Archive of Our Own

Techno never cared for people—well, okay, maybe never is a bit of an overstatement, but the idea remains. He only cares about himself and Phil. No one else. Yep. Just himself and Philza. Absolutely no one else. He had learned a long time ago that caring about anyone else besides his fellow immortals was a pointless endeavour that only seemed to end in heartbreak and tragedy. He had sought vengeance for those who he once loved that had fallen far too many times to count. Had fought wars for those lives lost to the point of exhaustion. He had to watch his own brothers die and couldn’t find it in him to feel anything. He simply couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

Now, as his neighbour has a sword held to his neck in a clear threat he thinks he might care for another.

“Sam, just listen— we can talk this through-“

“Tell Dream to come back or I-“ he tightened his grip around Ranboo’s hair, twisting the strands around each other painfully as he pressed the sword deeper into Ranboo’s neck as the teen let out a distressed warble, he watched as a single stream of dark, almost black-purple, rolled down his neck. “Or I kill him.”

The voices are screaming at him.

They beg him to save Ranboo, whispering to kill Sam where he dares stand. To paint the world red with the blood of all those that had dared to even think of threatening this innocent life. He shakes it off as he’s done many times before.

Techno raised his arms in a defensive manner, taking a few slow steps toward the two. “Listen, Dream doesn’t care about Ranboo, he doesn’t care about anyone.” He hesitates when he hears a soft whimper, a gentle cry of fear and pain. He looks down to make semi-eye contact with Ranboo. The kid is shaking like a leaf and has unshed tears lining his eyes. His voice catches in his throat when he tries to speak again. But Ranboo had to know. He has to. “You have the wrong hostage, Dream doesn’t care. I care!”

He is barely able to get the words that condemn him out of his mouth before the sound of metal scraping bone and the ever loud ‘squelch’ of muscle and tissues being torn apart echoes in the area.

The entire world goes still for a moment, no one moves a muscle, even the voices that constantly scream at him seem to go silent as only his own heartbeat begins to ring in his ears. Ranboo’s chest flutters with uneven breaths as his eyes widen significantly. A few tears fall, sizzling as they do. This is the first time Ranboo has ever cried. Then his body drops with a loud thud into the soft grass below him, and Sam smiles as Ranboo lays still in the dirt choking on his own breath, his blood beginning to spread out in the wet earth below, staining it ever darker. There is a moment more of pure stillness before red fully encompasses his vision, the voices grabbing a hold over his actions.

He barely registers taking his axe from its holding at his side, the axe that Ranboo had specially gifted him, and charges. Only when he does that does Sam finally look afraid. He had missed being feared. He, or rather the voices, had missed the way grown men who knew war would flee from him at the first show of his wrath.

He watches almost in a daze as Sam raises his shield to barely deflect Technoblades swing, being knocked over for his troubles and scrambling for purchase in the wet sand below him where the water meets the land. He is laughing a bit nervously as Techno continues to approach, still silent as the voices continue to scream for blood. For vengeance.

He craves the feeling of taking a life but holds himself back for a moment, instead, he crouches next to where Ranboo lays and gently takes him into his arms, supporting his neck by cupping it in his hands. The boy is gasping and making choking noises as he is carefully manoeuvred so he can rest in Techno’s arms a bit more comfortably. The red fades from his vision as the voices coo at the teen, words of comfort he wouldn’t hear. No one approaches the two as Techno kneels, either too afraid to try anything or simply out of respect. Either way, he doesn’t care, just as long as he can have these moments alone with Ranboo.

“Tech-

“Shh, save your strength. I’m right here.” He whispers, brushing back some of the hair that hangs in Ranboo’s eyes. He sees the tears now rolling freely down his cheeks, leaving burn marks in their wake. He knows it would be pointless to stop them so he simply allows Ranboo to cry for the first time in his life. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice gets caught in his throat, blocked by something he cannot place a name to. He brings Ranboo’s face up to his and rests his forehead on the teen’s who pushes back weakly, understanding the sentiment behind the action.

