Chapter Text
Two figures sat in the dark.
Forever destined to sit in the darkness, they held a lonely job that no one other than themselves could do. It was desolate, utterly so, to sit there and know that nothing would go on without them, and certainly everything would with them.
One figure sat on the left, one sat on the right. There was a table between them, with a ball of light that did nothing to brighten the room. They ran the balance of the universe, of the multiverse, of every single thing that had, is, or could be done.
It was a lonely job, but they did it.
The figure on the left sighed heavily. They’d been losing hope in the work that they did, but it came with the job. “What’s the point of this? To sit here, and monitor all these worlds that are never going to exist? To harvest seeds that were never planted in the first place?”
The figure on the right tilted their head. They held onto hope. “Love, of course. What else?”
“Love seems so pitiful when it so very rarely wins.” The one on the left mused. “Why put so much weight into something that isn’t even worth it?”
“It certainly seems worth it.” The one on the right stated, then shrugged. “We’ve got nothing better to do, why don’t we debate? I love a good argument. Makes me get creative.”
The figure on the left smiled. “Argument, huh? I always win those.”
The figure on the right grinned, and for a second, there wasn’t a difference between the two. “We’ll see who wins. Do you want to go first, or shall I? Picking from the multiverse, I assume, only Soulmates?”
“I’ll go first.” The figure on the left stood up to hunch over the table and the ball of light, humming as they did so. “This one looks promising, heartbreakingly so. Are you familiar with Technoblade?”
The one on the right furrowed their brows. “Not as much as Tommy, but yeah. Why?”
“He’s in for a bumpy ride. Don’t get attached to anyone,” The figure on the left chuckled, grasping a thread of light from the ball and yanking it out. The two of the figures huddled around it, and it’s there that this first story begins.
_
Life was tough as the god of war.
I mean, it was rough, to live out your days with everyone waiting on you for fear of your blade, to have everyone at your beck and call, to know that you were better than everyone, bested by none.
Okay. Maybe it wasn’t awful, but it could get lonely every once in a millenia. No one else around but the other gods, who all had their hesitations with dealing alongside Technoblade, and for good reason. He wasn’t known for his cooperation. But still, it led to lonely days that bled into lonely battles, that led to lonely nights spent wrapping bandages and sipping on cold stew.
Phil distracted Technoblade from the loneliness for a while, until he found a life that he could call his own and turned from immortality. After that, the years flashed by too quickly for Technoblade’s liking.
After all, he’d always thought it was Phil that would finally give meaning to the soulmark on his shoulder- the petals of a carnation, stained various shades of purple and etched so deep into his skin that it stayed on after the routine scrubbing of blood from his skin.
Technoblade awaited the day he’d meet his soulmate eagerly. Or at least, he did as a young god. As he got older and more weathered by strife, though, it only turned to dread. What if each person he cut down was secretly his soulmate, what if they’d never meet because Technoblade was too loose with his sword?
He tended not to dwell on the what ifs.
Technoblade dealt with cold, hard facts- and one of those was that his life was more bearable once Wilbur came into it.
The sun shined a little brighter, the urge to kill faded, and happiness seemed a little more in reach. Technoblade was nearly there, but one thing ruined everything.
Wilbur was not a god. He was a demigod, with lengthened life, sure, but not immortal- and every day they spent laughing together was a reminder that one day they wouldn’t be able to. It hurt, but still some part of Technoblade hoped that they were soulmates. Wilbur was easy to talk to, and after all, Technoblade needed someone to listen.
They got along better than Technoblade did with any of the pantheons, but they never discussed marks. Wilbur talked about a nation he wanted to make like any young adult would, and Technoblade talked of old legends while hiding his true age, but they never spoke about how maybe the universe had destined them to become friends.
He dismissed it after a while, for surely no being would be cruel enough to bond an immortal with a mortal, and for a few years, they drifted. Each moment was spent in longing for the other, and Technoblade knew that their friendship was one he wouldn’t forget.
They exchanged letters occasionally, although Technoblade didn’t have an address that was easy access, but they left details out.
Which was why the first time they reunited after years was on a battlefield.
Wilbur was on one side with other members of his nation, and on the other was a person that Technoblade knew well. Dream, a minor god, stood with the ones that he trusted, which were few and far between.
“Technoblade?”
The names echoed from either side of the war-torn path, and he knew that this wasn’t the first time this standoff had happened, just the first time someone intervened.
