Chapter Text
When Technoblade woke up again, his eyes hurt less. His body was aching from the harsh run and then squeezing into the tiny space. His skin was practically turning pinker by the second, aching in the hot sun.
He was alive though, that’s what counted. He wiggled his way out and looked around, rubbing his eyes and blinking hard in order to clear his vision quicker.
Technoblade was in an alleyway of some sort. The air around him smelled of garbage and something sharp and acidic.
He headed down the alleyway, listening intently for footsteps.
There was a commotion not too far away, the ringing laughter and joyful words that his mother had used so unlike the harsh words spoken to him last night.
He moved closer to the sounds, to the people.
Maybe... maybe there would be someone kind enough to help him find his way back.
Maybe someone would take pity on him and help him navigate the streets, or at least offer him a kind word of his journey.
Maybe there would be someone like him walking along the streets.
He reached the entrance to the alleyway quicker than he had wanted to.
Just a couple more steps would put him in direct brightness and into the eyes of people like him.
Someone’s laughter echoed through the street. There was a mother scolding her child across the way. Two men were bartering loudly over some leather and a sword.
It seemed friendly enough. Technoblade didn’t immediately see anyone who looked like him, but maybe they were just buried in the busy street.
He stepped out into the street, into the light, and the crowd around him became hushed.
Technoblade winced in the light and looked around, taking in the sight of the silent street.
He didn’t know why they suddenly went quiet. He walked through the street, everyone parting for his path, people peering at him and then ducking away to whisper behind their hands. They thought they were being quiet. And the break from all the loud bartering was nice, but it made him uneasy being the center of attention like this.
“Where... where the hell are his parents?”
“Who let him out?”
“Mommy? What’s wrong with that boy?”
“Don’t look at him, sweetie. Nothing good comes from hybrids.”
He looked down at his feet and continued walking, hoping that maybe someone would spot him and help him out, and this street he was on would go back to the loud yells and talking.
“Hey uh… kid? You lost?” came a voice, right as the sun went out around Technoblade. He turned to see a man looking down at him, casting a long shadow over him. His face was barely illuminated, surrounded by a halo of light, but Technoblade could still see the dangerous smile on his face. The shadow only got larger as two men came up behind the man, the same look in their eyes.
“Uhm… yes, actually, I-” he started and the man let out a guffaw, his friends joining in on the laughter as a buzzing started growing in Technoblade’s chest.
“Why don’t we help you find your way out?” the man suggested, and Technoblade swallowed.
“Maybe… maybe not,” he said, attempting to back out of the half-circle. The two other men inched around their ring leader, closing the circle just a little more as the first man took a step forward.
“Oh… but we insist,” he said and the buzzing got stronger, Technoblade’s hands were shaking as he tried to take another step backward, only to run into one of the other men that had somehow made his way completely behind Technoblade.
“You really… really don’t have to,” he said, looking frantically around himself as the men smiled down at him, one grabbing his shoulder.
“C’mon. We’ll take you out,” the ringleader said, and all of Technobade’s senses zeroed in on the man for a split second before fizzling out, leaving him with nothing as rough hands grabbed him by an arm and leg and he was manhandled, dragged across the ground, head colliding with walls and crates until he was dizzy and couldn’t think straight (not like he could before).
Then he was in the air. Time stood still, and he basked in the feeling of weightlessness. Like all his troubles had vanished the second he was thrown into the air.
But those troubles came crashing back down as he did, tumbling down a hillside, sparking new pain with every roll and twist of his limbs.
He landed at the bottom feeling more tired than before. Hurt and weak and everything in between. These people didn’t help him like his mother said they would. These people were cruel and their hands caused pain. This world had caused him nothing but pain. The far too bright sky. The cold ground. The people…
He didn’t belong here.
Technoblade laid there for a moment, stuck in place by pain and a desire not to get hurt again. He wanted to see the world his mother spoke of. This clearly wasn’t it. This couldn’t be it, right?
A hand touched his shoulder. Gentle, but Technoblade flinched back anyway.
“Hey. Are you okay?” It was a masculine voice. Soft, but concerned. Technoblade’s head lolled towards him.
He tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t move. So he slowly nodded instead.
“You don’t look okay,” the man said, offering him a hand and helping Technoblade sit up.
“Fine,” he said softly, and the man smiled gently, blond hair shining golden in the sun.
Was that the gold his mother talked about?
“Do you want to come with me for a bit? Just get some food and water, and then you can go on your way?” he said, and Technoblade blinked a few times.
Maybe this man was like him, would help him.
