Chapter Text
There was no such thing as green in the Nether.
Warped forests were the closest thing Technoblade had ever seen. Their cooler shades were much more noticable amidst the angry reds and warm browns. Zombie piglins had green marking the edges of their skin, but he was pretty sure that was rot and even if it wasn't, he didn't want to get close enough to find out. But this man—a man with large, gray wings—had a color on that Techno had never seen before. And he supposed it could be green.
He was wandering around the Crimson Forest, fighting off hoglins that came his way. He wore a golden helmet that caught Techno's eye as much as he tried to ignore it. He was whistling a merry tune, keeping a bag close by his side. He walked with purpose, but even Techno could see he was lost. He'd been watching the man walk in circles for hours now.
Techno figured he’d hit the three hour mark when the man finally stopped and sat underneath a large crimson mushroom, pulling a bit of bread out of his bag and nibbling on it. The man was talking to himself in the language of the Overworld, a tongue Techno knew better than his own at this point. He moved forward slightly from where he hid behind a large mound of netherrack. Then his hooves disturbed a few stones and they tumbled down towards the man. He looked up as Techno ducked behind the netherrack again, making sure he couldn’t be seen.
He counted for ten heartbeats before peaking around the rock again. The man had gone back to his bread but he now had a hand on the diamond sword that hung from his waist. His posture was relaxed but cautious. Impressive. Most of the people who came from the Overworld were afraid of the Nether and all its dangers. Yet this man didn’t seem very concerned with the constant threat of lava or hoglins snuffling for the younger crimson mushrooms.
Speaking of hoglins, the sounder he’d been tracking for dinner had wandered dangerously close to where the man sat under the large crimson mushroom. His back was turned to them and Techno doubted he could hear them under the normal sounds of the Nether. He watched as the hoglins came closer and closer to the unaware man. By the time the first hoglin had noticed the man and let out a displeased shriek, Techno had vaulted over the netherrack, drawn the golden sword from his inventory and slashed the beast's side.
Behind him, he heard the man utter a soft “Oh, fuck!” and scrambled back but Techno didn’t spare a glance behind him. The hoglin—a big boar—fixed its little eyes on him and screamed, lowering it’s head to charge. Techno nimbly stepped to the side and swiped again. He calculated he only had a few more minutes before the rest of the hoglins caught up to the boar. This one was larger than any of the others he’d faced in the past, but he was sure he could take it down, no problem.
They began a strange dance of sorts, with Techno dodging the charges and head tosses of the angry hoglin and exchanging swipes of his own with the golden sword he’d taken from a dead zombie piglin. The boar began to tire. It’s movements slowed, the hate in it’s little eyes dulled. Then, with one swift slice to the neck, Techno slit its throat and watched it fall over with one last tired grunt.
He turned towards the man, only to hear another hoglin shriek behind him. He attempted to move fast enough to attack, but before he could, a blur of the strange green color from before flew past him. The man had flared open his wings, feathers puffing up to make him look even bigger. He held the polished diamond sword in his hand. With a few well-placed swipes, the hoglins died one after another. When nothing else moved or made a shrieking noise, the man’s feathers slowly flattened again.
He folded his wings behind him once more and turned to face Techno, who tried to look as impassive as possible despite the pounding in his chest.
The man had a kind face. That was the first thing Techno noticed, alongside his tired eyes and the black overcoat the man wore over his green robes. His hair was light colored, as were his eyes and the bag at his side was made out of worn leather.
“Hello there, mate,” the man said. “Thanks for helping out back there. I appreciate it.”
Techno kept his sword out, but lowered the tip. He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d decided to help the man to begin with. He didn’t know him. It wasn’t like he was another piglin or a creature of the Nether. There wasn’t really anything remarkable about him other than his wings and his strange clothes. But that wasn’t quite right either. Because though the man stood there, with his strange robes and light colored hair, it was the way he’d carried himself through a land that killed most who came from the Overworld. He wasn’t afraid. And Techno wanted to learn how to carry himself the same way.
