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Herobrine and Eret were, in their own right, Gods. Their mother and father had been Gods, and their powers had been passed down to them. They were, however, both far too young to hope to learn to control those powers for a number of years, and the world to them was very much new, hopeful, anything was possible.
At least, it had been. The world had been magical, full of promise and excitement, until the day everything had changed. Herobrine had stepped out of line, a side of their father the boys had never seen before was revealed, their mother stepped into the firing line.
She’d died, that day, to save them. The world was no longer exciting, and the boys were no longer hopeful. They were afraid, and they only had each other. But despite the hell they had seen, despite their father’s new strict control over them, they were still children. Despite their mother being gone, they still remembered the tradition from the Overworld they had completed every year.
Christmas.
Christmas without their mother wasn’t going to be the same that year.
Both Eret and Herobrine had been left to their own devices the night before and the two young boys had, stupidly, allowed themselves to be excited. Eret had crawled into his big brother’s bed, and the two had hidden beneath the blankets and giggled together as they reminisced about Christmases gone by. They thought of the year before, when their mother had given them each fruit from the Overworld. Melons and apples. The boys had been fascinated by the sight, touch, and taste of the fruits - they were so much more flavourful than the chorus fruit they’d eaten the rest of their life - and they wondered what might appear in the morning. Their mother might be gone, their father might be cruel, but surely Christmas would still happen, right?
The only present given came in the form of foul words and swinging fists. Eret saw the look in his father’s eye - so terrifyingly similar to the look in his eye the day their mother had died - and he felt Herobrine’s hand in his. He felt himself being pulled away, legs moving as fast as they could to keep up with his big brother.
He supposed his present came in the form of his brother keeping him safe.
They’d run out of the palace together, hand in hand, and Herobrine had tugged him along a little faster as they ran out toward the edge of the platform. Eret liked following his brother here: this was their secret place, a special place that was too small for anyone to follow, be it their father or the Endermen that surrounded them. Herobrine told Eret to go first, to crawl underneath the endstone until he reached the hollowed out cave they’d built. Somewhere to hide when they needed to, with a stash of secret things that made them smile.
If their father knew about it, he’d destroy it all immediately.
“Are you okay?” Eret asked quietly, his hands coming up to his face and pushing his unruly curls out of his eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m okay.” Herobrine answered, sitting himself in the corner with his legs tucked up to his chest. He couldn’t cry, it hurt too much to cry, but one of his eyes was swollen and bruised. He was very much not okay, but what could a child as young as Eret do to help him?
“Why did he hit you, Hero?”
Herobrine bit his lip, swallowing and reaching out to beckon his brother close. Eret sensed the silent instruction and moved towards him, letting himself be enveloped in his brother’s arms.
“I asked if we would have a present like last year, he said we were naughty boys and we wouldn’t get presents.” Herobrine didn’t go any further, he tried to protect his little brother, not make things worse.
“I miss mummy.”
“I know.” Herobrine whispered. “I miss her too.”
The two sat quietly for a little while, cherishing the quiet moment of safety they shared with each other, trying to chase the memories of love and magic away from their minds. It was difficult for any child to try to forget what being loved felt like, and even harder to try to tell themselves they didn’t want to feel it again.
“Do you think… Hero, do you think we’ll ever celebrate Christmas again?”
“We will.” Herobrine said. “Mum was from the Overworld. One day, when we’re big enough, we can visit together. When dad isn’t looking. Maybe we can have more melon again.”
“It made my tongue feel all spiky.” Eret giggled, remembering how the fruit had hurt to eat, but it wasn’t too painful, and the sweetness more than made up for it.
“I promise when we’re older, we can go together.”
# # #
“Eret!” George called to his brother. The community hall in the village was filled with friends and family. Tommy and Tubbo were helping to bring food to the table, and Lucy ran around with Christmas crackers trying to pull as many as she could. As evidenced by the four hats now sitting on her head, people were letting her win every time.
“George, we were wondering when you and Dream were getting here.” Eret smiled, walking over to the man with his arms spread. As soon as they were close enough, he pulled his older brother in for a tight hug, and laughed brightly into his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, George.”
“Merry Christmas, Eret.”
It was a moment before they parted, and when they did Dream elbowed George in the side, reminding his fiance of something very important. Eret saw George’s eyes widen in realisation, and watched as George pulled the foil away from the platter that Dream held.
“I figured it’s not really Christmas without a proper dessert.” He said, unveiling the goodies the pair had brought with them. “I know plenty of people brought chocolate and cakes but I thought, do you know what else we should have? Some fruit, for people that want something a little lighter after the meal. So… I thought I should bring melon.”
Eret’s eyes looked between his brother and the food, and he noted how Dream remained silent during the moment the men shared. He wondered if George had told Dream the story - if George even remembered the promise he made when they were just children - or if he could just sense that there was a deeper meaning to what he knew. It didn’t matter if other people knew the significance or not, it didn’t really matter to Eret if George even remembered. What mattered was, whether consciously or subconsciously, George had kept his promise. Hundreds of thousands of years had passed, their minds had been wiped and their bodies tortured, they’d fought against each other more times than they could remember, but George had still kept his promise.
“I miss her.” Eret said quietly.
“So do I.” George whispered. “She’d be proud of you.”
“She’d be proud of you, too.”
“Who’d be proud of you?” Tommy’s voice piped up, intruding on the moment in the most Tommy fashion possible. “Tubbo! There’s more food here!” He called, looking over his shoulder to see his friend running up behind him. “We’ll take care of this, don’t worry, we’re on food duty.”
Eret and George just laughed together. It was just melon - and the promise wasn’t really about the melon, the promise had been about Christmas. The fruit meant nothing, it just symbolised something they’d left behind when their mother had died. Hope, happiness, love… The magic of Christmas that had died when the light left her eyes was blinding today, the love from their family and friends overbearing, and as Tubbo took the platter from Dream the brothers embraced once more.
Dream walked away with Tommy and Tubbo. If he saw his fiance and future brother-in-law crying, well, he didn’t need to tell anyone.
It was Christmas, after all.