This is for the whumptober prompts: Bleeding through the bandage, human shield, dehumanization, "you can do better than that", exhaustion, betrayal
At every sunset, they would gather in the middle of camp for a speech to boost morale.
"There will be another push at dawn," their general's voice boomed out over the heads of the recruits from where he was standing on top of an overturned crate. "The final one of this campaign. The empire's forces are fragile, torn down by exhaustion and hunger."
Techno tried to stifle a humorless laugh. The general might as well be talking about his own forces. Whichever way you looked, there were only gaunt faces and dull eyes, men who had set out from their homes with courage in their hearts that had long since been snuffed out by the tedious, slow death of war.
Everybody knew that fighting the Antarctic Empire on their own terrain was suicide. This grab for more power ordered by King Dante had been a fool's quest from the beginning.
Yet most soldiers were there because of desperation, not greed. The promise that the army could pay their pensions and give their family back home a better life was worth a lot of suffering to them. Dying or living was irrelevant for most. If they died, their honorary fees would be paid to their loved ones anyway.
That wasn't the case for Technoblade.
"I believe that one last show of your patriotism and valor will be enough to crumble the empire's paltry army and ensure our victory," the general said vehemently. "At dawn, we will end this war and walk away the rightful rulers of this land!"
There was a tepid round of half-hearted applause and cheers from a handful of men. More remained quiet, too exhausted to make an effort. Techno really had to try his hardest not to chuckle at the lukewarm response. All the more because the general's eyes settled on him next.
"At ease and take your rest. Prime knows we'll need it come morning. Blade, I want to see you in my quarters."
Quarters was a generous name for the light canvas tent that the general called his own. The smell that hit Techno as he walked inside was heavy, scented with spice and grease. In the corner of that covered space, a hole was dug in the sand for a firepit with a spit above it and a pot dangling from a wooden frame. While his men starved, the general was gorging himself on the spoils of war - the slaughtered cattle of the farmers they'd slain on their march over to the capital. Techno found it incredibly distasteful but knew better than to comment.
"We are coming upon a decisive battle," the general told him as Techno stepped inside and stood at attention. The man was already laid back, lounging on a settee some poor horses had dragged all the way to this warzone by cart. More space that could have been used for supplies, wasted on one man's selfishness. It was a bitter pill to swallow alongside the truth of how many soldiers they'd lost due to starvation and infection. "We expect you to perform well tomorrow, or all our efforts will have been in vain."
"You know I will," Techno said. The fact that he didn't have a choice was left unspoken.
"No war is won without a good shield, Blade." The general smirked around those words. He'd always held a sick fondness for the irony there. Techno was a capable fighter, yes. That was not what he was valued for.
If valued was even the right word.
"And then my dues will be paid…?" Techno ventured.
"You won't see the executioner's block on my watch, I can promise you that." The general reached out his hand to gesture at one of his retainers, who hurried over with a cup and a pitcher of wine. Wordlessly, he had been dismissed.
Techno nodded before leaving the tent, sequestering himself to the part of the encampment where he'd been sleeping. It was a tent not unlike the general's perhaps. Except that it housed twenty soldiers a piece, all lying in an area that could not accommodate that many. Hunger and thirst were a constant, as was the smell of bodily fluids and rot. How many had died of preventable disease in the last month alone? Techno did not know.
No doubt many of them would be lauded as heroes who died bravely on the frontline after this was all over with, rather than telling the civilians back home the truth of how their sons and fathers passed.
Sitting down on his cot, Techno pulled his shirt up to his sternum to inspect his own wounds.
Most of them had healed already, but the large gash in his abdomen was refusing to close properly. Techno supposed reopening it over and over again by overexerting himself was not doing it any favors. The skin around the cut was flushed red and the bandages themselves were discolored with patches of blood and clear fluid. Techno had decided not to bother the medics with it.
Technoblade could not die.
The favor of the Blood God might sound like a gift to many, it wasn't until one realized that an absence of suffering was not a prerequisite for immortality that the true price of Techno's condition could dawn on them. Techno might have a body that would pull itself from the cold embrace of Lady Death each and every time, that didn't mean he could not feel every ounce of pain endured before that.
