Me: I am going to bed early tonight

My brain: awww you really think that, don't you?

I highly recommend looping the music above lol

RECAP

"Course," the older man rummaged a bit more, then packed away the supplies and tossed it back to Steven. The soldier quickly found the potion, popped the cork, and bumped Herobrine's knuckles with the cool glass, "He–Bryn? Here, drink this."

He received a look of warning, not at all masked by the mask, "You should keep it... just in case," he emphasized his point with a slight kick to Steven's shin.

"We'll be fine here, your ha–"

"I will argue this no further with you."

Steven scoffed, stowing away the potion with a sigh, "Very well..."

A crunch and scrape of boots on snow made all three heads turn, "Da, I've got the cloaks, Ma says breakfast is near done, plenty for all."

"Thank ye, Aegon. You boys get bundled up, then we'll get ye to the house and cared for proper."

END RECAP

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~ Hidden in Sight ~

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"Ye say yer brothers, eh? Who's the eldest."

The question came out of nowhere, really, and it rendered both Steven and Herobrine quite speechless.

It had taken quite a bit to get to their slightly unwilling host's house, given the fact they had had to practically dig their way through deep, soft snow the entire way, wrapped in borrowed cloaks and boots. Now, at last, they sat stiffly at the family's table, staring down at steaming bowls of stew. The house was simple, cozy, warmed by a bright fire and the heat of a coal oven.  Three sets of antlers hung along a wall, and curled paper with childish paintings of flowers were tacked to another. The furniture was sturdy, with a handmade roughness to it. A few sets of rounded eyes peered at them from around a corner, regarding the bedraggled set of 'brothers'.

Steven cleared his throat, "Ah... eldest?"

A grunt, "Aye. Though both've ye look like twins," the older man hadn't let them out of his sight for a moment. Even now, he sat at the head of the table, thick, folded arms settled on the smooth, oaken slabs, "Are ye twins?"

"Yes," Herobrine broke his silence, fiddling with his spoon, "we are twins. I am the eldest."

Steven shot him a sharp look, his mind firing briefly with a question, which the god ignored, 'We haven't settled on our backstory, what are you thinking??'

"Actually, I think I'm the eldest," Steven grumbled, lifting a spoonful of soup to his mouth. The broth was wonderfully spiced, and it drew his instant attention, "'m more mature than him."

He could feel Herobrine's gaze burning his skin through the blindfold, "I am the eldest."

"Whatever," their host broke in, "I care little. 'Twas only an idle curiosity of mine, you two look near-identical."

"Darlin'," a woman's voice floated into the dining room from the kitchens, "would you fetch a lil' more wood from the rack? The oven's not hot enough for my loaves."

A gentle grunt from the man acknowledged her request, and the chair creaked when the man stood, "You boys stay 'ere, finish up your supper," there was measured warning in his tone, sparking from his dark eyes, and Steven couldn't help but nod obediently. There was something... threatening, about this man, and Steven didn't want to find out what caused it, despite having the Second Ruler seated at his side.

The man brushed by them, rounding the corner towards where Steven assumed he stored his firewood supplies, "Isa, Dalton, go do yer chores."

The peeking, spying eyes vanished, followed by two sets of scrambling feet.

Beside him, Herobrine grunted, catching Steven's attention, "It is foolish of you to think yourself capable of acting like an elder brother."

His voice was quiet, but not quiet enough to lose the obvious condescension.

Steven scoffed softly, swallowing his bite of stew, "You're a younger brother though, aren't you?"

A wave of...irritation, it seemed, radiated directly off the fallen god's skin, hitting Steven full in the face. He flinched, briefly confused at the sensation, frowning into his bowl. It felt like the onset of a headache... but he could sense it coming directly from Herobrine.

"Are... are you–"

"It is hard enough keeping myself under control," Herobrine's hiss cut off Steven's question, and the ripples of displeasure only seemed to increase, making Steven's entire body go rigid, "without you prodding at the thin barrier keeping my urges at bay. The scent of blood, all these beating hearts all around me, do you not understand how close I am to losing myself to that monster again?"

The warping voice, falling back into its usual echo, coupled with the sudden onslaught of adrenaline and almost palpable anger in the air...

