Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The inn he had stopped in was small and humble. The walls were unplastered, just naked old wood, the bark unstripped. His room was similarly plain. It was just a bed, a single window - made of oiled paper, not glass - and it’s one luxury: a mirror. 

He tossed his travel sack - which had grown lighter and lighter with each passing month - on the floor and flopped back into the bed. It was a straw mattress, he noted with agitation. He could feel the sharp ends poking through the burlap cover and thin blankets, digging into his bare arms and neck.

It had been four years. 

Two he’d spend on the hunt, two he spent wandering. The last two years had taught him many things. He learned how to shut off his mind to a degree he wasn’t able to before. He had learned to ignore the ache in his feet, the burn of his muscles, the pain in his stomach, the dryness of his tongue, the scream of his mind. The last two years had been a metamorphosis of sorts. From a body and a mind he became an action. More than human, less than an animal, he pulled away from his pain, his thoughts, and only lived to walk.

It made time pass faster. He could blink during the sweet summer of Dovah, then be standing on the winter shores of Fallen Kingdom. He lost time in a way he hadn’t before. Before, he’d lose the date, or the season, and be reminded when he met up with Phil-

He severed the line of thought. It wasn’t good to think about those days. It stirred his heart from its slumber, something he dearly wanted to avoid.

Point was, he lost time now not as an accident, but as an act of his own violation. He didn’t want to be awake anymore. His life was slowly becoming one long night, his mind finally falling asleep. He didn’t know how long it would take for it to finally lay silent, but he was awaiting the day with calm eagerness.

He told himself he was happy.

And perhaps he was. 

Techno closed his eyes and went to sleep. He was cold.

—

The morning came in the slow dripping of sunlight through a window and the creak of his bed as he rose. His back hurt from the lumpy mattress, and his side burned with the steady pain of a healing wound. A job a week back had ended with him bleeding out on the side of the road, his guts in his hands.

He didn’t know what compelled him to mutter healing spells under his breath, or stitch himself closed with shaking, slick hands - he imagined it was the same force that compelled him to keep walking everyday. He didn’t know its name, only its steady presence. Like a fly constantly buzzing past his ear, he couldn’t shake it nor ignore it, but by gods could he hate it. 

He lifted his shirt and prodded gently along the wound, his fingers glancing over the hot, raised skin. It was healing, slowly but surely. 

Techno sighed to himself and dropped his hands to his side. Another day, he reminded himself, just another day. And then the next and the next and the next. Perhaps eons would pass like this, without his notice or care. He wouldn’t be surprised. 

A draft blew through the room, shaking the thin curtains by the window. A glint of light caught his eye, and he raised his head to follow it. The mirror. It stood shining in the middle of the wall, reflecting his slumped form and tired eyes.

He almost laughed. He looked horrible!

He had once been a boy so powerful he fought off a god. He didn’t believe anyone would think him capable of such a thing now. Hell, he’d bet no one would believe he could fight anyone. It looked like a stray gust of wind or mild cold could do him in. His hair was matted with dirt, his face pale and gaunt. His eyes were dark and hollowed. He looked like a dead man walking.

And perhaps he was. 

His head fell into his knees. 

“You’re running away.” 

He lifted his head up again, tired gaze landing back on the mirror. His reflection had stood from the bed and was looking down at him with sad, red eyes. 

He groaned and flopped back. Great, he thought, now he was going insane. 

“You’re not going crazy, Techno.” 

He glared at the reflection, “That’s exactly what a hallucination would say.”

His reflection drew his lips into a thin line, “You know that’s not what I am.” 

Techno raised a brow at the mirror. How strange this version of him looked. He was worn too, his clothes torn and patched together again, dark lines under his eyes, the scars across his face and hands mimicking Techno’s own. But how different he was. In the details you could pick him apart. His eyes held light his own did not, his hands did not shake, he carried himself high, his shoulders refusing to slump, something about him carried strength.

And so he could not possibly be what Techno thought he was. They never spoke, afterall. 

“How should I know what you are,” He retorted.

The man gave him a look, “You know why. You’re running, Technoblade.”
“I am not,” he bit.

“You are-”

“And how would you know anything about me,” He snapped, “You don’t know a single goddamn thing you're talking about.”

His reflection didn’t even blink at his outburst, “I know very well what you’re doing. We’re the same, Technoblade.”

Techno looked at the reflection, and shook his head, “No we’re not.”

“Yes we are.”

“No,” Techno spat out the word, “We’re not. You need to stop pretending we are.”

His soul looked at him, and he looked sad, “Why do you insist we’re separate?” he asked. Just a simple, quiet question that settled across the room softy. And at that small question, Techno broke. 

“Because I’m nothing! And that would mean you’re nothing! And that means that everything I’ve suffered was for nothing! I’m not that kid who had a soul, I haven't been for years! He died that day! When I lost my name Technoblade ended and I was born!” He screamed. He felt tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to slip from the corners. 

“You’re not nothing,” His soul said softly.

He took a step back, horror and anger and something indescribable in his tone, hushed and whispered, “Stop lying to me.”

“I only speak the truth, Techno.”

He laughed, bitter and low, “and how on earth would you know what’s true?”

“Because I’m you,” his soul pleaded, almost a yell, “And I am not a coward, and so you are brave. And I am not broken, and so you are still standing. And I am not nothing, and so you are something-”

The mirror shattered, shards of glittering glass and metal bursting away from it. They landed on the ground with a loud, showering crash, like a rain of glass. A knife was embedded deep in the mirror’s frame, Techno’s hand still outstretched from where he had thrown it. 

“You know nothing,” He said to the quiet of the room. 

In the few pieces of mirror still clinging to the frame, he could see himself.

He was crying. 

—

Techno left the inn shortly after, his skin itching at the idea of staying in place for more than a day. It was cold outside these days, winter setting in with a sapping chill. He walked through the forests, far away from the roads so no one could see him. He was tired of people trying to look at him, trying to understand him. They often drew their own lines, said he was something more than what he was. 

As he walked, it began to snow. In flurries the world was steadily buried under a blanket of white. The cold had a bite to it now, razor edged as it nipped at his hands and nose. His lips cracked in the cold - by nightfall they were bleeding. And still he walked.

He walked through the howling storm without a care, not for the cold, or the pain, or the sting. He paid it all little mind. He just kept trudging through the snow, which was steadily growing up to his calves. 

He knew he should find shelter - he didn’t particularly care to.

He walked and walked, and when he could no longer walk, he collapsed against a tree, sunk into the snow, and slept.

He awoke the next day with chat screaming in his ear. And he got up, and he walked. 

—

It was with careful, measured hands that he cut his wings from his body. The action was an old one, it came naturally to him even decades after he had stopped. He knew how to tilt his hand just so, how to angle the knife behind his back, how to cut and carve through flesh with precision. 

He bit down on a dirty towel. His screams stopped at the cloth, trapped between his clenched teeth. One wing rested on the floor next to him, the other still stubbornly attached to his back. His knife pressed through it. He told himself it didn’t hurt - and so it didn’t. In that single, white, burning feeling, how could he feel pain? How could he feel at all? There was nothing to feel beyond it.

His knife dipped below the sinuous muscle and slid into the wing’s joint. He could feel the cold glide against the cartridge, slickened with blood and burning. He jerked back, and he could feel his bones crunch against that blade.  He screwed his eyes shut and wrenched the knife up, popping free the joint. His wing went slack against his back, dangling precariously by a single strip of muscle. 

With a sharp flick of his wrist, and a wet sound, his wing fell free from his back. The two appendages lay on the floor beside him now, blood puddling beneath them. 

He told himself he was free. 

His soul told him he wasn’t. 

—

Perhaps Techno was pathetic. Yes, he found himself molding to the definition more and more with each passing day. He was once this great thing, powerful and grand. Something torn from the pages of an epic, a being stolen from the hushed words of a myth. The God’s once feared him.

Techno laughed to himself. The gods were probably the only ones who still did. 

He sighed into the rim of his drink. Business Bay was not a place he liked to go, but he wasn’t particularly aware of the places his feet decided to take him until he was there. The bar he had holed up in was dirty, a fine film of grease lining the tables, light from oil lamps dancing off the unpolished glass bottles that lined the shelves. Wanted posters lined the walls - bounties were pretty much entertainment here, like watching with awe as lottery numbers rose, and hoping that you just might catch one. The entire room smelled of cigarette smoke and poor ale. 

Techno’s hands were dyed a ruddy brown with the dried blood of a man he had killed not thirty minutes prior. Business Bay always had a job to take, and Techno hadn't worked in some time. He needed money, whether his mind was present to do work or not. So he drew his sword, tracked his bounty down, and returned with his coin pouch heavier than before. Even now, his eyes prowled the wanted posters on the walls, debating payments and cataloging names and faces. 

He looked like a common criminal in the bar. There was no difference between the men on the other side of the room - with cigarettes dangling from their lips and blood on their hands - and himself. 

No one would believe that the hunched over man at the bar, steadily drinking himself to death, was the great Technoblade. No one would know he could call the ocean to his will, make the earth split beneath his hands. No one knew who he was - only what he wasn’t. He wasn’t powerful, they could see that in the droop of his shoulders, he wasn’t proud, they could see that in the emptiness in his eyes, he wasn’t alive, for they could see he was a deadman walking.

Pathetic, in every sense of the word.

But if those men followed him out of the bar, seeing an easy target, well then they simply misjudged. Because there was still that annoying voice in the back of his head that compelled him to fight. That annoying voice that made him twist out of the way before their blades could slash his throat, his stomach, his heart. That annoying voice that forced him to fight even as he wanted to do anything but.

His hands grew heavy with blood , his knife found its target. 

He no longer felt reprieve from his pain when he killed others, he found. Not like he used to. No, instead it was one of the few times he could feel anything at all these days. Looking at those bodies, lining the alley and bleeding out onto the cobblestones, Techno felt an emotion begin to curl underneath his cheat, molten and sharp.

Jealousy.

Technoblade was right about himself. He was pathetic after all. In every sense of the word.

—

He left Business Bay that night, covered in blood and shame. Where to next - he didn’t know.

—

A young boy pushed the door open - though perhaps ‘boy’ wasn’t the right word, for the boy was steadily approaching becoming a man. But he was young, and very much still a boy compared to the rest of the world, and so boy was the only word to describe him. 

The bar grew quiet at his entrance, a hushed sort of anticipation settling across the room’s occupants, the air, hell even the very room itself; the wood of the bar floor quitting it’s soft groans, the glasses on the shelf stopping their clinking chatter, the cigarettes dangling from dry lips and rough hands snuffing out.

For there was something strange about this boy, though it was hard to place. He was young, oh so very young, but there was something deep in his soul that was old. 

The boy stepped quietly through the room, making his way quickly to the bar. His golden hair and blue eyes glowed in the low lamplight, seemingly producing light of their own. Heads turned in interest - it was not often someone so noteworthy entered Business Bay.  The boy sat down on a stool and called the bartender over. 

“We don’t serve children,” the bartender said immediately, hands polishing a glass. 

“I’m eighteen!” the boy shouted indignantly. Besides, it wasn't like the bars in Business Bay wouldn’t serve kids - hell, they’d serve babies if paid enough. There were laws, technically, but it was Business Bay, and thus no one gave a shit. You just had to tip a little bit more, and you’d get your drink. 

The boy did none of that, however. Instead, he just sighed and wrung a hand through his hair - an action that was not one of his own, but instead borrowed from someone he knew, long ago. 

“Listen,” the kid said, leaning forward, “I’m not here for ale. I’m looking for information.”

“We’re not a guild,” The bartender sneered, “Pick up your bounty elsewhere.”

“It’s not a bounty,” the boy grimaced, “I’m just trying to find someone. I need to know if he passed through here, and if you know where he’s going.”

The bartender glanced at him quickly, taking in his thick, woolen cloak, the fine belt and well made knife strapped to his thigh. The kid had money, at least modestly. 

“Yeah, I might be able to answer some questions,” he said, a glint in his eye, “for a price.”

The boy slid a silver coin over the table. The bartender accepted it easily and smiled, “Well then, ask away.”

The boy in turn grinned, eyes and teeth sharp, “I’m looking for a man named Technoblade.”

—-

He wandered for what felt like months, but he could never quite be sure. It could have been only a week, or it could have been years. He wasn’t concerned either way. It didn’t matter, something he understood more and more each passing year. Where he went, where he ran to, who he met, how long it had been, none of it mattered. He hurt just the same. It hurt more to want something, to want to be a part of something, and so he kept running far away from the things that he wanted. 

A home. A family. A friend. 

They only served to hurt him more, in the end.

Time passed like the ground beneath his feet - without notice or wonder. Mountain and prairie, glittering lakes and snow capped glaciers, he passed it all by without a second glance. Pain, it seemed, served to remove all the color from everything. Sunsets he had once found so beautiful in his youth, splitting across the horizon in oranges and yellows and reds. Now he could hardly stand to look at them. 

He wandered through forest and trodden dust roads, across rocky mountain ranges and over icy rivers. He had snapped out of his haze for those! Adrift in the haze and painfully snapped back to reality the next as his legs were submerged in freezing water! He yelped and almost jumped out of his skin. He still didn’t light a fire that night. He slept under a tree with soaked clothing and a wracking shiver. It didn’t matter anyway; he knew he would wake up in the morning. He always did. 

It was edging into spring when he stumbled through empty fields - snow still melting off sprouting grass - and into a familiar town. The sun was setting rapidly, darkness drenching the small village. Techno was hoping he could rent a cheap room, just for the night. He would be gone in the morning, but he was tired, and didn’t want to sleep in the cold again. 

And that’s when he saw them. As he stumbled through the darkening streets, they poured out of alleyways and floated through air - thousands of tiny lights, glowing like stars in the darkness. They twinkled, flickering in shades of silver, brass and gold, jingling like sleigh bells softly in his ears. 

He recognized this town: he was in Thevren. 

He reached out to the lights, cupping a few softly in his hands. They tickled his calloused palms, warm and gentle on his skin. He almost laughed. What were the chances he’d ever come back here? The lights seemed to swarm to him, dancing around him like fireflies. 

His hands drifted absentmindedly through the swarm, they swirled around his fingers, flowing like water over his hands. He smiled gently at the lights, he supposed Tubbo was still out there, somewhere within this town, casting spells and bringing light to the world. He was glad at least one thing he did was good and-

“Techno?”

Techno’s hands fell back to his sides, his eyes widening as they settled over the kid - although he was steadily becoming a man -  at the other end of the road. His hair was soft and brown, his eyes blue, his mouth hanging agape.

Techno huffed, “You’re gonna catch flies.”

Tubbo leveled an accusing finger at him, “It is you!”

Techno shrugged, “Who else would I be?”

“You came back!” He sounded genuinely surprised, and somehow. . . happy? Strange. It was good, he supposed, to see that Tubbo was very much still the kid with stars in his eyes. 

“I’ve been told I have a tendency to walk in circles,” Techno said noncommittally. He glanced around at the lights - thousands of them, there had to be, “You’ve gotten quite good at this. Better than I ever was. Guess you’re a mage now, huh.”

Tubbo grinned, “Thevren’s one and only. That book you bought me really helped me keep up learning when you left.”

“Oh you kept studying,” Techno blinked, surprised, “I hope your ender’s gotten better, for both our sakes.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Yeah, no thanks to you. I cannot believe you enchanted the book with damned key and lock sequences to keep me away from the more advanced spells. You made me take quizzes to unlock each section.”

Oh yeah, he forgot he did that. In his defense, he was not going to give the kid instructions on how to create an inferno without him knowing basic conjugations in ender. It was one of his finer pieces of work, as he’d never been a good rune-smith. But hey, he worked it out. 

“Well, it worked, didn't it,” Techno pointed out, “You’ve still got all your limbs attached.”

Tubbo crossed his arms, “I would have been fine.”

“You were six.”

“You killed a god when you were twenty two. Casting fire spells at age six seems mild in comparison,” Tubbo shot back. 

Techno felt himself go cold, “What did you say?”

“I mean,” Tubbo continued on, completely oblivious to Techno’s internal conflict, “that’s what I heard from Ranboo. I know you told me not to believe everything I hear, but all the traders that pass through tell the same stories too. There must be some truth to it, right?”

