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

The Green God (2)

(3rd person POV)

They crashed against the marble pulpit with enough force to crack it. Techno had a fistful of the Green God's tunic in his hand and his trident in the other, breathing heavily as dust and chips of marble rained down on them both. 

He could hear Wilbur and Philza calling his name, but every other noise was drowned out by Dream's laughter, a sound that had become so familiar to Techno over the years. He had hated it all his life, and now there was a smug-looking face to attach to it.

"I told you!" Dream spat in his face. "I don't call every action, Technoblade! I present the choices, but you make them. I was the voice, but you were always the bloodstained hands!"

I don't even remember their faces, Techno thought, tightening his hold on the Green God's shirt until he could hear it begin to tear. I don't even know their names. And yet he was consumed by it—an anger that felt like all his nerves singing at once, demanding the same thing.

Vengeance.

Fractured light slanted over the two gods. The whole world was a broken, miserable thing.

"Why?" Techno hated the despair that bled into his voice, but there was nowhere for else to go. "Why me? Why did you change your mind?"

He tried searching for sympathy in Dream's face, but all he received was the darkest sort of humor.

"You can search for meaning all you want," he said. "Turn over every rock and read all the stars in the sky. But the truth is, Techno, you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"All of us," Techno growled, "are just helpless insects in your godsdamned web, is that it?"

He thought he might have seen something graver flicker over Dream's face, but it was gone before Techno could put a name to it. "Not all of you."

Techno was going to kill him. He was going to put his trident through that wicked little grin and be done with it all.

But then he felt a pair of hands at his shoulders, pulling him back.

"Techno." Eryn's voice, leading him back to his own body like a lighthouse calling a ship to safer shores. "We still need him. He still has to give him back to us." Eryn said softly.

"Right," Dream hummed as Eryn dragged Techno to his feet. "You still need me, Techno."

"Don't you fucking call me that," Techno spat.

They had him surrounded. He was on the floor, leaning against a broken pulpit. And yet the bastard still looked like he held all the cards.

Because he did. Techno felt himself sag at the realization. Dream had everything, because he still had Tommy.

Dream squinted up at each of them in turn, his eyes finally landing on Philza, who'd drawn his blade. Dream considered the sharp tip pointed straight at him.

"That's the same sword you killed the war god with, yes?" he asked, calmly, as if they were discussing tea.

Phil didn't deign to give him an answer. Techno alone recognized that look in Philza's eyes. Philza had never been haunted by voices, but he demanded blood all the same.

"Did he at least fight well?" Dream continued when it was clear none of them were replying. "He must've, if he managed to kill your son."

"You will listen to me," Philza said, his voice as cold and lifeless as tundra they'd ridden through. "I do not care about your stories. I do not care about you. But if you have all this power, if you can rewrite history, then you will give me my son back. Or else."