Chapter Text
Technoblade doesn’t really remember what happened to his family, before.
He’s not sure if he even had one, to be honest. There’s no memory of a mother, or a dad, or siblings that he could call his own. He doesn’t have any memories of a house he calls home, somewhere he stayed until he was ready to go out and casually conquer the world, as one does.
All he remembers is growing up mostly on his own, even from the youngest age, he remembers traveling along, continuing to walk, continuing to survive, with voices in his head that slowly grew louder over the years. He figured it out along the way. After all, here he is, a legend in the making, with all his battle scars to prove it.
The scars laced along his hands and arms, remains of broken skin and bleeding wounds, those are from fights, those are from winning. They’re not exactly something he’s proud of, but he’s not exactly ashamed either. They’re a reminder that he’s stronger than anyone will ever be, and he’s content enough with that. It’s a good reminder.
But if he were to take off his shoes, roll up his pants, there would be scars there too, not from any victorious battle, but rather from years of traveling on his own. Small scars, on his ankles, his heels, his shins, remains of when he had once didn’t even have his own shoes to protect him from the jagged rocks on the ground.
There’s a scar at the center of his palm, not from a battle, but rather a mishap when he had climbed a cliff when he was eleven.
There’s a tiny, barely noticeable white line on the bottom of his chin, not from a fight, but from falling out of a tree when he was fifteen.
There’s a small discolored patch of skin on his left knee, not from anything heroic or even interesting, but rather from an embarrassing time where he fell and tripped on the road when he was seventeen.
He’s older now, he doesn’t have small mishaps like that anymore, or at least not without having a way to heal it. He’s grown, and he’s learnt, and he knows how to survive on his own, and how to win.
Although, even with all the lessons he’s gotten through life and through trial and failure, he’s still not sure about the start of his life.
And frankly, he doesn’t think he’ll ever figure it out. The idea of that realization puts...something, in his chest, not quite grief, but maybe just disappointment. He doesn’t exactly wish to know what happened to his parents, his family, because it’s not that important, he’s gotten this far, hasn’t he?
But at the same time there’s a quiet question that always rises without fail, each time he sees a little kid run to their mother. Each time he sees two siblings leaning against each other with unwavering trust, each time he sees a trio of friends so close you’d think they’re attached at the hip.
There’s always a quiet question that hovers around him as he watches them pass, watches them live their own lives. Could he have had that? Or, rather, could he one day have something like that, someone who could hold his life in their hands, and he wouldn’t need to worry for a second?
He always brushes off the question and moves on before he can really think for the answer. It’s really not that important. He’s got things to do, land to conquer, fights to win. Allies and all are nice, but come on, he’s Technoblade. With allies, without, he can stand his own ground.
Even if he sometimes wants an answer to that question, he never indulges in it. He’s got things to do, after all.
---
He meets Phil when he’s twenty-one.
He meets him in a new world that’s opened up, free for the taking. Technoblade jumps in, ready to conquer and explore, ready to see what the new place has to offer, with its rules he’ll probably find a way to bend, and with it’s land that will probably be his.
Countries are drawn out on the map and resources are taken. Technoblade spends days down in caves and walking at a steady pace through the jungle, collecting as much as he can, making future plans in his head. Chat hums excitedly any second it seems that Techno could encounter someone to fight, but he stays busy and unbothered, moving through the terrain and eventually through oceans.
He takes a boat and sails through the water, setting his sights on what said to be a snowy, useless piece of land. There’s rumors that the mountains there hold more, and Technoblade intends to find it.
He’s not the only one who’s made his way there, though.
There’s a man standing in the snow there, almost as if he was waiting. Clean blond hair pulled into a ponytail, a small braid at the side of his head. A nice green coat with wings through the back, black feathers that seem to shimmer rainbow when Techno looks close enough. There’s rings on his fingers that look like they’re worth a lot, and there’s an earring that hangs at the side of his head, with two gems. Red, and yellow. He seems nice, not hostile, but Techno knows looks can be deceiving.
Phil is strange.
Techno doesn’t mean that in the way that he has wings on his back, that’s just cool. His feathers stand right out against the bright white snow, and Techno lets himself stare for a second, two, then moves on from the wings entirely, trying to not be rude.
