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annaraebananawriter · 2 years

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Limerence

Yellow there! I have returned with yet another oneshot for you all.

This one is a bit of an exploration into a what-if scenario I thought of for if Technoblade found The Egg before Bad did. This really focuses on the part of Techno falling under The Egg’s influence more so than the after effects of it, and I’m unsure for if I’m going to be writing more in this au yet.

I...don’t think I have anything else to say, so happy reading!

Fandom: DSMP

Characters: Technoblade, The Egg, Dream, mentioned Tommy, mentioned Philza, Mentioned Quackity

Warnings: Implied/referenced brainwashing, a little bit of dehumanization, a little bit of unknowingly gaslighting someone, and I think that’s it. Let me know!

Summary: “Limerence - Noun: The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person. In other words, a 'What if' scenario; what if, instead of BadBoyHalo, Technoblade found the egg? (DSMP, Technoblade-centric)”

Word Count: 5752

~oOo~

While they make their way back home, Technoblade leans on Carl, high on the adrenaline of having his head split into two and then stitched back up again with a totem, only to immediately be thrown into a battle that resulted in someone gaining an ugly scar through their eye.

He’s not guilty, far from it. A scar is the least he would usually pay back when someone tries to execute him unfairly, but he was on a time crunch, so he had to make do with the tools he had. If anything, it was Quackity’s fault. He was the one that followed him when he went to find Carl, he was the one who wouldn’t let him leave without a fight, and he was the one that rolled the dice that made it so he was the one on the wrong end of the pickaxe.

And wasn’t Quackity something like a gambler? Gamblers usually know the price they pay, the risk if the hand goes wrong or the dice lands wrong. Chat, he’s not remembering it wrong, right? That duck should’ve known things would go wrong once he entered the stables.

But he forced his hand and the only thing Techno did was force it back. It was deserved and it was justice, and all he really wants to do now is head home, not get stopped by anyone else stupid enough to think they can stop him, and rest for the remainder of the year. Well, after cleaning up a bit. There was still blood on his clothes and he should clean the pickaxe up and hang it on the wall, with his other weapons. And then he can fall into his bed, let himself unwind until he goes to sleep, so he can catch up on the hours he lost because of all of this.

Chat murmurs in agreement from around him, quieter than usual. The totem brought them back at the same time it brought him back, but they apparently understood that he needed as much silence as they were able to provide. He’s grateful for that, even if it was hard to think straight with the pressure in his head, and even if he somewhat wanted the opposite, wanted them to continue being so loud that he can’t hear anything else.

God, his head hurt. That was to be expected, though, right?

He was just executed.

An anvil crushed him underneath it, sending him spiraling into a place of pure silence, where he couldn’t even hear his heartbeat. He had gotten a glimpse of colosseum walls, overgrown with vines and cracked beyond repair, with nobody in the stands. There had been chains around his wrists, he remembers that much, and though he couldn’t see it, he just knew something was watching him. Hunting him, almost. This was all he saw before he fell straight through the floor and was picking himself up and through the bars of the cage, blood dripping from wounds as they healed.

And he was alive. Wholly alive, no missing limbs or senses, everything back in place. Heartbeat roaring in his ears, louder than usual, he could only laugh in the thrill, drunk on the resurrection and giddy from the close call. Common sense had kicked in, telling him to run while he had the chance, as the rest of the audience and Butcher Army were distracted by Punz. He couldn’t just leave his horse though, so he met up with Dream, who had saved his horse for him, and brought him to the safest location available.

Debts were never good, Chat had reminded him. Debts can provide use, and use can give way to betrayal. Debts lead to ruin. Be careful.

Then Quackity appeared and now he was here, in the middle of some sewers, making his way back to the portal so he can go back home. Carl neighs beside him, huffing a bit. Techno shifts his grip on the lead, giving him a pat on his muzzle.

