Queenie gasps, feeling the edge of a sword on her neck, her back forcefully hitting somebody's chest as the person tries to keep the woman in place. A single movement could slit her throat and make her bleed out on the spot.

The person asking her who she is has a deep and monotone voice, one that is familiar to her. But she can't see their face, as they hold her close to their chest with their free hand, the other clutching a netherite sword that could instantly kill her. One wrong move and she's dead.

Queenie takes shallow breaths, feeling her heart beat fast and strong. She's only got to the SMP and is already being threatened with her life. That is definitely not what she expected today.

"Who are you?" the person repeats, their breath brushing against Queenie's skin.

It brings her out of the trance that kept her stuck to the ground in fear of losing her life. But the thing is, she's not really a fan of being held hostage. The knife to the throat thing is quite old to her, and not something she's fond of.

Not something she doesn't know how to get out of.

Grabbing a hold of the end of the netherite sword, Queenie uses her strength to push against the blade, away from her neck. Simultaneously, she steps on the person's foot with the power she has left in her legs.

As they let go of her and stumble back, she forces them further back with her elbow, still holding onto the sharp end of their sword. They don't want to let go of it, but Queenie's grasp only tightens, ignoring the pain and the blood that slowly pours down the blade.

Turning around, she lets go of the blade, knowing the person she's fighting is currently reliant on the power struggle of who will keep the sword. So, as they pull back and she lets go, they start falling. And she helps them down with a kick, forcing them against a stone wall of the ravine.

She ignores the burning in her palm, pulling out her own two swords from her back. She presses the tip of one to the person's neck and holds onto the other for dramatic effect.

A pleased smile graces her lips.

"Let's try this again," she says. "Who are you?" she cocks her head to the side.

Only now, Queenie gets a chance to look at this person properly and examine them. Her brown eyes roam over the taller figure, noticing their piglin mask with tusks, only their mouth revealed.

They have piglin ears, and their hair is long and pink, pulled back into a simple ponytail - one that just keeps the hair out of one's face when they battle.

The person stares back at Queenie. She can't see much of their expression besides their mouth. Their lips are slightly apart, and she can only guess they're shocked that the girl overpowered them.

Queenie fights the familiar feeling she has with this person, trying to be logical for once. Even if everything about them points to a person she used to know and love, it doesn't have to be him.

But they're wearing a crown that looks a lot like my father's, flashes through Queenie's mind. That would also mean he succeeded in taking down her kingdom and putting it into anarchy. If this is him.

And the coat. It looks a lot like the one I gave him the week after I met him as an apology . . .

Queenie shakes her head, squinting her eyes at this person. This can't be Technobl-

"Nia?" he says, shock lacing his voice.

Only two people called her that. And Queenie is certain this isn't Eret.

"Technoblade?" she questions. Though she still keeps the tip of her sword on his neck.

He drops his sword. The clinking sound of metal against stone rings through the entire ravine. Slowly raising his arms in defeat, he shows that he won't fight her. Queenie tightens her grip around the hilt of her sword despite it all, unsure of what he might do as his arms reach his mask.

He takes it off.

It is Technoblade.

Older, but Technoblade. The scar from when she accidentally shot him with an arrow the first time they met is still very visible. If anybody asked, Queenie would have sworn that the arrow only grazed him, but the scar says otherwise.

"Nia," Technoblade repeats.

He puts his hand on her sword, softly pushing it away from his neck. She lets him, staring at the man in surprise. What is he doing in the Dream SMP of all places? Because as far as she can remember, this place had no kingdoms nor governments.

How much must've changed in the time she was gone?

Where even was she? She still can't remember anything from the time after she disappeared from the SMP. Her memories simply stop at one point, starting up again when she appeared in the middle of the woods.

And how does she know that she's been gone at least three years?

Who the fuck messed with her mind?

Dropping her swords, Queenie hears a strange buzzing sound in her ears, which resonates within the ravine. She covers her ears, but the buzzing doesn't stop, almost like it's coming from inside of her.

Technoblade doesn't seem to be affected by it.

"Nia?"

Queenie falls to her knees, gritting her teeth. Maybe she can wait it out? It will stop. The buzzing. The pain. It has to stop at some point. It has to.

A person suddenly appears next to Technoblade. Purple particles fly around them as they drop down to their knees and take Queenie's hand in theirs.

The former princess looks up, the buzzing fading away the longer her hand rests in this new person's. Queenie stares into their purple eyes; they resemble the eyes of endermen. But they're not fully enderman as they also have black ears sticking out of their shoulder-long black hair and the fox tail on their back.

"What's happening to her?" Technoblade asks the new person.

"I think she only just appeared on the SMP," they say, shaking their head. "The spirit inside of her is getting used to its physical form."

"What are you talking about?" Technoblade raises an eyebrow at them.

"She's like Sara and me, Techno. I can feel it," they say confidently. "Don't worry, um, Nia will be fully in control, she just kind of became a vessel to a minor goddess as well."

"A minor god- what? You're what?"

"Sara will be here soon," the person says. "I gave her a bunch of ender pearls that I got from piglins in the nether, but I know for a fact she hates teleporting, so she'll get here by horse." They shake their head, rolling their eyes.

"Bruh," says Technoblade, gaping at the person in front of him.

"Oh, and I'm Stela, by the way," they introduce themselves to Queenie with a smile, not seeming to mind that she is nearly crushing their hands.

"Of course she introduces herself instead of properly explaining anything," Technoblade grumbles lowly, but the two women catch onto it.

Stela chuckles and shakes her head. "He's just salty because he calls himself the blood god, but we're the actual goddesses," she teases the part-piglin warrior, trying to relieve Queenie.

Though the mere presence of Stela helps her a lot.

"Am not," Technoblade humphs defensively.

Queenie smiles, eyeing Stela. Her pale, nearly white skin contrasts with the purple in her eyes and the black of her hair, ears and tail. She's beautiful, though. Queenie has never seen a person like her.

"I'm here! I'm here!"

A woman storms inside the ravine, and Queenie assumes it's Sara. She eyes the shorter woman as she swiftly makes her way toward Queenie and Stela.

Sara has short hair, though longer than Stela. Its color isn't singular nor regular, some strands of hair being red, some orange and some pink. It clashes with the colorful tight top that reminds Queenie of an exploding supernova. Not the mention that Sara has a strange glow to her that would make her stand out anywhere. Along with the glittering golden crown of stars circling around her head.

"Do you think you can stand up?" Stela questions softly.

"I think so," Queenie replies with a nod.

Stela smiles and helps Queenie up, letting her hold onto her for support, still.

As they stand up, it shows how tall Stela is, being at least nine inches taller than Queenie and about four inches taller than Technoblade. Sara is the shortest one of them.

"Are you going to explain yourselves now?" Technoblade furrows an eyebrow at the two women that have arrived.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sara questions.

"We found our last third," says Stela, pleased with herself.

"Of what?"

"The Trix."