    Unbearable pain radiating, shooting up his arm. Fingers crushing into his windpipe, then gripping the back of his neck to force him along, driving him into solid rock floors and walls. Cold pressure rolling off in waves, making skin prickle with chills and the heart increase to painful pounding–

    "I know ways of keeping you alive, through pain weak humans aren't even meant to bear."

Steven pushed himself up suddenly from his seat, his chair nearly toppled over backwards. His knuckles whitened, gripping at the edge of the table.

    Breathe...breathe.

A hand closed around his bicep.

A strangled sound left his throat, and Steven tore his arm away, staggering back. Before him, Herobrine stood, scowling, one hand outstretched.

"Steven."

The soldier closed his eyes, hands lifting to grip at his head. His chest burned, and he sucked in air with shallow breaths, his heartbeat became a pounding hammer within his ribs–

Intense, almost fierce calm wracked his entire body, nearly stealing the very strength from his bones. His legs wobbled, and hands again gripped his upper arms, holding him upright.

Holding him steady.

    You are safe. This is safety.

The thoughts... weren't his own. And yet, he found himself believing their sincerity, as though they were his own conceptions.

His hands fell away from his head, latching onto the arms holding him upright. He felt his constricted chest release, allowing him to breathe freely again; his heart remained fluttering too light, too fast, but it did little now to frighten him.

"Brine..."

"Hush," the god's voice soothed now, softer, not growling, "I cannot have you fainting or going into a frenzy."

"Ugh."

The grip on his arms tightened, shifted to wrap under his arms a little, supporting Steven's body with ease. He ought to take his own weight, before Herobrine became annoyed with him.

"You still hold memories... of our first meeting," Herobrine's breath brushed Steven's hair, and the soldier frowned slightly.

First meeting...

"I... yes," admitting it unleashed a swelling of guilt, "I've... I-I've dreamed about it. Went away f'r a bit, when I started making plans t'..."

His voice drifted, but he somehow sensed that Herobrine knew of what he spoke.

"I-I thought I was done with the nightmares. 'm sorry."

"No," the sheer commanding in that single word made Steven immediately quiet, "No, it is a natural thing, your fear."

Herobrine paused for a beat, fighting away the uneasiness of sharing such an intimate moment with his creation in...such a dangerous place. Too many eyes...

"...your fear is natural. It is exactly as I deserve, treating you thus," he snarled quietly as he uttered the last word. Indeed, their connection had strengthened a staggering amount, and in so short a time! Perhaps it was not entirely bad...he could witness his creation's thoughts and emotions as easily as one looked through a window. And, as a creator, he could just as easily influence those emotions, changing them as he needed.

"I-I felt y'r anger. I think it... it brought me back."

The quiet admission made Herobrine tense up a bit. If he could watch Steven's mind through a window...

...was his creation looking back, watching his thoughts?

Steven was pushing away now, shakily replacing his feet in their original stance, placing a hand on the table to steady himself. Herobrine allowed him to break away, silent. Steven looked...tired, he realized, regarding the man with new eyes. Dark circles bruised his under-eyes, ash and Netherian filth had settled in every crevice of his emancipated body, outlining ribs and other bones. Dark bruises and scrapes still adorned him, earned after he had drank his potion.

...how could he have ever wanted to break this fragile thing, this life he had made, not his brother. His life, his creation. His rescuer, the only soul in the entire world that had returned to hell itself, to drag his tormenter from its depths, attempting to right the balance of a world that was not even his to save.

The darkness writhed inside, scraping at such blasphemous thoughts. He did not heed it.

"Steven," blue eyes flicked to his face, he felt their gaze. He cleared his throat, turned his face away, "Eat. I will speak to you of your old fears later."

When their host finally returned, he found the two men he'd left sitting quietly still, the younger's head upon the table, buried in ash-covered arms. The eldest sat close, lips pinched together tightly. His head lifted when the man settled a meaty hand on the corner of the table.

"I've set my little 'uns to making beds. You'll sleep afore the fire," he gestured, "wake 'im up, he'll sleep easier on soft mats and blankets."

"I will carry him."

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I'm not sure if this is where the chapter should've ended but... it's about time we address the tnt in the room; the tRaUma and the eMotioNS and the bONDING (and the redemption arc frfr)