Archive of Our Own ^beta

Pushing their horses to their very limits and cutting their own resting periods to the bare minimum, the distance from the border region to the capital could be crossed in four days. Phil would normally not travel under such extreme conditions, knowing it to be a terrible idea. But for a few reasons, he considered it prudent in this case.

Firstly, because he was returning home, hopefully for good this time. After they arrived at the castle, Brian would be able to rest, getting pampered in the royal stables. Straining his horse or himself like that wasn't something Phil did carelessly, one did not want to ride into battle exhausted and haggard from a long journey. But on the way back, it wasn't too harmful. Phil was looking forward to falling into Kristin's waiting arms. If he'd need a few days to recover from the rushed trip, he'd do so in his bed with his wife beside him.

The second reason he felt hurried was the unwanted guest he had to bring along.

Sneeg was left behind a safe distance away from the border and Dante's encampment, together with a small number of soldiers. Most of Phil's men were as eager to return home as their king was, and certainly Phil would not want to deprive them of the many tearful reunions that would await them soon. But just to assure that Dante would keep his word, Phil would rather keep an eye on the region at first. He'd need to send aid there soon anyway, to start undoing all the damage the war had done. There was still a lot of work ahead of them before the empire could truly put the invasion behind them, even if Phil was relieved the first steps towards healing had been taken.

The only downside was that it left him in the unfortunate circumstance of traveling alone with a prisoner in his custody, a situation that was less than ideal. Especially since the Antarctic Empire wasn't known for taking prisoners to begin with. Everything about this was new to Phil. And unwanted.

What he did know was that being alone with an enemy soldier felt rather risky. And everything Phil heard about Technoblade made him tread with additional caution. Not that Phil was too humble about his own skills, but he would just prefer to keep any murder attempts to a minimum. And not have to chase after Technoblade by himself should the man try to take a chance and make a run for it.

There was the small issue of Phil having no clue what he'd do with Technoblade once they did arrive in the capital, but that was something he'd figure out when the time came.

"We should be getting there by noon tomorrow," Phil said, folding away the map he had been consulting. "We leave at dawn, so get some rest."

Technoblade did not answer. He never did.

Phil had known on this journey only a silent companion, unwilling to engage in small talk. Not that he minded much; Phil wasn't in the mood for idle chit-chat himself. Especially not with the man who had been responsible for so much bloodshed during the war. Phil already had enough on his mind.

The routine they fell into was an easy one. During the day, Phil would ride with Technoblade's wrists tied to Brian's saddle, just in case. The horse Dante gave them was trained well, a brown colt that responded to the name of Carl. Phil suspected Technoblade had ridden the horse before since he seemed very used to the animal's specific gait. All the better. With his wrists bound, he couldn't wield the reins properly. And he couldn't try to escape unless he wanted to risk throwing himself off a moving horse. During the night, Phil would tie the horses to one tree and Technoblade to another, far away enough that the man could not reach any of Phil's supplies. He would set up the bare minimums of a camp, eat, and sleep. He did not bother to make a fire. He did not bother to cook either, since he had plenty of dried meat and bread left over. He just wanted to get home.

After packing up the maps, Phil opened a saddlebag and walked back. "We're almost out of rations too, so it's good we didn't waste much time." He handed Technoblade a piece of bread.

Before he knew he'd be having a prisoner tagging along, Phil had planned to accompany Sneeg to their soldier's camp, where he'd been able to resupply for the journey home. But something told him the troops wouldn't exactly be thrilled to have The Blade anywhere near them. So Phil decided it would be better not to delay.

Technoblade took the bread silently while making a displeased face, barely looking at Phil. He ate it in silence, too. Over the course of three and a half days, they had exchanged maybe a dozen words.

"Politeness must not be a fixture in Skyblock culture," Phil said jokingly. Or he meant for it to be interpreted as such. Perhaps he kept his voice too curt, perhaps Technoblade did not share his sense of humor. Because his jaw set tightly, and his shoulders curled forward.

"Should I thank you for not letting me starve, Emperor?" he asked flatly.

"That's not what I meant," Phil said quickly. But Techno was already more or less fully turned away. Phil sighed, rolling out his bedroll. There was no use to this back and forth. They'd have time for proper conversations when they weren't both tired and tense.

The night passed uneventfully for the most part. Phil had been awoken by Technoblade a few times already - another contributing factor to his exhaustion - in the previous nights. The first time this happened, Phil had shot awake and reached for his sword, assuming the other man was trying to wriggle free from his bindings and kill him. But it turned out Technoblade was simply a fretful sleeper, plagued by body spasms in the depths of slumber. Combined with the noises he made and how often he lay awake while Phil was already nodding off or was alert before the first rays of dawn, Phil concluded Technoblade was having nightmares.

Phil ignored it, nor did he ever mention what he witnessed in the dead of night.

On the morning that would precede their last few hours of travel, for once Technoblade was asleep when Phil woke up. He cleaned up most of the camp, deciding they could skip breakfast to make better time. When he was done, none of the noises he made had pulled Technoblade from sleep either. He approached the prone form leaning against the tree he was bound to. And while he wasn't proud of it, it did cross Phil's mind that this could be a trick.

The Blade, as clever as he was strong, would surely be capable of something as simple as faking sleep. All to catch Phil in an unaware moment.

Except he didn't stir, nor move an inch, even with Phil hovering over him. Tentatively, Phil did decide then to touch the other man's shoulder with caution, just a light shake to wake him.

Going by Technoblade's reaction, Phil might as well have slapped him in the face.

He woke up instantly and with a violent flinch that slammed him into the tree behind him. A sharp gasp tumbled out of him, louder than any other sound Technoblade had made so far. Phil drew his hand back quickly. He didn't intend to startle Technoblade that badly, though it was also an unusual reaction to being touched, even if the touch was meant to wake him up.

"Sorry," Phil said. Technoblade opened his mouth as if he wanted to respond but then closed it again, looking slightly uncomfortable. So Phil cleared his throat and continued. "We need to get going."

Technoblade nodded, pulling himself up. It couldn't be comfortable to sleep while sitting rather than lying down, but Phil had neglected to bring a spare bedroll and Techno didn't seem keen on sleeping on the ground.

They rode on, the more wooded terrain gradually being swapped out for rolling hills with large, sprawling fields. Phil thought it safe to spur their horses into a gallop, feeling mildly guilty that it would quickly burn through the remainder of their energy. But once again, he reminded himself they were close enough to rest soon. A little more.

When the capital finally came into view, Phil could cry with relief. He barely slowed down along the cobbled streets.

The watchmen on duty today must have recognized Phil from a distance since the road at the castle gates had already been cleared by the time they arrived. Villagers from the surrounding houses milled about, some cheering or even throwing flowers. Philza was popular as a ruler, not to brag or anything. And they also knew his swift return meant the peace talks probably were successful. Phil waved at a few here or there, smiling. But he would save a proper address for the commoners until later tonight.

"Your majesty," one of the guards rushed to meet him with a bow while the others opened the gate. "Welcome back."

"It's good to be home," Phil said sincerely.

While he did notice the curious glances that were thrown Technoblade's way, he decided to ignore them. For his own part, the former general stared resolutely ahead of himself, gaze burning on Phil's neck, refusing to meet anybody's eye.

"Please call for my wife," Phil told the guard, who continued to walk beside their horses as they entered the courtyard inside the castle walls. "I'll meet her in our chambers. And make certain these steeds receive the utmost care. They have a heavy journey behind them."

"Of course, Sir." The guard turned to start delegating these tasks to others.

Phil stepped down from Brian, giving the stallion a few extra pats for a job well done. He untied the rope from Brian's saddle, seeing that Technoblade had already dismounted without needing to be told to do so. Phil looked at him, and how haggard he seemed, still in the same dirty clothes from Dante's camp, the recognizable colors of Skyblock's uniform.

The guard faltered for a moment, picking up on Phil's hesitation. "What about the prisoner, your majesty?"

Indeed, Phil had not thought that far ahead. Later had arrived and he still had no fucking clue how to approach this.

He caught Technoblade's eye for a split second, the man watching for whatever his decision would be. Ironically, Phil didn't know. He needed time to decide what his next steps should be concerning this whole 'political hostage' thing. His thoughts turned to the castle's dungeons. They went pretty much completely unused since the Antarctic Empire never took prisoners, but they should serve for a few hours.

"Put The Blade in the holding cell for now," Phil decided. "Your men should know what to do, yes?"

"As you say," the guard confirmed, offering up a smile. Phil handed the rope off to him.

He shed the remaining pieces of his armor as he walked, dropping them to the ground with the knowledge that somebody else would pick them up and polish them, returning them to the armory. Phil's patience had run out.

At long last, he could open the door to the royal bedchamber. And Kristin already stood there waiting for him.

"Phil, you're-" He embraced her before she could even finish speaking, making her chuckle. "You're back quicker than I expected. You talked to that bastard of a man?"

Phil laughed, not pulling away. "Yeah, he was a fucking pain. But we're working something out."

"A truce?" Kristin asked.

"Something like that." Phil finally let go, only to cup his wife's face in both hands and kiss her. "Can we talk about this later? I really could use a nap first."

"You're not getting into our bed until you bathe," Kristin told him. "You smell like a pigsty."

With a snort, Phil looked down at himself. He did look a little messy. "It's not that bad, is it?" Kristin just made a face, amused. "Fine, washing up, then a nap. And tonight, we'll strategize our next steps." He kissed her again before stepping away. "Where is Tommy?"

