Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Technoblade of Himmelblock first received the summons to the palace of Manberg, he thought it was an esteemed honor. It came in a silk scroll with elegant handwriting, signed by the king himself. As someone who came from a decent family from a small city-state, this was an incredibly big deal. To be called by the king could mean a great many small things, but the one big thing it brought was great prestige, a gift that every knight sought. 

He made plans to ride out to Manberg the very next day on his favorite horse Carl, his finest clothes packed safely in a sturdy leather satchel and his trusty sword clipped to his belt. 

When Techno arrived, he was met with great fanfare by his peers and the ministers of Manberg. The king was waiting at the top of the steps, his neck length black hair hidden under a heavy gold crown, a fur lined red cape lazily draped over his shoulder.

“Technoblade of Himmelblock! I heard a great many things about you,” the king said as Techno dismounted, instantly bowing lowly.

“All good, I hope,” replied Techno, his voice not changing tone or rhythm. 

“What else is there to say about the greatest knight in the realm? Come, come, get up.” Technoblade picked himself up and trailed after the fast paced king. He was a shorter man, someone Techno easily towered over. Someone he could probably punt into the sun-- but he had to remind himself this was a king he was talking about. 

The steward stopped him at the entrance, glancing at Techno’s sword with deep intensity. With a sigh, Techno unclipped it and handed it to the older man, continuing forward into the palace.

They entered a grand hall that was lavishly decorated. The king took his seat upon his throne while Technoblade stopped in the middle of the hall, his fist balled up and pressed against his chest as he waited for the king’s next words.

“I will turn you into a living sword,” the king said with a toothy grin, though his teeth looked sharper than most. Something predatory. 

Still, to be of use to a king was a knight’s honor. “I will happily serve you,” Technoblade pledged, bowing his head once more. 

The king laughed raucously. “Good, good…” 

If only Technoblade had known what that meant. 

Because he didn’t realize until his hands were bound by the force of ten men, pinning him to the ground of the hall in front of everyone who claimed to respect and admire him. His neck was pressed to the floor, and his chestnut hair was yanked back so he could continue to make eye contact with the king as a courtier entered the room with a large bowl of glowing red rocks. 

“Do you know what these are, Technoblade of Himmelblock? These are Sanguis shards. My mages have been developing them since my father’s reign. Thank you for volunteering to be the next test subject.” The king said it with such genuine grace, but it was sickening to hear in this context. 

Sanguis shards-- who in their enlightened age hadn’t heard of those sickly cursed rocks? They were said to be the crystalized blood that dropped from the fatal wound the Blood God died from. Their magic was so potent that most mages were overwhelmed before they could even go near it-- so how was this king wielding it so casually? Why was no one else reacting to them? 

Techno could feel it like heat, waves radiating off the ruby shard and crushing his skin. Someone grabbed his jaw, prying his mouth open, and the king dangled a single shard above it, as if he were a master rewarding his pet. 

“Eat up, dear Technoblade.” The shard dropped, and those that held him down clamped his mouth shut and he felt himself gagging on the sharp edges of the shard as it slowly slid down his throat and into his stomach, threatening to explode him from within. 

Once they confirmed the shard went down, the king snapped his fingers and an underling took his place, grabbing the shards and shoving them down Techno’s throat, this time multiple at once. He didn’t even have time to vocalize his pain as more shards went down. His body was freezing up and exploding with heat at the same time. His vision became blurred, the scene growing dimmer and then bright red like a splatter of blood. 

They stopped feeding him the shards at one point, but so much time elapsed or maybe none at all, that Techno didn’t realize. His mouth was open, instinctively waiting for more torture as he spasmed on the rich carpet of the room, tearing at the fabric in agony. 

People watched him from afar, while others circled him, watching with greedy eyes to see if he’d survive this. Techno himself didn’t know. “He’s still going,” someone murmured curiously.

“Most subjects stop moving at this point. His Majesty will be glad to hear of this.”

Technoblade willed himself to scream at them, but his throat was filled with daggers ripping at the flesh within him. His heart beat faster and faster, and he felt something attach itself to his very soul. 

Then he just stopped. He just stopped moving. It’s not like he didn’t want to, but he physically couldn’t. His fingers wouldn’t move and his toes wouldn’t curl and he couldn’t even feel his arms. 

There was a sudden applause and the jarring sound of cheering. Someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up, moving his arm in his periphery view. He stared in horror at the sharp silver color his arm was… Like a sword. 

He was becoming a living sword. 

“His Majesty was wise in choosing such a specimen! Who else but Technoblade of Himmelblock would be able to withstand the Sanguis shards?”

Everything after that was a blur. 

He was made to eat a Sanguis shard every day until he could become a fully formed sword. He was a long spatha, his hilt decorated with rubies, and a gold engraving lining the blade. The only honor the king granted Technoblade was for him to keep his name.

Technoblade-- but not of Himmelblock. He was now Technoblade, the Holy Sword. 

He was laid on a plush red pillow and presented before the king. His hilt was harshly grabbed and he was presented grandly to a crowd of adoring citizens, none knowing the horrors that created the very sword they revered. 

“This is the sword to end all wars,” the king declared, but it was the exact opposite. The holy sword started wars and devastated homes and started fires. Technoblade of Himmelblock was well-acquainted with the ways of war, but it wasn’t meant to be seen everyday. It was always some new blood, some new cadaver his wielder almost tripped on. With each kill, a new voice attaches itself to the shards-- to his soul. 

Even his own city-state of Himmelblock was nothing against the sheer might Manberg manifested with a sword created from the Sanguis shards. 

And then the king that tormented him so was suddenly old and tangled in his silk sheets, barely able to heave a sigh. His successor held his hand and the old king presented a familiar plush pillow and a legendary sword, and the nightmare continued. 

It was cyclical. 

Blood spatters and dead children; dry grass and cold winds; lost hope and numbness. The Manberg hegemony grew over city-states and kingdoms. Technoblade stopped counting the years after the second century of this existence. He was no longer human and no longer aged according to the universal laws of man. He was an immortal weapon that was cleaned tediously every week, never allowing rust to or dirt to consume him. He was a cherished sword but a neglected person. 

Technoblade didn’t want to be a sword anymore after the four hundred and twentieth year. It hit him like a brick on a window when he suddenly wished to die. Or better yet, if he could go back and change it all, he would without a second of hesitation. 

He found himself praying to the very god that consumed his soul with his blood. Please, if you’re able to, save me from this sufferin’. It’s something beyond unbearable. 

He didn’t expect a response. Technoblade had never been the religious type-- he didn’t believe in the existence of gods. He thought there was an empirical story behind the shards and he found magic to be natural to the earth rather than a deity granting them privileges.

But a voice unlike the thousands collected on the battlefield rumbled in his mind. It was like the sound of a war horn and the cries of the exhausted. What do you expect me to do?

I am human, I swear it, Technoblade cried out, I want to go back-- I want them to pay. I want them dead!

The voice rumbled approvingly. You truly are the perfect vessel, though most unwilling. I can grant you your revenge, but I am attached to your soul, not your body. I remain with you as you will remain with me. 

In a flash of light something truly changed. He was no longer in a glass case on display in the throne room of Manberg, but in his homely room in Himmelblock. The last time he’d been in Himmelblock was when he was quelling a rebellion. 

He had hands again. His fingers felt unfamiliar but not unused. He flexed them with wonder as he looked around. His old, unstable wooden desk sat in the corner of the room, a stack of papers and a jar of ink messily staged on the surface.

He released a deep breath, and then sharply inhaled, a shaky tear falling out of his eye. He quickly wiped it away. He pulled himself out of the bed, lifting his leg and letting it establish itself on the ground before resting his weight on it. 

He fell on his face. 

As soon as he got used to his limbs, he climbed to his window, watching the servants of the estate bustle about on their completely normal day.

But for Technoblade, this was the day he was fourteen again. 

Chapter Text

Technoblade didn’t know what to do first-- he was overwhelmed with opportunity. To come back so far in the past-- even before the precipitating event, it was a true gift, and one he would not squander.

He stood in front of his mirror for minutes, just staring at his appearance. It was no longer long brown locks and icy blue eyes, but rather blossom pink and crimson red. It seemed as though the Sanguis shards imprinted in his soul irrevocably changed his appearance, but that also meant that the voice-- the Blood God-- was telling the truth: he kept everything that he earned during his years of hardship. 

The mana, the strength, and--

The voices. 

They decided now was the perfect time to re-emerge in his consciousness, yelling at him, laughing at him, crying to him. It would’ve been soul shattering had he not already endured hundreds of years of this. 

Like he’d done so before countless times, he allowed them to speak but paid little mind to them. They had nothing of value to add and he had things to do.

First things first, he had to get his affairs in order. He had to find out what year it was exactly-- maybe he was really thirteen or fifteen, but there was a wall in the gardens he spotted that he distinctly remembered being built before he was sixteen. 

He stuck his head out of his bedroom door and found a couple of maids loitering around, chatting with their hands full of linens. He gestured one of them over, and she frightfully scurried over to him, clutching the linens tightly as he opened the door wider for her. 

“What can I help you with, Young Master?” she asked softly. Her eyes couldn’t help but fixate on his new appearance-- he couldn’t really blame her, these features weren’t exactly normal, and they were new and sudden on a familiar face such as his. 

“How old am I?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“How old am I-- and what day is it today?” 

“Uh, fourteen, and it’s… May 7th?” May 7th… That was an otherwise mundane day to cross time and space for. Perhaps something was going to occur in the coming days that would help move his plans along-- what those plans were, he hadn’t the slightest idea yet-- he didn’t even know he could go back in time, but Technoblade had one advantage no one else had-- he knew the future. 

It also helped to have the power and magic of the Sanguis shards still in him, though cursed they may be. 

The maid’s eyebrows pinched together with concern. “Are you alright, Young Master? You woke up quite late today.” She reached her hand up to his forehead, but he reeled back, unconsciously grabbing her wrist and bending it back. The voices hissed with glee, egging him on-- it was only when she screamed in pain that he let go. 

He hadn’t been touched by another person in centuries, besides when he was being used as a sword-- her hand coming for him felt the exact same way when his peers had grabbed hold of him and forced him to the ground. 

He shuddered at the thought. 

“I apologize. Uh… You’re dismissed. Sorry again.” 

Technoblade waited a couple of minutes until he knew she’d be further down the hall. One thing was for sure-- he needed fresh air. Usually he’d clear his mind by going through his katas alone, but he didn’t know if he could stomach the sight of a sword yet, so a stroll had to suffice. 

However, after four hundred years of being away from home, he had no idea how to get around this place. It wasn’t a massive estate like more prominent families in Himmelblock, but his family was still a well respected group that wasn’t under-privileged in any respects. They even boasted their own private guard for which Techno had personally trained with and then trained once the time had come. 

That being said, it wasn’t as if there were signs all over the halls telling him the way out. He ended up grabbing a guard that was on his rounds to take him outside. Conversation was stilted with this guard-- clearly he was intimidated by Technoblade’s presence-- that’s something that was never new. 

Now, Techno was no braggart, but he was a bit of a wunderkind when it came to swordsmanship. He was one of the youngest individuals to be knighted ever…It would be next year, when he turned fifteen. The only other person who came close to beating that record was Lord Theseus Craft, the son of the Duke of Blumefallen and someone in the line of succession after King Quackity. 

It was a messy line, seeing as the former king died with only one son, Quackity, and he had no children until later in life, leaving the next of kin to be his cousins. The Duke of Blumefallen, Lord Philza Craft had taken himself out of the line early on, leaving his two sons, Lord Wilbur and Lord Theseus, as well as other branches of the royal family.

In Manberg, the small kingdom that turned into an empire with Technoblade’s help, kingship was won based on meritocracy, not necessarily whether one was older-- so while Lord Wilbur was older than Lord Theseus, they had equal chance at the throne until Quackity had a direct descendant. Even then, they could still fairly compete, but King Quackity would be more likely to favor his own bloodline rather than some cousins of his. 

And then it hit Technoblade, just as he let the cool breeze hit his face for the first time in hundreds of years. 

The only way Quackity could continuously win was if he allowed his legacy-- his kingdom-- to survive. 

Breaking the kingdom down, completely demolishing the crown and everything that it stood for-- he could stage a coup, but that would take years and resources he didn’t have. It would require popular support, and Quackity hadn’t done anything so vile yet to constitute a hostile takeover.

No, this had to be an inside job. Technoblade could try recommending himself as a close advisor to the king, but Technoblade remembered how volatile Quackity could get when faced with disagreement, and he wasn’t even sure he could handle being that close to the subject of his nightmares for that long. 

Techno dismissed his guard and decided to take a risk going down a path of flowers. He vaguely remembered his mother liking flowers even though Himmelblock was frozen for three quarters of the year. This time of year was when it started to defrost a little. There was still some bite to the air, which brought some much needed clarity to Techno.

He was brought back to the line of succession. Technoblade had no rights to the throne; he couldn’t touch it-- but someone in line could. Someone who was like clay-- naive and moldable, someone young. 

Someone like Lord Theseus, who was… Well, Techno couldn’t quite remember, but he was still very young. The Duke of Blumefallen was probably going to begin looking for a tutor for the boy soon. Lord Wilbur was Technoblade’s age-- he’d already grown past the point of manipulation, and from what he could recall, Lord Wilbur was a diplomatic talent known for his mental acrobatics. 

If Technoblade could somehow recommend himself to be Lord Theseus’ tutor, he could grow the boy into a proper anarchist and take down the institution that held him in chains for centuries. This would take just as much time as a coup Techno could start himself, but half the resources. He could even rely on Blumefallen’s wealth! 

The more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. The beautiful gardens became secondary to the plans he had cooking in his head. 

Right now, at age fourteen, Technoblade was renowned for his swordsmanship, but his academics were a little known fact about him. He was always ahead of the other children his age, but it wasn’t enough to put him on the map as a genius. For the record, he was a genius (no, he was not bragging) but it just took a backseat to his physical attributes. 

If he could somehow get his knighthood even earlier than his original timeline, it might be enough to justify his status as a tutor, and the rest could come after. The voices hummed in agreement, a beautiful choral of affirmations.

The only thing he could do now was find an opportunity to recommend himself to the Duke. 

And that opportunity came promptly in the form of an invitation.

Chapter Text

Obtaining knighthood was a simple task. Usually one would be a squire throughout the years of apprenticeship, and once they have proven themself a capable knight, their master, someone recognized by a body of government as a knight, would send in their squire’s name to make the knighthood official. There would then be a grand knighting ceremony for anyone who became verified by their masters and the state. 

For Technoblade to have woken up at his parents’ home meant that Techno was probably on some sort of sabbatical-- otherwise he would’ve been off training with his master. For most of his formative years, Techno lived with his master, Sir Feuer Atemmann, and the other people Sir Feuer kept as squires. 

It was hard to recall, but Technoblade only vaguely remembered staying at his parents’ estate for only a few months of the year-- mostly on holidays or important events for his family. His family was no legacy family-- they had a private guard, sure, but no official knights among them, so it was impossible to gain a title by solely training with the guards in his parents’ estate in Himmelblock. Anyway, his living situation wasn’t important at the moment, but his status according to this invitation was. 

Right now, he was only listed as Technoblade, son of Marcel and Maria of Himmelblock rather than the epithet Technoblade was accustomed to: Sir. That was why it was imperative that Technoblade made it back to Sir Feuer and convinced his master to submit his name to the King of Himmelblock so Technoblade could make it into the next knighting ceremony rather than wait another year. There was no way the Duke of Blumefallen would accept some random teenager as the tutor of his son-- but the youngest knight in the history of the entire continent?

If it was currently May 9th, and the cut off to submit his name would be May 15th, which was six days away, and the ceremony would be in the last week of May, right before his fifteenth birthday on the first of June, then Technoblade would have to move very quickly. This was a process Technoblade was unfortunately very familiar with, seeing as he had to attend every knighting ceremony in Manberg for the past four hundred years, and they were virtually the same everywhere from Himmelblock to the Ödländer all the way across the continent.

Technoblade immediately went to his closet, throwing the doors open and grabbing any and all clothes hung up. He threw them on his bed, not bothering to fold-- it was unimportant. He made sure to step out momentarily to call for a maid to bring him a trunk and for a carriage to be called immediately. 

He wished he would have time to say farewell to his parents, but revenge came first. He had seen them at dinner, alive and well-- that was enough for Techno. He was never especially close with either of his parents. His father was usually busy with work, his mother was usually busy with socialite activities, and Technoblade himself was hardly at home, but it was a system that worked for all of them. 

This wouldn’t be the last time he’d see them. 

Technoblade would make sure of that in this timeline. 

They’d understand, though. Techno couldn’t imagine this was the first time he raced back to his master’s place-- he’d always been on the hunt for knowledge, a way to improve himself past the capabilities of the average man.

By the time the sun began to set in the evening, Technoblade was already thirty miles out from Himmelblock and was set to arrive at his master’s place, Hochpixel, the following day if they stopped at an inn for the night. He would’ve gone all night if it wasn’t for his family’s chauffeur who insisted on taking him all the way. 

Not everyone was built like him. 

Technoblade dropped a pouch of gold coins on the innkeeper’s desk and held two fingers up, not a single word passing through his mouth. The innkeeper efficiently counted the coins and slid two keys over simultaneously. 

He spent the night on his back, eyes open while staring at the rotting wood on the ceiling. He could not keep still, always one part of him moving, be it his finger tapping on the back of his hand or his foot bouncing to a long forgotten tune, the voices whispering the most disencouraging words. If he were a lesser man, he would’ve turned back from their taunts alone.

Techno couldn’t help the anxiety that creeped up on him like a spring shower: lightly at first, and then a storm. He had not seen his master in four hundred years. This would be something bittersweet for him. Everything Technoblade ever was could be credited to Sir Feuer, a man of many talents but of little arrogance that one would usually expect from a knight. He was a gentle yet firm teacher that held no favoritism and he was a fair man, someone that would accept Technoblade’s bid for a title once he proved himself in combat. These nerves came from a place of sentimentality, and they had no place on the battlefield Technoblade would be designing. 

It was only when the chauffeur knocked on his door in the early hours of the morning that Technoblade was finally able to leave the confines of his mind and prepare for the rest of his journey. 

He managed to splash water on his face and defeat the remaining buds of fear attempting to bloom, and Techno managed to remain level-headed with controlled breathing throughout the remaining leg of the trip. Even when the carriage pulled up to his master’s estate, he did not panic. He simply got out and went to grab his trunk, not bothering to allow old memories to unearth themselves. 

He did not make eye contact with his fellow squires, nor appreciate the cracks in the walls of the outer courtyard where many chose to train on their own. He kept his head down all the way to his master’s study, where he would most likely be midday. 

The steward knocked twice and waited for a “Come in,” before opening the door for Technoblade, gesturing for him to enter. 

His master was the same as the day Technoblade left him all those years ago. Wild dark hair skewed to the right of his face and his classic red overcoat, the crest of the Atemmann family stitched with gold thread on his breast pocket. “Technoblade!” His master greeted with a wide grin, rushing to Techno’s side. “You weren’t due back until after your birthday. And your hair…” 

Oh. That was why he was at home, wasn’t it? He was going to celebrate his fifteenth birthday with his family and the month leading up to it. It was also the beginning of the social season, something that his mother probably wanted to begin having him attend. 

“I’ll be back in Himmelblock for my birthday, but I had to come back immediately to see you, Master.”

“What couldn’t wait?”

Technoblade did not answer, instead ripping off his glove and throwing it on the ground between himself and his master. “I challenge you to a duel for knighthood.”

Sir Feuer looked at the glove, slack-jawed. “Technoblade, you’re very talented, but you’re only fourteen. Are you sure--”

“I’m sure,” he interrupted. “Let me prove myself.”

“Alright. Tomorrow at dawn, you will begin the test of knighthood.”

Every knight had a different way of testing their squires for knighthood. For some it was a simple duel, while for others, like Technoblade’s own master, it was a series of tests to prove that the squire fulfilled all the pillars of knighthood. From what Techno remembered from his first time, the trials involved a of test of the mind, a test of durability, and of course, a test of skill

Technoblade was not too worried, he’d passed them all before, but the duel… He’d need to look at a sword. He’d need to fight again. The voices roared with anticipation, but still the dread pooled up. 

This was different.

It was different-- it would not be a battlefield, but a controlled setting, and he would be the one holding the sword, not the other way. He had complete agency. This was his choice, not the choice of some lunatic king. 

It was these thoughts that helped him through the night, allowing a brief moment of respite during the witching hour before being awoken by a loud horn. 

It was still dark outside, but there was a smudge of orange in the distance, the hope of a new day. Wordlessly, Technoblade strapped on his armor without any assistance. It was muscle memory-- even if it had been so long since he actually needed to wear armor, his body still remembered the feeling. 

A splash of water.

A ribbon tying his hair back.

He was out in the courtyard before anyone else. Sir Feuer was there too, standing next to a portable wooden table with his arms crossed and his foot tapping expectantly. Techno’s shoulders tensed as his master approached him. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can begin.”

The first test, as explained by Sir Feuer, was a game of strategy.

A game of domination. Whoever had more pieces on the board at the end of the five minute timer was the winner. There were other minute intricacies to the game, but they were unimportant to the grand picture-- Sir Feuer wanted to see if Technoblade had the determination required of a knight. 

This was child's play compared to the real life wars Technoblade had won. The countless hours spent in war rooms and private meetings between generals, the years of war camps and the accumulation of thousands of spirits of the dead that now resided in his mind. 

The moment Technoblade sat down at that rickety old table, he had five minutes to prove his mind to his master.

He only needed three. 

Three minutes to have Sir Feuer’s game pieces completely surrounded with no possible way out. 

Sir Feuer leaned back in his chair, not necessarily surprised by the outcome, but most definitely shocked at the speed and the sheer ruthlessness of Technoblade’s strategy. He didn’t remark on anything at all, but he did praise Techno. 

At this point, the other squires arrived in the courtyard, some peering over at their match. Word quickly spread through the squires that Technoblade was attempting a bid for knighthood, and it became a sort of display-- something to watch. The older squires rolled their eyes at it, but the younger squires had stars in their eyes, silently rooting for their fellow apprentice. 

The second test was meant to be a little more physical-- a trial of the flesh. When Technoblade first took this trial, his master had ordered every visiting knight and every squire to come at him from all sides for ten minutes, and Technoblade had to fend off every one of them. This was an easier trial than what others had to go through, sometimes involving dismemberment or the loss of life before they had even gotten to the deciding duel. 

This time around, Sir Feuer ordered Technoblade to hold out his hand with his palm facing up to the sky, but the moment Sir Feuer made physical contact with Technoblade, he reeled back, a look of horror passing through his eyes. 

“You-- you’ve already passed this trial a thousand times over. How can that be?” 

Techno pulled his hand back. “How do you know that?” 

“I feel it. Like a spark… You… What happened to you, Technoblade?” 

Four hundred years of rot, he did not say. “Nothing at all.” 

Still, Sir Feuer seemed intent on allowing Technoblade to proceed with no formal second trial. He told Techno to return to the courtyard at midday for the duel. 

Technoblade spent his newfound downtime choosing a sword and cleaning it up. It felt odd, his hand on a hilt, but he forced down any protests from himself and allowed the praise of the voices to wash over him. 

With the sun high above them in the sky, the duel for Technoblade’s knighthood commenced. 

The first to submit was the loser. 

Technoblade stood with his sword low at his side while his master got into a defensive stance, his sword at eye level pointed straight at Techno. “That’s not how I taught you to start, Technoblade,” Sir Feuer remarked humorously. 

Techno huffed, his lip curling up on one side. “I’m trying a new style.” 

A visiting knight sanctioned the match, allowing them to begin as soon as they were both ready. Techno didn’t even give his master time to think, moving quickly to disarm Sir Feuer. Sir Feuer’s gaze sharpened as he fended off Technoblade’s vicious attacks. 

It was one hit after the other, forcing Sir Feuer farther back in the yard with each step forward. There was no time to plan a counteroffensive when every moment of Sir Feuer’s time was spent trying to get out of this defensive lock he found himself in. Technoblade gave him no moment of respite, continuously striking, pushing harder and harder until they reached the courtyard walls. 

Sir Feuer took this moment to push off the brick and hit Technoblade with a force Sir Feuer normally did not have. The student handed the blow masterfully, darting out of his master’s way. He fought like a dancer, light on his feet, twisting and twirling and utterly confusing his opponent as to his next moves. 

It took one misstep on Sir Feuer’s part for the duel to come to a satisfying conclusion. One moment he was on his feet blocking an attack from behind, and the next he was on his back with a sword pointed at his throat, his fourteen year old squire barely breaking a sweat as he offered a hand.

Sir Feuer naturally took it, reaffirming his grip on Techno’s arm, patting him gleefully. “Well done, Technoblade, well done! You… You will make a fine knight.” 

Techno detached himself from Sir Feuer’s grip and bowed deeply, pieces of hair falling out of his ponytail and falling forward. “Thank you, Master, for your teachings.”

Sir Feuer waved his hand. “None of that, none of that. I’ll have your name sent to Himmelblock by the evening, and I’ll see you at the knighting ceremony. Congratulations, Sir Technoblade.” 

It was his parents and Sir Feuer in attendance for the knighting ceremony at the heart of Himmelblock. As a small city-state, Himmelblock didn’t usually have a large number of knights each year, so it was just Technoblade, two men, and a woman, all over the age of twenty one. 

Technoblade kept his fists clenched the entire time the king of Himmelblock’s sword was near him, pressed against his shoulders. “I dub thee, Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock, knight of the realm.” 

He attended the party following the ceremony at his mother’s behest, but he kept to the walls mostly. There was no one there he particularly wished to socialize with-- the party he really wanted to attend was the one his parents received an invitation for three weeks ago-- the one Technoblade knew for a fact the Duke of Blumefallen would be attending because it was one of his business associates.

Oh, Technoblade had done extensive research on the Craft family. He knew just about everything there was to know about them, and then some. It wasn’t stalking, it was making use of the resources available to him and using it to get close to the object of interest. 

The party was to be held in the city of Nevadas, a city Technoblade considered a halfway point between Himmelblock and Blumefallen.

It was also the capital of Manberg. 

Nevadas was the last city Technoblade wanted to be in after spending four hundred years there, but revenge waits for no man. It was now or never.

His parents ended up too busy to attend the party in Manberg, so Technoblade offered to go in their place alone. There was no way he was missing that party, and with his status as a knight of the realm, his parents began to consider him an adult anyway and had no qualms with sending Technoblade. 

That was how Technoblade ended up in a stiff new coat, the edges of the invitation beginning to bend with the sweat coming from Techno’s hands. 

He was fine with swords now. In fact, he would prefer a battlefield at this point because parties? 

There was nothing more impossible than a party. 

“Hey there, are you alright?” Someone asked from behind him. Techno turned to see two boys approaching-- one was Techno’s height with cropped brown curls and a lopsided smile, while the other was three feet shorter with unruly blonde hair and chubby cheeks. 

“I’m fine,” Technoblade responded, looking down at his invitation. “I just… I’m not used to this.” 

“This? Do you mean parties?” Technoblade felt the heat rush up to his cheeks. “We can walk you through it. We’ve been to tons of these.” Truthfully, Technoblade didn’t even know how to walk through the doors properly, and the idea of handing his invitation to the butler scared Technoblade more than a sword to the throat. 

“If you could,” Techno said meekly, a completely different person from the one that obliterated his master in a duel just a few weeks prior. 

“You have a strange hair color,” the little blonde boy observed as the brunet looped arms with Techno. Techno stiffened at the contact, but if these boys were going to help him he’d just put up with it. 

“Do I?” 

“Yeah. That’s what I said.” 

“Don’t listen to him,” the brunet chastised. “Tommy’s a little too straightforward at times.” 

“That’s somethin’ to be appreciated, I think. So many people can never say what they actually think.” 

The blonde’s eyes widened. “Really? You think so?” 

Technoblade nodded. The brunet stopped them in front of the butler, taking Techno’s slightly soggy invitation from his hands and looking it over. “How would you like to be introduced?” asked the butler. 

Technoblade froze. 

The invitation only said Technoblade of Himmelblock, but he did receive his title… Would it be presumptuous…? 

No! He came here to impress the Duke of Blumefallen. He had to pull out all the stops. “Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock.” 

The butler looked taken aback, but he did as requested. He called out to the throes of people in the hall. “Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock!” and then directly after: “And Lords Wilbur and Theseus of Blumefallen from the House of Craft!” 

Technoblade ripped himself from the other boy-- Wilbur’s grasp. “Y-You’re--” 

“No way!” gasped Wilbur. “You’re that kid that became the youngest knight! That’s so impressive!” 

Techno faltered. “Y-yes. I am.” Wilbur reattached himself to Technoblade as Tommy-- Theseus-- grabbed at his pant leg. 

“What’s it like? I have no formal knight training myself-- I was never interested in that sort of thing…” Wilbur kept his tongue wagging, jumping from anecdote to anecdote while Tommy made distasteful commentary to pair up with it. 

The brothers were animated speakers, preferring to use their hands to tell stories, the inflection of their voices changing brightly, something Technoblade found a little fascinating. They were fascinating people outside of their use for Techno’s revenge. 

He didn’t know if there was a seating arrangement, but that didn’t seem to matter to Wilbur and Theseus-- Tommy, the boy preferred. They pulled Techno into a corner of the hall and talked his ear off, and Technoblade couldn’t find it in himself to mind too much, though his anxieties pierced through the facade of serenity every time he looked around the room and didn’t see the Duke of Blumfallen. 

It didn’t matter if he had the sons’ good opinion if he could not get acquire an acquaintance with the Duke himself-- it wasn’t as if Wilbur or Tommy himself decided who his tutor would be.

He was only soothed when a blonde man in green approached him and Wilbur and Tommy stood up instinctually. “Father,” they both greeted dutifully. Technoblade stood up too, and the Duke of Blumefallen looked him up and down with a harsh gaze, an easy smile resting upon his face. 

“Who is your companion, Wilbur?” asked the duke. 

“This is Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock, the youngest knight in the realm. Sir Technoblade, this is our father, Lord Philza Craft of Blumefallen.” 

The duke’s eyes lifted in surprise. Yes, this certainly caught his attention. “How old are you, Sir Technoblade?” 

“I turned fifteen on the first of June, Your Grace.” 

“A knight at fourteen? You’re quite exceptional.” 

“I thank you, Your Grace.” 

“And you seem to be pleasant company to keep my boys so contained. Usually we leave once a curtain catches fire or there’s roaches in the food, but it seems like my boys haven’t cooked up any trouble for tonight.” 

“Not yet,” Tommy corrected with a grin. “But they don’t call me Tommy Careful Danger Kraken for nothing.”

Technoblade instinctually rolled his eyes. “No one has the time to call you that.” The moment he said it, he pressed his fingernails into his palm, his breath leaving his body. He just insulted Tommy in front of the duke-- that had to be some sort of faux pas-- but to Technoblade’s utter shock, the duke laughed. 

A full-bellied, hearty laugh. 

“Now that you’re a knight, what do you plan to do with your life, Sir Technoblade? Or is it too soon to ask that of someone so young?” 

This was it. This was his chance!

“Not at all, Your Grace. I’m thinking of… uh… Tutoring.” Smooth. 

The duke’s face lit up. “Is that so? We haven’t publicly announced it yet, but we’ve begun our search for Theseus’ tutor. Your application would not be unwelcome.” 

He was in. 

If he could just spend a little more time speaking with the duke, then the resume could just become a formality--

“Enough of that boring talk, Father. Technoblade was going to show us how to throw knives.” 

“I was not--” 

“But you said right before Father got here--” 

The duke held up his hand to silence Wilbur. “I understand, I’m being a drag. If you boys could cause some sort of mishap after dinner so we can make our exit, I’d be grateful.” With a wink, the duke turned on his heel and joined a group of other lords.

“Sorry about him-- Father’s not usually a buzzkill.” 

“No! I didn’t get--” 

“Hey, no need to lie in front of us, Technoblade. Now about those knives--” 

Admittedly, Technoblade did end up showing them how to throw knives, and one of them did end up going through a window of the party hall about fifteen minutes after dinner ended, and the Craft family subsequently made their escape. They did not leave before Tommy extended an open invitation for Technoblade to visit them while they were still in town, and the duke himself reminded him to send in his resume for the tutor position. 

It was more than Technoblade could have hoped for-- one evening and the Craft family already liked him very much. Wilbur and Tommy would probably spend the night leaving a good word about Technoblade-- he had nothing to worry about. 

Everything was going according to plan.

Chapter Text

Every time Technoblade tapped his finger on the side of the table, a servant flinched. He didn’t know why-- he had never done anything to them in the past, and he was never around long enough to care too deeply about how his family managed their servants. 

Look in the mirror, the voices whispered. Look at how they see you. 

Techno glanced over at the maid that stood dutifully by the door with her shoulders stiff and her watery eyes staring directly ahead, too wary to look him head on. He lifted himself out of his desk and headed to the other side of the room to the mirror. 

Techno’s face lacked the usual bright youth that a fifteen year old usually would have-- the bags under his eyes were heavy, the frown lines were so deeply etched into his skin they looked like canyons, and his eyebrows were permanent knitted, giving off the appearance of an eternal scowl. 

Yes, he supposed he could see why the servants were a little jumpy around him. He could also understand why his mother stationed one in his room to watch him. “You can go,” he told the maid anyway.

“But the Mistress--” The maid protested with a watery voice.

“I’ll speak to her. You may go.” 

The maid didn’t need to be told twice, bowing deeply before racing out the room and letting the door close with a slam. 

Technoblade ran his fingers through his hair, letting them glide until he reached the ends. He held up his hair to examine-- it’d been a couple of weeks since he came back from that party in Nevadas, which meant it’d been two weeks since he spent three days and three nights perfecting his application to send to the Duke of Blumefallen. Nothing had been out of place-- his penmanship was impeccable, his answers were complementary to the House of Craft and Blumefallen, and yet weaved the story of Technoblade into it. He was the perfect fit, and he was sure his application would beat out all those losers. 

If not… Well, if the hiree happened to go missing or was found dead in their room, it really wasn’t any of Technoblade’s business. 

Techno wasn’t sure how long it took to choose a tutor for a little boy, but it was starting to make Techno antsy, which made the voices a whole lot more talkative. They thrived off his anxiety and did not bother to ease his worries. Logically, Techno knew he could just kill off his competition easily, but the voices were quick to capitalize off his fears of failing the first time. 

“Come on, guys, killing the winner is just like… First try, part two.” 

L.

Loser.

Second place is first place for LOSERS. 

How he wished they had an off switch. 

Everything hinged on Techno gaining this position. So what if he hadn’t slept in days, and the food on his plates were usually left half eaten, and every time his father tried to engage him in conversation Techno’s gaze would dim a little, as if he had mentally checked out of the conversation? 

He was fine. This was normal behavior. 

A knock on the door snapped him out of his spat with the voices. The servant that knocked did not wait for permission to enter, which meant only one thing-- this person held the mail. 

“Young Master,” the servant quickly greeted, thrusting out the stack of letters in his hand. Techno swiped them out of the servant’s grasp and began throwing the duds over his shoulder until he finally found the golden letter.

Seriously. Lord Craft sent them in golden envelopes. He supposed this was a small expense for a man with that much land.

He ripped the seal off and hungrily read the contents of the letter.

Dear Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock

Due to your tremendous application and high prestige, I must congratulate you on gaining the position of Tutor for my son, Theseus. Rest assured you will be well taken care of for the duration of your stay, for which we all hope will be long and fruitful. We hope to see you at your soonest convenience to begin Theseus’ education. 

Regards,

Lord Philza Craft, Duke of Blumefallen

“Ready my horse. Prepare my things. Get my trunks ready--- Uh-- I’m going to Blumefallen!” Techno blubbered, looking around his bedroom to grab something-- anything. He needed to start packing-- he needed to be out of here by nightfall. Earliest convenience-- was this a test? “Go, go, go!” He all but screamed when the servant didn’t move, clearly in shock at Technoblade’s visceral reaction. 

The servant scurried off, but Techno’s pounding heart would not be silenced. He threw his closet doors open and began throwing things out-- shirts, trousers, belts, boots and jewelry. He would not bring any items of sentimentality, nor would he bring anything considered superfluous. He’d travel with the clothes on his back and have the Crafts supply the rest. 

By the time the servant returned with two trunks, Techno had already organized everything he planned to bring (though he could not figure out how to fold them) and was able to throw them in the trunk freely.

“Your horse is ready as well, Young Master, though the Master and Mistress are not home right now. Will you wait for them to come back--” 

“No time,” Techno dismissed, grabbing the trunk by the handle and practically running to the front of the house, where his horse would be. The servant jogged after him, though he lagged behind. While the labor of a servant would normally be enough to keep one fit, it paled in comparison to the grueling physical training a knight underwent. 

The stablehands were brushing the horse, Carl, last minute but quickly stepped away when they saw Young Master Technoblade launching himself at Carl, jumping onto his back in one swift move. He attached his trunk to the saddle and waved quickly before patting Carl in a quick greeting and turning to race out of the estate for the longest time.

What would’ve been a week’s journey was cut down to three days. It cost Technoblade his sleep and his sanity, but by the Blood God’s name he was in Blumefallen. Carl was the product of the breeding of some of the greatest horses in Himmelblock, and so he did not disappoint. He never knew what became of Carl after he left him in the stables of Nevadas all those years ago, but one thing was for sure-- he was never letting this horse go.

His arrival was announced with little fanfare, and he was greeted only by the head butler and maid and a stream of staff. From the way they gazed upon him, he could tell that they could hardly believe he was Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock, tutor to Lord Theseus Craft. His hair was a mess, his clothes were wrinkled and stained, and his face now had the energy of a man in his eighties. 

The head butler took the liberty of showing Techno around the more general parts of the estate, but the tour ended prematurely when they arrived at Technoblade’s new quarters. The room was quite spacious-- three times larger than his bedroom in Himmelblock-- and it overlooked the vast gardens of the estate. The room had a parlor connected to it by a door and was mostly themed red. Red wallpaper, red duvet, red carpets, red flowers. 

The color of blood.

“We’ll send someone over to draw you a bath and clean up before dinner. You’ll be dining with Lord Theseus.” 

“What of the Duke?” 

“His Grace and the Eldest Young Master have business in Nevadas and won’t return for a few days. His Grace has instructed me to inform you that if you arrive when he is not there to greet you that you should begin Theseus’ lessons at your earliest convenience, and he is most regretful that he could not be there to get you situated.” 

The butler dismissed himself before Techno could begin interrogating him. He had no choice but to dump his trunk on the ground and examine the room until someone could come and draw him a bath, which Techno was sure was a high priority task since he smelled like horse and dingy inns. 

By the window was a large desk with a stack of stationary and large jars of ink. One thing was for sure, Techno would never run out of writing material. There was not a lick of dust on any surface, all the pillows were properly fluffed and the sheets were tightly tucked into the mattress. Nothing was out of place. 

When the maid came in to start the bath, she carried a woven basket full of soaps, shampoos, conditioners, face masks, flower petals, razors and other bathing equipment. She practically pushed him into the bathroom and dropped the basket next to the tub, letting the water begin to flow, testing the temperature every few minutes as he stood in the corner awkwardly. 

When the bath was at an acceptable height and temperature, she turned to him and gave him a stern glare. “Well? Are you going to undress yourself, or are you going to bathe in those vile clothes?” 

“I can… I can bathe myself, thank you. You can, uh, you can go.” 

“Bathe yourself? What do I tell the head maid, Sir Technoblade?” 

“That I asked you to leave…?” 

The voices snickered at the awkward exchange, eating up Techno’s discomfort. The maid eventually left, but not without a couple more protests. Once he heard the door to the bedroom shut, he stripped off his clothes and hopped into the warm bath, immediately beginning to scrub the dirt and tiredness off. 

He dunked his head under to wet his hair and began to massage soaps into his hair, carefully detangling the knots at the ends. When he was done, the head butler was waiting outside the bathroom, looking at the pocket watch on his hand with concern. “We’ll be late for dinner with the Second Young Master.” 

“Is that like a faux pas or somethin’?” 

The head butler’s face grew pale. “The Second Young Master doesn’t like to eat alone. He’s very excited to be dining with someone this evening. He won’t like to be kept waiting.” 

The head butler did not take him to the grand dining room, but to a small parlor in a side wing. There was a circular table filled with foods of all kinds and two plates set up. One one side of the table sat little Lord Theseus, his fists around his utensils as he banged on the table. “Where is Technoblade!” 

Techno poked his head in awkwardly, giving Tommy a little wave. “Uh, hello.” 

“Techno!” Tommy gasped, dropping his fork and knife with a clatter. “You’re here!” 

“Yep.” 

The head butler rushed in after Techno, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, clearly distressed that he did not properly announce Techno’s arrival. Tommy was quick to wave the butler off, jumping out of his seat and dragging Technoblade back to the table. 

“Welcome, welcome to my humble abode!” 

“Yeah… Humble. That’s what we call it.” 

“Do you like your room?” 

“It’s very… Red.” 

“I chose it myself, y’know. It’s cool, right?” 

“Very nice.” 

Right off the bat, Techno noticed every single thing wrong with Tommy’s etiquette. He couldn’t hold his utensils right, he sat in his chair kneeling down, though he switched it half way to sitting with one leg normal and one pulled to his chest. He was a messy eater that chewed loudly and with an open mouth and didn’t bother to swallow before continuing his stories, which were decidedly not appropriate for the table. 

“So, we’re starting your lessons tomorrow mornin’,” Technoblade informed Tommy after the little boy finished telling a long story about a cow that burned down a village.

“Oh, are you going to teach me how to use a sword? When do I get to start stabbing shit?” 

“Uh… I was thinkin’ we start by hittin’ the books first. Test what you know.”

“What?” squawked Tommy. “But that’s so boring! I thought you were goin’ to teach me how to kill people!” 

“And I will,” Techno promised with a grimace. “Just not yet.”

Tommy’s eyes turned downcast and watery, but it was only for a moment. He returned to his bombastic self within seconds, banging his hands on the table. “Hey, can I show you my legos? And my cow, Henry?” 

“Is this the same one that burned down the village?” 

“No, that’s his cousin.” 

“Gotcha.” 

Techno personally escorted Tommy back to his quarters after dinner had concluded (Tommy would not release his hand), and then spent the next hour watching the boy explain all his toys to him before the head butler had the guts to come save Techno by declaring it bedtime. 

Techno had gone back to his room with the guidance of one of the servants passing by, and decided he too would call it a night, slipping into something a little more comfortable before kneeling at his bedside, fingers intertwined like vines as he closed his eyes and said a little prayer to the Blood God. 

The god had heard him before, and knowing that the god was always with him, perhaps he would hear him again. Hear his thanks-- that Technoblade could be here, in this room, in this estate with a bright future ahead of him. A future that included the dissolution of the L’manberg kingdom and King Quackity crushed under his boot, completely at his mercy. 

Technoblade also thought to include a prayer for Tommy, and that he be competent enough to turn into something useful. While he was not invested with noble gossip in his previous life, he knew that besides his talent with the blade, Lord Theseus was slow in almost every other regard, unlike his brilliant brother Wilbur. Wilbur had always been the favorite choice to be the heir apparent of L’manberg, had Quackity not eventually had a child. The child of Quackity was lucky Wilbur did not continue to compete for the throne, for he had a large amount of support from the court and the people.

Deep in thought and prayer, his back was to the window, but even so, he heard them before the voices did. The soft sound of the window sliding open, the quiet taps on the floor as the infiltrator stumbled in. Anyone lesser than Technoblade would’ve been dead. Too slow, too deaf, too open-- but Technoblade was ready. He had a dagger hidden under his pillow that he pulled out, and without a thought in his head, sank it into whoever was swiftly approaching from behind. 

On the assassin’s part, they managed to keep their pain inside of them, not allowing a peep to pass through their mask-covered lips. The assassin regained their bearings quickly, keeping their sword in front of them as Techno stood on equal footing with them. 

His dagger was still hilt-deep in the assailant’s leg, leaving Techno weapon-less, but it didn’t really matter. In fact, having a weapon would’ve made the fight too easy on Techno’s part. He was first to snap into movement, aiming a high kick at the assassin’s side, throwing them off balance. Techno was quick to double his efforts, separating the sword from the assassin and stomping on their neck before they could move. 

“Who sent you?” 

“You’re just a kid,” the assassin finally spoke, vitriol filling his voice. 

Techno pressed down harder on his neck. “Yeah, well this kid’s got you pinned on the floor, so… Who’s the real loser?” The assassin did not bother to reply. He struggled to get out of Techno’s grasp, but his foot was like iron. Finally, the assassin slumped over. He heard a crunch, and then there was only one breathing being in the room. 

Technoblade crouched down and lifted the mask off the assassin’s face. They weren’t anyone notable, but Techno just had to make sure of something. He forced the assassin’s jaw open and saw it there: a tiny black capsule hidden within the assassin’s teeth. 

Coward. 

There was only one reason for an assassin to be sent to Technoblade on his first day at the Blumefallen estate. Promoting Technoblade to Theseus’ tutor put the little lord on the nobles’ radar as a possible competitor for the throne, which was exactly what Technoblade wanted. The unfortunate consequences of that was that Tommy would now become a prime target of assassinations, mud-slinging campaigns, and tight scrutiny. 

Someone must think very highly of Technoblade to think killing him would take Tommy out of the competition. Just to be safe, Techno wandered quietly through the halls of the estate, drifting over to Tommy’s quarters to see if he was alright. One thing Techno worried about was that the genius behind this isolated attempt was none other than Tommy’s own immediate family. The Duke and Lord Wilbur were suspiciously out of town, and Wilbur would have everything to gain with Tommy out of the picture. On the other hand, in Techno’s previous life, Wilbur never actively fought for the throne-- he was only a figurehead for the nobles in their disagreements with the king. That, and Techno spent a fair bit of time with the two brothers at that party, and anyone with eyes could see that there was genuine brotherly affection for one another.

It was someone else-- and knowing who it was didn’t really matter. Everyone was Technoblade’s enemy now. 

Techno stood in front of Tommy’s door, contemplating how to enter. He let the door’s force open itself and poked his head inside. Tommy was surrounded by a wall of pillows and stuffed toys, his blankets pulled up all the way to his chin as the little boy snuggled closer to the cow.

No signs of struggle anywhere.

Technoblade returned to his own rooms, discarding the body and allowing himself to relax into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Technoblade was wide awake and fully dressed before the sun had even thought to begin to rise.

And so was Tommy. 

(Not by choice.)

They were in the library at dawn, tall towers of books surrounding them on all sides as Techno dropped a stack of papers in front of Tommy, a stopwatch ready in his hands. “Okay, you have an hour and a half to complete all of this.” 

“What? No! This isn’t fun! This is boring!” 

“I don’t remember sayin’ it would be fun.” 

Tommy slumped over in his seat, letting his head fall back against the head rail. “I thought you would be a fun tutor!” 

“Learnin’ is fun!” 

“Liar!” 

“I’m not. I’d never lie to you, Tommy.”

Tommy’s head shot up, his body at full attention. “Really? Never?” 

“Yeah. I don’t have a reason to lie about anythin’.” A master equivocator Sir Technoblade could be. It was true: Techno was not a liar, and he had no plans to lie to the little boy or the rest of the Crafts; however, what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. If they didn’t ask the right questions, he would not offer them the right answers. Everyone operated on a veil of artifice, and that was the way Techno was going to take down the kingdom of L’manberg. “If you do these tests, it’ll be easier for me to teach you cool things. I can skip past the borin’ parts of what you already know and just go straight to the fun stuff. So, do the tests, Theseus.” 

Tommy sighed, banging his head against the table before lifting his head back up, a bored look in his eye. “Oh, alright. Start the watch.” 

Technoblade sat across from Tommy and just stared at the kid for a full hour and a half. Tommy worked like an asteroid, shooting through question after question. Either he was a genius or just an incredibly faithful guesser.

After the timer went off, Tommy passed the papers over to Techno and began to twiddle his thumbs, glancing over at Techno every now and then as he reviewed Tommy’s work.

What he found was disturbing:

Half of Tommy’s answers were wrong. 

This proved one thing: Tommy wasn’t slow. In fact, he was exceptionally smart; but, he didn’t want people to know he was smart. It took a special sort of skill to meticulously choose with questions he could get right and which he could get wrong, as well as choosing a specific way to answer a question wrong.

“Tommy,” said Techno. “You did very well. You got every question right.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped. “What? No wa-- I mean, really? That’s… Great…” One thing Tommy was not very good at hiding were his emotions. It could be considered a weakness to wear one’s heart on his sleeve, and yet Techno could not find it in himself to try and beat the habit out of the boy. 

“Tommy. Why did you fail on purpose?”

Tommy chuckled nervously. “So you noticed…” Technoblade did not humor him. “If I do well, people will compare me with Wilbur. And then they’ll say, ‘Tommy, you should be king!’ Even though Wilbur should be king. And I don’t want to have to kill Wilbur because I know his pussy arms won’t be able to win against me--”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down. You don’t have to kill Wilbur to become king. And have you considered that Wilbur doesn’t want to be king?” Tommy shook his head. 

This was good. It would be a problem if Tommy was resolutely against being king, even for just a little bit. Even though Technoblade considered the position superfluous and had plans to dissolve it once he gained control of the kingdom, he still needed Tommy’s ties to it to put his changes in place.

It was an unfortunate effect-- he could not just declare the kingdom dissolved for good without major repercussions. For one, the culture would not allow it. These lands have operated under an authoritarian government for hundreds of years. By dissolving it and leaving nothing there opens up a power vacuum by nobles that Technoblade would not be able to control. The people would have no idea what to do. 

So, rather than immediately throwing out the monarchy, Technoblade had begrudgingly decided that Tommy would have to become a transitional king (under Technoblade’s careful guidance, of course).

Tommy wanting to become king was integral to Techno’s plan. 

“So, if you didn’t have to compete with Wilbur, would you want to be king?”

“Maybe. I’d get to wear a cool crown, right? I’d also get to tell people what to do.”

“Sure, all of that and more.” Whatever the kid needed to hear.

“Being king would be cool then. But how do I become king?”

“I can help you. I can teach you everything you need to know.”

“Really? You know that much?”

“Of course,” said Technoblade. “But you have to keep this a secret, alright? Just between you and me. It could be like a surprise later.”

“I like surprises,” Tommy agreed. 

And so it was: the journey to crowning Theseus Craft the last king of L’manberg had commenced. 

Chapter Text

Techno took his time alone with Tommy very seriously. Without the added pressure of constantly impressing the Duke, Techno was able to plant the seeds of kingship necessary within Tommy. 

The kid was more than accepting of Techno’s teachings. He followed everything Techno said-- what to eat, how to correctly hold a quill, how to position his foot when holding a sword, where to kill a man with one hit-- and it was excellent. 

They started their mornings off out in the courtyard in loose-fitting clothing and wooden swords. The butler supervised them, still a bit cautious leaving the youngest master of the house with this strange new tutor. Technoblade didn’t mind an awful lot, but it was awkward teaching with someone watching all the time. At least it wasn’t the Duke.

Then they went in for breakfast, studied for a couple of hours before Techno set Tommy loose for some free time, but the boy was adamant about sticking around Techno. He was quite parasitic. Usually, Techno hated people like this, but in Tommy’s case, it was exactly what he wanted. 

A devoted little puppet. 

On their last morning before the Duke and Lord Wilbur returned, Techno decided to go over katas after they finished up defensive positions. Techno put his own sword down for the instruction, instead crouching down to Tommy’s level and helping to guide his arms in the right motions.

Tommy was as talkative as ever as they worked. “Do you think I’ll be able to enter the Knight’s Tournament now that I know how to fight with a sword?” 

“What?” Techno would hardly call what Tommy was doing sword-fighting.

“I mean, I’m basically a knight now, so I should be able to fight and win and get the king’s Favor!” 

There was something familiar about the story Tommy was telling. It was in the back of Techno’s mind, lingering like early morning fog. “What’s this tournament?” 

“Techno! How come you’re a knight and you’ve never heard of it?” 

“I’m not from this kingdom. I’m from a city-state called Himmelblo--” 

Tommy cut him off. “I don’t care. The tournament is held every year, and the winner gets a favor from the king. Anything they want!” 

The fog in his mind cleared, and Techno recalled the excitement of the tournament from his memories. After all-- he had attended it every year as a sword. Kings liked to keep their most prized possessions on display, and as a Holy Sword, Techno was also a symbol of power. It was usually held after the Summer Solstice as an epic conclusion to a weeklong celebration of the holiday, which would actually start in two days. 

It wasn’t something that interested Technoblade, though. He’d already proven his worth to the only people that matter, and there was no way he’d voluntarily face the king so early on in this life. 

“Second Master, Sir Technoblade!” someone called from across the yard. It was a maid, her skirt hiked up to her shins as she sprinted towards them. She stopped to catch her breath before swallowing hard. “His Grace’s carriage has been spotted!” 

Techno nodded, releasing Tommy and dusting off his trousers. It was best they get cleaned up and go greet the Duke and Lord Wilbur, get on the man’s good side. Techno had a pretty good idea of his relationship with Wilbur-- friendly enough-- but it had been a while since they had spoken, and that was their first time meeting as well. It was best to err on the side of caution. 

The butler took Tommy back to his room to get cleaned up while Techno wandered back to his room himself. He wasn’t sweaty compared to previous mornings, but his trousers were stained with dirt and grass and his braid was a mess. 

Techno fixed himself up before speed-walking to the foyer, where he could see the carriage pull up. On the back of the carriage were about half a dozen trunks of luggage, and double the amount of servants fighting to retrieve it. The Duke exited the cage, knocking his cane against the door as he waited for Lord Wilbur to slither out with him. 

Tommy came up from behind him and pulled on his pant leg. “Are you excited to see everyone? I know I am. Wilbur promised me presents.” 

Techno nodded along absentmindedly, too busy watching the doors open, listening to the sharp clack of the Duke’s heel meeting the marble floors. “Where’s my Tommy?” the Duke called, getting down on one knee and opening his arms out. Tommy squealed and raced right into them, burying his face in the Duke’s cloak. Techno continued to stand as straight as a pole off to the side with his arms behind his back. 

“Hello, Father!” 

“How have you been? You haven’t been too lonely, I hope?” 

“No!” Tommy denied. “I have Technoblade!” 

The Duke peered past his son’s shoulder and looked directly at Technoblade, his shock fleeting. “Hello, Sir Technoblade. My apologies that I couldn’t properly welcome you to my home.” 

Once addressed, Techno took a heavy step forward, bowing his head. “It’s not a problem. I was merely too excited to begin my duties and came early.” 

The Duke simply waved his hand in dismissal. “Nonsense. You’re quite timely. I appreciate that in a person. I hope we can discuss the extent of Theseus’ studies soon.” 

“Of course.” 

Wilbur popped his head in at that moment, his hands full with a pile of books topped with a couple different boxes of tea. “Did I hear Technoblade was here?” 

“Wilbur!” Tommy cheered, letting go of the Duke and crashing into his older brother. Wilbur fixed his grip on his books and just let Tommy nuzzle his leg. “Techno is here! Techno, say hi!” 

“Hello, Lord Wilbur--” 

Wilbur moved his head away from the books, looking around until he spotted Technoblade. “Hey, what’s with the formality? It’s just, Wilbur. Remember?” 

“Right, right. Sorry.” 

Wilbur handed off his books and tea to the nearest servant, pulling Techno in for a surprise hug. Techno couldn’t even process the hug before Wilbur pulled away, placing his hands on his hips. “Have you both eaten yet? I’m starving. Father insisted on riding through the night.” 

“Breakfast is being prepared as we speak,” the head butler informed him. 

Wilbur grabbed a hold of Techno’s hand and pulled him in the direction of the dining room, intent on having the tutor dine with them. Wilbur, like his brother, loved to hear his own voice. He talked about their stay in Nevadas and all the things he saw and did. The king came up a couple of times-- apparently he had high praises of Wilbur, which was something that set Techno on edge.

It shouldn’t have. 

Wilbur never got the throne in his past life…

But as long as Wilbur was competent enough, he would probably be who the Duke chooses to push as the king’s heir rather than the young Theseus, and Techno needed the Duke’s resources. He needed them to focus on Tommy. 

A plan started brewing in his head as they ate breakfast, intermittently with the many questions Wilbur asked Technoblade. He was eager to converse with someone his age, that much was clear. 

After breakfast, Wilbur resigned himself to his room for a quick rest while Tommy and Techno went to the library to get some more work done. Techno decided to lay some foundations with the history of the continent, but he made sure to correct any mistakes the books might have had-- as in, anything apologizing for tyranny and authoritarianism was quickly wiped from Tommy’s curriculum, or it was re-explained in more populist terminology for Tommy. 

This was followed by math, which was no one’s favorite-- Tommy’s because he genuinely found it difficult, and Techno’s because Tommy couldn’t sit still when he was doing something he didn’t like. Getting Tommy to sit still for five minutes was a lesson in itself. 

Near the end of their tutoring session, Wilbur came to disturb them. Techno breathed a sigh of relief they were working on math, something objective and practical, rather than the histories Technoblade had decided on. He quickly grabbed the history books and shoved them under some loose papers. 

“What are you both up to?” 

“Maths,” Tommy groaned, banging his head against the table. When he lifted it, his forehead was covered in black ink. Wilbur held in a laugh as he took the seat next to Techno, right next to the populist history books. 

Techno gulped.

“Agh, I always hated Maths. How’s he doing?” 

“Tommy’s doin’ alright. We’re workin’ through it.” 

“That sounds like him. When do you finish up? I was hoping to have some tea with you, maybe a quick chat to catch up.” 

Techno tried to hide his surprise. His master always told him his face muscles must be destroyed because it was close to impossible to get a reaction out of him, so Techno was hoping his master wasn’t all wrong. 

It was all a little odd. Tommy and Wilbur were close, that was certain, but why did the older brother insist on getting to know the tutor so well? Something wasn’t adding up. Wilbur was too suspicious. 

Did he suspect Techno of something? He had barely even done anything yet! Was Wilbur going to be a problem outside the problem of the line of succession? That plan from this morning… It looked like an even better idea the more he thought about it. The voices hummed in agreement, the violence of it all delighting them to no ends.

But he would need time. 

“Tommy and I finish up soon, but I don’t usually take tea until after dinner.” 

“That’s fine! Tea after dinner sounds good. The king gifted me this new jasmine tea that’s supposed to help with sleep…” 

“Can I come?” asked Tommy. 

“No. Older kids only,” said Wilbur.

“No fair! Technoblade is mine!” 

“He is not! You’ve had him to yourself the last couple of days. It’s my turn,” Wilbur argued, standing up abruptly. His chair scratched against the floor. “Well, I have my own studying to do. His Highness advised me of some readings I should take into consideration. Perhaps you’d like to borrow them from me when I’m done, Techno?” 

Techno hesitated before nodding. “Sure.” 

Wilbur smiled and waved goodbye, letting the door slam shut behind him. Was Wilbur… Mocking him? Reminding him that Tommy wouldn’t be the frontrunner of the ducal house for the fight for the throne? No, no, Techno was thinking too far ahead. 

Wilbur was amiable. He loved his little brother. 

But he also had a silver tongue and was known for his cleverness in the past. 

It didn’t matter if Wilbur might be a threat, Techno couldn’t allow any room for failure. 

Techno was invited to dine with the family again in the evening, and the butler informed him from here on out to just expect spending mealtimes with the Crafts. He was the last one to arrive, and Wilbur waved him over to the seat next to him, across an empty place setting. 

“So,” the Duke started, “I heard you had Tommy take an assessment? How is he?” 

“The Second Master has a very bright future, my lord,” Techno responded with grace. 

The Duke frowned at his response. “Please, it’s just us here. You can call my sons by their given names, and I hope with time, you can refer to me as well in a more casual manner.” 

“Will do,” he stammered. “Tommy’s talented. He’s got passion.” 

The Duke smiled, taking a bite of his food. Tommy took this as his turn to talk, going over all the things he learned from Techno today. He made sure to tell Tommy to keep his history studies mum for now, not quite sure how the Duke would react if he found out Technoblade had been feeding him an alternate history to the ones written in the history books. A Duke from the ruling class would want his son to have an upbringing that reflected the nobility of his lineage and to carry on a similar air. 

Techno’s classes were meant to humble and ground Tommy. 

Math was okay to talk about, though, and for someone who abhorred it so, Tommy sure had a lot to say on the subject. 

Techno finished his food quickly, placing his fork and knife gently on the side of the plate. He glanced over at Wilbur to see that he too had polished off his plate. All he was waiting for was to be dismissed by the Duke, the blue vial of poison sitting heavy in his trouser pockets. 

It wasn’t meant to kill-- only blind. The problem with Wilbur was that he was the perfect candidate in every way-- but rendering him blind would make him virtually useless to the noble faction, the Duke, and the king, paving the way for Tommy to become the ultimate success.

It was cruel, but necessary. 

The best part was it took forty eight hours for it to begin to work, which would give Technoblade a long amount of time for an alibi. There was no way they could pinpoint the exact timing of Wilbur’s poisoning, thus ridding Technoblade of too much suspicion. Not to mention, Technoblade had a good relationship with Wilbur on the surface. 

He just needed someone to play the scapegoat… And Techno had just the person in mind. Someone that would need to be reviled by the Crafts in order for Techno to keep moving. 

“Father, can Technoblade and I be dismissed? I have a book I’d like to show him in my room,” Wilbur requested. 

“Sure, sure. Technoblade, if you would come see me in my study after? I’d like to speak with you.” 

“Of course, my lord.” 

“What did I say?” 

“Uh… Lord Philza?” 

The Duke offered him a tired yet fond smile. “Alright, I’ll give you a pass. Go on, you two.” 

Techno trailed after Wilbur the entire way, who walked like his life depended on it. He never noticed how fast of a walker Wilbur was until that moment, always in a race, always in a hurry for something. 

Wilbur’s room was close to Tommy’s, which was all in the private wing of the estate. Technoblade was located in the guest wing, though his stay was more long term, he was still not considered family. 

Wilbur opened the door, letting Techno step inside before Wilbur closed the door behind them. Wilbur’s room was incredibly nice. It was classically styled, mostly neutral colors. His parlor was filled mostly with bookshelves and different instruments, some Techno had never even heard of in all four hundred years of living. 

“Wow,” he said rather dumbly. 

“Father spares no expense for our comfort. I’m sure if you ask for something, he’ll give it to you too.” 

“No need. I’m quite comfortable as is,” Technoblade rejected. Wilbur shrugged, showing him over to the corner of the room with a small tea table. There was already a tea set ready, the smell of jasmine wafting through their noses. 

“Lovely, isn’t it? His Highness has such refined tastes.” 

Techno recoiled, the familiarity of it all making him want to wretch. Of course the king gifted Wilbur jasmine tea, it was one of his favorites. He had terrible insomnia due to paranoia all throughout his life, and the tea was one of the only things that calmed him. He’d drink it all the time in front of Technoblade. 

Even as a sword, all five senses continued functioning. 

“What’s wrong? Do you not like jasmine?” 

Techno shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine.” 

Wilbur smiled and picked up the pot, pouring them each a cup. Techno sat down while Wilbur placed the pot back on the table and then turned to his bookshelves, hunting for a particular book he wanted to show Techno. 

Techno took this opportunity to take the little vial of poison out of his pocket, pop the cork and dump it in Wilbur’s drink, all before he turned around. The poison disintegrated into the tea. One would not notice it if they had not seen it being poured in. 

Wilbur turned around with a thick book, dropping it on the table with a thud, causing everything to spill a little. “Have you read this before? The Prince?” 

“I didn’t take you for a Machiavellian,” Techno replied, taking a sip of his tea while holding his breath. 

“I don’t agree with everything he says, but it’s not without merit,” said Wilbur. “We rulers have a different sense of responsibility than the average person. Morality isn’t something we can choose lightly. We have order to keep, after all.” 

“Do you really think people need one person to keep all order?” asked Technoblade. “And why does a singular person get to define what order is?” 

Wilbur leaned back into his chair, taking a swig of tea before crossing his arms. “There’s an agreement between the people and us. We offer them protection, and they offer their freedoms. We can’t offer them protection without order.” 

“What happens when the order created turns to chaos? What do you suggest?” Techno asked with narrowed eyes. 

“Then,” Wilbur replied. “I suppose it’s only right to instill a new order.” 

Techno was right to be worried. Wilbur was dangerous to the cause. He seemed to have ambition of sorts that didn’t align with Technoblade’s vision of the future. Even if he wasn’t Tommy’s enemy outright, he was an enemy to the ideology. 

He couldn’t kill Wilbur. 

That would disrupt the balance of the home and cause unnecessary emotional turmoil within Tommy that would take too long to repair. Wilbur just needed to be blinded before he could be shown the truth. 

“You don’t like Machiavelli, but you’ve read him.” 

“Of course. It’s important to read both sides and make critical judgments on your own.” 

Wilbur nodded along with a grin. “I like that. See, I knew we’d get along great from the moment I first saw you and your wild pink hair. Father liked you too, but I convinced him you were the right person to teach Tommy. I hope you’ll always be with us.” 

“I’d like nothing more than to see your family continue to prosper,” Techno said, his answers turning into something highly politicized. Wilbur was supposed to be a child, but conversing with him felt like conversing with some of those old geezers in the palace. It was such a shame everyone would pull away from Wilbur after the poison kicked in, but he would still become an exceptional man even without all the attention from others. 

“Do you read outside of politics?” 

Techno startled at the question. The last book he read for fun was four hundred years ago, of course. It had been a book about old myths from an ancient civilization, and despite some glaring red flags, the overall stories and themes were enjoyable. “I read myths. Old wives tales.” 

“I wouldn’t expect it from you! I would’ve thought you’d say military history or something!” 

“I enjoy that too.” 

“Well read. What about music? I never got to ask you these questions at the party. Tommy always makes conversations about himself.” 

“I appreciate that sometimes. It’s hard to talk about myself. I’m glad he’s able to balance us out.” 

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that everyone in this family loves to talk. We get it from Mother mostly, but Father gets passionate sometimes.”

Ah. Techno didn’t realize Wilbur would be so cavalier on his mention of the late Duchess, Lady Kristin Craft of Blumefallen. She had died a couple of years ago of some rare genetic disease. Techno couldn’t remember if one of the Craft boys inherited the gene or not.

There was a knock on the door. Wilbur called for them to come in. It was the head butler, sticking his head in to escort Techno to the Duke’s study. 

Techno rubbed his legs before getting up, bowing his head to Wilbur before rushing off to meet the Duke. He didn’t know how many more meetings he could take in one night; his social battery was draining quickly. 

