Work Text:
Setup (You can skip if you want):
- Techno is loosely Anakin, Phil is Obi-Wan, Schlatt is Palps
- Techno and Phil are being bros in the Jedi Order, fight’n the Civil War, most powerful Jedi, wreak’n shop
- Techno, like Anakin, was great at SOME Jedi things (powerful in the Force, good at fighting, flying, awesome warrior) but struggled to fit in with the societal order. Meanwhile, Phil is the one pulling a Secret Marriage™ with Senator Kristen
- Phil was like Obi-Wan in that cheerful-badass way, but unlike Obi-Wan, Phil was better at being cool with and acknowledging his attachment with Techno, so their relationship wasn’t as strained. Emerald Duo Besties.
- Schlatt separated Phil from Techno with a War excuse to Seduce Techno to the Dark Side, and it actually worked between Techno’s Stress of the War, Separated From His Phil, and Frustration With the Jedi. Maybe Schlatt makes Techno think that the Jedi are going to exile Phil and Techno’s like nooooooo
- I don’t want Techno to be guilty of killing the Jedi though. So Schlatt does the Order 66 Thing but Techno sees that and is like WHAT THIS ISN’T WHAT I WANTED and turns on Schlatt, but Schlatt escapes and the Jedi come after Techno so now Techno is on the run
- Phil survives Order 66 Obi-Wan style and comes back to find everything on fire and in ruins and the few surviving Jedi are like TECHNO JOINED THE SITH AND BETRAYED US HE HAS TO BE KILLED and Phil is like Not My Friend You Don’t, Mate.
- Phil beats off the Jedi and tracks down Techno (I guess he’s on Mustafar, why not), who is absolutely wrecked by how badly he’s messed things up and he can’t cleanse himself from the Dark Side and he doesn’t WANT to, he doesn’t WANT to stuff himself back into that Jedi Box. So he sees Phil and just has an Epic Breakdown and can’t say enough Sorries and says it’d be okay if Phil killed him
- And Phil holds Techno’s head in his hands, his Fallen friend, and then says, “If you go down, I’ll go with you,” and then reaches out to the Dark Side and Falls
- And Techno is just wide-eyed and gaping and shellshocked, and Phil just smiles with red eyes and declares, “Well, the Galaxy’s wrecked, mate. It has been for a while and frankly I’m just sick of it. I think it’s time we stopped following other people’s bullshit orders – the Jedi, the Republic, the Sith – and just handled things ourselves.”
- So they get up and go off to kill Schlatt. Murder bonding, yay!
- Then they go and take over the Republic. Empire, yay!
- Kristen is on board with being Empress. Also she’s pregnant. Phil is Emperor, Techno is kind of an Emperor except he really doesn’t want to have to deal with politics so he’s basically Darth Vader.
- (Kristen is probably the most in charge actually, because she has actual political experience)
- Phil and Techno declare that surviving Jedi can join their new Inquisitor Guild, which actually doesn’t require them to Fall to the Dark Side but lets them go around helping the Galaxy without having to follow all the constricting Jedi doctrine. The Inquisitors basically function how the Jedi did, running around fighting and doing various missions, but they’re firmly under the Emperors and can practice the Dark if they want.
- Some surviving Jedi run off and cause problems. This includes Dream. Who causes the Biggest Problem when he kidnaps baby Prince Theseus.
- So now we got Phil, Kristen, and Techno scouring the Galaxy in pursuit of their lost prince, and Dream is raising Tommy to one day kill his own family while training him as a Jedi.
- But eventually (when Tommy’s like 15), Techno finds him and kidnaps him back and now Tommy is locked up and pampered in a high-security vault. He’s very unhappy about it but very loved.
Tommy threw all his strength against the pole of the lamp, trying to pry it off the floor. The thing was thinner than his arm but was made out of fucking durasteel – no, that wasn’t a metaphor, actual fucking durasteel – because the absolutely insane Emperors and Empress splurged and bought the stuff used to make battleships to make his furniture.
Fuck them.
It was nailed to the floor, like everything else in this stupid apartment-prison-whatever, but Tommy thought this lamp wiggled just a bit, so maybe, he could force it up and actually have something close to a weapon. They’d taken his lightsaber immediately and hadn’t given it back. Its loss felt like losing half his foot, unbalancing his every step, but he refused to let it show. They’d said they’d give it back to him at some point, no doubt when they’d corrupted him to the Dark Side, forced him to betray everything he held dear, and joined their evil fucking Galaxy-dominating family.
Fat fucking chance.
Tommy was getting the fuck out of here, even if he only had a lamp to brandish. He’d bide his time until they were all away – they had to run their evil tyrannical Empire, they had to leave sometime – and then he’d blow his way through all their stormtroopers, just watch him.
Except the damn lamp wasn’t budging.
