Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Phil was born to be a king. That’s what he had been told all his life: whenever he got beaten down by his trainer, whenever he got cuffed across the face by his teacher for not memorizing the correct utensils to use during any given situation, by the servants who came to help him get dressed for balls and formal events, between maids in hushed tones as he walked by, and whenever Phil kneeled down at his Father’s feet in the throne room. He had been trained for his coronation all his life, molded into being the perfect king. Now, it was time. His eighteenth birthday. 

The decorations were all laid out, emerald greens and golds displayed all over the palace. Phil had been in his room getting ready for the whole morning, robes and capes and makeup adorning his figure. 

“Are you okay, Phil?” Asked his guard and best friend of 4 years, Technoblade. 

“What do you mean?” Phil replied, cocking his head slightly to the side. 

“Well, I mean, with all the proceedings and ceremonies and stuff, you must be pretty nervous, huh?” Techno says, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Why would I be nervous, Tech? This is…. This is my life’s worth. It’s- it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.” Phil said, and then again, head tilted downwards, as if trying to convince himself, “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Is it, though? I mean- I don’t mean to question your entire life , but- Every single time you’ve come back from a big meeting, you always seem so… wistful? You’re constantly lookin’ out the window with this longing gaze on your face, and… I have to wonder if all of that means something, ‘yanno?” Techno prodded, his hands flailing around nervously in order to get his point across. 

Yet, wasn’t it true that Phil did those things? That he was constantly at his windowsill, looking down at his soon-to-be kingdom, gazing at how the people down there chatted with each other, danced around the square at night, did everything that Phil oh so desperately wanted? He was basically never allowed outside the castle, and the times that he was , he only smiled and waved, doing all the things a Crown Prince should do. Did Phil actually want this? If he went along with the ceremony, then he would be (trapped, sentenced to a lifetime in a gilded cage, confined-)  working in the castle for basically the rest of his days, too busy to leave if not for a public appearance or a trip to other kingdoms.  

No. No, he won’t think about that. He has to do this, has to be the perfect , kind, caring king that he’s been trained to be all his life. He’ll be good , and then he’ll finally, finally be free. He can be good. He knows how to be good. He can do it. Then, who knows, he might actually be able to make his own choices, be able to free people who don’t deserve it instead of sentencing them to prison, and be his own person.

He sighed, and put a smile on his face. He could do this . “Nah, mate, it’s nothin’ like that. I just like seeing what everyone’s doing, y’know?” 

“Uh- huh . And I have to believe that why? ” Said Techno, one eyebrow raised and hands crossed as he looked at Phil.  

“Mate!-” The latter said with an incredulous grin on his face as he started to laugh. All of his bottled up emotions came spilling out of him in one big explosion. So here he was, laughing uncontrollably 30 minutes before the biggest event of his life. 

“I don’t know if I want to do this or not, Techno.” He confessed, stopping in his laughs abruptly and looking at his friend intensely. “I don’t know if this-”

Before he could say anything else, a servant knocked on the door. “Your Highness? It’s time. May I come in?” 

A bitter laugh escaped Phil’s throat. “I guess I never did have a choice, anyways, did I?” 

Chapter Text

Philza Minecraft, heir to the throne, stood in front of his Father, arms at his back, and legs perfectly spaced out, like he was taught. He is about to be told something very, very important. He is 12 years old, only six more years until he shall be crowned the Emperor. 

“Son. You are aware of all of the dangers that come with being the Crown Prince, are you not?” He is. He had been told many, many stories of people coming to try and kill his Father. He knows of the fact that they successfully killed his grandfather, causing his Father to claim the throne when he was only 17 years old. He knows, but he does not speak, because this is not a question that he should answer. “Because of that- and, this has been due for a long time, now- I want you to be trained in fighting, in self defense. This will be for your own good. Your tutor will be the head of the guards, Dream. Do you understand?”

This question, however, is a question Phil should answer. “Yes, Father,” he says, because that is the answer that his Father wants, even if he doesn’t understand. Father doesn’t like to repeat himself. 

“You will go to this training every morning at dawn and come back when your tutor says you are done. He will be in the fields.” 

“Yes, Father.” Because that is what Father wants to hear. 

Phil will always do and say what his Father wants, because that is all he has known. He will listen to Father, he will become Emperor, and even after that, he will always listen to his Father. If he doesn’t, there will be consequences, and Phil doesn’t like the consequences. He doesn’t like getting hurt. 

Phil gets woken up before the sun rises. He slowly opens his eyes, and looks over to the servant standing next to his bed. “Young Prince?” she says, “Change into these clothes, you’re to begin your training today.” 

“Wha-... today?” Phil asks, yawning.

“Yes, my Prince, today.” 

A small groan escaped his lips as he pulled himself out of bed. Normally he wouldn’t think to question the order, but it was far too early to be thinking about that right now. He dismisses the servant, taking the clothes that they handed him and got changed, not wanting to make his mentor wait. Phil heard from the soldiers that he wasn’t a very patient man. Phil shuddered as he thought of what would happen if he showed up late. He hoped that it wasn’t as bad as his Father’s punishments. Speed-walking to the fields, he finally came across his trainer for the foreseeable future. 