The Duke’s study was in a completely different wing of the house, devoted to household and estate affairs. It was nicely furnished in mostly dark wood and green accented furniture. Techno wringed his wrists upon greeting the Duke before pushing his hands behind his back. “Your Grace,” he greeted, before quickly correcting it, “Lord Philza.” 

The Duke was sitting on one of the sofas, surrounded by a bunch of papers and a large black quill.

“Technoblade! Come sit!” He used his foot to gesture to the sofa across from him. Techno did as he was told, folding his hands in his lap. “Have you settled in nicely? This must be a strange change from Himmelblock… Or, where were you apprenticed?” 

“Hochpixel,” answered Techno. 

Phil acknowledged his answer with a nod. “Tommy’s very precious to us all, but even I can admit he’s hard to teach. I’m hoping you will do your best despite the difficulties.”

Techno’s eyebrow began to twitch. Why was everyone so worried about Tommy? He would be fine with Techno, he wouldn’t let anything happen to the boy. He was far too important to Techno’s plans. 

“Tommy’s no problem at all. He’s passionate and creative, which are the most important traits in a student. There’s no need to worry about his education anymore.” 

The Duke sat there slack-jawed, and Techno worried there was too much bite in his word. The last thing he wanted to do was disrespect the Duke and make him angry, but the Duke’s expression never turned sour. “I feel assured, then. Wilbur didn’t give you a hard time earlier, did he?” 

“No. Not at all.” If anything, Techno gave Wilbur a hard time. Or, he will be having a hard time. Perhaps it was cruel to joke about Wilbur’s impending situation. 

“Okay, okay. I won’t grill you any longer. Go get some rest, alright, Tech?” 

Tech. They were already giving him nicknames here. “For sure.” 

It took less than the allotted time for the drug to kick in. Techno was fast asleep when Wilbur supposedly woke up in the middle of the night, screaming that he couldn’t see. Every guard and servant raced to the Eldest Young Master’s quarters to see what was wrong, all pushed out of the way by the Duke.

Techno himself made his way over to see the play take place, hiding behind a couple of servants. 

“What’s wrong with all of you!” The Duke roared from inside Wilbur’s bedroom. “Go summon the doctor, or you all will lose your eyes with my son!” 

Techno took a massive step backward, pressing his back against the wall of the hallway. This was an expected reaction. 

Nothing was out of the ordinary here.

The doctor was in the estate in under thirty minutes, his things unpacked in under thirty seconds. Wilbur clutched his face tightly while the doctor checked his pulse. Techno watched at the door, Tommy standing in between his legs. 

“It’s poison, Your Grace. The Blue Hemelia.” 

Hmm. This doctor was good. 

“When was it?” the Duke inquired. 

“Could be anywhere from the last twenty four hours to a few days ago. I couldn’t be sure. It depends on the dosage, and the Blue Hemelia is known for being hard to trace. My apologies--” 

The Duke didn’t wait to listen to the doctor’s pathetic apologies, striking him across the face. “Fix him! Fix his eyesight!” 

“It’s irreversible! I’m sorry!” 

The whole room stilled as Wilbur took the attention off the doctor. He was hunkered over on the side of his bed, coughing up a storm. 

That wasn’t normal. 

“Is that blood?” The Duke seethed. 

“It seems so,” the doctor answered meekly, already flinching as he stuck a stick down Wilbur’s throat. “Does the Eldest Young Master have a pre-existing condition? Or anyone in the family he could have inherited a pre-existing condition from?” 

“His mother,” the Duke whispered. “She had a weak constitution. It was… It was genetic.” 

Oh no. 

Oh no no no no. This was not what he intended at all. 

“Your Grace, it seems like the Eldest Young Master has inherited those genes. The Blue Hemelia will kill him by the end of the week if he doesn’t get the proper antidote.”

The Duke grabbed the doctor by the collar of his shirt, shaking him back and forth. “What is it? What’s the antidote?” 

“The Ami flower.” 

Techno’s heart dropped. 

He was familiar with that flower.

Because it was only grown by the ruling family of Manberg.

Chapter Text

The Duke retreated to his study after the news. 

Tommy elected to climb into Wilbur’s bed and curl up under his arms, some sort of support in these trying times. Techno sat on the edge of the bed, the duvet nearly ripping under the pressure of his tight grip. 

They had pulled a chair up for the doctor, who was currently out of the room to send a servant out to pick up ingredients for some pain relievers ‘to ease his passing.’ It was as if it was already decided. There was a bucket next to his bedside already filled with an inch of blood from his coughing and vomit. It hadn’t even been three hours since it started.

He didn’t mean for this to happen-- okay, he meant for the blindness to happen, but he didn’t know… He didn’t know he would die from it! How was he supposed to know Wilbur had a pre-existing condition that mixed wrong with a poison? 

He needed to fix this. Wilbur wasn’t supposed to die; if he died, then the balanced dynamic of the family would fall apart. He needed everyone right where they were-- Wilbur couldn’t die.

Techno needed to do something about this. 

He got up from his seat, but Wilbur tugged his wrist, holding him in place. “Don’t go,” he whispered, the whine in his voice tearing at Techno’s gut. “Techno, please--” 

Techno put his hand over Wilbur’s, gently removing his grip. “I’m goin’ to fix this, Wilbur. I--” Techno’s honor begged him to take responsibility for this, but he couldn’t. “I’m goin’ to find whoever did this to you, Wil. I promise.” 

Tommy unconsciously scooted closer to Wilbur, his arm draping over Wilbur’s chest, his small knuckles white as he gripped his brother’s night shirt for dear life, as if he would simply disappear if he let go.

Techno made his way over to Phil’s study, a low candlelight still burning, the heat glowing from the space between the door and the ground. He heard the heavy sound of footsteps through the door, going back and forth between the walls, wearing out the wooden floors.

He knocked on the door softly. “Lord Philza?” 

The pacing stopped. The Duke, quiet as a mouse, finally spoke: “Come in.” Techno crept into the room, bowing his head slightly. They were both still in their pajamas, but the Duke’s bags were heavy under his eyes, the stress corroding his skin. “How is he?”

“He’s calmed down. Listen, I--” 

“How could this have happened?” the Duke murmured, leaning against his desk. “How could I have let that rat do this to my boy?” 

Judging by the fact that Techno was not dead yet and the Duke was venting to him, it was safe to assume Techno was not a suspect. That much was good. He hoped the rat the Duke spoke of was the king of Manberg. By making the point of poisoning so vague, it threw suspicion off Techno and made the timeline muddy enough that the assassin could be the king himself.

It seemed like the Duke and the king already had bad blood, though, seeing as though Techno had to do little to no pushing on the matter. 

This was good. 

Still, he had to play along. “Do you know who did it?”

The Duke shook his head. “I can’t… I’d like to say, but it would be a crime to even think it. I apologize for my outburst.” 

“No,” said Techno. “It’s fine. It’s normal for you to be outraged about this…” he paused before diving into the real reason he was here. “I heard the king has the antidote… Can you reach him?” 

“The Ami Flower is precious; he’d never hand it over without a steep favor. And if what I think happened, happened, then the king won’t hand over the flower so easily.” 

Techno grimaced. He knew what he had to do; Tommy had given him the idea earlier, but it was something he really hated.

But Technoblade was a knight, and by his honor, he’d save Wilbur from death. 

“There’s another way,” Techno revealed. “The knight’s tournament. I- I could go.” 

The Duke stared at him with his mouth agape. “Mate, that’s an incredibly large tournament. It lasts for two days and knights from all over show up-- I hate to put your skills in question, but--”
“I can win. I promise you I can win, and I’ll use the favor to get the Ami flower.” 

The Duke shot forward, grabbing Techno’s arms and holding them close to his chest, his usually cool, tactical eyes wet with tears, his mind ripe with the hope of saving his precious son. “That’s a lot to ask-- thank you-- I mean, why would you do this? A favor from the king is not an ordinary thing.” 

“I… I feel a sense of duty towards your family. I-I want to protect them.” The weight of his actions hung heavy in his stomach, nausea pooling in his abdomen and threatening to come up out of this throat. 

This wouldn’t have happened if Technoblade hadn’t been so paranoid!

It was more than protection, it was self-interest. It was guilt, it was shame-- how could he have harmed that boy? He was innocent; his only crime was his title and his potential future, a future Techno knew wouldn’t come to fruition. 

He was such a fool. 

“Sir Technoblade, I would be deeply indebted to you if you can accomplish this task.” 

Those were the words he wanted. He desperately wanted to corner the Duke like this, make him love him and support him like this-- a debt from the Duke was better than a favor from a king. 

He had ruined this moment himself. 

He untangled his hands from the Duke’s grip. “I’ll leave immediately.” 

The Duke went over to his desk, sifting through the drawers until he pulled a golden tag out with an intricate carving his family’s crest. He handed it to Techno. “Take this with you. Traveling, lodging, food-- it’ll all be put on my tab once you show them this. It’ll identify you as my knight.” 

Techno bowed. “I’ll return swiftly.” 

He returned to his room to begin packing-- he was starting to hate traveling-- while the butler knocked on his door to let him know his horse was being prepared for traveling. Horseback would be fastest. 

Fortunately, Manberg was closer than Himmelblock was, so Technoblade could easily make the trip in a little less than a day and a half. The tournament would start in two days, last for two days, and Techno would be back in the nick of time to save Wilbur, as long as things go to plan.

And they will go to plan, because Wilbur’s life depended on it. 

Soft, the voices whispered. You’ve gone soft.

“Shut up!” he barked, throwing a bunch of clothes into the trunk before deciding to downsize to just a knapsack. It would make him lighter and Carl would be able to go faster.

Technosoft, they mocked him. They probably thought they were so clever with their play on his name.

He was out the door shortly after. No one was there to see him off except for the stablehand and the butler, who shoved a small box of snacks into his hands. “Safe travels, Sir Technoblade,” said the butler. “For all our sakes, I hope you’re successful.” 

Techno shuddered. He could only imagine the hell the Duke would unleash if Wilbur didn’t make it. What would that grief do to Tommy? How would it affect his road to the crown? 

These thoughts fueled his speed.

He watched two sunrises on his trip to the capital, stopping only for short naps and to feed Carl and give him time to rest. Other than that, Carl sped him through the streets until they reached the city and he had to abide by the speed of everyone else. 

There was a lot of incoming traffic-- carriages, horses, and walkers-- all coming for one reason: the tournament.

It was a big draw for crowds, not to mention the competitors. Techno was slightly worried there wouldn’t be room for him in an inn or tavern, but he was sure the Blumefallen tally had to mean something to these business owners. 

Techno hopped off Carl and pulled out of the line of traffic to a building that was falling apart, the rotten wooden sign swinging from one chain. The Rusty Mucker. 

Suspicious name, decrepit-- there must be an open room. 

He tied Carl off on a post on the side of the building and entered The Rusty Mucker. The inside smelled of rotten eggs and vodka, which probably wasn’t the strangest combination to assault his nostrils. There was a man behind the bar that was checking out other travelers. 

“You here for the tournament?” the barkeep asked once it was Techno’s turn. “You got a sword… Don’t tell me you’re competin’?” 

“I am.” He took out the tally and flashed it. “If you have a room left, I’ll take it.” 

“Sheesh, man! Did you steal that thing? Why’re you flashin’ it around here? You should be in the Upper Sides with a tally from a rich family!” 

Techno shrugged. “I just want to rest my feet, man. I can’t keep travelin’ up.”

“A man of sense and wealth-- ah, but you’re quite young. Are you competin’ for your father or somethin’?” 

“No, no. Nothin’ like that. I owe the Duke of Blumefallen a debt,” Techno confessed. If he could not be honest about his faults to those around him, the least he could do was come clean to a complete and total stranger he’d never see again. “I’m here to fix a mistake.” 

“Ha, so this tournament’s redemption? What’s your name, kid? I’m not sure they let squires in.” 

“I’m not a squire,” he protested. “My name is Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock.” 

“The barkeep’s eyes lit up in recognition. “No way! A real celebrity’s come into my inn! They didn’t think you’d show even though every new knight comes here to compete. They say you’re standoffish.” 

“People talk about me?” Techno didn’t know how he felt about that. If people were expecting him, that meant that perhaps some people saw him as an obstacle and would try to get rid of him. 

Good call on choosing the dumpster inn over the Upper Sides.

“Oh yeah. Not every day a kid gets knighted then fucks off to… Where was it you said? Blumefallen? Oh man, what a position. Whaddaya do for the man? Are you his personal knight or somethin’?” 

Techno’s cheeks flushed red. “I tutor his youngest son.” He knocked his knuckles against the surface of the bar, hoping the barkeep would just give him the goddamned keys to his room. Luckily, the barkeep’s mind began working with his hands. 

“Well, alright. Enjoy your stay, little knight.” 

Techno couldn’t get to his room fast enough. He slammed the door shut and made sure to lock it behind him before flopping onto the bed face first. He’d close his eyes for a little bit, catch up on some sleep, and then he’d feed Carl and take a look around Nevadas.

He could hardly recall how Nevadas looked so far in the past. What he’d seen so far had been a little underwhelming. In his past life, he’d only been there once or twice before he would never leave, and he was too high and mighty to really look around and enjoy the scenery and architecture. 

His plans were foiled when he woke up and it was dark outside. Techno still had to go down and feed his horse, but he figured he ought to rest up more before the preliminary round rather than act like a tourist. Once Tommy was made king, he’d be able to wander the streets all the time.

Since there were thousands of applicants and not enough time in the day to watch a duel from them all, the preliminary round acted as a way to weed out the weakest competitors. It was a skill-based ‘mission’ picked from a plethora of options by the king himself. 

Only the first five hundred people would continue. 

It would be a breeze for someone like Techno, but he could still see certain challenges cropping up. It would be a blind spot to assume he was the best in the arena despite his years of experience and natural talent. It was best to be humble in times like these, but…

He was definitely getting through. 

Techno got anxiety about a lot of things-- perhaps having to fight in front of so many people, but about the outcome of the fight? 

Nah. 

After shoving some slop into Carl’s mouth, he washed up and headed back to bed. 

The registration lines went a mile down the street. Techno had the foresight to come early in the morning, before the sun rose, and camp. Other people also had the idea, but they were less ferocious than he, and so he ultimately won the third spot in line. It also helped that most people weren’t willing to fight a kid so early in the morning.

Not that they would win even if they tried. 

Techno flashed his tally and told them his name, and in exchange he received a strip of paper with a number on it to stick somewhere on his body. He was escorted inside the arena, a large elliptical amphitheater filled with tens of thousands of audience members cheering for their favorites as they were allowed in. 

The first tier was occupied by the nobles of the kingdom, and on a higher podium was where the royal family sat. The king had already arrived, a glass of red wine in his hand as he observed the newcomers. Technoblade tried not to look at him or make the king aware that he was here in any capacity. 

He could not take the king’s attention in this life. 

Finally, when everyone had been registered, the announcer took his place by the king, holding a crystal that amplified his voice with magic. “Welcome all to the 104th Annual Knight’s Tournament!” he paused for effect, allowing the audience to cheer for him. “This year we have a surplus of talent, and so we will be holding the preliminary round. The theme will be chosen by His Majesty the king himself, King Quackity!” 

The king leaned off of his throne and gave everyone a half wave before choking down his wine. 

The announcer continued: “Due to lack of space, the preliminary round will take place in a mirror world. Each contestant will be handed a crystal and be injected with a serum that will show them the mission, which will be picked out by His Majesty very shortly.” 

True to the announcer’s word, servants and workers began to hand out crystals to the mirror world while another servant brought a massive bowl full of slips of paper to the king. He dug his hand into the bowl, his fingers swimming around for a little before he pulled out one and handed it off to the announcer without even reading it. 

“The theme is: fear! Good luck, contestants!” 

Techno didn’t really count on the themes being so open ended. He remembered them being more specific, like lizards or undead. What does fear even mean? 

While the audience was enjoying plays and music, the contestants would be fighting illusory opponents. Nothing in the preliminary round was real, especially with a theme like fear, but if one allowed it to overcome them, then there was no chance of completing the challenge. He could see the acting troupes standing by the walls of the arena in full makeup and costume, waiting for their turn to take center stage. 

A servant came back around with a needle. He gestured for Techno to move his sleeve up. He obliged and was rewarded with an orange liquid being pumped into his arm. 

The announcer ordered them to activate the crystal, and then they were all gone, vanished to the mirror world. 

It was a magical replica of the existing world and personalized by each crystal. Techno’s crystal brought him to a much darker version of the world. The skies were overcast and rumbling and the world seemed completely decrepit compared to reality. 

Techno didn’t scare easily; he wondered what exactly the drugs would have in store for him. This was a test of the mind rather than a test of the physical. Keeping his promise to the Duke became so much harder, but he would not quit. Not when so much was at stake-- his support, Wilbur’s life, his life. 

Techno wasn’t under the illusion that he would be safe if Wilbur died. There was a reason why the Duke’s lineage was always considered second to the royal family by default; why Wilbur and Tommy were most considered to be the king’s heirs should he not produce his own. It was because of the oppressive nature of the Duke. He held so much power over the entire continent, not just Manberg. It’s what scared the king about the Duke and made him want to reign in that power, and it’s what made Technoblade want to harness it.

Should Techno fail, there was no hiding from retribution, even if the Duke still didn’t suspect him for Wilbur’s poisoning. 

He took his sword out of the sheath and let it hang in his grip. There was no need to be up in arms so quick in the game. If he kept his mind calm and his heart rate steady, he was sure he could get out of this without encountering many ‘fears.’ 

Anxieties, sure. The scariest thing they could do was summon one of his mother’s parties, but he had to learn to deal with those from a young age. They were nothing more than a skipped heartbeat and sweaty palms at this point. 

Techno decided to exit the amphitheater. It was completely empty-- there was no use standing there. Perhaps he had to search for his fears if his mind couldn’t supply them fast enough. 

The streets of Nevadas weren’t the same without the people. Rotten food carts and empty street corners sucked the life out of Techno as he continued to walk. He could see the purpose masses served as he began to miss people. 

The click of his boots paused against the cobblestone when he finally saw something ahead. It was left in the middle of the street, so obviously centered there by his brain to scare him. A heavy broad length and shiny hilt with all sorts of rubies and diamonds decorating it: 

There was no way he wouldn’t recognize it-- him. 

It was him.

Technoblade, The Holy Sword. 

He took a step back, dropping his own sword in the process. 

It’s an illusion, the voices assured him, you are real; you are flesh. It was one of the first moments of comfort the voices had ever offered him. 

It gave Techno the courage to step forward, kneel down and reach out to touch it--

A hand covered the hilt, sliding it out from under Techno’s grasp. He glanced up, shocked by the sharpness of the jaw that matched the familiar blue eyes and mop of curly blond hair. “Tommy,” Techno gasped, falling over onto his back. 

A teenaged Tommy drew the sword, pointing it at Techno’s neck. “Who do you call so familiarly?” Techno looked back for his own sword, seeing it laying on the ground too far away. 

It’s not real, the voices hissed, but it still felt real. It still felt like he was looking at an aged Tommy with a sword pointed at his neck with hatred crawling up his skin.

“Theseus,” Techno tried again.

“Your Majesty,” Tommy corrected. “And you shall pay for your crimes.” 

“What crimes?” asked Techno. “W-what happened to you--” 

“Wilbur’s dead because of you,” Tommy seethed. “You poisoned him. You didn’t make it back in time!” He laughed humorlessly. “But at least I am king now! How does it feel, Technoblade, to get what you want and still end up right where you started?” He flipped the sword in his hands, his fingers gliding over the sharp edge of the blade.

“Stop it.” 

“You shouldn’t have done it, Techno. You shouldn’t have messed with fate-- tussled with time.” 

“Tommy, stop it,” Techno growled, moving backwards now that Tommy had moved the blade away from his face. His goal was to get to his sword, but if worse came to worst, he’d use his fists. 

It’s not real, the voices reminded him. 

“Did you really think things would be different this time around?” 

“Shut up.” Just a few more inches. 

“You’re just a tool, Techno. That’s all you were ever meant to be.”

“Shut up.” His fingers brushed over the surface of the hilt. 

“And you’ll look so good on my wall, right next to Wilbur’s ashes.” 

“Shut up!” Techno roared, slashing at Tommy’s image. Tommy retaliated with a jab at Techno’s abdomen, missing by a breath. Techno adjusted the grip on his sword and stabbed Tommy in his side.

The king fell over onto his back, blood spilling out of his side and mouth. “Techno, how could you?” 

“You’re not real,” Techno whispered. “Wilbur isn’t dead yet, and neither are you.” 

As Tommy disintegrated, his mind settled. All his worries seemed to melt away with Tommy. The crystal in his pocket lit up, meaning it was time for him to go back. 

He gladly summoned the portal back, shining under the sound of the people’s applause for the first time ever. The announcer had moved from the king’s box to stand in the middle of the arena, welcoming the returning contestants back. His eyes just about bulged out of their sockets when he saw Technoblade step out of his portal. 

“Congratulations, you’re the seventy-seventh person to return! What’s your name?” He shoved the crystal amplifier at Techno’s mouth. 

“Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock.” 

“Here that, folks? Youngest knight ever will be moving on to tomorrow’s duels! Everyone send your support his way!” The announcer pushed Technoblade in the direction of the massive gate that led to the exit where all seventy six other contestants were. 

Hmm… Not his best work. Seventy seventh? He definitely could’ve done better. Maybe other people were completely fearless or had manageable fears-- maybe some of these people weren’t four hundred year old swords with that weight to carry through time. 

Blood for the blood god! The voices cheered. Their celebrations felt like a migraine. He held his temple as he hurried away from the sounds of the people so the only cheering he heard was inside his head. 

A servant showed him the way to a spot where he could rest. It was a small room with two thin wooden benches attached to opposite brick walls, a small window with bars high and close to the ceiling. It looked more like a prison cell than a resting room. 

He was half way there. 

He only had to win all his duels tomorrow to win the Ami flower and save Wilbur from death. 

The door to the resting room opened again, and in came a servant directing a second contestant into the room. He had dirty blonde hair and wore a green coat, a porcelain mask with a concerning smiling face painted on the white mask covering his countenance. 

He did not need to see a face to know who this was. 

This was the man that would be one of King Quackity’s greatest supporters and friends. A man who’s political power grew with the wars waged by the king, and profited off of Techno’s exploitation as the Holy Sword. 

A man as enigmatic as he was known by the world, and a downright bastard if Techno had ever seen one, only one victory won against him so far: a battle of age. The youngest knight before Technoblade had been this man, and Techno had beaten him out so, so recently.

Sir Dream.

Chapter Text

The two contestants stared each other down. Sir Dream moved his mask out of the way so Techno could properly assess his face. 

“Hey,” the green knight said casually. Techno was quite taken aback by how easy nice words came out of his mouth.

“Hullo,” Techno decided to reply, keeping his expression neutral. What if engaging in conversation was a way to psyche Techno out? Well, Techno had a lot of mental fortitude. He wouldn’t fall for scare tactics easily. 

“You were seventy-seventh, right?” Dream waited for Techno to respond, so he decided to just nod. “I was seventy-eighth. I probably would’ve beaten you if it hadn’t been for… Well, I think they gave me too much of that drug, honestly, it kind of dragged me down…”

Techno began to tune him out. 

All he did was complain about how the event was probably rigged against him even though by all means, he had an excellent placement. Although, this characterization was a little more in line with Techno's memories of the man. A vindictive, whiny brat that just happened to be exceptionally talented with a sword and strategy. 

The mystery was a lie-- it was a facade put on by Dream to give himself an air of otherworldliness. He was no enigma if you looked at him long enough; in fact, he was quite easy to pull apart once you knew where the snags were. 

“...Hey! Did you hear them? The servant said we can head out after we confirm our attendance for tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” said Techno, scratching the side of his head as he pulled himself off the bench. “Alright then.” 

Dream stood up too. “Wait, you’re just going to go like that?” 

Techno lifted an eyebrow. “Am I… Forgetting somethin’?” He looked down at his clothes. He wasn’t dirty by any means. Sure, his backside could use some dusting off, but he was presentable enough that he was willing to strut around an amphitheater full of people with it on.

“I thought we would go together. It’s not everyday you see the realm’s two youngest knights ever interac--” 

“I’m actually beat, so I think I’ll go alone,” Techno said quickly. “But, uh, good to meet you… Break a leg tomorrow and all that.” He rushed out the door before Dream could come up with some half baked argument as to why they should walk to the attendance people together. He was sort of getting this odd feeling that Dream wanted to… connect and bond with him, which, looking back on his previous life, Techno would very much like to avoid. 

Perhaps he was a good guy now, and he shouldn’t hold things that never happened in this timeline against this Dream, but… Looking at that face and that mask, knowing the things that man did while Technoblade was a sword, how Dream himself very well could’ve been the Holy Sword had it not been for Techno’s name being suggested… It made him nauseous. 

Just being in the same room was sickening. 

Techno stopped to ask for directions from a nearby servant, wiping the sweat from his palms on his pants after the interaction, and he headed to the location. There was a line of contestants growing, some not bothering to stop in those rooms for rest that looked more like prisons than anything to take a breather, but more than willing to sign their names and get out quickly. 

Techno didn’t blame them. If he knew signing there and heading out was an option, he wouldn’t have followed that servant to the rest rooms. Now he had to wait in this line. 

Techno didn’t so much as move a muscle while waiting unless it was to step forward. He absolutely wanted to avoid drawing any sort of attention to himself which would then cause people to come up to him or talk about him. 

He finally reached the front. The person working the table simply asked for his name and the spelling, and then he had to pull out the Blumefallen tally once more before he was free to go back to his lodgings. Techno was instructed to return at first light so they could kick off the duels early and decide on the matches. 

Technoblade dragged his feet all the way back to The Rusty Mucker, all the energy sapped from his skin and left in the mirror world. What he saw… Techno knew it wasn’t real, but it still shook him to his core. To have a fear so dormant that the sight of it was as much a fear as its actual appearance would be enough to break any man’s mind. It was only luck that Techno’s mind was already shattered and shared.

Upon reaching his room, he played with the idea of sending a letter back to Blumefallen to check in on Wilbur’s condition. When he left him, Wilbur had a bucket of blood and a nasty cough. The blindness was permanent, just as Techno had wished for, but now it was only a source of regret for him. 

His paranoia would be the end of him if he didn’t get a grip soon. 

Ultimately, Wilbur decided against the letter. It wouldn’t even arrive until after Techno was already on his way back with the antidote. He knew Wilbur would pull through-- he’s a tough kid despite his appearance. 

Still, Techno made sure to kneel at his bedside that night with his hands folded and pressed against his forehead, his eyes closed tightly as he sent a prayer to the Blood God. 

Please keep Wilbur safe so that he does not suffer too much from my shortcomings. I pray I make it back on time to save him. I pray he will be alright. I pray Tommy and Lord Philza still have a brother and son when I return, and that I may still have a friend…

He turned in early that night, pulling the sheets over his face to hide his guilty countenance from the sky. 

Technoblade dressed similarly to yesterday. The tournament doesn’t usually advocate for contestants wearing armor. It was ‘friendly’ duels with no real harm to them, and so rather than promote harsh violence against one another and encourage armor, most people wore dress coats with their House’s colors or coat of arms on it.

Due to the quick turnaround of Techno’s arrival at the tournament, he had no such thing to represent Blumefallen, or even Himmelblock or Hochpixel, so he was stuck wearing an average red dress coat with pressed trousers and knee high boots.

He was one of the first to arrive yet again, and his check-in was a swift affair. After everyone arrived, they’d announce the matchups and any adjustments that would need to be made if people didn’t show up. 

Techno was certain he could beat every single person in the event. There was no doubt in his mind. Even the best fighters of the time that showed up-- they would fall to Technoblade’s sword in no time. 

Soon, the whole group of five hundred were there, and the matchups were posted, which would soon be distributed throughout the lobby of the amphitheater and the neighboring streets. Betting would start soon, and then that’s when things got really interesting for the viewer. 

Who had the better eye?

Techno doubted he’d get many people betting on him. For one, he was a newcomer to the event, and though he held notoriety due to his age, that was another disadvantage when it came to choosing who to push all your cards towards. People might think, ‘maybe in ten years’ when they look at him, but never ‘now.’ He’s too young to be too good. 

It wasn’t their fault they didn’t know the truth, but Techno wouldn’t go as far as to say he felt bad for the people who didn’t bet on him. 

“Hey! Sir Technoblade!” Techno turned around to see Dream waving him down. Techno pushed down a feeling of disgust and fixed his face to match his neutrality. 

“Hullo.” 

“So you decided to show up, huh?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“... Have you seen the match ups yet? I feel bad for whoever is matched up against us in the first round.” 

“We’re standin’ right in front of it.”

Dream looked behind Techno. “Oh.” He pushed past the people around them so he could get a better view of his match up. Dream didn’t look overly enthused about his match up, but at least he saved everyone from having to hear about it. 

Techno was matched up with some old woman from the mountain region. She wasn’t some well known knight, but she seemed well respected among her peers, which meant Techno was honored to be able to fight someone like that.

She was going down, but she’d be going down full of honor. 

Techno was magnanimous like that. 

To keep things moving, the duels had certain parameters that made them unlike a normal knight duel. The rules were a little more similar to chess in a way. The goal was just to get the opponent in ‘check,’ which was just a sword to the throat or abdomen-- something they could not counter without reasonably being killed in a real fight. 

The rules were a bit foolish in Techno’s opinion, but this wasn’t his event. He was just here to play by the rules and hopefully win the Ami flower. These fights went by pretty quickly, and within the five hundred people that passed, fifty knights didn’t show up, meaning it was going to go even faster. 

It was an all day event-- the winner was usually crowned at midnight followed by a massive celebration into the witching hour. Techno hoped to just dip after winning his prize, but he might have to get creative with leaving in case they tried to hold him back. 

As expected the first fifty matches were over within thirty seconds to a minute. Some knights were injured from yesterday’s mission-- even though the opponent was the mind, they were still dealing with real life terrain in the mirror world and had probably fallen off a cliff or something in the mirror world. Other knights were just plain terrible, and it was a shock they were one of the first five hundred to finish the mission from yesterday. 

Techno’s match was next. His opponent looked ready to keel over at any moment. Her neck was in a brace, but she still wore her dress coat like the uniform of a military that had long passed its time. 

He brandished his sword and let it hang at his side while the lady knight prepared one of the standard defensive positions. Her posture threw off her footing. Just standing there in the early morning sun, Techno could rip apart her entire form and have her saying ‘uncle’ within ten seconds. 

That would be cool. ‘Quickest Match To End.’ 

When the bell rang for them to begin, Techno wasted no time kicking her feet out from under her and pointing his sword at her jugular. All he could think about in the moment was how much he wanted a glass of water, though. 

The crowd gasped before deciding they really liked what he did and began to cheer. Techno covered his forehead with his flattened palm and observed the crowd. Thousands of people still couldn’t compare to the volume of the voices in his head also applauding him for a job well done. 

Blood for the blood god! They purred.

The whole day went just like that. They held two matches simultaneously to keep the entire amphitheater distracted with fights. Techno mostly kept to himself, sitting in the shade and keeping himself up to date with new postings. 

Round three brought bad news in the form of Sir Dream clapping him on the shoulder, sending a smug smile his way. “Looks like it’s the end for you, Sir Techno. Who knew you’d have to go up against me so early?” 

Technoblade wasn’t worried about losing to Dream in the slightest. He was worried about Dream accusing him of cheating somehow and making the ordeal of the match that much longer. 

“Yeah. Who knew.” 

When it was their battle, they walked out from opposite sides of the amphitheater and both prepared their stances. Dream had tight shoulders and his knees locked from anticipation, which was bad news even if he was standing still. 

Poor Dream had lost before he had even begun, and Techno could only see this as a way to let loose the anger he held from his past. 

Techno met Dream’s blow quite easily, and then used his right leg to push him onto his backside. Dream was quick to roll out of the way and block Techno’s incoming blow, gripping the blade edge of his sword to further fortify his defenses. 

Techno took a step back when baraging him with frontal attacks became fruitless. He allowed Dream to gather his bearings before receiving another attack from the masked knight. Techno twisted his grip on his sword so his hold was reversed, and he used the hilt of the sword as a hammer right onto the porcelain mask, cracking it in half. 

In the shock of having his mask broken, Dream failed to see Techno twist his sword so the long edge was right up against his throat. 

The bell rang immediately signifying Techno’s win, and he was quick to release Dream from his hold. “Good game,” Techno saluted before putting his sword back in its sheath and heading back to the shade. 

With Dream out of the competition, Techno could truly breathe easier without having someone constantly jump him from behind to boast about his latest win or how he could’ve done better if X or Y didn’t do this or that. 

Techno, as expected, had a one hundred percent win rate, beating down every contestant young and old. The more he won, the more the crowd rooted for him-- he was the underdog-- no one had bet on him, but now they all wished they had and they felt good about a kid taking a win. 

His last match was thirty minutes before a new day began. With so many matches throughout the day, Techno managed to power nap in those rest rooms on those awful wooden benches that were so uncomfortable he had ended up preferring the floor. 

He was all energized and ready to fight.

Techno’s opponent was a middle-aged knight known for a specific move. According to Techno’s intel (i.e., observing the guy fight) his special move was just switching what hand was holding his sword really quickly. It was a cool move, but Techno was hundreds of years past that party trick. 

The Ami flower was as good as his. 

This was the only time ever that Techno glanced up at the royal box of his own volition. The king was there, waiting with anticipation for the round to start. He wondered if King Quackity was with the rest of the crowd, rooting for the underdog, or if he’d prefer the established, aged knight. 

The bell rang.

His opponent was smart enough to not openly attack right away. 

That was fine. 

Techno was more than willing to go on the offensive now. If this knight’s specialty was speed, all Techno had to be was faster. 

His footwork turned fancy as he used his youth to his advantage, hitting the older knight at angles he couldn’t possibly bend and was more focused on trying to throw the knight’s back out than anything else. 

Techno got bored after a while of the back and forth and decided to just end it, the tip of his sword cutting the back of the knight’s dresscoat. 

The bell rang but it was drowned out by the clapping and stamping done by the crowd. Techno dropped his sword and raised both arms up in thanks. The voices were very nice in their praise today; only a few of them chose negativity and pointed out what he could’ve done better. 

Those things didn’t matter.

Techno had won.

The Ami flower was his.

Wilbur would be okay.

More than being out of breath, it was the relief that forced the air out of his lungs.
He’d really done it. 

The announcer called down a servant to escort Technoblade to the royal box. His footsteps became faint and his heart began to skip a beat.

This was the worst part-- having to be in such close proximity with the king, his torturer, his master. Having to speak with him. 

King Quackity and the announcer were waiting for him, both standing up. Techno forced a bow out of him, his brows knit from the pain of having to be servile to this man once more. This was his punishment-- not the fear hallucinations, not the tournament, but having to confront this man and ask him for a favor. 

To anyone else, it looked like the other way around, but only Techno knew the truth. 

“Well done, Technoblade of Himmelblock. You’re a real talent,” said the king with a smile. “How about sharing a drink with me?”

“I must refuse, Your Majesty,” said Techno. He waited for the king’s face to contort with confusion before clarifying. “I am not yet sixteen and cannot drink.”

“Ah,” said the king, sitting back down on his throne, picking up his glass of wine and downing it in one gulp. “No matter. I hear you’re representing my dear friends in Blumefallen, right? Phil never attends these events, how lucky he’d gotten ahold of such a talented knight anyway.” 

“I am lucky to be with them. Your Majesty, if I can be so forward to ask for my favor?” 

“Oh, oh,” the king said, as if just remembering that specific stipulation. “Of course. Whatever you want. A title? Some land?” 

“I’d like a bouquet of the Ami flower.” Better safe than sorry-- the doctor never actually told them how much they’d need, as he presumed it would be impossible to get. 

The king rubbed his chin as he processed the request. “The Ami flower, huh… You like flowers, Sir Technoblade?” 

“One of my few passions in life,” replied Technoblade with as straight a face as possible.

“Sure,” said the king, snapping his fingers for a servant. “Bring us a bouquet of the Ami flower.” 

“I thank you for your grace,” said Techno, once again bowing. 

“How long will you be in Nevadas? Perhaps you can stay and give my personal guard some pointers--” 

“I’m afraid I must refuse again,” Techno said through gritted teeth. “Lord Theseus relies on me for his education, so I must return swiftly. I was lucky to be granted this time off to perform for you.” 

“Perform?” said the king. “Interesting word choice… Most knights would say ‘fight’ or ‘defend,’ but ‘perform’ is a new one.” 

The servant returned quickly with a bouquet of a glowing blue flower wrapped in gauze and tissue paper. He handed it directly to Techno, who cradled it gently in his arms. “I must be off, Your Majesty. Many blessings on the Manberg kingdom.” 

He took off before the king could have a chance to stop his self-dismissal. He still had to run across town to grab Carl and beat the traffic that would come from the celebrations that followed the tournament. 

One might think luck was on Technoblade’s side after his victory of the overall tournament, but that wasn’t luck. 

That was pure skill.

Because clearly he was having a bout of unluckiness when he accidentally made eye contact with Dream of all people on the way out of the amphitheater. 

“Techno! Sir Technoblade!” Dream called. Techno prayed that the sea of people would be enough to keep them apart, but Dream was bulldozing any passerbys like it was nobody’s business. That only meant Techno had to do the same in the complete opposite direction. 

What was at first a simple speedwalk turned into a full on sprint down the street, the clicks of the older boy’s boots against the cobblestone the only way Techno knew he was still hunting him down. 

At his first chance, Techno ducked into an alley and hid behind a wall of crates, covering his mouth with his palm to hide his heavy breathing. When he was sure Dream had passed him, he pulled himself up and kept going until he was back by The Rusty Mucker. 

Carl neighed as soon as he saw Techno approach and immediately tried to take a bite out of the Ami flower. 

“No!” Techno growled. “Not for you.” He’d do anything for this horse, but he would not lose these flowers. “Just give me a few minutes to grab my things from upstairs, and then we’ll head back to Blumefallen. Does that sound good?” 

The horse replied with whinny, and Techno did a thorough check of his room before checking out with the barkeep. 

“You win, son?”

Techno shook the bouquet in his hands. “Was there ever any doubt?” 

The barkeep laughed. “Loads. But I’m glad ya won! I bet a whole five coins on ya!” 

Huh. Looked like someone did believe in him after all. 

The streets were hard to navigate with all the new stalls set up on the street and the people milling around in the middle of the street with beer in their hands. 

Techno ended up having to take a whole alternate route to avoid the crowds and to, still, avoid Dream, who had somehow tracked him all the way to this part of town. 

Still, his escape attempt was proven successful when he finally made it outside of the city walls without an annoying knight following him nor any blood on Carl’s hooves from running over a bystander. 

The journey back seemed to go by faster than the journey there. Now that he had the flowers, he had even more incentive to rush back and prevent Wilbur from feeling any more illness.

A sunrise later, Techno was pulling up at the Craft estate’s gate, the guards instantly recognizing his raggedy appearance this time and opening the gates immediately. The servants were quick to notify the Duke of his return, and he was outside on the steps waiting for Techno when he dismounted. 

“Techno! Mate, how’d it go? Did you--” 

Techno grinned as he tossed the bouquet to the Duke. “No sweat.” 

The Duke gasped, holding the bouquet close to his face to avoid showing his tears. “You’re amazing, Techno. Thank you.” 

“It was nothing. Really. Let’s just save Wilbur.” 

The doctor had also been summoned, and he almost fainted at the sight of a full bouquet of the Ami flower. Turned out he only needed one petal from one flower, but now it also made great decor for Wilbur’s room, which he still couldn’t see due to his incurable blindness.

That was on Techno.

At least he could still smell it.

Tommy had stayed by his brother’s bedside the entire time Techno was gone, holding his hand for support and sleeping under his arm at night. Even when Wilbur pushed Tommy away, embarrassed at the perception of his sickness, Tommy found ways to crawl back in and hold on even tighter. 

Techno really admired that sort of loyalty. 

“Wilbur!” Tommy exclaimed, tugging on Wilbur’s pajama sleeve. “Techno’s back! Techno’s back! He’s got the cure!” 

Wilbur’s pillows were propped up so Wilbur could be in a half-sitting position. His eyes were covered by a navy blue blindfold, but it didn't hide his sallow face white-chapped lips. 

The room smelled of herbs and death. 

The doctor quickly grinded up the solution with mortar and pestle and pushed it up against Wilbur’s lips as Tommy nestled up close to Wilbur. Techno sat on the end of the bed, hoping the dip in the bed would be enough signal for Wilbur to realize he was here in support. 

“This will probably put him to sleep for a day, but after that, he should be on the mend. Lord Wilbur will be alright,” the doctor said with a smile. 

The Duke fell to his knees and pressed his forehead against the edge of the bed, taking a few moments to himself before picking himself up. “Thank you, doctor. You may leave for now.” 

“Wilbur goes to sleep now?” asked Tommy.

“Yes, Toms,” the Duke answered as he squeezed Wilbur’s free hand. After a moment, he released his eldest son’s hand and turned to Techno. “I’d like to speak with you in my study. Follow me.” 

Heh?

Why so stern? What was with the quick turnaround? Could it be that in the few days Techno was gone, the Duke had done an in depth investigation and was able to figure out that the poisoning was more recent than previously thought? 

No. The Duke seemed very set in thinking it was the king’s doing, and Techno had every intention to push that narrative to its limits. 

This must be something else.

Perhaps he found out about Tommy’s history lessons? 

They stopped at the Duke’s study door. The Duke opened the door and waited for Techno to step through before closing the door behind the both of them. Technoblade took a seat on the sofa in front of the desk, folding his hands neatly in front of himself. It was the least he could do with his appearance. 

“Technoblade, you’ve done my family a favor that transcends the ability to payback.” 

“I did my duty,” Techno answered, careful not to deny this favor for humbleness. 

“No, you did more than your duty. You’re an exceptional child and an even more exceptional human being… I want… I want to thank you, but I don’t know how.” 

“Lord Philza--” 

“I thought long and hard about this,” the Duke continued, holding up his hand to silence Techno. He opened up the first drawer of his desk and pulled out a sleek wooden box. “This is the only way to truly showcase the feelings of the family.” 

The Duke opened the box, revealing two shiny emerald earrings wrapped in gold. They were truly artfully made, but Techno was confused as to why the Duke was showing him these earrings.

Techno’s ears weren’t even pierced. 

“I see your ears are bare, but I don’t see that as a major obstacle,” the Duke said, grabbing a needle and cleaning it with a white cloth. There was a bottle of vodka ready on his desk. 

“Are you… Piercing my ears?” Techno stuttered.

“Are you nervous? Ah, sometimes I forget you’re the same age as Wilbur. You’re so accomplished. Don’t worry, this will only sting a little bit.” 

Techno glanced at the box of earrings, then at the Duke’s hand. He had a ring just like the earrings on his middle finger, meaning only one thing. 

This was probably a family symbol. 

Was this… Was this the Duke’s acceptance?

But in order to take it, he’d have to get his ears pierced. 

Well, it wasn’t too bad of a trade off.

The Duke came around from behind the sofa and pulled Techno’s hair back, revealing his bare ear. He whispered words of comfort before poking the needle into Techno’s earlobe, quickly replacing the needle with one of the fine earrings. 

His ears throbbed from the invasion, but he couldn’t say he hated the new weight. He didn’t even flinch when the Duke repeated the action on his opposite ear, completing the look. 

Completing the claim. 

Technoblade of Himmelblock was officially one of the Duke of Blumefallen’s people.

Chapter Text

For the next few weeks, the entire estate was focused on one thing, and one thing alone: the recovery of the eldest young master. 

No one came in or out of the gates. Any appointments or meetings the Duke had were canceled or rescheduled. Guards and knights were put on double duty around the grounds and Technoblade and Tommy were tasked with emotional support.

Yes, even Technoblade.

It seemed that the jewels adorned on his ears held far more significance than just simple protections. To be part of the Duke’s ‘people,’ one had to be far more involved than Technoblade first thought. 

The first noticeable difference was their seating arrangement at mealtimes. When Technoblade first arrived and began dining with the Duke and his family, he was seated next to Tommy, who sat on the left of the Duke. Wilbur held the right seat adjacent to the Duke. 

Now that seat belonged to Technoblade. Wilbur had been moved to Tommy’s seat and Tommy to Techno’s. 

After breakfast, Wilbur always wanted to take a turn about the garden, and he’d always ask Techno to accompany him alone. Wilbur already had a walking stick, but he still needed help being guided some places, still unfamiliar with how to navigate the world without the help of his eyes. He and Techno would link arms and follow the path around the late Duchess’ private gardens before Techno would drop him back off in his room with a dozen maids ready to help Wilbur.

Techno would then head to the library for Tommy’s tutoring session where they were making great progress. Tommy was incredibly bright, and despite his upbringing in one of the noblest houses in all of Manberg, maybe even the entire continent, Tommy had an acute sense of empathy Techno rarely saw in people of his station. 

Techno couldn’t help but pat himself on the back for his decision to choose Theseus as his puppet. Tommy was smart and empathetic, yes, and those were important, but most of all, he was loyal and knew how to take orders. Whatever Techno said went. If he told Tommy to jump off a cliff, Techno was certain Tommy would actually do it. 

Not that he would ask that of the boy. 

After tutoring, both he and Tommy would head back to Wilbur’s quarters to play a couple of games with him. Cards, board games, darts (which always ended with the dart in the door rather than the dartboard) and any other activity the servants could find; sometimes Technoblade would just read to the two of them. They played until it was dinner time.

Then all four of them reunited. Techno in Wilbur’s seat, Wilbur in Tommy’s seat, and Tommy in Techno’s seat. 

The Duke didn’t speak of matters of business or politics at the table. It was spent asking how the three of them were, how Tommy’s studies were going, if Wilbur liked the texture of his new walking stick (the first was thrown out because of Wilbur’s sensitive fingertips). 

At that point, Wilbur or Tommy took control of the conversation and the topics veered off into some strange territories that amused the Duke greatly. It would not be a Craft dinner if at least one of them accidentally snorted out their drink in an attempt to stop a laugh. Considering their station, the Crafts had to be one of the more homely and laxed families on the continent. It was an impressive change from his time at the palace in Nevadas, where hardly anyone spoke at mealtimes and barely acknowledged each other in the halls with only slight head nods, and even his own family home, where most meals were eaten alone with how busy his parents were. 

After dinner, Tommy took Wilbur back to his room while Technoblade accompanied the Duke to his study. They would sit opposite of each other with steaming hot tea, and they would just talk. 

The very first time the Duke invited him for tea after dinner was the night after he returned from Nevadas. Wilbur was still bedridden and Tommy didn’t like to stray far from his brother’s side at that point. The Duke took him to the study and sat him down; said the earrings suited him. 

Most of their conversations were spoken in euphemisms at first. The Duke liked to use animal metaphors to explain his frustrations with the crown, and Technoblade understood it after the first few anecdotes. At first he thought the Duke was just particularly fond of animal parables, but no.

“There is a rat on the top branch of the tallest tree in the entire forest,” The Duke would say. “Usually, they keep to the ground. Low and hidden. Yet this one decided to climb to the top to try and experience how a bird feels, perched on the branches of the tree.” 

“Is it not worried it’ll fall?” Technoblade had asked to humor the Duke.

“Its claws are sharp. But what it doesn’t know is that there are crows in the air, circling for a place to land. And the crow grows impatient.” 

“Why doesn’t the crow just swoop down and carry the rat off?” 

The Duke had appeared pensive, fingers rubbing his chin. “I wonder that too.” 

Something was brewing inside the Duke. He lost the euphemisms the more he and Techno spoke. Soon, there was no rat but a foolish king, and there was no tree but a kingdom, and there was no crow but an outraged duke with a claim to the throne older than the current existing dynasty. 

At some points, Techno worried about the scales tipping out of his favor at times. Politics was a delicate art, and one wrong move could lead to the death of a movement. Techno didn’t worry too much about his own death; it seemed like a needless fear to have when he had experienced things beyond the pains of death. When one yearns for death for so many years, she becomes a welcome friend rather than a deep-seated anxiety.

Tonight was the night Technoblade put it all on the line. If he was going to raise Tommy to be the next heir to the throne, he’d need to have the Duke’s support on all fronts. The invitation in Techno’s pocket felt heavy when he thought about the Duke’s reaction. 

Today’s tea was earl gray. Techno’s cup steamed in front of him, left untouched as he reached for his back pocket and slid it across the table to the Duke.

“What’s this?” The Duke picked it up and inspected it, reading it over a couple of times before he dropped it back on the table. “When I first met you, you were so averse to any sort of socialization. Now you want to go to a party?” 

“It’s not for my benefit, Lord Philza. I want to take Tommy.” 

“Tommy? Tommy’s still a baby; he has no business going to parties without me there.” 

Techno inhaled deeply, ready to risk it all. “Phil,” he started. The Duke’s eyebrows raised exponentially at the casual manner in which Techno referred to him. If things were progressing as Techno wanted them to, comfort within the family was what Techno needed to aim for. He needed to blur the line of family and tutor between himself and the Crafts until he became irreplaceable. “Manberg is rifled with issues that stem from the king. You’ve been watchin’ the decline of a beloved kingdom since the current king took the throne.” 

“Go on.” 

“The only solution is to save it yourself. I think-- I think Tommy has promise to be the next crown prince, and hopefully the next king of Manberg.” 

“It should’ve been Wilbur,” the Duke-- Phil-- spat. “That rat has purposefully hurt my boy. What happens when he does it to Tommy? What then?” 

“I’ll protect him,” promised Techno. “I will guide Tommy through it all. But he needs support; he needs friends from other nobility. “It’s not far from the estate.” 

“But so soon after Wil’s accident? Not to mention, the king is young. Even if Tommy is named his successor, that could change within the span of fifteen to twenty years when he decides to have children.” 

Techno got out of his seat and came around the table, kneeling at Phil’s side, his hair pushed behind his ear to fully showcase his earrings. “We can prevent something like that from ever happenin’ again. Phil, you don’t have to wait that long if you don’t want to.” 

Something dangerous flashed through Phil’s eyes. It was a momentary sharpening of the eye, white knuckles fading back to red, and thin straight lips curving out into an easy smile. “This party… This is something you really want?” 

“Yes.” That would be the first and last time he ever said something like that in relation to talk about parties. 

“Then I will grant this wish.” 

The easy part was getting Phil’s permission.

The hard part was mentally preparing himself for a party.

This one was different from the last party he attended. That one had all sorts of people there, but this party was specifically for children of nobility to socialize with one another. It was great because it meant Tommy could find friends and supporters with the children of the nobility and hopefully garner the support of their parents, but that meant the dreaded small talk. 

It wasn’t just Tommy’s job to gain support. Techno had to help out a little, too, but four hundred years as a sword and the natural disposition of a wallflower just did not help his cause whatsoever. 

His saving grace came with a hole through his door and a walking stick piercing through the wood. “Technoblade, you traitor! How dare you go to a party so soon after I was almost killed!” 

Wilbur.

Techno opened his door and pushed the walking stick out of the hole, handing it back to Wilbur, who swiped it out of Techno’s grasp. 

“Hello, Wilbur.” 

“Don’t ‘Hello Wilbur’ me! Tommy told me all about your little plan to hype him up at this party! You think because I’m blind I can’t see through you?” 

“Well--” 

“Oh fuck off!” With his walking stick, he waved it around in front of him until he was hitting Techno’s shins. Once he located Techno, he grabbed for Techno’s arm, sliding down until he reached his hand. “Sure enough, you’re sweating like a pig.” 

Techno retracted his hand. “I was workin’ out.” 

“Liar! You’re terrified!” Wilbur laughed, a look of vindication on his face. “I thought we were best friends, Techno. Why wouldn’t you just tell me your plans?” 

“You’re recoverin’,” answered Techno. “And I didn’t know if you’d be offended about the Tommy thing so soon after… Y’know.” 

Wilbur’s smile was full of mischief. “No one in this family ever had aspirations for the throne before you came along.” Techno froze in place, half relieved Wilbur couldn’t see his expression and half in fear that perhaps his ambitions were far too obvious. “As relatives of the current king, we were expected to be considered, and it brought quite a lot of trouble. But now Tommy can take the load off my shoulders-- really, I’m quite grateful to you, Technoblade.” 

“Oh.” 

“So, I’d like to go to the party.” 

“Heh?” 

“You may be guiding Tommy academically, but someone needs to guide you through society. I’m going to the party. I’ve already spoken about it with Father. He said as long as I’m feeling up for it, it’s my call.” 

Obviously this development was good. Wilbur was aware of his situation and was willing to step down from the competition in order to support Tommy. That meant all resources would be redirected to Tommy. Not only that, but Wilbur’s first public outing in his new condition would surely inform the rest of the tonne of how the way things would go in Phil’s house from now on. 

And Techno would be getting support at a party. 

“Sorry about your door by the way. I don’t even know why you still live in this wing of the house. It’s so far.” 

“It’s a nice room.” 

“I’ll have it replaced.” 

Techno assumed Wilbur was talking about the door, and the two went their separate ways for the night with well wishes for the party tomorrow. Yet, when morning came, there was a cacophony of noises coming from all over his room. 

The help had infested his quarters, packing up clothes and trinkets, dusting off the surfaces of his room. Techno had practically jumped out of bed with a startled shriek when they started touching his weapons.

Was last night perhaps a front? Did Technoblade show too many cards from his hand, and now the Duke was kicking him out? Perhaps this was a sick prank of Wilbur’s for deluding Tommy into thinking he could be king. 

“Put that down!” Techno yelled, ripping the swords out of the servant’s hands. “What are you all doin’ here? What’s goin’ on?” 

Instantly, all of the servants paused their activities, turning to bow to Techno. “Forgive us, Sir Technoblade, but His Grace has ordered you to move rooms.” 

Techno glanced at the hole in the door. “Is this over some hole? I’m fine, just replace the door--” 

“His Grace has ordered you to move to the private wing.” 

Techno dropped his sword. 

It was a two hour carriage ride to the party. 

Techno had wanted to just ride Carl all the way there and wait for the Craft boys to arrive in the carriage, but Wilbur and Tommy threw such a fit about it in front of Phil that he was practically pushed into the carriage and locked in. 

Tommy snored on Techno’s lap the whole way there while he and Wilbur made light conversation of just about anything. Halfway through the trip, Techno lost feeling in his legs and tried to pry Tommy off of him, but the kid had the grip of a falcon, and even Technoblade had to give up. 

The party was being held in the summer home of a prominent noble with eight children with wildly differing ages, and it was their distinguished honor to have the Lords Wilbur and Theseus be their guests, as well as the youngest knight of the realm and the winner of the knight’s tournament, Sir Technoblade. 

Wilbur and Tommy stood side by side at the entrance, ready for their names to be announced, when Wilbur quickly batted his arm over in Techno’s direction, gesturing for him to join them.

Techno took a step closer and that was all Wilbur needed to slide their arms together, hooking Techno in place with them. Wilbur waved the invitation in front of the announcer, waiting for him to grab it from him. 

“Arriving are Lords Wilbur and Theseus Craft of Blumefallen… and Sir Technoblade of Blumefallen!” 

Techno stopped, glancing at the announcer in shock. “It’s Himmelblo--” 

“Thank you,” Wilbur cut him off, sending a smile to the servant before pulling Techno into the hall where the festivities were being held. It was a more intimate hall than the last party he was at. It was filled with children of all types of ages dressed in the summer’s latest fashions. There was live music in the corner, a bountiful stream of food on the tables which were on the outskirts of the hall and heading outside to the patio area, where there were even more people.

In the middle of the hall, many were dancing or talking in large circles.

“How is it? Is it beautiful?” asked Wilbur.

“It’s super cool, Wil! Lots of food! Lots of girls!” Tommy exclaimed. 

“Lot of people,” Techno added. “Too many if you ask me.” 

“Oh hush,” said Wilbur, patting Techno’s arm in comfort. “Techno, take me to a person with longer brown hair and a disgustingly monarchical style of dress. Their name is Eret. It’s a great place to start.” 

“What about Tommy?” 

“Tommy, go find the Schlatt kid. Sweeten him up.” 

Tommy saluted and ran off before Techno could even question Wilbur’s decision. He wanted to trust Wilbur knew what he was doing, and more than that, he wanted to trust Wilbur’s intentions were true. He owed him at least that after what Techno had done to him.

Paranoid, the voices laughed. He wanted to refute it but he couldn’t. Techno had to remind himself. Wilbur had no more prospects-- Techno made sure of that. Wilbur’s best bet would be helping Tommy out. 

And Wilbur loved Tommy. 

Techno scanned the crowd, narrowing his vision until he found someone that looked like it matched the description Wilbur gave him. They were a tall sort of character with eyes obscured by dark glasses and a gauche sense of dress.They were munching on a macaroon when they noticed Technoblade and Wilbur approach. 

“Wil! You’re here!” they exclaimed, meeting them halfway, stopping when they noticed the walking stick. “So it’s true?” 

“Are there rumors?” asked Technoblade. Eret looked taken aback, more at Techno’s appearance than his words. 

“You must be Sir Technoblade.” 

“Guilty.” 

Eret curtsied slightly, and Techno offered a slight bow of the head. “Word travels fast when people like you call for the doctor with haste. Not to mention, Sir Technoblade, your surprise appearance at the knight tournament.” 

“Ah.” 

“How are you doing, Wil? Are you eating well? Do you feel alright?” 

“I’m doing much better, thanks. My family has been key to my recovery, especially Techno here.” Wilbur’s grip tightened around Techno’s arm, pulling him ever so closer to the eldest Craft. From behind Eret, a group of youths came forward and circled around them, all making their quick greetings. They seemed to be acquaintances of Wilbur and Eret, and Wilbur made all the proper introductions for Techno. 

Techno was worried the conversation would be too much about Wilbur and his new condition, but it seemed everyone was wise enough to not comment further on it. No, most of the conversation was spent complimenting Technoblade and his performance at the knight tournament. It seemed many of the children here were attendees of the show and were rooting for him (he doubted that, but he understood there were social niceties in place for them to say that). 

Look who’s the man, the voices whispered. King of the social circles, His Majesty Technoblade. 

“Stop that,” Techno hissed under his breath. Whoever was speaking at the moment paused, clearly caught off guard.

“Pardon?” 

Techno blinked, realizing all eyes were on him. “Uh--I--” 

“He was talking to me,” Wilbur laughed, “I was stepping on his toe.” 

“Oh, Lord Wilbur, you’re a menace!” one of the kids said, and they all laughed and continued on with the conversation.

Wilbur leaned in close to Techno’s ear, releasing his arm. “Go get some air. You look like you’re about to piss yourself.” 

Techno nodded, dismissing himself swiftly and heading off to the outside portion of the party. Most of the group had wandered inside to join the circle surrounding Wilbur and Technoblade, and Wilbur kept the crowd’s attention while Techno skulked off to hide behind some pillar, taking a deep breath.

Coward, the voices laughed. You want to take over a kingdom, yet a few children have you hiding behind the Craft boy? 

“It’s not like that,” murmured Techno. “He’s a crutch, but I can stand on my own two feet. Soon.” 

“Technoblade!” Techno turned and peeked out from behind his pillar, his face dropping when he saw who approached.

“Hey Dream…” he drawled. God, he forgot Dream was also like him, still a child at this point. Not to mention he came from a prominent family. Dream was in nicer attire than when he last saw him, but he still had that white porcelain mask over half his face. 

“I didn’t think this was your scene! I’m glad I ran into you, though.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah! I wanted to pick your brain on some stuff. Your performance at the tournament was really something-- I think we both did pretty well, you know, but I, uh, I just wanted to talk--” 

The last thing Technoblade wanted to do was talk strategy and swords with one of his enemies. Even a hint of conversation would be enough for Dream to take Technoblade’s words and spin them on him, take his techniques and use them, maybe pass them off as his own. 

Techno locked eyes with Wilbur through the windows and sent him a message with his eyes. 

Then he remembered Wilbur was blind. 

Looks like your crutch can’t help you now, the voices mocked. 

“...So?” Dream asked, his fingers drumming on his forearm, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. 

“I can’t. You know how it is. Trade secrets.” 

Dream laughed, though it tapered off when he realized Techno wasn’t joking. “Come on, we’re both knights here. I mean, we’re the talk of the party. We should be friends--” 

“I need to get back to the party, Dream. Thanks for the talk, though.” He was already on his way back inside. Dream reached out to take his arm, but Techno was quick to brush him off, beelining for Wilbur.

“Techno-- Hey! Technoblade!” Dream called after him, but Techno paid him no mind. He was accepted back into Wilbur’s circles with open arms. From the corner of his eye, Techno spotted Tommy sitting on the upper floor between the spaces of the balustrade, his inherited blue eyes matching his father’s in the shadows of where he sat. They were trained on Techno, tracking his every move. It was disconcerting, though he knew Tommy, and he knew he was probably just bored.

Techno hardly reached Wilbur when someone grabbed his arm and wrapped his entire arm around him. “Hey, buddy! Really impressed with you! How would you like to be my family’s knight?” 

Techno peeled the intruder’s hand off of him. “I’m very happy with my place as Lord Theseus’ tutor.” 

“Lord Theseus? Ah, the little boy from Blumefallen! With you as his teacher, he’ll go far!” 

Techno didn’t bother to hold back the smug look on his face, though his words weaved tales of humility and honor. 

The rest of the party went extremely well in Techno’s view. Wilbur charmed his friends, Techno managed to get comfortable enough to tell a story or two from the tournament which was received with high praise, and Tommy managed to make a gaggle of adolescent friends that he referred to as his minions. 

By the time they left, they had received invitations from all over for birthday parties, soirees, tea, and salons. No doubt these noble children would go to their parents and speak of the boys from Blumefallen. 

They rode through the darkness back to the estate. Tommy clung to Techno again, even tighter than the trip there. Wilbur himself had his feet propped up on Techno’s legs, his boots on the floor and toes wiggling through his socks. 

“How was it, Technoblade? Everything you hoped and dreamed?” 

“More.” 

“Who was that green bitch? The one with the mask?” asked Tommy. “Why was he talking to you?” 

“Oh, you saw that?” Techno replied with nonchalance. “Just some other knight. He was at the tournament.” 

“He’s a wrong’un,” Tommy declared. “You shouldn’t talk to him. Stay with us. You're our people.” 

Techno patted the little boy’s head. “Yeah, yeah. Will do.” 

Wilbur’s foot dug into Techno’s flesh, pressing up uncomfortably on the top of his thigh. “He’s right.” 

“Okay, okay--” Techno grabbed Wilbur’s ankle and threw his foot off his lap. The other boy’s foot lingered in the air before being placed back down on Techno’s lap.

“Techno, I want to learn the sword. I want to be a knight,” demanded Tommy. “Can we start tomorrow?” 

Techno was slightly surprised at the request. It was no secret that Tommy wanted to learn the sword, and in his past life he was knighted, but he didn’t think the boy would be this adamant about it. In truth, Techno had been neglecting swordsmanship in favor of academics, but if there was going to be a hostile takeover, Tommy would need to be very adept with the sword. 

“Alright. Bright and early.” 

Tommy snuggled ever closer to him, and Techno allowed his forehead to rest on the glass of the carriage, his eyes fluttering until they closed for the remainder of the ride.

Chapter Text

Tommy’s schedule filled up pretty quickly once he started taking things seriously. Before, it was a bit of a chore to get the boy to sit down and read some books, but now Tommy did it all with pleasure. Perhaps it was because they got the blood pumping early in the morning with their sword training, or perhaps Tommy finally found some purpose within all the noise. 

Perhaps Technoblade’s teachings were finally getting somewhere. 

They’d been at it for a few weeks with this new schedule. They’d wake up at the break of dawn; Techno didn’t even have to order a servant to pull Tommy out of bed. Tommy would already be up, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for a servant to dress him. There was still work to be done regarding Tommy’s self-sufficiency, but he was young and had so much time to learn. 

Technoblade and Tommy would run laps around the estate-- just enough to gain some clarity in the brisk morning air. They’d do some other muscle exercises before going into the technicalities of the sword. Tommy was already thoroughly knowledgeable about the many different types of swords, how to hold them, how to take care of them, seeing as Techno had been on-and-off feeding Tommy the basics of the sword to get him off his back about the real stuff.

Tommy had been playing with wooden swords for a few months, at this point, under Techno’s strict supervision. With the adoption of the golden earrings on his ears, the butler finally backed off and left the two of them alone. 

Most of Tommy’s sword training had been theoretical. He’d receive verbal instructions and be taught foundational ideas, but Tommy never sparred, never even hit a practice dummy yet. Tommy learned, in theory, how to decapitate the dummy in fifty different ways since Techno first arrived at the mansion, but there was a nagging feeling festering in Technoblade that told him off for allowing such a young child to learn how to wield such a wicked weapon. 

It wasn’t the voices, that was for sure. They were very encouraging of this new step Techno was taking with Tommy. Technoblade was starting to think it was his own treacherous conscience. Usually he would consider his own mind with kindness, as there was no one as apt and wise as Technoblade himself, but this time he had to put down the voice, knowing it came from a place of sentimentality. 

Techno twirled his own wooden sword back and forth between his hands, trying to decide which one to hold it with. Dominant or non-dominant hand, it didn’t matter to Technoblade. He could take down anyone with any hand. 

“Okay, Theseus. How do we start?” 

Tommy adjusted his footing and placed his hands one over the other on the hilt of the sword, though his top hand was too close to the blade. “Like this?” he asked. Tommy looked so serious, his eyebrows locked in a downward position, and his lips pressed into a thin line to encourage concentration. 

“Check your hands. Don’t want your fingers chopped off, would you?” 

Tommy scooted them down lower. 

Techno quickly explained the rules of a spar. First to touch the other in the chest wins, and stay within the courtyard. 

It was simple enough. 

Technoblade set up some personal rules for himself, so he didn’t overwhelm Tommy. Nothing under-hand, keep blows to a visible speed, and no more than two foot-movements every thirty seconds. They weren’t so much rules than they were a personal challenge for himself. Techno was used to holding back, but never this much. 

Tommy made the first move, stepping forward and thrusting his sword out in an easy attempt to hit Techno in the chest. Techno responded with a block, twisting Tommy’s sword away from Techno’s chest. He very well could’ve just twisted it out of Tommy’s grasp altogether, but there wasn’t anything useful learning from that. 

Tommy dropped one hand from the hilt, slapping at Techno’s sword, but it was futile. “I wouldn’t do that,” Techno advised. “You don’t have the strength in your arms to wield the sword with just one hand. Not to mention, look who you’re fightin’ right now.” 

Tommy stopped moving for a second, analyzing Techno’s body language and movements. Techno mirrored Tommy’s positions, just so he wouldn’t give Tommy any radical ideas when he was still so new with a sword. 