"With one of the maids, getting his lessons."

"Will you fetch him? I'd like to see him before I rest," Phil said. "He can have the day off to celebrate our nation's newfound peace."

"You'll spoil him rotten," Kristin answered. Though she would allow it anyway.

They both knew the heartache it had caused Phil that the war started a mere six months after their son was born. In spending so much time at the front, Phil had missed a lot of Tommy's younger years. He hadn't been there for Tommy's first word, his first step. Tommy was five years old already. They had a lot of catching up to do.

"Go then, before you stink up the entire room." Kristin waved him away. "We'll worry about everything else after."

And that was something Phil could easily agree to.

Technoblade was still not having a great day.

Scratch that, he wasn't having a great week. Funny how that worked out. Who could have predicted that being sold out to an enemy nation would put him in a bad position? Dante would definitely not be losing sleep over it, though Techno hoped a few of those other soldiers were. He'd been stupid enough to consider them his friends, or if nothing else, his allies. Some of those men, Techno had picked up from the ground bleeding in the midst of the battlefield, he had carried to safety and bandaged their wounds, he had relayed his tactics to in the hopes of saving as many lives as he could, he had spared the rations out of his own stomach for them.

They would be going home to their loved ones and their families because of him, ardently spreading Dante's propaganda that the war hadn't failed, they'd just strategically relaid their borders and made an alliance with Emperor Philza that would benefit both countries. Heck, knowing that guy, Dante might skew the narrative to make it seem like the emperor was the one who asked for a peace treaty first. And then he could make himself out to be a most gracious ruler for accepting on behalf of the civilians. That sounded like something Dante would do.

Techno's absence would hardly be noticed. He'd be lucky if his sacrifices became a blurb in the history books. Maybe in the annotations, because they wouldn't want to distract from the greatness of King Dante, obviously.

Well, it wasn't like Techno had expected to return to his homestead to pose for statues to be made of him anyway. But he'd hoped for a slightly less miserable end than public execution.

Or maybe a private execution. Fingers crossed, Techno always felt the public ones were a bit of a gaudy affair. Then again, Techno hardly knew what Emperor Philza was like outside of his capabilities on the battlefield. A ruthless opponent, a firm but just ruler, somebody with stubbornness that could rival a mule. And smart. Smart enough to see through some of Techno's evasive maneuvers. None of those things told him if Emperor Philza was in favor of public displays of cruelty or not.

"We should be getting there by noon tomorrow. We leave at dawn, so get some rest." The emperor's words drew Technoblade from the depths of his mind.

They didn't talk much during the journey. Techno never was one for idle small talk, especially not when he had to choose each word carefully. He didn't actually know what the Antarctic Empire's plans for him were. As long as Dante hadn't completely called back his army, Techno would probably be kept alive to play out his role as a hostage. After that, he might get a trial of some kind. A mock one, but it would buy him some time. Techno might have a chance to escape. He wouldn't be able to go back south, what with Dante selling him out. So he'd have to head north and hope to find passage on a ship. Maybe he could head to one of the islands. He heard the western isles were lovely this time of year.

"We're almost out of rations too, so it's good we didn't waste much time," Emperor Philza said as he handed Techno a piece of bread. His stomach contracted at the sight of the food, making him frown before he could school his expression back to neutrality.

Techno hadn't eaten properly in almost two weeks. Dante had cut off rations days before the peace negotiations were to take place. No cooked meals, no vegetables or fruits, no fresh meat. The bread filled the hollow pit of his stomach but barely chased away the hunger, or the weakness caused by it.

Turned away from him, the emperor cleared his throat. "Politeness must not be a fixture in Skyblock culture."

Techno clenched his jaw. "Should I thank you for not letting me starve, Emperor?"

"That's not what I meant."

Techno didn't reply. It wasn't like he expected the leader of the nation he'd be waging war against for years to have pity on him or treat him with a shred of kindness. Naivety was for those who were fortunate enough to stay on the home front. Still, Techno wasn't about to grovel. If that was the expectation, the emperor had the wrong impression. Techno didn't care if his current actions colored the emperor's impression of him.

He'd probably already gone scorched earth in their relationship by literally going scorched earth on some of Philza's border regions. Heh.

He slept deeper than usual that night, exhaustion from the rushed journey wearing him thin. The emperor woke him up, and that was a little embarrassing, but they moved on quickly enough. Before long, the capital could be seen from a distance. It was… smaller than Techno expected it to be. Skyblock was a huge nation, and the capital reflected that. The Antarctic Empire was barely a tenth as big in size, and a large chunk of that land was covered in mountains, so the population was tiny in comparison. Seeing it was different than always hearing about it, though.

The king was welcomed back with enthusiasm. Techno clenched his hands in front of himself, feeling the skin of his palms get sweaty beneath the tight leather of his gloves. Techno didn't do crowds, and he couldn't shake the stares aimed his way. They were led inside. When the emperor got down from his horse, Techno did the same.

And then Philza looked at him.

There was something in those eyes that made Techno instantly straighten his spine.

"Put The Blade in the holding cell for now," the emperor said. "Your men should know what to do, yes?"

"As you say," the guard answered, taking the rope with a pleased grin.

Techno watched Philza walk away without a second glance. Naturally, he'd have other things to attend to. A short tug at the bindings was his only warning before Techno was being marched in the other direction.

"The Blade, hm? King Dante really gave you up?" the guard asked, not bothering to conceal his curiosity. He curled the rope around his arm more properly, making the leash shorter. When Techno didn't respond right away, he yanked again, harder, almost having him stumble. "I bet you joined the war hoping to return home with medals."

"Something like that," Techno said evenly.

The guard sneered at that, dragging Techno towards the side of the castle. Two large wooden slabs that looked like they hadn't been touched in eons were pulled open, revealing a set of stone stairs leading into a damp underground cellar. The holding cell, presumably. If this place hadn't been used in ages, perhaps Techno should feel honored that he was the first guest. What an opportunity to tour a part of the Antarctic Empire nobody else had seen before!

The scent that hit him from down there instantly had him rethink that notion.

Something must have died in one of the cells and they never got around to cleaning it up, or maybe the waste disposal of the castle leaked into the foundation somehow. The moldy air burned Techno's throat after the first breath. The dungeon was cold and dark, with no torches in the brackets to light the way and only a small amount of sunlight falling in through slits high up in the walls, barely enough to pry a few fingers into. And even those holes were lined with bars, as if somebody would try to squeeze their way through.

"Here we go." The guard pulled the door on one of the cells open, revealing the room was set into the floor with a few steps leading up to the hallway. Using a dagger, the rope was cut. But not so it would fall free from Techno's wrist. Just the end that hung loose was cut away, leaving his hands bound together. The man pushed him down the steps. Not having his arms free to catch himself, Techno landed on his shoulder instead. He gasped in pain as the joint collided with the hard ground. "Enjoy your stay," the guard said with a laugh before closing the door again.

Great...

At least he was alone. Techno struggled semi-upright and then sank back down against the wall with a sigh. The rancid air was something he could get used to quickly enough, and it was quiet. A small mercy on his pounding headache. Honestly already miles better than the prison in Skyblock's Citadel. He sat and waited, watching the sun move across the sky outside. A few times, there was some ruckus out in the courtyard. But Techno couldn't see enough through the slit to know what was going on. He assumed the news about the war ending must be spreading all across the empire by now. Harbingers were sent out to proclaim the good word in every town square, flares burning in celebration, all that stuff.

After what must be a few hours - though it was hard to keep track of time in the cell - the door was opened again. This time, it was two guards who entered, the man who had taken Techno down there earlier and a younger recruit with a slightly strained expression.

"Food for you, prisoner." The guard had a bowl in his hands. Techno wasn't entirely sure what he expected, but not for them to throw it at his feet. Literally so.

The bowl landed on its side, spilling the boiling hot soup inside over Techno's leg before he could pull it away. He hissed at the burning sensation soaking through his pants.

The guard laughed. "Ah, my bad. Rookie, get the poor guy a few buckets to wash up."

As the younger soldier walked away, the guard stepped down into the cell proper. Techno stood up, back pressed against the wall to keep his balance. He knew there was no point in fighting back, but he tried to protect his face when the first punch landed against his stomach, and the second blow came in the form of a knee hitting his throat. His hair was grabbed so he could be pushed against the wall.

"My brother died at the front," the guard hissed in his face, spittle hitting Techno's cheek. "You're not getting off so easy as just being put on the gallows, Blade."

The beating continued for a few minutes, until the other soldier came back with two buckets of water. Techno was on the ground at this point, blood spilling from a split lip, counting the new bruises he'd have by morning. Both buckets were upended over him, the water freezing in temperature. Techno could only curl up after that, shivering. His flesh numb enough with cold that the kicks he received after barely registered.

Maybe if he died of hypothermia during the night, Emperor Philza could save himself the trouble of tying a noose.

He didn't sleep much. He was woken up time and time again by some soldier entering the cell under the guise of checking up on him, only to beat the crap out of him. Their words fell on deaf ears. If they wanted a reaction out of him, they were out of luck. Techno expected this. He knew the hate these men held for him, and that the entire population of the empire probably held for him. Philza handed him to his soldiers first so they could get that anger out of their system. To work through some of the scars the war had left on them on the most convenient target available if peace would prevent true retaliation. Techno was familiar with this song and dance.

Hypixel's citizens were the same when Dante was through with conquering them. The only difference was that they had lost their war. Techno was blamed for that one too, imagine that.

