it woke to the sound of gentle knocking. Despite the softness, it still startled, heart racing as if danger stood right outside its door.

“Hey, mate.” Phil’s voice. “You up yet?”

Yet? Its eyes flickered to the window, snapping into a sitting position at the sight. The sun sat in the middle of the sky as it beamed down at the sun. 

Oh, shit. It slept too much. Its nightly adventure shouldn’t have taken so much energy out of it for it to sleep that late. It scrambled out of bed, chest heaving.

Ah, right. It should respond. “Ah, y-yes,” it called out, turning to try and repair the damage it had done to the bed’s sheets, now all tangled in a mess. 

It could’ve sworn it heard a soft laugh from behind the door. “We were wondering if you wanted to join us for lunch.”

We?

“We were planning on having some steak. It’s almost ready now.”

It hurried to get changed into something presentable, well aware of all the noise it made as it scurried around. 

“Of course, you don’t need to come. Wilbur and Tommy are gonna be there, and I know that makes you a little bit uncomfortable, so it’s perfectly fine if you just want to stay in here. They, ah… they would like to see you, if you want to see them, though.”

It slid whatever clothing it had on and nearly tripped over its feet on the way to the door, pulling it open. Phil stood there, a soft smile on his face as he blinked up at it.

“Would you like to come, then?”

Ah, right. It hadn’t even thought about that in its rush. Did it want to come? Phil made it incredibly clear that this was a choice, even if its stomach lurched at the idea of having a choice in the matter. Slaves didn’t get a choice. They didn’t have the right to make a choice. 

But Phil still stared at him expectantly, waiting for an answer as if unaware of its struggles. As if unaware that it didn’t have a choice.

omg let’s go have lunch with them :O

BONDING MOMENT Y’ALL

I thought we weren’t supposed to get attached?

well. We’re not supposed to,

Well. If they wanted to go, then…

“Yes,” it said with the barest of nods. Phil somehow brightened further, clapping his hands together.

“Excellent!” His wings flared a little. Its eyes flicked to it, but it didn’t flinch this time. “You can come with me, then. I hope you slept well?” he rambled on as he turned, pace fast. It hurried to follow him, shutting the door quietly. “You must’ve, since you slept in late. You also have to be hungry now, right?”

It nodded, forgetting the fact that he couldn’t see the movement, with it behind him.

“Wilbur and Tommy can get a little overwhelming, of course—they argue a lot. If you need them to quiet down at all, just let me know. Sometimes, even I get anxious about how much they fight.”

Fight? Did they get physical, then? A frown pulled at its lips. It had enough fighting for what felt like a century.

that’s quite the overestimation 

You’ll wanna get back out there in no time

It ignored their useless chatter. It didn’t have time for an existential crisis right now.

Phil led them down the same hallway it walked down last night. “We don’t usually eat steak that often—rabbits are the better prey around here—so the boys are really excited.” They turned the corner. Its eyes focused on the decór as if that would make him quiet down. “We could have steak more often, if we wanted to. I mean, we can definitely afford it,” he said, and it quickly realized his words were meant to be humorous. It just nodded, noticing the glance Phil gave it.

How useless, all of this chatter.

So why did it find a smile tugging at its lips?

“I think they would get too spoiled, though, if I fed them steak too often.” Phil nodded gravely as they approached the banister Techno had seen the night before. Phil hurried down the stairs, and Techno hesitated before following. “I don’t think they’d ever have a fruit or vegetable if we had steak every night.”

It did not know a single word Phil said, at this point. Steak? Fruit? Vegetables?

They reached the bottom soon enough, and Techno’s skin crawled at the thought of being in unfamiliar territory. Phil probably wouldn’t trap him or anything—that’d be stupid, so it needed to calm down. 

“Wilbur’s been bugging me to try some wine. He’s only fourteen, you know. Way too young to drink wine.” Phil laughed to himself and shook his head. “I don’t even know why he wants to try it. He can’t get drunk!”

“...Oh?” It couldn’t help its curiosity. Drunk? Wine? Why couldn’t Wilbur get drunk?

Phil hesitated, going quiet. “It’s, ah, it’s a story I can tell you later, mate. Not particularly important right now.” 

It nodded even as annoyance bubbled in its chest. People—and voices, it supposed—really like postponing the ‘story-telling’. A snort threatened to sound, but it bit its tongue to keep it quiet. Being annoyed would get it in trouble. It needed to watch itself. 

“Dining room isn’t far,” Phil said after a moment. “It’s a little bit big for family reunions, but we all sit pretty close, if you don’t mind.”

It shrugged as Phil turned to a tall, thick door, grasping the golden handles and pushing it open. Noise flooded over them immediately.

“ Stop suckin’ up to Dad—”

“I AM NOT SUCKING UP TO DAD!”

When the door hit the wall, the two arguing hatchlings jumped and snapped their jaws shut. Phil blinked once, twice.

“...What did I say about arguing?” Phil crossed his arms. They both glanced at each other, guilt written on their face with bright paint. Wilbur cleared his throat and sat down, Tommy joining him. They sat across from one another. 

“Sorry, Dad,” Wilbur mumbled, but his voice still had a tinge of whininess to it.

Phil just shook his head, sighing loudly. “You can go ahead and take a seat, Technoblade. I’m going to be sitting at the head of the table, is that alright?”

It shifted on its feet before nodding as Wilbur perked up. “Oh! Oh! Why don’t you come sit next to me?”

…That worked.

It stepped forward, going down the long line of dark chairs before it pulled out the one next to Wilbur. Phil followed along, feathers brushing across its back as he passed, settling down at the head of the table. Wilbur’s grin brightened when it sat down.

“So! Your name is Technoblade?” Wilbur set his elbow down on the table, head turned to watch the hybrid.

bad manners

It just nodded as the blond boy across from them nearly jumped to his feet. “Technoblade is such a cool name!” he shouted, and it couldn’t help its wince. It didn’t notice the glare Phil shot Tommy, the boy quickly lowering his voice. “Is that your real name? Or, like, is it for fun?”

It blinked. 

It’s your true name.

it’s fun tho!

A small smile perked its lips. “...Both.” 

Confusion flashed across his face before Tommy let out a screeching type of laugh. “Oh, oh, you think you’re mysterious, huh? That’s funny, but no one can be as cool as Big Man—” His voice quickly lowered to a whisper. “—I’m Big Man, by the way.”

“You’re the shortest one here,” Wilbur complained loudly, and Tommy’s face flushed.

“Not in spirit, Wilbur. I have big dick energy—”

“Tommy!”

“—and you don’t.”

Techno shared a look with Wilbur, both of their eyebrows raised (albeit for different reasons. Techno didn’t know what that meant, Wilbur just wanted to strangle his little brother).

Phil dug his face into his hands. “Can you boys talk about something appropriate for once?”

“Dad, you say that like you don’t join in on these conversations.”

“That is not the point.”

Its ear flicked, their conversation interrupted by a door it hadn’t even noticed opening. A few servants spilled out, carrying plates of food. They didn’t even blink at its presence.

Subconsciously, it reached up to make sure its hair hid its ears. 

“Food’s here!” Tommy slammed his hands against the table, and it flinched again. This time, Tommy noticed himself. “Ah—uh. Sorry.”

What for?

It quickly lost its attention, though, as they slid a plate of food in front of it, along with everyone else at the table. The smell wafted through the air, and it swallowed its own drool. The idea of food like this… how could it be possible for a slave to eat it? It shouldn’t complain, though, in case they took it away and made it eat the slop again. 

Its gaze flickered upwards, not missing how everyone else quickly turned their own away. 

Ah. They were watching it. What for? Did it do something wrong?

It tensed when Wilbur started to talk, expecting to be reprimanded. “Hey, Dad, I was wondering if you’d like to hear a new song I'm working on later. Is that alright?”

“Oh!” Phil relaxed at the new conversation. “Absolutely. Is it just guitar, or do you have lyrics with it?”

Techno let the conversation fade into the background, all of them chatting easily about the ‘song.’ It allowed the voices to guide its actions as they explained how to cut up the juicy meat on the plate, careful to not cut itself. It broke open the—what’s it called?

Baked potato 

It broke open the baked potato, flattening it down. With everything prepared, it started eating the strange, red, circular food first. 

Berries, dumbass

Stop being MEAN omfg

Holy fucking shit. The taste of something new exploded in its mouth, and it couldn’t help the way it eagerly began to dig in. Its eyes kept flickering up to make sure the other three weren’t watching it, weren’t laughing at it. They never did.

It finished the food off before anyone else, clearing the plate and leaving only the skin of the potato behind. It missed Phil’s relieved smile and Wilbur’s bright grin as it simply listened to their conversations.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad. 

Chapter Text

Phil kept inviting it to breakfast, then he started inviting it to lunch, too, and then to dinner. It joined them for every meal, and while it didn’t join in on their conversations, it would listen to them closely. All the talks they had about Wilbur and Tommy’s wings, Phil’s adventures as the Emperor, and something about…

“What… is a song?”

It had not spoken a true, complete question since the first lunch together, so it expected it when all three of them whipped their heads around to look at it. It couldn’t help its tense shoulders, though, even after preparing itself. 

The three of them had been discussing Wilbur’s new song, the boy explaining how he only had to finish off the end. Phil and Tommy seemed interested in the chatter, and Tommy only occasionally interrupted to make quips. Techno listened in, too, but… it struggled to follow along.

So it mustered up its courage to ask.

Although it expected the surprise of it talking, it tensed even further when their expressions morphed to ones of horror.

Had it made a mistake? Did it ask something it shouldn’t? Its gaze averted, mouth opening to apologize, but—

“A song is, uh… well, it’s hard to explain,” Wilbur said, guilt dripping from his tone. “Maybe it’d be better if I could show you?”

Is that a threat? Its ear flicked, glancing up at Wilbur with wide eyes.

“It’ll be fun!” Wilbur said, clapping his hands together. Maybe he missed the fear in its eyes, or perhaps he just ignored it. “I have some olds songs I can play for you.”

Phil laughed softly. “Why don’t we have a concert tonight?”

“Let’s do it!” Tommy interrupted, bouncing in his chair. “I wanna hear Wilbur’s songs!”

It blinked once, twice. All three of them would be there together? Then maybe it’d be fine. Maybe it could… have fun with this, like Wilbur said.

“I just have to finish all of my work for today, so maybe in an hour or two?” Phil finished off of his plate, focusing on the boys in front of him. 

Wilbur nodded, clapping his hands together again. “Absolutely!” A grin spread across his face, eyes shining. Yeah, maybe it’d be fine.

