Work Text:
It happened when Phil brushed his hair.
Or at least, combed it.
Attempted to comb it.
He pushed a hand through his hair, gently working out one of the tangles that came with sleeping out of it. He really should have just started putting it up, but he was lazy, and it felt nice whenever the urge to comb his fingers through it hit Techno in the evenings. Phil grinned to himself. The piglin hybrid always had liked gold. He’d tried suggesting that was the reason, once, and the almost offended glare and accompanying embarrassed flush would have made him feel bad had he not seen the absolutely ridiculous amount of the precious metal he had squirreled away elsewhere.
He rolled his eyes at a particularly hard snag, wincing. He let his toothbrush hang from his mouth for a moment, allocating both hands to deal with the tangle. It felt almost hard, felt-like. He blinked a few times to clear the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, squinting into the mirror. It was rusty, a consequence of its age, but there was no mistaking what poked through his hair.
His toothbrush fell from his mouth and onto the tile with a clatter.
Phil squeezed his eyes shut and let go of the nubby horn he’d been clutching.
“Techno?”
—
He had barely had the time to toss his toothbrush — like hell he was putting that back in his mouth — before the rosette was bursting into the room.
Techno had come so quickly it made Phil sheepish. Maybe his tone was a bit too desperate in his call, but the appearance of two small antlers poking out of his head would do that to a man.
A man who was supposed to not have antlers.
“You can see these, right?” He demanded, bowing his head a little. Techno was taller than him, but only by a few inches.
“What am I looking for, Ph— oh.” He began to drawl. Phil heard his breath hitch a bit as calloused fingers began to gently probe at the area around the horns. He shuddered at the unfamiliar feeling, though the temporary discomfort was immediately overshadowed by a flush that threatened his cheeks. He pulled back, brushing himself off.
“That’s enough of that,” he coughed into his sleeve, furiously fighting down the pink.
“What are they— when—“ Techno asked helplessly, letting his hands fall from where they’d hung where the horns had been before.
“I don’t know.” Phil sighed, dragging his hands down his face. “It’s fine, it’s fine— it had to have been a potion, or something. The witch?”
“You fought that days ago. Surely… they would have come up before then?” Techno sounded as unsure as Phil felt, which was a small comfort.
“Maybe— well, I don’t know, they’re not that bothersome. Yet.” He admitted with another weighty exhale. “I’ll deal with ‘em for now. Maybe figure out something to get rid of them with.”
“Yeah, okay.” Techno was looking above him. It made him a bit self-conscious. He looked down, searching for something to focus on. He thought his socks were a safe bet.
“Stop starin’, mate.” Phil chuckled, a bit awkwardly.
“I was not.” He protested, and with that alone the tension dissipated. He laughed again, but a bit more genuinely.
“Alright, sure. Next thing we know, you’re gonna’ be growing horns, and I’ll be checking ‘em out then, Tech’.” He grinned, bumping him with his shoulder as he moved to leave.
“Gonna’ be a lot cooler than yours, that’s for sure. Little tiny stubs.” He smirked lazily, tugging on one as he moved into step beside Phil.
“Oi! Hands off!” He reddened with a laugh, batting away the hand.
“Sure thing, antler man.” He droned.
Off to the rest of the day then.
Ignoring the horns.
Gods, that was weird.
~
“—so I was thinkin’, right, turtle farm, because I heard from this one guy as he was blubbering, right, that they give you resistance three, Phil.” He watched Techno gesture with his hands as he talked, broad sweeping motions that only helped to show how excited he was about it.
“Mm.” Phil hummed noncomitally. “And you’re sure he was telling the truth, and not just, y’know, trying to stop you from killing him?” He’d heard whispers of such a potion, spreading from what seemed to be one person who was insane enough to crumble a scute and drop it into a potion. He wasn’t sure if he believed it; or if it was worth the payoff. “The slowness, though?”
“Resistance, Phil, I don’t care if I’m slow, I would still wreck—“ he tuned him out for only a moment, knowing he would be on the tangent for a minute so he could focus on pulling an apple from his bag as they walked. The trek to the village was not a particularly long one, but they’d missed breakfast besides splitting a piece of bread so they could make it before any others got there. They’d succeeded, but it had left the both of them a bit hungry. Techno had finished off the last piece of bread they’d had — he needed to bake more, Phil knew, but it was so difficult to get it right — but he’d abstained, citing fullness. Really, the sight of it made him nauseous. Now, though, he was hungry. He tugged the fruit from where it had been stuck between two books, returning to listening.
“—so, scutes.” Techno finished. “So, whaddya’ think? Doable?”