He now wishes he had been more prepared, that he had thought of something like this happening, that he had the foresight to grab a few potions of healing. He sees Sam getting up shakily in the corner of his vision and watches as he starts running but he doesn’t stop the other. He would give the man a head start before he hunted him down so he would understand his fury, his rage. For now, he would sit here in the mud and dirt and hold the teen he had grown to care about.

“Techno- I don’t—I’m not ready to-” he coughs and a stream of blood begins to roll down his chin. A hand raises from where it had been placed on his chest and Techno reaches his own hand out and holds onto Ranboo, tightly squeezing the other as he speaks. “I have so much left to do. I-”

“I know. I know. It’s alright. You can let go, it’s okay now. I’ll be here when you wake, just rest now.”

Ranboo’s eyes flutter as he begins to fade, his breathing getting more ragged as time passes. He raises the other hand that had been on his chest, something held between his fingers. The hand that lands on his chest is so covered in blood that he cannot see the white skin below. The paper is just as blood-stained and tattered. Ranboo smiles a bit, it’s strained and hurts to even look at as he whispers his next words as clear as day. “Protect him.”

When Techno reaches up to hold the hand on his chest it falls limp, all the strength in it faded as the light leaves Ranboo’s eyes. He leans down to once again rest their foreheads together. “I will, I promise.” He doesn’t know who he had promised to protect but he will.

For Ranboo.

He pockets the paper quickly.

Bad is the first to try and rush him once Ranboo is gone and is only stopped when Technoblades sword cuts up and nearly straight through his shoulder, tearing ligaments and muscle but not deep enough to completely sever the limb. Bad would be left with that pain for a long time, he is screaming as he falls to the ground holding onto his now bleeding shoulder as his arm begins to twitch. Technoblade is careful and slow as he reaches up to his cloak, unclasping it and letting it slide down his back as the people surrounding him debate on what to do.

He closes Ranboo’s eyes first, passing a hand over them carefully then reaches back to grab his cloak with one hand, still holding up Ranboo as he drapes the deep crimson cloak over his lifeless form. He gathers the teen in his arms and stands up as Bad continues to writhe on the ground. He faces the crowd with a blank gaze that screams of his fury.

“If anyone else wants to try and stop me then by all means please do,” he adjusts his hold and begins to walk towards where he left Carl. He knows Dream ran, he is most likely waiting in the Nether for Technoblade to get there, but he can wait for a bit more. “But I am tired, so I’m going to be returning home now.”

As he walks no one makes a move to stop him, some even moving away from his path. Smart, he thinks to himself as he makes his way over to Carl, the brown stallion nickering a few times as he approaches. He struggles for a moment to get into the saddle but he finds a way still and before he knows it he is off riding along the river to the portal.

The transition from neutral temperature to the scalding heat of the Nether and the biting and frigid cold of the arctic was always one that caused his skin to crawl and made his blood freeze over. Today that feeling seems to have tripled as he begins to shiver. He decides to chalk it up to his lack of proper protection against the weather and moves on.

Dream had been waiting for him when he got to his territory. He's still standing there in knee-deep snow as Technoblade leaves the portal. That stupid smile still as dark as the day it had first been painted. It caused a bit of rage to begin to bubble under his skin. There are no words exchanged between them as they set off to where Techno’s home lies hidden away in the snow. He pulls Ranboo’s body closer to himself as they walk. His head resting against Techno’s shoulder feels too heavy.

Phil and Niki were there waiting for them and watched from the bridge between their homes as Techno and Dream rode up to the property. After they had set off the distraction they had ridden ahead home to prepare things for Ranboo’s safe return.

Techno supposes that won’t be necessary anymore.

When the blond spots them standing out in the snow his onyx wings seem to perk up as he runs down the steps to meet them in the cold. Niki follows shortly after their footsteps halt once Techno comes into full view. Phil sees his son's eyes first. The pure exhaustion and barely restrained fury. (He knew the other far too well by now to not take notice of the other emotions swirling in those emerald pools but he wouldn’t point it out. Not now.) He notices Techno’s cloak next and his breath hitches in his chest. Niki seems to realize as well and a hand raises to cover her mouth as she drops to the ground in horror and grief.