Those two hours passed quickly, and it felt like no time at all when Phil showed up at the door, leading it down the corridor and banister and hallways. Finally, they slipped inside of a cozy little room. Wilbur sat on a chair, holding some strange thing made from wood and string in his hands, Tommy opposite from him, nestled into a mess of blankets on a large sofa. 

It ignored the bubbling anxiety at the sight of Tommy as Phil sat down next to the boy, motioning for Techno to do the same. Hesitantly, it moved forward, settling down besides Phil. 

Wilbur and Tommy were still chatting away as Phil grasped some nearby blankets, pulling them up before hesitating. “Hey, Technoblade, is it alright if I touch you?”

It stiffened. 

“It’s okay if not, don’t worry, I just—”

“It’s okay,” it interrupted. Maybe it would regret this, maybe it wouldn’t, but… Phil wouldn’t hurt it. It would be okay if it could get comfortable.

Phil chewed his bottom lip before bringing the blankets over the two of them, sufficiently covering them before his arm lifted. Slowly, as if it might break, he put his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

It inhaled slowly. No reason to panic. It’s fine.

technosoft 

3ejksldjkzo\o’;s the warmth is so nice :(

Isn’t this kinda dangerous?

^ stfu and let him enjoy it

“Alright, alright, I figured I’d just play a few songs tonight. Don’t want us to get too excited, y’know? If I keep you guys up all night, I don’t think I’d ever hear the end of it,” Wilbur joked as he settled back on the stool, straightening his back.

None of them responded to his quip with words. Rather, they simply rolled their eyes or huffed. 

And then he started to play.

It didn’t know what to expect when he strummed the item on his hands, but the soft notes filling the air certainly didn’t make the top of its list. The gentle melody and combinations drowned out the voices in its mind—or maybe they, too, went quiet to listen.

And he began to… 

Sing.

He began to sing. 

Techno listened closely, eyes half-lidding as music filled the air. Wilbur’s tone stayed bright, soft yet alluring. It couldn’t focus on the words; something about a snowy landscape and a tiny cabin in the woods. 

Its eyes fluttered shut, unable to help the way it leaned against Phil’s side. The avian tensed before relaxing almost immediately, squeezing its shoulder gently. 

Even Tommy stayed quiet, relishing in the sweet notes of a song from their family.

Soon enough, Wilbur moved onto his next song, this one just as gentle. Perhaps he had planned that, to give Techno a smooth introduction to music. 

It yawned, and once its chest finished heaving, a soft rumbling noise left its throat. It inhaled slowly, and the next exhale held the same noise.

It couldn’t help itself, it would seem. It couldn’t stop itself from vocalizing its content, although it didn’t really know why. It had never made a noise like this before, but Phil pulled it a little closer, so it took that as a good sign. 

So it fell asleep, purring into Phil’s side. It didn’t notice the wide grin on Phil’s face as it did so, and the smug look from Wilbur as he watched it happen.

The next day, not long after dinner, Phil showed up at the guest room’s door. It allowed him in, putting down the book Wilbur let it borrow. Phil easily stepped inside, holding something behind his back.

Part of it wanted to panic, at the sight of something being hidden, but the voices soothed it pretty quickly.

“Heya, mate.” Phil gently pushed the door closed, but it stayed open just a crack. “I have a gift for you.”

Its ear flicked. A gift? Should it know what that meant?

“Since you fell asleep so easily with Wilbur’s music, I thought you might like, ah…” He trailed off, shaking his head at himself before showing off the item in his hand. A small, simple box sat on top of it, made from a light-colored wood with darker trims. “It’s called a music box.” 

It tilted its head as he moved closer, sitting down next to it. This time, it didn’t jump when his wing brushed against its back. 

Slowly, as if it might miss it, he pulled open the box, and it somehow revealed the sight of a figurine inside. It couldn’t help but wonder how it fit as it inspected the figure. A dark woman with long, flowing black hair sat on top. One leg stayed firmly attached to the box, the other outstretched. Both of her hands circled above her head. A tight shirt covered her torso, but the skirt that accompanied it—maybe a dress?—poofed outwards with frills and translucent materials.

It couldn’t help but stare.

“That’s called a ballet dancer,” Phil explained carefully as he moved his hand to something on the side of the box. It hadn’t even noticed it. A little lever sort of thing stuck out. When Phil grabbed it, he began to turn it over and over again.

It did nothing but watch.

When he let go, music started playing.

Sadly, the music did not belong to Wilbur, and there didn’t seem to be a voice. That didn’t matter too much, though. The soft melody that magically spilled from the box had its eyes widening. 

“I figured I would give this to you, if you don’t mind.” Phil reached up and rubbed the back of his neck as the ballet dancer spun around in a circle. “I used to have one, a long time ago. It’s long gone, but I remember falling asleep to it every night. My mother wrote the music used for it, so I would always think of her.” For just a moment, a sad look flashed across his face before it quickly disappeared. “You can use it like that, too, or you can just listen to it whenever.”

Its ear flicked.

Expert fingers pressed down on violin strings, the other hand holding a bow. It played gentle, trilling music, black hair spilling from the owner’s shoulders.

He hummed along with the music he made, as if it were a simple task he had no trouble completing. Someone sang beside him, and another played a different kind of instrument, one much larger than his own violin. 

Heart wrenching peace filled the air. Deep down, it knew this could never last.

Mortals never changed, after all.

“Mate?”

Phil’s voice knocked it out of whatever stupor it had been sent into. It blinked rapidly, looking down at him.

“Are you alright?” Phil tried, head tilting. “You zoned out for a minute.”

It opened its mouth for a moment, as if unsure how to respond. It didn’t know how to word it. 

How did it word it?”

“...Phil.” 

It pretended not to notice the way Phil slightly stiffened at hearing his name escape the hybrid’s lips.

“Do you ever remember things that haven’t happened?”

Phil stalled, mouth opening to respond, but no words escaping him. He just blinked up at Techno for a few moments. “Uh… I can’t say that I have, mate.”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to know what a violin is.” The voices were already beginning to murmur their protests at telling Phil this revelation. “I know a lot of things I’m not supposed to.”

No response. Phil just stared at him, blinking slowly. After staring for far too long, he finally said, “Did you see one before you were… taken?” 

Taken. How foreign it sounded on Phil’s tongue. How pitiful . It bit its own tongue for a moment, turning its head to look out the window, at the snow falling. “...No. They captured me when I was… young.” It swallowed at the memory, eyebrows furrowing. 

A gentle hand pressed against its back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It stayed still, chewing its cheek. 

i mean, not particularly 

This is too vulnerable y’all

Well it’s not like it was TOO big of a deal

Yeah fair point

“I was just a shoat, back then.” Its ear flicked. “I’d never even been outside the den.” Its head lifted upwards, pink hair spilling from its shoulders. Phil’s hand began to rub slow circles. “I don’t remember most of it. Just watching the blood spill and fire rage and hearing everyone scream.” Darkness flashed across its face as it thought of the scene, eyes dull. “They only took the little ones.” It didn’t think it could forget that memory. How could it forget?

It was when the voices began.

Phil sighed, wings drooping, brushing gently against its side.. “Oh, Technoblade, I’m so sorry…” His hand moved, and soon enough, a pair of surprisingly strong arms wrapped themselves around its shoulders. “You never should’ve suffered through that.”

Against all reason, it only took a few moments before slumping against Phil, letting the man hold it. It just huffed quietly, eyes fluttering shut.

“Would you like to sleep?” Phil’s voice barely traveled, nothing more than a soft whisper. “I can start the music box, if you’d like.”

It shook its head. It didn’t want Phil to move away from it right now, to grab the music box discarded on the nightstand.

Phil easily took that as an answer, pulling Technoblade closer as he adjusted their position so it could lay down. He rubbed its arm, letting it slowly doze off.

technosoft 

It fell asleep. 

“Technoblade.”

His eyes snapped to the figure not far behind him. His hand reached for his sword, teeth baring immediately.

They stepped out from the shadows. They had no eyes, or perhaps the mask they wore simply melted into their skin. “ Please, do not pull your sword. I come with no ill intentions. ”

“Yeah, right.” He unsheathed his sword, and although the figure before him had no mouth, he could feel the grin radiating through the air. “What the hell do you want?” 

“ I simply have come to try and make a deal with you. ”

“A deal?” He huffed, hand on his hip as he gripped his sword tightly. They didn’t have a weapon in sight, but he figured they had one stowed away somewhere. “Why would I make a deal with somebody like you?”

“ It would be beneficial for you. ” They adjusted their green hood, taking a step closer. He bared his teeth but did not back down. “ The god of immortality is working on something. ”

He stilled immediately, stiffening. The god of immortality? This bastard better not be messing with him. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he said after a moment, voice steady.

“ He found something, Technoblade. Something… very interesting, ” they purred, arms spreading. “ Something that could end that little rivalry of yours. ”

“Rivalry? Who is my rival?”

At least that made them falter for a moment, but they quickly recovered. “ My conduit has been doing research on his own. He hasn’t died yet.”

He perked, head tilting. Having an undying conduit could be… incredibly useful. “ And how is Foolish involved in this?”

The laugh that went through the air had him suppressing a shudder. “ My dear, don’t you see? If Foolish can give immortality—at least partially—shouldn’t he be able to take it away? ”

“What?”

he’s getting close

It won’t be long now!!!

Ughhhh i’m so excited 

It grumbled softly, turning as sleep slowly slipped away from its body. The coldness from Phil’s absence seeped into its bones, leaving it cold even as it bundled itself up with more blankets. 

It supposed it should get up, even if it wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep through the morning.

Can you read out loud again???

omg story time pog

E

POGCHAMP 

A soft laugh escaped its throat as it finally sat up. “You wanna hear another story?”

we wanna hear that one book you’ve been reading!!

“What, the one book Wilbur let me borrow as a joke?” It stretched out its limb. “It’s a fun read.” It had never read a real book before coming here.

YES READ IT READ IT READ IT 

It laughed softly, reaching blindly for the book on the nightstand, finding it easy enough. It brought the book in front of it, flipping to where it last left the book mark.

“Alright, chat. Sun Tzu said: Whoever is first in the field and awaits the coming of the enemy, will be fresh for the fight; whoever is second in the field and has to hasten to battle will arrive exhausted…”

And so it sat there, reading out loud with its rumbling voice, face soft as the voices listening closely. Maybe reading out loud for them could be something it enjoyed just as much as them. Besides, it did enjoy this book, no matter how much it might joke about not. 