Phil knew Techno well enough to fill in the gaps. He idly bit into the apple while thinking of his response, only to cough and spit to the side.
“Phil?” Techno was immediately by his side, hand resting on his back. He waved him off, body dry-heaving at the taste.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. “tasted like fuckin’ blood.” He straightened from where he’d hunched, sending a parting glare to the apple. It gleamed innocently, white flesh staring back at him. “Must’ve accidentally picked out an old one from the trees.”
“Huh.”
“What?” Phil glanced to him.
“Nothing, nothing. Just. Your teeth look,” he paused. “... sharp?”
“Not like I’ve taken a file to ‘em.” He grinned. “Let’s get home, yeah?”
“Sure thing. Hey, since we’re far enough from the village, do you wanna’...” Techno made a strange, waving motion with his hand.
Phil beamed.
“Yeah, yeah, let me just—“ he stretched and his wings splayed behind him. He’d taken off his hat as soon as they’d left. It had sat a bit awkwardly on his head. His horns had grown, both on his body and on him in general. He couldn’t really mind them, but it would be annoying to have to poke holes through his hat if they kept growing. He wasn’t sure how he’d keep them hidden, though. His wings were safely tucked beneath his cloak, usually. The horns were a little more conspicuous. “Ahh, there we go. Thanks for the reminder, mate.”
“Yeah, yeah, no problem.” He grunted. He grinned at his bashfulness.
“Sooo, about that farm …” he began. He was happy to let the breeze ruffle through his feathers as he walked beside the hybrid. No need to fly just yet. Not as long as Techno couldn’t follow him.
“Right! Resistance three, Phil.”
“So you’ve said!”
~
His horns had kept growing, unfortunately. They weren’t uncomfortable; in fact, the opposite, which made it a problem when Techno kept poking or grabbing at them, curious. He couldn’t blame him, really; they stretched far and the new growths were velvety in the way that faun antlers were. They did pose an issue when it came to doors, however, and for once Phil found himself having to be the one to duck under frames instead of Techno.
Who found it all too amusing.
The changes were beginning to worry him a bit, however. He’d developed an unusual penchant for meat. Apples and potatoes and the rest of the crops they regularly shared between themselves had started tasting off, and even his excuses of rotten food couldn’t last forever. Especially not when Techno had taken a bite of the, according to him, perfectly normal potato that had made Phil feel sick for hours.
He’d brushed his teeth and gaped at the damage his canines had wrought on the brush. They reminded him of Techno’s own tusks, but less obtrusive and just generally sharper. His nailbeds were thicker too, tapering to points.
It was his wings that tipped it over the edge.
“Hey, Phil?” The hesitancy immediately made him freeze up, stiffening from where he’d been nearly a puddle before. “How come you have scales?”
“ … scales?” He repeated aloud.
“Yeah, never noticed them before. Underneath some of the feathers.” The tone Techno had taken up told him that the rosette knew he’d never had them before. Not in the Antarctic Empire, not through any time they’d been together.
“I don’t have scales.” He scoffed, regaining his composure.
He felt Techno gently guide and push his wing until it stretched in front of him.
“Hold that there.” He instructed. “You’ve gotta kind of feel them; get really close.”
Phil was only a bit embarrassed that Techno taking his hand distracted him from the fact that he was moving it to press against his own wing.
“Feel ‘em?”
“What?” Phil asked, swallowing.
“The scales.” Techno cocked a brow. Phil decided it was in his best interest to try and find whatever the hybrid was talking about. Underneath his secondaries, the skin felt strangely leathery, less warm flesh and more cold. Cold scales, that was, because he could trace the defined edges of the unveiled, dark scallops with one sharp fingernail. They were small, hidden between the quills of his feathers.
“How?” He wondered aloud, staring at the pattern. A thumb stroked against the back of his hand and he twitched minutely, gaze flicking to where Techno was obviously lost in thought, looking towards his other wing. Probably not even conscious of his actions.
Phil relaxed as best he could, shoulders hunched up a bit.
“You’ve been hiding something.” Techno accused, releasing his hand.
He missed the warmth.
“No. I wouldn’t.” His insistence sounded weak even to his own ears. He wouldn’t, not anything important. But this was quickly measuring up to something beyond what he knew. And that worried him.
“Maybe not on purpose; but I’ve been noticing things.” Techno ran a hand through his hair, leaning back on his other arm, cross-legged opposite from Phil. “You don’t eat anything other than meat, which you rarely ate before. You’re constantly filing your nails, and your teeth are sharp. Not to mention the obvious,” he stated scathingly. “the horns. The wings, now, too.”
