Chapter Text
Contrary to popular belief, Techno, Wilbur and Tommy hadn't been born into Phil’s care, and he hadn't actually met any of them until they were adults.
Wilbur was first, coming to him to ask about a competition they had both been invited to, and Phil had latched onto the other man’s side more so than the other way around, since where Wilbur was charismatic and knew what felt like everyone in the game lobby, Phil was very much a small fish in the big sea. Wilbur hadn't commented, and instead dragged him around to meet everyone he knew, and then mutually they met everyone they didn't know.
Which included Techno.
Techno hadn't been… friendly, per say, but it wasn't an unfriendliness either. He was shy, which was hilarious considering the implications of the reputation he had gained, and while he was polite enough, he nor Wilbur saw much of him.
Only when Phil and Techno had been asked to team did they really become friendly, with Techno taking his sword and Phil his axe to chop their way to first place. A record breaking first place, he might add, and Techno hadn't said anything. He just nodded.
And then the next week Techno stuck by Phil’s side and let him do the talking.
Tommy was an interesting one, mostly for finding the three of them and declaring himself the youngest sibling of Phil’s sons immediately, despite Phil tilting his head and asking who his other sons were. Wilbur had just laughed, and Techno flushed from ear to snout and stormed off, but Phil asked why.
Turns out, he was the only one who hadn't seen the found family dynamic, and it turns out Techno and Wilbur just hadn't commented on it.
Techno was embarrassed, of course he was embarrassed. The blood god, an adult pig-man who was feared and loved alike, had accidently been pseudo-adopted by a guy not even twice his age. Phil didn't mention it – the implications of how Techno had acted was enough for him not to comment, since he didn't know much about Techno other than his farming habits and tendency to spill blood. He just let Techno accept or deny the rumour at his own pace, which the pig seemed to appreciate.
But now Wilbur was technically dead, or half dead since he was still around (he’d come back, he was just being dramatic), and Tommy was elsewhere, and he and Techno lived alone in relative isolation. Their own little wasteland, thousands of blocks wide, and it was just the two of them in a house together.
It happened when Phil was out collecting wood.
Techno had been reluctant to let them go, he always was since he knew how Phil became well known, but the pig could recognise that Phil was hardly a push over either, so he still went alone. What neither of them considered was Techno being the one in danger.
The first thing he noticed was the smell, then it was the empty house, and third were the sniffles coming from somewhere else in the building.
The smell was of aniseed, like when Phil had experimented in making cookies with liquorice a few weeks ago, and something else lingered in the air like the sugary-rich smell of a golden carrot. Invisibility potion, Phil thought, and his shoulders sunk when he realised Techno had probably gone on one of those solo-missions to be dramatic. Again.
He sighed and put the axe on the crafting table, wandering over to the chests and dumping his freshly chopped wood into one of the ones without the food in. Techno had a bit of a habit of dumping stuff wherever it fit, filling chests to capacity with no room to breathe and with anything wherever, but Phil had been trying to be methodical about it since they had moved in together.
It wasn't going badly, necessarily, but it wasn't going well either. These midnight trips to pester what was left of Manburg were one of the things Phil had meant to bring up at some point, but as it stood he’d have to wait until tomorrow now.
The sniffing noise came from somewhere else in the house again, and if Phil hadn't been in total silence he might have just thought it was the cow, called Bill or Bob or something, but it didn't sound like it was deep enough. He looked over to the ladder leading downwards, where there were some false panelling disguising their beds (shoved together – it tended to get cold out there in the wastes) and the ender chest sucking in air from the barely contained void within it. He listened closely, first hearing the fireplace, the cow in the distant basement, and the chest all at once, but then the sniffle noise came again.
Now, Phil wasn’t tactless. He wasn’t heartless or mocking or uncouth, but if Techno was there, invisible or not, then there would only be two ways to handle the situation. He thought about what the piglin had told him about his past, about his three siblings falling in combat or disappearing all together, and about his comments towards his parents. Many of the things Technoblade acquired over the years had been hard-earned, with luxuries not being taken for granted. He remembered when Tommy had complained about still being hungry, even with all of them having a single baked potato each, and how Techno had handed the younger man what was left of his before Phil could do the same. If Techno was in there, crying, sick or injured, there were only two ways Phil could go about it.
He could ask what was wrong, possibly upsetting the proud piglin and making him assume Phil thought less of him, or ignore it and not provide the comfort Techno may have desperately needed.