Yet all people saw when they looked at him was an inhumanity that disconcerted them.
Techno wouldn't bother the medic, not only because it was stupid to waste resources on him that were better spent keeping somebody alive, but also because they would not help him even if they were drowning in medical supplies. For all the camaraderie and honor the army spoke of, Techno had found no friends there. Not that he was particularly mournful about that, he was rather used to being looked at in disdain.
It was part of his daily existence, truly.
His current profession was only the direct result of such hate, an altercation spinning out of control and Techno blamed for what could rightfully only be seen as self-defense if it had been committed by any other hands. As it was, Techno would have lost his head - one of the only things that actually would be able to sever his thread to this mortal world - if Dante hadn't seen another use for him.
Techno couldn't die. The general could.
And the general was a lot less expendable in most eyes than the other men who died on the battlefield daily.
He poked at the wound some more, hissing when the pain shot into his stomach with enough force to make him nauseous. Much of the flesh around it was numb though, bleeding sluggishly into the wrappings. It would hold out until the battle tomorrow. And what happened after…
Techno had no hope that their army would stand a chance. For every Antarctic Empire soldier killed, ten more seemed to pop up and they picked Dante's men off like flies. Perhaps he could only pray that being crushed in their pursuit tomorrow when their army's stamina was running this thin, would be the deciding factor for the king to give up on the war.
He pulled his shirt down over the bloodstained bandages and lay down, not finding the energy within himself to try and find something to eat around camp.
Techno slept uneasily that night, kept awake by the sound of crows in the distance.
Dawn broke upon them with a tense atmosphere in the air that could be felt running down every spine of the regiment.
Despite their dire situation - and the fact that he was very much disliked by a large majority of them - Techno had always held a measure of respect for these soldiers. The way they would joke and sing and goof off during the march, how there always seemed to be a tall tale being told around a pile of smoldering embers to distract from the gnawing hunger in their stomachs. How fondly they spoke of their lives back home.
That last one was certainly not a thing Techno could relate to. He came from nothing and he would return to nothing once the war ended. But passion was a simple thing, and Techno appreciated their straightforward desire to see their families and homes again over Dante's aspirations or the general's political agenda.
Standing on a hill overlooking the valley that would soon run red with the blood of both armies, Techno tried to muster the strength to stay awake. He had needed to replace the bandages again this morning since they had soaked completely through and even his blanket was sticky with it. He was tired beyond what a human body should reasonably bear – and again, just because Techno was immortal did not mean he was untouchable.
So he blinked sluggishly at the tall grass that waved in the early morning's cold breeze. When the general clapped him on the back, he almost fell over because his legs were so shaky.
"You'll stay close to me out there, Blade. We can't have this fail on us." The general had placed his hand on Techno's shoulder and was squeezing hard. What could have been read as a gesture meant to bring comfort was undercut by the fingernails digging into Techno's skin, betraying a threat behind the words.
The sun barely peeked over the horizon. With its first light, it caught the metal on the blue-white banners in the distance. The emperor's troops vastly outnumbered their own.
"You want your freedom, don't you?" he was asked.
Techno inhaled. No matter how exhausted he was, the fresh air outside the camp filled his lungs with a vigor he did not often feel. The land before them would probably be called beautiful by a man more poetic than Technoblade. He nodded.
"I do."
The general squeezed him again, reaching for the warhorn at his hip. "Then bleed for it."
Their footmen rushed ahead first. Techno watched as they got rained down on with arrows from above. It was carnage, plain and simple.
And he felt ashamed of the hymn that echoed in his ears, the purring of a god who was not at all too displeased with where Techno had found himself. Sometimes he feared that winning his freedom from King Dante's army was the same as tearing off one shackle when three other limbs remained chained.
When the first wave was down, the second charged forward. Then the third. They were thrown at a barrage of projectiles that swiftly took them out, one after another. By then, the new men sent out had to climb across a sea of corpses to get close to the emperor's forces. It was horrible to watch.