The strange part of Phil is the way he talks . His voice, the grin he wears as he speaks.
He speaks so lightly, like his words could drift off with the wind and he wouldn’t mind at all. When he walks through the snow, he looks around as if he’s seen it a million times before, like it’s old news, but still something enjoyable.
When he grins at Technoblade, the smile feels warm, even with the cold chill around them, and his eyes are bright, too bright, a sharp blue that makes Techno wonder if he’s ever seen eyes like that before. He tries to think of eyes that could be similar, but the only thing that comes up is his own eyes, which he knows are a dull, deep red.
“Bet you’re here to explore, too.” Phil tells him, and Techno nods. “Anyone with you? Some people have gotten into groups by now.”
“I’m not much of a group person.” Techno shrugs, and it’s the truth. Every now and then, there’s a good ally who will stick, but not really stay around. It’s not a matter of him not wanting to get along with them. He’s just a bit awkward, and apparently that comes off scary, with the amount of kills he’s gotten.
“Oh? No allies yet, mate?” Phil asks, and Techno shrugs again.
There’s a tilt in that light voice, something Technoblade can’t catch, and one moment, Phil’s eyes are simple and blue, and the next, they seem to shift, looking at Technoblade in a new perspective. There’s the slightest shift in his expression, the smallest tell, and Techno feels as if Phil has figured something out. Phil looks at him as if he’s satisfied with what he’s figured out, and Techno doesn’t even know what the hell he’s figured out.
Techno doesn’t know what Phil looks at, he doesn’t know what he sees, and he’s not sure if he wants to know. The man in front of him feels both insignificant and important, and Technoblade’s words come up short when he tries to think on why. It’s as if he can’t describe Phil at all, and it brings a very unfamiliar feeling of fear crawling into his throat.
They agree to be allies, for the moment being, since their goals line up, and two heads are better than one. He shakes Phil’s hand, agreeing to the partnership, and Phil shakes back, a simple greeting, a normal introduction.
But when Phil walks ahead, looking up at the snowy mountain with interest, Technoblade spares a moment to stare at his own palm, trying to decipher what’s just happened. His skin feels heavy, and he feels like he’s agreed to something more, and it’s both suffocating and nonexistent at the same time.
Chat whispers theories about Phil being dangerous, being a possible threat, and Techno shuts it down so quickly that even he’s surprised. He feels like he can trust Phil, and he doesn’t know why. He feels like Phil is familiar, but he doesn’t know why .
There’s something at play, something Techno doesn’t have a clue about, and he would be annoyed, if it weren’t for the fact that something in him is telling him to not worry, and that it’s not bad. When Phil turns to him to ask what’s up, Techno waves it off, even though he wants to ask questions. He doesn’t know what to ask, though. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking about.
Chat insists that something is wrong, and paranoia creeps up, bitter and sharp. Something’s changed in the few minutes that he’s met Phil, and the voices in his head don’t like it. They demand to know why, they demand to know what’s changed, and Techno doesn’t have answers. He only has a feeling in his chest that everything will be alright, and that’s even more worrying, because if there’s one thing Techno is sure of, it’s that he’s nearly always overthinking something. How can he not, with overlapping voices in his head?
He resolves to just not shake hands with Phil again, and walks with him, the two of them traveling up the mountain, searching for what the rumors say might be hidden in stone.
They find a stronghold, a dusty old base that can be put to good use. Their voices echo when they climb down through the ice, words bouncing off the walls, circling around until it fades off into nothing. Techno tries to focus on Phil’s words in the air, tries to pick it apart, and he gets nothing. He only gets Phil’s laughter when he makes half-attempt jokes, and the laughter echoes around, fades away into the walls.
He likes the sound of it. It’s comforting.
The stone under his boots is frigid, and the air around them holds a heavy chill, sticking to his clothes and making him curl in on himself without meaning to. He runs naturally warm, which only makes the cold even more uncomfortable, but he can bear it if it’s in the name of a good base.
And it is a good base. The rooms hold potential, the snowy biome promises a good path to Technoblade conquering the world. His footsteps feel louder than usual as he walks along the paths, looking around at the mountain’s interior around them.
There’s a coat that gets placed onto his shoulders, heavy and warm, and his steps nearly falter when he turns his head to Phil.
