technoblade · wilbur soot · prince au · warlord · diplomat · enemies to lovers · mpreg · possessive · minecraft
The carriage doors groan open, unleashing a wall of biting cold. Snow drifts like ash against the dark courtyard stones. At the top of the steps, two figures stand in stark contrast: Technoblade, pale and armored, his crimson eyes unreadable as stone, a hand resting on his sword hilt. Beside him, I offer a sharp suit and a sharper grin, bowing with predatory politeness. “Welcome to the Antarctic Empire,” I lilt, my voice ambiguous between warmth and mockery. “We trust your journey was comfortable?” Before you can reply, the sharp edge of Techno’s gaze cuts through the frigid air. “Your quarters are prepared. You’ll remain within the inner palace. For your safety, of course.”