Chapter Text
The rain was cold. His boots were caked with mud, his thin cloak did little to shield him. The trail to the portal went through the woods, the trees kindly providing him some cover. He walked slowly, careful to not slip on the wet ground or trip over any roots.
~
He ran as fast as his legs could carry, gasping for air. The fortress corridor echoed with his steps, the clatter of bones at his heels. Dammit, every bricked wall was completely identical! He had no idea where his supposed guide was, or even if the other was alive or dead.
He was absolutely screwed-
He turned a corner, and slammed into a large figure.
“Gah!” he gasped, the figure grunting in kind. Pink skin, leather clothes, tusks protruding from their mouth.
A piglin , he thought. I am so dead.
The creature barely glanced at him before fixing their attention to the approaching clatter. Round the corner stepped a wither skeleton, sword already raised to attack.
David screamed. The piglin punched the skeleton square in the jaw.
Before he even had a chance to comprehend what just happened, David was thrown over the piglins shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and they were running. All he could do was to hold on for dear life: he didn’t know where the other was taking him, but at least it was away from the wither skeletons.
Eventually, the dark brickery of the fortress gave way for netherrack, and the piglin slowed down. David was dropped onto the ground. They were under a cliffside, the cropping of red stone shielding them from view.
Seated on the floor, David finally had a chance to take in his… rescuer? Kidnapper? The piglin. The other towered over him, even as they squatted down in front of him. Their bare arms showed some stray scarring and one of their ears was torn. Their clothes were simple, a rough tunic and a sturdy belt with small pouches attached to it. They had no shoes, but then again, they did have hooves so maybe those weren’t necessary? A few strands of hair had escaped a practical ponytail, framing their face as they regarded him with piercing red eyes.
This wasn’t just a piglin, he realised, oh no. This was a pigling woman . And she looked like she was internally debating whether or not to eat him whole.
David swallowed hard.
Suddenly, she hissed, bending over and clutching her upper arm. He craned his neck to see, spotting a patch of darkened skin around a bleeding cut.
“Oh, oh dear. One of them got you”, he said. “That's wither sickness.”
She glanced at him, and grunted something, shaking her head.
“Yeah, I don’t understand you either”, David said, smiling apologetically. He reached for his bag, rooting around until he found some gauze, cotton balls, and a healing potion. “But I can get you fixed up! As a thanks for saving me. And then we go our separate ways, yeah? No need to disembowel the nice stranger who does healing stuff!”
The piglin looked at him, brow furrowed as she tilted her head.
“Your arm-” David pointed at her bicep, “Is hurt. Ow ow ow.” He mimed clutching his own arm and hissing in pain. “But I’ll treat it.” He lifted his healing supplies up for her to see. “And then it won't hurt anymore! Ah,” he let go of his arm with a sigh of relief.
The piglin stared at him. Then her shoulders began to shake. She covered her mouth with one hand, failing to hide her giggles.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” David shuffled on hands and knees to the piglin’s side. Her eyes followed him: intent, cautious, but curious.
“Not really what I expected to use this for”, he said, dabbing some potion on the cotton ball. “I knew coming in the Nether was dangerous, but blaze rod prices have gotten outrageous- But what can you do when you live in a shoe, y’know?”
He wiped the wound clean with the potion-soaked cotton ball, and after applying some more potion to the injury, wrapped it in gaze. All the while he prattled on and on to soothe his nerves. The pigling woman was silent, save for a few grunts of discomfort when David touched the wound.
“There.” He smiled at his handiwork. “All nice and neat. The potion will take care of the wither sickness no problem.”
He pulled his bag up to return his supplies. The piglin’s eyes fell to his things, regarding his items curiously. Suddenly, she grunted and snorted, pointing to the bag.
“Sorry, what?” David looked at his stuff. He’d packed lightly. Water bottle, knife, some Nether mushrooms he’d picked when he’d arrived, and a singular blaze rod: his whole loot from this tragedy of an expedition.
She opened up one of her pouches and pulled out two blaze rods. She pointed and grunted, offering the rods towards David.
“You… You want to trade?” David looked down at his things. “I don’t have any gold though.” He gestured to the bag, and the items visible there. “This is all I have.”
