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

Controlled And Hurt

(3rd person POV)

Wilbur's rapier glinted in the scarlet sunlight as it cut through the air between them, aiming straight for Techno's heart. Techno spun backwards, the rapier grazing his sleeve and missing skin entirely.

But the assault continued, fierce and relentless, the calculated movements a product of a decade under Techno's tutelage. There should be pride, Techno knew. He should have been proud to see how far Wilbur had grown, from a spoiled little prince with shaky legs and soft hands to a hardened fighter.

But, even from the beginning, he had always taught Wilbur to defend. To protect. Because that was Wilbur's nature, that was who he was.

Not this. Even in Techno's worst nightmares, never this.

Techno parried another sharp blow, stumbling backwards over the snowy ground. There was only the sound of steel striking steel and his boots in retreat. Wilbur pushed against Techno's trident, battling for the upper hand, and in that moment, they were close enough for Techno to meet Wilbur's dim eyes.

A flicker of recognition, or a spark of surprise—Techno would take anything.

"Wilbur." Please. "Wilbur, you have to shake him off. I know you can do it, alright? I taught you how to ignore the voices, and this isn't any different. Ignore his directions and follow mine."

For a moment, Techno thought he might have seen something shift behind Wilbur's expression, like lightning behind a dark curtain. But then it was gone, or maybe it had never been there at all. As quick as a goodbye, Wilbur jumped back and then struck out, kicking at Techno.

Techno skidded backwards, almost falling over into the frozen ground. He righted himself just in time to block another savage blow that reverberated down into his bones. But even as he was recovering from the shock of it, Wilbur's hand flashed as he reached into his quiver and produced an arrow, clutching it in his fist and bringing it down into Techno's uninjured shoulder.

Techno bit back a scream as it shredded through cloth and skin.

He spun away from Wilbur, breathing heavily. He scarcely had time to pull the arrow out before Wilbur was on him again, raining blow after blow that Techno could only half-heartedly parry. Wilbur was backing him up against the church. Soon, there would be nowhere left to run.

In a desperate attempt to put space between them, Techno swung his trident in an arc. He knew Wilbur would duck harmlessly under it, hopefully giving Techno time to think of better strategies than praying for a miracle, but Wilbur was fast. Too fast.

He ducked, then sprung up in the same breath. He swung with a careless lethality, this time aiming for Techno's face. It slashed the air a mere inch from his cheek before it drew back once more and then shot point-first towards his eye.

Techno's breath caught in his throat.

Everything was moving too fast, and too slow. He could see the snow melting against Wilbur's cheeks, glistening like tears. He could see the blade heading towards him. He could see himself standing in a pavilion of white marble, ivy and wisteria parting as a young boy with a stubborn jaw and more stubborn heart stepped in.

He could see this very maneuver acted out by a wooden sword, guided by his own hand. When in doubt, Your Highness, he heard himself saying, go for the eyes. 

All at once, Technoblade wasn't facing his brother. It was just another opponent. Another threat he had to survive.

And so by instinct, his trident rose, catching the rapier's blade in its prongs and twisting it out of Wilbur's grip. It flew into the air, spinning like a broken compass before it fell harmlessly into the snow a few paces away.

Wilbur turned to look at it, his hands empty but already calculating what it would take to be armed once more. He tried reaching for his bow. Techno wouldn't give him the chance.

With the butt of his trident—a gift, once, but just a weapon now—Techno struck at Wilbur's chest, sending him crashing to the ground. And then his trident was at Wilbur's throat, tipping his chin up towards his reckoning.

"Are you coming back to me yet?" Techno demanded, the words scratching his throat as he said them.

And for the first time, Wilbur replied. "Techno," he breathed. His eyes softened with understanding, and then panic as the world slowly righted itself. "Techno, gods, why am I on the ground?"

Relief burned through Techno as he met Wilbur's clear eyes. Relief, and shame. Shame that it had taken just a few moments of fear to return him to that bloody battlefield that he thought he had abandoned long ago.

Shame that he had, even for a second, forgotten Wilbur's face. Shame that after all his talk of change and redemption, there were still some days where violence was the only place he could run to. He was tired of it, and yet it was all he had.

If a father's arms never forgot the shape of a child, then Techno's hands might always remember the shape of his curled fists. The thought terrified him almost as much as the look on Wilbur's face did.

"Did you hit me?" Wilbur asked quietly, looking up at Techno through wet lashes. "I don't remember... Techno, why did you hit me?"

It wasn't you, Techno wanted to shout. And it wasn't me.

But his trident was still a breath away from cutting into Wilbur's skin.

"I'm sorry," Techno rasped, feeling as if he'd just ran the entire circumference of this gods-damned world. "Is it you? Is it you now?"

Wilbur blinked drowsily as if coming out from a long sleep. "Of course it's me, Techno. Who else could it be?"

Techno felt the fight drain from him in an instant. He drew his trident back and offered his free hand to Wilbur, the silver scars running through his palms like the invisible the webs that kept him forever bound to this brotherhood. "Come on," Techno said softly. "We have a god to kill."

Wilbur's eyes hardened with resolve even as he smiled at Techno. "For Tommy."

"For Tommy," Techno repeated as Wilbur took his hand, everything that came before already forgotten. It was an interlude, nothing more, and they were on the same side again. This was right. This was their fate, no matter what else was dictated.

Wilbur was on his feet, swaying slightly. He eyed Techno oddly, snowflakes caught in the tangles of his dark hair. He could have been one of his mother's paintings, standing like that in the middle of this frozen city, immortalized in a way Techno could never be.

And then, with furrowed brows, he pulled Techno into a warm embrace. Techno stiffened in surprise, but soon sunk into the comforting circle of Wilbur's arms, his wounded shoulders screaming with the effort of returning his gentle hold.

"Techno," Wilbur whispered into Techno's sunset hair, breathing in the lingering scent of flowers long rotted.

"Wil?" Techno whispered back.

"Once penned," Wilbur said shakily, "an ending cannot be restored," and he plunged a dagger straight into Techno's back.

"Techno!" Eryn leaped forward, but it was too late.

a/n

*cough cough *

yeahhhhhhhh sorry

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