Techno let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Shakily he said, “I suppose so.”

“So you really killed a god?” Tubbo grinned, “Metal.”

Techno almost laughed, but he couldn’t quite manage it. It ended up as more of a sharp, exasperated - fearful, though he loathed to admit it - exhale. 

“You got some of your facts wrong,” Techno said, “I wasn’t twenty two. I was nineteen. And I didn’t kill the god. And depending on who you ask, the ending is different.”

“Ranboo says that you won.”

Techno shot him a flat look, “This ‘Ranboo’ says a lot of things.”

“Okay, fair” Tubbo acquiesced, “but most people say that’s how the story goes.”

“They’re not entirely wrong,” he admitted, “but they’re not entirely right, either.”

“And if I were to ask you, how would you say the story ends?”

Techno looked at him, eyes blacker than the night sky, and said quite simply,  “I lost.”

Before Tubbo could say anything - words of comfort, of pity, soothing, patronizing, he wasn’t sure but he knew he didn’t want to hear it - Techno cut him off, forging ahead, “Is Schlatt in town? I was looking for a place to stay for the night.”
“He’s not,” Tubbo shook his head, then looked at him, a question in his eyes, “Not looking for work? Usually, you tend to stick around for a couple of days, if the stories are true. The mighty Blood God, working as a bookstore clerk.”
“Did you hear that one from Ranboo?” Techno needled.

Tubbo looked away, “Maybe.”

“Where on earth does that kid get his stories?”

“Are they wrong?”

“Not that one, but it's beside the point.”

“So you’re not going to stay?” Tubbo asked, looking sad. 

“No,” Techno rubbed his arm awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, “I’ve got places to be.” The lie slipped off his tongue seamlessly these days. He repeated it to himself everyday after all, and he was much harder to lie to than someone else. 

Tubbo looked at him, and it was as if he could see right through Techno. It was clear he didn’t believe the lie, but was too polite to push. It was something Techno was unsure if he was grateful for or not. 

“If Schlatts is not in, I can always find somewhere else to stay,” Techno said.

Tubbo waved him off, “Don’t worry about it. Just cuz my dad’s not here doesn’t mean the shed’s not open. You’ll have to fight with the chickens, though.”

“Oh the horror,” Techno grumbled under his breath. He hoped the birds remembered their treaty, if not, things would get bloody. He had killed man and monster before, and would not hesitate to absolutely destroy a chicken if they encroached into his space. 

Tubbo just laughed and led him through the streets back to his house, jingling lights floating joyfully behind. 

The boy threw open the shed door, the wood creaking with the motion. The two of them stepped into the room. It smelled like old hay and dust. A few chickens were picking at the ground, some sacks of grain thrown haphazardly against the wall, a dusty old oil lamp resting on the windowsill and a mattress in the corner, sheets unmade. 

It looked exactly as Techno remembered it. 

“Not much has changed around here since you left,” Tubbo said, striking a match and lighting the lamp. 

A chicken was pecking at Techno’s boot. He kicked it off, and it squawked indignantly. “No, It hasn’t,” he said quietly, then he glanced up at Tubbo, “You have, though.”

Tubbo smiled, his eyes soft in the lamp’s warm glow “I suppose I have. I’ve become a good mage.” his fingers traced an arc in the air, sparks flying off and spinning into a blaze. The fire twisted and roared into the shape of a phoenix, before flying into the lantern just as Tubbo shut the door. 

Techno whistled, “Silent. Nice. Told you you don’t need to go to a big city to be a mage.”

“No,” Tubbo grinned, “You just need to find yourself a wandering legend.”

He chuckled, turning away from the boy, “I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a legend.”

Tubbo’s smile fell. He walked forward and pressed the oil lamp into Techno’s cold hands. Even the small flame within the lamp was enough to begin to thaw his frozen fingers. Tubbo looked at him with something akin to worry in his eyes, “What happened to you, Technoblade?”

Techno just smiled, “Life, I’m afraid.” his eyes crinkled around the edges as he forced himself into a bright grin, “Hey, that rhymed!”

Tubbo ignored him, “Why do you always talk about yourself as if you’re not worth anything?” The question felt like a dagger through the ribs, but Techno was good at ignoring pain. And so, he forged on.

“I do not,” Techno said, voice affronted. He clasped a hand to his chest in fake offense, “If anything, people say I’m cocky, narcissistic, braggadocious. Technoblade never dies and all that.”
“You’re a strange man, Technoblade.”

“I do try.”

“You’re an awful liar, as well,” Tubbo tacked on.

Techno kept his face perfectly neutral, “Don’t be ridiculous. I hate liars.”

Tubbo frowned, ‘Is that why you hate yourself?”

Techno couldn’t quite hold back the glare and biting tone, “I don’t appreciate you ascribing emotions to me, Kid. Don’t talk about things you don’t know.”
“Be truthful with me.”

Techno gazed down at him, “You want the truth? Fine. I do not hate myself because I am a liar.”

Tubbo lurched forward, his voice just a shade away from a plea, “Then why?”

Techno looked at him, but his eyes were glazed over - like he was already dead, like he couldn’t see at all, “I’m the worst man you’ve ever met. That is why I hate myself. ” 

“Why?” Tubbo asked, for he would always be Techno’s student, sent to learn from, and question, and challenge him.

“Because I want to die,” Techno said, “and I just can’t seem to. Everybody in this world has something. A purpose, a skill, some form of light they bring to the world. And I have nothing, Tubbo. I have nothing.”

“Well,” Tubbo said, glancing up at the soft lights that drifted through the air, “Then I’ll just make enough light for the both of us. And all the people you’ve met, and helped - because I know I’m not the only one - will bring light in for you. Perhaps you can’t make anything by yourself, but you lift every soul you touch just a little bit higher. And I think that’s a wonderful thing.”

The boy shrugged, “You taught me how to create something from nothing, taught me the gentle touch of magic, helped me find that something I can bring to the world. Does that sound like nothing to you?”

“You don’t understand,” Techno said, a mantra that he found himself repeating over and over again.

Tubbo smiled softly, “Maybe I don’t. But what I see and what you see could be different. And one of us has to be wrong. I’d like to think that it’s you.”

“I’m nothing, kid.”

“You’re my friend,” Tubbo shot back, “and that’s not nothing.”

—

Techno left early the next morning, just as the sun began to crest above the horizon. Tubbo walked with him to the edge of the town, cloak pulled tightly over his shoulders to stave off the chill. 

Once they reached the border of the town, Tubbo stopped walking. Techno turned around to face him.

“So this is goodbye then, yeah?” Tubbo asked.

Techno let out a breath, white mist curling from his mouth in the cold air, “Yeah, Kid.”

Tubbo hummed. Suddenly he bent down, and picked up a dandelion from the ground. It was white and fluffy as the snow that surrounded it, and the only of its kind to be seen anywhere around. Not even the normal yellow ones had sprung up yet. It had grown far too early. 

“Some flowers never get the memo,” Techno said, “Little guy must’ve gotten confused.”

Who you calling little?!

He has a point, you’re both small, and stupid

I’LL SHOW YOU STUPID-

Techno huffed and tuned out chat best he could, “Some flowers are just dumb, I guess,” he shrugged.

Tubbo shook his head, disagreeing,  “I think it was an incredibly brave thing to do.”

YOU HEAR THAT?! I’M BRAVE

Oh would you SHUT UP

Hey, I'm trying to sleep here.

Literally stfu. You’re a pile of snow. I hope the sun fucking melts you

Rude-

Techno considered Tubbo’s words, before disregarding them, “Brave, stupid, there’s such a fine line.”

Tunno hummed, then blew on the dandelion. The white fuzz danced away, carried by the wind. 

“What did you wish for, kid?”

Tubbo smiled, “I can’t tell you. That’s not how wishes work”

Techno matched his smile, albeit smaller, sadder, “You’ve learned.”

“I was taught by the best.”
Techno huffed, “Goodbye, Tubbo.”

“See you later, Techno.”

And then he left.

—

It had been three days since Techno left Thevren when the strange boy arrived. He came to Thevren in a blaze of chaos and noise. And by that, Tubbo meant he arrived and then immediately started a fight with someone in the village square. Tubbo had to push through the crowded marketplace, full of shouting villagers crowded around the source of commotion. 

“‘scuse me, coming through,” he muttered, shouldering his way through the wall of people, “pardon me, just let me squeeze by you there.”

When he finally managed to shove his way through the crowd, he popped out into an open circle in the center of the square. There were about five other people in it, surrounded by a ring of townsfolk either egging them on or trying to get a good view. There was one man - James, the fucking dickhead of the town - and a golden haired boy who Tubbo had never seen before. James was stumbling back from the kid, who was being held back by three other villagers while hurling insults at James and trying to claw at him. 

“You take that back you bastard!” The kid screamed, “You shut your fucking mouth! You don’t know a god damned thing!”

James snarled back at the kid, “I said what I said, and I said what’s true!”

The kid looked like he was going to blow a gasket. He let out a banshee scream and began to shout a chant in ender. Tubbo picked up on what it was very quickly - Lord of flame, summon your strength and render the earth to ashes- - and quickly rushed in to stop anyone from getting hurt.

“James!” He shouted, “Just what the fuck did you do?!”

The noise cut the boy off halfway through his chant, and now he was looking over at him with wide, blue eyes.
James grimaced, “Why does everyone keep thinking I always do shit?! Why not this fucking outsider.”

One of the villagers restraining the boy muttered, “I mean, you do have a track record.”

“What was that, punk?!” James glared harshly at him.

“Nothing.”

Tubbo turned to the villagers around the circle, “Did anyone actually see what happened?”

After a moment, another villager chimed in, “The kid was asking around for Technoblade. James asked why and. . . their conversation kind of devolved from there.”

“All I said was that Technoblade, if he’s even real,” James sniffed condescendingly, “Deserves to be six feet under the ground, forgotten and eaten by worms.”

Jesus christ. Tubbo knew that James was an idiot, fucking everybody did. Sometimes he forgot how much of an idiot he was though. Techno had literally lived in the town before, though James was only about seven at the time. Still, that should’ve been enough to prove his existence, but no - you got hit with ‘imposter’ and ‘poser’ and ‘incarnate of evil’ and whatnot. Technoblade’s name didn’t carry the most positive connotation. He was regarded as a robin-hood like figure in some areas, and as a demon in others. 

The boy didn’t seem to take James’ opinion well, either. “What did you say, you asshole?!” he screamed, renewing his efforts to kill the dickhead. 

“I said Technoblade is a monster-”
“Everybody shut up!” Tubbo shouted, silencing them. Once all eyes were on him, he started again, “Everybody, go home. Yes, that includes you, James. I’ll deal with this.”

There were murmurs of dissatisfaction.

“Now.” Tubbo imbued a little magic in his voice, making it ring unnaturally loudly. It did the trick, and soon everybody sans himself and the boy was scuttling off.

With that taken care of, he walked over to the kid. 

“You’re looking for Technoblade?” he asked.

The kid glared up at him, and Tubbo felt like prey trapped beneath a predator’s gaze. This kid was dangerous. It reminded him of Techno, actually. There was something, and indescribable something, about him that screamed power. 

“What’s it to you?” the kid growled. Tubbo should probably stop calling him a kid. They were about the same age, or at least they looked to be so. 

“I’m just curious why you’re looking for a myth,” he shrugged. He knew what Techno did for a living. If this kid was trying to hunt him down, he certainly wasn’t going to help, “What’s your name, kid?”

“You’re my age!” the kid squawked, “And Technoblade isn’t a myth! He’s real!”

Tubbo shot him a deadpan look, “and your name?”

The kid frowned, but gave in, “Tommy.”

Tubbo stuck out his hand, “Tubbo. Pleasure to meet you.”

Tommy caught his hand in his own and shook it. The movement jostled his cloak, revealing the weapons at the boy’s side, his weather worn clothes, and perhaps most interestingly, a feather sewn into the leather drawstring of the cloak. It was flat and broad, soft white and midnight black alternating in stripes, and though frayed at the edges it was clear it was well taken care of. 

What shocked him most was that it crackled with power. The same way Techno did. The exact, same, way. 

Tubbo reached forward and snatched it, “Where did you get this?” he demanded.

Tommy pulled away sharply, “None of your business.”

“How do you know Techno?” Tubbo asked, magic buzzing at his fingertips. 

Tommy bared his teeth and snarled at him, the air growing heavy with danger and something electric, “Why do you care?”

“Because I’m trying to figure out if I should let you go or not,” he answered honestly, and suddenly there were sparks dripping from his hands, one step away from a blaze: a warning. He continued at a low, even pace, “Now answer the question. Why are you trying to find him? Is this a bounty? A personal grievance?”

All the fight left Tommy immediately. He straightened up as confusion replaced the anger in his features, “Wait, you think I’m trying to kill him?”

“Why else would you be looking for him?”

“Oi, asshole,” Tommy snapped, “I’m not here to ram him through with a sword. I’m here to bring him home.”

Techno doesn’t have a home, was the first thought that entered Tubbo’s mind, but luckily was not the one that left his lips. He felt that the boy in front of him would not take too kindly to that statement. Instead, what tumbled out of his mouth was, “Techno has home?” The question was breathy and unsure. Unstable, like the ground had been swept out from under it. 

Tommy blinked at him, eyebrow twitching in annoyance, “You know what, better question: How do you know Techno. You two are obviously aquaintenced.”

After a few seconds of cautious consideration, Tubbo pulled his spellbook from the leather satchel he kept it in. He flipped open to a page of encoded runes Techno had inked in, offering the book to Tommy. Tommy took the book from his hands, regarding it with quiet skepticism.

He gasped softly, just a sharp intake of breath, “This is Techno’s work,” his eyes roamed the runes, “I didn’t know he was any decent at runes. But why do you…” he trailed off and looked up at Tubbo, “you were his student.”

Tubbo nodded.

Tommy sighed and smiled, “That bastard,” he muttered, “Well, Tubbo, that makes two of us.”

“He taught you magic?”

Tommy laughed, “Oh hell no! At thirteen I was ten times better than him at magic. He sucks at it!”

Tubbo almost rose to Techno’s defense before he realized that no, Tommy had a point. Three years after Techno had left, and equipped with only a book and some basic principles, Tubbo had far surpassed Techno in magical prowess. It wasn’t a hit to his character, it was just a fact. Techno wasn’t talented at magic. At all.

“If he didn’t teach you magic,” Tubbo started carefully, “Then what did he teach you?”

“Naming,” Tommy provided.

“‘Fraid I don’t know much about that,” Tubbo admitted. Of course he knew of Naming. Everybody did. But he really didn’t know much more than what he heard from legends, and from Ranboo, of course. 

“I’m not surprised,” Tommy rolled his eyes, “He’s always had some weird hang ups about that. I don’t understand why. Naming is part of life. Same as anything else. If he wasn’t so weird about it, he wouldn’t be in half the mess he’s in now.”
Tubbo looked him up and down, eye’s cutting, “You swear to me that you’re not hunting him?”

“I swear it on my Name,” Tommy said seriously, “I’m not trying to kill him, Tubbo. I’m trying to save him.”

“From?” he prompted, even though he knew the answer.

And Tommy knew it too, “Himself.”

Tubbo finally sighed, and after a moment of silence, relented, “He passed through here three days ago. I don’t know where he’s going, I doubt he does either, but he’s heading west.”

Tommy’s smile, Tubbo learned, could outshine the sun. 

—

Techno walked until he met the coast. The air there smelled of sea foam and fresh cut grass. The skies were clear and blue out there, so unlike the greenish grays that always seemed to hang over business bay or the blinding cobalt that shined above Kaeda. Even he had to admit it was nice. The fresh, crisp and cool air felt good in his lungs. The turning point of spring had been reached at least a month earlier by the coast, making the air lose its cold bite. 

He wandered into a small oceanside town. Through the small, dirt streets he walked absentmindedly, glancing at store fronts and shops. He paused at a small restaurant, huddled between two larger houses. The smell of herbs, spiced meats, and fresh baked bread drifted lazily through its open windows. 

It had been a while since he’d eaten anything of substance. For the past. . . however long it had been - somewhere between months and years - he’d been subsisting on whatever he could catch with a bow or traps. That meant a lot of scrawny rodents, especially in winter.

