To Know Your Voice [Dreamnoblade]

Chapter 1

notes: requested by zerkawmi on tumblr!! if you want to hear me ramble about my aus, wips, or hcs, visit aetheras on tumblr! my requests are open so you can also request a story of your own :)

in cooler news, my friends and I have started an official dreamnoblade fan week!! if you want more information, go to dnbweek on tumblr!! prompts have been released!

also I will be using latin in this fic to substitute as piglin because I am NOT creating an entirely new language

Technoblade was a right bastard.

At least, he was in Dream's opinion, which happened to always be correct.

The prince was arrogant, which was already more than enough for Dream to dislike him, but he could also back up that arrogance, which was even worse.

Dream hated losing, and the only person he ever seemed to lose to was Technoblade.

And so what, maybe Dream was a sore loser, but Techno was also just a dick. Constantly making snide comments, only to Dream of course, and always rubbing his skills in Dream's face.

All in all, asshole behavior.

What really got on his nerves, though, was when Technoblade spoke to him in that fancy little language of his.

Piglin, he'd heard his mother refer to it as.

Dream knew the story of Technoblade's life. Half piglin, found abandoned in the Nether by the King, who then raised him as his own son. Very wholesome.

What this meant, though, was that Techno had access to this own little secret language that no one else knew. A secret language that he constantly used to insult Dream during sparring.

And its not like his Mom, or General Puffy, could scold Techno for that mid-session, she didn't even know what he was saying.

Well, Dream didn't either, but he was sure it wasn't anything nice. Techno always had that stupid little smirk on his face when he said anything.

Speaking of the boy, "Dream!" Techno shouted his name, raising a hand in greeting.

"Your highness," Dream said back, barely managing to keep the scowl off his face.

"You ready to lose again, carissime?"

"I'll beat you today, Techno. I swear to the gods."

Techno nudged Dream's shoulder with his own, "Sure. And pigs fly."

He walked away, Dream struggling to catch up on his shorter legs. Curse Technoblade for having his growth spurt before Dream could have his. Honestly, being fifteen and five seven was embarrassing. Especially as the son of one of the most feared generals in the land.

"I'll kick your hybrid ass so high into the sky I'll make you fly," he growled, half jogging to keep pace, "And don't call me "Sure thing, carissime."

//

Unfortunately, Dream didn't win a single round that day, though he got close.

In years prior, Dream at least got to beat some of the other students in spars to fuel his bruised ego, but lately, it was just him in Techno in lessons. Their skill had advanced too far above the others and they needed special attention, at least according to his mother, their instructor.

Dream didn't mind as much as he should have. Despite how annoying the Prince was, he was surprisingly fun to fight.

Alas, Techno was eventually called away, as he always was, and he was left with his mother.