He couldn’t do anything but nod, mouth dry.
“So. I’m thinking there’s something up.” He finished. He waited, obviously expectant.
“I— I don’t—“ he stammered. “There’s nothing wrong.” He denied fruitlessly.
“Yes! Yes there is! I’m worried about you, damn it!” Techno snapped, standing suddenly. “I’m worried that these things are going to keep happening, and I’ll lose you, to,” he gestured broadly. “whatever this is! And I can’t lose you, Phil!”
He stood as well, hands raising to placate him.
“It’s fine! Nothing’s happened, and nothing is going to happen— it’s strange, I get it, and believe me, I have no clue what’s going on either, and I’m not freaking out about it!” He pleaded. “It isn’t anything I can’t find a way to fix— why are you making such a big deal out of it?”
“Why am I making such a big deal out of it?” He seethed. “I am making a big deal out of it because I care about you! Care too much, maybe, because I love you.” He jabbed a finger at Phil’s chest, snarling. “And you’re not even worried? Please. I can tell you have no clue what this is either, and you’ve said so yourself!”
The rosette drew into himself with a huff, pulling his hand close to his chest like he’d been burned.
Phil was still a little hung up on the whole loving him part.
“Tech’, I …” he began. The hybrid turned on his heels, stalking towards the door. “Wait, hold on— Where are you going?”
“‘M gonna go,” He grunted. “I don’t know. Fight something. Look for a solution. Anything.”
“Wait—“
The door slammed shut.
Phil fell back where he’d been sitting before, collapsing back onto the floor.
He moved to set his head in his hands, only to wrench them away when sharp nails — almost talons, he observed — touched the surface of his horns.
“Fuck! ” He yelled. “Damn it!” He kicked out at the leg of a chair, only to immediately regret it when the pain shot up his leg. It was a welcome distraction from the emotional turmoil churning in his mind, though. Maybe he’d follow Techno’s lead yet another time. He grimaced.
He stood once again, brushing off the dust that had accumulated on him from being on the floor. His sword was lying on the table. He swept it into his hands, sheathing it by his side.
He strode out the door without armor. He didn’t need it.
Techno was bound to go to one of a few mob-infested spots he frequented when the voices got too loud. He could be reliably found there. Unfortunately, those spots also coincided with Phil’s own usual haunts. Which just meant to avoid him, the blonde would need to go further.
Which luckily wasn’t a problem for him.
He spread his wings, catching the updraft rustling the trees. Within the span of a few steady beats, he was lifting into the air. Within the next following flaps, he’d risen far into the sky, angling himself to a patch he knew had yet to be colonized by villagers, and had yet to be cleared by either him or Techno.
They’d planned to tackle it together, with the sheer amount of mobs.
But he was sure his frustration would make a sufficient partner for the night.
~
Having had time to reflect, Phil was fairly sure he’d made a few mistakes in coming to the forest.
- It was teeming with monsters. More than he and Techno had ever expected.
- His anger was making him sloppy, and he was paying the price because of it.
- He hadn’t grabbed armor. While normally that wouldn’t have been an issue, it would have been very helpful in blocking some of the arrows he was having to dodge.
As it was, though, he had his sword, his wings, and his experience to keep him alive. It was harder without a partner; he’d become not reliant, but certainly more comfortable with someone watching his back. He wanted to call out warnings to someone who wasn’t there, a shadow at his back that failed in tangibility.
A particularly annoying skeleton was skittering around him, darting away whenever he got too close. He would have flown after it if there had been enough space; the trees were cramped and while they provided cover, they hindered how he wanted to attack.
His fury was slowly bleeding out of him with every swing, though.
Techno was right to be worried, he knew; but he hated how vulnerable it made him feel. He hadn’t been able to find a single cause for all of it. The horns, the teeth, the claws, the wings. They reminded him, too, of his old foe. Unique to him, for sure; the Ender Dragon had no feathers, nor were her horns so tall and thin. But still, the similarities were there. And that worried him most of all.
That wasn’t the only issue, though.
He gritted his teeth as he swung again.
Techno loved him. In what way, Phil was unsure. But it was obviously tearing him up. The blonde couldn’t help but hope it was in the way he felt about the hybrid; the warm, fuzzy feeling he got whenever Techno so much as turned his way.
He was broken out of his thoughts when he felt a tug on his wing. He whipped around to face the offending mob only to be shoved back by it and it's other zombie friends. He stumbled, pushed off-balance and to the ground. He held his sword over his head to ward off the mobs, pushing himself up.
