#jschlatt mcyt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitchyboy-writing · 2 years

Text

words spread ch1

The whispers had been quiet, at first. Told between ladies in waiting and chambermaids, between squires and stable boys.

“… new kingdom, close by us…” “...boar-king and the crow…” “... called it ‘the Empire’...”

Gossip travels quickly through court, but this was different. Everyone in Manberg court knew of the Empire by the fourth day of its forming, yet it wasn’t because of the rumours. It was because monarch-Emperor Schlatt had announced our… situation with the new country.

And your involvement in it.

—

Somehow, Tubbo woke up before you. You heard the regular bustle of the house, but added to it was also low muttering right outside your room. It sounded like your younger brother, your lady in waiting and the steward whispering to each other. Something must have come in with the pigeons this morning, otherwise, Tubbo would have just bounded inside like the little menace that he is.

Our father had finally allowed him to learn how to lead a household, and you were sent along with him to learn ‘womanly household things’.

A loud knock snapped you from your reverie, and as you had thought, Minx, your head of ladies, called through the door.

“Good morning, your royal highness. May I, the steward, and his royal highness- your brother- come in?” Her voice was soft, almost light enough to think that she was forcing casual respect into her tone. (Which, as you knew, she was.)

Closed dresser, wooden door, open window. Your eyes tracked around the room, making sure everything was appropriate for two gentlemen to see.

“Of course, Minx. Come in.” You sat up in bed, settling your nightgown around you. You needed to be at least semi-appropriate for whatever emergency you’d have to deal with for the day.

The door creaked open, the steward holding the door open for your brother and your lady. Tubbo walked in calmly, and that was your first sign that something was wrong. Tubbo? Calm? You would eat your hat. Then came Minx, holding an envelope a fair bit harsher than a piece of paper would normally deserve. The steward came last, his portly frame just filling out the edge of your bedside, effectively trapping you within a circle of your own family and servants.

“It’s a letter from Father, (y/n). It's addressed to us.”

Only ten words and yet they froze you, making your pulse beat firework fast.

“A… Letter. From Father.” Your voice was controlled. Pointed.

Your brother shuffled from one foot to the other, and Minx handed you the letter. It was still sealed. The edges were crumpled, having gone through the messaging system DIScord, and then through Minx’s worrying.

You turn to the two servants beside you, raising your hand slightly in the air to dismiss them. The two scurry out, with Minx looking back once to give you a thumbs up. Her kind of thumbs up was in fact a sly middle finger, but you knew her intentions.

She'd had that polite front for maybe… the first two years she had served you? It had dropped once, late at night during the winter, and ever since she's been just the right amount of rude you needed as a princess. She still tried to be respectful around your brother and the other servants, but it was becoming harder and harder to hide her brashness.

When she walked out (and closed) the door, Tubbo finally approached you. He jump-sat on your bed and leaned forwards, towards the unopened letter. He grabbed your hand.

“We can do this. It won’t be that bad. It could even be good! Like… uh … maybe he’s opening Snowchester back up for us?”

That would be nice. Snowchester had some very good childhood memories for the two of you, but somehow this letter felt more dangerous than that.

Peeling the envelope apart was the next step, then opening up the thin paper to the window. Blinking, letting light fold across the scrap, the words became clear for the both of you.

My dear beloved son (and daughter),

I require you in court for the winter solstice. News has reached the capital that needs the two of you here to receive. Be ready. Be presentable.

Your father and monarch-Emperor,

Schlatt Beloved

The winter solstice was three days away, including today. You would need to travel, and fast. The true heart of the kingdom was a day’s ride, but add in the decorum of a carriage and it turns to two and a half. The two of you had to pack, grab your personal servants, and order a carriage all before noon.

A flurry of movement distracted you from your thoughts, as Tubbo leaped off the bed in excitement and promptly fell face-first onto the cold marble. You hadn’t heard a crack, so his nose must have been safe, but the rest of his face was up for grabs by the white stone that surrounds your bed.

