♡ ♥ You had grown up as a child to a witch, your home located far in a murky biome that was surrounded by lily pads that floated on water. Miles of wilderness separated you and any type of civilization, leaving you surrounded by the many frogs of the swamp.
The witch wasn't your original parent, but you didn't dare ask who was- for it never bothered you to know the truth. Instead, you were raised by the potion-brewing woman who you learned to love, even if she was harsh in her teachings.
You had always wondered why she didn't just kick you out, or worse, kill you. There had been no reason to keep you with her, seeing as she had only referred to you as a pest.
However, you knew she secretly admired you.
Perhaps she was lonely, tired of living in the secluded swamp that had been her only place to reside when cast out from the village. Or maybe she had grown tired of the fear others showed her for knowing magic that others didn't, and instead watched your eyes sparkle with everything she taught you. There were times where you couldn't sleep, so she told you stories of old that put you to rest.
She taught you her knowledge of potions, always making sure you were safe when experimenting- even testing the effects on frogs that lingered in hidden corners of your home. Her teaching allowed you to learn the ability of reading and writing- letting you fumble into the world of books.
One day, she had left to retrieve more materials for a potion, claiming to be back in just a few days. You still remember her embrace, one of the few that you've ever experienced, yet the one you would miss the most.
There was no sign, no last goodbye, for you had no clue she wouldn't return.
For weeks you waited, making sure to keep the house clean just the way she liked it, watering plants and cooking meals just like she did. You went through her books to keep you company, eventually finding stories tucked away in her private library to keep you occupied.
One particular book had caught your attention.
There had been notes upon notes stashed in the book, about a language you did not recognize. But the witches handwriting had deciphered the language, allowing you to study the paper for days.
It took more than words for you to complete the spells written on the pages, for not even the witch could harness the magic within herself. The magic had to have purpose and feeling in each syllable that slipped out of your mouth.
The healing spells hadn't granted you any hope in casting magic until you had used it on a dying plant. The memory of the witch carefully caring for the plants sent a warmth in your heart, unleashing the floodgates for your magic to pour into. The leaves replenished themselves as the magic within you finally burst, healing the plant the witch once loved.
Years of studying and living in the now crumbling home of what once used to be the witches and your home- you burned the books along with the house. You knew staying would only leave you with an unsatisfied life, with only frogs for friends. It was a memory you had to learn to forget, a bittersweet moment in time that would linger with you forever.
The plant you healed sat upon the ash, blooming in goodbye as you walked away.
You took on travelling from village to village afterwards, trying to work in the trade business. However, people had given you dirty looks when you brought potions to the streets- the practice of 'magic' unwelcomed in many villages.
That was where your pick-pocketing career started. If you could not bribe the money from them, you would simply steal from their pouches.
With much trial and error, your nimble fingers had mastered the talent of stealing, most people not even feeling the weight of a few coins slipping from their pouches. It wasn't bountiful, for you could only manage to follow and steal from so many everyday, but you made due with what you had.
You had made a small home in the village, and for once, you grew comfortable in life. The plants in your home grew beautifully as you prodded them with magic. You had what you needed, and your study on potions grew more and more.
You had made the mistake of lingering in the village for too long.
There had been rumours of visitors with a grey banner strapped to their back, sword stained with blood as they looked for a place to stay. Nothing had seemed wrong with them, until they mentioned something about a bad omen.
The sound of bells still rung in your ears.
Pillagers had waited outside the village with large beasts, attacking the iron giants of the town with great ferocity. The sound of crossbows whizzing past your ear, and the intense flames that had began eating the homes surrounding you grew, surrounding you and the villagers of the town.
There hadn't been a way out of the flames, causing you to panic as the heat grew. Arrows flew through the flames, catching fire as they hit bodies and engulfed them in golden light. Magic buzzed at your fingertips, but you had been too scared to use it.
When an arrow impaled your calf, you lost all sense of mind when the pain shot through you.
Words of old slipped from your mouth, moving the fire to your will as you whipped it from the houses and towards the pillagers that threatened you. Their cries of pain muffled in your ears as you kept throwing flames, forbidden words not stopping until the first drops of rain hit your face.
"I killed them all, every last pillagers and beast that dared step into the once beautiful village." Your words shook with uncertainty while you looked away from Technoblade, scared to see the disgust in his eyes.
"What did you do after that?" His voice was gentle, allowing you to keep what little hope you had left.
A sigh escaped your lips, hands coming to hug yourself. "I ran, for there was nothing left but ash and bones. Any villager that survived ran too, but I'm not sure how far they made it, for there was nothing left to take from what was once their home.
I ran for days, unable to heal my own wound. The drawback of using my magic means I cannot use it on myself- no healing, no harming, to keep it balanced. I thought I was dead, for the first snow began to settle in one night. I hadn't been ready, so I accepted the fact that I was to die in a forest with old trees and frost on my skin."
A small smile grew as you thought of the next part, one of the most major turning points in your life.
"Philza found me, and took me in. He healed me, raised me, until I found another village and began my thievery there. He taught me sword skills, and comforted me during the nights my dreams kept me awake. He was the father I never had, and one I wouldn't change for the world." Despite the winged man devilishly brining you and Techno together last night, you knew he was only looking out for you- just like he always had.
And Techno was right, your story wasn't over; and he was now apart of it.
The Piglin stayed silent, his red eyes flickering as he went over your words- playing your story in his head. His eyes met yours, and initially you expected disgust, hesitance, however- you saw acceptance, understanding.
He knew exactly how you felt.