A part of Phil already knew what lay under that red-as-blood cape but he didn’t truly want to know the answer.

He swallows between the sudden lump in his throat as he opens his mouth and asks a question he already knew the answer to.

“Ranboo?”

Technoblade nods solemnly and Phil sees the tears left unshed in the other’s eyes as he lets a few of his own fall. He wastes no time in rushing over to help Techno get down from Carl and bundling Ranboo’s body down in the snow, clapping both his hands together before he places one over Ranboo’s closed eyes and begins to mumble out a prayer to Kristen as Technoblade and Dream stand off to the side. Niki cries into the snow, screaming.

“You know that's kinda unnecessary, right?” Dream scoffs finally. Phil ignores him continuing his blessing but Techno was not about to let it slide so easily.

“What the fuck did you just say?” He growls out as Phil keeps mumbling. Dream turns so that his mask of porcelain is facing Technoblade. He knows that the blond is smiling just as wide under the mask.

“I mean really, was he truly this important to necessitate an entire blessing? And from the Angel himself?!” He lets out a loud cackle as Techno feels the voices bubble under his skin. “Really, just a shame to have lost another puppet.”

His vision goes red for the second time that night, he doesn’t understand the flurry of movement and sound until he feels an arm grasping his bicep that he comes back to himself.

“-and he was more important to me than you could ever understand!” Someone screams and he realises belatedly that it’s him. His hands tighten around Dreams' green hoodie as he grits his teeth, the man clawing at his hands as he hovers just above the snow. He ignores the sting in his hands where claws had cut as he drops the man back to the snow, watching as he crumpled and begins to cough in the cold snow.

“Give me back my armour and get off my land.” He sneers, turning his back on the blond now sitting up a bit in the snow as he makes his way back to where Ranboo’s body still lay.

“Tech-”

“Get the fuck off my territory!” He snaps, turning back to Dream with a flourish of his cloak as the voices scream at him for the masked man's blood to spill over the pure snow and stain it crimson. “I fulfilled my favour and owe you nothing. If you don’t leave now, I’ll kill you!” He snarls out as he glares darkly down at Dream as his hands fumbled with the straps of the borrowed armour. “And I’ll kill you if I ever see that smile ever again.” He watches as Dream runs off his property and into the winter wastland beyond.

Only when he no longer sees the bright green hoodie does he relax, allowing his shoulders to slump as he feels the exhaustion roll over him. He feels the presence of Phil before the wing as black as coal rests over his tired shoulders. He sighs as he feels Phil’s hand reach out to hold his hand. He squeezes back as his eyes look out over the white expanse of the tundra. The wind blows through him and he shivers.

“I know,” Phil says, rubbing his thumb over the back of Techno’s hand, the wing over him acting as a temporary cloak. “I know. This hurt never really leaves us, we must carry it on for eternity.”

His breath shutters in his chest but he quickly shuts it down. “Why? Why must we bear it?” Phil is silent for a moment as the silence of the world passes over them. A moment of peace before they would commence with the funeral rites and Technoblade would go out in search of his vengeance.

“I don’t know.” That is enough of an answer for him.

Niki stands after a beat of silence, wiping her face of snot and tears before walking away from the scene towards Ranboo's cold and now abandoned house. Phil had gone out shortly to prepare some wood for the fire. He left Techno to fully prepare for the funeral. He gathered together all the necessary parts of the process.

By the time he got back outside with everything, Phil was setting the pyre up. Stacking wood so Ranboo could lay on it. His body laid beside the stack of wood, a few of the silken clothes he wore, a staple of his enderian origins, were wrapped around him. A pale purple around his chest, covering the wound and tied properly with similarly pale green covering parts where the purple couldn’t reach. A single strip of black silk covered his eyes. Techno trusted Phil with this part, the elytran knew more about Ranboo’s culture than he did and would know the proper attire for a funeral.

Techno walked up slowly, with the bag full of gold. He had made most of it with the intention of gifting it to Ranboo. He never got the chance, so he supposes that giving it in death would be enough.

