#shapeshifter!techno

After reviewing his latest case and agreeing to take it on, Phil immediately flew to Technoblade’s lair for counsel. He hadn’t expected his son to be thrilled with the assignment given the target, but he’ll admit he was surprised when Technoblade had been adamantly against it.

He regarded Phil with an unimpressed, half lidded look. “Do you need to be put on suicide watch?”

Phil snorted lightly, but Technoblade sharply continued, “I could keep you here as long as I wanted. You know I’ve been looking for an excuse.”

Unfortunately, it was true. Being part of a dragon’s hoard had drawbacks, though for Phil’s sake Techno promised he'd make an effort to treat him as his own person. Nonetheless, Phil wasn’t blind to the fact that he regarded the whole thing as a courtesy he entertained despite it bothering him. Technoblade wanted true possession, and it was only love that prevented this.

None the wiser to Phil’s discomfort, Technoblade sat up, yawning and stretching before shifting into his other form. Through the clearing rosy smoke, he sauntered forward. He was around ten feet tall and with a hint of approval, Phil noted how healthy he looked. His muscular frame was padded out, and it was clear he was taking better care of himself since the last time they’d been together. He wore royal silks and lovely gold chains, and a priceless crown sat lopsided in his hair.  

Phil knew without asking that it was real. Dragons tended against social hierarchies and leaderships, hence why so many attacked human kingdoms. Perhaps it was wrong, but he couldn’t help but to feel pride at the idea. He always worried that by raising Technoblade he had ripped him away from his heritage, but knowing that he’d been out raiding monarchs and filling up his hoard with their treasures was all the proof Phil needed that his child was turning out okay. He was satisfied with this, though with a slight turn of unease he had to wonder if there were any bounties out on Technoblade’s head. He quickly dismissed it as parental fussiness - his son was a dragon for heavens’ sake, there was nothing to worry about. And if there was, he could only hope that Technoblade wouldn’t be too stubborn to reach out for help.

He was snapped from his thoughts as Technoblade came to a stop before him. At his son’s request, Phil had been sitting on fancy cushion, a purple velvety thing, that had been set at the base of a mound of golden knick knacks. With Techno bearing down at him and a wall of gold at his back, he couldn’t help but to feel slightly caged in.

Exasperatedly, Techno began, “Are you stupid? Nagas are notoriously territorial and possessive, damn near as bad as dragons are, and if what you said about this one is true, then - ”

“ - then it’s especially dangerous and the stakes are even higher, I know,” Phil cuts in, “but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s just a kid. He needs help Tech, you know I have to do this.”

He huffed and smoke rose from his nose in a clear sign of agitation. “He’s torturing people - I don’t think he wants the kind of help you’re looking to provide.”

Phil resisted the urge to respond that the same case had been made to him about Technoblade years prior, and instead gently responded, “Even if he doesn’t want my help, it’s what he needs. And in any case, that should be irrelevant - if I’m equipped with the tears of a selkie, I should be fine.”

Technoblade shrugged in an affected show of nonchalance. “And if I don’t give you the tears?”

Phil gave him a look. “I’m going regardless. Unless you literally plan on keeping me with the rest of your hoard, you can’t stop me from doing this.”

He visibly clenched his jaw, but other than that his expression was stoic. Phil knew him well enough to know that he was sincerely considering holding him there, but he also trusted him enough to hope that he wouldn’t.

He leaned down and easily picked his father up in bridal style. Phil felt a lurch in his stomach as he was lifted, but he remained quiet, letting Techno fuss. He let himself be carried further into the hoard until Technoblade stopped and gently set him down on a decadent throne.

He took the crown from his head and idly slid it onto his father’s. “I don’t want a pissing match with a naga, Phil.”

“I won’t put you into that position.”

“But you are. Right now. Don’t ask me to let you go.”

Phil took one of Technoblade’s huge hands gave a few comforting squeezes as best he could. “I’m sorry.”

Technoblade’s face remained neutral.

“I have Chat.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll keep in contact, just as I always have.”