He was wearing a white button-up with black pants and a forest-green cape. His face, however, was obscured by a white mask with a … smiley face? Hm. The two dots that signaled the eyes seemed to be staring into Phil’s very soul. Creepy .  He had a wooden training sword in his hand, and, as Phil looked around, he saw another one on the floor. 

“Look who’s finally awake, your Highness, ” Dream said. 

“Good morning, Sir Dream. ”

Dream pointed to the sword on the ground with his own. “Well, what are you waiting for? Pick up the sword and we’ll start.” 

Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Phil can do that. 

He bends down to pick up the sword, and- 

…He’s… on the floor , Dream smirking at him from above. 

“Come on, young Prince, pick up the sword! We don’t have all day, here.” 

So Phil tried again. 

And again. 

And again.

Every single time he tried, no matter what tactic he used, he couldn’t pick up the sword. Dream knocked him down before he could get to it. Every. Single. Time.

The sun was high in the sky by the time that Phil was able to get the sword, kicking Dream out of the way and using his size in order to slide under him and grab it. 

“Yes!” He yelled, pumping the sword up in the air. He did it! He got the sword! He- why wasn’t Dream doing anything? He was just… standing there, smirking. Did that mean he was proud of him? Phil put down the sword, looking at Dream. 

“Sir? What’s-“ before Phil could finish, Dream lunged . 

Phil let out a yelp as he got kicked to the ground, a sword pointed at his neck. Dream smirked, looking down at Phil. “Expect the unexpected, Young Prince. Your opponents won’t cheer for you when you pick up a weapon to kill them. Now get up, we’re doing this again.” 

“But-,” Phil started. He had been doing this for hours, and his body was sore with wounds. 

“ No buts. Don’t you want to get better? You clearly need the practice, you couldn’t even pick up your sword.” 

Phil couldn’t argue with that, and… Dream was doing this for his own good. Father wanted him to get better, and in order to do that, he needed to listen to Dream. If he got better, then maybe his Father would be proud of him! 

The days went on. Phil would get up with the sun, scurry downstairs to get a quick breakfast, then to the training fields, where he would get “ trained ” until sometime after noon. Day in, day out. Bruises had found their home all over Phil’s body, some faded, some new. Eventually, Phil stopped looking in the mirror. He hated seeing how he looked, it was like a mixing tray for paints; he had splotches of purple, red, and green all over him. He knew in the back of his head that this wasn’t how you were supposed to learn how to fight, that Dream took pleasure in being able to beat up the Crown Prince. But he still went, every morning, because if he didn’t, Phil would surely find his end waiting at his Father’s feet. 

“What are you doing? Get up! That wasn’t even that hard of a hit- if you can’t handle this, you’ll never be able to defend yourself.” Dream yells, pointing his sword at Phil, who was currently laying on the ground, new bruises blooming over his body. ‘ Am I really that weak? ’ he thought. He stumbled up to his feet, getting into position and brandishing his sword at the captain, only for him to swing at Phil’s unbalanced feet, downing the younger. 

Dream’s face contorted in disgust as he crossed his arms to look at the child. “ Seriously , why do I even try with you? If it wasn’t for the Emperor, I’d have left a long time ago. Do you want to learn how to fight, or not ?” He said, staring pointedly at Phil. 

Phil looked down in shame. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I do.” 

“Then why can’t you figure this out? We've been doing this for weeks, it’s really not that hard! Goodness… and to think, this is the future emperor of our country? ” Dream scoffed. Phil only stared at the ground more. Was he really that much of a disgrace?

Phil learned a couple of things that day. Rules, Dream would call them. Rule one: never talk back to Dream. Rule number two: know your place. This was a big one- Dream was constantly reminding Phil of it, as he seemed to forget. A lot. These “reminders” consisted of Dream being even more harsh when fixing Phil’s mistakes- it seemed a lot like his punishments for being bad with his Father, and Phil never liked being bad, so he tried to avoid them as much as he could. Alas, just like with his Father, he never could. Phil just had to continue being bad, being unskilled, being worthless , bringing shame upon his entire bloodline. If he could just be better , be good, then maybe it would change, and maybe Dream wouldn’t look upon him with such scorn as he always does. 

It seemed like he could never satisfy him, no matter what he did. 

 Phil kept on training, and eventually, he became better. He was landing hits on Dream, and even holding his own. A couple of months before his fourteenth birthday, everything changed.

Chapter Text

“Pardon me, young Prince?” said a servant as he was roaming the halls. 

“Yes?”  

“His Imperial Majesty is requesting for you in the throne room, my Prince.”

Phil’s heart started to beat a little faster, but he nodded and started to head over to the room, wondering what the Emperor wanted. This is the first time he’s been called to the throne room in a couple of months, and last time was… not ideal. He quickened his pace, not wanting to be late. As he arrived, he saw his Father sat on the throne, the golden silks that he was wearing cascading down onto the steps below, another reminder of how the Emperor was above all. 