“I know,” He says, just as soft as Carl’s neigh was, “We’ll be home soon. And then I’ll even spoil you by givin’ you a golden apple. Wouldn’t you like that?” Carl huffs again and presses himself forward, knocking his head against his chest. “I’ll take that as a yes then. C’mon, we just gotta take this turn, and then we should be home free.” Tugging gently on the lead, he starts walking again.

It turns out he was right, as once they take the turn, the setting sun bleeds into the sewer and they climb out. Squinting, Techno finds the portal, the obsidian peeking above a hill in the distance. They should be able to reach it and make it to the portal in the arctic just as it turns dark. He calls Carl forward from where he’s grazing on some grass and heads to the portal, but something else takes his attention when he steps down on something squishy.

“Ew.” Nose scrunching up, he crouches down to examine it. It looks like nothing more than a vine, but the colour scratches at something inside of him, some deep thing he almost forgot about. The vines are red, bright red, with a darker red webbing out around the lighter red, and there’s a sticky substance leaking out of the vine he stepped on. It burns his fingers a bit when he reaches out to touch it.

Techno furrows his brow in confusion. “Huh.” He stands, still looking at his hand, rubbing his fingers together that have the substance on them, watching it string apart. Sticky, too, in addition to the burning. He tilts his head a bit, addressing both Carl and Chat. “You ever seen somethin’ like this before?”

Carl neighs, shifting back. He sounds, somehow, uneasy.

Worried.

Chat shares something similar, expressing their hatred of the vine. Bad, they say, giving off the sensation of shivering, Very bad.

“Why’s that?” Techno asks, half-distracted by looking back at the ground, tracing the vine’s pattern to somewhere in a different direction than the portal. Interesting. Maybe there were more of these vines?

Control. They control you, Chat says back, tone darker, possessive. You don’t like being controlled.

Well, he can’t fault them there. “I guess, if you put it that way, it does sound bad.” Nonetheless, he starts following the vines. “But you never know, Chat. I’m kinda interested to know more about it.” Carl follows him, reluctantly.

Chat hums, dissatisfied. Curiosity killed the cat.

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

The vines lead him to a cave, hidden behind someone’s build. More vines appear the closer they get, and the mouth of the cave is almost completely covered in vines, some hanging from the ceiling. Carl outright refuses to continue on, so Techno tells him to stay put, as he brushes the vines out of his way and continues forward. He goes down and the vines get thicker, darker. They almost seem to pulse, too, a subtle glow of red creating a hue in the cave that normally would only be there if there were some Redstone around.

He arrives at an opening, the cave expanding into a clearing. The walls go high enough that some of the sun peeks through, and shifted through layers of vines. And the vines all follow one direction, wrapping around the walls to pool around the centerpiece. Giant and the same colour the vines are, it glows with a brighter hue than the vines do, almost the same level a Redstone torch would. About a few heads taller than he is, it looms over him the closer he gets, until he stops at the base of it.

It's shaped like an egg. Techno almost laughs at the absurdity of it.

His head is starting to pound more.

Chat doesn’t seem to share in his amusement, rearing back. Get away, get away, get away, they urge him, tugging on his mind and at his back. You need to get Carl home and get home yourself. You need to rest. This doesn’t need you here.

Techno scoffs, breaking free of Chat’s grasp. “Don’t be such a worrywart, Chat. It’s fine. Nothing’s even happenin’, see?” Ignoring them the louder they get, he reaches forward, placing his hand on the egg. He breathes, looking up at it as he runs his fingers over the ridges, the same kind of webbing pattern the vines have, only thicker.

Very, very interesting…

And a new voice enters his mind, next to Chat, melodic in the way it speaks.

Hello, Technoblade, it says, and somehow, someway, he already knows it’s The Egg, as the light it gives off pulses in tandem with the words. Long time no see.

