Sheath (Technoblade x Reader)

♡ 7 ♡

You probably shouldn't have, but you looked at who joined you. Two burning red eyes looked into yours, casing you to scowl. The thumping of boots stopping in front of you, black leather that seemed to be covered in ash.

You didn't dare look up again.

"What are you doing here?" His voice asked, controlling the tension you could sense he was holding in. Hesitating, you placed the cloth into the bucket, grabbing it and holding it by your side.

"I was sentenced to work here, remember? Or did you already forget the trial we were at." You said to him sarcastically. Death was a really possible right about now, seeing as he could probably kill you in 27 ways without needing a weapon. Yet he held back, despite you being technically lower class than himself.

"I think I remember saving your ass from a death sentence, or maybe my memory has gone foggy in the past five days fighting Wither skeletons." Technoblade scowled back at you, glancing down to your red hands. You may or may not have been scrubbing a little too intensely just before he came in. His eyes swirled with something you didn't understand, so you quickly hid your hands behind your back. You momentarily forgotten about where he had been these last days. He was nothing to you after all, just an obstacle between you and your freedom.

Glancing up at his face, you could see a nasty red gash tipped from his jaw to his upper cheek, the wound oozing white puss from being infected.

"You should get that wound looked after." You said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Technoblade huffed, moving to walk past you. You couldn't believe him. Offering advice to him because you were slightly worried, and that was the response you got? Without hesitation, your foot landed on his cape, which was tattered and worn beyond repair, causing him to jerk back from the sudden halt of his momentum.

"You foolish girl-" He began, turning to look at you with annoyed eyes. You crossed your arms and shook your head, not allowing even a King to speak to you like that.

"You will not ignore me when I speak to you."

"And who are you to tell me what to do? I am the king, I give the orders around here." He stopped in front of you, his height towering you like a tree. Yet you didn't falter in your gaze or stance, your pride once again kicking in for you. "Besides, there are others who need to see a physician before me."

His voice got quiet, while all the anger around him had vanished like the light in the Nether. His red eyes swirled with guilt behind his mask, and you couldn't help but feel your heart clench at the thought that Bad could possibly be one of the people with the physician now.

"Be that way then...." you turned on your heel, feeling his gaze on the back of your head the whole way to the door. You questioned yourself as to why there was so much worry in your voice before. This was the man that trapped you here, that forced you to become nothing more than a cleaner. And yet, he spared you more than once, and from what you've been told, he could be a good man.

"Some people care about you, your Highness." Those words echoed around the room, only the two of you hearing the echo that sunk in the walls. What you meant to refer to was Bad, who seemingly had an endless about of admiration for his friend, Technoblade. Yet you couldn't help but mean those words in your own way.

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When the clocks on the walls had struck sundown, did your day finally end.

Well, only your duties of a maid, that is.

You had done some sniffing around the maid chambers, once everyone was gone. It was oddly quiet when the rest of the people you worked with either went home outside the fortress, or were already getting the sleep they needed in the sleeping chambers. You however, still had some duties to attend to.

Walking through the paths you had learned the general layout to, you found your feet leading you to the physician you knew was probably busy. And busy he was indeed. When entering the room, beds were filled with multiple Piglins and humans, all in some way being taken care of by the busy Enderman. You could see Adrian teleporting to multiple places, only pausing to gather items into his long arms and apply them to wounds you couldn't see properly.

"I see I've come at a bad time." You smiled, catching the Enderman off guard. His teleporting faltered for a longer period as he turned to you, nodding his head frantically before returning to the many beds. The room almost seemed warmer than the few times you had gone here, and you wondered if it was because of all the bodies in here, or the constant opening and closing of the door.

Perhaps it was the fevers everyone shared.

Walking up to the closest bed, sat a man with dirty blonde hair soaked with sweat. His freckled face had a sheer to it. Upon closer inspection, you could see the first person you walked up to was sweating terribly. Their eyes were closed as if fighting an embodiment of the fever in a dream. Your hand was placed on their burning forehead, and as you watched them lean into the cool temperature of your body, you could see what was causing the pain.

A slice of a sword sat on their chest, black with decay. Withering away.

You retracted your hand, and the person on the bed went back to fighting their own battle alone. The heat in the room seemed to double as you realized everyone was going through the same thing, that they were all dying.

"There's no cure for the withering effect, not when they're this far into the process." Adrian stated as he kept teleporting, voice coming from different parts of the room as purple wisps followed. Looking away, the beat in your chest accelerated as you realized that there was no way for them to be healed, at least not with normal medicine anymore. The Enderman sounded broken as he finally stopped teleporting, breath heavy as his long frame leaned against a wall. "I can't help them now."

Glancing back at the blonde-haired boy, you could feel your heart wrench. Technoblade was right when he said others needed the physician more than himself, but what good was being here when they were all going to die? Did they even defeat the Withers? These were Technoblades friends both in arms, they knew him in the past wars, and gave themselves for him again.

So surely, they didn't deserve to die. Not yet.

"Adrian...." you trailed off, catching the exhausted Enderman's attention. His hands had long since dropped the items to the floor, the contents spilt from their original containers. His purple eyes seemed dim with lost hope.

"What are your thoughts on forbidden languages?"

His eyes glimmered a vibrant purple once again.

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