The room itself was big. Very big. It had a velvet red carpet that seemed to be the color of blood running from the entrance to the throne, and golden pillars evenly spaced out on the sides. There were banners with the Empire’s flag hung from the ceiling, the green and gold embroidery seemingly shining into Phil’s eyes. 

Phil dropped to his knees as soon as he reached the spot in front of the stairs, staring at the floor. He knew not to speak up. 

“Son. Do you know why I’ve brought you here today?” 

“No, Father,” Phil replied, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. “I don’t.” 

“Stand up.” 

He stood up and held his arms behind his back, his hands forming fists. 

“You’re here because on this day, you will make one of your first acts as the Crown Prince,” A look of surprise flashed across Phil’s face, then set back into mutual indifference. “There is a criminal. You will listen to his charges, then decide his punishment- and as you already know, the Empire doesn’t take kindly to criminals. ”

Phil let out a breath, and nodded. This is what he had been waiting for, training for , his entire life. He could do this. 

“Go. The accused is waiting in the dungeons. Dream will be with you to ensure that you don’t…take anything too far.”

.

.

.

A child.  

A child, maybe a year younger than himself, was standing in the dungeon, shackles attached to their wrists. Phil blinked for a few moments, trying to decide if this was actually who he was supposed to sentence to prison. The child looked at him with cold, distant eyes. They knew what was going to happen. (Even years later, Phil couldn’t get those eyes out of his head.) 

Phil felt Dream’s hand being placed on his back, and he quickly gained his composure. “Read out the charges.”

“Yes, Your Highness. The accused is charged with an account of thievery, breaking and entering, and disturbing the peace.” 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Asked Phil, looking at the child. ' Please, say something, anything for me to be able to excuse this.' 

The kid looked at the ground and murmured something. “Speak up!” One of the guards yelled. 

“I just wanted some bread,” the kid repeated, looking up at Phil. “I was hungry… afterwards, the baker yelled and chased me, so I had to push a few people.” They explained shortly, gaze moved back to the floor. 

Phil took a breath. In, and out. It’s okay. It’s alright. This was part of being Emperor. The accused (someone his age, they might’ve even been friends if they met-) was a criminal. Someone to be punished. 

.

.

He couldn’t think too much about this. It wasn’t becoming of the Crown Prince to look like this. This is normal. He’s going to have to do this a lot more.  Dream’s hand was still on his back. It was pressing down harder. Dream leaned in and whispered things that Phil couldn’t understand into his ear because Phil couldn’t think of anything else besides this child in chains-  

Deep breathes. In for five, hold for seven, out for eight. It’s okay. 

In.

Out. 

In.

Out.

“ His sentence , your Highness?” said Dream, pointedly looking at him. He couldn’t back down now.

Phil looked around. The guards looked  unbothered by his breakdown, and the accused was staring at him with eyes that held emotions that Phil couldn’t understand. Sadness? Pity? A mixture? Phil couldn’t tell. 

He took one breath. Now or never. Phil thought about his sentence- this could change this child’s life forever. 

Dream whispered in his ear, “You have to make an example of him. Let the people know what will happen if they steal from our glorious Empire.” 

Phil sighed. He knew what he was supposed to do. Dream wanted him to sentence the accused to more than a year. He knew he couldn’t do that, but if he didn’t, then Dream would tell his Father. 

“For the crimes that you’ve committed against the Empire, you are hereby sentenced to 2 years in the dungeons.” 

.

Walking out of the dungeons, Phil felt sick. He is fourteen years old, and he just sent someone just like him to prison . 

He can feel the bile in his throat, rising up. 

He gags. 

Dream glares at him. 

He tries his best to keep the vomit from getting on his fine linen.

He can’t think straight. 

His mind is spinning and the pit in his stomach growing bigger and bigger. 

He can’t think.

He can’t breathe -

“Please, your Highness, can you cease your whining? ” Says Dream. “I don’t have time to deal with you right now. Your outbreak in the dungeons has caused me a lot of work.” He says, massaging his temple and waving his hand at Phil. 

It doesn’t work. Phil empties out his stomach onto the floor. 

Dream scoffs, stepping over him. “I warned you, your Highness. I don’t have time for this. I think I might just have to tell the Emperor about this, too, now.” He says mockingly, voice dripping with amusement. 

Phil’s heart dropped into the Void. ‘ No. No nonononoononoonono- he can’t tell Father, he just can’t -’ he thought, getting to his feet. His body has apparently had enough, and doesn’t listen to Phil. He falls back into his sick. Big globs of tears fall from his face.

“Sir!” he yells towards Dream’s receding figure. “Sir, please! I’m sorry! I’ll be good, I'm sorry!” Phil wails, his mind focused on one thing: what his Father would do when he hears the news. 

Dream didn’t even look back. 

“Pathetic.” he murmured, just loud enough for Phil to hear.