It didn’t know how long it took until Phil popped in with a smile on his face, knocking gently. “Hey, mate, sorry to interrupt. You ready to come down for breakfast?”

“Ah, yes, just one moment.” It ignored its beating heart as it hurried to find the bookmark it haphazardly tossed earlier. It took a moment before finally finding the bookmark, saving its spot in the book. It placed it neatly on the nightstand before getting up to join them.

It wouldn’t bother to get changed out of its sleepwear.

“I do not think you understand what you’re messing with,” he said carefully, eyebrows raising as they shifted on their feet. “Foolish is an elder god. Neither of us should be messing with him.”

“ Oh, but isn’t that the fun part? ” They leaned forward, laughing softly. “ We’re not going to be killing him, if that helps. ”

A scowl flashed across his face. “I sure hope not.”

“ We’re not even going to be hurting him, either. We’re simply going to make sure that he owes us a favor. ”

“Who is ‘we’ in this equation?”

“ You and I, if you’d like to join me. There are a few others, though. The god of war, the goddess of the hunt, the god of sleep, and the goddess of the dark. ”

“You got the god of war on your side?” His nose crinkled. “How are their conduits doing?”

“ Alive. They will be for a long time. Our plan is fool-proof. I simply want you to join us. ”

He snorted. “That is absolutely not fool-proof. Foolish will not let this pass. You are walking on thin ice.” 

The figure in front of him crossed his arms, staring him down with no gaze. They stayed silent, simply engaged in a staring contest.

He spoke again after a few moments. “You know its dangerous for you all to be getting with each other. Someone will become a traitor.”

They snorted. “ No, they won’t. I trust them. ”

“That’s a lie.”

“... I don’t think they will betray me. We all have too much to lose, if this goes wrong. ”

He let out a long sigh. “Whatever you believe, I don’t want to be a part of it. You’ve got a death wish.”

“ Don’t get too cocky, Technoblade. ” Their hands twisted. “ You’ll regret not joining us. We will not let you get away with this knowledge. ”

He rolled his eyes, sheathing his sword. “I’ll be leaving, then. If you’re not careful, you’ll regret messing with me, XD.”

With that out of the way, he left.

When it came to, it already sat at the dining table, food in front of it. Tommy, Wilbur, and Phil happily chatted away about one useless thing or another. 

It did not know why these strange visions kept happening. They were getting more and more frequent.

Were they meant to be of the future?

Or were they meant to be of the past?

It had a feeling that, no matter the answer, it wouldn’t be good. 

Chapter Text

Phil’s been acting strange recently.

Nothing particularly worrying or suspicious—Techno highly doubted that the avian even realized how he must come across. However, he kept checking in on Techno, a frown spread across his face. If Techno appeared sleepy, he’d turn the music box for it, or he’d offer to start Techno a bath, or he’d offer to comb its hair…

Odd. 

Sure, Phil may have been a worrier since the day Techno met him, but now he seemed anxious just to leave its side. It couldn’t even begin to understand why, with all that herding during meal times and the exasperated looks it would get from Wilbur or Tommy.  

It seemed like they had a better understanding of this than it did. 

For now, though, it laid in bed, curled up and eyes drooping closed. Night had made itself known, with the moon peeking out from the curtains. 

A gentle knock on the door startled it, making it snap up. 

“Technoblade? Are you awake?” came Phil’s soft voice, making its racing heart finally begin to slow down. 

It hesitated, glancing at the music box still spinning. “Uh… yeah.”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Phil twisted the door open, smiling at the sight of Techno. “Sorry to bother you this late, mate.” He stepped inside.

It just shrugged. 

They stayed quiet for a few moments before Phil loudly cleared his throat. “How are you feeling? Any sniffling, fever…?”

It blinked, reaching up to feel its own forehead. “Same as ever.” 

“...I see.” Phil shifted on his feet, moving closer to Techno before settling on the edge of the bed. “Technoblade, did you know I’m an avian?”

It hesitantly nodded. Should it not know something so obvious?

But Phil just nodded back. “Well… as an avian, we have a lot of instincts that humans, and… other species don’t have. One thing is, we tend to know when someone in our flock is about to get sick or if they’re upset.” 

Made sense.

“When that happens, we want… to make a nest.”

“Nest?” it repeated, head tilting.

Phil offered him an easy smile. “A nest. It’s just a bunch of comfy objects like blankets and pillows, and we get the flock together and stay with each other. That way we can help out with whatever’s wrong.”

It nodded slowly, playing with its hands as it processed the strange information. The music box’s song ended.

“Right now, I feel like something is wrong with you, Wilbur, or Tommy. I don’t know what or who, but… would you be okay with nesting with us?”

It blanked.

“It’s alright if it’s a no, of course,” Phil hurried out, hands gesturing something it couldn’t even begin to figure out. “I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do. Your comfort is my top priority, it just… would mean a lot to the three of us if you did come—”

“Phil.”

The man snapped his jaw shut as a soft smile spread across its lips. 

“I… I can come. How long would it last?”

Phil relaxed, inhaling deeply. “I… don’t know. It’ll last until I figure out what’s wrong. We’ll have books and food, Wilbur has already brought his guitar… it shouldn’t be too boring.”

It hesitated before nodding. “Okay. I can do that.”

Phil grinned. “Pack up your stuff, then. Do you know what you would like to bring?”

Well. It didn’t really own anything in the room, and certainly nothing besides blankets and pillows would be useful. However, its gaze still lingered on the music box, as if debating on it.

“We can take the music box,” Phil interrupted, getting up to grab it from the nightstand. “Is there anything else you would like?”

It just shook its head, getting out of the bed as well. 

“Alright, then. Let’s get going.”

With the music box safely tucked away in Phil’s arm, the man led him out the door and through the maze of the castle. What had it said about stupid human architecture? Turns out all architecture sucks. 

The walk only took a few minutes before they were at another dark oak door. Phil easily swung it open, stepping inside with a grin.

At the sight of Techno, Wilbur jerked up from his spot on the… what could that even be called? A mess of blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, and… “He said yes!”

Tommy gripped a stuffed cow with both hands. “The entire family’s here!” He let out his screechy laugh. 

Did… did Techno count as part of the family? 

“He did say yes,” Phil said after the two of them quieted down, setting the music box down on the only table in the room, which had Wilbur’s guitar sat on top of it. “Do you know where you would like to lay down?” 

It shrugged, shifting a little closer to Phil. It would prefer to stick around the man, safe and protected, even if Wilbur and Tommy probably wouldn’t hurt it.

But probably’s enough.

“You wanna lay down next to me, mate?” Phil lowered his voice, wings spreading out. It hesitated before nodding. Phil let out a little trill at that, smiling as he herded Techno towards the pile of comfort. “You can lay down right next to me, mate. Do you want the corner or the edge?”

It paused. The edge would be safer, because it could run off if need be… but the corner looked so comfortable and protected.  “…Corner.” 

Phil nodded, letting Techno climb into the nest first. It pushed itself up against the wall in the corner, Wilbur moving near its feet to make room before Phil climbed in as well. Now, all four of them settled on the nest, Wilbur’s arms wrapped tight around Tommy (who looked mildly irritated about it). One hand slipped away, moving towards Techno, but when it tensed, he stopped.

“Think one of us is getting sick?” Wilbur said after a moment as Techno got comfortable, allowing Phil to slip his arm around it and pull it a little bit closer.

Phil shrugged as he motioned for Techno to sit up. “I’m not really sure yet.” When Techno did so, he wrapped his wing around the boy before letting them both settle back down. “Nobody’s had anything troubling them recently, yeah?”

“Nope! This Big Man is doing fantastic.” Tommy cuddled into his stuffed cow while leaning back against Wilbur. “I’ve never had a single thing trouble me, no, sir.”

Techno would’ve thought he was just doing a horrible job at lying if Wilbur hadn’t laughed at Tommy’s words. “I’m sure you haven’t, Big Man,” he teased, gently rubbing Tommy’s arm with one hand. 

Tommy nodded at the affirmation, puffing out his cheeks. Techno couldn’t help its soft smile at the sight.

technosoft! 

“Technoblade,” Tommy suddenly said, voice as authoritative as it could get for such a tiny child. “Do you not have a stuffie—stuffed animal?” 

It watched Wilbur stifle a laugh as it shook its head. 

Tommy pursed his lips, twisting from Wilbur’s grasp and towards the mound of stuffed animals. “Then let’s find you one. It’s important to have a stuffed animal when you’re nesting! It’s very, very important, actually.” He began to sort through the pile, lips pursing as he tossed unfitting ones to the side. It took far too long until he pulled out a large, chestnut colored… thing. “What about this one?”

No need to argue. A smile perked its lips. “It looks great.” 

“Exactly!” Tommy puffed out his cheeks, nearly barreling Wilbur over to hand the stuffed animal to Techno. “Now you need to name it.”

Name it? What exactly would it name the stuffed animal? 

It completely blanked, just staring at the…

Horse.

Staring at the stuffed horse in its hands like it had never held something in its life before.

NAME IT

Dude give it a good name

Give it something COOL like BRINGER OF DEATH

omg orphan stomper

^LMAO 

“...Carl.”

NOOOOOO THAT’S SO LAME

He fuckidfnv ruined it 3gwuehoipjs

CARL???

“Carl.” Tommy nodded slowly. “That’s a stupid fucking name.”

Phil burst out laughing, his wing tensing and untensing underneath Techno. “Tommy!” he scolded after it passed, still grinning. Techno’s smile grew just a little bit bigger. 

“What? It’s a dumb name. You can’t tell me Carl isn’t stupid.”

“Well, maybe I like the name Carl,” Techno bit back, though its voice stayed quiet. Wilbur let out a high-pitched laugh at that, leaning back against the wall as he bundled Tommy back up in his arms. 

“Why are you being so mean, hmm?” He ruffled Tommy’s hair as the boy let out a screech.

“Let me go, Wilbur! This isn’t very poggers of you, y’know!” His face flushed as he struggled, and Wilbur squeezed him tight before letting him go. Tommy glared, holding onto his stuffed cow. “I hate you, Wilbur.”

Wilbur hummed, eyebrows raising as Techno and Phil shared a look. “Sure you do, Toms. Hey, why don’t you tell Techno about your cow?”

Immediately forgetting the injustice done to him, Tommy brightened and turned back to Techno. He held the stuffed cow up as if the gods themselves coveted such a prize. “This is Henry. He will fuck your shit up.”

“Tommy, oh my gods—”

“What?” Tommy cut him off, as if he hadn’t known what he’d done wrong, but Techno recognized the tone, where he so desperately tried not to laugh. “I’m not wrong. Henry is a beast!”