Tommy lunged forward, slicing at Techno’s front. Techno parried and moved to the side. The second young master did not relent, however, and tracked Techno’s movements, following his sword closely. They clashed once more in an attempt to decide who would win this game of dominance.

Tommy was doing exceptionally well keeping up with Technoblade until he tripped on his own heel and fell onto his rear, and Techno was forced to poke Tommy in the chest with his sword. 

“Good job,” Techno said as he offered Tommy a hand up. 

“But I lost!” Tommy complained, dusting off his clothes. 

“Yeah, but you were fightin’ me. Not many people can last that long.” Tommy didn’t need to know Techno threw him a bone multiple times throughout their fight. That wasn’t a way to encourage someone’s determination. Tommy needed to be put in his place, but he also needed to be given hope of improvement. Techno was sure Tommy would improve greatly as they continued; after all, in his past life, Tommy was a highly regarded knight. 

After Techno pointed out all of Tommy’s mistakes, they sparred again.

And again.

And again.

They ran through it about five or ten times until it was time to take a break. They would wash up and change clothes before heading off to the library to begin the academic part of their studies.

The order of the day was politics, followed by history and then mathematics. 

Tommy had been a diligent student before, but something shifted in the boy ever since they came back from the party. He wasn’t sure what it was, but Techno wasn’t complaining. He’d lecture all day and Tommy would follow along with his books, his index finger sliding across the page to keep him focused, and his other hand would scribble down notes in his awful handwriting, which was a work-in-progress.

He’d ask good questions that delved deeper into the topics, and when he didn’t understand something, he’d stop Technoblade to ask. Sometimes he’d do it in a very obnoxious manner, but Techno was just happy these things were finally being synthesized and molded into Tommy’s brain. 

Their topic of the day in history was specific to historical governments. They’d gone over the history of the monarchy in the past few months, but Techno wanted to focus on the people rather than the monarchy this time. 

This wasn’t a general practice in education at this time; there was a focus on administrative works and how to properly rule the people, but never learning how to figure out what it is the people want and how to surmise that. How to balance the masses’ needs with what needed to be done to ensure the structural survival of a kingdom. 

The more Tommy knew and understood the people, the more he sympathized with the population rather than the establishment, the easier it would be to have him letting go of power when it came time for him to grasp it, which was the ultimate goal. 

Tommy’s rise to power was never going to be permanent; he was a transitional figure at best to go from an autocratic government to one founded on the principles of people. It would be a loose model of government that would have stronger roots in a local form, but a central government would be necessary for a short time to ward off invasions. 

“Tommy, what do you think of the people that live in Blumefallen?” he asked, driving Tommy’s attention away from the books. “Have you ever met anybody outside of the estate?” 

Tommy nodded. “Mama took Wilbur and I out once or twice before she died. I was much littler then. But I met a man that gave me cookies.” 

“Do you know how this estate generates its wealth?” 

“Taxes,” Tommy answered matter-of-factly. 

“That’s right. Your lifestyle is paid by the people of Blumefallen. You can wear nice clothes because that man sells cookies to everyone. A percentage of his profits go to Phil. Don’t you think he deserves to keep all his money?” 

Tommy shrugged. “Sure.” 

“Some of Phil’s money then goes to the king. Did you know that? And it’s not always used right. The king buys really nice things, and he has to pay for the upkeep for all of his palaces, all of his parties, all of his nice clothes. Meanwhile, people like that baker get a meager amount of his own profits, his own hard-work, and can barely afford an outfit that costs even less than the material of the very shirt you’re wearin’.” 

“That’s not very fair.” 

“It’s not, is it? A lot of people live like that-- all of their money is bein’ taken under the guise of protection, but really it’s reappropriated into discretionary income.” 

The people were slaves to the system. 

That was the message of the day.

Technoblade wasn’t all that bothered about hiding Tommy’s curriculum anymore. He was Phil’s person now. He had earrings to prove it. Wilbur accepted him as a friend-- a best friend-- and Tommy followed his every word. 

He was even placed in the room right next to Wilbur’s and across from Tommy’s. It was the illusion that he was part of the family that made him so comfortable with how he moved around the mansion. He didn’t mince his words when speaking to Phil anymore; he didn’t lack decorum but he didn’t hold himself to an impossibly high standard to keep his back straight and his words right at all times, and Techno could sense Phil preferred it this way. 

Yes, Technoblade was quite at home in Blumefallen, so when he received a letter from Himmelblock, he was a little taken aback. It was like being taken by the shoulders and having one’s head shoved into a barrel of ice water, reminding him of the realities of the world. 

It was a letter from his mother, asking him to come home for one of Himmelblock’s famous Autumn festivals. Apparently the king was going to honor him for his achievements during the year even though the year wasn’t over. There were still a few months left. 

Techno thought about ignoring it, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to see his parents, especially since he would soon be very busy as he continued to go in depth with Tommy’s education and charming the Crafts. Winning them over was a continuous effort, and he never knew when their kindness could run out. 

He brought it up at dinner, sliding the letter to Phil while they all sipped on their soup. “What’s this?” asked Phil, scanning it over quickly. “Your mother’s asking you home?” 

“I’d like to take a few days off. I’ve already prepared some material for Tommy to work on in case of my absence.” 

“You haven’t been here long, Technoblade. Is it really wise to leave at such an important time in Tommy’s studies?” 

“Tommy’s doin’ great. He’s got a great trajectory. Besides, my mother gave me hell for missin’ her birthday,” Techno replied, adding a forced chuckle at the end to keep the mood light, as he could tell Phil didn’t think kindly upon the idea. 

“Why bother going back at all? It sounds like a waste of time. Himmelblock’s just a hicktown anyway,” Wilbur yawned. 

Techno raised his eyebrow. “I’m still Technoblade of Himmelblock, you know.” Ever since Wilbur went blind, Techno had to adjust the way he spoke to help Wilbur figure out his town. It was hard learning how to adjust his intonations and rhythm, but it was the least he could do for Wilbur. 

“You could always desert that name. You could adopt Blumefallen as your home!” Wilbur suggested. 

“Himmelblock is a perfectly good hometown, I think. Listen, Phil, I can bring back a trinket. I’ll make sure you have nothin’ like it. I won’t go back to Himmelblock for an entire year if I can go this time.” 

Phil hummed in response, glancing at the letter as he pondered. “Okay. Alright, how about three days, not including the journey?” 

“Father!” Wilbur protested, but Phil placed a warning hand over Wilbur’s.

“Thanks, Phil!” Techno grinned. Three days was quite generous, though the voices hissed warnings in his brain, as if Technoblade would ever enter a negotiation that he would lose. He didn’t want to visit Himmelblock frequently, and annual visits were good enough for him. 

Technoblade had his nightly tea with Phil and then went back to his room to pack. Rather than a whole trunk, he packed a sack that would be easy to carry. He was just going to ride Carl there and hoped the journey there would be as quick as his initial journey to Blumefallen had been, no matter how terrible the conditions had been on his physical body.

Technoblade didn’t particularly miss anything about Himmelblock. It would always hold a special place in his heart as the place he was born, and everyone was a little patriotic of where they came from, especially if it was part of their title, but Techno was never the sort of man to be held down by maps and borders. 

Besides, if he were to have loyalty to Himmelblock, he’d have to have a certain loyalty to Hochpixel based on the amount of time he spent at his master’s place. His loyalty to Blumefallen was conditional to the family, not necessarily the land, and it did not extend to greater Manberg, but just to Blumefallen.

Loyalty was such a treacherous thing; Technoblade didn’t like to think too much about it beyond who he believed in, and right now he had placed all his cards in Phil and Tommy. 

In the morning, Technoblade bid goodbye to the Crafts, promising Tommy a present if he did all of his work properly and got up to do his exercises even without Techno there. He made the butler promise to watch Tommy closely in the courtyard. Wilbur didn’t ask for a souvenir, but he did force Technoblade to give him a hug goodbye. 

Phil was happy with just a handshake.

“Three days, okay? So we should expect you back in a week and a half. Maybe earlier,” said Phil with a wink. 

“Trust me, I’m not enjoyin’ this anymore than you all,” Techno laughed.

“Then stay,” Wilbur muttered. 

“Bruh, try ignorin’ Phil’s letters, and then you can tell me to ignore my mom.” 

Techno mounted Carl, giving the horse a fond pat on the neck before taking off from Blumefallen. Techno wouldn’t say he rushed to get there, but he definitely took some liberties with his speed. The distance between Blumefallen and Himmelblock usually took a week to ride through under normal circumstances, but Techno managed to get there in four, which was worse than when he rushed to Blumefallen after receiving the job, but still way better than a normal journey. 

During his first night in an inn, he decided to send word ahead to his mother’s people that he was on his way. It was part to help them prepare for his return and part to see if he could beat the letter there, just for fun.

The rest of the journey was uneventful and really made Techno grateful for the homes he had, as he was really starting to grow distasteful of journeying. He liked having his own bed and his own room and his things in the proper place. The sack on his back was so small and he had to shove his dirty clothes next to his clean clothes and it was all inconsequential at best but still managed to bother him deeply.

The relief he felt when he saw the cobbled walls of Himmelblock was euphoric. 

He just entered the walls of Himmelblock when he saw someone vaguely familiar rushing up to his horse, pushing past the guards that were checking his papers. It was a worker from his family’s estate judging by the way she dressed, and probably one of his mother’s personal servants from her age. 

“Young Master Technoblade! Young Master Technoblade!” she screeched, grappling onto Carl’s reins like a mad woman. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hands were died violet-black from some unknown substance. Techno slid off Carl and gently tried to rip the woman away from his horse. There was no need for Carl to be hurt in this process. 

“Yes, I’m back. Did my mother not receive my letter?” 

“Young Master!” the servant wailed, crumpling to her knees, clawing at Techno’s trousers as she tried to grip onto him as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“Yes, yes, I’m back--” 

“Young Master, it’s the Master and Mistress! They’re- they’re- they’re!” The old servant could hardly get her words out through the hiccuping and the dry-heaving. Techno glanced at the wall guards watching them with exhausted looks, and he was suddenly quite embarrassed about the whole situation, but he knew whatever it was must’ve been important.

His mother would never send a servant to make a scene in public and make their family lose face if it wasn’t important. 

“Let’s find somewhere private to talk. How about we go back to the estate?” Techno suggested.

“N-n-no! Not until I tell you that the Master and Mistress have been poisoned!” the old servant blurted out. 

Techno froze. “What?” 

“They fell ill a few days ago! We tried sending word to you, Young Master, but we couldn’t find out what inn you were staying at! We tried every inn on the main road from Blumefallen to Himmelblock, but we never received word back! The only thing I could do was come out here and wait by the walls everyday in case you showed up so I could give you the news before you arrived home!” the servant explained as she attempted to catch her breath. 

Techno didn’t waste another moment before mounting Carl again and racing back to the gates of his family home, screaming at the guards at the gate to open it immediately before he just jumped the gate. They saw his pink hair and moved to comply immediately, probably because they knew he was very serious and very capable of jumping the gate. 

The ruckus must have roused the butler from wherever he was hiding. He stood at the front door, rushing to receive Technoblade once Techno hopped off Carl, stomping into his home. 

“Mother? Father?” he called out, shrugging off his coat and leaving it for a servant to deal with. The butler trailed after him, picking up his coat as Techno jogged up the stairs to the second floor. 

“Young Master, your parents are--” 

“Has a doctor been to see them? Mother? Father?” he called out once more, reaching his mother’s bedroom first. His parents hadn’t shared a bedroom… ever, which was customary for Himmelblock marriages. It was important that married individuals had their own spaces. “Mother, I received your letter. I’m here.” 

“Young Master, please don’t go in there just yet! I have something to tell you first!” 

Listen to the little man, the voices advised, forcing Technoblade to slow himself down and consider the rational part of himself. He didn’t know what overtook him at that moment; none of this was right. His parents weren’t meant to be poisoned-- that never happened in his past life. Of course, many things in Technoblade’s current life were different from his past life. Could his parents’ poisoning be directly connected to Technoblade’s decision to work for in Blumefallen? 

Was this a political move?

“What is it? Say it fast.” 

The butler nodded. “Your parents are being looked over by a poison specialist. After receivng a selection of desserts from the royal family of Manberg, your father started complaining about his vision until they were both coughing up blood. It’s been three days since then, but we don’t know for certain if it was the desserts-- poison tests conducted show no traces of anything.” 

“Three days?” Techno repeated. 

That was after he left Blumefallen.

“How are they now?” 

Technoblade knocked on his mother’s bedroom door once more, glancing back at the nervous butler before entering without permission. The room was dark. The shades were drawn and there was no lamp or candle to light up the room. A man in a white coat sat in a chair by the bedside with a sullen look, two fingers over the dark blue pulse of his mother’s arm. 

Maria was mostly covered by the sheets and duvet, but her head was propped up by the fluffiest pillows in the house. She was facing the door as he entered, but she didn’t move or even hint at recognition. The dark blue veins on her arm crept up her body and branched around her neck and jawline. 

The odor of illness almost made Techno gag.

“Are you Sir Technoblade? Maria and Marcel’s son?” the doctor asked, standing up to properly greet Techno. Techno dismissed the greeting with a wave of his hand.

“How is she?” 

The doctor looked down at Techno’s mother, then back at Techno. His gaze was full of apologies. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. If she’s lucky, she’ll pass sometime in the next few hours.” 

Techno fell to his knees, pushing himself to kneel at his mother’s side as he gripped her arm. “Why? Why can’t you cure her?” 

“The cure is a rare flower that commoners like us don’t have access to. Even if we could find a way to get it, there just wasn’t enough time.” 

Techno nodded slowly, allowing the words to sink in. For once, the voices were silent, allowing him to process his grief alone. “What of my father?”

“Your father passed earlier this morning, I’m afraid. He had a higher dose.” 

“High dose of what? What was the poison?” 

The doctor appeared apprehensive, wringing his wrists as he struggled to relay an answer. “The Blue Hemelia, sir.” 

Technoblade’s world seemed to fall apart around him. His surroundings lost all meaning as he clutched his mother’s hand, observing how her chest barely moved as she struggled to breathe. She probably couldn’t even see him. 

This was his fault. He tried to pick at the strings of fate but when the strings snapped, he didn’t have the courage to continue to play. His parents were meant to be healthy and happy in this lifetime, far removed from Technoblade’s scheming. 

“Mother,” Techno murmured. “Mother, can you hear me?” 

Maria did not move.

He looked down at her arm, the blue veins killing his mother in the most brutal way possible. It was frustrating to watch, knowing he had the Ami flower-- it was in Blumefallen, a few flowers kept in safe-keeping by the Duke just in case. He had a specialist come in to try and replicate the conditions in which the Ami flower could be planted, and now his parents were taken over by the Blue Hemelia and Technoblade was powerless to stop it.

Was this karma? Did he have it too good for too long in this new timeline? Wasn’t his suffering in his past life enough to give him a good life in this one?

Technoblade got to his feet, letting his mother’s hand fall limp, hanging over the side of her bed. “If I ask you to end her suffering, will you?” 

The doctor nodded. “If it’s what you wish, sir.” 

“It is. I don’t want her to suffer anymore than she has to.” 

Technoblade stepped out of the room after that, not bothering with a final goodbye. If she couldn’t hear him, then there was no use in saying it. The words would just fall empty, heard by people irrelevant to their situation. 

It seemed Technoblade would be doomed to never giving his parents a proper goodbye in any lifetime. 

The butler followed Technoblade out, his back straightening like a pole when a new realization hit him in the head. Technoblade was now the new master of the house. He was no longer the Young Master, just the Master. 

“I want you to bring me the desserts, or at least the packagin’. I need to see for myself. You didn’t throw them away, did you?” 

The butler shook his head. “No, no. We kept them for investigative purposes. I will have someone bring them to you momentarily if you’d like to make yourself at home--” 

“And send a message to Blumefallen. Tell the His Grace that I have to extend my business here in Himmelblock due to unforeseen circumstances,” Techno interrupted. “Tell him… just tell him the truth.” 

Techno stalked off before the butler could verbally agree, his bow left unrecognized by the new master of the house. 

Technoblade wandered around the house in an attempt to refamiliarize himself with his family’s estate. He walked the halls and his mother’s garden, all her plants half-dead from the cold weather of Himmelblock. Down in Blumefallen it was chilly at best, but in Himmelblock the grass was already crusted over with frost. His mother always preferred summer flowers over winter ones despite the harsh climate of Himmelblock, and accepted the fact that her garden would be dead three fourths of the year for the slim hopes that her garden would be beautiful for at least one fourth. 

A maid came out to get him once they retrieved the dessert packaging. It was waiting in Technoblade’s father’s study. It was the same as it always was-- the walls were lined with dark oak bookshelves, books stacked on one another in a cluttered and disorganized way. His desk was in the middle of the room, covered in papers and important business files. There was an armchair in the corner of the room his father used for reading and that Technoblade used to sit in when he was much younger, content to just watch his father work. 

That was hundreds of years ago, but in this timeline it was less than ten. 

The new addition to his father’s desk was the box of dessert, empty save for a few crumbs that lingered. It was a dark blue metal box with a golden crest engraved above the lock. Indeed, it was the crest of the royal family of Manberg. 

King Quackity. 

Why? Why must it always be him? What had Technoblade done in this lifetime to incur his wrath? Techno had kept himself clear of any sort of attention, save for the tournament, even then, he didn’t do anything that would be worth this sort of punishment.

Was this the king’s way of letting him know he was onto Technoblade? That he knew his plans for Theseus? Maybe it wasn’t about Techno, maybe it was a warning for Phil. But why hurt Technoblade to get to Phil? It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. 

Something’s missing, the voices told him, something’s off. Sometimes he wished the voices would just say what they meant, but it seemed in this case, they knew just as much as him. All they could sense was a missing puzzle piece, a bad feeling lingering around the packaging. 

Looking at the packaging only served to make him angrier, so he ordered a servant to put it somewhere safe for when he wasn’t so caught up in his emotions and he could look at things with a rational perspective. He would only continue spiraling if he looked at the packaging. 

The butler knocked twice on the door before he allowed himself in without Techno’s approval. “Master,” the butler said, clearing his throat. “There are matters of the funerals to attend to, as well as some business your father--” 

“Get out,” Technoblade seethed, his crimson eyes promising blood for the interruption. The butler squeaked out a hurried excuse and dismissed himself, no doubt mourning the loss of Technoblade’s parents even harder with such a harsh new master. 

Techno sat down in his father’s armchair, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. He was an only child and his father’s only heir. Upon his father’s death, all of his businesses and wealth would pass down to Technoblade, not to mention the family name. In truth, his father’s death was a burden. With his loss, Technoblade would have to assume his father’s duties. He could sell off his businesses, but Technoblade wasn’t heartless, and selling the businesses would lose the prestige Technoblade’s family earned from them, and Techno should be able to stand on his own outside of the Crafts. 

It would be tiresome, but there was a chance Techno could operate from Blumefallen; manage his family’s businesses and estate from there and have a point of contact within Himmelblock, but it would still divide his attention from his bigger plans. 

These points Technoblade until nightfall. He missed dinner and went to bed immediately instead, though it was an uncomfortable sleep knowing his parents’ corpses were laying in their beds, unmoved from when breath last passed through their lips. Someone would come to collect them in the morning, and then and only then would Technoblade feel comfortable planning a funeral. 

Technoblade was awakened late in the morning by the butler, informing him that he had very important guests he had to greet. Despite the great importance the butler emphasized of these guests, Technoblade couldn’t find it in himself to get dressed above throwing on a black robe to cover his sleepwear. 

The guests were waiting in the parlor, sipping on some tea when Technoblade entered.

The Crafts.

“Phil? W-what are you all doin’ here?” Techno gasped, stumbling back into the door. Tommy leapt from his seat and ran to give Techno’s legs a giant hug.

“Oh Techno! We missed you!” he cried.

Techno awkwardly pat Tommy’s head as he extricated himself from the boy’s clutches. 

Phil and Wilbur stood up to greet Techno. “We came as soon as we heard. We couldn’t just leave you alone in your grief, now could we?”

On the surface it made sense. The Crafts were just as close as family to him; Technoblade made sure of that. This wasn’t unusual behavior for someone who was treated like family. But if Technoblade had to be logical about it all, which clarity from sleep helped grant, then he had to wonder about something peculiar.

“How did you get here so fast?” The servants only sent word yesterday morning. Even if they traveled all day and all night, it would still be impossible for the Crafts to arrive so fast. Not to mention the time it took for the letter itself to arrive in Blumefallen; the Crafts would logically only be able to arrive in a week.

Unless they were already on the road.

Technoblade found it odd that his parents were poisoned with The Blue Hemelia. It wasn’t a very common poison, which was why Techno originally used it on Wilbur, not to mention that a small dosage didn’t kill, only blinded at best. It was his luck that Wilbur had a weak constitution. But his parents were given a high dosage of it under the guise of a gift from the king of Manberg, just like Techno had done the same to Wilbur.

Technoblade’s heart dropped when Phil placed a hand on Techno’s shoulder, guiding him further into the parlor. He took a seat next to Techno as he poured him some tea. “It seems you just woke up, mate. You must be a little disoriented.” 

Techno locked his gaze on the tea, watching Phil’s every move as he pushed the cup over to Techno. 

Did Phil know?

Did Phil know that it was really Techno that poisoned Wilbur and had blamed it on the king? Was this possibly his way of getting back at Techno? But why? Why go through all this trouble? Why not just kill Technoblade from the get-go and eradicate him from their lives? Wasn’t it more dangerous to keep Techno around?
Or was it as the saying goes: keep your friends close but your enemies closer?

“Are you going to drink, Tech? The tea will get cold.”

Techno swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m not very thirsty right now.”

Phil’s hand dragged down the side of Techno’s back, rubbing what was meant to be comforting circles around his shoulder blades, but all it did was make him tense up. “That’s alright. You’re going through a very difficult time. We’re here to offer our support, Techno.”

“You’re ours,” added Wilbur, “We will naturally help our people.”

He couldn’t read them. He couldn’t read any of them. Not even Tommy, who had the face of an open book at all times, though they had been working on that. He had one move to make, one play that would be able to bring some light to the situation.

“It was a dessert sent by the king of Manberg,” Techno said with a shaky voice, pitched higher to force some vulnerability. “They think it was the Blue Hemelia.”

Phil stopped rubbing Techno’s back for a second. “That’s very serious, mate… But it wouldn’t be surprising, seeing as though the king did the same thing to our Wil.”

Techno looked over at Wilbur, who seemed to be listening intently to the conversation, but his eyes were staring off into somewhere else as he had no need to focus them on anything. His face did not betray any sort of hard feelings towards Technoblade at all, as if his hands were clean of the situation. Phil’s smile, however, felt dangerous. 

Was their a double meaning in his words? Was Technoblade making something out of nothing?

“Why would His Majesty want my parents dead? They’re inconsequential.”

“It’s because you’re one of our people, I’m afraid,” Phil answered with an apologetic look, but his eyes didn’t seem very sorrowful. He couldn’t pin down what it was, but regret wasn’t a hard emotion to read. “His Majesty must be scared of our faction growing too much power and took preventative measures. He must want you out of the game.”

It sounded rational. Everything tied up in a perfect bow. 

His paranoia ticked away at him. 

“Technoblade, you’re still young, still a boy. You shouldn’t have to take over the duties of the head of the house until you’re older. I recommend you stay with us as planned. You can operate out of Blumefallen. I have a long list of connections that can help with managing your family’s businesses, and you can continue serving as Tommy’s tutor. But you’d be more than just a tutor, you’d be under my guardianship.”

Was this a power play? Was Phil trying to usurp his family’s wealth? That didn’t make sense. Phil said it himself-- he had a network of people operating his own sizeable businesses. Technoblade’s family’s fortunes were nothing compared to the Blumefallen estate. 

“They would stay under my control, though, right?”

“All yours, Techno. We just want to help you.” 

Writing Phil off as a legal guardian would be risky. While Technoblade would gain the benefits of being the legal ward of the Duke of Blumefallen-- higher status, connections, money, the like; he would also be giving up certain freedoms until he turned eighteen. 

“If I accept you as my legal guardian, I’d like there to be a written contract with certain stipulations,” Techno negotiated.

Phil looked a bit surprised. “Of course, Techno. Let’s not talk about this now. I’m sure you’re still in shock over yesterday. Drink some tea.”

Phil pushed the tea cup back over to Techno, the same one he tried to get him to drink earlier. Techno hesitated for a moment before he looped his fingers around the handle and took a sip. He waited for a few moments after for something to happen, but nothing did. 

The tea was normal. 

Phil wasn’t poisoning him. 

Phil was the one that took care of the funeral preparations alongside the butler. Phil was the one that straightened out the problems with his father’s businesses in the wake of his death. Phil was the one to have someone write up an agreement to place Techno in his care. 

Phil did everything while Techno spent most of his time holed up in his room, hugging himself as he ran through his two lives in his head like parallel lines. 

His parents were supposed to be okay. They weren’t close, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care for them greatly. He had nothing but respect for his parents; he was a filial son, but all of that was in the past now. A filial son would not have let his parents die for his mistakes. 

Wilbur entered the room without knocking, letting his walking stick help him onto Techno’s bed as he sidled up close to Techno’s side, letting his head rest on Techno’s. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like nothin’,” Techno responded in a hoarse voice. 

“At least you’re not going through this alone. You have us. You’ll always have us, Technoblade.”

And that was what Technoblade had wanted all along, wasn’t it? To belong to the Crafts so they could belong to him. The very idea began to constrict around him like a snake trying to squeeze its meal to death. 

The funeral was long and drawn out. His parents had been active members of Himmelblock’s society, and the town needed to say goodbye to them just as much as Technoblade did. The festival his mother had written to him about had been cancelled in order for their funeral to occur. The procession ran through the middle of downtown Himmelblock and out the city to the cemetery, where Marcel and Maria of Himmelblock were laid to rest in their family plot, two matching headstones. 

Many people spoke of their good nature, their kindness, their beautiful life and the blessing they left behind in the form of Technoblade, but Techno was nothing more than a curse. He was a plague among the living, a silent killer. 

Techno couldn’t speak. 

Phil made a toast in Techno’s name, announcing the agreement the two of them had reached. It was rude to congratulate Technoblade for moving up in the world, so they could only wish him well in his endeavors and hopefully put in a good word for themselves. 

Technoblade remained silent the duration of the affairs. He had eyes for only one person the entire time; the little boy dressed in an all black suit; Technoblade’s only hope for redemption in this timeline. 

Theseus.

Chapter Text

Steel on steel as the two swords made contact with each other, catching one another in a draw. A broadsword versus a rapier would almost never be considered a fair fight, but in the hands of a skilled apprentice and the guidance of a most patient master, it appeared more like a dance than anything else. 

It wasn’t surprising considering the master taught the apprentice how to dance; he taught him chess and he taught him politics and philosophy and etiquette-- everything the apprentice is and ever will be was all molded by the hands of the master.

Everything Theseus is is because of Technoblade. 

Tommy managed to knock Technoblade back, using his agility to force Techno onto the defensive. His moves were smooth and precise and came in quick succession-- it required the opponent to have the same endurance as Tommy to be able to fare well in a fight. 

If Tommy’s opponent had been anyone other than Technoblade, he would’ve won in the first three minutes. Unfortunately, his opponent was Technoblade and that meant it didn’t matter who he fought, there would never be an enemy that could best him when it came to the art of the sword. 

“This is the day, Technoblade,” Tommy grinned as he perried, “this is the day you make me a knight!” 

“Crown prince isn’t enough for you?” Techno snorted. 

“Fuck you, man! Why can’t I have them both? I deserve them anyway!” This, Techno could not deny. Tommy had been the most diligent and loyal student a man could ask for. The past eight years had been non-stop preparation for the event that would occur tonight, and at sixteen years old, Theseus Craft of Blumefallen was the most capable man in line for the throne. He was a polymath of royal blood, taught personally by the youngest knight of the realm, whose own reputation only grew with the years. 

Techno decided to stop playing around with Tommy and slammed his sword down on Tommy’s, breaking it in half. Tommy paused, holding his hilt and half of his blade in shock. His hands trembled as he slowly looked up at Techno, who had the nerve to smirk at him. 

“How the fuck did you do that?” 

“Practice.” 

“I’ve been practicing and I still can’t do that! Come on, Techno, have you been holding out on me?” 

Techno pretended to ponder over that statement. “Yes.” 

Tommy threw the broken sword behind his back as he half-heartedly walked around in a circle to cool off. It was still early in the morning in the capital city of Manberg. Technoblade and Tommy had arrived two days ago in preparation for the party in the evening. Wilbur and Philza were to arrive sometime in the next few days, too tied up with matters of Blumefallen to make their way to Nevadas, though Technoblade promised to keep an eye out for Tommy, who despite his rigorous upbringing, still had a mean streak and a penchant for trouble. It wasn’t anything Technoblade couldn’t handle-- he had had eight years now of learning how to keep Tommy in check and made sure he stayed in line. Tommy would never do anything that would jeopardize their goals.

Tommy wasn’t too strung up about his father and brother’s absences, as Philza had promised a slew of presents and a more private celebration with just family once they arrived in town in a few days. 

The one who was strung up about their absences, particularly Wilbur’s, was Technoblade, who now was stuck being the sole authority in charge of Tommy at a social event, and the trouble was that Technoblade could barely keep a handle on himself. It had definitely improved since he left his adolescence in the past-- something about being in a fourteen year old’s body again had ramped up the worst parts of his personality, but with time, his mind and hormones were tempered. 

Tommy, with his arms raised high above his head to improve blood circulation, came back over to Techno with a scowl on his face. “You do this on purpose, don’t you? You don’t want me to be a knight.” 

“Tommy, I have nothin’ against you bein’ a knight. If anything, that would certainly cement your standing as the heir to the crown.” 

“Then why not, y’know, go easy on me? I’m already better than literally every other knight out there thanks to you, but I’m still an apprentice. It’s not fair!” 

“So you want me to throw a match to make you an official knight just so you can get a title you wouldn’t deserve?”

“If I had any other master, I would’ve gotten it years ago,” Tommy snarked. 

“If you had any other master, you wouldn’t be this good. Nice try, though.” 

Techno headed over to the shade and picked up the canister of water he had prepared, taking a swig out of it before dumping the rest over his head, letting the water drip down his face and onto his chest, his white poet’s shirt transparent from the moisture. 

Tommy followed after him, ready to continue complaining. This was one of Tommy’s talents, one that could not be forced out of the young master, so Techno gained a new skill as well: tuning it out. 

“Can’t we adjust the rules then? I’m never going to beat you-- no one is-- but what if I like, I don’t know, tag you three times on the chest? Then can we move onto the other rounds of the test.” 

“Try gettin’ good and then we’ll talk again.” 

“Techno!” Tommy groaned from frustration. He looked one quip away from tearing his hair out, which only served to amuse Techno more. “Come on, I really, really want this.” 

“I’ll consider adjustin’ the tests, but only if you’re on your best behavior tonight.” 

Tommy’s entire mood shifted from annoyance to excitement. “Really? You mean it?” 

“Yeah. Exactly as I said.”

“Okay! Okay, no take backs, or else, or else, or else--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Techno dismissed. There wasn’t really anything Tommy could do to punish Techno. The worst he could do was send a letter to Phil if things didn’t go his way, but Phil almost always took Techno’s side over anybody else’s. He was the best benefactor an anarchist could ask for. 

Techno pushed past Tommy to get back to the townhouse they were staying in. It was a noble neighborhood filled with houses that were only ever occupied during the social season. The Crafts were no exception to this, though they hadn’t attended a social event in the capital in almost a decade. Phil and Tommy visited on the off seasons to see the king, so as to maintain their familial relations and continue Tommy’s place in the line of inheritance, but other than that, the Crafts avoided Nevadas like the plague. 

The servants were waiting at the door for them to enter, informing them that their respective baths were already prepared with a clean set of clothes. Living with the Crafts had gotten Technoblade used to the utilization of servants, though it didn’t mean he necessarily agreed with a class system like this one. He was a victim of circumstance. Techno thanked the servants and left Tommy in the hallway to attend to his bath. 

Baths were the most relaxing thing in the world to Techno, and it was his only escape from the madness outside, though leaving him alone with nothing but himself was a similar prison to being with company, as he still had a chorus of dead warriors singing in his head, not to mention the occasional appearance from a dead god. It had gotten easier over the years to control the voices-- in the infancy of this condition, it had been a difficult task to quiet them down and not fall victim to peer pressure, but he found maintaining a leadership role over the voices placated them and even made them helpful at times. 

Techno rested his head on the side of the tub, his long pink hair spilling over the edge. This was usually the time he and the voices debriefed on Techno’s continued ambitions.

The boy is talented. It is better to just give him what he wants, some of the voices advised, though there were some contrarians of the group that advocated for the opposite. He’d let the voices fight amongst themselves-- sometimes it was comforting, for silence could be the greatest torture. 

Theseus isn’t ready-- he will not be a true knight if he cannot defeat his master once.

Nonsense! How can a master still be a master if he is bested by his student? 

“Enough,” Techno hissed, rubbing his temples. This time he’d take the silence. He had enough to worry about with the party tonight, and listening to the voices squabble only served to excite his nerves. 

Anyone who was anyone would be in attendance at this party. It was the social event of the season considering there would be no party like this for the next few decades if all went according to plan. A few years back Philza and Techno had already taken care of the issue of a direct heir from the king in a most callous way, but it ensured King Quackity could not reproduce and only choose an heir from his extended family. 

Naturally, Theseus’ name would come up. 

Although Technoblade managed to secure the title of crown prince for Tommy, it was still important for Tommy to keep himself in the good graces of the nobles, who wielded a significant amount of power in court. Tommy was a charismatic individual, so he hadn’t had so much trouble as of yet, but there was always something to worry about. Techno had to consider himself as well. 

Once he finished in the bath, he toweled himself off and dressed himself. After he completed this, he stuck his head out of his door and ordered the servant waiting for him to summon Tommy and his knights to the parlor. 

The knights had been an idea Techno pitched to Philza around three years ago. It was important that Tommy was able to foster loyalty in his own people rather than siphon people from Phil. Better yet, these people would be loyal to Techno and Tommy rather than directly to Phil, and it would be easier to control them and Tommy. While Technoblade was better than a god in Tommy’s eyes, there would never be someone to surpass a father in a son’s eyes. 

That wouldn’t stop Techno from trying.

That was why Technoblade needed people who answered to him and Tommy alone. He went on a tour to the slums of multiple cities around Manberg and targeted anti-establishment, high-risk individuals that had potential in the art of war. 

He convinced Philza to house them with his personal guard and Technoblade handled the training personally-- he even had Tommy train with them every once in a while to establish bonds and brotherhood-- but to gain the title of knight he had them take the tests under some Blumefallen knights Techno paid off. 

The knights understood that supporting a noble, while seemingly hypocritical, had an end goal of the end of the monarchy and decided to play along. 

The most important thing to Technoblade was that they respected his personal authority over everyone else’s, and his training helped cement that properly. 

Now three of them were standing in the parlor of the townhouse with their arms at their sides and backs ramrod straight-- perfect etiquette. Tommy sat on the sofa, sipping on some tea, not bothering to stand up once Techno entered the room.

“Why’d you call us here?” he asked in an exasperated voice. His hair was still wet from his bath, his curls in their most prominent form. 

“We need to talk about the party.” 

“No! Not again!” Tommy groaned, throwing his head back onto the sofa wall. They’d gone over everything every day of the week, but Techno would never walk into a trap he felt unprepared for, and parties were always traps, without a doubt. “I know everything already. We go to the party. We play nice with the king. I accept the crown prince title. I laugh it up with those fucking brown nosers and then we really go celebrate.” 

“And you three?” Techno asked, eyeing the knights. 

“Protect Lord Theseus.” 

It wasn’t Techno’s idea to bring them to the party, it had been Phil’s. Even though the knights didn’t answer to Phil, Techno still had to, and without Phil’s personal supervision over Tommy, he didn't feel Tommy was safe within the palace walls unless he had extra protection detail. Not even the youngest knighted man in the realm was enough for Phil. 

“Good.” Techno dismissed the three of them, observing them as they left to go fill their time elsewhere. They’ll do just fine, he had to remind himself. 

He trained them himself. 

It was just a party. 

Everything would go just fine. 

Technoblade and Tommy arrived at the party about an hour and a half after it started. Any time was alright for them to arrive, as long as it was before the king. Technoblade had to enter the main hall first while Tommy was escorted to the throne room, where he and the king would enter together. 

The three knights trailed after Tommy, though Techno noted that one of them faltered, looking back over at Technoblade before trudging back to maintain speed with his fellows. That was strange but it wasn’t something Technoblade could not be concerned with when he was about to enter the monster’s den. 

“ Sir Technoblade of Blumefallen!” the servant announced to the room, and for a brief moment, all eyes were on him. It was something he had grown used to when attending social events. It was the baggage that came with his status and the name. The name was something Philza insisted he adopt after he became his legal ward.

It felt wrong at first. For four hundred years he had been Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock. Everytime he needed a reminder of his own humanity, he’d think of that name. Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock. That was who he was-- that had been his identity in his mind, even over Technoblade the Holy Sword. And suddenly he was someone new: Technoblade of Blumefallen. Himmelblock had been his home at one point, but it was no longer. It hadn’t been his home for a long, long time. 

This was a new life, he had rationalized, and a new life needed a new name, a new identity. Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock had been too foolhardy and proud and had been turned into a sword. Sir Technoblade of Blumefallen would never make those mistakes.

And so he had adopted the name, and he had accepted the graces of the people who looked upon him with admiration and greed. It was like wanting something from a god, but not being holy enough to ask him for what you want. That was his new existence to these people-- these people that had behaved as gods to common people for hundreds of years-- and what was the name of the god to a god?

He sauntered down the stairs and accepted the greetings of some of his acquaintances-- despite years of knowing some of these people, some Wilbur’s friends, they would never be friends of his, these nobles of Manberg. 

Eret was here, alongside some others Technoblade recognized. If socializing wasn’t so important, he would not have bothered to learn their names and faces and statuses and incomes.

“It’s good to see you, Technoblade,” said Eret, clapping him on the shoulder. 

“Likewise,” Techno said, trying to pull his lips into something akin to a smile.

“We’re all very proud of Theseus. Who knew that little boy that used to eat mud would be our next crown prince?” Techno sighed, remembering how he had to beat that habit out of Tommy with classical conditioning. 

“No one, not even me,” Techno laughed. The important part was to remain humble despite their grand achievements. It made them relatable and it made them likeable, even though his internal monologue had a much different tone. Of course Tommy would be the next crown prince. Techno willed it, and so it was so. Why wouldn’t he be the crown prince? 

“Well, I bet it had something to do with his outstanding tutor,” someone in their circle commented. 

A brown noser. 

“All a tutor does is guide the disciple into the path of greatness. Theseus was born into a family of talents, after all.” 

The brown noser looked down at the floor, blood rushing to her face with embarrassment. “Yes, yes I suppose you’re right.” 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Technoblade,” Eret insisted. “You’re really phenomenal. Theseus is going to really need you moving forward in this new role.” 

Techno laughed politely, and more importantly, humbly. “Oh, the transition is always the hardest, but when all is said and done, Theseus is a capable individual.” What the group didn’t know and Technoblade did was that the transition wasn’t one of a noble turned prince, but rather a prince turned king, and a king turned commoner. After that, Techno had no such plans to stick around-- he had other things to do in this life, things that ensured no one else could ever be made into a sword like he was.  

Technoblade worked the room for a while, lamenting Wilbur’s lack of presence until trumpets signaled to the crowd that the king would be arriving. They made their appearance on the second floor, standing by the marble balcony as their names were announced. Tommy was always a couple of steps behind the king, his face measured and his posture pristine. 

Everything about him looked perfect. 

“My people,” the king greeted, his voice booming across the hall; a true mark of power. “It is so good to see you tonight, as a momentous occasion is upon us. My dear cousin, Theseus, has come of age!” Tommy took a step forward, standing side by side with Quackity, the king. He wore a deep blue coat with golden lapels and a dark green sash over his chest-- the color of Blumefallen-- and something new he had not come in wearing was a red cape with fur lining the neck that draped over his right side.

He looked like a king in the making.

A servant stepped forward and unfurled a scroll, reading it out to the crowd. A royal decree. “As king of Manberg, I, Quackity, declare Theseus Craft, son of Philza Craft, Duke of Blumefallen, as my successor and Crown Prince of Manberg. Those involved in his education will share in his success. I name Sir Technoblade of Blumefallen the title of Grandmaster. Should Prince Theseus choose to marry, his spouse will be declared Crown Princess and their child the heir apparent of the crown prince title.” 

The servant droned on for a while as he listed promotions for a number of people credited in Tommy’s rise to power, but Techno tuned it out after he heard his name announced.

Grandmaster.

No one else in the kingdom held that title, not since Quackity’s own tutor died over ten years ago. It was a highly decorated position. A grandmaster is definitely a person one would want to curry favor with. And as soon as it was announced and the king and Tommy came down smiling and waving from opposite staircases, he was the third person to be swarmed. 

Technoblade tried to take it all in stride, but for the entire duration of the party he had been doing his very best to just keep his head above water when it came to dealing with these people, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take alone. He only ever went to parties for business, and he went alone sparingly, usually always having Wilbur by his side to maintain his energy. 

After five minutes of people singing his praises and subtly asking for favors, Techno began to map out his escape route. The voices, as usual, were making fun of him, but Techno was going to do something drastic if he wasn’t able to take a breath. 

He scanned the room for Tommy, who was also surrounded by people, but unlike Techno, he seemed to enjoy the attention. There was a lot of laughter from that side of the room, and suddenly everything about the night was put at ease. Tommy would continue on like that for two or three more hours, delighting the socks off of everyone in the room, and Techno could make a furtive escape.

He dismissed himself from the circle he was entrenched in and backed out of the room, sending for his carriage as he used long strides to reach the front doors. Tommy could find his own way back in a royal carriage. 

As soon as the door of the carriage closed behind him, Techno leaned his forehead against the window and let out the largest sigh known to man. Even in his moments of rest, Techno’s mind never stopped rolling-- he was already thinking about the next steps in his grand plans. 

They’d been working hard to garner support for Theseus to be the crown prince, but becoming crown prince and becoming king were two vastly different things. The king and Tommy were barely ten to fifteen years apart in age, meaning if the king’s health was decent, he’d still have another fifty or sixty years left in him. If Tommy were to get the crown, he’d need more than just support-- he’d need loyalty.

When the carriage arrived back at the townhouse, Techno forced these thoughts to dispel, much too tired to continue strategizing. All the lights were out in the house and the only servants still inside were the night guards. 

They bowed to him as he passed through the door, shrugging off his coat and trying to find a place to throw it. Usually the butler would be there to take it-- 

“Sir Technoblade?” 

Ah, there he was. The butler stood in the darkness of the foyer, and it was like his eyes were glowing, though Techno attributed that to the tired part of his brain. He held his hands out as if he were expecting to receive something, and Techno glanced down at his coat before realizing what the butler was asking for. 

He handed it to him wordlessly. 

“I’ll be retirin’--” 

“His Highness requested you meet him in the garden.” 

Techno raised an eyebrow while the butler walked over to a console to light a candle. He gestured for Techno to follow him, and Techno followed these orders out of curiosity. “Is Tommy here?” He didn’t think it was possible, considering Techno left before him and he distinctly remembered seeing Tommy in the throes of laughter with all the brown nosers. 

“He will be here shortly.” 

“What is ‘shortly?’” he persisted. Tommy knew the plan-- well, he insisted he knew the plan-- and even if he didn’t, his knights did. Shortly better mean two hours from now.

“Any minute, sir.” 

The butler brought him out to the gardens, through the hedge wall that bordered the courtyard Tommy and Techno trained in. It was a very small garden compared to the other houses in the area, but it was planned by a master gardener and architect two centuries ago. In the center of it all was an old gazebo. 

Set up on the table were two shot glasses and a bottle of brown liquor. Techno almost slapped his hand over his face out of annoyance. Since it became legal for Tommy to drink a few months ago, he’d been begging for chances to have a drink, and on his birthday, Philza had given him the opportunity. Technoblade, however, disagreed with the decision and ordered Tommy to stay away from alcohol. Though drinking more alcohol strengthens one’s tolerance, it also led to dependence, which led to weakness, and not one a ruler should have. 

Clearly Tommy was trying to undermine his authority and it would need to be dealt with. Thankfully, Tommy saved him the trouble of riding all the way back to the party to give him a piece of his mind. 

“Techno! I’m back!” he shouted from over by the garden entrance. He sprinted over at full speed, grinning and waving as if he wasn’t the biggest nuisance of Techno’s night. When he approached, the butler immediately dismissed himself, bowing his head and backing away until he was no longer visible from the angle in which Techno stood.

“You’re back.” 

“Yeah!” Tommy replied, sliding into his seat at the gazebo. “Why aren’t you sitting? We’re about to really celebrate.” 

“You’re not supposed to be back.” 

Tommy popped open the bottle of liquor and began pouring the liquor into his shot glass, waving it over Techno’s before seeing how unamused his master really was. “Look, the nobles and I talked; we had a few good laughs. But once I saw you were gone, I didn’t really see the need to stay.” 

“You didn’t see the need to stay?” Techno repeated, the fury rising in his voice. “Tommy, you’re the crown prince now. You can’t just--” 

“You’re right-- I am the crown prince. And I decided I wanted to leave the party and celebrate with my master. Now, are you going to have a shot or not?” 

Techno sighed, rubbing the space between his eyebrows before choosing to take the seat opposite of Tommy. In only one way was his dear student right, and that was the fact that he was the crown prince. At the very least he achieved this-- but the disregard for Techno’s authority would be a problem.

Tommy was chosen for his malleability-- his puppethood. If this proved not to be the case, well… Techno didn’t know what he would do. He invested so much time into Tommy, there wasn’t a way to go back unless he abandoned his plans altogether, and-- he hesitated to admit this-- he couldn’t abandon Tommy. 

They’d deal with this another time. 

Tommy happily poured a shot for Techno and then put the bottle between them. “Well? Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” 

“Congratulations, Your Highness.” Techno lifted his shot glass, toasting Tommy before throwing his head back and downing the shot. He immediately felt the urge to throw it back up, but he managed to keep it down and maintain a straight face, though Tommy was coughing a lung up on the other end of the table.

“D-don’t call me that,” he said in between coughs. “I’m still Tommy.” 

“No, you’re a lot more than that now… But I suppose you’ll always just be Tommy to me.” 

Tommy’s eyes remained bright at the comment, immediately pouring himself another shot despite the visceral reaction to the last one. “You know, I’ve been thinking about my knights, and we never really came up with a name for their unit.” 

“That’s right.” 

“So, I was wondering if you could name them. Something cool, though.” 

Techno hummed. “The Leid.” 

“I like it. They sound like, like, grim reapers or something.” While they laughed about the name now, Technoblade would never have believed that spontaneous name decision would be a terror upon the realm in the near future. No, in the moment, he just laughed at Tommy’s dimwitted comment and allowed him to pour Techno another shot. 

It was Technoblade that helped keep Tommy organized in his first few days as crown prince. He got the household in order, scheduled meetings, maintained training, and was by Tommy’s side in public appearances. 

And now it was up to Technoblade to build Tommy’s political foundation as crown prince. This was why he was sat across from a prominent noble by the name of Lord Jack Manifold of Manifoldländer. He was the loud sort of type that buzzed around people with more power, but his family was wealthy and had many connections, which was what made him the perfect candidate to be Tommy’s head advisor. 

Tommy was too young for marriage, and Techno wouldn’t dream of having a political relation tied to the Craft family by marriage seeing as any form of class and nobility would cease to exist a few years after Tommy’s reign began. But an advisor position would put a noble family at ease with an important position, and Tommy would receive the family’s good graces for offering such a position. 

Jack Manifold looked like he wanted it. He looked like a man that always wanted to be part of the action but was just waiting for his moment, and more than that-- he looked like someone who could take orders. 

“Thank you for comin’ here today,” Techno greeted, toasting his teacup at Jack Manifold. Jack Manifold reciprocated, taking a swig from his cup and placing it back down with a cling onto the saucer. “His Highness is remiss that he cannot be here today, so I hope my company is sufficient.”

“Oh, oh yeah,” Jack Manifold replied. “Who would dare say the Grandmaster’s company isn’t sufficient?”

Techno smiled. “You’re the second son of the Margrave of Manifoldländer, if I remember correctly? Graduated fifth in your class at the Royal Academy, better than the first son.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say these things are false,” Jack Manifold laughed as his words trailed off, clearly enjoying the praise that came from the facts Techno was reciting. 

Another great thing about Jack Manifold was that he was a second son-- one  not meant to inherit the title despite being far more qualified for the job. There came an inherent hate for a system that damned a man like that, one Techno meant to exploit when the time came. 

Ambitious, jealous, and well-connected, Jack Manifold was the perfect person to help acquire resources for a revolt. 

“I happen to know a man that is lookin’ for advisors, and I think you’d be the perfect fit for the head position.”

Jack Manifold nearly spit out his tea. “ Head advisor? For the Crown Prince? I mean, I’d love to, but-- well, uh-- what about you, sir?”

“I’m the Grandmaster.”

“Ah. Well, if His Highness is offering, I accept.”

Techno stood up and extended his hand out for a shake, and Jack Manifold was quick to shake it with a little too much enthusiasm. “We’ll be seein’ more of each other, Lord Jack.”

“I look forward to it, Sir Technoblade.”

Techno had the servants see Jack Manifold out, sitting alone in the parlor with his cold tea for a while as he stewed in his own decisions. Jack Manifold was just the first victim of many. He’d need to recruit more of his type-- and perhaps he could throw some of that duty onto Jack Manifold, but it was probably best to vet them himself-- and then he’d have to get Tommy to actually meet them. 

It was probably best to facilitate a meeting between Tommy and Jack Manifold first, though, so Tommy would understand what Jack Manifold was bringing to the table. But first he’d have to tell the boy. 

Technoblade didn’t need to move much to achieve this. It seemed Tommy had returned from whatever outing he was at and burst through the doors of the parlor with an incensed look. “Why was Jack Manifold here?”

“So you’re acquainted?” This would make things easier. “Lord Jack will be your head advisor.”

“What?” Tommy squawked. “N-no he isn’t. You’re my head advisor. Father and Wilbur--”

“--are family. And I’m your tutor. We’re already on your side. We need loyalty from other powerful houses around Manberg.” Not to mention that Technoblade couldn’t have such a hands-on role in Tommy’s government, as it would make it harder for him to extricate himself when the time came. 

“But the Manifolds? I mean, come on!” 

“Tommy.” His student froze up at the tone taken with him, awaiting Techno’s next words with a desperate anticipation. “I’m askin’ you to accept Lord Jack for your own benefit. Can you do that?”

“Techno--”

“Can you do that?” he repeated, harsher. 

Tommy knew he had been defeated. His face was dark and there was a glimmer in his eye that Techno didn’t like looking at, but he knew when to surrender to a more skilled opponent. “Yes.”

He left the room soon after with the excuse that he had an unopened letter from his father, and Techno allowed him to leave. Philza and Wilbur would be here soon and they’d help him see the reason behind Techno’s decision. 

Phil always supported Techno’s ideas. He was like a third son to the man. At meal times, he sat on Phil’s right, and it was Phil who threw Techno his coming of age party six years ago, and it was Phil who taught him about his family businesses four years ago. He wasn’t blood, but that didn’t seem to matter to Phil. 

There were pros and cons to this sort of relationship, though. 

The day Philza and Wilbur arrived in Blumefallen after weeks of pushing back their arrival date was the same day Jack Manifold returned to the townhouse close to tears and on his knees in front of Technoblade, apologizing profusely that he had to turn down the role of head advisor.

“I’m sorry, Sir Technoblade, but I-- I’m just not qualified enough. I can’t accept this role.”

Techno sipped his tea as he stared cooly at the second son of the Margrave of Manifoldländer. “Unqualified? Do you think I have a bad eye?”

Jack Manifold shook his head viciously. “No! No, it’s not that, I just-- I have a commitment in Manifoldländer, and so I cannot be here in Nevadas to, to, to do my duty! I-I hope you can understand, sir.”

Techno stood up, towering over Jack Manifold with a glare unlike any other. “Head advisor to the crown prince of Manberg is a once in a lifetime position, Lord Jack. You do realize by relinquishin’ it, you are forcin’ yourself into a life of obscurity? For what-- Manifoldländer? A place from which you won’t even receive a title?”

Jack looked up from the chateau rug he had been practically kissing, and met Techno with a glistening gaze. “I understand fully. Please accept my apology on this error on my part, Sir Technoblade.”

Techno huffed. “Alright. No harm, no foul. I will not see you off.”

Jack Manifold scrambled to his feet, bowing twice before flying out of the room. 

Of course Technoblade was suspicious, and of course he suspected foul play despite his previous words. Nothing was ever simple in the world of politics, and it was only going to get more complicated now that they made it to Nevadas to stay. 

It was possible the opposition had something on Jack Manifold and knew Technoblade had scouted him, but he didn’t think it was likely that this was the work of the opposition. No, it was much more likely that the call came from within the house. When he thought about it more, all arrows pointed at the crown prince himself, but he hardly wanted to believe it.

How could he possibly fathom that the boy he had been molding to be his perfect puppet had gone off and not only disobeyed his orders but actively ruined one of his plans? First the party and the liquor, now this? 

But Techno was not so foolhardy to confront Tommy head on, especially since he knew Tommy would deny it, and the burden of proof was on Techno. He decided to go a different route-- 

Tommy’s older brother and confidante, the man who knew a thousand and one secrets, Wilbur Craft. 

They arrived that very afternoon, and after quick greetings, Techno insisted on taking Wilbur for a turn around the gardens, like they used to do back in Blumefallen. Wilbur was more than amenable to the idea, as he thought it would be a catch-up between friends, and in a way, it was. 

Wilbur was not only Tommy’s confidante, but Techno’s as well. The past eight years helped bear a life-long friendship between the two of them, one outside of the trauma of having ruined Wilbur’s life. While it still weighed on Techno, their relationship was one built on mutual respect and a genuine liking of one another-- something, they agreed, that was hard to find in upper crust circles. 

“Your voice sounds a bit hoarse,” Wilbur noted, tapping Technoblade’s hand when he wanted them to stop so he could smell the flowers. Wilbur walked around with a cane and always wore a blue blindfold over his eyes in public, but whenever he was with family or Technoblade he’d always loop his arms with someone and force them to be his guide. Techno chalked it up to Wilbur’s clingy nature, which he had even when he could see.

Techno allowed it because he was responsible for Wilbur’s condition, but he was one of the only people that’d be able to come so close to him. 

“I’ve been doin’ a lot of talkin’ lately,” Techno responded. 

“Look at you, Grandmaster, you’re really working hard.”

Techno chuckled. “If I don’t, Tommy won’t do anythin’. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Wilbur hummed in response, his fingers finding the petals of a flower and caressed it gently. “Tommy tells you things, right?”

“He does. Doesn’t mean I hear it all.”

“His behavior worries me. His coming of age party, I told him to stay and socialize. What does he do? He comes back here minutes after me. He sets up drinks. He knows how I feel about alcohol.”

“He wanted to celebrate with you. I don’t see the harm, Technoblade. Not everything is a move.”

“That’s what I thought,” Techno continued. He began pacing around Wilbur. “But then, when I found him a head advisor, someone who could really help our cause--well, I think Tommy purposefully intimidated him into quittin’.”

Wilbur stood up to his full height, and Techno was relieved Wilbur was finally taking his worries seriously. “You tried to recruit advisors?”

That wasn’t the reaction Techno was looking for. “Yes. We need loyal supporters--”

“Techno, Tommy doesn’t need anyone else but us. You, me, and Father. I don’t know if Tommy did what you’re accusing him of, but if he did, he’s in the right.”

“Did you hit your head on the carriage ride here?” Techno barked, “How are we supposed to pull in support if we keep the circle tight?”

“He doesn’t need any other advisors other than you, me, and Father. Anyone else is dead weight. If you want support, you’ll have to find it another way. But I wouldn’t count out our private army.”

Of course Techno wasn’t counting it out-- his entire plan hinged on the Blumefallen private army being utilized-- but was it enough compared to the power of the Manberg military?

It was hard to say. 

“Well, what about the disrespect?”

“He’s still a kid who has been made crown prince. So he has a bit of an attitude. It’ll pass.”

“It’s because he’s the crown prince that he cannot have an attitude-- he cannot disobey me at such a crucial moment in time--”

“Fine, fine,” Wilbur interrupted. “If it means so much to you, I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you,” Techno sighed, grabbing Wilbur’s wrist and looping it through his arm, intent on taking Wilbur around the whole garden. He wouldn’t mind finishing their catch up. 

Phil retired first after their post-dinner tea time. He was extra tired from all his traveling, and Techno didn’t blame him. He sat in the study alone by the candlelight, running through alternate methods of garnering loyal supporters from the nobles without arranging a marriage for Tommy or adding advisors to the board. 

He would’ve kept adding advisors had Wilbur told him not to. It sounded like he was speaking for the entire family when he suggested that Techno left it alone, and Techno didn’t want to get on Phil’s bad side when it came to this. In Phil’s mind, they were probably partners in this operation, and from an outsider’s perspective, he could see why that could be true. Phil was bringing resources and manpower while all Techno did was guide it into place. But Techno knew that this was a one-man show. After all, he was the one with the title of Grandmaster for helping Tommy gain his position, not Phil. 

But for now, he had to play it safe, because those resources could be rescinded the moment Phil doesn’t like his plans. 

Techno had been sitting there for a half hour just thinking when he heard a knock at the door. He figured a servant was there to tell him something, but he was surprised to see Tommy’s head poke through the doors, a coy look on his face. 

“Can I come in?” he asked. Techno, too tired to verbalize a response, just gestured for him to close the door behind him. “I feel like you’ve been a little angry with me lately.”

“Angry?” Was all Techno said.

“I don’t know why. Everything went according to your plans.”

“Yes,” Techno murmured. “Except for the advisors. It was unfortunate Lord Jack decided to decline.” He scrutinized Tommy’s appearance, waiting for him to confess through his body language, but Tommy was the same as he ever was, nothing out of place. 

“I told you he was a wrong’un. Can’t trust outsiders.”

“I guess you and everyone else around here thinks I have a bad eye for talent.”

“No!” Tommy refuted. “No, you’re the best at everything, Techno! It’s just-- he wasn’t right for us. I’m sure he’s great for whatever hick town he came from.” Techno wouldn’t call Manifoldländer a hick town, but it certainly wasn’t a destination spot, so he didn’t argue on that point. It also felt good to hear his student praise him with such fervor despite his recent activities. 

“Well, what’s done is done.” If Tommy wouldn’t admit to it, Techno couldn’t poke at it any further. Clearly whatever Wilbur said to him didn’t spark any ideas of apology or honesty in him. 

“I actually do have one thing I wanted to say to you, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s sort of an exchange of promises.”

“You want to negotiate with me for somethin’?” Techno asked with a raised eyebrow. This was new. Tommy was a lot of things, but a negotiator was not one of them. 

Tommy twiddled his thumbs as he bit out his next words. “I just want you to promise-- on your life-- that whatever happens-- whatever I do-- you’ll stay with me. Stay with us.”

This was certainly the strangest request he received from Tommy, and this was included in a list of killing all bats and calling him ‘Alpha Male’ (another thing that was quickly beaten out of Tommy, though Techno did this through sword training rather than classical conditioning). It was also the most vulnerable he’d seen the boy since he was younger. 

Perhaps the stunt with the advisors had been Tommy feeling nervous about having so many people working with him that wasn’t Technoblade, and he needed a reassurance that Techno had his back. Of course, as his master, he would do everything in his power to support his student. 

“Okay. I promise to stay by your side.”

Tommy grinned, his eyes filled with relief and something else, something darker. That same look he noticed when they were discussing Jack Manifold, and that same look that flashed in Techno’s mind at that one party all those years ago.

The look that sent chills of warning down his back.

But this was his puppet, and he should not be scared about his own work. Techno had all the control here. 

“Good,” said Tommy. “And in return, I can promise you this: by this autumn, I will lead a revolt, and there will be a new king of Manberg. Just as you’ve always wanted.”

At the time, it seemed like a small price to pay for the world at his feet. 

Chapter Text

Technoblade’s boots clicked against the stone path of the garden. It was a new addition to the townhouse that Philza requested in order for Wilbur to walk around the gardens with more ease.

He had come out here in the middle of the night to clear his head; something he didn’t realize would be a nightly occurrence. The days seemed to just terrorize him while the nights tortured him further with thoughts of the day. Technoblade was stuck in a rut and he didn’t know how to get out of it. Philza had backed him into a corner with way out in sight. 

There was no possible way for Technoblade to start a coup and win when he only had access to the Blumefallen private army. Going into this eight years ago, Technoblade was confident he could amass an army through the connections he’d gain by having Tommy as crown prince. Now he wasn’t so sure.

There was another path-- one Technoblade wanted to avoid at all costs. Assassinate the king, and Tommy, as his heir, would naturally take the throne. Technoblade found two issues with that: the first was that the king was still young. A sudden death by poisoning or violence would eventually be found out and many would suspect foul play. Their first suspect would then naturally be Theseus. The second issue was a bit more personal, and one he would never admit aloud. Killing the king for Tommy to take his place didn’t feel like enough to Technoblade.

This was a man that had Techno’s peers push him to the floor and forced Sanguis shards down his throat. This was a man that took a human being and turned him into an object. This was a man that displayed him over his mantle like a prized possession; had him kill tens of thousands of people on the battlefield; kept him locked away in a glass box in a deserted room.

Killing him was just too easy. No. Technoblade wanted to watch as his institutions crumbled around him. He wanted Quackity to see his face and know he was the reason that everything fell apart. He wanted it to hurt. 

Techno climbed the steps of the gazebo and took a seat at the table, his fingers tapping against the surface. It wasn’t nervousness. It was just an outlet. He was thinking too much, and he couldn’t speak any of it into existence. 

It was suffocating. 

Slowly, his tapping tapered off as Techno picked up a new, foreign sound. Not far from where he sat, there was a slight rustle in the bushes. His ears twitched, at full attention as he honed in on the sound. 

It was too big to be an animal.

Techno pushed himself out of his seat and left the gazebo, but he didn’t move far from it. This wasn’t as alarming a situation as it seemed because it wasn’t the first time something like this happened. 

Far from it.

For the past few years, this particular visitor, no matter how unwanted, always seems to drop by at the worst time, almost as if he’d been watching Techno and waiting to bother him at the exact moment Techno was reaching a breaking point. 

Usually Techno would humor him, but tonight was not one Techno wanted to waste playing around.

“Come out or I’ll gut you.”

Knowing Techno would make good on this promise, the intrude stumbled out of the flora, regaining his balance at the very last minute. Clad in black garments accented with shiny blue accessories, the assassin Skeppy waved at Techno, his hidden grin noticeable by the crinkle in his eye. 

“Hey, Technoblade! Wanna fight me to the death?” 

“No.” 

One would think that these two were friends just by their casual interactions, but their acquaintanceship started on the most peculiar terms. Techno had just come of age, still staying in Blumefallen, and some fool made the mistake of placing a hit on Technoblade, again. Most learned their lesson after the first time when he killed their assassins, but some are just persistent, like Skeppy’s employer. 

The first time they had met, Techno had beaten Skeppy so badly that half his face had been buried in mud while his abdomen bled out. Techno thought letting him live would turn the assassin into a message, but all it did was engender the assassin to come back on his own terms to challenge Technoblade again.

And again.

And again. 

“You know, it’s hard catching you alone these days. Those Crafts are always hanging off your arm, Techno,” Skeppy commented, his hands hovering over the many weapons on his belt. It didn’t phase Techno, even though the only weapon Techno had on him was a dagger strapped to his ankle. Even if he was weaponless, it wouldn’t be hard to take Skeppy down. Skeppy was actually quite talented, but in the presence of someone like Techno, he was nothing. 

Absolutely nothing.

“Why are you here?” 

“To see you, of course. I’ve been bored.” 

“I’m not an amusement.” 

“No! No, of course not, Techno. I accept you as a friend. Now relieve my boredom. Let’s fight to the death.” 

“No.” 

“You are such a, a, a wet blanket!” Techno shrugged and turned away. Just watching Skeppy’s mouth move sucked the life out of him. He was ready for bed. “Wait, wait, wait. How about a drink. I can buy you a drink!” 

“I don’t drink,” Techno informed him, regretting the fact he ever left Skeppy alive. He didn’t know why he did-- well, Techno knew why, but he didn’t know why Skeppy. It was the first time he did something like that. It had also been the last. He didn’t know why he didn’t just kill Skeppy now either. 

Techno stopped in his tracks, his arm stretching down his leg where his dagger was. He could solve this now. Get rid of the buzzing by killing the fly. 

“Would you drink if the informant drinks?” 

Techno retracted his hand, turning back to Skeppy, who had an annoying grin on his face. “What informant?” 

Skeppy clicked his tongue. “Techno, come on! I’ve been watching you! I know you’re looking into a lot of things, and I know some people. Underground. They know everything about everyone. She’ll be here tonight if you want to meet with her.” 

“What exactly do you think I’ve been lookin’ into?” Techno took a step forward, hand flexing in preparation for a quick-arming. It was one thing to have Skeppy traipsing around in the shadows and being a menace, but if Skeppy knew more than he should, then he would need to disappear. 

“Look, Technoblade, I won’t say it aloud. It won’t do either of us any good, but trust me when I say she’s good. Just come get a drink with me. Worst case scenario you just spend the night with me.” 

Techno mulled over his options. Spending a night out on the town with Skeppy sounded like hell, but it would be foolish to not jump at a chance to get information, whatever the information may be. If Skeppy was being truthful and he knew of Techno’s agenda, then the subject of the information would fall under two subjects: the coup, or the Sanguis shards. 

“Alright.” 

The house had been still with sleep when Techno slipped in to grab a cloak. The title of Grandmaster came with an official portrait put in the Hall of Guidance. Most of the people in the hall were old, bearded hunchbacks, men and women alike. Techno’s youthful appearance and striking pink hair made him a standout amongst his peers, which made him easy to recognize, even by commonfolk. Every time Techno wanted to sneak out, a disguise was in order. 

Skeppy’s choice of bar was a rowdy joint in the Lower Sides, about three blocks from that nasty little tavern Techno had stayed at for the tournament so many years ago. It seemed as though Skeppy’s bar was a cesspool of assassins, mercenaries, and other low-lives just trying to make a quick buck to survive. 

Despite Techno’s distaste for the monarchy and government as a whole, he still had an aristocratic upbringing in both lives. He tried to curb his judgment at times, but his own thoughts had to be safe. 

