Chapter Text
On December 3rd when Techno was barely four years old, his mentor found him shivering in an alleyway and took him in.
Truthfully Techno doesn’t remember this moment very well. He does remember the warmth of his mentor’s arms and how gently he had held him as if he were something fragile and precious. He does remember the long trip as his mentor brought him back to his cabin on the hill, far out in the country. The important parts are still with him, and the date sticks out to him because it’s the day written in his mentor’s old journal as the day his life changed for the better.
Techno’s memory growing up is spotty in a few places but he remembers his mentor’s kindness. How he raised him as if Techno was his own and taught him everything he needed to know. How to fight with various weapons, how to read maps, how to lead and obey, how to survive in the wilderness— all things that Techno would need to know later in life. He always spoke of Techno’s potential and that one day, Techno would understand why he did the things that he did.
Techno owed him everything. His own family had abandoned him when he was barely old enough to survive on his own. His mentor told him there was a good chance it was because they couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. That Emperor Philza’s strict taxes had left his citizens to starve.
Techno was lucky his mentor had chosen to take him in. To feed and clothe him, to teach him such important skills in order to survive.
His mentor sat him down one day and told him that he would not be around forever. He gave Techno a book but commanded him not to open it yet, but rather to hide it. To wait until the day he died to open it.
Techno didn’t like the idea of him dying. He needed him— he didn’t want to be alone— but his mentor had merely shaken his head and ushered him to hide it somewhere safe. A place only he knew and where it couldn’t easily be destroyed.
Techno buried it under the house. It felt as safe as a place as any and easy enough to remember.
It stayed there for years. Techno thought about it often— hands itching to open it and wondering what had to wait until after his mentor died. And in time, Techno found out exactly what it said.
On March 15th when Techno was fourteen, they had a visitor. His mentor didn’t tell him who when he asked, only ushering him to hide and not make a sound.
Techno hid under the floorboards. It was cramped but it was safe and that’s all that mattered. He kept one firm hand over his mouth and listened as above him, his mentor answered the door.
Emperor Philza was at their doorstep. Techno could scarcely believe it but his mentor had burned the man’s image into his brain. Made him memorize it— every wrinkle on his face, every outfit he had ever seen in public with, every feather upon the pair of dark wings that covered his back. Techno had no doubt it was him and as if somehow it jeopardized his hiding spot, Techno stopped breathing.
His mentor argued with the Emperor. Truthfully, Techno couldn’t remember what said argument was about but Emperor Philza’s wings flared as he yelled and his mentor’s voice was colder than it had ever been.
The argument felt like it lasted hours even if it was barely ten minutes. And at the end of it, Techno watched in frozen terror as Emperor Philza drew the sword at his hip and slid it through his mentor’s ribs.
He can still hear it at night sometimes. How his mentor choked on his own blood and fell to the ground. Emperor Philza didn’t have a single hint of remorse or pity— only disgust. No more words were spoken. The Emperor left as silently as he came, and only after Techno was certain he was gone did he emerge and rush to his mentor’s side.
His mentor’s eyes were glazed over when he reached him. His blood soaked into the wooden floor of what was once their home and when he realized that his mentor had already drawn his last breath, Techno let out a horrible cry and slumped forward. He clutched onto his shirt like it would bring him back to life— a fruitless effort— and Techno, for the first time in years, was utterly alone.
He buried his mentor behind their home. He sat vigil during the night, candle in hand, in hopes that his mentor would have a safe passing into the afterlife.
Then he dug up the book he had left him and cracked it open, aching for some comfort to be found. The familiar sight of his mentor’s calligraphy made him weep.
And within that book, his mentor made everything make sense.
The Tyrant Emperor had wanted him gone for ages— it was only a matter of time before he took matters into his own hands, his mentor wrote. He feared my ability to rally the people against him— but now I have you to pass this ability onto. Within this book, you will find plans, contacts, and rules to remember as you build your Resistance.
Take the Royal Family down, Technoblade. You’re this kingdom’s greatest hope.
Techno clung to those words, the only thing keeping him afloat as an endless pit of despair had pulled him in like the merciless tides of the ocean. Without his mentor, he should’ve been nothing, but he wasn’t now. He had his mentor’s dream for a free land in his hands, and Techno would see to it personally that it bloomed.
Emperor Philza would pay for what he had done. The entire Royal Family would.
—
The process had been slow going at first but two years after the death of his mentor, Techno is the proud leader of the most successful Resistance in history so far, and only sixteen years old.
