Chapter Text
Technoblade would be lying if he said he didn’t want to ruthlessly slaughter his commander. But, of course, Techno would have no reason to lie. He was more than willing to say that to the commander’s face and he knew even then that he still wouldn’t feel remorse for those words. Quite the opposite, in fact, he would probably take boyish delight in the look of panic that would flash across the man’s features as he attempted (read: failed) to school his expression.
The man could not seem to resist calling Techno up to his tent to give him yet another life-threatening mission. Yippee. Can you read the sarcasm in that sentence, reader?
Even now, the commander continued to ramble endlessly about the “dangerous and important mission that I only trust the best with. You're just so strong and great and wonderful and mehhh.”
Techno had heard the spiel a million times over, and each time, Techno was struck by a few realizations. A) his commander was awful at lying, and B) he wanted him dead.
The second one wasn’t really a realization, it was more of a reminder. Go figure.
He wasn’t supposed to be alive right now, was another thought that continued to smack him upside the head every now and again.
It had been almost three months since he was meant to have died, but he was here. Fighting tooth and nail to survive.
He was quite thankful for the self-defense classes he took in his old life, when he was still Alexander rather than Technoblade. He had dabbled in all the classes he could find, enjoying the thrill and rush of controlled fighting. He took boxing, wrestling, archery, riflery, karate, strength training- heck, he even took an anatomy class. He wanted to satisfy that part of him that thrived on the fast-paced, adrenaline sparking momentum that carried through a fight. (It wasn’t so addictive anymore; now, instead of the smell of plastic mats and boxing gloves, he was haunted by the terrified screams of his peers as their final breaths were taken from them.)
Now, being in the body of a member of House Erebus was even more rewarding. His prior knowledge of combat, mixed with the raw strength and over-extended limits of this new body proved to do more for him than even he expected.
Which was probably why he was still alive.
That and the outside knowledge of the story he was currently living.
When Techno had first read Villains Don’t Get to See the Happy Ending, he just regarded it as another story to shelve and forget about.
Of course, it was a good book. Dare he say he enjoyed it. He just wasn’t one to reread unless it was “Ozymandias” or “The Art of War”.
Now, Techno was glad it was one of his more recent reads, considering he was in the body of a character that died in the prologue.
“Technoblade, this mission is important. If we want to defend this front, then we need all hands on deck,” the commander urged. It was almost comical how he looked bored of his own spiel. “I need you to do this to the best of your ability.”
Techno moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, fighting back a groan. He never missed the way the commander rested his hand on a dagger with a flinch, his eyes locked on Techno. Techno rolled his eyes, sighed and stood up, unwilling to deal with any more of his commander’s ramblings and backhanded “compliments”.
He pushed open the entrance to the commander’s tent, crossing paths with another official who was going in. The man bristled as Techno passed him and disappeared into the tent.
“What were you doing with that monster?” said one voice, barely muffled by the tent’s thin fabric. Techno stopped.
“Nothing I wanted to do,” another replied. “The day I finally kill him off is the day that I can finally kick back and enjoy some champagne.”
That was nothing new. It never would be a revelation.
Techno kept walking.
He slunk through the war camp- Legacy Quadrant, as it was called- to his tent, hearing the screams of comrades fighting for their lives off in the distance. That was an unnerving thing to fall asleep to each night. (Techno would know.)
“Hey! Techno!” a voice called. “Over here, man! We’re doing an arm wrestle!”
Techno rolled his eyes, but went to join the two soldiers.
“Count us off!” They cheered.
“3…2…” Techno obliged, fondness creeping into his voice. The other soldiers were idiots, but they were his idiots. “1!”
They did about three rounds before Techno decided to split.
Techno shoved open the flap to his tent, flopping onto his cot almost immediately upon entry.
His tent mate, Wilbur, laughed at the low groan that escaped Techno’s lips. “Did the commander yap endlessly again?” he asked, an amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“You know it,” Techno mumbled, rolling over so he stared at the patchy fabric of the tent’s ‘ceiling’.