Standing up, he rubs his newly bruised cheek. He doesn’t spit out any teeth, which is frankly relieving. Jewelled teeth may be a sign of status, but what kind of just king had a mouth of gold before he was even crowned? He brushes the rest of his curly mess of hair out of the way, and you’re glad to see no other injuries.

“Nice one, idiot” There was a happy lilt to your tone, a giggle bursting at the last second.

“Who are you calling ‘idiot’, bitch?” He always had to add to the bit, make it just a bit extreme. His laugh came a second later, sitting down and elbowing you in the ribs.

“You, bitch” you imitate him, causing the two of you to collapse back onto the plush of your bed.

“Will you fix this already? It hurts…” he dragged out the last syllable, whining his way into getting a healing potion.

Getting up to grab one from your chest, your feet almost stick to the floor with how cold they are. After rummaging through your defensive vials and invisibilities, you pull out a very small vial of regeneration. You hold out a small cloth in your lap and allow three drops to soak through.

You hand it to Tubbo, and he applies it to his cheek. He sighs a fraction of a second later, and you meet eyes.

“Go on, Tubs. Get everything ready. You have more power than me anyway.” You stood, dusting off your gown and held out a hand to bring him back up to stand. He pulls himself up, and all of sudden you are surrounded by limbs and hair and far too fancy clothing. He’s hugging you.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll stick together.”

“Yeah. We will.” Holding him tight, your voice only had a small shake. If Tubbo noticed, he doesn't mention it.

—

Riding out in the carriage an hour before schedule should have been a relief, but it felt more like a numbness in your fingers. Straight across from you, your brother and his hand servant, and next to you is Minx. All of us dressed in furs, our bags at our feet. Golden embellishments are everywhere, but the carriage is still cold to the bone.

Aside from horses clopping and the driver’s commands, it is eerily silent in the small false room you’ve found yourself in. Trying to lose yourself in a novel hadn’t worked for the silence, nor had staring out the window at the passing trees and snow.

Your thoughts kept looping through the letter, trying to parse any more information than what was originally revealed. He hadn’t sounded excited about the news, but when had Father shown exuberance in anything? It was short and formal and so utterly concerning.

“My lady,” Minx asked quietly, allowing herself the opportunity of speech. She was always allowed to speak to me, however, ‘normal’ ladies in waiting would be less bold.

“if… If you are nervous about the long trip, you could embroider with me. I am working on an overskirt for my mother.” She continues.

She tries to be polite in front of the two men, and she presented a distraction that was appropriately lady-like. What would you do without her?

“I would love to join you in your endeavour, Minx. What is the pattern?”

“It’s tulips, my lady. Her birth-flower.”

“That sounds lovely. Do you have extra needles and thread?”

—

When it was finally too dark for the two of you to finish the embellishments, the carriage pulls up to a small baron's fiefdom. Time for you to perform! The servants went out the doors first, then a footman helped you down from the small height of the carriage floor.

The four of you gather outside the baron’s gated estate. A guard sends a withering glare at you, but you volley it like a ball, smiling glacially at every soldier you can see.

“I am princess (y/n) of Manberg, along with heir-prince Tubbo of Manberg. We need a refuge from the night. Please, wake your lord.” Your smile widened when the men who were grimacing were now trembling. You didn’t lord your power over many, but soldiers who try to frighten common folk? You would use your power to its full extent.

—

The next night was like the first, ordering people to give you refuge and waking at the egg-crack of dawn to continue travel. Somehow, the scenery had become even shabbier, drier with heat and with constant travel.

Minx had finished her overskirt hours earlier, and it laid now packed in her satchel that hangs from her hip. Now, with drab scenery and no busywork, truly the only thing that consumed you was ‘the news’ your Father had fabled. Tubbo, at least, had his driving lessons in the coach box for the half-day, but you were stuck.

News has reached the capital that needs the two of you here to receive.

Be ready.

Be presentable.

