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One would assume that in a grand castle, things would be well-kept. A hired maid or ten or perhaps even 50 keeping the place tidy.
In the same breath one would also assume that he with a crows mind and propensity for hoarding random objects would be the guilty party leaving the fort in disarray.
However not even the crow’s shining indulgence can rival the golden kleptomania of that of the piglin.
Which would be fine and well. To each his own of course.
If only Technoblade also put in even an eighth of a thought into organizing any of his horde.
Yes there is a system involved, he knows where everything is kept. There's three healing pots underneath that one stone shovel that's one flick away from breaking, and a container of blaze powder next to a stack of mycelium, and so on and so forth.
But there comes a point when his partner in crime- or rather chivalry as he prefers to put it, can’t distinguish between the piles of clutter anymore.
With a gruff sigh, Philza closes shut what is likely the seventeenth chest he’s organized and drapes himself over the splintering lid.
“I warned him, I fuckin’ warned him that I’d be organizing his shit today! He can’t get pissed with me when I gave him a proper heads up!” Phil relays in a slightly exasperated tone.
A few crows crackle a cackle at his wallowing expense.
They’ve been inseparable for only Lady Death knows how long. On the list of things Phil has done to annoy Techno, this is likely just slightly above using harming arrows on what turned out to just be a really big bat.
In Phil’s defense, it was midnight and the way the bat was angled looked like an enemy plane far in the sky with it’s lights turned off. Which isn’t as uncommon a sight as one would think in these lands.
“Okay chat-” Phil slips his hands underneath his ribs, pushing himself off of the chest and turning to face his murder of chattering corvids, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, “that should be enough organizing for one day, we’ll see if I get around to doing the rest tomorrow but who fuckin knows at this point.”
Most everything in their bedroom has been sorted through today, and he doesn’t want to completely scare off Techno.
They had started off with separate bedrooms when they first designed and built the castle.
However, the Antarctic gets cold at night for a crow-like avian ill-suited for it; and Technoblade being netherborn radiates heat like a massive fluffy furnace. The fact that whenever Phil crawled into his bed he would just happen to be taken up into a pair of strong arms and hoisted onto Techno’s chest, enveloping him in a blissful toasty comfort known only to him was just an added bonus.
So naturally, Phil’s room slowly just became bombarded with chests full of his collections and treasures until there wasn’t much room for him to sleep there anymore. Oh no, how could that have happened?
And Technoblade, as much as he’ll feign hyper-independence, isn't quite fond of sleeping alone anyways.
“Chat go find Techno and tell him I’m finished sorting through his shit and to prepare for our council meeting in an hour,” Phil yawns, flicking one of his wings outwards to rid it of the crick it has developed in it’s joint.
One would think that immortals would be free from the perils of joint pain. But no, if anything all immortality has done is perpetuate the issue indefinitely.
A few crows begin chittering a soft laughter, a braver one hops up to Phil’s feet with a tiny note clutched in their beak.
After squinting to read the message Phil snorts and rolls his eyes, “Yes I know I’m fucking old! Now go! Find Techno, fuck off!” he demands, pointing out the door.
Still cackling, Chat filters out through the bedroom door, the sound of their caws and chitters echoing like the toll of a bell through banistered halls of cobblestone.
With a release of breath, Phil drops himself onto their bed, staring up at the canopy as though it were as vast as the sky.
A flicker of torchlight ignites a crimson glimmer to the peripheral of Phil’s vision. Curiously, his eyes shift to trail it like a beacon until they finally find their place at it’s source.
An amulet, glistening a vermillion hue and shadowed in foreboding maroon, dangles carelessly from a hook on Techno’s side of the bed.
In all of their centuries together, Phil has never once seen Techno without it looped around his neck. He’s been told long ago that it is the gate that keeps the Voices from crossing into the mortal realm.
“The fuck- why did Techno leave that here-” Phil questions with narrowed eyes, sitting up proper and reaching for the gem.
The ruby hums in the heart of his palm, harmonizing in tandem with the steady rhythm of his pulse.
A piece of captivating beauty.
Phil’s breath slows as he turns the amulet around in his hand with a surgeon’s precision, searching for any sign of ruin.
As unpredictable as he may be at times, Techno doesn’t divert from his normal routine without reason. A controlled chaos as it were.
Then, as Phil makes the final turn of the gem, a deep fracture breaks the flawless finish of the smooth cut face of the ruby.
