Chapter Text
The birth of Technoblade was not met with great celebration. It had been the dead of winter, the most silent of nights, when he came to be - a mere wail in the wind, a midwife sitting beside his poor mother as she died, giving birth to a final heir that was not wanted. His father had demanded a son, and his mother was not well enough to give one.
Yet, she was forced to bear a child that would kill her, and to make matters worse, his father died months before the child ever began to show.
An orphan and duke at birth is not a fair match, but somehow, he survived. Every day, he'd stare at the grand painting of his parents and wonder what life would be like if they were here, and not the terrible advisors who watched over him. They were not parents, nannies, or anyone remotely capable of love - they were people who wanted his money and were willing to abuse a child for it.
Technoblade suffered a childhood of constant lessons and hardships before finally being able to break free, choosing the only route he could to escape: battle. He flew through the ranks of the military, fought around the globe, and discovered that the years of oppressed anger turned him into a monster on the battlefield, a terrifying force that left his men quivering.
Returning to normal society after letting yourself go mad is not easy. His estate was still run by the imbeciles who raised him, all of which who were quickly dismissed upon his arrival. Just as he was a monster at war, he was a monster at home - every room was redone and every memory was locked away. The only thing he could devote himself to was his town and his people who, despite his best efforts, quickly learned to fear him too.
The voices in his mind reigned freely, along with the bloodlust and visions he couldn't seem to escape. It was then, he thinks, that he broke the most, and for the most unworthy reason.
Spring. Courting season. When families flaunt off their youth and wealth to the world in the hopes of continuing their legacy, Technoblade found himself flooded with letters and invitations, mothers and fathers begging such a rich, well-statured man like himself to consider their daughters for wives.
Astounded, he realized he did not want love. He did not want to repeat history, did not want to condemn another woman to that fate, so he did the only thing he could.
He made himself unmarriable.
He became a recluse, hiding away at the cabin in the woods he so dearly called home whenever he could. He let his hair grow out, long past the fashionable cut men styled nowadays with ridiculous sideburns and way-ward swept curls.
And then, when people's admiration still didn't stop, he dyed it pink. It was not something he knew was possible, to be quite honest, when he confided in a friend that he wanted to ensure no one ever loved him. Well, friend is not the right word; one's friend does not listen and allow you to make yourself unloveable. Whatever the matter, they provided him with a mix of tonic and told him to wash his hair with it, and then the next day, it was pink.
He'll admit, looking in the mirror he does find himself quite ridiculous, but after the life he's lived, he's fine with it being that way. It was the pink that finally made people realize he was not sane. His servants whispered in the halls, his people glanced at him in scandal, but for once, Technoblade found that he could bear the attention.
They feared him. They disliked him. They didn't want anything from him.
And so naturally, Technoblade continued his life of anger and misery and gaudy hair, before meeting Phil.
Phil was, by every meaning of the word, a bizarre person. He was wealthy but did not own a title. He was powerful but had no kingdom. Above all, he was kind, yet had no reason to. They met on another silent night when Techno was returning late from hunting and found a man and horse on the side of the road, the horse refusing to move and the man trying to force it.
"You stupid thing," The man said without a trace of anger in his voice. "I know it's late, but that doesn't give you a reason to sleep."
"Do you need help?" Techno asks before he can stop himself, and the man turns to look up at him with a grin.
"Unless you know how to wake a horse, I'm afraid help won't be much use." Techno slipped down from Carl, his trusty steed, and came to stand beside the man and look over the horse.
"Are you sure it's asleep?" If it was dead, he'd just offer the man a ride back to town, simple as that. If it was just sleeping, Techno would either have to awkwardly help or awkwardly leave, so really, he's hoping it's dead.
The man laughed and shook his head, poking the horse and making its tail swish. "Yes, I'm quite sure. Would you happen to have a carrot or apple to spare?" Techno pulled an apple from his inventory and handed it over, and almost instantly the horse's eyes opened. "Oh, of course, that woke you, hungry little bastard."
Techno couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him, quick to calm himself, and the man turned and shot him a grin. "I'm glad to have been of assistance." He says, trying to act as civil as possible.
"I'm glad you were." The man sticks out a hand, and Techno gladly shakes it. "Philza Craft."
"Techno Blade." At that, Phil paused, recognition settling over him.
"As in Duke Blade?" Before Techno has a chance to answer him, Phil laughed and tilted his head back. "Of course! Who else has that hair?" He said almost hysterically, but for once, someone said it with no offence or mockery in their tone. "My apologies, your grace."
