Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve opened his eyes to someone banging on his door :"Oi! Get up! The stables ain't gon' sweep 'em selves!"

He sighed, it's the villager who owned this house, he had promised to clean the stables yesterday in exchange for a night's lodgings.

He briefly half entertained the idea of threatening the villager to get away with free housing and maybe even some food— after all, they seemed to be easily scared and whimpy as a stick when compared to Steve, and he didn't have much emeralds left— but didn't seriously consider it. He was not one to take advantage of strength and bully the weak. He made a deal, and he will complete his end of the bargain.

He quickly got up and collected his belongings. It wasn't much, a few torches, a first aid kit, some food, a small hand axe, and a sword. He stuffed everything into his backpack, strapped the sword to his hip, and headed to the stables.

He also had a horse, and kept a small pouch on the saddle filled with trinkets he collected on his travels. For that was what he was, a traveler. Wandering the overworld, seeking a place to call home.

He fed Lemon (his horse) an apple before he started to clean. Lemon was a beautiful mare, with a light brown coat and dirty yellow mane. She was the fastest and smartest horse Steve has ever seen, and Steve has seen a lot.

He made quick work of the stables, and was soon on the road, leaving yet another village behind. The villagers stared as he went by, their eyes filled with curiosity, reproach, and a bit of wonder. As the last of the little houses disappeared from view, he can't help but feel a quiet melancholy.

How long has he been traveling alone now? He first left his home town right after turning 16, after John... He's 36 now, and 20 years is a long time to be on the road, but it just never felt right to settle down in one of the villages he's passed. After the first three years, this started to feel like home to him, this road, this horse, this pack, this life. It's what he knows now, change is not easy, especially something drastic like calling a place 'home', and after what happened at the last one… Steve shook his head, better not think about that now.

As he made his way through a forest, he noticed something off to his side --- it looked to be an old abandoned structure of some kind, and more importantly, the materials looked expensive. If he could take some apart and bring it with him, it could cover some rent in the next town he passes.

He got off of Lemon and walked over, careful of any possible dangers. As he got closer, he saw it was made of obsidian and shaped like a large door, all around were red blocks he didn't recognize, and small pools of lava. There were also some gold, which he happily collected.

Was this a portal? Was someone doing magic? Steve has never seen anything like this. He stepped onto the obsidian, magic or not, this stuff was worth a lot when trading. He lit up a torch to get a closer look and perhaps find a way to collect the stone.

Abandoned structures are common in the wild, more common than one might think. When he first came across one of those forest shrines, he thought it was some cult activity and feared it very much. He did some reading in the next village, and learned that from a century ago, in the time of great kingdoms and greater heroes, there were a great many structures like that, glorious and well kept. After the great war, it all fell into disrepair as the remaining population gathered in smaller towns and cities, nursing their wounds, whether of body or mind. Now, those structures are but abandoned remnants of a time long passed. And practically, that means each one is a treasure trove, free for the taking.

As he leaned closer, he heard something. It was like a distorted whisper, drawing him closer to the portal. He couldn't make out any words, hell, he wasn't even sure if it was actually speaking, or if it was just random noise. Magic was another thing associated with the past kingdoms, it was said that people once wielded magic like they did tools and weapons, but, well, Steve wasn't sure how much he believed that. He's never actually seen it in action, and it all sounded like some sort of old folk lore, like the myth of the Gods. He wasn't exactly atheist, per say, but he was what you'd call a skeptic.

There was a sudden screech and Steve startled. He dropped his torch and stepped back in surprise. As the torch hit the rocks, a brilliant purple light sprang from the portal, filling the rectangular shape with swirls and peculiar patterns. There was also noise, like the murmuring of a crowd and a minecart scraping on rails.

Lemon nighed and stomped, clearly disturbed by the now active portal. Steve gave her an apple to sooth her, before taking up his torch again and going back to the portal, internally having the exact same reaction as her.

What, the actual, fuck? Is this magic? Is this real? Did he eat something bad this morning? Steve felt... Unsure. It doesn't seem to be doing any harm, but, well, it's good to be cautious, especially around something like this. He learned that the hard way. (We don't talk about the desert temple).

