Sheath (Technoblade x Reader)

♥ 24 ♥

♡ ♥ You had never wished to crumble more than now.

Darkness was your only friends in this prison. Your problems had only seemed to grow in waves of anxiety, distant pained echoes bouncing off the enclosed walls of your cells, despite you being alone.

They drove you mad- the voices. Without Technoblade to chase them away, combined with the inability to track time in the darkness, your mind made up your loneliness with its darkest thoughts. In attempt to keep your mind off of dooming madness, your fingers would pick away at the small grains of stone in the floor, rolling the pebbles in your hand before throwing them away. Punishing words that only meant to harm you slipped into your ears, and sometimes you would mutter them in belief.

Selfish thoughts would penetrate your soul, 'what if's' playing through your imagination. What if you sacrificed Phil, saving Ranboo and yourself. What if it was the other way around and Ranboo died while you healed Phil? Doubt slithered it's way into your heart, adding onto the piling emotions that so desperately needed to be set free.

No, you made the right choice in saving both of them.

But that resolution didn't last forever. Had you not found that book of magic in the witches room, would you still have been in this situation?

When the room felt cold, and all that accompanied your senses was silence, a heat bloomed in your chest. Through all the bad thoughts, Technoblade's voice rang through your ears, reminding you- that your story hadn't been over, it was just beginning.

Even if he wasn't with you physically, you could still feel his warmth cling to your chest. His words accompanied many others, Ranboo's little laugh, Phil's teasing tone; Hell, even Clara's flustered squeals reminded you that you couldn't give up.

So when the door of your cell opened, you sat there in the dark, eyes glimmering with a few-found hope.

You didn't fight the Skeletons, rather, you allowed them to lead you. There was no form of language between your species, or so you could tell, for they communicated with rattles and clacks of their bones and swords. It was annoying sometimes, to only hear the shiver of death outside your cell, but it reminded you that time was passing- even if it was devilishly slow.

The room you were escorted to was immersed in the glow from lava, the golden liquid trapped behind sturdy glass. Adrian stood in the centre of the room, overlooking some kind of creation that you didn't doubt he created.

Bones rattled beside you, the Wither Skeletons leaving you to speak with Adrian alone. The mere sight of the Enderman shook you with anger, the desire to plunge a rusty sword right through his chest keeping you upright; You would get your revenge, but there was much patience needed yet.

"Glad to see you could make it." His once calming voice was nothing but cold, his purple eyes turned to look at you. "I hope the darkness did you well, it was hard finding a room still intact after all this time abandoned."

"Just get to the point, Adrian." You snapped, keeping a watchful eye on his figure. His sheer outfit flowed as he walked around you, silver glittering like the stars in a night sky, his eyes narrowing as if he was looking for something.

"My my darling, no need to get so snappy." He smirked. "I simply need your magic, that's all. Then- I'll let you run back to your lover and leave you alone."

"Do you think of me as a fool to believe you?"

"Well, yes." He stopped pacing around you, finally stopping a fair distance away from you. "Once I get what I need, I'll be able to take back the Kingdom I worked so hard to make. The Lava King was strong, and very gifted with an axe, but he was never good with making decisions, hence why I was his right hand man.