Things That Need To Pass (passerine!Technoblade x OC) {COMPLETED}

I Hate Practise.

(Well things just got heated boii-)

I nod. Of course, Wilbur didn't get it.

(Eryn POV)

"What even is the point of this?" Wilbur asked. "The kingdom has been at peace for gods know how long. I don't need to risk my neck for a skill that doesn't even matter." Technoblade considered him for a long moment, the silence between them only broken by the beginnings of birdsong as the rest of the world finally began to wake.

"And what will you do when it does matter?" Technoblade asked. "It never will—" "But let's say it will," Technoblade interrupted, taking a step towards Wilbur, his red eyes never once leaving the prince's face. 

"Let's say, hypothetically, that a foreign army attacks at this very moment. Your father isn't here to help. Nobody's here to help. It's just you. Do you just stand there and get torn apart by the mob? Will you run like a coward and leave your kingdom to the wolves?"

Wilbur flinched. "That's not..."

"Or not even an army. Consider, if you will, just one very smart, very angry person, and they've got your brother." Technoblade smirked at whatever expression was on Wilbur's face. "That's all it takes, you know, to kill a kingdom—a single person who knows your weak spots. "

"So what you need to do is get rid of them. The weak spots, I mean. This kingdom is only impenetrable because Philza has long ago gotten rid of every vulnerability. So what happens when you take the throne?" Techno was serious.

"That's not true," Wilbur said quietly, standing in the downpour of Technoblade's words. "My father—he does have vulnerabilities. He has Mother. Tommy." Me. "But he has the power to protect them," Technoblade replied. "And you don't. That's the difference."

The sun had climbed higher into the sky, painting everything in gold. Through the gaps in the ivy, the warm light shone on Wilbur's skin, warming him from the inside out. He imagined the light seeping into his skin, into his bones, into the cracks of his soul until he could be made whole again—a boy of sunlight, like Tommy. 

He wanted the sun to burn away the tiredness, the sadness, the thoughts. He wanted the sun to burn Technoblade, too, with his harsh words made harsher by their truth. Wilbur took a shaky breath, letting the fresh air in and trapping it in his lungs for as long as he could. Then he let it out.

He glared at Technoblade, then got into position. "Fine," he spat. "Do your worst."

I smirked. This was gonna be good. 

(Time skip to dinner)

"Wilby, you look like trash," Tommy said brightly over a plate of eggs. "Tommy," Phil scolded.

"No, no," Technoblade mumbled through a mouthful of meat. "The boy is right, Phil, Wilby does look like trash." Wilbur groaned at their remarks—and then groaned some more when the movement made his ribs feel like they were cracking apart. I snickered, but was silenced when Philza gave a glare directed at me.

Bruises were already starting to form up and down his arms from the various times Technoblade had knocked him to the floor. He couldn't even reach for his utensils without pain lacing up his side, and so his breakfast remained tantalizingly out of reach right in front of him.

Tommy's initial annoyance at sleeping in and "missing the Blade in action" was only matched by his absolute delight at seeing his older brother so battered, and then exceeded by his excitement when Phil invited Technoblade for breakfast to recount how terribly Wilbur had performed. 

It was to track his progress, or some sort of excuse like that, though Wilbur guessed Phil just wanted to stop Technoblade from disappearing wherever he goes off to—like last night. I sat quietly beside Tommy, every now and then telling him in detail what happened.

"Did he cry?" Tommy demanded, practically vibrating off his chair. Technoblade, seated next to him, cut another piece of meat and chewed ponderously on it before answering, "Almost." "Wicked," Tommy breathed. I chuckled. "I know, right?" 

Phil glanced at Wilbur worriedly, taking in his bruises. "Techno, maybe next time, you can go easy a bit?" "No," Wilbur said hurriedly, wincing when his sore limbs protested. "No. I told him to not hold back."

Philza raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that."

"No, really, I need this, Father," Wilbur insisted. His legs felt like lead and some of his bones were definitely misplaced, but by the end of their five-hour session, he'd learned where to strike to kill and where to strike to incapacitate, how to block attacks as much as deal them, and how to fight off stronger opponents—"Which, for you, would be all of them," Technoblade had said as he righted Wilbur's grip on his rapier.

I had laughed out loud at that remark. Really, the boy should build himself up more. 

a/n

YARSSS SHORT CHAPTER ALSO IM SORRY IF THIS IS NOT REALLY A X OC NOW I'LL TRY TO PUT IN ROMANCE PLS JUST DONT KILL MEH PLS-

anyways have a good day, afternoon or night wherever you are!

BYEEEE MAH BOOTYFUL MUFFINSSS!!!