Emeralds For Trade // DNF Royalty AU

Chapter 13.1: Hell Is Empty And All The Devils Are Here

(art by myliloinkoink on Twitter)

Tubbo was scared.

Scratch that, he was terrified. The past ten minutes had felt like a decade, and he sure as hell felt as though he'd aged as much. It was a blur, really. The swinging of a bat, the man with rams making demands with a calm demeanour that nobody should trust, least of all him. The gory sight was filtered through his tears, but it didn't make it any less bearable when he could hear the cries of the man once thought to be invincible. Reduced to a bloodied, half-conscious mess just to save his life. He felt so immensely guilty.

If only he had just taken a safer path home, if only he had been more careful.

It had gone beyond knowing he'd seen something he shouldn't have. It was holding a baby bird in his hands knowing his scent would make it ostracized from its family. It was seeing a crack in the hull of a ship and letting it take voyage anyway. It was watching a man beaten to a pulp and knowing he was the cause. As valuable as life was, he knew it wasn't worth whatever he had seen Technoblade go through. Stifling his sobs, he let his head hang, not wanting to watch further. But moments after he did so, the harsh grip on his jaw pulled his head back up, forcing him to face the scene before him.

"Watch," the cold voice of the King of Blackstone spoke from behind him, and the sobs were coming again.

Schlatt had the bat on the floor now. Techno, body bruised from the blunt object striking him repeatedly, was chained to the pillar. Blood dripped down his nose and head, staining his tunic a horrible brownish-red colour. He was heaving, breaths heavy and uneven, yet he kept his eyes trained on the monster before him. The last thing he wanted to do was give Schlatt the satisfaction of giving in - to lower his gaze and just accept his fate.

"You know, I was generous," Schlatt began, wiping the blood from his shirt and brushing it off on a clean spot he could find on Techno's tunic. "I offered you supplies, support. All you could ever want."

Techno coughed up a bit of blood, landing on the marble ground at Schlatt's feet. The king stared at it for a moment, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Hell, you would've even kept your title and that crown on your pretty head. You wouldn't even have to do all the work that comes with it, only reap the benefits. All you had to do was sign a piece of paper. That's it. It was that easy. I was so gracious. And how did you repay me?"

Techno let out a low growl as Schlatt looked at him expectantly.

"I gave you what you dese-"

"You held a blade to my throat and told me to get fucked," Schlatt cut off, grabbing the bat and pressing the blunt end hard against Techno's stomach, where a dark bruise was already forming under the fabric.

Techno let out a pained noise, tensing up at the fire that shot through his veins in an instant. He let out another cough, droplets of blood making a mess of the jacket of Schlatt's suit and the bat he was using, the red barely noticeable. It was red, anyway.

"You were stubborn," Schlatt continued, "You wanted it all. You bit off more than you could chew without momma bird helping you out. Why don't you take a look at where that led you, hm? Having everything you fought so hard to maintain crumbling before you, all because you didn't want my help."

The pressure lightened up as Schlatt thankfully dropped the bat, allowing the brute to recover for a moment.

"But it's okay, momma bird's right here and I'm gonna make sure you don't ever have to go through something like that again. You don't need to manage a big, complicated region. I'll take that burden off your shoulders for you, don't you worry."

The smile on the man's face was terrifying. It wasn't bloodthirsty, driven by any form of revenge or motive. It was carefree, collected, and paired with the blood staining his blazer, the ruthlessness was unmistakable.

With Dream, Techno knew that there was a reason for his violence. While vengeance, as far as he knew, was a morally grey area to most people, it was a response to grief and loss. His friend craved blood to be spilt not because he liked the feeling, but because it was what he thought would make things right. But staring at the man before him, horns curved out and a lazy expression on his face, Techno knew that there was no semblance of justice, no prospect of redemption.

Schlatt was a lost cause, consumed by the monster he had created with his pursuits, embodying the greed he had been feeding for years. It started with crumbs, alliances with other countries of the Nether. And as its stomach grew, he began with bigger appetizers, having them pledge their loyalty to Netherite. When the Nether still wasn't enough, making deals with Overworld nations and setting bases across the ocean gave the greed a taste of what control could feel like. He was the shell of a man, and although the Netherian-shade of red in his eyes burned, they were burning at the expense of everything and everyone around him, leaving mountains of ash and smoke in its path until there was nothing left. He would stop at nothing. He was hungry, but it was a kind of hunger that was insatiable. There was no reasoning with him at this point, nor any point in the future.

Schlatt was walking back towards him now, having retrieved something from the throne. With a quill in one hand and papers in the other, he began to read.

"I, Technoblade of Obsidian, hereby relinquish my position as Ruler of this great country and renounce Obsidian's status as an independent nation. I offer the land and assets to Netherite, and stake no claim over any of what I once had."

"You're ridiculous. I'll never sign that," Techno said, voice cracking at the weight of his own chest.

"That's fine, little runt. I understand. I'll just do it for you, make it easier."

Schlatt forced the quill in his hand, a bruising grip over his fingers to make them wrap around it. Still, Techno resisted, squirming so much that the quill eventually fell out of his hand. With his carefree expression now darkened, Schlatt gripped Techno's hand tighter, glaring into his eyes and leaning closer.

"Last chance. Don't make me do something you'll regret," he snarled lowly. But taking advantage of the proximity, Techno simply spat on his face.

Schlatt paused, blinking a few times. He wiped the dribble of saliva that had landed on his cheek and was now sliding down it. Wiping it on Techno's tunic, the rammed man drew his hand, the back of it making contact with Techno's cheek with a loud clap. He was stunned silent, head tilted to the side from the force of it, and his cheek was numb.

"Alright, have it your way."

The cracking of the knuckles could be heard, followed by a yelp that masked the popping of bones dislocating from its sockets as a result of the Netherian's unyielding grip. When he finally let go, Techno was shaking, teeth gritted as the searing pain from his hand made itself present.

Reaching behind for a holster at his belt, Schlatt unsheathed a dagger, small and curved, with a blade that was freshly sharpened. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Techno glanced over Schlatt's shoulders to his left, where Tubbo sat with a horrified expression, eyes wide and filled with tears. He slowly shook his head at the boy, a silent plead to either close his eyes or look away.

"You don't have to do this," Techno mumbled out, but Schlatt wasn't having it. His patience had run thin and he had done plenty to push his already feather-light buttons. With a few rough, jagged slices, blood began to trickle down his arm as the pinkie and ring finger of Technoblade's left hand was severed.

Tubbo watched on in horror, the hand gripping his chin never letting up, forcing him to watch as the extremities dropped to the ground like a piece of meat for the dogs. The worst part wasn't the sight, however. It was the sound. The noises he let out were horrifying, and he tried to grit his teeth to muffle it. It was too late, though, Tubbo had heard it all. A soldier, a warrior, a king, letting out near-screams that imprinted itself onto his mind, making his skin crawl and his blood run cold.

Satisfied with the way the boy began to tremble with muffled sobs, Alex let go, wiping the stray tears onto the pant of his legs. He stood up and made his way to the throne, taking a seat on the plush material. He propped a leg up, resting his elbow on the armrest and watching the rest of the show.