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Published:
2025-10-28
Updated:
2025-10-28
Words:
2,427
Chapters:
2/?
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When Hatred Learns to Love.

Summary:

The god never gave her a kind word.

Even after training till she was teetering over the edge of a dead faint. Even after perfecting every stance, move and trick written down by Telamon himself.

It was never enough.

…

 

1x will always be beaten down.

The grey-feathered child pulled out her teleporter to go back to SFOTH to train even more.

But when she pressed the button for the experience, something…changed.

1x1x1x found herself in SFOTH, but…it looked different.

People dressed oddly, the platforms changed, everything…out of place

Where was she?

Notes:

Hello! Hello! Welcome to my ramblings of a 1x1x1x1x that craves love that will never happen (I’m lying).

This may be OOC, but let my birdie suffer a bit.

This little guy suffers for a hell of a lot time in the first few chapters (yes I’ve already finished chapter 2 but I want to finish chapter 3 to get it out) but there will be fluff later, we just need this to burn slow in the family sense.

I lowkey started charachterizing this bird like Yanqing from Honkai star rail, if Yanqing didn’t have a good dad, but if any of you play that you can see it.

Teleporters are like the play buttons from Roblox, they allow you to go into different games and SFOTH is one of them, Telamon’s manor is another and there’s other stuff.

The stuff that happens in the summary kind of starts at chapter three, sorry, but I didn’t really know a good hook to get you guys (if any) in here.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: The Sword that Craves Love

Chapter Text

  The SFOTH sky's bruising, blazing orange had faded into a gentle purple by the time 1x1x1x1x stopped training.

 

  Sweat dripped down his pale grey face, and his breath came out as wheezing gasps as he launched himself at drones twice the size of himself.

 

  His sword decimated the training dummies, his form guarded, his stance perfect. Flying, animated limbs fell before him like boulders, anyone who was watching would surely say that the boy had attained skills similar to that of a sword master.

 

Yet it wasn’t enough.

 

  It wasn’t enough for him. For his father—creator. They expected infallibility, perfection to the highest degree. They expected 1x‘s blade to cut down opponents with tens of thousands more hours than him on SFOTH without breaking a sweat…

 

They expected him to make them falter in a spar.

 

That wouldn’t have been such an issue if 1x‘s creator was anyone other than Telamon.

 

  They had such great expectations of him and when 1x1x1x1x could not deliver…cold disappointment was often all that was left behind.


  And even when 1x did do something right, Telamon was never watching. They were always somewhere else when 1x beat a swordsmaster without difficulty, when 1x trained and trained until his wings felt sore and he could barely see straight.

 

The god never gave him a kind word.

 

But that was to be expected wasn’t it?

 

  1x1x1x1x was Telamon‘s hatred. A constant reminder of what lay simmering beneath their skin, every imperceptible imperfection, every bout of hatred, pain, anxiety that ever bruised his perfect image.

 

He could never forget.

 

 

“Telamon is disappointed with your progress.” A deep voice murmured.

 

Telamon’s hood was tilted in 1x‘s direction, the latter collapsed on the ground, being disarmed in the first ten seconds of the spar. His wings twitched anxiously, as a faintly glowing sword pointed mere inches above his carotid artery.

 

“1x1x1x1x has been neglecting 1x1x1x1x‘s training.” The god hummed, frowning.

 

“N-No, I‘ve been trying so hard, I always train from sunup to sundown—pleased, Da—”

 

The sword tip brushed against his mouth.

 

His mouth stilled.

 

“Telamon is not to be referred to as ‘dad’, they admonished, “Telamon is Telamon, and 1x1x1x1x shall address Telamon as such,”

 

1x shrunk back, making himself as small as possible as he could on the ground. His wings clamped shut, tightly to his sides.

 

“1x1x1x1x is hatred. And hatred does not have a ‘dad’.”

 

 

Hatred does not have a ‘dad’

 

 

The words still reverberate in his head.

 

Hatred may not have a dad yet, why did he feel like a child?

 

(A far, far, far off memory of a winged being in flowing black robes, watching his light grey child as he tried to fly. The boy is launching himself off of a rock and failing miserably. His grey wings flapped, futile and falling.)

 

Why did Telamon feed, clothe and teach him how to fight? Why didn’t they just leave him already?

 

(The winged being watched, analyzing every imperfection of the grey-winged child‘s form. His eyes locked onto the shape of his wings, they should have been big enough to at least take off, yet they were made in such a way that didn’t fit his body type.)

 

Why did he train until his vision blurred and sweat stained his feathers? For a father who rejected the role ever since he was born?

 

(They were long and narrow, wings suitable for soaring long distances perhaps of that of a seagull, yet his body demanded wings that were more broad with primaries to catch thermals, somewhat like an owl.)

 

Defective. Not good at sparring, not good at flying. They‘d once said within earshot of 1x.