He places rings about Ranboo’s fingers, golden bangles around his wrists. Every ceremonial piece of precious shimmering gold anywhere it would fit. He no longer had his crown, Sam had stolen that away as well. But Techno would get it back, maybe leave it at Ranboo’s grave once he is properly buried. Until then, the golden jewelry would be enough.

Once Ranboo was covered adequately enough Techno pulled out his knife and pressed the blade into his palm. A small spring of blood bloomed forth and he pressed his fingers to it.

He took his blood-covered fingers and pressed them gently to Ranboo’s forehead, hesitating for a moment. He almost wanted to paint his own gods’ symbol but he knew how that would be disrespectful and something Ranboo wouldn’t want. (A war gods symbol on a peaceful person would be a bad omen of some kind. Ranboo would have hated it.) So, he sucked it up and drew the symbol of Prime with careful fingers so he wouldn’t mess up his disciple’s patron goddess.

When that was complete he almost felt empty. He wanted Ranboo to sit up and ask what the occasion was for with all the finery he was wrapped in. He wanted the teen to tell him it was okay, that it was all a joke.

But he didn’t.

Now he never would.

Techno would never again get to laugh at all of Ranboo’s jokes, never hear that laugh again.

He huffed out a heavy breath as he knelt beside the pyre, Phil would be out with the incense and flint to light it soon. He took the moment he had to clasp his hands together and send out a prayer to Kristen. He closed his eyes and began to mutter.

“Hey mom, been a while. I know you haven’t done favours for a long time but I need this from you.” He placed a hand against the wood, harsh and dry, and leaned forward to whisper. “Please take care of him. Treat him kindly. I know you don’t have much power over this. But please, please, take special care with him.” He fought back the sting in his eyes as the snow crunched behind him. A hand placed on his shoulder lets him know who's there.

“She will. I know she liked him.” He nods and gets up with a shaky breath. “You ready?” Phil asks him as he gets to his feet. He nods once as Phil holds out the flint to him. He hesitates before taking it in his hand. “He would want you to do it, have the honour that is.”

He lights it quickly, a final apology lingering on his tongue that he would never say aloud. An apology for ever letting this happen that would be pointless to say now of all times. So, he stood by as the pyre was set upon by the flames, as they began to lick at Ranboo’s body. The incense lets a lingering scent of lavender through the air. Niki stays for a moment, all of them taking their time to mourn silently but she leaves shortly after. He rests his hand on his chest, feeling the familiar crumpling of paper from his shirt pocket. He startles a bit but reaches in and pulls out the blood-soaked parchment.

The paper in his hand is crusted over in rusty purple dried blood but through that he can see the subject of the picture. A small child that looked almost like him apart from the half-skeletal face, and a more piglin look about him despite the lack of tusks and lack of the long pink hair Techno had. In the background is a portrait with two familiar figures.

“Phil,” blue eyes shoot away from the horizon to look over at him upon the word. “Do you know who this is?” He tilts the parchment so his father can see it as well. He hears the soft gasp from the older man as he lays eyes on the picture.

“That’s Michael.”

“Michael?”

Phil pauses with a look of confusion in his eyes as he stares at the picture before he looks up to meet Techno’s. “...Ranboo never told you?” There is a moment of silence as Phil considers his answer, he looks back to the pyre and sighs as the flames light his face in gold. “Michael is his son. He adopted him with Tubbo a long time ago.”

The information hits him like a ton of bricks and he even staggers back a few steps, the world now uneven beneath his feet.

For a moment he is mad at Phil for knowing about all of this and having hidden it from him. He wonders who else knew and the rage begins to bubble under his skin. Had Niki known? Had the entire server but he known of the existence of this child? He could have very well been the only one who didn’t know. He almost hates Ranboo for going off and not only marrying a government but adopting a child with him. He wants someone to yell at for the situation. He wants to punch something. He is mad at his disciple.

Most of all he is angry at himself for making Ranboo feel so unsafe in his own home he had hidden an entire child and family apart from Phil and himself that only in his moments of death were they revealed. That he felt the need to hide a part of his life in order to feel safe.

He feels a burning in his eyes and blinks it away.

“Ranboo told me to protect him,” he runs a hand through his hair, it feels too heavy against his neck. “But, I need your help with something first.”

