A Blacksmith and Her Prince // Technoblade x Reader

Blooming Fire Of Pink Roses

Knock knock.

You grumble, opening your eyes begrudgingly. The room was much colder than before, noticeable by the setting sun and blankets tucked under your chin.

"Ma'am?" A woman walks in, dressed in a simple short black dress and tied up hair. She held a silver platter of what looked to be tea and small food options.

You sit up from your layed down position, rubbing away the sleep from your face.

"Are you feeling okay ma'am?" She places the platter on the large bedside table, pouring you a hot cup of tea.

"Mmm." You blink sluggishly, giving a brief nod before taking the cup of tea, engulfing the sweet warmth it brought.

"I tried knocking before and didn't get an answer, I thought you were sick." She smiles sweetly, checking your temperature with her hand. "You must have been quite tired then, it's nearly supper." You were shocked by her words, stilling with your empty cup. She takes it and puts it back on the tray.

She turned away from you, walking over to the wall length wardrobe on the side of the room.

"By the way," she says, pulling out luggage from the wardrobe. "My name is Anne, I'm the King's personal maid assigned to help you girls around the castle. Basically just to inform you of anything and to answer any questions." She opens a thick leather bag, pulling out random assortments of clothing. The bag resembled your own.

You panic a slight moment, grabbing your chest to notice your sachet wasn't securely wrapped around you.

"Don't worry," Anne added. "It's right beside your bed table." You look to your left, thankful to see she was right. "You were gripping onto it quite tightly, I didn't want you to accidentally stretch it." She walked back to you, hands full of fabrics and paper.

then her legs buckled, kneeling towards you at eye level.

Her eyes were grey, similar to silver bullets shooting through you with a powerful show of easiness. You were unable to take your eyes off her own, there was always something about eyes you were attracted to, the way they moved and the colour they showed. Whether they were a sky blue or a deep garnet red, eyes always gave away emotion, never able to be kept hidden. You liked that, knowing what the other person was feeling or even thinking.

"You don't talk much do you?" She smiles sweetly, not taken aback by your usual display of withdrawal.

You only hum in response.

She puffed a laugh, putting a hand to your cheek.

"You remind me of someone I know." You didn't know what she meant, but it gave you comfort nonetheless. It was an admirable change to find someone who accepted you so easily.

"This is for you," She turned away, picking up folded clothes and plopping them up on the bed. "Wear them tonight and take a bath." She placed paper and ink opon the folded clothes. "This is a letter for your family." She stood up, looking at you once more before ruffling your already messy hair. Her words and actions gave your monotone heart a tug, only able to stare back in childlike innocence.

"Don't be too shy tonight, (Y/N)." she closed the wooden door with a quiet thud.

You sigh, lifting up your hand to etch through your hair. Ruffling the same spot she did, already missing the feeling.

Instead of dwelling on it, you do as you were told. Leaving the warmth of silk sheets to freshen yourself up.

The bathroom was definitely what you were expecting. It was fully fitted with white marble walls and gold accents, a brass bath with a matching hooked shower head, plus a dark wood sink across from it. Not to mention the gold lined mirror, fitting the whole top half of your body into the reflective surface. Compared to the cold stone walls and old cobble, it was a striking difference.

Even the water was different, much cleaner and hotter. It hurt at first, burning like a slap across the face. Though, you got used to it after a while, sinking into the sea of forever heated kisses, letting them trail all over your body. Scraping away the dirt and bloodied scratches, cleaning each and every crevice. The water dribbled down your hair covering your face, creating the effect of a cave hidden by an overflowing waterfall.

You don't think you have ever been this clean before. The mirror gazed back at you, showing off your shiny physique and barely visible bruises and scratches. All seeming to wash away from the royal lavender scented soap, it was pleasing to know you don't look like you just walked out of a coal mine for once. Another nice change to add to the list, since being here, that list has only doubled.

There was one thing however you weren't really accepting the 'change' of.

"Oh hell no." You sneer down at the gown splayed across the bed. It was white with baby soft pink edges, flowers were sketched at the bottom of the gown and at the end of the elongated sleeves, glazed over with very light pink chiffon. It was probably the most beautiful dress you have ever seen, but you just couldn't even imagine yourself in it, or in a dress in general. It wasn't that you despised dresses or anything, it just made you feel wrong, like they just weren't made for you.

They just never fit right, like a broken glass slipper.

Worst part is, it was your only option. Unless you wanted to walk around dripping wet, only covered by a red towel in the middle of a literal palace.

You huff, grabbing the dress in a careless fashion, dragging it over to the full length copper toned mirror. You held the dress out in front of you, styling it as if it were over your own body.

"Oh my god, I can't." Confidence is what you needed right now. When you were a child, mother used to always try and dress you up. It would mostly end up with you running away butt naked, but she would say how cute you were anyway.

You turn back to the bed and stare longingly at the flopped over leather bag, laying lonely on the wooden paneled floor. She might not be able to give you confidence face to face, but you will infinitely believe she'll be here in spirit continuously and forever. Whether you thought that through an object of an old tailored bag, it did not matter.

It would work.

You threw away the damp towel, mentally preparing yourself for the challenge ahead. First the zipper, it slid down with ease, inviting you in the empty space. One foot, then the other. You almost trip back, gripping onto the wardrobe for support.

You breathe out and shake your head.

Time to get serious.

You steady yourself, pulling up the bottom of the dress, stretching it over your hips and up to your chest. Letting the white fully engulf you, leaving only your arms remaining. You tug in one arm at a time, careful not to accidentally rip or pull on any of the delicate fabric. Before finally ripping the zipper back up in a heated pace, gasping as the gown pressed against your chest, squeezing to make everything look sculpted

The mirror taunted you, begging you to look at it. You stare unable to recognise the girl in the mirror, she wasn't even a girl, she was a woman. You looked like a blooming fire of pink roses, it screamed in sweet femininity. It was nothing you would even come close to wearing, nothing you would even come close to looking like. But, it was missing just one final touch.

Slipping the sachet over your head, you look back at the mirror.

Perfection.