A Blacksmith and Her Prince // Technoblade x Reader

She Was My Hero

It was oddly quiet at the moment. Besides the bubbles of molten iron and clash of metal. Speaking of iron, we seem to have run low.

That's probably what fathers out for.

That means you're stuck here with the heat and intense metallic smell. Though, after all these years, you're basically immune to it. In fact, you even like it, it gives a sort of nostalgia, it reminds you of mother.

Oh mum... she was beautiful. Everyone would always say how identical you two were, not just physically, but personality wise as well. Your father could go on and on about how strong willed she was, her strength and way of thinking. She could stop any fight, any argument, you name it she was on it. Mother was great. You're glad father always had stories to tell of her, including the bad ones. But, even then, she was like a superhero. In your eyes at least, she will always be your superhero.

I guess you're the superhero now.

Mother taught you many things before her passing. How to defend yourself, how to use a sword, a knife. To hide and run away from danger. Even more simpler things like taking care of yourself, cleaning up, cooking, looking after your father. Cause we all know that without you here, this place would be an absolute train wreck. Luckily you got your head strapped on just right and even if father doesn't say it, he really appreciates you and everything you do. He definitely appreciates your amazing cob loaves, that's for sure. He can't get enough of them, constantly asking for cob loaf during tea time. Or any time for that matter. Even though you love him, his health is what's most important to you. Too many cob loaves would probably be bad for him.

Mmm cob loaf.

If mother was here, she would be telling you to get your head out of the clouds and get back to what you do best.

"Welp, back to work I guess." You fiddle around with different wooden handles, testing their durability and strengths, how it curves on the edges and the way it fits into your hand. The design on this one was quite beautiful, floral webs and vine like strips circled the handle, hugging it in all the best ways. This was one of your fathers designs, it seemed to be for an axe or hatchet of some sorts.

You pretend to throw it in your hand, testing its grip. It was smooth, no sign of any rough edges or slips, it was perfect. It was your fathers creation, so that was to be expected. But, you can never be too careful, we don't want another baldy entering the blacksmith now do we?

"Agh!" You hear a loud groan come from the front of the entrance with stomps following its path.

Groan, stomp. Groan, stomp. Groan, stomp.

It sounded huge, clicks and clacks echoed throughout the blacksmith.

It was getting closer to you, you need to figure out what the hell this was and fast. Grabbing the closest mostly finished sword next to you, your feet spread out, guarding yourself, prepared for whatever was about to walk through that doorway.

A thief?

Sweat trickles down your neck.

A goblin?

The thudding of your heart pounds with each step.

A pillager?

"Would you help me with this damn thing, (Y/N)."

An old man.... With a sack? Santa?

"Oh dad, thank god." Throwing the sword away, you check on your father. "I thought you were some giant goblin trying to kill me, thanks for the heads up." You say sarcastically and definitely not with a twinge of relief.

"Yeah yeah okay, just help me with this." Without a second thought, you help your father squeeze through the doorway. He was carrying a heavy mesh sack over his right shoulder, it looked super bulky, some random parts were sticking out all over it.

"Jesus dad, what the hell is in this, it's so heavy." Using all your strength, you try to guide your dad and his sack, to the nearest workbench. With quick steps and lots of balancing, it lands with a hard thud on the wooden table.

You both groan with the weight taken off.

"This my dear," he pats your back. "Is what's gonna make us a lot of gold this week." He pulls open the bag, showing off the different shapes and sizes of what seems to be a mix of silver and metal.

"Woah, we never usually need this much, what's the occasion?" You ask curiously, picking up a small piece of silver.

"I've heard news from the boys at the pub that this festival is going to be the biggest event in centuries, they say there are going to be thousands. Must be because of the Prince." He is right, this would be the first time anyone has ever seen the prince since well, since ever. Unless you count when he was a child. God, wouldn't that be awful, you are born in a life behind closed walls, forever to stick to the rules.

"Maybe other kingdoms have heard of the Princes rumour?" You look at your father, throwing back the shiny silver.

"I believe so," he says with a sigh. "It's all hearsay though, don't even think about it." He gives you an eyeing smirk, layered with a tinge of 'I know what you're thinking'.

"God, gross dad. You know I don't want any of that stuff right? Especially with a good for nothing Prince, I would rather stay here and make art, than be in there wasting my life away." You give a stern look, your words layered with utmost seriousness.

He just chuckles.

"Okay little miss grumpy, you're acting just like your mother. She would be so proud of you." He pats your back softer this time, he sounded almost sad. "Well, anyway. I'm gonna close up shop." He turns to head for the doorway.

"Woah! Wait dad. It's only the afternoon, it won't be dusk for another couple of hours." You say trying to knock some sense into him.

"The event starts tomorrow and it'll be busy all week, don't you want to go out and see people, enjoy what time you have left?" He replied.

"No." You cross your arms.

...

"Well too bad, you're going out anyway." He walks back up to you, lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder with a huff.

"What the-?! Dad! Put me down!!" He huffed a laugh and continued to carry you to the front of the blacksmith.

No matter how hard you banged and kicked, he would not let his grip falter.

"My pleasure." He drops you on the stone floor, near the entryway. You hoped no one saw that. "Sorry my dear, but I don't want you always cooped up in here, go out and make a friend." He gives a smile and bends down to your level. "I promise you'll thank me later, okay?" He reaches out, with a sigh you accept his hand, pulling yourself up from the ground, wiping off the nonexistent dust from your pants. Before you could say anything, he passed you a leather sachet, it was mothers old one.

"Take this in case you want to take anything back with you." Well, guess there's no going back now. Smiling, you take the sachet and throw it over yourself, it nestled nicely at your hip.

"Okay fine. But, just know we have so much to do and it would be a lot easier if I was here-"

"La la la, not listening." He pokes his fingers in his ears, twirling himself around to head back inside.

Damn child.

"Also, don't even think about sneaking in the back." He calls from inside.

Damnit.

Turning around to face away from the blacksmith, you're met with the Main Street view, plus a few eyes here and there.

Because it was the late afternoon, there weren't as many people, which made it easier on your part. Maybe a simple walk around would be nice for a change, fresh air and all that.

Gripping onto your sachet, you walk forward into the bustling street.