This is for the whumptober prompts: Sacrifice, restrained, waking up confused
"You're the one that stole from the gods…"
Technoblade's hand stills where it's about to curl around the glass of ale he has been served. He can feel a hush fall over the tavern, not full silence but close enough that it makes him uncomfortable. And awkward. Being the center of attention has never been his forte, ironically.
"You might have mistaken me for somebody else," he says.
"No," the bartender insists in a louder voice. This draws even more eyes toward them, until Techno is pretty sure the entire pub is looking at him. "I'm certain of it. Word travels fast around these parts, you know. I've heard stories about you. "
Techno has to physically keep himself from cringing. "The stories are greatly exaggerated," he says. He tries to keep his tone humorous, to make light of it. He noticed the stares as he entered the village. The fact that his reputation precedes him is no surprise to Techno. But not everybody knows him from sight and usually, he can get away with relative anonymity. He'd hoped the weird looks were caused by weariness against strangers rather than recognition.
That was foolish of him.
"I heard nobody else has ever made it up Hypixel mountain and come back down alive," somebody to Techno's left points out, to hums and nods of the crowd. Techno frowns into his ale, feeling the start of a headache come on.
"Yeah, well-"
"I heard a wither can't even be defeated by an army of a dozen men yet you killed several while up there," another person adds, voice in awe. It's followed by a second round of murmurs, some people stepping closer to get a better look at Techno. Like him just sitting there at the bar is some kind of heroic display and he's not the sad image of a tired traveler trying to have a quiet night.
It probably doesn't help that he feels like crap.
Techno takes another sip, so he doesn't have to answer right away. "It was really more luck than skill," he settles on.
It's not entirely a lie. He's a capable enough fighter, sure. But the reason he didn't die that day has nothing to do with his ability to wield a sword or brew potions. Those might have helped, but at the end of it all, Techno was… lucky. He was very, very lucky.
He didn't die because coincidence and chance were in his favor, that's all.
"You're very humble for somebody who was awarded a knighthood by the king," the bartender says with a smile. Somehow, it doesn't really sound like a compliment.
Techno supposes most peasants envy him. All they see is the legendary quest he completed, not to mention the riches he got as a reward. The royals put out a bounty of immeasurable size on whoever could deliver them the Blaze Heart. Techno had been struggling to scrape by since birth, growing up as an orphan on the streets and after that as a recruit in the army fighting other people's wars. Lacking nobility, he had no hope of ever making it to a higher rank, no matter how well he performed. So desperation bred insanity.
Some days, Techno wonders if dying on that mountain would have been better.
"Knighthood isn't all it's cracked up to be," he answers, stiff-shouldered. The ale leaves a sour aftertaste in his mouth, undercut by the brew's natural bitterness. It turns his stomach more than usual.
"Most people would kill for that kind of fortune though," the man who spoke earlier says offhandedly.
Techno only stares into his drink, and the slow swirl of the liquid settles the vertigo somewhat.
Turns out riches do not buy peace. Techno's wishes to build a farm somewhere on the edge of some small village and live out the rest of his days tending to his land, taking care of his animals, not having to fight to get by… It was all for nothing.
Instead, everybody who had any sort of dangerous task they needed done thought they could offer it to Technoblade in exchange for more gold. And they weren't shy to let him know how displeased they were at his refusal, or how disappointed they were in the 'hero' they thought he was. It came to a point where Techno had to leave so he could know a moment of solitude.
Yet stuff like this still happens.
"I think you're vastly overestimating the royals' generosity," Techno can't help saying. Most commoners aren't allegiant enough to mind him talking crap about their rulers, even if others would point out how grateful he should be.
They think the king saved him from a life of poverty. But all that guy did was hand Techno a curse in disguise.
"Maybe. I didn't get to be in the capital and saw the feast they threw for you myself," the bartender answers amiably enough. Techno shrugs vaguely, the pounding in his head is only getting worse. He can barely keep his eyes open.
Why is his vision refusing to focus?
"Still, stealing from the gods is a risky thing," the bartender continues. "Perhaps you're right that luck had something to do with it. You'd think the gods would have punished you for your hubris by now otherwise."
Techno frowns harder, though there's something beneath it that's washed away by how tired he feels. "The Blaze Heart didn't belong to any gods," he says. He knows it's a legend that has been passed around for ages, but Techno saw no divinity up on that mountain. Only beasts scrambling to tear each other's throats out and the glowing rock that felt like molten lava in his hands and that he brought down with him.