His mentor’s contacts he left Techno with were… Different than he was expecting. After memorizing the whole book his mentor had given him, he followed the plans exactly and turned to them first. Techno had to admit, criminals were not the type of people he had in mind to recruit but he was quick to remind himself that they were only criminals because of the Emperor’s tyrannical laws. And if they were people his mentor trusted, then Techno would not question their credibility.
They were skeptical at first too, clearly not expecting a fourteen year old to approach them with his mentor’s name in his mouth. He never seemed like the fatherly type, they claimed, but as soon as Techno laid out the plans and their roles, they were in. Each of them had a sealed letter Techno was to deliver. What they said, Techno hadn’t the slightest as he had never looked, but whatever his mentor wrote clearly convinced them to listen to him. And after they were briefed, they set out to work.
There was much work to be done. Gathering resources, building a base of operations, recruitment, plotting out demonstrations— but Techno took it all in stride. The more helping hands they received to join their cause, the smoother everything went. Years of work were finished in only a year and a half, and Techno stood proudly among the two hundred who had joined them and vowed they would have many more before they were done.
Once they were ready, the protests and demonstrations came.
They served two purposes: One, to bring enough attention to their cause that more recruits would come; and two, to resist the ideals the Emperor held and tell him that his tyranny would one day come to an end.
However with a group of their numbers, Emperor Philza would of course ignore them. His own arrogance of how powerful he thought he was would be his downfall— an ironic end to his reign indeed.
Or at least, that’s how it was supposed to go. Techno’s mentor seemed convinced of this fact so Techno didn’t think much of it.
Not once did he consider that Emperor Philza would treat them as a serious threat so early on.
Techno should’ve anticipated it. That he would advance things too early or that the Emperor’s iron fist would mean that any sign of resistance at all would be targeted. But he didn’t and it’s solely on his shoulders that when the hit came, it hit hard.
Their protest against the new taxes Emperor Philza had recently imposed was met with dozens of Royal Guards descending on them like vultures. Blue and white uniforms surrounded them and Techno had nearly frozen up. Nearly cost them everything.
But from the depths of his ranks, Techno shouted formations and his recruits shuffled into place. They were forced to fight their way out— just enough so they could make a run for it. They did not prepare for a fight against the Royal Guards so fleeing was their only option, and while successful, it had cost them.
All of them had injuries, ranging from a nasty cut to being confined to their beds. Techno was lucky, many were not, and that wasn’t counting those who had been captured.
Techno and those he entrusted with a leadership position did their best to keep their recruits from bolting. Then Emperor Philza issued a direct address to them and it only got worse.
The demand was simple but deadly: Disband your Resistance and give up your leader or all of you will be executed.
It sent a bolt of panic throughout the whole base. Techno watched as ripples of doubt consumed his recruits, but he refused to falter. To admit defeat in the face of adversity. He would not be silenced.
Techno called for a meeting within the medical wing so everyone could hear him speak. He urged them not to give up— to not let Emperor Philza bully them out of fighting for a better tomorrow— and told them that this was far from over. That the war against the Emperor was just beginning.
His recruits cheered at his words and Techno stood among them, never so proud of what he managed to create. Hope surrounded him and breathed new life into his lungs.
On the trip back to his living quarters, one of his Captains approached him. “Quite the speech you gave back there.” They told them. “You really believe it? That we can fight back against the Emperor?”
“Without a doubt.” Techno told them. “This has been my mentor’s dream for a very long time. I won’t let it die as long as I live.”
“You really won’t give it up? Techno shook his head. “Even with how he outnumbers us? Even if many of our recruits might leave even if they cheered tonight? Even if you’re left all alone?”
“Never.” Techno said.
“Well… That’s quite the will you have.” His Captain breathed as they came to a stop in front of his quarters. “Good on you, Kid. You’re braver than most.”
As Techno opened up the door to his room, stepping into total darkness, he’s immediately met with several hands grabbing him. He tried to yell for help and struggle but they outnumbered him, pinning him to the ground. A needle sank into his neck and Techno gasped as a sudden drowsiness fell on him.
“For what it’s worth,” His Captain said, nonchalantly. They knew. They weren’t helping him. They didn’t plan on it. “Your bravery really is admirable. I owe your old man a great debt but… Not enough to keep fighting with these odds. I got a life to live, you know? And I intend to keep on living it. And hey, on the bright side, you’ll have a very honorable death. Not everyone can say they died at the Emperor’s hands after trying to resist his rule.”
Techno tried to speak— to yell and spit and scream that they were all traitors— but he couldn’t speak. Darkness swallowed him whole as all of his limbs became too heavy to move.
“We’ll tell everyone how you never stopped fighting. Up until your bitter end. You’ll be a martyr— a legend! Now doesn’t that sound nice?” His Captain— former Captain— kept talking. “Of course, well… You won’t really be around to enjoy it— but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?”