"Hey, I helped revive your horse, I think just Techno will be fine." Then, just like that, they were together. Phil would come into town, complain about his horse and order a pint, and Techno would join him. Then, from acquaintances, they became friends, and from friends into business partners.
Phil would help run the papers and more physical side of business, while Techno would wander around and randomly find things in need of fixing. He quite enjoyed Phil's company, though he'd never admit it aloud. Phil was the kind of man who made you picture him as a father, a leader, despite not being blessed with children of his own.
Well, he had children, but they were a brood of adopted boys he seemed to pick up along the way, and Techno found himself the latest addition. He didn't mind, truly, but compared to the others, he realized just how proper and stately he was.
Take, for example, Tommy: a young boy, the son of a low baron who had too many sons to ever see Tommy find power, so instead the boy became Phil's apprentice and travelled with him until he reached of age. Despite turning 16, the boy still hung around, and Techno both loathed and enjoyed the days he'd have to fish the boy out of a pond he'd fallen into or save him from a pack of horses.
Compared to Tommy, Techno might as well be a king.
But, as all stories go, paradise didn't last forever. Techno had made his intentions of ruling quite clear - he was in charge, not his advisors or any minders, simple him and his land alone, even if Phil occasionally kept the books. It was these books that potentially ruined his future, after all, when Phil discovered his father's will.
It left Techno all power, every cent left behind, but with one little catch:
By the time Techno reached 22, he either had to be wed or had tried to wed.
It's as if his father knew, beyond the grave, that Techno had no intentions of continuing the Blade line, and that even if he did, he'd likely fail in all attempts. Tried to wed, Phil inferred, meant courting for a long period of time, or proposing and being denied.
That is what lead him here, to the one event he cannot stand, letting himself be seen, letting himself seem available, all so that someday, he could continue living in that peace he worked so hard to create.
The Taken Ball.
The Taken family were rich and powerful and gods compared to the rest of the people in L'Manburg, and naturally, they hosted most balls or events, like tonight, a way for young men and women to gather around and see what suitor awaits them. Perhaps, he should act more crazy than normal - maybe he should cause a scene. That would make people leave him alone, but as soon as the thought occurs, so does Phil's warning.
If he does not marry or at least attempt to, he loses all that he's worked for.
So, instead, he perches himself by the drinks table and tries to act as normal as possible for a decorated war veteran with back-length pink hair. "You look like you want to kill yourself." Wilbur mutters beside him, almost amused if he weren't in the same situation himself.
"Is it that obvious?" Techno responds, taking another swig from his glass. He's not one for alcohol, so instead, he's been sneakily draining the punchbowl designated for children or those with child.
"Just find some desperate-" Both Techno and Phil sent him matching looks, and Wilbur mulls over his words for a moment. "Just find a lady of low status in need of marriage and call it a day. It's not like you don't have any prospects." Wilbur was another one of Phil's 'sons', an abandoned viscount who, until meeting Phil, was draining his family of every cent they'd ever made. Now, he simply drained wine bottles.
"I do not want them to say yes!" Heaven forbid he trap some poor woman in marriage, or have someone fall madly in love for him to shun them away for the rest of their life. No, he intends to find a match that is far beyond his league or entirely uninterested, proposing, and getting shut down.
Phil, bearing witness, can testify on his behalf of the will, and everything is fine. "So you intend to stay trapped in your estate all your life?"
"My estate is quite comfortable, thank you very much." Techno slams the rest of his punch down and turns to glower at the dance floor. Couples spin and mix about, happily chatting under the eyes of chaperones, and he wishes he could avoid the situation entirely.
"I do not intend on marrying either," Wilbur begins, getting a strange look from Phil. "I am quite happy on my own without someone nagging me for the rest of my life."
"You only say that because Sally is-" That earns Techno an elbow to the rib and he grunts, knocking his shoulder against Wilbur's to make some distance between the two.
Despite both being Phil's favourites, something he'd never admit but is blatantly clear to the rest of the world, Techno and Wilbur do not get along. They can banter and laugh and be in each other's presence, but both find the other lacking in company. "Boys," Phil chides, turning to face them. "You are here to be polite and respectful. Now: Techno, try to enjoy yourself and find a suitor. Wilbur, try not to get hammered. Easy enough?"
"Tommy is going to set himself on fire," Wilbur says and Phil rolls his eyes, only for Wilbur to point over his shoulder. "No, really, he's leaning against the candles."
