Exactly three years ago I wrote a story called Taming of the Blood. It's still up on my profile, my very first longfic after I joined the fandom. I guess I was feeling nostalgic, so I decided to do a rewrite of sorts?
This is not meant to be a comparative, direct rewrite. It's the same concept and I kept a lot of the plot beats, but I also changed a lot. Regard this as a second take of the same concept.
Anyway, I just enjoy writing Techno whump...
Technoblade wakes up with a terrible headache and a high-pitched ringing in his ears.
The pain is sharp, stabbing into his frontal lobe with uncomfortable intensity. Further amplifying this is a general soreness in his body, especially his arms. The kind that typically comes after overexertion of the muscles, like when he's been working too long. But Techno can't remember having done that lately. Actually, he can't remember much at all right now.
That's alarming.
His head lolls forward, pulled down by gravity until his chin rests on his chest and Techno hisses when it further stretches the ache in his neck. The darkness behind his eyelids does not feel as agreeable as it did a few minutes ago. He needs to open his eyes and figure out what the heck is going on. Such a simple action seems to be taking an immeasurable amount of effort though. Techno finds it almost impossible to muster up the energy.
He is tired.
No, not tired. Techno knows what that feels like and it's different from this strange weakness, the odd spasms of his extremities twitching at his attempts to force them into cooperation. Even Chat remains muted. His thoughts are moving through quicksand, too sluggish to put two and two together before getting lost in the ebb and flow of his own breathing. Techno concentrates on that instead, the slow exhale of air leaving a strange lingering sweetness clinging to his lips.
He licks them, distantly aware it tastes unusual.
Did somebody make him drink a potion?
Like a heap of embers gradually brought to flame, Techno can feel the urgency inside him rise. Something is very wrong. He knows it is, and knows he should be more pressed to find out what exactly. The situation is pretty bad. The fact that his brain stumbles, grappling to make sense of why, is even worse.
Inhaling through his nostrils, Techno decides to take things one step at a time. No need panicking over an unknown when remaining calm suits him better. The first order of business should be finding out where he is.
With another small hiss, Techno finally forces his eyes to open. The room is blurry, his vision refusing to focus and give him more of the much-coveted information he'd like to have about his current predicament. It's dark, a single torch stuck in a bracket on the wall serves as the only source of light. Everything seems to be made of stone and as far as Techno can see, the room is devoid of furniture. Opposite him, a small staircase leads to a heavy wooden door. It reminds Technoblade of a dungeon.
Actually, that would explain a lot.
His arms hurt more than the rest of him and he's starting to realize it's because they are stretched above his head. The position has them extended, shoulder joints forced to bear some of the weight from his body pulling down on them. Techno is sitting on his butt against the wall, tail curled to the side. The height at which he has been restrained makes it impossible for him to stand up unless he wants to stoop over awkwardly, and his muscles are already pushed to their limits. Each arm is kept in place with a shackle, a chain between them connects the two and is woven through an iron ring in the wall. So yeah, definitely a dungeon.
Second order of business then, how did Techno get in here?
He closes his eyes again for a moment, trying to remember.
Phil is packing for a trip. The sunlight catches on his golden hair and Techno lazily turns over in his nest once more, humming as he leans into his friend's hand while Phil brushes gentle fingers against his forehead to wake him up. Phil laughs, saying something about seeing him off. Techno promised. He always promises to see Phil off when he leaves on those longer trips.
And Techno doesn't break his promises to Phil.
Another stab of pain in his temple, not at the memory but at somebody throwing a door shut somewhere above him. His ear flicks at the noise. Is he being kept underground? Maybe that would make sense, where else are you going to build a dungeon? Techno's breathing halts, waiting for more sounds. But it stays eerily quiet and he sinks back into trying to remember what happened.
Phil has made tea for them on the kitchen table. One cup is already half emptied as Phil flits around checking for last-minute supplies. He's meticulous when packing, but he also doesn't often leave for more than a couple of days. A month-long trip is unusual. So it makes sense for Phil to be extra prepared. Techno watches him, scratching Steve behind the ear when the polar bear greets him too.
The door at the top of the staircase opens.