Another sniffle, Phil went from foot to foot, but when another sound, one more akin to a whimper, came from their hidden beds he had made a decision.
“Techno?” he said, quietly as if he would scare the warrior off, “are you alright mate?”
No response. The sounds of crying had stopped, and with the door to the outside still open Phil could tell that the odd-smelling potion may have finally been leaving the room. If Techno was invisible it might make it more of a trial to comfort him, but then again, the piglin might find it better to not be seen in his state of weakness.
“Do you want to talk?”
No response.
“Or I can go? If you want me to. There’s, uh, there’s always more wood to be chopped, I guess. Uhm.”
He could hear movement behind the bed panels, shifting of fabric, and as Phil almost looked away and went to leave, a hoof, far smaller than Techno’s own, pulled one of the panels aside.
A piglin child looked at him with its small face and big eyes, and Phil blinked at the sight. Its clothes were far too big, red and blue in colour, and with white ruffles around the collar of the cloak and the edges of the sleeves. He could see on the bed behind the piglin that there was a crown half buried in the sheets.
Suddenly the smell made sense.
“Oh no,” Phil said at the sight of Techno, and he hoped that the de-aged piglin wasn't nearly as aggressive as his older self was.
Phil had learnt three things
- Piglins imprinted, in the same way ducklings did
- Piglins, at least when they were children (although, Techno may just be a special case) tended not to talk
- Piglins were heavy
The second and third came into effect when, after explaining as best he could (which was tough when the pig didn't respond) that the two beds weren’t just for Techno, he had tried to get to sleep with the piglin child laying half across his chest. It wasn’t a comfortable night, but at least it was warmer than when Techno had suction-cupped himself to the opposite wall lest, god forbid, they accidently brush sides in the night. If Phil had to guess, this smaller-Techno was probably around the same weight as him, which was a terrifying concept when Phil was easily two or more feet taller than him now.
But now it was morning. Techno watched him from the bed, wrapped in clothes, blankets, banners and any other fabric they owned, as Phil tried to figure out what the piglin could wear.
“How’s this?” Phil asked, holding up an old pair of leather boots, but when he looked over at Techno he realised that they’d probably go up to his thigh, so he put them back into the chest without insisting he try them on.
Techno had stopped crying after Phil had sat down next to him the night before, but that was where the first point came into effect, the one about imprinting. When the other man had gone outside in the night to do, uh, business, the piglin had followed him out. When Phil went downstairs, Techno watched him from the ladder, his floppy ears falling down below his head. And when Phil had gotten out of bed to cook, the child watched him with keen eyes as he went to and from the stove, putting corn, hash browns and eggs in the hot pan. He didn't feel uncomfortable, per say, but something about the too-big eyes tracking his every move was unnerving, to say the least.
But while the food was cooking it allowed Phil to explore his least favourite pass time – dress up.
“How about this?”
It was a pair of socks, fairly long but hopefully warm enough, and Phil hopped that if it came down to him dressing the piglin child himself that it would at least be an easy process. So far, getting Techno to stay in the sheets and not run around in the nude had been hard enough, but he could almost tell that trying to put clothes on the feral things was going to be a trial.
Domestication wasn’t his strong suit, so sue him, but it wasn’t like he’d ever expected to have interactions with a feral pig child at the ripe old age of thirty-two.
He didn't expect to be a parental figure to a feral piglin child either, but what can you do.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
Techno looked at him. His big, dark eyes were wide open like he was trying to take in as much of the small room as possible without blinking, and when Phil stood up and took a step closer, Techno didn't back down. He wasn't shy then, at least not around him, but again that might have just been the imprinting.
“I don't know if you understand me, but I’m going to put one of these on your legs, okay?”
Phil knelt in front of him, looking up for any sign of the child understanding him, and he almost whooped and jumped for joy when Techno very slightly nodded. Gently, he pulled one of Techno’s legs from the bundle of fabric and put the sock on him, reaching around his knee before he ran out of fabric. As soon as he let go of the leg it shot back into the fabric, and without asking, the other leg came fourth.
At least now he knew that Techno could sort of understand him; it would be easier, he thought.
“Eret.”
“Oh, hey Phil!”
“Eret, please listen to me. I need you to put me in contact with anyone who has experience with children.”