It wouldn’t hurt him to get something to eat.

He was already pushing open the front door by the time he’d thought that all out. He stuck out like a sore thumb in there, amongst all the clean clothes and pleasant smells. By comparison, he was dirty and ragged, but he was also tired enough that he didn’t particularly give a shit at the moment. 

He dodged his way through crowded tables and moving people, before settling himself down at a small table in the corner of the room. 

A pink-haired waitress came up to him and dropped a mug of wine on his table.

“I didn’t order thi-” he started, but she cut him off with a raised brow.

“You look like you need it.”

“Is this still on my tab?”

She laughed, “Obviously.”

“Of course,” he muttered, reluctantly taking a drink. The wine was not bad - not like the foul tasting stuff they served at inland taverns. The stuff that was watered down three parts to one and had an aftertaste of mildew. The one he was served was mixed with honey and mulled with spices, but was delightfully light on his tongue. 

“Are you going to have food with that?” she asked.

“What are you serving today?”

She glanced down at his emaciated face, “Does it really matter?”

He grimaced, “I don’t want to admit you’re right, but I also want to eat. Are you usually this chatty with customers?”

She shrugged, “It’s not often I see someone else with pink hair around here. I’m Nikki. Do you have a name, or do I just call you Eyebags?”

“Techno,” he provided.

“Like the myth?” she asked.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “After my great granduncle, who worked as a milkmaid.”

“Far less interesting story,” she hummed.

“Far calmer.”

“I suppose so,” Nikki admitted, “I’ll get you your food.”

“Thank you,” he said, and went to try to cop a nap off the table before she got back. He got a few minutes in before he was awoken by the sound of plates being dropped on wood in front of him. He lifted his head to find a steaming bowl of some kind of stew and a warm, round loaf of bread wrapped in cloth. 

He nodded in thanks to Nikki and began to slowly eat. The stew was rich and filling, the flavor savory and delicious on his tongue. Even then, it still took effort to raise the spoon to his lips each time. It’s not like he didn’t want to eat. It was just. . . hard. Hard enough it made him want to just get it over with, or flat out stop. Maybe he was just tired. 

A clamor of noise lifted him from his thoughts. He glanced up from his food to observe the commotion that was happening at the other side of the tavern. 

“Sir, if your party does not pay I’m afraid I can’t let you leave,” Nikki was saying to a man with black hair and scruffy attempt at a beard.

“I really doubt you could keep me ‘ere, girl,” the man growled back, and his party of assholes chortled along with him. His accent had him clipping off the fronts of words, making his sentences sound sluggish and strange. It was a Business Bay accent. 

Nikki’s voice did not waver, and she stood her ground, “Your companions had an awful lot to eat and drink. Leaving would be blatant robbery.”

“And who says I’m below that,” he grinned, “some say ‘I've done far worse.”

Techno squinted. He felt like he recognized that man from somewhere. 

“You’re not leaving until you pay,” Nikki said, voice final.

The man scowled, face growing dark - a vicious sort of snarl that was almost cartoon-esque, like something you’d see in a book or a poster- oh. That’s where Techno knew his face from. He’d seen the man’s face - and his corresponding gang members - on wanted posters, plastered to the wall of that dirty bar in Business Bay. They had a pretty good price too. What was his name? Oh yes, Aaron Jacobson.

Suddenly, the man lunged forward, grabbing Nikki’s wrist, “You bitch-”

She didn’t miss a beat, grabbing a knife from her belt and snapping it across his arm. He hissed and drew back, clutching the bleeding appendage. It was a shallow enough wound, but enough to piss him the fuck off. 

He let out an enraged cry and lurched forward.

Twang!

An arrow whizzed past his face, the fletchings brushing across the bridge of his nose. Silence settled across the tavern - so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The man’s eyes slid over to where Techno was standing, reloading his crossbow. 

“Ah,” he sighed, his tone light, but sharp eyes never leaving his target, “I must’ve missed. Usually, I have better aim. ”

“Back out of this,” the man growled.

“I’d rather not,” Techno yawned, “Why don’t you pay the lady what you owe her, and get the fuck out.”

After a tense moment, the man scoffed but fished money from his sachet and tossed it at Nikki’s feet. He stormed out of the tavern, his lackeys following behind obediently, snarling at the other patrons as they left. 

He lowered his crossbow and sighed, “Sorry about that. You had it handled.”

“No,” she said, “ I appreciate it. It got them out of here faster than I could have.”

“Well, it wasn’t entirely out of selfless interest,” he glanced at the door, “I don’t suppose you caught his name?”

“I might have,” she answered, “why?”

He unloaded his crossbow and tucked the bolt back into its quiver on his thigh, “I’m in a profession with a certain level of lethality.”

“So you weren’t named after the myth after all,” she smiled.

He shrugged, “never told you I was. Name?”

She huffed, smiling,  “Aaron Jacobson. He’s got a bounty on his head.”

“Big one. I was lucky enough to stumble upon it. His gang’s wanted for killing the president of some new democracy, whatever that is.”

“Well, then,” she said, “Good hunting. And thanks for not killing him in here. Blood’s a pain to get out of wooden floors.”

He placed the correct number of coins on his table and nodded, “No problem. Thanks for the food.”

He left.

—

Tommy pushed his way into a crowded tavern. It smelled delicious inside there, and he almost sat down to eat something. He barely stopped himself. The world was absolutely singing around him. He’d been tracking Techno down for the past year, but it had been hard. But the world was telling him now that he was close. The world was never this lively, never. Unless Techno had been around.

He slipped his way through the crowd, eyes zoning in on a pink haired - what were the chances? - waitress who was busy bussing and serving tables.

He tapped on her shoulder and she spun around to face him. 

“Sorry to bother you, but has a man with pink hair come through here?” he asked.

She blinked slowly at him, “One might have. Why?”

“I’m trying to find him.”

She raised a brow, “Obviously. Why?”

“Prime, why does everyone grill me about this!” he shouted, mostly to himself. Every single god damned time, people asked ‘why’ or forced him to cough up money. Techno literally found and killed people for a living. He did this every day. How on earth did he get people to answer anything?! Probably a lot of threatening. 

“I’m his family,” he answered.

“I hadn’t heard that part in the stories,” she said, going back to clearing tables.

“It’s a work in progress,” he grit out.

She glanced back at him, “If you’re family, why is he so much more polite than you?”

“Because he’s a smug bastard and likes to be better than everyone else!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in the air, “Is that what you wanted to hear?! Cuz it’s true!”

Her lips split into a smile, “You are family!”

“Listen lady, I’m not lying- wait you believe me?” his thought process skid to a stop.

“I have siblings,” she said, “Only family talks about each other like that. He left about four hours ago, he’s hunting a bounty named Aaron Jacobson. He should still be in town.”

Tommy felt his heart skip a beat. Techno was still in town. It had been over four years, and now Tommy was closer than he’d ever been to finding him. He might find him today.

“Thank you!”

The waitress laughed, “don’t just stand there, get going!”

He startled, “of course!” he booked it out the door.

—

Jacobson’s gang was leaving tonight by boat. The sun was steadily setting, coating the docks in a cover of darkness. Perfect. 

Techno was crouched behind the cover of some crates along the docks, going over his weapons catalog. Twelve bolts, three throwing knives, a combat knife, a sword and his crossbow. It was all there. And of course, he had himself. The walking weapon.

Only a couple paces away, Jacobson’s gang was loitering around the ramp of their ship, loading crates and barrels up onto the deck. The steady murmur of chatter was the only sound that rose above the quiet hush of waves. 

After Techno killed them, he’d probably just sail the boat out to somewhere, maybe back to Business Bay to collect his bounty quickly Or just let the wind blow it wherever. There were guilds who’d pay him all over. Or maybe the boat would just sink. He didn’t particularly care.

Raised voices and the shuffling of feet signaled that the boat was preparing to cast off. He sheathed the knife he’d been inspecting back into his belt. It was go time.

He peeked out from behind his cover, watching and waiting as the boat slowly drifted away from the port. The huge hulking mass moved slowly, but it soon reached the very end of the dock. Now!

He sprinted out from beneath his spot and ran over the dock under the cover of darkness. He grabbed some loose netted rope on the side of the boat, and whispered the Name of the wind, jolting the boat forward into the ocean. 

He didn’t even notice the dark figure chasing after him. 

—

Prime! Getting information from people was really like pulling teeth! He’d spent the rest of the day after he got info from that waitress frantically running around the small town trying to find Techno. And when that didn’t work, he went around prying information on that Aaron Jacobson guy. If Techno was pursuing him as a bounty, then Tommy would find him there.

But again, Prime! Getting information on anyone was fucking hard! How Techno did it, Tommy really wanted to know at this point. It would have made his life one heck of a lot easier. But noooo, people had to be all secretive about information. He’d lost five silver coins today already! His family was well off, but sweet Fate! Nobody had that kind of money to spend on the regular. This had better pay off!

The information he had managed to gather led him to the southside docks just as the sun had finished setting. He could see a group of men crowding around a boat, just finished prepping to set sail. They were all clamoring aboard now, and the boat had started to sail off. 

Tommy didn’t see any commotion, and the voices of the boat - the wood of the stern, the fabric on the sails, the iron in the nails - were all suspiciously quiet. Techno wasn’t there.

He almost turned away, thinking it was a bust. 

The boat drifted further and further away from the dock, about to sail out into the ocean, when, in a flash of movement, a figure dashed out from behind a pile of crates. They were wearing a dark cloak that just barely concealed broad shoulders and the litany of weapons strapped to the figure.

Technoblade!

The blur raced across the docks and jumped onto the boat. The wind roared past Tommy, shoving the boat out to sea. No!

Tommy raced forward, running as fast as his legs could carry them, perhaps faster, with the wind at his back. But it wasn’t enough. He could tell that as he began to reach the end of the docks, and the boat drew further and further away. He watched Techno scale up the side of the boat, disappearing over the deck. 

But no, he’d come this far. If he let Techno go now, he’d never find him again. He was sure of that. He couldn’t let this chance go!

He sped up, running full speed ahead at the end of the docks, even as the ship moved twenty, thirty, forty feet away from the edge. Tommy just kept running, uncaring of the end as it drew nearer. When he finally reached the ledge, he didn’t stop, he jumped. 

“Sect,” he called, and the wind pushed him forward with all its might. He flew like a bird tumbling through the air. He hit the side of the boat with a heavy thud, falling waist deep into the frigid ocean water before he caught himself on a rope.

He grimaced and started hauling himself up.

He was coming, Techno. He was going to bring him home.

—

Techno expertly hid under the cover of darkness in the ship. A storm was brewing, dark clouds encroaching over the night sky, and occasional flurries of rain pattered over the deck, before abating. It provided good cover. 

He was well aware that he couldn’t fight the entire gang at once and come out alive - not without using Names. He might have been able to, once. But recently, fighting was becoming harder. It wasn’t for lack of skill, because that had never left. No, fighting was once an action as easy as breathing, walking, eating. He still knew how to do it, but just as it was difficult to even bring a spoon to his lips these days, the effort of simply trying  to do it was enough to make him want to stop. 

But there was still that nagging voice in the back of his head, the one that stopped him from charging right ahead and fighting until he was run through with a blade. The voice forced him to think, to plan, to adjust to his newfound weakness and stay alive. 

Techno hid up among the masts of the ship, hiding in the shadows that shrouded the billowing sails. His coat, being dark in color, helped hide him from view - even still, he crouched low to the mast and pressed himself down into the darkness. 

He waited until they were far from shore, and you could no longer see the lights of the port town. That way no one could try to jump off ship and swim back. There would be no escaping. Should they flee, they would die. Should they fight, they would die. 

All he had to do was wait.

—

Tommy couldn’t fucking find the asshole. He knew Techno was on the ship. The world was screaming all around him in joyful tones. But they were far too excited to give him any proper direction, and even then, he doubted they would. Techno could ask a question and the world would answer eagerly, while Tommy had to beg. 

That should have made him angry, but it surprisingly didn’t. Oh sure, he was annoyed as hell, but he didn’t particularly think it was unfair. Techno was part of the world. It was hard to explain. The two were so intertwined that the borders between them often bled. When Techno was asking a question, it was on his turf. When Tommy did, he was asking as an intruder, forced to obey the rules of his host. 

That’s not to say the world hated him. Not to toot his own horn, but the world responded to him with an eagerness that very few were given. The world was slowly becoming a familiar friend. But to Techno, the world was more than that: it was family. Even if he never realized it. 

But he was getting ahead of himself. The point was, he couldn’t find Techno. A year he’d been searching, more than four they’d been apart and now they were on the same fucking boat! And Tommy still couldn’t find him! 

He felt like tearing out hair! 

He had to keep searching. That’s the only way he would find him.

He had to keep searching.

—

Once the moon was high in the sky, the people on deck began to relax, Techno deemed it was time to strike. 

He moved silently, slinking down from the masts with the grace and silence of a cat. He snuck through dark shadows, slowly flicking his combat knife from his belt. His breath sounded loud in his ears, even as he stifled it. There was a certain anticipation to killing, an electricity, a sort of excitement. Your heart beat in your chest rabbit fast, with dread or joy at the fact that soon you’d silence another’s pulse. 

He snuck past the captain’s quarters, moving slowly towards the edge of the shadow cast by bright lamplight. He could hear footsteps rounding a corner. His heartbeat quickened as they drew closer.

Tak Tak Tak, boots against polished wood.

Tak…

Tak…

Tak-

A person stepped into his line of sight. He struck faster than a bolt of lightning, yanking them behind a wall and stabbing his knife through their throat before they could scream. The two of them locked eyes, red on blue. Huh, they had blue eyes. Techno held them tightly as they died, blood pooling around his knife. When the body in his hands began to slacken, death taking their strength, he lowered them silently to the ground so not a sound was made.

He yanked his knife out, his hands slippery with blood already.

One.

The storm grew worse, the wind howling angrily and the ocean being whipped up into a churning mess. 

He moved fast, hiding in the shadows and killing someone before they could scream. He moved as quick and strong as the wind did, razor sharp and deadly. 

A blade drawn across the jugular, a body hidden behind a barrel - Two.

The flick of his wrist, a throwing knife embedded deep in a skull - Three

A body slumped against a wall and a bloody pool beneath it - Four

A snapped neck, a slit throat, a knife nestled cleanly between two ribs, a head chopped off in one stroke of a sword. Slit throat, snapped neck, blade to the heart, again. Snapped neck, snapped neck, slit throat, again. Blade to the heart, slit throat, blade to the heart, again. Again. Again. 

Five, six, seven and eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. 

The count ticked up, his hands moved just as fast for the next number and the next. By now half the crew was dead. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed, but he was going to work with the element of surprise for as long as he could. 

It was at eighteen that his luck ran out. He rounded a corner, the blood of his eighteenth kill still dripping from his blade, when he ran smack dab into Jacobson with two of his crew flanking him. Three sets of eyes immediately zeroed in on the bloodied knife at his side. He saw the recognition in their eyes, and knew immediately that they knew what he had done. 

He moved before they could, the netherite knife flashing silver in the moonlights. Blood splattered through the air, landing with a soft patter on the ship’s wooden deck. The lackey to the right of Jacobson fell heavily onto the ground, blood bubbling from the deep gash in the junction of his shoulder. 

The fight was quick from there.

Jacobson had drawn his sword and lunged forward. Techno parried best he could with the small combat knife he was holding, but the sword outclassed him in both reach and weight behind its blows. He had to act fast. Their blades locked together and Techno used the brief interruption between blows to close the short distance between them and kick Jacobson squarely in the chest.

Jecobson skid back, recovering quickly only to immediately have to block the combat knife Techno had thrown. Techno was not far behind, rushing into Jacobson’s space, his own sword finally drawn. 

Their blades clashed again, equally matched in terms of still, but this time Techno had the advantage of strength and skill over Jacobson. He had the man on the defensive, each traded blow driving the man steadily back, towards the edge of the boat.

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Techno’s shoulders, restraining him. He wanted to hit himself over the head; he had forgotten about Jacobson’s lackey! Jacobson took the opportunity to stab forward, sword aimed for Techno’s gut. Techno twisted his entire body as hard as he could, bodily throwing the lackey right into the sword’s path. 