Techno winces when a bright glare of light falls into his eyes. The person standing there is backlit and thus unrecognizable to him. Rather than squinting stupidly up at them, Techno decides to try and finish the recollection his aching head is slowly putting together.
They're outside the cabins, standing in the snow. Phil hugs him. His laughter ghosts against Techno's cheek. Ranboo also says goodbye, and then both of them stand there and wave at Phil as the older man shrinks into a tiny dot on the horizon. Even when he's surely too far away to see them.
Ranboo says something about going to Snowchester and Techno nods, preparing to feed the dogs. When he goes back inside, he notices the tea Phil made was left on the table. There's still some in his cup, so Techno downs it before sitting at his brewing stand to start on the work he left unfinished yesterday.
After that… nothing.
With the drug wearing off, Techno doesn't find it as hard to conclude what must have happened. It offers some explanations but leaves way more questions unanswered. Techno knows where he is - vaguely - and how he came to be here.
The most important question remains who would do this to him?
Techno doesn't recognize them. That's what he realizes, looking up in the face of a total stranger. The man is lanky, tall in a way that would have allowed them to tower over Techno even if he wasn't chained to the wall and forced to stay in the seated position. Their hair is dark - cropped at the back but slightly longer in the front so it frames their sharp cheekbones.
And their grey eyes are narrowed in amusement.
"Awake, I see. Took you long enough."
The arrogant tone of their voice tells Techno he will not get along with this guy. Completely separate from the 'them throwing him into a dungeon' thing.
Techno frowns at them, taking in every feature. The man is wearing no armor, and has no weapons on them as far as he can tell. Extremely certain of their own abilities, or hopelessly stupid? Only time will tell.
"You're not going to say anything?" they ask lightly. Pouting at his silence in a way that's particularly irritating. "I'm disappointed. I heard all about your eloquence."
"I'm not in the habit of wastin' my words," Techno tells them, happy that he doesn't stumble over the syllables with how clumsy his tongue feels. The potion hasn't entirely left his system, keeping his chin up to meet their infuriatingly smug smirk is draining strength from Techno he really doesn't have to spare right now. But he can be stubborn about this.
Anything to not show them weakness.
"Not even to ask me why you're here?" they muse.
"Nope." Techno shrugs, only regretting the action a little when it flares his shoulders alive with pain. They're starting to feel a little like they're being pulled from the sockets, tendons stretched and fraying. "I don't plan to hang around long enough for it to matter."
The stranger kneels, motion smooth and easy. Techno barely gets a chance to flinch back when they reach out to cup his cheek. Though with the chains, there's nowhere for him to go anyway. They stroke their fingers across his temple, a gesture that almost reads as gentle, kind. Especially when it travels up and just slightly smooths over his hair.
"Interesting. That bravado is exactly why I picked you." Their gaze is full of admiration. Reverence, almost.
A sickening, twisted sort of worship that makes Techno feel neouseas to his very gut.
"So perfect," they exhale. Techno can feel it against his face, back tensing. "I simply can't wait to ruin you."
He jerks against the wall to get away from their touch, spine slamming into brickwork hard. They click their tongue, like a parent trying to chide their child for misbehaving. Even as Techno huffs his frustration at them, showing the edges of sharp tusks, they only smile wider. Enjoying his helplessness.
"Get away from me," Techno growls.
"Threatening me already, hm? You're going to make this so much fun." Their hand doesn't leave. They stroke against his brow with a thumb, almost as if trying to chase away the anger there. "But there's something you should probably know."
Then they curl their fingers, pulling the strands of Techno's hair into a tight-knuckled grip and Techno almost bites his tongue at the stab of pain when they pull his head back, angling him to their convenience. With them hovering over him, Techno is unable to do anything but look up into those venomous eyes.
"I'm not scared of you. Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?" They tug harshly, making sure he's paying attention. "Should I give you a little hint, or would stewing in anticipation be more fun?"
"Are we playing twenty questions now?" Techno grits out.
"I hope you know you're only making this harder on yourself," they warn. "But by all means, keep going. You'll only make me enjoy this more." They let go and pull back, drawing up to their full height again.