“Is what Sir Dream told me true? That you didn’t listen to his orders and caused a scene?” Father said, cold blue eyes boring into Phil’s soul. 

“Yes, my Liege.” Phil replied. ' When the Emperor gets mad, it's best to address him with proper terms.' Phil knew what was coming. He could see Dream out of the corner of his eye, staring at him. He knew what was going to happen. Phil looked down at himself; he could still see the stains of his robe. He had lugged himself to the throne room, trying to stop Dream, but he had been too late, as usual. 

The Emperor sighed, looking down at his son from his throne. “Why do you keep doing this? Are you only capable of messing up ? Is that all that you know to do? All I asked of you was one thing, and yet look at you. Hideous. You even have the gall to come to your Emperor dressed like this–” He waves his hand at Phil. “What has gotten into you?” He said harshly, every word cutting into Phil’s skin. 

“I couldn’t handle it, my Liege. I’m sorry. I’ll do better-”

“When? When will you do better? You’ve been saying this every single time, and yet you never actually get better. What, am I supposed to always accept your empty apologies? I’ve been very lenient with you thus far, but this? This is the last straw. ” 

Phil couldn’t comprehend what the Emperor was saying to him. He was in his own head, somewhere far away from the castle. Somewhere where he could be alone. He didn’t realize when the Emperor got up and walked towards him.

He did notice, however, when his face got jerked to the side, pain shooting through him. 

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.” 

.

Deep breaths. 

Phil looked up at him. “Yes, my Liege.” 

The Emperor sighed. “What am I going to do with you, you pathetic lump? Can’t even follow orders properly. You know, when you become Emperor, when you take my place, you’ll have to do what you did for thousands of other people.”

He bent down to Phil’s level, taking his son’s face into his hands and tilting it up, making Phil look at his Father’s icy blue gaze. Phil suppressed a flinch.  

“I’m just doing this to protect you, son. I care about you, I really do. I just want you to be able to handle yourself when you get older.”  

Phil sighed softly. This happened after every time. He’s grateful for it, yes, but he wondered why everyone thought that the best way to make him learn was to hurt him .

“I know, Father. I love you too.” 

Chapter Text

Phil woke up one afternoon after training, a few days later, to a knock on the door. “Come in,” he yawned, rolling out of bed and getting into the clothes that had been put out earlier. A servant walked in, bowing deeply. Phil waved a hand as he finished tying a knot on one of his robes and looked at them. 

“Your Highness,” they started, “His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, is requesting for your presence in the throne room as soon as you are able.” 

Phil sighed as he dismissed them. ‘The day just started’, he thought. ‘What does he want from me now? Haven’t I made enough of a fool of myself?’ 

As he walked through the golden doors of the throne room and kneeled down, his mind started to wander, as it did most days. He thought of a world where he wasn’t Crown Prince, a world where he could make friends, have a real family. Laugh and sing in the living room with parents who cared and would sing along. ‘ Maybe have children of my own, and protect them from everything bad in the world. Somewhere far away from the Empire. We could live in a cottage, maybe, surrounded by lush fauna and peace -’

“-that is why I’ve decided to assign you a knight, just to make sure you don’t… try anything else. He’s one of the best students that Sir Dream has trained. If you break any of my rules, he’ll be the one to tell me immediately. Do you understand?” 

“...What?” Phil said. He blinked. ‘ What did he just say? A knight?’

“Do not make me repeat myself. Do you understand?”  

“I-..yes, Father.” 

“Good. Now go back to your room, he’ll be arriving shortly.” 

Phil walked back to his room, bowing again as he left. ‘What will he be like?’ Phil thought. ‘If he’s anything like Dream … if he’s anything like him, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t think I can take two Dreams at the same time.’ Phil chuckled, imagining training him, with a smaller, mini Dream off to the side. 

Sitting in his room, Phil knew that he should be anxious. He should be worried sick wondering what this new person is going to be like, but instead, he didn’t feel anything. It was a weird feeling- he felt like he was watching his body from underneath a pool of water, all of his senses not quite as sharp as they should be. An eerie sense of calm washed over him. 

A few minutes later, (or was it hours?) he heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, slowly regaining his consciousness. 

Someone walked into his room, and bowed. ‘This must be him.’ Phil thought. 

The first thing Phil noticed about him was his bright pink hair . It was as straight as a wire, flowing all the way down to his back. He was clad in iron armor with a sword sheathed at his hip. As he rose from his bow, Phil could see his eyes. They were a shocking, beautiful red with golden flecks inside. He had never seen anything like them before. 

“Greetings, Your Highness,” He said, swiftly making a fist with his right hand and putting it onto his heart, his left stationed behind his back. It was one of the Empire’s many salutes.  “My name is Technoblade, and I will be your knight.” 

Friday

Sir Technoblade is…– well, I don’t know how to describe him. I’ve never had a knight be assigned to me, but he isn’t what I thought he’d be. First off, he has pink hair, which by itself isn’t that unusual–one of the chefs has pink hair as well– but it’s more of the fact that it’s long. And well taken care of. I don’t know, I would’ve thought that Sir Dream would’ve made him get rid of it, or something. I don’t mind though- it looks good on him. 

