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The tundra stretched on forever, an endless sea of white under a bruised gray sky that promised more snow before nightfall. Wind whipped across the open plain in low, moaning gusts, carving sharp little ridges into the drifts and flinging fine powder into the air like smoke.
The cold bit deep: sharp enough to make your lungs ache if you breathed too fast. Spruce trees stood sparse and skeletal in the distance, their branches weighed down with ice.
Techno moved through it all like the snow belonged to him. Tall for his age, cloak the color of old blood trailing behind him, boots carving clean, deep prints that looked almost military in their precision. His pink hair was dusted white at the tips, mask steady over his face, breath fogging evenly through the slits.
He didn’t hurry. He never did.
Ten paces back, Tommy was fighting a war he was spectacularly losing.
“Techno—Technoblade! Slow down!” Tommy shouted, voice cracking with the cold. He was practically hopping from one of Techno’s footprints to the next, arms out for balance like a tightrope walker who’d had too much sugar.
His coat was already soaked at the hem, snow packed into his boots, and his blond hair stuck up in wild, frosted tufts.
“Your legs are stupidly long! It’s not fair!”
“You’re the one who wanted to come,” Techno called back without turning around. “Said you’d ‘tough it out.’”
“I am tough! I’m the toughest person in this frozen hellscape!” Tommy insisted, then immediately sank to his knees in a soft patch. He scrambled up with a curse, kicking snow everywhere. “This snow is cheating. It’s— it’s sentient. It’s out to get me specifically.”
Techno’s shoulders shook once in a silent laugh.
They kept going. For a while Tommy managed to stay in the footprints, muttering the whole time, complaints about the cold, about hunger, about how there better be a shelter soon or he was going to riot.
Then his foot caught on something hidden under the powder. He lurched forward with a startled “Shit—!” and face-planted hard.
Snow exploded around him. For a second all that was visible was a pair of flailing legs and a lot of muffled swearing.
Techno stopped. He let out a long, tired sigh that fogged the air dramatically, then trudged back. Without ceremony he grabbed the back of Tommy’s coat and hauled him upright again.
Tommy came up sputtering, snow caked on his eyelashes, cheeks, and the bridge of his nose. He looked like a very angry snowman.
“I hate snow! I hate it! Why couldn’t you pick somewhere with beaches? Or at least dirt that isn’t frozen solid?” Tommy wiped at his face furiously with a soggy sleeve. “Next time I’m riding on your shoulders like a king. You owe me that, big man.”
“You’d fall off in five seconds,” Techno said, brushing snow off Tommy’s shoulders with a few efficient swipes.
Before Techno could turn away, Tommy planted his boots wide and thrust his right hand out between them like he was presenting a sword.
“Hold my hand.”
Techno blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.” Tommy puffed his chest out, chin tilted up defiantly even though his teeth were starting to chatter. “You need to hold my hand right now so I don’t keep slipping like a pathetic idiot. And you have to promise, actually swear, that you won’t let go. Not once. Because I’m protecting you out here. Me. From all the bad stuff. Wolves, blizzards, monsters, other people, whatever. I’ll fight them. I’ll bite their ankles if I have to.”
Techno stared down at the small gloved hand. It trembled slightly in the cold air. Snowflakes landed on it and vanished. For a long moment the only sound was the wind.
Then Techno’s larger, calloused hand closed around it. Warm. Steady. Completely enveloping.
“Alright,” Techno said, voice low and steady, the way it always was. “I promise. But you have to promise the same thing. Don’t let go either. That way I can always protect you. No matter what.”
Tommy’s entire face transformed. The scowl melted away. A bright, crooked grin split across his face, the kind that showed the gap between his front teeth and made his blue eyes crinkle at the corners.
He squeezed back as hard as he could, which wasn’t very hard at all, but the intention was fierce.
“Deal! I promise. I won’t let go even if a hundred skeletons shoot at us. Even if there’s a creeper right behind us. Even if the sky falls down. Nothing bad is getting between us, Techno. Not ever. We’re brothers now. Proper ones. Blood or not, doesn’t matter. I’ll make sure of it.”
Techno’s mouth curved faintly under the mask. He gave Tommy’s hand a gentle squeeze in return.
“Blood or not,” he echoed. “Theseus.”
They started walking again. Techno shortened his stride without being asked, keeping their pace even. Their joined hands swung between them; Tommy’s more wildly, full of energy, Techno’s calm and anchoring. Every few steps Tommy would tug experimentally, checking. Techno never let go.
After a minute of blissful quiet (for Techno, at least), Tommy started talking again.
“You know what I’d do if some random guy tried to hurt you? I’d go feral. I’d scream so loud their ears bleed and then I’d tackle them into the snow. I’ve got a really sharp stick back at home. I sharpened it yesterday. It’s basically a sword.”
“You don’t need a stick,” Techno murmured. “Just don’t let go of my hand.”
“I won’t,” Tommy said immediately, squeezing again, tighter this time. “Not even when we sleep. Not even if my fingers go numb. Not even if… if the whole world ends or something stupid like that. We’re stuck like glue, mate. Forever.”
Techno huffed softly, almost a laugh. “Forever’s a long time, Tommy.”
“Yeah, well, I’m committing to it.” Tommy looked up at him, snow still melting on his lashes. “You’re stuck with me now, Technoblade. The loud, annoying, amazing one. And I’m stuck with you, the quiet, scary, but secretly nice one. That’s the deal.”
Techno glanced down. The wind tugged at his cloak, but his grip stayed warm and sure.
“That’s the deal,” he agreed.
They started walking again, slower this time, two mismatched shadows against the white, hands locked tight, neither one willing to be the first to let go.
The snow kept falling, soft and silent, as if the world itself had decided to leave them alone for a little while longer.