Chapter Text
They met months before war was set to start. In some small bar, filled with people called in a draft to fight, sat two men who didn’t know each other yet.
One smiled at the other, all white teeth and city energy as he introduced himself. Philza Craft, who had always wanted to join the guard and had shown enough promise for them to train him. He was an excellent fighter and, as it would turn out, an even better friend.
The other man had introduced himself as Technoblade. A man from the furthest farms in the kingdom. Never formally taught how to fight, but the one who had to face the brunt of the hatred and fighting from the outskirts of the other cities. A young fighter that had blossomed into the greatest fighter the Empire has ever seen.
That night, in a dingy bar surrounded by men antsy for an incoming war, men who thought having another drink would make them forget the fate of their empire, something started. A friendship that lived through loyalty and trust.
They were raised on different ideals, but neither held the other to the way they were taught. Philza didn’t mind Technoblade’s silence, and Technoblade didn’t mind the way Philza talked. Technoblade let Philza talk to the higher-ups and Philza let Technoblade handle their rations.
On one late night, with the two of them huddled in a tent not meant to hold two, they spoke quietly.
“You can call me Phil. You don’t need to call me my full name all the time. All my friends call me Phil.”
Technoblade didn’t mention how none of the other soldiers called him Phil, instead responding, “Techno.”
Phil had smiled, repeating his name softly to the sky. “Nice to meet you,” he had laughed.
Techno found himself chuckling along.
Fighting started not long after. War had started months previously, when the first letter from Manberg arrived declaring it. Fighting, combat, had not started until now, with swords clashing and every man trying desperately to convince the other army to fall back.
Techno had rushed them, pushing the beginning of the forces off easily with Phil at his side. The two of them had trained together forever, since that night they met, and now Phil was as efficient as Techno was, cutting down people with as much deadly precision as a man who had been fighting his entire life.
A man went to strike Phil’s back and Techno was there, parrying it with a deadly look in his eye. He kicked the man back, easily running his sword through the man’s stomach as he stumbled back.
Someone went for Techno’s back and Phil was there, blocking it harshly before using his speed to jump out of the way of the man’s next attack, stabbing the man in the leg and stabbing his neck through with his own sword.
Manberg retreated. Blood caked the battlefield. It was the first fight of many.
Battle plans were made, Techno the mastermind. Scouts found Manberg camps. They marched through the night to take one by ambush, they watched as the unprepared soldiers ran. Some weren’t even wearing pants as they disappeared into the dark forest around the clearing.
The next fight was months later, when Techno and a handful of other men - and Phil, always with Phil - got moved closer to one of the Empire’s rivers. It was hopeful that they would find a camp and lead another successful ambush, but Manberg’s forces were prepared when they got there.
The Antarctic Empire’s small battalion was forced to retreat, Techno ruthlessly cutting down five men before he followed his troops into the woods. Phil, with the blood of only one staining his clothing, smiled at him with his milk glass teeth.
They got ambushed two weeks later. They were unprepared, but Techno slept with one eye open and a sword next to his bed. Phil, sleeping peacefully, only woke to the screams of the soldiers fighting for their life against Techno.
Manberg retreated, too assured in their victory to allow more than a small group to go fight. Their ego blocked their vision and Techno saw error in their ways and set to not make the same error. He looked towards Phil, smiled and nodded at the man.
Phil nodded back, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
A few nights later, a man was revealed to be a spy. Phil asked for trial, for definitive proof. The soldier, someone who scouted for them yet consistently came back with nothing choked on his own blood when Techno stabbed him through. Cold eyes stared at a dead traitor only to look up at Phil. Phil, who watched the man with sad eyes.
That night, Phil asked, quietly, “did you need to kill that man?”
The answer was no. There wasn’t need to do anything. They could’ve cast that man out. They could’ve exiled him, could’ve imprisoned him. They could’ve sent him back to the capitol or to Manberg. Instead, blood was spilled. Techno was the one who caused that.
Techno closed his eyes, he didn’t answer. He didn’t want to admit fault, even if both him and Phil knew it was his weight to carry.
They didn’t speak of it again. War wasn’t made for reminiscing on the mistakes you made.
There was a quietness now, at the end of each battle. There was a hesitant glance at Phil, his best friend, the closest thing he has to family. There is a guilt that settles deep in his gut as he notices the guilt in Phil’s eyes, the sorrow.
He acts as a man who is no longer prepared for war, like a man who doesn’t want to fight any longer.
Techno’s gut twists as blood flows through his lungs, singing of victory and valor. Honor earned.
Another battle, with more fallen soldiers than soldiers slain. It was a victory for the Antarctic Empire, but only in the most literal definition of the word. Manberg retreated, but their loss was less than the Empire’s.
A few weeks later, sighing tiredly, sitting on his bed roll, Phil asks, “are you tired of this war too, Techno? I feel as if it just started and already I’m older than I should be.”
Techno relishes in the fighting. He grew up with little more than a dying farm and the respect he earned as a fighter. He has to fight, he has to win. There is no other choice for him, as the opposite of war is peace and peace is such a foreign concept that he cannot begin to understand it. He doesn’t think he will ever understand it.