“You’re welcome,” Techno mumbled.
It had been quite sometime since he’d spoken their language, but he hadn’t forgotten the words.
The man smiled. “Could I trouble you for a bit more?”
Techno inclined his head toward the man.
“I think I’m a bit lost, to be honest with you,” the man continued. “I was hoping you might know where my portal would be?”
“Why would I know where your portal is?” Techno said.
“Because I’m pretty sure you’ve been following me for a while. Unless those footsteps were someone else’s.”
Techno blinked. He’d thought he’d been being stealthy. How had the man noticed him? Gauging the smile that now graced the man’s face, the piglin hybrid deduced he’d made some sort of astonished expression.
“I know where your portal is,” he said begrudgingly.
“Can you take me there?”
“Perhaps.”
Techno kept his battered golden sword out, but didn’t raise it. He began to walk in the direction the man had originally come from, only looking back once when he didn’t hear footsteps behind him. He raised an eyebrow.
“Are you comin’ or what?”
The man’s smile broadened and he slipped his sword back into its scabbard at his hip, wrapping his left hand around the thick leather strap of his bag. “Sorry, thought you’d want something for your troubles.”
Techno shrugged. They left the Crimson Forest behind them, walking along the Nether Wastes side by side in silence. Techno’s head came up to the man’s shoulder, a fact that made the piglin hybrid weirdly smug though he couldn’t explain why. After they’d made a good amount of progress, the man spoke again.
“My name is Phil, by the way.”
“I’m Technoblade.”
“Technoblade,” Phil repeated slowly. “Pretty good name, mate.”
Techno blinked. “It’s alright,” he said after a while.
“Sorry if I’m talking too much, mate. I’ve got a son about your age who likes to talk a lot when I come home. He’ll be waiting for me when I finally get back. Hopefully.”
The piglin hybrid made a noncommittal grunt. He wasn’t accustomed to talking to people. Usually, when Overworlders came to the Nether, he kept away. Phil didn’t give him the same sort of unease the others did, but that didn’t mean talking to him didn’t make him uncomfortable.
When they crossed into the Warped Forest, Techno relaxed slightly. Warped Forests were safer than the other biomes, even if endermen liked to roam among the blue warped mushroom trees. Techno ducked underneath the cap of one of the giant warped mushrooms and stopped at the edge of a small clearing. In the center, purple light reflected off of the shiny parts of an obsidian portal. The noises the portal made cause Techno’s ears to twitch in distaste. Phil’s face brightened, a smile stretching across as he put his hand against his head.
“Holy shit, mate. You actually did it.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. Even though you did it. Holy shit, that’s incredible. You’re like a GPS.”
Techno felt a small smile creep its way onto his face, despite his best attempts to stop it. He looked down at the ground instead, scrapping a hoofed foot against the warped nylium, revealing the bare netherrack underneath.
“It’s just basic geography,” he mumbled, looking down at the ground.
“Well, I couldn’t find my way out,” Phil pointed out.
Techno shrugged. He stuck the tip of his sword into the nylium and looked at Phil expectantly. Phil was supposed to go through the portal. Then Techno wouldn’t see him again. Or his strange colored robes. But Phil was looking at him appraisingly, studying him closely in a way that reminded Techno of a darker time with another Overworlder who hadn’t been as polite. He shuffled backwards unconsciously.
Phil’s expression softened. “Hey mate, since you helped me with the hoglins, why don’t I repay the favor?”
Techno’s eyes narrowed. “How? I can fight hoglins on my own.”
“I could train you.”
The piglin hybrid stared at him. He was tempted to point out Phil had needed him to beat the sounder of hoglins. But then he remembered how confidently Phil had moved through the Nether even though he wasn’t born of it, hadn’t donned any armor other than the golden helmet.
“Why would you want to train me?”
Phil shrugged. “You look like you’ve got potential.”
Techno chewed over his words a bit. It was tempting. Techno was fairly skilled with sword, nothing in the Nether had been able to best him in combat yet. But even he didn’t walk like Phil.