They couldn’t speak more, for the first shots were fired, but Technoblade kept one eye on Wilbur, which was why after a particularly close call, he forced a time to talk.
A spot of red- he could see red underneath the cloak that Wilbur had taken to wearing. A rip in it allowed Technoblade to see red on Wilbur’s arm.
“You’re bleeding, Wilbur,” Techno said, his voices circling around his head and calling for vengeance. “Hold on, slow down, we need to bandage you up-”
Wilbur smiled, but it was tense. “I’m not bleeding,”
“Yes you are,” Technoblade insisted. “Don’t make me tackle an injured man, Wil, let me look at your arm.”
It must’ve been the stress, but Wilbur snapped. “It’s not fucking blood, Techno. It’s my stupid soulmark.” He ripped up the sleeve of his jacket and the layers that were underneath.
At first, Technoblade thought he had been hit by an arrow, but it was just the air leaving his lungs. On Wilbur’s forearm, there was a branch of amaranth, the deep red staining his arm. It was in the same style as his carnation, and before he knew it he was rolling up his sleeves to show it.
It was almost poetic. Finding soulmates, finding love, in the midst of a battle that was taking lives mercilessly. Technoblade wasn’t thinking about that, though. He was thinking about Wilbur, it was always Wilbur, his brother not in blood but by fate. Wilbur, who he’d spent countless days in a field forgetting about the bloodshed, Wilbur, who he’d laughed with like he wasn’t a monster that parents warned their kids about. Wilbur, who had helped Technoblade see that he deserved a life too, even though he’d taken too many count.
Wilbur, who’d shown him what it was like to be utterly human, to know something other than cold immortality.
And Wilbur found that he didn’t hate his soulmark as much anymore if Technoblade was the one it belonged to.
In the midst of wind and ash, they found a moment of calm.
Then it all sped up- and an arrow sped towards Wilbur’s chest. It was ironic, so ironic- Technoblade, the deity, with eons of time and no way to spend it. Wilbur, mortal, with a ticking clock that was his life. Technoblade would have done anything to give Wilbur more time, but it was all out.
Technoblade cradled Wilbur’s head as he bled out on a battlefield, a death that he knew all too well but never would have wished on his soulmate.
As soon as he’d gotten a taste of utter humanity, it was taken from him.
He didn’t recognize the feral scream that came out of his mouth, the pain that seeped into his war cry. It hurt more than any other wound he could have sustained, it hurt more than a sword through his chest. He had lost a part of himself, and with it, his hope for a future.
Technoblade forced himself to step away from Wilbur’s body, still warm to the touch, and didn’t hold back his voices anymore. They were calling for blood, and on Wilbur’s honor, they’d have it.
-
The figure on the right frowned. “That’s it? That’s where it ends?”
“For now.” The figure on the left shrugged. “You want me to tell you a little more?”
“Duh,” Right said. “You cut it off halfway, what happened to Techno?”
Left laughed harshly. “Well, long story short, he went feral. He goes wild, and the only person who could have stopped him was Phil, who poetically had given up his immortality for love a long time before and had died.”
“Then why didn’t Techno do that if he felt like Wilbur and him were brothers?” Right argued. “That’s a shitty story.”
“Watch your language, and you didn’t let me finish! And also, it’s not a story, it’s an alternate timeline . Anyway, the Pantheon decided that Technoblade was unfit for godship, so his powers were revoked and he lived as he could for ten years, until his outlandishness and unwavering commitment to killing Dream put him on the Pantheon hitlist.”
Right frowned still. “I still say it’s a bad one, but it doesn't make me lose faith in love, per se. Wait, who killed him then? Someone from the Pantheon?”
Left nodded once. “Not bad enough? Ah, well. I’d have to look, but I think it’s actually Skeppy who killed him. I dunno why- might have been ‘cause he wanted Technoblade to see a friendly face before he died, since he hadn’t seen that many in his years since falling from godship. Not since Wilbur died and Tommy had to put him in the ground.”
While Left remained rigid, Right lounged back and put their legs up on the table. “Man. That’s deep.”
“Get your feet down.” Left snapped. “You clearly aren’t taking this seriously. What’s your challenge to mine, then? Got something soft and mushy for me?”
Right stood up, making a point of taking their feet down before. “As a matter of fact, I’ve got something that might make even your heart warm up a little.”
Left snorted uncharacteristically. “What?”
“Well now, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?” Right asked smugly, digging into the ball of light. “Alright, Buckle up. You’re in for a wild ride.”