"Tommy-" Phil turns with a sigh. "For god's sake, child!"
With that, Wilbur and Techno are left to stand beside the drinks table, and Techno decides that as long as he stands beside Wilbur, no one will show interest in him. They make quite the awkward pair, which normally annoys him, but on a night where he needs to be awkward, he'll allow it.
"Your grace," A voice says and Techno has to bite his tongue to keep himself from groaning, and he turns to see a mother standing with two matching twin daughters, and Techno offers the smallest, politest smile he can offer. "I do not believe we've had a chance to meet. I'm Lady-"
A shout cuts her off and Techno sighs, despite how obvious he is, and turns to see Wilbur and Alex glaring each other down. "Watch where you're going!" Alex hisses, smoothing out his jacket, and Wilbur grins wickedly.
"I apologize, I didn't see you." He mocks, lowering himself to Alex's height.
If there was another thing that separated Wilbur and Techno, it was anger. Techno seemed to boil in rage, from a young age, but not once did he voice his aggression outside of the battlefield. Wilbur, someone who's never fought in a war before, let out his aggression plain in everyday life. This, Techno believes, is the cause of how many rivalries he has. "If not in public, I'd have some choice words for you." Alex snaps, and Techno sets down his glass and prepares for the oncoming storm.
"If not in public, I'd love to hear them." Wilbur's eyes drag away from Alex to land on his fiance's mingling in the crowd, and Techno watches an evil glint take over Wilbur's eye. "Ah, I see you've brought company."
"How observant." Alex drones and Wilbur straightens himself up.
"Do say hi for me, but..." Techno finds himself stalking across the ballroom the second he hears the words leave Wilbur's mouth. "I don't think Karl would remember me."
"Why you little-" Techno wedges himself between them, a hand on Wilbur's shoulder and his back to Alex.
"Wil, I think you've had enough." Is all he says, trying to get the attention off of them, but it seems his intervention has only caused more eyes to peer out at them.
Wilbur glares him down as he shoves his arm away, and Techno balls his hands into fists at his side. "I'm completely fine, Techno, me and Alex were simply having a friendly debate."
"Do not refer to anything between us as friendly." Alex retorts. "The only company you ever seem to find yourself in is not the crowd I would ever choose to associate with," Alex's gaze snaps to Techno's for a moment before softening. "No offence."
"Oh yes, the company you keep Alex is so prestigious." Wilbur mocks. "Your company is no better than mine - well, at least my friends don't bleed me dry on bets."
"At least I can afford to gamble. Your money goes to the bottle." The air, Techno finds, is so still in the ballroom that he finds himself listening to the fizzling of champagne and the sound of his own breathing. The pair, so caught up in their fight, does not seem to realize and begin to continue when Phil returns to his side.
"Gentlemen," He says stoically. "I believe this little spat should end here."
Alex smirks at that, dragging a hand through his hair as he steps away. "Always needing someone to come and rescue you, Wilbur. It's not a good look."
"What do you know about looks?" Wilbur's chest heaves with a forceful laugh, and Techno grabs him by the arm.
"A fair deal, actually. That's why I have a fiance," Techno's grip tightens to the point he wonders if his fingernails are making Wilbur bleed, but it's necessary because he knows the coming blow. "And you have a wench-"
"You little-" Quickly, Techno shoves Wilbur back and Phil forces more space between them, and someone calls for attention across the room and breaks the spell, quickly allowing guests to escape for some new band introduction while Techno, Phil, Karl and Sapnap force the pair away.
Wilbur struggles in his grip but it's no use, and Techno keeps forcing him back until they're beside the drinks table again. "You're making a fool of yourself," He snaps, and Wilbur turns to look at him as his eyes burn with so much hatred for such a small being.
"Alex was making a fool of me, I was trying to rectify the issue."
"How? By beating each other to death?" Techno asks incredulously, and Wilbur huffs.
"If that's what it'd come to." Tommy appears and both Techno and Wilbur turn to glare at him, and strangely for once, he seems to get the message. "You enjoying yourself?" Wilbur scoffs as Techno finally lets go. "Enjoy it while it lasts, I doubt we're getting another invitation soon."
"You ruin everything." Tommy admonishes. "Can't you go one evening without fucking everything up?"
"Language," Both Techno and Phil warn, very rarely allowing Tommy to be so crass in public. "Go run along and find Toby, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to entertain you with his music for the evening."