Dawn arrived eventually, with Technoblade noticing the first rays of the morning sun by squinting through his swollen eye socket. He heard the door to the cell open again, though he couldn't see who entered since he was lying on his side facing away. He was in too much agony to consider moving. Only when he heard a sharp gasp did he bother to roll over.

And there was the man who probably had more reason to hate him than all those soldiers combined, Emperor Philza, staring at him in abject disgust.

Yeah, not a great day at all.

Time was such an easy thing to let slip away from him.

Phil took the bath his wife demanded of him. He washed his hair and shaved his face, he scrubbed to get the dirt out from under his nails until his fingers almost bled. Warm water was a deceptively simple luxury, one most men on the battlefield were deprived of for weeks at a time when the fires in camp were better served being used for something else. Phil soaked for close to an hour, relaxing muscles he'd kept permanently tensed from the moment he stepped into Dante's camp; or that's what one would think from how badly they ached.

By the time he got out - dried off, hair combed out of its tangled mess and loosely braided - Phil's skin was flushed from the heated water and raw from scraping off filth. Yet he felt better than he had in months.

Kristin was waiting for him in their bedchambers once more. As requested, she'd been indulgent enough to pull Tommy from his tutoring. Phil knew how important it was for Tommy to get a proper education. For a little while, when it was feared the war would claim Phil's life, preparing Tommy for a future as emperor had been at the forefront of their minds. Kristin could rule alone for many years. She was kind, capable, smart, all traits that the leader of a nation should possess. But having two people in line for succession during times of unrest was better than one.

However, lying on the bed while his five-year-old son straddled his stomach, having Tommy's weight press the air out of his lungs (though not really because he was so young still), the future was the furthest thing from Phil's mind. Tommy rambled on and on about stuff Phil had missed, stumbling over his words with the clumsy verbal grace only a small child could possess. And Phil hummed along, nodded when appropriate, treated every scrape Tommy endured as a war wound, and every mundane sight Tommy described as the most interesting thing in the world. Because for Tommy they must be, since he was only five years old even if to Phil it felt like he'd gone off to war and blinked and the small bundle of blankets that Kristin had held to her chest while Phil brushed her sweaty hair away from her face after labor, had suddenly transformed into this mischievous little boy with bright blue eyes.

"I love you," Phil said. Over and over. Tommy blew a raspberry at him when he got tired of his father repeating the same words, and Phil laughed, pulling him closer to his chest. "I love you both so fucking much."

He slept, the tender feeling of Kristin weaving her fingers through his hair chasing him into his dreams. When Phil woke, the sun sat low in the sky and he knew he needed to get some stuff taken care of before he crashed completely for the day. No matter how much he might want to postpone real life for a bit longer and stay in this room with just his family and nothing else that could harm them.

Phil was the emperor. That came with certain duties.

The first order of business was drafting a formal address. Phil would need to head out tomorrow and personally speak in front of his civilians too, but for the moment, it sufficed to have a short, easily replicable message that could be written out numerous times and then spread across the nation. Since the Antarctic Empire was small, with densely populated towns and cities dotted between harsher wilderness, it could take up to a week for word to get around. Phil wanted to balance the missive's contents. He didn't want to proclaim an end to the conflict when a peace treaty hadn't been signed yet, but he also felt the importance of positive news to break the tedium of war.

In the end he decided to stress that the Antarctic Empire and Skyblock had come to a long term truce with the intent of reaching a permanent peace within six months, and then some words about the aid that could finally be delivered to the border region.

Then Phil delegated arranging said aid to his bureaucrats, who would work together with Phil's officers to see what money and supplies could be made available on short notice, where it was needed most, and how to deliver it quickly to those in need. Homesteads would have to be rebuilt, food stocks replenished, and an influx of refugees taken care of. Phil could follow up on that later.

And then, at last, he ordered a recall of eighty percent of the troops, leaving only enough to keep Dante back should he change his mind suddenly and restart an assault. Without The Blade, Phil didn't predict their defenses would have too many issues keeping Dante in line. While Dante might have been a bastard, he wasn't a liar when he said that without their favored general, Skyblock's army would be like a shell of its former self. A dog without any bite in it.

Which only left the man in Phil's custody.

With the sky fading from darker purple into pitch black, Phil stifled a yawn into the palm of his hand. He put his quill down and rubbed his face. The Blade was taken to the holding cell, he recalled. Phil told his men to take care of his needs. He'd be fine for one night longer. And besides, it'd be much easier for them to speak when they weren't sleep deprived and hungry. By dawn, they should both be in better states for the conversations ahead of them.

Phil went to bed guilt-free.

And he woke up to the most miserable sight.

"What the fuck happened?!" Phil asked. The Blade - Technoblade, Phil reminded himself. He should start thinking about this man as the person, not the facade created on the battlefield - stared up at him through squinting lids. One eye could not open properly because it had been bruised shut. The other refused to focus on Phil.

"Your majesty," the soldier who had escorted Phil down to the holding cell started, swallowing several times before he could form the words. "We just-"

"Don't speak," Phil cut in. The question had been mostly rhetorical. Phil knew exactly what happened.

If anything, he should have seen this coming.

He really liked to think his men were more disciplined, better than resorting to something this barbaric. Maybe a handful of years ago, that would have been true. War brought out the worst in everybody. Grief brought out worse things still. There was a reason why Phil hadn't wanted to return to camp with Sneeg once Dante had given them Technoblade as a prisoner. Phil himself had mulled over the blood that clung to Technoblade's hands.

But that didn't mean he wished for this to happen. He should have known better.

"Don't say another word," Phil repeated to the startled soldier. "This will be discussed another time."

He had to tread carefully. He could not condone publicly or privately what had occurred in this cell overnight. Phil's morals wouldn't let him do so, and it was not the sort of pantomime justice he wanted in his empire, where somebody took the job of punishment into their own hands without a due trial. But he also couldn't condemn these men. Not only because there was an edge of understanding for their actions left in him, a part of Phil that knew quite well the satisfaction felt when making somebody pay for the suffering they caused you, even if indirectly. But also because he was their emperor. And these were his men. The innocents who had died were his civilians. Phil had a duty to them; he owed them retribution. How could he turn around and slap their wrist for dishing out barely an ounce of the pain they had endured for four years?

How could Phil, in his position as ruler, look into their eyes and stand up for the man whom he himself had thought of as a thorn in his eye, without being a hypocrite?

"Bring two more men down," Phil ordered. "This place doesn't seem suited for long-term holding to me."

Reluctantly, the soldier nodded. Whether the hesitance came from leaving the king alone inside a cell with a prisoner or perhaps just the tone Phil used when speaking to him, he didn't know. Phil walked down the steps, until he was standing right beside where Technoblade had curled up on the floor. From this close, he could discern more bruises, most along his hands, arms, and neck, where they dipped beneath the collar of the uniform. His left wrist might be broken if the swelling was anything to go by. Blood clung to the bottom of his chin.

Technoblade did not flinch away from him when he got that close, unlike when Phil woke him in the camp. He looked up, waiting, a silent sort of acceptance about what would happen next. Phil once read that the best tacticians only fought battles they knew they could win.

"I didn't know this would happen," Phil said under his breath, perhaps not fully intending for Technoblade to hear, though he could tell from the slight twitch to the man's lip that he had. The statement was made in selfishness anyway. Simply there to ease Phil's conscience.

"Your majesty," the soldier returned, bringing two fresh recruits with him. Their shifting eyes told Phil they might have been involved with the nightly activities. They looked very uncomfortable when Phil's gaze fell on them.

"Help him stand," he said, gesturing at Technoblade shortly. "Have his injuries treated if needed and then bring him inside." He turned towards the exit. "And call for this cellar to be closed off until further notice, it's clearly unsanitary."

"Yes sir!"

Technoblade was pulled up onto his feet. When he was touched, a short gasp of pain could be heard, but after that he was remarkably silent again, even shaking off the hands that tried to support him once he had regained his balance. A fresh rope was looped around the piece that bound his wrists together, easier to lead him around.

"Once the medic's done with him, I'll have the old cleric's quarters prepared as a temporary stay," Phil added. "Deliver him there."

"As you wish, your majesty," the soldier bowed meekly, too afraid to refuse.

But Phil could see from their faces that they were questioning his actions. Phil would want to stress once again that the Antarctic Empire was not one that took prisoners often. The holding cells beneath the castle were the only dungeons the castle had. Phil feared leaving Technoblade in there was irresponsible, not only for the easy access it allowed for random people to take out their anger on the former general. The entire cellar also reeked strongly of mold and rot, and the temperature must drop dangerously low during the night. If Technoblade were to die of hypothermia or some stray infection, that'd be less than ideal. Dante probably wouldn't give two shits, but Phil certainly would.

The problem was that there were no easy alternatives. The capital's regular prison was on the other side of the city, making it hard for Phil to keep an eye on Technoblade if he was locked up in there, not to mention that prison was no better equipped to hold political hostages. So he'd taken to improvising.

There used to be a cleric who permanently resided inside the palace back in the day. Since then, a proper pantheon had been built at a more accessible site within the capital. All clergymen had moved, and what used to be the quarters of the cleric was repurposed as a sort of storage space. Phil had come to the conclusion that this would be the best place to make a temporary holding area. The rooms were high up in one of the castle's towers, with a single entrance that could be easily guarded.

For the time being, it would certainly suffice. No. For the time being, it was the only acceptable solution. Until Phil could finally figure out what to do with this hostage he didn't want.

