orphans - a mcyt fic

the orphanage

song that goes with this chapter: The Mercy of the Wind by Million Eyes

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Technoblade could hardly remember life outside of the orphanage. His five years with his parents had been whittled down to glimpses of smiles and scarlet red eyes, or the tiniest memories, each held so incredibly dear to him.

Dream could remember nothing other than the orphanage. Dropped into the orphanage by parents who never wanted him, he possessed memories only of the rough oak pillars that gave splinters to curious children and the perpetually slightly dusty windows of the orphanage.

"Up! Hold it higher! Higher!" Technoblade yelled at Dream, poking his stick into his ribs as he signalled for Dream to hold his own stick higher.

"Oh my god, Techno! Stop!" Dream whined, his stance weakening as he adjusted his arm, which held a smooth oak stick straight out from his hand, a slight tremor in his fingers, the whites of his knuckles prominent in the dappled light of the clearing.

"Seriously, we've been through this again and again! Just hold the stick properly and you can try disarming me!" Technoblade rolled his eyes, pulling away from Dream and assuming a fighting stance a distance away from him.

The boys leapt at each other, parrying moves and attempting to poke each other with their stick. The leaves crinkled and crunched under their brown, orphanage-issued boots, when finally, Dream misstepped and stumbled, allowing Technoblade to jab him in his ribs, declaring him the victor.

"YES! TO DEFEAT ME, TRAIN FOR ANOTHER HUNDRED YEARS!" He crowed, but paused to pull Dream back up.

"It's not fair that you have enhancements, Techno." Dream sulked, grabbing his callused hand nonetheless.

"Ha. L." Technoblade smirked, but still pulled Dream up, ensuring that he was steady on his feet.

Technoblade ran a hand through his hair, freeing the pink hair from the loose ponytail that he had left it in. The strands curled around his fingers fleetingly, before they fluttered back down his back, cascading in a way that could only be described as a waterfall. Yet another odd quirk of the Gladiolus.

They were fourteen this year, and just two more years before they were sent to be trained as knights.

The boys in the orphanage would often be sent off to be trained as soldiers, or if particularly smart or enhanced, would be sent off to apprenticeships that would give them head-starts in their lives. Heaven knew that they were told about the story of Jacob Thorne, a boy from this very orphanage, who left ten years ago and entered an apprenticeship to hone his fire skills and became a master in his art, everyday. They could practically recite his story word for word.

For the girls, however, the same went for them. The smart ones would be sent off to apprenticeships while the strong or enhanced to the military ranks. They needed soldiers, healers, and mages, and the orphanages provided. Some people argued that the orphanages were exploiting children, but their cries were often swept under the rug.

Technoblade was a rarity; a Gladiolus in an orphanage. Gladiolus were known for their powers, pink hair and scarlet eyes, and having both parents wiped out was practically unheard of.

He knew only too well why he was here.

It was one of the few memories that remained clear as the day that it had happened.

Technoblade shook his head, clearing it from the dark memories that plagued his dreams. He had nightmares almost every night, and he hated them. (There was a reason why Technoblade chose the bed next to Dream's. They never spoke about it.)