Think again, the voices laughed. What kind of people do you think reside in your head? 

Techno fought the urge to roll his eyes at them, especially considering Skeppy kept glancing over at him to see if Techno was enjoying himself. 

He wasn’t, by the way.

Technoblade felt quite awkward sitting at the bar with a shot of vodka in front of him, the stool one wrong move away from collapsing. It was loud in a way Technoblade was not used to. Battlefields, roaring stadiums, idle chatter at a soiree; those are the noises to which Techno was accustomed. Bellowing laughter, pints slamming onto the counter-- he couldn’t help but wince whenever a dart hit the wall instead of the dart board.

His fingers tapped against the counter once more. The bartender was on the other side of the bar, filling up their drinks on tap while maintaining conversation with other patrons. He glanced over at Skeppy, who was grinning as he watched a game of darts beside them with rapt attention. 

“Where’s the informant?” 

“Would you relax?” Skeppy complained. The bartender arrived with their drinks, the top of the bear sloshing onto Techno’s hand with the sheer force with which the bartender placed it down. 

Techno examined the droplet of beer sliding off the side of his hand. Out of his pocket he pulled out a small silver needle and stuck it in the drink. Skeppy rolled his eyes. 

“Really? A poison checker?” 

“It’s enchanted, too.” It was a gift from Phil to all three of them about a year after Wilbur’s poisoning. He had The Tower, an organization funded by the monarchy to study magic and myth, create the needles to detect almost any poison or venom recognized in the royally sanctioned encyclopedia Poison, Poison, vol 31. Techno took it everywhere with him, though he didn’t really need to. After what happened with his parents, Techno underwent rigorous training in order to become immune to most poisons listed in that very same book. 

Still, Technoblade would rather not be poisoned. 

“I’m not gonna poison you! I have honor!” 

“You’re an assassin. Your aim is always to kill.” Skeppy opened his mouth, perhaps with a witty rebuttal-- or what Skeppy thought of as a witty rebuttal-- but nothing came out. He turned back to the dart game. “Hey. Answer my question.” 

“Which was?” 

“The informant?” 

“Oh. Yeah, if she’s not here by now she’s not coming.” That was enough for Technoblade. He began to get up, but Skeppy grabbed his wrist. “Wait! Wait. Do you know how many people come in and out of here? Just hang out a little longer. I’m sure something will come along.” 

Techno followed Skeppy’s gaze to the dartboard. A group of friends hung around the area, one hand holding darts the other nursing beers. They jabbed each other every time someone missed and groaned when someone landed on the board. There wasn’t a considerable amount of skill in the group, but one individual was clearly better than the others. 

He wore a white cloak to cover most of his features, but blonde hair peeked through still. He adorned layers and layers of gold jewelry around his neck and wrists and even a piercing on his nose.

“Come on guys, can I get a little competition from y’all? I mean-- you call that a throw?” the man moaned.

“I’ve had three shots because I keep missing-- how am I possibly supposed to hit the board?” his sloppy friend shot back. 

The skilled one shakes the beer in his hand, hardly reacting when it falls onto his ratty boots. “I’ve been drinking too!” The skilled man turned away from his friends, scanning the room full of faces. Mostly everyone was absorbed in their own conversations. That didn’t matter to the man. With an elevated voice, he announced: “Anyone up for a bet? I’ll put my prized horse on the line if anyone in here can beat me in a game of darts!” 

“A horse?” Techno snorted to Skeppy. 

“Hey, horses are sacred in these parts. Besides, that’s not just anyone. That’s Punz. He’s a merc who’s worked for just about every big name in the kingdom.” 

Techno raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? So, he’s well connected?” 

“Oh yeah.” 

Techno stood up and raised his hand. “I’ll play.” 

Punz gave Techno the up-down before opening his arms as a welcome gesture. “Sure! Sure! I haven’t seen you around here before! I love a new challenge. You know I’m undefeated in darts?” 

Techno shrugged. “That’s fine. It’s my first time, so we’ll see how it goes.”

“Oh, a beginner! Well, since I put my horse on the line, what are you putting down?” Punz circled him, his eyes narrowing when he noticed the sparkle of something on Techno’s person. “Actually, I know what I want. Those earrings you’re wearing.”

Techno hummed, his fingers unconsciously twisting his earlobe. Normally Techno wouldn’t have a problem with putting a pair of earrings on the line. Material things like jewelry didn’t mean much to him in the grand scheme of things. But this was a special pair of earrings. These were the emerald earrings Phil gave him eight years ago. They were more than just a sentimental gift-- they were proof of belonging. 

Still. 

“If you win, fine,” Techno finally said, “but when I win, I don’t want your horse.” 

“ When? First time playing and you’ve got a big head,” Punz chuckled. 

“I’m a natural learner.” 

“Fine. What do you want instead of the horse?” 

“We can discuss it later.” 

Punz rotated the dart in his hand as he considered the counteroffer. It was promising enough that the mercenary was still interested, but still vague to give Techno time to think of proper collateral. Techno banked his appearance above all would entice Punz to say yes. Even with his face covered, Techno still wore a high class cloak with nice trousers. 

Punz offered the dart to Techno. “My opponent always goes first.” 

“For luck?” 

Punz laughed. “Sure.” 

Although Techno has never played darts, he’d been in his fair share of competitions. He’d been up against more Punzes than he could count. He was counting on Techno to lose himself to his nerves, but there was no such thing as nerves to Technoblade when it came to competition. There was only a win. 

Techno lined himself up in front of the board by the white line. He practiced his throw while Punz tapped his foot. “Any year now.” 

How different could it be from throwing knives? 

Techno launched the dart out of his hand, hoping the angle would be enough to hit the board. When it landed, Techno chanced a smile, only to see it had made a home in the second ring rather than the bullseye. 

“Good hit, Techno!” Skeppy cheered, probably out of pity. Techno took a step back as he analyzed his turn. Perhaps he didn’t put enough force behind it. 

Punz stepped up for his turn, his posture quite nonchalant as he barely aimed. When he threw it, it landed right on the line of the two inner circles, so close to a perfect score yet so far. His group of friends cheered him on, a stark contrast from when they were all playing together. “You had a pretty good hit for your first turn, but I’d give up now,” Punz said.

Techno took his second dart, adjusting his footing. L, the voices mocked. Can’t even throw a dart straight. He closed one eye, and with half his strength, he threw his shot.

“Where’d it go?” one of Punz’s lackeys asked. 

Suddenly, the dartboard fell from the wall and crashed onto the ground, causing the two darts on the board to fall off. Behind the dartboard was a small hole. 

The size of a dart. 

“Did this motherfucker send his dart through the wall?”

Techno rubbed his wrist. “Oh. Maybe it was still too much.”

“Techno! That was a bullseye!” Skeppy jumped through the mess of men fighting over the dartboard and held it up. He pointed to the center, which also had been broken through. 

“How is that possible?” Punz shrieked. He looked like he had witnessed an atrocity by the way he kept staring at the hole in the wall. Techno considered telling the bartender about the hole and offering to pay, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to attract too much attention to himself.

Perhaps it was too late for that. 

The rest of the bar jumped to their feet and huddled around the dartboard, laughing and cheering at this so-called great feat. Well, he supposed it did take a considerable amount of skill to send a dart through the walls of a bar and not break anything else, but that was still only half his strength. 

His earrings brushed against his neck, reminding him of their value. He clutched one as he approached Punz. 

“Does this count as a victory?” 

Punz scowled. “Considering you threw your dart hard enough to break through the wall, I suppose I can give the win to you.” 

“How kind.” 

Punz straightened his back. “Well, then? What did you want from me?” 

“I hear you’re well-connected. I’d like to know what you know.” 

Punz looked around before grabbing Techno’s arm and pulling him into the corner. “Information, huh? So even if you won, parting with those earrings wouldn’t have even meant much to you.” 

“On the contrary,” Techno replied. “I wouldn’t part with these earrings even if it meant a duel to the death.” 

The mercenary grinned. “You’ve heard of Boomerdorf, right?” 

Techno nodded. “That duchy in the Zitrone Mountain Range? It’s crawlin’ with all sorts of demonic creatures.” Boomerdorf was headed by Duke Lazar Beam of Boomerdorf, whose family had a longstanding history of demon-hunting. Since their territory was hidden behind a mountain range and heavy with danger, a king from multiple generations ago granted the land to the Beam family to take care of for the most part. The Beams of Boomerdorf held a neutral position in court and tended to stay out of the kingdom’s affairs, but as a duchy, they still carried considerable power in Manberg. Not only that, but due to their isolation, Boomerdorf had built up a considerable amount of personal power in their own borders in the form of a small military. 

“Exactly. Well, I have it on good authority that the Beam family lost something in the mountain and they are desperate to get it back. Anything the Beams are after must be worth a lot,” Punz explained, his index finger and thumb rubbing together. 

Punz and Technoblade were of two different minds. Rather than taking this unknown heirloom for himself, Techno could already imagine the bigger picture of it all. 

So the Crafts didn’t want advisors. They didn’t want an outside authority infringing on their coup.

Fine. 

But they couldn’t complain if another ducal family owed Technoblade a personal favor, could they? 

Techno bowed his head and grabbed Skeppy by the bicep. “Alright. We’re out of here.” 

“You sure you don’t want to wait a little longer for the informant?” 

“You said she isn’t comin’. Besides, I’ve got everythin’ I need.” 

“Oh, and Grandmaster Technoblade?” Punz called. “Give my regards to the Lord Craft.” 

Techno’s blood ran cold, his hand aching to reach for his dagger. He was in such a public place. Did it matter? Technoblade had never introduced himself. When did the mercenary figure it out? Was it when Skeppy cheered for him? Or perhaps he knew all along, and that was why he wanted the earrings. 

“I will,” Techno spat out, briskly exiting the bar with Skeppy dragging behind him. He stopped when he was in the middle of the deserted town square, allowing himself to catch his breath, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was a new threat looming over his back, and it wasn’t the mercenary. 

He looked around but found himself alone with Skeppy. 

It’s real, the voices assured him, but it only served to make him more unsettled.

Techno’s fingers rapped against the doors to Phil’s study as he closed it with a newfound gentleness. Behind him, the three Crafts got comfortable on the sofas. When he turned around, though, Techno found that Phil elected not to stand, instead leaning on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed against his chest. His piercing blue eyes stared him down. 

It was late morning, just after breakfast. Normally at this time, Tommy would have some sort of appointment around the capital, Wilbur would be at some gentlemen’s club smoking cigars and laughing with second sons, and Phil would be working on Blumefallen business. 

“Are you going to tell us why you called his meeting, or are you just going to stand there?” asked Wilbur, who was plucking at the skin in his nail beds. 

“Yes,” Techno said, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. “I’m just callin’ you all here to tell you I’ll be leavin’ for about half a month. Maybe longer. I just need some authorization documents from either you or Theseus.” 

“Authorization documents? Are you leaving the kingdom?” asked Phil. Techno sighed. He didn’t want to go into the details with the Crafts, but he needed one of their signatures. Technoblade had travel documents, but traveling to Boomerdorf was different from traveling across the border between Himmelblock and Manberg. Boomerdorf was a much more dangerous place, and the Beams preferred a closed border to help keep the demonic creatures inside. This was a logic the monarchy never argued about as they trusted the Beams expertise on the matter. Entering Boomerdorf required extensive documents, but then getting a meeting with Lord Beam? Well, the only way to get his attention would be documents signed either by the Duke of Blumefallen or the Crown Prince of Manberg. Grandmaster deserved respect, but it was more of a title than anything. Techno’s authority was tied to Tommy’s only. 

Techno sighed as he rubbed his eyes. No doubt there were dark circles hanging there, clinging to his eyes in an attempt to maintain permanence. He hadn’t slept properly in more than a week. 

“I have somewhere to go.” 

“Yes, but for half a month? What is Tommy going to do?” Wilbur chuckled. Tommy lifted his bottom half off the sofa he was sitting on to slam his foot against Wilbur’s shin, successfully injuring his older brother. 

“As always, I’ve prepared everythin’ in advance. I’ll be back before you all know it.” 

“No,” Phil said, his authority ringing through his tone. “You want to go? Tell the truth about where you are going, Technoblade.” 

Techno clenched his jaw. That was the last thing he planned on doing. He’d rather cement the deal with the Beams behind the Crafts’ back and guarantee support in the coup than get shot down immediately like last time. The Crafts’ uncertain stance on support was worrying-- so worrying that Techno couldn’t even keep his head on a pillow for longer than an hour. 

“With all due respect, Phil, I’m an adult. I should be able to make trips without your permission.” 

“But isn’t that what you came for? Authorization.” 

“Well, yes--” 

“And if you don’t have those documents, it’ll make your travels increasingly difficult, won’t it?” 

“... Yes. ” 

“So, I’d like to know what we’re authorizing first.” 

“Phil, can’t you just trust me? Has there ever been a time where I acted in bad faith towards your family?” 

That he knows of? the voices added with a snicker.

“Technoblade, you’re antsy. You’re tired, you’re anxious, and I worry about your health. You look positively ghostly right now. You’re in no state to travel, much less whatever you plan to do on this trip.” 

“That’s absurd. I’m just fine!” Sensing he wouldn’t be getting through to Phil anytime soon, Techno turned his sights to Tommy. His apprentice would not let him down. There was hardly a time Theseus denied his orders. He practically worshiped Technoblade. “Theseus. Sign the authorization documents.” 

Techno sunk into the sofa next to Tommy, a hand snaking onto his shoulder, squeezing him in what he hoped was a gentle and comforting manner. Recently he had learned his perception of gentle and half-strength was still world’s away from that of a normal man. 

Tommy furrowed his brows as he considered the request, and Techno’s smile grew as he felt the boy lean into his touch, earnestly considering the request and then--! And then he looked over at his father. 

Phil’s disapproving gaze was all Tommy needed to shrug and shake his head. “I can’t, Techno. You won’t even tell us where you’re going.” 

“Tommy!” Techno screeched. “You’re takin’ his side?” 

“Father is right,” said Wilbur, who had been mostly silent in his side of the room, probably since he didn’t have much stake in the conversation. “You have no reason to hide where you’re going unless you know Father will disapprove. Somewhere dangerous, I bet.”

Techno hadn’t even considered that to be a reason for Phil’s denial. It wasn’t as if Phil ever denied Techno from doing dangerous things before. The Knight’s Tournament at age fifteen, training knights and soldiers through his late teens, testing poisons on himself-- actually, Phil didn’t know about that one. 

Perhaps he could compromise. It wasn’t as if his location would give away his intentions. “The Zitrone Mountains. That’s where I’m goin’. Can I get my authorization now?” 

Phil slammed his palm into the side of the desk, shocking Techno out of his annoyance. “Absolutely not! What are you thinking, Technoblade?” 

That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“I didn’t think I’d get it right,” Wilbur smirked. “Judging by the fact that he let it loose, it seems like he doesn’t think you care about that sort of thing, Father.” 

Techno hated how easily Wilbur could read him. It was what made him so dangerous to be around, but it also made him a powerful ally. That was why it was such a shame Wilbur usually took Phil’s side in these sorts of spats. If it was something trivial like who stole who’s sock, then Wilbur would be on Technoblade’s side in a heartbeat. 

“Techno, you know I care about your safety, right?” 

Techno glanced to the left, noting that his vision was beginning to appear a little blurry. “Where I’m goin’ isn’t dangerous. I’m fully capable of protectin’ myself even if it is, so can I please just have the documents?” 

“No, we need to talk about this,” Phil said with a strange sense of urgency, as if this was the important topic of the day and not Techno’s trip. The trip he needed to take imminently in order to keep schedule. 

In order to achieve his goals. 

He stood up. 

“We don’t. We just need to talk about…” Techno trailed off unintentionally, suddenly forgetting what he was going to say next. It was as if his mind was pulling away the words he had prepared and hiding them in a heavy fog. He tried again. “We need to talk about--” 

“Techno?” Tommy called out to him, but it sounded so far away. 

Some god, the voices howled. L. 

Techno took a step back, his hand trying to find something to grip onto. The blurriness pervaded until it all just turned white, and gravity felt like a foreign concept to his body. 

Techno didn’t have shoes on. Something cold, something liquid slipped in between his toes. It was completely dark, like a void, and it swallowed the world around him. Still, he could see his body quite clearly in front of him, but it was much thinner, much paler-- so pale he almost looked silver. 

Metallic.

His hair fell over his shoulders, but it was different. It was brown. 

The void fell away, and suddenly he was in a disgustingly familiar place. His stomach churned as his toes felt the soft red carpet of the Manberg throne room. Someone grabbed his neck and forced him to his knees, so hollow they looked like they would break from any more pressure. He wore nothing but a ratty loincloth to keep him decent, out of place in the opulence of the throne room.

He remembered.

In front of him was that wretched face that grinned every time he saw him, black hair curling around his neck as his golden crown pushed his bangs into his face. 

“Progress?” the King of Manberg asked in a light tone. 

The person holding Techno’s neck spoke. “As Your Majesty has probably already noted, the specimen’s flesh is already beginning to harden into metal. We think the shards are fusing properly with his soul.”

Skin of his top and bottom lips chafed together as he struggled to even vocalize a hum. There was supposed to be a passion in him, a righteous anger, but all he was was numb. He stared at the king that was ruining his life and felt completely distant towards it all. 

This wasn’t really happening. No, this was in the past. Nowadays he had pink hair and tan skin and he lived with the Crafts. Right, of course. This had to be a vision, or maybe someone had poisoned him with something--

Techno flinched when the king stood up, leaning on his golden scepter as he stared Techno down. “Good, good.” There was an audience of knights and guards loyal to the king on the sides of the throne room, watching with anticipation as the king came down from the dais and circled Technoblade like a consumer at an auction. 

“I really have a good eye. You know, my mages in the Tower were content to continue their tests on those orphans and invalids, but all of their data showed they needed something stronger, something ambitious-- something like you.” 

Some thing. He was still human at this point, even if his fingers were stiffer and shinier, and his eyes shined a different color. 

Techno grunted his disapproval, which only seemed to further amuse the group. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dream, his mask completely covering his face. His arms were crossed and his chin tilted upwards, showing just what he thought of Technoblade. 

It could’ve been Dream, and yet it wasn’t, and that made all the difference to him. 

“The best part, I told them, was the adventures of your solo travels. Oh, I wagered no one would come looking for you, and here you are. It’s been so long, and no one has even looked for a clue of you, my sword.” 

Techno had to remind himself this already happened. It wasn’t real. But if it wasn’t real, and he knew it wasn’t real, why couldn’t he leave? Why was he stuck here at this time, in this scene? Why was he so useless right now? 

A distant rumbling took Techno’s attention away. A disembodied voice, a mumble of words, strung along in quick succession. Techno struggled to release his neck from the tight grip, desperate to see what that noise was. 

“Let me go!” he roared. The violence of his shaking loosened the guard’s grip on him, and Techno took that opportunity to launch himself onto his feet, beelining for the king. “I am not your sword!” Techno laughed as he kneed the king and pushed him down, the voices in space getting louder, pulling him off the king, off the floor and away from it all. 

Then he was back to what was familiar. A simple bedroom with a quiet luxurious air. The red curtains were half open, letting the afternoon light in. A chair was pulled up to his bed, and that was when Techno noticed that someone was holding his hand. 

Phil. 

“Techno, you’re back with us?” Phil squeezed his hand for added effect. 

“I--?” Techno sat up, judging for himself if he was really here. He was, but something was different. Techno felt different, like he had when he first came to this timeline, though the feeling was on a much smaller scale compared to that experience. 

He closed his eyes and looked within himself, feeling the pulse of his strength and mana. It was different. Before, it had been a mix of his own, Technoblade’s, and that of the dead Blood God. That innate magic that most everyone had but not everyone could wield. Now there was something new in there.

“Phil, what happened?”

“You passed out. The doctor said you overworked yourself so bad that your mana was dangerously low and needed instant replenishing. So I--”

“You replenished my mana?” It wasn’t so much surprise that Phil could be capable of such a thing, though he was certain that was how Phil understood it by the way he reacted. Rather, it was the fact that his mana had dipped at all. For the past eight years he had been reconciling this newfound strength and mana, that gift of innate magic from a dead god himself. Having it so low was strange-- worse than strange, it was suspicious. Even if Techno hadn’t been taking care of himself, from the sheer amount of mana Techno had, it shouldn’t have been a problem.

Replenishing mana was a deeply personal tradition-- it was like giving a piece of yourself to another. Like the way the Blood God gave Techno mana and fused with his soul, Phil did the same thing on a much smaller scale, but now it was done. 

If Techno had to wager, he’d guess this was Skeppy’s work, though he wasn’t sure how the assassin managed to drain his mana without Techno noticing. He didn’t know why Skeppy stopped, though, when he could’ve gone for the kill with how oblivious Techno was to his mana. 

“Don’t be so surprised, Techno. Before I inherited my title, I studied just about everything under the sun. You needed me, so of course I would help.” 

Techno pursed his lips, halfway to a smile, but that inherent feeling to frown at a form of affection also fought for control of his muscles. 

Things were different from the last timeline. So Phil cared about him as a person. In a way it felt like a revelation, something he had been waiting to realize his entire life, and yet it just hung over him. Deep down he knew it, then. “Right.” 

Phil still hadn’t released Techno’s hand yet. “I hate to think that you think I don’t care about you or your safety, Techno.” 

“It’s not a matter of safety,” Techno disagreed. “I judged the situation to be safe enough.” 

Phil nodded. “And I trust you. I trust you more than anyone, Technoblade.” With his free hand, he reached for Technoblade’s cheek, feather-light fingers dancing over his cheek and grabbing his earring. “These earrings you wear are a symbol of our mutual loyalty to each other, Techno. So I’ll give you your authorization documents. No more questions asked.” 

“Thank you, Phil.” 

The duke drew back.

“But I do have a condition.” 

“You said--” 

“I said no questions, not that I didn’t have a condition. Will you hear me out?” 

Annoyed, Techno still nodded. This was politics, after all. “Whatever you wish.” 

“You must bring Wilbur.” 

Techno’s face dropped. “What?” 

Phil released Techno and stood up, dusting off his trousers even though there wasn’t anything on them. He was already crossing the room as he spoke, hands on the door. “You rest up, okay? You can leave for your trip when you’re well-rested and fed.” 

“Phil, hold on, can’t we talk about--” but the duke had already left the room. 

Wilbur? He couldn’t take Wilbur! That would ruin everything! No doubt once he realized what Technoblade was doing, he’d send a letter to Phil and tell on him. Not to mention, he’d have to leave Wilbur with the Beams for the time he was gone hunting for their magic heirloom, and Wilbur would absolutely lose his mind over it.

No, no, no, no this wouldn’t work at all--

Chapter Text

Wilbur tapped his foot against Technoblade as the carriage went over another bump. The road to Boomerdorf was extremely arduous. It was surrounded by a mountain range, and to get through to the estate of Lord Beam, one had to travel through the safest route, which also happened to be the longest one as well: the lowest mountain.

Had Technoblade been alone, he wouldn’t have bothered with the carriage or the safe route. He would’ve cut directly through the mountain range-- a tunnel he had seen on a map in Phil’s study back in Blumefallen-- but with Wilbur here, everything took twice as long. 

Wilbur poked the outside of Techno’s thigh. 

“Can you not?” asked Techno as he grabbed Wilbur’s ankle and threw it away from him. Wilbur smirked, scooching his foot back over by Techno. 

“I’m bored. Read to me?” 

“No.” Techno was far too busy arranging things in his head. The moment they dismounted from the carriage it would be a battle of wits against the Duke, and Technoblade had no intentions of losing. He didn’t have the advantage he usually had of knowing this individual well in either life; the Beams were a family shrouded in secrecy behind their mountain range. Techno couldn’t remember a time in either lifetime where he could even remember seeing Lord Beam. 

“Techno, come on. It’s bad enough that you won’t tell me why we’re coming here, but now you won’t even entertain me. What’s going on in your head?” 

Techno finally looked up at Wilbur’s face. His wild curls covered a majority of the top half of his face, including the blue blindfold he wore to keep the sun from irritating his eyes. Techno would never say this aloud, but he preferred when Wilbur wore the blindfold. It made looking at him easier. Wilbur’s eyes, even blinded, had the ability to see within one’s soul and know their darkest truths, and Technoblade was not in the business of revealing his so soon. He had survived Wilbur’s discernment for eight years, and he would not lose now. 

“I’m just thinkin’.” 

Wilbur clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. “I know that. Come on, Techno, we tell each other everything. Why is this any different?” 

“Because you’re fickle. How about that?” 

“Oh, come on. Is this because I sided with father in your little spat? It’s not like I wanted to come, believe me, Techno! I’d much rather be lounging around in the gentlemen’s club.” 

“Then why didn’t you? I didn’t want you to come either.” 

“Harsh words!” Wilbur laughed. “But I’d much rather you be lounging around the gentlemen’s club with me. You shouldn’t be alone, Technoblade.” 

“So you’re Philza’s watchdog? Oh, well, not much watchin’ you can do, huh?” 

Wilbur slammed his foot into Techno’s abdomen, surprising Techno enough to make him gasp. Techno didn’t retaliate. He deserved that. It wasn’t as if Wilbur wasn’t at the point where he could make jokes about his condition, but it was selective. He didn’t mind other people making jokes either, especially Phil, Techno, and Tommy, but again, it was selective. Wilbur constantly changed his mind about how he felt about it all. Some days, he was inconsolable, locked in his room with the curtains drawn together tightly. Other times, he’s laughing his ass off at his own expense and would get mad when no one else would laugh with him. 

It seemed like this was one of those times he was sensitive about it. 

“I’m not watching you. I’m accompanying you. It’s different. It’s support.” 

“Call it what you want, Wilbur, I’m not tellin’ you anythin’ ‘til we get there and we’re locked in.” 

Wilbur huffed, crossing his arms tightly and let his forehead rest against the window of the carriage. Techno continued to fiddle with the skin around his nail beds as he continued strategizing in his mind. 

In preparation for this trip, Techno had done a lot of research on the area and on their fearless leader, Lord Lazar Beam. It wasn’t much, but it was workable. The Zitrone Mountain range had about thirty mountains, the tallest one being seventeen thousand feet tall. It was named after the extensive stretch of lemon trees that grew at the foot of the mountains on both sides, making it Boomerdorf’s only export to the rest of the kingdom. 

Lord Beam himself was a tenth generation ruler of Boomerdorf. He was quite secretive, a family trait no doubt, but was known to travel outside of Boomerdorf for one thing: 

Gambling.

There was a nearby city filled with casinos, halfway between Nevadas and Boomerdorf that the Duke frequented. He liked the thrill of betting, and he was quite adept at most games. Even in the gentlemen’s clubs he stopped by, he’d always join a board game if it meant something interesting was on the line. 

Luckily, Techno wasn’t so shabby at betting games. 

He glanced out the window to mark their progress. Lemon season was year round, so even with the lowering temperatures, the fruits continued to ripen and fall on the side of the road. 

Wilbur nudged him with his foot once more. “Hey, describe it.”

Techno begrudgingly smiled. Not even that blindfold could stop Wilbur from reading him. It was a nuisance and a relief, to be so known. The world felt a lot less lonely with Wilbur, but it was equally frustrating knowing it was harder to make moves around him. 

Well, he could at least do this for him. 

“Lots of trees. Lemons are in season. The grass is overgrown. There’s a giant cliff hanging over us. Big wall.”

“Techno, I’ve heard you recite your writings. You’re extremely talented. So, how is it you are the single worst orator I’ve ever come across?”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Techno replied with a shrug. 

“What about those demon creatures?”

“I haven’t seen any.” It was peculiar. Though this was considered the safe route, Techno still wagered there would be at least one monster that would attack their carriage. Yet, the trail was completely devoid of anything remotely demonic. Techno wouldn’t say he was disappointed, but he wouldn’t have minded a glimpse of what he would be up against in the near future. 

“Must be the protection on the carriage,” Wilbur said. “Father requested The Tower enchant it against anything grotesque like that.” 

Techno perked up at the mention of The Tower. It had been a subject that had been bothering him ever since he collapsed a few days ago and that memory resurfaced. It was something he had forgotten-- or buried, though he wasn’t sure which-- but now it seemed to be a recurring theme he couldn’t avoid. 

From the very beginning, it was the mages at The Tower that had been plotting with the king to create a holy sword. He had been so lost in his hatred for the king that he forgot to stop and think about who had been enabling the monarchy to carry forth such tests. 

The mages.

And Technoblade wasn’t their only victim. 

Technoblade patted down his pocket, pulling out the silver needle Phil had gifted him. The one enchanted by The Tower. It felt heavier now in his hand, remembering what he did. The people who enchanted this item were the same people that stole his humanity from him. 

This was all much larger than the monarchy-- The Tower was just as guilty. He had said he’d wanted them all dead-- anyone who had hurt him, who had put him in that position. They would need to go too.

“What’s Phil’s relationship with The Tower?” asked Techno, sliding the needle back in his pocket. “They seem to do him a lot of favors.” 

“We’re relatives of the Crown, Techno. We have access to The Tower, naturally.” 

“Is that something other noble families don’t?” 

“That’s right. They’re in service to the monarch, so while they do little favors for Father, it’s not something Father is heavily involved in.” 

Techno nodded, lips pressed in a thin line as his mind began to work itself to death. The Tower wasn’t something Techno knew much about, admittedly. It was started by one of the kings many generations ago as a way to improve standard of living around the kingdom, but the more research they did, the less the public ended up knowing about the organization. 

“So, he doesn’t know what they’re workin’ on, then?” 

Wilbur’s lip curled up. “Techno, what do you think Father and I talk about in private? The Tower is not a topic of conversation. That’s something he’d talk about with you.” 

“How do you know what Phil and I talk about?” 

“Conjecture, Techno. You always go into his study after dinner for tea. I bet you’re talking about your plans. What else would you talk about? You’re obsessed. No doubt this vacation is about those plans. That’s why you hid it from Father and Tommy; you think they won’t like it. Well, it’s not like I’m lecturing you, Techno. I think you’re fine like this too.” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s not an attack,” Wilbur asserted. “Well? What’s got you interested in The Tower?” 

Techno fiddled with his thumbs. He wasn’t a liar, and it had been proven time and time again that there was no use playing word games with Wilbur. 

“What do you know about Sanguis shards?” 

“The rumored crystallized blood of the Blood God? I know that no one in their right mind would go near them. Oh, but this is you we’re talking about. Don’t tell me you plan to use them as a weapon in your plans. Where did you even find any?” 

“I’m not!” Techno denied, a little too loudly. “It’s not me that’s usin’ them.” 

“Are you saying The Tower is? It’s a bit far-fetched. What would they even use them for?” 

Techno took a deep breath, fingers pinching the fabric of his trousers so tightly they were in danger of ripping. Why did he bring this up? Why would Wilbur, blinded and sidelined, know anything about what was happening in The Tower? 

Techno knew why. There was something about Wilbur that always made him tell the truth, from the smallest, most inconsequential matters to the ones that Techno thought would never pass through his lips. This was something Techno had carried alone for so long. Longer than a thought should exist in a human body.

“They say,” he started, trying to keep his voice even, “If you ingest the Sanguis shards, you turn mad. Your body is half human, half something otherworldly, but you lose your humanity, slowly rotting-- or rusting. However, if you have a strong enough mind and body, there’s a possibility of another transformation. This has only happened once.” 

Wilbur sat back, that playful smile never having left his face. “That’s quite the story. If The Tower has succeeded in such a test, I’d be very impressed with whoever their subject is.”

“There shouldn’t be any. The experiments are wrong, Wilbur.” 

“I didn’t say there should be. But if they managed to create such a thing, all I’m saying is I’d be impressed.”

“It’s not a thing-- I mean-- they’re not a thing. They’re people.” 

“Techno, why are you trying to catch me in some trap like I’m saying human experimentation is okay? I’m agreeing with you.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine!” 

Techno threw Wilbur’s feet off his side of the carriage and moved to the other side, moving his head to just the right angle so he could see where they were. From the corner of his eye he could make out the pointed tip of a tower, no doubt connected to the massive palace the Beams called home. 

They were fast approaching. 

The servants of the Beams were already lined up outside the entrance when their carriage rolled up. Techno got out first, keeping the door open to help Wilbur out. It was usually a servant’s job to help the master out of the carriage, but Wilbur had a thing about being touched by what he called ‘unknowns.’ 

“Welcome,” the head butler greeted them as he bowed. It was much colder outside than it had been the last time they stopped, so Techno took the time to grab their coats from inside the carriage and helped Wilbur put his on. “It’s an honor to have the heir of Blumefallen and the Grandmaster of the Crown Prince visit us here in Boomerdorf.” 

Techno bowed back in greeting for the both of them, knowing Wilbur would never bother with a greeting to the help. “Thank you for hostin’ us.” 

“If you follow me inside, I can take you to your rooms. His Grace will join you for dinner and drinks afterwards.” 

“Very good,” said Wilbur. Then, leaning into Techno he whispered, “I’m glad you’re not making us go to some campsite. But I wonder what business you’ll have with the Duke of Boomerdorf.” 

He slid his arm through Techno’s and pulled him along inside the Boomerdorf estate. 

The main building was a massive stone castle, though the courtyard seemed to beat it out in square footage. The inside was cavernous with high, vaulted ceilings that let voices carry and massive halls. It had an archaic sense of style full of antiques and heirlooms. It was no wonder why the Duke was so intent on finding this missing heirloom if they all meant so much to him. 

The butler guided them up winding stone stairs that led to the guest wing. Their rooms were right next to each other. Upon further investigation, Techno found they had adjoining doors. The butler left them to rest, promising to send someone to escort them to the hall for dinner. 

Techno put his bags down and sat down on the edge of his bed, sinking into the cushions. It was nice, but it wasn’t like he was staying for long. As soon as he got the bet with the Duke going, he was out of here. He didn’t have time to waste. Techno didn’t foresee many obstacles besides the monsters in the mountains, but he had never fought one, so it could end up being seriously difficult. 

Wilbur whacked the adjoining door with his cane, finally deciding to pull it out of his luggage. “Lord, I hate traveling. These beds are going to mess my back up, just you wait.”

“You’ll adapt.” 

Wilbur sauntered over to Techno’s bed, throwing his cane at Techno and then jumping stomach-first onto the bed. “Hard as a rock.” 

Techno rolled his eyes, setting the cane on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. “Can you keep these comments to yourself for the duration of your stay? I don’t need you gettin’ on Boomerdorf’s bad side on top of everythin’.” 

Wilbur sat up, clasping Techno’s wrist tightly. “I knew it. You want to add Boomerdorf to the mix. I’ve already told you, Techno; Phil and Tommy aren’t shopping for advisors.” 

“I’m not lookin’ for Lord Beam as an advisor.” He shook Wilbur off, moving to the main doors. “I’m goin’ to wash up. Please-- just-- play along for me, alright?” 

“Anything for you, Technoblade,” Wilbur sang as Techno closed the door behind him. It took everything in him to pry his nails from the palms of his hands. 

The dining hall, due to its size, was incredibly dark. They did their best to light it up with an abundant amount of candles, but the shadows always seemed to creep back in. The Duke sat at the head of the long table while Wilbur and Techno both sat on his right, Techno directly adjacent to the Duke. 

It was strange that the dining hall was so large considering the Beams never really got company. Techno considered that he might have a large family, but he had hardly seen anyone besides the servants in the halls. 

The Duke had an eccentric choice of dress, wearing a light brown coat, a vibrant red waistcoat, and a green necktie. “My apologies that I could not receive you both earlier in the day. I had some business out in the village.” 

“No worries,” said Wilbur. “Your staff was very welcoming, and you have a lovely home.” 

“Thank you for the kind words, Lord Wilbur. Is the food to your liking?” 

“Delicious. Compliments to the chef.” 

“Agreed,” Techno added, not sure what else to say. Perhaps he was lucky to have Wilbur buffer the conversation. In theory, Techno understood the machinations of a conversation. They always began with niceties, coded words to weave it in the direction of where one wanted the conversation to go. Techno, who could be far too blunt for this sort of society, had been treading water in society, but he needed to be swimming when it came to this acquaintance. 

“Technoblade noticed the lemons on the way here. He said they were in the season.” 

“Oh yeah. Year-round, actually. We’ll be sending the pickers up to get them in a couple of days, and then the kitchen will make all sorts of lemon treats. Unfortunately, lemonade is quickly going out of season since the warmer months are leaving us.”

“That’s a shame, but I hear Boomerdorf’s lemon tarts are a once-in-a-lifetime treat,” Wilbur praised. 

Techno’s eyes kept moving back and forth between Wilbur and the Duke, waiting for a moment to cut in with something. Anything, really. 

“There’s a woman in the village that makes a mean lemon meringue pie. I’ll have someone send word for her to bring something up for you to try. Do you enjoy treats, Sir Technoblade?” 

Ah, this was his opening. “Not really.” 

“I see.” 

The sound of the Duke’s fork against the plate echoed through the chambers. 

“Techno’s not much of a hedonist, Your Grace. He doesn’t even drink.” 

Lord Beam raised his brows. “Is that true? And here I was going to offer you both drinks after dinner.”

“No, I, uh, I don’t mind the occasional drink or two. Wilbur exaggerates my habits,” Techno protested. The drinks after dinner were essential, so naturally Techno wouldn’t mind lifting his own sanctions to get what he wanted. 

Lord Beam chuckled before turning into a full bellied laugh. “Oh, I see! You’re quite funny, Lord Wilbur. I get it. I had brothers, too, ay? Not a stranger to teasing.” 

“Oh, well--” Techno laughed before being abruptly cut off by Wilbur.

“Techno is too uptight sometimes. He needs it, Your Grace. Look at his shoulders right now. I bet they're as stiff as a rock.” For effect, Wilbur slammed his hand down on Techno’s shoulder, squeezing the tensed up muscles, causing Techno to wince. 

“You’re very close. Even with your…er, condition, Lord Wilbur, you seem to know him very well. I’m not so familiar with the goings-ons outside of these mountains, but it was a big deal when Philza took in a ward. Even bigger deal when we heard it was the youngest knight ever knighted. Impressive, by the way. It’s a shame you’ve been using your talents to be a tutor. Oh, am I allowed to say that? I mean no disrespect.” 

“Oh, no worries. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?” said Wilbur, his hands creeping towards his glass. He raised it in the direction of the Duke. “A toast to that, yeah?” 

“I’ll never pass up an opportunity to drink!” The two clinked their cups together, and Techno was quick to pick up his cup and join the toast, biting the inside of his cheek before making the decision to take a swig of the wine. 

It had a bitter taste that burned the throat and left an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t his first drink of wine, but it had been so long that it felt like the first time. 

The rest of the dinner was spent with comfortable yet polite talk, mostly controlled by Wilbur. When they finished dessert, the Duke requested they follow him to his study for drinks, as planned. 

Wilbur grabbed hold of Techno’s arm despite holding his cane in his other hand, leaning to whisper into his ear. “How was that?” 

“You did well.” 

Wilbur beamed. 

The Duke’s study was just as interestingly decorated as his wardrobe. It was the color scheme more than anything else. Despite the desolate location of his estate, the Duke of Boomerdorf enjoyed lively colors that didn’t necessarily mesh well together. It was garish to look at, but he preferred it to neutral colors. 

Lord Beam closed the door behind them and then made his way over to a wooden cupboard with glass doors. Inside were shelves filled with liquor bottles. Next to the cupboard was a smaller shelf with glasses and an ice box. 

“Whisky alright?” asked the Duke. 

“Of course. Neat,” Wilbur requested.

“You, Sir Technoblade?”

“Uh, neat.” 

“He’ll take it on the rocks, actually,” said Wilbur. With his hands, he made an ‘OK’ gesture, as if Techno was supposed to understand why he’d make the change. 

Lord Beam set the glasses down on the cabinet, dropping ice cubes into one glass and leaving the other two empty. He filled the three glasses to shot level then brought them over to the coffee table. 

Techno handed Wilbur’s drink to him, bringing his own cup to his nose to sniff it. It had an earthy smell to it with a hint of lemon. 

Of course they had lemon liquor. 

“Well, go on! Have a drink!” 

Techno grabbed Wilbur’s wrist, holding his arm in place as he took a sip first. He winced as it washed down his throat, the burn way worse than the burn of wine. But not poisonous. He released Wilbur, letting him drink. Wilbur finished his drink in one gulp, and Lord Beam refilled his drink with a smile. 

“A seasoned drinker, ay? Lucky me. There aren’t many people who can keep up with me,” the Duke cheered, downing his glass quickly as well. 

“We’re in good company together, Your Grace. I’ve been lacking in drinking partners as of late. Everyone in the gentlemen’s club seems to have moved past alcohol and focus now on cigars.” 

“That’s what brothers are for, Lord Wilbur. Even if Sir Technoblade doesn’t, I bet His Highness your brother has a gut of steel. Your father does, though I don’t really advise drinking with fathers.” 

“Theseus would love to drink if Techno would allow it. But I think that’s good, in a way. No one wants a drunkard king.” 

“Ay,” the Duke agreed. “Well, I suppose we should get to it, then. What brings you to Boomerdorf? This isn’t exactly known as a vacation spot.” 

“I heard Your Grace is a gambler,” said Techno, holding his expression still to hide his embarrassment of the wording. “I enjoy a few games myself. How about we play one and I’ll tell you why we’re here.” 

“I see my frequency at the casinos has been noticed,” Lord Beam laughed. Nothing Techno said was ever taken as a slight; everything was taken in stride, quite good-mannered. “Well, I won’t say no to a game either.” 

“Your pick.” 

Lord Beam got up and started rifling through a cupboard on the opposite end of the room as his liquor cupboard. He ended up picking a small, plain deck of cards. “Will you be joining us, Lord Wilbur?” 

“I’m afraid I have poor luck, so I’ll just be here to converse.” 

The Duke doubled as the dealer, deciding they’d play a children’s card game to warm up. Nothing on the line. Technoblade nodded, taking his cards and flipping through them. Most card games are thought to be made up of luck, but that was false. With the honing of the proper skills, luck was useless. 

This was a lesson the Duke had to learn the hard way.

After losing two games, he switched to another, which he consequently also lost three times in a row. 

Techno could tell the determination to win was slowly infecting him. 

“How about fifty gold coins on the line?” Techno wagered. No doubt Lord Beam was thinking he needed some sort of incentive that would help him win against Technoblade. Not to mention the man was a chronic gambler. Of course he’d take the bet.

“I raise you seventy five!” 

The Duke of Boomerdorf regretted that statement after losing five more games. 

He threw down his cards when Techno finally showed his hand, dragging his hands down his face. “You’re impossible! I’ve never been beaten so thoroughly!” 

“Lucky me.” 

“Hold on! “How about one more game? Winner takes all!” 

“Forgive me for bein’ blunt, Your Grace, but you have nothin’.” It was true. Techno had cleared him out. Just as he planned. “How about we put somethin’ else on the line?” 

“Oh?” 

He was interested. That was good. 

“Yes. I understand your family has been lookin’ for somethin’ for quite some time. An heirloom.” 

Lord Beam paused. “And where’d you hear something like that?” The air in the room had changed. The amiable atmosphere had dipped into something treading dangerous. 

“It’s all the mercenaries talk about these days,” said Techno. He held out his empty cup, wagging it in a request for more liquor. Warily, the Duke obliged. “I can see why. It’s the best test of skill for a mercenary to come to the Zitrone Mountains in hopes of finding your heirloom for you, survive. Get a reward.” 

“I didn’t think the Grandmaster would need such a reward from someone like me.” 

“Hence the bet, Your Grace. I don’t wager money, but rather myself. You’ve heard about me, so I assume you’re familiar with my skill set.” 

The Duke shrugged. 

Techno continued: “I wager I can find the heirloom and bring it back. To make it more worthwhile, I’ll give myself thirteen days to find it.” 

“What happens if you fail?” 

“I’ll probably be dead in the mountains.” Wilbur’s hands found themselves curling into the fabric of Techno’s sleeve. “Unlikely, but a possibility. That would mean I lost, and Wilbur will have the responsibility of carryin’ out my loss.” 

“What exactly is being exchanged here?” 

“Influence. Power. Dependin’ on who wins, of course.” 

Lord Beam smirked, staring into his drink. His thumbs rubbed the rim as he mulled it over, and Techno kept a hard stare on the Duke even with Wilbur tugging on him, trying to get his attention in the most subtle way his personality would allow. 

The Duke looked up. “This is not in your favor, Sir Technoblade, no matter how talented you think you are. My best people have gone up those mountains only to never return. Seasoned monster fighters. Those mercenaries do try, and they do fail. Whoever gave you this information wants you dead, no doubt. Well, alright, I’ll take the bet. Would you like two guards to accompany you--” 

“No need. I’ll be fine.” 

Lord Beam attempted to hide his surprise behind a chuckle. “Well, I didn’t expect the Grandmaster of the Crown Prince to be so… Impulsive. I look forward to this bet.” 

After they shook on it, Techno dismissed himself to his rooms to prepare for the challenge tomorrow. Wilbur was quick to dismiss himself afterward, slamming Techno’s knee pits with Wilbur’s cane. 

“Ow,” Techno said without much feeling, swiping Wilbur’s cane from his grip and folding it under the arm furthest from Wilbur. The eldest Craft’s son’s face was boiling red, his lips curled back in a snarl. 

“Oh, you really know to push the limits, Technoblade. When Father hears word of this--!” 

“He won’t.” Technoblade put his open palm against Wilbur’s chest, stopping them both from continuing down the hall. “You’re not sayin’ a word.” 

“Yes I fucking am, Techno! I knew this would be dangerous. I told him: “he’s totally fucked in the head! Anything he says is ‘judged to be safe’ is a total fucking lie!” and I was right, for here you are signing your own suicide note in pursuit of what?” 

“The private army is not enough!” Techno growled. “Why don’t any of you see that? You won’t take advisors? Fine. But you can’t possibly say no to troops.”

“I absolutely can if there’s a chance you’ll be dead in the mountains!”

“Oh come on. I just said that so he’d take the bait. The chances of me dyin’ up there are so small it’s not even worth countin’.”

“Has your ego always been this big? Seriously. Has it?”

“Phil says he trusts me. He let me do this. Now you need to trust me too.” Techno dropped his hand, placing the cane back in Wilbur’s hands before stalking off. He’d have to lock the adjoining door of their rooms just in case Wilbur wanted to barge in and pick another fight. 

Once he completed this, they’d have enough heads to take on the capital, and hopefully it would kill off any sort of distrust the Crafts had towards him. Eight years by their side and one would think they’d have more confidence in his abilities, yet time and time again they undermine and deny him. If it wasn’t one, it would be the other. 

He closed the door to his room behind him, beelining to his bag. Wilbur had packed twice as many things as him so most of the carriage storage was used for his things. Techno, with the foresight that he’d be on a mountain for the majority of the time, had packed light. A sword, a coat, some rations, and the nice clothes he was currently wearing for the dinner he just had. His travel clothes were folded neatly at the end of the bed, no doubt the work of a maid. His sword leaned against the ottoman, safely put away in its sheath.

His room was in an elevated part of the castle, hanging right over the expansive forest that covered most of Boomerdorf. The mountains were a wall around Boomerdorf. Keeping outsiders out, and keeping those demons in. 

No matter how many books he read, he could never find much on the creatures that called the Zitrone Mountain Range home. Not even a painting. The descriptions were curt and concise, telling him nothing worth preparing for. ‘These creatures kill ruthlessly. To enter their domain is to consent to being a meal.’ 

It was an adventure, in a way. A rush of living after so many years living a dull existence in a lavish estate, his only hobby being biding time. He was sure that when it came time for the coup, he would feel it again, but it was good to have a warm up, right?

It was only natural Wilbur would be worried, for he didn’t understand Technoblade’s real power. It was the way things had to be, but that didn’t stop it from being inconvenient. 

After double checking he had everything he’d need, Techno loosened his neck tie and collapsed onto the bed, clawing his way up to the head of the bed. After the evening he had, he definitely felt his real age as his bones became cement, sinking into the soft mattress. 

His eyes fluttered as he yearned for sleep, but a nestling of curiosity kept him from fully accepting unconsciousness. He wondered what Wilbur was doing. Was he writing that letter to Phil he had predicted? Or was he steaming in his own room, trying to think of comebacks to use in the morning against Techno. 

Techno chuckled as the world dimmed.

Chapter Text

Technoblade flipped his sword in his grip, eventually sheathing it back in its place by his hip. Next to him, the beast he had just finished slaying dropped to the ground, the weight of its collapse sending a big gust of wind and snow through the forest. 

Techno bent down and grabbed the piece of parcel the Duke had drawn up as a map from inside his boot. It wasn’t especially well drawn, but the Duke had enough lessons in cartography to at least make it technically sound. The drawing he made of the actual heirloom was even worse, but as the only person alive to even have an idea of what it looked like, Techno could only trust the Duke.

There were about thirty mountains included in the Zitrone Mountain range, so obviously the heirloom had to have been lost somewhere on the thirtieth mountain because anything else would’ve been far too easy. 

Techno had started at the bottom of the second mountain, near where the Beam’s estate was situated. That was where he had encountered his first creature not even ten minutes into the adventure. 

There wasn’t much of a story behind the loss of the heirloom. According to the Duke, a couple of generations ago some of his family members went up into the mountains to fight off some of the monsters, and they never came back down. Not only were their bodies never recovered, but neither was the heirloom. 

The real mystery was what the heirloom was for. Techno had his own guesses-- most likely for the demon-hunting the Beams were so well-known for, which made the heirloom virtually useless to him. 

The creature next to him let out one last tired grunt, almost as if it were begging for another chance to get up and continue fighting, but the reality of the situation was far too different. Techno knocked the creature with the tip of his boot.

It wasn’t anything like he’d ever seen before. It was large, about ten feet tall, with sharp green scales and leathery wings attached to its back. Techno imagined this was the closest thing to a dragon on the continent-- but they were just a myth. 

The creature’s head tilted back, its half-lidded eyes glaring at Techno even in death. It wasn’t the look the creature gave him, but rather the color of its eyes that startled him momentarily. 

He bent his knee and peeled the lid back, revealing a familiar crimson color Techno had seen on no other creature than himself. He hadn’t noticed it in the throes of battle, too busy identifying its weak points so he could kill it quickly. Now that he had, he couldn’t stop the curiosity from flooding in. 

Some would call you a monster too, wouldn’t they? the voices snickered. Normally Techno would roll his eyes and tell them to shut up, but this time was different. 

That was an incredibly strange thing to say. 

“What are you all playin’ at?” he asked, dropping the monster’s eyelid. He looked down at the map, his finger dragging across the page to follow the path the Duke had suggested. It was long and would have him waste too much time in the name of safety. The Duke’s suggestion was to just travel around the mountains, never going too far up until he reached the twenty-ninth mountain. 

Instead, Techno would travel through the mountains. Using his abilities, he was almost sure he could make most of the jumps between mountain ledges, and when he couldn’t, he’d travel through the trees. 

It would be messy, but it would most definitely be shorter, and there was no one better to pull it off than Techno. Besides, he was pretty sure the Duke elongated his path to make it longer for him to return and thus lose the bet. After all, if Techno returned a day late with the heirloom, the Duke would still get his heirloom back, but Techno would return with nothing.

After waiting in vain for the voices’ response, Techno picked himself up and continued up the mountain. 

There wasn’t much to look at except for trees and bushes, and the sounds didn’t vary much from birds and small rodents sniffing around for food. If there was going to be any sort of entertainment, it would be from the voices, though Techno used the word ‘entertainment’ in the case of the voices very lightly, as they had the terrible habit of being extremely unfunny at times.

“Well? Do you guys have anythin’ to say about my performance with that lizard over there? Come on, I know at least a hundred of you want to talk about the way my hand was ridin’ up on the hilt.”

He could almost hear a shrug from the voices from the way none of them responded. 

“Okay…”

It was another hour of walking in complete silence before he came across another monster. This one was lizard-like as well, but lacked its predecessor’s height. Instead, it was long and faded blue, with translucent scales that reflected the sky. Its legs were skinny but fast, and it had a thick tail with spikes protruding out the top. 

It jumped out at Techno from above, and Techno barely got his sword out in time to deflect the entire creature off of him and into the trees. He dug his hind foot past the snow and into the dirt as the monster flattened a pair of trees, rolling back onto its feet just to snarl at Techno. 

Already Techno could tell this monster relied on its tail for its attacks, seeing as its front could hardly be considered a danger. It had sharp teeth and claws, but nothing that would touch Technoblade. At the right angle, though, that tail could sweep Techno into the mountainside. 

Just as predicted, the creature made a move with its tail, bashing it into the ground and sending a massive wave of rocks Techno’s way. Adjusting his grip on his sword, Techno back flipped towards the monster’s front side, immediately twisting his landing so he’d be able to slash its neck when he returned to his feet. 

He was right in front of the monster, its mouth wide open, salivating at the idea of munching on his arm when Techno hesitated for a moment.

Its eyes-- they were the same.

The same as the other monster.

The same as his. 

The creature took this moment of weakness to pounce, tearing at Techno’s coat sleeve. With his other arm, Techno flipped his sword in his grip so he was holding it in reverse and sliced the creature’s throat. It still managed to take the fabric of his coat sleeve with him, but at least Techno’s arm was still intact. 

He dusted the abused area of his coat, berating himself for that moment of hesitation. The thing never would have even been able to touch him if he wasn’t so put off by the eyes of the creature, or by what the voices said-- or more aptly, what they would not say. 

This time, when Techno knelt by its side, he closed his eyes and placed his palm on its scales. The frosty wind bit at his fingers as he tried to feel for any familiar magic around the monster. He was overwhelmed when he felt something personal in the connection with the creature, drawing back instantaneously. 

“Sanguis shards,” he muttered, his hand coming up to rest over one of his eyes. These creatures came from Sanguis shards, just the same as he did. Well, probably in a much different way, but the fact remained that an innate part of their magic was intertwined. 

What did that mean for those who failed to completely accept the Sanguis shards? Did they turn into creatures like this?

Techno stumbled backwards. 

Were these the failed experiments of The Tower? 

Relax, the voices said. These creatures came about naturally from the dark energy in the area. 

“That’s not reassurin’,” Techno replied. It was also quite annoying that the voices chose only now to speak and adjust their claims. 

Shouldn’t you be focusing on your mission? L. The voices were right back to their usual antics, causing Techno’s eyebrow to twitch. They were right, though. He didn’t have time to worry about the morality of mowing down these monsters right now. He had six days to get to the mountain, half a day to look for the heirloom, and six days to get back, with about half a day as a buffer in case anything went wrong. 

Like if a monster got more than just his coat sleeve. 

It wasn’t a huge worry of Techno’s, but a good strategist always assumed the worst scenarios would take place before the best.

“Okay,” he said, picking himself up and dusting off the snow and dirt on his bottom. “Let’s go.” 

On the third day of traveling through the mountains, he had made it to the seventeenth mountain. He was a little ahead of schedule, which was good, but he was also being watched, and that was bad. 

He first noticed it when he woke up from a short nap on the second day. It felt like someone’s eyes were blazing through the back of his head. He couldn’t discern any killing intent, almost as if the eyes were an omnipotent observer, but Techno didn’t believe in such things. Especially since the only god Techno was aware of currently resided in his soul. 

He decided to let it be. After all, it could’ve been a monster that was stalking him, biding its time. The further he got into the mountains, the smarter the creatures tended to be. They’d attack in groups, they’d have different attack strategies-- sometimes they’d even retreat to the point where it would be redundant for Techno to follow, only to show up later with a vengeance. 

But as Techno continued on, the more human the eyes felt. He would get farther and farther away, and then suddenly they were closer to him than ever before. The worst part was how familiar it felt. It was the same feeling he experienced walking back from that bar with Skeppy. 

He thought he had been paranoid then, but now he was so sure of it. He was tired, underfed, dirty and drenched in monster blood, and heavily annoyed by the voices’ idea of banter. 

Heading into the afternoon, after killing the tenth monster of the day, Techno stuck his sword deep into the neck of the creature-- this time a hairy, fleshy beast with a red underbelly-- and closed his eyes. Something he was beginning to learn was closing his eyes allowed for him to open up a new sense-- a sense for magic. It was as simple as identifying others’ magic signatures, but when it came to fighting hidden enemies, it was a game-changer. 

In the trees, in the highest branches, he could sense a powerful signature. It wasn’t even close to his power, but if they were to use magic on him, they would do some damage. If they were a mage, they were dangerous. In terms of a physical fight, however, Techno had no clue. That was impossible to ascertain unless his stalker confronted him.

Considering they had been following him for who knew how long and made no move to contact him, Techno could safely say they were just on a mission to watch. They could be the Duke’s man, but that wouldn’t explain why they had been following Techno and Skeppy that night in the bar. There was the chance they were a mercenary looking for the heirloom, following Techno in order to cross him at the last second to get the heirloom, but that would only end in their doom. 

The logical thing to do, at this point, was to just find out what they wanted. 

Techno slid his fingers into his boot and unstrapped the dagger attached to his ankle. He held his pose for a minute, trying to look inconspicuous before pitching the dagger in the direction of his stalker. 

He didn’t see much movement, save for the rustle of leaves and falling heaps of snow in the tree he threw the dagger at. But like a flash in the sky, something peculiar shot out, just for a moment, but it was enough for Techno to catch sight of it. 

A figure with an angular face, chunks of blonde hair framing their face, the rest of their appearance obscured by a raggedy brown cloak. If he had to guess, Techno would wager they were a woman, but only a closer inspection would confirm this. 

The stalker leaped to another tree, and then another.

They were running away. 

Techno took in his surroundings, calculating how much time he could waste on this venture. He didn’t factor someone following him into his schedule. 

Techno clicked his tongue before leaping onto the nearest tree branch, intent on pursuing the pursuer. He jumped back and forth from tree to tree in order to get as much acceleration as possible. The stalker had the same idea, nimbly floating through the trees like a fairy. 

“Stop!” he called. 

Oh, they will no doubt stop now, the voices mocked. 

Techno gritted his teeth but didn’t allow the voices to get to him. For all their wisdom, they truly had no idea what a good comeback was. 

The stalker was quick, no doubt, and skilled in the art of escape, but that wasn’t enough to get away from Technoblade. The fact of the matter was that it didn’t take Techno long to catch up. It was clear now that this person was indeed a woman. His fingers were breaths away from grabbing a fist of her cloak when all of a sudden, she disappeared. 

It was as if she had been wiped off the face of the planet from the way her image just turned off. Techno’s eyes widened as he stumbled on the next branch, shooting towards the ground at terminal velocity. Instinct alone saved him as his legs moved to change the center of his balance, landing half kneeled on the forest floor. 

His hair covered his eyes as he took a moment to breathe and regain his composure. Technoblade was sure now: whoever she was, she was a mage; or, at least the people she was working with were mages. The way she disappeared looked like transportation magic. It wasn’t easy magic a single person could cast themselves, and thus wasn’t a common form of travel.

Whoever she was, she was told not to engage with Technoblade. Something else was at work-- something in The Tower-- that had slipped under Techno’s watch all these years while he was consumed with taking down the monarchy. 

In the future, Techno would need to know a lot more about magic than he did.

The thirtieth mountain happened to be the tallest of the collection, standing at nineteen thousand feet. Like the other mountains, it had a snow capped top with jagged peaks. The sea of trees had tapered off, left with a wasteland basin of stone and dead bushes. 

Over the course of the six days it took to reach the thirtieth mountain, he had fought over two hundred monsters. Techno didn’t know for sure-- he stopped counting after a while. It wasn’t as if he was committed to keeping count; he just thought it would be a fun game to play to pass the time. Turned out he didn’t really need to amuse himself like that when he was constantly being attacked anyway. 

After dealing with the stalker a couple of days ago, he didn’t sense anyone else following him, so it was peaceful on that front-- not that he would consider this a peaceful trip. The further into the mountains one goes, the more monsters one would encounter. Techno almost suspected there was something back in these mountains that drew the monsters in; he suspected it because he felt something tugging at him too.

The heirloom could be anywhere in or around the mountain. He was lucky he didn’t have to go looking in trees or anything, but this was still an uphill battle. For all his power, Technoblade was still one man, and he unfortunately had not reached the point where he was all-seeing. 

The only thing he could do was hunt on foot. 

He scoured one side of the mountain for hours, his sword never leaving his hand. Every so often he would be ambushed by a couple of monsters. No monster on the thirtieth mountain hunted solo anymore. Techno supposed he should be thankful he didn’t have to deal with them individually anymore. Six days of slaying them and they weren’t anything more than pests now. 

As the sky turned deep red, Techno decided to set up camp on one of the mountain ledges. He managed to pick up some firewood a while back after noting how desolate the mountain was. 

He shrugged off his bag and threw his blanket around his shoulders while a can of beans roasted over his feeble fire. His sword laid across his lap as the temperatures dropped with the sun. After eating, Techno could afford a quick nap before jumping back into the swing of things. Searching at night wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t as if Techno had much of a choice. This self imposed deadline was choking him, but he’d rather be choked than give up. 

He could feel he was close if the uptick in monsters had anything to say about it. The higher up the mountain he climbed, the more Techno felt that weird pull. He was starting to think it was connected to the Sanguis shards, the same way the monsters were born from the same thing. If the monsters were so affected by it, perhaps it had something to do with their heirloom. It was worth investigating, at the very least. 

Techno shoveled the canned beans into his mouth before letting his head fall back against the side of the mountain, eyes fluttering closed into a controlled, shallow sleep. 

When he awoke next, it wasn’t because it was time for him to wake up, but because hot and rank breath blew over his face. Techno peeled one eye open, trying to regulate his breathing to hide his shock from the fact that one of these creatures actually managed to get the jump on him. 

It was one of those scaled monsters with beady eyes and sharp poisonous fixtures on its body. All it did was stare at him, like Technoblade was the strange-looking one. In the ecosystem of this mountain range, Techno probably was the strange-looking one. 

Techno didn’t even glance down at his wrist before flipping his sword and slicing at the monster. He was quick to roll to the side and attack once more, sliding under the monster and slashing its underbelly. Without even letting the monster get a counter attack in, Techno shoved it off the ledge with his foot, watching as it crashed onto a lower ledge with a massive thud. 

Close call, the voices guffawed. 

“Shut it,” he muttered, packing his bag and kicking out his fire. Techno stood still for a moment to adjust his sight to the night sky without the fire to aid him. Fire would only draw attention, which meant no torch either. 

Techno didn’t even get these few seconds, as something shot out from above him, claws extended and a loud screech to accompany it. Techno instantly blocked it with his blade, tossing the creature aside with as much power he could muster. 

Either those two creatures were together, or they were attacking alone but in turns. If he continued on this ledge, would he find a cluster of monsters? Was it worth following this path? Although, if Techno’s musings before his nap were right, the more monsters he found, the more likely he’d find the heirloom. 

Techno sighed, his head tilted back as he stared at the moon. More than anything, he was annoyed at how much effort he needed to put into this whole thing. 

You like it, the voices countered. 

“Well, it’s just tedious.” Nevermind that he gave himself this job. 

If the voices could roll their eyes, they would. 

Techno began a light jog that soon turned into a full on sprint up the mountain. The creatures that could fly tried to nab him from above, but he got rid of them with a jerk of his sword. He was in the backseat of his body, his soul controlling his direction. He slashed at the occasional monster, kicking, slashing, and stabbing them til they were all drained of blood, but his eye was on the prize. 

A kilometer further from his camp, Techno arrived at the hulking entrance of a cave. His heart beat loudly in his chest as his soul urged him forward, that tugging now turning into a physical pull. Whatever was in there wanted him to go in by any means possible. 

It was darker than the midnight shade of the night air outside, so Techno had no choice but to find something to make a torch with. Luckily, Techno was not the only traveler to make it to this cave, and the bones of old torches remained scattered by the entrance, only the tips of wood singed by fires that didn’t last too long. 

It didn’t bode well, but Technoblade thanked his predecessors and lit his torch. 

The inside of the cave was dismissable. There was nothing of note about it-- it was long and winding and didn’t have many tunnels. It was a straight shot inside the mountain. After an hour of walking, stopping only to slay the monsters creeping along the walls, Techno began to have a feeling that this was no ordinary cave, and he was in fact heading directly into the heart of the mountain.

His suspicions were further proven when the cave tunnel began to widen, and the dull stone that made up the structure of the cave began to turn into reflective blue crystals. There was a cavern ahead, but about a dozen monsters mulled around in front of it, just pacing around like they had nothing better to do. 

With the crystals reflecting light off from somewhere, Techno lost use of the torch and decided to throw it into the crowd of monsters. It landed on a hairy one, and he watched as it caught fire and ran around crazy before slumping over. The others didn’t even wait for that one to die before jumping at Techno. 

They were nothing more than annoyances as he sliced through them at lightning speed. He was on the other side of their corpses in a matter of minutes, with one boot inside the crystalline cavern and the other soaked in the blood of the creatures. 

He couldn’t help but smile at his own handiwork.

Techno marched into the cavern, taking in its height and width, which was double the size of the Blumefallen estate. Despite its size, the cavern still felt quite full. In the center lay a giant pile of rusting armors and weapons, broken valuables, and human remains. On top of that was a gargantuan lump of scales with a narrow and pointed spine. 

As he walked around it--which took four minutes total-- muting his footsteps to the best of his abilities, the more of the lump was revealed. It had a snout that breathed out charcoal colored smoke, and thick, leathery appendages that very well could be wings on its back, though it was hard to tell from the angle in which it lay. 

Techno had been so foolish earlier. Whatever that first creature was-- it looked nothing like a dragon. Not like this beast. A faint, throbbing sensation beat against his chest; unlike the tugging of his soul, this was something different. It was the way he felt entering crowds and making small talk. In the back of his mind, Techno identified the feeling as anxiety, but he wouldn’t call it anything more than that. 

“Well?” he muttered to the voices. 

They all gasped, impressed by the view. That’s a real dragon all right! Wow! Up close and in person!

Well, great. Another problem to deal with. 

Under one of its wings, Techno spotted something quite familiar. It came from one of the other drawings Lord Beam had drawn up for Techno so he’d be able to identify the heirloom, though it had become clear through both the map and the picture that art was not the Duke’s strong suit. It was a small wooden chest, made quite infinitesimal compared to the hulking mass of the creature’s body, with golden fixtures adorning the corners and legs. 

The heirloom. 

He did a double take when he saw it, his legs moving on their own towards the pile of miscellaneous things, no doubt part of the hoard. It was a stupid move, but the desire to have the box beat out any rational thinking. The rational side wanted the heirloom too, but this was something different-- something primal. 