The medic wasn't subtle with her disdain for Technoblade.

Not that any of the others had been. Techno had gotten the message loud and clear that every single one of them hated his guts, really. No need to rub it in. Or punch it in. Or knife it in - that hadn't happened yet, but it had certainly been debated.

"Lift your arms higher."

Techno raised his arms and hissed through his teeth when the simple motion made a burning sensation tingle down his spine. The woman sighed a little, standing up to press down on his shoulder and bend him over. This only made the pain worse.

Ironically enough, the medical care he got from the army doctors in an active warzone was more gentle than this.

"What are you fussing about?" One of the soldiers outside raised their voice, and Technoblade could catch a snippet of their conversation. Before, they'd been keeping to hushed whispers.

"I'm just saying-"

"Nothing is going to happen, we didn't do anything wrong. The emperor probably only needs him because of the negotiations. Keep your head down about that night and resume your duties."

There was a moment of silence, then the heavy sound of boots trudging away. Techno grimaced when the medic prodded at a fresh bruise that sat on his hip.

"Is he almost done?" the soldier asked as he walked back inside.

"I had to set the bone in his wrist, but as long as the splint is left alone, it should be fine." The medic turned towards the soldier. "All the rest isn't really worth the trouble."

"It is if the emperor says it is," the soldier replied. Though he didn't seem to agree with his own words. Techno could tell better than anybody when a person was regurgitating something because they thought that something was what others wanted to hear.

The medic clicked her tongue. "No concussion, no internal bleeding. He's fine." As if at that moment noticing Techno had been in the room all along, she looked at him. "I'm certain you've been through worse."

Ignoring the underlying vitriol, Techno shrugged. "Probably."

It depended on your definition of a few things. The awkwardness of this entire exchange definitely was one of the most effective tortures he'd ever been through.

"Come along then," the soldier said. He didn't bother tying Techno's hands up again.

They'd needed to be unbound for the medic to do her job. With the splint on his left wrist, maybe the soldier didn't want to risk messing up the fracture worse by pulling on it a bunch. Techno wouldn't try to run off or anything. He wouldn't get very far within the castle walls.

He was brought into the palace itself through winding hallways. Techno had a fairly good sense of direction - or that was something he'd brag about from time to time - so he tried to keep track of exactly where they were going. East part of the castle, up three sets of stairs. A tower?

"There you are."

The Antarctic Empire's leader was waiting for them.

Techno pushed his shoulders back. Before, in the holding cell, Philza had witnessed him in what Techno would not describe as one of his finer moments. He had been so certain Philza was there to finish what his men started. Techno had been thinking about it all throughout the night, by the time the sun rose, he was ready. Perhaps he'd been ready the moment Dante told him what would be happening and Techno realized his life had been forfeit.

And then this man had the audacity to act as if Techno getting the crap beat out of him was an unfortunate happenstance. An accident beyond his control.

Technoblade did not know if Philza was a liar or a fool, but neither endeared the emperor very much to him.

"I've had the room adjusted to suit your needs," Philza said, and it took Technoblade a short moment to realize he was the one being addressed. "The windows don't have locks on them, but I advise you not to try anything stupid. Unless you fancy plummeting to your death."

The emperor led the way inside. Techno followed him. He'd been correct in assuming it was a tower. He couldn't properly look out the windows, thin slits that didn't look like he'd fit through them properly anyway, unless he really managed to wedge himself in there. They had wooden latches on them to keep the wind out. From a glance, Techno could tell they were very high up, however. So Philza was not exaggerating.

"I've cleared out all the random shit that was lying around here," Philza continued. "Anything left, you can use at your own discretion to kill time if you want." He smiled lightly. The room was a complete mess, though from what Techno could see, it was mostly books and scribe equipment left scattered around, covering the two desks that were crammed in the tight, circular room. There were some bookcases too, a washbasin, and a single bed. Nothing luxurious, but an upgrade from the mold box.

The items Philza had removed must have been any weapons, sensitive information, anything Techno could actually use to cause harm.

"There will be a guard posted on the other side of the locked door at all times," Philza said. "Knock if you require them, or require me. My chambers are on the other side of the castle."

Techno considered if Phil added that last bit to explain any delays in how prompt he could be in responding to Techno's requests, or perhaps to subtly imply that Techno shouldn't consider trying to slip out and assassinate the royals. Yeah, because that was totally on the forefront of Techno's mind.

Philza waited for a few seconds longer. Techno knew that in other circumstances, this would be where he thanked the emperor for his hospitality.

He didn't say anything.

"Have you eaten since last night?" Philza asked after a moment.

"No," Techno answered. He hadn't eaten last night either, but decided there was no reason to mention that. What was done was done.

"I shall bring you something." Philza signaled at the soldier to follow him as they left the room. The door fell shut, and Techno could hear the heavy lock sliding into place.

Techno sat down on the bed with a sigh, exhausted.

As far as he was concerned, his situation hadn't really changed. He was a prisoner all the same, just one who got to enjoy slightly more amicable accommodations. If Philza was being genuine in that Techno's mistreatment had been an unintended thing - and turning everything he knew about the emperor as a ruler and enemy commander over in his head, Techno could find less and less reason for why Philza would play at innocence in that regard - then he had showed his inexperience in how having a hostage worked.

One thing was clear, however. Philza would not kill him quickly or heedlessly. It seemed the emperor was content hanging on to him for the moment, presumably until negotiations had concluded. It was a bit disappointing to Techno that somebody as intelligent on the battlefield as Philza had fallen for Dante's sugar-spun words, that Techno was a worthy trump card to keep up his sleeve. After that, he'd probably get a farce trial and a prompt execution. Dreadful, but there was an upside to all of this.

If he bided his time, Techno could still get a chance to escape.

A light knock on the door was his only warning before the knob turned. Techno got up quickly, straightened his spine again and did his best to look composed. He would have to sleep eventually, and the prospect was terrible in its own right, knowing he'd have to let his guard down in enemy territory. But he'd rather not show weakness if he didn't have to.

And he was especially grateful for that decision when Philza entered again.

Techno was somewhat surprised. Normally, when royalty said things such as 'I shall bring you that', they were not being literal. They were implying they'd push the chore onto one of their servants. As long as it got done, right?

Philza, in the very literal sense of the word, had brought him food.

The door had been left ajar, two soldiers were visible through the crack. Presumably, one was the guy that would be posted outside of his room at all times. Techno didn't envy the schmuck who got stuck on that assignment. The other soldier was there to escort the emperor. They couldn't leave him alone in the room with Techno, but staying outside with the door not fully closed was the best they could do, to afford the pair a modicum of privacy. Philza must have requested it.

Techno didn't have a good feeling about that.

"You don't have to eat it all at once," Philza said as he put the tray down on one of the desks, the one that had been emptied the most effectively. He stood back, and Techno looked at the food. There was a bowl of soup, perhaps a leftover of the exact same Techno had gotten soaked in the day before. Two pieces of dry bread lay beside the bowl, a piece of fruit, a large cup of water, and curiously a small plate that held dried meat. They almost appeared to be army rations.

Philza caught him staring at them.

"I wanted to give you something you're familiar with," he said.

Techno chuckled, then played the noise off as a short scoff. He really didn't get this guy. "Thanks," he said, not too pressed about showing gratitude for this. Not the food in general, but that Phil saw it prudent to give him something special. Something he assumed Techno would like.

"I'll be busy for the rest of the day," Philza said. "But I'm hoping tomorrow we can talk?"

The way he phrased it almost made it sound like a question, but Techno didn't answer. The emperor didn't need his permission. He stood there and waited to be dismissed so he could eat. His hands were clasped behind his back. Normally, the correct posture was for Technoblade to hold his left wrist in his right hand. But with the splint, he had to do it the other way around.

Philza nodded as if Techno had confirmed the request with his silence. Maybe he had. Seeing that Techno would not eat with him in the room - because truly, Techno wasn't going to sit down at a desk and dig into the food like a starving man in front of somebody he trusted, let alone the man who held his uncertain future in both hands - Philza cleared his throat one final time.

"Call if you need anything," he reiterated from before.

Techno could not be more relieved to finally be alone.

He finished the soup, bread, and most of the meat in a matter of minutes. By the end, he didn't feel less hungry than before, one meal wouldn't fix weeks of having to ration everything he consumed. But it was better than nothing. He decided to keep the fruit and the remainder of the meat until later, since he had no clue when (or if) he'd be fed again.

Overall, the entire stay had left him more confused by the minute. Techno didn't know what to expect anymore.

On the battlefield, Technoblade had felt as if he'd known Philza through and through without ever having seen his face. He could predict with ease what tactical moves the emperor would make, because they were the same as what Techno would have done should their positions be reversed. He could see the emperor's intelligence reflected in every ambush, could measure his empathy by how Philza constantly steered battles away from civilian areas to avoid unnecessary casualties even on Skyblock territory, and understood his every approach to the war.

Since he was taken into captivity, Techno understood nothing of how Philza treated him.

And all he could do was wait and see if that confusion would lead to him overstepping, leaving his neck to end up on the chopping board earlier than intended.

For Phil, facing a crowd of commoners felt more daunting than any battle he'd faced during the war.