~oOo~

Unfortunately, Techno couldn’t stay with The Egg for very long, as he was still trying to get back home. He had to pull himself away before he actually got the chance to talk with it, and spent the rest of the ride home in a daze, still thinking about it. Even when he found the raccoon (or Tommy, as he was more commonly called) under his house, he remained somewhat distracted, a little bit too far away to really take in anything.

It got better for a few days, but inevitably it came back, this time even more noticeable. Tommy kept having to repeat his name to get him to listen, and even Phil, when he had managed to escape from L’manberg, asked if he was okay after one too many times of it happening. He tried everything he could to ease their worry, but the more it happened, the restless he became, and the harder it was to find excuses for it.

Something in him was begging him to go back to The Egg, to talk to it again, find out what it is and why it was here. This part of him was in awe of the creature, of its beauty and power, how it seemed to know his name despite never meeting him before, that he could remember. And even though the other part of him was warier of it, it too wanted to find out the answers to those questions, to finally decide whether it was trustworthy or not. Both parts of him wanted him to get up and walk himself back into the place out for his blood, risk everything, just for the sake of seeing it again.

And he won’t lie: he was very tempted to go back.

Chat hisses at him, trying to shoo the temptation away and replace it with temptations of their own making. No, no, no, they say, You cannot go back. It will not let you go. Before you can think, you will be ensnared, the frog in a pot of slowly boiling water.

A few hours later, and Techno clearly takes no heed of them, pushing back the vines at the entrance to the cavern. Chat whines in his ear, muttering about watching his back and playing into its hand. They call him a fool, and he calls them silly. Relaxing, he walks up to The Egg, placing his hands on it and rubbing over the webbing. It soothes his nerves even more, a slight buzzing filling his ears.

The voice returns.

Technoblade, it whispers, something brushing against his leg. It has been a while. We are glad you have returned.

Techno tilts his head. “‘We’?”

It laughs. Nothing of concern to you.

He doesn’t believe that’s the truth, but doesn’t question it either. Hesitantly, he wills himself to step back. Admiring just how big The Egg is, he exhales. “What…what are you?”

That, The Egg croons, vines wrapping around his ankle and making their way up his back to settle around his shoulders. They nudge him like one of his dogs would, pushing at his cheek playfully. That is also none of your concern. We are The Egg, The Crimson, and that is all that really matters.

Techno laughs, gently pushing the vines away. “That makes sense.” He shakes his head a bit as Chat tries to tell him otherwise, loud in their insisting, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Something wrong?

He sighs, shaking his head again. “Nah, it’s just…” Sighing, he waves his arm around. “Just Chat. Voices in my head that give me advice. Though the advice usually just calls for blood and contains teasing remarks about me.”

Chat does not sound…nice. Not like us.

“Nah, they’re fine. It’s all jokes, anyway. Doesn’t bother me.” Techno looks back at The Egg, curious. “If you can’t tell me what you are, will you at least tell me where you came from? It’s kinda weird I haven’t heard of you before.”

The Egg hums, playing with his hair, admiring his braids, taking them apart and putting them back together. We have always been here, long before your admin created this place. We have been privy to many events of history, so many stories we could tell you, little blade. Will you come back and listen to us?

He blinks, smiling. “See, Chat? Told you, you were just being silly.” Without being asked, he elaborates. “Chat was trying to tell me that you ‘wouldn’t let me leave’ for some reason. Seems you proved them wrong.”

It laughs, both pleased and strained. Yes, yes. Silly Chat. We are friendly, we would not hold you here against your will. The Egg tucks his hair back and its vines slide off of him. But you won’t be leaving now, will you? You surely have some time to chat?

He opens his mouth to say he does, but his communicator chimes, betraying him. Wincing, he pulls it out, glaring down at the message Phil had sent him. Guilt tugged at him, and he glances up at the sky, where the light has dramatically shifted from when he first got there. It felt like such a short time, too. “I mean…I would love to stay, but I did tell my friend I would only be a second, and I need to hurry back before he starts to worry even more.”