But it worked. Because arrows ran out and more men charged than the empire could take out from a distance. That was when normal combat would resume.
And Techno knew that there too they would be greatly outmatched.
He stuck close to the general's side as the man finally dug his heels into his horse's flank and prompted it into a gallop. Techno was a fast runner and he only had to make it down the hill. There, the general would have no choice but to release himself from the saddle. Fighting against spearmen from horseback was a fool's choice. His stallion reared up on two legs at the first iron tips that were driven into its flesh. Techno pulled out his sword and cut down the men closest to the terrified animal, also spinning on his heels to allow his momentum to tear through the handles of the spears. The general was on the ground by then. The horse kicked out, nearly hitting Techno's temple in its blind fright and pain. Then it spun in the other direction and ran.
Techno hoped it wouldn't stop running until it was far away from this madness. It was unlikely the empire's forces would bother a fleeing animal with no rider.
The next moments transformed into a blur, exhaustion making the tedium of the slaughter drag on him that much worse. Techno couldn't keep track of how many died on either side.
"Fall back!" the general was screaming next to him. As if he finally realized the hopelessness of their odds. He turned his back on the battlefield so easily, knowing that Techno would cover his blind spots. A sword that came down on the general's unguarded shoulder was caught on the sharp edge of Techno's weapon before he buried his blade into the soldier's throat.
"Where to?" he asked.
"Higher ground," their leader said while pointing up the hill. Men stumbled around them, clutching at their injuries. Already their army had been halved in size. High ground would make no difference. The battle had been lost before it even started.
But Techno nodded. What other choice did he have?
Sweat was running down the back of his neck, combining with the cold air to make his skin prickle uncomfortably. At this point, Techno wasn't sure if it was the heat of physical strain that was making his body burn up or a fever brewing inside his veins. When he caught one particular attack aimed at the general's flank, he felt the wound in his stomach tear open again. The blood staining his clothes might be his own and he would have no way to know.
Yet Techno kept fighting.
"Fuck, they're persistent buggers, huh?" The general laughed at the sight of the army swarming below them, but it sounded like the overblown mania of a cornered man. More desperation than humor.
"We need to lead them into the south end of the valley," Techno tried. He knew he wouldn't be listened to. "We can ambush them there, it's our only hope."
Predictably, the general sneered at his suggestion. "We need to cut our losses and retreat."
Techno looked out over the field, more red than green much like he'd expected. The empire's forces were only advancing, easily luring Dante's men into little clusters to be killed or captured. Many of them couldn't get to their positions, let alone run with how wounded they were. If the general pulled out completely, they'd be abandoned and die.
"Our men-"
"They will have served their country well," the general said quickly. "And we will live. Come on." He grabbed Techno's elbow and yanked, which made the wound in his stomach flare with fresh pain bad enough for it to force a gasp from him.
It caused him to lose his balance, falling to his knees. His vision swam as Techno looked down at the blood pouring from him, definitely all his own. Oh-
The general ignored him. He wrenched Techno back onto his feet. "No time to waste, I need my shield with me. I know you can do better than that."
Techno opened his mouth to say something. Before he could, the telltale sound of an arrow piercing its way through the sky reached his ears.
Instinct was a funny thing. Even if the action was stupid, endangering to himself, his muscles moved before thoughts could form. He reached out to push his general down and cover him from the barrage with his own body. One sharp tip found a home in the tender flesh of Techno's shoulder. That was the least of his worries.
Not when another arrow had hit him in the back of his leg, ripping easily through his tendon.
Aside from how much it hurt, Techno was instantly aware of his leg buckling under his own weight. He couldn't stretch it again. He couldn't walk on it.
He couldn't walk.
"Get up!" Within a blink the general was standing again, once more an iron grip around Techno's arm was trying to haul him along. Techno tried, pushing out with his other leg desperately in an attempt to not be a dead weight. It didn't amount too much.
"I can't-" Techno choked out. He hissed when the pulling on his fatigued body made his leg twitch, the injury spasming around the intrusion painfully. "Wait."
