No Regrets
In which you know the festival is a trap and will do anything to aid your friend... and you won't regret it
...~<<<()>>>~...
The soft creak of the door opening interrupted Technoblade's focused preparation. As he adjusted the straps of his netherite armor, (Y/N) limped in, leaning her crutches against the doorframe.
"I thought I told you to stay put," Technoblade remarked, a hint of concern in his voice.
(Y/N) smirked, crossing her arms. "I'm not one to follow orders blindly. Plus, I figured you could use an extra pair of hands."
Technoblade couldn't argue with that logic as (Y/N) approached, her determination evident despite the pain in her injured leg. She carefully assisted Techno in tightening the straps, her touch both gentle and sure.
"Thanks," Technoblade acknowledged, appreciating the silent support.
As Techno settled into a chair, (Y/N) saw an opportunity. "Now, how about we make you look even more fearsome?" She gestured to his unruly hair.
Technoblade raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"
(Y/N) grinned, grabbing a comb. "Ever considered a braid? It adds an extra touch of intimidation. Trust me."
Techno chuckled, surrendering to the idea. "Fine, but no funny business."
As (Y/N) combed through his hair, the sensation was surprisingly pleasant. The rhythmic movements of her hands seemed to soothe the lingering tension within Technoblade. Unbeknownst to her, he secretly enjoyed the feeling, finding an unexpected comfort in her touch.
She deftly started braiding his hair, each plait a testament to her skill. Once finished, (Y/N) placed a simple but imposing crown atop Techno's head.
"There you go, the Blood God's ready for battle," she teased, stepping back to admire her work.
Technoblade smirked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You've got a talent for this."
With the final adjustments made, they locked eyes for a brief moment. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a connection forged in the midst of chaos. As they prepared to face the festival, the camaraderie between Technoblade and (Y/N) served as a silent strength, a bond that transcended words in the face of looming challenges.
"Techno, please reconsider going to that festival," she urged, her voice filled with genuine worry.
Technoblade glanced at her, his expression unwavering. "It's just a festival. What harm could come from attending?"
(Y/N) sighed, searching for the right words. "Schlatt's unpredictable. We don't know what he's planning. Going there might put you in unnecessary danger."
Techno tilted his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You worry too much. I can handle myself. Technoblade never dies."
She shook her head, determined. "It's not just about handling yourself.
I can't bear the thought of something happening and I'm stuck in here."
He softened, recognizing the sincerity in her eyes. "I appreciate your concern, but sometimes I need to face these situations head-on. It's who I am."
(Y/N) sighed again, frustrated but understanding. "Just promise me you'll be careful. We can't afford to lose you, I can't afford to lose you."
"Awwww."
"Techno stop making her sad."
Technoblade nodded, his eyes meeting hers. "I promise to watch my back. And if things get too sketchy, I'll make a swift exit. Alright?"
She reluctantly nodded in agreement, knowing that convincing Techno to change his course was nearly impossible. As he left for the festival, (Y/N) couldn't shake the unease settling in her chest, hoping that her fears would prove unfounded and Techno would return unscathed.
Technoblade, sensing (Y/N)'s unease, decided to take a moment before leaving. He reached up, his gloved hand slowly lifting his mask, revealing his face. (Y/N) met his eyes, finding comfort in the vulnerability he shared with her.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, a silent reassurance, and then pulled her into a hug. The warmth of the embrace spoke volumes, offering a moment of solace in the face of uncertainty. Techno's voice, softer than usual, reached her ears.
"I'll be fine, (Y/N). You're strong, and I'll make sure to come back in one piece. Trust me."
(Y/N) nodded, holding onto the brief moment of reassurance. "Just promise you'll be cautious, okay?."
Technoblade pulled back, his eyes meeting hers with a serious yet affectionate gaze. "I promise," he affirmed, giving her a final nod before readjusting his mask and heading toward the festival.
As Techno left, (Y/N) couldn't help but watch him go with a mix of concern and hope, wishing for his safe return. The weight of the unknown lingered, but she held onto the trust they shared, hoping that his promise would guide him safely through whatever awaited at the festival.
...~<<<()>>>~...
The creak of the door announced Tommy's entrance, accompanied by Wilbur's shadow at his side. Their faces bore the expressions of schemers up to no good, and as they stepped into (Y/N)'s room, a conspiratorial air enveloped the space.
Tommy's voice cut through the room with an enthusiasm that was hard to ignore, "Hey, (Y/N), we're snagging a couple of your invisibility potions for a little Manburg reconnaissance. Hope you don't mind!"
Wilbur, playing the role of the more measured accomplice, nodded in agreement. "(Y/N), just wanted to give you a heads-up. We'll bring them back, promise... well... most of them."