“Perhaps,” he said. “Let me consider it.”
Phil inclined his head toward him and smiled. “Of course. I’ll be coming back in a few days. Think you might have an answer by then?”
“Perhaps,” Techno repeated. “Perhaps.”
The man ducked through the portal, standing on the edges as the dimensional magic began to pulse more rapidly. Phil disappeared from his sight, going back to the Overworld where he belonged. Techno gave one last glance to the portal before picking up his sword again and turning away. Hoglins didn’t live in Warped Forests. And Techno still needed food. Maybe when he’d returned to the Crimson Forest, he’d have more of an idea of what he wanted to do.
Techno was sitting underneath a large Warped Mushroom when the portal pulsed again three days later. Phil ducked back through. He’d ditched the golden helmet and instead, wore a floppy striped hat. He was still carrying his bag, though it was emptier than the last time. He smiled at Techno, who continued to sharpen his admittedly terrible golden sword with a chunk of basalt.
“Hullo again,” Phil said.
“Hello.”
“Care to walk with me while I collect some Warped Mushrooms?”
Wordlessly, Techno got to his feet, careful to keep the blade away from his body. Phil waited for him to join the older man at his side and then began to walk. They headed out in the opposite direction they’d come from when Techno had led him back there, towards the far off basalt deposit, from what Techno could remember. The nylium was spongey beneath his hooves, the hot, sulphurous smell of the Nether mixing together with the sickly sweet of what must have been the End, the remnants of what clung to the Enderman who enjoyed the blue-green forests so much.
Periodically, Phil would kneel down and dig one of the smaller warped mushrooms out of the ground with the tip of a small knife. He’d dust off the remnants of warped nylium that clung to the stalk, then tuck it away in his bag. Techno watched him do this enough times that the piglin hybrid’s mind began to wander and he thought about the much more entertaining task of hunting hoglins for breakfast instead of gathering fungi. He was deep in thought—planning out how exactly he’d come from the side to kill one—when something brushed his left arm.
Without thinking, Techno automatically jerked up his sword and sliced, only to have his stroke blocked by something that sounded more like glass. When his eyes could focus again, he realized he’d attacked Phil.
“Good reflexes,” Phil noted. “But you’ll do better in the long run if you just pay more attention to begin with.”
Techno scowled. “That doesn’t count. You’re gatherin’ mushrooms.”
“I am. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pay attention.” Phil moved his sword away from Techno’s, slipping it back into its scabbard. “I know it’s not the most entertaining of tasks, but it’s good to do simple things to ground you.”
“Why would I need grounding?”
“All good warriors need a simple task to ground them. It’s useful in combat, which is something I’d like to teach you. If you’ll let me.”
Techno grunted, sounding very much like a piglin in that moment. He lowered his sword again and looked at the older man, suddenly uncertain. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be trained by the man if he’d do things like make him collect mushrooms and randomly attack him. As if reading his mind, Phil’s expression relaxed. He looked more like a tired, middle-aged man rather than the experienced warrior he’d been before.
“There’s no need to be so worried about it, mate. I’m sure you’ll get it.”
“I haven’t even said yes yet.”
“No, but it’s not like you can’t use what I tell you today later if you decide you don’t want to accept.”
He hated to admit it, but Phil had a point. The older man knelt down near another clump of warped mushrooms and patted the space next to him.
“Help me collect these last few, and then we can go back.”
Begrudgingly, Techno set his sword down and squatted next to Phil.
“You need to slide the knife to the side of the stem, pointing the tip towards the cup, where the roots are,” Phil said as he worked, demonstrating slowly so Techno could see. “Then you jerk the knife to the side and pull. When you hear the popping sound, that means you have the whole thing.”
He held up the mushroom for Techno to see. It was completely intact except where the thin trail of roots had been. Then Phil flipped the knife around and held the handle out to Techno.
“You try,” he said.