Technoblade pulled his hand away, and turned, stalking off.

Phil opened his mouth to say something, maybe to apologize or continue reassurances, but before he could start Technoblade had snapped open a chest and was rifling through it. He pulled something out and stared down at it, hesitation practically coming off of him in waves.

“If you’re doing this, I want more letters.”

Phil nodded, relief overcoming him. It was as much a blessing as he’d receive. “Once a week.”

“Once a week at minimum,” Technoblade corrected.

Phil laughed softly. “At minimum,” he agreed.

Techno came forward again, still looking bothered. “And if you don’t, I’m flying out there myself.”

He heard the warning in his voice. Dragons were a vengeful breed. If anything happened to Phil, the fallout would be brutal. He’d have to handle himself carefully around the naga, not just for his own sake, but for the kid’s as well.

Technoblade pushed an intricately carved flask into Phil’s hands. He turned it over, inspecting the design. A crying human lay across a moonlit beach, gazing longingly into the ocean at their reflection - an image of a seal. The tears.

Phil gave Technoblade a grateful smile. He didn’t return it.

~

The naga was a sorry state. He was thin and tired looking. His face lacked the sweet plump of youth and his hollow cheeks only exaggerated the purple bags under his eyes.

He would lie on the ground with a blank expression, breathing and blinking and sometimes shifting into a more comfortable position, but anything more laborious than that seemed near painful. Simply moving from one place to another took a massive toll on him and by extension, hunting was a struggle he only managed about once a day. He was constantly exhausted. If sleep came at all, it never came quietly. He’d always wake up writhing and screaming. The several minutes after were no better, for even as he sat up and cried into his hands he still seemed hazy and disconnected from anything around him.

It goes without saying it all broke Phil’s heart. He couldn’t imagine this child being capable of the violence he’d been sent to deal with and he started to doubt the claims. Perhaps there a miscommunication. Or this was a bounty he’d been hired on out of a discriminatory bias against nagas - it surely wouldn’t be the first time.

Desperate to see the best in someone so pitiful, he ruminated on these thoughts.

~

When he’d first arrived, Phil had noticed the community right away. It was smaller than a town but bigger than a village and surrounded by imposing walls on all sides. There was a single, highly reinforced gate, and judging by the fine layer of dust on the pulley system, the civilization was as isolated as it was sleepy. He dismissed it as irrelevant to his case and concluded that contact might be dangerous for all parties.

On the fifth day, a man exited the walls.

Phil watched, cloaked in a perception spell and a slight turn of dread in his belly. He took to the sky. Nearly half a kilometer away, he spied the naga slithering closer, eyes blown wide but otherwise expressionless.

Indecision suspended Phil.

Not only had he not collected enough information, but the antidote was still brewing. If he exposed himself, the village would demand an explanation and he’d sour his first impression with the naga.

But he knew what he had to do. He had to head back immediately and get the man out of there, cut off any risk for deadly contact. Play it safe. Give his cover away, messily insert himself into the middle and deal with the consequences after danger was averted.

…

He stayed where he was. He watched the naga moving closer and closer until he was creeping underneath where Phil hung in the sky, until he was past that and at the clearing.

He just couldn’t bring himself to turn back. The boy wasn’t exactly the picture of strength or cruelty that Phil had expected from the case details, and the reality of the situation became blurred through the days that he’d watched him.

Nonetheless, the choice to remain an observer would haunt Phil.

He flew back and landed in a tree bordering the clearing. The man stood in the center, decked out in iron armor with a heavy looking sword to match. Phil eyed him incredulously, his gaze sliding over to where the naga stalked from the shadows. The creature he saw there was nothing like the boy he’d become accustomed to in the past few days. There was a hungry look on his face, his body tense and signs of exhaustion nowhere in his demeanor. He was a big thing. Despite his frailty, he was still the most powerful creature in the forest. This man was delusional if he thought he stood a chance in a sincere stand off.

Doubt began to creep into Phil’s mind, but he clung to his resolve, his hope that the boy would show mercy. He kept an eye trained on the naga.