Caught in a moment of revelation, (Y/N) found herself in a daze, still absorbing the sight of Technoblade's unmasked face and the lingering warmth of his kiss on her forehead. The world outside seemed distant as Tommy and Wilbur continued their exchange.
Tommy, noticing her preoccupation, raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Everything alright, (Y/N)?"
Wilbur added with a sense of concern, "You seem a bit out of it."
Forcing herself back to the present, (Y/N) conjured a faint smile. "Oh, uh, yeah. Take whatever you need."
The duo exchanged a puzzled glance, recognizing that her attention was somewhere else entirely.
Tommy, ever the intuitive one, voiced his observation, "You sure? You seem kinda off."
It took a moment, but (Y/N) finally snapped back to reality. "No, no, just got lost in thought. Go ahead, and be careful out there."
As Tommy and Wilbur exited, leaving her alone with her thoughts, (Y/N) wrestled with the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the unexpected encounter with Technoblade. The day lay ahead, filled with uncertainty, but she was determined to navigate it – her mind still lingering on the unmasked face etched in her memory.
As (Y/N) sifted through her chest for her enchanted bow and arrows, a wince escaped her lips as the pain in her broken leg flared up. The struggle to find the right gear was met with the frustrating reality that she couldn't assist Technoblade effectively while still in the process of healing. The bones in her leg hadn't fully set, and every movement served as a reminder of her physical limitations.
Sighing in defeat, (Y/N) resigned herself to the fact that she might not be at her best for this particular mission. The internal conflict between her desire to support Technoblade and the knowledge that her body wasn't ready waged within her. Yet, determination burned beneath the surface, urging her to press on despite the lingering pain.
She grasped a potion of healing, the only way she'd be able to help Technoblade was if she was able to stand on her own two feet.
(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her fingers lingering over the healing potion. The internal struggle waged on as she weighed the consequences of drinking it before her broken leg had fully set. The knowledge of potential complications gnawed at her, but the urgency of the situation pushed her to take the risk.
With a deep breath, she drank the potion, expecting the familiar fiery tingle that usually accompanied its healing magic. Instead, an intense, searing pain surged through her leg, causing her to collapse to the ground. The agony was more than she anticipated, and for a moment, doubt crept in.
When she managed to stand again, a dull ache remained, and a subtle limp marred her stride. The bones hadn't set perfectly, but (Y/N) grit her teeth against the discomfort. The sacrifice was made with a sense of resolve, knowing that the consequences were a small price to pay for the ability to assist Technoblade.
Limping towards the exit, (Y/N) harbored no regrets. The foreboding feeling that something ominous loomed over the festival intensified, and she steeled herself for whatever challenges lay ahead. Each step echoed a commitment to face the unknown, driven by the unwavering determination to stand by Technoblade's side, even if it meant navigating the shadows of pain and uncertainty.
...~<<<()>>>~...
Amidst the vibrant festivities, Technoblade strolled through the colorful stalls, the lively sounds of laughter and music surrounding him. The scent of various foods wafted through the air, and the kaleidoscope of colors from the stalls' decorations created a dazzling spectacle. Despite the jovial atmosphere, Technoblade found it challenging to fully immerse himself in the celebration.
His thoughts, usually focused on strategies and battles, were now consumed by (Y/N). Each step he took echoed with the silent contemplation of leaving her alone back in Pogtopia. The voices in his head, usually a cacophony of conflicting opinions, seemed to share a common thread of concern.
"Left her alone with those idiots ," one voice murmured, its tone laced with genuine worry.
"Those fools better not have caused her any trouble," another voice chimed in, reflecting a hint of protectiveness that resonated with Technoblade's own sentiments.
"Remember what happened the last time she left her on her own."
"For a Master survivalist she doesn't have much concern for self preservation."
As he passed the festival stalls, Technoblade's gaze absentmindedly wandered over the array of goods on display. The merchants enthusiastically touted their wares, but their voices became mere background noise to the internal discourse in his mind.
The festival, meant for joy and camaraderie, served as a stark contrast to the responsibility he felt for (Y/N). The internal dialogue mirrored the conflict within Technoblade—a mix of worry, a sense of responsibility, and an unspoken desire to ensure (Y/N)'s safety.
"She has been clumsy on those crutches."
"What if she trips and we're not around to help her."
Lost in his thoughts, he found himself lingering at a stall selling trinkets. The vibrant display of handmade items, each crafted with care, served as a stark reminder of the makeshift family he had found in Pogtopia. The bonds he formed with the people, especially (Y/N), weighed heavily on his mind, creating a subtle undercurrent of tension beneath the festive facade.
The vibrant festival lights danced across the stalls, casting Technoblade in a hazy glow as he navigated through the crowd. Despite the lively ambiance, his thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the absence of (Y/N). The laughter and chatter around him faded into the background, replaced by the echoes of concern for the one he had left behind.