I do wonder, however, what he thinks of me. Does he believe that I’m a good person? A stuck-up brat? He wouldn’t be the first. ….I don’t know why I want his opinion. It doesn't matter. He doesn’t matter. His only job is to supervise me, that’s it.  

He always looks at me weirdly, too. Like he’s thinking of something. I wonder what he’s thinking. 

….. I wonder a lot of things about Sir Technoblade. He’s distant, but that’s normal. I don’t think I’ve met anybody who wasn’t , towards me. Even the staff members who I've known for most of my life still only give me curt responses. Maybe what Father said is true, that nobody wants to get too close because of my standing. 

Saturday

Sir Technoblade approached me today, as I was working on my classwork. He didn’t say anything, just looked over my paper and pointed out my mistakes. I didn’t even notice that they had appeared whilst I was doing my calculations. I believe that he’ll be a good asset to me in the future. 

Saturday 

I just got assigned to the Crown Prince yesterday. I don’t know how to feel about it. It's not like I don’t like the kid, and obviously I’ll do everything I can to protect him, however. The more I look at him, the more I get worried. As I was watching him get ready for one of his classes, I saw a purple bruise on his shoulder. I knew that he was getting trained by Dream, but I didn’t know that he used the same tactics that he would’ve used on me. He looked like he wanted to cry, why would Dream do that?   It doesn’t matter though, even though he’s a kid , Dream does his own things and hey, they work. 

The kid’s nice, unlike what I’ve been told. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s smart

for his age. (Make sense for the Crown Prince, I guess.)  I saw the stuff he was looking at, and he had answered basically everything correctly. I did notice that he got a couple of questions wrong, so I told him, and he just corrected it and continued on.  I don’t want to get too involved with him, though.  

Monday’s training was… particularly rough, for Phil. He stumbled into his room at midday, going over to his drawers and opening them, revealing a myriad of medical supplies. Dream had apparently woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and it showed. 

He was perhaps the roughest that he had been with Phil, slamming him into the ground over and over until it didn’t feel like training anymore, just a beating. He had bruises blooming all over his skin that made it hurt to move around, cuts and scars littered like paper. His training shirt had been torn on the shoulder, revealing a particularly nasty cut that he had obtained while trying to avoid Dream’s sword. 

He told Technoblade to stay behind, that day. Which meant that as he hobbled into the room, Technoblade ran over to him. Fuck . He didn’t want to show Technoblade his wounds, but he couldn’t exactly avoid him, either. 

“Are you okay, Your Highness? What happened?” He asked, concern apparent on his face. 

“I’m fine, just training wounds,” Phil replied, picking up an alcohol swab and turning to the mirror that was situated on top of his dresser. . Phil had gotten these from the infirmary, just in case he didn’t want to constantly alert the medic of his injuries. 

“That doesn’t sound like you’re fine, Your Highness. Here, let me help,” said Technoblade. He reached for the swab in Phil’s hand. Phil flinched unintentionally at the sight of Technoblade’s hand coming closer. He thought that Technoblade wouldn’t be able to see it, but he did, and retracted his hand. 

“I apologize, Your Highness. Do you require my assistance, or should I just contact the infirmary?” He said, formal in tone, yet the concern never left his face. 

“No- don’t, I can… I can do this myself,” Phil said, angling himself in his mirror to swipe the swab onto the area around the wound. His body stiffened in a wince, the alcohol making his skin burn. Luckily, it wasn’t too deep. Dream knew what he was doing; he never hurt Phil around the face area to ensure that his wounds would be covered if he needed to do a public appearance. 

Technoblade hesitated before speaking. He bit his lip before settling back into an indifferent stance. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said, and watched as Phil cleaned his wounds and put gauze on the cuts that required it. Once he was done, he walked over to his bed and fell onto it, exhausted. 

“If I may, Your Highness…” Technoblade started.

Phil looked over to him from his place lying down. “Yes, Sir Technoblade?” 

“Well…” ‘ No. It’s not my place to ask. It’s not a part of my job.’ Technoblade thought. 

what if it is??  

phil is hurt!! 

hurtza hurtza hurtza lmao 

help him!! 

Technoblade’s awkwardness and slight anxiety got the best of him, disregarding Chat. They had been attached to the Prince ever since they saw him. “It’s nothing, Your Highness. I apologize,” he said after a pause. 

Phil yawned. “Okay then,” he said, pulling the blankets over his head. “Since I’m free for today, I’m going to take a nap. You’re-” he yawned again. “You’re dismissed.” He always got so tired after these sessions. 

Technoblade left, and Phil was alone. He fell asleep, not knowing what was about to happen. 

Chapter Text

It was dark. Phil was laying on the pitch-black floor, staring up at the Void. He didn’t know where he was, all he knew was the encapsulating Void that loomed all around him. He saw Sir Technoblade walk up to him, his eyes shadowed from view. His hair, his sash, everything about him seemed desaturated, like he had the life sucked out of him. 