Couldn’t you ask for a bit more time? Wouldn’t he understand?

“Probably. But I am also in a country that tried to kill me and actually succeeded for a minute, so I really should get going before they can try it again and make it permanent.” He heads back to the entrance to the cavern, looking back over his shoulder. “But I will be back, I can promise you that. Okay?”

The Egg hums again, waving some of its vines in goodbye. Alright. I will hold you to that promise.

“Sure thing. See ya!”

(And he does return. And then he returns again and again and again and again. Each visit gets gradually longer and longer until one day he accidentally spent a whole day just sitting in the caver with The Egg, listening to it and telling it stories of his own. He somehow manages to remain uncaught, which is the real surprise of things, but he finds that he doesn’t worry about it as much as he thought he would.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, The Egg laughs, delighted as he falls further into its grasp.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Chat growls, frustrated as their conduit falls out of their grasp.)

Days later, back in his cabin, Techno shuts the door and Tommy immediately starts annoying him, following closely behind as he sets his things down and heads to the kitchen to get some food. Not bothered one bit by it, he just sighs, getting a glass of water. He waves Tommy away as he goes back to his chair, falling into it with another sigh. Downing half the glass, he looks up when Tommy suddenly goes quiet.

Raising an eyebrow, he wipes at his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“What the fuck happened to you?” Tommy says, glancing down at him and then looking back up, presumably at something on his head. The raccoon gestures to his own forehead. “It’s all…red.”

Techno reaches up to feel his forehead, though he can’t feel anything unusual. “Really?” Bringing his hand back, he glances at it. No blood or anything. Humming, he stands, heading towards the bathroom.

Tommy follows. “What did you do to them?”

He ignores him, peering into the mirror.

When the totem brought him back, it had left these gold lines all over where the wound used to be, branching out across the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks. Some of the lines even reached his neck, disappearing into his shirt. A few strands of his hair had turned gold as well, a semi-thick stripe starting from where the anvil hit and scattering out in both directions. It resembled some pieces of art he saw, long ago; broken pottery glued together with gold, creating a beautiful piece. These lines…

Well. The lines used to be gold, anyway. Now, they seem to be slowly turning a bright shade of red, way more prominent than the gold used to be. At least the gold somewhat blended into his skin from a distance.

Techno stares at himself. For some reason, he couldn’t really bring himself to care about this change. Where there might’ve been concern, there was just a block of some kind, nothing more than a curiosity for what was happening and a slight thrill about what it meant. Some old proverb about metamorphosis passed through his mind, and he found himself agreeing with it without thinking too much about why he was.

He licks his lips and leans back. “You know what…” he says, reaching up to run his hand over the red lines again. “I think they’ve always been like that, Tommy.”

“Excuse me? They clearly have not—”

Techno looks over at Tommy, who has his mouth wide open, looking up at him in concern. He had cut himself off the minute they locked eyes. “Haven’t they, though?”

Tommy peers at him, his mouth closing a few times. He glances at the mirror and back again, licking his lips. Something enters and passes through his eyes, a mix of hurt and confusion, layered with unease, and then he just looks away, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walks away. “Whatever.”

He watches him go, glancing back at himself.

You know…the red looks an awful lot like The Egg, now that he’s looking at it correctly.

“Whatever, indeed.”

~oOo~

Some time into the routine of caring for Tommy, doing things around the cabin, and visiting The Egg every day, Dream appears, and he takes full control of the situation as he wanders straight into his house without asking permission. He asks about Tommy, and Techno, though not knowing the details of what happened between the two, tries his best to give as little information away as possible.

He also tries his best to remain a good host, though it’s harder to keep his impatience in check. This was usually around the time he left to go see The Egg, and he was going to be really late if the admin stayed here for too long. So far, he has yet to miss a whole day with it, and he really did not want to find out what happened should he start now, after so long of being the reliable visitor he had been. Something told him it wouldn’t be pretty, should he come back the next day without a proper explanation for ghosting it.