A peculiar thing, but perhaps an understandable one. Violence was never a hard language to speak. Wars did not get more complicated than the strategies used to win them. And there was almost a… simplicity to combat. Intrinsically linked to the inherent urge to survive that any living creature possesses. On the battlefield, the only thing that mattered was not dying, and killing to do so if needed. Straightforward stuff when you really stopped to think about it. The overthinking mind was easily pushed away when your only worry was whether you would see the next sunrise or whether your family would starve at home should you die.

This was also why the deepest scars left by the war did not show themselves until after the final body had already been buried.

But that also meant that as emperor, Phil's most challenging work didn't properly start until the war was over either. He was satisfied with the address he sent out after revising it thoroughly, and by the next sunset he knew it would have long spread across the empire. It felt a little early to celebrate, since a formal peace treaty hadn't been signed yet, but the capital still came alive with an air of relief and jubilation. Sneeg had sent word that so far, Dante had upheld his end of the agreement. All of Skyblock's troops had retreated back into their own country, leaving the border region a scattered mess behind them. The empire's own army was partly absolved, and the first men were arriving home to their loved ones at this very moment. Phil's promised aid was being delivered, and the open wounds could barely start to scab over.

And yet, despite the fact that he only had good news to deliver, Phil felt uneasy when a thousand eyes turned in his direction as he stood on the palace balcony to speak for his people gathered in the courtyard.

He was a popular ruler, so Phil had never feared his citizens turning against him. However, the other side of the coin was equally as tricky. Phil carried an immeasurable responsibility on his shoulders, and the way his civilians so unwaveringly trusted him to make the right choices could put him ill at ease. For deep down, Phil knew he was just as fallible as any common man.

"You did well," Kristin said under her breath, taking his wrist in her hand as he descended the dais from where he had addressed the people, stepping back into the palace. He could hear their cheers, their outcries of gratitude, echoing behind him.

"Do you think?" Phil asked. Guards drew the curtains behind them, locking out some of that noise. Kristin's thumb traced his skin gently, a comforting gesture.

"You looked as if you were about to throw up the entire speech but didn't," Kristin answered. "I think that counts as doing well."

"Oh gods," Phil groaned, though his lips cracked into a small smile. He rubbed his face, as if that would wipe away the exhaustion. "Thanks for that."

"They'll attribute your ragged look to the war anyway," Kristin soothed. "It would be worse if you didn't look like you'd seen a day of hardship."

Phil hummed in agreement. Nobody expected him to be in the best shape after years of leading the army, probably. But little did they know, Phil's true issue was that speaking in front of the public made him want to peel his skin off. He was much better equipped for any other part of ruling an empire.

Back in their chambers, Phil shrugged off the cape he'd put on as befitting his more formal attire. The dressing up was almost as bad as the speaking. "And now we wait," he said.

"Now we wait," Kristin agreed. "Do you know who he's sending?"

"Not a clue."

Dante had promised that a delegation would be put together for the peace treaty. Testing the limits of Skyblock's cooperation, Phil boldly requested the negotiations should happen right there in the Antarctic Empire capital. He didn't expect Dante to be present himself, and if Phil wanted to it would be politically acceptable to send some of his own generals and advisors to the table rather than sit and nitpick at small script himself. But he'd rather be present to make the final decisions, and maybe things would move faster this way. The sooner the treaty was signed, the better.

"I assume that means our guest stays put until then too?" Kristin asked. She chuckled at the sour expression on Phil's face at that question.

"I didn't ask for him to be here," Phil said. "Dante just-" He gestured with the one hand not caught in her grip. "Just decided this had to happen. Not like I was in a position to refuse."

"I know," Kristin said mildly, squeezing his wrist. "But word will get out one way or another. So we should start considering what to do with him."

"We can postpone that until the peace treaty is signed," Phil said. Kristin didn't say anything to that. Phil knew she was right, though. Pretty much every soldier in the castle already knew that The Blade was in their custody. If the soldiers knew, the servants would too. And once they knew, there was no stopping this from spilling out beyond the castle walls.

The pressure of this decision was high, shaping not only the opinion of their people but also setting a precedent for the future.

"Besides, it is better to keep things as is. For all intents and purposes, he is a hostage right now," Phil added.

Kristin laughed slightly. "Is he, though?"

Her tone made it obvious what she meant. Handing over an important person to an enemy nation, making them a war prisoner, could be done with the purpose of giving the enemy a hostage. But that fully relied on the fact that the nation handing the prisoner over actually cared about the hostage's well-being. Then Technoblade's presence in the Antarctic Empire's capital would be a deterrent for further attacks, he'd be a meat shield basically.

What Dante did was different.

"He's not," Phil admitted. "But Dante knew that it would offer us the same insurance. Perhaps it's closer to a soldier putting down his weapon, saying he's harmless."

"Dante is far from harmless without The Blade," Kristin said.

"Maybe."

Skyblock had enough manpower to continue going to war with other nations, expand their territory, and further Dante's bid of subjugating anybody who he saw as a threat to his power. But not nearly as quickly, not nearly as easily. Phil couldn't help but wonder if Dante would truly make a sacrifice so debilitating to his goals. Either Phil had underestimated the number his empire had done on Dante's war efforts, or the king had some other asset up his sleeve - something better than The Blade.

"I will go talk to him," Phil said. "See what I can find out. Dante could have told him something. And even if he hasn't, the general should know we're not leaving him to rot up there."

An indulgence in the eyes of some, probably, but Phil sure as hell wouldn't like to be locked in a tower with no word of what was going on in the outside world. It was a mere human decency that the other man should be informed of the goings-on.

About two days had passed since Phil last saw Technoblade. Meals had been delivered according to a simple schedule, and his guards informed Phil that there had been no issue. The inside of their improvised holding cell remained quiet day and night. Whenever food was brought in, Technoblade would stand there silently during the guard's entry and not speak.

He was standing too as Phil entered, hands clasped behind his back in the proper military position, a sign of admirable self-discipline in some and rigid superiority in others. Phil didn't know Technoblade well enough to say which one was at play yet.

"You can take a seat," he said idly, waving towards the bed or either of the chairs left in the room by their matching desks. "I'm just here to talk." A glance would tell Phil a lot of the items scattered around had been moved or disturbed. Clearly the general had searched the place top to bottom since being confined there.

"I think I'm good where I'm at, thanks," Technoblade responded. But it sounded almost more like a question, a slight hesitance to the perpetually narrowed eyes that studied Phil closely. As if waiting for the request to be rephrased as a command.

Should Phil make it an order, Technoblade would most likely obey. Following hierarchy was straightforward, and something many soldiers clung to even after capture. A point in favor of self-discipline, then. Technoblade sticking to what was familiar, what was safe.

"Suit yourself," Phil said. He leaned his hip against one of the desks, closest to the door. "How are you feeling?"

Technoblade stayed quiet for a moment, and Phil wondered if maybe the general would go back to giving him the silent treatment. But the question just seemed like it took Technoblade off guard. And that was a little funny, considering he most likely had been running through their future conversations endlessly in his head as preparation.

"I'm fine," Technoblade said then, voice flat. A neutral, measured answer. About what Phil had expected.

"Does the medic need to check in on your injuries again?"

At the mention of the abuse Technoblade had suffered down in the dungeon, his expression almost slipped into something easier to read. But he covered it up well.

"I'm fine," he repeated.

"Good," Phil said. "I wanted to inform you that there'll be a delegation on its way soon. Dante is sending a representative to the peace negotiations in his place."

"Big shocker," Techno said, turning to glance out the window.

"That's a callous way to speak about your commander," Phil couldn't help but comment. The Blade had fought with a terrifying dedication during the entire war. Not exactly the sign of a man fighting without a purpose. But that purpose did not have to be admiration or loyalty to the one in charge.

Technoblade didn't answer. He turned his head to face Phil again, a blank mask of indifference.

"While peace negotiations are underway, you shall remain in custody," Phil said. "And what happens after might be highly dependent on those negotiations. So with that in mind, I want to offer you a chance to sit in on these negotiations. It's only fair you get a chance to be present for how heavily they'll probably sway your trial."

Technoblade's lip twitched, as if he was about to say something. Phil would take credit once again for surprising the other man. Technoblade was making an effort to hide it, but couldn't completely conceal that he either didn't expect a trial or didn't expect to be allowed outside before that.

"And all I ask for in return," Phil continued, "is that you sit down and answer some questions. We might be stuck with each other for a while, we might as well be civil."

If Technoblade's loyalty lay with Skyblock after all, he might refuse. He could assume that Phil was trying to pry sensitive military information out of him - which was only partly true, admittedly. And he'd shown an impressive ability to stonewall Phil in the past.

But then Technoblade turned, and stiffly sat on the chair furthest away from Phil. "Not like I have anything better to do."

The room was really as dull as Technoblade had judged it to be the moment he walked in.

Clerics for the Antarctic Empire mustn't have a very interesting job. Techno had picked through the mess for hours and not found more than a handful of books that seemed mildly better than mind-numbing boredom. Most of them were on the topic of Antarctic Empire history and geography. Techno had read a lot on that already, Dante had detailed reports for him to use during strategy meetings. There was a very slim chance these contained more information, though not by much. But know thy enemy and all that…

Besides, the only other thing Techno could do to pass the time was sleep. And he wasn't very fond of that.

At least he was being served food at a pretty regular interval, which was more than Techno could say for the division of rations back in Dante's army. A steady supply of soup, bread, and dried meat continued to make its way to the improvised cell. Nothing luxurious, but better than starving. After a day, Techno didn't see the point in trying to save rations anymore since it didn't seem like the emperor was playing some game where he gave Techno food for a while and then switched to withholding it as a punishment. He didn't eat all of his food, but this time it was simply because his stomach couldn't handle it anymore. Eating too much at a time made him feel nauseous.