“Your Highness?” he said.

“Sir Technoblade? Wh- what’s going on?” Phil asked, looking around the Void. 

Techno’s bright red eyes bore into him, a blank, emotionless stare.

 “Technoblade? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore.” 

“What- what do you mean?” 

 “I can’t take care of you  anymore, Your Highness. I’m requesting to transfer.” 

“But- but- why?” 

“You. You, Your Highness. I can’t deal with.. All of this,” He gestured to Phil, “anymore. I’m leaving.”  Techno laughed, a dark, bitter thing.  “Sir Dream shall oversee you now, both during training and daily life.” 

“W-what? No-” Phil said– or, tried to say. Instead what came out was a small choking noise. 

“Hello, Your Highness,” said Sir Dream from behind him. 

He was standing there, mask and all, except everything was off. His teeth were too sharp, his mouth too wide, wider than a human grin should be. Technoblade laughed at him one final time and disappeared. Phil didn’t have  and Phil was back in the hallway, Dream sneering at him. 

The guilt of what happened back then weighed upon Phil, too much for him to bear. He saw the child that he sentenced staring at him with that blank stare, yelling at him, saying Phil should’ve done something, saved him . ‘Your fault, your fault, your fault.’  he chanted. Everything was too loud, Phil tried to cover his ears but he couldn’t move , he couldn’t breathe, his body felt like it was getting torn apart and getting put back together, there was so much pain. 

He could hear Dream hurling insults at him through training, saying he was too weak to ever succeed the Crown, and-

The floor started cracking below him, and he was falling, falling through the Void, the voices of his Father echoing everywhere at once.   He tried to respond, he did, but he didn’t know what he was saying. 

“I’m doing this to protect you, son.”  Then why does it hurt?

“When will you do better?”  When will you let me be a kid?

“You know what happens now.”  I don’t deserve this. 

“Not good enough, be better, not good enough, not good enough, wake up-” 

“Your Highness, wake up-!”  

Phil opened his eyes with a jolt, inhaling sharply. A nightmare. He took deep breaths, trying to get his heart rate down to a normal amount. 

“Your Highness, I apologize for disturbing you in your sleep,” Sir Technoblade said. The prince looked around. It was the middle of the night. “But it seemed as if you were havin’ a nightmare. What happened, if I may ask, Your Highness?” 

Instead of answering, Phil simply looked to Techno and asked, “What were you doing at this hour?” 

“Patrolling.” 

“And you heard me from outside?” 

“Well, no, I came inside to make sure that you weren’t, like, dead or anything.” 

Phil chuckled, then continued. “Well, I’m fine now, so you can leave-” 

“Well, and I mean this with all due respect, it doesn’t look like you’re fine. You’re shaking, Your Highness,” Technoblade cut in. 

Phil looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Hm. When he looked back up, Technoblade was sat on the edge of his bed, looking at him intently. Phil couldn’t make out what he was thinking– it was the same face that he made whenever Phil was around. 

“I know that– well, for me, at least – talking about your dreams helps. I don’t want to force you to do anything, but if you want to, you could tell me about what happened?” His knight asks, and Phil could finally tell the emotion that had been in Technoblade’s eyes: concern. Technoblade was concerned about Phil, and had been for the majority of the time they had been together.  

Nobody in Phil’s life had been concerned about his well-being, except for a few well-meaning servants and cooks on occassion. Phil never saw them again afterwards. Nobody this close to him had ever shown him kindness– well, aside from Father. He’s kind. 

Phil zoned back into reality to see Technoblade dramatically waving his hand infront of Phil’s eyes. 

“Your Highness? Your Highnesssss? Ohhh no, I broke him- I broke the Crown Prince, oh no-” 

Phil, surprisingly, started laughing. All the tension got lifted off his shoulders as he laughed at his knight’s display (much to Technoblade’s chagrin), his shoulders and back curling in on themselves, not in fear, but in laughter. In happiness. 

Once they catch their breath and stop laughing, Phil looks up at Technoblade. 

“It was…weird,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Now that I look back at it, it was pretty, uh- nonsensical?” 

“Oh?” asked Technoblade.

“Well, you were in it, but– you didn’t act anything like how you normally would. You were, like-” His voice lowered, and he felt his cheeks warm up from embarrassment. . “You were insulting me and stuff. And- and you left, and then..” Phil stopped, and looked up at his knight. He didn’t want to mention that part. “You left.” 

Before Phil knew it, there were arms wrapped around him. Technoblade…hugged him? Phil could hear his heartbeat, steadily beating in his chest. 

 “Your Highness…It is my sworn duty to protect you at all costs. I will never leave you.” 

Oh. What is this feeling? Phil felt a warmth creeping up inside him as his knight held him close. He felt warm. Nice. 

Safe.  

Technoblade made him feel safe.   Sir Technoblade  was concerned about him. 

