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

14 - Out Of The Frying Pan...

A/N

Before we got into this chapter, I just wanna say a huge thank-you to CrumbleMuffin for helping me out with this chapter! Mate, we only talked for like two hours but omg ily so much you're the best!

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Herobrine peeked out from behind the stem of a crimson wart tree, staring intently at the gigantic castle before him. Four blackstone towers stood tall at the northern, eastern, southern, and western points in the circular wall. He knew there were various settlements within those walls, each dedicated to mining, farming, industrial work (namely smithing), and training grounds, respectively. There, in the centre of it all, the largest of the towers. It was more defined than the other four - where they were plain cylinders that grew slightly narrower towards the roof, this one had hexagonal tiers with the largest and grandest at the base.

The northeastern gate stood directly ahead. Solid blackstone, about three metres thick, impossible to scale without getting transformed into a pincushion by the piglin guards. But there were no guards. The lights inside the watch hut were off, and Herobrine couldn't see anyone (or anything) waiting outside.

The whole place seemed dead. Empty.

Gripping the hilt of his sword tighter, Herobrine warily crept out from behind the stem. He made a dash for the hut; nothing came to oppose him.

The ancient hinges of the old wooden door creaked in protest as he slowly swung the door open and stepped inside. There was nobody here. A silver goblet sat on a central table, still filled with its brew.

Herobrine heard footsteps behind him. He didn't get the chance to turn before he felt a searing pain across his back, shoulder blade to hip.

Blindly, he swung his sword. The wet crunch of breaking bones and a high-pitched squealing met his ears as he felt the jolt of the impact reverberate up past his elbow. The piglin stumbled back, desperately clutching at the deep wound in its left shoulder. Herobrine shoved it out the door, letting flames burst from his palm and engulf the piglin, and sprinted back towards the crimson wart forest. If he could just get in there, he could hide within the trees or something and heal up.

A hoof-like hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him backwards harshly onto the netherrack ground. Herobrine hissed at the stab of pain in his back as his vision flashed white.

Another piglin hovered over him, but this one was about two feet taller and broader than the first one (he couldn't hear it shrieking anymore). Herobrine noticed its golden axe glinting as it foamed at the mouth. It snorted and swung the handle of the axe round to slam into the side of Herobrine's head.

His vision quickly turned dark.

<•••>

When he came to, Herobrine immediately noticed the two hulking, looming, agitated figures behind him where he sat on his knees with his hands bound about his back. Looking around, he took in his surroundings.

An arched blackstone ceiling loomed above. A golden glass chandelier peppered with glowstone and blue flames hung low. A dozen-or-so stairs draped under a red carpet led to a grand throne against the far wall; an Eye of Ender sat embedded, judging and unblinking, in the crown of the carved quartz.

Herobrine's throne.

And on his throne sat the man who had overthrown him. Alden. That disgustingly smug face of his looked just as punchable as ever.