Heir to a Bloody Throne

Chapter Three

art at the top by me :)

*

Valor's thoughts ground to a halt.

"What??" He stammered, dumbfounded. "I wasn't born, I was created."

"Close enough." Steven huffed, letting the amulet fall. Upon it was stamped a mark, Valor realized upon closer inspection. It looked familiar...

"You're lying. My father would never trust a mortal so much." He protested. Steven hiked up a brow.

"Did he tell you that?" He sighed, fingering the medallion. "I suppose he would."

"What do you mean?" Valor was slowly putting the pieces together. "Did you do something to him?"

"Yes." Steven bowed his head slightly, gazing into the flames. "When you were young, I told some of my friends about my friendship with him - they chose to use the information I gave to attack him, despite my insistence that he was on our side. They were slaughtered, and Herobrine refused to accept my apology."

"Oh..." The reasoning for his father's rule, then. "How... what do you mean you were there for my creation?"

"I mean I was there. I helped." The man hooked a thumb under the chain of the amulet, lifting it again. "I offered this up for your... creation."

"A magical artifact?" He guessed. Steven nodded. "And you kept it?" His father had told him how he was created - that a powerful magic item had been sacrificed to bring him to life, but never that a human had been involved.

"I was proud of my involvement." Steven turned it over in his hands. "And, once your father cut contact with me, a reminder of our past friendship." His face saddened. "I only regret that I was unable to rekindle it before his end." A stab of pain went through Valor's chest, and his father's pickaxe pulsed softly in his grip.

"He never told me about you."

"Yes, well, I'd figured that one out myself." He nodded towards the pickaxe. "How long has...?"

"He been dead?" Val finished. "Two weeks and three days."

"Ah." The man's imposing stare softened slightly. "And you have nowhere else to go?"

"The men who killed him-" his voice caught. "Burned our home. I was lucky enough to recover a few of his things."

"I see. And you're determined to carry on his work."

"I am." Valor lifted his chin. "It's my duty as his heir."

"Do you intend to continue appearing as a villain?" Val opened his mouth to respond, but Steven went on. "Because you're doing a wonderful job of it."

"I don't know." Valor responded with more than a small amount of irritation. "I never really understood why he did it. He told me, of course, but I didn't understand."

"Herobrine did not like being in the public eye, that's all." Steven glanced at his bowl, causing Val to remember it and take another bite. "So he framed himself as an unstable madman to keep himself from attracting too much attention."

"I don't really see the issue with being liked." Valor muttered around his mouthful of porridge.

"I don't think it's an issue you'll struggle with." Steven commented dryly. "Very well, then. If you're so insistent in righting the wrongs you've committed, I will help you."

"You will?" His spirits lifted slightly. "Thank you."

"The catch," Steven fixed him with a harsh look. "Is you haf'ta let me help you." Val gave him a questioning look. "That is to say, you run your actions by me first before you run off. You listen to my advice. And you try to find another solution before taking lives." Valor ducked his chin guiltily.

"Yes sir."

"Let me see your leg." The man held out an authoritative hand, and Val blinked before his gaze lowered to his bloody calf. He had nearly forgotten about the injury in his shock. Reluctantly, he extended it towards Steven, who tugged up his pant leg to scrutinize it. The young man immersed himself in his meal, trying to ignore the shocks of pain racing up his leg as the wound was pushed and prodded at.

As he ate, Steven washed out the cut and wrapped it in strips of cloth. Valor tugged his pant leg back over the bandages once he was done, offering back his now-empty bowl.

"You should get some sleep." The man instructed, taking the bowl. "In the morning we'll talk." Valor didn't argue, laying down before the fire and curling up on his side with his father's pick before him. The glow in his eyes faded as he stared into the flames, and he eventually dropped off.

*

Valor was dangerous, that much was clear, but whether or not that quality could yet be channeled towards a good cause remained to be seen.

Steve dunked the dirty bowl into a basin of water, glancing over at the youth that slept before his fireplace. He would have offered him a more comfortable resting place, but he seemed more than happy to sleep before the fire. It was probably the greatest comfort that he had experienced since his home was destroyed.

It had been many years since he had seen Valor, the boy had to be almost 20 at this point, but he resembled his father a great deal. Steve supposed that was reasonable enough, considering how he came about. He itched to press for more information regarding Herobrine's death, but the event was likely still too fresh in the Valor's mind to recall without emotional distress. He had time. Valor seemed willing enough to stay with him, he would have plenty of time to coax the story out of him.

As he turned around, the man nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of a tall, gangly figure crouching over the boy's sleeping body.

Steve swore softly, and the figure swiveled around to look at him. Steve immediately averted his eyes - an Enderman. What was it doing here?? He peeked over at Valor, and was surprised to find his silhouette covered by a blanket, which the Enderman was currently occupied with tucking about his form.

Herobrine had strange friends.

"'Ay." Steve offered the creature a greeting, to which he received a low growl in reply. "I don't mind friends of the lad stopping in, but mind knocking at least?" The creature shot him an offended look, then vanished in a cloud of purple dust. Steve blinked, then made his way to his own bed, setting down on the edge and gazing down at Valor's sleeping form.

The boy was determined to be a force of good in this world, that much was clear, but from his actions thus far he would need a good amount of guidance. Steve could only hope that he was equipped to provide it.

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