He heaved all his Force-added strength against it. Emperor Philza had said Technoblade had designed the security of this place – while going on about how he and Empress Kristen had decorated it and gotten him every luxury and comfort, the creepy bastards – and Technoblade was an intense, paranoid motherfucker so Tommy knew that even if he found a crack in its security, it’d be miniscule. But he would have to work with it. This was that crack – a wobbly lamp.
“Come on, you fucker,” Tommy muttered, pressing against it. Stupid. Pathetic. He couldn’t even move this fucking lamp, just like how he couldn’t keep up with Master Dream when Technoblade had appeared in the doorway of their hideout, looming and enormous and black, a crimson lightsaber shining in his hand like a red star condensed into a blade, his yellow-red eyes looking at Master Dream with such hate before they landed on Tommy and widened in shock. And Tommy had known, somehow, as the shock faded into crazed determination, that even though he hadn’t been caught yet, Technoblade was never letting him go.
Tommy shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it. He was getting out of here, even if he had to spend every moment he had alone right here with this lamp, prying it up.
“…And Phil thought I was go’n overboard with the baby proof’n.”
Tommy whirled around at the voice, cursing. Technoblade stood in the doorway, imposing and terrifying as ever. Clad in black leather from toe to neck, even his large hands encased in thick black gloves where they were crossed over his chest. Gleaming armor framed his broad shoulders. The only non-black item of his attire was his silver lightsaber hooked on his belt. He looked more a warrior – a Sith – than an Emperor, though he legally was one. The only thing that marked his high status was the thorned black crown woven into his long pale pink hair, braided behind him.
Philza and Kristen were the Emperor and Empress, yes, but Technoblade had been the one to create the Empire, and everyone knew it. Technoblade, once a valiant and beloved Jedi Knight, had Fallen, and then cleaved through the Galaxy as an unstoppable force, undaunted by anything the Galaxy threw at him. Republic, Separatists, armies of independent planets allied together, bounty hunters, Jedi, Sith – Technoblade had slain them all if they opposed him, ruthlessly slicing his red lightsaber through them like a scythe through dry reeds.
But when that lightsaber had hung over Tommy’s neck, it had restrained.
Technoblade arched a thin eyebrow at Tommy. “I told him you’d try a million ways to escape. Of course you would. You’re his, and you have his stubborn ingenuity.”
Despite the chiding tone, the Sith’s scarlet eyes glimmered with something like fondness and pride.
It made Tommy’s stomach fill with bile.
“You’ll never keep me forever,” Tommy declared defiantly. Inside, he cursed, though. He hadn’t sensed Technoblade’s approach. Master Dream had told him that the Sith could hide their Force presence, but that they often didn’t, because it was tricky and, with their current place of power in the Galaxy, what need did they have to hide? Tommy and Master Dream had sensed Technoblade coming, felt him approaching them from miles away, his Force presence as massive as a sun crashing down upon them, and just as unstoppable. They had tried to flee, but with a single command, Technoblade had grounded every ship on the damn planet, and Star Destroyers had patrolled the atmosphere. Their only choice had been to stand and fight.
Some choice that had been.
Maybe if Tommy hadn’t been such a slow-learning padawan, they would’ve stood a chance.
Technoblade tilted his head, eyes crinkling in thought as they drifted for a moment to the rest of the luxurious furniture in the room that might be used as tools of escape. “Ehhhh. You might be right. If you have a shred of his slipperiness, you might worm your way through.”
Technoblade stepped out of the doorway suddenly, and Tommy straightened his back and held his ground as the Sith Lord strode closer, his cape like darkness lapping at his heels. He stopped a few feet away, his gaze as heavy as a planet.
“But you’ll never escape forever,” Technoblade said quietly. “I’ll be right behind you, Theseus.”
Tommy fought back a terrible chill in the meticulously temperature-controlled room.
No one had been able to defy Technoblade yet.
Tommy made himself meet Technoblade’s yellow eyes square-on. “I’m full of surprises, bitch.”
The corner of Technoblade’s mouth twitched upward in a smile, and his eyes drifted to the lamp behind Tommy. Conversationally, he began, “Count Quackity once imprisoned Phil in an energy binding. The room was completely empty, no windows, just one door that was a foot thick, and hundreds of guards patrolling the fortress. Should’ve been impossible to escape. No lock to pick, but Phil still somehow managed to influence a little rodent scurrying around in the ceiling to nibble a wire, freeing his bonds. I arrived blasters blazing to rescue him, only to find he was already in midst of his own breakout. Had the audacity to say I was sweet for trying.”
“Stop comparing me to your Master,” Tommy snapped, finally losing patience. Really, it was ‘Philza this, Philza that,’ Technoblade would marry him if the Emperor wasn’t infamously dedicated to his wife. He glared at the Sith. “I’m nothing like him and I don’t want to be.”
Tommy hadn’t really known what to expect of Emperor Philza and Empress Kristen, aside from evil megalomania. He hadn’t expected to wake up in this damn nursery-apartment with them waiting earnestly at his bedside, immediately swearing they would never harm him, that they loved him and had missed him, and would lay the Galaxy at his feet. He’d been too stunned to do anything but stare as they gave their passionate speeches of devotion, of how they’d been searching the entire Galaxy for him for fifteen years, never giving up on finding him one day. Finally, when they stopped and stared at him with bated breath, waiting for his response, he’d asked to be freed.