Technoblade had never liked the feeling of the cold blade of shears brushing against his neck. He hadn’t needed to cut his hair in so long. The last time he had it was for Tommy and the braid had grown back quickly to catch up with the others.

But now he sat here, the cold shears being pressed to his neck gently by Phil. The first snip made him flinch. After a few cuts, he got used to the sound of shears tearing through his hair, the almost painful loss of his once beloved hair. He powered through it as his once rib-cage length locks were shortened to just below where his jaw started.

When it’s done he sighs a shaky breath out. Placing a hand over his eyes. The mourning could begin and would end once it reached the length it had been before.

He watches silently as Phil begins to cut away at his hair, only on one side that would leave it choppy and uneven. Techno watches as he unceremoniously tosses the strands to the ground amidst Techno’s hair. A near white-blond mixing with his light pink.

He doesn’t stay long after that, he can’t bear to see a house so devoid of everything that made it home.

He picks up his cloak and axe and walks out the door without another word, already knowing who he would have to see.

He braids one of Ranboo’s ties into whatever remains of his hair as he moves across the world.

He wanders the lands for a long time before coming to a stop in Snowchester. The wind there howls like it does in the arctic and it feels familiar in an almost painful way. It’s so like his home. It is devoid of life but for a single boy standing in the snow all alone.

He approaches and looks into the scarred face of the brunet as he lowers his axe, letting it fall harmlessly to the snow below. He sees the tear streaks already staining Tubbo’s cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” He spits out, venom hanging off of every word.

The words leave him before he can stop himself.

Technoblade watches as Tubbo’s face drops with the news, he reaches out a hand to give the picture to him and watches him shatter. He can’t find it in himself to feel pity but as the boy begins to sob he allows his hand to rest in muddy brown hair between two horns. Neither says anything as the younger gets his bearings about him again, beginning to slow his breathing from the wheezy sounds to true, however, raged, breaths.

His tears eventually slow to where he can speak again.

There passes a silent understanding over them and it is enough, it seems, for the both of them.

. . .

Finding Sam was shockingly easy once they were able to get a somewhat agreeable team together. The three of them with differing ideas, harsh pasts put together but a singular goal they would be working towards for the sake of one person.

Eret grinds her heel into Sam's back further as Tubbo works his axe into the wood of the small hut. Technoblade stands off to the side as Sam spouts some meaningless threats from where he lays in the dirt. Techno stares at him, not fully listening as the voices begin yelling that now would be a good time to get some much-needed revenge. He turns his gaze away to watch as the wall comes down and Tubbo drops his axe.

Michael is both exactly what he was expecting and nothing like it at all.

Tubbo gathers the child into his arms quickly and curls around him protectively as the boy lets out a few distressed snorts. A hand running through his soft pink locks that were still too short. He wasn’t very old then, practically a baby by piglin standards. Techno brushes a hand through his own hair solemnly. It would grow out.

He watches as Michael clutches onto his—father’s? yeah, that sounded right—father’s borrowed suit jacket. Ranboo wouldn’t need it anymore so there was no harm done, really it was good for Tubbo to keep it close. Michael looks up with tear-stained eyes–or, eye–at him and his heart seems to flutter in his chest.

He turns his gaze away again, giving the two a moment to reunite. To mourn. To do whatever it was they needed at this moment. He ignores the quiet sobs coming from the ground behind him.

Of course they are both crying, it's completely reasonable.

Eret looks up at him when he walks back over to them. Sam is still laying in the dirt, his armour safely tucked away from his reach, he has gone quiet as he watches Tubbo. Techno almost growls at him as he sweeps his cloak to block his sight from the two.

“What do we do?” Eret asks, grinding his foot deeper. Sam looks up as Technoblade’s eyes flood with fury and flinches away almost immediately.

“I say we return a favour,” they nod as he begins to tie a rope around the creeper hybrids wrists.

They cart Sam off to the prison quickly, Tubbo following shortly behind with Michael still curled up against his chest and clinging to him desperately.

Technoblade imagines he won’t let go for a long time.