Techno couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even think of what to say.
He closed his eyes and fell into nothingness.
It greeted him like an old friend.
—
Techno wakes to darkness.
It’s easy enough to figure out he’s been blindfolded. The cloth they used to do is rough against his skin but it’s nothing compared to the ropes binding his hands behind his back and his ankles together.
He wastes no time struggling against them, searching for any kind of give but the knots are too strong to break and chaft against his skin. Nonetheless Techno keeps at it— he has to break free— until a distant sound makes him stop. The clopping of hooves approaching, getting closer by the second, and Techno waits with bated breath as it dawns on him.
Memories of what happened last night floods his head. A flurry of emotions come with it— shock, anger, and fear being at the forefront before shame burns him inside out. Shame of his failure— failure as both a leader and failure to fulfill his mentor’s wish.
He did everything his mentor told him to— never rested, never took up hobbies or interests or made friends, never questioned anything he told him— Techno thought he was doing everything right. That he would succeed because it wasn’t his plan, it was his mentor’s, and his mentor was always right.
But he wasn’t good enough. Even despite everything his mentor told him to do, Techno screwed it up somehow. He ruined everything and now his people betrayed him and Royal Guards were coming to take him away and—
And Techno was going to die.
His throat closed up at the thought, pure ice running through his veins. Everything went wrong and he couldn’t do anything about it. The sound of horses and what had to be a prison carriage just kept getting closer and closer and then there were shouts and rough hands grabbing him and—
Techno is tossed in the carriage and the doors are shut behind him. A chain and lock to block him from escaping the carriage only add insult to injury and cause his situation to become utterly hopeless as each second passes. Techno’s voice is the only thing he has, but he knows it can do nothing for him. No one will listen to his cry for help— they never have before.
The carriage rumbles— they’re on the move. The Royal Guard wastes no time taking him right to the Emperor’s doorstep and Techno wants to cry. He wants to scream and thrash and fight against his impending doom but he can’t seem to do anything. He can only freeze, every muscle in his body going rigid at the thought of being face to face with the Emperor. Of public execution without a trial.
He has nothing. He is nothing.
It doesn’t matter what he was told before he blacked out— there will be no honor in his death. There is only pain and suffering and enough shame to drown in. Because Techno knows his life now means nothing— that every sacrifice he and his mentor ever made amounted to nothing. That he’s nothing but a pathetic failure who’s about to die and it hurts. Hurts more than any injury that’s ever been inflicted on him.
He’s alone. His mentor was the only one to ever care for him and he’s long gone. Techno can’t beg him for help, not that there would be any point if he could. Because if his mentor could see him right now, he would be disappointed. All of my hard work, gone to waste, he would say. Should’ve left you in the cold where I found you. Should've known the only thing I've ever been wrong about was your potential.
Techno fights back tears. He refuses to cry— to have one dignity left as he faces the man who ruined his life— but his whole body shakes and it gets harder and harder to breathe by the minute. He choked on a sob, keeping it buried in his throat and only a few tears soak into his blindfold. The rest stay locked inside of him. Techno swallows thickly but remains as strong as he can be.
He knows his fate. There’s no getting out of it this time. But at the very least, it cannot get any worse than it already is.
—
Techno doesn’t quite sleep. His consciousness wanes and his head gets fuzzy as hours pass with no stop but the moment the carriage comes to a halt, he’s hyper aware of everything around him. How the guards are talking outside, how quickly his heart beats despite his best efforts to control his breathing, how footsteps approach and the chains on the outside of the door jingle—
Fresh, crisp air and sunlight hits his face. It’s immediately ruined as he’s dragged out none too gently by the guards and on his feet. They surround him— his sight might’ve been stripped from him but he can tell that much. The ropes are removed but Techno doesn’t get a single moment of blissful freedom before his wrists are clamped in iron manacles in front of him. A short chain connecting it is held by one of the guards leading him forward, a fact he knows for certain even without his sight because they’re yanking it, causing him to stumble as he follows.
They don’t take the blindfold off. Techno stumbles blindly after them, nearly falling over when his foot hits the stairs.
There’s a brief moment of icy panic when he registers that he’s at the palace steps. Then his chain is yanked again and Techno has to push past his initial instinct to freeze up and slowly make his way up. It takes longer because he has to feel for each step but fortunately, the guards don’t rush him as long as he keeps moving.
Techno has to focus solely on the moment in order to keep it that way. One foot in front of the other— don’t think about where you’re going. Don’t think about who is waiting for you at the end of this road.