Bones crunched under his heavy boots as he climbed the pile, loose fixtures sliding to the cavern floor as he moved past them. The box was nestled between a group of bones and a rusted chestplate. 

Techno reached out, fingertips brushing against the top of the box. 

Greedy, greedy, the voices snickered. 

Suddenly, the wing that was offering shade to the heirloom lifted up and slammed down, blowing Techno into the wall of the cavern. His sword flew out of his hand and clattered a couple of feet away. His head spun as the dragon creaked itself onto his feet, its forelegs shorter than the back, and its eyes the same as Techno’s.

Another Sanguis shard. 

Just how long had this one been fermenting to become this huge? Did all Sanguis shards become dragons with enough time?

No, no, the voices clarified, just the really nasty ones. 

“Why do you all know so much about dragons? It’s suspicious.” 

Some of us used to be scholars, you know! Even if you call us dumb and unhelpful and unfunny and talentless nerds--

“I get it, I get it,” Techno responded in a rushed tone, just as the dragon spotted him. It snorted smoke in his direction, wafting that heavy scent in his face. “Well, now’s the time to indulge yourselves and tell me all about ‘em.” 

The dragon’s jaw unhinged, revealing an impressive set of teeth, each the same length as Techno’s sword. His gaze flitted over to his sword, trying not to draw too much attention to the fact that he was currently weaponless. 

They really like shiny things. 

“ Heh? I really like shiny things. How does that help me right now?” 

They fly? 

“Forget I asked.” Techno leaped for his sword, the dragon moving at the exact same time. Techno skidded across the cavern floor as the dragon headbutted the crystal walls, the mountain quaking from the impact. Bits of debris began to fall from above. 

The dragon was unlike the other monsters; it was faster, sharper, more instinctive. Technoblade barely had any time to get to his feet before the other end of the dragon whacked him, sending him flying into its abdomen. 

He heard something crack on his face, no doubt his nose, but he couldn’t deal with the consequences of that just yet. After the initial impact, he began to slide down the abdomen of the dragon, so he took hold of one of its massive scales and held on. He moved his sword further into his palm so as to free up his fingers, and began to climb. 

The dragon heaved its wings into the air, trying to trap Techno on its back, but Techno was quick to keep moving. Nose broken, eyebrows twitching, throat heaving, Techno had never felt more aggrieved in this particular lifetime. Why was revenge so complicated? If Tommy and the Crafts just accepted the Manifolds on the advisor council, he wouldn’t be in this mess, taking all these extra steps to ensure an army large enough to take on the Crown. 

Now he was fighting dragons and losing. He had counted on the monsters. They were annoying, but not impossible to get rid of. A dragon was a whole different story. 

Techno barely had enough time to regulate his breathing before he toppled over, sliding down the back of the dragon once more. The wind picked up and he knew instantly the dragon was taking off. He glanced up at the cavern ceilings-- it was dark and hard to see, but that could only mean there was no opening. Did the dragon mean to burst open the top of the mountain? 

That was insane. 

How the hell was he supposed to kill the dragon while it was in the air? Technoblade couldn’t fly. Well, at least not that he knew of, but it wasn’t as if he had the time to test that theory. 

What, can’t even kill a measly dragon? Lame, the voices crowed. 

“Shut up!” Techno landed harshly back on the ground, twirling his sword in his hand in an attempt to ready himself for the dragon’s next attack. For its massive size, one would think it would be easy to dodge, but Techno could confidently say that was a myth.

Technoblade never had many doubts in terms of battles. If he did, it was probably in an attempt to seem humble to himself and others so karma didn’t strike him down. Otherwise, he was largely confident in his own abilities-- there was no one else to rely on but himself for anything. But staring this dragon down with its beady red eyes that seemed to read him for filth, well, Techno wavered. 

For whom do you perform? they asked, forcefully. 

“What kind of a question is that?” he seethed. The dragon slammed its tail onto the ground, raking all the rocks and crystals that came up over at him. Techno had no choice but to cover his face and head with his arms. 

Why do you hold back when there’s no one around to watch? 

Techno coughed in response, climbing out of the rubble as quickly as possible. The dragon flew in circles in the little space it had in the cavern, waiting for Techno to show himself once more. 

What happened to that excitement? To that ‘warm-up?’ 

“That was before I knew there would be a dragon. Before I knew there would be so many,” he croaked. 

You knew the risks. This was supposed to be fun. If you had let yourself use your real power, or so you say. 

“I will not be lectured by a group of disembodied voices that think a funny-lookin’ stick is the peak of comedy.” 

That shut the voices up. 

For a second. 

Come on, Technoblade, just let go. Let go!

As much as he hated to admit it… The voices were right. Unconsciously he had been holding back his punches, lightening the blows. It was habit more than anything, even when he told himself that this was the time to cut loose. Even when he told himself that he had all this real, raw power waiting to be unleashed-- it was Techno who had built the dam to hold it back in the first place. 

Let go!

Techno clenched the hilt of his sword, lifting himself up, rocks and dust flaking off his clothes. The dragon’s eyes fixated on him. 

Good. 

Techno sprinted forward, propelling himself into the air with his sword high over his head. He had multiple open points of weakness to exploit, but Techno was betting his pain threshold was enough to sustain a direct hit. The risk of getting the hit meant more. 

The dragon, being such a large target, couldn’t move away from him in time, but it still managed to maneuver so Techno didn’t hit exactly where he wanted. Instead his sword wedged itself somewhere on its back. Nowhere vital. 

Using the sword as an anchor, Techno swung his entire body back onto the back of the dragon. Again, the dragon lifted itself into the air, slamming its tail into the wall as it tried to escape, and it occurred to Techno that perhaps the dragon had never left the cavern before. The entrance was large, but not large enough for the creature to leave. 

As Techno dangled off the side of the dragon, he considered the parallels of his experiences with this dragon’s. A momentary lapse of empathy that was quickly rectified when the dragon slammed its back, on which Techno happened to be, into the ceiling. 

Techno unsheathed his sword from the body of the dragon and crawled his way up further to the dragon’s head. The only way to get rid of it was to chop its head off, despite the dragon’s neck having the thickness of a giant sequoia. 

Techno inadvertently gasped when the ceiling ruptured, allowing the fresh air of the night intermixed with the dusty cavern ceiling entered his lungs. The dragon spiraled into the skies, managing to hit every cloud in sight just to soak Techno to the bone. If he wasn’t already cold, then he was now. 

Whatever he was going to do, he’d have to do it fast. 

Steadying himself on the back of the dragon, Techno climbed up its trunk of a neck, all the while the dragon was trying to throw him off, probably hoping the impact would kill him. Smart strategy for a beast, but that wouldn’t work with Techno, for the simple fact that Techno was too stubborn to fall on his own. 

Jumping, however…

“You all might not have been as useless as I thought,” Techno said to the voices. He knelt down, gripping the dragon harshly as he ripped his right earring out of his ear. 

The one Phil gave him.

Proof of his belonging. 

Blood trickled down the side of his neck as he continued all the way up to the dragon’s head, the rest of its serpentine cervix jerking wildly trying to win the battle of obstinacy. 

Techno appreciated the fact that the wind blew his mane of hair out of his face so he had clear sight when he took his bloody earring and threw it at the mountain below. He smirked with satisfaction when the dragon’s keen senses caught a glimpse of the shiny gold around the dazzling emerald, immediately becoming entranced. 

He had no idea where it would land, but that didn’t exactly matter to Technoblade. The dragon darted for the earring, and Techno held on for dear life, counting down in his mind for the right time. His eyes burned as the wind slapped him as they approached terminal velocity, when Techno reached the target point, jumping off the neck of the dragon.

The dragon continued its straight shot down in pursuit of the earring, slamming into the side of the mountain in an explosion of boulders and dust. Techno lifted his sword as he descended on the dragon with terrifying power lended to him by gravity. 

The dragon was stuck in place as Techno’s sword sliced through the narrowest part of the dragon’s neck. Its head rolled down the mountainside along with the rest of the rocks, and Techno had to move quickly to avoid being executed by an avalanche after finishing off the dragon. 

At the end of it all, Techno ended up slumped against an isolated, dead tree. Bleeding from a couple of places, Techno used what little medical supplies he packed to plug the wounds. When he packed for this, he didn’t really think he’d need it at all. This was hubris, of course, and also not having enough foresight to know that there was a dragon hiding in the thirtieth mountain. 

But the voices had been right-- he had just killed a dragon. He just chopped its head off. Techno’s fingertips ghosted across his ripped earlobe, mourning the loss of his earring. He could go looking for it, but that would waste unnecessary time and put the entire plan at risk. 

The earring was important, but was it worth jeopardizing the past few days? Besides, he still had the second one. Phil would understand that it was lost in a noble pursuit. Maybe after everything blows over, he could come back out and retrieve the ring. If he could find a box lost to a renowned ducal family from generations ago, then Techno was confident he could find his earring once more.

Techno dusted himself off and began his trek up the mountain again.

The sun set on the thirteenth day without much commotion. 

Wilbur spent most of his days drinking and conversing with the Duke. When the Duke was busy, he had servants read to him or take him to town to wander. For the most part, he built a polite friendship with the Duke of Boomerdorf, one Techno would definitely approve of, though that didn’t matter much if Techno wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain. 

If the sun went beyond the horizon and Technoblade still wasn’t back, then it was all for naught. Worse, he could be injured or dead. The thought alone was enough reason for Wilbur to choke down another glass of bourbon. 

The Duke and Wilbur had spent the evening drinking while playing a game of cards that neither were quite invested in. After the first night, the Duke commissioned a special deck of cards so Wilbur could play just as well, but Wilbur didn’t find card games so stimulating when the opponent was an absolute mess at every game. 

It made Techno’s string of wins look much less impressive and all the more ruthless. This was to be expected of Technoblade, though, and Wilbur had a laugh about it at bedtime after his first set of games with the Duke. 

“Looks like Sir Technoblade loses this one,” the Duke commented, throwing down his cards on the table. 

“Where’s the sun?” asked Wilbur. 

“It’s almost dark.” 

“But not quite.” 

A knock at the door made both men jump to their feet, apprehension thick in the air. 

“Come in.” 

A maid dipped her head in, informing them in a small voice that someone covered in blood was standing in the foyer. 

Not someone.

Sir Technoblade of Blumefallen.

Wilbur guffawed ferociously as he ran down the hall after the maid, stopping at the top of the stairs. 

Technoblade smirked when he saw Wilbur out of breath, not used to heavy cardiovascular activity. He wondered how many cigars he’d gone through while he was out fighting monsters. 

Behind him, the Duke came around, round eyes wide with shock and awe as his gaze closed in on the box under his arm. 

“How does he look?” asked Wilbur. 

“Like a winner,” Techno replied, the echo of his voice permeating across the hall. Wilbur shook his head with amused disdain as he started down the stairs. Techno met him halfway, accepting a bear hug from the eldest Craft boy. 

Wilbur’s hands ran down Techno’s head, stopping when he felt his ears. “Your earring. From the pair from Father.” 

“A small loss,” said Techno. From behind Wilbur, the Duke approached once more, his hands outstretched and ready to take the box. Techno forced himself out of Wilbur’s iron grip and put the box in the Duke’s hands before just as quickly pulling back. 

“I hope you remember our wager, Your Grace?” 

A part of him hated to part with the box, which Techno found himself drawn to like nothing he’d ever before. But Techno had a strong mind and strong conditionings, and knew that what he desired was not worth anything to him. The heirloom could not be opened by anyone outside of the Beam bloodline, and Techno had a feeling that if he wanted it so bad for no reason, then that just spelled out weakness. 

Techno theorized that the heirloom’s deadliness lay in the fact that it drew in the creatures the Beams were mandated to hunt. If the creatures were born from Sanguis shards, then naturally Techno would be drawn to whatever they were. The Beams that lost the heirloom stumbled upon a dragon that wanted the heirloom and was out of their element, and subsequently everyone else who tried to retrieve it. Well, it would be a good story over drinks. 

Wilbur would drink for him, though. 

“You’re mad,” The Duke chuckled. It was all in good nature. “Of course.” 

In a chapel a kilometer further into the Duke’s estate was the beginning of a ceremony. Lord Lazar Beam, Duke of Boomerdorf, dressed in a complete set of armor, marched down the aisle. He stopped just short of the dais, unsheathing his sword. On one knee, he knocked his chestplate twice.

Lord Wilbur Craft, heir apparent to the Blumefallen duchy, in his fine clothes and shiny jewelry, stepped down and took the sword from the Duke. There were five witnesses, not including Sir Technoblade of Blumefallen, who all sat in a neat row in the first pew. 

Techno stood behind Wilbur, his own sword resting on his hip. He was bandaged up well by Boomerdorf’s premier doctor, who told him to rest when he got back to heal his broken nose, bruised ribs and numerous cuts and slashes all over his body. 

Techno would take the medical advice in stride.

A priestess approached from the side with a long scroll and began to read out the contents: “With the Crown Prince’s absence, this promise will be made with Lord Wilbur Craft as proxy. May His Grace, the Duke of Boomerdorf, bow your head.” 

The Duke followed the directions. 

To Wilbur, she instructed, “Lift the sword.” 

He held it with the blade facing downwards, his thumb rubbing circles on the butt of the hilt, and Techno could feel the nerves rolling off his friend in waves. He stood tall, but Techno could see the trickle of sweat threatening to fall from his forehead, barely hidden by his fringe. It was gratifying to see Wilbur affected by these sorts of things, but he mentally reprimanded him for having such sadistic thoughts. 

Wilbur would need his reassurance, not his demonization. 

Initially, Technoblade thought they would all be good with a handshake. Men and their words and all that. But later, during their celebration, he was informed of a specific ceremony to assert Boomerdorf's loyalty to the Crown Prince. It was all just ceremonious crap, but Wilbur seemed to take it quite seriously, so Techno offered him up as Tommy’s proxy. 

It was better for the blood brother of the Crown Prince to accept the Duke’s promise rather than Techno anyway, since everything he did was in the Crafts’ name. Techno forced Wilbur to write a letter to Phil with an excuse for their delay. He wasn’t ready to come clean to Phil just yet. He felt as if it was something he had to do face-to-face.

“Be it known to you, I, Son of Craft, do take your loyalty, honor, and virtue into my hands.” 

“I do swear and acknowledge the Son of Craft as my true and lawful liege.” 

The sword in Wilbur’s hand wavered as it gently laid upon the Duke’s shoulder. The priestess finished off the scroll. “Under the watchful gaze of the Gods, I do proclaim this vow of souls. May it prosper until the end times.” 

Techno smiled, teeth and all as the Duke lifted himself up and Wilbur handed the sword back to him. The rest of the chapel shared the jolly feeling as they filed out with the promise of a great feast back at the castle. 

Wilbur and Techno were the last to leave, Wilbur’s arm hooked to Techno’s. “Well?” he asked. “Are you satisfied now?” 

“I am.” 

Wilbur sighed, knocking his forehead on Techno’s shoulder twice. “I can’t wait to go back home. Especially to see Father’s reaction to everything.” 

“Philza is a rational man. He’ll see that this is the best thing to happen to our cause since my arrival.” 

Wilbur clicked his tongue, amused. “I know he’ll see the light on that. No, I’m much more excited to see what he’ll say about this.” He lifted his free hand up to Techno’s barren ear, tugging on the earlobe. 

“I’ve still got the other one.” 

“I don’t think he’ll see it that way.” 

Wilbur released him and sped up to catch up to the Duke, who was loudly declaring his plans to finish off a bottle of wine that had been in his cellar for as long as the heirloom had been missing. 

Techno halted, his hand cradling his naked ear.

Chapter Text

Techno fumbled with the end of his braid as he ran out of hair to tie into it. He had no choice but to loop it into his ponytail and hope for the best. 

“It’s not going to work, stupid,” Wilbur laughed from the other side of the carriage. “O to be able to see. Then I’d be able to witness this.”

“You’re not makin’ it better. I just need a few days to get a jeweler to make a new earrin'.” This actually wasn’t Techno’s original idea, but rather Wilbur’s far more reasonable suggestion. Techno had every intention of venturing back into the mountains when he had the downtime in order to find the earring. Wilbur was quite quick to shoot that down. 

Even though Wilbur came up with such a good idea, it didn’t stop him from poking fun at Techno whenever he could. There was nothing Techno could do but bear it, as he couldn’t just throw Wilbur out of the carriage. That was the second best way of making an enemy out of Phil. The first way was losing the earring Phil gifted him. 

Wilbur and Techno were nearing the townhouse they were staying in. They were a few streets away, but it was the proximity that made Techno sit up straight, fingers anxiously pressing against the glass. 

Techno’s fingers moved back to his hair. He looked ridiculous. He looked like he had something to hide, which, in his defense, he did. But he didn’t want people to know he had something to hide. But something told him (besides Wilbur and the voices) that giving himself braid loops by his ears would call attention to his appearance. 

He undid the braids. 

The driver knocked on the wall of the carriage. “One block!” he announced. 

“Ah good! I can’t wait to be back in a familiar bed, though I will miss Beam’s liquor collection.”

“I didn’t know you were so familiar with one another.”

“Well, Techno, if I had been left with a hero’s brother to take care of while he’s off fighting monsters, I too would be eager to make friends with him.”

Technoblade tried not to harp on the brother label too hard. It was something Wilbur and Tommy had been trying on him for about a year now, slipping it into conversations with other people, or in arguments, or when getting him in trouble with Phil. Techno never really had a problem with it before since it was just evidence of things going according to plan. The Crafts seeing him as family meant he would be extended the same privileges and protections of a Craft. But with Tommy’s recent rebellions, Techno had begun to worry he had lost his authority over Tommy in favor of a more casual, fraternal relationship. 

Outside, the city was breathing. People crowded the sides of the streets, taking care of their errands or enjoying an outing. There wasn’t much flora in the downtown area of Nevadas, but there were trees every few blocks, all turning red and orange in honor of the shifting season. 

Theseus owed him a coup. 

“Are you looking out the window? You’ve gone quiet.” 

“Yeah. It’s autumn already.” 

This meant something entirely different to Wilbur. “It’s really been eight years, huh?” 

“Yes,” Techno agreed. It had been eight years since he became Philza’s ward after his parents had been poisoned by the king. Unconsciously, his knuckles turned white at the thought. Soon, the king would face his actions. “Do you think Phil would take pity on me if I told him I was grievin’?” 

“God, you are ruthless, Techno. Using your parents’ death as a way to get out of trouble?” Wilbur chastised, though his face never appeared anything other than amused. 

It wasn’t as if Techno didn’t feel the loss of his parents, nor that he didn’t miss them at times, but… This was the second time he had lost them. He had four hundred years to mourn, and plot and exact his revenge. It was imminent. In a way, it was poetic that the coup would occur in the fall. 

“I’ll pay my respects once everything is taken care of here.” 

The carriage slowed to a stop as it entered their street. Up ahead, Techno spotted a figure standing by the second story window, peeking out at the street. No doubt it was Tommy, who was probably bored to death with all his newfound duties and not having Wilbur to let off steam. 

“I should help the coachman with our bags.” 

Wilbur grabbed Techno’s wrist. “Nuh-uh, Technoblade. Disregarding the fact that you’re still healing, you need to face your fears. Greet Father dearest.” 

“I’m not afraid of anythin’,” Techno rebutted. How could Techno be afraid of a middle-aged nobleman? Techno’s hand drifted back up to his ear. He was not afraid of Phil. He was just… worried. This earring meant a lot to Phil.

Techno slipped out of the carriage first to help Wilbur out, and he momentarily contemplated tripping the eldest Craft boy in order to take the attention off Techno’s own broken nose, but he decided against it. He’d already done too much to Wilbur. 

“Wil! Techno! You’re back!” Tommy shouted as he ran out the door, practically busting the gate down as he met them at the carriage door. Techno held his free arm straight out and caught Tommy by the throat, knocking the Crown Prince of Manberg down on his ass.

“Can you have some decorum?” Techno sighed. 

Tommy rubbed his throat as he nodded. The coachman came around and helped him up, worriedly asking after Tommy’s health, which only made Techno roll his eyes. 

“Tommy, look at Techno’s ear,” Wilbur encouraged. 

“Do not look at my ear.” 

“What’s wrong with your ear?” Tommy was already pulling at Techno’s strategically layered hair. Techno tried to slap him away but Tommy was nothing if not persistent. “Oh my God! You don’t have an earring! Ooh, Father’s gonna--” 

“Father’s going to what, Tommy?” Phil’s voice cut in, standing by the gate. Techno immediately covered his ear back up. 

“You’re goin’ to be very proud of what we accomplished,” said Techno. “I met with His Grace, the Duke of Boomerdorf, and we worked out an arrangement to which I think all parties will be amenable.” 

“That’s great, Technoblade. We can talk about that over our tea, but… What happened to your nose?” 

“Oh, it’s not just his nose,” Wilbur snickered. “Try punching him in the gut.” 

Of course Tommy took this as a challenge, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised when Techno threw him over his shoulder, much to the fear of the coachman, who just watched the Crown Prince of his nation get roughed up by Technoblade twice now. 

“I’m fine, Phil,” Techno assured. “Why don’t we go inside?” 

“Carry me in…” Tommy groaned from the ground. He lifted his arms and grabbed at the air like he used to when he was smaller. It would’ve been cuter if he wasn’t a teenager and leading a coup on the current government in a few days. 

Phil and Wilbur lead the pack inside as Wilbur yapped about the liquor and the lemons while Techno helped Tommy up. 

“You do realize you’re the crown prince, right?” Techno hummed. 

“Yes!” Tommy dusted the back of his pants off. “So, what happened to you? Your face is bruised up pretty bad and--” Tommy pulled his arm back for a quick punch, but Techno managed to catch his fist, squeezing hard. “Okay! Okay! Let go! I’m sorry.” 

“If you join me for tea with Phil after dinner, you’ll know.” 

“Ugh, boring! Besides, that’s your time with Father.” 

“Not necessarily. It’s just a good time to debrief. Have you been keepin’ up with your homework?” 

Tommy went silent. Not usually a good sign. 

“I’m goin’ to take that as a no.” 

“Yes, I have! I’ve done my katas, read my books, gone to all the public engagements you scheduled. I’m exhausted, Techno, downright exhausted.” 

“You don’t know the definition of the word, then.” 

“Please don’t teach me, Master.” 

Techno smiled, a fond feeling fiddling with his heart. Techno’s ribs still hurt, so perhaps he’d be lenient with Tommy today. 

Phil and Wilbur were already sitting in the dining room waiting for lunch to be served when Techno and Tommy walked in to take their seats. They were arranged the same as they had been for the past eight years. Posted by the doors were two of Tommy’s knight order, the Leid. He gave them a curt nod as the maids set his plate down in front of him. 

“Well, Wilbur said Beam had the finest liquor in the kingdom. He said Beam got you to drink. Is that true, Technoblade?” Phil asked with a curious smirk. 

“What? No fucking way! I had to pressure him into drinking with me!” Tommy complained. 

“Do you know how you sound right now?” 

They enjoyed a relatively nice lunch that could’ve been nicer had Wilbur and Tommy kept their mouths shut and didn’t make allusions to Techno’s earring every three sentences. Afterwards, Wilbur and Techno went to rest, as they were quite weary from their trip, and Tommy and Phil left for some official business in the palace. 

In his room, there was a pile of letters all sealed with wax seals of noble families of Manberg. 

Invitations. 

Techno rubbed his face. He wanted to ignore all of them because he didn’t want to attend, but one last appearance in public would be good for Theseus before the coup. Public and noble opinion of him was at an all-time high, and he’d like to keep it as high as it could be for when it eventually plummets from a hostile takeover. 

Next to the pile of letters was a dusty layout plan of the palace that had inky chicken scratch all over it. Before Techno left for Boomerdorf, he had been strategizing the most efficient way to get to the king. Techno rolled the map up and put it on the ottoman at the foot of his bed, intending to take it to tea to show Phil. 

Rest, the voices advised. Worry later. 

“I didn’t take you all for the responsible type.” Though it was an ugly feeling to follow the directions of the voices in his head, he complied as he rolled into bed. 

A servant summoned him when it was time for dinner. Technoblade was a bit disoriented from a delightful nap, a way one could only get after sleeping in a familiar bed after so long separated from it. Wilbur had some sense to miss his bed. Still, he wasn’t so out of it that he didn’t remember to style his hair. 

All three Crafts were already at the table with their napkins on their laps when Techno arrived. The maids had set soup in front of them, and Techno groaned when he glanced at his hair. 

“Do you need a ribbon for your hair, Techno? We don’t want your hair getting dirty, right?” Tommy asked with wiggling eyebrows. 

“Shut up.” 

Technoblade was an elevated existence; he could drink soup without getting his hair caught in it. 

“Techno, I can’t help but notice how particular you are about your hair today,” Phil commented. “For once, I think Tommy was only trying to help.” 

Ah, the one time Philza gives his son the benefit of the doubt, and it’s yet another instance of his gremlin attitude. 

“Theseus, you’ll be attendin’ the party in honor of the ambassadors from Kinoko arrivin’.” 

Tommy banged his fist on the corner of the table, knowing he had lost this round. Just like he lost the last one, and how he would probably lose against Techno if he tried to be clever again. It was things like this that made Techno think he was losing his authority; he liked joking and laughing with Tommy, but Techno couldn’t help but feel like he was sacrificing his identity as Tommy’s tutor by becoming his brother. He couldn’t decide which one would reap the most benefits. 

Wilbur managed to appease Tommy by promising to attend as well, and somehow Techno’s punishment for Tommy ended up slapping him in the face when Phil decided the four of them would attend all together. 

Techno promised to meet Phil in his study after he grabbed the map from his room, but Phil dismissed it, saying a servant could grab it just the same. Techno disagreed of course. This was sensitive material, but Phil had a lot of trust in his staff despite being in enemy territory Nevadas and not Blumefallen. 

Phil wasn’t the kind of guy to leave room to discuss. He was firm on his stance even if you kept talking at him. 

They settled in the study, the warm water already prepared in the kettle, and Techno made himself comfortable on the sofa, silent until the map arrived. Phil didn’t feel this silence. 

“I’ve been patient thus far, Techno, but I think it’s time you explain yourself.” 

“Right, well, the map the servant is bringin’ is actually an accurate lay--” 

“Not about that.” The tone of Phil’s voice wasn’t the same honeyed sweetness it usually was when speaking with his children of Techno. It was sharp and steely. “I told you I trusted you to take care of yourself, yet you came back injured.” 

“Okay, well, things did get a little out of hand, but it wasn’t anythin’ I couldn’t handle, Phil. I still came back in one piece--” 

Phil grabbed Techno’s collar and pulled him up from the sofa. In his shock, Techno froze as Phil wrapped his arms around his abdomen, enveloping him in a hug. He squeezed. 

Techno winced. 

“Um, Phil--” 

“Your ribs are bruised,” Phil whispered in his ear, releasing Techno back down onto the sofa. Techno blinked a couple of times to process what just happened. “Nose broken, and what else are you hiding?” 

Techno contemplated coming clean about the little cuts and the earring, but he figured dealing with Phil’s anger in spurts rather than an explosion would be the strategic thing to do. Besides, if Techno could get through the week without Phil finding out about the earring, then he’d be in the clear with the new earring. “Nothin’ else.” 

Phil gave him a long, hard look, scrutinizing every piece of Technoblade’s appearance. It was enough to make a young lady self-conscious about herself. Looked like Phil realized he’d lose in this war of wills and gave up, instead pouring the tea. He pushed the tea cup towards Techno, who accepted it graciously, eager to move topics. 

Phil was a patient man, though. “So, what caused this damage? What did you think you accomplished in Boomerdorf that was worth all this?” 

“The private army isn’t enough.” 

“Still this, Techno?”

“Yes, Phil, still this. The date is approaching, and we would still have been underprepared had I not gone and--” 

“Gone and what, Technoblade? What did you do?” 

“Boomerdorf has sworn fealty to Theseus.” 

Philza looked properly shocked, which was the first time he had a reaction Techno was expecting. “To Theseus. Our Tommy-- not you?” 

“Of course to Tommy. He’s the face of this rebellion.” 

The servant with the map knocked on the door, approaching the table with their head lowered. They placed the rolled-up map on the edge of the table before backing out of the room, never once looking anywhere else but their feet. 

“Who took part in the ceremony?” 

“Wilbur.” Techno unfurled the map and placed it flat on the table, moving the kettle and his cup out of the way. “This is the palace--” 

“That doesn’t explain the ribs or the nose.” 

Techno’s eye twitched. That was not important. Why was he so focused on his nose when they were talking about a dynasty-changing rebellion? He understood that Philza cared about him as more than just an asset, but Techno was fine. He survived worse. “This loyalty was won through a gamble. I just got somethin’ for His Grace.” 

“You didn’t go up the Zitrone Mountains?” Phil gasped. “I had my suspicions, but I thought it was just the first three mountains. How far did you go? Who did you bring with you?” 

Once again, Techno contemplated obscuring the truth for a later date. Some may call that a gateway to lying, but Techno would argue this a healthy placebo for it. He’d never be a liar if he always told the truth eventually. 

“Phil, can we focus? Come on, this is imminent.” 

“Techno, you put yourself too much at risk.” 

“It’s just a broken nose!” And bruised ribs, and a bunch of shallow cuts, and a missing earring with a sliced earlobe. 

“Technoblade, I know you’ve always been a little… dense, but this is too much.”

“No, Philza, it’s war. It’s war! I did what was necessary!” Were the Crafts just delusional? What kind of people would enter into a rebellion and not want to be the most prepared? What kind of people cared more about a broken nose than the fact that they gained more support, more troops, more legitimacy? 

“Where’s your earring?” 

Techno’s blood ran cold as his hand was quick to clasp his ear. Unconsciously, he must have tucked his hair behind his ear because that was where it was, and yet-- he didn’t remember doing that. He wouldn’t have done that; Techno was much too alert for him to make that small of a mistake--

When Phil hugged him. He did more than just squeeze him. He must have noticed his ear. 

“I won’t ask again, Technoblade.” 

So this was what delaying the truth looked like. 

“It was… lost on the mountain. While I was fightin’ a dragon?” 

It’s so over for you! the voices laughed. Well at least he was coming clean now. 

Phil looked like he couldn’t possibly contain all the words he wanted to share with Technoblade. That was alright, since Techno didn’t want to hear it. Not only did he not think it was a big deal, but he also thought Phil should be on his knees kissing Techno’s feet for what he managed to do. For too long, Technoblade had been stressing about their numbers, so he took the initiative to give himself a peace of mind. 

Yes, losing the earring was bad. On the trip home, he’d wake up in the middle of the night shivering from the guilt of even having thought of throwing the earring. For God’s sake, he spent hours trying to figure out a hairstyle to hide his hair-- but it wasn’t worth this. It wasn’t worth diminishing his efforts. 

“I can-- I cannot with you, Techno. You speak of loyalty to us, and yet you do something so callous?” 

“I already have a jeweler makin’ a new one. It was important to me too, but the earrin’ is just an object, Phil. This rebellion-- it’s real. It’s comin’. And I need to be prepared. We need to be prepared.” 

Techno relaxed against the back of the bench. He was a bit warm wearing three layers of mourning clothes, but the autumn breeze managed to cool him down. He accepted the quiet of the gardens, happy to hear the larks before they flew south for the impending winter. 

This day every year was the day the Crafts were hesitant to interact with him much. They had a better grasp of grieving than he did. A normal person would know the timeline better than Techno, whose sense of time had been skewed beyond repair. Today was the day his parents died in this timeline. 

Every year he’d wear his mourning clothes and light a candle for them, and when their schedules were clear, Phil took him to Himmelblcok to really pay his respects. He said filial piety was important even after death. They had a similar routine with Wilbur and Tommy’s mother, a routine Techno had adopted in order to assimilate easier with the family. The Crafts never really did the same for his parents, but it didn’t bother Techno, since he didn’t want to do it either. 

Lighting the candle was fine, but spending a whole day pretending to be morose and interior to give the impression of someone sad was tiring. Technoblade didn’t like being a performer, but it was necessary given the recent accusations leveled by both Phil and Wilbur.

The voices had been silent in the aftermath of his spat with Phil. Sometimes they liked to give him some space-- not out of thoughtfulness, but rather so Techno would drown himself in his thoughts. They were cruel like that. 

Techno picked himself out of his thoughts when he noticed Wilbur approaching. He smelled of cigar smoke and alcohol, no doubt just coming back from the gentlemen’s club, with a letter in between his fingers. 

“Letter from our dear friend. How about you read it to me?” 

Wilbur slid into the bench as Techno ripped the letter out of his hands, scanning the letter for its contents. It was short but polite, asking after their journey back, requesting Wilbur drink with him once more, and informing them that he’d be in town in time for the Ambassador’s party.

“Wilbur, I think you’ll be gettin’ that drink sooner than you think.” 

Not that he needed anymore, evidenced by the way Techno’s nose scrunched up just by sitting next to him. Technoblade wished Phil loosened the reins around Techno as much as he did with Wilbur. 

“How are you feeling, Techno? Will you still be up for the party at the end of the week?” 

This was a golden opportunity to say no and avoid going to a party, but now that he knew the Duke of Boomerdorf would be there, his presence was practically required. If there was one thing he learned over the past eight months of trying to pull this rebellion together, it was that there was no one he could rely on more than himself. 

“I’m fine. Is Phil still angry?” 

“If he somehow gets over this in a day, I’m rioting. I remember a couple of months after Tommy was born, I tried to stick him in the kitchen ovens, and Father was so angry he refused to look at me for a week. Mother couldn’t stop laughing every time she thought of the incident, though. Now we speak of it fondly.” 

Wilbur sat with him a little longer before deciding to head back in and bother Tommy. Techno probably wasn’t a lot of fun to mess with on a day he should be mourning. 

It wasn’t grief he felt, but there was residual anger. Not towards his parents, but rather the circumstances that led to their untimely demise. Had it been the way they died in his previous lifetime, it wouldn’t have been so bad, though Techno would’ve at least tried to prevent it. But this target from the king, well, it reminded Techno what he was doing all this for.

King Quackity, in any lifetime, was a dangerous monster that needed to be put down. 

The only light available in Tommy’s room was the waning candle in Techno’s hand. On the carpeted floor laid the map he tried to show Phil. Tommy, in his pajamas with a thick knitted blanket covering his head and backside, poured over the map, silently memorizing the layout. This was one of Techno’s favorite traits of Tommy’s; when he got into something, he took it seriously, and battle strategy was one of those things. 

Techno pointed to the banquet hall. “Anyone who’s anyone will be there when it commences. We need to make sure they stay there in case their private armies try anythin’.” 

“Right. Kill ‘em if they try shit,” Tommy parroted. 

With his index finger, Techno circled the outer walls of the palace. The Manberg palace had two walls-- the outer walls where most Royal knights and guards trained, and the citadel, which was where the Royal family lived. 

“I’m goin’ to siege the outer walls and draw their attention. What are you goin’ to be doin’?” 

Tommy grinned, pointing at the inner walls. “Grabbing the king.” 

“Right,” Techno affirmed. “But before you do that, you need to go here.” On the page was an obscured little box signifying a room. It had no window or door symbols around it at all, which wouldn’t raise alarm in the layman. But for an architect, that was the sign of something interesting. 

A secret room. 

More notably, the king’s secret study, passed along through the generations. Technoblade had been brought in there many times by numerous sovereigns of Manberg, so he considered himself quite familiar with it. 

“What’s in it?” asked Tommy. 

“Evidence. You may be crown prince, but nobody’s goin’ to accept a bloody takeover without proof of corruption. Even if there is dissatisfaction among the people for the king, we still need to show them that their dissatisfaction isn’t unwarranted. We need to show them what they want.” 

In that study, Tommy would probably find years and years worth of evidence of embezzlement, fraud, misappropriation of funds, and overall proof of lavish overspending for the king’s lifestyle. No commoner wanted to see their hard earned money wasted on things like golden toilets and silk toilet paper. 

“How do you know all this stuff? I’ve been going to the palace my whole fucking life and I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Tommy looked up from the map, his blue eyes staring through Techno’s soul, as if he could read the things about Techno that even he himself could not. Those eyes he shared with Phil. “Don’t you ever get lonely in there by yourself?” 

“What?” Techno gawked, his voice the ghost of a whisper. 

“I’ve known you my entire life, and yet I hardly do. You’re a stranger in a brother’s body.” 

“I’m your tutor.” 

“Yeah, but… You’re more than that, Techno.” He looked at Technoblade with a quirked eyebrow and an amused smile, as if there was a joke Techno was supposed to laugh at. It felt like he was cornered with his own ignorance at what Tommy was playing at, and he didn’t like it. 

He rolled the map up and picked up the candle, knowing Tommy was one wrong foot placement from his blanket catching on fire.

“I’m goin’ to bed. You should get your beauty rest for tomorrow’s party. You need it.”

“Hey!” Tommy gasped with faux offense in between laughs. “I’ll have you know that I am Nevadas’ most eligible bachelor.” 

“ Very eligible.” 

Techno tiptoed across the hall back to his room, blowing out the candle as he shut his door behind him. His sheets were cold from misuse, but Techno bore the discomfort as he slid under them. 

He was their brother. And he was their son, if that wasn’t too presumptuous. There was a piece of Phil’s magic in him, for god’s sake. 

It was what he wanted, and it was what he expected after eight years of cohabitation. 

Yet it was an uncomfortable feeling the more he thought about it. To become family with the Crafts would be to become someone irreplaceable to them. He’d be a constant fixture in their lives; he’d belong to them.

They’d already considered him their person, but in the darkness of his room, it was no longer the comforting phrase he had thought it to be when he was fourteen. There was a sinister edge to it, like when a new king of Manberg would take the Holy Sword from its pillow and declare it his. 

He supposed there were pros and cons to any family. Technoblade definitely felt a certain fondness towards the Crafts. How could he not? Wilbur was his confidante, Tommy was his shadow, and Phil was his mentor.

In a perfect world where Technoblade didn’t have his mission, perhaps he would’ve enjoyed being family with the Crafts; however, the infringements of his actions that complicated his plans would make it near impossible for him in this lifetime. 

The party was in full swing by the time Technoblade and the Crafts arrived, though neither the king nor the guests of honor had. The Crafts were quick to ingratiate themselves with the party-goers, accepting praise and exchanging polite jabs at one another, though Tommy lacked a certain etiquette of which Wilbur had become master. 

Techno floated around the edges of the banquet hall, not wanting to tie himself up into a conversation and then have to excuse himself when Boomerdorf arrived. He also just didn’t like any of these people. They were all disingenuous monsters of the system. At times, he wondered how open of a secret it was that it was Sir Technoblade of Himmelblock who was the sword on the king’s hip, or whether it was just a coincidence to most that Sir Technoblade disappeared and a sword named after him was gifted to the royal line. 

Techno eventually had to move on from his spot as a wallflower when he noticed Tommy pick up a flute of champagne, swirling it in a circular motion as he laughed with some younger nobles. 

This was beginning to become aggravating. 

You could always beat some sense into him. 

“And this is why no one asked you,” Techno replied under his breath. When he approached Tommy, he did so with a light tap to the shoulder, and with his other hand, he grabbed the drink. 

“Oh, Techno! Come on, it’s a party!” 

“Hello, Grandmaster,” the gaggle of young nobles greeted, though Techno hardly paid them any mind past a curt nod. 

“You know the rules, Theseus. Besides, you have something to do.” 

“And I’ll do it! A sip of champagne won’t kill me.” 

It won’t, but our dear Technoblade might. 

“You’re not a child, Tommy. Don’t make me tell Philza.” 

“Oh, you mean Father who is so mad at you he still won’t look at you without sighing?” 

Technoblade’s charming and witty comeback was silenced by the sound of trumpets and the main doors opening. On the raised level, the king came out covered in fine silks and furs, his golden crown shining under the candlelight. Trailing after him were two plain-faced men wearing the standard red and white Kinoko colors and a pretty young woman with long brown hair and foreign robes, no doubt the ambassadors of the kingdom. 

The room fell to a hush as everyone bowed or curtsied in some respect until the king lifted his arms as way of dismissal. 

“Presenting, Lord Sapnap of Kinoko Kingdom, Lord Karl Jacobs of Kinoko Kingdom, and Lady Tina Kitten of Kinoko Kingdom.” The ambassadors smiled and waved, and Techno didn’t miss how the two lords shuffled ever so closely to the King of Manberg as a hidden mark of intimacy. 

Standing a few feet behind them all was a familiar porcelain-masked knight. Despite the prestige that came with the title ‘Head of Royal Guard,’ Dream held himself more like a mercenary, leaning against columns with his hand resting lazily on his hip rather than his weapon. Techno didn’t want to look at him for too long because then Dream might try and get his attention again. 

Instead, Dream was the first to turn his head, coming down the steps in an inconspicuous fashion in order to avoid taking the attention off the king. He slithered through the crowd, and Techno’s grip on Tommy’s shoulder hardened until Tommy yelped, breaking Techno from his reverie. 

Just when Techno thought Dream would approach him, he took a hard turn, stopping in front of the circle of people surrounding Philza. 

Techno’s personal disagreements with Dream weren’t public to anybody, not even the Crafts. He supposed Tommy witnessed a couple of times Dream trying to speak with him, but that was about it. Since these interactions ceased around seven years ago, there was no need for Techno to talk about it any further-- and even if he did, he wouldn’t know what to say. That he disliked Dream for something he did in a life this version had never experienced? It would be ludicrous. 

So Philza greeted Dream with the respect someone of his status would to someone of Dream’s status, and a healthy conversation blossomed between the two.

“Big T, can you let go of me? You’re gonna break my fucking shoulder,” Tommy whined, trying to pry Techno’s fingers off him. “One second you let up and the next you’re trying to cripple me.” 

Techno released him. 

He wandered through the crowd, trying to lose himself in the throngs of people while keeping an eye attached to Phil and Dream. The problem with Technoblade and stealth was that he had a unique appearance, and so it was quite easy to catch him in a crowd. As Techno circled the people, Dream and Phil would glance over at him, then look away. 

Techno didn’t know much about people, but he knew this much: they were talking about him. 

Techno stepped backward, only to collide with someone’s shoulder. “Oh, my apologie--” It was just Wilbur. 

“Techno?” 

Almost immediately, Wilbur had found Techno’s elbow and slotted his arm against his. Again, everyone in Wilbur’s circle gave their greetings to him, and a pinch from Wilbur told him to be polite and respond in kind. 

“How are you enjoying the party, Grandmaster?” someone asked. 

“It’s nice.” To Wilbur, he leaned in and whispered, “Have you seen Boomerdorf yet?” 

Wilbur made a face that was a mix between annoyed and amused. “Ask again the right way.” 

“You know what I meant.” 

“I heard he’s going to be here soon. Be patient.” 

“This is me bein’ patient.” 

“Color me impressed, Technoblade.” 

“Have you met the ambassadors yet, Grandmaster?” someone Techno recognized, asked. Eret, if he was recalling correctly, a friend of Wilbur’s. 

“I have not.” 

“Oh, would you like me to introduce you? I’m acquainted with them through an old friend.” 

Techno originally had no intentions of actually speaking with the ambassadors. They were of little importance to his plans, though he did consider there might be an international matter of a legitimacy dispute between Manberg and Kinoko should the ambassadors remain in Manberg when the coup happens. And now he had seen the intricacies of the ambassadors’ relationship to the king, which made him apprehensive about getting involved with fodder. 

Technoblade thought he knew just about everything about the king. He knew his political career and his personal life like he lived it himself, because in a way he did. He watched the king marry a wife and have a child, and watched that child do the same, all out of a sense of duty. It didn’t occur to him that the king had lovers, and the lovers would be important people. 

There were two possible reasons for this: 

One; Technoblade’s actions in this new timeline caused this romance to occur; or two; this romance began and ended before Technoblade was turned into a sword. Either way, it seemed too trivial to deal with in the face of a complete political upheaval that was just days away. Not only that, but it was discomforting to know that there were things about Quackity Technoblade did not know. If there was this surprise, who was to say the king didn’t have other secrets? 

“-echno. Techno!” Wilbur called, poking his finger into Techno’s side. “Aren’t you going to Boomerdorf?” 

Techno glanced up, his eyelashes fluttering to knock him out of his thoughts. The Duke of Boomerdorf was by the doors, his name being called as he came down. He was still wearing the same disastrous color scheme but he appeared cleaner compared to their time in his territory. Upon reaching the hall floor, he immediately flagged down a servant for a drink. 

“Y-yeah. I need to go get Theseus.” 

“I’ll warm him up for you, then.” 

Both Wilbur and Techno dismissed themselves from the group. Techno gave Wilbur some general directions in order to find the Duke while Techno grabbed Tommy by the collar and dragged him over to their newly formed group. 

Boomerdorf raised his glass as soon as he spotted Techno coming through. “It’s good to see an old friend! And a new one!” 

“Your Grace, this is the Crown Prince of Manberg, His Highness Theseus Craft.” 

Boomerdorf bowed, keeping the arm holding his drink over his head so as not to spill it. “So you are who I’ve really become friends with, huh? Should we drink to it?” 

“Tommy doesn’t drink, unfortunately,” Techno interrupted. 

“This is a celebration, Sir Technoblade. Let the boy drink. You have some too.” 

“No to both of those.” 

“What happened to that taste for whisky you had in Boomerdorf?” 

“I have no need of it now that I got what I went lookin’ for.” 

The Duke laughed, Tommy’s shoulder once again caught in the crossfire as he slapped it to contain his amusement. “Did I miss that honesty or what? You know, I can appreciate a man who knows what he wants and how to get it.” 

“Thank you.” He wasn’t sure if it was a compliment. 

A tap on his shoulder took Techno’s attention away momentarily. A young servant boy with a face ripe with pimples lowered his head when he spoke. “His Grace, the Duke of Blumefallen requests your presence in one of the private lounges. I am to show you the way.” 

“Very well.” 

Techno departed from their group, nervous. His mind wanted to be there with Tommy, fully engaged in the discussion with Boomerdorf and make sure Tommy didn’t say something stupid, but his heart was beating entirely too fast thinking about what Dream and Phil were talking about. 

Techno didn’t bother with etiquette when he arrived at the lounge. He sauntered in, standing in front of Phil as a barrier of sorts. 

“Sir Dream.” 

“Sir Technoblade,” Dream said, moving his mask to the side of his face. “Glad you could make it.” 

“What do you want?” 

“You’ve got such a way with words.” 

“It seems we have a mole, Technoblade,” Phil said in a low voice. “He knows.” 

It was an instinctual reaction to reach for the first sword he saw. Since Techno couldn’t carry a weapon into the palace, the only sword was on Dream. There was blood on his mind, and the voices weren’t helping to curb it. They wanted this because their god wanted it, and now Techno wanted it too. The chance to hurt someone who hurt him. 

Techno already had the sword out of its sheath when Dream shouted, “Wait!” 

He drew a long breath and released the sword. Dream was quick to scuttle back a few steps. 

“I’m here to offer my help. I want to join the uprising.” 

“How did he find out?” Techno turned to Phil. 

Phil shrugged. “He said he’d only speak to you.” 

“Privately, preferably. I don’t think Technoblade will want anyone else to hear what I have to say.” 

“No.” 

“Phil,” Techno pleaded. “Just a few minutes.” 

For what it was worth, despite looking displeased, Phil still left the room in the end. He did all this while still being mad at Technoblade for his broken nose, so perhaps there was a reconciliation in the future. 

Dream relaxed onto a sofa. “You look different than you used to.” 

Techno’s fingertips rubbed the end of his hair. “Nose job.” 

“How’d you get it so pink?” 

“Are you goin’ to tell the king?” 

Dream shook his head. “I’ve been wanting to be your friend for a while, y’know. But you knew that, didn’t you?” Techno remained silent. “You avoided me even though we’d be natural allies. Why? And then a year ago, I woke up and knew.” 

“Knew what?” 

“Your hair. It used to be brown.” 

Techno’s nails dug into the center of his palm, dripping blood down his wrist. “Yes. I decided to go for a new look when I was younger. It helps me stand out.” 

“You used to be shinier, too.” 

There was no doubt about it. Dream knew-- and not just about the coup, but about everything. But how did he--? He woke up one day and knew? Techno had to plead with a dead god to come back four hundred years in the past. What was this insane luck this maniac had? 

Well, if he knew everything that happened in Techno’s previous lifetime, that would then make him the same person as he was in that previous lifetime, right? So everything Technoblade ever resented him for… was now entirely true?

“I’m not blind, Technoblade. I’m someone who can recognize when the scales have shifted. I want to join you in whatever new world order you have planned. All I ask for is a title of nobility.” 

“What makes you think I want or need your help? After everything--!” 

“Because I can still tell His Majesty. Trust me. I’m better to have as an ally.” 

There were about fifteen different ways Technoblade could kill Dream in the next thirty seconds. It was the aftermath of that death that would ruin everything. Dream was a public figure, and he would’ve been murdered on palace grounds. Of course, Techno could just drag him out of the palace and then kill him, but people would wonder where he’d gone. People would look for him. 

Patience is a virtue. 

“How did you know there was an uprisin’? Even if you remember what you think you do, there’s no way you would’ve known.” 

“Ever since I realized, I’ve been tracking your movements. I watched where your money went, who you interacted with, and who you did business with. Your trip to Boomerdorf was the nail in the coffin. You move so differently than you did before.” 

Techno knocked on the door and cracked it open. Phil was still waiting outside with his hands folded. He turned back to Dream. “We’ll be in touch.” 

Dream smirked, moving his mask back down over his face. He stepped aside to let Phil back in, bowing as he backed out. Phil wasn’t immediately interrogative, but Techno knew he didn’t like being in the dark. 

“He’s joined our cause.” 

“You decided? Just like that?” 

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Phil, but… He’s the head of the Royal Guard. The assault on the inner palace will go so much smoother.” 

Phil stared at him with such disappointment that it squeezed at his heart. That weird, guilty feeling again. 

“And what is it that he had to tell you ?” 

“I can’t say.” 

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” 

“It might be both.” 

“Both… Okay.” Phil pursed his lips. “We’ll talk more tonight. In my study.” 

“Okay.” Techno couldn’t stop nodding his head, as if agreeing with Phil on this one thing would somehow appease a week’s worth of anger. It was so hard to tell where Phil’s line was. He understood it in a general sense-- hurting Tommy or Wilbur would incur his wrath a thousand-fold, but Techno hadn’t done any of those things in eight years, and when he did, he wasn’t even caught. He felt like he was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop with Phil’s kindness. Always waiting for this to be the moment he was discarded. 

At this point, he had to consider that Techno was also receiving the same sort of treatment, and that by inadvertently hurting himself, he was fueling Philza’s anger. 

But this was unavoidable.

More than he desired to be part of Phil’s family, he wanted to see the royal family in ruins. He wanted to see The Tower burn. He wanted everyone that ever hurt him crushed under his boot and a river of blood to wash away the pain. 

This attachment could not last.

Philza was the first to go home, and for the first time ever, Technoblade was the one that lingered the longest. Because of this decision, Wilbur and Tommy stayed behind until Wilbur had to drag them both back due to his fatigue. 

“I could’ve gone for another cake!” Tommy whined. “I’m so pumped and I don’t know why?” 

“Can you turn your pumping down? I never want to go to another party again,” Wilbur groaned. Techno was quiet all the way home, his heart dropping when he saw the light in Phil’s study still on. He waited up. 

Wilbur enlisted Tommy’s help in getting him to his bedroom, forcing Techno to face Phil alone. That was the way it was always going to be, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. 

Phil sat behind his desk, thin glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose as he looked over some documents. He didn’t look up when Techno entered, he just motioned for him to sit down. 

“I know we’ve had our differences this past week,” Techno started. He had many different ways this speech could go, but he hadn’t decided on a path before entering. 

Phil opened a drawer and pulled out a small, velvet box. 

“The jeweler delivered your earring today.” 

“That’s good. I’ll put it on tomorrow mornin’.” 

“No need,” said Phil. He came around from the back, grabbing Techno’s entire jaw to hold him still. 

Technoblade was fairly certain there was nobody on this planet that could be considered his equal in terms of strength. But more than once now he had been caught off guard and subdued by Philza. He was locked in place. He couldn’t move his neck, couldn’t swivel his head to hide his naked ear. 

“Do you remember the meaning of these earrings, Technoblade?”

“Mutual loyalty,” Techno all but stuttered out. 

“Yes, but on top of that, it means I accepted you as one of my own. You’re mine. Do you understand, Techno?” As he spoke, Phil fiddled with Techno’s earlobe, poking at the unripped parts. 

He was going to re-pierce Techno’s ear. 

Fine. He’d been through worse. 

But where was the vodka and the needle from last time? 

“Phil--” 

The Duke shushed him as the sharp metal tip of the earring gently poked at his skin.“This is a reminder of who saved you.” Techno gasped when the metal poked through, a droplet of blood dragging down his neck and onto the collar of his shirt. 

This wasn’t that same gratifying feeling it was when Phil first introduced the earrings and pierced his ears. There was no pride or warmth in the sentiment. There was no sterilizer to clean the wound and numb the pain. 

Phil wanted that to hurt. 

Phil wanted to put him in his place. 

The Duke released him. 

Techno flew off the sofa, his back to the opposite wall of the study. He clutched his ear gently, fingertips lightly blotted with blood. 

“You--”

“Do you understand now, Techno?” 

Oh, Technoblade understood now. All this time, he thought Tommy was his puppet, but it seemed as though he’d been played for a fool in this life too. Was there a moment in Techno’s existence where he would not be someone’s puppet? 

Without another word, Technoblade bolted from the study towards the nearest exit. He could not be inside right now. He needed to be outside. He needed to know there was a way out. 

The cool breeze whistled through his hair and hit the back of his neck, instantly cooling down his rapidly rising body temperature. In an attempt to control his labored breathing, he wandered toward the courtyard where he trained with Tommy. 

To his surprise, the crown prince was there swinging an old wooden sword with a contented look on his face. The moment he heard Technoblade approaching, he brought his sword to his side and ran up to him. 

“You’re still up? Wanna spar? I really need to let out some of this energy.” 

“No.” 

“What? Come on! We’re both out here anyway, and it’s been a while since we sparred!” 

“Tommy, not now,” Techno growled. 

Tommy was never one to take no for an answer. It was a trait that was hard to train out of him, so Technoblade figured it must’ve been something genetic. 

Something from Philza. 

Tommy regripped the hilt of the sword and whacked it against the back of Techno’s leg. 

For a moment, there was silence to allow the shock to hang in the air. Techno turned his entire head to look at Tommy. The smile on Tommy’s face knew to drop the moment they made eye contact. 

The moment Techno looked into those inherited blue eyes, he didn’t see Tommy. He saw the man with whom Tommy shared those eyes. The man that just hurt him, claimed him, loved him? Before he knew it, his fist made contact with Tommy’s gut, sending the boy flying backwards. 

Technoblade wished he could say it was the voices that made him do it, but that would be a lie, and he wasn’t a liar. Techno was fully aware of how he stalked over to Tommy’s fallen body, straddling his abdomen and punching him again. 

And again. 

“Why don’t you listen to me!” he yelled over and over again. He told him not to come home from the party early. Told him not to drink. Told him to accept Manifold as an advisor. Told him to leave him alone. He was supposed to do what he said. Theseus was supposed to do what he said. 

“Techno, stop! You’re hurting me!” Tommy protested, blocking Techno’s last punch with his palm. He used all the force in his body to exterminate the force after his face, and only then did Techno feel himself lose that steam. 

His arm dropped and he removed himself from Tommy. 

Tommy didn’t cower. He held his jaw and picked himself up. He took a moment to spit, a wad of blood splattering on the brick of the courtyard. Techno didn’t move to help him. He didn’t think Tommy would want him to, and he wouldn’t know how after what he just did. 

“I’m going to bed,” was all Tommy said. He left the wooden sword on the ground as he stomped towards the house, leaving Techno all alone. Techno wanted him to turn back. He wanted him to swear at him, take revenge. 

He didn’t want this festering feeling of resentment to overcome him; the feeling that Tommy could do something Technoblade could not.

Chapter Text

Technoblade felt like a foreigner in his armor. The iron chestplate weighed on his heart and the helmet burdened his head. He had been so used to light armor that was more free to move around in that he had completely forgotten what it felt like to prance around in decorative war armor. 

He would take off the helmet if it did not hold a great symbol to the people standing behind him, their backs straight with their swords poised and their bow strings pulled back. If they did not look to him as their leader, he would’ve forwent the armor. Techno could only fuss with the helmet under the guise of adjustment so he could see the view he had dreamed about for so many years. 

His troops and he were stationed a little outside the city of Nevadas, hidden by a long stretch of greenery and a shallow cliff. It was distant enough that he could see the whole scope of Nevadas-- the buildings of business and family, the tall cathedrals on opposite sides of the city, and of course, the palace that insists on its authority, shadowing the rest of the beauty of the capital. 

In just a few short minutes, it would burn. 

One of his underlings, a soldier from Blumefallen’s ranks, approached Technoblade with an empty face. He was a soldier through and through; he would take orders and execute them, and his loyalty was never in question. “Sir Technoblade, we’ve gotten word from the Leid that His Highness has entered the palace.” 

Technoblade nodded in acknowledgement, and the soldier took this as a sign of dismissal, returning to his place within the ranks. 

Things were finally back on track for the most part. Wilbur had entered the palace through the front doors as a guest of the night’s banquet, while Tommy and his personal knights, the Leid, should be entering through the catacombs beneath the palace. 

Every time he thought of Tommy, only relief came. Everything had been so close to falling apart and so close to the actual coup. Techno had despaired all night after his brawl with Tommy, though brawl was an unfair name for what he had done to Tommy. His despair had little to do with the remorse he felt about hurting Tommy and had everything to do with his dreams having been so close to coming to fruition and then suddenly being so far from his grasp. 

Of course he regretted his actions towards Tommy. He should’ve never lost control like that-- he was above all that-- but this was years in the making. What was worse was that the morning after, on the day of his precious coup, he had gone to Tommy’s door to apologize. He stood there for ten minutes before knocking, trying to craft the perfect speech to receive Tommy’s forgiveness, remind Tommy of all Techno had done for him, and how his personal feelings about Techno shouldn’t get in the way of all their plans. 

And then he knocked. Tommy was slow to answer. His cheeks were discolored and his left eye was slightly swollen, but otherwise he appeared fine. His eyes were steady as he received Techno into his room, but they lacked the warmth and energy they usually contained. 

“Theseus,” Techno started. “Last night--” 

Tommy held his palm up to stop him. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Techno blinked. “What?” 

“It’s over. It’s not worth mentioning anymore.” 

There was a quick moment of relief that was quickly overshadowed with a mess of questions from both his brain and the voices. 

“Not worth mentioning?” How could it not be? Technoblade had assaulted him, made him bleed. Tommy had written him off the night before, but surely he had to have been creating dark circles under his eyes from stewing in his anger. Technoblade had made a mockery of all of Tommy’s training, so how could he be so nonchalant? 

“That’s right. We have a busy day, don’t we?” 

“We do.” 

“Well, big man, we can’t be wasting time like this.”

“No, we can’t.” 

The conversation should have ended there. Techno had gotten what he had wanted: Tommy didn’t hold a grudge and he was cognizant of how little time they had ‘til the coup would commence. Still, it didn’t take Techno’s superior senses to know something was off with this conclusion. 

“Well? Are you leaving?” Tommy prompted. 

“No.”

“What now, man?” 

“You want to be a knight, right?” Techno could hardly hear what he was saying. A test of knighthood? In the eleventh hour of his long awaited coup? It was such a ridiculous question, Techno was half expecting even Tommy to have the sense to shoot it down. 

You’re a fool, Technoblade of Blumefallen. 

Blumefallen? 

Tommy shot toward Technoblade, gripping both his arms tightly. He was smiling from ear to ear, looking at Techno like he was someone he wanted to know again. “You mean it, Techno? I can take the tests?” 

Techno gulped. “I do.” 

You’re a fool. 

Technoblade left to prepare for the trials he would put Tommy through. This would be the fifth time Tommy would go through the tests, but it was the first time Techno hadn’t been challenged. It was unusual for masters to offer their apprentices a chance to take the test, only in the desperation of wartime when there was a need for knights, but perhaps Technoblade was in the midst of his own wartime desperation. 

The first test, per tradition of his own master, Sir Feuer, was a test of the mind. Unsurprisingly, this was one Tommy struggled with immensely. In his previous four attempts, he failed the first test twice, preventing him from going any further. 

Technoblade didn’t think Tommy was going to pass this time around either, but he was now nervous about how much time it would consume out of the day. Time he could use coordinating with the different parties participating in the coup or preparing the soldiers in the Blumefallen army. The best course of action was to take him down swiftly in the first test. Tommy would be disappointed, but it wouldn’t be in Technoblade anymore. Instead, they would return to his angry banter and he would be ready to take down the monarchy, as planned. Appeasing Tommy was a part of preparation for the coup. 

Technoblade was the first to arrive in the library. He figured Tommy might stop and eat breakfast with his family, but Techno was uninterested in dining despite the rumblings of his stomach. He wasn’t ready to see Philza yet. 

Behind the rows and rows of dusty old books, there was a smooth table, unweathered by time and age, with the game Techno had in mind reposing peacefully by a window. Technoblade would keep calling it tradition, but admittedly it was laziness. Coming up with new trials took time Techno did not believe he had. His fingers glided over the pieces of the game, his mind already building different strategies, layering on top of one another until his eyes hurt and he had to look away. 

Tommy didn’t take as long as Techno thought he would. Instead of breakfast, he had gone and put his armor on and had someone retrieve a sword for him. It rested on his hip with his hand over the hilt. 

“I’m ready.” 

“I can see that.” 

Tommy slid into his seat, already placing his starting pieces in the order he wanted them. Techno was quick to follow suit. He watched how Tommy set up carefully, moving his own starter pieces in a way that would be easy to counter. When they both confirmed they were ready, Technoblade began the timer and they commenced. 

The board was no longer a game board but a map, and his pieces were units of an army, and if he had finally taught Tommy right, it would be the same for him. In Tommy’s previous attempts, he made time for small jokes and vocalizing his frustrations when Techno made an especially perilous move, but this time he was silent. His brows knit together and his fingers massaged his chin as he practically glared at the board as he made his moves. They-- the moves-- were not rehearsed, but Tommy cut out any hesitation. If he made a decision he stuck with it, and it made for an aggressive strategy. This time it was Technoblade becoming frustrated: frustrated he suggested the tests of knighthood, frustrated he felt he needed to appease Tommy in the first place, which molded itself back into the original guilt of having abused Tommy in the first place.  Techno found his pieces walking back to his end of the board, where they staged a great defense until the end of the five minutes. 

Per the rules, they counted who had more pieces left in the game. 

Tommy had passed the first trial. 

Technoblade cleared his throat. “Congratulations.”

“Let’s move on to the next one.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait--” 

“I’m ready, Techno.” 

Tommy shot out of the library towards the courtyard, no doubt rounding up the Leid to help with the second trial, the test of durability. This was one Techno could sit out and collect his thoughts. His own master had allowed him to skip the second trial. After all these years, he still couldn’t figure out how Sir Feuer had figured out through touch what had happened to him. 

Tommy never had trouble with the second test. Every time he got this far, he always passed it with ease. Tommy was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a quitter and he wasn’t defeatist. That was why ten minutes with knights coming at him from all sides would never be a struggle. 

When Techno reached the courtyard, Tommy had already gathered the Leid. They were all haphazardly throwing on practice armor for the test while Tommy eagerly boasted about his first win. 

“Let’s switch things up,” Technoblade announced, cutting Tommy off. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Your second test. Twenty minutes, no sword.” 

“What?” Tommy shrieked. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“No. I’m putting you to the test, Tommy. The original trial was too easy for you.” 

Remind us not to get on your bad side! the voices snickered. Little did they know they had routinely been on Techno’s bad side for the past eight years. This wasn’t retribution or anything. If anything, he was doing Tommy a favor. He was paying him an honor. 

Tommy threw his sword to Techno and cracked his knuckles. He didn’t look happy about the change, but he didn’t fight it anymore. “Bring it on.” 

Techno raised his arm to the sky and then brought it down. The Leid took their signal and charged at Tommy with all their might. 

But even with their swords drawn, even with the lessons Technoblade gave them, even with the passion of coming from nothing and becoming the inkling of something-- even with all that-- they could not compare to the power of Technoblade’s personal disciple. 

They could not compare to Theseus Craft. 

It was twenty minutes of bloodless violence. When the time was up, Tommy had every last member of the Leid on the ground save for one, whose throat was caught in Tommy’s hand. 

“Drop him,” Techno ordered. “Time’s up. You passed.” 

Tommy, for once, followed directions. The knight heaved as he massaged his throat, and despite everything Tommy just put him through for the past twenty minutes, he still accepted Tommy’s hand when he offered it. 

“Thanks for all your efforts, boys,” said Tommy. “I’m just a step closer to becoming one of you.” 

The Leid chuckled, saluting weakly from however they were sitting, and Tommy soaked up their respect before returning to Techno’s side and grabbing his sword from his master’s grip. 

“Do your worst, Technoblade, but I will become a knight.” 

Technoblade tied his hair back into a ponytail and grabbed his own sword from his hip. “Let’s go.”

Tommy refused to part with his precious rapier, which was always demolished when fighting Technoblade’s broadsword. Technoblade had every advantage over Tommy, and it didn’t help that Tommy chose a sword that did not add anything to his repertoire. It was Techno’s advice that Tommy try every sword before deciding on a certain style, but the moment Tommy held the rapier, his fate had been sealed. 

It would be a lie to say the sword did not suit Tommy. It was thin, light, and agile, just like Tommy. It was not to say Tommy couldn’t find success with the rapier, but against an opponent like Technoblade, Tommy would never win. It was just another thing Techno would prove in their final test.

The duel. 

The Leid had cleared out from the middle of the courtyard. Some had stayed to watch while others took the chance of Techno’s occupation to relax before they would have to reassemble and for their mission that night. Those that stayed to watch were evenly distributed along the sides of the courtyard. After five attempts, most of the knights supported Tommy’s efforts and cheered him on, but there were still some who liked to back a winner, and thus applauded Technoblade instead. 

Their support was meaningless to Techno, but he allowed it all the same. 

He chose one of them to sanction the match, all of his energy now focused on the match. There was never a doubt of Techno’s skill, but he knew that ego was a trap, despite the voices’ enthusiastic assurance of his success. Yes, he’d win, but he’d still give Tommy the benefit of the doubt. 

“Begin!” the knight announced, and Tommy and Techno instantly got into position-- or lack thereof. Tommy had put himself in a stance, but Techno stood with his shoulders rolled back and his arm hanging by his side, his sword scraping against the cobblestone. He started like this so often it should be renamed to the Sir Technoblade of Blumefallen starting position. 