Taking a seat as Tubbo's voice resonated through the speakers, calling everyone to gather for the impending speeches, Technoblade's eyes scanned the assembly. Familiar faces blurred in a sea of revelry, and the festive atmosphere seemed incongruent with the turmoil churning within him.
As he settled into the chair, Quackity, the embodiment of confidence and bravado, approached with a swagger that could rival the grandeur of the festival itself. A sly grin etched across Quackity's face as he began to taunt and tease, insinuating the helplessness of Techno in the absence of his steadfast companion.
"Hey, Techno! Where's your little sidekick, huh? Couldn't keep her safe, I guess," Quackity jeered, his words a deliberate jab aimed at Technoblade's vulnerabilities.
Techno's jaw clenched, but he held his composure, his response measured but carrying an unmistakable edge.
Quackity, relishing in the moment, persisted, emphasizing Technoblade's perceived vulnerability without (Y/N).
"You know, despite that fancy armor, you're just a pig with a stick. And now, with your girl gone, you're all alone, were you able to find her drowned body, I hope you were able to give her a proper send off," Quackity needled, the festive backdrop providing a stark contrast to the subtle power play unfolding.
Technoblade, refusing to let the taunts penetrate his stoic exterior.
Quackity, asserting the invincibility of Manburg's security, each word calculated to amplify the supposed advantage they held over Technoblade.
"You see, Techno, we're prepared for anything. Security here is top-notch. You can't touch us," Quackity declared, the implications lingering in the air as the festival's celebratory atmosphere hung in delicate balance.
Quackity, having delivered his taunts to Technoblade, confidently strolled onto the stage. He took a seat next to Schlatt, a smirk playing on his lips, reveling in the perceived superiority of Manburg's position. Meanwhile, Tubbo stood at the podium, ready to address the gathered crowd.
As Tubbo began his speech, he employed an analogy, likening Pogtopia to a lettuce. His words painted a picture of resilience, suggesting that despite the hardships, the core goodness of their cause would prevail. The crowd listened attentively, absorbing the metaphorical representation of their collective struggle.
"In this country, we are like lettuce," Tubbo proclaimed, gesturing animatedly to emphasize his point. "Sometimes, we need to shed the outer layers—the bad influences and the negativity—so that the true goodness within can shine through."
The metaphor resonated with the audience, the symbolism of shedding the negative elements aligning with the essence of their revolution. Tubbo's words carried a sense of hope, painting a picture of transformation and renewal for Pogtopia.
Quackity observed with a smug satisfaction, Schlatt nodding approvingly beside him. The festival atmosphere buzzed with a mix of anticipation and ideological fervor, each word from Tubbo contributing to the narrative they sought to convey to the people of Manburg.
Schlatt, in his typical charismatic fashion, took the microphone with a grin. "Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you all for being here today. Manburg has faced its share of challenges, but with your support, we've managed to overcome them."
The crowd erupted in applause, and Schlatt soaked in the moment. Tubbo, still unaware of the impending betrayal, joined in the applause from within the cage. Schlatt continued, "Now, let me introduce a man who has helped me maintain order and justice – Tubbo. He's been an essential part of our efforts to build a stronger and better Manburg."
As Tubbo beamed at the acknowledgment, Schlatt's expression twisted into a sinister smile. The crowd fell silent, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Schlatt pressed the button, and the cage began to descend.
"Unfortunately," Schlatt continued, "it seems there's been a little misunderstanding. Tubbo, it appears you've been collaborating with the enemy." He paused for dramatic effect, allowing the revelation to sink in.
The crowd gasped, eyes shifting between Tubbo and Schlatt. Tubbo, trapped and confused, looked to the crowd for understanding. Schlatt, reveling in the tension, then extended an invitation to Technoblade. "Techno could you
Please come up here."
As Schlatt extended the invitation to Technoblade, a surge of anxiety coursed through him. The voices in his head erupted into a chaotic symphony, engaging in a heated argument about what course of action to take. The conflicting whispers overlapped, creating a disorienting cacophony in his mind.
One voice, a stern and cautionary tone, warned, "Stay back, this is a trap. Schlatt will use this against you." Another voice, more forceful and aggressive, countered, "Show them your strength! You can't let them think they can control you."
Technoblade, caught in the crossfire of his own thoughts, felt the weight of indecision. The voices urging caution drowned out by the clamor of those demanding a bold approach. Against his better judgment, he began to make his way toward the stage.
Every step felt like a descent into the unknown. The crowd's attention shifted from Tubbo's predicament to the approaching figure of Technoblade. Schlatt wore a smug grin, anticipating the unfolding drama.
As Techno reached the base of the stage, the voices in his head continued their fervent debate. The conflicting directives echoed, leaving him in a state of internal turmoil. Schlatt, observing the spectacle, awaited Techno's next move with an unsettling satisfaction.