His breath hitches, his heart racing up into his throat; the tip of his finger hovering over the imperfection.
The hum of the gem wraps it’s tendrils around Phil’s index.
There’s little he can do to stop how his fingertip glides along the crack, flesh snagging upon it’s ragged edge, and allowing blood to drip into the gem.
“HOUNNNDS, GO GET ‘EM!!!” Techno commands, throwing his pointed hand out towards a group of five or so trainees all cowering a hundred or so meters away.
A flick of his elbow sends a battalion of dogs of varying sizes and ages into a flying sprint.
The group of trainees prophesize their incoming deaths for a moment or two, holding their breath and thinking of how all their life choices wound them here until finally they begin to run for their very lives.
“ YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE US KILLED BY THESE MAD DOGS!!! ” One screams.
"HEH!??" Techno raises a brow, arms crossing as he snorts a scoff through his snout.
“Y’know I was goin to reassure you that these hounds are nothin' more than puppies who just want to play. But I take personal offence to the statement that my puppies are “mad” SO YOU FAIIILLLLLL!! GET BACK TO CLASS I HAVE LIKE- TEN OTHER GROUPS TO TRAIN THIS WEEK, I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR YOU CONNIVING COMMENTS. The rest of you are fine, KEEP RUNNING.”
“I CAN’T JUST TURN BACK, YOUR DOGS ARE GOING TO KILL ME!!!”
One of the dogs howls in excitement, chomping his teeth into the air like meat on a bone.
“That ain’t my problem, actually I think there’s a term for this exact scenario and it’s called a you problem,” Techno retorts.
He watches in thinly veiled amusement as the outlier veers off of the path to escape, only to be followed by four or so hounds bolting after him as though trying to capture a rogue deer.
Soon the trainees halt, the tips of their toes nipping at a wall of forest looming over their stricken frames.
They’re too late when dogs begin jumping on them, knocking them all to the ground…
…and licking their faces with vigor.
“See? I told you you were fiiiiiiine all they wanna do is play,” Techno chuckles, trotting over mounted on a horse, “you all pass, congratulations. The dog that’s lickin your face the most is now your responsibility. If you’re more of a cat person uhhhh… talk to Phil that man is usually covered in cats he claims aren’t his.”
Techno can’t just take control of hundreds of dogs by himself, now that would just be selfish off him. He’s not a selfish man. Just opportunistic.
“HOUNDS!! RETREAT!!!” With a demand and a sharp whistle, most of the hound army, including the four that split off, start running back to the castle. The heckler is left alone to abruptly stop and collapse face first into the snow.
Techno looks over with a blank expression, “I’ll get a medic out here to check on that guy… eventually.” He disregards.
A squawking murder swoop in in droves, some cawing in greeting, others landing on Techno’s shoulders, head, snout, leg, horse, anywhere they can land. A few give him little pieces of gold that they definitely stole on their way here, of which he very readily takes into his possession.
One can never tell how Technoblade truly feels. They say his expression is set in stone most days.
Yet being smothered by the souls Phil keeps makes him crack a smile regardless.
“Alright alright what does the old man want now?”
11 years age difference is negligible when in comparison to centuries of immortality.
But for Techno it’s more than enough fodder to feed millennia and beyond with jabs towards his best friend.
A crow hops over with a small note, “Phil’s done sorting through your room.”
“Y’know I don’t think any amount of time is gonna be long enough for Phil to realise that no matter how many times he sorts through my chests they’re just gonna become a mess again within days.”
Reaching into his coat, Techno provides a few (very shiny) eyes of ender to the crows before turning his horse around.
He’s never noticed it until right this moment, but here in the field, away from the bustle of the capital city, far enough out from the castle that one’s scream would be a mere whisper.
It’s…
Silent.
Silent enough that the soft crunch of snow beneath a horse’s hoof sounds as though it’s crushing bones.
A gentle breeze turns into a sharp whistle piercing Techno’s ear canal.
The cheering caw of familiar crows twists into a rolling cacophony, their talons scratching his armour like a fork to glass.
All of it.
Any tiny sound that could ever be.
Amplified.
But there’s something missing amongst the amplified clutter.
He’s more than accustomed to crowded noise. He finds almost a comfort in it if only the white noise didn’t turn red with the thirst for blood and death.
Techno turns his head towards Phil’s murder and is met with-
Well yes happy cawing but underneath that there is
Stillness.
Nothing where excited cheers of Chat would blunder through the walls of his mind.