The man fell to the floor screaming - loud enough that it would alert anyone within miles of the boat, although Techno doubted there was anyone besides the three of them left - and blood rushed out from his stomach, spools of innards spilling out onto the deck.

A look of horror crossed Jacobson’s face, and it was all the distraction Techno needed. Within a second, he disarmed Jacobson, his sword skittering away on the floor. 

Jacobson’s eyes flashed to Techno, fearful and wide, “Wait- please don’t-”

Techno’s sword drew across his neck, silencing him. His head hit the deck with a loud thud, five feet away. His body fell a second after. 

Blood pooled beneath Techno’s feet. For a moment, a quiet sort of sadness overtook him. He wasn’t sure why it was there, but it greeted him as an old friend. It settled like snow across his shoulders, making them drop away from the tense, rigid line they had been before. He let out a sigh, and sheathed his sword. 

He spun on his heel, about to head inside to lick his wounds and get some sleep, but before he could do anything of the sort, he froze.

Because there was Tommy, four years older than when he had last seen him, staring at him wide eyed and pale.

“No,” Techno breathed, taking a step back. Because Tommy wasn’t supposed to be here. Tommy wasn’t meant to be a part of this kind of life, he wasn’t meant to see Techno kill, he wasn’t meant to see Techno like this - a murderer, a mess, a demon, a monster - , he wasn’t supposed to see Techno at all. He wasn’t supposed to be here! 

 “Techno,” Tommy tried, reaching out for him.

Techno slapped his hand away, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Tommy grimaced, and he almost looked affronted, “Oh I shouldn’t be here? Well, fuck you, I do what I want.”
Techno’s lip curled down, and he shouldered past Tommy, “Get out of here, kid. This is dangerous.”

Tommy followed behind him, boots clacking along the blood soaked deck, “Oh, and like being kidnapped by a cult and being hunted by an assassin wasn’t? Like learning my Name wasn't?”
“I did that to get you out of danger,” Techno growled, not looking back, “To get you away from this.”

“Oh who cares- Oi, stop fucking walking away,” Tommy squawked, jogging to catch up with him, “Where the hell are you going, bastard!”

This time Techno finally looked at him, sending a sharp, disapproving glare back at the boy, “To turn this boat around, so you can go back home. To your fucking family. Where you belong.”

“I choose where I belong.”

Techno jutted a finger into Tommy’s chest, “and I’m telling you it’s not here.”

“Why not!” Tommy screamed.

“My world isn’t a place you should be,” Techno said, “It’s dangerous, and it’s dirty, and it’s not a place for people like you. People who still have a place to go. My life is where scum end up, where people who are worthless end up.” Techno passed a body on the floor, and he kicked it, “people who kill for money, people like this. People like me.”

“I didn’t come to join your whole bounty hunting gig!” Tommy shouted, “I came to bring you home!” 

Techno froze, only for a moment, before he shouldered on, “I don’t have a home, Toms.”

“Yes you do! With me! With Phil!”

“No I don't!” He screamed back, whirling around on Tommy. Tommy flinched back, like Techno was about to strike him. The hurt Techno felt was buried under a layer of grim satisfaction - good, Tommy should be afraid of him. He was dangerous. The sooner he understood that, the better. 

Tommy straightened up only seconds after the flinch, gaze defiant, uncaring of the unstable monster in front of him, “Why don’t you think you have a place with us?”

He chuckled bitterly, “Because I don’t. You don’t understand Tommy. Where I go, danger follows. I’d rather never have a family than have one stripped away from me. Anything you have, can and will be stolen away if you can’t protect it. And then you’ll be like me: nothing. And so we can never be family, and I will never want us to be family, because then I’ll have something to lose.”

Tommy didn’t even blink at his harsh words, “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“I know the sky is blue,” Techno said, “and just the same, I know that we will never be family.”

“But why?”

Techno could almost scream. He ran his hands roughly through his hair, his fingers tugging angrily at the stands, “Gods do you ever fucking listen? I just explained it to you!”

“I suppose I'll take the prize for your most annoying student, then,” Tommy said, lackluster, “I just can’t seem to understand what’s stopping you. Why can’t you just come home?”

“Because I can’t protect you!” Techno screamed, and the storm shrieked along with his words, almost drowning them out. 

“I can protect myself, and you can beat my ass six ways to sunday. You’re the most powerful person I know, what are you afraid of?”

“Powerful?” Techno almost laughed, “ Powerful? You think I’m powerful?” he began to chuckle, eyes crazed, and he took a threatening step forward.

“I can call lightning down from the sky with a word,” A thundering boom crashed over the waves, the dark sky flashing bright as white bolts struck across it.

Another step, “I can cause the ocean to swell and rage!’

The boat shook as a wave crashed overboard, water swelling over their ankles. Tommy took a step back.

Techno advanced, his teeth flashing and tears gathering in his eyes, “I could wipe out entire civilizations on a whim! I could crack the earth in half like it was a fucking egg!”

A deep groan, from somewhere far below the boat and the ocean, sounded above the roar of lighting and wind. The boat shuddered and the waves doubled in size.

Techno stepped forward once more, and grabbed Tommy by his coat, so they were face to face, “I could end the world as easily as I draw breath, Tommy! Don’t you understand?!” his voice turned quiet, almost plea like, “Don't you understand?”

He let Tommy go and took a step back, his arms going limp at his sides, his eyes sliding shut, “And yet- and yet,” he took a deep breath, “with all that power, I’m nothing. I’ve been trapped, shackled, bruised and broken, for over three hundred years. And there’s not a single thing I can do about it.”

He looked at Tommy's eyes sad, almost remorseful, his voice smaller than a whisper “If I can’t even protect myself, Tommy, then how on earth am I supposed to protect you?” and it almost sounded like he was waiting for an answer. 

Tommy started forward, voice soft, “Techno-”

Twang!

A crossbow bolt embedded itself deep into Techno’s chest. Two pairs of eyes snapped to where a man was standing - one of Jacobson’s gang members - a crossbow held between his hands and a terrified look on his face.

Techno staggered back, the brief, chastising thought of ‘guess I missed one’ the only thing that came to mind before, with the ocean giving a powerful surge, he tumbled off the boat.

“Techno!” he heard Tommy shout. 

As his back hit the cold, breath-stealing water, all he managed to think was

‘It’s a shame Tommy has to see me die’

and his world went black.

—

Tommy saw the bolt drive deep into Techno’s chest, saw the blood that burst from his lips and the shocked pain that twisted across his brow. He saw Techno stagger back, saw the man who had shot him, and watched with horror as Techno tumbled off the boat.

“Techno!” he shouted, his vocal chords going raw and cracked over the single word.

He didn’t even think, didn’t turn to kill Techno’s murderer, didn’t even realize what he was doing until he was doing it.

He ran as fast as he could and dived off the boat, after Techno.

He hit the water, and it felt like hitting cold, hard stone.

—

The ocean swirled around the two bodies, prodding them carefully. Many people had fallen into her depths before, and not many had survived. But these two were not dead yet, though they would be soon. They were simply asleep, something the earth had told her about before. The earth went to sleep once a year, buried under snow and ice. 

She recognized these two boys. She called the rest of the world over to look.

The wind whispered their names, and she understood. The ocean was good at being in love, just as she was good at being angry. She felt everything like a fire in her veins - or more accurately as a storm that surged through her, ripping across her surface, and stirring up her waters. 

She understood love and pain as very few did. The world crowded around the two boys, and she could understand that there was love here. She felt it too. Her waters cradled softly through the elder’s hair, carding the pink locks gently. She loved this boy. The world loved him. He was theirs, just as they were his. Family; a son, a brother, or something they just couldn’t quite put a name on. They loved each other, and that was more than enough. 

The second boy she had met before. So had the rest of the world. He was new to them, a stranger. But he had been kind, and respectful, and he listened. But more than that, the world-child loved him. They could feel it in the way his own heart cried out for the boy, desperate to protect him, and embrace him, and be loved by him. They were family, just as the world and the world-child were family.

The world supposed that made them and the younger boy family too.

So the ocean pushed them to the surface, and the wind drew air to their lungs, and together they pushed them to shore. 

They could see, deep in the world-child’s heart, that he was sad. That he had thought he had given up, even if his soul never really had. They knew he was dangerously close to laying down the fight - to stop forging on forward. And so the world knew it was time for them to carry him - if only for a short while.

Because just as the ocean knew love, so did the rest of them. They had been taught it by the world-child himself, through quiet whispers, and shared secrets, and stories. And love meant picking someone up when they could no longer stand.

Maybe continuing on was the wrong choice, and maybe it was right to give up. Maybe it would be easier that way, maybe it was what he wanted. But maybe it wasn’t. The world didn’t know, it only knew that he had been knocked down, and it was time to finally get back up. 

So the world pushed him onward; to greater heights or greater ruin, only time would tell. 

—

Techno came back to consciousness to the smell of salt and the lapping of the tide at his ankle. Blearily, he opened his eyes - an action he was never quite sure would come. His back was pressed flush against wet, rough sand, and his opened eyes were greeted by the sight of a dreary grey sky. 

Where was he? How did he get here? He blinked, the night's events slowly coming back to him. He was on a boat, yes he remembered that. Someone was there - and there was something about an arrow! He remembers his back hitting the cold ocean water. . . and hearing someone scream- Tommy!

He lurched up, pain flaring in his chest as he did so. He glanced down at his chest, finding an arrow still sticking out of his ribcage. Ah, so that’s where the arrow went. He quickly tore it out, ignoring the pain as he did so. He was fairly sure he had broken a few ribs, but that was neither here nor there. His eyes scanned the beach wildly, panic only calming when he saw Tommy lying down on the sand a couple paces from him. His chest was rising and falling steadily.

Techno let out a sigh of relief and flopped back down on the wet sand. Blood was soaking through his clothing from the now opened wound in his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Tommy was safe, that was all that mattered. That was all that ever mattered. All else was forfeit. 

He threw an arm over his eyes, shielding them from the light. Techno huffed a laugh. It was just his luck that despite getting shot, thrown off a boat, and losing consciousness in a storm-torn ocean, he would survive. 

He felt the world shift, ever so minutely, like how fabric bends when something heavy is thrown on it. Chat grew quiet, only hushed whispers reaching his ears now.

Techno didn’t bother to look, only huffing another quiet laugh, asking, “Is it Fate, or Death that’s keeping me alive?”

And a voice replied, “Neither, I’m afraid.”

Techno lifted his arm from his eyes, finally looking at the new arrival. The god of fate looked tired. There were bags under Karl’s eyes and his shoulders were slumped in a way Techno was very familiar with. 

“Well,” Techno said with a mild shrug, “One of you has to be doing it.”

Karl rolled his eyes, “Do you seriously think I control fate?”

“Would be counterintuitive if you didn’t.”

Karl shook his head, “That’s what everybody thinks. Your life, and your decisions, isn't my domain. For the most part, that belongs to you and only you. Fate, personal fate, is something entirely your own. I only stand guard for it.”

“And you can see it,” Techno said. Everybody knew Fate was one of the stranger gods. He didn’t perceive time as the rest of them did - it wasn’t linear for him. Everything was happening for him, all at once and never at all. Fate saw the past, present, and future all as the same thing. 

“And I can see it,” Karl agreed.

Techno sat up once again, his hands itching for a glass of something strong, “And how does my story end?”
He threw up his hands, “I wouldn’t know, dude. I don’t control fate. I safeguard and observe it. Fate is not singular. There are infinite things you could be fated to do, and only you can find them. Honestly, a better name for me would be Possibility, not something as fickle as ‘Fate’. I could go through each path you could take, but I’m afraid we don’t have the time for that,” Karl said flippantly, “And even if I knew the ending, it ruins the enjoyment of living it.”

Techno scoffed, “Enjoyment?”

“One day,” Karl said, “Maybe.”

“You make it very difficult to like you, sometimes.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Karl held his gaze for a moment. Techno looked right back at him. How strange, two beings, who could see most everything in the universe - albeit in different ways - were not quite able to understand the other. 

“Tell me, Karl,” Techno said suddenly, “Why is it that I can’t die? If it’s not you or Death, then who is keeping me alive?”

Kark looked at him like he was stupid, “ Yourself , of course.”

From his place on the sand, Tommy suddenly stirred, coughing. 

Karl glanced back at the boy, “It seems my time’s up. I’ll be seeing you around, Technoblade.”
Techno sighed, and in a tone that very much implied the opposite said, “I look forward to it.”

And then he was gone.

Tommy continued to cough and sat up. Once he was finished hacking up a lung, he blinked a couple of times and looked around, confused.

“Glad to see you’re not dead, kid,” Techno said.

Tommy whipped his eyes over to him, looking astonished. Suddenly he broke out into a grin and shouted “We’re not dead!”

“That’s literally what I just said, but sure, steal my line,” Techno rolled his eyes. 

Tommy looked like he was about to retort but whatever he was going to say got swept away in another fit of coughing. Once he was done, he glared sharply at Techno, “How long were you awake?”

Techno hummed noncommittally, “Maybe seven minutes.”
“And you didn’t even think to see if I needed help?!”

“You were breathing,” Techno said mildly.

“I could have swallowed sea water!”

“Well I’m sure you just coughed it all out, if you did.”

“I could have died!”

Techno just huffed, “I knew you were fine.”
Tommy placed his hands on his hips and glared, “And how could you have possibly known-”

Techno just gave him a look.

Tommy cut off his rant, “Yep, right, Namer. Forgot.”

After a moment, Techno sighed, “You need to go home, Tommy. I wasn’t kidding when I said that my life is no place for someone like you.”

“I’m not going back until you agree to come with me,” Tommy said firmly. He stood and walked over to Techno, standing before the sitting man so his shadow was cast over him. Techno looked up at the boy. He had gotten tall, maybe an inch shorter than Techno himself, but tall enough to dwarf most people. His eyes had not lost the shine Techno remembered from all those years ago.

“If you're going to strike me, make it quick,” Techno said, “You’re within your rights, and I wouldn’t blame you. I probably deserve it. I’d just rather get it over with and not draw it out.”

But then suddenly Tommy had collapsed to the ground, and was pulling him into a hug. It was warm, and strange, and wet on account of the soaked clothes, but it was everything Techno had ever wanted and more. If he were a stronger person, he would have pushed Tommy away, but he was weak, and so he couldn’t quite bring himself to.

“You idiot,” Tommy breathed, arms tightening around Techno, “Just let me have this. I’ve waited for four years to hug you again.”
Techno made a strange wheezing sound as Tommy tightened the hug even further, choking out, “ribs.”

Tommy drew away like he had been burned, “Shit, sorry!” he looked up and down Techno, then down at the blood that had transferred from Techno onto his own shirt, “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?!”
“Didn’t seem too important,” Techno shrugged - a halted, shaky thing on account of the pain - he raised a brow at Tommy, “besides, you literally saw me get shot. I thought you would have remembered.”

Tommy glanced away, “I. . . got excited. And besides! You didn’t tell me about your ribs.”
“It’ll heal, given time,” Techno waved the concern off, “a couple months and I’ll be right as rain.”

“Here, let me,” Tommy said, pressing a gentle hand to Techno’s chest.

Techno huffed, “Healing spells for bones are time consuming. Leave it, I’ll heal eventually.” 

Tommy looked at him, “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Depends on what? To have my back, sure. With my money, hell no.”
“Do you trust me?” Tommy repeated, serious.

After a moment, Techno just sighed, “Yeah, kid. I do.”
“Good,” Tommy said, expression turning focused. Then, quietly, like a secret that he was whispering to no one in particular, he breathed out a single word, “Kh’ek.” The Name of bone. 

It took everything Techno had to not immediately shout a counter, his instincts screaming at him to fight back, to take a sword and drive it through Tommy’s skull, or do anything at all. But something in his soul gripped him like a vice, whispering softly you trust him into his ear. And Techno did, and so he did nothing, and let Tommy slowly shift his broken ribs back into place and fuse the sides back together. 

In all his life, when a Name was used on him, it was always used to hurt. Pain followed quickly behind the shouted syllables, sending his nerves into a screaming blaze. This time was nothing like all those that had preceded it. It was soft and quiet, and it didn’t hurt. Instead, it lapped at the pain in his chest like the tide of an ocean, slowly washing it away.

