Herobrine X Reader - Love's Wither Rose (COMPLETE)

8 - Deal With The Devil

Herobrine approached the outpost, hand poised cautiously over the hilt of his sword. With any luck, he wouldn't have to use it. Pillagers eyed him warily, some gripping their crossbows tighter while others simply stared.

They won't attack if you won't, he reminded himself.

Besides, the outpost's captain was the one who called him here.

He continued on, slowly getting closer to the looming shadow of the tower.

The sound of a crossbow's string being pulled taut nabbed Herobrine's attention enough to make him pause and turn to face the source of the noise. As he did, an arrow whizzed past his cheek, leaving a fine cut in its wake. Though his white eyes widened in surprise, he made sure to keep himself planted where he stood.

Almost automatically, his hand grasped the leather grip of his sword. More crossbows raised.

"Stand down!" A voice like splintered sandpaper exploded from the outpost's topmost layer.

Everyone looked up at once. The captain stared back with his good eye (the other was hidden under a black eyepatch). Leaning precariously out over the edge of the open roof, only his hold on the fence beside him kept him from falling. The ominous illager banner that hung above his head fluttered in the breeze.

"Let 'im up! The next arrow that flies will go down its sender's throat!"

<•••>

"So," the pillager captain said. His voice was hoarse and almost strained, as if he'd spent his whole life shouting; then again, he probably had. "We have a deal?"

Herobrine looked out over the land to the north, where a group of illager troops marched towards the outpost. There, in the middle of their group, an iron golem was dragged along in a cage that appeared all too small.

Could he do this? Could (Y/N) ever forgive him if they found out?

He had to. If he wanted to reclaim what was stolen from him, he had to.

Herobrine glared back at the captain, who smirked. He already know the answer. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Deal."

The captain strode past Herobrine, clapping him hard on the shoulder. "Excellent," he said merrily. "Now, let's go find Blythe so we can finalise our...agreement and get you fixed up with what you're after."

Herobrine said nothing as he followed the captain down the stairs and outside, where the group he spied earlier were busy unloading their carts of robbed goods pulled by ravagers. The caged golem had attracted quite the crowd, and a vindicator (showing off, most likely) swung his axe at its leg. It roared like metal against stone and spun round, trying to attack the vindicator. The cage was too small for it to move its arms.

"Now, now, Johnny - we need it alive."

"Alive for what? Target practice?" The others cackled with Johnny, and even the captain chuckled some.

"They've got big plans for this metal fella back at the mansion," the captain replied, nodding to the cage.

"Alright boys, so Captain Maddox knows things the rest of us don't!" Johnny turned to face the crowd, axe swinging with him haphazardly. "You reckon he's gonna tell us?"

A chorus of enthusiastic "No"s sprung up from the illagers.

The captain - Maddox - shook his head somewhere between disapproval and dismissal. "Look, I ain't got time for...whatever this is, so if you could tell me where Blythe is and then get your sorry rear-end to work unloading these carts? That'd be great."

"Yeah, yeah - whatever. He's over there with Dennis." Johnny hoisted his iron axe over his shoulder and sauntered away, leaving the crowd to disperse back into their jobs.

"Always lookin' for trouble, that Johnny," Maddox muttered.

"Then why keep him around if he's gonna be a problem?"

"We're all exiles. All we have is each other, so that makes us a family of sorts. Johnny may be the king of all jerks, but he's our jerk." Maddox glanced around. "Ah! There's Blythe."

The illager in question was taller than Maddox, but definitely shorter than Herobrine, and wore the black robes with a golden trim of an evoker. He stood beside a cart, fussing over a box of what looked like books, then turning to face them when Maddox called for him.

"Afternoon, Maddox," Blythe greeted. Herobrine noticed how Blythe shot him a calculating look. "What can I do for you?"

"We got a new one." Maddox nodded at Herobrine. "And he's gonna help."

"A new one? Already? But we only just -" Blythe gestured to the cart behind him, speaking somewhere between excitement and skepticism.

"Look," Herobrine butted in (in all honesty he just wanted to get what he needed and leave). "Just tell me what I've gotta do, then you hold up your end of the bargain."

Maddox explained the details of his plan to them both. He seemed to be prepared to go through a lot of trouble for this. Then he told Blythe everything he need to do for now.

"And how do I do that?" Herobrine almost scoffed at his...role.

"It's a simple ritual, really - you just need the captain's blood on your hands."

"You mean I have to kill him?" Herobrine stared at the illagers incredulously. They weren't serious, right?

"No! No, you must have misunderstood. You literally need my blood on your hands," Maddox said, already protruding a metal knife from where it hung on his belt.

Blythe took the knife and made a thin cut along the back of Maddox's hand. Red blood trickled down and dripped off his thumb. Blythe then grabbed Herobrine's hand and pressed his open palm against the cut, muttering a few words he couldn't catch.

In an instant, the hairs on the back of Herobrine's neck pricked up. He felt like he was being watched.

Watched by a thousand judging eyes, all staring - unblinking - into his mind. Almost as if the owners of these eyes knew every step he would take, but wanted to see for themselves.

He knew there was nowhere to hide. No way to get rid of this overwhelming urge to look over his shoulder.