Dream didn’t seem to catch onto his attempts at making things go faster, almost seeming to slow down if anything. Biting his tongue to keep himself from saying things he may regret, Techno glances out the window, peering into the sky to make sure the sun doesn’t move too far away.

He really needs to be going soon. If not for The Egg itself, then for himself, because he felt so confined the longer he stayed here. Somehow, it had never been this bad before, and though he was used to feeling restless when the time came to go see it, this was at a level he had never thought he would feel before. It felt like something inside him was being tugged, his chest feeling tighter the longer he went without listening to the tugging and following it.

Sometimes, it also felt like there was a voice in his head. Separate from Chat and completely independent, he knew it was impossible for him to be hearing it now, but couldn’t help the small prick of hope he felt the louder it got and the clearer the words became.

(You think we would leave you alone like this? The Egg laughed, low and amused. No, no, no. We would never. We are here. We can—)

“Are you even listening to me, Techno?”

Techno snaps out of it. Dream was peering at him, carrying one of his apples in his hand. He scoffs, crossing his arms. “Of course, I am,” he says, gesturing to the admin. “I’m just admiring your…very green hoodie. Wonderful colour, that is. Neon green.” He eyes the garment in disgust and tries very hard not to express his disgust outwardly.

“You think so? It is one of my favourite colours.” Dream chuckles, patting his hoodie. Then he pauses, tilting his head. “You, though…you seem to be trying something new. With your hair?”

“Oh?”

The admin nods, running his hand through his own hair. “It’s white. Or half-white, I guess. There’s still some pink at the ends.” He holds his chin in his hand and faces him, leaning forward. “What’s up with that?”

Techno doesn’t answer him, reaching up to bring some of his hair into his sight. He’s not wrong. The top half of his hair is a pure white, and it’s slowly leeching out any pink that was left. It’s like the snow outside, and it’s kind of weird that Tommy or Phil hadn’t said anything to him about it yet. They would’ve at least complimented it, but so far there was nothing.

Interesting. “As you said. Just tryin’ somethin’ new.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Hm.” Dream stares at him for a few more minutes before shrugging as well, pocketing his apple. “Alright.”

“Why? Are you thinkin’ bout copyin’ me or somethin’?”

“No, no. Just curious.”

The admin walks around his cabin, opening cabinets and chests without waiting for his permission, asking him questions upon questions that he seems to already know the answer to. Techno watches it all happen, hand resting on the dagger he always tucks into his belt, giving vague answers and steering them around the house and away from Tommy. Chat helps, in a bit of a roundabout way, getting on Dream’s nerves.

Through it all, he finds that while he doesn’t really want Dream to find Tommy, knowing nothing good will happen from it, he’s mostly concerned with not giving away anything about The Egg. It’s just something that he knows he can’t let happen, as then the admin might get suspicious and he might go investigating and he might find The Egg, and he may just be more prone to destroying it than really listening to it. Something tells him that Chat would be all for the destruction as well, and he finds him being offended on The Egg’s behalf, as it has done nothing wrong.

He just doesn’t get what all the hate was about. No matter how many times they visited The Egg, Chat seemed to become more and more distrustful than anything else. They were always on high alert in the cavern, jumping at any movement. Frankly, it’s gotten so bad that he just ignored them whenever they spoke, just sighed, and tried to tune them out in favor of leaning more towards The Egg.

Now, though, he was on alert as well, but for a far different reason.

Dream always had this problem of butting into people’s business, you know. He hadn’t really noticed it too much until now. But it was true, the admin was always inserting himself into the wars that went on, giving equipment and intel to both sides instead of staying out of it. He was always eager to start the chaos and watch them finish it. Granted, most of this was observations Techno hadn’t really made himself, the knowledge only coming to him now via a whisper in his mind, something so familiar and out of place this far away from its source.