Should he go through? He has no idea of the dangers that might lurk behind this, and if portal magic is anything like what the books say, he could easily lose his life. But there was something about the purple swirls that enticed him, tempting him, almost daring him to find out, to give in to his curiosity.

He left his bag with Lemon — he trusts her not to wander far— and put his sword and axe on his belt, to hell with it, he was going through. He knows how to defend himself, if something feels off, he'll just come back over and destroy the portal. He tightened his grip on his torch, and stepped into the purple light.

Chapter Text

The first thing he noticed was the smell. The instant he stepped through the portal his nose filled with the scent of fire, burnt organic matter, dust, and the metallic ting of blood. He blinked away the purple clouding his vision, and saw a cave made of the same red rock surrounding the portal.

It was a big cave, with a ceiling so high he could barely see it, and a tunnel leading out to a lava lake. The white noise he heard from the portal was also present here, though much fainter.

The emptiness felt.... Wrong. The faint sounds made him feel as if he only needs to turn around, and he'll be greeted with the sight of a crowd, yet he is utterly alone. Where is that murmur coming from? And why is everything so red and hot? Gods, he was feeling the heat now, sweat built on his back, he did not like this very much at all. Though there did not seem to be any imminent danger, a feeling of grief and pain surrounded the stones and fires, it sent chills down his spine.

He made his way through the tunnel, wanting to explore as much of this cave as possible. As he walked, the smell of blood grew stronger and stronger. He wrinkled his nose and gripped his sword, blood was almost never a good thing.

He soon found himself standing in another cave with a lava lake in the middle, taking up most of the floor. And there was a person. There was a person floating above the lava.

He pulled out his sword, his heart was pounding, and the sweat had soaked through his shirt now. But as he looked closer, he realized that the person wasn't floating at all. They were strung through with thin chains of metal and hung from the ceiling. They were covered in mostly dried blood, and looked to be half dead.

Steve was shocked, a thousand questions were running through his head: who were they? Why were they being held here in such a manner? Who did this?

One thing was certain though--- if they weren't let down soon, they would surely die. That is, if they weren't dead already. And Steve could not let someone die like this--- alone, in pain, in a strange red cave. It mattered not to him what they did to deserve such a thing, not right now, anyway.

He quickly gathered some blocks and made a steep bridge reaching the person. He climbed up and started hacking away at the chains with his axe. The irons were thin but strong, and a faint glow told Steve that they were enchanted. How strange, though considering the day, it's not much stranger than the rest he's seen, but still, who enchants chains of all things? He didn't even know that was a possibility.

The person made no indication that they were aware of Steve, though this close, he could see they were still breathing faintly. He was relieved, at least he wouldn't be burying any corpses today.

Slowly but surely, the chains snapped one by one. When the person was finally freed, Steve carried them to the portal. Their frame was painfully small against his. Years of travel and hard work had given him quite some muscles, and this person was obviously starved and tortured, they were comically thin in Steve's arms.

They went back through the portal, purple swirls transporting them to the forest clearing. It was dark. Steve blinked in alarm, it was only morning when he went through, he couldn't possibly have stayed that long? It felt like two hours, max, but the darkened skies cannot be reasoned with, so he supposed that the chains took longer to break. But it still made no sense— he was not hungry or tired. He was only soaked in sweat from the sheer heat of that red cave, and from all the hacking at the chains.

He looked around, he can contemplate this later, and maybe rethink his beliefs on magic. But right now, he needed to find his horse. Strange (again), she usually does not wander this much.

Lemon eventually came to him when he called out to her, walking around. She looked a bit rough, as if she had spent a whole day in the wild. He frowned, it must've just been the portal, making her nervous (A poor attempt at lying to himself, but for now, it'll do). He grabbed his bag and placed the person on Lemon's back, hurrying away from the purple glow. He made camp as soon as the portal was out of sight.