Wilbur laughed. “Don’t I.”
Wilbur fiddled with his guitar- one of the only things he was allowed to bring before he was dragged away from his home to be the next soldier to be added to the front line death toll- stringing together a wonderful chord of notes.
Wilbur was kind of the sweet heart of the camp. He couldn’t fight, he was more of a stealth guy than anything, but more than that, he was morale. He was the one who helped to raise the spirits of the soldiers that had lost limbs and family and friends and hope. Techno was the man by his side, protecting that sunshine that everyone treasured so, but more than that, he was Wilbur’s friend. He was the one in the camp that stuck by Wilbur’s side no matter what went wrong, and he was revered not only for his loyalty, but for his willingness to contribute to bringing joy to the camp as well.
The commanders and officials pretty much hated him, but the other soldiers were another story. They knew Techno as the quiet, dry-humored powerhouse that had a heart of gold beneath all of the layers of ice encasing it. He was the funny one to make jokes of their situation, to make everything seem alright in the world when accompanied by the soft melodies of Wilbur’s music. The people knew him as that guy who would come running, sword drawn, ready to protect anyone who called his name, or honor the soldiers that didn’t make it out. He was just, kind, loyal, and despite the rumors, not insane.
Wilbur hummed lightly, hitting a ‘g’ before dropping to a ‘d’, and Techno allowed himself to drift deeper into his thoughts. Techno didn’t really know anything about Technoblade Erebus. He knew of his affinity for combat, his birthright, his being heir to the house of Erebus, and also a few obscure details- but the fact of the matter was, Technoblade was a side character, a throw-away role, a backstory and plot device.
Nothing more, nothing less.
That fact alone really upset Techno. This character had so much potential, so much ability to do so much more, yet still, he was killed off to be just another heartbreak for Theseus.
Speaking of Theseus, Techno really needed to get back to House Erebus. Keep the kid from becoming the villain with the unhappy ending.
Techno sighed. He had regarded Theseus’s story as a tragedy ever since he read the book. A cruel fate befalling a broken, grieving child- it just wasn’t fair.
So Techno created a mental list of objectives.
For one thing, Techno didn’t want to stay in the Legacy Quadrant forever. He wanted to sleep in a building without having to worry about the death just outside his tent.
Secondly, he wanted to save Theseus. The poor kid deserved a better life than what he was given.
Lastly, he wanted to expose that ugly pig of a stepmother (she wasn’t actually ugly, at least on the outside. She was charming in her looks and her demeanor, and she was a smooth-talking master. There was a reason the great Duke Erebus had married her.). She was wicked and cruel and had quite the audacity to do what she did to the Ducal Household of Erebus.
Techno sighed loudly. Wilbur snorted, but halted in his playing. “What is it?” he asked, with a tone that suggested he knew Techno was plotting something.
“I want out.”
“You and me both.”
“Well then we should make a plan to get out.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes, setting his guitar back in its case. “How do you think we’ll do that?”
“By gaslight, gatekeep, girlbossing the commander. Duh.”
Wilbur blinked in confusion.
Techno huffed. “If they think I’m ‘mentally unstable’, I act mentally unstable. I scare the crap out of the commander, threaten him a bit, demand he let us go otherwise I go out and raise hell. We make our demands, and leave with honor.”
Wilbur raised his eyebrows. “Was this cooking up in your brain or did you think it up on the spot?”
“I’ve been a little preoccupied, Wilbur.” Techno glared.
“Uh-huh. And why didn’t you mention this sooner? It’s not exactly fun fighting for your life every day.”
Techno looked at him with his eyebrows raised. “You aren’t doing any fighting, that’s all me, you ungrateful,” he joked, though it was hard to tell because of his constant monotone. “Also, I had an epiphany. That’s why.”
Wilbur chuckled and shook his head in exasperation. “Tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Techno confirmed.