All it did was echo.

Be ready.

Be presentable.

And echo.

Be presentable.

What did he mean?

—

When you had arrived in court, it was just past the sun’s setting. The solstice was the next day, and you had arrived just in time, along with the other major lords of Manberg. A distinctly Kiniko carriage was also pulled up along the palace, as well as an SMP caravan. Monarch-Emperor Schlatt must have called on everyone, even the diplomats.

The footman and the driver corral the horses and the carriage into a small, private grassy area not too far from the entrance.

Tubbo took your hand up again, putting it into the crook of his arm. The two of you had to be as proper as two royal siblings aught, and that included proper walking techniques. The two of you walked to the gate, and only had to show your faces for passage deeper into the estate.

Passing guard after guard, count after earl, you both kept climbing. Your first stop needed to be a presentation of each other in front of your Father, otherwise, it could be seen as an insult to him. The last thing we wanted to do was to insult him.

When finally breaching the throne room, you took a glance at each other. You flattened down the top of his fluffy curls and he twirled a ribbon back into your hair. After turning to face the doors, Tubbo pushed them open.

When facing your Father, there were specific rules to keep in mind. No eye contact, no mumbling, and the unspoken rule, pay most attention to Tubbo. Walking into the throne room though gave you the shivers, as you felt your Father’s (and the duke’s) eyes on you.

“I am duty-bound to announce Tubbo Beloved, heir-prince to the Manberg throne.” You kept your eyes firmly glued to the floor as you bow. You would not give the two of them a single thing to complain about.

“I am honour-bond to announce (y/n) Beloved, princess to the Manberg throne.” Tubbo matches your bow, though technically he is meant to be above me. The idiot, putting himself in danger for me and my desire to be equal.

“Hello, my son. My daughter. I am glad to have you home again.”

Tubbo stepped forwards. He would handle the rest of the conversation until it reached the point of marriage proposals. Is that why the duke was here?

“Father. We are glad to be home. Why have you called us so quickly to your side?”

“There is grave news, my son. I need the two of you to help me with current negotiations.”

Negotiations? Sure, that sounded like something Tubbo would be a part of, but what about you? You hadn’t even been allowed in the war room.

“I am pleased to help you, Father. What will (y/n) be doing?”

Looks like Tubs has picked up on it too. Something strange is happening, and it’s our job to figure out what before we accidentally step in it.

“She will have her marital use in the negotiation. Do not worry, the both of you. It will all be explained after the sun’s first rays tomorrow morning.” That’s why the Duke is here. You suppose it had to happen eventually. You tried to hide your fear behind a pleasant smile.

“I will need the two of you by my sides in the morning, do you understand?”

“Of course, Father. We will be here.” You nod in the back, eyes fixed on your Father’s shined black boots.

“You are dismissed.” He waved his hand. He turned back to his conversation with the Duke.

You both bow low again to your Father, then walk out as calmly as possible. The two of you must have run back to your childhood rooms, but neither of you remembered it. You sat, clinging to him for a while.

Was that it? Was he finally going to marry you off to Duke Quackity, the man that had thought you promised to him since the moment he saw you? He must have finally given your Father a good enough deal for you. Was that why he wanted you presentable?

Anger clouded your judgement and you jumped off the queen bed, before pouncing back into it and punching the pillows. The most aggressive thing a woman could do while with company, you supposed. You ripped at the blanket, not doing much more damage than a frustrated kitten. The blankets were fur, well treated, and not easily ripped apart.

Tubbo dove out of the way of your first attack, but then held up a pillow for you to smack with unrepentant fury.

“Pretend the pillow is the Duke’s face. I’m sure you’ll get more use out of it that way.”

That caused you to swipe at it, taking the pillow from him and hitting him over the head with it. He shrieked, as teenaged boys are wont to do, and grabbed a second pillow to defend himself. He used it as a body shield, keeping you away from his face and vital organs.

