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

Thoughts...

(3rd person POV)

Time unfurled like a ribbon.

They filled their days with mundane problems: untuned instruments, tea turning cold and weeds needing plucking. The dutiful, benevolent king and his right-hand who struggled to stay awake during half of the political meetings and spent the other half actively antagonizing sycophants he deemed too irksome. 

Wilbur had publicly proclaimed that there was nothing amusing about Techno threatening to burn the pompous wig of a merchant trying to lobby trade routes away from local vendors, but his eyes had gleamed with the promise of later laughter.

In the spring, the two of them went down to the orchards and spent their days in friendly rivalry over who picked the most fruit. Most years, Techno won, if only because Wilbur was often distracted by a woman with long, curling hair as red as the apples in her basket.

It took him two years to ask her name, another two to ask her to marry him. Her name was Eryn, and she said yes.

When their first child was born—a baby boy with hair the color of Tommy's last sunset—Wilbur took him into his arms without hesitation. He pressed his tearstained cheek against his son's warm skin and whispered, "I will love you forever," over and over until he was sure his son knew it. 

And the daughter would grow up under no one's shadow, calling Wilbur "Dad," and Techno "Uncle," in a kingdom of hard-won peace. In time, she would know the story of the Blue Valley and the story of her other uncle and the story of her grandparents, but until then, she would think all gods were kind and her father never cried. 

Her uncle would carve her height into the marble column of the ivy-covered pavilion where she learned how to paint, and she would wonder why her father's brother would turn away whenever she passed the almost-faded marks of the boy that had stood there before her.

The heir of the Angel of Death's kingdom—and all the heirs after her—would not have gilded hair or eyes like a frozen tundra. They would have gentle hands and would forgive easily. They would be raised on honey and apple pies and stories about frogs in the rain, and the wheel would never break them. 

And on the night before an ancient crown would be placed upon their brow, those that came before them would press a gift into their hand, and it would be their inheritance.

So when a winged man would appear from the north, days or years or eons from now, he would find a familiar stone around the neck of a child that he would recognize right away by the familiar shape of their smile, and he would know he was home.

He had a life before this. A mother, a father, a home. Sisters, and brothers. But what he had now was alright, too.

He stood alone in front of his bedroom mirror, combing his hair back from his face to braid it for the day, tucking it behind an ear where a sapphire earring hung, catching the sunlight. He paused when he saw it, leaned in close just to make sure it wasn't a trick of the light, or the lingering traces of a dream. 

He blinked, once, twice, his immortal heart catching in his throat. There, nestled among the pink strands, delicate as a bird's wing, was a single gray hair. If he listened carefully, he could hear his brother coming down the hallway, looking for him, but this moment was his alone.

Half-sobbing, half-laughing, he fell against his chair and closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. He could see, in his mind, a field of flowers under an open sky—a place made for waiting, where all the finished stories went, where he would go someday, too.

A knock came at his door.

Technoblade began to smile.

Eryn peeks in. "What'd I miss? Eh? What was so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing. Did Wilbur do something to you again?" Techno grimaced. "Nah, just forced me out of his study. So, uh, what's next? There aren't Gods after us, and no more lies. Right?" Eryn said, a little bit of hope in her speech.

"It's okay now. There's nothing that can harm us." Techno said gently. Then he caught himself. "What did I just do-" Eryn chuckled. "You're getting soft, Tech." She commented. And they both walked toward the tolling bells of the afternoon- 

......Well, nothing ever ends badly, right?

[A few years later...]

Umber entered the library, and picked her favourite book from the shelf. "Butterfly's Flight. Nice name." She said aloud. But as she opened the book, as usual...the pages seemed to be glowing, and time seemed to stop around her...

{THE END}

a/n

GUYS WE HAVE REACHED THE END OF THIS STORY-

AND 

IM MAKIN A SEQUEL-

How does Butterfly Reign sound? 

I feel like

im just doing DSMP fanfics

BUT WHO CARES

soooooooooo

look forward to more chaos xD

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

byeee mah bootyful muffins!!