whispers would deafen me now p. i

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.ıllı.llııll.ıllı.llııllı.

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 - 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐬

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#teamfauna

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This isn’t the happy ending you were hoping for. I know it isn’t. But, at the very least, it is the story you set out to find.

Let me set the stage for you real quick…

It’s quiet, eerily so, in the final control room. It’s November 16th, this is a story we all expect, one we follow reverently as if it is our own history. But this isn’t the story we know, not by a long shot; you see, this story is missing one key component in that control room, one Philza Minecraft. And without him, the story cannot play out as we expected it to.

It’s quiet in the final control room, something that Technoblade notices immediately upon his arrival. He had been expecting many things, screaming maybe, or at least the echo of it left as screams died off. What he hadn’t been expecting was the extreme, chest-tightening level of silence that filled the room.

There is one, barely noticeable sound, the sound of Wilbur’s heavy breathing as he stands next to a wooden button mounted precariously onto the wall. Techno doesn’t even want to imagine what that button is connected to-- what it is there for.

So Techno’s eyes latch onto the one thing in the room that makes sense, the one thing he had known would be there before he arrived. Standing tall, with his brown trench coat hanging off him as it had for the majority of the revolution, was Wilbur Soot.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” Wilbur said, his voice straining to remain imive, to hide his thoughts and emotions that he once wore so bright on his sleeve.

“Neither are you,” Techno responds, his voice giving away far more then Wilbur’s own had-- as it was, he had no reason to hide how he felt in this situation.

“Yet,” Wilbur started, “you are not surprised to find me here.” It is not a question, not even a request for confirmation. It is a statement, as clear as the sun in the sky.

“I am not,” Techno confirms, his eyes drifting to the button. He has a funny feeling he knows exactly what that button will do now.

Boom one of the voices says.

Traitor another one continues.

Haha E chimes in a third.

“You don’t have to do this, Wilbur,” Techno urges, “this isn’t you.” Wilbur just laughs.

“You don’t know me,” he proclaims, “you never have.” A shadow seems to over his eyes at that moment.

“And besides,” Wilbur continues, “isn’t this exactly what you wanted? L’manberg destroyed, the fall of government, anarchy restored?” Techno’s eyes narrow.

He thinks of Tommy, fighting an unwinnable war because he believes he can overcome anything. He’s stubborn, so much like his father.

He thinks of Tubbo, still following loyally by Tommy’s side, even in a losing battle such as this. Of course, they’d have no reason to think it was a losing battle. They didn’t know what was about to happen. None of them did. But they would.

He doesn’t have to think of Wilbur; instead he looks at him, up and down and side to side. WIlbur, a boy he watched grow up, from the clueless child that just wanted his home back, into this man that stood before him now. A man he barely recognized anymore.

“I still have things to fight for here, Wilbur.” Techno’s voice is stern and unwavering. “Don’t you?” the question hangs in the open air, no response is received. None was expected.

“You know,” Wilbur starts, “there was a saying, by a traitor, once part of l’manberg,” as Wilbur slowly turns towards the button he speaks again, this time much lower.

“It was never meant to be.” Wilbur hesitates, for barely a second, and if Techno wasn’t so used to having to be constantly aware of his surroundings, a skill he picked up from decades of fighting, he likely would have missed it. And then the second is gone, and Wilbur firmly presses in on the wooden button on the wall.

Techno lunges forward, but he knows he will be too late to prevent the outcome of the button, to save Tommy, and Tubbo, and Wilbur, as much as he didn’t want to be saved.

Explosions rock the ground, the walls of the control room begin to crack and crumble around them. And as Techno turns his gaze once again back to Wilbur’s face he realizes that this had been the plan all along.

It was never about destroying tyranny, or government, heck it wasn’t even about getting revenge on Schlatt. No, this was and always had been about Wilbur, and as he had put it, his unfinished symphony. But it wasn’t over yet.

As the walls fell around them, and the ground started to crack and split, Techno could tell Wilbur was gone. The man who he had seen raised from a distance, always happy and calm was long gone, replaced now by a monster that only craved the destruction of something he had once held very dear.

Wilbur finally turned away from the button, turning to face Techno once again, an insane grin on his face.

“It’s done,” he said after a few moments' pause. “L’manberg, my great unfinished symphony, forever unfinished. It’s done.” And then he addresses Techno.

“I want you to kill me,” he says very bluntly. Techno takes a moment to process this.

“Heh!?”

There remains a few moments of silence after that, before Techno shakes his head, his braided hair pounding against his back with the movement.

“Absolutely not,” He says, moving to turn away, to leave. Wilbur grabs his wrist.

“It’s me, or it’s Tommy. We both know you won’t let it be Tommy.” Well there goes the walking away plan. Part of Techno wants to believe that Wilbur wouldn’t hurt his brother, that Wilbur still cares for him. The rest of Techno thinks back to the Pit, to Wilburs indifference. Techno makes his choice.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Techno bargains, almost begging Wilbur to reconsider, to think, to wake up out of this insanity and choose life. To choose his family. Wilbur shakes his head.

“It does,” he states. “It’s over, my stories been told. I will not be seen as a hero if I leave here today. So what will it be?” Wilbur’s smile is cocky, prematurely victorious. He’s won.

Do it the voices shout in his head.

Blood for the blood god!

For the blood god.

Techno looks back towards the destruction behind them, he can faintly see Tommy’s blond head and signature red and white shirt running towards them. Techno pulls his sword from his belt, the netherite shining and the enchantments enabling almost a glowing effect on the blade. His eyes beg Wilbur to say something, anything to tell him things don’t need to end like this, but he doesn’t. Instead, at the sight of the blade, his grin widens.