That sentence followed Phil around in his head the whole morning. It invaded his thoughts while he ate, trained, and did his schoolwork. He couldn’t stop thinking about his knight, his soft voice as he consoled Phil, the hug- Prime, how long had it been since Phil had been hugged? Truly, genuinely hugged. 

Phil was too caught up in his thoughts to notice where he was going, and promptly bumped into something hard. He fell to the ground, and looking up, he saw the one and only, Technoblade. 

“Hey, Your Highness. My apologies,” he said, holding out a hand for Phil to take. “I was just looking for you.” 

Phil took his hand, and stood up, brushing the dirt off of his robe. “Oh, it’s fine- what’s wrong?” He asked. 

“Nothing much, uh.. I just wanted to, uh… talk?” Technoblade said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck awkwardly.  “Privately.” He tacked on. 

Oh. It’s time. He’s going to say he’s leaving me. Phil thought, sighing. 

“Alright.. Let’s go into my room.” Phil said, preparing himsefl for the inevitable. 

As they reached Phil’s chambers, he stood, looking at Technoblade. “Well? Let’s… let's get this over with. Where’s your resignation letter?” He said.  

“What are you talking about, Your Highness?” His knight asked, tilting his head. “I’m not- I’m not resigning. Remember what I said? I care about you.” 

Phil blinked. Once. Twice.  

“You’re- you’re not?” 

           Techno laughed, staring at him incredulously. “Of course not, Your Highness. You’re in my charge. I’m your knight. That’s how it is, and how it will always be.” He said as if it was a matter of fact.

“Phil.” The prince said, a gentle smile on his face. “Call me Phil.” 

Technoblade looked at him, surprised, before fading into a smile. “Alright, Phil, you can call me Techno, then. None of this ‘Sir’ nonsense– I never liked it, anyways.” 

Phil paused for a moment. “Okay, Technoblade-"

"Juust Techno, Phil." 

"Thank you. For everything.” Phil said, a warm smile on his face. 

“Of course, Phil. That’s what friends are for.” 

Chapter Text

The next couple of weeks were uneventful. Wake up, train, go eat breakfast, work, spend a bit of time with Techno, eat dinner, and sleep. He was getting more and more used to being with the man. They fell into easy banter together, and every time Techno made a sharp quip or joke after a long day, Phil felt the weight of his responsibilities lift off his shoulders, if only for a moment. Even though they had only known each other for a few weeks, it felt like years. The duo just seemed to fit into place with each other. 

They were sitting in Phil’s bedroom one day, the light streaming in through the windows as they sat in a comfortable silence. Techno was writing something down in his journal, and Phil was reading a book. It was a rare day of rest for the Prince, a day where Sir Dream had decided to give Phil a break for once. Techno never thought he would see the day. 

He stared at Phil, as the light shining through the window created what looked like a halo of light around Phil’s golden hair, and was filled with an overwhelming sense of…joy? The Prince looked so peaceful like this, and he was glad that Phil got to have this break. He deserved it, more than anyone. But then Techno’s gaze shifted down, and he saw how Phil tensed up and flinched whenever his clothes grazed over what had to be a bruise, how you could just barely see the white bandages covering his arms whenever Phil lifted his arm and let the flowing sleeve fall. 

Phil was just a kid. Sure, he was the Crown Prince, and they needed to learn how to fight from a young age, but what Dream was doing-... it wasn’t right. Techno felt a familiar sense of frustration and anger bubble up inside of him, the same feeling that was present whenever Techno had to escort Phil back to the castle from his sessions. Techno had to do something.  

The worst part of it all, though? Phil thought it was all normal.  

Techno doesn’t blame the kid, not really. From what Techno could gather, the Prince always sought to do better, to be better. He thought that waking up sobbing and never feeling truly safe in your own home was normal–expected, even– for the Crown Prince, because that’s what he had been taught. 

Something had to be done. And if Phil didn’t do it himself– if Phil didn’t realize how unhealthy this is for him– then Techno would do it for him. Techno had grown oddly attached to the young Prince in the couple weeks that he had spent knowing the kid. Maybe it was the way that Phil reminded Techno so much of himself as a child– Techno had been trained by Dream as well, after all. Though, Techno would’ve thought that Dream would tone it down a little bit for the Prince and not train him like how he trained Techno: like a soldier. 

It was true that Phil needed to learn how to fight and defend himself, but he wasn’t a soldier– he didn’t need to fight like one . That’s what his army was for. That’s what Techno was for. Because Techno was the Prince’s knight. That was his job. His job was to protect the Prince, and if that involved tearing down the entire system to ensure Phil’s safety and wellbeing, then Techno would do it, without hesitation. He swore on the Blood God himself.    

Blood for the Blood God, Chat whispered. 

Blood for the Blood God 

BLOOD

BLOOD

BLOOD

BLOOD-

“Techno?”

Phil said, snapping Techno back into reality. He realized that he had been glowering at Phil this entire time, too lost in his thoughts. 