“War is tiring,” he responds, because even if it is not the war he is tired of, he can feel heaviness in his bones. An unease is born in the way he doesn’t know if he can trust his body to do the same things Phil does, to show the same mercy Phil does.
Days begin to blur together, just a little. Every moment he spends with Phil he can remember in clarity, with a smile or a heavy guilt. Every moment alone feels the same, though. His fellow soldiers nod at him with respect and all he can think of is the village back where he’s from, of all the adults that watched as a kid joined the fighting out of necessity.
More fights pass, they win them all. Manberg, apparently, has never trained their fighters properly. All of them are sloppy, with unsure stances or incorrect positions. They are weak in their attacks and their defense lacks the propriety needed to keep a nation safe.
Phil smiles at him one night, with kind eyes. Eyes that spoke of friendship, of a war that has lasted over a year. It’s coming to a close, Techno realizes. The war will be won eventually, soon if they keep up this winning streak.
Phil will go back to the city and Techno back to a farm a few weeks away from the castle. Phil will work with the guard, as is his dream. Techno will… he doesn’t know. If they win this war, will there still be fights along the border? Will Techno begin to wander aimlessly, always looking for a fight like a broken man?
He wants that for Phil, doesn’t he? For Phil to go back to his home to live life as he was meant to?
One quiet night, he asks, “Phil, what are you going to do once war ends?”
Phil laughs a little, more of a soft chuckle, “once the war ends? That thought feels so far away, even if it might be coming up soon. Huh, well… I’d like to own my own house. Even if it isn’t a house and turns out to just be, like, an apartment or something, I’d still like to be able to say I own my own place.”
There’s a pause.
“I’d like to meet someone and settle down. I’ve always wanted kids, you know? One or two, running around and causing me worry.”
“They’ll age you more than the war does,” Techno jokes, Phil laughing.
“What about you?” Phil asks. Techno knew this question would come and yet it still makes his heart pump a little harder. The answer is he doesn’t know. He needs an answer and he doesn’t know.
“Maybe… run a fighting school.”
“Aw, mate. Always fighting, fighting, fighting. Do you ever want to retire?”
Techno laughs in lieu of answering. He can feel Phil’s gaze on him, heavy. Something like guilt, but so much worse, fills him. Something anticipatory but unwilling of the change it feels is coming.
Techno is unwilling of the change he feels is coming.
The final battle comes. The battle that will decide victory for the Antarctic Empire or will prolong the fighting more. The war has been nearly two years now, long enough for Techno to never want to leave Phil’s side but short enough for him to acknowledge that he will have to when this is all over.
They get sent horses. A note, from the queen, reads of a new station for them. It mentions a battle that the queen says will determine if they win the war or not. They start traveling, keeping their slowest walkers on the horses as they move.
One horse, moody and unwilling to let anyone ride him, stands out. He’s chestnut with white stockings and blaze, beautiful if not for such a vile personality. Techno is handed the responsibility of walking with the horse, as the others are too scared of getting kicked or getting run over by him.
He names the horse Carl. He begins to toy with the idea of becoming a horse breeder, before Carl bites him. Techno doesn’t really want to raise horses, even if he would be happy with one or two of them.
Phil smiles at him whenever he sees Techno with the horse. He jokes that Techno is fighting this war just to protect the horse and Techno says that Phil is just fighting this war so that he doesn’t have to become a shoe maker like his dad. They share a laugh and Techno feels something unfurl in his gut.
When the final battle starts, the horse riders ride in first to cut down all that they can. So far, Manberg hasn’t had any horses and they're hoping they still won’t now. Luckily, pulling up to the battlefield, they don’t. Unluckily, they have managed to almost double their normal soldier number.
Techno rides in on Carl, who is still moody and mean as can be. He cuts down at least twenty soldiers, watching them fall with emotionless eyes. He doesn’t care, he can’t care. This is war and this is what he has been doing since he was a child.
Phil is one of the foot soldiers, unwilling to take a horse from some of the fighters who feel more comfortable sitting on top one. He runs in after the horses, killing those left. One almost stabs Phil in the back, but Techno bowls them down with Carl before they can even start the downward swing.
“Watch your backs!” Techno yells, mostly to Phil. His soldier, the soldiers he has spent nearly two years with, still take his word to the heart as they become hypervigilant. Phil, from where he stands fighting on the ground, smiles back at Techno, some mirth in his eyes.
Halfway through the fight, two men ambush Techno. They crowd around him, the two of them coming forward to take down Carl. A spike of fear strikes him. Something in him begs at the loss of Carl, that it would rather give up than have to fight if it meant losing Carl.
He ignores it, striking out at one and missing. Phil rushes in, stabbing through the crowd with little success. One of the men nicks Carl, causing the horse to rear back. Techno falls, landing on one of Manberg’s soldiers.
He watches, with wide eyes as Carl gets stabbed through the heart.
He thinks he might be screaming, people normally scream when this happens, but… everything goes silent. His throat feels clogged and his eyes get locked in their wide, panicked shape as he scrambles up.
Phil stabs a man.
Someone pushes Techno from behind.
Carl falls, all scared neighing and angry eyes.