Breathe. His mind supplied. He was breathing, thank you very much.
Breathe better. The voice insisted, and that was not his. Deeper.
Fuck. Techno listened to voices all the time.
He sucked in a breath, letting it fill the depths of his lungs.
Good.
Roar.
“Excuse me?” The breath left him in a rush as his blade sunk through a zombie’s mouth.
IT IS SIMPLE.
BREATHE.
ROAR.
“Alright! Just, stop being so damned loud!” He shouted back. He probably sounded like a maniac, but there were only mobs to see him.
He inhaled.
It felt like sparks were flying at the very bottom of his lungs, igniting. Crackles spread upwards, filling them impossibly further.
ROAR.
He did.
What had started as a snarl caught on something in his throat; became louder, broader. He could only watch as the burning in his lungs left in his sudden exhale, expelled with a rush.
The dragon’s breath exploded against the mobs, sending them flying and writhing to the ground.
He struggled up, ignoring the sting from where a few shallow wounds were stretched.
“Holy shit.” He breathed aloud.
Excellent. The voice hummed, self-satisfied. You will make an excellent dragon.
“Uh.”
~
Phil opened the door to the house, ducking and inching in as to not disturb the possible other occupant.
That proved to be unnecessary when he spied Techno staring at him from the couch. He was halfway lit by the lantern, glowing with its flame. He looked tired, but satisfied, the same way he was after any fight. Usually he raved and ranted to Phil about it, afterward. But Phil didn’t mind the silence either way.
A stray thought wormed into his mind. He wanted to kiss him.
He dismissed it when the other spoke.
“Where were you?”
“Could ask the same, mate.” He removed his sword’s sheath from his hip, setting it back on the table where he’d taken it from. He didn’t miss how the other’s eyes tracked the movement.
The rosette sniffed, cocking his head. His eyes widened.
“You’re bleeding.” He got up, moving so he stood in front of Phil.
“I’m fine.” He stressed the word. “Just a little scuffle between me and some mobs.”
“I didn’t see you there.”
“I must‘ve been at another one.”
“I went to all of them.” His eyes narrowed.
Damn it.
“I went to the woods.” He admitted. He hated the little twinge of vindictive pleasure. It didn’t feel like his own.
Techno hissed a breath.
“We were going to do that together! That was dangerous. I cannot believe right after I said I couldn’t lose you that you just— you just— went there!”
“I can take care of myself, Techno. I was taking care of myself long before I met you!” He sniped back.
Show your teeth, dragon.
Techno froze.
“Do you hear,” he paused, that faraway expression that always fell over him when he was listening, not just hearing, but listening to his voices clouding his eyes. “do you hear a voice, Phil?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“The voices are telling me they can hear someone, Phil, and they might mess with me a lot, try and trick me, but never about you.” He continued vehemently. “Phil.”
He swallowed.
“Are you hearing a voice?”
No.
“Techno,” he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I’m not hearing any voices. I’m tired. I don’t want to fight any more. We can talk about this, and … earlier in the morning. Truce? Temporarily? Please.”
Silence reigned for a moment.
“Okay.”
His relief was audible.
“Alright. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Phil slunk towards his room. His and Techno’s room, actually, which he thought could possibly turn awkward. They’d shared a bed since the Antarctic Empire; when they’d sometimes only felt safe with each other at their backs.
He’d deal with it in the morning. He barely took the time to shed his shoes and his bloody cloak before he was flopping onto the bed. Logically, there was no reason for him to be so tired.
You breathed. Rest now, so you may protect your hoard. The End.
“Mmph. Sh’up.” He groaned.
. . .
Very well.
~
UP.
AWAKEN.
THE HOARD.
SOMEONE IS IN THE END.
WAKE UP.
PHILZA.
WAKE UP.
THE END.
Phil shot upright, wincing at the crick in the neck such sudden movement gave him. Panic was starting to creep up his limbs, clearing him of any post-wake grogginess. He had no reason to be afraid, yet his chest was tightening in time with the urgency of the voice.
“Okay, okay, shh!” He whispered, mindful of the other beside him. He thought perhaps Techno would have taken the couch, or slept elsewhere, but he was curled up in the blankets next to where he’d lied before. “Again. Slower. More quiet.”
THE HOARD.
GO GO GO PORTAL.
He stumbled out of the bed, hand pressed against his temple to stifle the growing headache. He grabbed his robe from where it had been shed onto the floor, hurriedly pulling it on and slipping his feet into his sandals. He crept out of the room, silent but swift and headed towards their small armory.
GO NOW.
