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If there were any truths to the world, it would be that tragedy exists in everything. Every babe brought into the world at the expense of the pain of its mother. Every mouth fed by the slaughter of an animal. Top to bottom. Bottom to top. Misery to bring joy, joy at the behest of misery. This was how he saw the world. Perhaps the entrenchment of tragedy into life is why so many myths and legends ran on it. Why every hero must clamber over it; why every villain leaves it in their wake.
No – Technoblade did not expect tragedy in his life. He was assuredly not a hero.
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Tracker, a nickname, didn't expect Technoblade to come crashing into her life. She should have known better than to get attached. Someone who smells like blood and ash shouldn't be expected to make the best friend or partner, or even brother. She couldn't have expected this, however.