After setting up a fire, tying Lemon down, eating a piece of bread, and laying out his bed rolls, Steve was exhausted. The events of the day catching up to him, together with the strange passage of time, he felt his eyelids drooping. He decided whatever injuries the person might have could wait until morning, since it has already waited for hells knows how long already and they were fine (yet another strange thing). He curled up by the fire and immediately fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Steve woke with the dawn. Lemon was standing with a quiet stillness, the fire was dying, and the stranger was bleeding onto the blankets.

He sighed and stretched, remembering the peculiar happenings of yesterday. He got up and coaxed the fire into starting again. He took out his medical kit and went back to the stranger.

He peeled away their clothes and finally got a good look at their injuries. There were marks and blisters all over their arms and legs where the chains were, and a big patch of burns covered most of their torso and neck. There were what looked to be whip marks on their back, oozing with blood and puss. Yuck. This might be the worst Steve’s ever seen anyone.

What stood out to Steve the most though, was the knife wounds on their collar bones--- there were letters carved into their flesh, it was a language he did not recognize. The wounds were angry and red, they looked fresher than what was possible, no more than a few hours old.

Steve frowned, it was strange, but not unexpected, given that they were imprisoned in a magical dimension reached by a portal, held in mid air by enchanted chains that punctured their flesh and strung them up like a doll. He did his best to disinfect and bandage the wounds and burns, making a mental note to get more supplies in the next village.

He placed the person on Lemon's saddle and climbed up behind them. They rode through the wild for the rest of the day, with a steady if slightly hurried pace. There was a sense of urgency, to get this person to a relative safety of a village and under the care of a healer.

They passed a wandering trader around midday, and Steve traded his newly acquired gold for some potions. The trader informed him that villages are scarce around here, and wished him luck. He spends the rest of the day letting Lemon lead the way and thinking about magic, portals, and myths. He suppose he must believe them somewhat now, seeing as he's experienced some form of magic first hand. He is still rather hesitant to be sure of how true the details are in the mythical tales. Perhaps the stranger would know something.

As the sun began to set, they had already made it out of the forest and were trotting along a grassy plain.

He set up camp again with the last lights of dusk. The fire roared as he roasted meat for dinner, while the stranger laid motionless on the bed rolls. Dinner was calm, giving him some much needed time to think of nothing but the taste of food and the warmth of the fire.

After he finished he took out a healing potion and took off the stranger's shirt, intending to speed up their healing process. He poured some of the scarlet liquid onto a cloth, and placed the cloth on the burns. But the moment the potion soaked cloth touched their skin, it started sizzling and smoking, like it was burning them, he could even smell burnt flesh after a moment, and he froze in surprise.

The stranger stirred, their eyes blinked open and they were obviously in pain, making gasped rasps croak out of their throat. He quickly took the cloth off their stomach and backed away when they sat up. There was a dangerous look in their eyes, one of pain and violence.

The stranger looked around, confused. Their gaze swiped over the bandages, the bedrolls, the fire, the potion, and finally landed on Steve. As the stranger stared at him, breathing and wheezing heavily, Steve noticed that their eyes were a white so pure it almost glowed, maybe it did glow.

They had an air about them, it made Steve feel as if they were not some simple criminal (which Steve had taken to assume, ‘cause seriously, that was some fucked up shit in that portal, they must have done something bad), that they were someone to be reckoned with. The look in their eyes was one of a feral animal with a trap stuck around its legs.

When they spoke, it was with a low scratchy voice, like one raw from screaming.

"Who are you, where am I."

Chapter Text

"Who are you, and where am I" The stranger practically growled.

Steve raised his hands up in surrender as to not provoke them, "Um, my name is Steve, I travel a lot, and I found you in a weird red cave all chained up and bleedin’. I'm pretty sure there was also portal magic involved? I did the bandages, too."

Their eyes narrowed and flicked towards the health potion, Steve gulped, "I swear I didn't mean to hurt you! I had no idea it would... Burn?"

The stranger barked out a laugh, "Didn't know? I thought it was common knowledge, seeing as humans have been using it against me for ages."

Now Steve was properly confused. "I... beg your pardon? What do you mean by that? Are you not human?"

The stranger seemed to be equally confused by Steve's questions. "Do you not recognize me?"

Steve shook his head, "Should I?"

"... I'm Herobrine."