(The grey child looked so lost after falling again. His knees were scratched up from falling. He stretched out his left wing and felt the soft feathers bend under his little fingers. He stared longingly at the sky, his beady, black eyes burning with desire.)

 

Why did his skin itch to please them? Why did his sword fight to improve, for acknowledgment that will never ever come. Why did he wait for a father that seemingly does not exist?

 

(The winged being watched for a second longer before they stepped closer to his child, pulling him into his arms, their huge, golden wings hiding him from the rest of the world.

 

The grey child sunk into their arms, relishing in their warmth for a moment before murmuring.

 

“I want to touch the sky, Papa, but I can‘t….

The winged being hummed, releasing the grey child before hoisting them up.)

 

What was wrong with him? Telamon left his body bleeding and bruised after every spar without care.

 

(Their golden wings expanded to their full mast, spotted brown primaries gleamed in the sun. The father adjusted his position so his son could look outward-)

 

Why did…why did he still want them to…care…

 

(And they took off, the air whistling in his ears, his wings taking large gulps of air, leaving the ground so far behind. The rock that the boy practiced on was but a mere speck of grey in the vast, blue sky.

 

The little grey child stared awestruck at the trees that were green splashes of color on the canvas that was Robloxia. He gasped when they saw the tall building of Roblox HQ. The glass panes, the red logo. So close up, so big.

 

The boy could not help but laugh. Laugh and laugh, and grin. Grin so bright and blinding, his joy incarnate as he could finally touch the sky. His father held him tight and hid his smile as he saw his boy fill the morning with squealing giggles.)

 

…

 

A child will always love their parents.

 

Even if said parents didn’t love them.

Chapter 2: Only a Hatchling Fears Heights.

Summary:

After an incredibly long day, 1x has to head home, he’s tired, incredibly so, so tired yet he walks forward, desperate for sleep.

It doesn’t help that he has to face a primal fear that shouldn’t exist in the first place.

Notes:

Hello, I’m sorry it took kinda long I thought I’d get it out by Monday but I promised myself I’d finish a chapter after this one, so uhm…three is like very long imo- not like 5k long but longer than the first def

I lied btw the summary from the fic ain’t gonna happen in 3, it’ll happen in 4 cause 3 was too long imo.

Hope you enjoyyyy

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

  1x returned home via his teleporter. Wings dragging behind him in exhaustion. God what time was it? 1:30 a.m.? The sword in his hand mocked him, 1:30 was a wishful estimate, he had never felt this bone aching tired before.

 

 (A lie. A lie. A lie.)

 

 His vision blurred, the empty grey streets stretched far and for a terrifying second 1x fell into nothingness—

 

 He caught himself before he hit the coarse ground.

 

 At this rate he wouldn’t make it back to his room.

 

 1x was nearly there, thirty feet or so from the gate, if it was daytime, he could probably see it from this far. It was a manor after all.

 

…

 

Telamon’s Manor.

 

 A tall, daunting  black building with yellow-stained panes. Dead, wilted plants and vines clung desperately to a grey, monotonous wall like a parasite did to its host.

 

Was it home?

 

Yes. 

 

Was it home, home?

 

No.

 

 A roof over his heads, a place to exist where he need not spend every waking moment improving himself for them. 

 

 Fleeting moments of snatched conversations with other swordsmen revealed that home was a place of comfort and peace. It may be an extravagant penthouse, to a rotting hole in the ground.

 

 It was still home.

 

 Telamon‘s Manor did not feel like comfort, least of all peace. The air felt too thick, warm, humid or freezing cold to be considered pleasant. Every rustle sounded like their wings, every single part of his body tense like a trap ready to snap.

 

  Despite everything, 1x still returned to the manor, not because he loved it, but because he would be in the streets otherwise.


Would the streets be more accepting of a creature such as him?

 

  The grey roads faded into a smooth, yellow-tilled path, winding through dark trees finally leading to the dreary manor he was looking for. 

 

  The gates stood heavy, foreboding in the moonlight. There was no key for it. Telamon kept it open during the day, and closed it during the night when 1x usually climbed over the fence but–

  The bone-deep ache that spasmed through his body reminded him of his predicament.

 

 He’d still have to scale the fence. The pain wouldn’t matter after all, all dynabloxians healed quickly…

 

  It was tall, twenty feet high. It was made up of vertical bars at foot long intervals, ending at cruel points to discourage stray sparrows and other non-sentient, foolish birds that’s only concern was food from perching (1x envied them). Horizontal bars criss-crossed the vertical ones by half a foot, easy to climb usually.

 

(Even easier to fly if my wings decided to magically start working now.)

 

Oh well.

 

  1x reached for the freezing metal, wincing at its burning touch. It felt nice against his numb skin, shocking a little feeling back into his nerves. Every kiss of rusted iron as he grabbed and pulled himself up, every brush of wind tickling the back of his neck–made his head dizzy.

 

 The cold that had seemed to help before, settled in his head now, like fog.