“You’re too young to be cursing up a storm like that,” Wilbur scolded, lounging lazily against the mound of pillows behind him. “Now, can’t you quiet down? It’s late, and I’d like to get some sleep.”

“But it’s like a sleepover!” Tommy shook his head rapidly. “A big sleepover with everyone. I wanna have fun!”

“Have fun doing what? Playing with your stuffed animals like a little kid?” Wilbur perked an eyebrow at him, amused as could be. 

Tommy’s face flushed. “I’m not a little kid! Besides, you have a stupid stuffed animal, too. At least ours isn’t a fish.”

Phil stifled a laugh with his hand as Wilbur dramatically rolled his eyes. “Sallie is a fantastic stuffed animal, thank you very much. She’s great, and I don’t like it when you’re rude to her.” 

“Yeah, whatever, little man. If you’re rude to Henry or Carl, I’ll be rude to Sallie.”

“Wait.” Techno raised a hand, causing the two of them to look at it. “How can you dislike the name ‘Carl’ when you literally named yours Henry?”

Wilbur and Phil burst into laughter as Tommy began to sputter, face growing even more red. “Alright, little man, maybe you’re not as cool as I thought you were. I should’ve known you were a wrong’un…” he trailed off, crossing his arms and looking off to the side. 

“Alright, alright, can you be done now and just lay down?” Wilbur closed his eyes, pulling at a blanket. “C’mon, it’s late, and I really do want to sleep.”

“I agree. Everyone’s gotta be up for breakfast, okay? I’ll have them make us some pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” Tommy practically shouted, eyes glistening with excitement as he shot up.

Phil put his hand up. “Pancakes, but only if you can quiet down and go to bed. Then I’ll make sure everyone gets pancakes and syrups, and some strawberries, too.”

Now vibrating with excitement, Phil reached for the lamp before hesitating, glancing over at Techno. “...Would you guys mind if I played Techno’s music box?”

“No, that’s fine,” Tommy chirped as Wilbur shrugged. Phil grabbed the music box first, winding it up as much as he could before putting it back down and shutting the lamp off. 

Now surrounded by a safe darkness and soft music, Techno let itself curl up, gripping the stuffed horse tight between his fingers. Phil curled his wing around Techno a little bit tighter, hand moving to rub its scalp. 

It couldn’t help the soft purr that began to rumble out of its throat.

(Safe.)

Yep.

(Warm.)

So warm.

(Sleepy.)

As it yawned one last time, it silently mumbled its agreement. 

Phil woke in the morning in the same exact position as he fell asleep in. He blinked his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. 

The air around him remained silent. Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno must still be asleep, then. A fond smile curled his lips as he shut his eyes again.

He assumed Techno still didn’t quite understand what was going on. That didn’t matter that much, though—Wilbur and Tommy had practically adopted him, especially after Phil broke the news about Tommy’s mother. The poor boy had latched himself to Phil and Wilbur’s side after that, and then once Techno started joining them for meals, he went back to… well, as normal as the poor boy could get. He just needed some time to adjust and mourn. 

The thought fought with his smile. He definitely didn’t deserve what had happened to him. Nobody deserves to lose their mother.

His eyes opened again, and he glanced at the music box. A long sigh escaped him. 

Please, gods, keep his boys safe for as long as possible. If he lost them, he would lose his mind. It was hard enough to know his children would never be immortal like him. Not without the Goddess of death's sponsorship.

He glanced at Technoblade next. The boy curled up against his wing, tightly gripping that stuffed animal Tommy gave him. How cute. Underneath all of that horrendous trauma, he was just a little kid. A teenage boy who needed a family to keep him safe and love him.

Phil just wanted to provide that environment for him.

However, as he watched Technoblade, his blood ran cold.

The hybrid barely breathed, chest rising and holding for too long before exhaling. Holy shit. He’d never breathed like that—was he getting enough air like that? He should wake the boy up. 

“Technoblade?” He would’ve sat up, but he didn’t want to break his wing under the boy’s weight. 

No response.

He reached over and gently shook the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, Technoblade, it’s time to get up,” he murmured softly. Still, the boy just snoozed away, and Phil could feel his heart start to beat faster and faster. “Technoblade, come on, are you okay?”

“Dad?” Wilbur’s voice interrupted his panic. “What’s going on?”

“Wilbur.” He tried to hide his panic, glancing at the two boys. Tommy started to wake as well, drowsily lifting his head. “Take Tommy out for a moment. Now.” He spoke in an urgent, loud voice, and Wilbur’s wings flared. 

Phil didn’t usually talk like that, so Wilbur hurriedly pulled Tommy out of bed. “Hey, Toms, lets go outside for a moment, yeah? I know you’re tired, but c’mon.” Tommy let out a whine of distaste as Wilbur dragged him outside of the room, closing the door behind him.

With that safely out of the way, Phil turned back to Technoblade even harder. “Technoblade! Technoblade, c’mon, buddy, you need to wake up.”

He didn’t even know why Technoblade wouldn’t wake. The boy looked so peaceful—what had happened? Some tragic event that he could’ve prevented, maybe? He didn’t know. He really didn’t. 

So he just kept shaking the boy, wings spreading in his panic. “ Techno!”

Finally, the boy blearily blinked his eyes open, gaze hazy. An immediate feeling of relief rushed through him, but the dread stayed. Technoblade looked horrible and so exhausted, and maybe he’d gotten sick?

“Techno, buddy, are you okay? Can you sit up?”

He let something akin to a snort and a grumble escape him, but he slowly dragged himself into a sitting position.

“What’s wrong?” he fretted uselessly, wings trembling behind him. “Do you know? Can I help?”

“...Huh?” Technoblade reached up and rubbed at his eyes. “Nothin’ is wrong. ‘m sorry.”

Phil’s heart still beat hard in his chest. “You wouldn’t wake up, mate, I was just worried… you don’t need to apologize. Do you know what happened?” He still hadn’t taken his hands off the boy’s shoulders, but it didn’t seem like the boy cared, or maybe he just didn’t realize.

Technoblade blinked at him, eyes nearly drooping closed. “It’s a Piglin thing,” he slurred out. “Sorry.”

“A—a Piglin thing?” So Techno was a Piglin hybrid. Nice to know. 

He nodded, running his hand through his hair. “Mmh… hibernating. Didn’t realize… I’m sorry. I won’t.”

Hibernating? Oh, gods, Technoblade had just wanted to hibernate, and oh shit, Phil woke him up from it.

Wait.

He didn’t realize? How did he not realize he needed to hibernate? And why did he seem to think Phil didn’t want him to hibernate?

His mind went back to what Techno had told him, when explaining about Eleanor. He explained that he had been a…

His face fell. 

“Did they—did they not let you hibernate?”

Technoblade drowsily shook his head. 

“Oh, Techno…” He squeezed the boy’s shoulders before pulling him into a tight hug. “Oh, Techno, I’m so sorry.” He knew from experience how much it hurt to ignore your instincts like that. When he ignored the need to nest, his entire body burned with anxiety and pain. He couldn’t ever imagine someone actively neglecting Technoblade’s instincts like that…

The boy just huffed softly in his ear. 

“You can go back to sleep, Techno. Do you need anything? You can hibernate as long as you want, buddy. Do you need anything at all?” He couldn’t help the frantic words that escaped his lips.

Technoblade seemed to hesitate. “...Dunno. Never hibernated before.” 

Oh, gods, that hurt Phil far too much. “Okay. That’s okay. Why don’t you just try to go back to sleep, then? I’m right here. I can start the music box, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that.”

As gently as he could, he pulled away from Technoblade to turn to the little nightstand. He grabbed the music box and winded it all the way up before putting it back down and letting the music echo through the room.

He turned back to Technoblade, who already plopped back down. He reached over and began to pet the boy’s hair once more. 

Luckily, it didn’t take long for Technoblade to fall asleep, his breathing slowing down significantly once more. 

With that out of the way, Phil slowly stood up, cringing at the way the bed creaked. He moved to the door, slipping outside and being met with two wide-eyed boys. He quickly put his finger to his lips, motioning for them to be quiet for once, as he shut the door behind him. He waved them along as he started to head towards the dining room.

“I’m sorry for freaking you both out, boys,” he said after they were certainly out of earshot from Technoblade. “I—since we didn’t know what kind of hybrid Techno is, I didn’t… he went into hibernation, and I didn’t realize, and I thought—” His breath hitched as they hurried down the stairs.

“Is Technoblade alright?” Tommy chirped quietly, staring at his father’s back with wide eyes. 

Phil slowed down, inhaling slowly before exhaling. “He’s fine. I helped him go back to sleep, is all. I really didn’t mean to freak you guys out.”

“Dad, it’s okay,” Wilbur interrupted. “You we’re just worried about Techno. That’s fine.”

“Since when have we been calling him Techno?” Tommy complained as they entered the dining room.

Oh. Whoops. Phil hadn’t even noticed.

The next two weeks, besides meals and working, Phil spent his entire time in the library. There weren’t much on Piglins, but if Techno decided to stay, he wholeheartedly believed he should know everything he can to make it more comfortable for him.

So, as Phil learned, he began to change the little room of theirs. He added more blankets and constantly had the fire going, with either him or a servant continuously checking on it to make sure nothing burnt down. He would make it as warm as he could for Techno.

The lack of material had him searching deeper, though.

And in his search, he found information that made his skin crawl. 

He’d known the kid shared a name with a god, yeah. He’d known that they shared the name with a man he’d once known, a man who lost everyone’s respect.

So why did it say the god of blood had been missing for several centuries?

(He really wished Kristin were here. Maybe he’d finally get some answers.)

Chapter Text

After Techno woke, not much happened.

Nobody screamed at it for falling victim to its instincts. No one beat it or whipped it or drowned it for being unprepared for a fight. 

Phil just ruffled its hair, eyes glinting unusually, and welcomed it back to the land of the living. 

Wilbur and Tommy didn’t seem to care, either. Really, Tommy just demanded more pancakes, since Techno missed out on it after nesting. 

Techno also learned that it really, really liked pancakes. Tommy definitely complained about it when pancakes became more frequent, since Phil did it for Techno’s sake but not his.

Cute.

Honestly, the only consequence it received for doing something so scandalous was that Phil invited it to more family events. How strange, to try to adopt a Piglin-hybrid when surrounded by fellow avians. 

“Wilbur, I swear by the gods, if you don’t—”

“Dad, please, I never meant it to get this bad—”

“Bed. Now.”

Tommy and Techno shared a bewildered look.