By the time Tommy drew his hand back, Techno’s chest didn’t throb with dull pain anymore - only the dry burn of the arrow wound and the deep ache deep inside his soul persisted. 

“You learned the Name of bone,” Techno said. 

Tommy looked nervous almost, like he was awaiting judgment. He knew Techno’s rather. . . negative. . . views on Naming. The fact that he continued to practice it, even after Techno’s departure, should have been something akin to a betrayal.

But Techno felt none of that. He felt a strange pride instead. His student and his friend were blossoming into someone powerful and wise, just like Techno always knew he could. Pride was a strange feeling, and if he was being honest, it scared him.

“That’s impressive,” Techno said, “You must’ve worked very hard. . . I’m sorry I was not there to keep teaching you.”

He could see the beginnings of tears in Tommy’s eyes, but the kid quickly blinked them away, “It was hard. But I figured it out eventually, being a Big Man and all.” he sniffed, looking away, “Besides! It’s not like I learned the Name of blood or anything!”

Techno chuckled, “Well I couldn’t have someone stealing my signature move.”

“Of course not, you’re too much of a greedy bastard for that.”

“Greedy,” Techno agreed, “That’s a good word for it.” he ran a hand through his hair, “it’s no slight against you that I can’t go back with you, kid. It’s not your fault. I don’t want to drag you into the mess that is my life, and all that entails.”
“You don’t have to protect me. I can protect myself.”

“It’s better if you forget about me, Tommy,” Techno continued on, ignoring him, “I know that you think we’re family, but we can’t be. It’ll just hurt you, in the end. The way things are going, I doubt I’ll last until next winter.”

Tommy opened his mouth to say something, but Techno held up a hand and cut him off, “It’s not your fault. I never want you to even think that. This is an end three hundred years in the making. All I’m doing now is lying down in the grave I’ve dug.”

Techno had this far off look in his eyes, “I work in a dangerous profession. The more I lose my desire to. . .” it felt weird to put it in such plain terms, but he could think of no other way to get Tommy to understand, “my desire to live, the more likely I am to be killed by some random drunkard in a bar, or a bounty I track down, or hell, at this rate, I’m going to lie down one day and not be able to summon up the strength to get up the next. I’ve planned it all, you know. I’ll just lie there, unmoving in that bed, until I starve and my heart ceases to beat. I’ll be dead within the week-”

Tommy punched him.

“If you ever do that,” the boy growled, “I will drag you out of that damn bed myself.”

Techno brought a hand to his cheek, “Nice arm. I thought you weren’t going to punch me?”

“I can’t blame you for running away, but I will never allow anyone to talk about my family the way you just did, like they were worth nothing, ” Tommy spat out the word like poison, “and that includes you.”

“Why can’t you drop this?” 

“Because when I was in danger, you saved me,” Tommy said, “I believe it’s time for me to return the favor.”

“I’m no maiden in need of rescue,” Techno said dryly, “I’m not going back with you.”

“Then I’ll just follow you,” Tommy replied, unphased.

“I’m not going to drag you into the life of a bounty hunter.”

Tommy shrugged, “Then I suppose you’ll have to find a different occupation until you decide to come home.”

Techno looked at the boy sternly, “Tommy, you’re not coming with me. You can’t.”

And Tommy just grinned, voice daring, “Watch me.”

—

Techno had thought he was joking. He thought Tommy would have given up within the first few days. 

He was wrong.

He’d forgotten that Tommy had the same stubborn tenacity that all Namer’s had; perhaps more than most. The kid just didn’t give up. Techno had risen from that storm soaked beach and began to walk. And when Tommy walked beside him, he started running. And so Tommy ran behind him.

All he got out of it was sore legs and an earful of complaints and curses from the boy.  

When he went to sleep at night, Tommy would insist on lighting a fire and preparing a meal. When Techno walked through the night, Tommy followed only paces behind. When Techno tried to sneak away while the boy was asleep, it would only be a few minutes before he spotted Tommy tripping after him, hollering curses as he ran with unlaced boots and disheveled clothes. 

Worst of all, Tommy insisted on ‘improving his sad, sad, life’ as he so eloquently put it. When Techno could not summon up the strength to light a fire, Tommy would strike flint and steel in his wake. When Techno did not care to eat, the boy pressed travel rations into his hands and annoyed him until he took a bite. When Techno ignored Tommy and refused to speak, Tommy would walk alongside him and fill the silence. He told Techno stories of all the things he had missed, of all the adventures he’d gone on, of all the places he had been.

“Wilbur became a conjuror,” Tommy muttered as they waded through tall prairie grass, “I should have expected the bastard to divide the house. When Phil saw the demon he summoned, he almost had a heart attack.”

Techno ignored him.

“Phil misses you,” Tommy told him as they passed under a field of drooping willows, “He pretends he doesn’t, but I can tell he does. He doesn’t want to admit it, because he’s afraid it’ll make me sad. Stir up old emotions and all. He brought me back a book full of myths from Aurelia. When I asked him why, he said it was something that you would have liked.”
Techno ignored him.

“I was scared I’d never find you,” Tommy admitted as he laid awake, late at night, unable to sleep. He wasn’t even aware Techno was awake too, but he continued on still, “I had nights where I would get up all in my head and think that I’d eventually have to give up the search.”
There was a brief silence.

“How did you do it, Techno?” Tommy asked quietly, “You searched for me without even knowing who I was. You searched without a single hope of ever finding me. I had hope, I had stories and sightings and leads. And still, I was worried I’d never find you. You had nothing, and you kept on searching. For a boy you didn’t even know.”

It took everything Techno had to ignore him.

It was after three weeks of this that he finally broke. It was not some big question that ended his silence. It was not anything profound that he chose to say. He was just tired, annoyed, and Tommy had worn him out.

“-I mean, do you have any idea how hard it is to get people to tell you anything?” Tommy asked angrily. He was ranting about how long and difficult his search for Techno had been, a topic he frequented. Techno had heard the entire rant six times by now. 

Tommy screamed in frustration, “Seriously! Every single time I asked a question, I had to shell out money for an answer. How on earth is finding a single person so fucking hard! You do this for a living. How do you not go broke getting information? Do you just not pay them? Do they just not charge you! Why would they answer you but make me pay them-”

“Maybe,” Techno muttered, “Because I’m polite, and not an insufferable brat.”

“Oh shut up, bastard! I’m not ‘insufferable’, I’m charming-” Tommy stopped dead in his tracks, mouth dropping open.

Techno kept walking, not even looking back, “Come on, I’d like to reach the next town by midday. We need to pick up a job.”
Tommy blinked rapidly, then jogged after him. 

“We?” he asked incredulously, “I don’t recall working for you, asshat.”

“I’d gladly take back my old profession, but a certain parasite is preventing me from doing so. Save your breath for spell chants.”

—

They entered the town as the sun reached its apex in the sky. It was a sizable town, and Techno had the feeling that given a few decades, it would be a thriving city. 

The marketplace was full and lively, colorful stalls lining the streets selling all manner of things. Foods, fabrics, fragrant perfumes and precious glassware. He saw a street magician on the corner, performing tricks with fire. He was a mage, which didn’t bode well for Techno and Tommy, but he didn’t seem to be skilled enough to interfere with their work.

“Oi, bigman, what are we doing here?” Tommy asked, glancing around the marketplace.

“Earning some money,” Techno replied, “If I have to put up with your constant nagging, I’m at least going to get some money out of it.”

“I know we're here for a job!” Tommy snapped back, “I’m wondering what.”
“Towns like these hardly see skilled mages,” Techno reminded him, “I’m sure that someone around here has ailments in need of healing. We can both do healing spells.”
A look of recognition passed over Tommy’s face, followed by a dastardly smile, “Ahhh, got it. Our old scheme.”

“I wouldn’t call it a scheme-”
“Hello people of Random Town We Found!” Tommy screamed, “Me and my apprentice are traveling mages! Any ailments you have, we can heal. Come one come all. Bring your coin!”

Techno laughed quietly under his breath, then stopped himself. When was the last time he’d laughed? Not as a forced huff, or a disparaging chuckle. When was the last time he laughed and his heart felt light? 

He. . .

He couldn’t remember.

It had been a long time.

—

Sundown was steadily approaching and their clientele had been steadily dribbling off since about an hour ago. Tommy was sitting on the square’s fountain, kicking his legs idly and swinging back and forth. Techno would not be surprised if, in his bored haze, Tommy swung too far back and tumbled into the shallow pool of water. 

Techno’s eyes scanned the quieting marketplace, watching as shop after shop packed up. Produce was put away and locked up, vendors hauled their carts home, and shops closing their doors. 

He watched as a mother and her son made their way through the marketplace, steadily bartering for items and filling the mother’s basket with food and other amenities. He’d been watching them for a bit. The young boy had red eyes, or perhaps just a ruddy enough brown that they looked red in the light of golden hour. It drew Techno’s eye, sue him. Not often did he see someone who looked like him - in any capacity. 

Techno was unsure if he had always looked the way he did. He knew that when he was a boy he bore less scars, his shoulders held less weight, and his back did not ache under the pressure of wings. But he could hardly remember his own appearance beyond that. Was his hair always this strange, dusty pink? Were his eyes always blood red? He did not know.  The Blood God had changed certain aspects about him and Techno could not remember if it extended beyond the wings on his back. 

He thinks he was born like this. He liked to think so, at the least. He had always been strange, right from the get go. He liked to imagine, when calling up the blurry memories of his nameless parents, that they looked like him. Perhaps his mother had red eyes, wild and fiery, and his father’s hair, between the streaks of grey, was the same shade of dusty pink that Techno possessed. 

The mother and son moved through the marketplace. The mother must have said something to make the young boy laugh, because a chirping sort of giggle filled the square. The mother simply smiled, moving over to the next vendor and exchanging a few coins for some raw beeswax. 

Family. It was such a complex word, one that Techno had always been too scared to understand. He had a family once. They died in that village, his parents a collateral in the attempt on his life. He was pretty sure they died protecting him. 

Loyalty? Was that what family was? Someone always having your back? Techno didn’t think so. He had seen knights and soldiers die with complete loyalty to their kings, and yet that was not love. That loyalty was hard fought, hard to maintain, hard to hold steady when everything was pushing against it. 

As Techno watched the mother and son flit about the square, he found a much simpler definition for family: trust, ease.

It was ease and trust to love, ease and trust to be loyal, ease and trust to laugh and it was ease and trust to cry. If someone tried to kill that red-eyed boy, Techno knew the mother would put her body in the way first. And it wouldn’t be a choice, it would have been something so deeply ingrained in her that she would never even have to think about it. It was ease. 

Loving someone was hard, being loved was even harder. But it was easy to make the same choice that mother would. Techno knew he would never even have to think about putting his body, his soul, his life in harm's way if it only meant protecting Tommy.  It was easy to choose to sacrifice and to fight because you were family; what other choice was there? The moment that trust, that desire to protect, that ease to do so, fled, the moment ‘family’ hurt more than it brought you joy, it was no longer family. 

The mother was led by her red-eyed son to a vendor selling spun sugar. The old man stood behind his cart, face worn and weary, yet gentle as he smiled down at the boy. The old man couldn’t have been more than a third of Techno’s age, and yet he looked so much older. But his eyes were young. They shimmered with mirth behind his drooping eyelids, full of joy and content in a way Techno didn’t understand. 

It was so easy to call up the old man’s Name, and all the understanding that followed.

Gioia.

Techno would never dare speak the Name out loud, as such a pain did not fit what Techno could see was a good man. But he allowed himself to look deep into the old man’s soul and see what made him so happy. 

It was the sun on his skin, the cool breeze in his hair and the simple joy of seeing someone enjoy the things he made. This man had not done much in his life, not compared to the litany of things Techno had done. The old man had never killed a king, or fought for a revolution, or completed some epic quest or another. The man had never even left this town, he’d lived within its walls his entire life. He learned to be a confectioner from his mother, and from the young boy he used to be to the old man he was now, he baked cakes and frosted delicate little deserts and spun sugar into soft clouds of yellowed white. 

Techno watched with interest as the old man dipped a whisk into a small pot of melted sugar. He moved his wrist in practiced, quick circles, and lines of sugar, thin as a thread of silk, spun out from the whisk and collected into a small nest of candy. The man then dipped a wooden stick into the pot of sugar, then used the sticky caramel on the stick to wrap the spun sugar around it securely. 

He passed the finished confection to the boy, who accepted it with awe. He bit into the sugar cloud and his eyes lit up. The mother simply laughed at his reaction and passed a coin over to the old man.

Techno watched them with sad eyes as the duo left the square, presumably heading home. He glanced over at Tommy, who was kicking at the dirt, and then back at the old man. He checked his coin pouch, and after a considering moment, sighed and walked over to the vendor.

“How much for one?” Techno asked, nodding to the pot of melted sugar. 

“A copper penny,” the old man answered.

“That’s cheap, I’ve never seen one spin sugar so fine. Not even in the capital or any city as grand,” he remarked blandly to the man, while digging through his purse, 

The old man began spinning sugar, “I’m glad you think so. I like to think this town has some charms that those city’s could never have.”

Techno hummed, “that so?”

“Oh certainly,” he sighed, content and warm, “I’d like to think the sun doesn’t shine so sweet anywhere else in the world, or the wind blow so gentle.”

“I’m sure the sun doesn’t change, regardless of where it shines.”

“Maybe,” the old man admitted, “but if I’d dreamed of the sunshine somewhere else, I’m sure I’d convince myself that it was better than the one I got here. I’d rather just enjoy it for what it is, rather than what it’s not. It’s not the best sunshine, but it’s the only one that’s mine, and so I know that my little town has the best golden hour in the whole world.”

He finished spinning the sugar and passed it over to Techno. Techno took it and handed back a coin.

He approached Tommy - still idly kicking at the dirt - with the treat and gruffly shoved it at him.

“For you,” he said, not really meeting Tommy’s eye “Payment for your work.”

Tommy looked at him for a moment, shocked, before cautiously accepting the stick, “Thank you.”

Tommy began to nibble away at it, and Techno began to count the coin they had made. One gold, four silver, and eleven copper he had counted when Tommy suddenly ripped off some of the spun sugar and thrust it in front of Techno.

“Come on,” he said, when Techno made no move to take it, “You can afford yourself at least one luxury, can’t you?”

After another second’s hesitation, Techno picked up the small piece of candy and popped it into his mouth.

It tasted sweeter than anything he had ever tried. 

“Thank you,” he said and Tommy shrugged, returning to eating.

And Techno felt at ease.

—

They traveled together willingly after that. Techno made no more aborted attempts to sneak away, didn’t ignore Tommy in the hope he would give up, didn’t try to run to a place Tommy could not follow; he knew it was all pointless anyway. That didn’t stop him from insisting Tommy go home, but in the end it was just words. 

It was like back when they had first met again, traveling through the countryside, earning money through quick jobs, and sleeping under star-filled skies. Except, it was different now. Techno didn’t have a destination anymore, perhaps his own death. When he first traveled with Tommy, his only goal was to get the boy home safe. Now, he just wandered aimlessly, Tommy following behind. 

Techno was pretty sure Tommy had a destination, but he didn’t really know what it was.

Sometimes, their roles reversed. Tommy would lead them to towns, insisting on attending some festival or another, or explaining that oh, they had the best sweetbread in all of Fallen Kingdom, or just something that seemed to intrigue him, and so Techno was dragged along by calloused hands.

It was strange, he thought as he chewed through the roll of sweetbread that had been shoved at him, that Tommy knew all of this. Oh sure, he’d expected the kid to at least be a little well traveled. His father was rich, after all. But Tommy knew all about these little places that nobody would ever consider traveling to - places not marked on any map. 

Of course, Techno had been to this place before, when it was a collection of houses in a dewy valley. He remembers the day had been cloudy the day he had passed through here, hundreds of years ago. Unlike the bright summer sun in the sky today.

And yet, despite being much less traveled, Tommy knew that this place had delicious sweetbread. Techno didn’t know that. The irony did not escape him.

Techno cast a glance over to Tommy, still chewing on the roll. He wondered why the kid knew all of this. He wondered why Tommy could lead Techno around the continent like he had a map in his brain. 