Blumefallen?

Why had he taken that name again? 

Pay attention! the voices warned, and Techno’s muscle memory allowed himself to block Tommy’s hit. His blade was inches from Techno’s face, begging to slice his skull open. His other hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, his thumbs overlapping as he pushed Tommy away from him.

“Take this seriously, man!” Tommy growled, already launching into another attack. Techno, who did not appreciate being lectured by someone eight years younger than him, took extra care to repel him harder than he would have had Tommy not chastised him. He freed up a hand, blocked Tommy’s hit and then grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and threw him across the courtyard. 

Tommy yelled as he sailed, but miraculously he was able to take control of his body and land on his feet, the rubber of his boots dragging against the cobblestone as he de-accelerated.

Techno smirked. 

The same trait Techno admired in Tommy during the second test was one he abhorred in this third test, though, because that wasn’t enough to deter him. It became sort of routine-- Tommy would engage Techno in an encounter of fast paced hits, Techno would throw him away from him, and Tommy would catch himself and return to continue the cycle. It was tedious, and even all that energy Tommy dispensed during the second test wasn’t enough to slow him down. It wasn’t until two new spectators arrived that the rhythm of the duel changed. 

Wilbur.

And Philza. 

They both stood on the sidelines, both balancing themselves with canes, though Phil’s was purely for cosmetic reasons. Phil was dressed to the nines, for what occasion, Techno could not produce an answer in the moment. The sight of the two of them in the courtyard was enough to cause Techno to falter. 

Tommy did not smirk but rather laughed and rushed Techno right then and there. He forwent the sword and used his shoulder to knock Techno off his feet. It was unlike any move Tommy had made previously that Techno stumbled. He planted his sword into the grout of the cobble and centered himself, but with his sword in use, Techno only had his legs to fend an armed Tommy off. 

Why was Phil here? He’d never been there for any of the other duels Tommy had challenged Techno to, and back then Tommy had invited Phil to watch. Was he trying to get into Techno’s head? Was this some psychological trick on Tommy’s part? No, it couldn’t be. Tommy didn’t know what Phil had done to Tommy. Even if he did, would Tommy even recognize it as an affront to Techno? 

Why was Philza here? 

With both hands, Techno swung himself horizontally in the air, held up only by the sword as it twisted further into the ground. He kicked Tommy back and pulled the sword out when he reached maximum momentum. Dizzy but on his feet, Techno made his first offensive move of the fight and slammed Tommy’s side with the dull side of his sword.

“Stay down,” Techno said. 

“Fuck off!” Tommy turned on his stomach and flipped himself out of the danger zone. He was back on his feet momentarily, dancing circles around Techno. One of Tommy’s many advantages was that he was quick-- quicker than almost anyone Techno had ever fought before, which was perhaps worse than a strong opponent. Strength could be manufactured, but speed was a skill so few could really achieve. 

Techno kept his guard up, waiting for Tommy to strike once more, but his eyes kept wandering over to Phil, who witnessed the match with an impartial look. He wasn’t sure who Phil wanted to win between the two of them, which was the strangest thing. Naturally, wouldn’t he want his biological son to win, finally earn his knighthood? Did Phil’s claim of ownership turn so familiar that he had to remain unbiased in their duel. 

In another move out of character, Tommy decided to stay on his side of the courtyard once he got there. Master and apprentice circled one another, feet light and swords heavy as they waited for the other to make the first move. 

Tommy was serious. He was cautious and he was serious, and in the back of the head Techno considered Tommy might have a shot in a couple of years. In the midst of those thoughts, Tommy made his move. He was in front of Technoblade, hands hidden. He didn’t hit Techno, but jumped around him. Techno followed his movements, watching Tommy’s feet to find a way to trip him up. It was erratic the way Tommy moved-- one second he looked like he would strike Techno and the next he was moving back, sometimes faster than Techno could anticipate a move. 

“You look like a fool,” Techno said. “Hit me or don’t, but be decisive.” 

“You asked for it. Remember that, Techno!” Tommy maneuvered himself to Techno’s back, and before Techno could shift his stance to avoid that reality, Tommy grabbed a fistful of Techno’s hair and pulled down hard. 

With his refusal to move his feet, Techno’s back bent like a bridge to follow the force of Tommy’s pull. He gritted his teeth as he dropped his sword to catch his head from slamming into the ground. 

That was all Tommy needed to slice his sword through the air, sliding it against Techno’s neck. Everything was still for a moment, save for the heave of Techno’s chest as he quickly tried to figure out what just happened. He was still bent in an arc, staring at the sky, but he could feel the cool metal of the rapier resting on his jugular. 

“Submit, Techno! Submit!” 

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. 

Did he really just lose? Did he really just lose to Theseus? His student? 

“Techno, you have to say it.” 

Techno didn’t want to say it. He lifted his dominant arm, his center of balance dissipating as he grabbed the blade on his neck. He had half a mind to rip it away from his throat and continue the fight, hands bleeding and all. But what could he do during the coup with a cut hand? His eyes met Tommy’s. He was grinning, eyes alight with victory. 

Techno dropped himself. “I submit.” 

The onlookers erupted in cheerful roars and raucous applause. The impossible had been achieved. 

Tommy offered him a hand up. “Thank you, Master.” 

Techno accepted. “Which would you prefer I call you: Prince Theseus, or Sir Theseus?” 

“How about King?”

 “That can be arranged.” The two of them laughed at what would be that very night, but it also raised a question. Normally the knighting ceremony was performed by the king of the land. It was unusual for a prince or a king to pursue knighthood or the title of sir since royalty outranked it in the hierarchy. If Quackity were to fall that night, then who but Tommy himself would perform the knighting ceremony? 

Techno sent a furtive glance over to Phil. Was that why Phil had come? Had he known all this time Techno would lose? Was he, the final authority of the House of Blumefallen, going to knight Tommy?

Tommy poked Techno’s arm. “Hey. Are we gonna do this or what?” 

Tommy was trying to hand Techno the rapier. 

“What?” 

“I’m going to be king, but you’re my master. You have to knight me, Technoblade. It has to be you.” Tommy knelt on one knee and bowed his head. His right hand rested over his heart as he waited for Techno to dub him a knight. 

“Here? Right now?” he asked, on the precipice of a laugh. It was barely the afternoon, there was no ceremonial garb, no trumpets, no special armor--

“Here,” Tommy affirmed. 

Techno moved the sword over Tommy’s two shoulders. “I dub thee, Sir Theseus of Blumefallen, knight of the realm. Go forth and do good.” 

Tommy jumped to his feet and allowed the people watching to approach him and congratulate him. First to arrive at his side were Phil and Wilbur, who had him in a locked hug. Techno watched them, taking some steps back to not get trampled. 

Tommy looked so happy. He looked so happy compared to the night before. He hadn’t been disappointed in Techno, and in fact, he still looked up to him. He still followed his word! He had asked Technoblade to knight him over Phil. Tommy was only human. Of course he made mistakes and drank a little and sassed him. He was a child, not a puppet, but he was a useful child, still. Relief and guilt lived harmoniously inside Techno’s mind still, and the balance had to satiate Techno’s appetite. 

Techno’s troops looked bored, and he couldn’t blame them. They had been waiting since sunset for their signal to storm the gates of the city, and now it was pitch black. The sound of heavy hooves of a field of horses suddenly had everyone on high alert. His troops re-gripped their weapons and fixed the armor on their bodies, but one movement from Techno calmed them. 

From their left, Techno spotted the army that was coming towards them and their familiar flag: Boomerdorf. His soldiers wouldn’t have to be bored for long; the next movement of the coup was soon to commence. 

“Lord Beam,” Techno greeted as he approached the Duke of Boomerdorf. He stood out even among his own men with his flashy, eccentric armor. It must’ve been an antique from all the extra fixtures and points, but it matched his previous outfit choices. 

“You’re not on your horse, Sir Technoblade? Aren’t you ready for this battle?” 

“I’m always ready, Your Grace, but I’m waitin’ for our signal.” 

“The newcomer hasn’t come through yet?” the Duke asked, referring to Dream. The two had met briefly when Technoblade had called all points of interest in for a final meeting to go over the plans, and Techno could tell Lord Beam didn’t trust Dream all the way. It was a smart move, since Techno didn’t trust him at all. But what was he to do? Techno had been operating all this time considering Dream a low threat; at most he was a ghost Techno had to deal with, but now he was someone Techno didn’t think of proper defensive measurements for besides killing him when no one noticed. That was hard to do when all eyes were on them. 

“He will,” Technoblade said, hoping Dream wouldn’t make a liar out of him. Dream’s job was simple-- have the guards on Nevadas’ wall be convinced to join their cause, or replace them with loyalists. Then he had to open the gates to the city and the citadel. “Any minute now.” 

“Where’d you put Phil again? Is he on the other side?” 

“Yes.” 

“Would’ve thought you two would’ve liked to have fought together.” 

That had actually been Techno’s plan up until the events that occurred last night. He could barely look at Phil much less have the man’s back. When he had made the change during the meeting, Phil hadn’t said a word, so he assumed it was fine. It was probably for the better. He’d rather have Boomerdorf’s troops near him so he could control them better. If they weren’t Blumefallen, there was still a chance of betrayal, and Techno didn’t like chance unless it was in his favor.

“His Grace thought his talents better lie elsewhere.” 

Lord Beam nodded. “Probably smarter. That man is not someone I’d like to cross on a battlefield. He’s probably more terrifying than you, and you took care of my little problem.” 

Before, Technoblade would’ve snorted at the thought of the Duke of Blumefallen being someone terrifying. Techno knew Phil’d been trained with a sword, knew he had mana and knowledge of magic, and he knew Phil was a businessman, but most of his power and authority came from his title, not his personal power. Even in the future Techno had lived through, no one thought of the Duke of Blumefallen as someone to worry about in any capacity besides political power. Even then, it was mostly for his close ties to the royal family. 

But Phil had been able to do what practically no mortal had been able to do to Technoblade on multiple occasions. He had been able to sneak up on him and hold him down.

He had been able to draw blood. 

Unconsciously he rubbed his newly pierced ear, flakes of crust falling from a creeping infection, a reminder of Technoblade’s foolish weakness. 

“Your Grace! Sir Technoblade! The city gates are open!” 

Techno offered a parting smile to the Duke. “I’ll see you out there, then.”

Techno mounted Carl in one swift swing and lifted his sword in a high arc. “Blumefallen! Forward!” The soldiers roared as they raged out of the green and into the open. If Dream had done his job right, there would be no archers to shoot down his advancing troops. Techno charged with his men, red cape billowing as Carl plowed through the open terrain and towards the city. Boomerdorf would follow him into the city and support his troops’ flanks while Phil waited for them to enter the citadel to hold down the rest of the city. 

Even though Dream took care of the walls, someone loyal to King Quackity managed to dispatch a unit of royal guards. They were lined up on main street with a row of archers hiding on regular residential buildings. 

“Take them out!” Techno ordered as he continued forth, swinging his sword downwards on the infantry. His soldiers were efficient and quick to overrun the disappointing defense King Quackity’s people managed to cook up, but he knew it wasn’t over yet. They continued forth into the city. It was no place to create a warzone. He could see through windows there were citizens cowering in the corners of their homes, in the alleys, and in the local stores. 

Techno slowed Carl just enough to point out a couple of soldiers to act as crowd control. They either needed to be inside or out of the city, but it wouldn’t look good if anybody ended up dead due to the coup. Of course Techno foresaw a couple of civilian deaths, but hopefully it was through no fault of his people, but rather the royal faction. 

Further up, there was another line of guards waiting for them. They looked positively disheveled, no doubt off duty guards that had rushed to prepare themselves to take on Techno’s men. It was shocking just how easy taking the city was. The citadel was just a couple of streets away and every force of resistance was mowed down in mere minutes. 

This couldn’t be everything, could it? It couldn’t be this easy. Even when plans were designed to make it this easy, it never worked out. There was always margin for error. Something was off, he could feel it--

“Up there!” someone in the distance screamed. They sounded startled with a hint of terror of the unknown, and looking up Techno could see why. Though obscured by the night sky, once they swooped down, Techno could clearly make out the scaled skin of the familiar creatures and their uncanny red eyes from the Zitrone Mountains. The ones flying over them were the variations with wings, but then that meant there were probably more coming from the ground. 

Was this a set up? Was Boomerdorf somehow controlling the monsters and double-crossing him? Techno turned Carl on his heel and rode through the men to look for Lord Beam, one of the only other men on a horse. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he yelled over the sounds of the shrieks of the creatures. “How did--” 

“I don’t know!” Lord Beam replied earnestly. He himself appeared frightened by their arrival. “But look closely, I don’t think these are the same as the ones in the mountains!” 

“How can that be? Where else…” 

A thought occurred to him. A horrific one, but even those must be allowed when considering all options. 

Technoblade had not been the first victim of The Tower. 

But it was impossible, wasn’t it? The voices had assured him when they met the demons on the Zitrone Mountains that they were all created through natural means--

We didn’t know, the voices cut through Techno’s spiraling. Damn that’s crazy. 

Perspiration dripped down the sides of his face as he appraised the dilemma at hand. One look at Lord Beam and he could tell he hadn’t realized what they were dealing with. Perhaps Technoblade was the only one with that knowledge. His chest seized as the implications flooded through his head and messed with his senses. How long had these people been festering under this city that they had become creatures so similar to the ones in the Zitrone Mountains? Just how many Sanguis Shards were they forced to consume? Was this the price of failure? 

Had Technoblade been the slightest bit weaker upon his imprisonment, would this have been his fate. 

“No worries, Sir Technoblade, no matter their origins, my family has been hunting these creatures for centuries.”

“No!” he barked before he realized. Every moment he hesitated on making a decision about these creatures was a moment taken away from his troops. It would take a group of six or seven normal men and women to take down one demon. “I-- I’ll handle them. I’ll draw them out of the city. You continue on.” 

Lord Beam was quite ready to object, but a sweeping look at the scene of carnage wrought by the newly arrived creatures made him quite pliant. From a satchel attached to the side of his horse’s saddle, he pulled out a familiar box. 

“Draw them away with this.” 

The Beam family heirloom. 

Technoblade reached out for it, but Lord Beam pulled it away. “Do not open it. Who knows what untold horrors will be unleashed if it touches the air.” Technoblade suspected there was something evil about the heirloom by the way it drew the creatures on the mountains toward it. Perhaps it had something to do with the Blood God. It beckoned Technoblade to it just the same. 

Lord Beam carefully placed it in Techno’s awaiting hands and rode off to the front lines to help some struggling foot soldiers. Techno’s thumb glided over the lock of the box. Even through his gloved hand did he feel the cool metal tempting him to unlock, tempting him to take this heirloom for himself. 

Instead he raised it above his head and waved, all the while beginning a slow jog that would turn into a full on sprint the opposite way of the palace. All his men parted the path for him as he ran. They didn’t know what he was doing but they trusted him to do right by them. 

“Continue to the palace!” he screamed as he  passed by, “Don’t stop for the monsters!”

Through the arching city gate, Technoblade made his way to the middle of the vast fields that surround Nevadas. In the distance he could see a horizon made of men. 

Phil’s men.

Of course, it was about time for the second wave to enter the city to cover it while Techno and Boomerdorf took the citadel. But now Techno was out here and led a hoard of monsters in front of Phil’s warpath. Techno craned his neck both ways, looking back at the incoming creatures then back at the rest of the Blumefallen troops. 

In a split second decision, the heirloom was dropped onto the ground as he ripped off his cape and pulled his sword out. Holding the cape to his chest, he ran his sword along the chestplate until he managed to ignite some sparks. They glittered onto the cape, catching onto the flammable material like a forest. 

He raised the cape over his head and waved it, hoping this would be enough of a signal for Phil to see Techno where he wasn’t supposed to be and course correct. Surely the alight city that reflected off the creatures would be enough of a message, but this was insurance. 

All at once they rained down upon Techno, all vying for that small wooden box at Techno’s feet. He started by waving the inflamed capes in their faces, but a select few were resistant to the heat and managed to claw through. He dropped the cape and replaced it with his sword, slashing and stabbing at whatever was closest to him. 

In his periphery, he could see Phil’s troops trading their locked formation in for a single-file line so as not to disturb the monsters’ attentions. They would probably deal with some stragglers, but it was nothing those men couldn’t handle. Techno was doing the real heavy lifting, after all. The creatures fell at his feet, one way or another. Those that traveled by land weren’t better off than the ones with wings. Technoblade was indiscriminate when it came to his sword. 

He was light on his feet, using the heirloom only as a beacon as he circled it. Few creatures actually managed to get their canines close enough to snatch it before he lobbed their heads off. In truth, Technoblade was thankful for the exercise if he didn’t think too long about what he was killing. He had a one track mind and it was on King Quackity. 

The wave of monsters was beginning to slow down, just two or three clawing at him still when a beam of energy blasted all three out of Techno’s way. 

No, not energy.

Mana.

Magic. 

Techno whipped around only to be met face to face with a familiar yet enigmatic figure. It was the woman in the Zitrone Mountains who had been tailing him. Her hair was different, now just a dark pink color, bordering magenta, and her wardrobe seemed to have improved from the shoddy rags she had been wearing last fortnight. The thing that threw him off the most about her, though, were her eyes, which were a pale pink. 

She looked calm, her hand still flaming from the magic blast, but that look deteriorated with Techno’s sword thrust under her chin. 

“Who are you? What are you doin’ here?” 

“Is this how you treat someone who just saved your life?” the woman asked, completely undeterred by Techno’s unwelcoming attitude. With just her index finger, she moved his sword out of the way, and Techno found it fruitless to return it to its position if she didn’t take it seriously. 

“That depends if that was truly the intention.” 

“You don’t trust easily.” 

“Especially not mages.” 

The woman pointed over by the city gate to the second wave of monsters, both land and air, bounding over to them. “You might want to put aside that distrust for now, Technoblade.”

He didn’t need her help, but it was unwise to overexert oneself so early into the battle. Even if she was someone to be wary of, he could deal with her after the monsters, as she clearly had similar intentions when it came to them. Perhaps that was why she had been at the Zitrone Mountains at that time. 

“Fine. Protect that box.” 

“I know.” 

Techno didn’t like that attitude from an outsider. It made him uneasy, but there was quite literally nothing he could do. His hands were tied. 

He planted his feet into the dirt and held his stance as three furry ones leaped at him all at once. The woman fired up her hands and stood back to back with Techno. They were now hitting them in all directions, but it seemed like the longer it went on, the more of them were coming out of the woodwork. Just how many lives did the royal family destroy in order to achieve the living sword?

It seemed like the woman had the same thoughts. Techno could feel her press up against him as if using him as a support to stand up straight. No doubt this onslaught was not what she was expecting, and not even she had enough mana to keep up with the pace. 

Through labored breaths, she said, “I see why you were their first choice.” It probably wasn’t meant for Technoblade’s ears. It was probably her talking aloud, but no doubt Techno was the subject. Technoblade didn’t have time to inquire about the comment, but that didn’t mean it didn’t linger in the recesses of his mind. 

It all became too much for the woman. She fell to her knees, her sticky hair full of sweat covering her eyes so she couldn’t see all the creatures that still considered her a target. Techno had no choice but to take his attention away from his own hoard to slice the one that was inches away from the woman’s face. She was too tired to even react to near death. 

His sword was released from the carcass of the creature just as he felt a sharp pain strike him from behind. Almost as if he was ignoring the pain, he turned to see a slimy and unsavory creature with its claw embedded in Techno’s shoulder blade. Somehow he got through pulling it out without any expletives of any kind, but with his focus stolen, he was a sitting duck. Seemed like the creatures could smell the pain on him. 

“Watch out!” the woman yelled. She stretched out her arm at a descending creature, but only  more smoke came out of her hand, but no mana came out. She was truly out of juice. Techno pushed himself in front of her, raising his arms up to cover them both from the brunt of the attack, but it never came. 

Techno peeked out from behind his arms, surprised to find a fully armored man in a flowing dark green cloak throwing the monster back with a light push. 

“Philza?” Techno murmured. Phil paid no more attention to the monsters as he was quick to come to Techno’s side. 

“Your shoulder. You need aid.” 

“I’m fine. Phil, I have to keep those monsters out of the city--” 

“I know. I met up with Beam already.”

“You did?” 

The schedule was proceeding better than Techno hoped, even with this mishap. 

“Yes. My troops have already locked down the city and we’re guarding the citadel entrance while Beam continues with your orders.” 

“Ah. More than me, this lady needs hel…” Technoblade trailed off as he glanced down and noticed there was no longer any woman behind him. He would’ve thought he imagined it all, but Techno trusted his mind more than anything else in this world, and he knew she had been there with him. Well, good riddance if she was gone forever, and if not, then he’d get his answers later. 

“Maybe there was poison in that claw. You’re seeing things.” 

Rather than let Phil in on his encounters with the woman, he stayed silent. Techno had finally learned his lesson about Phil, despite this show of superficial care. 

“There’s a third wave comin’. I can feel it,” was all he said. He braced himself and picked up his sword, which was almost unrecognizable with all the blood and guts on it. In this moment of respite, he could look around the field and see how the bodies piled up. It was more of a mass grave than a field. 

“I’ll help you.” 

No matter how much Techno wanted to refuse, he knew it would be unwise. He was no longer in any condition to be fighting alone with an arm out of commission and refuting Phil when Techno was already injured was just asking for a repeat of the earring incident. 

And there they were, bounding up to the two of them, salivating at the thought of getting their claws on the heirloom. Phil took the offensive position, slicing through monsters like butter, while Techno hung back around the heirloom, like he had been, and played defense. Anything that got past Phil wouldn’t get past Techno. 

They danced to their rhythm, beat after beat, hit after hit, until the skies cleared up from danger and the field was rich with death. Techno’s good side ached from overstimulation and his bad side burned from whatever stabbed him. Phil returned to him, bloody yet unbruised, and Techno had to take a moment to force himself not to stare in awe. 

“Do you think that was it?” 

Techno hummed in affirmation as he picked up the heirloom from the ground. “I don’t feel any more.” 

“How do you have these senses?” 

“Um, instinct, maybe. Probably from fightin’ too many of them in the mountains.” 

Phil nodded, taking his answer as is. Without warning he looped Techno’s arm over his shoulder and redistributed their weight so Techno was leaning on him. Immediately Techno jumped back. 

“You don’t need to do that. I’m alright.” 

“Techno, I insist you receive medical attention.” 

“I will after everythin’.” 

“You’re not going to keep fighting, are you?”

Techno still had enough guts to snort. “What? Do you want me to wave a white flag, too?” 

Phil shook his head as if disappointed. “Techno, your health is important.” 

Techno was about to retort when a loud explosion sounded from the direction of the palace. Techno pointed at it and yelled, “That is more important. Don’t you understand, Phil? This has been what it’s all been leadin’ up to. So put another earring on me. Hell, put a collar on-- I already know what it’s like-- but you’re not stoppin’ me from gettin’ to that palace!” He was out of breath by the time he finished his speech, and Phil listened in stunned silence. His face was tight and narrow, scrunched up by scrutiny, but it faded into something softer, fonder. 

“Fine. Go. I will meet you there. Give me the heirloom. I shall return it to Beam.” 

Techno hugged the heirloom tighter, the thought of parting with it suddenly sending waves of heartache. 

“I can do it.” 

“Pick one, Technoblade. Your dream or the box.” Right, the box wasn’t important. It was a passing desire, an unconscious infatuation. He tossed it to Phil and began his sprint back to the city. It was an easy path to the palace. 

Practically no obstructions. 

He would soon see why. 

It wasn’t as if he ordered the nobles and those with royal blood to be kept alive. It didn’t matter to him whether they lived or died, but he was still a bit in shock to see dozens of bodies wearing fine clothes and heavy jewels mutilated all over the courtyard and the stairs. It looked as though they had been running for their lives. 

Techno noted a relative of the king’s, and by extension, a cousin of the Crafts, hunched over in a cowering position, his head a couple of feet away from him. It was brutal but it wasn’t anything Techno hadn’t seen before. He’d seen practically everything. 

He happened upon a soldier from Phil’s troop dragging one of the bodies somewhere. 

“What’re you doin’?” 

The soldier dropped the body to salute Techno. “Gathering bodies to burn. Under His Highness’ order.”

“Theseus?” The soldier dared to nod at the prince’s name. “That explosion earlier. What was it?” 

“His Highness had captured the king. He ordered something grand in order to get your attention, sir.” 

“Where is he now?”

“The throne room, sir.” 

Techno turned on his heel and stomped all the way to the throne room, a growing feeling of unease. Burning the bodies would be normal on a battlefield, but this was a coup and the dead were nobles. Even if Techno hated them, even if Tommy hated them, they deserved funerals. In fact, they would need funerals in order to get public opinion on their side. Just what was he up to?

Techno found himself at the doors of the throne room. He hadn’t been back here in human form since that day four hundred years ago. How confidently he strode in, believing he was to be named a personal knight to the king. He thought he was going to make someone of himself. 

Instead, the king had made something out of him. 

His hand hovered over the knob, the dread taking over his senses. Something was wrong. So wrong, not even the voices would comment on it. It was silent outside in the palace, and it was silent inside his head. The little part of him that was still foolish chalked it up to trauma. It was that same fool that had been turned into a sword. Still, Technoblade had all but won, hadn’t he? The city taken, the creatures finished, the king in his clutches. They all said he was too paranoid. 

Technoblade pushed the doors open.

Chapter Text

The tunnels under the palace were a dreary place, but it did nothing to curb Tommy’s enthusiasm. He’d been alight since earlier that day, freshly knighted and acknowledged by Technoblade and finally trusted enough by him to truly give him the honor of storming the palace. He knew it had been within Techno’s plans, but with the man’s paranoia, everything was subject to change at any time, just like how he changed Father’s position.

The Leid marched behind him with brandished swords. Trained by Techno himself, they were prepared for just about anything, even a surprise attack from the palace guards. Though according to Techno, they shouldn’t be a problem with the new addition to leadership. Tommy didn’t approve of this sudden change, especially knowing who it was. Sir Dream had been a creepy man from the king’s corner, so how could Techno possibly just allow him to join their plan like this? It wasn’t like him at all. Even when Tommy voiced his concerns to Father, all he said was to trust Techno. 

Of course he trusted Techno. Tommy probably trusted Techno more than anyone, even when it wasn’t necessarily reciprocated. None of that mattered anymore. It was all coming to a head, and once it was over and Tommy became king, Techno wouldn’t need to worry about anything anymore. All of his dreams would be laid bare before his feet, and he would thank Tommy and finally accept his place at his side. 

Forever.

The very thought brought a smile to his face, so noticeable one of his knights had to tap him on the shoulder and ask him what he was thinking about. “Killing the king, of course,” Tommy lied. He trusted the Leid with his life, and some of his secrets, but those of his family should remain hidden to outsiders. 

The group slowed their pace as the tunnels began to receive light from small torches attached to the cobbled walls, and finally there was a wooden ladder dangling precariously in front of a dead end, just as Techno had described. 

“Is this it, Your Highness?” one of the knights asked. 

“Definitely. Let’s climb.” Tommy hustled his knights up the ladder, intending to be the last up. It wasn’t any sort of defensive measure; he just thought he’d look the coolest coming up last. If all was going to plan, Wilbur would’ve arranged everything on the surface to time accordingly, and once Tommy made it known he’d successfully gotten inside, Technoblade and Father would be able to begin their phase. 

“Your Highness, please stop swinging the ladder,” someone above requested. He hadn’t even realized his giddiness was causing the ladder to shake. Tommy held it in. 

The closer he climbed to the already opened hatch, the clearer the sound of a string quartet could be heard. They weren’t far from the banquet hall. Tommy pulled himself over the ledge and rolled onto his feet, joining his men in their march to the hall. As expected, there were no guards around any of the doors, so they let themselves in. Tommy sent a group to the door on the other side of the hall, where they waited for the signal that they were ready. When they received it, Tommy ordered his door to creak open and for the smoke bombs to roll in. This was another suggestion Tommy threw in for dramatic effect. When people wrote about his efforts in fifty or sixty years time, he wanted them to say his coup had flair. This was important for his historical reputation. 

Once the smoke began spilling out into the hall and the screams of the nobles, Tommy waved his arms, ordering his men to enter. He shuffled in after them, unsheathing his sword and raising it high above his head. Once the smoke cleared he would look so cool. If only Wilbur could see how cool he looked. No matter, Tommy could just tell him later, and the details would be up to his discretion if things didn’t pan out. 

“Round them up!” he ordered, “and find the king!” 

Tommy squinted his eyes as he looked for Wilbur through the smoke, suddenly regretting it. 

One of his knights returned to his side after a few moments. “Your Highness, the king isn’t here!” 

“Fuck! Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, what about my brother?” 

“Lord Wilbur is with the other nobles.” 

“Extract him. He’s now in charge of this room and the lives of the nobles. I’m going after the king. Send five men after me.” 

The knight pounded his breast and nodded as he went off to find Wilbur. Tommy’s brows furrowed as he maneuvered out of the banquet hall, not even glancing behind when he heard the sound of trailing footsteps. His men were good. 

But Tommy did have to stop for something. 

“Who remembers the way to the secret study?” His goofy grin had no effect on the oh-so-serious knights, who looked upon him with deadpan expressions. They could never show disappointment, not for their leader, but aggravation was clear on all of them. 

One stepped forward. “Shall I walk next to you?” The knights could never lead when Tommy was with them, but walking beside him would be fine. He nodded and they continued on their way to the secret study. It was already circled on Techno’s map as a mark, but with the king gone, Tommy had a small hunch that that was where he would hunker down and hide. If Tommy had a secret study-- which he would when he finished off the king-- that would be where he would go. 

The study ended up being quite far from their current position, so they ended up sprinting the rest of the way there in order to keep the schedule moving. The last thing Tommy wanted was another earful from Technoblade about how he had been messing around on the most important night of their lives. Of course Father and Wilbur would take his side too because Technoblade can never be wrong. Well, even Tommy thought that every once in a while, but only because Techno was really smart. They were hardly at odds. 

“Up ahead, Your Highness.” They stood in front of a lavish wooden door with golden handles and intricate carvings. It was an important room after all: the king’s real study. 

“Oh. Well, I knew where this was. Where’s the secret one?” 

The knight opened the door for Tommy and gestured for him to enter. Suddenly it was coming back to Tommy. The late nights in Tommy’s room with the dead candles, pouring over maps. The little box with no windows.

The king’s study was boring. It had walls of books and golden accented furniture and dead animal fur carpeting, but it was nothing new. Tommy would have the entire place gutted for something more interesting. He was thinking of a wall of swords and shields and a massive portrait of himself behind him. Ah, perhaps the whole family. And he’d save a spot for his wife. Once he was king, Technoblade would be sure to look for a marriage partner for Tommy in order to secure his position, though Tommy didn’t understand what marriage could do that a sword could not. Tommy would rather marry for love, like his parents had. Perhaps that would be negotiable. Not even Father would deny him that. 

“Your Highness, it’s the red book. History of Manberg Vol. VII,” the knight that guided him pointed to the wall. Distantly Tommy could recall Techno talking about a book lever that would open the wall. Tommy tried to yank the book off the shelf, but he wasn’t surprised when it only fell to a certain angle and stopped mid-air. The shelves on the wall began moving instantaneously, the sound of gears clunking against one another filling the room. Revealed to them was a large, dark doorway that held a flight of steep stairs. 

“Get a torch,” Tommy commanded. He held the walls as he began to walk down, careful with his steps. He didn’t want this to be the third secret flight of stairs he fell down. At that point it would just be embarrassing. 

The knight with the torch was quick to follow after him, and the soft glow of the flame behind him was enough to give Tommy a visual aid of what lay ahead. The stone walls were ingrained with slimy green moss substances, though the stairs themselves were kept in good shape. It wouldn’t do to have the king die on his way down to his secret study. At the end of the stairs was another door, this one rickety and splintered with a rusty pull handle. 

Tommy pulled hard on the handle. The door wouldn’t budge. It was durable for its nasty appearance. 

“Locked,” he informed the group behind him as he backed up a few steps. Before anyone could offer any more sage advice, Tommy swung his leg at the door, smashing the wood in half. He’d replace the door with something cooler when he had the time.

This study was much cooler than the one upstairs. It had the same gold accented furnishings, but it was less bookish and more violent. Instead of animal carpets, the king had animal heads adorning his walls. There were still bookshelves, but they were more compact. It wasn’t as much nonsense. Everything in here had a purpose. The one disheartening thing about the study was that there was no king in it. 

“Fuck,” Tommy muttered under his breath. “I was so sure he’d be in here.” Tommy rifled through the bookshelves, looking at how plain these books were compared to the ornate ones upstairs. They all had scribbled titles on their covers, handwritten. The contents inside differed, but they were all scientific in nature. He could hardly understand it, what with all the chicken scratch natural to a doctor’s hand. 

“What now, Your Highness?” asked a knight. 

“Two of you go back to the hall and get some people looking for the king,” he ordered without looking up from the books. If he looked at it long enough, surely it would make sense. Besides, this was just as well an integral part of Techno’s plans. This was supposed to be their evidence of corruption within the kingdom to undercut the king’s credibility. Whatever these were, they were supposed to be incriminating beyond belief. 

Tommy gave up on the books for a few moments to rummage through the desk. In one of the top drawers was a small box, almost like one made for women’s jewelry. Tommy didn’t think much of it; after all, the king adored anything precious, including jewelry. Yet something told him that this box didn’t hold what it was supposed to. 

Nothing was sacred anymore. Tommy opened it, but he didn’t know what to make of what was inside. He’d never seen anything like it before. It wasn’t quite a rock, but it wasn’t crystal either. More peculiarly, it had a dim glow of crimson, reminding Tommy of blood. He didn’t know what it was about it, but Tommy wanted it. Quietly, he stuck it in the small pouch around his waist and went back to decoding the books. 

After what seemed like forever of staring at nonsense, footsteps returned down the stairs, as well as the sound of a stick whacking the stone. 

“Wilbur! What the fuck are you doing down here? You’re supposed to be in the hall!”

“Relax. The Leid have taken care of it, and I’ve already ordered the escapees to be dealt with.” 

“So there were some?” 

“Of course there were. You trap the realm’s most egotistical people in one room, of course ten of them think they can escape.”

“Why didn’t you stay there? If Techno finds out--” 

Wilbur snorted. “What Techno doesn’t know can’t hurt him. One of your knights said you found the secret study but couldn’t figure out what to pick as evidence.” 

Tommy fell into the soft chair behind the desk. “It’s gibberish.” 

“Read it to me.” 

Tommy dutifully picked up a random book he had pulled and groaned as he started to read. “Wagner, Hans, Blötländer. Schultz, Johanna, Manberg. Nihachu, Nikita, Manberg. This one’s a little hard to read…”

“It sounds like a list of names.”

“That’s weird.”

Wilbur perked up. “What is?”

“Techno’s name is on this list.”

“Huh?” Wilbur grasped at the book, but Tommy moved away to keep it from his reach. “Does it say what the list is for, Tommy?”

Tommy shook his head. “No. But this isn’t the only book that looks like this.”

“Start there!” Wilbur pointed at the other knights. “Keep looking for records of corruption and that trafficking thing Techno was talking about.” While there was room to banter with Tommy and Techno, who the knights could claim to be close to, the eldest son of the Duke of Blumefallen was not to be trifled with. He had an unpredictable temper and high expectations for those who worked under him, so the knights were quick to run through the books. 

“Wilbur, this book is fucked up.”

“What is it?” Wilbur said, his thin patience looking like a line. 

“It talks about some experiment with The Tower. Magic experiments.”

Something deep inside Wilbur clicked upon hearing the words Tower and experiments said in the same sentence. The conversation hadn’t even been that long ago, but it was something Wilbur had completely brushed off as light conversation, well, as light as a conversation could go with Technoblade. 

“Read it to me,” he demanded. 

“‘Live Weapon Proposals. The purpose of these series of experiments is to see how far the human body can go?’ Fuck, what’d they do?”

“Why don’t you keep reading?”

“I’m getting to it! ‘Subject is fed x amount of Sanguis shards for x amount of days… and the proposed outcome is the production of a living weapon…’” Tommy put the explanatory book down and flipped through the list of names again. “Do you think Techno was involved in these experiments? Is he turning people--”

“No,” Wilbur cut him off abruptly. “Technoblade wouldn’t do that to someone.”

“Then this list,” Tommy murmurs, the horrible realization rushing through him, “this is a list of the subjects?”

Wilbur didn’t respond. He didn’t want to be the one to affirm such a terrible thing to his little brother. He didn’t need to, anyway. Tommy was one of the most emotionally astute people he knew, even if he pretended to be dense for laughs. One look at Wilbur’s face was confirmation enough. 

“Your Highness, my lord, we’ve gathered the--”

“Shh!” Tommy said all of a sudden, putting a finger to the speaking knight’s lips. The knight tried to hold in his reaction, and in that silence, they all heard the same thing. 

Footsteps. 

Except it wasn’t coming from upstairs, but within the walls. 

“There’s a second entrance,” Tommy declared. “Get into a defensive position, and protect Wilbur.” Tommy himself prepared to defend his position, circling the room, waiting for the walls to open up. Sure enough, the wall behind the desk shot open and out poured about a dozen palace guards, all with the king’s colors on them. They were worse than the regular palace guards-- they were the king’s personal group. They were what the Leid was to Tommy. 

“We have our orders,” the leader of the opposing knights said, looking back at his peers. Tommy gripped his sword tightly, knowing they were sent here to exterminate him. Instead, they surprised him. “Burn the study!”

Tommy couldn’t even fathom making a move before they started throwing torches and liquor bottles into the room. The cowards were just as quick to run away, back to where they came from. The fire caught quickly, spreading through the wooden floorboards and bookshelves. 

“Shit! Shit! Techno’s gonna kill me if I don’t get this evidence!”

“Preserve the evidence,” Wilbur ordered the knights, who were desperately scooping books into their arms. 

“Wait! I need backup to go after them!”

“Go after them? Tommy, we have the bloody evidence in our hands, and it’ll burn if we don’t get it out of here!”

“Who do you think ordered the torching, Wil? Those fuckers are gonna lead me to the king! And there’s nothing Techno wants more than the king!”

Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s shoulders, his long fingernails pinching through the gaps in his armor. He lightened up his touch after a moment of pensiveness, turmoil forgiven in moments. “Okay, go. One of you go with him. I’ll take the books.”

The knights decided silently which of them would join Tommy and who would help get the books and Wilbur to safety. He ended up with a reliable knight that he trusted to have his back and who had ten times more navigational skills than Tommy did. 

They ran down the path inside the wall while Wilbur took the remaining knights and the books he could save up the staircase. The fire would spread to the rest of the palace, but Tommy couldn’t find himself caring when the coup was almost complete. He already had the aspiration to remodel later, so in a way this was a blessing. 

The hallway was long. So long that the arsonists hadn’t even made it out yet. Tommy’s knight kept pace with him, and soon enough, they reached a doorway that was still open, meaning no one bothered to close it or lock it behind them. Tommy leaped through it, revealing the open air of green trees and untrimmed grass. Wherever they were, it wasn’t an area maintained by the gardeners. All at once, the intruders surrounded Tommy and his knight, closing in on them with their swords drawn. 

“Oh, now they want a fight.”

The Leid Knight pressed his back up against Tommy’s as they kept their feet moving. Not once did they turn their heads away from the aggressors as they came at them from all sides. Tommy had never been frightened of a challenge, even less so after earning his knight title. He had beaten Technoblade in a duel. He was basically unstoppable! 

These people weren’t trained by Techno. They stood no chance. They were down in less than ten minutes. Tommy made sure to slit the throats of all except one. No, that one he picked up by the collar and slammed into a tree. 

“Where’s the king?”

“Fuck you, you demon spawn! I’d sooner die than reveal the location of my liege!” Perhaps for added effect, the poor knight tried to bite his own tongue, but Tommy had already thought of that. 

“No. You don’t get to die until fucking I say so. Now you know you can’t die, this just got a whole lot more painful for you, didn’t it?” said Tommy. With his free arm, he motioned for his knight to help him grab the offending knight’s leg. The opponent seized with terror, realizing what they were about to do. “Your sword, please, sir knight? Oh, actually, you know what would be really fucking funny?”

“What, Your Highness?” 

“We use his sword. Oh, I just wish Techno were here to see it. He’d laugh. Father would secretly get amused, too, I’m sure. Let’s do it. It should be laying around here somewhere.”

“C-c-cut my leg off all you want, but I won’t reveal his location!”

Tommy sighed. “That’s no good. He wants me to do it.”

“What now?” prompted the Leid knight. 

“He thinks we’re pussies, sir knight. Now we have to cut a leg and an arm.”

The Leid knight bent down and picked up a sword. The hilt was marked by the colors of the king-- even if it wasn’t this specific knight’s sword, it was still a sword that belonged to the unit, and it would be equally entertaining to watch as it cut off a knight’s defining features: his limbs. 

Tommy dropped the king’s knight on the ground but kept his boot on his chest. The Leid knight held the sword high above his head, swinging it down like an executioner. 

“W-w-wait! Wait!” the king’s knight cried. 

The Leid knight paused. 

“He’s in the west greenhouse.”

Tommy relieved the enemy knight’s chest of his boot. “Thanks for playing.” To his own knight, he turned and said, “Just the hand then.”

“Stop! Wait! I’m telling the truth, I swear!” the king’s knight begged. 

“I believe you. But I don’t like being called a fuckin’ pussy.”

“I never said that!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Tommy sniffed. He turned on his heel, tired of the conversation as his knight carried out the punishment. The birds flew from their trees to flee the excruciating howl from the king’s knight. 

The king was indeed holed up in the west greenhouse, but he looked less like a king and more like a man. His dark hair was in disarray, his crown thrown somewhere in the bushes of the garden. His formal attire was ripped and dirty and the bags under his eyes were more prominent than usual. 

“Hello, Your Majesty,” Tommy greeted with a bow. The king, Quackity, had been sitting with his knees pulled to his chest in some tall flowers. It was an ill attempt at staying hidden. “You sent all your knights to burn that study?”

“Theseus!” Quackity growled, leaping from the flowers with his arms outstretched, fingers itching to clasp his throat. Tommy slapped him away, watching as he crumpled to the ground. 

How could someone so weak be ruling their kingdom? 

Looking at it now, Tommy was impressed with Techno’s patience. He waited all these years to do this the proper way. Tommy flicked his fingers. “Pick him up. We’re going back to the palace.”

“N-no!” Quackity shrieked, producing a dagger from his breast pocket. He slated it onto his neck, over an artery that would make him bleed out longer than necessary. He clearly had no idea how to kill himself properly. It didn’t matter. That dagger was the only bargaining chip he’d need-- Quackity had no intentions of dying. “I’m not going.”

Tommy threw his head back and groaned. “No! You’re ruining everything, man!”

“You’re an ungrateful piece of shit, Theseus! What the hell are you even doing? You could’ve waited forty or fifty years and would’ve ended up the king with less bloodshed!”

“Well, that would’ve been fine with me, but someone else was in a hurry.”

“Someone else? Your father, huh? I knew he wanted the throne all along. He could pretend to be indifferent all he wants, but who wouldn’t take the power?”

“Hmm, close, but wrong. Sure, Father wanted the throne back, but none of this was his idea. If you come back to the throne room, you can meet the man who has wanted you dead for so long.”

Quackity laughed. “You think I’m going to willingly walk to my sudden death?”

“It won’t be sudden,” Tommy corrected. “He’ll take his time.” 

Quackity didn’t budge. “That’s why you haven’t killed me yet, then? Because whoever’s got you in his pocket wants me alive a little longer.”

“That’s right.”

It seemed like Quackity’s options were sinking in. Even if he was weak, he wasn’t stupid. He had a mind for profit and success, which was why Manberg could be such a decadent kingdom. Its opulence awes people like a painting, but standing too close one would see the poor and rugged brushstrokes. 

Quackity’s wobbling legs lifted up and carried him out of the greenhouse, Tommy and his knight trailing after him. This dignity, Tommy would allow. Despite everything, Quackity had once been good to him. 

Wilbur was waiting in the throne room with his leftover knights when Tommy and his knight returned with the king in tow. In fact, he had made himself quite at home laying on the throne with his legs bouncing off the sides of the armrest. The knights stood around him, the evidence set off to the side while they quietly argued about the color scheme of the room. 

“I’m back!” Tommy announced, pushing Quackity onto his knees in the center of the room. He pointed at all his knights and then at the door. “You all, I want to send Techno a message. Something grand. Explode shit or something. Just get it done.” 

The knights dismissed themselves.

“Get off my throne!” Quackity snarled at Wilbur. Wilbur remained in place, in fact, he seemed to make himself even more comfortable. “So it was the invalid all this time, huh? You were the one who coveted the throne?” 

Wilbur guffawed as if he had heard the silliest thing on earth. To him, he had. “Lord, no. I’ve never had an interest in the throne, even before you poisoned me.”

“Poison?” Quackity echoed. “I never poisoned you, Wilbur.”

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed. He jumped off the throne and marched down to Quackity, slapping him hard with an open palm. “It’s one thing to do it when you had the power and position, but how can you kneel here, so close to your death, and not confess your sin?”

Tommy noted the small white bone next to Quackity’s head covered in blood. Quackity picked himself up. He still had his pride. He grit his teeth, one in the front noticeably absent and definitely on the ground, and sounded the words out carefully. “I never poisoned you.”

Wilbur laughed, his usually melodious voice sounding choked and rough. It was not a beautiful laugh, but one run ragged by rage and disappointment. Quackity had nothing to lie for anyway. Wilbur couldn’t stop the tears anyway, even when he covered his eyes with his red palm. 

“If you didn’t, then…”

Tommy grabbed Wilbur and pulled him into a tight embrace. Wilbur had to hunch over at an awkward angle due to his height, but he didn’t let that stop him from sobbing into Tommy’s shoulder. The tears ran down his armor and dripped onto the palace floors, the sounds echoing through the empty chamber.

Tommy didn’t like to see Wilbur cry. It was unnatural. This was his big brother. Big brothers don’t cry. The last time he saw Wilbur cry, really cry, was when it had sunk in that his sight was truly gone. 

It had just been Tommy and Wilbur in Wilbur’s bedroom, hours after they administered the cure. Tommy had stayed curled up by Wilbur’s side while Father had taken Technoblade to his study to speak. His older brother had woken up in a fright, screaming out in fear.

Tommy had grabbed hold of his arm, trying to calm him down, but it was like his ears were just as lost as his eyes. Through the blindfold Tommy saw it: the clear liquid trailing down his cheeks, dampening the cloth of the blindfold. 

“What do you see?” Tommy had asked.

Wilbur just shook his head, like there was no answer. There wasn’t. In the absence of sight, there wasn’t even darkness. There was nothing. How do you describe nothing? It was maddening. Wilbur couldn’t stop crying but he wouldn’t let go of Tommy when he offered to retrieve their father. They stayed like that all night, undisturbed by servants or family. 

Back in the present, Wilbur’s breathing evened out, and Tommy hesitantly released him. He was still dry heaving every couple of breaths, but for the most part he had calmed down. Something had settled within Wilbur’s mind that Tommy couldn’t even fathom. 

Blood trickled down Quackity’s chin. 

“You didn’t poison Wilbur, but what about all your experiments with The Tower?” asked Tommy. “What about all those people?” 

Quackity, who was so good about keeping eye contact before, suddenly averted his gaze. “It’s been a generations-long experiment. At one point, even your branch had been involved and funding it.” 

Tommy snorted. “You’re sick. We would never.” 

“Wouldn’t you? Your branch had the throne before, Theseus. Now that you have it again, what will you do about the experiments and The Tower? You think you can get rid of them?” 

“Fuck you. I can do whatever the hell I want.” 

To prove it, Tommy opened his pouch and took out the rocks. The terror on Quackity’s face was quite sweet to look at. 

“Where did you get that?” 

“Wilbur, in my hands, I believe I have what they call the Sanguis shards.” 

“What? Where the fuck did you get those?” asked Wilbur. He looked like he wanted to touch them too. 

“The study. I didn’t know what they were at first, but I think I have an idea now.” Tommy crouched down in front of Quackity, clutching his cousin’s hair tightly. “I wonder what would happen if you ate this. Well, I think you only half know. Your research was only half-complete. Some of them got away, didn’t they? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I would.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Tommy,” Quackity gritted his teeth. The nickname was for added effect. If there was any filial affection left between them, this was the time to utilize it. “You said someone wanted to kill me first. It’d be unwise…” 

“Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?” Tommy interrupted, dropping Quackity’s head abruptly. “But thinking about it now… Wil, what happens when Techno’s done it?” 

“What do you mean?” inquired his brother.

“Techno? As in Sir Technoblade?” Quackity spat. “You mean that little plebe roped you into all of this?” 

Tommy ignored him. “I mean… All this time, I thought once Techno got what he wanted, he’d relax. He’d just be. But is that really true?” 

“I don’t think he knows how to do that. It’s possible he might start on the next project, you know. He never intended to stop after making you king.” 

“I know, I know. Monarchies are wrong. But he already taught me that stuff. What if he knows I’ll do it anyway?” Tommy looked down at Quackity. “What happens when you die?” Tommy picked the king’s head back up by the jaw this time, crushing the sides of his face until Quackity’s mouth opened involuntarily. 

“Are you sure about this, Toms? I’ll support your decision either way, but…” Wilbur said with uncertainty. 

Tommy just faintly nodded as he shoved the rock down Quackity’s throat, puppeteering his jaw and throat to make it go down. He picked up another of the shards and repeated the procedure until he had no more Sanguis shards. The whole time, Quackity protested, coughing and spitting and spazzing about until he could take no more and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

His skin was no longer the same olive it used to be. Now it was sickly pale, bordering silver, and the roots of his hair seemed discolored. 

“That didn’t do much.” 

“It won’t kill him. He might go mad, though.” 

“Do you think that’s what happened to Techno? He doesn’t seem mad, though.” 

“Would a sane person plan a coup at the age of fourteen?” Wilbur laughed, this one with humor. “Since the day we met him, he’s never been sane.” 

“I guess not. But I don’t get it. He’s from a good family from a foreign land. H-how? How did he make it onto the list? When did all this happen to him?” 

Wilbur shrugged. “If it even happened. There’s a chance that the list is just a bunch of candidates. People they planned to experiment on but never got around to.” 

“But why Techno?” Tommy asked again, tears of frustration threatening to leak. “Why would they even try to touch him! He’s ours!” 

“He wasn’t always. Think about it, Tommy. They’re looking for people to survive a transformation into a weapon. Techno’s been training as a knight since he was a child. They called him a prodigy. He was knighted at fourteen. He’s the perfect pick for this kind of thing.” 

All of a sudden, the two brothers felt gross about the entire conversation. As if it were morally reprehensible to think of Technoblade in this sort of fashion. As a prized experiment rather than the man he was to them. The brother he was. Techno could deny it all he wanted, but that was what he was. What ward, what tutor? He was just as much their father’s son as the rest of them. They had gone through so much trouble to make it that way.

Tommy snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the doorknob turn. “It’s him!” 

When he entered, Technoblade looked wretched. His brows were furrowed and he was covered in blood and guts. His cape was missing and he held one of his arms. None of that could compare to what he was thinking in his head, though after eight years, Tommy still couldn’t decipher it. 

Techno didn’t greet them. Instead his gaze went straight to the king’s body on the ground, which every now and then convulsed from the aftershock of consuming the Sanguis shards. Tommy was about to explain, but Techno beat him to it. 

“Is he dead?” 

“Huh?” said Tommy. It wasn’t what he thought Techno would say. He hadn’t mapped out all the routes of Techno’s praise, but this sure as hell wasn’t one of them. 

Techno sped toward him, clutching him by the collar of his uniform. “Did you kill the king?” 

The look on his face was one Tommy had never seen before. Even last night when Techno was beating the shit out of him, it was more out of fear than anything else. Tommy recognized that and made peace with it. But this… This was rage, pure and unadulterated. This was worse than last night. There would be no rationalizing if Techno were to take it too far.

“Techno, please--” 

“Did you kill him! Answer me, Theseus!” 

“Techno, let him go!” Wilbur demanded. “He’s not dead!” 

Technoblade finally acknowledged Wilbur’s presence. He dropped Tommy back onto his feet and stepped away from them, as if he were coming to his senses. 

“We got the evidence, like you asked,” explained Wilbur. “It was more than just corruption. Human experiments.” Techno didn’t react. “You’re not surprised.” 

“We thought it was only fair to give someone like that a fate worse than death,” Tommy said with a childish grin, looking more and more like a devil. 

“What did you do?” Techno breathed. 

“I fed him his own Sanguis shards!” Tommy and Wilbur fell into their own laughter, but Techno remained taciturn, the vein on his forehead only beating harder the longer he let it sink in. The two brothers didn’t notice it, too amused by their own actions. “If you want, we can make him into a sword!” 

Techno’s voice started out quietly, overused from his time on the battlefield. “Who gave you the right?” he asked. Exponentially louder, he asked again. “Who gave you the right?” 

Tommy and Wilbur ceased their laughter. 

“Technoblade?” 

“That wasn’t the plan, Tommy, Wilbur. You were doin’ so well. H-how-- why? Who gave you the right to decide?” 

“Well,” said Tommy. “Me. I’m the king now, aren’t I?” Tommy enjoyed that speechless expression on Techno’s face. The man who always had a quip for everything suddenly could not muster any words. Oh, it was so much fun! “I’ve incapacitated the king. I read it in the book, Techno. He’s pretty much impervious to external injuries at this stage. Isn’t it wonderful? Stuck in a hell he created. I did well, I think.” 

“Good judgment,” Wilbur affirmed, clapping Tommy on the back. Techno was still struggling to keep up with their logic. “I think he did well, too. What about you, Techno?” 

“I--” Techno stopped himself. Always careful with his words. Always careful. “You did well, Theseus.” 

Tommy preened at the praise-- even if it was hollow at best-- jumping on Techno to give him a hug. The mood seemed to return to their usual tranquil banter, as if they had not spent the night uprooting the entire lifeblood of their kingdom. Techno did not stumble. He didn’t move a single muscle. He was a statue. 

Chapter Text

Technoblade’s finger lingered over the still water of his bath. He thought long and hard about creating ripples, longer than a normal person should, but if he didn’t think about that, then his mind would wander to more unscrupulous thoughts. He was just glad the voices weren’t around to do it for him. Ever since he walked into that throne room, they’d been mum. Well, it didn’t matter. Any insulting they could’ve done to Techno, he could do it himself. 

Everything he had worked for the past eight years had blown up in his face. 

Techno didn’t like to be upset all the time because it clouded his judgment, but every time he stepped outside his room or looked out the balcony and saw the royal gardens in full bloom, he couldn’t help but get agitated. Sometimes even thinking too hard about the fact that he was bathing in the palace pissed him off. He didn’t want to be here like this. 

Tommy had become king, but he was no longer the puppet he had been as a child. Ever since the night he was crowned with his new title, he had grown haughty and out of control. To make matters worse, Techno had been forced to grant him the title of a knight. If Techno had only been paying a little more attention to his duel with Tommy and not worrying about Philza, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. 

This was what all his baths were like: he kept going back to the what-ifs, living in the fantasies of Techno’s favored outcomes. This one felt like the second worst outcome. Of course, nothing came close to the life he lived for four hundred years, so he had that for which to be thankful, but every time he thought like that he was filled with bitterness. All this planning in order to bury that lifetime, and now even that didn’t work out. All Technoblade was now was a failure. What godhood? What humanity? What specialness did he hold in this world? No, he was just like any other thing: attempting to become more than he really was, and paying the price for it. 

No. What happened was he walked into the throne room and saw the king on the ground. Quackity, on the ground, in a grossly familiar state. Textured, silver skin, and twitching limbs. A thousand yards stare looking at everything and nothing. The Quackity he knew in the past and in the present was a physically weak man. Looking at him like that, Techno’s first thought was that he had killed himself before Techno could even arrive.

But then he saw Tommy and Wilbur standing over him like it was nothing, like they hadn’t just revealed the worst case scenario in Techno’s plans. And then he allowed a second scenario to enter the playing field. One he didn’t want to consider for how sick it would be. 

“Did you kill the king?” he had demanded, grabbing hold of Theseus. Words never got through to Tommy, only this. Only ever this. Wilbur revealed Quackity wasn’t dead, and Technoblade didn’t know whether to be relieved, delighted, or revolted. He was relieved that the king was still alive and he had his chance to get to him, and delighted that he was in such pain; the same pain he himself had been put through four hundred some years ago. It lacked the same humiliation ritual Techno experienced, but did the finer details matter? But through the haze of his destructive fantasies, Techno recognized the parallels.

Technoblade had wanted to be the one to kill the king. More than that, he had wanted to be the one to decide how he died. When control of his life had been wrestled from him all those years ago, that was the feeling he wanted to recreate for Quackity. But it was supposed to be his way! Not this perverted mess of a revenge fantasy. 

It felt like that day all over again; the strings on his fingers snipped, his puppets fallen to the floor of the stage, unmoving. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door, but didn’t dare open it. “Grandmaster, His Grace is here to see you.” Now Technoblade didn’t even know who that could be referring to anymore. Phil was no longer the only one with such a title anymore. Ever since Tommy was crowned king a few days ago, he updated Wilbur’s title, creating a new duchy for him. Techno remained Grandmaster, possibly for two reasons. One; Tommy knew Techno’s distaste for the aristocracy; two; it was punishment for not attending Tommy’s coronation.

Techno could hardly leave his room without screaming. How could he have possibly attended Tommy’s coronation, a summation of all his failures? 

“I’m busy,” Techno croaked back. 

“According to your maids, you’ve been in the bath for over two hours, Techno. The water’s got to be chilly by now.” 

Wilbur. 

Techno turned his face away from the door and stood up, the water dripping back down to the bath. Wilbur was right: the water was freezing. He threw the towel left on the edge of the bathtub over his lower half and stepped out. The illusion of peace had been ruptured by Wilbur’s arrival, and he no longer gained solace from the serenity of the bath. That didn’t mean he wanted to talk to Wilbur either, though. 

“I’m coming in if you won’t come out.” 

Technoblade rubbed the space between his eyebrows, his stress levels already rocketing again. He didn’t want to talk to any of them. In his eyes, all three Crafts were complicit in this betrayal. Perhaps this was what they sought all this time. Technoblade thought he was playing the long game, but over the course of these two weeks since the coup, he allowed himself to venture other guesses. That perhaps he, the great Technoblade, had been outmaneuvered by the House Craft. He didn’t think about it before because it didn’t match up with the previous timeline, but what if Technoblade had been the changing factor? With his support and plans, the idea of retrieving the throne became more viable by the minute to Phil. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been transparent about the transgressions Quackity’s branch had done to the Crafts. 

But so many things still didn’t add up. 

The door creaked open. “I bet you’re all pruny,” Wilbur commented. “How can you breathe in here? The air is so thick.” 

“Get out.” 

“It’s alright. Not like I’m seeing anything.” 

“Wilbur…”

“You won’t even join us for meals. What’s wrong, Techno? Didn’t you get everything you wanted?” 

Techno rolled his eyes. “Does what I want even matter anymore?” He stomped out of the bathroom and went straight to his bed. The maid had dutifully laid out a fresh set of clothes, all with comfort in mind. She was keen; she understood Technoblade wasn’t leaving his chambers anytime soon. 

Wilbur followed him out, bouncing on to the edge of his bed. “Don’t be like that. Of course what you want matters. Would we be here if what you wanted didn’t matter?” 

“Do you want my honest answer, or one that will appease you, Your Grace?” 

“Oh, now we’re mocking! Tommy did what you wanted. He became king. He’s trying to come up with justifications for those nobles’ deaths to right his wrongs. He even gave that freak Dream the title you promised him. That wouldn’t have happened if you kept the circle tight, but we did it for you, Technoblade. All of it for you.” 

“If you had really done it for me, you would’ve done it my way.” 

Now Wilbur was getting angry. “You’re not even listening, are you? You only hear what you want to. Nothing will ever be enough for you, will it?” 

Techno took a deep breath. He was supposed to have been beyond this stage of grief, but that red-hot anger was rushing back in full force. He didn’t want to take it out on Wilbur, who was at best just a pawn in the greater game. He was just repeating things his father probably said to him. And after everything they had done to him, Technoblade still looked at Wilbur like he was that teenage boy in that dark room, crying through his blindfold. 

“I’m done fightin’ you over this.” 

“Come to dinner, then.”

“No thanks.” 

“It’s better if you do it now while I’m imploring you and not when Father’s forcing you.” 

Technoblade’s eyes flashed for a moment, glazing over in the next. Wilbur had no idea what power his words held. He was careless. 

“Get out.” 

“Techno--” 

“Get out!” 

Wilbur glowered at him the entire way out of the room, but Techno couldn’t care less. All that peace he had built up in the bath had been tarnished by Wilbur’s petty words. Every moment in the palace felt like an open wound. He wished he could just leave it all. 

Why don’t you? 

Techno blinked in surprise at the voices’ sudden arrival. “It’s not that simple.” 

Isn’t it?

“No! I have to… What’s Tommy goin’ to do without me?” Techno said, a nervous laugh edging into his voice. “He’ll never finish the plan on his own. Without me…”

Would he even listen to you at this point?

Techno looked at his feet. They were paler than usual. 

“No.”

So what’s keeping you here? 

Two days after his argument with Wilbur, Technoblade decided to slowly slide back into his daily life. He ate breakfast outside of his room. He chose a gazebo in the gardens that was properly isolated from most people. Perhaps the Crafts would come after him to eat with him, but he’d be finished by the time they found him. 

He meandered around the palace all day and ate dinner in a new location, away from the Crafts once more. He supposed they were happy he came out of his room at all and felt he would make enough progress to return to them soon. He did receive a guest during his meal, though, one just as unwelcome as the Crafts. 

“Good evenin’, Sir Dream,” Techno greeted, dabbing his mouth with a napkin as Dream sauntered toward the chair opposite Techno and sat down without invitation. 

“It’s Lord Dream now. I’m a Count now. But you know this already. You arranged it.”

“I thought since I did as you asked, you’d leave me alone. Guess I was wrong…” What he left unsaid was the fact that at the time, Techno knew the monarchy would be brought down along with the aristocracy, so he didn’t mind giving Dream something that would be reversed in a couple of years anyway. Now it was like a gift and it made Techno feel even more wretched. Perhaps it was because he truly didn’t have faith in Tommy anymore. That was also a wretched feeling.

“You--!” Dream exclaimed, the tips of his ears turning bright red. Techno wagered it matched the rest of his face, but he still had that ugly mask covering most of the surface area. “For someone who just won the world, you really are a depressing hermit.”

“Who won the world? It’s not like I’m king.”

Dream smirked. “You can pretend with the others all you want, Technoblade, but I know what you really are.” Techno’s eye twitched at the word ‘what.’ “You’re a conniving, manipulative fucker that’s got that little king in the palm of his hands. And I’m going to follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“That’s burdensome, Sir Dream.”

“Lord Dream! You--! Just call me Dream if you want to be disrespectful.”

Techno didn’t want to be considered petty, but bullying Dream was the first piece of respite he’d gotten since the coup. Perhaps keeping him alive was worth the amusement. “I’d rather not. I don’t want people to think we’re close like that.”

“Aren’t we, though?”

“We’re not.”

“I’m the only one who knows what you are.” Another  twitch. “I think I’m the closest person in the world to you.”

“Why are you botherin’ me, Sir Dream? I’m losin’ my appetite.”

“Come to the noble council meeting. Don’t you have things you want to do with the kingdom?”

Techno’s cool gaze flitted over Dream’s appearance, as if this would help determine whether he told Dream the truth or not. Two weeks with a new title and a county and suddenly the man was dressed as if he had always belonged to the pack of wolves that had ruled the country. What did it matter if Dream knew his intentions or not? It wasn’t as if they were coming true. 

“I had plans to dissolve the institution.”

“What?” Dream gaped. “What do you mean by that?”

Techno chuckled. “Once Tommy got the crown, the plan was to dissolve the current government. Permanently. No aristocracy, no king, no commoners or slaves. Just people. This sort of plan takes years though.” Techno liked to think he could read people, but that would be a bold-faced lie. Even worse, Dream wore a mask to cover most of his face, so there was no way to read his expressions. He had no idea how Dream was taking the news. “Still plan to follow me to the ends of the earth?”

Dream stood up abruptly. “I have to go.”

“Tommy knows the plan. He won’t be blindsided.”

Dream laughed. It was subdued. “I’m on your side.”

Techno couldn’t help but smirk as Dream rushed away. He had no idea what the other was thinking, but one thing was for sure: he didn’t have the same vibrant feelings toward Technoblade as he did when he arrived. 

The noble council meeting…Perhaps it was worth checking up on. 

Techno magically regained his appetite once Dream left and finished off his plate. When he looked back up, he had a new guest.

His face was still covered up with a mask on the lower half, but his spirited jeweled eyes were the same as ever. It irked Technoblade. 

“Hey, old buddy!” Skeppy greeted, elongating vowels for peak annoyance. He also kept rocking the table on purpose, as if he knew just how to push Techno’s buttons. “You didn’t sense me this time? I must have gotten better.”

Technoblade wanted to go back to his room. Why did all these nuisances decide to show up the minute he decided to leave the comforts of his chamber? His energy was draining with each new person. 

Still, he decided it was better to see what Skeppy wanted now and not have to find him in said comforting chambers trying to fight him. Actually, Techno was surprised Skeppy didn’t try to fight him this time. Techno had sensed him but he didn’t want to engage with Skeppy on purpose so he was hoping to ignore him ‘til he went away. 

“What do you want?” 

The assassin slammed his palm against his chest, acting as if he were in great pain. It would be good if he was. “Do I have to need something to come see you?” 

“You either want somethin’ or you want to kill me. You haven’t tried to kill me, so…” 

“Okay, okay. You’re right. Well, it’s not what I want, but my client.”

Techno didn’t think he could take much more of this. No one would miss Skeppy. He could just throw his fork at his throat and the annoyance would be gone. 

That’d be fun! the voices agreed, which meant suddenly it was a bad idea.

“Keep talkin’.” 

Skeppy cleared his throat, suddenly turning quite serious. “I tried to arrange this meeting before, but she never showed that day. You remember, right? How much fun we had getting drinks. Anyway, she has this group; they call themselves the Syndicate. They say they have something in common with you, and that they’d really like to meet with you.” 

Technoblade combed through his memories of both this life and the previous one, but nowhere did a name like the Syndicate pop up. A new group, perhaps? 

“Who are they? What do they want?” 

Skeppy shrugged. “They only hired me to send you the message.” 

“Why you?” 