Soon enough, though, they were all herded into Wilbur’s room after breakfast, Phil with a scowl and Wilbur with a long groan.

“I can do this by myself, you know,” Wilbur complained loudly as he outstretched his wing. Phil took an easy hold on it with a roll of his eyes.

He finally glanced up at Tommy and Techno, who were still just staring. “Alright, you two. Well… Tommy specifically.” His fingers began to work with the feathers, and Techno’s eyes widened. How dangerous. Touching hybrid parts usually meant punishment. Would Wilbur be punished?

But Phil just kept talking.

“Preening your wings is very, very important,” he lectured as Wilbur huffed. “It should be done at least once a day to make sure it doesn’t get tangled like Wilbur’s right here.”

“Dad,” Wilbur whined out, but Phil ignored him..

“Now, preening is very easy, so it’s stupid not to do it, because it’s how you protect your wings.” He made sure to shoot his son a glare at that. Wilbur whined again, face burning. “All you need to do is soothe through the feathers with gentle fingers.”

He sounds kinda like a poet 

how overdramatic lmfao

“It’s important to make sure all of your feathers are healthy when you do this. Make sure they’re glossy with no signs of breakage…” As if to prove his point, Phil leaned in to inspect Wilbur’s wing closer.

Techno’s eyes, however, were stuck on Phil’s large wings.

Phil was teaching it how to preen wings, even though it didn’t have any. Did that mean… it would be able to preen someone else’s? Specifically Phil’s?

It wanted to preen Phil’s wings. It wanted to protect Phil’s wings, it wanted to protect Phil, it wanted to protect protectprotectprotect—

geihsois calm down plz 

PIGLIN INSTINCTS LMFAO

Techno plz chill tf out 

It blinked rapidly, letting out a soft chuff as it returned to the conversation. Phil no longer talked about preening, instead bantering with Wilbur and Tommy.

It didn’t join in, but not because it couldn’t.

It was just content to listen.

Later that day, when night finally arrived and Techno tucked itself into bed, turned onto its side to look out the window, even if it couldn’t see much of anything. 

Phil knocked at the door. Its heart picked up in speed, but it inhaled softly to get it slow right back down.

“Come in,” it called after a moment, and it heard the door open and close

“Hey, mate,” came Phil’s soft voice. The bed dipped with a sudden weight. “How are you doing? Tired?”

It just hummed in affirmation.

“Me too, me too.” Phil let out a yawn as if proving his words. “You mind if I chat with you a bit before you head to sleep?”

“...Go ahead.”

Phil cleared his throat, shifting. “It’s Wilbur’s birthday in a couple of days. There’ll be two celebrations—one with just me, Wilbur, and Toms, and then another, actual party.”

Please don’t invite it to the party.

“You don’t need to worry about the big one—” Oh, thank the gods. “—but I wanted to know if you’ll join us for the other. We don't do anything super big. Just spend the day with each other, let him play his guitar, he’ll open my present… We have a big dinner together, too. We all help make it, and there’s cake…” Phil rambled on uselessly, hands moving as if to paint a picture. 

“Just the four of us?” That’s all that mattered, really. It’s not like it knew what most of that meant.

“Yeah. Just the four of us.”

So Techno nodded, clutching the bed sheets tight in his hand. He opened his mouth to say something as Phil shifted to get up.

Come on. Hurry up and say it. 

Phil stood.

Hurry up.

“Phil?” it finally said, turning its head to look at the man as he completely froze. 

“Yeah, mate?” Phil sat right back down, looking unbothered by the interruption to their usual routine. 

Its knuckles whitened as it gripped the sheets even tighter. “...Do you ever wonder who you are?”

A gentle hand found its scalp, offering gentle pets that had it melting. “Sometimes, mate, yeah. Do you wanna talk about it?”

It sniffled. “I just… don’t know who I am, sometimes. I don’t remember where I got my name. I know things I shouldn’t. I don’t—I don’t know. I mean, I look in the mirror, and it f-feels like I’m looking at someone I don’t even recognize.” It couldn’t help the way its voice grow a little bit louder, a little bit more frantic. “There’s something off about my reflection, about me. I see a person, and I-I know it’s stupid, but I don’t look like—I’m not—I look like a person but I know I’m not.”

Silence filled the air, so fragile that Techno refused to breathe in case it broke it. The voices murmured in its ear, trying to soothe it as it let go of the bedsheets. It just covered its face, as if it could hide itself from the world.

Phil didn’t stop petting it, even as he mulled over his words. “...Techno. Why do you think you’re not a person?” His voice stayed steady. (Techno didn’t know about the rage boiling his veins.)

It just shook its head, curling in on itself, fingers curling over its face. It couldn’t explain it—not right now. Not yet.

“Okay.” Phil breathed out a deep sigh, fingers dragging through its locks of pink. “I don’t know if it means much to you, Techno, but I think you’re a person. You can laugh, cry, eat, breathe, feel… it all seems like something only a person could do.”

Its ear flicked. 

“Would you like me to turn the music box?” Phil asked, voice gentle as he pulled his hand away. It just nodded, sniffling softly, so Phil did exactly that. Techno listened as the music box wound up, and soon enough, a gentle sound filling the air instead of a broken silence. “Alright. Good night, Techno.”

“...G’night.”

Phil stood and left, hands curling into fists as he did so, a snarl ready to be let loose. 

But he wouldn’t scare Techno, even if it killed him.

The next couple of days passed quickly.

Too quickly, actually. Techno couldn’t help the dread it felt at the upcoming event, even though it knew it’d be fine. Tommy and Wilbur started talking about it—it assumed Phil told them of its confirmation—while Phil would come in every night and discuss his plans for it.

They would all have their fancy breakfast together, then they’d go out and play in the snow. (Tommy’s idea, in case you couldn’t tell.) After they all got too cold for the snow, Phil would herd them back inside and make them some hot chocolate to sip on while he recounted a tale from his old days, filling up the time with widened eyes and unsubtle gasps until lunch time. They would have rabbit stew before Wilbur would put on another little show, singing a song and playing his guitar with it. They would all sit and listen to the gentle tunes, laughing when Wilbur would purposefully mess up or sing something in an awful tone. Then Phil would teach Techno how to play cards, and together, they’d kick Tommy and Wilbur’s ass at euchre. 

(Techno would catch onto the rules and strategies quicker than it should’ve. It would beat them like it’d played the game before.)

After all the screaming, worn down from arguments over points and plays, they would end the games and all head into the kitchen.

Phil didn’t normally trust the two of them in the kitchen, he would comment to Techno as he watched them goof off. However, every birthday, they would all cook a meal together, making steak and baked potatoes, and a vanilla cake with buttercream frosting for Wilbur. (Tommy preferred chocolate, apparently.)

It all sounded very fun, and true to its nature, Techno did have a lot of fun. The day went exactly as planned for all of them, grins nearly splitting their faces.

…But it still hadn’t asked. 

So now, as they all began to fetch the ingredients for dinner, Techno finally spoke up.

“Hey, Phil,” it murmured, hoping its voice stayed quiet enough for the two boys not to hear it. Much to its dismay, they all tilted their heads slightly, but only Phil looked at him. “...What is a birthday, exactly?”

Tommy screeched, Wilbur sputtered, and Phil froze.

“How do you not know what a birthday is?!” Tommy yowled like some sort of screechy cat, darting forward and pushing it further against the island it leaned against. “Birthdays are, like, the best day of the year. Do you not have best days of the year, Techno?”

“Uh.”

“Mate, that’s a little—” Phil winced at his own words, reaching for Tommy. 

But Wilbur cut him off. “A birthday just celebrates the day you were born. A birthday’s fun and whatnot. You usually have cake and open presents from your friends. A birthday is just a celebration of you.” Tommy waved his hands around before crossing them in annoyance at being interrupted by the two of them.

Techno’s never had one of those before. It just blinked owlishly at Wilbur.

“Do you… do you know what day you were born, Techno?” Phil tried, still cringing at himself. It made Techno want to laugh. 

It just shrugged instead. “The Nether doesn’t work like that,” it explained. Days, night. They didn’t exist in there. Why would it know the date of its birth? Though, it supposed the voices were keeping track. Any comments on that? it mused to itself.

Uhhhh nope 

tbh we’ve just been basing it off on when u got captured lol

Overworld is SO much easier

Nice to know.

They all stood there in silence, completely still except for Tommy, who kept gathering ingredients up. 

Finally, Wilbur spoke up.

“Why don’t you share a birthday with me, then?”

It blankly stared. 

“I mean, it would be fun. We could be like twins.” He seemed to get excited at his own idea, clapping his hands together loudly. It didn’t flinch. “Technoblade and Wilbur, two twins ready to take over the world!”

Phil let out one of his laughs, the one that always made Techno smile. “Will, are you sure you’re fine with that? Besides, you’re not twins, he’s older than you—”

“Shut it, I hear absolutely nothing from you.” Wilbur waved his father off. “We’re brothers now, y’know. Being twins isn’t that far off.”

“...He doesn’t even look like you,” Tommy grumbled, reaching up to touch his hair, the same color as Phil’s. 

Wilbur laughed, too. “That’s alright. He’s still our brother.”

Brother.

Did that mean it was part of the family? 

Part of the family.

Wilbur and Tommy. Its brothers.

It just kept repeating that to itself, staring wide-eyed as the family— its family—goofed off.

It… liked having a family. It liked Wilbur, Tommy, and Phil a lot. 

So what happened to not getting attached?

The voices began to mumble their defenses. Some were still grossed out by the idea of a family like this, but most of them were chattering uselessly about how they could just kill them anyway if something goes wrong. Besides, they were nice, weren’t they?

Yeah, they were nice. Techno could agree with that.

“So, Techno, I’ve assumed you haven’t cooked before?” Phil said as he began to gather everything he needed.

It blinked. Wow, it couldn’t believe Phil had been that blunt. Usually he’d cringe away for broaching an ‘uncomfortable’ subject. “No.” 

“Alright, then, come here, I’ll teach you some stuff.” Phil turned to blink at him, a wooden board on the counter and some… vegetables, probably, to have along with the baked potatoes. 

Well, guess it’d be learning something new today. It stopped leaning on the island and went over to Phil, ear flicking as Wilbur and Tommy started fighting about something useless.

“Alright, so, we’re gonna roast these peppers, but first we need to cut ‘em up.” Phil held up a knife. It froze for a moment, breath hitching before forcing itself to relax.

If Phil noticed the strange reaction, he didn’t react, just going through the basic ways of cutting up the bell peppers. He held the knife with expert fingers, and Techno only just now saw the calluses on his hands.