Tentatively, Techno wrapped a clawed hand around the knife. He shuffled over to another nearby mushroom and sank the knife into the ground near the stem of the mushroom. He attempted to do the same thing Phil had done before, trying to slice the roots off, but heard no pop sound as he pulled the mushroom up from the ground. He’d cut the mushroom off from the cup crookedly instead of in one piece. He held it up to Phil, who took the mushroom and smiled kindly.
“Not bad for your first time.”
“But I didn’t do it right.” Techno pointed out.
“So? Nobody ever does things right the first time around. The important part is that you tried to begin with. Your next mushroom will be easier, I guarantee it.”
Together, the piglin hybrid and the man with the wings filled the leather satchel with warped mushrooms, carefully cutting each one from the ground and placing it in the bag. By the time Phil decided they had enough, Techno’s mind had been made up. He’d spent his time listening to Phil talk about his son and the many, many worlds he’d seen in his time, the creations he’d made on his journeys. The battles he’d fought and won, hard earned victories and stupid ways he’d died and respawned in some other place for reasons Phil couldn’t explain other than that the universe had decided it wasn’t his time yet.
Phil was telling him another story—one about a baby zombie killing him in a world that didn’t allow for mistakes like that—when they made it back to the clearing where the Nether portal was.
“It was such a shit way to die, mate,” Phil was saying. “I hate those fucking things.”
Techno snorted softly. He’d stowed the crappy golden sword away in his inventory ages ago, no longer feeling the need to have it out around the winged man. He wasn’t going to attack him, he felt. Phil seemed content to tell him countless stories and Techno was glad to hear them.
They both paused at the portal. The purple glow made Philza’s wings look darker, almost menacing behind his back. A faint but warm breeze stirred the feathers and the stringy brown hair that fell around Techno’s face. He could sense Phil wanted to ask him if he’d made up his mind, but didn’t want to push him. The older man was fidgeting with his bag when Techno finally spoke up.
“Hey Phil?” he said, his monotone voice quieter than it had been before.
“Yeah, mate?”
“I think I’d like to take you up on that offer.”
Hours later, after travelling through the Nether portal and experiencing such a shock to his system that Techno had at first feared he was becoming a zombie piglin himself, he walked side by side with Phil through an Overworld biome with thick trees with dark brown bark. All around him, he caught flashes of the same color on Phil’s clothes—the color of green —and he felt almost overwhelmed by the scents of the forest, the sounds of birds in the trees and chittering creatures Phil called squirrels. He couldn’t help but ask questions about the giant red spotted mushrooms that grew here and there in the forest. Phil bore a smile the entire trip, patiently explaining to the young teen what each new creature he saw was, what certain colors were called, even what the biome was called.
“This is a roofed forest, mate,” Phil said. “Dark enough that mobs spawn sometimes, but I like it here because no one bothers me and Wil.”
“Who’s Wil?”
“Wilbur. My son.” Phil glanced at Techno. “Hope you don’t mind that you need to live with him. He’s not annoying or anything but he does like to cause a little chaos sometimes like playing his guitar at three in the morning.”
Techno tried to picture what kind of son Wilbur must have been to be related to Phil but came short. The only vague idea that he had was that surely, Wilbur also had the light colored hair and eyes. Maybe he even had wings, like Phil.
They came across a modest cottage made out of cobble and dark oak. A fenced-in garden stood off to the side and flowers grew in sporadic patterns around a well-trod dirt path. In the front yard with his back against a massive oak tree, a young boy held a guitar that nearly dwarfed him in size. He wore a bright yellow sweater that looked like it was much too big for him, similar to the guitar in that regard. When he heard their footsteps, his head jerked up from where he’d been looking at his fingers on the frets. Techno could see him squint, then a wide grin stretched across his face.
“Dad!” he yelled.
Then, as quick as lightning, he’d gotten to his feet and ran the rest of the way to Phil with the guitar slung over his back. Phil held open his arms and caught the boy easily, barely stumbling backwards. His wings unfurled and wrapped around them both, protecting them in one big, feathery cocoon.
