A Blacksmith and Her Prince // Technoblade x Reader

Contrite Words

What is happening?

Your hands trembled sickly, gripping on to each other in hopes of making the shaking stop.

It wasn't working.

The sight was gruesome and played on repeat over and over in your mind, it was as if you were strapped to a chair with your eyes peeled open by metal clasps, forced to watch the pooling blood endlessly leak from a once breathing, living thing. You couldn't get it out of your head, the torn back of the animal, it's dislocated spine, slipping out and onto the dirty ground. As if the cow was worthless, as if the cow had no meaning to life, to living.

As if the cow were nothing.

You give a shaky breath, letting your hands feel through the spider silk sheets, in hopes for any calming feeling left in your mortified self.

Anne must have searched for you after making that dramatic exit, even if it was technically her job to do, you were grateful she did. The spark of thankfulness you gained when she held that heavenly glow of a lantern, spread a relief of tingles all over you, though it was only for a moment, before you were pulled back into the sinking oil spill of gore.

Steam slipped through the crack of the opened bathroom door, fogging up your bedroom mirrors. Anne was here trying to calm your nerves, scrummaging in the bathroom to get something for you. You were overwhelmly grateful, you didn't deserve her kindness at all, especially after the stunt you pulled at tonight's get together. It was embarrassing to ponder on it now, another regret to add to the endless stock of lists piling up.

Anne left the sweaty bathroom and wandered over to where you sat on the bed, holding a damp, white cloth in her hand. She kneeled before you again, tilting her head to see how you were doing. She placed her empty hand on your forearm, smoothly running her thumb back and forth in a comforting manner.

"(Y/N)." You didn't respond, only staring back with dead eyes. "Show me your hands dear." You wait a moment before lifting your hands timidly, letting them land softly into her own. Your hands were grazed to the point of being slashed, letting whatever germs and dirt crawl deep into the opening of your flesh, as dried up blood surrounded the worse areas. Anne only hummed before rubbing the wet cloth carefully over your palms, dragging it up to the tips of your fingers and down to the veins of your wrists.

Hissing in a breath, you try to ignore the stinging pain of wounds being cleaned. If this were back at the blacksmith, you would have either just taken a bath or not given care at all. Your father would worry of course, but he was completely useless when it came to health or basic healing properties. Watching him try and wrap his own hand was awful enough as it is, to know you were just as bad as him was something you didn't like to think about.

"Thank you..." You whispered. Anne took her attention off the almost clean hands and watched your eyes intensely, this was the first time you spoke to her.

"Don't worry about it." She gave a big smile, causing her eyes to crinkle kindly as she patted your leg. That sentence meant more than just your nerves, you were sure she was also talking about the whole of tonight's events.

"The dress-"

"Shh." She silenced you sweetly.

She rubbed over your hands one last time with a dry cloth, finishing up with a light squeeze of her hands against your own.

"Squeaky clean." She said, stretching herself up to take the dirty cloth back into the bathroom. You could hear the pipes run the water through the old tap of the sink, listening to the tendrils of liquid sink down deep into the drain relaxed you to the point where the shivering mostly stopped.