"He's not here," Tommy mumbles, swinging his foot like a child. "So I'm all alone. Can't you entertain me?"
"What a wonderful idea." Techno gives Wilbur a shove towards Tommy, and Wilbur turns back to give him a scornful look. "Strangely, I'm sure Tommy will keep you out of trouble. Now go mingle before you ruin your chances any further."
With that, the pair leave with passing insults, and Techno grabs a glass and dunks it into the children's punch bowl without another thought. He needs an escape, and he needs one now - he glances around the first floor of the estate and finds balcony doors inviting him out towards the garden, and he quickly weaves his way through the crowd and out into the evening air.
Half an hour, he thinks, and then he'll allow himself to leave. Maybe he'll talk to some young lady, maybe a mother, really sell the whole 'courting' idea, and then leave before anyone has a chance to dance with him or take him up on his offer. However, instead of doing either of those things, he leans against the balcony railing and watches the world around him.
Stars shine gently above, a crystal clear night that would be magnificent if it weren't being viewed from a bustling party. People mingle among the gardens, couples wanting privacy and gentlemen wanting a break trailing about, and Techno lets his eyes settle on the houses in the distance, where light flickers in windows and servants go about their late-night chores while the people they serve live in decadence here.
A light dims in the window and Techno watches a shot escape, gunpowder and smoke filling his nostrils as he tries to flinch away from the non-existent gunfire, a dream his brain concocted, and he comes to stare at someone in the doorway who looks as if they need more of a break than he does.
"Ah, my apologies." Your voice is soft as you awkwardly clasp your champagne flute in hand, idly thinking over some form of word choice. He understands why, after all, not every day a random pink-haired man flinches and snaps around at you. "I did not realize someone else was out here."
"It's quite alright," He finds himself saying, gesturing to the spot beside him. "I'm afraid I'm not much company at the moment, but you're welcome to join me."
Silently, you come to stand beside him at the railing, and he can feel you watching him, tracing over his hair, likely sizing him up as a suitor. He expects some form of introduction or flattery, but instead, you say something he wasn't expecting. "Is that the children's punch?"
"It's not fair the children get the best tasting drinks, now is it?" He quips, taking a sip and glancing over to find you smiling, and he's caught off guard by how natural it seems. No one's smiled at him that pleasantly in ages.
"True," You answer softly, taking a sip from your drink. "But would you not prefer champagne?"
"I like my mind being clear." Hearing voices already muddles it enough. "Hence why I am out here, away from the-" A million unsavoury words come to mind, so instead he settles with, "-noise."
"I understand, I'm glad to be joining you away from the noise." The way you say 'noise' makes him feel as if you understand what exactly he's escaping, and for a moment he wonders if perhaps other people hear voices before the more logical answer dawns: you do not like parties, and he does not either.
He swirls his glass in hand, sparing a glance in your direction. "If you dislike the noise, then why attend at all?"
"I could ask you the same thing," You say as you peer over your glass. "I'm afraid I've been chosen by Lord Clay this season."
"Chosen?" It's just the start of the courting season, it's impossible Clay proposed to someone so soon - it's hard to imagine Clay proposing at all! He's the type of man who never seems to fancy one lady for too long, and when he does, it's the kind of lady that isn't deemed fit by society.
"He seems intent to propose." You say so solemnly that it sounds more like a death sentence than marriage. "And being Lord Clay, he gets what he wants. So I am here, socializing and hoping his eyes find another." You take a long drink before realizing what you've just admitted, and you awkwardly straighten up. "My apologies, I-"
Techno waves a hand with a small smile and looks back out towards the garden. "No need for apologies, I know entirely how you feel. I have no intent to marry this season, but my estate has deemed it necessary. So I am here, socializing, and hoping no eyes find me."
"So we are both trapped, then." You offer him a curt smile before staring down at your glass as if it has all the world's answers. "I should go back inside, but I can't find it in myself to." Then, before he can respond, you turn to look at him strangely. "I'm not quite sure why I can tell you all this."
"I'm a stranger," He answers blankly. "Strangers are the best secret-keepers."
"So it seems," You laugh softly, and he finds himself strangely drawn to the noise. "Well, dear stranger, who are you really?"
"If you knew, we wouldn't be strangers, would we?" The song in the hall dims before another starts up, and you both turn to watch the couples join on the floor and spin around.
Then, as fate would have it, Clay appears among the crowd and steps out towards the balcony, and Techno watches your expression fall before quickly replacing itself with a smile. "You're not on the dancefloor," Clay says with a charming laugh, flipping his hair and acting like he isn't the biggest dick in history. "I'm surprised."