“Armor.” He hissed back urgently. “If I’m going to go see whatever you’re talking about—“
END WILL PROTECT YOU.
GO NOW.
He turned reluctantly, ignoring the voice so he could steal his sword and a shield hanging on the wall. It was old, printed with the old white sun motif. But it would work.
“Where to?” He asked aloud.
STRONGHOLD.
WILL SHOW WAY.
“Lead me, then.”
He felt the tug at his heart and gasped. It almost physically pulled him along.
GO.
“I got it.” He hissed.
He swung open the door, striding through.
He missed the call of his name as he ascended again, following the call of the voice.
~
The nearest stronghold was fairly close. Phil hadn’t ventured there since around the time of the dragon’s death. Three days and three nights in that place had been long enough for him. At least at first. After all, he would not bear the wings he bore if not for his extra exploration of the End. He had yet to find another.
THEY TRY.
CLOSE, NOW.
YOU MUST STOP THEM.
“Okay, sure— why me though, mate.”
THE END MUST HAVE A DRAGON.
YOU KILLED THE LAST.
YOU ARE A FLEDGLING YET.
BUT YOU WILL BECOME IT.
Phil nearly dropped out of the air before he regained his rhythm, flapping doubly as hard to make up for his lost altitude.
“Who might you be then.”
DRAGON.
“Right. Right, sure.”
DIVE.
“Why?”
STRONGHOLD.
DOWN DOWN DOWN DOWN.
Needless to say, after the mental chiding, he dove.
The area was filled with cliffs, water running between tall rocks that jutted through the rivers and streams. He was careful not to brush his wings against the rocks as he landed, squinting against the darkness.
STAIRS. RIGHT.
He turned to face the cliff face. The rock betrayed no steps.
STEP FORWARD, DRAGON.
He skimmed his hand along the rock until it caught on a piece of stone that jutted awkwardly from its surface. He leaned his weight into it.
He heard the click of redstone, stepping back. An alcove opened.
“Huh.” He said weakly. “Well. That’s useful.”
INDEED.
GO.
“I’m going!”
~
The portal room was a startling mix of hot and cold. It was just like he’d left it the first time, though in a new world, the void pulling him towards the frame, chilled, and the lava beneath it warming the rest of the room besides the empty pocket of space.
THEY ARE IN.
GO.
“Yeah, just— just hold on a minute.” Phil’s chest felt strangely tight as he stared down into the void. It felt all too familiar; three days and nights spent within its clutches. He’d left only when he’d killed the dragon.
But, according to the voice, he was the dragon.
That posed a problem.
The voice was shouting at him, but it was eclipsed by the feeling of dread the void imparted upon him, seeping through his robes and chilling him to the bone.
- The voice stressed. He felt the tug in his chest again, like a homing compass pointed straight towards it.
He took a breath and stepped into the portal, letting it take him away
~
He did not spawn on a floor of obsidian like he had in his first journey to the End. Instead, he spawned atop a pillar, circled by bedrock. He instinctively caught the air beneath his wings so he could hover above the platform.
THERE.
His head whipped to the side, senses prickling in a way they’d never before. The full impact of his senses knocked into him, leaving him almost brainless. His hearing felt sharp, sharp enough to distinguish the scattering of endstone beneath diamond boots from the gentle brushes of endermen. His eyes immediately caught faceted shine of the armor, tracking the movement. He could feel the energy thrum through his veins. He didn’t even have to vocalize the feeling for the voice to hum, a little less frantic with the threat recognized.
The crystals.
Your power.
They feed you, and you protect them.
Hurry, now.
The urgency still pulled him, causing him to propel himself towards the ‘threat’.
“Hey.” He piped up.
The man, who’d been aiming between the bars of the cage that protected a crystal jumped so hard he released the arrow. It clattered against the iron before falling uselessly to the ground again.
“You’re the dragon.” He breathed. He looked on the verge of crying.
“Naw, mate, just … passing through. What’reya doing here?” He leaned against the obsidian, ignoring both how the uneven rocks and sharper points poked into his skin and how his fingers itched for his sword.
YOU ARE THE DRAGON.
ATTACK HIM.
HE IS IN YOUR HOARD.
STEALING.
“Shut up.” He hissed.
“Wha—“ the man lurched back. “But I didn’t—“
“Not you, mate.” He assured him.
He nodded hesitantly.
“So,” Phil paused, the combination of the general awkwardness and the furious voice screaming at him making him wince. “what’s your name, then?”
“Lester! Uh, Lester Jared— no— no that’s wrong, I’m uh, Jester. Fuck! Jared Lester.” He stammered.