In a booming voice, the man announced, “Serpent! Present yourself! I, the great and brave Jared, have come to slay you. You have terrorized the people of my village for long enough, and on behalf of the council, I am here to unshackle our home from your control. Come out and face me like man!”

Phil cringed.

The naga started to move from the trees into the clearing. It must have been a terrifying sight for human eyes - the silent figure appearing from nowhere with a grim scowl and a tail that seemed to stretch on and on without end. He crept towards Jared, a mirthless smile plastered on his face.

“You wanted to see me so badly, are you not satisfied I’m here?”

With an unexpected cockiness, Jared fired back, “I’m absolutely delighted actually - I have you exactly where I want.” Quick as a lighting, he withdrew a potion dangling from a thread around his neck and downed it. A confident, punchable grin was the last thing Phil saw of him before Jared completely faded from view. An invisibility potion.

A horrified look crossed the naga’s face, but before he could properly react, he suddenly flinched and yelped out in pain, grabbing at a spot in his tail. Panic rising in his chest, Phil caught sight of a terrible wound that had begun to gush blood.

The naga’s hands were shaking as he pushed hard into his tail, blood leaking through the gaps between his fingers.

“A needle - it’s like having a needle stabbed all the way through your arm,” he gritted out. “Hurts like a bitch and your little pot trick was… neat. But really, if that’s all the harm you can do to me, I’m afraid we’re still unmatched.”

Still invisible and somewhere near his left, Jared let out a cackle. “Are you sure about that?”

The naga’s face contorted in rage and he swept his tail across the clearing in an attempt to knock him down.

“Beast!” Jared shouted, this time from behind, and before the naga could turn to face him, Phil watched as fresh points of blood appeared in the boy’s lower back. With each one, an awful scream and flinch.

He fell forward onto his hands, and suddenly the hilt of a sword - still lodged in his body - seemed to appear from thin air. Jared must have let go in surprise, so then the potions’ effects couldn’t have reached the weapon anymore.

The naga rose up from the ground, hand coming up to pull the damned thing from his back. With a squelch and whimper, he dislodged the little thing. A look of disgust and contempt on his face, he lay it flat against his middle and index finger and bent the blade down between them using his thumb. It curved like a paperclip until it couldn’t handle the tension anymore, and snapped into pieces with a metallic crunch. He discarded what remained.

There was a murderous look in his eyes when he raised his head and scanned the clearing. “What? No laughter? No insult? Haven’t you got anything to say for yourself?”

There were a few painful beats of silence where the naga waited, stretching himself out and running a hand along his back to feel the oozing blood.

“I can smell you, you disgusting little thing. I know you’re here, I know you haven’t run off. How long will that potion last? You should’ve fled when I was dealing with your toothpick. It’s a shame really - now you won’t get the chance.”

In the blink of an eye, he’d circled the perimeter of the clearing with his tail. It was a spacious, loop of a cage that Jared couldn’t escape from.

Phil inhaled sharply. He couldn’t stop this. He couldn’t stop this, could he? Oh fuck… He’d - he’d really fucked up. Fuck. Fuck. 

The naga started to tighten the circle, coiling the perimeter smaller and smaller with contemptuous glee. “Not so brave now, are you? I can smell your fear. Like I could smell your arrogance when you came and your joy when you stabbed me.” He let out a vindictive scoff. “Fuck you.”

Phil’s heart pounded in his chest and he took flight, circling the clearing from above, still protected by the perception spell. He needed to intervene. He was stupid and short-sighted to have stayed out of the mess, and he was sorry. He was so fucking sorry. If Jared died, his blood would stain Phil’s hands.

The naga was almost lazy as he tightened his coils. He was enjoying it, enjoying the terror. Phil wanted to scream at himself for ever thinking that this - this fucking monster was anything other than a beast.

Suddenly there was a faint popping sound and Jared stood, dumbstruck and terrified in the center of the clearing and as far from the coils as he could manage. The potion had worn off.