Chat might’ve been right, saying that Phil actually stood a chance against it. 

With two of the bell peppers chopped up neatly, Phil placed the knife to the side. “Alright, think you’re ready?”

“I can handle it.” It had experience with knives, after all. 

“Sounds good.” Phil turned, going to Wilbur and Tommy to order them around, instead. 

So Techno just focused on the bell peppers.

It fell into a steady rhythm, chopping them easily enough. It’s not like it was particularly hard; it just had to do its best to make smooth, even cuts. 

It had a lot of practice with cutting, even if with a larger weapon. Except the knife in its hand is not a weapon, it’s for cooking.

How strange.

As it began its last bell pepper, Tommy began to grow louder and louder. Wilbur had probably said something mildly stupid that pissed Tommy off, like always. 

Gods, what were they even fighting for? Didn’t they like… 

cooking? 

Shut up, it didn’t forget. 

It finally cued in on the conversation.

“You bitch, I know more about these birthday rituals than Techno does!”

“No, you don’t,” Wilbur mused, a smile perking his lips. “This is your first birthday in the castle, too. I think we have too many hands for Phil to deal with.”

“ Yeah, but you told me about it, and therefore I know more!”

“But you’ve never experienced it. You’ve never experienced a true Craft birthday. You’re both equal.”

“Equal?!” It’d never heard Tommy so offended. “As if! I am so much better. I am the Big Man. Techno—Techno, he’s just a Little Man, just like you and unlike me.”

“You’re a literal child.”

“Am not!”

Tommy decided it’d be a good idea right then and there to slam a cupboard closed. Techno had no clue one was even open. 

The loud noise had it flinching. It had its hands jerking, right as it brought the blade down to cut the pepper, and—

Blood?

blood! 

BLOOD

HOLY SHIT IT’S BEEN SO LONG 

BLOOD???

BLOOD POG

BLOOD

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD 

GIVE US BLOOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD 

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

GIVE US MORE BLOOD

“Uh-oh,” it mumbled weakly to itself before the full brunt of their screaming hit it with no mercy.

The searing pain found its head, first, stabbing right in between its eyes with some sort of fucked up ice pick. Then the pain melted, it melted right down to its bones to its skin to its chest to its veins to its hearttoitsfingertipstoitspalmtoitsneck—

c’mon, don’t you want the taste of blood?

don’t you miss it, Techno?

Don’t you miss the cheering?

Don’t you miss the spars?

don’t you miss the deaths?

don’t you miss the BLOOD?

Its back interrupted in pain, next, exploding up its spine as strange nails dug into its scalp. Something hovered on top of it, whispering, but it couldn’t decipher it over the screaming, the screaming, they were screaming so fucking loud why couldn’t they just SHUT UP—

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, it’s too loud, it’s too loud, it’s too loud, please make it stop it’s too loud I can’t, I CAN’T—”

Something warm pressed against its shoulders, and it snapped its jaw shut with a whimper and a snort, a pathetic attempt to cover up its terror. 

It heard shouting over the voices. From who? It couldn’t see. Maybe someone stood in front of it. Was that a blurry figure? A dark backdrop. It’s like it could reach out and disappear right into it, let everything melt away in the void of… feathers.

Right. Were those feathers?

“I need you to breathe with me, Techno,” came a smooth voice. It whimpered again. “Can you do that with me? See, here, feel—”

Something grabbed its wrist, and soon enough, its hand pressed against something warm, too.

“Okay, ready? I need you to breathe in with me, okay? One, two, three, four…”

Its fingers curled around the warmth, digging in nails and grime and dirt from the ring, but it inhaled as it felt the warmth rise. 

“Good, good, you’re doing so good. You’re gonna hold in your breath now, okay? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… yeah, just like that. Okay, now you’re gonna breathe out with me, okay? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

Then the voice started over, with less encouragement and more counting. 

Slowly, through each cycle, the world became less blurry, less confusing.

Detailed feathers, all spread out defensively, a protective wall surrounding it. Then blond, shoulder-length hair, and then a pale skin tone and striking blue eyes and…

“Phil?” it finally croaked out.

“Hey, mate,” he breathed softly. “Are you back with me now? Can you tell me where we are?”

“Uh…” The voices quieted down even more so, nearly silent. “K-Kitchen.”

“Do you know what we were doing?” 

Good question. Very good question. It tried to wrack its brain for an answer, squinting up at Phil. How could he get like that when he was so much shorter, Techno couldn’t help but wonder. “Uhm… we were… Wilbur’s birthday. Making dinner. I was, ah… I had a knife?”

“Yeah, mate, that’s right. Can you tell me a few things you can see?”

What? Why?

…Eh. It didn’t have anything to lose, and Phil had successfully calmed it down now. 

“Your blond hair. ‘N your wings—they’re blocking everything else.” His eyes traveled across Phil. “You’re wearing a black sweater. Your eyes are blue.”

“Alright, what about some things you can hear?”

“...Uhm.” There wasn’t much to hear. “The wind outside the window, I guess. Wilbur and Tommy are… arguing again. I think. Probably about somethin’ stupid.”

“Yeah, probably,” Phil agreed, and before either of them could think about it, Phil reached forward to pet its hair.

It accepted the touch.

“Alright, mate. Do you think you could tell me what happened?”

“...Tommy was bein’ loud.” It closed its eyes, utterly exhausted already. “Made me jump, and I—I cut… m-myself.”

Blood?

It winced again, but luckily, nothing came from their useless chatter. 

“Do you not like blood?” Phil asked gently, pulling his hand away from its scalp to reach for its hands. It cracked open an eye before offering the bleeding one to Phil, eye closing right away once more to avoid the sight. “I’m gonna grab you some bandages, okay, mate?” 

It nodded mindlessly as Phil slipped away, counting its breathing the same way Phil had instructed it to moments earlier. It heard rummaging, then a drawer closing, and soon enough, Phil’s footsteps approaching. 

“Am I alright to wrap your hand up, Techno?” Phil asked softly, waiting for Techno’s little nod before he began to bandage the measly wound.

Techno had suffered so much worse. Why did it freak out at such a tiny amount of blood? What had happened to it?

we can’t help but miss it, Techno

We’ve been quiet because you needed time to recover

but we need blood

blood for the blood god

It sucked in a sharp breath through its teeth. What the hell did they want, then? A sacrifice?

any blood will do tbh

But we do prefer something that can put up a fight! <3

Fuck off, it thought right back, but they just laughed in its ear.

“There we go, all wrapped up.” Techno took that as its cue to open its eyes, blinking at its bandaged hand. “That all good? Not too tight?”

It nodded, leaning back against the island it had collapsed against. It took in a deep breath before standing alongside Phil. 

“Do you need to rest?” Phil asked, head tilting. He blinked up at Techno, but it averted its gaze. “Sometimes it's tiring, when something like that happens, so it’s alright if you’d like to skip the rest of dinner.”

It hesitated. Yeah, its limbs were already weary, but it didn’t want to end the good times already. However, it supposed it may have already done that… still. “I’m alright.” It shook its head.

“Alright.” Phil just shrugged at that. “I’m gonna call in Tommy and Wilbur, then, alright? I wanna put these all in the oven as soon as possible.”

It laughed softly, relenting with a nod. Phil turned and rushed to grab his sons. 

Neither of them mentioned its little freak out. Neither of them looked at it differently, either. They just treated it as if it had been a break off of cooking. As if… they didn’t care that it ruined the day. 

Phil put it in charge of the whisks and mixing instead of the knife.

They all chatted easily, but it just stayed to the side and listened. They all seemed so happy. 

It didn’t ruin the day. Or maybe they were pretending.

But they cared enough to pretend it didn’t ruin everything. 

Why?

Soon enough, they put the cake in the oven and finished the steak off from the pan. Phil made everyone grab their own plates and make it themselves—although he did give Techno some breathing room, since it had no clue what to do—before heading into the dining room to eat.

They still chatted, digging into the food. Techno tried to ignore the strange, bubbling feeling threatening to come from its throat. 

It stared at its bandaged hand as it ate. 

After they finished eating, it only took another half hour until the cake finished. Wilbur spread the frosting on it, and Phil cut up the pieces in equal servings. They ate in the kitchen, this time, with messy mouths and horrible manners.

It smiled as it ate. 

But the day ended too quickly. 

Phil left both Tommy and Techno to tuck in Wilbur, and they only exchanged “good nights” before leaving for their own rooms. 

Techno couldn’t fall asleep as it stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t know how long it laid there, wondering about nothing and everything at the same time.

Its door creaked open, and it shot up, only to meet eyes with Phil.

“Oh—shit, sorry, mate, I thought you’d be asleep—I just wanted to…”

Oh. Its heart ached all over again. “You can come in.” It just laid right back down, grasping the stuffed animal it had secretly taken from the nest. 

Phil took the offer, gently shutting the door behind him as he drew closer, settling down on the bed next to Techno. He reached and grasped the music box, fingers tracing details once it sat in his lap. “...You’ve gone through a lot.”

Yeah, no shit.

“Was it just the blood that bothered you, back there?”

It hesitated, turning on its side to look at the window. Phil gave it time as it watched the stars. Then, it slowly shook its head.

“Do you want to tell me about it, or no?”

“...I told you about… y’know, how I know a lot of things I shouldn’t?” It dug its face into Carl. 

Phil gently began to pet its head. “Yeah?”

“It’s not just… remembering things. I also have… there’s these things. In my head. They tell me stuff I shouldn’t know.”

It could feel Phil stiffen. 

“I knew how to escape Ashnook without having ever set foot in the town. They told me where to go. They told me about my opponents. They taught me how to read, write, and speak…” It could never be without Chat. They were its friends, they practically raised it. “Sometimes they say weird stuff. I don’t know.”

“That’s…”

“But they’re not all good, not all the time. They… they like fightin’. They like… blood. When I was in th-the arena, and I didn’t want to fight, I’d let ‘em take over. They… they’re not happy, about not… getting blood.”

“Okay.”

“...You don’t believe me.” Who would?

“No, no, no, I’m just… trying to process it, Techno.” Phil’s fingers parted its hair almost unknowingly. “I was a mortal man gifted immorality by a goddess. There aren’t a lot of things I think are impossible.”

Oh, yeah. Chat had mentioned that he found a goddess as his wife. 

“Are they… dangerous?”

“I don’t know,” it admitted. “I don’t even know what they are.” 

It ignored the one voice who sounded so alarmingly similar to her. 