“Right. I’m Phil.” He introduced himself with considerably less nervousness, despite the others full armor and shaking grip on his bow. “What are you doing here, Jared?”
Jared straightened with a little bit of what perhaps could have been pride, adjusting his armor where it sat on him. The sudden shift in tone had Phil crossing his arms and cocking a brow expectantly.
“I’m going to slay the ender dragon.” He announced cockily. “And, I’m going to get those wing things— you know?
“I do.” He couldn’t resist the grin that threatened to overtake his formerly politely interested expression.
“Well— yeah, obviously you do— wait.”
Uh oh.
KILL THE JESTER.
“How do you have wings?” He asked. Suspicion was dripping from his tone. Maybe he wasn’t as clueless as Phil had figured. Shit.
“I already killed the dragon. You’re a bit late.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. But, apparently, the dragon was still around in some capacity. Closer than Jared-Lester-Whatever thought, anyway. “Sooo you can just pop right home! No need for you to stay or anything. Go on.”
“The portal isn’t open.”
“Hm?”
“The portal opens when the dragon is dead.” Jared spoke quietly, cautiously, like any misstep might have brought his death. “The portal isn’t open.”
“Oh.” He glanced over towards the portal. “Odd! The dragon is definitely dead.”
YOU ARE A HORRIBLE LIAR, PHILZA.
KILL HIM.
“Say, mate— how many lives d’ya have left here?”
“Three.” He responded almost instinctively, clapping a hand over his mouth as soon as the word left.
Phil sent him an apologetic smile.
“I’m really sorry about this, lad; don’t come back, yeah?”
The portal was closed. There were two ways back. Phil had never used the second.
But dispatching Jared would send him right back into his bed, probably in time to sleep off the experience. Then, he reminisced, he could go back and sleep in his own bed.
“I was right.” He gasped. “You are the dragon.”
“Yeah,” he admitted with a half-shrug. He unsheathed his sword from his belt, pushing off of the pillar. “New development for me, too.”
“I’m not letting you kill me!” The fiery determination with which Jared yelped took Phil a bit aback. He watched as he took out his own sword; gleaming Netherite like his own. He’d obviously come prepared.
Jared shouted and charged.
Phil sidestepped the first swipe easily, leaning to one side. The next came with even more ferocity; he was forced to hop back with the aid of his wings to avoid the thrust of the blade, continuing on the defensive as the man continued to swing relentlessly.
“Look!” Phil shouted. “I can’t let you stay here! Go home!”
“I’ll kill you— the End will belong to me! Jared Lester, conqueror! Not Jared Lester the weird one, not Jared Lester the fool, Jared Lester, king of the End!”
“No.” He and the voice hissed in unison.
Hatred fired in his stomach, hot and burning. It caused him to tighten his grip on his sword. He jumped to the side once more before their blades met in a parry so forceful it knocked the man back with a shrill, fleeting scrape of netherite against netherite.
It rang in his ears, creating a dual tone between it and the rasp of the dragon. He lunged forward, finally pushing his advantage with the full brunt of the fury that encompassed him. Jared seemed unprepared at first but pushed back with a startling amount of effort.
“I have trained so hard for this, dragon.” He seethed. “I’ve slayed monsters far worse than you could ever imagine.”
Phil doubted that.
He lashed out with his leg, catching Jared in the knee. The man stumbled. Phil took the opportunity to knock the sword from his hand, slipping a few fingers under his chestplate and pulling as he rose into the air. His blade came to rest against his neck as they hovered between the obsidian pillars, just above where the crystals lied, swiveling to face him.
“You will not come back.” He spat, hoisting him up in front of him.
NOT ALONE.
ANOTHER.
SOMEONE ELSE.
He glanced to the side. A second obsidian platform had appeared; but it wasn’t empty. Instead, hiking up the small incline the surface was connected to was a small, pink speck.
A small pink speck he knew.
Techno looked up.
“Phil!”
NO.
He couldn’t look away; but he couldn’t say anything. All he could do was hover uselessly, trying to come up with some explanation.
PAY ATTENTION DRAGON.
“Phil, look out!”
A sharp pain in his abdomen caused his grip to loosen. A pair of hands released the arrow sticking out of his chest so they could clutch into his sleeve as his wings faltered, keeping them aloft just enough so that their descent didn’t kill them both.
He keeled over, sword forgotten completely in favor of splaying his hand over the wound, pressing against it.
He heard a groan, and scuffling, but he couldn’t care.
“Should’ve brought the armor.” He gasped with a laugh.