Phil just smiles at him, his earring jingling just barely when he turns his head to look up at the icy walls once more, walking past Techno as if he never gave the coat at all.
The coat feels like it’s meant to be around Techno’s shoulders, meant to be placed there for his protection, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Chat is mixed up in his head, yelling and asking for blood, saying for him to go for the sword on his hip. They act like a scared cat, claws out, hissing at the man who’s done nothing but smile, give a coat, and be an ally.
Techno finds it surprisingly easy to simmer down the voices, and they all fall into a quiet hum at his command. That’s unusual.
But it’s not unwelcomed.
He goes to follow Phil, pulling at the coat over his shoulders.
---
World Domination goes well, for the most part. He works night and day relentlessly, gathering resources, building up weapons, bases, riches. He mines and mines and builds and trains and it pays off.
Him and Phil have created the Antarctic Empire.
It’s a catchy title, and while their snowy mountain is nothing of an empire yet, the name holds power all on it’s own. Techno likes it.
Phil is useful, doesn’t drag him down, but rather keeps his pace, and sometimes even outruns him. He’s creative, always tinkering, and sometimes, while Techno is walking through the halls late at night, he finds Phil curled over a new machine he’s working on.
Redstone was never something Techno liked to say he was good at, but it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s good at redstone, because what Phil’s doing is something far beyond that . He’s fairly sure the man has created his own type of technology at this point, and each new machine he makes, each new automated system that takes a load off Techno’s back, it only adds more respect for Phil in Techno’s head.
He’s not nearly as persistent as Techno, who works on and on with little break, but he’s still productive as hell, and with the two of them working on the mountain, it’s as if they have an army, rather than just two people who don’t know how to chill.
Techno’s adapted to the cold, by now. Phil’s taken care of that problem, weaving up new clothes in blue tints and shades. They’re warm, sturdy, and well made, and when Phil gives them over, it feels like it would be rude to decline, with how nice they look.
The blue adds a nice touch to being ‘Emperor of the empire’. It makes him look royal, and he’ll never pass down an opportunity for good style. Phil stays in charge of making their clothes, and Techno supplies wool, wood, anything Phil needs, as payment.
Even with everything that Phil does over the weeks though, with the long nights, the quiet, comforting conversations, chat really doesn’t like him.
The voices in Techno’s head seem to scatter and scream whenever Phil comes near, and Techno really doesn’t get why. He asks, he pokes around, but chat just insists that Phil’s dangerous, he can’t be trusted, Techno needs to kill him.
Technoblade just rolls his eyes each time.
A month passes. Two, three, and Phil becomes something Techno might consider a friend. A brother in arms, even. Phil’s always behind him, always there with either a coat, an extra sword, or even just a plate of food.
His grin that he gives to Techno becomes a familiar sight. His laughter is a common noise, and Techno feels content each time he gets Phil to wheeze at his small jokes, sarcastic remarks.
It’s only been a few months of grinding for resources, building, making a proper empire, but to Technoblade it feels like a lifetime. It feels like Phil has always been behind him, always been right there. Sometimes, it feels like Phil’s was always meant to be walking in pace with Techno, sometimes even going up ahead, and Techno will always run after, will always follow.
The voices are quiet, around Phil. The first few weeks, they wouldn’t shut up, but now it’s simmered down, into near silence, and it only draws for Techno to spend even more time around Phil. The voices can be useful sometimes, true. Sometimes they give him that motivation, that push to be exactly what the tales say, the Blood God. That’s his name, that’s his proper title, something to make people fear him.
But having a lifetime of talking in your head can get tiring. A lifetime of voices demanding a fight can wear down on you, and once Techno has a sliver of peace, he’s not willing to give it up. Sitting beside Phil at the fireplace, reading a book with the quiet calmness in the air, that’s something Techno will never give up.
It brings the never-ending question up. A question of having family, having someone to trust. For once, Techno doesn’t bother kicking the question away, instead just lets it linger, lets himself lean into Phil’s presence, and lets himself wonder.
He tells himself that maybe if things go right, he could think of Phil as family, but years from now. A long, long time from now, maybe then, Phil could be that.
What Techno doesn’t realize is that Phil is already family. Whether or not he’s noticed, it’s true.
Because Phil quietly declared him family the first minute they met.