They’d exchanged pained looks, and Emperor Philza had swallowed, and then said no.
Then Tommy had thrown a pillow at him and tried to make a break for it. He hadn’t made it far, of course – the door had been firmly locked – but he’d thrashed and fought through their pleading, cursing and spitting at them, badly bruising his hand when he’d tried to Force-punch his way through the damn durasteel door. Then Tommy had turned to attack them. Emperor Philza had caught and deflected every one of his punches and kicks with professional, gentle ease, and never retaliated. Helpless, finally Tommy had just shouted at them to get out and sulked in the corner until they left.
It's been a week since, and they had come every day, sometimes with Technoblade, often giving gifts or trying to share meals. Asking questions about what they could do to make him more comfortable, what his favorite foods were, promising they would never hurt him.
Fuck that.
Technoblade folded his hands together behind him, his eyes boring into Tommy. “You can’t deny us, youngling. Your destiny is here.”
Tommy bristled at the nickname. “I don’t want anything to do with you killers and traitors. I'm not believing anything you say.”
Technoblade rolled his eyes. “We haven’t lied to you.”
Tommy contorted his expression into as much doubt as he could manage. “You snuck up on me just now.”
Technoblade stared at Tommy stoically, and Tommy stared back in challenge. Neither of them said anything.
Then, without any movement, any warning, Technoblade’s Force presence revealed itself.
It was like turning around and seeing a two-hundred-foot tsunami not ten feet from you, and then getting hit by it. The power, the encompassing manifestation of a life form far bigger than what Technoblade appeared to be, distorted the whole world around Tommy, changing the very air in his lungs as he gasped. Millions of frenzied voices shouted senselessly in his eardrums, clamoring over each other in their demand to be heard. Everything seemed to warp around him, like the Sith was a sun that had entered a new system and gravity was going to hell.
Quickly as it had come, it retracted, a wave pulling away from the shore. A curl of darkness brushed against Tommy’s shields like a soothing eddy, and he swore he felt it like a hand tracing over his cheek, though Technoblade remained still, hands folded behind him, staring at Tommy intently.
Tommy realized he’d faltered a step back and his hand was clutching at his head, clenched into his hair. There was even a chill of cold sweat on the back of his neck. He grimaced, but couldn’t help but be grateful as Technoblade’s presence pulled back, not fully disappearing, but curling like a great beast at the Sith Lord’s feet, a pool of darkness ready to spring.
“…That was unnecessary,” Tommy gritted out finally. And it was horrifying to realize that Technoblade had been holding back against his fight with Tommy and Master Dream. Not at first, probably – Tommy remembered that massive darkness approaching them, getting closer and closer, daunting even at a distance. But when Technoblade had realized Master Dream had someone with him, someone who could’ve been – been the one they’d been looking for, he’d reined himself in.
Technoblade hummed. “Just testing your strength, youngling.”
Tommy bristled again, tearing his hand away from his hair. “Yeah? Trying to show me how easily you could crush me?”
Technoblade threw back his head and laughed at that, a loud, thundering sound, his throat bared freely and confidently. Tommy was too surprised to even try to think of a way to maybe punch it. It probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.
“Easily,” Technoblade said, chuckling, his grin sharp. “Oh, child, you don’t know who you’re talk’n to. I’m the strongest Force-sensitive ever recorded. But Phil isn’t that far behind me. Most Jedi would’ve been flooredby what I just did. The fact that you just withstood it is a testament that you carry his power. He’d be proud – after chew’n me out for doing that in the first place.”
Tommy scowled, not liking being pushed around or protected by the overbearing Emperor. But he raised his chin again and took what he could from it. “So you admit I’d stand a chance against you.”
Technoblade huffed. “Yes, a decent chance – after a few years of proper train’n.”
And there it was.
“I will never join you,” Tommy snarled, nails digging into his palms at his sides. “I’ll never turn to the Dark Side!”
Technoblade gave a small, smug smile. “You’re the one angry here, ‘Jedi.’”
You know, it might be worth it to punch him, just to wipe that stupid fucking smile off his stupid fucking face.
Technoblade’s grin widened, sharp as a vibroblade, as Tommy struggled to control his wrath. Tommy’s eyes caught on the pointed fangs there. He knew Technoblade wasn’t quite human, with odd-colored hair, sharp teeth, and pointed ears. Master Dream had told Tommy the story of the Sith’s origins. Jedi Knight Philza Minecraft, one of the youngest Jedi ever Knighted and already incredibly skilled and respected, had come across the strange nine-year-old child in a slave market in the Outer Rim, dirty and draped in chains. Though the tenuous diplomatic location had demanded Philza respect the local laws, instead the Jedi had wrecked the entire area, freeing all the slaves and returning to the temple with the child in tow, declaring the freed slave to be his padawan. A DNA test hadn’t been able to tell what Technoblade was, aside from near-human.