So Techno crumbled up some chunks of the bread and left them on the edge of the windowsill.

Through the window, he could observe the courtyard below if he leaned forward and angled his neck just right. Not enough for Techno to properly discern what was going on down there, but once in a while, he could see a regiment walking past or a horse being led from the stables. What was much easier to see was the tower of the west wing, across from where Techno was held.

Crows. An entire murder of them, coming and going from the little wooden parapets set into the other tower. It had windows not too dissimilar from the ones Techno was stuck with. If he were as small as a crow, he'd have no issue using them to get inside and outside either.

It brought somewhat of an idea to mind.

The Antarctic Empire applied crows as messenger birds. Techno actually used his arrows to shoot down quite a fair few on the battlefield. Not his favorite activity, but sometimes the ends did justify the means, and Emperor Philza was already a terrifying enough opponent without the extra blind spots in his information.

After leaving the bread, it took over two hours before one of the crows became brave enough to fly over and peck at it. Once, twice, then the slightest movement from Techno scared it off. That was fine. It would be a while before he could come up with a plan. For the moment, knowing the crows were there and they were able to be lured was enough for Techno. Some small thing he could influence. One little promise that perhaps, if he could think of something, Techno had the start of an escape plot in mind.

He was feeding the crows again when he heard the footsteps of somebody approaching the door. Techno made himself accustomed to the noises he could hear from his holding cell, so he could always tell when a guard was dropping by and prepare himself. He didn't want a repeat of what happened down in the dungeon.

Another reason Techno tried to sleep as little as possible.

But it wasn't the telltale uniform of the Antarctic Empire's recruits that entered his cell, an obnoxious shade of pastel blue that Techno had become thoroughly sick of already. The color of the fabric was so light it was downright ridiculous. At least Skyblock's signature colors within the army were black and dark gold. Much easier to get blood out of.

Techno would still really rather see the Antarctic Empire uniform than the Antarctic Empire emperor.

He held his position, fingers pressing painfully into the splint around his wrist. Techno had probably been straining the joint more than what would be considered ideal for a healing fracture.

"You can take a seat," the emperor said as he entered. "I'm just here to talk."

Not this again. Techno straightened his spine and didn't move an inch. "I think I'm good where I'm at, thanks."

"Suit yourself," Philza responded, acting unbothered by his refusal. "How are you feeling?" He went to lean against the desk nearest the door. Techno pinched at the exposed skin of his arm, using it as a foothold not to get distracted.

"I'm fine," he said.

He was tired, aching, uncomfortable. None of this was different from how Techno had felt while the regiment was on the frontline. If anything, he was less likely to get caught by a rainstorm before being able to pitch his tent. So an improvement.

The emperor nodded once, eyes taking in every detail about his form. "Does the medic need to check in on your injuries again?"

If Techno was a more bitter person, one who held grudges, he could have told Philza that his men had done quite enough damage already. He'd rather let a raging bull near him than anybody who affiliated with the Antarctic Empire. At least the bull had the excuse of being a mindless animal.

But he bit down on that retort, and managed to let it pass over him so he could keep the monotone inflection in his voice. "I'm fine."

It was hard to say if the emperor even believed him.

"Good," he said. "I wanted to inform you that there'll be a delegation on its way soon. Dante is sending a representative to the peace negotiations in his place."

"Big shocker," Techno replied. Dante would rather crawl all the way back to the Skyblock capital on his hands and knees than actually do anything that is expected of a competent ruler. It's all ambition and excitement with that guy, never the practical hard work that comes with running a country.

His comment didn't get a chuckle out of the emperor, though the man's gaze seemed to turn a tad sharper. "That's a callous way to speak about your commander."

Techno didn't answer. His eye had involuntarily been drawn towards the window, for a brief blink of a moment. A delegation coming to the palace for peace negotiations meant that some of Dante's more competent generals would be arriving. People Techno had worked closely together with. He wasn't certain if they would still be trustworthy, considering Dante had branded Techno a traitor before casting him out. But it could still be worth a shot.

"While peace negotiations are underway, you shall remain in custody," Philza said after a few more seconds of silence. "And what happens after might be highly dependent on those negotiations. So with that in mind, I want to offer you a chance to sit in on these negotiations. It's only fair you get a chance to be present for how heavily they'll probably sway your trial."

That… Well, it would make a potential attempt of communicating with somebody who could still be in his corner a lot easier. A strange decision on the emperor's part, though. Unless he assumed Techno would be willing to spill important secrets during the negotiations.

If Techno could sell Dante out for his own benefit, he would do so in a heartbeat. Sadly, his specific circumstances would prevent that.

"And all I ask for in return," Philza added, "is that you sit down and answer some questions. We might be stuck with each other for a while, we might as well be civil."

A simple enough request, Techno couldn't help but think there was a catch.

Then again, his back and shoulders had started to hurt badly from standing up straight for this long, and a light pounding vertigo had erupted between his temples. Sitting down would save his dignity some trouble compared to fainting in front of the emperor.

So he sat, trying to relax and probably failing pretty miserably at it. "Not like I have anything better to do," he said.

The emperor relaxed a little too. "Do you know who Dante might send as part of his delegation?"

"Depends on what he wants to accomplish."

Philza tilted his head, curious. "Explain."

"If he's actually trying to make a deal, he'll probably send General Billiam. If not, General Moon. Neither of them is pleasant to be around, one is just a lot more competent at negotiations than the other," Techno said. "Or so I heard."

"You were never part of a delegation?" Philza asked.

"Not if I could help it," Techno said. "Besides, Dante usually sends those guys in after he'd forcefully taken control of a country. So the army was already moving on to the next place."

Always a new battle to fight, always a new border to cross. Dante kept them all on a pretty strict schedule for world domination.

"Yeah, I bet. With your reputation during the war, it's logical Dante would want you in the midst of the fray more often than not," Philza pointed out. "You were trained for this, I assume?"

"I've been trained for the military since before the war started," Techno said back.

Something about his words made the emperor frown more, and Techno didn't like it. A flap of wings outside distracted him, he held back the urge to wave his arm and shoo the crow off lest Philza saw his little befriending tactic in action.

"How old were you when the war started?" Philza asked.

"Fifteen," Techno said before he could stop himself.

And then watched Philza's expression morph into one of confusion in real time. He bit his tongue - not literally, though Techno would probably improve his mishap somewhat by choking on blood and not needing to continue the conversation. How hard could it be to fake a seizure?

"I was twenty-three when Skyblock invaded your empire," he said. "Don't worry, you didn't throw a teenager in your dungeon. I imagine that would be pretty bad for your reputation."

"But you were fifteen when Dante invaded your home country?" Philza asked.

Technoblade shifted, knowing that tiny slip-up revealed more than he wanted it to. Then again, did it actually matter? With how Dante grew his kingdom, over half of his civilians must be from countries he violently overthrew at some point or another.

"Yes," he said calmly.

"I should have figured. Technoblade isn't exactly a common given name in Skyblock." The emperor said it more to himself than to Techno, crossing his arms. The next sentence definitely was aimed at him, as was the almost-smile on Philza's lips. "A bit of a bold move to enlist from the pool of people you oppressed, though. Dante isn't scared that'll come to bite him in the ass later?"

Swallowing away a swell of anger at that statement, anger Techno thought he'd left behind him a decade ago, he curled his hands into fists. He stood from his chair, finding comfort in the fact that it put him on eye level with the emperor again.

"Is that a question you want me to answer? Because it seems more like something you'd have to ask Dante himself," he said.

Philza regarded him for a moment, then dropped his own arms and relented. "You're right. I have other matters to attend to now, but I'll be back to talk to you again."

"Another round of twenty questions? I can't wait," Techno responded sarcastically, despite knowing that he probably shouldn't.

Though there came no retaliation from the emperor. If anything, Techno thought he heard the other man chuckle as he left the room.

Phil was familiar with the pain that came from holding his breath for too long.

He was a younger man, more inexperienced, when he had taken his horse out on a hunt with a group of nobles. In hindsight, he couldn't remember the purpose of the trip. Phil didn't enjoy hunting for the sake of it. Perhaps, his aim had simply been to impress.

Well, he'd certainly left an impression, for so far as it mattered.

Crossing a river, his horse had balked, and Phil had been thrown off its back. The horse then stumbled, tripped, landing partway on top of him while Phil was submerged in the water. The pressure building in his chest, those panicked few minutes it took for the animal to get its bearings and Phil fought against the current and the stirrups both intend in keeping him under, were horrible. Overall, the moment passed too quickly to truly say he'd felt like he was about to die. But his body certainly had experienced something too close to death.

Every waking second since the war ended felt like holding his breath for too long.

Small things could chase that anxiety away. The feeling of Kristin's fingers in his hair, soothing the migraines that had plagued Phil since he was a teenager. Tommy pulling on his sleeve out in the garden, desperate to show him something. A moment of simplicity, eating food with his family, reading by the fire, checking on Brian. All of it, just small smudges against a stained window.

Phil would almost start to miss the war. At least it was a time of certainty, where he knew exactly what was expected of him and how to do it.

Using another piece of paper to waft the letter he just finished writing, Phil waited for the ink to dry enough so he could fold it without reducing the words to stains. If nothing else, Phil's penmanship had certainly improved during the war. As a king, he usually had his scribes write down and copy important addresses to the nation, but it wasn't until he was far away from home that Phil had learned to appreciate writing his own personal messages too. The crows of the empire were already trained for it, in part due to Kristin's father, who preferred messenger birds over people. He always said the birds were more trustworthy.