He wanted to get up. But then the general's hand let go and Techno sagged onto the ground weakly. The wound on his stomach burned where it pressed into the earth, bleeding freely.
"Keep falling back!" The general aimed his words at the few soldiers who were still on their feet around them and looked fit enough to escape. "We'll reconvene at camp."
Techno blinked, fingers digging at the earth. He couldn't even get onto his knees.
"Wait!"
"I'll let Dante know you served our cause well until you died. Perhaps he'll absolve your memory." The general smirked down at him for only a moment before he left.
And he didn't spare a second glance behind him for Techno's struggling in the dirt, of course.
Frustration swelled in Technoblade's gut, the bitter taste of it clung to the back of his throat. Between the blood loss and the exhaustion, he would barely be able to wring enough strength out of his body to retreat with his comrades if he hadn't torn his heel's tendon. With that added hurdle, walking was rendered impossible.
Despite that, he tried to pull himself upright one final time, only for his vision to blur with dark spots. A cough rattled in Techno's chest as he sunk down again. He must have fully blacked out for a second because when he could push the vertigo away to a more manageable level, everything seemed quieter somehow. There were no thundering footsteps around him or the clashing of swords. The silence was eerie, unsettling. Techno could raise his chin and see the last of Dante's banners disappear over the hillside.
They had left him to die.
He couldn't bring himself to be surprised, it wasn't as if he expected himself to be exempt from the general's cruelty. Only so long as he served a practical use. But it still stung. Techno had worked hard to earn his freedom back. He'd been stupid to think it was actually within his grasp.
"Check every body," a voice rang out from behind him. "Any injured need to be brought to the medic's pavilion. Corpses go to the carts for the burial rites."
Techno inhaled sharply, then bit his tongue to keep the noise down. Damn his luck, why did the empire's troops care about combing the battlefield? He could hear the crunch of shoes carefully stepping around fallen soldiers behind him, turning their prone forms over to inspect them. Techno inched forward, arm reaching for a sword that was barely beyond his reach.
He was stopped by a boot planting itself on his uninjured shoulder. Not painful, but on the edge of firm enough to keep him still.
"Don't even think about it, mate."
Techno could only grunt his displeasure, opening his hands to show he wasn't going to try anything. The man pressed slightly against his shoulder with his shoe, prompting Techno to roll onto his side. He couldn't be on his back with the arrow still sticking out of him.
"You're…" The words died in his throat when he looked up at the man standing over him. What might have caught Techno off guard was the sharp features framed with long blond hair that he recognized belonged to the Antarctic Empire's leader. Or it could have been the thousands of crows flocking in the sky behind him.
What Techno noticed was neither of those things. What he noticed first were the two black wings that spread out from the man's back wide enough to block the sunlight.
"They say he flocks the battlefield on black feathered wings", some soldiers would whisper around the campfire. "A blessing from Lady Death. They're freaks of nature, all of them. No human should mess with the divine."
Techno thought it was a lie, the empire's propaganda working to instill fear in Dante's troops. Or perhaps their hate for him seeping into their dislike for the empire. Clearly, he had been wrong.
The man's expression was unreadable, something too close to confusion passed over him. "How old are you?" he asked.
Techno swallowed painfully, blinking to clear his vision at a sudden bout of dizziness. "What?"
Turning to his side had taken away the pressure his own body weight was putting on the wound in his stomach, leaving him to lie in a rapidly growing puddle of his own blood. He shivered, the cold feeling more profound than it did before.
"Fuck, I knew Dante was a scumbag but you barely look old enough to drink ale. What happened to the conscription age?"
Stunned, Techno wanted to choke out a reply but he couldn't. He rather felt like he was about to puke. Noting his pale face and how sick he looked, the emperor finally inspected him more properly.
He stepped back when he noticed the gash in Techno's stomach. Oh right, that did feel like it was tearing him clean in two. He'd only managed to worsen it compared to this morning.
