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𝟤𝟫 | 𝒟𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒞𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓁𝑒𝓎

мє¢нαиι¢ ѕωєєтѕ

𝔖𝔬𝔫𝔤: 𝔖𝔨𝔶𝔣𝔞𝔩𝔩 - 𝔄𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔢

⚜ ————-　⚜Ѽ⚜　————- ⚜

The blacksmith shop was alight with sparking embers and the sound of a stone hammer pounding a piece of metal into shape. The smell of the fire and smoke that floated from the forge, crowding around the central hole in the top, longing to escape into the night.

Dire stood at the door of the blacksmith stall, his cape pressed against his shoulder as he leaned on the wooden frame. Actually, there was no real door for him to lean on; rather, there was only the frame.

Y/N had never seen the point in putting up a door when she essentially lived in the forge, and no one dared to try and break through the enchantments that she placed on her projects. They were all safe as they sat in the forge, exposed to whoever might pass by. And besides, the only time that someone had tried to rob Y/N was when the band of rogue goblins invaded the streets of the Queendom of Steam in hopes of capturing the blacksmith and a few of her most prized treasures. The goblins had quickly learned not to mess with her after that instance, and everyone else had taken it as a wise warning to leave the famed blacksmith's trinkets alone.

Y/N lifted her gaze from the burning embers and pulled the goggles away from her eyes, grinning when she saw her boyfriend standing at the door of her workplace. She set the goggles on her forehead and turned back to the fire and flames, grabbing the tongs that stuck out of the stone oven and pulling them out. As the tongs emerged, they revealed a large piece of metal on the end. Y/N set it on the anvil in the centre of the room and grabbed her hammer. She lifted the stone high into the air before slamming it down on the metal. Sparks rained from the ruby sheet, falling to the floor and disappearing almost entirely in a matter of seconds.

"What brings you out here, Crow," Y/N asked with a smirk. She rained stroke after stroke down upon the metal, banging it into the shape she desired. Once the shape had been achieved, she stuck the metal into the pail of water beside the anvil, carefully watching it to make sure that it didn't warp.

Dire shrugged. "I wanted to see how the preparations were going?"

Y/N smirked and grabbed the sheet of metal, still burning hot, with her gloved hands, and brought it over to a bench on the side of the room where a thousand identical pieces were waiting. Each had been placed into a column and row, and with the last metal piece in place, it seemed as though Y/N had finally completed the number of bases she needed.

"Do you have everything that you need now," Dire asked. He pushed himself off the frame and strode over to Y/N, his cane making subtle clicking noises as he walked.

Y/N nodded and gestured over her shoulder to where a line of other tables sat, pressed up against each other, and covered with a large black cloth that seemed to conceal whatever pieces lurked beneath. Unable to curb his curiosity, Dire strode over to the tables and lifted the first of the sheets. He grinned when he saw the tiny bodies of miniature creatures that Y/N would soon complete with the final sheets of metal.

"They'll be ready by tonight," Dire asked, lowering the sheet of fabric once again and returning to Y/N's side. She was working on sanding down the last of the metal sheets, working the grained paper over the edge that would be showing. The last thing she wanted people to see was all the little bruises and dents that had come from the swinging of the hammer.

Dire placed his hand on her shoulder and slowly removed his mask. Y/N was the only one who ever saw him without it. The lines of his cheeks, which looked as though they could have been sculpted by Michelangelo, were hers. The tiny bend in his nose, broken from where he had gotten into a fistfight as a child, was hers. The eyes that shone like doubloons in the depths of the ocean were hers. The real eyes. Not the glow that filtered through the mask, concealing the beauty of his angular and chiselled face. His eyes, his body, his soul, his lips, it all belonged to her. In the purest form imaginable.