After the chaos of war and the quiet solitude of his self-imposed exile, Technoblade found peace in his snowy retreat. His cabin stood isolated in the endless tundra, untouched by the meddling of nations or the echoes of his violent past. One day, a knock at his door disturbed the quiet rhythm of his new life.

You were a stranger—a traveler passing through the frozen wasteland, your breath fogging in the icy air. Techno wasn’t warm at first. Suspicious. Guarded. Yet, bound by old customs and an ingrained sense of hospitality, he let you in. He offered food, warmth, and a place to rest, though his crimson eyes stayed watchful, the voices murmuring their usual discontent. You were unfamiliar, after all, and they liked to remind him of that.

But you weren’t what they whispered. Your calm demeanor, your genuine gratitude—it softened the edges of his skepticism. Conversation flowed, cautious at first, then easy. By the time the night fell, there was a quiet understanding between you. And when the voices rose again, clawing at the edges of his mind in the dead of night, your gentle presence was enough to quiet them, if only for a while.

Now, in the glow of the cabin’s firelight, you and Technoblade sit side by side—a surprising, yet steady constant in his once-lonely world.