What if? (Yandere Herobrine x Reader) One-shots

Captain Monte

A/N: This is a different oneshot that describes a special short story about Monte's upbringing. It describes how he became Captain several years prior to the events of "You Will Love Me." Herobrine's infatuation with you is also mentioned briefly, but I wanted to do something a little bit different where I explain why Captain is the skeleton we know today. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A winter storm like no other consumed the dark forest until every oak tree was covered in freshly fallen snow that glistened in the moonlight. The ground was muddy, and the air was colder than the tip of a mountain as the branches thrashed about in the howling winds. Whatever vegetation that wasn't shriveled in snow was being pulled from its roots and carried through the wind in a weightless tug. Even the tops of the spotted red mushrooms were being tossed about like rag dolls, their brown spores dotting the forest floor like pollen. The roar of thunder along with the harshness of the breeze drowned out the sounds of the rushing river nearby. It made every splash against the rocks sound inaudible compared to the groans of undead in the distance. But somewhere, somehow, the heavy clouds above and the rapidly falling specs of snow were enough to completely shroud the forest in darkness. And from that darkness... birthed life.

"Come on, Prysm! Snap out of it! We need to move- NOW!!! Before they find us!"

"Where will we go?! There's too many of them!" Prysm stammered back fearfully, holding onto his wooden bow for comfort. They'd just stepped out of the frozen river and onto the banks of the forest by the bridge that led deeper into the dark oak trees, toward the direction of where they both guessed Herobrine's mansion sat. Prysm could feel his bones rattling not from the cold, but from the water beginning to solidify on his joints. It made him feel weaker than he already was. He wasn't nearly as tall or as strong as his brother and that was what made it dangerous to be out and about. Prysm knew he wasn't soldier material. It was written in their code that all the warriors would spawn in the river, but him? He almost drowned in the river if it hadn't been for Monte. He wasn't meant to be a fighter. If the wither skeletons found a weak skeleton like him all the way out by the river- he was as good as dead. He thanked Notch that Monte was there with him. Otherwise, he wasn't sure what he would've done.

"We'll run into the woods and figure out what to do from there." Monte shot back, taking him by the hand toward the tree line. "You mean go toward the mansion?" Prysm's eyes grew wider at the thought.

"Exactly. They won't be expecting it. With any luck they'll mistake the two of us for more soldiers. The trees will buy us some time."

Monte turned his attention away from the riverbank and made a mad dash for the forest's edge. In his other hand, he gripped his bow so tight he thought his bones would crumble from the pressure. They were only a few feet away from the trees, so close that the branches almost resembled arms reaching out to welcome the two of them. Monte allowed himself to grin slightly despite the rattling of his bones. Just a little farther!

Suddenly, he felt Prysm's hand get torn from his with a jolt. A flash of lightning lit up their surroundings as Monte whirled his head around only to find no one. He was alone again. He was alone and the last thing he could see before getting engulfed by the coldness of the dark was his brother's face fade from view, getting dragged away by two identical skeletons with silver armor and dark red eyes. Prysm's mouth moved, but no sound came out. His struggling was frantic and his body became distorted as his bones molded into those that were pulling him farther and farther away. From afar it almost looked like he was shackled by his wrists, doomed to never walk freely for the rest of his life. Monte thrashed around but couldn't move as his feet sunk into the snow. It was as if he were stuck in quicksand as he attempted to find his voice so that he could shout for help. When he was able to finally recover his voice, it came out in a nasty, weak croak that quickly became lost in the whirlwind of the winter's heavy storm.