He could hear Eret lean back in his chair, although, it could have been Techno getting up to who-knows-what with the skeleton downstairs. Phil rubbed his temples, feeling the headache coming on, and the cold air coming through the broken window probably didn't help with the matter either. Techno hadn't been happy when Phil put a pair of shoes on him earlier.
“Uhm,” he sounded awkward through the radio, “Phil, honestly, if anyone else had asked I’d put them through to you.”
Phil put his head to the table with the radio on it, and yep, there was definitely the noise of the cow being in distress now, too. Eret waited for him to say something further, and with his forehead pressed to the woodgrain he did.
“I’m having some problems,” he said through gritted teeth, “and I need a second opinion.”
“Have you adopted a fourth son?”
“I don't have any children. Now do you know anyone or not?”
There was the sound of Eret clicking around, checking though who was around their radio and who was unavailable, before he spoke up again.
“There’s five other people online,” he said, “and Tommy has a younger sibling, I think. Was that Tommy or Tubbo?”
“That’s Tubbo. Don't put him on.”
Eret sighed, “Okay, uhm, There’s Hbomb, he might be okay-ish since, well, maybe he won't be, actually. There’s Quackity – “
“Oh god, no.”
“Right, right. And the only other people, other than them and me and you, is, well.”
Phil let Eret linger on the pause. It was nice to have the brief moment of silence.
“Schlatt’s online.”
“Schlatt’s dead.”
“He’s still online though, and, well, don't quote me on this but isn't Tubbo kind of in the same situation as Tommy was with you? Only difference being that Schlatt’s probably a terrible father, to be honest. I mean, he had his own son, maybe son, killed , so – “
“Yeah, put me through to him,” Phil said just to get Eret to stop talking, and Techno’s head and equally sized ears came through the hole in the floor. Phil made a show of smiling at giving a little wave. Techno showed off the skeleton’s still moving skull.
“Put that back, Techno,” he said.
“You bossin’ your kid around?”
“He’s not my – Schlatt. I have a problem.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m in the void right now since I’m, you know, dead . What have you got that compares to that?”
“Techno encountered a white witch.”
“A white what?”
“A white witch. They’re like normal witches, dealing with potions and whatnot, but they tend to curse people instead of trying to kill them. It’s like revenge or something.”
“So what did they do to Techno? Is he like ten inches tall or somethin’?”
Schlatt laughed at his own joke, but Phil didn't have the patience to let him finish his cackle.
“He’s younger.”
Schlatt stopped laughing.
“Like a baby?”
“Like, I don't know. I haven’t had a kid, let alone a piglin. I don't know how old he is.”
“Is he talking?”
“No, but he seems old enough that he should be. He definitely understands me.”
Thankfully Schlatt seemed to be taking the situation a bit more seriously now, and Phil nearly let out a sigh of relief at the realisation since it meant he might actually be getting somewhere with this. The man made a sound over the radio, and Techno came back upstairs to show him that he’d put the skeleton’s head back. Phil gave him a thumbs up as he knelt beside the radio (they should really invest in some more chairs, or at least a stool or something) and Schlatt started talking again, his voice grainy from the void.
“So you never had kids?”
“No, have you?”
“I sort of,” Schlatt paused, “I met Tubbo when he was five.”
“Did you adopt him?”
“Not really. He followed me around a bunch, called me ‘Mistah Schlatt' with that dumb accent.”
Techno came and stood beside Phil, and before the older man could say anything the piglin put his hoof in Phil’s hand. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't covered in mud, but as it stood, Phil just sighed.
“Is your blood god giving you trouble?”
“I know how to fix it,” Phil said, “But I’m not sure what to do with him in the meantime.”
“Take him with you.”
“I’m sure that’s a great idea Schlatt but Techno is the most wanted person on the server.”
Schlatt laughed, “As if he wouldn't hesitate to kill any fucker he comes across. You really think Techno grew into that? Probably not. The guy was probably born into a vat of blood, pickled in it.”
“He’s not been particularly aggressive so far,” Phil sighed, and Techno came and tried to get into his lap, even though Phil groaned with the added weight. Time to lie down, Techno had apparently decided for him, and Phil had never needed to pay so much attention to the fact that he had to breathe.
“Has he seen anyone but you?”
“No.”
“Well, take him to see someone else, someone you know you can take care of if it comes down to it, and set him loose. Shit, I’d pay to see it, you know, if I wasn't stuck in the void and all that.”