The thing about piglins, especially the young, was the connection to family. It is particularly important to be around family at all times, to know you will be protected. Techno only ever experienced that instinct after Phil had found him so he knew the inner turmoil the boy must be facing. Parents felt it as well. The sudden emptiness of loss as their world fell apart. He can imagine the heartache from the loss of one of his fathers. Even if Tubbo hadn’t told him yet, Techno was sure Michael already knew. Piglets could always feel the moment their parents died.

His breath catches in his throat at that thought as they enter the portal, leaving Tubbo with his son at the entrance of the prison as they wander the halls.

They leave Sam in the same room Technoblade and Dream had been in for months without another word.

He doesn’t look back once they get back outside and begin the trek to the tundra.

Boo is there waiting for them.

A face looking out from the windows, behind the veil obscuring his face.

It makes Techno’s heart stop all together when he watches as the ghost kneels in the snow to hug his son who cuddles close to him. Boo was smaller than Ranboo, shorter. Techno knew, of course, that ghosts weren’t really the person they represented, more like a copy of final thoughts or emotions they needed to get into the world.

He’s not sure if that makes the pain lessen or worsen.

“Ranboo,” the ghost doesn’t seem to fully realise Techno is talking to him but he perks up all the same. The wound stretching across his chest still oozes a bit of the purple blood. “You’re hurt.” It’s more of an observation than a question. He knew that ghosts could bleed, while he was still around Ghostbur always had. It still hurts to see. A reminder of how he had failed as a mentor.

“Ah,” the ghost says as he looks down to his chest, looking back up with a smile. A few tears fell. They don’t make any tracks or seem to hurt Boo in any way. “It’s okay, really! It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

The words aren’t reassuring.

He lets Tubbo stay, lets him bundle up his son and enter Ranboo’s home, guides him upstairs so he has a place to rest with his son for even a few minutes. So he can have some privacy and a place to keep Michael safe. So Enderchest has some more company besides Techno dipping in every once in a while to feed her.

It was the best he could do to at least keep this promise.

. . .

The weeks following Michael’s rescue are… hard, to say the least.

It made his heart ache whenever he saw Tubbo around his territory, whenever he stood near Ranboo’s grave, still wearing the jacket in the way Techno still wore the tie in his hair. Everyone in the tundra had their own ways of mourning, Phil had taken a trip to see Kristen a while ago, Techno didn’t know when he would be back.

Techno continued his own practice and it seemed like Tubbo was following suit.

Boo had also taken to his own type of mourning. Wandering the wastes, some nights, never returning from the wilderness of the tundra until days had passed, some nights Techno woke up to the ghost standing over his bed, claiming to have had a bad dream and was scared to sleep alone. It hurt to allow the ghost to slip under his covers and curl up next to him.

The following mornings would always be full of Boo claiming he didn’t remember what had happened the night before and continuing with the spiel that he was okay.

Technoblade had tried to apologize one day.

He’d tried to apologize for not being able to protect him—the only real job he had upon his semi-retirement—how he wished that night could be different. Then, Ranboo would be here with his son and husband and not dead and replaced by the shadow he now is.

Every time he tried to, he was faced with the same answer.

“It’s okay!” The ghost would say, smiling as he cried. “It’s better this way, now everyone is so happy!” Then he would laugh, loud and hearty and fake. “I was just a burden on everyone but now no one has to deal with me!”

It broke away more pieces of Techno’s shattered heart but he still refused to cry.

That was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Then came the one night all of that changed.

Tubbo had something he had needed to do, something he said would take all night. Techno didn’t know what he had to do but he agreed to take Michael into his home, for the night at least. So, he had led Michael into his home, lighting the fireplace and keeping it high so the boy wouldn’t get cold. Made Steve remain on his best behaviour, which apparently wasn’t a problem as the polar bear had loved the kid the moment he sniffed him and spent all his time curled up next to Michael on the floor. Practically dwarfing the kid as Techno pulled out some of his old toys for Michael to play with.

He had deliberated over dinner for a few minutes, unsure of the boy's tastes or if he even had the teeth to chew hard things. He settled on his ever famous potato-stew and finally settled on the couch behind Michael on the floor as they both ate.