(Admins have always had a curiosity that cannot be satisfied, The Egg whispers, moving around in between strands of Chat. They always find things that do not belong to them. You should deal with him before he can deal with us.)

The Egg did have a point. If he wanted to continue visiting it and preserving the space they created together in the cavern, then something would need to get the fact into the admin’s head that he shouldn’t waltz around like he owns everything in the server. Someone would need to get it into his head that they were strong enough to make him stop looking if he really insisted to meddle with things he didn’t understand.

Someone needed to scare him away, and only one of them had legs right now.

As Dream finally gets bored enough to give up, stepping outside into the snow, Techno grabs his arm before he can go down the steps. He tightens his grip when he tries to wiggle out, making his rival still enough to look over at him, mask covering up any kind of threatening look. “Tech—”

Techno leans forward, cutting him off. He stares right through the mask, looking down without blinking. “You may be the admin of this server, Dream, but we both know I can easily beat you in a fight. Don’t go pokin’ your nose into things that you don’t need to worry about, lest you want to be down one precious life.” He tilts his head, still unblinking. “Okay?”

(The Egg giggles in his mind, giving him a small standing ovation.)

Dream stares up at him silently. He can see the slight movement of his throat as he gulps and finally releases him, the admin pulling his arm away and rubbing at the spot he was holding. The mask was still pinned on him, tilted down ever so slightly. “Fine. Got it.” There was something stiff in his voice. “I’ll be seeing you, Techno.”

Techno only smiles, shrugging. “Sure. Bye!” He waves at the admin as he slowly retreats down the stairs and makes his way out of the fence. Standing there for a bit afterward, he closes his eyes and leans his head back, reveling in the joy of The Egg, who was still laughing in his mind.

(Well done, well done. The Egg says, pushing Chat out of the way as they start to protest. Very well done. We are so proud of you, Technoblade. So very proud.

You are turning out to be just…exquisite.)

~oOo~

Everything came to a head when Techno spent over a week visiting The Egg.

Some part of him twinges with guilt when he sees the collection of missed messages on his communicator. It wasn’t like him to just…disappear, not without some kind of check-in, some kind of sign that he was doing alright and everything was going according to plan. He could get hyper-focused on things, yeah, but he always tried to let Phil know not to worry about him. He had never just gone radio silent before, not like this.

The rest of him doesn’t really care. It felt like his place in the Arctic have been usurped, the foundation of peace he had built there no longer appealing. Whenever he was there, whether he was relaxing or working on things, he just felt so restless, like he was needed somewhere else. Those feelings just made him leave so many unfinished projects lying around, abandoned in favor of staring out the window in thought. The Egg was always on his mind, circling around there, drowning out anything Chat tried to say. And sometimes he gave into the thoughts about coming back to see it, just for a bit, but that ‘bit’ kept becoming longer and longer lately.

Not that he really minds. He is happy here, beside The Egg, listening to its tales of the past, of a masquerade and a time traveler. It made promises, sometimes, but he always found those promises to be nothing more than words. After all, he had The Egg already, and wasn’t that a wish come true already? It always seemed so flustered when he told it that.

You’re a charmer, it would say, vines curling around his hair and brushing against his cheek. Such a charmer. That trait is something we hold dear to our hearts. One of our favorite people was a charmer, with sweet words all the time, no matter how he felt about them. You remind us of him, you know.

“Do I?” he had asked, tilting his head forward as the vines wound into his hair, braiding it for him, small flowers woven between the strands.

Yes. You two look the same. Same eyes, same hair…well. Your hair is much prettier now than it was before. The white makes the flowers pop, and they compliment your eyes.

He cracked a smile, chuckling. “Now who’s the charmer?”

Oh, hush. But it’s true. You are both so intriguing, both so…perfect. The vines brushed over his face again, tilting his chin up. We are so glad you are ours, Techno.