YOU ARE A FOOL, PHILZA.
He rolled onto his back, glad the shaft sticking through his back had been snapped upon impact. He came face-to-face with Jared, holding his own sword above him.
“Get away from him!” The voice loudened as the quick run Techno had broken into brought him ever closer to the pair.
“He’s the dragon!” Jared argued back. “I’m saving us both!”
Closer to the pillar, dragon. The voice softened, perhaps aware of how its volume had nearly split his skull before.
What could he do but obey? His wings splayed out behind him, aching but ready to obey. He took advantage of his assailant’s distraction to inch ever closer to the obsidian.
“And? If you touch him, I’ll flay you.” The hybrid threatened icily.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going!” Jared shouted.
So close, Philza.
He gritted his teeth against the aftershocks of pain radiating from the arrow, dragging himself backward.
“I’ll kill you right now!” He threatened.
He will not. Closer.
Jared stepped forward.
Techno lunged after him.
Phil inched back.
The beam lit his entire body.
~
I TOLD YOU THE END PROTECTS ITS OWN.
Phil pushed himself up. He could feel the grin stretching his lips, but he felt almost outside of himself. It was not so much a smile as a baring of his teeth, daring his foe to step closer. His talons extended with a wickedly sharp schk that had the man stepping back.
Rightfully so.
It was his hoard, and like hell he was letting either of the intruders desecrate it longer than either of them already had.
He breathed.
In, in, deeper, sparks.
He exhaled and all the particles simmering in his lungs left, spraying towards the armored one with a sizzling hiss.
He jumped back, but not far enough.
He screamed. Good.
YES.
He jumped forward, wings propelling him past the distance so he could sink his claws into the tight space between his pieces of armor, piercing the flesh. The gurgling yelp he got in return was well worth the crimson that stained his hands. He released him only when the noise stopped, dragging his talons against his robes to at least somewhat clear them of the red.
One down.
His gaze flicked to the other, watching in a mix of horror and awe. A few flaps of his wings took him soaring towards the other, landing effortlessly. The beams were following him, filling him with strength. It felt wonderful.
“Your turn, mate.” He grinned. It came out tinged with something deeper than he remembered his voice being; a rasp.
“Phil …” the man hesitated in return, grip on his sword loose.
His hesitancy would be Phil’s strength.
He sprung forward, claws outstretched to catch him as he had his former foe.
“Wait! I don’t want to fight you—“ he grunted, parrying his claws with the flat of his blade. The force of it knocked him backwards, but he stayed on his feet, landing with a graceful flutter.
“Then you wouldn’t have come.”
The assault against his foe continued, but he seemed to know his patterns well. It frustrated him to no end, every time he was pushed back by the blade or shoved away inches from sinking his claws in. Not even flight had the desired effect; he anticipated and reacted accordingly.
“Who are you?”
“Techno. Technoblade— you know that, Phil. I’ve been your partner for years—“ he dodged another swipe. “—we ran an empire together— one that’s still thriving but we stepped away—“ a grunt as he shifted to block an attack. “—because we wanted something else, and I came with you because I loved you and I still do so— gods damnit would you stop attacking me so I can bring you home!”
He paused in his attacks.
Which the voice immediately scolded him for.
It was beginning to fracture around him.
“Phil? Come on, just …” his sword dropped. “ … let’s go, please.”
“The portal is closed.” He choked out. “I … I couldn’t go back. I want to—“ and he did, because it was rushing back to him and Techno and Techno’s hair and Techno’s eyes and his skills and what they’d done together and every huffing laugh Phil had managed to pull out of him was sucker-punching him repeatedly in the gut. “—you have to kill the dragon to go home.”
He’d offered to kill Jared, for the man to give up one of his lives to go home.
He could never give that chance to Techno.
HOARD. The voice screamed. THE END.
“I’ll figure something out.” Techno swore. He dropped his sword. It clattered against the endstone. “You know I will, Phil. I can’t leave without you.” He opened his arms.
Phil stared.
Then he stumbled over himself in his haste to throw his arms around the taller’s neck, immediately pulling away from the hiss of pain at his talons only to be tugged back. He retracted them instinctively. At least his horns didn’t impale him.
YOU WON’T KILL HIM.
“No. I won’t. That’s a strict, hard, no.” He mumbled into the other’s shoulder, ignoring the shift of surprise.
HE WILL DIE.
NOT MEANT FOR THE END.
NOT PART OF IT.
“He might not be part of your hoard, but he’s part of mine.”
…
HOARD.
“Mhm.”
“… Phil?”
He held up a finger for silence.