Techno waited for Phil to fold his wings again, still clasping what must have been his son’s shoulder as he turned towards Techno. Now that the boy was closer, he couldn’t see much in the way of a family resemblance other than their noses. They were both straight and pointy, though Phil’s was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken before. The young boy— Wilbur Techno remembered—was scrawnier than even he was, with a mess of brown curls pulled to the side of his face. Round copper-framed glasses hung from the collar of his sweater and his smile was as friendly as his fathers.
“Wilbur, this is Technoblade,” Phil said. “Technoblade, this is Wilbur, my son.”
Wilbur stuck his hand out and Techno jerked back. The other boy didn’t act like anything had happened, just continued to smile and hold his hand out.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “Dad already told me you might live with us.”
“He did?” Techno said, giving Phil a look.
The older man shrugged. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had an apprentice. Wilbur knows I used to help people before I had him to take care of.”
“Maybe you can help take some of the pressure off of me to succeed,” Wilbur said.
Phil gently ruffled Wilbur’s hair, smiling at his son. “I don’t pressure you that much, mate,” he said, beginning to walk towards the cottage. “I let you play the guitar, after all.”
Techno finally shook Wilbur’s hand, surprised at how steady the boy’s hand was in his despite his appearance. He’d tried interacting with humans in the past. Most attempts had resulted in less than stellar reactions. But Wilbur wasn’t afraid of his pig features or the claws that tipped his fingers. If anything, he looked more fascinated than uneasy.
“I’ve never met a piglin hybrid before,” he mused. “That’s what you are, right?”
“Um.” Techno blinked. “I guess so?”
“That’s pretty cool! Did you inherit any fey abilities or is it just cosmetic?”
“Wil, stop bothering Techno and let the poor kid sit down in the house first,” Phil called ahead of them. He was already opening the door and stepping inside.
Wilbur grinned at him. Techno noticed then that his ears were slightly pointed.
So he’s got fey blood too , he thought to himself.
“C’mon! I wanna show you the house,” Wilbur said.
Techno followed the other boy silently, marvelling at the sound his hooved feet made as he walked up onto the wooden porch, slipping in behind Wilbur who held the door open for him. The inside was even more welcoming than the outside. Dried flowers hung from the rafters, various herbs intermingling in bundles. A large oak table took up most of the kitchen, though only two places had been set for dinner. On the stove, a large pot of soup bubbled and he could smell something baking in one of two furnaces. It had been painted a paler yellow than the sweater Wilbur wore and a few pots with well-tended plants rested on the windowsill overlooking the front yard. The setting sun bathed the whole room awash in golden light, making Techno squint as Phil pulled out a small wooden chest and dumped the warped mushrooms inside, pushing it aside on the somewhat messy wooden counter for later.
“This is the kitchen, obviously,” Wilbur said, startling Techno who had zoned out while taking everything in. “We eat and cook here. Except Dad says I need to learn how to cook better before I’m allowed to make anything on my own. I don’t know why though, I’m an excellent cook.”
“Wil, you almost started a fire putting basil in a pot of water one night,” Phil pointed out. “I think I have the right to be concerned.
Wilbur rolled his eyes but pulled on Techno’s frayed white shirt, dragging him into the room behind them. This room had been painted a pleasant sea green, the floors made of birch planks instead of the smooth stone from before. A soft but worn looking blue couch overlooked an empty fireplace. Bookshelves lined the two other walls, filled with different kinds of texts and pictures. Techno caught a glimpse of a small painting of what looked like a younger Phil and a woman who looked like she might have been his wife.
“This is the living room,” he announced. “We play a lot of board games and read in here. Sometimes, dad makes new clothes or things and I play my guitar when I figure out a new song.”
He pulled Techno up the nearby staircase and into a smaller room. The floors in here were made of polished diorite and the tile was white with pale blue accents.
“This is the bathroom,” he announced. “We shit in here and shower. But don’t shit in the shower, because that’s disgusting.”
He guided Techno down the hall and pointed into a larger room with forest green painted walls. They both peeked inside, not stepping over the threshold.
“This is Dad’s room,” he said. “We’re not supposed to go in here.”