“And what do I do about him not talking?”
“Well, he understands you, doesn't he? That’s good enough. Don't force him into talking if he doesn't want to. Kids are weird like that, they don't respond to adult nods and prods, so just… yeah. They might as well have their own damn language. Just take things by his time, explain things before you do them. Whatever. Shouldn't be too hard.”
Techno rubbed his snout into Phil’s coat, like he wanted to get in it with him, and he sighed.
“Yeah. Thanks mate.”
“It’s cool. Payment is one baby picture of the blood god though. Send it over when you can.”
Techno was finally, finally dressed enough for Phil to be comfortable letting him outside.
He was still in those long socks, but he was also wearing one of Phil’s fancier shirts, just cotton, but it reached below the piglin’s knees. His coat he wore was Phil’s too, a shorter one on Phil but fit Techno fairly well, aside from being long in the arms, and he had a pair of trousers rolled up to his ankles too. He was mostly wearing green, though he wouldn't let go of the golden crown, even with Phil’s insistence to remain incognito. His hooves were bare, or at least the ones which he stood on. He still gripped Phil's hand.
It wasn't worth fighting it though, given the glare Techno had given him when he tried to withdraw it into his coat.
And Phil had thought the adult-Techno’s glare was menacing. Seeing it on someone at the perfect height to punch his stomach was worse.
“It’s not too far, okay? It’ll be warmer once we get through the valley,” Phil said, and while it was to Techno it felt like he was talking to himself.
The piglin’s hoof was warm in his hands, although it was a little hard to tell on account of the mittens Phil had managed to fashion out of a pair of smaller socks, and his own gloves were thick. The day was fairly warm on account of the sun beating down on them, but the clear skies meant that it would be a cold night, even if it didn't snow.
“Seen any yet?” Phil asked when they were almost through the valley, and he heard a snort from behind him. Whether or not it was one of confirmation or dismissal, Phil wasn't sure, so he looked back at Techno to see where he was looking.
There wasn't a monkshood in sight, none of the tell-tale blue-purple flowers or green stems, and he knew that reasonably it was still too cold for them to grow. Once they reached further in the valley they might have a chance of finding some, and all he really needed was one. It was the first of three potion ingredients, being used in a similar way to nether wart.
“Nah, thought not.”
Techno snorted again, and his hand tugged Phil’s when the older man tried to move away. Phil looked back. Techno had raised one hoof, pointing up at the side of the valley to a big mound of snow. Nothing was there – no vegetation, rocks or marks in the snow, but Techno was tugging him closer to his side as he stared with his dark, watery eyes at the hillside.
“Do you want to go up there, mate?”
Techno didn't move, made no other sound, and in silence they looked at the blue-ish landscape as the sun began to fall from its midday crest. A head rose from the snow, and just as quickly, it ducked. The piglin snorted, pointing again.
Phil looked up at the snow bank, then at the piglin child standing beside him who was using his ferocious gaze as if it would melt the snow and reveal whoever was hiding behind it. He hadn’t got a good enough look to tell exactly who it was, but they had dark hair, and that was enough for Phil to put his defences on. His hand tightened around his sword, and after clearing his throat, he spoke up.
“I saw you,’ he called out, and he heard movement, hushed voices behind the snow.
He and Techno waited for someone to come forward. He glanced at the piglin by his side, still gripping Phil’s hand as if it was keeping him grounded and under control. Phil thought something over.
It was probably a bad idea to give a child a knife, but these were the wastelands, and even more in favour of it was the fact that the valley they were in was doing a good job of obscuring the sun. If there were any mobs then Techno would be in trouble. It was also a bad idea to leave the most wanted person on the server defenceless. Silently, Phil handed one of the two knives on his belt over to the child, who grunted instead of thanking him, and he put the knife under his shirt to hide it.
Tubbo’s head popped over the snow bank.
“Hey Phil, uh,” he said as Ranboo, Quackity and Fundy’s heads popped up too, “Who’s… who’s kid is that?”
“Mine,” Phil said bluntly, and he refused to elaborate at the sight of Tubbo’s raised eyebrow.
Ranboo was having a staring contest with Techno, which the piglin appeared to be winning. Quackity looked like he wanted to vault over the snow and swoop down at them, talons out. Fundy fell from behind the small outcrop and landed on his face, but Tubbo just stepped over him and took a few steps further into the valley. Techno growled, shuffling so that he was almost completely in front of Phil, with the older man shifting his hand to grip his shoulder.