"I understand how hard it is- really, I do. It hasn't been easy for me when everyone looked up to me, expecting me to free them from someone who had more power than myself. I thought I would die before I could kill the previous king, and let everyone down. The voices in my head mocked me for my doubts, and I believed them.
Yet, even though we were both surrounded by those flames, with death creeping on our heads, we made it. And we will continue to do so, for that's how we were raised- and I see now that it will be easier with each other." His hands were hesitant in finding yours, but not because he was scared of you- no, he was scared that you would leave.
You parted your lips to say something, but a loud hurried knock sounded at the door. Technoblade sat up, glancing at you before shuffling off the bed- hooves clicking against the floor. The Piglin wasn't able to get to his door before it bust open, a freckled faced man standing there with wide eyes, diamond sword in his hand. "Dream?"
"Techno-" his green eyes landed on yours, recognizing you to be the magical girl who had healed him weeks ago. He didn't have long to stare however, for there was much more pressing matters than a girl in the kings room. "We're under attack- the Wither skeletons, they've made portals inside the castle, just like we thought."
His words had you up in an instant, immediately concerned for the safety of Ranboo. You hadn't seen him since last night- and for all you knew, he could be on the other end of a Withered blade right now.
Before you could rush out of the room, Technoblade caught your arm. "Where are you going?" His voice was worried.
"I need to find Ranboo- don't worry, I can take care of myself. Gather the rest of the guards and ready them up; we don't have much time before they infest the castle."
He hesitated, hand tightening before finally letting go. "Be careful, please." He let you go before you could promise anything, watching as you ran past Dream and into the halls. He wanted to chase you, to keep you safe; for his heart twisted in fear of what was to come, yet his eyes hardened when he was reminded of who he was.
Dream watched the way his friends eyes shone with admiration, just from one person alone. He would smile, even tease the Piglin- but the echoes of bones in the halls dragged him back to reality. "Techno- back to reality here, get your armour." Placing his mask on his face, Dreams hand tightened on his sword as the rattle of bones grew closer.
Stumbling in your room, your hands found the iron armour and sword given to you so long ago. It was worn and old, and you weren't sure it would last through the whole battle, but you trusted you could protect yourself if worse came to worse.
Clicking on your armour, a crash sounded at your door- bursting the wood open. Your hands fumbled with your sword for a moment, eyes catching a glimpse of the ash-coloured bone in front of you. There wasn't much time to raise your sword, blocking the opposing blade and pushing the skeleton away. You quickly thrusted your sword forward, blade impaling and crumbling the skeletons chest, watching as the skeleton crumbled down into a pile of ash.
Abandoning your room, your feet carried you down the hall, where you found Phil easily destroying Wither Skeleton after Wither Skeleton. The sounds of a Nether portal nearby caught your attention, eyes finding the purple magic that lead to the Overworld.
You ran to the portal, using all your might to knock the stone out of place. Your shoulder screamed in pain- but you did what you needed. The purple magic faded as the black stone shifted, leaving the portal incomplete and unusable.
Steps behind you caught your attention, your blade swinging- only for you to stop when the sight of Adrian's purple eyes entered your vision.
The Enderman didn't wear any armour- instead relying on his teleporting to get him out of situations. He moved gracefully when finishing off the last Wither Skeleton in the area, his otherworldly body elegantly moving around the swinging blades.
"I take it you were caught off guard too?" He asked, a light smile on his face. Phil ran to join your small little party, wings fluttering behind him as his eyes scanned for any incoming skeletons. "We need to disarm as many portals as we can, to prevent us from getting overwhelmed."
"We need to find Ranboo-" you began.
"Right, stick together, we can't get caught off guard." Phil said, watching as Adrian took the lead. It was strange to see an Enderman run instead of teleport, but you were grateful he slowed himself in order to keep you within arms reach.
When you turned the hall, you were met with more Wither Skeletons, each one brandishing their swords like a threat. The three of you made quick work of their small numbers, this time, Adrian grabbed an obsidian block and simply teleported it out of place, closing off the portal and moving onto the next.
"(Y/n)!" That voice.
You turned to see Ranboo- who was currently being dragged into the throne room by Wither Skeletons. Your heart lurched as you quickly finished off the skeleton you had been fighting, ignoring the rest as you made your way to Ranboo.
Adrian and Phil followed, watching your back as you stormed into the throne room. Ranboo was kneeled in the center of the room, Withered blade pressed to his neck as the Skeleton threatened you with a hiss. You clenched your iron sword, which wasn't doing too well in durability now.
The skeleton didn't speak, which gave you time to look at Ranboo. He didn't look well, the left side of his face swollen and bruised- forcing his red eye closed. His green eye looked at you with pain all over his featured, begging you to help him.
"Let him go." You didn't know what else to do, so you settled on your words. The sound of your threat echoed across the room, joined by the pounding of Wither Skeletons trying to get through the door behind you.
The skeleton holding Ranboo faltered for a moment, his blade dropping just enough for you to throw your own. Just as your blade glided through its skull, successfully turning it into ash and freeing Ranboo, four portals appeared on your sides, surrounding you with an incoming army of Skeletons.
Phil and Adrian were quickly overwhelmed, allowing you just enough time to run past Ranboo and towards the throne- dragging the monochrome boy with you. He limped with you as you found yourself beside the throne, fingers pressing on the jewels in order to find what you needed.
A 'pop' sounded in your ears, hand wrapping around the onyx hilt as you unsheathed the black blade from its hiding place. The new weapon caused a few Skeletons to falter, but they didn't stop approaching you.
You heard a cry from Ranboo from behind you, the coldness of a blade behind your neck. You didn't dare turn back, for you feared at what you would see. When your attacker spoke, it spent ice through your veins.
"That's enough."
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