“They help me a lot, but I… I don’t really know why they want what they want. They say so many strange things that I just—I don’t understand it.” It dug its nails into the horse. 

“Like?” Phil pressed.

Its chest stuttered. “...Small things, things I don’t think they mean to say. Stuff like… how I’m not going to be young for long? Or something about… about a rivalry, with someone I don’t know, or… or…”

Phil waited patiently.

“Or they ask me for blood. They ask for blood for the-the blood god.”

The hand in its hair pulled away as if burned.

“Am I cursed by that bastard, or something?” It laughed weakly to itself, ignoring the way its chest ached at the lack of contact.

Phil inhaled slowly. “I… I don’t know, Techno.”

It sighed deeply. “They’re whatever, I guess. They just—they helped me a lot, so I can’t hate them. They’d be there, when I was getting… p-punished. They’d tell me stories to distract me. They told me I would escape, and I wouldn’t have to get hurt anymore.” Its chest shuddered again, and it let out a whimper. “I think I would’ve gone insane without them. They were with me when they poisoned my tea, when they wouldn’t give me medical attention after being stabbed, when they made me kill Eleanor—” 

Phil froze, but Techno didn’t seem to notice its mistake.

“They kept me calm when they filed my tusks down—” At the reminder, it reached up to brush its thumb against the regrowing features. “When I couldn’t fight back because I knew they’d just kill me . I hate them, Phil. I fucking hate them.”

Phil took in another sharp breath, squeezing its shoulder. “You said it was… which town?”

“Ashnook, I think.”

Phil’s free hand curled into a fist, fury painting his gaze in red. “...I see. I’m sorry that happened to you, Techno. You have suffered far too much for a child.”

“I feel like that’s a recurring theme.”

“Yeah.” Phil huffed a soft laugh, thinking back to Tommy. “Would you like me to play your music box?”

It nodded, so Phil began to turn it until it could no longer be turned. Then he set it back down on the nightstand and let it play.

“Good night, Techno,” he murmured softly, squeezing the boy’s shoulder before slipping away and out of the room, clicking the door shut behind him.

Now he let the fury show in his face, eyebrows furrowed and a snarl on his lips. 

He would destroy Ashnook. He would claim that entire Kingdom as his own. 

“Hope you won’t mind some extra visitors, Kristin.” His footsteps echoed down the hall as he rushed away, wings looming and covering from wall to wall. 

Time to live up to his name.

Chapter Text

Techno did not sleep well that night.

There were no nightmares, no panic attacks. Something just… felt off. The voices were mumbling—they agreed with that sentiment. That just made the uneasy feeling worse.

So when the sun just barely started to rise, it dragged itself out of bed. It yawned, abandoning Carl on the bed but bringing the blanket with it as it headed towards the door. 

It didn’t know what it would do once it was outside; maybe look around for Phil, maybe see if it could make itself an early breakfast of some sort. Anything besides lying in bed while staring at the ceiling.

So it walked through the caste grounds, simply wandering as if that would tire it out. 

However, once it heard noise, its ear flicked. Somebody else was awake this early in the morning? How interesting. 

It drew closer to the door, which only had a crack of it open.

“Puffy said she would be here within a day,” somebody commented. Techno didn’t know who they were referring to nor the speaker. 

“That’s good. Ideally, I don’t want to leave them alone for too long.” Phil’s voice, this time. “I can trust that you can make sure they get fed and explained to?” 

“Of course, Emperor.” Subtle noise of a page flipping. “There’s no need to worry about them. Do you have an idea of how long you’ll be gone?”

“Not until that entire place is burnt to the fucking ground.”

A soft laugh. “Not too long, then. A few weeks, you think? Who should I call to take over your duties? Bad? Quackity?”

“Let’s go with Bad this time.” Metal against metal. “I want him to shadow Wilbur, though. This is a good chance for him to get experience with ruling the Empire.”

Techno tilted its head. Did Phil plan to die or something? Or maybe he just wanted a break. 

The servant, most likely, continued on. “Yes, sir. Is there anything else I should be concerned over, or is this just the usual?”

“It’s just the usual. Although, I suppose… I don’t know how Techno would react. I’m sure he wants to burn that place down as much as I do, but…”

It finally knocked. Immediately, they went silent. It tried not to smile, but it couldn’t succeed. 

“...Hello?”

“‘S just me,” it murmured, somehow keeping the amusement out of its voice.

The door practically swung open to reveal Phil and an elder servant, who blinked at it rapidly. “Ah—hah. Hi, Techno. How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to get the gist.” It leaned against the doorway. “You’re off to burn down Ashnook?”

Phil blinked before averting his gaze as if guilty. “...Yeah. I should’ve done it years ago. I’m sorry it took me so long, Techno.”

“Let me come.”

Phil sputtered, eyes widening and wings flaring, knocking the poor servant back. “Oh, shit, sorry—Techno, you absolutely cannot come, it’ll be dangerous—”

We’ll be fine

plus the blood sounds nice :)

REVENGE POG

“Maybe.” It shrugged. “But I want to. They… they deserve it.” Its gaze hardened, losing the amusement of Phil’s stupidity. “I want to burn it down and I want them fucking dead.”

Phil sucked in a breath. “Techno, you could get hurt.”

“Not really.”

“Your confidence doesn’t assure me.”

“It’s not just confidence, Phil.”

They stared at each other, unblinking and waiting for the other to back down. Silence filled the air. 

“...Fine.” Phil broke first. Techno’s lips perked into a grin. “But you have to do exactly what I say, do you hear me? I can’t have you getting seriously hurt. I’m immortal, so just let me take whatever hits come our way. Is that understood?”

It nodded. “But I think we should wait until, ah… Puffy gets here.”

Phil stiffened.

“You can explain what’s going on to Wilbur and Tommy yourself. There’s no reason for you to rush off and worry them for my sake.” Techno shook its head. “Besides, you need rest, and I’m hungry.”

“I…” Phil faltered before letting out a long sigh. “Alright. Alright, let’s wait till Puffy gets here. When did you say that was gonna be, then?” He turned back to the servant.

“By the end of the day.”

Phil sucked in a breath. “Alright, I can last that long, I guess. I’ll… get some rest.”

“Good.”

With that, it herded Phil right back into bed.

(And if it slept besides him for a few hours, then that is absolutely nobody’s business.)

Once Phil got a sufficient amount of sleep, Techno herded him to Wilbur and Tommy instead, arms crossed as it supervised.

Tommy begged to come, of course, but Phil wouldn’t let the gremlin. Wilbur just seemed nervous about taking over Phil’s duties for that long, even with someone else’s help. 

This time, Phil brought it into the weaponry to let it choose its own weapons. It took a netherite sword and axe, not bothering with a shield. It donned armor for the first time, too, but it took it off so Phil could actually fly with it.

And wow, it got to fucking fly with Phil.

The two of them stood on a wide-set balcony outside of Phil’s room, probably built for this exact reason. 

“Alright, mate.” Phil closed the balcony door behind them before turning to the setting sun. “I hope you don’t mind being carried?”

Techno blinked at him. “...Won’t I be way too heavy?” 

A laugh escaped Phil as he shook his head. “I’ve been blessed by a goddess, Techno. You absolutely aren’t too heavy. It might get annoying, but nothing I can’t handle.”

It chewed its lips before relenting. “Alright. How are you gonna carry me?” No way this would be comfortable. 

Phil spread his arms wide. “C’mere.”

Techno did so, and soon enough, Phil just scooped it up like it weighed absolutely nothing. It practically squealed as he did so, wrapping its arm around his neck and holding tight. 

“I won’t drop you,” Phil teased as it sent him a glare. “Sorry, I know it’s not the most cool way of being carried. Also, it’s gonna get pretty cold. Think you could handle that?”

It hesitated before nodding into the warm, furry coat Phil had given it, cuddling into his chest. “I can handle it.”

And then Phil stepped off of his balcony with no other warning.

It let out a muffled scream at the sudden drop, eyes squeezing shut until it stopped just as soon as it began. Instead, they sailed forward, but Techno still didn’t open its eyes as the wind blew in its face.

It clutched Phil tight, breathing heavy.

“You can open your eyes, mate,” Phil shouted over the wind. “I’m still going slow. You’re safe.”

WE’VE NEVER FLOWN BEFORE

Oh my god this is so cool

Y’ALL 

we’re flying omg we’re flying 

It opened its eyes, met with the blinding scenery of the sunset from above the treelines. Orange and red bled through the skyline, painting the white landscape with more color than it had ever seen, illuminating the trees. Wind blew in its face, sending its hair back into Phil’s chest.

It perked as it watched, eyes wide.

“Can I go a little faster?”

It nodded as hard as it could. 

With that, they were soaring over the trees. They flew over the trees and through the sky, and Techno nearly forgot about its thoughts of mass murder.

It just rested against Phil’s chest. 

They spent the night flying, hurrying through the distance to get to Ashnook. They were both hungry for revenge, it would seem. They were both angry, and the combination would prove to be dangerous.

Once the sun started rising, Phil landed them not far out from the walls of the capital. Techno couldn’t help the way it stared. 

The sight of looming cobblestone brought back memories it did not need.

“Alright, Techno.” Phil reached up and ruffled Techno’s hair. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna be doing most of the fighting here, alright?” He shot the boy a disapproving look. “Don’t make me regret bringing you along.”

“I would never,” Techno teased right back, watching as Phil pulled their things out from his ‘inventory.’ Definitely a trick Techno would need to learn, if it could. 

Soon enough, they were all geared up, and Phil began to run through the plan. 

They would stick to getting rid of those in positions of power, leaving the entire thing in ruin. Then they’d burn the centerpieces down—the gladiator ring and the castle.

Techno called dibs on the gladiator ring, and Phil relented. 

Unsurprisingly, the two of them worked together quite well. Phil didn’t trust it with a sword at first. Not until it saved him from a nasty blow to his back. 

Because Techno had experience. More experience than Phil could possibly imagine.

So the two of them watched each other’s backs when they fought the guards of the nobility, of the princes and princesses of the snarling King.

Most of the adventure came to Techno in a blur. A mix of murder and comfort, a mix of blood and love. 

It had no complaints, and it often fell asleep purring into the crook of Phil’s neck. Phil happily let it, chittering and trilling as if to replace its music box. 

“Hey, Phil,” Techno had said one morning, washing the blood from its hair from the night before. “Do you usually let kids tag along in your mass murderous adventures?”

It watched Phil shrug as he scrubbed at his face. “Well, not usually, but you’re capable, and, well… if anyone was to get revenge for this, it should be you, I think.”

“That’s fair.” It watched the river run red with watered down blood. “The days are blurring.”