Sneeg was on his way back to the capital, thank the gods. Phil couldn't wait to have his good friend at his side again, always having served as one of his best advisors, too. According to Sneeg's letters, Dante's troops had completely pulled back to the other side of the border, shrinking to about a fifth of their previous size. Dante had even sent some aid to the border region himself, which left a bitter taste in Phil's mouth, but they couldn't exactly afford to deny valuable resources out of pettiness' sake. Even if it was a bit ironic. Like carrying a bucket of water to put out a house fire you'd lit yourself.

A house fire in which hundreds of people had perished.

That was what made the entire situation so hard to bear for Phil, he knew. While Skyblock had undeniably lost more lives - both civilian and soldier - to the war, the Antarctic Empire had its own fair share of burials. No matter how strategic their truce and eventual agreement would be, it would never stop feeling as if he'd made peace with the enemy. As if he'd thrown sand over all the blood they spilled and shook their hand.

Technoblade was the only one available to pay for it.

That's what a few of Phil's commanders and nobles were saying. That's what his citizens wanted too. Phil himself… Well, he couldn't say there wasn't a part of him that recognized how sweet retribution was. But there was a much bigger, louder, perhaps more rational part of him that knew it would be unjust to let a single man pay for the crimes of his entire nation.

Regardless, if they did put Technoblade on trial, as Phil currently intended to happen once the negotiations were done, he'd probably be sentenced to death anyway, fair or not. And that still didn't sit right with Phil.

There was something about all of this that didn't sit right.

He glanced at one of the books lying next to him on the desk. It was a full compendium of history texts on Skyblock. Revisionist history, obviously. Dante surely approved every fact in these books himself, so they could proclaim practically anything. Technoblade had said that he was fifteen when Dante invaded his birth country, and twenty-three when they started to engage in warfare with the Antarctic Empire four years ago. With some simple math, Phil could conclude that Techno's home was subjugated by Skyblock twelve years ago, then. That narrowed things down significantly. Over a decade in the past, Skyblock was only just starting its worrisome expansion. The only country Techno could reasonably be born in was called Hypixel, a small landlocked nation that was so far away from the Antarctic Empire, Phil had barely a clue it ever existed. He might have learned about it in his geography classes forever ago, but nothing more.

And finding any sort of accurate record of what the country was like in terms of politics, religion, or culture, before Skyblock arrived, was a pain. Phil had found a few accounts on it from Skyblock's own point of view, though again, the accuracy or truthfulness of those should be taken with a grain of salt.

What Technoblade told him struck him as odd, however. He'd been training for the military before Skyblock invaded when he was just a teenager. Perhaps, they saw the war coming and were recruiting their soldiers young. Or perhaps-

A tapping on the window pulled Phil out of the thought. He smiled at the crow that was spreading its wings, impatiently waiting for Phil to let it in. They really were clever bastards, perhaps a bit too clever at times. He folded his letter, rolled it, and tied it together with a dark blue ribbon, before walking over.

The crow bobbed its head when Phil opened the window for it, pecking at his hands a few times. Phil attempted to tie the letter to its leg, but it cawed in dismay and poked into the soft flesh of his palm with its beak.

"Ouch!" Phil flinched away. "Fuck, yeah, okay you little shit, you're getting your payment." He reached for a small leather bag lying near the windowsill. It was filled with seed, and Phil poured some out for the crow to have. After, it settled enough for him to tie the letter in place. The crows were incredibly smart, and trained to find people rather than places like the average carrier pigeon was. Phil didn't entirely know how it worked.

All he did know was that the crow could bring his message to Sneeg. And hopefully, in a few days time, the other man would be back at the castle and Phil would have another person to fall back on in this increasingly tumultuous situation.

He could see the other tower through the window. Phil had been there a handful of times in the last five days. Technoblade was relatively forthcoming in answering his questions, as long as Phil stuck to the topic of Dante's politics, his troops, and the events of the war. But he kept his answers short and didn't bother to hide that he wasn't much for small talk. Until the delegation arrived, there wasn't much more to be said.

Despite that, Phil found himself walking to the improvised prison cell yet again.

The guard at the door was sitting on a chair, head lolling forward onto his chest. His arms were crossed, the spear sitting lopsided tucked against his shoulder and elbow. Phil had so far kept one man on constant rotation. When he had just arrived back, it felt sensible. He was tense, exhausted, and knew enough of Technoblade's skills to not want to underestimate him. But after a week, he'd calmed down somewhat. And the extra precaution felt a little silly.

Phil cleared his throat. To his credit, the soldier shot up instantly. When he saw the king, his face paled a bit, and he started to stammer out an excuse.

"Thank you for your service," Phil said kindly. "I'll take it from here."

"Majesty," the soldier said, inclining his head respectfully.

"And tell whoever is supposed to be on rotation next that they won't be needed until nightfall. I will be escorting the general myself today."

The man nodded, looking surprised but not questioning the order. Phil adjusted his robes, and stepped inside. He had no weapons on him. In a one-on-one fight, he'd probably be on equal footing with the general. And Technoblade would not be stupid enough to attack him anyway.

He knocked first, then unlocked and opened the door. As expected, Technoblade was standing in the middle of the room, hands behind his back, at attention, as he usually was when anybody came by. When he saw it was Phil, his spine straightened even further.

"At ease," Phil said. It was a bit of a joke, but Technoblade did relax, just a smidgen. Instinct at hearing the words, or something else.

"More questions?" Technoblade asked, already starting to turn toward a chair. In their previous encounters, this would be where Phil asked him to sit so they could talk. It was a tried and true dance. Technoblade struck Phil as a man who valued predictability. While it was a stretch to say he was comfortable around Phil, he certainly had become less prickly.

"Actually," Phil said, "I want to check on your injuries, if you'll permit me?"

And that went against their established routine.

Phil could tell that it instantly put Technoblade on guard. He turned back, shoulders pushed down. "Why?"

"To see how they are healing?" Phil answered. He'd think it was pretty obvious.

"I'm fine," Technoblade said. He'd resorted to that line so often, Phil was starting to think it was an automatic response. A defense mechanism.

What soldier didn't have a few of those?

"I could send the medic by to have a look instead," Phil said. Technoblade scowled at that, and then waved a hand.

"You really don't need to," he said. "But if you want to look, look."

Technoblade would rather have Phil than the medic, then. He stepped closer, ignored how the general almost backed away at first but then didn't. He held out his hand, and when Technoblade didn't react quickly enough, offered a smile. "Your wrist?"

Technoblade extended his arm. The splint wasn't on it anymore, but Phil knew for a fact the medic hadn't actually been by. So that meant Technoblade had taken it off himself. Carefully, Phil pressed his thumb into the skin, feeling for any protrusions or other damage to the bone. Nothing unusual.

"It's healing well," he said. Technoblade didn't answer. He was looking at the wall, jaw clenched. "Your back?"

It was not a request for Technoblade to show him that too, but before Phil could have properly explained, the man was already taking off his shirt. Following orders had been baked into him from a young age, like he said. Trained for the military since at least fifteen, if not earlier.

Phil swallowed at the faded scars along Technoblade's chest. He recognized arrow wounds in raised tissue, light lines of white where swords had drawn blood. You wouldn't find a single soldier without some of these, but Technoblade bore them as a reminder of over a decade of warfare.

And his back was so much worse.

Phil had only ever seen a man whipped once. A horrible criminal who had committed atrocities that wouldn't bear repeating out loud. The wounds left from a whipping were very distinct, and he would recognize them anywhere, as he recognized them on Technoblade.

"No pain anymore," Technoblade said gruffly. "Bruises are all but gone. Happy now?"

"What happened?" Phil asked.

"You mean your soldiers using me as a punching bag?"

"No," Phil said, voice pinched. "That's not what I meant."

"That's the only part that's any of your business."

Snapping his mouth shut, Phil curled his hands into fists. Technoblade was putting the stained shirt back on, the same one he'd been wearing since his arrival. His hair, once braided to perfection, was pulled up into a messy bun that didn't completely hide that it was knotted and greasy. Phil wrinkled his nose. He hadn't fully realized it when he walked in, but the entire room did smell stale. Body odor, sweat, the waste bucket Technoblade used that Phil had ordered cleaned twice a day. All of it mingled together into something noxious.

"Would you like to take a bath?" he asked.

Technoblade paused where he was tugging the shirt back on. Phil pushed down a laugh at the way he looked, one arm stuck in a sleeve, the collar pulled halfway over his head.

"Every man deserves the dignity of being clean," Phil said. "Please."

He couldn't pinpoint why it felt important to him that Technoblade accept the small act of kindness, but his heart fluttered in relief when the general nodded stiffly.

"A bath would be nice, yeah."

Phil smiled and turned towards the door. "Follow me then."

Thoroughly, completely, and with every inch of his body, Techno felt exhausted beyond what words could express.

Not only in the physical sense, though he certainly was tired too. He only slept a few hours each night, kept awake by nightmares or his own vigilance or some combination of the two. Then again, that wasn't too different from back in Dante's horrid camps. Techno didn't sleep much better there either. But no, what seemed to drain him in captivity was a different beast entirely. The constant walking on eggshells, the waiting for what would happen next, the dull boredom of the confinement. Techno had taken to reading some of the books that the clergy had left behind. They were not too interesting, though he'd found a little fantasy tome tucked away between some of the non-fiction books. Techno suspected a student had been reading it in secret. Better than staring at the walls and luring crows.