“You look like me.” Michael had said mid-bite. His Piglin is a bit shaky but probably more fluent than his Common would be so Techno responds in their native tongue as well.

“Yeah, we’re uh… kinda related I guess.” He says, shrugging. There was no real way he could answer the statement with the whole truth without it being very awkward.

“Oh,” Michael says, turning back to the small amount of stew still in his bowl, poking at it with his spoon.

They finish eating in silence before Techno takes the bowls to the kitchen, leaving them there to be dealt with later. For the time being, he returned to the living room, pulling out a book from the multitudes he had and plopping back down on the couch. Michael stayed quiet for a while, just watching the flames as he played with his toys, a bit less interested in them.

“How are we related?” The piglet finally pipes up, his single still working eye lighting up with a hint of joy. “Were you papa’s dad?”

His chest stings and the voices begin to clamour about behind his skull. He didn’t need to know who ‘papa’ was to understand the weight behind the words. Ranboo. HIs throat went dry as he spoke.

“Not really, but we were very close.” The piglet nods a few times, letting out a thoughtful hum, absorbing the information as he begins to climb up the side of the couch, plopping down next to Techno. “You are the same as me though, we have the same roots. We’re both children of the Nether.”

“Oh, okay.” He said with a shrug, humming lightly as he settled closer to Techno. He was almost afraid of the child. Scared that he would crush him accidentally. Or hurt him in some way.

He knew he wouldn’t, his big dumb piglin brain wouldn’t let him, this child was more precious than gold, but he still worried.

“My name is Te’kndblaze.” He said finally, cutting through the silence that had washed over them. Michael turned to look at him with a little startled snort before seemingly calming down once again. He watched the piglet play around with his name for a good minute before a rumbling laugh left him. “It’s alright, not many can pronounce it correctly. Just call me Te’kno.”

“Papa and dad always called me Michael.” His smile suddenly drops as he sits for a moment in silence. “I miss him. I can feel it here.” The piglet places a hand to his chest, pressing into the soft sweater he was wearing and clutching at it. Techno sees the tears hanging in his eye and stands up suddenly.

“I… I, uh, have something for you. From your papa, it might make it a bit easier.”

He takes his time walking over to the small chest he had placed it in.

When they had retrieved Ranboo’s things from the prison he had given all of them to Tubbo, and selfishly kept this for himself.

The box is small, a deep purple as well. He places it on the table next to the couch and opens it. Ranboo’s crown shimmers in the firelight and it causes a lump to appear in Technoblades throat, he swallows it down quickly.

The crown barely wraps around Michael properly, even with his too-big floppy ears to fill in some of the space. Techo’s voice catches in his throat and he takes Michael’s hands in his and looks into the piglet’s eye. “It is important that you keep this crown safe and close, until your papa returns. Okay?”

“When will he come back?” Michael asks innocently. His head dipped to the side making the crown slide along his head.

Something about that makes Technoblade’s heart fall apart completely, the broken pieces falling together and pulling apart, the shattered parts crumbling and it is so much feeling all at once that it makes him choke when he tries to breathe. He doesn’t notice the tears beginning to fall until his vision blurs a bit too much and a soft, small hand is placed on his cheek. A worried snort from a young voice pulls him to reality.

He can barely look at the child, his head bowing so he doesn’t have to see the pain in the other’s eyes. He feels a sob rising in his throat and even the hand he places over his mouth can’t stifle it. He takes in a ragged breath and it comes out in a few huffs.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect him.” Michael doesn’t fight it when Techno reaches out to pull him close, he just curls up against his chest and tries to let out little chuffs that don’t sound right. They’re broken, his throat not fully developed to make them properly. He buries his face into the piglet's hair and begins to sob. “Oh gods I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I couldn’t protect him.”

As the two piglins embrace and sob over the loss of a father, a friend, the very being they cry for watches from the doorway of the cabin, cold seeping in from the cracked open door, the tears that no longer burn roll free off his cheeks. He can’t seem to remember, though, why he is so sad.

Oh well, he’s sure it’ll come back to him eventually.