The western sky was a blaze of color and stars showed in the east when two men rode into town on a red roan horse. The short-haired one sitting in back wore a heavy pack with the hilt of an ornate sword just visible.
Lord Heron watched the two ride up to the front of the fortress. The one in front dismounted first and helped the other down. Lord Heron's eyes narrowed. They had been off having adventures together. He didn't like it when they went off and had adventures together. It smacked of friendship, and that he didn't approve of, not in these circumstances. Camaraderie was alright as long as they maintained a healthy rivalry, but they actually seemed to like each other, and that made him uncomfortable. Weren't those two supposed to hate each other? Someone ought to officially reinstate the tradition of duels, just so he could be certain where they stood. He went downstairs to the kitchen, where the one remaining maid whom he hadn't fired or scared away was mopping zombie blood off the floor. A half-dead spider the size of a small child was twitching in the garbage bucket. "Rough day, Kate?" she leapt up, brandishing the sharpened end of the mop handle.
"Oh hello milord. Sorry. Yes."
"For me too. An idiot and a mage just showed up on a stray horse, you'd better find some food."
"Oh! Are they alright?"
"Ask them." He turned and left. A few moments later Herobrine shouldered the door open and pulled Steve through, supporting him as we walked.
"No I'm alright, honestly! I'm just having a little trouble breathing!"
"That's not alright."
"It's just bruising. It'll go away."
"It better. Hey there, Kate. Jeb, what happened in here?"
"Only the usual," she said.
"Where's father?"
"I don't know. He was in here a moment ago, but he left." Steve threw down his pack and unstrapped the sword, which was tied up in a blanket. Carefully he unwrapped it and laid it on the table. The blade was blue, translucent, and glinted faintly with light of a different color than the torchlight in the kitchen. "Oh! You've got it! Is that the sword I've heard about?"
"Yep," said Steve, sinking back into his chair and closing his eyes.
"Finally got it back," said Herobrine. "We've also got a half-starved horse minus the saddle, an extra blanket and a carved brooch."
"Have you turned scavengers on us?"
"Nearly. Almost ran out of supplies back there. We've also got some interesting plants Steve just couldn't leave alone." Steve woke up suddenly.
"Plants!"
"Yeah. I bet Alex will be able to tell you what they are. —Watch him blush, now."
"Oh, shut up."
"Is there any food in the house, Kate?"
"Surprisingly yes. I don't know when your father eats but he almost never talks to me about it. Give me a few minutes and I'll cook something up."
Lord Heron reappeared as they were finishing their meal. "Where have you been?" he asked, looking at Herobrine, who had his mouth full.
"Lost Pine," said Steve.
"Mmm. What doing?"
"We got your sword back."
"I can see that. Did I tell you to go to Lost Pine?"
"You said that if the sword didn't turn up soon you might accuse Lord Yupa of stealing it," said Herobrine, swallowing. "We thought we'd go remind him it was just on lend. Halfway there we heard the news. I guess you know?"
"That Lost Pine fell? Of course." Herobrine nodded and took another bite, thinking better of adding that it had also been flat when they left. "Why'd you keep going?"
"Why not? It worked, obviously."
"Don't talk with your mouth full."
"Don't interrogate people who are trying to eat their first good meal in weeks."
"Easy, son. Even if it was originally a good idea to visit Lost Pine, what made you think you had my permission to charge into an overrun city without backup, looking for a single sword?"
"Steve is more than sufficient backup. And it worked out fine. Mostly. Steve's a bit beat up and I'm full of splinters but I think we'll both heal up eventually."
"Get up." Herobrine stood reluctantly, not sure what to expect. Lord Heron stepped around the table and hugged him briefly. "Good work. But don't do it again." He picked up the sword and left without further comment.
"That went well," said Steve, chewing. Herobring was still standing, eyebrows raised.
"Huh. Didn't expect that. But it did."
"Not really," said Kate, stamping on the spider, which had used the distraction of Lord Heron's entrance to crawl out of the bucket and towards the door. "He didn't hug Steve!"