A woman approached Tommy, and Techno’s hand immediately fell to the knife on his belt. He was paranoid, but could anyone really blame him. He was always ready to put down a threat, need be. It was a kind of vigilance he’d only readopted once Tommy had joined him. 

But she simply smiled at Tommy, “I see you found him.”

Tommy blushed and smiled back, “Yeah, finally did.”

“I’m glad. I’m sorry, again, that I couldn’t have been more help.”

“It’s okay,” Tommy shrugged, “Clearly it all worked out in the end.”

They talked for a bit more, before the woman left. When she was finally gone, Tommy turned to Techno grinning, “Did you see that! A woman talked to me! Willingly! Take that! I told you I could be personable!”

Curiosity won over and Techno decided to ask, “Who was she?

“No one really,” Tommy said, “Just one of the hundreds I ask ‘have you seen a pink-haired man’. One of the hundreds that said no.”

Oh.

That’s why Tommy knew this town had good sweetbread, and that the next one over had a good lake to swim in, and that a mile north that one village grew wheat, not barely. He’d been here before, searching.

Techno had once scoured the world for someone. He’d once traveled everywhere he could, asking a question and being told ‘no’ at every corner. He had that same world map that Tommy did in his mind. But Techno could never tell you which of all the places he visited had good sweets and which bad, he could not tell you where to go swimming, he could not tell if a village grew wheat or barely. 

It had never occurred to him that it mattered. 

“Are you sure the lake in the next town over is nice?” Techno asked, “How can you be so sure?”

Tommy recoiled, “What kind of weird ass question is that? Do I need to justify that it’s nice? No! I just fucking saw it and swam in it. It was nice!”

“I don’t do that,” Techno said blanky, “Who just does that?”

“Everyone!” Tommy shouted, “Do you not ever look around you? You’re a Namer, for heaven's sake! Shouldn’t you be good at this?”

“I-” 

Tommy cut him off, “Like, look at that cloud! It’s pretty.”

Tommy pointed to a cloud high in the sky. It was fluffy and in the midday light it glowed against the blue behind it. Its edges were wispy and golden in the sun, while its broad underside was made of shades of blue and purple. Techno stared up at it. 

He had never even noticed it was there. Some part of his mind, the one filled with the Names of everything, knew it was, but he had never seen it, never noticed its colors, and never stopped to consider if it was pretty. 

It was pretty. How did he not notice that before?

“It’s beautiful,” Techno finally breathed, enchanted.

Tommy nodded sagely, “It looks like a cowboy hat.”

Techno glared at him, the moment thoroughly ruined, “It looks nothing like a cowboy hat.”

—

Now that Tommy had pointed it out, Techno took more time to look around. Now instead of drifting aimlessly through a haze as he walked, he noticed the world around him. He saw the shimmering yellow of wheat fields, wind cresting like waves over them, he saw how lakes sparkled in the sun, he noticed the gentle smell of petrichor after it rained.

It was remarkable how much around him there was that he had long ago stopped noticing. The voices of the world had long been grating for him and as such he had tried to shut them out, but sometimes when the night was calm, he could hear the sweet singing of stars just above the roar of the earth.

“I haven’t heard the stars sing in years,” Techno mentioned offhandedly one night, “They’ve been making good compositions recently.”
Tommy looked over to him, confusion turning to wonder on his face in a matter of seconds, “You can hear the voices of the stars?”

Techno hummed, “Yeah. It’s been a while though.”
Tommy was quiet for a beat, “What… what do they sound like?”

“Children,” Techno answered back, “They like to sing at night.”

He looked up at the sky, the stars reflecting in the dark red of his eyes. Slowly, he began to point each one out and describe their voice, “Polaris, the north star, she’s a soprano. The most quiet one of them all. Castor is a tenor, and sings as loud as he can. Altair is an alto, Rigel, a bass. . .”

Techno continued to list the stars and their voices while Tommy listened raptly. Through Techno’s quiet description, he could almost hear the stars singing himself. Each new star Techno’s finger traced added a voice to the harmony, and each new star he named made them sing louder in his ear. 

Their voices felt like an embrace.

They fell asleep to the lullaby of stars that night.

As they continued to travel together, Techno let Tommy show him all the parts of the world he’d made himself blind to. The nest of pain he’d made for himself was so tightly knit that it blocked out all the things he’d once loved. He wasn’t sure that he could ever love them again - he feared his heart was too bruised, and who, after all, could love without a soul - but each time he saw those lost things again, he felt something in him light up as if to say ‘they’ve never left you’. 

He let Tommy lead him to lakes to swim in. He remembers fondly how Tommy had splashed him one too many times, and Techno retaliated by calling the Name of water, thoroughly drenching the kid with a tidal wave. He let Tommy take him into fields of flowers on the side of the road. Techno remembered how it felt to hold the delicate stem of a poppy in his hands, rolling it between his fingers so the flower twirled like a dancer. He let Tommy coax stories out of him until he was laughing over something from a hundred years ago, something that had been buried under the memories of the pain between the joy.

He was starting to realize that there was so much out there to love. 

But just the same, he knew that he could never learn to love it again. How could he? He knew these memories would fade, be buried under all that pain. Someone like him, who would inevitably have everything he loved stolen away, had no right to love at all.

He was nothing. What right did nothing have to love? Maybe he could have, when he was a boy, but he wasn’t a boy how. He had no Name, he had no soul, he had no heart. He was nothing, felt nothing, knew nothing, nothing but pain.

Was it such a shock that he wanted to die?

When you’re burned by a fire, one reflexively pulls their hand away. And if you burn yourself bad enough, you forget how fire can feel warm, can thaw frozen hands and can gather people around it. Instead all you know about fire is that it burns. How was it any different, that when burned by life itself, Techno began to draw away?  

Techno had very few memories of his parent’s left, but whenever he thought of his father one memory always resurfaced. 

It was a sunny day, and his father had taken him out fishing. Techno remembered wading through cool water, the feeling of his pants clinging to his thighs and his boots getting bogged down with mud. He remembered pressing reeds down into a mat on the lake’s surface until water bubbled from underneath the green stalks. He remembered how it felt on his hands, and he remembered laughing.

They had sat by the lake together, his father and him, waiting for a fish to bite one of their lines. Techno had remembered the mind numbing boredness, the feeling of drifting off to sleep, the complaints he muttered to his father.

His father had laughed, “Patience.” He would say, “Good things come to those who wait.”
And slowly Techno learned to be patient. He learned that all things passed with time. The boredom slipped under the flow of waiting, the jokes they told back and forth became meaningless, and all Techno could remember was that he had laughed, and that he didn’t remember why, the wait became half of the experience itself. But surely enough, a fish would bite. 

“Patience. Have patience,” that rumbling timber would say to him. The only thing Techno remembered of his father was that voice and those words.

And so patient he would be.

Techno waited for death with the calm patience of a man gone fishing.

—

They were walking idly through a marketplace, shopping for food provisions for the next week, when it happened. 

Techno was stabbed. He should have expected it, he thought in retrospect. He’d decided to cut through the city using a back alley, and some asshole thought he would be an easy target: they weren’t wrong. He  heard the hurried footsteps long before they were anywhere near him, saw the blade flash in the dark, looked his soon-to-be attacker dead in the eyes and held a steady gaze as the knife sunk deep into his side.

He continued staring dead-eyed at them even as they scampered off with his coin pouch, leaving him slouched against the wall of some dirty alley, bleeding out. 

Blood was trickling between his fingers, and he didn’t make any move to stop it besides clutching his steady hands to the wound. He faced death with a certain apathy that he didn’t know he could manage anymore these days - Tommy had made it increasingly hard to abandon his mind. 

Tommy. Techno supposed it was good that they had decided to split up to finish shopping faster. The kid wouldn’t have to see this. Like he had told him, it was an end 300 years in the making. Lord knows the kid would have blamed himself.

He tipped his head back and smiled. It was over.

His lip quivered. A tear rolled down his cheek. 

Cold filled the alley, and suddenly he was looking up at an old friend. 

“You’ve really given up,” Lady Death whispered, “Haven’t you?”

Techno looked back at her, his chest rising and falling through unsteady breaths, “Took you this long to figure it out?” he rasped back. 

“You said you’d come home.”

He laughed through bloody lips, “I can’t believe you’d think a bounty hunter of all people would be trustworthy.”
She stared down at him, and he saw a tear fall from underneath the veil, “What have you become?”

“Realistic,” he snapped back. 

She stepped back, “No, I’m not letting you do this. Not to me, not to Phil, not to Tommy.”
His eyes lit up with anger, “Don’t you dare- He will not see me like this. Let me die in peace. If you have any love for our friendship then you won’t tell him.”

Her wings flared open, and her form went misty around the edges, “Goodbye, Techno. I won’t let you do this.”
“Kristin!” he shouted, but she was already gone. He leaned back again and whispered, “fuck.”

Not even two minutes after Kristin had left, Tommy came bounding around the corner, eye’s fiery, tears wet on his cheeks. His face was bared in a snarl. Techno could barely see it however, as his vision had grown fuzzy and spotted in that short time. 

“You let someone stab you!” he screamed, falling at Techno’s side healing spell already at hand. Techno hissed as his side began to stitch back up, rougher than usual. There was already so much blood on the ground, he could see Tommy’s eyes flicker to it and force themselves back to the wound. 

“I didn’t let him stab me-”

“Oh bullshit!” Tommy hissed, “You’re the most talented fighter in the world! You wouldn’t get stabbed by a back alley thief!”

“Evidently not.”
Tommy finished up the healing spell just enough that Techno wouldn’t bleed out. They would need to dress the wound later, but the thin scab Tommy had formed would hold for now. Tommy looked down at his blood soaked hands in a momentary shock of horror. His mouth opened and closed, and it seemed to settle in on him how close Techno had been to dying.

A couple minutes more, and he would have been dead. 

All the fight suddenly seemed to leave Tommy, like a puppet cut from strings. He collapsed forward on Techno, head pressed into the nook beneath Techno’s chin and his chest. After a moment, Techno placed a weak hand on his back awkwardly. He felt Tommy shake as a sob escaped him. And suddenly the kid was bawling against his chest, hands twisted into the bloodstained cloak he wore. 

That horrible, gun-wrenching sound echoed through the alley, the breaths punched from Tommy’s chest that came out in a gasping wail. Techno felt his shirt turn wet with tears as Tommy cried. 

And Techno just. . . let him, for what felt like hours.

When the sobs began to die down, Techno dropped his chin against the top of Tommy’s head, and wrapped both arms around him, pulling him closer, “I’m sorry,” he whispered. It felt like he actually meant it.

“I- Just-” Tommy’s words choked off, “Why?”

And Techno knew he at least owed him a real answer, “Because I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if I live, or if I die. I decided, long before I fell off that boat that whatever happened to me would happen, and I would let it.”

“So none of this mattered?” Tommy cried, “Not a single thing we’ve done has mattered to you?”

“No,” Techno whispered, “No, it mattered. It mattered very much.”
“Then why?”
“Because it only mattered that you were there. The only thing I have cared about in a long time, really truly cared about, is you.” Techno closed his eyes, “and I can’t bring myself to bear the pain of caring about something I’ll lose, nothing but you. I can’t seem to stop caring about you.”

“You really don’t want to live?”

“No,” Techno admitted, “I don’t. I wish I did, that way you wouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“Bastard!” Tommy shouted, hands tightening into Techno’s shirt, “You can’t have it both ways! You have to pick a lane.”

Tommy hiccuped a sob.

“You have to live,” Tommy said.

“Why, Tommy?” Techno said flatly, “What do I have to live for? There’s nothing I can do that I haven’t done.”

“You haven’t come home.”
Techno looked away, “You can't ask that of me.”

“Why not!?” Tommy sobbed, “Why can’t I want you to live?”

“Because I’ve given up. I stopped living for myself a long time ago,” Techno said softly, like it would comfort Tommy.

“You can’t do this to me!” Tommy screamed, “You can’t die.”

And Techno looked down at this small boy in his arms, and for the first time, he believed him. He didn’t want to live. He didn’t want to bear that pain for a second more. But this boy, this boy loved him. 

Suddenly, he could not bear the thought of hurting this boy again as he just did. The thought made his stomach turn

What had he done? Horror filled Techno as he glanced at Tommy’s bloodstained hands and tearstained face. What had he done to reduce this proud boy to a crying mess, pleading for him to stay alive?

How could he have done that?

But Techno realized Tommy was right. He couldn’t have it both ways. If he died, Tommy would be hurt again, but he couldn’t prevent Tommy from mourning unless he stayed alive. He was at a cruel impasse, his life the fork in the road. 

He didn’t want to live. But he couldn’t afford to die.

Another tear fell from his eye. 

“I’ll live, then,” Techno murmured, the promise whispered out of a husky voice, “I’ll try. I don’t know how to do it, but I’ll try.”

Tommy peeled himself away from Techno, looking him dead in the eye. Techno was crying. Hot ugly tears dripping down his face from blazing red eyes.

“How do I live again, Tommy?” he asked through hiccuped sobs, “I don’t even remember anymore.”

Tommy took his hand in his own, “You fight. You fight yourself and you fight that bastard.”

“ I’ll try, ” he cried. 

“Can you promise to fight?” he asked.

Techno nodded his head, hands scrambling at his eyes to wipe away the tears, “I will.”

He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he last fought. Not just some bounty or brawl, but a true fight. But now, finally, the soul he’d tucked away deep inside of him was shaking off his slumber, and drawing his sword. 

—

His decision to live, to fight to live, oddly enough, did not begin with him rising from his darkest point and standing back on his feet. It began with Tommy pulling him up, and helping him limp out of that dark alley. It began with Tommy bandaging his wounds and while he cried silently. It began with Tommy hugging him, clinging to him like the would vanish if he let go, for hours, and Techno clinging on just as desperately.

They left the city quickly, forgetting the supplies they had to pick up. It didn’t matter right now. 

Fighting began with Tommy striking flint and steel over a fire and then handing them over to Techno for the next time. 

Fighting began with Techno finally undoing the bandages over his heart. They had been taken off by someone else before,  ripped open unwillingly. But now, it was with gentle fingers that he peeled them away to show someone the deep wound he’d carried with him his entire life.

It was on that quiet, warm summer night that fighting began when Techno finally decided to tell Tommy why he had fallen so far. Why he had stopped caring. 

“Did Phil ever tell you my story?”

Tommy leaned back against the tree he had propped his bed roll up against, “No,” he said, “But I had heard enough stories to understand. I saw your wings, I knew what they were. I knew there was only one way to get those. You were an angel, and the Blood God stole your Name.”

“That’s the gist of it, but not all of it” Techno said and sighed, “I want you to know that I wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always want to die, I wasn’t always waiting for an end. I used to look to the future for all the wonderful ways my story could go, instead of all the ways I could end it. I used to have somebody to be. I used to be someone”

Techno chuckled quietly, “I was a lot like you when I was a kid. Loud, brash. I even told a god to fuck off once.”

“You did?”

He smiled to himself, “I did,” the smile fell, “but that was a long time ago. When I was a lot younger.”

“But,” his voice caught on the word, breathless, “But then life does what it does, and it changes in ways you don’t want it to. My village attacked me.”

Techno looked at Tommy, “But they didn’t silence me. Even with no one there, I spoke to the grass and the songbirds and the sky. I still had a voice. Not that it lasted for long.”

There was a long silence, where neither of them knew what to say.

He sighed, “I didn’t lose my humanity in an epic battle, you know. There was no cosmic fight within the halls of heaven. No flashing lights or explosions. I became an angel on the side of some back country road. Covered in blood and dust.”

“It was an end, of sorts,” he shrugged, “but it also wasn’t. It was the end of my humanity, my joy, my voice. But it wasn’t the end of my life, and I wasn’t dead. Because I got up the next day, and I stood up, and I started walking.”

He bowed his head, “and I just. . . kept walking. I think- hoping one day I’d keel over on the side of the road. Wishing that it would just be over.”

He looked down at his hands, “that was when I really stopped talking. I no longer spoke to the grass, I ignored the songbirds, I hated the sky. It was an end to sound, a beginning of silence. I lost my voice when I lost my Name, and when I lost both, I lost who I was. I do not think I will ever find them again.”