Steve's eyes widened in shock, his first instinct was to laugh, Herobrine was nothing but a ghost story to scare children with, and yet... The white glowing eyes, the alleged imprisonment in the 'Nether', the portal magic, the carvings in a strange language, the aversion to healing magic, it all adds up. Also, after what he's seen the last day, he really shouldn't be so surprised that some old ghost from ancient myths appears in front of him.

"... You are Herobrine, the folklore monster that supposedly eats children and commits arson? That one?"

The stranger--- Herobrine, frowned. "Folklore monster? You fought a whole war against me and my people, i- EATS CHILDREN?? I do not-! How do you not... Wait, what year is it?"

"It's 731."

"...7- 731?"

Herobrine fell silent, they had an unreadable expression on their face. Steve was reluctant to break the silence, what can be said in a situation like this? The creature obviously had a long story, and Steve wasn't sure he had earned the right to it just yet. They also seemed to be really hung up on the year, which, granted, they might have been imprisoned for a while, but the wounds on them seemed fresh? He wanted to ask them so many questions, but instead he took out a piece of bread from his bag and offered it to them. They were shaking a bit, food always helps, especially since they looked malnourished.

Herobrine accepted it wordlessly, and ate like a starved animal--- urgently, slightly aggressively, yet silently.

They announced that they were going to sleep, and Steve couldn't find it in himself to argue. So they went to bed, and the rest of the night was uneventful.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Herobrine asked Steve for any potions of harm or poison he might have, chugged all three bottles, and instantly healed a great deal. Steve's jaw was still dropping.

They watched silently as he packed up and got ready to leave. They followed him wordlessly through the day. Whenever he tried to ask them something about themselves, they would turn away and avoid the question pointedly. He quickly decided that if this company is to be anything other than awkward, the topic of conversation needs to change.

They passed a patch of mushrooms, and Steve said as casually as he could manage: "so, um, thoughts on mushrooms?"

Herobrine looked at him for the first time today, and frowned: "Pardon?"

"Mushrooms! Do you like to eat them? These look safe enough to eat, I might collect some for dinner."

"They're... Fine, I suppose."

"Hmm, I like them. Very flavorful, good for soup."

"Right."

"Yep."

Silence. Steve feels the weight of their gaze in him, and hastily goes to collect some mushrooms. After stuffing a bunch into his pack, they went back to walking. After a while, Herobrine spoke: "what did you mean, safe enough to eat?"

Steve hesitated: "um, they didn't look poisonous? I guess?"

They frowned, "poisonous? Mushrooms?"

He raised his eyebrows, "yes? I mean, it's quite common."

"That- cannot be true."

"... You don't get out much, do you?"

Right after he said it, he realized what just came out of his mouth. Shit. If course they don't fucking get out much, chained to rocks, what kind of question was that. The silence weighs on him heavily yet again.

But then, they laugh. And all the tension is dissolved. He smiles with them. Conversation flows after that, it's nice to have some company after so long traveling alone, Steve enjoyed talking of everything and nothing with them, even though there's this nagging voice in the back of his mind going ‘ask him about magic' the whole time.

That night, sitting by the fire, Herobrine asked in a quiet voice, “where are we going?”

Steve paused in his making of mushroom soup, “uhm, nowhere, really. I just keep going, I live on the road, you could say. For now we're headed for the next village to get you a healer-”

“There will be no need” Herobrine cut him off, nodding, “They would not know me any more than you.”

Not knowing what to say, Steve went back to the soup.

After a moment, they spoke again, “you must forgive my intensely private nature and aversion to questions. You shall know everything in time, I promise.”

Steve shrugged, “hey, we're all entitled to our secrets, you don't have to explain anything.” He paused, “unless you're some sort of psycho killer?” If he’s absolutely honest, he’s still slightly worried about Herobrine being a criminal of some sort.

Herobrine chuckled, “I see you still do not believe me to be the same monster in your folklore.”

Steve hesitated, “not fully, no.”

Herobrine tilted their head, “do they hold no weight of truth in this world anymore?”

Steve stirred his soup, “some still believe them, others think it's probably not entirely true.”