Techno’s eyes widen and his breath drops into a heavy stone in his stomach. Hand thudding against his chest, clutching around a soft bushel of fur where a gem once lay familiar.
“Oh God-" Wincing, as even the booming resonance of his own drawl feels as through his eardrums will bleed.
“Phil… we need to find Phil now! Where is he? Is he still in our room?”
The crows, having fell silent slowly nod.
“Good, we gotta get there before it’s too late.”
Techno snaps his horse’s reins commencing a gallop, a murderous cloud trailing him in his wake.
“Phil…PHIL!” Techno’s breath heaves as he busts through their bedroom door in a panic.
He should have known not to leave the pendant in such a blatant place this morning.
It doesn’t take long until his frantic gaze falls upon the form of Phil; back slumped over his knees, feathers raised and disorderly.
The gleam of a bloodstained ruby hanging from Phil’s neck is very quickly caught by Techno’s eye
“Phil… Phil can you hear me?” He asks, voice timbre’d in low wisps.
He’s spared not even a twitch.
Clearing his throat, he tries once more, “Phil… Phil it’s me alright? It’s-it’s Technoblade. I know it’s probably loud for ya, but listen to me if you just-just hand me the necklace I can make it all quiet for you again.”
Cautiously, Techno takes a step foward, his golden hoofshoes clacking against the cobblestone.
A crick, followed by a creak snaps in stale air. Phil’s neck clicking until eyes wide as a compass and red as war land upon Technoblade’s inviolable form impending above their bed.
Hair and fur marking the border of the Blood God’s spine raise as a chill shivers it’s way into his tail.
Phil has seldom ever properly made Techno fear him.
But in this moment Phil has gone and left his body to the hands of a chanting crowd.
“Phil-”
Phil lunges for Techno before he can even finish his breath, swiftly picking up a dagger swinging it to slash into his neck.
Techno is quick, sharply angling his neck and ricocheting the blade so it only clears through a patch of thick fur instead of his flesh.
“Phil, you of all people should know that just goin’ in to stab someone’s throat without even warning them is not only cringe but it’s a coward's way out of a battle,” Techno sighs, staring down blankly at his partner.
Giving way to panic leads to nowhere that much he knows.
And if there’s one thing The Voices adore its the pheromones of fear diffusing from a victim.
“You’re not a coward, are you, Phil?”
Blue floods into the red pooling Phil’s eyes. His expression faltering for a second or two before, just as quickly, crimson plagues them over once more and he stumbles around to get another hit. His body flopping about like a mere puppet.
This time, the dagger staggers and meanders on it’s path, unsure of where to target it’s point. Very easily being sidestepped.
“Alright now this is just sad, y’know people fear you? They call you the Angel of Death for a reason man but you can’t even hit a massive target that’s right in front of you. The people are gonna start sayin’ that you’re just a massive phony, and your- and my reputations will be tarnished. Do you really want that, Phil?” Techno heckles, dodging another sloppy attempt on his life.
“Once our reputations falter, everything we’ve worked for, our dignities, our armies, our empire, will alllll come collapsin’ on itself. Rival nations will make quick work of our land and we’ll be reduced down to worse than prisoners of war. Do you really want that, Phil?”
Phil narrows his eyes.
Techno’s expression stagnates.
He knows it’s going to take a lot more than a couple thousand voices to make Phil disappear.
Just as long as that dagger never bloodys, Phil can easily be brought back.
It’s just a matter of strategy.
As all things in this world are.
“Y’know I’m- I’m gonna be nice and I’m gonna give you one more chance to try and stab me with that puny blade. If you fail it’s my 800 pounds against your hollow bird bones. And if I break you I’ll make sure you never move again” He beckons.
Leaping into the air, Phil beats his wings once into momentum and he twists before diving with the tip of his blade locked onto Techno’s jugular.
Cold metal meets warm flesh
But does not breach as Techno’s hand snares around Phil’s hollow wrist just in time. A sharp twitch with a little too much pressure, a cold snap, and the dagger clatters onto the floor. A crow now ensnared and hanging by the injured claw.
Guilt quickly begins to settle heavy in the centre of Techno’s chest. He meant to just grab Phil’s wrist not break it.
He can worry about that later, maybe catch an earful or five from Phil when all is said and done.
For now he just needs to get him to safety.