If it did belong to something not of this world, Techno would never have been able to take it. He knows that for certain.
"The tales I've been told beg to differ," the bartender says. Techno finally manages the unexpectedly tremendous effort it takes him to raise his chin and look at the man, seeing him staring back with a strange intensity in his eyes.
Something is very off about this. He should have noticed earlier, but his thoughts are too slippery to hold.
"Like I said, the tales are greatly exaggerated," Techno says. He tries to reach for his pouch, fumbling when his numb fingers only twitch. "I'll find somewhere else to sleep tonight, no offense."
When he gets up from the bar stool he is sitting on, Techno's legs fail him. He tries to use the counter to steady himself, to keep from falling onto the ground like a pathetic heap.
"We're sorry," one of the other men in the bar says, reaching towards Techno. "We are."
A single pull on his elbow and then he's on the floor, the pain of his body slamming into the wooden planks feels hollow and distant. Probably because of whatever he was drugged with. There's a length of rope and Techno tries to wrench away as they start to tie his wrists together.
"What are you-?" He would love to spit more vitriol at them, but his head hurts so much that his voice comes out weaker than intended. He might puke.
"Let's go, we don't want to be out after sundown." The bartender gestures for some people to help lift Techno by his armpits. Somebody kneels to quickly bind his ankles to each other before they start dragging him outside.
The cold air does very little to sober him up, the sedatives they spiked his ale with are starting to take proper hold and Techno can feel himself shaking. Every time he blinks, the world is a blur of color and motion. He groans, his feeble struggles going easily ignored. What is probably only a handful of minutes pass in what feels like hours to him, while the sickening tendrils of nausea work their way up Techno's throat. Clenching his teeth together is the only thing that keeps the vomit at bay, but when he's thrown down in the middle of some forest clearing, he can't help but open his mouth.
"Why are you doing this?" It comes out like a desperate gasp, Techno's cheek pressing into the wet leaves while his muscles spasm uselessly.
"Times have been hard for the village," the bartender says. He looks at Techno with a shadow of pity, though Techno finds it hard to hold any sympathy for the people who are literally throwing him to the wolves, no matter how much regret they feel. "We'll need a miracle if we want to survive the winter."
"You think killing me will give you a blessing from the gods?" Techno chokes out a laugh. His vision is getting concerningly spotty, black creeping in along the edges. He has to struggle to stay conscious.
They don't answer. A few more hushed whispers are exchanged, and then the mob who is more than happy to leave Techno to suffer for their gain turns around and starts to walk away. Techno wants to yell after them. He wants to spit and fight and honestly, punch every last one of them in the face for their foolish superstitions. Even if the Blaze Heart belonged to the gods - which Techno wants on record it didn't - it wouldn't be the same gods living in these woods.
Though Techno harbors no hope that these gods don't exist.
Most humans can sense divinity. It leaves traces on every place or object it touches (yet another reason Techno is so certain legend is mistaken about the Blaze Heart). Even through the drug-induced daze, he can feel the sanctitude like a physical thing, a syrupy sensation that clings to his bones. These woods do not belong to humankind.
He has to get out of here, sooner rather than later.
Techno twists to try and roll onto his back, his breath coming short from the strain. The cold already seems to be seeping right into every crevice of his body. His movements are made clumsy and slow, while his brain has to work overtime against the cloying exhaustion from the drugs. Every inch of him wants to go to sleep and figure all of this out later. But a more panicked, screeching part of Techno's brain tells him that if he gives into that, he will never wake up.
After a bit of clumsily jerking against his limited mobility, he manages to get in a position that allows him to reach for his hip. Techno isn't carrying any obvious weapons on him, if he was the townsfolk would have probably taken them. His actual gear is still up in his room at the inn too, but he never goes anywhere without a trick up his sleeves.
Or in this case: a handy little pocket knife disguised in the seams of his shirt.
Techno manages to grab it and twist it in his grasp so he can use it to cut the ropes along his wrists. It's not easy, he has to attempt an awkward sawing motion to catch on the fibers. His shoulders hurt holding them in in this position but Techno ignores it. At one point the knife slips and digs into his palm instead. Techno hisses, letting go of the handle and dropping it into the grass. He has to awkwardly scoot back over to grab it again, slick with blood now. The wound stings, another thing Techno dismisses.
Then, finally, he feels the ropes fall away.