The Council had objected to bringing Technoblade into the Order, but Philza had stood firm against all of them, claiming the Force was at work and it was wrong of them to tolerate slavery in the first place. He’d been able to gain support from other Jedi that agreed with him, and he’d already proven too useful for the Council to easily ban from the Order. So everyone had watched as Philza had tugged the odd child around the temple, openly fond and dismissing anyone who objected.
Very quickly, under Philza’s teaching, Technoblade had risen to be one of, if not the, most powerful and skilled of the Jedi, though many other Jedi had found him peculiar. Philza and Technoblade had clung to each other even after Technoblade was Knighted, resisting any attempt to separate them. They had made an unparalleled pair and their abilities were needed during the Clone Wars, so the Council had not prevented their flagrant attachment.
Master Dream had always told the story with a lecture of the consequences of attachments. If the Council had been more strict in following Jedi doctrine instead of making exceptions, the Empire would have never risen to power.
Tommy had never confessed aloud how he’d thought their story was inspiring, until the part where they’d turned evil.
Technoblade whirled suddenly, heading back towards the door. “Come on. You need to get out some energy.”
Tommy blinked and hesitated the barest instant – unwilling to obey or willing go anywhere with the Sith Lord – but the prospect of getting out of the apartments was more than enough to entice him.
He followed Technoblade’s fluttering black cape through the beautifully appointed apartments. Tommy found it disgustingly lavish and unnecessarily huge. It had three bedrooms, though thankfully the Emperors and Empress had refrained from staying in theirs, for now. There was a kitchen stocked with enough food to feed a battalion and equipped with one of the latest models of chief droids, ready to prepare Tommy whatever meal he wanted. There were three entertainment spaces – one will an immersive holo system, one with plush couches for socializing, and one with more separate but no less comfortable chairs for individual relaxing, in the same space. Tommy would give them this; even though he was solidly imprisoned, he did not crave for more space.
The apartments had cream-colored walls, lush carpets, and gold-rimmed wooden furniture, but the wood was made out of Brylark trees, literally the strongest wood in the Galaxy and impossible to break by hand to try and make a weapon. Bookshelves were neatly organized with more holos than one could read in one lifetime. Droids were tucked away to serve his every whim – Tommy had told them all to deactivate, but they were there, waiting for when he might call on them. He and Technoblade passed the door to the dining room, brightly lit with four ornate chairs around a gold-rimmed table.
Emperor Philza and Empress Kristen had tried to coax Tommy into the dining room for nearly every meal, but he’d furiously refused each time, even throwing food at some points that the droids then had to clean. When he ate, Tommy took his food into his bedroom and shut the door, eating alone. Once, he’d overheard Technoblade in the other room drawling that it was typical teenage behavior.
To Tommy’s disappointment, Technoblade just took him to the training room, not outside the apartments. Another luxury the Emperor and Empress had thought to provide. Pale white mats were in the center of the room and along the walls, and a panel of training weapons were in a cabinet on the left side. The training weapons were all snugly wrapped in padding to prevent any actual danger, and had magnetic cores, so if Tommy tried to rip off the padding or take them out of the room, they would magnetically snap right back into the cabinet and he would lose his training ‘privileges’ for the day.
Technoblade’s design, of course.
Tommy slowed his pace warily as Technoblade swept into the room. The Sith Lord paused directly in the center of the mat, and then turned on his heel, his cape sweeping behind him in an inky cloud. He extended a hand invitingly.
Tommy stiffened, and then growled low in his throat. “I’m not letting you teach me,” he spat. “You’re not my Master.”
Technoblade rolled his eyes. “Of course. I promise I won’t teach you a single thing, then. I’m offer’n to spar. To let you get some energy out. You’ve been cooped up in here for a week.” The Sith grinned and held out his hands at his sides, his cape spreading with the move like great black wings. “I’m right here. Come take out your anger on me.”
Tommy shivered, however, remembering how their last duel had gone. Technoblade had repeatedly thrown him back with the Force, keeping Tommy away as the Sith had focused on his Master. Any blows Tommy had gotten in had been easily deflected and not even reciprocated, brushed off as Technoblade had brutally borne down on Master Dream. Tommy had felt useless, pathetic, trying so hard to keep up as Master Dream had given it his all. Master Dream and Technoblade’s sabers had clashed like two wrestling hurricanes, with wild lightning of red and green. But Tomy had been no more than a bird, buffeted by their winds.
Then Master Dream had shouted at Tommy to run. Tommy had sensed his Master’s fracturing strength, his dwindling energy, and no doubt Technoblade had, too, beating down all the harder. Tommy had refused at first, not wanting to leave his Master behind, but through their bond, he’d sensed that Master Dream had wanted his last effort to be to keep Tommy safe.
Torn and conflicted, Tommy had ran.