 

 1x could see the tips of the fence gleaming in the moonlight, he scrambled that last way up until he was dangling precariously at the top. All he had to do was go down, he always kept his bedroom window open so he could crawl into bed and forget about everything until morning after training…

 

That was easier said than done.

 

  Descending had always been something 1x hated, a steep hill, this fence, banlands–he hated the stairs too. It was the way the ground seem to plummet down, down, down, beckoning him to drop, begging him to dare flight. It made his chest go all tight and light-headed, everything in him screamed to not let go.

 

  He could feel the familiar fear wash over him, his wings flattened to his back, his hands locked around the bars, it was the worst at top where he could not help but, look down to see how far he had to go till–

 

 It was an irrational fear he was a damn bird for god’s sake–

 

  1x took a breath before maneuvering  himself, slowly, slowly, one foot up, that foot down, the other one following in suit. His wings relaxed slightly to balance himself as he clung to the inner fence.

 

Just..just a little more–

 

 1x took another downward step and  another and another and was halfway down. 

 

  But perhaps it was just his luck in that moment when he sighed in relief when a sharp, inescapable pang shot up his leg he was standing on, rendering it useless. It slipped off the edge just as he took his other leg off the bar.

 

  Combined with the shock of having half of his body unsupported by anything made him stupidly let go of the bar he was holding on to.

 

#### 

 

  1x fell—the air whistling past his face, his skin, his wings. He screamed in terror, flailing his wings and legs, feeling something fall out of his pocket, what was he trying to do? Fly? No, he couldn’t fly, that was something just inherently wrong with him—

 

 

But maybe he could slow the fall down, lessen the impact?

 

 

Futile hope.

 

 

He crashed straight into the stones that surrounded the path leading to the door.

 

   1x’s legs were the first to hit the ground, his body following suit, crushing his legs. His wings bent in an unnatural angle, black blood and grey feathers littered the ground like a crime scene. It felt like all the pain from his training, rolled up into a tiny, compressed bullet which was then shot violently into his stomach.

 

It felt familiar. Falling and crashing.

 

 1x stared at the ground, he felt the sting of tears well up in his eyes and he slapped a hand over them, wincing in pain. 

 

 No. He would not cry. Creations do not cry. Crying was a waste of time. It was what children did when they wanted something. Attention seeking behavior.

 

 He felt too old to be a child. Was he not 11?

 

 1x was tempted to just give up getting to his room, and simply sleeping in the cold. Moving seemed like an impossible task, but the thought of Telamon finding him out there, sleeping like a damn dog made him want to physically recoil.

 

 So, he got up slowly, swaying precariously on (fractured?) shaky legs. Putting any type of weight on his legs hurt like stepping on gravel or fire.

 

His sword became his cane.

 

 The harsh sound of sharp iron scraping against the path made his eyebrow twitch in over sensitivity, gods, what he’d do for his bed.

 

 He dragged himself to a wall of the manor. His room was at the back side of the house, shoved into one of the many, unused rooms, easy to forget about, like the dozens of other knick knacks that lived there.

 

 For a being that could summon literally anything from thin air, Telamon sure did love collecting things. 

 

 His window was just a couple feet away, the glass pane reflecting off of the moonlight.

 

  1x shuffled toward the slightly ajar window, he pushed it inside for a little more space to climb in. He was careful to make as little noise as possible until he flopped on to the floor of his bedroom with a satisfied sigh. 

 

  He kicked off his shoes with little care to where they would end up because his room was a mess anyway, why even bother.

 

  His sword clattered to the ground as 1x crawled to his bed, humming contentedly into the mattress. He shoved the blanket half covering his aching body, curled up into the ball and fell asleep nearly instantly.

 

 (The child was too exhausted to hear the click of his bedroom door open. He was already fast asleep when the only other resident of the large house stepped into the room, and closed the window, careful to not disturb random items scattered about the ground. 

 

They hovered over him for a moment before awkwardly tucking him in. Their talons worked too fast to be considered caring, yet they tucked each of his grey feathers in with an almost manic precision.

 

The being’s hand paused over the child’s wings, they were bent in an odd, unnatural manner, the being frowned before chanting something too quiet to hear, letting their hands glow a soft, warm gold, watching the wing right itself. They let their golden power surge within the little child, healing little cuts and bruises scattered across the child’s figure.

 

The winged being gently, with a feather-like touch, carded a finger through the boy’s hair, watching the boy leaning into it, unconsciously in his sleep.

 

Something warm flickered within the cold, empty, reaches of the apathetic being’s heart.)

Notes:

AhhhhhhHhHHh ty for reading, as always you can encourage the starving author by feeding its bottomless stomach with comments.

And uh you’ll see if I feel like giving Telaphone (yes I did spell their name like that) a redemption arc or smth

Notes:

I plan to update this after I’ve finished a chapter or two ahead of I’m feeling motivated but if too much time has passed

I’ll prob just submit a chapter anyway, however I DO NEED TO STUDY so keep that in mind

Please comment it would make my day