After a few deep breaths to steady himself and fight off the dizzying sensation that swoops through him, he uses his freed arms to push upright.
The decision is regretted almost instantly when his brain seems to follow through with the movement, smooshing into the front of his skull with the sudden motion. Techno ends up painfully hunched over, gasping into his own lap and considering if the puking will be an issue after all. But after a few slow inhales through his nostrils, the sickness passes enough for him to blink back the fuzzy quality of his sight. He uses the knife to cut through the ropes tying his ankles together.
Overall, that went better than expected.
Something is approaching him from the woods.
Techno would not be able to put into words how he knows this. It's not like he can see or hear anything, it's not something his senses pick up on. Like a prey animal that freezes in the face of mortal peril, it's an intrinsic, deep-rooted awareness that he has been noticed by it. And it will find him.
Adrenaline makes his legs unsteady, but it gives Techno the push he needs to get up. He can't remember what direction the village is in. The darkness stretches in every direction, vast and endless. Ready to swallow him whole. But it's better than staying put, so he starts running.
It's closer to a lumbering gait, the fatigue wearing on him. The trees crowd in around him, cutting off what little moonlight there is tonight. Technoblade is tired, bleeding, he feels as if he could collapse at any moment. And yet he keeps going.
A branch breaks behind him.
Techno spins, half-surprised it doesn't throw his balance off completely and lands him on his ass. There's a man standing behind him, his long blond hair a translucent halo around a keen face with bright blue eyes, hands clasped before him so demurely. Watching him with the gentlest smile.
It has wings.
There's something reassuring about the fact that it doesn't try to hide its godhood. The black feathers stretch behind its back, curving down and big enough to touch the ground, quivering slightly. Its mouth is wide and full of teeth.
"Oh, how did you get here?" it asks.
Turning around, Techno takes off.
He curses how heavy his legs feel, how much his vision sways left to right to left to right. He can't see where he's going. The beating of wings heralds its approach.
There's no way Techno can outrun it.
The knife is in his hand, clutched tightly in a white-knuckled grip, fingers wet with blood. Fighting a god might be one of the most foolish things he has ever done.
When he hears no more rushing of wind along feathers, Techno digs his heels into the ground and comes to a sudden stop. He swings around, arm outstretched and knife pointing out. The god descends on him, and on his weapon. Techno digs it in as deep as he can, not very concerned with which body part he has hit. It doesn't make a noise as it collapses onto him. Gold blood leaks out, burning Techno's skin. He pushes it off and runs again.
This time he only manages to keep it up for a handful of seconds.
Techno knows he hasn't accomplished anything except piss it off. At this point, he can't tell if it's the drug or his own desperation that is making him so lightheaded. Before he can make up his mind, his foot seems to sink into nothing. Techno tumbles, pitching forward. His shoulder slams into the ground first, catching the brunt of the fall and Techno hears it pop out of the socket. Stones scrape into him as he rolls the rest of the way down the hill, the world flipping over and over nauseatingly until Techno can't remember what the sky is supposed to look like. A smothered whimper tears through his chest when he finally comes to a stop. He can't move. He can't even cry out.
The mountain was much better than this.
The god touches down behind him, feathers rustling gently when it tucks its wings against its back. "Why did you do that?" it asks, sounding for one fragile moment genuinely perplexed.
Techno squirms away from it, but there's nowhere to go. He finds a tree and drags himself against it, turning around so he can look it in the face. The least he can do is refuse to die while crawling like a dog. The god has its head tilted, staring at him in mild curiosity. Techno can see the gash he tore through its throat, leaving blood to soak into their green robes. It gives him no satisfaction.
He opens his mouth but before any words can make it from his paralyzed tongue, it speaks again.
"I see. You're brave then. Most mortals balk in the face of death." It walks closer to him, steps light enough they don't seem to touch the ground. "But if it's peace you truly want, would surrender not be more suited?"
Techno shakes his head. It smiles wider, the seams of it tearing at its cheeks as it dissects Techno's mind layer by layer and studies what's inside.
"We can protect you. We can soothe you. We can care for you. Isn't that what's in your heart?"
"Wha-" Techno chokes, the single syllable tastes like blood on his tongue.
Their wings have unfurled again, now in duplicate — six pairs of feathery appendages unbending from behind its shoulders. Dim, colorless halos twisting and turning in a display of horrific void and stardust. Techno stares at them, unable to pull his eyes away.