Another shrug. “Ask when you meet them.” Skeppy grabbed a small ivory card from his pocket and slid it across the table. Technoblade didn’t move. It had a time and place and a small ‘S’ insignia in the corner.

“I find it hard to believe you’d take this sort of job, Skeppy.” 

“Believe what you want. It’s never stopped you before.” Skeppy’s continued nonchalance was beginning to piss off Techno, so he was quite relieved when Skeppy decided to take his leave after that. The irritation lingered. It was always one thing after another. The world wouldn’t slow down, not even for him. 

The room fell silent when Technoblade entered. Everyone was seated around the long, round table, only a few empty chairs. At the head of the table sat Tommy, dressed in a dark military uniform with a fur-lined cape draped around his shoulder. Adorned on his head was the crown, recently shined. On his right sat his father and brother. There was an open chair on his left. 

“Techno! You’re here!” Tommy cheered, immediately patting the surface of the table in front of the chair on his left. Techno remained standing for a few extra moments, observing the room. These were relatively new faces since a lot of the old heads of the noble houses died during the coup. Regrettable, but it was interesting that there was new blood in these seats now. Perhaps they were more malleable. He didn’t want to go as far as to say Tommy did a good job or that this was a good idea, but it was interesting. 

Dream was at the meeting, sitting on the opposite side of the table. He didn’t smile or wave when Techno walked in, which was fine by him. He really didn’t want people thinking they were friends. 

“Come sit, Technoblade,” Phil urged, getting up to help guide Techno to his. 

Techno stopped him in his tracks. How embarrassing would it be if his father-figure had to bring him to his seat like some child. Maybe that was what Phil wanted. “No need.” 

Techno sat down. 

Noble council meetings were held once a week in the same time and place. It was different from the king’s advisory council, which was meant to be made up of people handpicked by Tommy, and not necessarily nobles. Noble council meetings were meant to be a more intimate and private setting where nobles could petition the king and discuss matters of the state, and the king should usually take these words to heart considering they come from his vassals. A good king listens to his people. 

Techno would judge how good of a king Tommy is. 

“Well, now that everyone’s here, let’s get started!” Tommy announced. The first order of business was quite dreary and not really of Techno’s concern. He spent more time staring at the Crafts than actually listening to the words coming out of their mouths. They spoke frequently, too, unafraid to cut in when another person was speaking. It seemed as though Wilbur and Phil had strong opinions on every subject. 

Tommy listened intently to everyone, and for once he was mostly quiet except when closing a topic and opening a new one. He seemed like he was earnestly trying to rule. Perhaps there was something worth salvaging within Tommy? Techno had the habit of forgetting how old Tommy really was. He had pushed all his aspirations onto the boy and made him seem like a man-- but this wasn’t the case. Maybe Technoblade should’ve waited a little longer, waited for a little more maturity to show within Tommy. Maybe this wasn’t the end all be all-- Tommy still had room to grow. This could still work. 

“Okay, I have one last thing I wanted to talk about…” Tommy said as he shuffled through his papers, “The issue of the remnants of the former dynasty.” 

Techno perked up. 

A noble from across the table raised his hand. “Your Majesty, my territory is on the border. I have personal accounts from people saying they witnessed a group carrying the former flag torching one of the villages and stealing children. They’re colluding with the Western Terrors.” 

The Western Terrors was a gang that could also be described as domestic terrorists. Since the west of the kingdom was sparsely populated and less regulated by noble forces, it gave rise to organized groups wrestling control from the people and the nobility. Technoblade hadn’t come into contact with them since he had wiped them out four hundred years ago as part of the crusade to rid the kingdom-turned-empire of civil unrest. 

The Western Terrors despised the Crown, though this hatred was useless. They were nothing but a ploy created by the royals to keep the rural people in check. The nobility couldn’t be bothered to keep the region in check, so they engineered the group with the Tower to keep them in place, and when Quackity no longer had any need for them, he got rid of them. 

It would be a puzzle to most people as to why the Western Terrors would ever work with the old guard, even to most members of the group, but to Technoblade it made perfect sense. They were still their people. 

“If Your Majesty killed the former king, they would have no legitimacy,” Dream argued without even raising his hands. “Their group would fall apart. After all, Your Majesty was the natural successor.” 

Techno gripped the table tightly, his knuckles turning a bright white. 

“My reasons are my reasons. Why do I have to share them with you?” Tommy bit back. “I just want this problem solved.” 

The Western Terrors were an extension of The Tower, which meant solving this problem would help him figure out how to take down The Tower for good. It would also get him out of this rotten palace. 

“I’ll go, Your Majesty.” Techno raised his hand. 

Tommy blinked. “You?” 

“Who better?” 

This was hard to refute, though he could tell Tommy really wanted to. He could guess exactly what the boy was thinking: we just got him out of his room, and now he’s leaving on a mission? It was perfect. How could Tommy even refuse?

“Well, Manberg is full of talented knights, Techno, but you perform an invaluable service as Grandmaster,” Phil said. 

Ah. 

So, now Phil was playing the game. 

“As Grandmaster, my job is to alleviate the worries of my king. What better way than to exterminate the thorns in his side?” 

“I’ll go with him!” Dream waved his hand from the other side of the room. 

“Maybe just Lord Dream--” Wilbur started, but another noble from the other side of the table took this as a moment of revenge and cut him off. 

“The two of them together would be able to wipe out any threat with hardly any need for reinforcements!” 

Someone else added, “It’s best to keep as many forces of knights and guards inside the city. We don’t know how far their networks range. They could still be in the city for all we know.” 

Techno turned to Tommy, an artificial smile painted on his face, false care and concern welled in his eyes. “My duty is to solve your problems as quickly as possible. Please let me do this for you, Your Majesty.” 

Tommy looked back and forth between Wilbur and Phil as if he were begging for backup, but Phil’s face had already surrendered and there was no way Wilbur could catch the look. 

“Fine. Lord Dream and Techno can go.” 

Techno smiled, a real one this time. 

Maybe he could still fix things. 

Thank heavens Dream wasn’t feeling talkative, for it was three hours on horseback to the neighboring city of El Rapids. The name was from the remnants of an older dynasty, the same dynasty that named Nevadas. After the noble council meeting, Techno and Dream had met up to discuss the finer details of the case they had taken on. 

Though the noble on the border had sightings of the targets in his lands, they later found out that was weeks ago, and they’d since vanished, alongside some children from smaller villages. There had since been sightings of the gang on a linear path towards Nevadas, but logically they would’ve stopped in El Rapids. 

Techno slowed Carl down as they arrived at the gates of El Rapids. With a quick flash of the king’s mark, the gates were opened and they were guided in by some attentive guards. 

“We need to ditch our horses,” Techno said, throwing the hood of his dull brown cloak over his head. 

“Why?” 

“Draws too much attention. We can’t go cloppin’ in with our horses and swords swingin’.”

Dream located a public stable a few streets down from the gate. They tied off there and continued on foot. Techno had a couple of guesses as to where the Western Terrors were hiding. They’d want to make use of their underground connections to keep them hidden until they want to be seen. El Rapids wasn’t like the small villages in the west they were used to pillaging. It had a military presence and was too big to overthrow in one run. That didn’t mean they were at a disadvantage; if anything, since they were on a quest to make it to Nevadas, El Rapids was the perfect place to recoup. It was a similar size to the capital, but the culture was a lot less refined. One of its most famous locations was Clinton Street, a cesspool for human trafficking, prostitution, and gang activity. 

The Western Terrors would be right at home there if they could convince the other crime organizations to give them a home. In fact, there was the large chance that the crime organizations were trying to create one big supergroup in order to take down the El Rapids government. While Techno would love to watch that play out, he’d rather not have the apathetic bureaucracy replaced by an evil crime org. 

“How do you know your way? Have you ever been to El Rapids?” asked Dream, who was struggling to keep up with Techno’s brisk pace. Dream wanted to have a leisurely stroll, but Techno was a bit too eager to get to the bottom of this. 

“Once or twice,” said Techno. It had actually been in his previous life before he had been turned into a sword. He’d been a knight of the realm but he hadn’t been tied down by a kingdom yet, so he did some work-for-hire. Unsurprisingly, a lot of that work happened to be in El Rapids, which was ripe with danger. He didn’t particularly miss the city. 

“What do you know about them that we don’t? What wasn’t included in the report?” 

“I don’t know much more than you. Just be wary of magic.” They were getting closer to Clinton Street. He could tell because the air had turned sour, which had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with how nasty Clinton Street was. 

There was a clear line on the street corner where the other streets taper off because the other streets are clearly washed and then there was Clinton Street, full of dirt and grime and occasionally feces. The buildings were worn down or burnt-- there were a lot of fires-- and the poor folks that lived on the street resembled ghouls more than people. 

Dream raised his arm so his cloak would cover his nose and mouth. Rude, but probably smart. 

“Who would let this place fall to such ruin?” he asked, muffled by the cloth of his cloak. 

“The gangs. The king’s army has been fightin’ for control of Clinton Street for years even though the local government has brokered deals with them.” 

The two knights wandered down a dark alley full of garbage. Techno gestured for Dream to keep his hand on his sword at all times. He wasn’t going to let Dream drag him down. They were almost through the alley when Dream suddenly grabbed Techno’s shoulder with a death grip. He glanced down. Something had a hold of Dream’s ankle. 

The count shook his leg with all his might before unleashing his blade. Whatever grabbed hold of him just let out a dismal shriek and fell away. Dream panted from fear rather than exertion as he crouched down to see what held him. 

It was a hand. It had shot up from between the cracked cobblestone street. 

“What the fuck? How--?” 

This was one thing Technoblade couldn’t answer. He’d never seen anything like it. It had to be magic. 

“Behind you!” Techno whirled around and was met by what he first thought was a prostitute that lived on Clinton Street, but he was quick to realize there was something more undead about this than the usual resident. The skin tone of the creature matched the hand on the street, and it was quite literally rotting off the body. 

Techno grabbed a dagger from his belt and pierced the being in the chest as it came too close. Rather than collapsing, it absorbed his dagger, swallowing it within its body. It continued toward him, enveloping him in a tight squeeze and lifting him off his feet. 

Techno roared as it snapped his back. He could only pivot his neck what little he could to send a withering glare at Dream, who seemed like he was doing nothing. Turned out Dream had his own worries, as these creatures were coming at him from the other end of the alley. 

They were definitely of magic origin; he could sense a mana signature on them, but it was quite old. Humanoid creatures that don’t die from stab wounds, don’t bleed…

“They’re homunculi!” Techno warned. “Old ones! We have to burn them!” 

Techno struggled out of the homunculus’ hold, surprised to find that its strength was at a similar level to his own. He fell limp and waited for the homunculus to throw him away, which it did spectacularly, though Techno didn’t appreciate slamming into a brick wall. Dream had been backed into the wall himself, slashing at the evergreen homunculi. 

“Stop! That’s useless! They’re homunculi. They’ll just regenerate. You need to burn them!” 

“I know! I don’t have a flint and steel!” 

“That’s not good!” 

“I know!” 

He’d start a fire like he did during his battle with the monsters, but he wasn’t wearing armor, and his dagger had been absorbed by the homunculus. There was nothing he could generate heat with-- wait! Dream’s sword--

Dream regripped his sword and sliced down onto the head of one of the homunculi. He managed to get down to the torso before the skin regenerated, taking the sword with it. 

Techno face palmed. They were screwed. 

“We need to get out of here,” said Technoblade. 

“But how?” 

He looked up. Techno felt like he could jump as high as the building that bordered them, but he wasn’t sure about Dream. As he was pondering the logistics of their escape, a shot of fire blasted from one end of the alley. A twin shot from the opposing side, melting part of the homunculi crowd. 

At the entrances of the alleys were four hooded figures total, two on each side, each with smoking hands.

Mages. 

Techno’s head was beginning to hurt from how lost he was. The Western Terrors was backed by The Tower, otherwise known as the most powerful group of mages on the continent. These homunculi were probably their work. 

These people saving them… either they’re Tower, or they’re someone else. Either way, Techno didn’t like magical presence. It threw logic out the window and over-complicated simple things. He thought this knowing he was brought back by a certain kind of magic. 

The homunculi withered away under the continued blazing pressure of their saviors, and soon they were nothing left but dust. The mages met in the middle, turning to Techno and Dream. He couldn’t see their faces under their cloaks. 

Dream held his hand out. “Thank you for your assistance. I didn’t know His Majesty sent us reinforcements through The Tower. Did you know about this, Technoblade?” 

“No,” Techno replied through gritted teeth, “That’s because they’re not Tower.” This much he decided. They would’ve killed them already had they been Tower; no one there was loyal to Tommy yet. 

“Then who are we thanking?” asked Dream.

“No thanks is necessary. Consider this as evening the score. Right, Sir Technoblade?” the woman in front uncovered her face. Techno knew her instantly. That same woman who’d been following him all over the kingdom.

“You.” 

“My name is Niki Nihachu, and these are my comrades.” 

The other three unmasked.

“Freaks!” Dream mumbled, aghast at the people before him. 

They were all strange-looking, though alien was a more apt description. One was an overly tall, gangly boy with split colored skin, ebony and ivory, and split eye colors, red and green. One of them had the appearance of a siamese cat but was clearly bipedal. His eyes were pink like Niki’s. The third was the most foreign-looking of the three. He had a human face but the rest of him was blue and furry. It seemed as though this was an outer skin considering he had a second, animal face that functioned like a hood. His eyes were pink. 

“We’re not freaks!” Niki exclaimed, “We’re the Syndicate, and we just saved your life, Lord Dream.” 

“Yeah, and this is what we’re willing to show. You’re wearing a mask to hide your ugly, man,” the blue one said. 

Niki coughed away her giggle as she introduced the other three. “This is Ranboo, Ant, and Connor.” 

“You’re Skeppy’s client.” 

“You know these people?” Dream hissed at him. Techno pushed his face away. He didn’t expect the Syndicate to follow him after he left them hanging. He never intended to meet with them. The message was too vague to be honest, and he didn’t like how they knew to send Skeppy to appear trustworthy. 

“You didn’t come,” said Niki.

“No. And this isn’t the best time for a confrontation. I’m busy.” 

“We know. We know better than most.” 

They were Tower? What was going on? 

“We’re not Tower,” said Niki, as if she were reading his mind. It was entirely possible she was. “Our group was founded to take them down.” 

“Take down The Tower?” Dream laughed. “Are you out of your damn minds? You’re a bunch of low caliber mages, and they’re the royally backed, god powered Tower.” 

“What do you think, Technoblade?” 

“I want to know why your eyes are pink.” 

Niki smiled and pointed to her temple. 

You can feel it, right? the voices asked. One of us. 

Impossible. There were more like him? Did they come from the previous timeline too? How--?

“We escaped before they could finish their experiment. Before we could turn solid. It still irrevocably altered our appearances. Like our eyes.” The process hadn't been completed, so of course the color would be diluted. Techno’s gaze landed on Ranboo, the only one with a red eye.

As if he could sense what he was thinking-- something disgustingly common with these people-- Ranboo raised his white hand, turning it into a sharp blade.

He was more than halfway done. He was doomed.

“What’s going on? Technoblade, explain,” Dream demanded.

“For now, they’re our allies. If you followed us to El Rapids, it means you have somethin’ that will help us?” 

“We know exactly where they are.” 

“We have a guess too,” snorted Dream. “If those homunculi belong to the Western Terrors, then I’d say we’re sniffing in the right spot.” 

“Sure, but it’s not the sort of place you can see with your eyes,” explained Antfrost. He waved his hand over the wall across from them, and the image of a metal door shimmered in front of them before it became solid. 

Ranboo pulled it open, revealing a long set of narrow wooden stairs. “Um, after you guys.” 

Techno didn’t move until Niki did. He made sure Dream was right behind him, for as much as he didn’t like him, he trusted the knight with his back more than the failed holy swords. Still, they were all in the negatives.

Niki lit a fire in her palm and guided them down the steps, making sure to announce when one of the steps was unsafe. When they descended, they found a rope that turned on a dim light in the center of the room. 

Instantly the room was filled with the sound of dozens of crying children. Techno staggered from the sheer volume of it, which really said something considering he lived with thousands of dead soldiers in his head at all hours. It was just hard to stand kids. 

“Oh my…” Niki gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth. The Syndicate was quick to jump into action, unlocking the cages scattered all over the room. They were small kennels with two to three kids per cage. 

“Don’t worry, kiddos, we’re here to save you,” said Connor, but it had to have been the least believable quip Techno had ever heard. 

“It’s weird. Why are they unsupervised? No guards?” Techno mused. 

“Maybe they thought the homunculi were enough,” said Dream. 

“Or, this is a trap.” 

As soon as he said this, the glass bulb that protected the light exploded, showering them with the shards. Techno took his sword out and handed it to Dream. 

“What about you?” 

“I don’t need one,” Techno scoffed. The attackers apparated into the room, filling it with smoke to throw the Syndicate off. This wasn’t a problem for Techno, because he had no problem accidentally beating up anyone with whom he came into the cellar. 

He punched and kicked his way through the bodies until the mist cleared and showed the opposition bleeding on the ground. The kids had sequestered themselves behind the cages and waited the fight out. 

“That felt too easy,” commented Techno.

“That was easy?” Dream exclaimed, moving his mask back to wipe the sweat off his face. 

No way in hell were those their best people. They put up a fight, but they were looking for the meat of the group. The leaders of the Western Terrors. They were supposed to lead him to The Tower. If Techno had to wager, he’d say the kids were meant to be the next round of holy sword experiments, but then why were they so unguarded? 

Technoblade tried to put himself in the mindset of an ordinary knight. If he had not been Sir Technoblade, Grandmaster of the king, the homunculi and these guards would’ve posed a much larger problem. The Tower also never would’ve guessed the Syndicate would show up and show them the door… If they had been anybody else, this would’ve been difficult. It wasn’t like this was bait for Techno. The Tower or the terrorists had no way of knowing it would be Technoblade on this mission. 

His paranoia begged him to consider the latter option further, but he would not. Techno’s paranoia had only given him immeasurable troubles. The world wasn’t out to get him anymore. 

“We’ll each pick a guy and take them back for questionin’. Kill the rest,” he decided. 

“Works for me,” said Dream. 

Niki ordered the Syndicate to bring the children out before Dream sliced the necks of the fallen terrorists. While he did that, she approached Techno. 

“This isn’t the end.” 

“I know. That’s why I’ll be interrogatin’ these men. And those kids.” 

“The kids? They should be returned to their families.” 

“They’re key witnesses to this investigation. That comes first.” 

“Over their childhood?” 

He looked her in the eyes, red to pink. “Yes.” 

Niki broke eye contact first, sighing heavily. “You’re cutthroat. I don’t know what that says about me then.” 

“What does it have to do with you?” 

“Because I want to ask you to join us. I want you to be our leader.” 

“Heh?” 

“I know it sounds strange given your status, but you don’t belong up there. You’re one of us, and I think we’re after the same thing. You want to see The Tower gone as much as I do. Both your eyes are red. That means you’re further along than the rest of us, even more than Ranboo. If we take down The Tower, maybe we can find a way to reverse it. You can still live.” 

These people weren’t from a previous timeline. He hadn’t been completely sure, but he was now. They were all victims of the current Tower, and they were under the impression that he was too. How did they identify him then? Could it really have just been his eyes? 

“I-- I have plans. Bigger plans.” 

“I don’t believe you,” she said, handing him a similar card Skeppy had given him a few days ago. “Just know your options are open.” Niki climbed the stairs and disappeared, leaving Techno alone with Dream, two unconscious men, and a whole lot of corpses. 

This was going to be an awkward walk back to their horses. 

“For the record, I think you should go with them.” Dream hauled his man over his shoulder. 

“I don’t remember askin’ you.” 

They pulled their men up the stairs, the door fading behind them. The alley was empty. No Syndicate, no kids. Sneaky witch. 

“If you need help stepping away from the king, I can help you. Remember, I’m on your side, Technoblade.” 

“I’ve never heard a rally of support sound so sinister.” 

“You really just think the worst of everything I say!” 

But this time, Techno didn’t really mean it. 

When he returned, he allowed the Crafts to celebrate his arrival with a special dinner. It would be their first dinner together since before the coup. Phil had ordered the chef to make all his favorites-- steak and loaded potatoes-- and enforced a no alcohol rule much to Tommy and Wilbur’s chagrin. To Techno’s surprise, it was Phil who sat in the head chair with Tommy and Wilbur to his right and Techno on his left. It felt like none of them were in the right place anymore. It used to be Techno seated on Phil’s right and Wilbur on his left with Tommy next to him. With everything out of place, the only constant was Phil. Even then, it was especially strange to see the king not in the head seat in his own home. 

“How was it?” asked Phil in between bites. “Did you get them?” 

“Not exactly. It’s an ongoing process.” 

“Oh, well. Don’t fret too much about it, mate. We’d rather you just defer the case to Lord Dream anyway.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Wilbur, “You’ve done too much work in this lifetime. Now that Tommy’s king, you should really try relaxing. We should visit the beach together.”
“No fair! I want to go!” Tommy whined. 

“You can’t. You’re king,” Wilbur taunted. 

It was easy to lose himself to the familial dynamic, like a whirlpool sucking him in. Dangerous and hard to resist. But they made him laugh even if more recently than not they’ve been making him cry. And hadn’t he done the same to them?

Techno looked up from his meal and caught Phil staring at him. Phil didn’t look away. “Are you enjoying yourself?” 

“Yeah,” Techno said with a shrug. He couldn’t deny the palace chef’s skill. 

Phil covered Techno’s hand with his own. “I only want the best for you, Technoblade. That’s always been my wish.” His hands were unnaturally cold, like ice. The feeling didn’t match the sentiment, and it only reminded him of the cold metal of the earrings ripping through his lobe with hardly a care--

Techno recoiled. “You have a funny way of showin’ it.” 

Phil frowned. “I know the language you speak. It’s always been violence. It’s the only way you understand.” 

“Understand what?” 

“Love.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Isn’t it?” Phil smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He moved his hand back to his own personal space. “Let’s not argue tonight. I’m just happy you’re fully present with us again.” 

There was nothing Techno could say after that. He’d been shut down before he could begin to summon an argument, a defense against Philza’s readings. Was that what love meant to him? Was love just violence? 

“Hey Techno,” Tommy said, slamming his hand on the table to get his attention, “Now that you’re finally out of your room can we talk business?” 

“What happened to relaxing?” Wilbur snorted. 

“You said that, not me. Techno and me have got work to do! Like how I’m getting rid of this crown.” 

“Really?” Techno asked before he even realized. He looked at Phil and Wilbur, gauging their reactions. This wasn’t something he had ever disclosed to them. It had been Tommy and Techno’s little secret: their republic turned commune. 

“It’s your plan, isn’t it?” replied Tommy quite nonchalantly. Wilbur and Phil kept eating as always. Had Tommy already told them? It wouldn’t surprise him at this stage of their acquaintance. Did this mean they approved if there was no reaction? Techno felt as though he were going mad. If Phil wasn’t after the Crown, then what was he after? What were they all after? What was it all for?

Was the coup just an act of affection?

Chapter Text

Soot spilled from Techno’s hands and onto the charred floorboards of the secret study. He had already heard the numerous reports of its burning, but he felt he had to witness it himself. It wasn’t just the secret study. The regular one was decimated along with half the wing of the palace. Almost immediately it had been under construction under Phil’s orders, and the handling of state matters were dealt with in the personal wing of the palace. It didn’t inspire an admirable work-life balance, but they’d have to make do for Tommy’s negligence. 

He had only just thought to examine the damage from the coup after his quasi-reconciliation with the Crafts. His heart had gotten in the way again, pushing for forgiveness, but his mind was as pragmatic as always. Something Tommy and Wilbur said at their confrontation had been weighing on his mind for quite some time, but it was only now that he allowed himself to fully embrace the implications. They said they had the evidence against Quackity. Human experiments. It was Wilbur’s assessment of his reaction that was strange too. The only conclusion Technoblade could come to was that the evidence they procured was that of the Holy Sword project. 

Normally that wouldn’t be an issue. In fact, Technoblade had figured that was where Quackity would store those sorts of documents. He wasn’t surprised that they took those papers. What surprised him was how they looked at him after reading through it all. 

“You’re not surprised,” Wilbur had said to him, as if the Crown conducting human experiments was novel. What would Techno have to be surprised about? He had started the coup, hadn’t he? Of course he knew the Crown was corrupt and vile. Why was Wilbur gauging his reaction? 

What was in those documents?

Techno shivered as he stood up, the cold winter winds breaking through his wall of hair and biting at the nape of his neck. It would snow soon, and the construction would have to be halted for a period. The capital would be stuck in a stasis, a reminder of the violence that took place in the autumn. 

“Grandmaster,” someone called from across the room. It was one of the Leid. “His Grace requests your presence in the parlor.” It was just like Phil to use a highly respected knight to run an errand. 

It was the parlor that Technoblade had been avoiding all morning ever since Phil informed them all that over the course of the next few weeks they’d be sitting down for a family portrait. Techno had only had his portrait done once when he was a few years old and he couldn’t protest it much. The painting was still up in his home in Himmelblock, hanging in the foyer. 

Technoblade hadn’t been to Himmelblock in years. 

“What are the chances you can forget seein’ me?” Techno asked with an effortful smile. The knight looked quite troubled, wringing his wrists together as he looked back and forth between the finished palace and the ruins of the study. “Don’t explode over it. It’s just a joke.” 

“Ah. Then you’ll be…?”

“I’ll be goin’.” A part of Technoblade felt a sliver of irritation that the knight didn’t take him seriously even if it was a joke. He was their master, after all. He had found them and trained them and gave them purpose, so what was there to be troubled about when he requested something of them? 

The parlor was quite messy when he arrived. The three Crafts were lounging in the corner by the window while the painter and a couple of servants set up the easel and backdrop they’d be using. 

Tommy was in his full royal getup-- massive golden crown, sweeping red fur lined cape and a knight’s uniform-- while Phil and Wilbur went with a more subtle, refined look. Techno couldn’t help but think he looked out of place in his white poet's shirt and black trousers covered in soot that he had wiped from his hand. His pink hair was in a loose braid he had tied the night before and consequently was falling out in all the wrong places. 

“Look who forgot about the portrait!” Tommy laughed as Techno approached. 

“What’s he wearing?” asked Wilbur. 

“He looks like he just came back from training.” 

“Oh come on, Techno! This is an official portrait. Can’t you put more effort into your appearance?” Wilbur chastised. 

Phil moved Techno so he had his back turned to the three of them and began to unfurl his braid, running gentle fingers down the length of his hair. Techno resisted the urge to bat Phil’s hands away, and soon admitted to himself that it felt good to have someone fix his hair. 

“I look fine…” he muttered. 

“You’re a handsome boy, Techno, but these two are right. This portrait will be hung in the royal archives. You don’t want to look so common for the rest of history to look upon, do you?”

“How long will the royal archives exist anyway?” 

Phil hummed as he began to rebraid Techno’s hair. “Who knows. Perhaps you preserve it for historical purposes. Just because you disrupt the institution doesn’t mean you have to erase it. How will people learn then?” He patted Techno’s back when he finished, signaling for him to turn around. Tommy had unclipped his cape and threw it over Techno’s shoulders, struggling slightly due to their height difference. 

“I’m not wearin’ this, Tommy.”

“Come on. You’re not wearing anything else!” 

“This is for the king!”

“And I’m giving it to you. It can be a fun gag. Who said our portrait can’t be full of personality?” 

“Years of tradition.”

“Well…! Just take the fucking cape, Techno. That’s an order from your king!” 

Techno quirked his brow but didn’t reply. Arguing with Tommy was an activity to lose brain cells. Besides, he rather liked the color. 

The painter requested they begin figuring out the pose they wanted. There was one chair in front of the mantle. Someone handed Tommy a scepter and tried to get him to sit down but Tommy denied it and instead pushed Phil to sit in the chair. 

“Your Majesty, usually the sovereign is the focal point of the painting,” the painter said meekly. 

“Father sits. He has weak knees,” Tommy asserted. Techno snorted, the memory of Phil fending off those creatures fresh on his mind. 

Phil didn’t fight Tommy on this, choosing to sit down with his legs crossed and his hands folded neatly on his lap. Wilbur grabbed his cane and held it at arm’s length. Tommy stood behind Phil with a hand on his shoulder. They knew how to pose perfectly well. It was only Techno who felt quite awkward about the whole affair. 

“Give him a sword,” Phil ordered. 

“A sword?” said Techno. 

“Yes. I think you’d be comfortable posing with that as a knight, yeah?” Techno blinked as a servant plopped a fancy sheath in his hands and then directed him to Phil’s left. He held the sheath with both hands for a few moments, still bewildered. How did one pose with a sword? It wasn’t a prop, it was a weapon. Well, when it wasn’t being used as a weapon, what did he do with it? It rested on his hip. Hand on the hilt. 

That was what felt most natural. 

“You look brave, Techno,” Tommy complimented. He himself was waving around his scepter like it was a wand while the painter was nervously trying to convince him to hold it still across his chest. 

“How long do we stay like this?” 

“This initial session should be six hours,” replied Wilbur. “The others should be much shorter.”

“This is a waste of time.” 

“Maybe,” said Phil, “but at least now we’re able to spend time together. We’ve all been much too busy with all these changes. I’m happy to see my boys.”

“I saw you all at breakfast,” Techno pointed out.

“Oh fuck off,” Tommy laughed, “There’s a lot of things that can’t be said at breakfast.”

“What about dinner?”

“Okay, there’s a lot of things that can’t be said while eating!” 

“Hasn’t stopped you before.”

“Fuck you, bitch!”

“Shut, you two. I don’t want to sit here for six hours listening to you fight,” Phil said with a fond smile. 

“I don’t want to stand here for six hours at all,” Techno rebutted. 

“Were you always such a complainer?” Wilbur joked. 

“Only for portraits.”

“Don’t say that. You’ll hurt Mr. Schwarz’s feelings.”

Techno rolled his eyes. “If he really feels strongly about my aversion to portraits, he can take it out on my image.” 

“Did a painter explode your village or something? Seriously, why do you hate portraits so much?” asked Tommy. 

“It’s not that serious. It’s just… It’s a waste of time!”

“What else would you be doing right now?” asked Phil. “Is it really so bad to pause for a few hours and just enjoy this peace?”

Techno bit the inside of his cheeks. “No.”

Phil smiled. 

It was dark and the air felt thin. He didn’t know where he was. He tried to reach out, feel for where he was, but he had no limbs. He wasn’t incorporeal, he was just paralyzed. He hadn’t felt like this since… 

Overhead, a dim light flickered on. A shiny glass case, a red pillow with golden trim. This was familiar, but it wasn’t comfortable. This was his jail. He was back. Why was he back? Had the Blood God forsaken him? 

Footsteps drummed louder as they approached, stopping in front of the glass. Half shadowed, half illuminated, Techno recognized the face of his guest. 

Theseus Craft. 

Techno was a sword right now. Was this a memory? But he couldn’t recall ever coming across Tommy in his past life, as a sword or as a knight. They just never ran in the same circles, and the Crafts were recluses in his past life. Wilbur had been an emerging talent in terms of politics and he had been a key player in solidifying the unification of the empire Quackity had created, but he’d gone back to Blumefallen forever when his father had died. Tommy had been knighted quite young and traveled around for a while before also returning to Blumefallen. The Crafts were mysteries to him when it came to their past lives. 

So what was Tommy doing in a private part of the palace that so few could enter? 

He looked older. Late twenties at least. 

“So you’re the Holy Sword,” said Tommy, his voice quite even. “Technoblade.”

His name sounded venomous in that tone, so unlike the fond familiarity in which Tommy usually called out to him. His eyes were worse: harsh and unfeeling. Ice. 

With calculated hands, Tommy lifted the glass case off and watched Techno with uncensored eyes. His fingertips glided against the blade, entranced with the feeling of the cool metal. 

“They say you used to be the man. You used to be the knight. I was a fan of yours.”

All of this felt wrong. So wrong. This couldn’t have happened before. Why wouldn’t he remember this? Sure, he had four hundred-some years of memories, but this felt important. It also couldn’t be the future. Techno had never had visions before, and he didn’t think he’d start now. Perhaps a delusion. So why was he so aware? Why could he feel the calluses on Tommy’s fingertips? Why was he frightened? 

“I want to wield you. It should’ve been me. You know, Wilbur was supposed to be king. Father said so.”

That couldn’t be true. The Crafts never had designs for the Crown before they met Techno. Phil had expressed anger over their branches deposing a few generations ago, but he seemed to have been content with his place in the world before Techno showed up with his ideas of revolution. More importantly, the Crafts never made any moves in his past life. He knew that for sure. 

“If it had been us, we would’ve made you our knight. But now you’re a sword,” Tommy continued monologuing, a single tear dropping onto Techno’s blade. “He wasn’t meant to die! Father was the strongest in the world! So why’d he have to…!” Tommy’s breath seized as he clutched Techno’s hilt tightly. “None of this is right!”

Technoblade woke up with a start. Sweat dripped from his face and down his neck. He threw his sheets and comforter off, peeling his sleep shirt off as well. 

It was a dream. 

It wasn’t real. It had been a dream. A creation of his subconscious, taking inspiration from deep seated fears and old traumas. Nothing more. There was no way he had met Tommy in his past life. It just wasn’t possible. 

Even if he had, what did it matter? It didn’t change anything. They weren’t the same people-- Technoblade made sure of that. That wasn’t his Tommy. 

Apparently, Tommy had ordered the maids not to clean his room for the time being. Consequently, a new layer of flooring made out of clothes was created. It smelled like Tommy after a workout, which was to say not very good. The corner by his desk was even worse since that was where all his papers were. Tommy’s room had to be turned into his study since he let the other one burn. 

“Why can’t you leave this stuff in the parlor?” Techno said, voice nasal with his nose plugged. He had come over to help Tommy out with some of his workload, but he was getting ready to quit if this was the environment in which he had to work. 

“You want me to leave important state documents in the drawing room?”

“What I really want to know is why no one’s allowed to clean in here.”

“It’s not that anyone can’t clean,” Tommy admitted, “I just don’t want people coming in here with these papers around.”

“Ah. So the defense technique is grossin’ out spies?”

“No! It’s just a side effect.”

Techno began picking up clothes and throwing them in a basket by the door. Just because Tommy was okay living like that didn’t mean he had to be. When he was by the door, he stuck his head out and asked a passing maid to bring fresh sheets. 

“Techno! Stop! You’re embarrassing me!”

“What’s embarrassin’ is what happens when spring comes and your new study is built. You finally let a maid in to clean and voila! She quits on the spot.”

“That wouldn’t happen. My staff love me.”

“Your staff has not been in this room.”

“Just help me with my work! You said you would!”

“I will. After this.” Already there was a second pile next to the basket of clothes since it all couldn’t fit in one. 

“Like you wanted, Quackity’s trial is coming up in the next few weeks.” 

Techno suppressed a reaction as he tore off Tommy’s sheets and threw it with the clothes. “Are you really gonna have him make a public appearance lookin’ like that?” Techno hadn’t seen Quackity since he was made to eat the Sanguis shards, but he’d had enough experience with the substance to know Quackity was probably in the stage where his body was beginning to solidify. He probably looked a little like Ranboo. 

“You wanted justice, didn’t you? God, you’re impossible to make happy.”

“I’m just sayin’. You already submitted him to the worst fate possible.” Techno had ordered that they stop feeding him the Sanguis shards, which meant Quackity would probably be kept in that state for the rest of his life, however long that would be. Techno hadn’t been able to leaf through the research himself, so he didn’t have a clue what the side and long term effects were. Techno’s view was skewed: he was the only success story of the Holy Sword project. The Syndicate was the first time he ever saw what the Sanguis shards could do to other people. 

“How bad can it really be?” Tommy rifled through all his papers, looking for the most interesting ones first. Techno paused. 

“Bad.” 

“How would we know? You know, I think we should ask him.” 

The seams of the sheets ripped. Technoblade blinked himself back into existence. This was normal from Tommy. He was usually this annoying. 

“I think you should leave him be.” 

“I’m just playing. Stop being so broody all the time. Here, what about this: we make the trial public. A jury of commoners instead of the high courts.” 

“You come up with that yourself?” 

“Heavy inspiration from some of those books you made me read as a kid, but I figure it’s a good start to what you intend to do.” 

“What I intend to do? You’re king, Tommy.” 

“Do you wish it were you?” 

“What brought this on?” 

“I’m just asking.” 

“It’s a weird question.” 

“I don’t think it is. You came to us at fourteen. Freshly knighted, the world’s your oyster, but you decide to become the tutor of some far removed noble kid, wanting to make him king. I mean, sometimes I wonder: do you do it to live vicariously through me?” 

“That’s a big word, Tommy.” 

“You always say that when I get too close,” Tommy pouted. “You just can’t fathom that I’m smarter than you at something.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“Emotions.” 

“You can’t be smart at emotions. It’s an innate feelin’.” 

“If you can be bad at feelings, you can be good at feelings. You suck at them.” 

“I’m not takin’ this from someone who hasn’t cleaned his room in nearly a month.” 

“Case in point!” Tommy exclaimed, though it was clear it was all in good fun. For him, maybe. Why Tommy thought Techno would ever admit weakness to his pupil was beyond him. The closest he had gotten was the night before the coup. Maybe during the coup, too. If Techno didn’t know any better, he’d think they were trying to push his buttons on purpose. But he grew up with the Crafts, and they were naturally that irritating. 

Techno moved towards Tommy’s desk. He could make out the shape of two piles, one with red stamps on the lower right corner and the other plain. A sea of miscellaneous reigned chaotic in between the two. Underneath the clutter, he saw a red book poking out that didn’t match the other official documents. 

“What’s this?” He tried to pry it out, but Tommy slammed his palms down over it. 

“Don’t touch! That’s not for you.” 

“What’s not for me?” Techno asked with narrowed eyes. 

Tommy gulped. “I just mean… It’s personal?” 

“Why is it buried under your royal duties, then?” 

“Leave it alone, man!” 

Techno let go of the corner. “Alright.” 

“...Alright?” Tommy parroted in disbelief.

“That’s right. I promised Wilbur I’d take a walk with him, so I’ll leave you to your work.” 

“Wait!” Tommy said, “You didn’t even do anything! All you did was clean my room! The bed’s still unmade!” 

“When the maid comes back with the sheets, tell her to make it. Better yet: do it yourself.”

Tommy fumed the entire afternoon. 

Technoblade didn’t let it go as easily as he led Tommy to believe. How could he when that boy was so brazenly lying to him? He knew he shouldn’t have tried to trust him again. Tommy was a loose cannon. If he had things-- important things-- he didn’t want Technoblade to see, it meant there was something Technoblade wouldn’t like going on. 

Techno had made up that walk with Wilbur but he decided he’d ask Wilbur anyway to see if there was anything he could get out of him, but halfway through he realized what a futile effort it was. Wilbur functioned alongside the Craft agenda, which was at times at odds with his own. It probably wasn’t just Tommy hiding things. It was Wilbur and Phil too. 

Instead, their conversation was mostly filled with speculation about the holidays, though Techno didn’t feel especially cheerful about it, not with these new revelations. 

“... can’t wait to hear what Tommy’s going to cook up for his first Royal Address. I just know he’s going to make his speechwriter put in something stupid,” Wilbur laughed as Techno tuned back into the conversation. 

“Phil won’t let him embarrass himself.” 

“Are you saying you would?” 

“Well, it depends on whether he’s naughty or nice in the next few weeks.” 

“I feel the same way. Lately he’s been getting on my nerves with this ‘I’m king’ schtick. He’s still a little shit in my eyes.” 

The snow crunched under their feet as they stopped in the middle of the gardens. Wilbur’s hands were already too icy to stay out any longer. Techno didn’t vocalize it when he turned them around, but he felt Wilbur’s appreciation anyway.

“I’m troubled over what gifts to get everyone. It feels unnecessary given the events that unfolded recently,” Wilbur continued. “I mean, you got your big gift. Tommy’s king. I got a new title. We live in the fucking palace now. We have everything.” 

Techno disliked the way the Crafts had been treating the coup. Calling it a gift to Technoblade, as if he should be grateful for the way things went down. He tried to let it be just to keep the peace, but they were testing his patience. They were setting him off without trying to, or they were setting him off with that intent. 

“What’s bothering you, Techno? Still want more?” 

“I think maybe we should hurry back inside. I could use some cocoa.” 

“Okay,” Wilbur snorted. “Trying to drink away all your problems?” 

“What problems? You said we have everythin’.” 

“You used to tell me things. You used to tell me everything.” 

Techno released Wilbur’s arm. “We’re older. I’m not gonna come whisper in your ear every little thing that happens.” A part of Techno would’ve loved to go back to that. He would’ve loved to view Wilbur the same way he had as a kid, even if it was laced with guilt, there was love. Now all he saw were his grievances. 

He saw his brother. 

“Why not?” asked Wilbur. “Why do we have to grow up just to grow out of each other?” 

“Let’s just go inside.” 

“Is this about the Sanguis shards?” 

Techno’s eyes flashed. Even now with all this distance between them, Wilbur was able to knock him on the first try. He felt naked under Wilbur’s unseeing eye. “Leave it alone. I’m tryin’ to.” 

“I think it’s worth talking about.” 

“We tried, Wil. We don’t see eye to eye. I’ve done as you wanted. I’ve eaten meals with you all, I’m takin’ walks with you, helpin’ Tommy with his work. I posed for that stupid portrait! I’m tryin’ to move past it but I can’t look at you the same way when you keep remindin’ me what you did!” 

Wilbur remained slack-jawed as Techno stomped away. He’d feel guilty for leaving Wilbur out in the snow in a few hours, but the heat of his anger was enough to cloud his judgment. 

While Tommy seemed like a demon built from chaos, he was actually a creature of habit. Even now he woke up with the sun and went to the training guards to practice his form. He’d linger in bed for a few more minutes due to the winter, but he still ended up leaving around the same time everyday. Technoblade made sure this information was updated and correct when he broke into Tommy’s quarters one morning. 

Once again, it was a mess, but it was still more navigable than what it was before Techno made his mark. There were less papers on his desk, but still a great deal. That red booklet was still on the desk, still covered by other papers. Personal his foot. Techno grabbed it and leafed through it, not bothering to read the cover. 

It was a spreadsheet of names and addresses.

Dates. 

Techno paused when he found familiar names. 

Nikita Nihachu. Manberg. 

Ant Frost. Blötländer. 

There, at the bottom of one of the last pages. 

Technoblade. Himmelblock. 

There was a second section in different handwriting than the first. It detailed the project in detail with examples of some of their experiments, but there was no doubt in Techno’s mind that this was The Holy Sword Project. 

Techno turned back to the cover. The binding was brand new, not something that would’ve been fished out of a fire or been near smoke.

The inside pages were different. These were aged, ripped, smudged with ink, singed. The documents were old. Even Techno’s name was on it. How long had The Tower been considering Technoblade to be a subject? Was it the same as his previous life? 

Wait. 

Tommy had seen Technoblade’s name in this book. 

Techno’s chest seized. 

He knew. 

He knew! 

What exactly did Tommy know? Technoblade had never been taken by The Tower in this lifetime. His name on this list meant nothing. It meant he was a candidate but nothing else, even if he knew some of the people on the list were real subjects. Still, it was strange how secretive Tommy had been about the whole thing. 

Tommy didn’t want Techno to know he knew about the project, but it was important enough that Tommy had it rebound. He played that game with Quackity and started the transformation. What was that boy planning? Was it even Tommy?

The servants made a day out of pulling up the Christmas tree. Techno watched, lording over them as he leaned on the balustrade, as they hauled the evergreen with ropes through the entrance, the head butler shouting orders left and right. The holidays had never been much of a performance for any household he had lived in. Phil preferred quiet, family-oriented celebrations. He always gave the help off around this time of the year. 

His first Christmas there, Techno had assumed it would be the same for him until Wilbur reminded him that he was not just Tommy’s tutor, but Phil’s legal ward. His parents weren’t always around during the holiday, so the servants of the Himmelblock house would prepare for the holidays but he’d ultimately been alone. Perhaps that was why he had been so used to it all; it was as if he had been primed for loneliness. It made love so jarring. 

“It’ll be beautiful when it’s up,” Phil said, having crept up behind Techno. Techno shivered at the thought that someone was able to sneak up on him. “I used to spend Christmases in the capital with my family. My parents, I mean.” 

“Oh.” 

“My wife, Kristin, she never liked the capital. She said it was everything wrong with the world, so I spared her any trips here. You would’ve gotten along well.” 

“You don’t talk about her often.” 

Phil smiled as he clasped Techno’s shoulder. “Let’s go get that portrait finished, mate. Just one more session.” 

Techno deflated. He had once again completely forgotten about the portrait. Every session had been as agonizing as the last. The fact of the matter was Technoblade was no good at standing still. 

“Why does the painter still need us? Can’t he use his imagination?” 

“It’s a royal portrait. It’s meant to be as true to life as possible. No detail should be spurned,” Phil explained. “Mr. Schwarz is one of the best in the kingdom. He knows what he’s doing.” 

“Torturin’ me is what he’s doin’.” 

“Well then you’re not going to love our weekend plans.” 

Techno shuddered. “Don’t remind me.” 

With the upcoming holidays, the palace held their annual holiday ball. It would be full of resentful nobility, but Techno requested Tommy expand the guestlist to influential merchants and rich gentry. While they still weren’t the kind of people with whom Techno liked ingratiating himself, opening up the idea to having non-noble people at palace events would send a message of the new age they would usher in. 

“Oh hush. It’ll be fun.” 

“I could just not attend. There’s no real point in me bein’ there anymore.” 

The hand on his shoulder tightened. It didn’t go unnoticed by Techno. He was hypersensitive to Phil's touch. “What do you mean by that?” 

“I don’t have to cozy up to anyone anymore. Parties are just superfluous wastes of time.” 

“Is everything royal a waste of time to you?” 

Techno stopped in his tracks, forcing Phil to come to a stop. Techno turned to face him. He felt this was something he needed to be resolute about. “Yes.” 

He knew the Crafts had been enjoying their new status. The royal portrait, the Christmas celebrations, and Wilbur’s exploits in the gentlemen’s club now that he was a duke and brother to the king. He had hoped it wasn’t an attachment to the monarchy and just a momentary fondness for new power; after all, they had backed his idea to dissolve the institution quite explicitly. It was time to stop obfuscating and better to be direct.

Phil lightly pushed Techno forward to keep them walking. “You really should take that vacation we keep throwing around. It might do wonders for your shoulders.” 

“What’s wrong with my shoulders?” 

“Stiff. If you won’t take the vacation, at least go see a masseuse,” Phil suggested. 

“I’m not lettin’ a stranger touch me.” 

“Alright.” Phil had definitely been less demanding as of late. Perhaps he had taken to heart Technoblade’s aversion to his lovely violence and his demands. Perhaps Philza was trying, too. 

Could he say the same for his sons?

Tommy had only let the seamstress into his room because there was no other place to do a fitting for the holiday ball. He practically forced Techno to sit in on it in order to watch in case she did something suspicious.’ Why he couldn’t do it himself was beyond Techno until he actually got there and saw Tommy chattering away like a chipmunk. The seamstress was much too busy nodding her head and affirming his stupid remarks to even glance at the mess that was Tommy’s desk. 

Still, Technoblade took a seat behind the desk, absentmindedly thumbing through the papers. The booklet of documents was gone now, which meant Tommy finally wisened up and hid it. 

Strange. 

As he kept thinking about it, an idea popped into his head. He waited for the seamstress to leave so she could grab one of her employees to help her with something before approaching Tommy. 

“Very dapper,” he complimented. 

Tommy puffed out his chest. “I know. I am Nevadas’ most eligible bachelor.” 

“You gotta stop sayin’ that. You always know how I’m goin’ to respond to that.” 

“You’re a bitch.” 

“It’s my duty.” Techno shrugged. “Anyway, I have somethin’ I’d like you to do for me.” 

“Sure. Anything,” Tommy said with a bright smile. He always had such a shiny disposition.

“I want to meet with The Tower.” 

And there extinguished that sweet smile. “...Anything but that.” 

“Why not?” 

“You just can’t.” 

Techno crossed his arms, making his displeasure known. He had conditioned Tommy since he was young to shrink at the idea of Techno’s disappointment. Lately it hadn’t been working, but perhaps a good old physical response was what he needed. 

Tommy failed again. “I’m sorry, Techno, but it’s just best if you don’t. Really, I’m doing this for you.” 

“I’m askin’ you as a courtesy. You think I won’t just go to Phil?”

“Who do you think told me to deny you?” 

Techno had his suspicions, but he felt just wretched having them confirmed. How delusional had he been to think he could ever supersede the authority of a father over his son? What loyalty had he thought he bred when he tried to make Tommy his? All of Technoblade’s fears flowed back to one source: Philza. 

“And why would he do that?” His words were slow, clear, and concise. He wanted Tommy to feel his bite. He wanted Tommy to cower again. He wanted Tommy on the ground again, cracked nose and frightened eyes. Frightened of Techno. 

No, no. He didn’t want that. 

A conversation replayed in his head.

“I know the language you speak. It’s always been violence. It’s the only way you understand.” 

“Understand what?” 

“Love.” 

“Stop!” he growled, unaware he had said it aloud. He held his head in his hands as Tommy reached out to him. 

“I didn’t say anything yet. Techno, are you okay?” 

“Get away from me!” 

Tommy didn’t rescind his touch. He had a habit of perseverance. Admirable most of the time, but where Techno stood, it was a detriment. They were hiding something from him. Why on earth would they want to play house with him when they were after something? That dream he had all those nights ago-- that nightmare-- was it one? Was it really a memory or a vision of what was to come? They wanted to make him a sword, didn’t they? They’d seen the project and they’d seen his name on the list and decided he’d run out of use. 

“Techno, Father’s doing this for your own good. He thinks you should de-stress. Take a load off your shoulders.” 

“You can lie to your subjects and you can lie to your family, but you can’t lie to me, Theseus. I made you. It was me.” 

“You’re my family too.” Tommy’s eyes glittered with wetness, as if this conversation was hurting him. A part of Techno delighted in it and the other wanted to die thinking it might prove Phil right. “I don’t know why you keep denying it. If I’m a liar, what does that make you?” 

Except Technoblade did think of Tommy as family. He was his little brother. The acceptance had disgusted him into silence once more. His logical side begged him to utilize the boy’s feelings against him and guilt him into letting Techno see The Tower, but that would mean saying the words aloud. 

“I’m leavin’.” 

“Tech, come on! Don’t walk away. Let’s fuckin’-- let’s talk it out!” 

Techno ignored him as he slammed the door to Tommy’s room shut. 

At least the music is nice, Techno mused as he glued himself to the shadowed walls of the ballroom. He watched as couples twirled around the center of the room, following the sweet melody of the string quartet. Tommy had yet to arrive to give his holiday address, which was why Techno chose this time to attend the party. He and Phil had brokered a deal where as long as Techno made a thirty minute appearance at events, he wouldn’t harp on his aversion to social events. 

Techno had come out of the negotiations feeling like he’d been caught at a loss, and now in the throes of society he knew it for sure. He’d made the deal to make Phil happy, but after his confrontation with Tommy, Techno didn’t care much about Phil’s happiness anymore. He must have been crazy to consider being filial. 

Wilbur had been the first of the royals to appear, but he was quickly swallowed whole by his noble friends. Techno was still astounded by how a majority of the noble class had witnessed Wilbur betray them in real time at one of these parties and still welcomed him back with minimal resentment. It was beyond his understanding how social politics functioned. Had it been Techno in their place, he would have plotted Wilbur’s murder the second he showed his face again. 

Techno scanned the room for other acquaintances in hopes of avoiding them. He was in no mood to perform social niceties such as greetings and small talk. The Powers That Be must have sensed it since they sent Dream over. He was still in that stupid mask and his usual light green. 

“Happy holidays, Techno.” 

Techno grunted in return. He didn’t care about being rude to Dream. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t come out with His Majesty. You’d think you’d want to relish that post-coup glow. My-puppet-won-the-day kind of bragging.” 

“He’s not my puppet,” Techno replied coldly. He didn’t know why he took such offense to that: it was either that he was still butthurt about losing control of Tommy or that someone had the nerve to call Tommy a puppet. The dissonance was beginning to hurt his head. 

“Anyway, I wanted to ask about our prisoners. I’ve been interrogating them for the past few weeks but nothing’s really come of it. You haven’t made an appearance at all, though. Can’t even catch you at the noble council meetings.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Oh, I’ve heard all about the royal portrait! I wonder what it took to convince you to pose for something like that. I mean, it’s a royal portrait.” 

“It’s for posterity.” 

“For how long? I mean, when you burn down the palace for good is that something you’re gonna keep?” 

“Burn down the palace?” 

“Sure,” Dream said, “You’re taking down the institution, right? I just thought you’d want to get rid of the building that literally screams monarchy.” 

Techno hated it when Dream had a point. It was a once-in-a-blue-moon experience, but he felt gross whenever it happened. Now he wanted to leave. 

Technoblade never should’ve allowed Phil to order the reconstruction of the palace. He should’ve sealed it off and let it stay like that because the rest of the palace would follow it soon. 

You’re not in charge, though, the voices informed him, matter-of-fact. Technoblade bit his tongue that was about to unleash a hundred denials. They were right. He knew they were right. Why else was he making deals with Phil about parties and posing for portraits? Somehow, somewhere, he had given up and settled into a new role. It had been so natural that he had not even realized what he had sacrificed when he had done it; or, he had recognized it and preferred the comfort anyway. 

Even now, he was stewing in all this upset about The Tower and all he was doing about it was avoiding the others like a little boy having a tantrum. What was he doing? What was happening to him? Ever since the coup, Techno hadn’t been himself. The strangeness of himself confused and disgusted him. 

“Hey, Techno. You still with me?” Dream asked, waving his hand in front of Techno’ face. Techno caught the lord’s wrist and threw it away from his face. “No need to be so violent. I’m on your side, remember?” 

“Is that supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” 

“God, you are one paranoid guy. I don’t know how many times I have to declare my loyalty to you for you to get that you’re the horse I’m backing. You’re the man.” 

Superficially, the words meant nothing to Techno since they came from Dream. What did Dream’s loyalty mean anyway? He hated the man. He was a scourge in his past life only to find out he was the exact same man in this one, too. What exactly did Dream’s friendship mean? What was the offer? But he liked how it coaxed his ego, as much as he loathed to admit he had one. He liked that his genius was still visible after what he felt he had become.

“So you’re a sheep, then,” was what Techno decided on after a few beats of silence. 

Dream slammed his masked-face into his hands. “You’re impossible.” 

“All I’m sayin’ is, if I decide to-- for example-- burn the palace to the ground like you suggested, you’d light the match?” 

“Hm, something like that.” Dream stretched out his hand, offering peace. Techno raised an eyebrow at it before finally accepting it. It was a cursed alliance, but one Techno needed within the tangle of deception he had with the Crafts. He needed something clear and unrelated. 

“His Majesty, King Theseus I and Philza Craft, Duke of Blumefallen, have arrived!” the servant announced from the door, blowing a loud trumpet afterwards. Techno slinked closer to the side door as Tommy came out waving with both hands at the people below him. 

“They’re early,” he huffed. 

“I’ll guard the door if you want to slip out for a bit,” Dream said. As always, Techno was suspicious of his kindness, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t accept it. He slid down the dark side hall, looking for one of those break rooms women usually slipped into when their heels started hurting their feet. 

He passed a couple of them as he merged into a larger main hallway, nodding at them when they stopped to curtsy. He picked the first room, not interested in playing around anymore. He just needed silence. He needed time to think. 

Phil and Tommy were hiding The Tower from him, but The Tower was backing the old king’s faction. At least, that was the assumption what with the Western Terrors working with people carrying the old king’s flag. Perhaps it was personal, then, why he couldn’t see The Tower. If Technoblade was delusional enough, he could somehow pretend Tommy and Phil were trying to protect him in a twisted way by not having him interact with The Tower. The feeling that that wasn’t true was strong, and Techno knew a knight’s best weapon were his instincts. 

So, then what? Did something shift between The Tower and the current king in the past few weeks? Tommy and Phil knew about the experiments and knew they came from The Tower, but they hadn’t shut it down yet. 

Techno’s stomach churned at the thought. The thought that they had seen Technoblade’s name on that list and decided to continue the experiments. That the old faction was well and truly dead, and it had been a red herring. To distract Technoblade from the truth right in front of him. 

He turned the knob of the door, falling into the small parlor. It smelled of whisky and stale cigars. He wasn’t alone. 

Wilbur sat at a chess table by the window, the dying sparks of his cigar the only thing lighting his face. 

“Why are you here?” Techno asked without a greeting. “Why aren’t you at the party?” 

Wilbur loved parties. He had seen him there not too long ago. When did he have time to slip out?

The eldest Craft son seemed relaxed, not at all startled by Techno’s sudden reproaches. “Did you come to find me? Or is this your escape attempt?” Wilbur joked, the humor not reaching his face. His blindfold was on, making it harder to read him. He looked just like he had eight years ago, curled up on his bed screaming about the darkness. Softly, Techno came closer, sliding into the seat across from him. 

“We used to be honest with each other,” said Techno. “I thought I wasn’t a person who told lies.” 

Wilbur felt the table until his hand reached an empty glass. He pushed it toward Techno and handed him the bottle of whisky. 

“Pour.”

His own glass was still half full. 

“Wilbur, you know I don’t--” 

“I think you owe me this much at least, Technoblade,” Wilbur interrupted, “After what you did to me.” 

“One little fight doesn’t make you the world’s most pitiful victim. I’m not apologizin’ for what I said.” 

Wilbur laughed, clutching his stomach as he bent over from whatever it was that amused him so. “I’m sorry, it’s just a little funny that you must have done so many things to me that you can only refer back to the most recent affront.” 

Techno narrowed his eyes. “What are you talkin’ about?” 

“Pour the whisky.” 

“I won’t pour until I know what this is about.” 

“You’re anxious about something. I can hear you tapping the table.” Techno glanced down. Indeed, his fingers created a rhythm against the wood, exposing his discomfort. He stopped. Wilbur smirked. “You’re at a disadvantage. I have something you want to know, so it’s only fair you play along with my rules.” 

“Is this a game to you?” 

“You got it. Let’s play a drinking game. We take turns telling the truth.” 

“If we don’t share, we drink?” 

“No. We drink before the round to loosen up. If we did it your way, you’d probably drink every time despite how much you hate liquor."

In lieu of answering what was only a biting observation of Techno’s character, he poured his drink and topped Wilbur off. Wilbur raised his glass and Techno saluted him. Before he downed the wretched liquid, he paused. 

“What’s stopping you from lyin’?” 

“The same thing as you, I suppose. I’m tired of the game.” 

“So you create a new one?” Techno snorted. 

“It’s the way we function. We lie and we hurt each other, but it’s okay because it’s love.” 

“That’s not love.”

“It is to you. It is to us. Drink.” 

With a sour look, he threw his head back and downed it in one swig. He slammed the glass back down on the table as Wilbur delicately dropped his with his pinky finger. “Your game. You ask first.” He wanted to end this already. The whisky burned his throat and warmed his stomach, confusing his body on all levels of comfort. 

“No, no. You.” 

Techno glanced at the whisky bottle. It was still pretty full despite Wilbur’s solo attempt to finish it off. He hadn’t been here long, then. It’d be best to finish the game off quickly by getting the answers he wanted immediately, but he had no idea if Wilbur would lie except for his promise he wouldn’t. That could very well be a lie. 

“What’s your middle name?” Techno asked. 

“Soot. You know that. Oh, I see. A test. Well, my turn. Why did you apply to be Tommy’s tutor?” 

“I’ve been transparent about this, I think. You both were high up on the line of succession. He needed a tutor, a guide. I felt I could be that for him.” 

“But that’s not all. After everything that transpired, you won’t say it?” 

“What do you want to hear?” 

“It’s not what I want to hear. Then it’s not the truth. A half-lie is still a lie even if you sprinkle the truth.” 

“I’ve always hated monarchies. I felt like I could fix it, and havin’ someone legitimate was helpful to my cause.” 

“You’re from Himmelblock. You’ve got your own king to take down. Why Manberg?” 

“That’s another question.” 

“Fine.” Wilbur tapped the side of his glass, and Techno refilled both their glasses. They drank. Techno cringed. 

“That book in Tommy’s room. The Holy Sword Project. Did you all read it?”

“We did.” 

Technoblade waited for Wilbur to elaborate, but he never did. He didn’t wipe that smarmy grin off his face. He knew what he was doing. 

“Do you miss your old life?” 

Techno stared at Wilbur as if enough scrutiny would decipher the question. Old life? Did he find something out from The Tower? Was this something The Tower knew? Was it code for something? Finally, he asked, “What do you mean?” 

“Himmelblock. Your parents. Your old life.” 

“I don’t think about it much.” 

“That doesn’t answer the question.” 

Techno’s eyebrow twitched. “I wouldn’t say I have a lastin' attachment to Himmelblock outside of my family’s legacy.”

This time, Wilbur poured. He had expert aim. “Honestly, I thought after all this you’d be less careful about your wording. Coming here, telling me you miss being honest, yet you’re still talking like you’re standing in front of the noble council.” 

“That’s not what’s happenin’.” 

“No. You’re just that emotionally constipated.” 

Techno swallowed his drink before Wilbur touched his own glass. 

“Why are you all so secretive when it comes to The Tower?” His body felt more relaxed and unguarded as the game continued. In the back of his mind he knew it was the effects of the alcohol. It was beginning to wear him down. He tried to keep his eyes focused on one thing in an attempt to stay sharp, but it was beginning to become hard when everything in the dark room seemed to dazzle his attention span. 

“It’s just none of your concern, Techno.”

“A non-answer still isn’t honest.” 

“You’re catching on,” Wilbur huffed. “Fine. Father knows The Tower is useful, but he also knows you have a vendetta against them. He wants to separate you two.” 

“The experiments,” Techno murmured in disbelief, “You’re really continuin’ them?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” chastised Wilbur, “My turn.” 

“I don’t want to play anymore,” Techno said, green in the face. He stood up abruptly, head spinning. Wilbur caught his wrist pulling him back down.

“You don’t get to quit,” he hissed. “Not until I know.” 

“Know what?” 

“Why did you think of me as a threat back then?” 

Techno stopped struggling in Wilbur’s grasp. He sat back down, and Wilbur retreated to himself, suddenly looking quite small. Despite regaining his composure, Techno felt anything but that. His jumbled thoughts crashed into one another, trying to figure out what was going on. What was this about? Was this the same grievance from before they started the game? 

Back then? 

No. 

It couldn’t be.

There was no way Wilbur knew. This was probably an old, recurring insecurity that Techno accidentally gave him by being standoffish. 

Techno cleared his throat, speaking slowly. “You are the eldest son of the Duke of Blumefallen. You’re bright. You had a bright future. I was just some kid from a small city-state tryin’ to make it.”

“I had a bright future.” Resentment clouded the young lord’s face. “You think I could’ve been more.”

“I--” The words were caught in Techno’s throat. He wanted to go back to the party. He would dance a hundred dances to leave this conversation. “I don’t know.”

“Why did you feed me the Blue Hemelia?”

Technoblade’s heart dropped. 

There were no eyes to apologize with that blindfold on. All he was met with was disappointed navy blue. 

He could deny it. His first instinct was to deny it, which sent another wave of nausea over him. He really was a liar at heart. Wilbur would know anyway. He’d smell the lie a mile away. 

Technoblade spent the better part of eight years practicing this conversation. He had high hopes Wilbur would never find out, and he had a pretty good run, but there was always a part of him that knew something would give. In every run of the conversation, it ended with Technoblade on his knees apologizing and Wilbur’s rejection. It ended with Technoblade being hauled off into a dark room and being fed Sanguis shards. 

Lately, that fear had only grown. 

Wilbur lifted himself up. Unconsciously, Techno followed his movements, standing opposite from him. To his surprise, Wilbur wrapped his arms around him in a firm hug, his fingers tight against the back of Techno’s head. Perspiration leaked down Techno’s cheeks. 

“I was really upset when I found out. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. But I realized something, Tech.”

“What?” Techno choked out, too ashamed and inebriated to move. 

“This was just your way of showing your love.”

“No!” Techno sputtered, pushing himself out of Wilbur’s hold. “No, that’s not it!”

“Isn’t it? It’s the things you love most you seek to destroy. Me, Tommy. Blumefallen.”

“No! It was strategic! You were in the way! You were right before. You were a threat. You were a threat to Tommy becoming king--”

“And you saved me.”

“You have every right to hate me,” Techno seethed. “You should hate me. I ruined your life.”

“You did. And we returned the favor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we didn’t do it with the same intent as you. To be perfectly honest-- in the spirit of the game-- we did it to have you. There was no revenge scheme when we returned the favor, though I must say it’s a bit poetic. Looking back on it.”

His mind takes him back. Back to that cold house, sitting at the side of his mother’s bed, clutching her clammy palm. The navy tin with the crest of the royal family. The Crafts had been royalty too even then. How they showed up at his door so soon, and he thought they had come to poison him. He had known even then in the back of his mind, but he had been misdirected by Phil’s care. 

It had been them. It had been them all along. 

Wilbur continued in his nonchalant tone, “That’s right. We’re even. No grudges. Doesn’t that prove that we’d love you no matter what, Techno? Isn’t this enough? Even though I know what you are?” 

“Stop!” Techno shouted, blinking furiously. It was all too much. This wasn’t what he thought he’d be receiving when he accepted the drink. He wasn’t even in the right mind to accept the information, but Wilbur kept shooting.

“Father and Tommy believe you were just a potential candidate, but I know better. You’re their success story. You’re the Holy Sword.” 

Technoblade fell to his knees. “I’m not.” 

It wasn’t convincing enough for Wilbur. “What happened to a game of truths, Techno? I wouldn’t have figured it out if I hadn’t been reminded of that story you told me on the way to Boomerdorf. It struck me odd you knew so much about it, but… It makes sense.” Wilbur bends down to Techno’s eye level. Just to rub it in. “So, when was it? When’d you have that sort of time? Oh, you’re shaking.” 

Techno hadn’t even registered it until Wilbur said it. He tried to force his body to stop, but his mind was too occupied with a nonstop needtoleaveneedtoleaveneedtoleavehowdoesheknow?needtoleaveneedto

It wasn’t as if the voices were coming to his aid. They hardly knew what to say either. 

“Come on, Techno. I know you. It stands that I know your sins too.”

Wilbur tried to touch his shoulder, but Techno grabbed his wrist once more. This time, he pushed Wilbur down on his back and leapt to his feet. There was the door, and through the door was a hall that would eventually lead outside. He needed to go outside. He needed to leave--

“Where will you go?” Wilbur shrieked from the ground. “You’re ours!”  