“I want to go home,” Technoblade said, and the man nodded.
“I get that. You can’t go back in now though. That would just mean death,” he said, pulling his orange cloak tighter around himself.
“Why?”
“People don’t really take kindly to hybrids. Well, some people like them, but not many. It’s how it is. The townspeople think you’re dangerous.”
"But... I didn't hurt them," he said, and the man sighed.
"That doesn't matter to them. You're different." Technoblade’s mouth opened briefly before he closed it again, taking in what the man said for a moment. The man placed a gentle hand on Technoblade’s shoulder again, and he didn’t flinch. He tensed a bit, but the man smiled at him.
“Please? Just come with me for a little bit? Heal you up a bit and feed you something?” the man asked, and Technoblade didn’t really know what to do for a moment. He could go with the man. He didn’t seem like one of the townspeople. His eyes weren’t cruel, he was offering a helping hand and food and healing… Maybe this man was one of the nice ones his mother spoke of.
Someone who would actually help him.
Technoblade nodded, and the man grinned before offering a hand to Technoblade.
“My camp isn’t far from here. I’ll get a fire going and put some food on for you!” he declared, being to walk confidently towards the woods, Technoblade following behind, slightly slower.
Walking through the woods, Technoblade was able to calm down more. The sunlight was softened by the green of the trees, his newfound friend was telling stories of adventures and dragons and potions and swords, and Technoblade found that he enjoyed hearing his voice despite the fact that he couldn’t really understand him half the time, his words too fast for Technoblade to translate entirely.
“Here we are!” the man declared, and the trees parted into a clearing that held a fire pit and some supplies. “It’s not much, but it’s where I’ve been staying for some time now,” he said, smiling at Technoblade as his arms parted.
He continued talking as he went around the camp, gathering bottles and bandages, gesturing for Technoblade to sit on a stump.
“What hurts?” he asked, more seriously now that Technoblade was seated, and he looked up at the man before trying to think.
It was difficult, locating the pain, that is. It was everywhere, a dull ache shooting through his limbs and his chest as he was finally giving his body a chance to relax. He yawned, blinking harshly, and the man chuckled a little.
“You tired?” he asked, and Technoblade nodded. “Here, let me just wrap up your head, and I’ll let you sleep, okay?” The man gathered up the bandages, gently tilting Technoblade’s head, feeling around for bumps, smoothing his hands over Technoblade’s hair just like his mother used to. With soft hands, the man began wrapping Technoblade’s head, making sure that none of his hair was getting caught in the bandage.
Once he finished it up, clipping it together so it wouldn’t come loose, the man took a step back before unfastening his cloak, undoing the complicated arrangement of clasps that were meant to keep the cold out.
“Here, you should stay warm,” he said, draping the cloak over Technoblade’s shoulders, gathering it in front of Technoblade so that he could close it, and trapping the little bit of warmth that Technoblade had. Then the man turned to stroke the fire.
For a split second, Technoblade thought about stabbing him. This man had no weapon on his back- only a bit of detailing on his pale blue shirt underneath.
But he didn’t know the terrain. Didn’t know if there was backup in the woods. And he was tired. He also had no weapon which put a damper on all his possible plans.
The man turned back around, smiling at Technoblade.
“You’re a special one huh? Most Piglin hybrids don’t have opposable thumbs.”
“You’ve met others like me?” Technoblade asked, and the man nodded.
“I search for others like you.”
“Can I meet them?” he asked.
The man chuckled. “Yeah. You might. It depends.”
“Where? Where would I go to meet them?” he asked.
“I can take you to them. If you’d like,” the man said, and Technoblade felt relief pour through his bones. Finally. He can find people like him. And then the people can help him get back home.
“Yes! Please,” he said, and the man looked down, shaking his head.
“We can begin the trip in the morning. For now, though, drink this potion and go to sleep.” The man handed him a bottle full of dark liquid. Technoblade was already tired, so he drank it and immediately laid down on the ground.
For a few moments, the man adjusted his cloak over Technoblade, before he went to the other side of the fire, keeping his eyes fondly on Technoblade as he finally succumbed to the heavy weight of sleep.
When he woke up the man was a few paces in front of him, accepting a small bag that clinked and jingled from the man in front of him. Technoblade moved to stand, only to discover that his hands and feet were tied up with rope. He blinked a few times, quickly shaking the sleep off himself as the man in the orange cloak began to saddle up his horse, barely paying Technoblade any mind.
