Chapter Text
He was abruptly and rudely awoken by a stick jabbing his side. He jumped up, looking around. His soft pink hair falling in front of his eyes. He huffed, wishing he was at home, where his mother could braid it for him.
The stick stabbed his side again, causing him to yelp, turning to the direction it came from. He was faced by a strange old man. No… wait, he was young. The scars littering his hands and face added decades though. The woman stood off to the side, the same woman who he had clawed at.
“Clean ‘em up and teach it the rules, Patch.” She ordered, and the man stepped closer to Technoblade, reaching down to grab him. Techno squealed and scrambled back and away from them.
The drowsy feeling was replaced by a rush of adrenaline as the man, Patch, chased him, both kicking up dirty hay from the floor as Techno narrowly dodged. Finally he leapt, landing square on top of Techno, who was nearly flattened. He wriggled and struggled to get away, but Patch picked him up and held him tight.
“C’mon kid, make this easier for the both of us.” He said in a low growl, carrying him out of the room, down a dim hallway to a big room full of chipped and rusty tubs and showers.
Techno was practically thrown into one of said bathtubs, and he scrambled to sit up and peek over the edge. Patch grabbed the back of his shirt collar, choking him as he yanked him back.
“Stand up straight,” he growled again, “or you’re going to get hurt.”
My whole body already hurts. Techno thought irritably.
Then Patch grabbed his hair, and Techno’s entire body went rigid. He’s touching my hair, he’s not allowed to touch my hair, only mother can touch my hair, he’s touching MY HAIR.
It only got worse when he heard the snip snip snip of scissors, and saw pink locks falling out of the corner of his eye. He started to tremble, unable to escape with Patch firmly holding him, because no, hair was special, hair was important, they can’t cut my hair
He jerked his head away as Patch cut another section, causing Patch to yell. He threw himself away, pressing against the far side of the tub. He stared at the man, who looked irritated.
“I told you you’d get hurt.” Patch growled, tapping his own ear.
Techno blinked, suddenly aware of a strong pain in his own ear. He reached up to grab it, jerking his hand away when he felt something warm and wet. He stared down at his hand, his breathing quickening when he saw the dark red coating his fingertips. He cringed as he felt the small trickle of blood run down the side of his head. Something else too, something unexpected.
He shook away the feeling, glaring up at Patch. Again.
“Don’t touch my hair.”
“Too bad kid, these are my orders, and no one cares what you want.” He reached over, trying to grab Techno, who snapped at his hand, trying to bite him. Trying to hurt him.
Patch finally caught him by yanking on the remaining long hair that Techno had, pulling it until he complied and using it to steer his head around for more ease. Techno sat, tears forming in his eyes, (from the pain or the helplessness, he didn't know), as Patch finished cutting it all off in a short choppy cut that didn't even reach his ears.
The scarred man left for a moment to grab something. Techno looked down at the pink hair surrounding him, reaching down and grabbing a handful. He stared at it, the tears rolling down his face. His ear still hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts.
Patch came back, grabbing Techno and dragging him to another room. Techno didn’t resist much this time, besides dragging his feet or stepping on Patch’s heels. Patch was quickly losing patience. He threw him into the room and pointed at some old clothes.
“Pick some and put them on.” He ordered, his voice menacing,
Techno scowled up at him, eyes still red and puffy as he bared his teeth.
“Do it or I’ll chop up your other ear too.”
Techno’s ears flattened against his head and he begrudgingly obliged, going and picking some of the nicer clothes. Though they all were worn and ripped, his choices looked much better maintained than the rest. A crest was stitched onto the sleeve of the shirt, a dragon curled around a blood red rose. Techno changed out of his own clothes and put them on. Patch had left and was back now.
“Good job kid. You’ll learn your place soon.”
Techno wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
Finally, Patch led him up a long flight of stairs, down several long hallways. He kept tugging Techno along even when his legs started to feel like lead. When Techno was certain they’d be walking for the rest of his life, Patch stopped in front of a big fancy door of mahogany and black iron.