“And you're the latter, I presume?”

“Yes.”

“After all you've seen? Surely you've encountered magic of some kind, even potions are.”

“Yeah, but it's like, just because I know fish exists doesn't mean I believe in mermaids?”

Herobrine nodded thoughtfully, “... That is reasonable, I suppose.”

Steve smiled, “thanks. Wanna taste the soup?”

Chapter Text

The next time they talked about the past, they were much more comfortable with each other.

It's been just over a week, and there's no village in sight. Steve was beginning to get anxious, of course, it's happened before, he went two weeks with seeing another soul once, but it's still rare.

They took turns riding on Lemon and walking, when Herobrine asked the question, Steve was riding.

“So, what exactly are the stories surrounding me?”

Steve shrugged, “it's not really anything concrete, just that you're like this evil spirit that goes around burning villages and killing everyone. Some people say you eat kids, some people say you can summon lightning, some people say all the leaves fall off the trees when you're near, some say you can fly. Sometimes you're a ghost and sometimes you're an immortal. It's all kinda whatever, you know?”

They nodded slowly, “I see. There are no mentions of Notch?”

Steve frowned, “the God? No, not really, y'all are not usually connected in the myths, except that Notch damns all mobs including you.”

They hummed, “Do you worship him still?”

Steve tilted his head, “you know that not everyone believes the same stuff, right? Some people do, yeah, but others don't.”

They glanced up at him, “do you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Steve sighed, “I donno, man, I just don't. I mean, there's no proof, right? And besides, I don't like the churches.”

They pressed on, “and how about magic? Where do you stand on that? How much do you have? Are there mages? Wizards? Witches?”

He shot them an incredulous smile, “Void, how long have you been stuck in there? Yeah, there's a little of it, you know, enchanting and potions. Well, actually, potions are more alchemy… anyway, but no mages or anything. I mean, there are, in stories, but not in real life.”

“The same stories in which I appear?”

Steve chuckled, “I guess, yeah, more or less. Do you got magic, then?”

The corner of their lips tugged up in an almost-smile, “isn't that a fine question.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and stared at them, what does that even mean? He waited for an elaboration, but when they spoke, it was another question.

“When you said ‘Void’ earlier…”

Steve groaned, “are you really gonna tell me not to swear? C’mon.”

Herobrine seemed taken aback, “I was simply going to ask about the stories surrounding it.”

Steve laughed a little at that, “uh, there really isn't any? It's just, you know, where you go if you died and didn't follow Notch.”

They let out a surprised hum, “and The End?”

“The end of what? Like… death?”

“Nevermind.”

The man on the horse shook his head, and smiled, “you know, one day I'm gonna get you to actually explain everything to me. All you do is ask questions and you never answer any.”

Herobrine chuckled, “perhaps one day. Perhaps even one day not so far into the future.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Perhaps.”

Chapter Text

The darkness all around enveloped them like a blanket, Herobrine sighed at the feeling of safety. How luxurious. Jean shifted beside them, and they put their arm around her neck. The hard scaly stone under them was cold, but not uncomfortably so. All was well in the world.

Herobrine woke with the scent of dragon’s breath still lingering around him, and for a moment, the night felt reminiscent of the Void. It must be very early in the morning, the moon was on her way down.

The fire was steadily dying, and they laid still, staring into the ember.

What a strange few weeks this has been. Of course, they had known Notch severed the connection between the Overworld and the Nether, but they had no way of knowing the true extent of the damage. As evident, not only had the physical spaces been separated, the passage of time has been distorted as well.

In a way, they were still not over the pure shock of hearing Steve say the year was 731. Imagine that, 731! Just the history of the Undead Kingdom was 2 000 years, and Herobrine had considered them rather young.

The man was sleeping peacefully in his blankets now, his breath gentle and his body still. It's almost reminiscent of the far, far past; all those folk, traveling merchants and adventurers in search of greatness. Steve was not one such man, though; he's certainly got a story, that much they guessed, but they're willing to leave some mysteries for now. After all, mysteries were their armor.

It's almost disheartening, how much magic has died; though they were quite glad Notch seems to have… turned away his eye.