"I couldn't help but come look at the stars," You answer with a smile, turning to look up. "It's such a clear night."
"It is, isn't it?" Clay comes to stand directly between Techno and you, and Techno pretends he's not there. "You know, you should see the stars in the capes of Italy, it's unlike anything you've ever seen. We'll have to go there someday."
"It sounds wonderful," You answer, and Techno glances up to find you looking at him. "I've never been to Italy."
"Well, I'll take you any place your little heart desires, but only if you'll follow me there." Clay takes a step back and holds out his hand with a grin. "Like, say, the dance floor?"
You laugh and Techno finds it doesn't reach your eyes, and he sets his jaw as you slip your hand into Clay's. "What is it with you and dancing tonight?"
"Well, when I have a dance partner as eye-catching as you, why wouldn't I want to show you off?" Clay's gaze sweeps past you and finally lands on Techno and Clay offers a polite smile. "Duke Blade," He says, and Techno hates how the word drips off his tongue. "I'm glad to see you've rejoined society."
At the word Duke, Techno watches your eyes widen, and he wonders maybe if he should've just gotten champagne. "Don't expect to see it too often." He mutters, turning to look away from you. With that, you and Clay leave with a whisper of something, and Techno finds himself missing your company.
Perhaps it's that he needs to find someone to court, or that you're the first person who hasn't thrown themself at him, but he was beginning to enjoy having someone by his side again. With a sigh, he pushes off the railing and re-enters the hall, and he makes sure to avoid watching you dance, and returns to the punch bowl.
~
Blade.
Duke Blade.
Of all the men you could've stumbled across, and spilled a dark secret, it had to be a duke. To be quite fair, you didn't know he was a duke at the time - at first, that he was a woman, and then that he was a travelling performer or some other trick. That would explain the hair, but no, Duke Blade.
How could you have been so foolish? If by any chance, he'd told Clay what you'd told him, it could ruin you. It was not that Clay was a bad person, or could not provide, but simply that your heart did not want him. He'd chosen you, that first night, out of a sea of thousands of girls.
You should be grateful. In L'Manburg, he's practically a prince - you'd never have to worry about anything ever again.
But that still doesn't mean you can find it in yourself to love him. "Are you alright?" Clay's voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you look up from your plate with a smile.
"Perfectly fine, my lord." You laugh softly, cutting into your steak, and you're surprised just how easy it's become to lie. "Just lost in my own thoughts."
"Well, that can't be too good," Clay laughs along with you, and you duck your head down and feign blushing so you don't have to look him or his family in the eyes. "Whatever about?"
"I'm thinking of getting a new summer dress made," You force yourself to take a bite of steak, allowing for the air to settle. Clay looks at you with a gleam in his eye, something almost sinister, and it's as if he can see right through you. "I was just wondering what fabric would be best."
Clay's mother hums in agreement, reaching over to gently place her hand over yours. "I do hear blue will be in season this year."
"Or perhaps green," Clay adds, glancing from the steak he's cutting up at you. "It would be nice to see you in the family colours."
"It would also be nice to see you in white." His mother says with a smile, turning to glance between the two of you, and a knot forms in your stomach. Marry Clay.
Really, you don't have a choice in the matter. No one ever does, in this situation. If he were to propose, you'd be mad to turn him down, but you'd go mad staying by his side for eternity. You cannot picture yourself at the alter, in some elaborate dress he'd choose, signing yourself away for what? Money? A new rank in society? Clay seems to know your internal battle but says nothing, instead eyeing you the entire dinner as his parents chat away about anything under the sun.
The one reprieve you get is finally when dinner finishes, and Clay pushes back from the table with a clap of his hands. "It is getting quite late, I will arrange for a carriage to take you home."
"Oh, it is no need, my lord." You stand, gently folding your napkin atop the table. "My house is not too far away, I would not trouble you so with the horses and all the footmen. Just a chaperone would do."
"As you wish," Clay begins, extending an arm to you and you take it. "I'll call for one of the maids to walk you home."
"That would be much appreciated." Clay escorts you out into his front courtyard, where a fountain bubbles softly and beautiful shrubs trace the edges, and despite the beauty of it, an ugly cloud overhangs it all. This would one day be yours - yours to tend, yours to watch, yours to eternally rot in front of.
