A Blacksmith and Her Prince // Technoblade x Reader

You Spin Me Right Round

[Enjoy, more coming soon 🤍] ~Emily

Three is usually associated with luck.

Don't worry, three times a charm!

Yet, it's your third day here and only horror events have occurred. It started off with a literal kidnapping and soon after turning into a murder mystery. Your trust shared between others has been challenged non stop since being here, that said trust already being at minimal status. Even someone as kind hearted and sweet as Anne, still bundles your nerves in the most on edge way. She was the first one to show you any sort of gentleness since being here, it was loving in a way a mother comforts her child. But, past experiences have taught you to consistently be on alert, to always have a second glance, to never fully relax.

Was it tiring?

The blackness tugging the underside of your lids could speak for themselves, or maybe just the sleepless nights.

Last night especially was a rough whirlpool of congested emotions. What started off as a way to express your recently repressed creativity, turned into an almost silent funeral, a funeral that only one would be attending.

Them.

They must have been watching... lurking in a hidden corner or attending the dinner in person, unafraid of showing a sadistic smile shadowed by innocent eyes. It made you sick, made you scratch the never ending itch from behind your neck. Sometimes you pretended to ignore it, hoping for the annoyance to just dissipate with time, ultimately blaming it on the unfamiliar scenery. It never left, it was always there, ever since you arrived.

Oh how desperately you wished to be home, to smell the roasted coal underneath the furnace, melting down metal and stone into an indestructible material you could bend at will. You couldn't concentrate on work here, couldn't hide in a back room, couldn't run to your father. No matter how much you missed him. You just wanted an escape, needed it from this ironic mouse trap of a castle.

But, no matter what plans you may have conjured, or the theories you wished to solve. The same old words rattled inside, echoing in a disembodied voice, taunting you humorously.

No way in, no way out.

It needed to end, it had to end.

You knew that if you didn't do anything now, more corpses would be found. Ending this week with a ball directed by death;

A final waltz.

There was only one problem of course, you needed his help. The Blades. He's got the information and the authority needed to solve this twisting tale of close calls. But, with The Blade came many challenges. He always had this air around him, it certainly included the usual dose of cockiness and "I'm better than you" energy. Yet, there was something else. Something masked under all that smog, something that heeded a feeling of... vulnerability. A word that should be a sin to ever associate with him and if said would be hung without a spare second for a whisper.

In any case, you needed him, there was just one thing in your way.

"Could you quit staring at me, I swear I'll throw this coffee jug at your head." Your words leached with irritation, the caffeine having not kicked in yet.

The tin can tensed, but shook their head nonetheless, looking down with ghostly features.

"Listen..." you sighed. "Could you at least sit down? You're making me uncomfortable." You say, rubbing a thumb over a clay mug between your hands, caressing it soothingly.

The figure stood stoneless for a moment, before taking a silent seat an appropriate distance away from you. Some of the built up stress washing away from the small notion, letting your shoulders go lax with the new found calmness.