After what feels like eternity, Techno runs out of stairs. Their footsteps are muffled as they continue forward, a long rug being the only thing that tells Techno that they’ve entered the palace. Bile rises to his throat but he swallows it down. He keeps a carefully neutral face, ignoring how badly he wants to break down at that moment in time.
He doesn’t have the luxury to freely show his emotions. Not here.
Every step is a death sentence. There’s a murmur in the air— Techno tries to catch what the witnesses are saying but can’t seem to focus on their words. It doesn’t matter in the end, because before long, the guards make him come to a stop and force him to kneel. All the voices around him are abruptly silenced and Techno feels as though the walls are closing in on him as he waits, unable to do anything else.
Then a voice cuts through the tension like a well sharpened knife. “Speak, Samuel.”
“The resistance has disbanded without a fight.” The guard on his right— the one holding the chain— replies. “We’ll be keeping an eye on those who were the most involved, of course, but their base has been ransacked and they show no signs of doing anything other than moving on with their lives so far. If anything comes up, we will quickly apply pressure and remind them what happens when they pull stunts like that. And this,” his restraints are tugged lightly, “Is their leader. They gave him up.”
“As I suspected.” There’s a smile in his voice. “Good work as usual. This is the one who organized that whole terrorist campaign?”
“He is.”
“Well, let’s get a good look at him then.”
Footsteps approach. Techno braces himself and tenses when hands get too close but the knot on the blindfold loosens and it falls away. Light floods his vision, blinding him and causing his eyes to screw shut. However several people gasp when they see him, and hushed murmurs rise once again.
Techno squints and is immediately met with a sight he hoped he wouldn’t have to see alone. Not without a whole army at his side, ready to support him.
Emperor Philza stands before him in all his tyrannical glory. Blonde hair reaches just past his shoulders, a crown with different shades of blue jewels embedded in it, a fur cape attached to his kingly garbs, several rings upon his fingers, and a gold chain earring with a small diamond-shaped emerald at the end of it. All of it screams Emperor Philza, but the large pair of black wings on his back seal the deal without a doubt in his mind.
He should spit in his face. Show how much he despises him— how much he wants him dead— but Techno is alone and on his knees and feels smaller than he ever has. Like he isn’t some invincible Resistance Leader and instead, just a scared sixteen year old where he doesn’t belong.
Emperor Philza’s face twists in a way he doesn’t expect— befuddlement forming as his sharp green eyes search Techno’s red ones for answers. He looks up to the guards standing next to him for a moment, then back down to Techno as he straightens up.
“You’re the leader? You started all of that?”
Techno swallows thickly but nods.
“And how old are you exactly?”
“S— Sixteen.”
“Sixteen.” Emperor Philza scoffs. Anger flashes in his eyes but it oddly doesn’t feel directed at him. “You’re a child. A teenager.”
Techno doesn’t know how to respond to that. Fortunately, the question was rhetorical and the Emperor continues without his input.
“I’ve seen many people brought before me. Some younger and defiant, others older and cold. Before now, the youngest that came here was twenty-eight. And now there’s a teenager in chains.” His eyes narrow. “Who failed you?”
Techno doesn’t answer that either. No one failed him, he’s the one who failed.
Emperor Philza moves on when he doesn’t get an answer. “What’s your name?”
“Techno.”
“Techno.” Emperor Philza repeats, as if he’s testing how it feels to say the name. “I have no quarrels with executing those who step out of line. I do not, however, harm children. Which puts us in an interesting position now doesn’t it?”
His face pinches in thought, then Techno catches a dark spark in his eyes and a satisfied smile crosses his face. He pushes past him and the guards, instead addressing a small crowd— all no doubt of respectable ranks and nobility.
“What you see before you is not a criminal attempting to rip our kingdom apart, but a child who this kingdom has failed. And as the face of the Antarctic Empire, I must take responsibility into my own hands. Techno will not face execution for his crimes, but rehabilitation. I will see to it myself— bring him into my home and treat him as if he is one of my boys. And together, we must work to ensure this never happens again.”
The crowd cheers and Techno has to stop and replay the words in his head a few times. A dawning horror comes with it— realization that Emperor Philza won’t allow him to escape even in death— and Techno nearly chokes.
The crowd cheers, celebrating that their gracious Emperor is giving a child a new shot at life. Techno stares at the ground, eyes wide because he knows his life is over.
Techno doesn’t even register that the guards are taking off his manacles until Emperor Philza is helping him rise to his feet with a sharp smile on his face. Techno wants to scream or fight back or— do anything at all— but he can’t. He’s frozen and Emperor Philza keeps one hand on his shoulder and that same smile plastered to his face.
“Don't you worry, Techno.” He tells him. “You’re not going anywhere. I'll be taking care of you now."