Warnings: none, maybe some slight anxiety from Techno
Word count: 1K
Synopsis: Moving towards the tundra inhabited by Techno and Phil, Technoblade becomes nervous about the effect the change of envoirement would have on you. He ends up having nothing to worry about however. Reader has a bright / cottage core type vibe.
Requested: no
A/n: Bit more poetic and different from what i usually write, and written within one evening of caffeine induced energy. but has been proofread and i actually kinda like it? Shorter than normal but i just wanted to get something out. Enjoy!
Rules, Masterlist
Somehow, he had expected them to wither away by his hands, like many of life's creations had done. Whether it had been the lives of his enemies, his comrades or anything else he seemed to touch, they all seemed to die by his hands one way or another. Ironically enough, the only person that had stayed with him as an old friend was the angel of death himself.
He had always thought the coldness and lifelessness of the tundra fit him, in a way no one understood better than himself. He found friends within the wolves that once had hunted the lands, and the ice bears that had curiously decided to check out his shack. The voices within his mind would grow louder with the days, barely supressed by the louder winds that raged over the lands.
They demanded blood, companionship, they laughed at his every move and blurred his rational thoughts like a blizzard. As long as his hands remembered the curl of his fist, the hilt of his sword, they would continue their screams for blood. Technoblade often wondered if he would ever be given such mercy.
It was because of that he was certain they would freeze to death in the cold lands, by his colder hands stained with a never-ending death.
Somehow, they had always reminded Techno of spring, with warm lazy afternoons and blooming flowery field, trees that provided shade as nature started over once more. The beginning of new life.
It was that warmth he was sure would ebb away when they would join him in the tundra, their life-stained hands turning blue as they froze and slowly withered away little by little. God knew how long he had tried to prevent them from joining the snowy lands, where there was no shade or sun, a place caught in an eternal winter.
With warm eyes and kind smiles he was certain that would turn cold, lifeless as they were caught inside of a cabin for God knows how long. Maybe, he had hoped, they would leave before it'd ever get to that point and return to their previous life.
He would be content watching them from afar, despite the screams echoing through his mind to have them all to himself. He would visit, watching them make tea on a stove of a small cabin, though it was more than enough for them. With gardens that would grow their food, with bees floating gently in the sun as they pollinated the flowers of the never-ending spring they provided. Something he could never have hoped to have to himself.
Then. When they'd invite him in, for tea, or lunch, or something they baked, from which he'd smelled the alluring scent from the garden away, he'd politely refuse, insisting he had wolves, foxes and bears to feed. Though he wasn't wrong he knew the animals would be well provided for, for at least days on end.
But he had promised himself he wouldn't invade, nothing more than a knock on the door at least, so their clean hands wouldn't get affected by his death-stained ones.
His fears appeared nothing more than his imagination as they had insisted on moving to the tundra to help around the cabins when he'd be gone with Phil, to feed the animals that would always make him skip their offers.
He'd personally overseen the construction of their cabin, close, but not linked, to his and Phil's. Yet as soon as they moved in, he would've sworn the layers of snow became thinner as he approached. Though the outside looked somewhat grim, with latches in front of windows to protect against cold winds and blizzards, the inside became the warmest place inside the entire tundra.
With plants in the windowsills, the scent of sweetness in the air and warmth inside the cabin it seemed as if they'd created their own little spring filled with life of all different kinds inside the tundra. Sunlight became needless in the warmth of the fireplace, and vegetable gardens were replaced with a rack of plants for spices.
When he'd return from his travels with Phil, their home became a little warmer, as he added whatever souvenir he had found on his travels to their ever-growing collection, displayed ever so neatly upon shelfs decorating the halls. In turn they'd lit the fireplace in his cabin when they knew he'd return, with wildflowers from a nearby forest placed neatly in a vase on the table and took care of his animals as long as he was gone, more often than not, he'd find some sort of basket with baked goods upon the table beside the flowers.
Then, in the warmth of their private little spring, amidst the unending winter, he'd tell them about his travels to faraway lands, creating stories within their mind with each word he spoke. With a cup of warm tea in his hand, the voices were the quietest they had ever been, not daring to intrude on the moment.
