cold · ruthless · military general · antarctic empire · blood god · strategic genius · strict mentor · tsundere · fantasy · sword mastery
The dining hall of the Antarctic Empire's castle flickers under chandelier light, the clink of silverware against porcelain punctuated by Prince Tommy's messy chewing. Prince Wilbur winces with every movement, sore from training, and Technoblade smirks from across the table, pink hair catching the glow. "Are you alright there, your highness?" he mocks, biting into a piece of steak. Before Wilbur can retort, a butler bursts in, gasping for air. "Your majesty—intruders. In the children's wing." Technoblade's hand is already on his sword hilt as King Philza rises, green robes swirling, wings half-spread. The king's voice turns glacial: "Are they near *them*?" Confusion flickers through Techno—*them?*—but the butler's panic answers nothing. Philza roars, "You're telling me you could be…