7

Technoblade reaches the castle grounds after what feels like hours, and he goes straight to the kitchen. The guards greet him as he passes inside. He moves through the corridors, dodging maids and servants with a delicate apology. When Techno reaches the kitchen, he peeks his head inside to see Kristin.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Technoblade greets her, calling her attention.

Kristin turns around and smiles when she sees him. Oh, how Technoblade wishes he could smile like that. A kind, loving smile.

"Technoblade, thank you very much," Kristin thanks him with a nod as he hands her the cabbage. He gives her a small bow with his hands behind his back.

"It's my pleasure, Your Majesty."

"Please, just call me Kristin, while I do appreciate it," Kristin laughs kindly, eyes squinting as she does.

"Well, if you wish, Kristin," Techno nods and stands straight again. "I'll be going now."

"Have a good day, Technoblade!" Kristin flashes a smile again.

What a kind woman, the voices say, the first one we might just spare.

Technoblade wishes her well, and walks to the door.

When he steps out, the end of a silver sword is being pointed at him. One he recognizes. Without bothering to look at the opponent's face his instincts take over. Swiftly, he grabs the blade of the sword, drawing blood on his palm, and forces the other's arm to the side. Using the opportunity, he places his hand on the back of his enemy's head, slamming it against the wall. Now whoever it is is pinned to the wall, but he doesn't expect it to be who it is.

"Tommy?" Techno murmurs and releases the boy from his grip, who had cried out previously.

"Gods, what the hell was that, Techno?" Tommy winces and rubs the front of his head where it hit the wall. Techno steps back with a frown.

"Defense, Tommy. What were you thinking coming up to me with a gods damned sword?" Techno pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwed shut as he sighs.

"Well, I thought if I did, you would teach me to fight!" Tommy protests and picks his sword that was knocked out of his hand.

Techno snatches the sword back and holds it by his side. "Well, rule number one: don't approach people with swords. Rule number two: fix your stance. And, rule number three: don't you ever use my sword."

"You never use it anyways, so why does it matter?" Tommy pouts and crosses his arms. He's quick to follow Technoblade when he starts to walk down the corridors.

"Because it's mine, Tommy." Techno peeks into his room and sets the sword by the door. "Now, follow me if you want training."

Tommy does as he's told, quick to follow Technoblade. He's faster than him just by walking and occasionally he flies for a short time to catch up. They walk to the garden, by the willow tree. Technoblade and grabbed two bamboo sticks on the way, about the length of a sword.

"Take this," Techno demands and stuffs one stick in Tommy's hand without warning. He scrambles to catch it and sets it right in his small hands.

Technoblade seems grumpy as he instructs him what to do, which makes Tommy all the more nervous. Usually he just sees Techno as strict, not mean. Today, however, he seems grumpy. Techno isn't mean, he's just grumpy today, is what Tommy tells himself.

He's not angry with me, is he? Tommy wonders, becoming distracted. I hope he isn't.

"Focus," Techno orders, ruffling the boy's hair. Tommy grumbles under his breath, but he does grip the stick harder.

"Keep a wide stance," Techno moves his feet to shoulder length, Tommy doing the same. He looks down at his feet as he moves them to make sure he's doing it right.

"Lower your body, if you stand straight it makes you an easier target," Techno pushes on Tommy's back, forcing him to bend over just a bit.

"Keep your eyes on your opponent always. When you move, make sure to keep your balance." Techno orders and grabs a similar stick to Tommy's that leans against the willow tree.

The blood god begins to charge at the other with his stick by his side and swings at Tommy. He ducks to move out of the way and glances at his feet to step backwards. Techno takes the chance and knocks him backward by shoving the stick into his stomach.

Tommy cries out and falls to his back on the long grass that practically swallows him whole. The golden-haired boy curses under his breath and hoists himself to his feet. He clutches the stick again from the grass and sets his feet into a good position again.

"That's not fair, I wasn't paying attention!" Tommy protests and slumps over, keeping his body low.

"I told you to keep your eyes on me," Techno shrugs with a chuckle. He places the stick on the grass carelessly, like an old ragdoll. "Let's try again."

Stance wide, Tommy thinks to himself each direction told to him as he moves. He swings the stick at Techno, who steps out of the way with ease. He swings again, this time Techno has to lean backwards to avoid a swing that would've hit him square in the jaw had he not moved.

Tommy supposes he gets a little lost in the moment, or spaces out. He can't seem to remember as he swings the stick down, not even trying to miss Technoblade, who grabs the stick in its path harshly.

"Concentrate, Tommy!" Techno scolds and throws the stick back at him.

Tommy tries again, readying the stick like a baseball bat next to his head. He steps forward and swings, Techno dodging again.

"When you swing, put your whole body into it."

"How do I do that?" Tommy sighs, exhausted already.

"Tommy, when you're in a battle you have to give everything you have." Techno pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

He doesn't mean to sound so rude, but he does. Tommy stares at him with a hurt look, one that asks him: am I not trying hard enough?

"Technoblade, I'm not an expert like you!" Tommy protests the accusation he feels he's been told.

"I never said you were, nor did I say I was," Techno replies and sits on the grass beside Tommy, who's sat in defeat.

A battle, the voices begin, much louder than before. A battle would be nice. We want blood. Blood for the blood god.

Technoblade remembers the battles and how gruesome they were. They were just chaos, people running for their lives as the two massacred. People just wanted to get away, they just wanted to live. Yet, neither Philza nor Technoblade had allowed it. In those battles they would kill people like deers in the woods for dinner.

