Bloodshed [ Technoblade x Reader ]

3

After storming out of the meeting you had made your way to your beloved bridge to calm yourself. You had gotten used to the majority of the comments you received but it still made you angry. You would think after seven months of being general and six years with the army, people would have gotten used to it but they never seemed to.

You stood on the bridge, admiring the view of the gorgeous lava lake that sat beneath it. Part of you had wished you'd thrown that sword directly into one of the men's heads, god knows you'd be able to, but you knew that would cause much more harm than good. However, you couldn't help but feel a large ball of anger grow inside you. Thoughts began to fly through your mind. Unpleasant thoughts. Intrusive thoughts. Murderous intent.

"Though I would find you here" a voice suddenly appeared.

You turned to face the voice, hand resting on the hilt of your sword, ready to attack at any moment. However, your hand quickly fell when you saw your father standing at the end of the bridge.

"Father, to what do I owe this pleasure?" You asked politely. Your father had never been a man known to seek people out, on regular occasions he would saught out a servant to find you and bring you to him.

"You made quite the scene at the meeting, is everything alright?"

"Oh father please, you heard the things they were saying. I just got enraged, that's all. I'm cooling off now" you sighed, trying not to worry him.

"Very well, you, however, missed some important information so I'd thought I'd come and tell you privately" he began as we walked towards you, standing at your side, looking off into the mountains "two generals will be arriving in two days in order to discuss battle plans with you. I believe you will have eleven days to come up with some ideas and a week or so later we will be holding a royal ball as a farewell party for all those soldiers leaving for battle"

"I'm sorry did I hear you correctly? Only eleven days to plan an entire war? You must be joking" you laughed, unable to process what you've just heard.

"I'm afraid I'm being serious, the Pigmen had a spy confirm that the Wither Skeleton army are already preparing for their war and are estimated to start their journey in twenty-four days" your father responded, clear disappointment in his voice.

"It's alright, it's not your fault. These generals, with the Pigmen and Piglins, they're good yes?"

"The best, so I've heard"

"Great, I'm sure we'll get through this father, we always do. I'll be heading off to the training quarters now if that's alright with you" you said, stooping to a bow after your father dismissed you with a nod. You spun on your heels and made your way off the bridge, heading to the stairs.

You may have just told your father you were going to the training quarters but you had different plans in mind. You rushed to your room and grabbed your brown leather satchel off its hanger throwing things into it. A spare change of clothes and some first aid (just in case). You lifted off the black cloak that sat on a mannequin in the corner of your room and threw it over yourself, clasping the gold chain around your neck. After checking to make sure your sword was still in its sheath you lifted the satchel over your head, resting it on your shoulder.

Instantly, your eyes flew to your vanity. In the vanity that you never used was a drawer. A drawer that you made all servants promise to never touch. A drawer that you swore to only open in extreme emergencies. But this, this was urgent. You walked over to it, running your hand along the handmade golden family crests that sat on it. You took a deep breath and pulled it open.

In it was a perfect set up of weapons lying upon a black silk sheet. In it were 2 machetes, a few daggers, and belts worth of throwing knives. Carefully, you picked up every piece and tucked it into hidden places within your clothes. Just in case.

A letter. You had to write a letter. Or your father will think you've gone missing. You scanned the room looking for some parchment paper and a quill with ink. On your nightstand was a small pile of paper with a quill in a jar of ink. You quickly rushed to write a short letter explaining your whereabouts and that you'll be back soon and not to worry. You carefully folded the paper and wrote "father" on it and placed it in the centre of your vanity.

Once that was done, you slid out of your room and left the fortress making sure no one saw you leave. You knew exactly where you were going. It wasn't a long journey but it was in another world.

The overworld. A place you hadn't been in over two years. The first time you had entered the overworld had been three years ago as part of a mission to retrieve a large sum of obsidian. However, as you and your fellow men were treading through the tundra, a deadly snowstorm had hit and wiped out all twenty of the men with you. You had managed to survive in the cold long enough to find shelter.

And this shelter was where you had to go. There was something there that you needed.

Desperately.