Less than a minute later, he’d sensed Master Dream’s scream of pain and Technoblade’s surge of savage triumph. Master Dream hadn’t died, hadn’t been killed, but Tommy hadn’t seen him since. He was afraid to know what state the Sith Lord had left his Master in.
Then Technoblade had begun chasing him.
Tommy had fumbled through the canyons in the night, scrambling and panting and trying to disappear into the tightest crevices he could. But then he’d burst out of fissure and Technoblade had been there,reaching for him.
Tommy had fought.
He’d ignited his lightsaber and swung wildly, just trying to make the Sith get away, but Technoblade had deflected one swing with his own and then reached forward and grabbed Tommy’s wrist with a massive gloved hand. A blade that could cut through almost anything, and Technoblade had reached past it with no fear, no protection, and took hold of Tommy with a durasteel grip. He’d disengaged his own blade, pried Tommy’s saber out of his hands, and then dragged Tommy all the way back to the ship, kicking and screaming. He hadn’t even handed Tommy off to the troopers that had been waiting, passing them by as they stared.
Tommy had no desire to experience all that again.
Technoblade seemed to sense it. He hummed consideringly.
“Perhaps I can offer you another incentive,” the Sith said, and reached behind his back, under the cape, to pull out –
Tommy’s lightsaber.
Tommy stiffened at the sight of it.
Technoblade grinned at the reaction before turning his focus downward. He raised the silver hilt up to inspect, tracing a thumb along its edges. It looked so small in his hands, a child’s toy rather than a powerful weapon. “It’s remarkably well-made, consider’n you didn’t have the resources of the Jedi Order to guide you. Phil was so disappointed when I showed him you had a lightsaber already. He wanted to be there to help you make it, like how he’d done with me.”
Tommy’s eyes were locked onto the saber, barely paying attention to the words. Technoblade must have been smothering the crystal’s presence before, but Tommy could hear it calling for him now. It was like a song from a fragment of his own soul, yearning to be reconnected.
Non-Force-sensitives didn’t get it, but to a Jedi, a lightsaber was more than a weapon. Kyber Crystals were entities of the Force, alive in their own way. And they waited for centuries to meet the Jedi they were destined for. Anyone could swing around a saber, sure – but when a Jedi had their crystal, the one that had chosen them, it worked as a channel for their connection to the Force. It turned a clumsy, cumbersome paw into articulate fingers, refining your being and forever changing you. There was a reason the Jedi had been the main Force-sensitive sect in the Galaxy. Other sects were out there, but without Kyber Crystals, they couldn’t wield the Force with the finesse the Jedi did.
When the Emperor and Empress had taken over, all Kyber Crystal mines had been seized. No one got access without the Emperors’ permission. But in the wake of Order 66, which had left dead Jedi strown across the Galaxy, several crystals had been smuggled and hidden. Everyone in the Galaxy knew the value of a Jedi’s lightsaber, of course, even if only Jedi could truly use them. Master Dream had been leading Tommy through a black market in the Outer Rim when Tommy had sensed this one. He’d told his Master, and together they’d snatched it and hightailed out of there, blaster bolts flying past them.
This was the first time Tommy had sensed his crystal in a week. He’d missed it.
Technoblade held it out between them and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
This – this was a trap. And though Tommy craved to hold his lightsaber again, he wouldn’t fall for it so easily.
He clenched his fists at his sides. “Aren’t you – you know I’ll try to escape with it.”
Try to, he realized he’d said, and cursed it.
Technoblade smiled. “Go ahead. Try.”
Tommy felt a flash of defiance, and snatched the lightsaber as quickly as he could. It sang in his hand, warm and welcoming, but he whirled around and headed right for the door. It had been closed behind them. In a surge of the desire to get out, Tommy ignited the blue blade and raised it above his shoulder, swinging it down –
A snap-hiss, and Technoblade’s red saber cut off Tommy’s own. They crossed above the door, barring him.
Tommy startled at suddenly finding Technoblade so close. One moment the Sith was behind him, and the next he was there. Tommy tore their blades apart and staggered back several steps, his feet cushioned on the mat, and instinctively fell into a combat form. Both hands wrapped around the hilt of his saber, his feet braced, and he raised the saber at Technoblade.
Technoblade smiled idlily. He shifted his own stance, folding one arm behind his back and extending the other to cross his saber’s blade with Tommy’s. They hummed different chords, harmonizing before the clash.
Tommy knew he was giving the Sith Lord exactly what he wanted.
But Tommy wanted to wipe that fucking smile off his face.
Tommy struck first, a hard but obvious introductory swing, which Technoblade blocked backhanded. Tommy swung again, trying to take advantage of the fact that Technoblade was close to the door, he didn’t have much space to maneuver. But Technoblade was like a boulder. Unmovable, blocking each attack without an inch of retreat. Tommy might as well be brandishing a stick against a stone.
“You’re using Form V,” Technoblade noted, blocking one of Tommy’s strikes with one easy hand. “More offensively-based.” He blocked the next, and the next, and the next, and didn’t even seem to have to focus. “Phil uses Form III. Your style is closer to mine.”