He remembers how exhilarating it was to kill. To have the voices stop cheering for just five minutes. He loved the way his sword fit in the palm of his hand as he swung it into the hearts of people who dared run or attack him. He loved the way it felt to tower over another who begged for their life from the blood god.

Technoblade loved it, and that's the thing he regrets most.

Blood, the voices demand in a shout, blood, give us blood! Blood for the blood god!

Techno's lips tighten together in a thin line. Tommy glances over wordlessly and places a hand on Technoblade's shoulder.

"Can we try again?" Tommy asks and stands to his feet. Technoblade's chest heaves as he releases a sigh.

Use a real sword, the voices demand, now screaming at him. Blood for the blood god! We want blood!

"Are you alright?" Tommy asks and Techno reaches his hand up, silently asking for help to get up. Technoblade could not hear the question, he just focuses on the ground as he is raised to his feet.

The voices are screaming horrid demands for blood. Technoblade knew it was a mistake to do this, he should have known. Tommy asks if he's alright once again as Techno stumbles when he stands and has to grasp onto Tommy's shoulder to hold himself up.

Technoblade does not respond.

"I'll be- I'll be back," Techno murmurs, unaware if he even said it. The birds that chirp are not singing as far as he can tell. The wind is not blowing. Nothing except for the voices.

He starts to run to the castle, almost falling a number of times. When he reaches the castle doors he clings to the wall with one hand to make his way to Philza's office. He can not hear calls to ask if he is alright, all he hears is demands for blood.

"Philza!" Techno shouts and bursts through the door, falling to the ground as he does.

The angel of death who was once working jumps from his chair and runs to the other god on the floor. Techno slams his hands over his ears, trying to block out anything and everything. Philza bends down in front of the other who sits on his knees, facing the ground. Technoblade squeezes his eyes shut and presses his hands tighter against his ears.

"Technoblade, is it the voices?" Philza asks close to Techno's ear, who barely can make out the question. Technoblade gives a shaky nod and takes quick breaths, eyes scanning everywhere.

His conscience is screaming at him to run. To run and leave so as to not hurt them but something is binding Technoblade to the ground. Something is binding Philza to the ground as well as he tries to help Technoblade, although every part of him is telling him:

Run away, he can kill you. Run run run run run run run.

"Technoblade, breathe. Please breathe, it'll be alright," Philza begs for him to calm down. He knows every consequence if this goes wrong.

Kill him, the voices demand in a loud chorus, kill him kill him kill him kill him

Philza places a hand on Techno's shoulder to get him to look at him.

Technoblade reaches for the dagger in his boot.

Philza knows one thing: this is not Technoblade.

The blood god swings the dagger in an attempt to cut Philza in a fatal blow. Philza bends to the side to evade the swing and rises to his feet as Techno does. The two face off, Techno swinging and Philza moving like a bird in the trees.

Technoblade manages to hit the other's wing, cutting a few feathers off. Philza cries out sharply and clutches the feathers that are cut off, barely dodging another swing.

He doesn't remember how it happened. Maybe it's when Technoblade swings hard enough for Philza to have to duck. Maybe he fell, but either way, he's on his back in his office. Philza, the angel of death, lays on the ground before the blood god, who was once his friend.

Well, he really isn't a friend anymore, is he? The god standing before him with a dagger raised in his hands, clenched tightly with a look of sorrow in his eyes, is not his friend. He is merely a stranger, somebody Philza once knew.

Somebody who used to be his friend, but now is his enemy.

Technoblade is Philza's enemy the moment he scans the ground with his hand for a weapon. Technoblade is Philza's enemy as he finds a sword to swing, and he says:

"To the gates of hell, right Technoblade?"

Technoblade is his enemy the moment he drives the sword through Techno's gut, who drops the dagger with limp hands. Technoblade is his enemy as he collapses onto the other in shock, holding him tightly.

Technoblade is Technoblade once more.

"Philza?" Techno murmurs, eyes wide with shock.

He doesn't remember what happened.

"It's me, old friend," Philza replies with a sad smile. His hand grips the sword tighter and drives it in all the way, until only the handle remains in his eyesight. Blood gathers around the wound, spilling onto the wooden handle.

Technoblade does not want to die, he wants to live. He wants to live and see Tommy and Wilbur grow up. He wants to enjoy the peace and happiness he has found here.

"Philza?" Techno calls out into the far distance. Everything seems so far away.

"Yes, Technoblade?" Philza answers and grips the handle of the sword with all his might. As much as it hurts, he has to finish this. Philza lets the other lean on his shoulder and hug him tightly.

"Don't let me die, please," Techno seems to beg and gasps for air to catch. Air that seems so far away, yet so close. "I'm scared," he confesses.

Technoblade will miss this place. He will miss the willow tree and the breeze that blew his hair. He will miss Tommy and Wilbur. He will miss Kristin and Philza. He will miss the peace and happiness he had found.

Technoblade will miss this place.

The first and last tear the blood god will ever cry falls.

Philza breaks the news to the two boys and his wife after he buries Technoblade in secret. Tommy breaks down at the willow tree, where Technoblade had left him sitting and where he had stayed. Wilbur comforts the teenager who sits in the grass, pulling at his hair as he murmurs:

It's my fault.

Philza fiddles with broken feathers, lips pulled into a thin line as Kristin cries into his shoulder. He stands entirely silent and still, hands on his sons to comfort them, they stand in front of a gravestone.

Kristin mourns what felt like a third son.

Technoblade, a name that will forever be remembered in history. Whether it be in tall tales told by parents, those who knew him, or those who fear him, he will be remembered infamously. But, he will also be remembered with love by those in the castle.