"Steve is supposed to not exist," said Steve, slathering butter on a slice of bread and stuffing half of it into his mouth. Kate hugged him.
"Well, here's yours."
"D'awwwwww," said Herobrine, leaning back in his chair.
As the last activity of the night, the brothers visited the library, and Herobrine consulted a dictionary. Steve napped in an armchair. He was awakened by Herobrine slamming the book shut with sudden violence. "What?"
"He called me an asshat!"
"Huh?"
"Hallai. That weird word he used? He called me asshat in Laorian!"
"I didn't know they had a word for that."
"Everyone has a word for that." Herobrine snorted. "Here I was thinking he'd almost sounded affectionate."
"You can call names affectionately, asshat."
"Don't you dare start."
"Oh, I wouldn't presume." Steve stretched, grinning. Herobrine turned and slid the book back into its place on the shelf with a sigh. Then he faced Steve, eyes narrowed in thought.
"Wait, there's one more thing. What dynamic have we reversed?"
"What?"
"He said he was surprised at seeing the dynamic reversed. What did that mean?"
"No idea. I was hoping you'd know. Anyway, I'm going to bed, before I lose the will to walk." Steve got up with a groan. Herobrine walked with him.
"Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?"
"Yeah. It's just bruising. I told you, I think I got a cut in the back of my mouth, and that's where the blood came from."
"I can tell you're in pain."
"Well I may have cracked a rib or two."
"You never told me that!"
"I could be wrong."
"You didn't want me to be concerned about you. Well, listen, I'm not easily overwhelmed by compassion, you don't have to worry about me. Just tell me the next time you're hurt."
"I did tell you."
"You didn't tell me you had cracked ribs! We were riding hard!"
"We needed to ride hard, and I could be overreacting. They're probably just bruised."
"Steve. You're not overreacting. Remember what your last words were that time that you passed out from blood loss? 'Don't freak out, it's not as bad as it looks, I swear.'"
"Will you ever forget that?"
"Nope. Someday I'll tell your grandchildren."
"You're terrible." Steve cracked the door to his room and checked for zombies before stepping in. He left a torch burning, but sometimes Lord Heron sneaked in and put it out. He didn't like to keep torches burning. They had inherited a large but almost used up supply of everburning torches along with the house. Everburning torches were not literally infinite, however, and most were already approaching the stage of needing to be replaced. Lord Heron was a cheapskate and didn't see any point in lighting parts of the house that weren't being used at the moment. It had taken Steve a long time to adjust to the constant growling in the place when he'd arrived, especially with the recent zombie-related trauma that had sent him there in the first place. Herobrine was proud of him. As a child he'd expected him to turn out a coward. Steve hadn't. "Guess I'll see you in the morning," said Steve. "Goodnight."
"Night."
Steve was on his rug in the morning. Herobrine wasn't surprised. This house gave him nightmares too.
A/N: I'm on a road trip with family and we just listened to two dramatizations of Louis L'Amour stories in a row. So the main characters had to ride into town on horseback. They just had to. Thank you to Chick Bowdrie, Texas Ranger, for the scrappy roan.
I need to write a kind-of sequel, now, explaining what on earth Hallai was talking about.
Those who have read it may have noticed a vague nod in the general direction of Not a Slash Fic here. Which, I've just realized, I have never added dialogue paragraphing to. Pff. Who cares.
It's sad Steve never got to have grandkids. He and Herobrine would have been the best pair of doddery old great-uncles ever. Steve would try to tell the same funny story for the ten hundredth time and get distracted by something happening outside the window and then be confused for two hours trying to remember what he was saying. And he'd get in trouble for constantly feeding the children cookies. Herobrine would wake everyone up at three in the morning shooting off explosive magic for no apparent reason, yelling about them Notchdarnded pirates. "Go back to sleep, children, it's just Uncle Herobrine. Dear! You didn't tell me he was like this when you suggested staying with them! We're leaving tomorrow or you're raising these children yourself, understand?"