There’s a weight in Techno’s hand. There’s a weight in his heart, too, but you can’t stab someone with grief. You can shout and scream but Phil was always the talker and Techno was always the planner.
Techno stabs one of the soldiers through the stomach, hearing them scream. It feels like a fire under his skin, like poison in his veins. It feels like justice, like vengeance. It feels like seeing a dull, rusted sword hidden in the bushes around your village. It feels like seeing the gleaming silver beneath.
Another Manberg soldier goes down. Another and another, until the battle is guaranteed and Manberg soldiers are calling a surrender. Even then, Techno can see Carl’s body laid on the ground, in the same position he fell in. He isn’t breathing anymore.
Techno falls to his knees, staring intently at his horse. His horse, because Carl couldn’t stand anyone else. His horse, because Carl had chosen him.
A hand falls on his shoulder. He turns, the sun blazing above him, seeing Phil’s shadow and the shadow of something behind him. Something that moves, up and down, growing large and small at different moments.
“Techno, mate?” Phil asks, and Techno assumes that shadow must be just some of the other surviving soldiers.
“Phil-,” Techno chokes out, tears threatening to leak from his eyes. He blinks, looking down at the ground.
There is blood there, but Techno would be surprised if he looked down and didn’t see any. The battle field had been filled with bloodshed. Techno’s clothes had been filled with bloodshed, with red liquid that felt horrid to the touch and yet so good, like victory.
Techno breathes in. Phil smiles down at him. The shape behind him moves again, disappearing behind his back. Techno stands up and pulls Phil in for a hug, laying his hands against his back and feeling-
“Heh? Phil, you have wings!”
Phil turns around fully, as if expecting to see them.
“No, no,” Techno says, putting a hand onto the wings. They puff up at the contact.
Phil turns his head this time, his back towards Techno, and sees them.
Large, sleek black feathers. Wings, undeniably.
“Huh.”
Worthy, the wings scream. Chosen, worthy.
Part of Techno screams that he’s worthy too, he was chosen too. Carl chose him, Phil chose him. He fought in this war, too. Does he not deserve wings? His back remains bare, though, and he knew that Phil was different from the beginning, didn’t he?
He knew Phil, with his kind smiles and peaceful heart, was special. Phil had wanted the war to end, he wants to settle down and have kids, he wants to protect people. Techno stands behind Phil, staring into the man’s sky blue eyes, watching as the man ogles his wings with something akin to surprise. Phil, who has always been perfect.
“Phil,” Techno starts, his voice dying halfway through. He doesn’t have any words, he isn’t sure there even are any words.
Phil is special, Phil is worthy, and Techno is not. He has known he is not worthy since the beginning. He shouldn’t feel so hurt and yet his heart aches, begging for the universe to send him something too, for the universe to choose him too. That way, maybe, he could keep his friend.
“Techno,” Phil breathes out, sounding utterly amazed. “They’re beautiful.”
They are, which might be the worst part. They seem to be crows wings, all black with a little bit of blue reflecting off of them. They’re large, huge enough Techno is sure Phil will be able to fly with them. They’re sickeningly beautiful when Techno doesn’t have his own to show off.
“I think I know what you’re going to do after the war,” Techno says, tone aiming for light and joking but landing somewhere almost sorrowful.
“What?” Phil asks.
“You’re gonna fly.”
He looks amazed, like he hadn’t even yet thought of it. Too caught up in the sudden appearance of wings. “You think?”
Techno nods, not trusting himself to speak with the way emotions clog his throat up. He turns, looking away from Phil, and at the bloody field that surrounds him.
“Am I going to have to tell the queen?” asks Phil, absentmindedly.
Techno nods again, still staring resolutely away.
The blood on the ground swallows the light of the sun, takes in the beams and denies them exit. Techno feels like Phil is the sun and he is the blood. Techno takes up Phil’s light, his shine, his beauty and grace and brilliance. He makes Phil look dull, makes Phil overlooked and misjudged.
Now, though, Phil has enough proof of his worthiness that Techno is barely dirt beneath his heel. Now, people will know that of their duo, Phil was always the better. Phil was always the shining city boy and Techno the broken farm boy.
“Hey, Phil,” Techno starts, looking back at the man. His eyes are glassy, he’s sure, but whenever he loses his friend - when, not if, because it is a certainty - he needs Phil to know he will be missed. “Remember me when you’re king.”
Phil shoves his shoulder, laughing light and airy. “Hush, mate. The queen won’t like some commoner like me. I mean, have you seen-.”
“Phil, really, I think you’re selling yourself short here.”
“What? Mate, really, I-.”
“You’re gonna steal her heart and-.”
“Like a thief! Techno, really, don’t be so-.”
“I’ll be left in the dust like some old farmer-.”
“I would never-.”
Techno laughs, and Phil does too.
There is an unclear future and a burning guilt and anticipation mix churning in his gut but he looks at Phil, the man’s eyes closed as he laughs, and thinks that for now he can enjoy this. For now this is his and Phil is his friend and the world slots itself comfortably next to him, shoving him lightly as he jokes about how Phil is going to have three kids, all with dirty blond hair and blue eyes.