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

Secrets Can Kill

(Tommy POV)

I knew a thing or two about secrets.

I was five years old when I first heard the word, whispered from father to son.

"Let's keep this a secret, alright, Wil?" Dad had said in the gentle hush of midnight, unaware that I was right outside the library door, hanging on to every word. Even then, I must have known Wilbur was special, if Dad was speaking to him like that: not like he was an annoying child, but like they were equals, bearing the same burdens and battle scars.

"But what if they never go away?" Wilbur had whispered back. I had never heard my older brother so frightened.

I walked away before I could hear the rest of the conversation I was obviously not privy to. Looking back, perhaps some part of me wanted to preserve my gilded image of my older brother—like a dead fossil crystallized in amber. Because older brothers were never scared. Older brothers never bled. Older brothers never cowered. Older brothers were immortal. I would hold on to that belief until it was too late.

I was six years old when I got a secret to keep of my own, and truly understood its burden.

A year later, and my brother is crowned.

I stood proudly in the crowd as Wilbur kneeled before a man in white robes. The sunlight from the windows caught in the jewels of the crown held over Wilbur's head—a crown that was once their father's, but no longer. Wilbur recited oaths of protection and generosity, goodness and fairness, righteous justice and unwavering fealty to the kingdom, and the robed man proclaimed him King Wilbur, Protector of the Realm, Ruler of the Kingdom. Long may he reign. I had cheered the loudest, enough to shake the rafters above, and when Wilbur smiled, I knew it was just for me.

Two years later, on the cusp of my tenth birthday, I asked Technoblade the same question I'd been asking since they met. Will you train me? This time, Technoblade said yes. 

Time unfurled like unbound parchment, rolling off into the distance without my notice. They grew together, me and my king brother. Taller and broader, stronger and smarter—more Wilbur for the latter, if I were to be honest. Wilbur's duties took him from me more often than not, but that was alright, too, because I had Techno. They would spar and talk until Techno was inevitably called back to the king's side, but by then I was appeased. The days I was alone were the worst, but mostly indistinguishable in their monotonous quiet.

On one of those days, I found himself drifting aimlessly through the castle. Halfway down a vaguely familiar hallway, I heard something that had been sorely missed since mother's death. Music.

I followed the sound to a door that was slightly ajar. I held my breath as I looked through the crack, and then lost my breath altogether when I found the source of the mournful melody: Wilbur, tiredness etched into the slope of his shoulders and the skin under his eyes, strumming his guitar, cursing as he missed a note or two, but still continuing, still playing, still soldiering on. 

And with him was Technoblade on a sweetly-keening violin, his scarred hands moving gently over the strings, his bow arm moving fluidly through the air. Both of them had their eyes closed, so completely lost to their own music, and I knew—deep in his gut—that this was a world I could never breach. And so I closed the door and retreated to my silence.

At fifteen years old, I was the oldest I'd ever been, but I never felt so young.

Wilbur's official chambers were not meant for those outside of his council, but I had never been one for rules. The guard outside the carved double doors (truly pretentious, in my correct opinion) merely sighed at the sight of me coming down the hallway, and shuffled to the side to let me pass.