“There we go,” Techno is swift to cradle a now very confused and blood-seeking Phil into his arms; tucking fluttering ebony wings in safely and tensing his muscles when his friend tries to wrangle himself out of his grasp, “nope, you’re not goin’ anywhere. It’s your feeble bird limbs against my pure piglin brute strength.”
Almost in a way to taunt the frenzied Phil, Techno nudges his face with his snout. Amusingly being responded to in a squawk and a squirm.
“Annnnd now we’re gonna make your brain reaaaaaal nice and quiet, as it should be… wait that sounds like I’m about to kill you. No, no I ain’t takin' that responsibility I’ll leave that to your wife.” He frees one of his hands and carefully removes the broken vessel from Phil’s neck.
Techno’s world soon reunites with thousands upon thousands of exhilarated cheers and chants all screaming his name and sentences indiscernible from one another. All unifying to cushion the blow of the cacophony of sounds around him.
“Chat- chat- chat- shut up- shut up. You’re all in trouble- no- no rainbow chats this is serious,” Techno pinches the bridge of his snout before sighing, “THAT WAS PHIL YOU TRIED TO POSSESS IDIOTS!! THAT WASN’T ME!!!”
Raging cheers dampen into a quiet simmer of somber murmurs.
“I want you to sit with that for a while as I try fixin’ Phil back up from your mistake.”
He's never felt such anger towards his own chat like this before. Centuries together and you'd think they'd recognise when a vessel is a vessel, when a vessel is just Techno, and when a vessel is Phil.
A soft groan and the fluttering of stiff movement shifts Techno’s attention away from the sensation of his own blood boiling.
Phil’s eyes squint shut for a moment before fluttering open tinted a muted blue like the ice of their empire.
Warmth encapsulates his form, a light pressure pressing against his side before releasing with a slightly hot breeze flowing against his face and chest.
He smiles, recognizing that breathing pattern from anywhere.
Comfort however, is forever fleeting as a burst of searing pain radiates from his wrist the second he tries to move his arm up to pet Techno’s snout.
“OW!!!! the FUCK-" Phil shouts, his gaze honing in on his wrist caught in a cloud of fresh bruising and sitting at an angle it really should never be in. "Techno...what the fuck happened to my wrist?”
“I broke it,” Techno admits plainly. His tone lacking in any form of remorse… or much of any discernable intention for that matter.
Phil whips his head around to look at the guilty party with a frankly pissed and confused expression. “DUDE!?? THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR!!!??”
“HOLD ON HOLD ON! WAITWAITWAIT BEFORE YOU GET TOO ANGRY I HAVE A REASON!!!” Techno defends.
“MATE- WHAT FUCKING REASON COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE TO BREAK MY FUCKING WRIST???”
“ALRIGHT- ALRIGHT I’LL SURRENDER IT WAS ENTIRELY MY FAULT!!”
“YEAH NO FUCKING SHIT!!!”
“PHIL-” Techno clears his throat, “y’know that pendant I have? The one that keeps Chat in check? Well I took a hit in battle I think a while ago and it was hard enough that it cracked the gem and I didn't notice it until this morning. I took it off and hung it beside the bed to fix later. You must’ve found it and somehow cut your hand on it. The Voices probably took that as a signal to transfer over to you and couldn’t recognize the vessel they were in. Any touch of blood and they kind of go blind with their own savagery.”
Phil does hazily remember something about a red gem… in his hand… but fuck if he can remember anything past that.
His expression drops, “oh- oh no what did I try and do? Did I hurt you?”
“Nahhhhhh. I mean you kinda tried to kill me- andgotclosetoit- but I mean it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiine I just had to uhh grab you by the wrist annnd I might've twitched a bit too hard and broke it tryin’ to make you let go. But once you were unarmed there was nothin' you could do to stop me from takin’ the pendant back,” Techno passes.
Phil quiets for a moment as he examines his partner for any cues that he could be covering any real pain as Techno is prone to doing.
Ears slightly drooped
Breaths slow, even in rhythm but paced far between.
Gaze downturned, shifting between Phil’s wrist and hardcore pendant but never quite meeting his eyes.
“Don’t feel too bad about it mate,” Phil hushes, reaching up with his arm unmaimed and gently scritching the side of Techno’s face, of which earns him a soft gruff in return, “I would have probably done the same thing.”
Techno pauses before snorting, “like your feeble bird bones even stand a chance- ”
“Okay you know what, go get me a splint and a healing potion you fuck,” Phil snickers.