Patch knocked, and a muffled voice told them to enter. Patch opened the great door and when Techno didn’t move quickly enough, he kicked him forward. Launching the little hybrid forward into the room. He stumbled towards a giant curved desk. The door closed behind him with a creak dull thud. He looked up, and the silhouette of a woman stood behind the desk, outlined by the bright silver light pouring through a window behind her.
“Patch, lights,” said the lady.
The lights came on with a faint hum, revealing the woman who had brought him here.
He narrowed his eyes, both out of his pure hatred and also a bit from the sudden bright lights, but he'd never admit such a thing.
“Well?” the woman asked expectantly.
“Well Ma’am, your new kid here is definitely gonna cause some trouble.”
Technoblade could feel the woman's eyes boring holes through him.
“I can see that.” she said, gesturing towards Techno’s ear, which still hurt.
She looked him over once more before speaking again. “Well Rosy, how’re you enjoying your stay so far?” She said with a mocking undertone.
Techno frowned, “My name is Technoblade.”
Patch made a sound that could’ve been a snort or a laugh.
“I don’t care what your name is, kid. While you’re here your name is going to be Rosy, since you’ve got that odd pink hair. Understood?” She said, a deep frown coming over her face.
The little hybrid clenched his fists. “No. My name is Tech-No-Blade.” He emphasized, staring at her defiantly.
The woman walked out from behind her desk to stand in front of him.
Next thing he knew, he saw white, the side of his face was stinging, ear ringing, forcing tears to form in the corners of his eyes as he stumbled back.
“You will listen to me or I’ll have you eaten alive.” He said, her voice icy cool, her eyes burning with anger.
Techno held the side of his face in his hands, screwing his eyes shut. He could feel his blood boil. He remembered what his mom said, about not letting anyone treat him badly. He wanted to do what she told him, fight back. Though for now, maybe it was best if he waited… he had a feeling that this crazy lady wasn’t the type to make empty threats.
The lady put on a fake smile. “You can call me Elizabeth, Rosy.”
“My name is Tech-no-blade. Not Rosy” Techno mumbled.
Elizabeth’s expression turned dark again for a split second, then was replaced by a thin, forced smile. “Come with me, Rosy, I have something to show you.”
/I hope it’s the door out of here./ Techno thought as he followed her through a door in the side of the office into a larger room. There was a big fancy couch, a bar along the back wall, and the front wall was crystal clear glass(save for the huge crack on one side…) overlooking an arena spattered with gore.
Techno paused in shock but was pushed forward closer to the glass. An elegant hand placed itself on his shoulder, a silent order to stay put.
“Now watch,” Elizabeth said.
The two great doors on either end of the round area suddenly opened up, and two hybrids emerged from either side. One was a ram hybrid with small horns that poked out of fluffy orange hair and barely curled around his pinned ears. The ram did not look like an adult, barely over 16 if Techno had to guess, he looked much smaller with how he curled into himself, clutching onto his spiked bat with fearful desperation. He looked too skinny, ribs showing from under the too large leather chestplate he wore. A fluffy bright orange tail could just barely be seen poking from his lower back, pinned down against his body. He jumped when the door slammed shut behind him.
The other hybrid to step onto the bloodied sand was a scarred feline hybrid who wore an air of calm confidence. She had a large mane of hair that made a halo around her battle worn face, strands of white could be seen even from the distance Techno was standing at. She had no visible tail. A large double sided axe was held loosely at her side, she wore no armor. The door slammed shut behind her.
The previously quiet crowd burst out in loud cheers.
‘Rip his throat out!’
‘Gut her open!’
‘Cut his horns off!’
‘Punch her ribs in!’
The arena’s vast seating area was full to the brim with people, Techno realized over half of whom held flowers of some kind. White and red flowers of some sort, he couldn't tell from this high up.
/Why are they holding flowers at a fighting ring?/
The hand on his shoulder squeezed and he snapped his focus back to the fight.
Technoblade saw the cat and ram hybrids had walked to the middle, the cat staring down the ram. The cat hybrid lunged at the ram, the axe she carried swinging close to the ram’s face. He stumbled back, before attempting a wild swing with the strange nailed bat he carried.