Clay slips his arm from yours, pausing at the tops of the stairs, and you turn to watch a dark expression pass over his face. "Are you not happy?" He asks huskily, and you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.
"Whatever do you mean-" His head snaps up to stare at you and your voice dies in your throat, and you've never witnessed such fierceness from him.
"Do not play coy with me." He hisses, turning to fully face you. "You think I'm blind to whatever pity party you've thrown yourself tonight? You sat silently as if in mourning."
You force yourself to look away, and you find yourself ruining things before they've even begun. "It's nothing, my lord." Clay can provide, you tell yourself. He will be a good husband, a fair father, and at the very least, he has enough money to justify being miserable.
"Bullshit." You force yourself to take a step down the stairs and his hand snaps out and grabs your arm, and the touch burns for all the wrong reasons. "Do not walk away from me! Are you really that unhappy to be with me?"
"Clay." Here, standing with his tightening grip around you and your mind, is the first time you dared to say his proper name, and he seems taken aback by it, his fingers releasing minutely. "Let's not do this-"
"What do I not provide for you?" He demands, letting you go with a soft push, and you stumble back a step. "I will keep you forever happy! I will put a roof over your head, food on your plate, those ridiculous dresses in constant supply."
"I do not doubt your ability to provide for me." You argue and he forces himself down the steps towards you, and you force yourself backwards until you're pressed against the fountain, the barest drops of water seeping into the back of your dress. Any other day, you'd find it disgusting, but here it's a strangely grounding presence.
Clay hovers in front of you, a fire building inside of him, and you wish for nothing more than to escape the heat. "Then what? If not my abilities as a suitor, what could possibly make you so miserable?" You flounder for an answer, anything other than the truth, anything to save this dying courtship, and your brain finally reminds you that it's better this way.
If you choose him, you're tied to him forever. There is no escape from his gaze, his opinions, his terrifying presence. He has claimed you in every sense of the word, and perhaps this is the universe's way of letting you go. "Any other woman would be more than happy to be in your place, yet you choose to-"
"I cannot force myself to love you." The words escape you before you can stop yourself and Clay lurches as if struck by a bullet and not simply words. His eyes do not meet yours, staring over your shoulder and out into the night, and you feel air finally meet your lungs again at the admission. "Any woman would be more than happy to be in my place, to have you provide for them or choose them, but it is not love. It is a need, a desire for a pleasant future. When I look at you, what our future will be, I feel nothing but regret."
"Regret?" Clay echoes above you, eyes finally finding yours, and you find a strange mix of anger and sadness in them, as if he understands your words yet cannot bear to hear them. "I think you forget your place." He says oddly soft, gaze flickering down you before staring into your soul again. "Love does not matter to me. You will be my wife and the bearer of my children, and if love does not come with that, so be it. I do not care about your regrets or where your heart lies because those things don't matter."
"Why?" You ask, taking a step forward and forcing him back away from you. "Why me? You have your choice of every woman in L'Manburg who would be more than happy, why claim me?"
"Because I wanted to." He steps forward, and you stand your ground, and your noses hover inches away from each other, the closest you've ever been to him. In another world, this would be a dream - standing this close, breaths mingling in the cool spring air. Instead, it's simply a reminder of all that you cannot have. "You underestimate just how pleasing you are to look at," He begins, hand reaching up to gently trace the crook of his finger against your cheek. "And just how powerful I am. I wanted to court you, and have you be mine, and I get what I want, whether it makes you happy or not."
You reach up and push his hand away and the fire returns to his eyes, but this time, you do not care to argue. Defeat is settling darkly over you, fate condemning you to his whim. It's not the kind of pain that makes you cry and wail, beg for any other outcome, but the kind that makes your being feel hollow. "I could say no."
"You think saying no means anything to me? What suitors will you return to if you reject me?" His question hangs in the air, a knowing that since he asked to court you, no flowers have arrived, no one's asked to dance - everyone is afraid of stepping on Clay's territory, and he has so obviously claimed you. "Unless you can magically procure a suitor, rejecting me is the worst choice you can make."
"But it seems to be my only one." You turn to walk away again and this time he lets you, watching you slip past the fountain and out into the street, and your mind is more focused on getting away from him than it is on the fact you're leaving without a chaperone. He calls after you but you do not care to listen, letting your feet carry you away as quickly as possible into the night.
Running away, you know, won't solve this. A week from now, no one will have shown interest and you'll be forced back to Clay, to live as his pretty little wife for eternity, but for at least that week, you can be free. You reach up and wipe the tears that finally threaten to fall, trying to keep your composure, and in your blindness, you ram into someone.