For a moment, Tommy was quiet. But then he spoke, “I know you think you’re worthless, that whatever you were died when that bastard stole your Name away, but that’s not true. You’ve changed, and you’re no longer a brash kid like me. But that doesn’t mean you’re nothing. You’re wise, and smart and funny, and an utter idiot sometimes, and I think there’s a lot there that is worth something. Worth saving, worth knowing, worth loving.”

“Most people are afraid of dying. I’m afraid of living. What does that tell you, Tommy,” Techno looked away, “It tells you that I’m a coward, and there’s nothing worth loving in someone too scared to even live.”

“People tend to think im stupid because I’m loud,” Tommy said, “but I still feel deeply, I still think deeply. It takes bravery to be loud in a quiet world. The flaw they see is a strength, they just don’t know it.”

“People think you’re a coward because you're afraid.” Tommy looked at him, really looked at him, “but being afraid isn’t bad. You haven’t become cruel or heartless, like so many people do when hurt. You just got scared.”

“Is this your idea of comfort?” Techno asked.

Tommy smiled, small and soft, “Being scared isn’t bad,” he repeated, “you could have broken under your pain, almost did, and yet every day, you face the world again and again. That’s bravery, too.”

“I was waiting to die, Tommy,” Techno rolled his eyes.

“But you haven't yet,” Tommy said back, “and instead, you get up and walk everyday when you could just as easily lie down and wither away, like you want to. I know you don’t think you’re strong, but what you see as a flaw, I see the strength beneath it.  

To that, Techno had nothing to say.

—

“What did it feel like to get your name back?” Techno decided to ask one day as they walked together through a forest. They had been traveling for about three weeks since his decision to live, through which he tried and failed to find what healing himself meant. 

Tommy blinked at him.

Techno blinked back, “What? Is it such a weird question?”

“No!” Tommy said quickly, “It’s just, I’m used to you being the one with all the answers. Not used to being the one doing the answering.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “I’m not omnipotent.”
“You could be, if you tried hard enough,” Tommy muttered.

Techno laughed, “Hardly. I could look into your Name and find the answer, I guess, but it wouldn’t be worth it. I would know what it was like, but I could never experience how it feels.”
“Well,” Tommy leaned back, “Finally calling my name felt like an explosion, like a star just going ‘ka-bloo-ie’-”

Techno snorted.

“Oi! It’s not funny! You asked,” Tommy glared at him, “Do you even want to hear my explanation?”

“Sorry, sorry, go on.”
“Like I said, calling my Name felt like a supernova but actually learning it,” Tommy shrugged, “It felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place. It was like- like when you described stars singing to me! Like everything finally made sense. I had never thought that they sang, but once I knew, it just seemed obvious. Of course the stars sing, why wouldn’t they? I can’t imagine a world where they don’t, now. It felt just like that - the realization, their voices, my Name, it felt like an embrace.”

“It didn’t fix you.”

Tommy looked over at him with clear, sad, blue eyes, “No,” he admitted, “It didn’t. I still hurt, my Name is still scarred. There’s a hole within it that still aches. But it’s nothing compared to that soul crushing pain that haunted me while it was stolen. To think that you’ve lived with that for hundreds of years…” he trailed off. 

Techno glanced away, “You get used to it.”

“No you don’t.”

Techno didn’t respond, “I don’t imagine getting it back can be much better. You still hurt.”

“I do,” Tommy said, “But I can fill that hole.”

“How?”

Tommy smiled, “You learn to love. You fill it with funny looking clouds and stupid jokes and family.”

Techno knew immediately that the kid was lecturing him. He huffed a laugh, “I’m much too old to learn to love again, Tommy. Nothing’s gonna help with the pain of a missing Name.”

“No,” Tommy said, “But if you learn to love again, learn to love all that’s around you, you might learn to love yourself again. And then you’ll find your Name.”
“I don’t even know how to do that anymore.”

“Yes you do,” Tommy said, “We’re family.”

Techno smiled, but there was no joy behind it, “I suppose so.”

“Then it’s as good as any place to start,” Tommy said, “If you’d stop preventing yourself from doing so, I’m sure you’d love the entire world. You’re only stopping yourself from doing it because you’re afraid you’ll lose it. No, not lose it, have it taken away.”

“No one would ever call me paranoid,” Techno reminded him.

“All I’m saying is that the pain of never letting yourself love anything might be greater than the pain of losing something you loved.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “I think I would know. How wouldn’t I if I live with it everyday?”

Tommy walked away, hands in his pockets, “You told me that one yourself: you’ve gotten used to it.”

Techno followed behind, before something stopped him short. There was a cluster of poppies by the base of a tree. It was something he would have never noticed before, more likely to trample over them blindly than realize they were ever even there. 

He bent down and picked it up, the gentle stem snapping easily. He pushed back a petal gently, finding the texture remarkably soft. He admired the bright red petals that surrounded the black and yellow middle, like the folds of a skirt. It was beautiful.

He tucked the flower behind a curl of pink hair.

It complemented his eyes.

—

“It looks like a cow.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does!”

Techno thrust a finger up at the lone cloud in the sky, “What part of that looks like a cow to you?!”

Tommy placed his hands on his hips, “Oh, I don’t know, all of it.”

“What part of it is the head, then?”

Tommy pointed.

“And the tail?”

Tommy pointed again.

“You just pointed at the same spot twice!”

“It’s called my interpretation!” Tommy screamed, “Ever heard of cubism asshole!”

“I don’t care if it looks like your interpretation of a cow, it doesn’t look like a normal fucking cow!”

“Wow, real smart!” Tommy rolled his eyes, “If it doesn’t look like a cow what does it look like, genius?”

Techno opened his mouth, and when nothing came out, closed it. He looked up at the cloud, eyebrows knitted, then back at Tommy, “. . .it looks like a cloud?” he offered lamely.

“For fucks sake!”

—

He caught his reflection everywhere nowadays. His soul had always been quiet, attempts to speak to him quickly snuffed out himself. It was tentative now, afraid of him. Techno couldn’t blame it. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see his soul after all this time.

What if he was correct? What if all he saw was a weak little thing?
He wasn’t sure he could bear that.

He knew that it was true, but he had been running away from that confirmation for years. For all he had faced that cutting truth, he had always been too afraid to put the final nail in the coffin.

But now he knew he would have to look eventually - it would be the only way out. And his soul seemed to know it too. But he made no move to speak to his soul, and so all he saw was glimpses.

He saw his face in the sky as storm clouds shifted, and heard his voice in the thunder that filled the air. He caught red eyes staring back at him in raindrops and on the surface of lakes. He felt his own hands in the grass that brushed his ankles. 

Techno was not ready to speak to his Name yet. He was not ready to see what he surely knew was there - a broken man. But he had made a promise to Tommy, and so he knew that one day soon he would.

But for now, he admired the ferocity in a sky torn by dark storm, he learned to see the beauty of a strike of lightning lighting up the word in white, learned to speak back to the thunder as it roared and catch his eyes on the raindrops as they fell. He learned to reach back to the grass that reached for him, he learned to look around him and see all the things he had missed before.

And this time, he did not berate himself for doing so. He accepted the touch of wind easily, learned to lean into it even, and let it carry some of its weight. If his heart felt light when he heard the wind whisper the secrets he had once told it back to him, he did not remind himself that one day that feeling would be replaced with pain. When the ocean spoke to him in gentle tones, he spoke back after so long. When the sun smiled down at him and kissed his skin, he smiled back.

He let himself feel each fleeting moment of happiness for what it was: Joy.

It came, it went, but between the pain and tears it was there. He had forgotten what it could feel like. It made getting up the next day easier, knowing there were funny shaped clouds out there for him and Tommy to argue over. It made continuing to walk easier to choose, knowing that there were flower fields to see. It made living easier, knowing there were water fights to be had, food to try, and laughs to laugh. 

His soul still ached so terribly, but when Tommy held his hand and guided him through a busy festival, watching fireworks erupt in a million colors across the sky, it almost seemed to hurt less.

He caught his reflection more and more with each passing day, heard strange murmurs of a familiar voice in his head grow clearer with each week, felt as that tight guard he held around his soul loosened as the months went by.

His soul still didn’t speak to him, though.

Until one day…

—

Tommy had gone to go collect firewood, leaving Techno alone to set up camp. They had decided to camp by a lake that night. It was a lake so still and clear it was practically a mirror. He could see the shine of the moon’s full body across the surface, a perfect reflection. So clear that he could almost hear her voice coming from both sides.

He rolled out he and Tommy’s bedrolls and collected rocks for a fire pit. They would have stew tonight, made from some preserved meats and dried vegetables they’d bartered for a week ago, so he grabbed his cooking pot from his luggage. He carried so much more with him these days - things he didn’t even know he needed until Tommy had reminded him.

He walked over to the lake with his pot, about to grab some water. But just before he dipped the metal rim into the water’s even surface, he stopped himself. His reflection was off. They were so remarkably similar, so that you could hardly tell the difference, but there was just something about the man on the water’s surface that was different from Techno himself.

His reflection looked like he was waiting for something. 

“Oh,” Techno breathed, “It’s you.”

And his reflection broke out into a smile Techno himself did not wear. He looked delighted Techno had recognized him, “It is,” said his Name. 

Techno suddenly felt sad. Tonight was when it was going to happen, wasn’t it. He was finally going to see the mess he had tried to hide from Tommy, from the world, from himself. The final nail would hammer home. 

“You’re sad,” said his soul.

“Yeah, I am,” Techno said. There was no point in lying. He wanted to be free so badly, but he was not sure he was ready to face the reality of what his soul was. He still craved that deniability that even though he knew he was nothing, even though he believed it and lived with it, that there could be that small chance that everything he suffered over wasn’t just a weak little soul made out of nothing. 

Techno wasn’t sure what he would do if that was true. He had suffered so horribly when his soul was used against him, he didn’t think he could survive knowing that all he had suffered over nothing. But he would have to live anyway, and he would have to live knowing that.

It was terrifying. 

He decided to ask a question, “Why have you never spoken to me before this year?”

“I did, you had never wanted to listen before,” His soul pulled himself from the water, so he was kneeling in front of Techno. He reached out and touched him on the shoulder, and his fingers were warm against Techno’s cold skin, “You’ve made yourself purposefully deaf, and the few times you could hear me, I was shouting. It was only luck that let me get through.”

“Why?” Techno asked, “Why bother to scream for hundreds of years if you knew I couldn’t hear?”

His soul snorted, “Because you’re a stubborn son of a bitch, and so am I.”

“Must have had something really important to say, then,” Techno looked away, dejected, “If you’re here to tell me what I think it is, then just get it over with. Don’t drag it out.”

His soul frowned, “I do have something to tell you, but it’s not that.”

Techno looked up at his soul sadly, and he asked, “Then what is it? What could possibly be so important, if I don’t already know it?”

His soul replied, “that I still love you. And that you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Techno was silent for a long moment, just staring deeply at the reflection of himself that had fought so hard to say those words, who had clawed itself out of a reflection just to touch his shoulder and hold him. After what seemed like eons, he said, “tell me more.”

And so his soul did.

This small, damaged, shining thing that he had never heard because he never let it speak, let words tumble out of it like water from a fall. Three hundred years of truths he’d hid from his mind laid bare and open. For once, Techno listened. He listened to the words he had never let himself hear. 

And what his soul had to say surprised him.

It told him that he was not the young, brash boy he had once been. The boy who ran through fields of wheat, hands raking over the golden stalks. The boy who laughed loudly and spoke his mind and loved the world. The boy who loved life. He was no longer loud and boisterous and painfully bright . He never would be that again. 

It hurt to know that, and Techno and his soul both mourned over the death of that little boy. They knew that he was gone, killed the day he killed his village, laid to rest when his soul was stolen. Techno was not that kid anymore. 

But he wasn’t broken. He wasn’t the empty thing he was sure he’d become, the monster that wanted to lie down in a bed and let himself rot. He was not a hollow man, with nothing to live for but the dream of dying. He was not a man without a home, a man without a place, a man without a soul. He was not nothing. 

He was scarred, and he was hurt, and that would never change. He could not go back to the person he had been before he was robbed. He could not erase all the years he had lost to pain, all the wasted moments and joy he had denied himself. He would never be the way he was. He couldn’t be. But he would never be what he thought he’d turned into. He would never be nothing. How could he be when there were so many beautiful things that filled his soul?

He was quiet, and he was hurt, and was gentle, and he was scared, and he was brave. 

He had a laugh that sounded like a cracking fire. 

He had a voice as deep and calm as a summer lake.

He had a kind heart that thrummed with love and fear in equal measures.

He had a soul, like a dark, shining ruby. He had a Name, hushed and strange as a small lamp alone in a cold, snow filled street.

He was not a boy and he was not broken. He was Technoblade, the unwilling Angel of Blood, the man who knew the Names of all, the child forced allowed to grow old too fast, the man who loved so deep it scared him, the man who yearned for the quiet of winter and the warmth of spring, the man who almost gave up but chose to fight, the man who used to love sunrises. The man who maybe still did. 

His name was Technoblade. The man who through it all was still standing.

Techno felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye and he lunged forward, yanking his surprised soul into a hug. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?” his soul asked.

“For never giving up.”

Their arms tightened around him just as his did the same. While their embrace grew tighter, his soul began to glow, slowly merging into Techno. He felt his soul click into the place, and it felt like chains snapping. When he opened his eyes, his arms were wrapped around himself. 

Techno finally understood. 

His Name was Athánatos And by god, he wasn’t broken yet.

—

When Tommy came back to camp it only took one look and he knew. Firewood tumbled from his arms as they went slack at his sides.

“You learned it,” he whispered. 

Techno nodded slowly, “I did.”

And suddenly his arms were full as Tommy crashed into him at full speed, locking him in a bruising hug. Techno felt no guilt as he wrapped Tommy up in his own arms, holding him close.

He cried, he smiled, and he laughed in a breathless, amazed way, because he could hardly believe that yes, he did do it. He learned his Name. He learned that he was so much stronger than he had ever let himself believe. Joy, sadness, and fear all burned brightly within him and he felt no remorse for feeling a single one of them. He felt all the emotions he had tried to kill off, and they were so beautiful. He felt love and warmth as they wrapped each other up in an embrace that conveyed so much more than words ever could.

When Tommy pulled away, it was his turn to ask, “So what now?”
Techno laughed, grin bright and daring and just a tinge afraid, “I fight. I’ve fought myself, that part of me that never let me hear my own voice. Now I just have to fight that bastard.”
“Are you sure?” Tommy asked. 

“He won’t let me go peacefully,” Techno said, knowing it to be true, “and I can’t let him hurt anyone else. No one deserves to suffer the way I did. No, this ends. This ends now.”

Tommy nodded, “I understand. You have a destination in mind?”

Techno set his mouth in a grim line and inclined his head, “I do.”

—

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Tommy asked, looking up at the looming, grey church. It towered up so tall it almost seemed to touch the sky. Its spires were sharp and made of rusting metal, the setting sun glancing off them in a dull shine. The building was huge, filled with empty halls and dark rooms, situated on a hill at the apex of the city. They had arrived at the base of the Church of Blood. 

Many of the powerful gods had churches of their own, dedicated solely to the worship of them. It just so happened that The Blood God’s church was in Dovah: where it all began.

Techno followed his gaze, taking in the grand cathedral. It was a terrifying thing, made up of stone archways and wrought iron, with even its stained glass window’s managing to gleam in a dangerous way. 

“I’ve had three hundred years to be ready,” Techno finally replied, “If not now, then when?”

“So you are?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, “I think I finally am.”

He stepped forward into the church’s shadow, and for once, Tommy did not follow. This was Techno’s journey, Techno’s story, and Techno’s fight. And it was only a fight that he could win. Tommy couldn’t help him here. He needed to do it himself. 

Techno reached the doorway. It had no door really blocking it off, so it was more of an archway with nothing stopping someone from entering. Not many were ever so brave as to, either way. It was dangerous to do such a thing, only the truly desperate would do such a thing. Those who did pray at the altar of the Blood God asked for two things: mercy and forgiveness. Neither was often granted. The open doorway was a challenge. 

Above the arch, written in clear text were the words ‘come all ye mighty and die by my blade’. Techno tightened his hand around the hilt of his blade.