Before Techno could process what was happening, the ram was lying limply on the ground, dark red lumps and fluid around his still body. The cat woman stood unscathed over him. The crowd cheered, those with them threw their red flowers, while those with white flowers kept theirs in their hands. The cat straightened herself up, waving and holding their axe high. Finally the door she had appeared from opened again, and she made her way there and exited.
Techno had simply been watching the ram’s still body. The remaining crowd that still held white flowers threw their pale daisies, some even landed on the ram himself. Were they honoring him or expressing disappointment that the one they had chosen to support had lost? Two people wearing clothes similar to that of Patch entered the arena from a hidden door and dragged the body away.
Technoblade continued to stare down at the now empty arena, fresh red blood contrasting greatly from the dusty gray-brown of the sand.
/I think I'm gonna throw up./
The lady took a loud sip of wine from a tall glass, then set it on a table before her fancy couch. Techno didn't even notice her move or grab the glass. She smiled at him when he looked over, but there was nothing kind about it. Rather, there was a strange glint in her eye.
“Well Rosy, what did you think?”
“Is this why I’m here?” he asked, his voice low and shaking slightly.
“But of course! I always need new candidates.”
He turned back to the window, silent. She stood up and walked beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder yet again. He flinched but it only made her dig her nails into him. /Why are they so sharp-/
“You’ll be fighting tomorrow afternoon.”
He snapped his head up, “Heh?”
“You should get some rest! I’m sure you’re tired. Better be prepared for tomorrow!” She sounded cheerful but Technoblade could sense the underlying threat.
“Patch, take him to choose his tools and then to his room.” She ordered, going back to her desk and sitting down in her plush chair.
The scarred man came up to Technoblade again, grabbing onto his other shoulder and leading him out of the room and its connected office.
Elizabeth mumbled to herself, but Techno still heard as he was dragged out. “Piglin hybrids are rare. So long as he doesn't die tomorrow, he’ll be a great addition to my little collection of fighters.” The door slammed shut then, and he was dragged farther down the hall and down more flights of stairs.
They came across a small wooden door Patch unlocked and tugged the young piglin hybrid through it. Inside were barrels full of swords, axes, bows, knives, and weapons that Techno didn't even know were weapons. They were worn and a bit rusty, but still deadly. Some, mostly the nicer or more pristine ones, were even hung up on the walls. It smelled of stale blood and rust, making Techno scrunch up his face and rub his nose.
“Pick s’mthin’, kid. You’ll need it tomorrow.” Patch ordered, leaning against the doorframe.
Techno cautiously went around the room, keeping Patch within view in the corner of his eye. His eyes caught onto a rust speckled golden sword and pulled it out from under the many other deadly tools it lay under. He inspected it, the goldgoldgold of the blade shined despite the rust. It made part of his brain sing about the gold and scream about the rust; Techno began furiously scrubbing away at the flat of the blade with his sleeve.
/How could anyone neglect their gold like this? It was downright -disrespectful-./
A low whistle behind made Techno tense up.
“That’s not a good choice there. Gold looks pretty but it ain’t shit when it it comes to fightin’.” The threat says.
Techno stays quiet, body tensed up like a spring.
A pause followed, only lasting a few moments but feeling like a few hours. All Techno could hear was his breathing and the breathing of the threat behind him.
“Piggy, what I’m sayin’ is that that sword ain’t good. Pick a new one.”
Gibberish spills from the threat, a firm sound that makes the reasonable side of Techno’s brain squirm at the clear warning. But Techno stays tensed up and unresponsive. The only move he makes is to peel open his lips and expose his teeth, readying himself.
“Oh for crying out loud, gimmie that you damn brat”
Then the threat reached towards Techno and his gold. He turned and snarled at it, loud and ugly, baring his small tusks at the threat. Hugging the sword to his chest. Ready to start tearing and biting at the thing that dares try to take away his-
A sharp, searing pain on his cheek whips his head to the side.
The force of it made Techno cry out in pain, forcing him onto the ground. Rough hands grab the neck of his shirt and force him upright. A second slap hits him. Harder than the first and the golden sword falls from his chubby fingers. A third slap, tears start filling his eyes. A fourth slap, he lets out a sob. A fifth slap, he stops struggling and goes limp. There is no sixth slap.