Well, someone is a strong word, but more like a wall of a person who quickly catches you as you stumble, steadying you, and you look up to find a blurry figure blessed with pink hair. "My apologies," You mutter softly, quickly calming yourself. "I-"
"What's wrong?" The Duke asks, intensely studying you. "Are you hurt?"
"I am perfectly fine," You say, finally calm enough to look up at him. "Your grace."
"Do not use titles with me," He mutters, peering around you to see where you came from. "Especially not when you're lying. What happened? Where is your chaperone, it is not safe to be out here alone."
You bite your lip to keep yourself from spilling every secret to him, and perhaps he was right, telling secrets to a stranger is so much easier than letting yourself live with them. "I do not have one."
"What?" He stares at you with such confusion and tears well up inside of you again and you force yourself to turn away from him to deal with them, and very gently his fingertips brush your arm, guiding you towards a bench. You collapse onto it and bury your face into your hands, trying to keep all the pieces from falling apart in your mind, but it's no use.
You'll never be happy. Not with him, not alone. Your fate is not your own, but whatever society wants. You're a lamb for the slaughter, sold to the highest bidder who wants nothing more than to shut you away for the rest of your life and somehow, that is the best option for you. You cannot be with Clay, but without anyone else, you cannot be alone. "I'm lost." You admit, looking up from your hands and finding the Duke kneeling in front of you, looking incredibly concerned. "My life is not my own, your-" You stop yourself from calling him 'your grace', but you can't think of anything else to call him. "Clay has made it quite clear that, despite how much I am unhappy with him, I am his."
"I see." The Duke says awkwardly as he comes to sit beside you. "I'm afraid I'm not much help on the topic of love."
"This is not about love," You whisper. "It's the fact that neither of us has it."
"Surely for a woman like yourself, you have other suitors available." The Duke offers, holding out a handkerchief and you dab under your eyes with it. "You can find a love match there."
"No one would court me, not after Clay's...chosen me. No one is interested. So, unless I can magically procure a suitor, I'm destined to be with him, love or not." You turn to look at him and offer a small smile, and he does not return it. "I should not burden you with such things, your grace, I-"
"Techno." He glances in your direction before locking his hands together. "Call me Techno."
You blush softly at the admission, not used to anyone being so informal so quickly. "I should not burden you with such things, Techno. Any woman would think I'm mad for leaving him." Techno looks up, confused, and you wish you had a life like his. Where no one forced you to do anything, where you could go anywhere you want, where love was something you could choose so freely. "He is the perfect provider. He has everything-"
"No, not everything." Techno cuts you off, and you watch as he stands. "He does not have your heart."
The words rock you for a moment. You did not expect anyone to agree with your outburst, or walking away from him - you expected to be scolded, to be told your place, to be forced back to you. But instead, Techno stares at you as if he perfectly understands, and he holds out a hand to help you stand. You gently take it, and unlike Clay's touch, it does not burn. It's calloused, and not quite as soft, but it feels strangely right as you stand. "Thank you," You say softly, and a small smile graces his features. "For understanding."
"If there is one thing I am sure of in this life," He begins, mulling over the words carefully. "It is that company should be enjoyed, not dreaded. Do not waste a breath on him if, even for a moment, you cannot bear it."
"I wish it were that simple." You mutter wistfully, and somewhere in the distance church bells ring, signalling 9 o'clock, and both you and Techno exchange matching looks. "I didn't realize it was so late, I-" You're out, at night, unchaperoned with a young man.
"Since you do not have someone to walk with you, I will." For a moment, he extends his arm before snapping it back to his side, as if tempted to have you hold it but deciding against it. You fall in stride beside him, walking towards your estate, and you try to think of anything to break the silence. "You know, I understand," Techno says to you, glancing at you before forward again. "Feeling like someone else is picking your fate and future."
"Oh?" You find that hard to believe, but with Techno, it seems you're willing to listen to anything he has to say.
With a small chuckle, he rakes his hand through his hair. "I've had my fair share of advisors do what they thought was best for me growing up. For the first 18 years of my life, it wasn't my life I was living." He looks down at you with an awkward smile before gesturing to himself. "I mean, that's what lead me to go to war and dye my hair pink, so trust me, I get it."
"You went to war?" Techno, despite how large and intimidating he may be, does not seem like a soldier. You cannot picture him taking orders, or falling in line, but perhaps he was a commander. You can most certainly see that, him barking orders and...well, and doing whatever a soldier does.