Techno managed to catch a glimpse of a large, dark oak bed with a leaf-patterned quilt thrown over it before he was being dragged into the last room. It looked like the furniture had been moved around recently, the small twin sized bed pushed to the corner and posters tacked back up against the wall farthest away from the windows that overlooked the back of the house. A large stuffed black and white thing rested at the foot of the bed and a hollowed out barrel was chock full of various books. A writing desk had been set up on top of two more barrels, a book opened with a quill on top of it.
The other side of the room was a stark contrast from the other side. The bed there looked newer, still smelling of sawdust, though it had clean, white sheets already pulled over it.
“This is my room. Well, our room now, I guess. Dad made you that bed so you’d have a good spot to sleep.”
Techno cautiously walked over to his alleged part of the room. He wanted to move the bed so the light from the window wouldn’t pour onto him in the morning, but the bookshelves were clean of anything and his own writing desk had been set up. Both boys had a chest at the foot of their beds for belongings and a lamp that hung above the desk, both burning bright with fire inside. He glanced behind him at Wilbur who still had his guitar on his back. He looked like he was waiting to see Techno’s reaction.
“It’s nice,” he said eventually, not accustomed to anyone caring what he thought.
Wilbur beamed. “It’ll be nicer when you decorate, I think. I’ve got my posters and books and my orca, but I’m sure once you decorate your side, the room won’t feel so empty anymore.”
Techno glanced again at Wilbur’s side, which had a blue rug pulled over so the oak plank floors weren’t exposed near the bed. Then he looked back at Wilbur.
“Why would you want to share your room with me?” he said. “You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t know you yet ,” Wilbur corrected. “But I’ll get to know you sooner or later. Besides, where else were you going to sleep? I mean, there’s always the attic, but that gets super cold at night and during winter. And you’re from the Nether, so I doubt you’re even used to this weather yet.”
Techno didn’t admit to the other boy that he was correct in his assumption. He already felt cold and his body felt all fuzzy, like it still wasn’t sure if it wanted to turn or not.
“Do you like it?” Wilbur said.
Techno shrugged. “I’ve never had my own room before. Or a bed.”
“Well, once Dad figures out what kind of quilt you want, you’ll be all settled in. For now though, I think you’re going to have to use one of my extras. They’re warm, so don’t worry.”
“Wilbur! Techno! Come down here, I think the bread is finally done.” Phil’s call echoed up the stairs.
Wilbur perked up. He unslung the guitar from his back and set it down carefully on the messy bed, then grabbed Techno’s arm again and dragged him back down the stairs.
“By the way,” Wilbur said as they entered the kitchen where Phil was setting down another bowl and spoon. “How old are you?”
“Thirteen,” Techno mumbled. “I think.”
“No way!” the other boy gasped. “I’m thirteen too! We could be twins, you know.”
Techno looked at Wilbur skeptically. “We look nothing alike.”
“So? We’re twins.”
“Wilbur, help me get dinner on the table and stop tormenting poor Techno,” Phil said. “I didn’t ask him if he wanted me to train him for you to already insist you’re brothers.”
Techno watched as father and son moved around each other with a practiced sort of grace, with Phil pouring steaming hot soup into the ceramic bowls Wilbur held and Wilbur slicing bread when that task had been finished. The whole room smelled of fresh bread and rabbit soup. The piglin hybrid sank into his chair after a while, staring at the chunks of meat and diced vegetables floating in his bowl.
It was such a contrast to how life had been like in the Nether, where the only company Techno could hope for was that of the actual piglins and the only sounds were that of ghasts and hoglins or the squishy sound of magma cubes as they hopped from place to place. This place smelled good, full of two humans who’d shown him more decency than he’d ever experienced in his life and a special sort of goodness that both made Techno want to sink into it, and jump away at the same time.
He did neither of those things, picking up his spoon and scooping soup into his mouth as Wilbur told Phil about the new song idea that he’d been trying to compose before they’d come back. And though the temperature felt wrong, Techno felt like he’d finally found home.