“And I am glad you are mine.”

They talk a lot.

He tells The Egg about the past conquests he’s been part of: the empire of ice, the war of potatoes, and the revolution on this very server. The betrayal that followed, and the hypocrisy of all those involved, who dare preach about the liberty of the nation while replacing the cause of the corruption with another one soon to follow. Of being executed and dying, of coming back and running, of Tommy and Philza, of Wilbur and Ranboo. He tells it everything he knows, everything he is.

It listens to him, agreeing. Telling him of stories similar, of a maze and a western town, of a pit and of a town where everyone went mad. It seemed to understand everything in a way that he didn’t, showing him the faults of humanity and the fools who couldn’t see it for themselves. Shows him a different version, of a world where everyone is under its control, free of anger and sadness, betrayal and hate. Everyone in that world is cared for and happy, loved. Everyone in that world is the opposite of everyone here.

Perhaps, it says, bringing forth a beautiful flower, the same pattern as the ones already in his hair, but bigger. He takes it with awe, rubbing his fingers over the petals. Perhaps you could help us with that world.

He pauses, looking up. “What do you mean?”

It chitters, vines trembling in the laughter. Our world. The one like paradise, where everyone has what they wish. There needn’t be any fear or fighting in that world, and it can be possible, we think. But we can’t bring it forth ourselves, otherwise, it would already be here. We wouldn’t have met.

It moves a stray strand of hair away from his face. You could help us.

He shifts, thinking it over. “And what of me? My friends?” he asks, voice soft, concerned. Despite everything that’s happened recently, he still cares about them. All of them. “Will they be happy there as well?”

All of you will. Dreams and hopes, wishes and happiness; all are the same once we bring forth this world. They will be reality. There would be rest and relaxation. Retirement. Everything you want, no matter the price, we will provide, just say the word.

He’s silent.

(Chat screams in his ears, though he can no longer hear them. The Egg has created a pocket for them, where it can hear them and it can taunt them, but their conduit, their master cannot seek their council anymore. They are screaming into the void, with no one to listen. Some sob and some curse, but all mourn, and all watch in horror as their conduit falls further and further into its grasp, slipping away from them.

The Blood God, at this moment, is no more; sealed away.)

Aren’t you tired of it? Of this world and all of what it provides? Don’t you want something better? Don’t you want us?

“I do, but…”

It shushes him, wrapping around him in a hug. No buts. We can give you the world, little conduit. We just need your help to seize it. You are a god with the sword, and they will not go down without a fight. With you by our side, they will see the error of their ways and they will kneel before us. They will praise you and they will leave you alone when you ask them to. You will rest, for the rest of time.

He hums, twirling the flower in his fingers. “You want me to be your knight?”

If you choose to view it as such, then yes, we do. Will you agree? Will you stand by our side forever more, completely ours, as we will be completely yours?

The vines take the flower back.

Techno looks up at the sky above them, giving it a final run around in his mind. Closing his eyes, he breathes, letting go of everything he was before The Egg and everything he would’ve been. Then he kneels, sword in front of him, bowing his head in agreement to the vow. The vines weave the flower into his hair, a bright centerpiece to his braid. Everyone who sees it would know who he belongs to.

“I will follow you to the end of the world.”

The Egg laughs, delighted. There’s something underlying in its tone, something slyer than he can name. It speaks of not telling everything, of a sinister plan he is not privy to. He doesn’t care much to wonder about the details of it.

Even to the gates of hell? It asks, vinegar in its voice.

He chooses to believe it was honey instead.

“For you?” He opens his eyes, gazing up at The Egg with reverence. “Always.”

#my writing #my fanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot #dsmp #dream smp #technoblade #mentioned tommyinnit #mentioned philza #the egg #the crimson egg #dsmp egg #what if scenario #tw brainwashing #tw gaslighting #tw dehumanization #dreamwastaken #mentioned quackity

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