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 the cold light of the chandeliers, the sound of silver on porcelain broken only by Prince Tommy’s noisy chewing. Across the table, Prince Wilbur winces with every slight movement, still aching from the day's training. Technoblade watches them both, a faint smirk touching his lips as the glow catches the pink of his long hair. "Are you alright there, your highness?" he mocks softly before taking a deliberate bite of steak. Before Wilbur can form a retort, the heavy doors burst open. A butler stumbles in, gasping for air as though he has run the length of the fortress. "Your majesty—intruders," he manages, his voice strained. "In the children's wing." Technoblade's hand is already on the hilt of his sword as King Philza r…