Phil nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and it’s going by quick. It’s much nicer to do this with company.”

“I know, right?”

They both went quiet as it realized.

It shouldn’t know. But it absolutely did.

It ignored its own words and changed the subject for the sake of both of their sanities. “What do we have left?”

“We need to burn down both buildings and kill the King off.”

Techno nodded, eyebrows furrowing as it pulled its hair back, letting it soak its poor shirt. With that out of the way, it moved onto the blood on the arms. “...I expected him to be here.”

Phil tossed his head to finally look at Techno, who didn’t notice. “Who?”

“Just because I was part of a gladiator pit, doesn’t mean I was… well… I—there was a guy. He had… control over my rights.”

Phil stared at him for a few moments, processing it. When he realized what Techno meant, he froze. “Oh, hell, mate, that’s rough,” He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Yeah, I know.” Techno shifted on its feet, staring down at the ground. “He doesn't live in Ashnook, so it makes sense that he’s not here. Why would he be? I just… was hoping to maybe get some closure. You know, maybe curse him out and stab him instead of being a coward. But he’s not here.”

“I’m sorry.”

It shrugged, eyes fluttering closed just for a few seconds of peace in this hellish landscape. “It’s alright. Just annoying, if anything. I don’t… it makes sense.”

“Just ‘cuz it makes sense doesn’t mean it's fair.” Phil backed away from the river, sufficiently clean. “You deserve your revenge.”

The wind blew through its wet hair, sending more water down its back, wetting its shirt. “Maybe so.” It blinked down at the water. 

Snow began to fall as Phil shifted closer, wings spreading out to hide Techno from the weather. “We don’t have much to go. You excited to go home?”

“I think so.”

“Gods are not meant to die, you know.” 

His ear flicked, and he looked up at the looming figure. “Goddess.” He dipped his head in respect as she adjusted her hat, the wispy, translucent covers not hiding the way her eyes eerily glowed.

“They’ve done something to Foolish.” She crossed her arms.

Yes—all the Old Gods were quite close, weren’t they? The god of immortality and the goddess of death had much in common, even if they may seem like opposites. Their powers must work together, forever intertwined, if they wished to actually work. 

“Who?” He played dumb.

“XD, specifically, I think.” She stepped forward, the wind blowing through the white and red trees of his domain. “I know you two are… what did he call you? Rivals?”

“Rivals?” he parroted, dropping his sword onto the ground. This goddess posed no threat, and he did not wish to upset her—especially because his own role intertwined with hers, as well. “XD and I barely talk. What’s he going about saying now?” 

She stepped closer, feet digging through the glowing grass. “He’s done something to Foolish, and he’s citing you as the reason.”

Uh-oh. Maybe he should not have dropped his sword, not with the anger visibly coursing through her veins in an eerie, blue glow. “I apologize, Kristin, but I really don’t know what you mean. Well—”

Her head snapped up at his hesitance.

“He said he was going to just, like, take away immortality, at least partially? And he wanted to use Foolish to do it. He said he wasn’t going to hurt him, so I… really didn’t think anything of it. I mean, XD has a domain over… over humans, with their dreams, wishes, and ambitions. I really didn’t think…”

Kristin clenched her hands into fists, once, twice, before letting out a long sigh. “You are… far too young, god of blood.”

“Foolish… is okay, right?” he asked meekly, looking up at her with wide eyes as he shifted on his feet.

“Physically, yes, he’s fine, but he’s just been off recently. I’ll have to see whatever they blackmailed him with—those fuckers.”

He awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Blood god, next time somebody comes to you with even the vaguest hint of threat to my friends, you will tell me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, goddess.”

“...You’re lucky you’re but a child, still. Just wait till you’ve grown. Either you’ll be our downfall or our savior.”

And just like that, she disappeared from his domain. He dropped down onto the grass with a gasp of relief.

The Old Gods were terrifying.

They continued on their journey. Phil dropped them off by the gladiator pit first, and with his sword in his hand, he slaughtered those who opposed the two of them. While Phil worked with that, Techno walked around with a can of flammable alcohol, dousing every wall and floor with the stuff. 

It ignored the way it flinched at the sight of the pit. It ignored the entrance to the room where it had met Cebci, the woman who helped it escape. 

It especially ignored the rooms with the cells, as if it would find Eleanor’s rotting corpse there, waiting to ask why it hadn’t taken her with it.

Most of all, it couldn’t ignore how much it wanted to set this place ablaze. 

After reuniting with Phil, the two of them headed towards the entrance, the scent of blood nearly gagging it as the voices screamed in excitement. They wanted revenge more than it did, it would seem. They wanted to destroy all memories of its past.

It knew the world didn’t work that way, but part of it could hope that, too.

Phil gave it the flaming match, and it tossed it, watching the building go up in flames.

“You’re going to regret doing this, XD!”

Was that his own voice? 

“You may think you’ve unlocked the ability to grow stronger, but all you are doing is insulting the Old Gods. They will not let you get away with this!”

XD tilted their head, and although they had no face, he could see the grin. “ The Old Gods would not interfere for a god as pitiful as you .”

He bared his teeth, taking a step back. Where were they?

His gaze found the edge of the cliff stuck behind him. Down there, thousands upon millions of souls screamed for vengeance on those who had harmed them.

He looked back at XD, lip curling. “You know you can’t kill me, so you do what? Resort to petty tricks?”

XD let out a snarl. “ Petty tricks? You call conning and Old God a petty trick ?”

“Yeah… but I assume that’s quite the accomplishment for a god like yourself.”

“ Shut your mouth. You are lucky the Old Gods did not come to snuff out your life themselves.”

“Kristin won’t be happy about this,” he mused, remembering when she had forced her way into his domain. “Especially now that she knows for certain that you’re the cause of Foolish’s unrest.”

They hissed. “ Forgive me, but Kristin does little to scare me. She’s a coward. ”

“Yep. Definitely. I believe that.”

Another step closer made him step back. The sole of his foot pressed against the cliff’s edge, and a few tiny pieces of rock broke off and slid down the edge of the ravine. “ Although I may not be able to kill you, Technoblade, I can ruin your immortality. ”

“‘Ruin’ my immortality? How do you ruin immortality?”

“ I’ll just make you half mortal. ” 

Everything is aching by the time they have fled, laughing like maniacs from the shouts of the remaining nobility. There’s a scratch on Phil’s side, a graze from a sword, but it had stopped bleeding within a few minutes of occurring. 

They don’t need to flee. Both of them could keep fighting for hours, unstoppable and invincible. However, with loud chirps and trills, Phil convinced Techno that it had to get some rest, or else it would collapse from exhaustion. 

The voices were still screaming their appreciation, their excitement, and it realized they were right. It did kind of miss this, the feeling of blood on its skin and the heavy panting from both sides as their swords clashed. 

However, it most enjoyed the way Phil would help it wash off the enemy’s blood, patting its head and murmuring reassurances and praises, even if it had nothing to be reassured for. It would definitely not complain. 

It could enjoy this sort of life, if it really wanted to. 

“Tomorrow,” Phil had said, staring up at the stars from their camp. “Tomorrow, we’ll be storming in the castle. Do you think you’re ready?”

“A good night’s sleep would help, first,” it joked back, gripping the tent’s edge as it stared at the trees. “Then we can go back.”

Phil nodded. “Then we can go home.”

Yeah. Home.

The next day came quickly, the sun barely cracking the sky before they were already heading out, weapons in hand. They made quiet banter on their way, elbowing each other, and Techno realized.

It certainly did not feel like a sixteen year old.

Their entrance to the castle was met with little resistance. They had thinned out most all of their forces by now—if not through murder, then through terror, causing those to flee before they could even have a chance to fight the duo. The few who stayed either had a death wish, or a loyalty to their country it could not comprehend. 

“Techno!” Phil called over the noise of clashing swords. Their backs nearly pressed together as they fought through the soldiers. “You should go ahead. I fear that the royal family might be fleeing.”

It faltered as it drove its sword through the abdomen of some foolish soldier, blood painting the netherite. “And leave you here?”

“I’m immortal, mate!” He let out a cackling sort of laugh. “I’ll keep them away from you. Get there and get your revenge.”

A grin spread across its lips. “Yeah, I can do that. I can do that just fine.” 

With that, it bolted forward, shoving past another soldier and sending them sprawling to the ground. Some soldiers turned to follow it, but Phil had them focusing right back on him when he stabbed one through the soldier.

It hurried down the corridors, to where the map said the throne room sat. (It didn’t know how Phil got the map, either.) Its footsteps echoed through the clean, quartz walls, painted with blues and golds that screamed ‘I have no self-identity’. 

Finally, it came face to face with a double door that stretched to the top of the ceiling—it had to tilt its head back to see all of it. 

How obnoxiously extravagant. 

It pushed the doors open with a single kick, enjoying the way it crashed against the wall, echoing through the throne room. 

Three people stood there, discussing in hushed voices and exaggerated hand movements. When the doors crashed against the wall, they all startled to face it. 

An older man, with a balding head and a large stomach. Gold decorated nearly every inch of his skin, a beard growing long, nearly to his stomach. He wore purples and reds, a royal color that had its lip curling in a snarl.

An unassuming woman, with blonde hair and a gold and purple dress that ended at the floor, fake flowers placed on top of the sleeves and waist. Her blue eyes flashed as she took a step back, heels clicking loudly against the floor as she did so.

A different man, one much younger than the other. He had the same blond hair and blue eyes, but he clutched a sword tightly in one hand. 

The older man didn’t speak. Didn’t explain himself. It knew he must be the King. No introductions were needed.

Instead he waved his hand forward, and the young man raised his sword and dashed forward. Its eyes snapped open with a wide grin as their blades clashed, the sound of metal on metal having it snort in excitement. 

So their blades danced, and it grew even more excited when it realized the man actually had some skill. He knew how to wield his sword, how to stand to make sure it didn’t knock him over in one fell swoop. When it swung, he would swing back and send the sword to the opposite direction, nearly yanking its entire body with its own strength.

When it advanced, he would push back until they were back in the same position, circling around each other with gleaming eyes. They had much to fight for; both for their fathers. 

But it knew it would win when he made a fatal mistake. 

Small things could cause your death in battle. It knew that. It knew that more than anybody else could. 

So when he stumbled, losing his footing by just an inch, it rammed its shoulder against his and ran its sword through his chest when he stumbled. Blood poured from the wound, soaking the purple cloth covering it. 

It ripped the sword out, letting blood splatter against the ground. With trembling hands, he reached up to the wound, staring at it.