Bracing himself, Techno took the step into the threshold. Within the walls of this supposed ‘sanctuary’, it was cold. Colder than a graveyard, or winter in the arctic, or the touch of Death herself. This was the cold left only in the wake of loss, frost tinted and dreadfully sharp. 

He walked through the church, his heels clacking loudly on the cold stone floors. Summer sunlight flooded through red and gold stained glass, and yet not a drop of its warmth reached him. Like Tommy, the world knew this was Techno’s fight. They could not help him here. For it was an equal to his skill that he would fight with. 

He reached the Blood God’s altar. The actual altar itself was rather plain, a single rectangular stone with a gold basin sitting upon it. The gold shone warmly in the setting sunlight, glowing like a beacon in the middle of the room. Beyond the altar was a wrought iron statue of the god himself, at least twenty five feet tall, its sword pointed directly at the altar and eyes glaring down at it. For so long, there had been no angel by its side, but at last Techno stood here below it. 

Techno approached the altar but did not bow. Instead, he placed firewood and tinder in the gold basin. Because of course the Blood God would not answer to something as trivial as the lighting of incense. Techno would have to demand his attention. To his surprise, when he reached inside of his pocket, he felt the cool touch of flint and steel. 

He stuck them over the basin, sparks lighting up the darkening room. They settled in a shower over the tinder, smoldering in lines of red embers. The fire would grow, but Techno had spent too much of his life waiting.

“Cienne,” he whispered and the embers roared to life in a tower of flame. The room flushed alight with a golden glow. Techno, for the first time in a while, was warm.

Techno bit into his thumb, drawing a bead of blood. Without fear, he shoved his hand into the fire. It did not burn him, simply whisking the blood away in a curl of ash. 

And suddenly, the fire was gone, and the room was dark and cold yet again. But the heat inside of himself remained, even as cold air brushed across his shoulders.

“I never thought you would willily call me,” the Blood God breathed by his ear. His breath smelled of smoke and iron.

“I never thought I would either,” Techno said, unflinching, “I assume you know why.”

The Blood God slinked out from behind him, taking a lazy seat on the stone altar before him. He looked the same as he did three hundred years ago - all cruel lines and red eyes and glittering finery’s. For all Techno had changed, the Blood God had remained the same.

The Blood god leveled him with an appraising eye, then said, “You learned your Name.”

The statement echoed loudly across the enormous room. Whispering a thousand times the same sentence into Techno’s ears.

“I learned my Name,” Techno confirmed, voice quiet, but not scared, “and you have not learned yours.”
“I have not,” the Blood God said. 

Techno raised a hand, “Then I think we know how this will end-”
The Blood God raised a hand silencing him, “You forget, My Angel, that I am more powerful than you. ‘Not anymore’ you wish to say, but you know it would be a lie. I still hold power over you, I can see it in your soul.”

Techno grit his teeth, already knowing what he would say, “He knows his Name-”
The Blood God rolled his glowing red eyes, “You know better than anyone else it does not take a Name to kill a simple, mortal man. A child, really.”

The Blood God stood up, looming threatening over Techno, “Just as you can call down lightning, so too can I. Just as the oceans leap to obey you, they submit under my power. Just as you could end the world on a whim, I could end this plane as my final act.”
“I can kill you,” Techno said.

“And I will take the entire world with me,” he grinned, “and that includes the family you’ve deluded yourself into thinking is real.”
Silence rang cold and deadly across the room. Because they both knew that not a single lie had been spoken under the Blood God’s roof. They were at an impasse, yet again. For as much as Karl scorned the idea of singular fate, Techno was beginning to believe that this was his. The inability to act, no matter the circumstances. 

But something Karl had said came back to him.

It was not fate, but rather possibility.

Techno had a chance at freedom now, and he had to take it, no matter the odds. He promised Tommy he would fight, so he would fight. 

So after the deafening ring of silence screamed on for a minute, he spoke, “I propose an alternative.”
The Blood God raised a brow, “and what, dear angel, would that be?”

“A duel,” Techno said, “No Names, no powers, only my blade against yours, my flesh and blood against yours. Neither of us win if you destroy the world. I lose my family, and you lose your playground. Should I win, I will call your Name, and you will let it happen, and we end this.”
“Then what do I gain? My life?” he laughed, “I see only things to lose from entertaining this duel. I could walk out with my life just as things are now.”
Techno let out a steadying breath, steeling himself for his next action, “You’re right. You stand nothing to gain from this. But I wasn’t done. Should you win, you will be left alive, and I will offer you my Name. Willingly.”

There was silence. 

Then there was laughter.

Loud and roaring, the Blood God grinned and laughed, his eyes as wild as the ocean in a stormed fury. He lunged forward - face only an inch from Techno’s - teeth bared in a sharp smile, “Now there’s something I thought I would never hear! The mighty Technoblade offering up his Name! How desperate you have become!”

Techno grimaced, “Do you accept?”

“I do.”
“Then swear upon your Name,” Techno said, “Swear there will be no tricks, no Names, just you versus me. You will not go back on our deal, and neither will I.”

The Blood God heaved a sigh, “If I must. That we will fight on equal terms, no Names and no magic. Flesh and blood versus flesh and blood. Even in defeat I shall not end the world. I, God of Blood,  swear such upon my Name ”

Techno nodded, “I, Technoblade, swear such upon my Name.”

The Blood God drew his sword, the netherite screaming against its sheath. It gleamed in the light the stained glass cast. The same gold and red light illuminated the savage grin of the Blood God’s face.

Techno drew his own sword, 

“Then let us begin,” and he sprung forward. 

Techno was nearly taken off his feet by the first strike. Their blades met in the middle in a fearsome blow that carried so much weight on the Blood God’s side. Normally, Techno won out on his opponent in terms of strength - but his opponent was not usually a god. Techno was hopelessly outclassed. 

Their blades parted and met again and again, Techno just barely stopping the sword from dividing him in two. He had to duck to escape the cutting edge and throw himself to the ground to keep himself from getting gutted.

He was on the run, again.

Techno retreated, parrying what he could and dodging what he could not. His arm was already sore from blocking only a dozen or so attacks. His chest was heaving as he fell back and back. 

He hadn’t even been able to attempt a single strike back yet. Each blow left him reeling so that the best he could do was get his blade back up by the time the next one struck. In terms of skill, Techno knew they were relatively well matched. But he was born with the flesh of a man, and The Blood God was born from the stars themselves. 

Techno led them around the room, ducking and diving and just barely holding on. His face was held in a permanent, breathless grimace. 

He rolled out of the way of a heavy strike, the Blood God’s sword striking stone instead of flesh and the floor erupting in a shower of sparks. If that had hit, Techno would have been dead. 

He needed to do something. He couldn’t lose here. 

Technoblade was in full retreat now, not even bothering to raise his blade and just running. The Blood God gave chase, sword swinging wildly after Techno. The sharp ring of netherite against stone filled the room in almost rhythmic repetitions. Sparks flew, glittering gold in the light of the setting sun.

Techno slid around the altar, ducking behind it just in time for the sword to catch on stone instead of Techno’s flesh. Using the momentary opening, he sprang up, grabbing a handful of red hot charcoal from the gold basin. He lunged forward, shoving the coals into the Blood God’s eyes.

The god gave a choked off scream, and swung his blade in a cutting arc in front of him. Techno tumbled back to avoid it. But now he had a small opportunity, and he needed to push it.

For the first time in the fight, Techno was on the offensive. He made quick, jabbing blows that lacked strength but made up for it with speed. It left the Blood God struggling to parry, and unable to rear up one of those bone shattering swings again. 

The god glared at him through soot stained eyes, mouth bared in a snarl. He struck forward and Techno ducked under it. While his blade flew wide, Techno rushed forward and struck across the Blood God’s chest. It was too shallow, and wouldn’t do much more than cause minor pain, but it was a cut. 

Techno had landed a strike across the Blood God. Someone he had long thought untouchable. Blood bubbled from the wound, black and tar-like. 

He was so caught in his awe that he failed to react in time to the leg swinging around to kick him. It connected painfully with his ribs and sent him flying across the room. His back crashed back against one of the windows, showers of colorful shards raining down on him. 

The Blood God was slowly stalking towards him, but Techno was too breathless to do much more than groan. The god drew closer, face dark with a mixture of excitement and anger. 

“That hurt, boy,” he said, raising his sword slowly above his head. 

As the sword swung down, Techno managed just enough strength to roll out of the way. And he was scrambling back up again. 

Panic and anger rose up in his chest as he was back on the retreat, just dodging blows by a hair and scrambling away from the god he’d been running from the majority of his life. But the indignation he felt fell on the backburner as the Blood God gained ground on him.

It was a swipe that was just a little too fast for him to dodge, a jab he was a little too slow to block. Shallow cuts began to spring up on his skin. A cut across his arm, a raising welt on his neck, a deep gash across his leg. 

He tripped backwards, keeping his sword raised in a guard through sheer will at this point, as his entire body felt like lead. Each step he took backward left a bloody trail behind him, the hot liquid pattering softly on the floor and gathering in dark puddles. 

“Give up,” The Blood God grinned, delivering a cut to the side of his ribs, “You know you cannot win, angel.”

Techno stuck back as fast as he could, just managing a shallow cut across the Blood God’s cheekbone. He growled, “I can damn well try.”

The Blood God glowered, and suddenly Techno’s side burned with pain from where a sword was drawn across it. He rolled back before the same blade could sever his neck as well. He knew the Blood God would not kill him, but either way, one of them was dying here today. He would take the Blood God’s life, or Techno’s freedom would be taken away. Death in both options. 

And so he could not lose.

He planted his feet firmly, and when the Blood God’s strike inevitably came, he beat the blade away with all the force he could muster. It gave him a second - just a fraction of a second - of an opening, but that was all he needed. 

Techno dove forward, blade glinting in silver lines as it moved so fast it blurred. Parry, riposte, feint, lunge. His sword sunk deep into flesh. He did not allow himself a moment to revel in the victory, already pulling his sword back in an arc of black blood, rearing for the next blow. 

They were even now. Even as they had never been before. For every strike the Blood God managed on Techno, Techno returned it in full. They were soon both bleeding heavily, chests heaving as they continued their deadly dance. 

“You cannot win,” the Blood God repeated as he cut a line across Techno’s hip.

“I can try,” he would mutter back as he stabbed deep into thigh. 

“You cannot win!” The Blood God shouted as he kicked Techno halfway across the room, sending Techno tumbling across the stone floors.

“I can try,” he gritted out as he hoisted himself off the floor and readied another attack.

“You cannot win!” wild swings, powered by anger but made sloppy by the exact same thing. Techno weaved easily between the cutting edge, getting closer and closer as he ducked and dodged and ran right as his target. Getting closer and closer until-

The Blood God’s chest was open-

He pulled his arm back for a strike-

It was now-

It was now or never-

His sword swung forward-

And suddenly the Blood God was ducking out of the way, his blade coming back to meet Techno’s own. The metal locked together and with a sharp jerk, Techno’s blade was sent flying and a strong leg kicked him to the ground. 

A boot was planted firmly on his chest before he could even attempt to get up. A blade was at his neck.

The Blood God was looking down at him, blood dripping from a wound on his scalp and a cut above his eye, his chest heaving for air and his posture heavily slumped to one side, but grinning savagely all the same. 

“You lost,” he said, and it rang in painful echo’s around the room. 

Techno struggled to get up, but to no avail “Not yet!” it sounded pitiful to his own ears. 

The Blood God huffed, and blood dripped from his chin onto Techno’s cheek, “Give me your Name, boy.”

Techno looked around wildly. He needed a way to get out of this. He had sworn upon his Name, and if he didn’t manage a way out of this soon he would be bound to do so. He needed a way out. He needed one last trick, one last weapon. His sword was too far away.

“You lost,” The Blood God repeated.

And Techno almost agreed with it. His heart panged sorrowfully at the thought. He had finally managed some form of freedom, after three hundred years, and now it would be gone. His soul ached in the same strange way it had for his entire life. But deep within it, as it always had, hope glowed.

‘Get up, Techno,’ his own voice whispered in his ear. ‘I can’t!’ he wanted to scream back. There was no way out of this, he knew that, his soul had to know that too. Hope was irrational now. It was finally time to give up the fight. He was just a man, who was he to think he could kill a god. 

‘You’re not just a man,’ the same voice whispered, ‘ you’re an angel. Forced or not, Technoblade, his soul, the stones below him and sky above, the world, screamed, you’re an angel! Make these wings your own!’

And bloodstained wings snapped open from his back, feathers sharper than any blade and weight heavier than anything he had ever carried - yet today they felt lighter than ever. White and black feathers fanned open faster than a crack of lightning. They snapped across the Blood God’s leg, sending blood splattering to the floor and the severed appendage landing with a dull ‘thud’. 

The Blood God screamed and fell back, just as Techno surged up. Now the Blood God was the one on the floor, a boot planted against his chest. The tip of Techno’s wing hovered just an inch above the Blood God’s neck, threatening to draw blood.

And now it was Techno who whispered, “You lost,” with the rest of the world whispering with him.

“No!” the Blood God attempted to push himself up, uncaring as Techno’s feather’s nicked his neck, “No!” his scream was sharp and shrill, and echoed like that of a crow's call through the empty church. 

His eyes, for the first time, were fearful, “No! Plea-”

Techno drove his wing tip through the Blood God’s throat, “Go fuck yourself.”
The Blood God choked, blood bubbling out of his mouth. He was very much alive, but he was defeated. Techno had won. In the god’s eyes was a silent plea, smothered by fear and anger. It was now Techno’s turn to ignore the plea. 

It was without malice, or sadness, or joy that he whispered the Blood God’s Name. Rather, it was with a sense of dawning freedom and serenity that he gently breathed out, “Rahakt’ex!”

The Blood God’s eyes widened, and he gave out one last pitiful gurgle through a mouthful of blood, before his body burned up like embers. His skin seemed to glow from beneath, the flesh blackening and pulling away as it burned into nothing, and what was once a powerful and cruel god crumbled to the floor in a heap of ash. 

Techno felt his wings start to burn away as well, watched the tips of his feathers light up with the golden glow of embers and flake apart into black curls of soot. His wings burned away sweetly, not with the feeling of his flesh consumed by fire, but rather the warm touch of sunlight during the first hours of dawn. His wings were lifted away from his back, and in their place lines glowing lines spread down his back and arms, twisting into swirling delicate shapes. When the light faded away, what was left was golden scars, painted in the shapes of wings. 

Techno looked down at them, turning over his hands to admire their strange beauty and weight. It was nothing like the heavy burden that his wings had been. They did not hurt or burn on his skin, but they were heavy in the way a hug was - wrapped around his soul in a safe, comforting weight. 

He was free - truly free. For the first time in his life. 

Techno turned his gaze back to the ash at his feet. It looked so small, for something that had hurt so much. Technoblade supposed he should be glad that he was dead, and that he had killed him. But as he stood over the pile of dirty soot that had tormented him for so long, he found that he did not care to revel in his victory. There was really only one thing he wanted to do. 

So Techno turned sharply on his heel, and left the pile of ash to be swept away in the wind. He walked out of the altar room, through the rest of the cold church, and emerged at the archway, finding the sun just barely peeking out above the horizon, sunset almost over. He glimpsed up at the words on the arch, ‘come all ye mighty and die by my blade’, and he smiled.

He glanced over at the cobblestone square where Tommy was pacing nervously. His hair was like a flame in the sunlight, golden as the altar of a god. Blue eyes filled with worry and hands stuffed into his pockets. He looked afraid.

“Tommy,” Techno rasped, his voice coarser than he had expected. He stepped out into the sunlight, warmth settling across his cloaked shoulders. He saw Tommy perk up and look at him. His face went slack with awe and wonder.

“You did it,” he whispered, then his face split into a blinding smile, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, “You did it!”
He ran over to Technoblade, and Techno limped as fast as he could to meet him halfway. 

And when Techno collapsed into his arms, he knew two things: he had been here before, but this time, he had finally, finally decided to stay. He was done running.

He had a family. He had a heart. He had a soul.

His chest was hurting, but not from the aching emptiness that had consumed it for so long. Now it was filled to bursting with love that ballooned warmly behind his ribs.

He was home.

To anyone who feels alone in the world, to anyone who believes they’re nothing: you are worth so much more than you could ever know. You are loved.