"Shit- Medic!" The emperor turned to cry out to his men. Instinctively, Techno tried to scramble back, to get away. Despite how pathetic he felt, he couldn't die like this.
Except his clambering only served to make another wave of pain burst through his body, starting at his stomach and shooting into every limb. He lurched back, head hitting the ground. Techno could feel something that was supposed to be inside his stomach spill out.
And whatever remained of his consciousness swiftly went with it.
Technoblade did not wake up in the medic tent.
That was somehow more surprising than him waking up at all. His head throbbed something fierce, though it was a dull pounding that settled behind his eardrums. He vaguely recalled the sensation of pain as he was lifted up onto a horse, a bottle being pressed against his lips. The sedatives were quite strong if they still affected him this much.
They'd stitched him up.
Techno could feel the pull of the threads in his stomach, with a matching ache in his heel. The wound in his shoulder was bandaged up. The sheets were tucked around him and a cold glass of water was waiting for him on the bedside table.
What's more, the emperor himself was sitting on a chair beside him.
He was leafing through a book, humming under his breath. The military uniform was changed out for a relaxed, loose-fitting green robe and his hair had been tied back into a low bun. Techno could only stare at the sight, not sure whether to feel disappointed at the lack of wings.
Maybe if they were there, it would be easier for him to convince himself it wasn't a delusion brought on by the fever.
"You're awake," the emperor said. Between the drugs and how exhausted he still was, Techno could not bring it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd been caught staring.
"Apparently. I should be dead," he heard himself say, voice a little rough with dehydration. He wiggled into an upright position, wincing at the pain. The emperor did not offer to help him. Good, Techno would not have accepted any help offered.
"Yeah, it's quite amazing to see the Blood God's blessing work up close. My physician never looked so panicked before." The emperor chuckled.
Techno shook his head, reaching for the glass with a shaking hand. "No, I was expressing surprise at the fact you hadn't killed me."
The emperor gave him a curious look. "I never kill those that survive the battle," he said.
"Except I'm not worth much as a prisoner of war. Trust me."
"I don't take them prisoner either." Putting his book away, the emperor stood up and stayed next to the bed. "But perhaps it should not surprise me you don't know much about the war outside of what you were told. I'd appreciate it if you'd answer my earlier question. How old are you?"
"I'm seventeen," Techno said.
That same look passed over the other man's face. It was as if he was thinking deeply about something, but whatever conclusions he could draw weren't ones that pleased him.
"How long have you been its conduit?" Techno couldn't say what that meant. His confusion must be obvious because the emperor shook his head. "My name is Philza, though Phil will suffice. What's yours?"
Oh, so they were going to be friends now?
As alarming as that should be - growing familiarity with your prisoners was probably the first step in drawing information out of them - Techno didn't have anywhere to go. Stubbornness would only cost him more down the line.
"It's Technoblade," he said.
"Technoblade, how long have you had the Blood God's blessing?"
He frowned. "Pretty sure I was born with this curse, honestly."
"That's not-" Phil laughed, more humorless than amused. "That's not how it works, mate. Though I suppose you could have been so young you don't remember. Or something else fucked your memories up."
While it was true that Techno could not recall much of his past, that wasn't the sort of thing he was going to share with the leader of an enemy nation for no reason. So he shrugged, resolutely putting his attention towards taking another sip of his water.
"What happens now?" he asked. "Because if it's torture that's fine, I just need to like, mentally prepare myself."
Phil straight-up cackled at his lame attempt to break the tension. Then he turned toward the door. "Now you rest. No need to strain yourself when you're still hurt. We can get to the bottom of this later."
"The bottom of what?"
"How one of the gods' chosen ended up on the wrong side of the war." Phil gave him one more smile over his shoulder before he left. "If you need anything, just call out. All our servants know where to find me, and they'll treat an honored guest well."
When the door closed behind him, Techno sagged into the pillows. This was not the turn of events he had been prepared for. But then again, was it that much worse than Dante's army had been? Perhaps not.
Either way, Techno supposed it wouldn't hurt to follow the emperor's advice and rest for now. All other things could be dealt with in the morning.