“Are you going to fight or not?” Tommy finally shouted, giving the hardest swing he could.
Technoblade twisted his wrist suddenly, swinging his saber in a wide blinding arch. When it crashed against Tommy’s saber, his arms buckled, and he stumbled back three steps before hastily bringing the blade back up defensively.
Technoblade didn’t advance. One hand still folded behind his back, he lowered his saber and strolled an idle two steps to the side, casually positioning himself more in the center of the room. Easily claiming Tommy’s one advantage on him.
Technoblade stopped when he was satisfied with his position and raised the point of his saber at Tommy again, smiling mirthfully. “Just taking your measure, youngling.” He twisted the blade around, flexing his wrist. “Phil would be upset if you were hurt.”
Tommy grimaced. He hated admitting the Sith was right, but obviously Tommy didn’t want to get hurt and wanted the Emperor fretting over him even less. Yesterday, Tommy had hit his knee against his bedframe, and even though the Emperor had been in the other room and Tommy’s shields had been up, the bastard had immediately started knocking on the door, asking if Tommy was alright and if he could come in.
Still, Tommy didn’t really like the idea of being coddled in this fight, either.
This is an advantage, Tommy told himself as he glared at Technoblade, the Sith waiting for him to make the first move and restart their duel. He won’t hurt me. So I risk nothing, and I can hurt him.
…Maybe.
Technoblade was smirking like he could read Tommy’s thoughts. Tommy firmly reinforced his shields.
Tommy took a moment to center himself, and then attacked again. Technoblade met him of course, and then returned with his own blow. They exchanged strikes, Tommy trying to reserve his strength better and determine his strategy. There was no way he could beat Technoblade in raw power, physical or in the Force. But there had to be some weakness to him.
“You certainly take after Dream,” Technoblade observed, because apparently, he liked to chat over his lightsaber duels. Like it was fucking teatime. “Practically everything you do is his style. Don’t worry; you’ll have far more diverse opportunities to learn here.”
Tommy scowled at him as he made three quick light strikes, trying to test his speed against the Sith’s, but they were all met with perfect pace. Technoblade seemed to increase speed when Tommy did, and slow down when Tommy did, too.
“What, so I’ll be processed through your Inquisitor program?” Tommy spat disdainfully. “How to Turn to the Dark Side Like a Pussy 101?”
Technoblade snorted as he gave a wide sweep with his saber for Tommy to block. “Not all the Inquisitors are Turned. Is that what Dream told you? No.” Technoblade batted away Tommy’s low jab at his legs, parrying him back a few steps. “The Inquisitors are allowed to study and practice the Force however they choose. There are some restrictions, but far less than what the Jedi enforced. Some of them live exactly as they did as Jedi. Others have seized their new freedom to explore. And they still venture around the Galaxy to serve those in need.”
“Serve you, you mean,” Tommy spat. “Spread your Empire, and kill anyone who resists.”
Technoblade actually sighed at him for that as he idlily blocked Tommy’s next strikes. “Yes, we’ve conquered those who fought, and killed those who resisted. Which, let me say, mainly have included crime lords who were slave trafficking, overly-wealthy who were stripping populated planets of their resources, oppressive rulers who were working their people into the dirt, and far worse beings I don’t care to mention.” The Sith’s drawling tone was bored but dripped with venomous disdain.
Tommy didn’t appreciate the lecture as he batted at Technoblade with his saber, trying to at least make the Sith have to focus. “You can’t just – you can’t just bowl over anyone you disagree with! People need a voice! You can solve these problems diplomatically!”
Master Dream had taught Tommy very carefully about how the Jedi walked through all kinds of different worlds and had to respect their cultures. The Jedi’s strict neutrality gave them the flexibility to help others. If there was something wrong in the Galaxy, the Jedi always tried to solve it with peace and negotiation first, which took time.
It hadn’t made Tommy any less sick the first time he’d seen a slave market.
“Maybe,” Technoblade said with a careless hum. He twisted his saber around to jab forward and Tommy had to jerk back, momentarily halting his strikes. “But how many beings die in chains while you’re explain’n why it’s wrong? How many families get separated? How many planets are ruined beyond repair, forcing its people from their homes? How many people suffer because you prioritized the lives of those inflicting the suffering?”
Technoblade gave a slightly more brutal swing and Tommy hastily swung his saber up to guard his head from it. The Sith just carried on. “In the fifteen years of the Empire’s reign, we’ve crippled the crime lords. The Hutt Empire, once controlling a swath of the Outer Rim for thousands of years, is obliterated – Nikki spearheaded that,” Technoblade added, meaning the head of the Inquisitors Guild and one of the Empire’s most vicious and loyal warriors. “Slavery is a fraction of what it once was. And since Force-sensitives are now allowed to have a voice in the Senate, we can read the intentions of the senators and say something about it. Kristen smoothly removes any politicians more interested in lining their own pockets than helping their people. We root out the manipulators and open places for good leaders. Far better than the Jedi Order, which stood by as the Senate rotted.”