An owl hooted somewhere, and they almost startled. The carved flesh on their collar bone burned, the enchantment won't be wearing off for another few centuries, so they'll have to get used to that.

It'll soon be time to get up and start the day. Steve will be up around sunrise, he'll rekindle the fire and make breakfast, Herobrine will offer to feed Lemon, he will refuse because he likes to care for the horse himself. They will insist on packing while he does that, and he'll relent with a smile.

He'll ask after their physical well being when getting ready to leave, they'll say it's all fine and feel like half a liar; he'll insist they ride first, and the two will set out after putting out the fire. It's a routine by now. Strange, how fast one settles into routines.

They sighed and closed their eyes. They might have to tell him the whole story one day, but before that, they'll have to slowly introduce proper magic to him — not the rubbish enchantment he's got on his sword, seriously, sharpness I? If they showed him a vision of the end, or even gave him a dictionary of Galactic, they feared he might faint or something.

‘Just because I know fish exists, doesn't mean I believe in mermaids’, was what he said. Perhaps Herobrine will take him to see the Guardians, dip his toes in mermaid territory before revealing the kraken. What would they be in this metaphor? They amused themselves with that thought until the first light broke across the horizon.

Chapter Text

Eventually, the two came across a village; it was more of a town, really, it even has two blacksmiths.

Herobrine had seemed skeptical at first when Steve called it a large village, but simply shook their head when he gave them a questioning glance.

They got a room from the priest, and settled lemon in the stables before dumping their stuff into the small attic above the chapel.

They then went back out, and Steve offered to tour the place with Herobrine.

“It'll be fun! Besides, it's not like I know this place well either, so we'll be exploring together!” He nudged them with his shoulder, “come on! Stop brooding and let's get comfortable!”

“You and I have vastly different ideas surrounding the definition of comfort.” Herobrine mumbled, but succumbed, “but I shall follow you, a little exploration could prove to be enlightening.”

Steve cheered and they started walking together down the path.

They first came across a few homes, with Herobrine commenting on how cramped they seemed. Then there were the plots of land, growing potatoes and carrots.

“Are those the only crops they have?” Herobrine was incredulous.

Steve shrugged, “yeah, I mean, there's like 30 of them here in total, they don't really need much. There's also the occasional wandering traders bringing other stuff.”

They frowned even more when they saw the animal pens, “these are entirely too small, and what's the good of four cows, two sheep, and one chicken?”

Steve chuckled, “yeah, raising animals aren't really big with village folk, I mean, again, they really don't need much. I don't think they kill these for meat, they are actually mostly vegetarian.”

“All of them? How?” They were evidently surprised.

“It's a religious thing. Something about not killing Notch’s creation or whatever, but mostly now it's just tradition. They see these animals as sort of pets.”

Herobrine hummed. “And the felines that seem to be everywhere?”

“Cats? Also pets. Like, communal pets.” Steve smiled, “they're cute, eh?”

They nodded in agreement, “yes, they are nice. But everything here is quite small, including the… cats.”

They toured the library, which Herobrine refused to call a library because “it barely has two full shelves, really, it's not even a collection!”

They passed by the two blacksmiths and Herobrine frowned at their tool selection, “very… ah, limited. No insult is intended, but, I don't see the point of selling stone swords at a blacksmiths”

Steve chuckled, “you're very judgy, you know?”

They simply shrugged, “I am unused to this, and am simply pointing out what I am seeing.”

He actually laughed at that, “right right, sure. But can you back it up, captain oh so much better than thou?”

“How do you mean?” They narrowed their eyes.

“Can you make better tools? Have you read any of the books in the library? Do you herd animals well?”

Herobrine chuckled, “the second, most likely not, since the works I've read are probably now lost to time. And the third? Well… in a sense, yes. However, I will take you up on the first, as a challenge. If you don't mind me saying… you could use a new sword.”

Steve snorted, “you know what? Let's go get us some books from the library, and we can borrow these workshops tomorrow. Let's see if I can make something better than you, eh?”

“I doubt it.” Herobrine smirked.

“Oh, you're on.” Steve grinned.