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Marry. Him!” With each exclamation, you hit Tubbo with the pillow, rage following from your vein to the feathers. With the last hit, you lost steam and collapsed against your brother. Face red-hot and pulse point freezing, you cry against him. Just a few slip past your eyes and down onto his shoulder, and even fewer soak through.

“When I’m monarch-Emperor, I’ll send for you. You won’t have to stay with him.” He stops there, but only to take in a breath. He seems stunned, a bit, by the words coming out of his mouth but he continues.

“You just need to survive the first few years, then I can bring you home again, I promise.”

You still. He hasn’t made a promise in years. Not since… not since Tommy.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Then you fell asleep.

#technoblade #technoblade/reader #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade x y/n #tubbo myct #minx mcyt #jschlatt mcyt #alternate universe - medieval

64 notes · View notes

bitchyboy-writing · 2 years

Text

words spread ch2

@solivagantlife

-----

An hour before the sun's rays lit up the sky, the two of you were preparing for the court morning. You, of course, had Minx to help you into the intricate dress that had been sent for you, and Tubbo was standing on the other side of the divider.

He himself was being forced into a doublet, his hand servant pulling the strings of the rather… peculiar-looking red gabardine to the side.

Minx finally stopped pulling at your waist, letting you breathe faintly through the rich velveteen fabric you’d been rushed into. It was a gorgeous red, darker than blood. It was soaked and set pretty on two sides of a white underskirt, laced with dyed red ribbon all across your chest.

It was pretty safe to say you were being heralded as a prize, seeing as the only place you’ve been dressed in such finery is the courtroom.

The unfortunate part came when you thought about who was going to ‘win’ this political prize. Either some far-off prince, which you’d been prepared for since you were little (really, are there any other uses for princesses in this age?) or some sort of diplomatic union in your own country. It just happened to be the latter.

There was nothing much wrong with Duke Quackity, other than his age and his stature, his tendency to flirt with the younger maids, his ex-husband…

So perhaps there are some disadvantages in marrying the Duke, but your spiral last night was on weak ground. He would keep you healthy and wealthy, and provide the means for children. Truly, that’s the most a lady could ask for.

“... (y/n). Lady (y/n)? Are you alright?”

Through the daze of your thoughts, you had somehow tuned out Minx, who was now very desperately trying to get your attention.

"Lady (y/n)? We have less than half an hour to go before court begins this morning. We should go."

Somehow, you had been in the thinking haze for more than half of an hour.

"Yes," You clip a bit, surprised at your volume.

"Yes, you're right. We need to leave. Are you ready to escort me, Tubbo?”

You hear a groan from the other side of the partition.

“Just as soon as this…” You can hear the disgust in his tone. “...Doublet is on.”

—

Walking towards the courtroom shouldn’t have felt like a walk to the gallows, but here you were. Arm clasped in your brother's folded elbow, you both march steadily forward as soldiers off to war. Passing servants and similar peoples, you stroll by. Nearly not noticing the courtroom door now open before you.

There is a group of lords surrounding the door. First that you see is Earl Samuel, followed by Count Fundy and Diplomat Karl, the envoy sent by the Kiniko Kingdom. Others were around, but they blurred into the background.

They were waiting for you. Well, not you , but they were waiting for the royal siblings to step through before they could.

You nod at them, none too deeply as to shame your title, and continue. The door is being held open by two arms-men, and you give them a small smile. You know from experience that those doors are heavy.

The two of you enter and present yourselves again to the only two men in the room. It was an insult to have a duke enter the courtroom before us, but Father was well known for favouritism in court.

No words are spoken as you both find your spots at the right of the monarch. You settle and let your mind rest, knowing you would not need your brain for a while yet. The duke leans over from his seat and whispers to the king, sitting in his immediate left. Your old spot.

Soon enough, your Father clangs the small bell that's attached to his seat, and in come the lords. Baron after baron, count after count. They all take their seats, finding small calling cards in their assigned spots.