“Alright but you’re comin with me, I don’t trust you alone in this room anymore. The last time I left you here you tried to kill me,” Techno jabs, bending down and wedging the top of his snout underneath Phil’s jaw and gently digging upwards.
A little crow's trill followed by a soft laugh escapes Phil as he rolls his eyes, “okay what fucking ever man.”
As the midnight hour strikes there two emperors lay. One nestled in the arms of the other. Both wearing matching pyjama pants; one of golden apples on a black background and one nearly identical but printed with potato motifs instead.
Wind whistles as it breaks against the thick stone walls of the fortress. A small fireplace lit by their feet. Blankets and pillows and feathers strewn astray into something akin to a nest.
By all means one could close their eyes and drift away into a kingdom of their own imagination here within seconds.
However there they both lay wide awake, barred from their own dreams.
Phil cannot for the life of him find a comfortable position with his wrist bound in cast.
And as for Techno? Well-
“Alright Tech what’s wrong?” Phil asks bluntly.
“Heh? I’m fine Phil, go back to sleep,” Techno mumbles.
“Well first of all, I can’t fuckin sleep no matter how hard I try, and second of all you’re making little upset grunts so I’m going to ask again, what’s wrong Tech?” Phil repeats, lifting his head up to meet closed eyes, “is this about breaking my wrist?”
Techno tenses slightly with a light puff from his snout.
“Okay,” Phil takes in a breath, cursing as he adjusts his broken wrist and reaches up to cradle Techno’s cheek in the palm of his hand, “Tech… Techno look at me for a second.”
For a moment Techno squeezes his eyes further shut before sighing and very reluctantly opening them.
“Thank you,” Phil smiles softly at his partner, gently gliding his thumb along the crest of his cheek, “Now do I look upset in any way shape or form?”
“Phil I-”
“No. Answer the question.”
Techno exhales slowly, “no, no you don’t.”
“Correct, and am I the kind of person to hide how I’m truly feeling around you?” Phil questions further.
“No, you’re actually kinda bad at it,” Techno states.
“Right, now why the fuck would this be any different? You’ve accidentally injured me far worse in the past and I wasn’t upset with you then. Remember when you dislocated my wing and I couldn’t fly for two weeks?”
“Oh God, don't remind me.”
“My point is, Techno. That you’re going to have to try a lot harder to upset me. Besides if you hadn’t broken my wrist you’d likely be injured or worse and I would have been looong gone and causing just- so many problems to the point where our empire would collapse,” Phil points out, “so in retrospect it’s a very small price to pay. Besides this will be cleared up in a week or two with proper healing pots anyway.”
“...dammit Phil can you stop makin’ actual good points and let me wallow?” Techno jabs a bit playfully.
“Nope. Get fucked with the truth mate,” Phil cackles, reaching up to scritch behind Techno’s ear.
Not even Technoblade, the Blood God is immune to ear scritches. Such is evident by the low groan he releases as tension melts from his body with each soothing motion from Phil's fingers.
“Y’know I could have you fined for uhhhhhhh… magical manipulation… or somethin I dunno,” Techno counters, his brain melted from a powerful combination of scritches and sleep deprivation.
Phil snorts, releasing Techno from the shackles of ear scritches and instead climbing on top of his chest and upper stomach, “sure mate, sure. Then you’ll have to admit to the entire court that you’re weak to scritches.”
“Phil, I would actually appreciate it if you stopped foilin’ all of my grand plans with logic. Logic is for nerds, Phil.”
“Not a fuckin chance mate.”
Techno’s arms soon find their way wrapped around the crow on his chest, cradling Phil's head and shoulders up to his collarbone. His other arm lowered to support Phil’s lower half with his hand curved to softly stroke at obsidian wings.
A soft crow’s trilling into a sort of purr commences as Phil cozies up into Techno’s embrace, nuzzling his nose into a patch of soft warm pink fur in the crick of Techno’s neck. Reaching up and curling his arm up to hug the Piglin’s face.
A safety only known to himself.
A safety most would think inconcievable.
“Love you Tech,” Phil murmurs.
“Ehyeah, knew that much,” Techno quips, leaning down to sniff Phil’s face.
Phil giggles softly at the feeling of the tiny hairs on Techno’s snout tickling his cheek and forehead.
Soon, with a final little dig at Phil’s temple, Techno rests his jaw upon his head with a soft little grunt.
Sleep doesn’t take long to find it's way to them after that.