“What? What’s happening?” Technoblade was confused. The other man, this man in purple, came over and stroked his hair, smiling cruelly. Technoblade shied away but the man only pushed his hand closer.
The look in the man’s eyes reminded Technoblade of the townspeople. Fear spiked through his veins, filling his lungs and making it more difficult to breathe as the man ran fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face, tapping his tusks, and smoothing his thumb on Technoblade’s cheekbone.
“Don’t run from me little thing. I’m your owner now.”
“Owner?” Technoblade said, and the man glared at him.
“I bought you. You’re my little pet now. Be a good boy and I promise I’ll take good care of you.” The man started fingering his hair again, and Technoblade didn’t know what to do.
“I didn’t... I didn’t agree to this,” he whispered, and the man in purple scoffed.
“You didn’t have to. You’re a hybrid. This is probably the best life you’re going to get,” he said before he snapped his fingers. Two other men approached, each wearing tan clothes. One grabbed his bound hands, the other his feet, and he was lifted up, similarly to when the people in the village cast him out.
“Wha- no, let me go!” Technoblade said, trying his best to break free. He glanced at the man in orange, and they made eye contact for a split second. “Please.”
The man turned back to his horse, hopping up and riding off as Technoblade was chucked into the back of a wagon, the man in purple petting his head one last time before he pulled a strip of cloth from his pocket.
“Make it quiet,” he snapped at another man. The other man stood over Technoblade for a moment before grabbing his head with one hand and slamming it into the wagon.
Technoblade’s world went dark.
He snapped back to reality in a darkened basement, barely awake as the man stroked his face. He smiled when he saw that Technoblade was awake, standing up and away from Technoblade, retreating to the other side of the room to scoop up something.
“You don’t need any of these fancy clothes,” the man in purple said, turning back around and chucking him the same tan clothes that he saw his other henchmen were wearing. Technoblade’s eyes widened as he clutched at his red shirt for a moment.
“But-“
“Don’t talk back,” the man snapped. Tears clouded Technoblade’s vision as he changed into the rough, tan clothes. The man in purple snatched away the only thing Technoblade had left of his mother and left.
Technoblade pulled on the clothes, the fabric rough and coarse against his skin. It was too light for the cold of wherever they were, the chill seeping into his skin. The man came back with a blade, and fear spiked in Technoblade’s chest.
“What…”
“You’ve already gotten one warning from me. The next time you speak I’m cutting out your tongue.”
Technoblade’s mouth clicked shut, and the man nodded before raising his blade to Technoblade’s hair, slicing through it easily until chunks were falling to the floor, pooling at their feet.
Tears dripped down Technoblade’s face as he made the realization that he was never going to make it back home.
Technoblade doesn’t know how long he’s spent here. He can’t focus on the days, there’s no real schedule. Sometimes he feels like he sleeps for weeks, and other times it can’t be more than a few seconds before the man is waking him up again to just to have Technoblade follow him around the house and sit next to him at his desk, the man petting his short hair gently, a feeling that made spiders crawl up and down Technoblade’s spine.
The man is attached to him, Technoblade knows that at least. His touches are always soft, delicate as he pinches and pokes at Technoblade. He learns that every other hybrid owned by the man was killed when they got too old, or when they made a mistake. Technoblade has been careful because of that fact, treading lightly whenever the man requested he did something new. (It was never really a request).
Technoblade’s only chance would be escaping, and there was rarely a spare moment to even attempt. He was kept busy, kept at the side of the man in purple. If he so much as glanced at a window, the man would be there in an instant, smiling and asking him to do something for him, with thinly veiled threats hiding in his eyes.
Until one day, when there was a knock at the door. There were never any visitors here, Technoblade assumed that they were somewhere remote, another reason why Technoblade’s escape plans fell through. The knock was loud, dangerous, and the man’s face fell as he glared at him, like Technoblade was the one who summoned the knocker.
The man stood, heading down the hall where the door was and Technoblade, against his better judgment, stumbled after him on weak legs. It was hard to move, the floor cold under his feet as he leaned against the wall, black spots dancing in his vision as chills raced up his arms, despite the fact that there was a warmth growing in his head.
He looked up just in time to see the man fall to the floor, blood pooling around him as the man’s head lolled towards him, all too familiar for Technoblade’s liking. The man smiled at Technoblade before his eyes went glassy. Technoblade turned to the knocker, his… savior?
In the doorway, there was a silhouette. A being with a sword and wings with a hand outstretched to Technoblade as he stumbled forward, falling onto his knees as the being came closer, feathers glowing in the sunlight.
Was this death?