Instead, Techno is grabbed by his jaw and forced to look up at Patch’s face.
“Now listen here you lil brat, I was being real nice and patient for you since you are Lady Elizabeth's new favorite and all but I will not let you treat me like that. I ain't your friend or your ally or nothin’. I don't even like you so you don't go baring your itty bitty dumb little fangs at me and think that Imma just take it. You better learn right quick where your place is, because it definitely ain't high enough to try and boss me around. Ya hear me?”
Techno nodded mutely, just barely able to with the grip Patch had on his bruising jaw. It was apparently the wrong thing to do because the man snarled and his grip tightened, pulling a pained whimper from Techno’s throat.
“Do you hear me?”
Patch repeated firmly, shaking Techno’s head slightly.
“Ye- yes, I can hear you”
Techno crooked, unable to keep his voice from breaking into a small sob. A beat passed, Patch staring coldly at the crying piglin hybrid in his grasp before he scoffed and released him.
Techno dropped onto the ground with a thud, stumbling away from the man with fear. The man rolled his eyes at Techno before he turned to the golden sword laying on the ground, making Techno’s breath catch in his chest. Patch studied it for a moment and looked at Techno with a raised eyebrow, and back at the sword. He muttered something and kicked it haphazardly onto a pile farther away.
The sword skidded against the hard concrete and clanked against the other weapons painfully, no doubt scratching the once beautiful blade with ugly marks.
The mistreatment to something so precious and pretty had Techno crying out, he made a jerky movement towards the gold that was immediately halted by Patch’s hard glare. Techno swallowed hard and ducked his head, falling back to where he was.
A tense moment passed, silent as Techno continued to stare at the cool stone floor and Patch didn't say anything. His face hurt, stinging and faintly pulsing in pain from the… beating he just received.
Techno swallowed back another sob, scared to break the silence in fear he’ll get another beating.
It was another moment of silence with the tension thick enough you could cut it with a dull sword.
Patch stepped back, his eyes narrowed as they swept across the room.
“Now pick sumthin’, and be quick about it.” he snapped.
Techno scrambled to his feet, looking around the room, searching for a weapon, forcing himself to hurry, and to ignore the glints of gold that kept catching his eye, not wanting to anger Patch further and find himself victim of a second beating. He found an old iron sword, the edges slightly rusted, but in better condition than the other swords it was piled with. He nervously held it up and looked at Patch for confirmation.
Patch merely gave him a slight nod.
Technoblade was overcome with relief. He was in the clear. For now. Patch turned and strode out of the room, and Techno had to hurry to not be left behind and get in further trouble.
Patch said nothing as they walked, keeping a brisk pace that had Techno running so as to not be left behind.
They took so many turns and went down so many stairs, Techno was almost certain they were lost and that Patch in fact did not know where he was going when they stopped in front of a heavy iron door.
Patch put his shoulder against it and shoved it open. Techno peered in, but pitched forward as a foot collided with his back.
He squealed in surprise as he fell face first into a pile of rotting dirty straw. He lifted his face and cringed when he felt something skitter over his hand. Techno looked over his shoulder, to see Patch grinning sadistically.
“See you tomorrow piggy. We’ll see how well you hold up in the ring.” with that the heavy iron door was shut, leaving Techno alone and in the dark.
The only light in the room came from a small opening up near the ceiling. The opening was covered with bars that even the smallest child couldn't slip through. Technoblade could hear the sounds of swords clanging and yells of pain coming from beyond the opening.
Techno slowly rose to his feet. His head hurt, his feet hurt, his face hurt, his ear hurt, and now his back hurt from getting kicked. He was so tired. He shuffled over to a pile of vaguely clean straw and plopped down onto it. Something squeaked from under him, before a mouse wriggled out of the pile and scurried away. Techno huffed, resting his head against the stone wall. As he tried to sleep, the past two days' events settled in his mind, causing an uncomfortable tight feeling in his stomach. Eventually, he fell into an uneasy slumber, with worries of the next day plaguing his dreams.