His shoulder barreled into the door, thoughts of the knob not even existing in his mind. The world was still spinning around him and he felt as though everything he ate over the past day would come up soon if he didn’t stop moving, but he couldn’t stop. Stopping would be acknowledging that he had just been exposed. 

He wasn’t Grandmaster Technoblade to them anymore. He was Technoblade, the Holy Sword. What else could he be now? They were going to use him. They were going to turn him metal again. Hands. Legs! He was never going to have those again if he didn’t move. 

It was only a matter of time before Wilbur informed Phil and he sent people to find him and lock him up. The Leid had long since been compromised by Phil and Tommy-- despite being the one to find them and train them, money always won out in the end-- and the rest of the guards were firmly with the king. 

So he was alone.

He found himself in the private wing of the palace, finally. He was quick to break into his own bedroom, grabbing swords and daggers from the chest at the foot of his bed and his walls. Clothes were secondary. Would he be able to grab Carl? He couldn’t leave Carl. The horse was old, but he was the one steady companion Techno had in any life.

“Taking off without saying goodbye?” Techno whipped around, the dagger in his hand flying toward the door. The intruder squealed as he jumped out of the way.

“It’s just you,” Techno sighed when he realized it was Dream. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right decision.” Dream sounded the slightest bit aggrieved as he picked himself up from the tiled floor, but the sentiment still hit Techno the same. 

“You don’t even know what I’m doin’.” 

“You’re leaving. Where will you go?” 

“I don’t know.” He didn’t know anything. 

“You think you can just leave the palace without a plan? This isn’t you.” 

“You don’t know me.” 

“I know you’re not stupid! I know you’re the guy with contingency after contingency. You’re the strongest knight in the continent. Probably the world. You’re not… You’re not this! You’re not some scared little bitch! You’re in control! You’re Technoblade the Holy Sword!” 

Like a bolt of lightning, Techno shot toward the other knight, slamming him into the wall. His forearm pressed against the other’s neck as he snarled, “Do not call me that!” 

He wasn't. 

He wasn't!

Not yet.

Dream tapped. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Remember. I’m on your side.” 

Techno released him, letting out a shaky breath. 

That was right. He was in control. No matter what, he was in control of his own body, of his own actions. Not even they could take that from him. 

Unless they grab you. Take you to The Tower. 

“They won’t grab me,” he said, much to Dream’s perplexity. Techno ran to his desk, grabbing a piece of stationary and ink. He scribbled something down with all the fervor left in his body and folded it up. He handed it to Dream. “I need you to deliver this. Give it to someone you trust; it just has to go out.” 

“What is it?” 

“You told me you’re on my side. I’m… I’m trustin’ you with this.” 

Dream pushed his mask entirely out of his face. His eyes glowed green, heavy with surprise. “You trust me? Even with our past?” 

Technoblade could hardly believe it either. It wasn’t as if he wanted to acknowledge the feeling. “Because of our past. I know exactly what kind of person you are.” 

“I won’t let you down, Techno,” Dream grinned. “What will you do? Do you need help leaving the grounds?” 

Techno shook his head. “No. I have someone I need to see first.” 

The dungeons were dank and disgusting. Grime clung to the walls and desperation leaked through the ruts in the ground. Everyone on this floor was a hardened criminal. The worst in the kingdom. And at the end of the hall was the one that awaited a trial.

Quackity. 

Any guard that Techno happened to pass by was met with a swift knockout with the butt of his sword. When they woke up, the only thing they’d be able to say was that a hooded figure flew through the dungeons and took them all out. Like a vengeful spirit. 

Techno was no spirit, no god. He was a human who had been hurt for the last time. 

He snapped the lock off Quackity’s cell and stepped inside. To his surprise, it wasn’t quiet. The room echoed with the sound of listless mutterings. It was nonsense to anybody else, but the moment Techno picked up on his jilted sentences, he knew Quackity’s mind had never been clearer. 

“...My sword. My sword. The empire burns from my sword…” He grabbed him by the chin and tilted the former king’s head up. Quackity’s eyes were as wide as glaciers, gazing back into Techno’s piercing red ones. “Not right. You sword. You human.” 

The Sanguis shards must have unlocked his mind to the previous lifetime. Quackity was finally worthy of atoning for his crimes against the world. Against Technoblade. 

“Quackity.” 

The former king spat in his face. “How dare you address me so! I am your king! I am your master!” 

“You,” Techno said, the consonants loose on his tongue, “are chained to a wall. You are nothin’.” 

“Ungrateful! I am the emperor of the Manberg Empire! I’ve conquered the continent! My legacy--” Quackity stopped himself, stopped breathing as his eyes widened once more. “My empire--!” 

“Gone. It never existed. I made sure of that.” 

“No…” 

“Your cousin overthrew you. Your reign will be forgotten in the annals of history. A set of dates marked in a dusty old book.” 

“Fffuck you!” 

“The sword you worked so long to perfect has become human again.” With all the humor sucked out of his body, Techno laughed. The corners of his eyes were wet. “You don’t know how happy I am that you remember. This makes doin' this so much better.” 

Techno removed his hand from Quackity’s chin, trailing down his throat to his chest, hovering right over his heart. His nails sunk into the flesh of the incarcerated king, digging and digging until his hand was entrenched. Quackity’s howls fell on deaf ears as Techno clawed his heart right out of his chest, glee sparkling in his eyes. 

Screw the long plan. Screw his perfect society and his burning institution and his disobedient family. This was what he needed. Technoblade was human. The evidence was in his hand, holding a beating heart. 

Outside, the first snow touched down. In the morning, the palace would be in a ruckus looking for the Grandmaster, his tracks already covered up.

A porcelain mask would lean down to the young king’s ear, whispering to him: “He escaped. He wants to destroy The Tower. He wants to destroy you.” 

The brother who knew the truth would watch and let it happen.

Chapter Text

Light filtered through the window of the parlor, hitting the part of the table on which Techno had rested his hand. It was a quiet afternoon in the Blumefallen estate, and all four members of the family sat with their own thoughts scattered around the room. Philza was scribbling in some journal while Tommy-- little cherub-cheeked Tommy--made a mess of his crayons as he colored on scraps of parchment. Wilbur curled up by the bay window with a book open, hands trapped in the motion of turning the page, but with his eyes closed, it was futile. 

Techno himself sat in front of a board game. It was the same one he used to play against his master and that ultimately decided his fate as a knight. His pieces were knocked down or taken off the board, but he had the opponent’s general in check. 

A pyrrhic victory. 

Who had he been playing against?

“Tech! Tech! Look what I made!” Tommy beckoned him over with an energetic wave. Wordlessly, he approached, crouching down to Tommy’s level. The little boy threw down his crayons and stretched the paper out. It was a primitive depiction of four individuals: two blondes, a brunette, and a pink-haired. A family portrait. 

Techno grinned, a warm feeling washing over his chest. “The proportions are all off,” he said. “The arms go all the way down to the feet.” 

Tommy snatched the drawing back, cheeks flushing red. “Nothing’s ever good enough for you!” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Then why can’t you ever just say ‘thank you?’” 

Techno raised his brow. “Thank you? Why would I--” 

“It’s for you!” 

“Oh.” Techno re-evaluated his criticisms. Perhaps it was just an abstract art style. Tommy was a forward-thinker, after all, always finding strange solutions to common problems. Tommy hummed and went back to coloring, as if he did not really expect that much from Techno. 

A servant strode in a few moments later with a platter of snacks: scones, finger sandwiches, small cakes, and a pot of warm tea. The smell roused Wilbur from his nap by the window as he padded over to the coffee table by Techno and Tommy. 

“Delicious!” Wilbur exclaimed, “I’ve been craving something sweet.” He examined each cake thoroughly for imperfections before deciding on a yellow sponge cake with strawberries. 

“No fair! I wanted that one!” Tommy complained. 

“You only wanted it because I have it,” Wilbur shot back, cramming the entire thing in his mouth just to further antagonize his little brother. Techno sighed, furtively grabbing a finger sandwich to nibble on while his two brothers continued to squabble. He glanced over at Phil, surprised to find him staring right back at him with a knowing look, an inside joke between the two of them. Fondly, he shook his head and closed his journal. 

“Have you left anything for me?” he asked as he approached, sliding onto the sofa behind Tommy. Tommy immediately tucked himself in between Phil’s legs. Techno grabbed a plain cucumber sandwich and handed it to Phil, eyes alight with joy when he saw the look of disgust on the man’s face. Phil hated cucumber sandwiches. 

Wilbur and Tommy shared a look with him and grinned. “That’s all that’s left, Father. You know the saying: ‘you snooze, you lose!’” 

“Yeah! Now you have to eat that!” 

“Mate, I see five other snacks still sitting there.” 

Tommy and Wilbur made quick work of the alternates while Techno kept holding up the cucumber sandwich.

“Yummy, yummy, Father,” said Techno, his tongue suddenly feeling foreign in his own mouth. Despite the strange feeling, he continued teasing Phil by waving the sandwich in his face. 

Phil turned his lips up in disgust as he took the sandwich from Techno and bit into it. His face turned as green as the cucumbers as he slowly chewed and audibly swallowed. “There. Happy, boys?” 

“Yes!” They settled into an easy conversation, the soft sounds of the Crafts’ voices lulling him into a deep sense of comfort. The world felt soft, like hardship did not exist. It was quiet, like the calm waters of a tempered ocean in a way that was relieving at first but overtime became anxious. Why did the waves not pull back? Where was the tide?

Where were the voices?

Voices?

What voices?

“Techno? Techno? Are you feeling alright?” he blinked. Wilbur rattled his shoulder until he threw the other boy’s wrist off. That felt familiar. 

“I’m fine.” 

“I was just asking if you had time to stop by the commune. The baker girl said she had a new recipe she’d like us to try.” 

“Commune?” Techno parroted, feeling like a fool at how lost he was in the conversation. 

They all looked at him with concern on their faces. Phil explained, “That’s right. The Blumefallen commune. After the king died and the monarchy dissolved, we set up a small community here. Everyone provides equally.” 

Techno looked around at the decadence of the parlor. Even for noble houses, Blumefallen had always been a particularly exquisite estate. Not only that, he had watched a servant come in with treats and tea-- no one could deny that. How could they be a commune and employ servants? Wouldn’t they have redistributed their resources back into the community? 

A sharp pain hit his temple. Techno clutched his head as a cold feeling washed over him. Tommy reached out for him, his small fingers tugging on Techno’s hair, but the longer it went on the more they felt like phantom touches. How long had it been since Tommy looked at him with those wide, unassuming eyes? The whole world was inside them. 

And since when could Wilbur see again? Since when was the world so quiet?

Then, in an instant, it was gone. 

Techno’s eyes fluttered open, his cheek smashed into the frozen ground of the forest they had been camping in for the past couple of days. Whoever was on watch last night forgot to stoke the fire, and consequently it had gone out. 

He lifted himself up to a sitting position, still quite groggy from the hazy dream he had just woken up from. Despite the cover from his cloak, he was still quite cold. The winter chill waned slowly, but spring crept in assuredly. 

“Oh! Technoblade, you’re awake!” across the clearing, the cat man, Ant, called to him. “They’ve made their move.”

“Report.” His throat felt like he swallowed ten thousand daggers. 

“They’ve rounded up all the women and children in the chapel. Windows and doors have been boarded.” 

The rest of his camp began to awaken from their equally restless slumbers save for Connor, who was still slumped over like a log. His snores were the only thing to cut through the brisk morning air. 

“It’s freezing!” said Niki, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared at the dead fire, aggrieved. 

“Sorry guys. I completely forgot since I--” Ant motioned to the fur on his arms, “--I don’t really need it.” 

“No matter. Everyone, suit up. We’re goin’ in.” Techno stretched his arms and his legs, his armor rattling when the pieces of metal slammed into each other. He didn’t know how long it had been since he took off his armor. Perhaps the last village they stopped at? And that was only for a quick bath. 

The others had duffels of clothing and other supplies that they cycled through, but for the past few days no one had made any changes to their appearances. They’d been in these woods staking out the village, waiting for their enemies to make their next move. Only Niki had gone off to bathe, but that was once during their first night. Now she was just as muddy and disheveled as the rest of them. 

Connor continued to sleep while Techno grabbed the thick boar skull from the ground, latching the leather straps against the back of his head. His face was completely obscured by the soulless presentation of the skull. 

The Syndicate fell in line behind him. 

The idyllic countryside village had been razed to the ground a week before the Syndicate had arrived. The gorgeous golden fields were nothing but charred dust now, and the male residents like ghosts. As Ant had reported, the intruders had long since rounded up the women and children and taken them hostage in the town’s chapel. For what ends, Techno did not know, but he was intent on finding out. 

There were two men stationed in front of the chapel with broadswords already drawn. No doubt they had seen the Syndicate approach from afar and prepared themselves. Unfortunately, there was no such thing as preparation against a force like the Syndicate. 

Techno didn’t even give them time to get into position before he drew his sword and leapt into action, slicing their heads off in one swift motion. Niki sent a bolt of magic at the boarded door. The wood splintered, and the entrance rained wooden chips. All around, the male residents popped their heads out of their houses as the Syndicate moved forward. 

Inside the chapel, the women and children hogged the corner of the small, rectangular chapel. There were five men surrounding them, all with swords and crossbows aimed at the hostages. There were seven more men in other points of the room and two right at the entrance with their swords against two hostage’s necks. 

Techno stopped in his tracks, raising his arm to hold the rest of his team. 

“That’s right!” one of the terrorists spat, “You move, they die! It’ll be their blood on your hands!” 

Niki and Ranboo tiptoed up to Techno’s side, their movements so minute the terrorists couldn’t tell they had even moved. They kept sending looks at Techno, waiting to see his next move. 

Finally, he spoke. “Blood?” 

He drew his sword.

Technoblade knew Dream had delivered on his word when Skeppy found him a few miles from the palace, hunched over against a tree spilling his guts. The effects of the alcohol had long since faded, but the shame clung to him like a parasite. 

“Rough night?” was the first thing the assassin said to him as he landed harshly on the ground. Techno couldn’t even muster a glare. He hung his head, his hair covering his features. Skeppy noticed the bag next to Techno and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on. I know where to go.” 

Skeppy offered his hand, but Techno picked himself up. He’d revealed many indignities that night, but he wouldn’t lose this one. He wouldn’t lose himself. 

It was Skeppy that that brought Technoblade into the city to a dingy little tavern on the bad side of town, one that many would find surprising to be familiar to Technoblade. Granted, he hadn’t been there in years, but he remembered the kindness offered to him during his stay. 

The Rusty Mucker. 

The bar on the first floor was a bit crowded, but the old man behind the counter still gave them all their attention when Skeppy approached with a handful of coins. “Two beers and a message.”

“For our friend?” the barkeep replied. Skeppy winked as they exchanged goods. Skeppy got his beer, but the old barkeep pushed a tin of water towards Techno. “You don’t look good, little knight. Might be best to keep it light.”

Techno’s eyes lightened with recognition. It was the same barkeep from all those years ago, just more wrinkled. Did he recognize Technoblade? Would he be reported to the authorities? Would it get back to Philza? 

Skeppy covered Techno’s hand with his own. “You’re shaking. Calm down. The people here know how to be discreet.” 

“Why did you bring me here?”

“To help you, of course. It’s not everyday the great Grandmaster Technoblade asks for an escape.”

“Why here?” His eyes flitted across the room, scanning the other patrons warily. His head and heart had been compromised, and he was in no good position to be making judgments on anything, but relying on Skeppy’s made him anxious beyond his own comprehension. 

“Just drink. Why don’t you tell me what happened to you?”

“I need to fake my death.”

“Man! Can you start from the beginning! You’re making this really hard!”

Techno took tiny sips of his water, already feeling the relief it had on his abused throat. The sour taste of vomit tapered away. “The Crafts and I have reached the end of our time together… We… They will kill me if they find me. Or worse.” 

“Aren’t they obsessed with you?”

“That’s part of the problem.”

“Come on. They shouldn’t be a problem for you. Why don’t you eliminate them?”

Techno looked away. “I can’t.”

“Can't? Techno, you’re the best fighter I know, and I know just about every assassin from the four corners of the world.” 

“I can’t, ” he repeated, feeling more pathetic as he verbalized this weakness. 

Skeppy’s eyes turned round as he realized what Techno really meant. “Oh,” was all he said, lips moving like a tick as he tried to come up with a better response. When nothing came to mind, the chatty assassin stilled, staring into his empty cup. 

“It needs to be bloody. It needs to convince the world even if it doesn’t convince them.” 

“This much I can do,” said Skeppy. “Killing is kind of my thing.” 

Techno finally managed to crack a smile at that when a group of four individuals in hoods approached them. He remained unperturbed because he had a hunch he knew who they were, but he couldn’t help the way his hand itched for a dagger. Their leader slipped into the stool next to Techno, her hand finding its way to his shoulder blade. His body didn’t tense at the touch.

“Are you alright?” Niki asked in a soft voice.

“This is kind of surprising,” Connor said nonchalantly, “Never thought I’d see the Grandmaster in this sort of state.” 

“Knock it off,” Niki reprimanded. “We came to help, not to judge.” 

“Why did you call them?” Techno asked Skeppy. “I only asked for you.” 

“You said you needed an escape. These guys are kind of masters at it.” At Techno’s frown, Skeppy sighed and signaled for the barkeep to bring four more drinks. “Look, I know you rejected them before, but that was before… Whatever happened between you and those royals.” 

“We have safehouses all over the kingdom. You’ll be safe if you want to be free of this life. Otherwise, my offer still stands,” said Niki, eyes fiercely determined for someone with so soft a tone of voice. 

“Um, we get that this is probably hard for, um, well, you, but we understand. We probably understand more than anyone else,” Ranboo piped up. He had a deeper voice than his appearance let on. He seemed to be around Tommy’s age, and yet he lacked the necessary innocence that came with adolescence. Not that Tommy had it either; it had all been a sham. 

“Fine,” Techno replied gruffly as he got to his feet. “I’ll… But my death--” 

“We’ll take care of it,” Skeppy assured him, “but get some sleep first. Maybe when you wake up you’ll already be dead.” 

The two shared a chuckle, perhaps the first time they ever had, and he allowed himself to be let up to one of the rooms the Syndicate had preemptively rented. Someone-- he couldn’t remember who-- helped him up the stairs and into bed, making sure his boots were off and the sheets were secure over his collarbone. 

In the morning, he would have killed two Technoblades, but the third would not go down so easily. 

In the aftermath, the children refused to go near the boar-skulled creature drenched in blood, but they flocked to Niki and Ant. Niki, because she was the one to tell them it was alright, and Ant because he was fluffy and that was enough for the children to barrel right into him. He seemed troubled by it at first, but their smiles seemed to wear him down after a while. 

The heads of all the terrorists rolled except for two. Techno was careful in this choice. If one didn’t want to answer his questions, the other could be convinced to talk by his partner. He’d go back and forth between them until he had the necessary information. They were both unconscious at the moment, but a severe slap to the head was enough to wake up his first victim. 

The man shouted as soon as he woke up, body spasming like he was being electrocuted. Techno just grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the wall of the chapel. “I want answers,” he growled. “Where is The Tower?” 

“Who are you, man?” the terrorist whimpered, clammy hands slapping at Techno’s own. As if it would’ve made a difference. His grip tightened. “I don’t know! I’m only following orders!” 

“And what exactly are your orders?” 

“None of your business--” the terrorist’s noncompliance was met with a swift punch to the face. Blood and a pearly white tooth gushed from his mouth. “I’m just doin’ what I’ve been told! They said to keep control of the valley’s villages and, and…” 

“And?” 

Suddenly, the terrorist was feeling quite mute. Techno grabbed him by both cheeks and turned his head to face the rest of the chapel. The wooden floors were stained crimson and the whites of his comrades’ eyes were still clear at his current eye level. The man began to scream, perhaps from anguish but moreso from self-preservation.

“Please,” he begged. 

“And what? Why did you gather all the women and children together?” 

“I can’t…” 

“Maybe I can help,” Ant waved as he approached. Connor had finally caught up with them and took over entertaining the kids while Niki and Ranboo spoke with the women. His armor was unlatched from where the kids were messing with it. There was something in his hand: a small, crimson egg with little red vines wrapped around it. 

“No magic,” said Techno. 

“It’ll make this go faster, though. I-I know it’s not your favorite, but we would be getting better intel this way.” 

“This way works just fine,” Techno argued, shaking the terrorist for good measure. 

“He could be lying. He could be omitting information. I-it’s your call, but…” 

Techno stared at the egg for a moment. He didn’t trust it at all. According to Ant, the egg was a type of familiar from his homeland, Blötländer, that helped amplify magic. Unfortunately, Technoblade was well-aware of the consequences of such a familiar. It wasn’t normal; it was alive, and the mages of Blötländer were considered heretical cultists by the rest of the magic community for their devotion to it. It had mind-control properties, one Technoblade didn’t want anywhere near himself. 

Ant wouldn’t hear it, though, and Technoblade wasn’t one to waste efforts when it wasn’t needed. 

He dropped the man. 

“Fine. Your turn.”

Ant crouched down and brought the egg up to the man’s nose. Instinctually, the creature’s vines shot out and latched onto the nostrils, the veins under his skin bleeding bright red. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and the rest of him began to shake. When it finished, the egg released the terrorist of its own volition and he returned to a state close to death. His breaths were shallow and he remained still. 

“There’s a location. It’s a day’s trip from here, up by the northern border, but it’s the last place he met with someone associated with The Tower.” 

“Associated?” 

“They’re very careful about who they send. What the egg can see is from the mind’s perspective. He thinks they’re Tower, so that’s what the egg tells me.” 

“Motive?” 

“They were told to continue their recruitment of people… Candidates for new projects. According to his memories, they took hostages because they’d been warned about us. Felt us on their tail. They were scared.” 

Techno grimaced as he looked at the messy chapel. He didn’t regret it, not one bit. But if he could’ve saved all these people from the trauma of having their lives in the hands of madmen, he would’ve. Now they would have to navigate life after this crisis as a community. They would have to confront the cowardly men that hid in their homes, the helplessness of the mothers, and the terror of the children. 

All of this was their fault. Tommy. Wilbur. Philza. They kept playing with people’s lives by entertaining The Tower and their sadism. Their continued alliance with The Tower confirmed it. How he had ever deluded himself into thinking they were family was beyond him. They were cruel tyrants, and they would be going down. 

With a whip of his cape, he exited the chapel and headed down the main street of the village, back to their camp. Once the rest saw his movements, they fell into step with him. 

“Wait! Wait! Mr Blood God!” someone, a child, called out. Techno paused. One of the hostages sprinted up to him, stopping to catch his breath before he spoke. “Thank you! You saved me and mama!” 

“Uhh…” was all Techno could get out. He’d never been thanked before. Not as this character. 

The Blood God. 

It was a name coined early on in his partnership with the Syndicate. They had been passing through some villages hunting The Tower. Of course there was a bloodbath, though not as though they were trying. Now every village that saw the man with the boar skull mask knew to steer clear of him and allow him to do what he and his companions came to do. The irony was the villagers had no clue that the real soul of the Blood God really did reside within the one they had bestowed the name. It was only a small fraction, but it was the biggest piece of the Blood God to exist on their plane. 

The boy stretched out his palms, revealing a purple flower. 

“For you.” 

“Umm…” 

“He means thank you, little one,” Niki cut in, elbowing his arm for a reaction. Techno took the flower with both hands and bowed his head to the boy as a show of gratitude. He beamed and waved goodbye as he returned to his mother. 

“Words are hard,” Connor lamented mockingly as he walked past Techno. 

“It’s a very pretty flower,” commented Ranboo. 

Techno nodded. “Practical.” Ranboo cocked his head to the side, as if he didn’t quite understand. “It’s an allium. You can eat it.” 

Ranboo, Ant, and Niki locked eyes with each other, bursting into laughter immediately. The three passed him to follow after Connor, leaving Techno the last one in the village. He looked back at the people. The men were divided into two groups: one trying to pacify the angered women at their uselessness while the other group tried to be useful by beginning the cleanup of the chapel. The women and children stuck together, already strong bonds further cemented by the experience. 

He looked down at the flower. 

These people were safe for now, but how many other villages were The Tower sending the Western Terrors that Techno couldn’t get to? How many people did they already have? If only he had been stronger when he was in the palace. If only he hadn’t been a slave to his emotions, he could’ve found more about The Tower. 

He shook his head. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t change anything. He spent the last eight years learning that lesson. Now he only had the future to look toward; the future he would mold with his own two hands. 

The night before a raid, the Syndicate had a little ritual. It was one that included a bar and free-flowing beer, so Technoblade was never a participant, but he always sat with them while they performed it. To his surprise, Niki was the heaviest drinker, always leaving twelve or more empty tins by the time she was fully drunk. Connor was next, clocking in around ten before he was face first on the ground. Ant was a lightweight that didn’t know his limitations, so by the time he finished his fourth drink he was crawling around the bushes outside. 

Ranboo didn’t drink.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he explained to Technoblade after noticing his gaze, “but it takes me back.” 

Techno already knew what he meant without having the boy elaborate. Ranboo was still so young and somehow so changed by The Tower. He had to have been infantile when they first came and took him away. They never talked about it-- no one ever talked about their time with The Tower-- but the ignorance owned his curiosity. 

“Why don’t you drink?” asked Connor, who did not understand the definition of boundaries. He always had a smart remark or insensitive quip up his sleeve. Half the time they were funny and the other half made him want to butcher the strangely-dressed man. 

“It’s a bad habit. It inhibits your ability to think and act.” 

“Yeah, but it also makes you feel good!” 

“That’s a fleetin’ feelin’.” 

It was also one he didn’t believe. Every time he drank, he only felt gross and ashamed afterward. Not to mention the last time he said yes to a drink, he had been ambushed. He had renewed his promise to never let himself go like that again. 

He was firm about this to the Syndicate, yet without fail, every night before a raid, they would offer to buy him a drink. A small one. Low alcohol content. Just a sip. 

Every time he said no, but he would watch as they knocked cups and threw their heads back to spill the beer down their throats. They’d always laugh after the fact, a sweet chorus of happiness from something so trivial. It was different from the frigid parlor and crystal glasses used by nobility. At times, Techno would think he’d even want to join them. When that happened, he always excused himself back to his room or outside to run through katas. Training always centered his frayed mind. 

This upcoming raid was the same as ever. Connor ordered their first round: four drinks. Techno denied his cup once more, but this time he was closer to breaking. After they gulped it down, Techno excused himself outside, letting the cool spring air settle over his face, replacing the heat from the fireplace they had been seated next to. 

He wandered through the small village they had chosen to stay the night in--a hood over his head to maintain a low profile-- until he reached an uninhabited spot by the neighboring forest with enough green space to let him move without worry of breaking a building. 

With his sword out, Techno ran through the motions of his katas. They were the second or third thing taught to him by his master, right after disciplining the body and basic stances. Whenever his mind felt heavy, this was what he came back to. It was a new coping mechanism; before, he had thought himself too good to go back to the basics. He had rebuffed basic form in favor of his own amalgamation of how to hold himself in a fight. It had worked until it didn’t, and Techno knew that when things didn’t work, they had to be re-evaluated and improved. 

“H-hey,” someone said from behind. Instinctually, Techno moved his sword with his arm until his blade was right up against Ranboo’s neck. Once he realized his mistake, he withdrew. 

“Oh,” was all he said, the apology clogged in his throat. 

“My bad! I didn’t-- I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. I probably scared you.” 

“I wasn’t scared.” 

“Oh. Well, um, I just wanted to check on you.” 

“Check on me?” 

“Yeah. You always leave when they drink. I know you don’t like it, so I just wanted to make sure you weren’t, well, that you weren’t uncomfortable. Because we would all feel really bad if you were. I mean, you’re our leader. We’d really like it if you felt comfortable--” 

“Okay, okay,” Techno interrupted, if only to stop Ranboo’s ramblings. He noticed Ranboo’s terrible habit after about a week of being with the Syndicate. Someone better with people probably would’ve observed it sooner, but Techno had been so laser focused on getting them on track for their mission of finding The Tower that it blinded him to the character of the group with whom he had been traveling. 

Ranboo was a naturally nervous individual. This manifested in shaky limbs and vocal fillers and ramblings. Once Techno noticed it, it was something that he kept observing. He didn’t really do it around the other three, which meant he was comfortable with them. No, it was only with Techno. 

Technoblade made him nervous. 

From the looks of it, he still did. 

“So you’re… You’re good?” 

“Yeah. I just needed to breathe. You’re all fine.” Techno waited for him to leave so he could continue his practice, but Ranboo kept standing there, picking at the skin around his fingernails. 

“D-do you think I could, um, do you think I could stay and, like, watch you?” 

“Watch me what?” 

Ranboo gestured wildly with his hands as he tried to verbalize his thoughts. “Whatever you were doing.” 

Techno consented with a grunt and took his sword out once more while Ranboo settled in the grass, hands clutching the cold blades tightly. 

Things were silent between the two of them until Ranboo squeaked out, “You’re not very good with people either, are you?” 

Techno paused mid-swing. “Uhh… Are you askin’ me or tellin’ me?” 

“Oh my god! I didn’t mean it in, like, a mean way! I just thought-- I mean, I was watching--” his mouth closed up at the sight of Techno’s pointed glare. 

“You’re not good with people?” Techno prompted. “Are you relatin’ to me?” 

“Yes!” Ranboo looked so grateful for the out. “Unless you are, and then--” 

“It’s fine. I’ve been told by many people how bad I am at socializin’. You’re hardly the first.” 

“Oh.” 

“It’s not that I can’t. It’s just… Not worth the effort. I used to be scared of it, though. I had to learn not to be. That didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.” Techno could still remember the stack of invitations he had collected from local nobility, all marked with affirmations that he would be attending with Tommy. He always sent the younger boy off to play with the people in his age-range because he wanted to train himself to interact with his peers. Wilbur would sometimes come too, but Techno tried to be firm in telling Wilbur he could not assist Techno socially unless absolutely imperative. They had even come up with a signal-- double tap on the left elbow-- for when Techno was feeling in over his head. 

He hadn’t used the signal since he was sixteen. 

“Do we--?” Ranboo asked with so much uncertainty he cut himself off. 

“No. At first, sure, but now you’re all… I know you people.” It was hard to imagine a world where Technoblade was nervous around Connor. He’d grown used to the man and his antics within three days. “Are you scared?” 

“I’m scared of everything.” That earned a chuckle from Techno. “It’s all still new for me. People. The outside. I was the last one Niki rescued from, y’know, them. I didn’t know a world outside of The Tower. It’s been two years and I’m still not used to it.” 

“How long were you there?” 

“Eight years.”

Techno sucked in a breath. It explained why Ranboo seemed so much further along in the transformation process than the others, but how could he have been there for so long and not completed it or died? Perhaps they didn’t start feeding him the shards until later in his captivity? Still, Ranboo was so young. He must’ve been very strong not to have died. Maybe even stronger than Technoblade. 

Ranboo shifted in his seat. Before, he had been a bit rigid, but his body language seemed to have relaxed the further they conversed. It was strange given their topic, but Techno wasn’t one to judge one’s eccentricities. 

“I’ve never wielded a sword before. All they taught me was magic.”

“I guess we're the reverse,” said Techno. “All I know is the sword.”

“Really?” Ranboo seemed genuinely surprised. “But anybody can tell you’ve got great magic potential. Your innate magic is off the charts!” 

Techno didn’t want to explain that the mana inside him wasn’t really for external use but rather a way to keep his body going. Going back in time and housing the soul of a dead god in his body took up a lot of magic, after all. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in his potential to wield magic, but the whole thing was a bit of a turn off when he thought about the only people he could have ever learned from. 

But with the Syndicate, who were all proficient magic users, that changed. 

“Would you be interested in learnin’ how to use a sword? It might be helpful when you’re in a bind.” 

Ranboo stretched out his arms. “I don’t think I’m built for it.” 

“That’s because you haven’t trained.” 

Despite his own protests, Ranboo’s interests won out. He took the sword from Techno, trying it out in his hands. Techno’s sword wasn’t good for someone of Ranboo’s body type, but that didn’t matter when it came to acquainting oneself with the idea of the sword. To fall in love with the sword one only needed the fascination. Techno’s sword was doing a fine job of that. 

Watching Ranboo wave the sword around reminded Technoblade of the first time Tommy held a real sword. It was in their early days of training, still getting to know one another, still testing the waters with each other. Tommy was highly affectionate despite Techno’s stranger-status and had proved he was already enamored with swordsmanship and knighthood. Running through katas and training exercises had begun to bore the young lord. He practically begged Techno to show him a real sword or else he would just ask the guards. 

Techno had no choice but to acquiesce. He had grabbed the sword he always carried at the time, the one he fought with in the Knight’s Tournament that year, and handed it to Tommy. The sword weighed so heavy in Tommy’s arms that he had nearly fallen over trying to hold it. All of that fell away in the case of the light in Tommy’s eyes at seeing a real blade. It was love at first sight, even if the sword wasn’t fit for him. A wooden sword couldn’t compare to the sharp steel of a true blade. 

Tommy had dragged the sword around the courtyard while screeching, “Look at me!” for about half an hour before Wilbur came out and told him to shut up in the most colorful language a boy his age could muster. Techno remembered just watching them, feeling too foreign to get in between an exchange between brothers. 

“-echnoblade? Are you… Are you alright?” 

Techno only blinked, and suddenly the scene in Blumefallen faded into Ranboo’s hand waving in front of his face. 

“I’m fine. How do you like it?” 

“Heavy, but… It looks like fun.”

Techno was dubious, but he didn’t say anything. He never knew with Ranboo what was truth and what was a lie. It wasn’t conscious on his part, but rather a fatal flaw in his personality. He was a doormat. He’d placate until it was the truth; until it was his truth. Then nobody knew what Ranboo really wanted. 

Without speaking, Techno grabbed Ranboo’s fingers and re-adjusted them on the hilt so he was holding it properly. All this did was allow Ranboo to wave it around better. He had no technique whatsoever. Perhaps a smaller blade like a dagger would suit him better? But that would also mean he’d have to be able to fight in close quarters and judging by Ranboo’s physique and disposition, he wouldn’t handle that sort of thing well. Then perhaps a long range weapon? He already sort of utilized that with his magic, so--

“Here’s your sword back. I mean, if you want me to hold onto it I can, it’s just I don’t really know what I’m doing--” 

Techno took the sword back. “I get it. Sword’s probably not for you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Have you ever shot an arrow?” 

“Um, not really.” 

“Well, we’ll find somethin’ for you.” 

“Um, thanks.” Ranboo smiled all of a sudden. “Maybe I can teach you magic!” 

“I’ll pass, kid. Me and magic don’t mix.” If there was anybody more deserving to know, anybody most likely to understand just how well he and magic didn’t mix, it would be the Syndicate. They were the same as him except for how it mattered most. They weren’t a product of a failed timeline. They survived their ordeal; they made it out human. It didn’t matter how many times Techno tried to drill it in his own head how human he was, how many times he’d pinch his own wrist to remind himself he was flesh now. He still felt like a weapon. 

“If you say so. But the offer’s always open. Maybe I’m not the best to teach it, but Niki’s pretty good.” 

“It’s not you. I’m sure you’d be a great teacher.” 

“Magic’s not a bad thing. It’s sweet. It’s warm. It’s a part of you. Denying yourself the freedom of using it… It must be painful.” 

Techno’s eye twitched. “I’ve used magic once. It hurt more then than it would if I don’t use magic at all.” 

Ranboo appeared apologetic. Techno would’ve bet a string of apologies was about to shoot from his mouth had the rest of their group not bound up to them, falling in on themselves in their drunken stupors.  

“There you guys are!” Niki crowed, trying to throw a heavy arm over Ranboo’s shoulder. Because of his obnoxious height, she was left whacking his arm until he lowered himself enough to allow Niki to grip him in a headlock. Ranboo, ever the people-pleaser, took it like a champion. 

“Whatcha doing out here?” 

“Bird-watchin’,” Techno deadpanned. 

“Very funny! Funny guy!” Ant flopped onto the ground, face first. Techno put his sword away and picked Ant up by the scruff, dragging him back towards the street.

“Okay, let’s get you drunkards into bed.” 

“Noo!” the three drunkards wailed, still Connor dutifully trailed after him. Techno trusted Ranboo would be able to take care of Niki. There was something sweet about having to drag them kicking and screaming to their beds so they’d be able to function properly in the morning for something serious. While no one was looking, Techno allowed himself a fond little smile.

Nothing had gone right. They had been spotted, they had been attacked, Ant was injured and the worst crime of all was that they got no information out of it. The place had been devoid of any research or experimentations. Not that Technoblade wanted to find their experiments, but at least it would’ve been more than a legion of skilled mages attacking them from the shadows. Not even Ant’s egg could get into their heads; most likely, they had heard about what happened to their puppets and fortified their minds against the Egg with magic. 

The Syndicate had no other option than to return with their tails between their legs, back to the forests and the dilapidated campfires and thin sleeping bags and rocks for pillows and nothing on their next move. With his white knuckles bunched up, Techno slammed his fist into the nearest tree, watching as the roots pulled out from the frozen ground. The tree made a large cracking noise as it toppled onto other trees and some especially pointy rocks. 

“Techno… Are you alright? Is your hand okay?” asked Niki. 

“Fine!” Techno barked as he cradled his hand. If she hadn’t mentioned it, it wouldn’t have hurt. The rest of the group surrounded him and the downed tree. His gaze turned to Connor, who was picking something out of his teeth with a throwing knife. “You! If you hadn’t been messin’ around, Ant wouldn’t be injured right now.” 

“Wait, really?” Connor blinked, removing the dagger as he suddenly realized all eyes were on him. 

“That’s not true,” Ant defended while he clutched his still bleeding arm. “Even if he were paying attention, I don’t think Connor would’ve been able to get to me in time.” 

“Well, we’ll never know. Why? Because despite all attempts at trainin’, Connor has never shaped up. He will never have anyone’s back!” 

“Techno!” Niki admonished, her usually soft voice now harsh with criticism. “You don’t get to speak to us like that. You don’t get to speak to anyone like that! I know you’re used to having armies under your command, but we’re not that. We’re not your underlings, we’re your team and we deserve respect.” 

Techno’s gaze flitted between Niki and Connor, ascertaining how she put herself in between the two of them. How she was holding a roll of gauze for Ant. What the hell was he even doing here with these people? 

Wrapping his cloak extra tightly around him, Techno stalked off further into the forest, not bothering to speak another word. Nothing was going right. They had hit a dead end. Where were they supposed to go from here? The rest of the group didn’t even seem to care either. If Techno had just gotten the information out of that terrorist the old fashioned way, this wouldn’t have happened. 

The soft sound of rocks sliding against each other forced Techno to stop. He was at a ledge, the loose debris threatening to come loose as his weight added stress. It was a steep drop but the worst of it was spared by a thick coat of fog. 

“Technoblade,” Niki called out to him, trailing behind by a few feet. “What was that?” 

“Nothin’. I-- Let me be for a while.” 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea. We’re a team. Talk to me.” When Techno refused to speak, Niki continued. “I get that you’re frustrated, to say the least, but this isn’t the end of the world, okay? We’ve had incredible luck these past few months with you, but we’ve had dead ends before. We’ll find more leads.” 

“I don’t hear them anymore.” 

“Hear who?”

Techno looked at her funny. “The voices?” 

Niki, who had been slowly trying to approach Techno as though he were some poor animal that needed to be coaxed, suddenly stilled. “You used to hear them all the time?” 

“You-- when we met, you pointed to your head-- you-- they don’t? To you?” Initially, Techno had been sure he was the only one who could hear the voices. After all, their place in his mind had been insured by the death he had wrought in a previous lifetime. It had only been when he and Niki spoke for the first time, really spoke, that he ever suspected the voices had more than one master.

“I’ve only ever heard a voice in my head that was not my own twice in my life. The first was after my thirtieth day in captivity. They overfed me that day and something had changed. The second was in that alley in El Rapids.” So it had been the voices guiding her towards his trust. “You hear them all the time?”

“I used to,” he confessed. “They were always there, always had somethin’ to say. They had the worst attitude, too, and really unreliable. But they reminded me of what I came to do. They reminded me of the mission.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re gone.”

“‘Cause I failed so miserably?” Techno snorted. 

“Because that mission is over. Look, I won’t pretend to know what goes on in your mind, ever. But maybe you don’t need those voices anymore because you have us. Whatever mission you were on previously sounds really lonely. I don’t know how you went from captivity to knighthood to being with the royal family and still came out sane. But I’m glad you did. I’m glad you’re here with us.”

Techno couldn’t look at Niki, so he just stared out into the endlessly foggy abyss. It had been lonely, even when he felt himself finally conceding to the Crafts’ familiarity. For all their talk about family, he had still been left in the dark about their plans, still ganged up in group discussions on what were supposed to be his plans, still the ward, the tutor, not the son. Most of those barriers had been put in place by Technoblade. Most of the loneliness had been self-carved. It still ached. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at Connor. Or you.”

“No,” Niki agreed with a twinkling smile. “There’s a tradition we have around here to let bygones be bygones. It’s two simple words.”

“But I wasn’t wrong,” Techno continued, wincing slightly at how his words overlapped with Niki’s. “Connor doesn’t pay attention. He doesn’t care. I don’t know why he’s here.”

“He’s here because I found him. I found him like me, like Ant, like Ranboo, like you, and that was enough. We weren’t all born into the fight.”

“Were you? Born into the fight?”

Niki shook her head. “No, I was a baker’s daughter. I was going to take over my mama’s business.” Her fingers massaged the callouses on her other hand as she stared wistfully down at her lap. “I can’t go back now.”

“You can,” Techno assured her. “When it’s all done. When we’ve taken down The Tower. You can go back. I’ll make sure of it.”

Niki bumped her shoulder into his before dropping her head on his armored shoulder. Despite the obvious discomfort both experienced, hers from the metal and his from the contact, neither moved. 

“I knew you were the right pick. I knew you were meant to lead us. To save us.”

Technoblade didn’t end up apologizing to Connor, still finding the words hard to form in his mouth, but he did give Connor an extra helping at dinnertime and sharpened his daggers without the other man needing to ask. Connor took his goodwill in stride, thanking him earnestly and joking around like normal. While it irritated Technoblade slightly that Connor didn’t reflect on Techno’s grievances, he was just glad that water was under the bridge for now. Besides, he’d rather have Connor in a good mood than a sour one; he had a real knack for telling jokes. 

Though Techno thought he had lost Ranboo’s interest in weapons training, he was surprised to find the boy holding a set of daggers and launching them at a tree like one would throw a boomerang. 

“You’re not holdin’ it right,” Techno commented as he watched from behind Ranboo. He practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of somebody else’s voice, which made Techno worried about his awareness skills. Just another thing he’d add to the list of training (a list that kept growing). 

Ranboo offered a knife to Techno. In a manner befitting a showman, not unlike the kind of demonstration Wilbur would do, Techno showed Ranboo how it was done. Ranboo watched him intently, mimicking Techno’s movements despite not having a knife in hand. 

When it was Ranboo’s turn again, he tried and failed to hit the mark. He huffed, the first show of disapproval for anything that Techno had seen of the kid. “You keep flickin’ your wrist. You’re not goin’ to get anythin’ like that.”

Ranboo controlled his wrist this time, going so far as to grip it tightly with his other hand. This one stuck on the tree successfully, though his aim was still desiring something. 

“How was that?” a hesitant Ranboo asked. He looked like he wanted to eat his fingernails. 

“I think you’ve got a talent for knives.”

“Hey! Good job, kid!” Connor called from the campfire. Ranboo covered his face with his hands, no doubt hiding the streaks of pink on his cheeks. Technoblade surveyed the scene with calculated pride. So maybe nothing was as dire as he made it out to be. He spent the majority of this lifetime being thrown into problems and forced to find solutions on his own. It was sort of nice knowing there were people with whom he could strive to improve and they in turn wanted the same from him. 

Their next lead came in the form of an elderly man that lived permanently on a street corner. He had a glass eye that protruded from his skull and had a beard that could double as a vest for how long it was. He had called them over when he spotted Techno’s mask. ‘Call’ was a nicer way to say the old man blew raspberries in their direction until they gave him the time of day. Blessings that they did. 

He told them a tale of a group of strangers whirling into town. Finely dressed with sanctimonious eyes. When a little girl’s ball wandered onto their path, one of them summoned lightning in their hands and zapped it. All that had been left of the ball had been smoke. 

“I heard of you folks. The one with the boar mask they call the Blood God? Goin’ after freaks like that? I respect it. That’s why I tell you. Now you have to do your part.”

Ranboo and Ant had thanked the man for his information while Techno, Niki, and Connor went to do some further investigation. It turned out a group from The Tower had passed through and it wasn’t even that long ago. It only took the Syndicate two hours to catch up to the group. With the element of surprise on their side, they neutralized the mages and tied them up. 

Techno grabbed who appears to be their leader by the throat and raised him so his feet dangled just over the ground. 

Ant tapped him on the shoulder. “Wait, Techno! I can use the Egg--”

“No,” Techno growled. 

“It’s more efficient--”

“We’re not usin’ that sort of crap.” Techno was too busy choking the man out to notice how Ant’s shoulders slumped as he took a step back. 

All they got from the mages was that they had been on their way to one of The Tower’s many compounds. The mage had to bleed a lot before they extracted that information out of him, but it ended up including an exact location and what would await them at the compound. This was big. They’d never gotten a real compound before. Their other hits had been emptied or fakes or just the Western Terrors being used as a shield for The Tower. 

After he ran a sword through the group, Techno rounded up the Syndicate and informed them of their new destination. They’d all been just as excited as Techno, maybe except for Ant. One look from Niki informed Technoblade that it was his fault. She mouthed tradition and pulled Connor and Ranboo forward with her. 

Techno tried his best to match the rhythm of Ant’s walk as he fell into step. Ant seemed like he knew what was coming. Like he was just waiting. Unfortunately, traditions Techno never took part of were hard to grow accustomed to. The words felt like sandpaper on his tongue. Apologizing to strangers was easy. Apologies for small things were easy. This was harder. 

“We know The Tower knows about your magic. Remember last time? They all had their defenses up against it.” He thought it was a reasonable explanation. Ant, at his core, was someone who respected logic. Despite his appearance, he was realistic to a painfully human degree. If it hadn’t been for the shards, he would’ve probably lived a mundane life. Except for that little cult detail. 

“I get that you don’t trust magic. I really do get it. It’s just… It’s my life. It’s my culture.”

“I didn’t mean it in any way.” Techno shocked himself at how easy the lie slipped out of his mouth, and he was even more shocked at how quick Ant was to catch him in it. 

“You did. You don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it. It’s a natural progression, I guess. You don’t like magic, so it stands to reason that the egg is something so much worse to you.”

“I don’t think it’s safe.”

“People in Blötländer have been assisted by the Egg for centuries. We developed a symbiotic relationship. It amplifies our magic, helps us, and in return we allow it to exercise energy.”

“Mind-control.”

“You don’t understand it.”

“Or you’re too clouded by it.”

“This is who I am, Technoblade. Even before the experiments and the fur and The Tower, I was a mage of Blötländer. I did this. I’m not asking you to like it. I guess I’m just asking that you respect it… No, not it. I know you can’t do that. But at least respect me?”

“I do respect you.”

“Not in the ways that matter. You respect me as a comrade, but not as a person. I still am one, you know, underneath all this.”

Techno shuddered. Here was someone just like him, begging for respect, begging for personhood, and here was Techno all this time, accidentally denying him the right. His stomach knotted. 

“I didn’t mean to. I don’t know the difference.”

“The royal family,” said Ant, “were they just comrades to you? Or Were they people?”

They decided to camp out and attack in the morning. From experience, mages tended to be quite active at night, but they usually all went to bed just before daybreak, making it the perfect hour to spring a trap on them. In the shroud of the forest, a new campfire ignited. The five of them sat around it, an uncomfortable air surrounding them. Techno didn’t know what to say. Seemed like every move he made outside of battle was a catastrophic failure. At least he hadn’t screwed up with Ranboo yet. 

Connor broke the silence by pulling something out of his bag. There had to have been magical properties to Connor’s bag, for it had the ability to hold an infinite amount of items of all shapes and sizes. This was just conjecture, of course. It had never been confirmed and Connor insisted that all bags were like that. Just the sheer amount of strange things Techno had seen the man pull from that bag was enough to make someone suspicious. 

This time, he pulled out a mid-sized barrel and a couple of tin mugs. “I know we’re not near a tavern right now, which is why I thought my to-go stash would be good to use tonight.”
Niki clapped. “Tradition won’t be broken tonight!”

Connor was quick to carve out an opening and begin pouring drinks. 

He poured four. 

He pushed one toward Techno. 

“Come on, buddy, loosen up. One drink?”

When he saw the tin he didn’t just see the tin. He saw the endless navy of Wilbur’s blindfold, crushing him without even touching him. He felt the bark of a tree underneath his palm as he heaved out all the poison. He heard Tommy’s laugh, begging him to drink a little more. Let loose. 

“Are you okay, Techno?” asked Niki. She had moved from her spot across the fire to right next to him on his log. Her hand brushed up and down his backside in a comforting manner. Techno never thought of touch as something comforting. Only from certain people. When had Niki become certain people?

“You don’t have to do it, man,” Connor back-tracked. “You’re not wasting anything by not drinking.” 

Techno chuckled. “It’s not that.” 

“You don’t have to do it. Asking you has just become sort of like, I don’t know, tradition for us,” Ant explained as he nursed his own drink. “We’re the last people who would force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.” 

Techno grabbed the tin, his thumb ghosting over the rim. “At first it was the principle of things. Your senses get dulled when you drink. You’re not in your right mind. I didn’t even let Tommy drink. ‘Course he never listened to me. They wanted to play drinkin’ games. They wanted to know. They wanted me pliant.” He took a long sip of the beer until his cup was empty. He didn’t ask for more, and no one offered any. 

“Where they kept me, sometimes they’d force us to drink alcohol because they ran out of sedatives and their magic stopped being so effective on us because of the, well, you know. I used to love going out to drink with my buddies. A night out on the town after a shit day at work. It was hard to drink after I got out. I had these awesome memories of it before The Tower that I wanted to recapture, but it was just really sad whenever I tried. Then Ant and Niki started drinking with me, and, well, it became fun again. Became enjoyable again. Like I reclaimed it.” As Connor mused, he poured himself another drink. “I’m not an alcoholic, I think I should clarify. I just enjoy people.” 

Neither Techno nor Ranboo left the circle while the other three drank. Instead, they stayed and laughed at Connor’s jokes and Niki’s baffled reactions and Ant’s natural bewildered looks slowly slipped into something comfortable, something daring. He hadn’t realized he never really took the time to sit with them as people rather than the Syndicate. 

Had it been the same with the Crafts? Techno remembered the small moments. He remembered reading to Wilbur at his bedside. He remembered tea with Phil after dinner-- even when there wasn’t anything important to talk about, they’d just talk -- he remembered helping Tommy get away with a practical joke on the Blumefallen estate’s butler. It hadn’t all been bad. 

With the Syndicate, there was scarcely a bad time between them. They were all just so good that it made Technoblade feel guilty for his ongoing cruelty. Phil had been right. His love was violent. It was painful. So maybe he had been doing it all wrong. Maybe love didn’t need to be threats and violence. Maybe it could be a gentle hand on his back and swapping honest stories. Maybe it could be simple. 

It was a nasty business. Techno was glad to help free people from captivity, but it never got easier looking at people with silver fingers and cracked skin. Not the kind of cracks one got from lack of hydration, but rather the crack of porcelain when dropped. The lucky ones had normal eye colors; they could still go back to a normal life if they tried hard enough. The others, the ones with horns and claws and pink eyes, they weren’t as lucky. 

It was in these instances that Techno noticed the stark contrast between himself and the rest of the Syndicate. When they consoled these people, they came from a place of relatability. They knew what this was like, and they’d know how to get through it. Techno’s experience had been wildly different. His was not in the privacy of a lab with only mages as witnesses; his had been in front of the whole court to watch. His had been a humiliation ritual. In a twisted way Techno didn’t like, he felt jealous that this was the worst people got. He couldn’t bear to look at his team, for he knew that jealousy would turn on them. Instead, he put his sword away and left the compound. His job had finished. The mages were tied up with their mouths sealed so they couldn’t magic their way out of it. 

Unbeknownst to him, Ranboo followed him out. 

“Um, hey!” he called, confessing his presence. “Ant’s wondering what we should do about the people?” 

“Have them return to their homes?” 

Ranboo wringed his wrists. “Well, some of them… Some of them can’t.” 

Ah. The horned ones. The porcelain ones. The ones with pink eyes. The ones irrevocably changed. They’d already asked this batch of mages whether or not they could undo what the shards had done, but they didn’t know. They said that information was classified; only the High Mages of The Tower knew that sort of thing. Who knew how many people, after already going through so many horrors, couldn’t even return to themselves because they had been so changed? All of those creatures that the palace had unleashed during the coup-- they must have been people once. 

“What does Niki say?” asked Techno, forcing a gentle tone. 

“She wants to know if they could come with us. Just until we find them a better situation.” 

Who knew how long that would take. Doing what they did required a certain lightness. Small numbers, little to no baggage, and an innate ability to survive. He supposed these people already proved the third requirement. 

“I’ll follow whatever she decides.” Techno would never know why Niki decided to give him leadership of the group. Perhaps it was because he was a more imposing figure, or perhaps she believed his military expertise would be helpful, but the truth was that Niki never stopped being the leader. She was the heart of the Syndicate. She was here long before Techno, and perhaps long after. He still didn’t know how permanent his place was with them. He liked being around them, and he felt fulfilled by the work they did, but how long would it last? What happened when they fulfilled their goal? The mission would be over. The Syndicate would be over. 

What would Technoblade do with himself?

Niki led the group of survivors out of the compound. With her hands, she signaled for him to go back in and finish off the mages. He obliged. 

Due to their new recruits, the Syndicate opted to camp out for a second night in a row. Their supplies seemed inconsequential with their new numbers, so Techno and the rest of the original members offered to go into town to get more. Among the ranks of the survivors were some very capable people. Knights, mercenaries, and laborers-- most candidates were picked for their physical conditions. They’d be fine on their own.

“Hey, shouldn’t Ant stay with the rest of the freaks?” Connor ribbed the feline with a grin. 

“Oh, like you’re any better with what you wear. We know The Tower didn’t do that to you, Connor.” 

Techno barked out a laugh as they rounded the corner onto the main street of the small town they found themselves nearby. The streets were quite busy for a town of this size. A crowd swarmed the center fountain. A man dressed in military garb stood on the edge of the fountain with a scroll of parchment, loudly proclaiming for everyone to hear:

“--and so, the king demands your allegiance in our fight against the city-state of Himmelblock! Every healthy man or woman over the age of eighteen but under forty five is mandated to report to the nearest fortress in a week’s time. Failure to show up will result in the death of the guilty party’s entire family line!” 

Immediately the crowd was upon him, yelling derogatory names, wailing about how unfair it all was, and trying to drag him into the mob for some true justice. Unfortunately for the crowd, the man had come with backup. Guards with the royal colors thrusted their spears forward, knocking back several people. 

“War? Is the king crazy? He’s barely been on the throne for like, what, a year?” Connor scoffed. 

Himmelblock.

“I haven’t been keeping up with politics. What’d that dot on the map do to Manberg ?” asked Ranboo. 

Himmelblock. 

“His position was born from bloodshed-- no offense, Techno-- maybe he’s just a wartime leader.” 

“Himmelblock,” Techno unknowingly blurted aloud. 

“Yeah, buddy, Himmelblock. Little city-state up north? Bum-fuck nowhere? Tiny--” 

“You’re from Himmelblock,” Niki stated. Her knowing eyes never missed a thing. “Do you think--?” 

“I have to go.”

Already, Techno had turned on his heel to go back for his stuff. Tommy declared war on Himmelblock. Himmelblock, a place so caught up in its own affairs that it didn’t have time to make problems with neighboring countries. Himmelblock, as stated by Connor, was so small that sometimes map-makers forgot to include it. Himmelblock, Technoblade’s birthplace. 

“Wait, Techno! Don’t be rash! Remember, you faked your death! They can’t know you’re--” 

“They know!” Technoblade, in all these months he’d been with the Syndicate, had never thought they believed he was dead. There was just no way. Wilbur would’ve said something. Worse, Phil would just know. He would know because a part of Phil was laced into Techno’s soul. At best, his death had been a publicity stunt. 

“Can we at least talk about this?” Ant begged. “What’s your plan?” 

“I have to help Himmelblock. They’re-- they’re doomed without me.” He recalled the last time he’d been to Himmelblock in his past life. The end of his blade scraping against the cobblestone streets, blood filling the grout. Someone held his hilt tightly as if to choke him, and all he could do was watch it all happen. 

“What about us?” 

Techno turned to face them. He owed them that much at least. “We’ll have to part ways here. I’m really proud of the work we’ve done together. If I live through--” he was interrupted by a throwing knife hitting the side of his temple. There was enough skill in the throw that it had been the butt of the knife and not the blade that hit him. Techno blinked once, and then again to make sure what he saw was right. 

Ranboo had thrown that at him. 

Submissive, nervous Ranboo. 

“That was a good throw.” 

“We’re not leaving you! We-- you’re our leader! We’re your team! We stick together! That’s how the Syndicate works! Tell him, Niki!” 

Connor whistled his support as Niki stepped forward. “Technoblade, we didn’t just choose you as our leader because of our common goal. I mean, of course that was part of it, but… You’re like us. We won’t just leave you when you need us.” 

“This-- this isn’t your fight. I can’t ask you to risk your lives for this--” 

“Your fight is our fight!” Connor said with more passion than Techno had ever heard from him in all his time of acquaintance. 

“Come on. You’d do it for us, right? You have been doing it for us.” All at once, the Syndicate had him surrounded, hands on his shoulders and biceps. Not yet a hug, but if invited, would become one. He didn’t shake them off. He didn’t deny them. He just unlatched his mask and looked upon them with his own eyes. They would be some of the only witnesses to the Blood God’s wet eyes.

Chapter Text

The last time Technoblade stepped foot within Himmelblock, he’d been just as desperate to leave. He had arrived for such innocent reasons: his mother wanted him to come home for the Autumn festivals. He still had the letter-- or rather, it was among his possessions back in Nevadas-- the last letter he’d ever receive from her. She had been ecstatic that the king of Himmelblock meant to honor her son’s achievements during the festivities. It was two pages of non-stop praise that had made Techno rather embarrassed at the time. He’d heard those words from tutors and peers; he’d heard them speak it to other people in a way to one-up others socially, but he’d never really heard it directly. They didn’t really understand what he did. His father was a businessman first and foremost, and his mother a socialite. Techno’s training was just a way to climb ranks at first; it was a shock to everyone when they found he genuinely enjoyed it. 

Because they didn’t understand him, they weren’t close. Because they didn’t understand him, they allowed him to stay a majority of the year away at Hochpixel with his master, rather than train with a local master in Himmelblock. They loved him, so they provided him the best, but they did not understand. 

Techno had been okay with that. He had his sword, and he had his armor, and when he had first turned fifteen, he had a title. In this new life, it was even earlier. His parents were proud, but they didn’t understand what exactly they were proud of. 

They weren’t close, so Technoblade couldn’t save them in either lifetime. In the past, their death had been an accident. A loose carriage wheel and a sharp turn on a narrow mountain road. Techno had been an adult when it happened. He grieved them and let it go. And when he had been transformed into a sword and conquered their home, he had grieved again. He didn’t let go as easily this time. This was personal. 

Just like it was now. History repeating itself. It didn’t matter who Technoblade put on the throne; they always wanted a piece of Himmelblock. They always wanted a piece of Techno. 

The streets were closer in memory to his first life than Techno’s most recent visit to Himmelblock about nine years ago. Covered in debris, littered in rubble. If one were to continue down the street, it would’ve been like nothing else was new. It was just this part of the street. 

Right in front of where Technoblade’s house used to be. 

It had been blown to bits, from the looks of it. Splintered wood and especially sturdy stone managed to stay, but the rest was no more than dust. The wall that had guarded his house so well all these years now welcomed the unwelcomed, and their golden nameplate was missing underneath all the brick. 

His strong legs wavered until they could not hold his weight any longer. 

“I’m so sorry,” Niki said from behind him, placing a well-meaning hand on his shoulder. He didn’t shake her off, but he didn’t acknowledge her either. The rest of the street was fine, the only damage coming from the projectiles that shot from Techno’s house. The rest of the city was still fine. The invasion army wasn’t due at their walls for another five days. 

“Do you think anyone was in there when it happened?” asked Connor. 

“Two,” Techno grumbled out. “I kept on the butler and head maid to maintain the premises. Unless it happened on the day the gardener… I kept a gardener for my mother’s flowers…” He had dismissed everyone else after his parents died. He had all but sworn to never return to Himmelblock. He had been so swept up in grief and anger and Philza had solutions, easy ones. Become his ward. Stay in Blumefallen. Allow the Crafts’ men to manage Techno’s father’s businesses while he focused on Tommy’s education. Let Techno worry about the things he always worried about. 

What a mistake. 

A terrible blunder. 

Those Crafts really knew how to play him. No wonder they didn’t respect him. He had been fooled so easily by honeyed words and easy solutions. Teatime after dinner and readings at candlelight and sparring sessions and-- 

Enough. Shame wouldn’t fix anything anyway. 

Techno drew his sword and planted it into the ground, black dust spraying back into his face. 

He got to his feet and turned to his team. He unlatched his mask once more. They needed to see his eyes. “This is it. This is the fight. Head on. Not The Tower this time, but people who are just as responsible.” 

“What’s the plan?” asked Ranboo. 

“We go to the king. I’ll tell him who I am. He’ll accept my help.” 

“You’re going to say you’re the Blood God or that you’re Technoblade?” Connor’s brows curved. “‘Cause I don’t know if you know this, but Technoblade is legally dead and we’re legally terrorists. So--” 

“I’ll be Technoblade.” It was easier to explain faking his death than explaining why he was running around the Manberg countryside with a bunch of terrorists. He hoped the king didn’t hold his ties to the Crafts against him. 

Gaining an audience with the king was disturbingly easy. All he did was approach the guards and make his request, and just as quickly were they throwing the doors open for the Syndicate. They didn’t even ask his name. 

Himmelblock’s king wasn’t an important man in the grand scheme of things. The city-state he ruled with a gentle hand was small. It was but a minor crevice, hidden away in between massive powers. Technoblade had met him about a dozen times. His parents were on good terms with the ruler, something they prided themselves in, only made better when Techno had ascended to the rank of knighthood. It had disappointed the king slightly when Techno chose not to serve him but rather travel around first, but Techno had made sure to leave the lingering of a promise for the sake of goodwill. 

Now, Techno was returning to fulfill that false promise. 

Himmelblock’s king wasn’t an important man, but he was still a king. One soon to be under siege. Why his security was lax and his halls close to abandoned spiked Techno’s paranoia. One glance at his team behind him soothed it. These things were easily placated when he didn’t have thousands of dead warriors in his head beating on his worst impulses. 

A second set of doors opened up to the throne room, where the King of Himmelblock sat with his legs spread and his head in one hand. His hair was tangled into his crown, his clothes in complete disarray. He was more of a drunkard than a king. Techno resisted the urge to shake his head in disappointment. Judgment didn’t help anybody. 

“Who are you people?” the king slurred. 

Techno clenched his teeth as he fell into a one-legged kneel. The Syndicate followed suit. 

“My king, I am Sir Technoblade, son of Marcel and Maria of Himmelblock. Upon hearing the news of what the King of Manberg sets out to do, I’ve returned to my homeland to fulfill my promise to you all those years ago.” 

“Sir Technoblade? They declared you dead almost a year ago. Does that make you a pretender?” the king scoffed. “Even if you are Technoblade, I have no use for traitors. Technoblade belongs to Manberg now. Practically a prince himself.” 

“No,” he denied, “I’m not. I faked my death to escape them. They’re… Theseus is not fit for the throne.”

This piqued the king’s interest. His back straightened, suddenly overly aware of his dreadful appearance. 

“If this is true… Pray tell, where have you been all this time? And who are your companions?” He could tell from the look on the king’s face he didn’t think so highly of the Syndicate. The way his brows furrowed at Ant’s feline appearance or his nose turned up at Connor’s choice attire. He didn’t think much of them at all.

“These warriors have been the protectors of Manberg while Theseus has lost himself in his power. Together, we’ve been travelin’ the countryside, defendin’--” 

“I know of them. Of you. The Blood God and the Syndicate. Am I right? That’s you lot? The terrorists?” 

“Only Theseus sees us as terrorists. To the rest of the people, we are saviors. That’s why we’ve come to you. I want to defend Himmelblock from Manberg.” 

The king laughed. “I commend your efforts. Really, I do, Sir Technoblade. But you’re too late. I’ve ordered my army to stand down. I plan to surrender.”

“You can’t!” Techno bellowed. “You can’t let him win. I know him, my king. I… I raised him. He won’t stop at Himmelblock. If you let him take this land, our land, he won’t stop. He’ll move to Hochpixel. To Blötländer. The Untergrund Stadt. The entire continent will be his for the takin’ because we did not resist. We must resist!”

“What would you have me do, Sir Technoblade?” the king smiled, defeated. The king had always been old in Techno’s mind-- even when he was young, the king had worry lines on his proud face-- but now he looked ancient. One terrible battle might blow him to dust. “King Theseus has the best soldiers. The biggest army. The most advanced technology in warfare. All I have are these walls and the will of my people.”

“It will be enough,” Techno urged. “We don’t need technology, just our wits. I know his soldiers. I trained his soldiers. I can train yours too. Numbers are helpful, but it’s not the deciding factor. Please, my king, let your people fight.”

“Techno is good for his word,” Niki said. “He’s the most trustworthy man I know. If he says he’s going to do something, it means he will.”

“You’re all willin’ to stand at his side, even if it’s at the doors of death?”

“And beyond,” said Ranboo.

“That’s how far we’d follow him,” Ant added. 

The king leaned back in his throne, pensively rubbing his barbed chin. “I’ll summon my war council. I’ll leave it in your hands, Sir Technoblade.”

Techno got to his feet. “You won’t regret this.”

“If you really are good for your word, then I shouldn’t have to.”

The war council, a small group made up of two men and three women, was delighted to see Technoblade. He had met all of them at various points in time, but he needed remindings of their names. They were all from the older generation, having served their king for many decades. Their roles were largely decorous, for Himmelblock had not been in a battle much less a war in over four decades. Still, their experience and respect was invaluable.