“Do it,” he urges, taking a step towards Techno. His arms feel like led as he leans forward, swiftly plunging the blade through Wilbur’s midsection. He can hear Tommys scream in the distance, the mutterings of the remains of l’Manberg as they gather to see what he’s done.

As he removes the blade, Wilbur falls to the ground, choking and spitting out blood, and wheezing for breath. Techno kneels beside him, gripping his hand in the opposite hand that holds the sword. Wilbur’s grin never fades.

“Th-ank y-you,” the traitor manages to choke out as the light leaves his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Techno responds, even though he knows it’ll never be heard. Wilbur is gone.

He lets go of his hand, moves to stand up off the cracked and broken floor of the control room, before hesitating. Instead, he reaches out with the hand that once held Wilbur’s own and closes his eyes.

He stands, sliding his sword back into its sheath. It's over.

Wilbur Soot is dead.

          𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭

                                                 𝒆𝒚𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎

Techno doesn’t wait around for the revolution to quiet, he doesn’t stay to check on the carnage, or even to explain to Tommy what he’d just witnessed happen.

Instead he makes a hasty retreat, quickly fleeing the final control room and returning to his base, to his potatoes, his horses. He can’t stay this close to l’Manberg though. Not now, after what he’s done.

Blood for the blood god the voices speak again.

Philza won’t know.

He will never know what happened to his son.

It was probably meant to be reassuring to Technoblade, that Philza would never know what had come to , that he would never know it was Techno that took Wilbur’s life from him. But instead, the thought of Philza waiting up, wondering if his son was happy, eating and getting enough sleep, the thought that Philza wouldn’t know Wilbur was dead, wouldn’t know to mourn, those thoughts left Technoblade feeling as if his spine was made of ice. It sent shivers through his body and brought tremors to his hands.

Beyond that, the idea of Philza finding out through somebody else, through rumours past along from village to village, that scared him even more. The possibility of the man setting out, going to the local village for bread, and hearing the twisted rumours of his sons death, slain by the merciless Technoblade in cold blood, Techno couldn’t bear the thought of that being how Philza found out.

So he sighed, a heavy, resigned sigh, and stood from where he had taken a seat on a stack of hay in the horse pen.

“Well,” he said to Carl, “I guess we’re going on an adventure. I hope you like the snow.” The neigh Carl makes could almost be taken as an objection.

He was quick to prepare for the journey, emptying his inventory of potions and weapons and fireworks and storing his valuables in his ender chest-- including wither skulls for withers he had never managed to summon. He’d have to save those for next time.

He grabbed a few stacks of potatoes, wiped the blood from his sword and dug out an old, dirty com from his ender chest. It was glowing a faint purple colour, enchanted with some pointless enchant,and linked to a lodestone through magic older then even Techno was, and along the side of the com, the name ‘Philza’ was carved into the metal.

Techno ran a long finger along the side of the com, feeling the engraved name with a faint, nostalgic sort of smile. If only this trip was for better reasons.

Haha simpnoblade one of the voices chimed in.

Its dadza time started another.

Techno let out an annoyed huff, muttering a “shut up” to nobody as he mounted the horse and set out away from Pogtopia, away from l’manberg, away from it all.

Techno doesn’t look back as the horse begins to run, not even once.

     𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

                                         𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅

The com directs him through mountains and forests and a few swamps. He crosses the desert and the ocean and even a jungle biome before the com finally begins to move more rapidly, a sure sign that he is getting close.

Eventually the com leads him into a snow biome, one that looks somewhat familiar to Techno, where the ground is cold and the sun barely shines through the dark clouds. He hasn’t been in this area in a decade at least. Technoblade shivers, the overworld much colder then the nether from which he came, especially in these parts. He wonders vaguely if that is why Phil chose to settle down here. He pulls his cloak to wrap around him tighter and urges Carl to go faster.

Eventually, when the sun has long since gone down and the temperature has gotten significantly colder, Techno sees a cabin upon the horizon, made out of cobblestone and wood and logs. Smoke bellows from the chimney and zombies wander outside. He’s arrived. Technoblade wishes he still had more to travel, surely the cold of the snowy tundra would be preferable to the conversation that awaited him inside.

Dismounting the horse, Techno guides it to a nearby fence post and ties it on, with a promise that the solution is only temporary, he swallows his nerves and approaches the door, climbing the stone stairs.

He freezes, staring in for a few moments before deciding to knock. He wonders briefly what Phil’s initial reaction will be-- delighted to see him or angry that he left all those years ago. Maybe both? Or something far worse? Selfishly he hopes for the former, even though he doesn’t deserve it, especially not now.

His stomach churns at the thought, but he steels himself and raises his hand, knocking once on the door, and then twice.

The door swings open before he can manage to knock the third time, and Techno is greeted with the face of a man he hasn’t seen in many years-- hasn’t seen properly since he ran off centuries ago.

Philza stares at him, his mind clearly in shock. With a deep breath Techno opens his mouth to speak. And closes it again. Opens it again, and his voice gets caught in his throat. His eyes drift to the single emerald earring hanging from Philza’s left ear, and thinks of the matching one in his own. He still wears it. Technoblade wonders if he still will when this conversation is done.

Stunnedza the voices chime in, perfectly timed as always.

“We need to talk Phil,” he finally manages to say, trying so hard not to choke them out, trying to hide his fear, of what hes unsure. Phils reaction maybe? Or that he will reject even the prospect of a conversation? Techno’s not really sure, but he does know that it isn’t working. Even after all this time, Phil knows him too well, he always has. He swallows his nerves, rather hard, and forces the words out.

“Wilbur’s dead.”

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