It hurts. There's no brightness radiating off it, nothing except the unnatural blue of those eyes, so why does Techno feel like he's gazing into the sun? The burning sensation is so intense he knows he would be screaming out in pain if their divinity didn't keep him soundless, keep him pinned. Warmth drips from his chin, more blood leaking from his nose. Techno feels his organs shred to pieces. His body convulses.
"You are already ours," it says.
Techno sinks back into that darkness.
When Techno wakes up he feels remarkably fine for somebody whose internal biology was recently turned inside out.
Well, maybe that's not exactly what happened. It came close enough to it for the memory to pull him into the waking world with a jolt, gasping as his fingers claw at the soft sheets beneath him. He sits up, feeling several pillows bunch beneath him as if lovingly placed there. He can feel that his hair is combed and braided, hanging over one shoulder. His shoes and outer layers of clothing were removed, leaving him in easier garb. There's no telltale stickiness on his face or any other concerning symptoms.
But he can't see.
Techno blinks several times but nothing happens. His vision remains absent, not even the vaguest shape or color filtering through. Fear rises in his throat surprisingly fast, until a hand wraps around his wrist.
"Try not to panic," a voice next to him says.
They do not sound like the creature Techno encountered when he was running in the woods, which does set him at ease. It's more than that though. Their words are soft, melodic. They have a tender quality to them, Techno feels them take hold of his brain.
It has to be another god.
"What did you do to me?" he asks through clenching teeth, even as he feels his body relax into the bed at their command. The man chuckles.
"Me? Absolutely nothing. And in a roundabout way, I'd say Phil didn't do anything either. Not on purpose, at least." They squeeze slightly, draining the last of his resistance out of him. "Your recovery will be faster if you stay as you are. Not a lot of humans can see a god's true shape and live to tell the tale, you know?"
Techno blinks again, automatically tilting his head towards them while listening for more noises. "Is that why I'm blind?"
"A temporary thing. Phil forgets the effect we have on mortals, since we're never around them much. Don't worry, I've already told him off."
"I thought he was going to kill me," Techno admits with a chuckle. It feels very… easy to talk to this person. Techno feels no fear or anger towards them. And yes, Techno is very aware that there might be some divine radiance influencing him, but his brain literally can't fight that.
(Rather, parts of it are already whispering at him to give in.)
"He was going to let you go, truly. But we sometimes like to have a bit of fun with the humans that wander in here. Give them a little scare so they don't bother us anymore." Techno flinches when a hand cups his cheek suddenly, then the next moment he's leaning into it. He realizes he craves that touch like a starving man craves food. This isn't normal. "You're different though," the god says. "We could sense it."
"Different how?" Techno forces himself to ask. It's hard though. Like his very soul doesn't want to question this.
But they don't answer, only pulling away from him with a hum. Techno feels very tired suddenly, despite only just waking up.
"My name is Wilbur," the god says. "It's so very nice to meet you, Technoblade."
He doesn't bother asking how they know his name.
"I wish I could say the same," Techno mutters. He has closed his eyes at this point, so he won't be confronted by the darkness of his vision. He hopes Wilbur is telling the truth about his sight returning soon.
"It's not nice to meet me?" Wilbur asks, a small laugh smothered in what Techno can only assume is his hand.
Techno shakes his head and yawns. "The circumstances are not ideal."
"No, I suppose not." Gentle fingers brush through his hair once, twice. "Your willingness to stay with us forever will need time to grow, perhaps. But grow it will. We'll ensure it."
"That's ominous." There's not much emotion in the statement, not when Wilbur's kind touches wipe away all of Techno's conscious thoughts beyond how safe and cozy he feels in this bed.
(How loved he is already by them, though he has no clue yet.)
"Don't worry about it," Wilbur says.
And just like that, Techno finds he can't. The very notion that this is something concerning, something life-changing, something horrifyingly outside of his control, fades into a faraway corner of his thoughts. It hasn't disappeared completely, but it's vague and nebulous. Techno can't hold onto it for more than a second.
"Now go back to sleep," Wilbur says. "Your body needs the rest, and you don't want to keep Tommy waiting too long. He's pretty eager to meet you too."
Techno can't even find the energy to ask who this Tommy person is. Not when Wilbur is back to humming, the cadence of his voice washing over Techno with an odd sense of peace. It sounds like coming home.
All Techno can do is give in to Wilbur's demand and sleep.