At your question, Techno's smile fades, a terse look replacing it. "Two and a half years." He says quietly, voice strained. His mind seems to drift elsewhere, likely to the violence and whatever tragedy that he witnessed before he slowly turns to look at you. "You do not need to know the details of war, let me assure you."
"It is alright." Your estate grows closer, and you find yourself yearning to walk more with him, to slow your pace and let yourself waste the night in his presence. "At least, it seems, we have each other to share our unfortunate circumstances, even if yours have passed."
"Well, not quite." You turn to look up at Techno and worry for a moment that he's off to fight another war, and he offers another tight-lipped smile. "As it seems, my parents ensured one last way to control me, as you know. I am to marry, or at the very least court and propose to a woman if I wish to be given my inheritance and keep my estate."
"Surely for a man like yourself," You find yourself echoing his words with a small laugh. "You have suitors available."
He sends a soft glare your way, and you find yourself grinning despite it. "Despite my stature in society, not many are willing to court someone with this hair or my reputation."
"Then we are both damned by marriage." By now, you hope he'll excuse the vulgarity, but it's the truth. Love should be something wonderful - it should be warm, a union between two people who care deeply for each other, not some transaction.
"Unless," Techno begins, and you both come to a stop under a streetlight, and you find yourself drawn to take in every inch of the man revealed to you. Unlike the ball, his hair is much more wild and loose, a few strands falling before his face that he quickly moves, and instead of regal attire, he wears a simple work shirt and slacks. The simpler version of him suits him much better, even if he is still a wonder to behold. "We change that."
You almost laugh and force yourself to stop - changing that is, by all means, impossible. You both are in need of love, or at least in Techno's case, a fling, both of which are quite hard to come by. "What do you propose?"
"Without Clay, you are left suitorless, correct?" You nod minutely and he awkwardly opens his mouth before blushing softly and closing it, and for a moment you wonder what possibly could have made him this flustered before it clicks. "And I need a suitor to ensure my inheritance."
"Are you asking me to court, Duke Blade?" You tease, and he scoffs softly.
"I'm asking you to help me play a trick on L'Manburg. I court you, and you have the chance to find other suitors now that they realize Clay doesn't hold any power over you, and I get to keep my estate." You both share smiles, no longer hidden by the night or muted by the air of conversation, and it's so different to see someone smile when they mean it. Before, Clay's smiles were sharp and mean and a show, but with Techno, you feel happy just to see him happy. "What do you say? Partners in crime?"
"We'll need to be careful," You say softly, the plan forming in your mind. "You must wait a few days for the news of me and Clay's ended courtship to run around before arriving."
He nods down the street and you take off again, and butterflies swirl in your chest. There's hope, even if it's deceit - no longer are you left to rot in Clay's arms, no, you get a future. A chance at love. A chance to prove Clay wrong. "Naturally."
"And you will bring flowers." He pauses at that, turning back to look at you. "A suitor does not show up empty-handed, but you do not seem like the gift-giving type. A simple bouquet, but one that shows you mean business."
"Flowers. Do I just pick them?" He gestures to the many gardens you pass, and you laugh softly as you shake your head. "What? I'm not about to go out and buy flowers when there's plenty at my estate. I'll pick some, it's more heartfelt."
"Duke Blade picking flowers for his suitor, who will ever believe it?" You share another grin and the butterfly feeling returns, and suddenly you're struck by the fact that you're happy. At least, you're happy to stand with Techno and create ridiculous schemes, talk about nothing at all, or vent about your problems. You're happy that for once, there's someone in your corner, even if it's a ruse.
"Well, don't go saying that, I have a reputation to uphold." You smile softly before Techno stops in front of a house that isn't yours, and you look up at him with confusion. "I don't believe your family would accept it if I walked you home in the middle of the night, or at least walked you to your door. Would you be alright to walk from here?"
Even as disappointment sinks in you, you nod, gesturing to your house a few doors down. "I should be alright. Thank you, Techno."
"Don't mention it. Good evening." With that, he offers a curt nod and turns away, as if your little walk and deal meant nothing to him at all, and you can't help but watch him go. You know, realistically, that this is not something to cherish. This is the two of you lying to the world, not becoming friends. This is something born from necessity that will surely die, but you can't help the way it makes you feel freer than you've ever felt, and despite how unladylike it is, you run all the way home giddy with the thought of tomorrow.