Around Emperor Philza, Techno knew he'd already made mistakes.

He'd let it slip that he was a teenager when Dante took over his country. He had an inkling that Philza was resourceful and smart enough to know he was born in Hypixel. Techno had answered his questions, and probably given away more than he intended. He'd let his emotions shine through. His bitterness at what Phil's men did, his irritation at Dante as a leader, his pride at his successes during the war.

Trying to constantly figure out what the best move was, Techno couldn't keep it up. He'd already poisoned the well. What would happen, would happen. That's what he thought, anyway.

And then the emperor completely rearranged the pieces on the playing board yet again by offering him a bath.

Techno picked at the edge of the gross shirt he was wearing, waiting for a servant to finish drawing a bath for him. He was standing awkwardly in some sort of guest room, feeling entirely out of place, and suddenly wishing vividly for his cell back. Luxury was not something that he was used to, and even as a kid, he loathed it. The barracks were fine enough for Techno.

The emperor returned with a clean stack of clothes for him. The servant girl who was bustling around to heat large jugs of water on a series of fires and use them to fill a tub looked visibly relieved when she could be dismissed. Philza also waved the two guards that had been left with them to keep an eye on Techno out of the room.

"You can take your time," he told Techno. "I'll be in the bedchambers next to this one. Don't go wandering off, there are guards stationed at each end of the hallway. And I wouldn't advise climbing out the windows either, we're still quite high up." He put a bar of soap next to the clothes, and then two small, glass bottles.

"Do you think I'm a fool?" Techno asked. Philza looked over him, smiling.

"Quite the opposite."

"Then why are you scared I'll do something foolish?" At the emperor's questioning blinks, he elaborated. "You keep acting like I'll try to climb out a window, or take you hostage, or something. As if that isn't the stupidest thing I could possibly do."

Philza chuckled. "It wouldn't be a smart move, that's for sure. But I've seen the things a cornered animal will do to survive."

"Comparing me to an animal?" Techno scoffed. "Charming."

"It wasn't an insult, actually," the emperor said simply. "Come find me when you're done."

Techno half-heartedly glowered at the man's back as he closed the door behind him, though he doubted Philza noticed. When he was alone, he sighed and relaxed. The room was cleared of anything important, just like the quarters he'd been confined in. Techno didn't bother inspecting it in depth. Philza was correct that trying to escape or sneak out of the castle was nearly impossible. Techno would only have one chance to run away, so he had to wait for a moment when the odds he'd succeed were actually good.

He undressed himself of his clothes, leaving the soiled uniform in a pile on the floor. Philza hadn't indicated what he wanted done with them, but he could burn them for all Technoblade cared. Dante had officially released him from his service.

He took the soap and the bottle that looked like it might be shampoo, and stepped into the bathroom. The tub was steaming, the water a slightly milky color as if something had already been put inside it. The air was oddly fragrant too, not an unpleasant smell but floral and a little sharp. Techno paid it no mind. He'd be happy with just about anything.

Stepping in, the warmth of the water was soothing for his worn, aching muscles. Techno couldn't help the way he sank into it, allowing himself to hunch until the water reached just about to his chin, enveloping all of him. Washing hadn't exactly been a priority in the regiment either, despite Techno stressing that hygiene was essential to keep disease from spreading rapidly in an army. But the circumstances to wash in were even worse than the fact that they often lacked the time. If the soldiers cleaned themselves, it was with cold water, buckets and rags that were wiped over the most offending places of the body, and then reused when needed. Techno tried using rivers or lakes when they presented themselves, eager to wash his hair when he could get away with it.

A warm bath? He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had one of those.

Maybe it was that short stint they'd done back in the capital, six years ago, when the rebellion was brewing. Dante had kept him in the area for a few months. Techno had pulled some strings so he could stay in an inn rather than the usual barracks. Five days. The five most peaceful, most fondly remembered days of his life ever since Dante walked into it.

Techno pushed the memory aside. He needed to deal with the present.

While the emperor did tell him to take his time, Techno put some haste behind actually getting the grime off himself. If he loitered too long, Philza might get impatient, and then this bath would be the last nice thing he'll have until the gallows. He used the bar of soap to rub over his skin until it was raw, and spent time getting the dirt from under his nails. Then, he dunked his head in the water, getting his hair nice and wet. It wasn't as badly kept as Techno feared. It looked that way because it got curlier when he hadn't washed it in a while. Using the shampoo, Techno sectioned out strands and lathered them in the foamy, sweet-smelling liquid, before rinsing them out with an extra jug of water left at the side of the tub.

Tempting as it was to enjoy the warmth a bit longer when he was done, Techno got out and dried himself off. He returned to the bedroom and put on the clothes the emperor left for him. They were simple. Black breeches, a white shirt kept closed with strings, boots like the Antarctic Empire soldiers wore. Techno was fine with anything that didn't stick to his skin like a layer of filth.

His hair was harder to sort out. The room had a vanity, and Techno sat on the little crutch in front of it, feeling incredibly silly. He used his fingers to work out the worst knots, realizing Philza had neglected to leave him an actual brush or comb. Eventually, Techno just braided it, wrapped it all up together, and used the hair tie he already had before to keep it in place, more or less. Not his neatest work, but good to sleep in.

When he was done, Techno looked at himself in the mirror, and it was… fine?

He actually looked like a person, sort of, and not like a miserable war criminal locked up in a tower for a week.

Excessive pride was not something Techno often attributed to himself. He was confident, yes. He didn't like it when people underestimated him. He knew what he was good at and took dignity in doing those things well. But he didn't think he was vain or anything. Especially not when it came to his physical appearance.

Yet, looking at his own expression, he grinned. Pride aside, it was nice not to look as pathetic as he felt these days.

He stood again, and passed by the dresser where Philza had put the things he needed for his bath before. Techno placed the soap and shampoo back where he picked them up earlier, and then hesitated at the final bottle. He'd ignored it since he couldn't immediately identify what it was. Feeling like a few extra minutes would not make a difference, he picked it up and opened it, trying to tell what it was from consistency. A little thicker than the other stuff. An oil, maybe?

Techno brought it to his nose and smelled it.

The scent was a bit minty. Techno felt like he recognized it from somewhere. But he couldn't quite place it.

The door opened behind him, and he quickly screwed the top back onto the bottle, already coming up with some sort of quip to make at the emperor's expense, probably poke fun at him for the hypocrisy of dropping in without knocking when he told Techno to take his time.

But the person who had come into the room was not Emperor Philza.

It was a child, a boy of perhaps four or five years old. Techno was terrible with ages. And terrible with children, mind you, for what little experience he had with them. The boy was looking at Technoblade with big blue eyes, clearly not expecting to find him in the room. It helped some that Techno was staring back at him with an identical expression.

"Whoa, you're that blade guy!" the boy said then, pointing with a grin. "Look at your hair! It's just as long and pink as the servants said it is."

Techno didn't know which part to be reacting to, the fact that this child knew him by his army moniker or the fact that his hair had somehow become a topic of gossip around the castle.

What's worse, Techno hoped the boy might run off in fear or something. But no, he came further into the room, ignoring it when Techno took a few careful steps backwards in an attempt to widen the space between them.

"Is it true you killed all those people?"

"I-" Techno faltered. "Yes?" Probably. Depending on what people the boy was talking about. "Who are you?"

The boy blew a raspberry at him. "I'm Tommy, duh. You don't know about me?"

"Should I?"

"I'm the prince."

Ah crap.

Techno, somehow, had found himself alone in a room with the emperor's son.

"Why do they call you the blade? Where's your blade?" Tommy asked, coming a bit closer still.

"I don't-" Techno didn't know what to say, backing off until his hip hit the dresser. He had been completely thrown off. How had the prince even managed to get in there, didn't Philza say there were guards stationed in the hallways? "I don't like it when people call me that," he forced out.

"Isn't that your name?" Tommy asked.

"No."

"What's your name then?"

"…Techno."

Tommy scrunched up his nose in disapproval. "I guess that's a little less silly than blade. But not much."

A voice called out from the hallway. "Tommy?"

"Ah crud," Tommy said, "hide me."

"What?" Techno asked, genuinely a little panicked.

"We're playing hide and seek, but I kinda broke the rules by hiding in here." Tommy ran up to him properly, taking his wrist to tug on it. "Hide me, come on."

The door opened again. Techno was ready for the floor to swallow him whole at this point. He didn't know if this situation could become any worse.

But became worse it did. The woman who entered was the empress, Techno knew. Her eyes widened at the scene, before narrowing, and while she didn't bodily react, her hold on the door tightened.

"Tommy, come here," she said, voice a bit frigid.

Techno quickly raised his hands, tearing away from Tommy's touch. He couldn't have this construed as an attempt to hurt the crown prince. If that happened-

"Mom, you're supposed to count to a hundred," Tommy complained, exasperated.

"And you're supposed to hide in the other room. No leaving, remember?" She attempted a smile, Techno could see the echo of strain in it. Somehow, Tommy had latched onto his leg instead, the naivety of a child who had found a new person to play with. Simple curiosity.

"It's no fair. You should count again and Techno is going to help me hide-"

"He will do no such thing," Philza said angrily, appearing behind his wife in the doorway. "Get away from him, now."

And with that, Techno knew he was absolutely screwed.