“Yours?” Tubbo sounded surprised, “Not Techno’s?”
“No.”
Quackity came around the snow now, obviously no longer holding onto what little fear he had when he realised he wouldn't be gutted if he tried his hand at butchering, but he hesitated when the piglin let out another growl.
“Aggressive, much?” Fundy said, pulling his face out of the snow, “Are you sure that isn't Techno’s kid? They're so similar.”
“I don't think it’s wise to mess with him either way,” Phil said, then added, “He bites.”
“What, like a dog?” Quackity laughed, and Phil felt Techno’s shoulder move forward when he took a step, and the older man just looked at him.
“More like a lion, but whichever works.”
Ranboo seemed to find his tongue.
“Let’s just get Techno,” he said, quietly enough for Phil to realise he wasn't supposed to hear it, “Phil and his kid don't need to be involved in this.”
But just as Ranboo and Fundy were about to let thoughts that were actually theirs fill their heads (and Phil couldn't help but smirk at the realisation that these people didn't seem to have any motivations of their own), Tubbo put a hand out to stop them from leaving.
“Quackity,” he said, “Grab the kid.”
Quackity took a step forward, Phil raised his sword, Fundy readied his bow, Ranboo took a step back, Tubbo remained where he was. Techno let out a screech of a battle cry and vaulted forward with his knife in hand. Quackity’s eyes went wide as the three-foot-tall piglin came at him with the knife, and Phil didn't hesitate in diving for Tubbo, ignoring the misfired shot from Fundy and the shout of surprise from Ranboo. A scream came from Quackity as he flew a few feet off the ground, not far enough to feel comfortable as Techno struggled with his knife to reach him, but Phil was already at Tubbo.
“I swear to god,” Phil said through gritted teeth, “I’m going to tell Schlatt about this!”
Tubbo backed towards the hole in the mountain, one which Fundy was being dragged into with his bushy tail and all, but Tubbo wasn't close enough to it to disappear before Phil pinched his ear.
“Who do you think you are, coming and attacking me and my kid like this?”
“Ahh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“And you!” Phil turned and pointed at Quackity, who was clinging to the mounds of snow further up so that Techno couldn't quite reach him, “Why the hell are you listening to him?”
“He’s the president of Manburg!”
“He’s not the president, he’s a very naughty boy!”
“Let me go!” Tubbo pushed at Phil’s hand, but he still pulled him by the ear so that he couldn't wriggle out of Phil’s grip.
Phil pointed his sword at Quackity, stating, “I expected better from you,” before he pointed with a finger at Techno and said, “down.”
Techno got down on both hooves again, looking furious that he didn't manage to put his new knife to good use, but Quackity was still too scared to come down from his grappling spot in the snow. Tubbo had his hand on Phil’s wrist, trying to pull his hand away, and Phil did eventually let go. It was just unfortunate for Tubbo that he grabbed his jacket instead.
“Why did you want to kidnap my child?” Philza asked him, his voice calmer than before but no less threatening, and Tubbo almost whimpered.
“I thought,” he paused to take a shaky breath, “I thought you and him could be a bargaining tool.”
“To get Techno?”
“Yeah…”
Phil huffed, “Well, Techno isn't here.”
“He isn't?”
“He’s out on… on business. With Dream.”
Tubbo seemed to pause, looking between Phil and the piglin child, before he shrugged and lost all the fight in him.
“Oh,” he said, “We probably shouldn't bother him then since… well, Dream’s a busy guy.”
Phil sighed and let go of Tubbo’s shoulder, instead going over to Techno and looking down at him, then up at Quackity who was still hanging onto the snow above them, and made a gesture for Techno to follow him. Fundy’s nose was sticking out of the tunnel that he had disappeared into, and he could hear Ranboo asking what was happening, but Techno just followed Phil back into the valley.
“What, that’s it?” Quackity asked, almost shouting, “You’re just going to grab your feral pig and--”
Quackity probably would have kept shouting, but the snowbank he was holding onto decided to fall and smother him. Techno pointed up with one hoof to the green patch of grass Quackity had accidentally revealed, snorting to get Phil’s attention, and they all turned to look.
“Huh,” Phil said, “Monkshood. Do you want to go up there and pick it or should I?”