“Is everything okay, Techno?” Phil asked, concern lacing his voice. “Did I..do something wrong?” 

“No– no, you’re okay, Your– Phil. You did nothing wrong, I just..zoned out. Everything’s fine.” Techno replied, quickly reassuring the Prince. Even though they’ve been together for a few weeks now, Techno always struggled at not calling Phil by his title sometimes, the rule drilled into his head.

Phil’s lips pressed into a line, and Techno could see the worry in his eyes. “You were muttering something under your breath.” 

He was? 

Apparently, Phil must’ve seen Techno’s look of confusion, and he continued on. “I couldn’t hear it exactly, but it sounded like–  it sounded like something about blood?” he asked, staring at Techno. ‘Oh,’ Techno thought. ‘That makes sense.’  

Sometimes, when Chat got to be too much, they could influence Techno’s speech a little. How was he supposed to explain that to Phil? 

“Ah, y’know.. Just thinking about… war tactics. And stuff,” Techno said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“We’re not at war.” 

“Preparations..?” 

Phil rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh, and looked back to his journal. Good. Techno was safe, for now. 

They could talk about Phil’s life and how severely messed up it was another time. Techno wanted to savor this peaceful moment, as he stared at his charge, who was back to writing in his journal and reading. He felt a sense of contentment as he saw how the sun reflected off of Phil’s hair, how serene he looked. Phil deserved this break. 

They weren’t okay now, but they would be. Techno would figure things out, and they’d… do something. They’d be alright.  

Chapter Text

“Come on, Your Highness. Do better.” 

Phil crashes down onto the sand, breathing heavily as he stares up at Sir Dream, the metal glint of the sword shimmering in the light.  He hadn’t reacted fast enough. “Have you gotten weaker, Your Highness?” Dream asked, sneering.

“No, Sir!” Phil yelled, his joints sore as he got up on his feet. 

Another slash, the sound of metal against metal, and Phil was actually holding his own. He could barely believe it.  He hadn’t been able to hold his own in a while, and—

Red droplets of blood trickled down Phil’s side, his tunic becoming red and sticky. 

“Too slow, Your Highness. Really. You need to work on those reflexes, not getting stuck in your mind all the time. The cut’s shallow, you’ll be okay.” 

Phil blinked, the pain taking a moment to process before he was grabbing his side and sitting down on the sand, Techno running towards him. 

“Your Highness!” 

“I’m- I’m okay, Techno. Can we-“ Phil grunted, wincing. “Can we just go into my room?”

One short walk later, and Techno was wrapping a bandage around Phil’s stomach, covering the small cut Dream gave him. He sighed, a nagging thought in his brain that he wanted to let out. 

“Phil, why do you let yourself get destroyed by these- pardon my language- these nerds?”  Techno asked, tying the bandage off. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well- you let Sir Dream beat you up every day, and you let the King tell you what to do and make you feel unsafe. Now, I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s what’s supposed to happen, even for a Crown Prince.” 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do, Techno? They just.. They want me to become a leader. A king. And this is what kings do.” 

Techno sighed. “Phil, training to become a king doesn’t mean making you feel unsafe around the people who are supposed to be training you. It means honing your skills in a safe environment,” he said, putting a hand on Phil’s shoulder. 

Phil looked down, thinking, as Techno continued. 

“I’m supposed to be protecting you, Phil; I’m your knight. How am I gonna be a good knight if I can’t do my job, huh? You’re not makin’ it any easier for me,” Techno says, smiling as he tries to lighten the mood. 

Phil just laughs bitterly, shaking his head. 

“It’s not that simple, Techno. I wish I could just get away from it all. Away from the palace, and the kingdom, and everything. But.. I can’t. I’m the Crown Prince. I can’t just leave.” 

Techno thought for a moment. 

“Why not?” 

Phil looked up, not expecting Techno to imply that he should just go. “Why not? I have- I have responsibilities, Techno. I’m the only heir, and I have to lead. If I don’t, then who would? Dream?” 

Techno sighs. That was a good point. If Phil left, then the King would have to eventually pass the crown onto someone, and then who would it be? 

But Phil would be happy.  He’d be able to live the life that he should’ve been living, be the kid that he was supposed to be. That’s all that Techno really wanted for Phil— for him to be happy. 

“I understand, Phil. But I want you to be happy, and I don’t see that happening here…. Just think about it,” he says. 

Techno didn’t know that he was even capable of being so protective over someone. But Phil was.. different. He was just a kid, a kid that had been through too much. 

Phil sighs. “Okay. I’ll think about it, but—…” Phil pauses, seemingly thinking it over. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s all I want,” Techno says. He gets up, going to head to the door. 

“Have a nice afternoon, Phil.”

“You too, mate.” 

Techno shuts the door slowly, letting it thump shut lightly before Phil releases the sigh he's been holding in.

He leans back against his bed, staring up at the ceiling, a million thoughts in his mind.

Would it really be alright for him to just... leave? He didn't know. 

He shut his eyes, and tried to take a nap. He’d think about it later.