The naga smiled wickedly down at him. “Found you.”

The end of his tail shot forward and he wrapped the man up, squeezing just enough to elicit pained noises but not enough to kill him. “You’ve been a real pain in my ass today. Normally I kill my prey before I eat, but for you? Hah… I think I’ve earned an exception.”

Without so much as a blink, he tossed the screaming man into his mouth. He shut it with a click and swallowed, faint cries still emanating from inside him.

Fuck. Fuck.

Phil turned away and flew. He raced to his cave and when he finally got there, he crash landed through the entrance, landing in a spilled heap on the floor.

He didn’t save Jared. He didn’t save Jared and he could’ve. He should’ve.

The naga was a sadist. Why was he surprised? He’d been warned over and over again - just because he was young didn’t mean much at all and he was so stupid for thinking -

Oh gosh, Jared -

Technoblade had warned him and he still didn’t listen, for fuck’s sake, what was he even doing there?

His mind flashed back to when he’d seen the naga approaching and had weighed the pros and cons of flying back to Jared or leaving the two to work it out on their own. He’d been riding on what - hope? Hope that stood in defiance of everything he’d been told. Right, right - that was fucking bullshit. Jared’s death was his fault.

He’d been hired to slay the serpent. Not rehabilitate him or save him, but slay him. It should have been him fighting the serpent, not that poor idiot. How many people had warned him? Why had he ignored the warnings?

He passed out on the floor.

~

Phil had been sitting on the ground and staring at a wall for the better part of an hour, wrestling with regret and horror when something smacked him in the face. He yelped and flinched backward, losing his balance and falling in a rather undignified manner.

There was a squawk of laughter and Phil sighed, feeling his heart start to slow and his jumpy fear be replaced by irritation. He eyed one of Chat from the floor, and suppressing the urge to yell, he gave the bird a meaningful look. It cooed apologetically.

He sighed, sitting up and rubbing a spot on his back that was bound to start bruising soon. “It’s fine… How’s Tech doing?”

The bird ruffled its feathers and loudly cawed.

Phil gave it a look of sympathy. “I guess I figured.”

He held a hand out and the bird obediently flew to his fingers. He carried it to his makeshift desk and rifled around until he found a portion of dried meat and seed. Chat gratefully dug in, and he thumbed its head affectionately before retrieving the small envelope it had used as a projectile weapon.  

He sat at his desk, his companion’s soft eating the only background noise, and pushed a knife through the top of the envelope.

Phil, I hope you’re well. I gave thought to you and your mission and I wanted to you to know About the naga, I 1. more letters 2. message reg. naga Thank you for your last letter. I’m glad you I regret I was jealous I think that Phil, Nagas aren't pleasantries? no that's stupid Phil, Bring him home. You were right that he’s a kid and deserves a second chance. I’m glad we’re allies. It made my life better, and he deserves this as much as I Perhaps I was too quick in my judgment. He and I have a lot in common and it wouldn’t be right if Send me word back. Quickly. And often. Take care of yourself. - Technoblade

He read the page a few times, small curls of amusement and affection in his chest despite the circumstance.

“Chat?”

The bird cawed in response, if not a little absentmindedly as it was still digging into its meal.

“You grabbed the draft.”

Chat momentarily stopped eating, hopping over and cocking its head down at the letter. It made soft purring noises and Phil chuckled in agreement.

“He’s kind of… silly, sometimes.” He stroked the bird’s head, sinking into thought and occasionally rereading a few lines of Tech’s letter.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

He closed his eyes. He saw Jared.

“He and I have a lot in common…”

Did they? Technoblade would have never -

…

But he had. Many times.

Guiltily, Phil thought back to when he’d first broached the subject to Technoblade. How he’d thought to himself that the two really were quite similar despite his son’s protests.

But that was just on paper, a part of him insisted. It was easy to say that the two were similar when he didn’t have any real reference for the naga.

And now he did! And he could say that he was wrong.

...

No…

It still didn’t sit right with him.

He grunted, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.