Tommy was wrestling down his rising anger, at being lectured and how Technoblade was playing with him. The Sith Lord was obviously not struggling at all in their duel. He was still only using one hand, easily meeting all of Tommy’s strength without even having to try. He was flourishing his lightsaber in front of Tommy like a pet owner waving a feathered stick before their fucking tooka cat to entertain it.
Technoblade added, “Many of the Jedi, now Inquisitors, enjoy actually getting to influence and help the Senate, instead of being forced to sit aside and follow orders.”
Tommy spat, “And what if they don’t want to be your lapdogs? The ones who really stayed loyal to the Republic?”
Tommy had known that hundreds of Jedi had returned to reconstructed mockery of the old Order under the Empire. It had galled Master Dream that they’d so easily abandoned millennia of traditions, of loyalty to the Republic.
“Then they relinquish their lightsabers and leave. If they like, they can join one of the regulated sects elsewhere in the Galaxy,” Technoblade said with a shrug, though the movement didn’t alter his lightsaber’s position in the slightest as he met Tommy’s next attack. “Much like how the Jedi did it before.”
Or be hunted to death, if they refused to stand down.
Tommy wasn’t sure whether to believe Technoblade, and even if it was technically true, there was probably some underhanded way they were corrupting Jedi. Pressuring the Jedi who stayed to take a taste of the Dark Side’s power, coaxing them down that slippery slope into Falling.
Technoblade went on. “But either way, they can choose their own path. They can have families. They can love. They can have ‘attachments.’”
“Master Dream said – “
“Don’t,” Technoblade snarled suddenly, and the Dark Side growled around them, as Tommy’s blade was locked with the Sith’s and then forced downwards as the giant leaned down to pin Tommy’s eyes with his own, his gaze glowing crimson with hard anger, “call him Master.”
Tommy’s throat was dry from fear, but he covered it up with derision. Through clenched teeth, he said, “What? Am I supposed to call you Master?”
Tommy was trying to reign in his fear in the Force, but it was chittering and scattering like startled bugs from an upturned rock. Some traces must’ve gotten through his shields. Technoblade let out a slow breath through his nose and straightened, the dark tendrils of his Force presence pulling away again.
“No,” Technoblade said after a pause. He stepped back raised his saber in standard position. “We are family.”
“I’m not part of your family!” Tommy shouted, fear giving away to sudden anger, and swung again, diving back into the duel. It was easier to deal with everything like this, Tommy realized – when he felt power in his hands to fight back against this bullshit. Even though Technoblade wasn’t the least bit threatened by Tommy’s attacks, it was something.
Something to remind Tommy who he really was. Not this coddled prince they were making him, but a Jedi, who fought against evil and would see justice reestablished in the Galaxy.
“Your rule will never last,” Tommy declared with confidence, blocking a swipe Technoblade made directly at his chest. He let righteousness bubble up inside him, overriding any fear, as he made his own attempt at an advance. “The Dark Side is destructive. You’ll all turn on each other and collapse. It is the Sith Way.”
“No Inquisitor is a Sith,” Technoblade said firmly, beating down Tommy’s attacking saber, knocking it away. “The full Sith teachings are kept between me and Phil. There are plenty of other Dark Side practices, however, that are not so…corruptive.”
Of course, Sith were always selfish and jealous of their power. The Emperors would want to keep themselves on top.
“Yeah? Is that why I’m being treated so special?” Tommy asked, defending against two swipes from Technoblade before trying to find an opening again. “Am I your chosen new apprentice?”
Master Dream had said that would be what they wanted of him.
Technoblade locked blades with Tommy suddenly. Before, the power behind the Sith’s strikes had been measured, quick, not too hard to block. But now Technoblade leaned forward to look closer at Tommy over their crossed blades, and Tommy’s arms trembled a little to keep the joined sabers from inching closer to his neck. Their humming heat warmed his skin.
“You will never be a Sith, Prince Theseus,” Technoblade said intently.
Tommy stared, wide-eyed at the sudden intensity, before he got ahold of himself and slid beneath the blades, slipping his out of the lock and trying to take a swing at Technoblade’s legs again as he ducked by. Technoblade blocked it, and Tommy whirled, now on the Sith’s opposite side.
“Don’t call me that!” Tommy barked angrily, hands clutching his saber hard in front of him.
“Oh?” Technoblade asked, twirling his saber at his side as he turned to face Tommy. “Would you prefer ‘youngling’?”
Tommy raised his chin. “I am a Jedi.”
Technoblade snorted again. “You’re no Jedi. You were barely a padawan. Never Knighted, and you never will be.”
The words burned, and Tommy shouted in anger and swung his blade at the Sith again.
“So, what?” Tommy demanded, swinging strike after strike, trying to press back the Sith even just a centimeter. “Not Jedi, not Sith, what are your plans for me?”
