The Blood God || Technoblade Fanfiction

2

The night is peaceful, something Technoblade hasn't had for a while. For eons he's been constantly hunted in the night, when they think he least expects it. Naturally, he stays up and waits for the attack. It results in no sleep and even larger eye bags under his red eyes. He sits with his sheathed sword under his pillow, ready to defend himself.

Be prepared, the voices tell him.

Yet, the attack never comes.

In the morning, Techno doesn't need to wake up. He was already wide awake, sitting in his bed with a hand under the pillow. Wilbur was the one who reminded him it was morning with a knock on his door. Techno jumps at the noise, then sighs in relief when he hears Wilbur's muffled voice from the other side of the door.

"It's time for breakfast, Technoblade," Wilbur calls out and the doors swing open before him. Techno walks out looking tired, he is tired. "Jeez, how much sleep did you get?"

"None," he replies dryly and has to practically drag himself to the dining room. It's unnatural for him, usually sleep and no sleep don't make a difference. I suppose even if you're immortal, it can take a toll.

"You might be a god, but you still need rest," Wilbur protests and walks beside him with hands stuffed in the pockets of his ripped, black jeans.

"Yeah, sure," Techno laughs sarcastically, but also in joy. He's gotten those five minutes of peace for the first time in eons.

When they arrive at the dining table, everybody is already there. The table is long with too many chairs for just the five of them. It's covered with a white tablecloth, each chair is white with gold lacing, and a large chandelier hangs over the center of the table. Tommy immediately points at them when they enter with a large smile.

"Hi!" he exclaims through a mouth full of steak.

"Tommy, don't talk with your mouth full," Philza chuckles and gives a slight wave to the two of them. Techno throws himself down into a chair beside Philza, who sits next to his wife. "How'd you sleep, Technoblade?"

"Not well," Techno replies and grabs a knife, starting to cut the steak awkwardly. He isn't used to this, usually he hunts, cooks over a campfire, and eats. However, he knows better than that. So, he uses the knife and fork.

"Why's that?" Philza asks, completely oblivious.

"Philza, I'm the blood god for fuck's sake-"

"Don't curse at the table," Philza interrupts, then remembers who he's talking to. "Sorry, habits," he laughs.

Kill him, the voices demand. He abandoned you, he deserves it. Blood for the blood god.

His grip tightens on his fork, trying to control himself. Sometimes, the voices get too demanding, too loud, and they control his movements. There are times he's been unaware he's even killing.

A hand is placed over top of his own, the one gripping his fork, and he finds that it's Philza's hand. Philza recognizes this habit, one where the voices are demanding blood. He pats the hand and gives him a reassuring smile, then redirects the conversation. He includes Technoblade in it as much as possible, distracting him from the ordering in his head.

"Can I see your fangs?" Tommy abruptly asks him, and points at his own mouth.

"You want to see my fangs?" Techno repeats and scratches the back of his head.

"No, I want to see your fu- freaking eye balls. Yes, I want to see your fangs, Technoblade," Tommy sighs and Techno begrudgingly opens his mouth, allowing the fangs to show.