"Dude, that's kind of weirdchamp," Techno says.
With a firm grasp on the situation, a lot of his concern has faded. So this person - whoever they are - managed to catch him unawares with a coward's tactic. Techno can't say he's impressed. He'll get out of here pretty easily and wring their stupid neck until that smirk fades. Simple.
Or it should be simple. Techno stills when they get something out of their pocket.
The circle of gold catches the torchlight, almost as if it is glowing. The smooth metal is bent in an unmistakable shape, one Techno knows all too well as the man unclasps the back in preparation for putting it on his throat. Dread seizes him, something that doesn't happen to Techno often and he's not very proud of. Chat flaring back to their full volume doesn't help.
When they step towards him, Techno kicks out.
He misses, hoof bouncing against the ground because panic throws off his aim. His hip slides forward with the motion, dragging a strangled grunt out of Techno when it wrenches on his shoulders. That doesn't stop him from lashing out a second time, connecting with the man's leg. They stumble back, their own cry of pain smothered by a curse. Techno has one brief flash of feeling victorious, relishing in their suffering. But one blink later their nails scratch along his scalp as they grab his hair again, the lingering effects of the drug making Techno too slow to react. They pull him forward, almost bending him double. His arms angle up, the ligaments burning at being pulled taut. The agony only lasts a second, before the man uses their full force to slam Techno's head back against the bricks.
Pain explodes with the intensity of a sunburst, stealing any sensation that isn't how much it hurts. Techno's vision whites out. His chest constricts around the absence of air knocked out of him, trying to take deep, desperate breaths.
When Techno finally blinks to some kind of awareness again, the collar has already been attached where it belongs.
The man remains kneeling in front of him, hand back to exploring. Sliding down his chest so it can push his sternum into the wall further. "You didn't like that, did you?" they ask. There's no inquisitiveness there, real curiosity prying for an answer. They only want to point out that while Techno hated what they did, they did it anyway.
The slight upturn of their lip drives home the power they hold over him.
Techno tries to reply, though the only thing that comes out is a sudden, broken-off cough. When he shifts, wetness spreads through his hair, the warmth of blood dripping down the back of Techno's neck and onto his shirt. His vision was having a hard time focusing before but is now completely refusing to stop growing fuzzy around the edges, blotting out all the hard angles. Techno blinks, fighting to remain conscious.
"It's okay, you'll get used to it." Again, they cup his face, though the hold shifts lower this time, harsher with nails that dig into the soft flesh of Techno's cheek and grip at his chin. They force him to look up at them once more, laughing softly when it causes Techno to try and swallow down the pained little whimper inside him when the open wound on his head drags against the rough stones. "You'll make a perfect little pet."
The unbridled fury that flares inside Techno at them using that term is familiar, safe. He grabs it and allows it to fuel some adrenaline into his bloodstream, enough to tug back and break their hold on him. Then he manages to collect enough saliva to spit in their face, watching the slightly pink liquid drip across their eyebrow. Techno's mouth tastes like iron. Seeing them wipe it away gives him barely any satisfaction.
He has braced himself, waiting for their anger.
All they do is smile.
When they settle their fingers around the collar, the gesture feels almost leisurely. Experimental as they dip one thumb beneath the gold, feeling the rapid pulse of Techno's jugular. They give him no warning before pushing down.
Another cough tries to break through his ribcage, painfully getting stuck on the exhale. His throat contracts, body instinctively grasping towards unhelpful spasms when he can't breathe, can't get any air in his lungs. They burn. Darkness creeps in along the edges of Techno's vision. Between the choking, how much his shoulders hurt and the blood stuck in his braid, Techno starts halfway wishing he'd pass out. At least then he wouldn't have to worry about all of this for a few moments longer.
The stranger won't allow him that comfort.
They let go seconds before unconsciousness can claim him, chuckling when Techno's body automatically convulses. He can't stop shaking.
And the embarrassment of his state is only amplified by them patting his cheek condescendingly.
"Since it's your first day, I'll go easy on you. Can't expect you to know all the rules yet, can I? But I advise you get some rest now. Your training starts tomorrow. And when we're done, I won't allow any disobedience from my new pet."