HE IS YOUR HOARD?
“Ye p.” He popped the ‘p’.
DRAGONS MUST HAVE A HOARD.
“I have one. Much better than your ‘End’,” he scoffed. “what’s there here to protect? Endermen will take care of most of ‘em, anyway. Abandoned cities?”
THIS ONE IS YOUR HOARD.
DRAGONS MUST PROTECT THEIR HOARD.
…
I WILL ALLOW IT.
“Allow what.”
TO THE PORTAL.
He pulled away from where he’d been pressed to Techno, looking up to him.
“The voice wants us to go to the portal.” He repeated dryly.
“So there was a voice.”
“Is a voice— it’s not important. Come on, then.” He pried himself from Techno’s grasp, only to wrap his fingers around his wrist and tug him along. He only paused to grab his own sword, and allow the hybrid to grab his own, before they stood over the brim of the bedrock pool.
“What now.”
“Good question.”
Concentrate.
The pool before you will fill.
Harness the void; it is your domain, after all.
Your hoard.
He closed his eyes with a sigh.
Concentrate on your hoard, fledgling.
“Uhh, Phil?”
“It’s telling me to concentrate.” He responded wryly.
“On?”
“You.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I know something that might, uh, help.” Techno offered. He cracked an eye open to peek at the almost shy expression over him.
“What would that be?”
He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before he turned, bending down to avoid the antlers and tipping Phil’s chin up with his fingers.
The kiss lasted only a second, but it felt like an eternity until the soft press of the hybrid’s lips left his own.
You are disgusting.
“If this is disgusting, so be it.” He muttered back, still staring at the curve of Techno’s smirk.
“Huh?” Visible panic quickly swept the smirk away.
“Not you! No— that was—“
The portal, fledgling. He didn’t know the voice could sound exasperated. It managed.
“Uh—“ he turned Techno’s head to the portal instead of replying. It pulled at them both, fabric of their clothes tugged and rippling towards the tug of the void.
“Right.” Techno licked his lips, apparently as shell-shocked as he was.
“In?” Phil suggested.
“After you.”
They stared at it for a moment.
“Alright— see you on the other side?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. Cool.” Phil stepped back towards the portal so he could look at Techno. He gave a cheeky two-fingered salute before he tipped back into the void, still feeling the flush on his cheeks.
It swallowed him whole.
~
“Can’t I hide it somehow? Not like, renounce being the dragon—“ because Phil had tried that, and it had resulted in a lecture so loud and long he could have sworn his ears were bleeding at the end of it, “but make it go away, a bit, so I don’t get stared at every time I go outside?”
Are you ashamed of being the dragon?
“No, nooo, not at all,” he assured the voice, before it began yelling. “just, want to protect my hoard by not getting chased down by hunters.”
He’d found that the voice responded particularly well to the idea of Phil’s ‘hoard’; said hoard being Techno. If it was his primary purpose, it was the voice’s delight.
Hm.
Concentrate.
“Again?”
Yes, again.
Do as I say, fledgling.
Concentrate on going back to your weak, hidden self.
“I was not weak.” He protested, but did as the voice said. “I recall killing you , in fact.”
Agonizingly slowly.
He decided not to respond to the rude, but true comment. He glared at himself in the mirror until the horns suddenly disappeared. He jumped back, only for something above him to smack into the hanging lantern.
Rudimentary.
“Are they— still there?”
You cannot be rid of them.
You may … hide them, however.
He sighed, looking up to watch the lantern swing.
“Good enough for now.”
He stepped out of the bathroom, mindful of the doorway. The blonde grinned when he saw Techno, lounging against a chair. Sun Tzu in his hand, he assumed. Phil crept forward, behind the chair. He knew Techno had seen him, or at least heard him; he bent over Techno’s head, pressing his forehead against the other’s.
“Hey.” he grinned.
“Hey,” He echoed, closing his book. He sat up, craning his neck up so he could see him better. “wait. The horns?”
“Still there. Just,” he spread his hands with a wiggle of his fingers. “not so easily seen.”
“Too bad. I was getting fond of them.” Techno huffed. His fingers tangled their way in his hair, searching for where the antlers sprouted from. He found them and tugged, if only to snort at how he reddened.
“You’re trouble.” He accused, flushed. “But I’m fond of you, treasure.” He pressed a kiss against his forehead, smiling.
“Ah, again with the treasure.”
“You like it. Don’t lie, either.”
“… maybe a little.” He grinned back, showing his tusks.
Phil was already in love. He knew that.
But falling into the seat beside his hoard, he thought he’d managed to have done it all over again.