“Whatever you want,” Technoblade said lightly, easily deflecting Tommy’s angry blows with small flicks of his own saber. “So long as it is your freedom. You won’t be constrained by the Jedi or broken by the Sith.”
That cut through Tommy’s anger for a moment. He blinked and stopped striking at Technoblade, taking a step back and peering at the Sith warily. He kept his saber up, in a defensive position. “Broken?”
Sith were arrogant and proud, hateful and dominant. He couldn’t imagine one calling themselves broken.
Technoblade shrugged a shoulder, his blade still raised between them for the duel but not advancing on Tommy. “That is what the Sith Way does. It destroys, both its followers and all who encounter it. Other Dark Side sects face the same issue, but not nearly to the extent the Sith do.”
Then Technoblade grinned, fierce and triumphant. “Your father and I are made of stronger stuff, though. We weather the chaos well.”
And there was the arrogance.
Tommy lifted his blade a little higher, glaring. “Seems to me like you’re deluding yourself. What makes you two so different from the hundreds of Sith before, who thought they could control the Dark Side?”
Technoblade’s grin widened, feral, and Tommy felt chills run down his spine. “The other Sith fell for poor reasons. Desperation, greed, fear, anger – not us.”
Tommy nearly rolled his eyes but didn’t want to take his focus off his opponent, not now.
“Of course,” he drawled instead, dripping his words with impertinence. “For power.”
He went for a strike, to continue their duel, but unexpectedly, Technoblade deactivated his own saber and sidestepped him. Tommy overbalanced and stumbled past, and Technoblade reached out and grabbed his hand, those massive fingers enclosing over his.
Tommy’s heart leapt into his throat and he jerked back, trying to struggle free to no avail. Technoblade almost casually pried Tommy’s lightsaber out of his grip, just like when he had first captured him, and then turned his yellow-red gaze onto Tommy like the attention of a star.
Tommy felt very, very small and very, very vulnerable. He froze like caught prey, wishing no more than to go retreat into his room and hide under his stupid gigantic bed.
He was too stunned to resist when Technoblade tugged him forward, one hand circling around Tommy’s back and then other coming up to cradle his head, Tommy’s face finding itself pressed against the Sith Lord’s chest, staring at the black armor. A huge finger traced along the crown of Tommy’s head.
“You’ve been try’n to find a weakness in me this whole fight,” Technoblade rumbled, his voice surrounding Tommy. The Dark Side, that overwhelming presence, gently extended to curl around Tommy, possessive and thrumming with affection and pride. “Smart. Brave. But all my weaknesses are locked up safe, and taught to protect themselves, too. I eliminate anything that threatens them.”
Technoblade’s cape, thick and heavy, brushed at Tommy’s sides, seeming to wrap around him, as the Sith pulled him closer. “Phil and I, we turned to the Dark for each other. So that neither of us would have to lose the other. And though the depth of the Dark Side we’ve sunken to is destructive, we watch out for each other, protect each other. Just like how we’ll do for you.”
Technoblade’s hands shifted to Tommy’s shoulders and he drew back, leaning down his towering bulk to look Tommy in the eye, at his level. Blue eyes met yellow-red.
“That’s the thing about family, youngling. It loves you for who you are, and watches out for you when you need it. More than the Jedi could ever do,” these last words said with bitterness.
The Sith leaned forward another few inches. “You want to know our plans for you. You can study the Force, or never use it again. You can be a prince of the Empire, or stay hidden away, shielded from outside eyes forever. As long as you’re not harm’n yourself, we would love to see your choices. See who you are.”
Technoblade’s hand came up to cup Tommy’s cheek, his massive hand cradling Tommy’s entire head. “But we are never letting you go.”
The Force swirled around them, whispering and humming pleasantly. It was…Dark, but Light was mixed with it. Light was in Technoblade’s presence, a deep and powerful sense of love that curbed the Darkness from its harmful coldness. Smaller but fiercer, like a herding dog, shepherding the Darkness into line.
Tommy stared at the Sith with wide eyes. He had no words. His mind was stunned into silence and his tongue was heavy in his mouth.
Technoblade gave a soft smile then, his Sith eyes warming. He gave Tommy’s face one last caress, and then pulled away. He swept past Tommy, leaving him there stunned, unsure of what he had just sensed in the Force. The impossible mix of Light and Dark, held in harmony by one feeling.
Tommy heard the door open behind him. But then Technoblade called, “Oh, Theseus?”
Tommy hated responding to that name, but he turned to look at Technoblade.
The Sith threw something – small, sparkling, delighted like a dancing star – and it seemed to leap into Tommy’s hands which he raised without even thinking. He stared down at his own hands in bewilderment, cupped around his lightsaber crystal. Pulled from the saber itself, but it cheerily fluttered in the Force at being reunited with him, like a songbird.
Tommy looked up at the Sith, who inclined his head.
“We can duel again tomorrow,” Technoblade said. “Your forms need some correction. Let me know when you want some guidance.”