The small whispers that had been inaudible from outside the door now became unbearable, and the King had to ring the bell a second time, just for silence. Everyone sat to attention, some finding that their position in court had earned them a plusher chair than others.

Finally, your Father stands and clears his throat.

“Good people of this court, good morning. I know you must be confused why I have gathered you all here today in such a short amount of time. In truth, I have grave news.”

He takes a pause, takes a breath. You know he enjoys putting the court through the hoops for information, the fact he was being so candid is concerning. There must be a truly awful situation.

“It has been brought to my attention,” He gestures to the duke next to him. “That a new warlord has besieged the north.”

That startles you. A warlord? Your armies were known for their strength, but if the court was called that means they need to plan a proper strategy. Are your armies not enough?

“A dangerous criminal,” the Duke continues for him, “a hybrid.” He scoffs the last word, making it clear his obvious in-affections for the creatures.

The entire court gasps. Now, there are hybrids in Manburg country, but none in positions of power. Most are beggars or street-market thieves. For one to be so strong, so powerful as to guide an army through the North? It was a true scandal.

Monarch-Emperor Schlatt gazes at you for a second, with a strange expression. It’s almost a grimace, but with wit in behind the eyes. You only catch this look out of the corner of your eye, when you realize he was staring for a tad too long.

You begin to wonder again at your place in this meeting. There are no other women save for diplomats or bodyguards, and you clearly weren't being asked for strategy. Father had said ‘marital use’...

“...Is strong! He has army upon army. I do not want war for our kingdom.” You tune back into the meeting, with the feeling of having missed something important.

“And so, I have come to this court with a plan. My daughter, if you could stand?” It was something to do with you! You rise gracefully, gazing out into the crowd and nod to the court. You sit again, now having been acknowledged.

“My daughter is a fine woman, able to run house and home. She is a princess, pureblood from the elders long ago.” He was spending quite a while on you. This part must be important. It still hadn’t clicked for you yet, but it would. You knew it would.

“She will make a fine wife, and the court knows the use of a princess is to be married. I say we make an alliance, send in my daughter as a peacekeeper.” Oh. So that’s where that was going.

The court is silent, considering the idea. There are whispers about the damage the Warlord has committed to the borders of Manburg, about all of the death that follows their army like a crow.

Finally, the Count of Dry Waters speaks above the crowd.

“Even if we do send her, how are we sure she will not die at the hands of that brute?”

The monarch-Emperor considers this and glances at you again.

“There is no guarantee. But we must make an alliance, and how else shall we gain inside information without someone on the inside?” He thinks again, putting his hand through his beard.

“I have invited the… Hybrid to this meeting, to discuss this plan with him. He has yet to arrive. We must be hospitable when he does.”

He stands again. “We must, as a court, be sure to be careful around him and his group. When they arrive, I will tell him of my plans and hope he will be agreeable.”

Then, a BANG! Of the doors, and a tall man enters. He is wearing light blue, and his hood covers his face. There are two men behind him, one shorter and one taller.

The first tall man stands before the court, then unfurls his heavy hood and stares up at our sitting box. He stands strong, with a thick build and pink hair. He is covered in scars and is the first of the three to speak.

“I heard you talking of me.”

His voice is low, and monotone, and scary.

“Our guest has arrived!” Schlatt announces, obviously expecting to rejoice, but only stifled coughs and whispers surround us. A brave young baron begins the clap, and eventually, the rest of the headless chickens follow suit, covering the hall with applause.

The Warlord holds up his hand to silence the crowd. Less than a second passes before everyone is quiet, in fear of the consequence of disobeying this new powerful figure.

He opens his mouth to speak again, but pauses. He mulls his words over in his mouth, letting them roll around his tongue before letting them fall out of his mouth.

“Now, before any of you choose to die to my blade, let us talk business.”

#technoblade x you #technoblade/reader #technoblade x reader #tubbo myct #jschlatt mcyt #quackity mcyt #forced marriage #arranged marriage #medieval au

45 notes · View notes