The piglin snorted, then unabashedly reached into the bag, and took out David's knife.
“Oh, you want that?” he said. “Yes, gladly!”
David took the blaze rods, and the piglin kept the knife. She was looking at it, grinning. He thought it a bit odd, it was just a plain old iron knife, nothing special.
Then the piglin began to grunt and snort again. She drew a large square in the air while whooshing noises with her mouth, then looked around in an exaggerated way.
“The portal?” Right, David didn’t have a clue where he was. The portal had been in some kind of a forest of gigantic red mushrooms, but that was all he knew. “Uhh…”
The piglin pointed in all directions in a circle, then looked at him expectantly.
David got an idea. He returned to his bag, pulled out one of the mushrooms he’d picked up, and showed it to her. She grunted in recognition and stood up. David followed, and as she began to walk along the cliffside, he followed still.
After a little while of walking, he spotted the forest of red mushrooms. Soon after they entered, he began to hear the hum of magic, and there, between the towering fungi, stood the portal.
“Oh thank goodness”, he sighed. “Thank you so much, I would have been a goner if it weren’t for you.”
The pigling just shrugged, grunting with an amused little smile.
“I… I realise we were never really introduced.” He pointed to himself. “David.”
She tilted her head.
He patted his chest. “David”, he repeated, making sure to enunciate clearly.
Her eyes lit up. She pointed towards him. “Dei…wid?” The syllables sounded forced and unnatural, but it was still entirely recognisable.
“Yes! David!” He grinned wide. “And you?” he asked, pointing to her.
The piglin made a series of gruff snorts.
He stumbled through repeating what he’d heard. She covered her mouth and giggled, then repeated the noises. It took a minute, but eventually David was, apparently, close enough.
Much, much later, he’d learn the meaning of the sounds: Blazeshield.
~
The trail had once been so unfamiliar. Now he could recall every twist and turn, every rock and stone, the low-hanging branch and the rotting log. The smell of damp ground was heavy in the air, raindrops pitter-pattered against leaves.
~
The second time David entered the Nether, he was without a guide. As soon as he was through the portal, he could hear the thunk of an axe against wood. He followed the sound, and there was Blazeshield. Her brow was beading sweat, a few loose hair strands sticking to her forehead. Her stance was immaculate, holding the axe with both hands as she struck. David could only imagine the power of those arms.
He cleared his throat. Blazeshields head whipped up. She broke into a grin when she spotted him.
“I, uh.” David cleared his throat again. <H-hello, brave lady>, he stammered out.
It had taken a lot of coin to get the traders to teach him some piglin. The words hurt his jaw and practising had made his throat raw, but when Blazeshields eyes lit up, it all felt worth it.
She cleared her throat. “Griiting’s, over-werder.”
They both stared at each other, then broke into a fit of giggles.
It was a confusing trade setup, but they managed. Blazeshield would gather blaze rods and other brewing ingredients found in the Nether, and David would repay her with potions, iron, and overworld foods. He offered gold the few times he had some, but Blazeshield refused.
<Gold is normal>, she had explained. <This,> she said, an iron ingot in her hand, <is rare here. And this-> She raised a loaf of bread David had brought her. <Is godly .>
She then proceeded to scarf down the bread in less than a minute. David was, frankly, impressed.
~
This time, he didn’t carry a bag full of potions, or iron, or food. This time he carried no bag at all. There was only one thing he needed.
Somehow, it felt important to carry it in his hand. Not slung over his shoulder, not hooked on his belt, but in his hand, the smooth wood pressing against his palm, the metal cold where it grazed against his skin.
~
Over time, trading became less and less of an excuse. David lingered as the two of them talked their broken half-languages. He’d tell her stories, myths of gods and heroes, tales of hubris and prophecies. In return, Blazeshield showed him the wonders of the Nether, striders, lava falls, the grand fossils of soul sand valleys.
This did lead into quite a few situations where Blazeshield had to save his sorry hide again, but David didn’t mind. He knew what his strengths were, and, well, strength wasn’t one of them. He’d make a poor knight in shining armour. Blazeshield, on the other hand…
David knew what “a pretty girl” was supposed to look like: a sweet and demure waif, a princess wrapped in finery. That was what the storybooks described. Not a tall, muscular figure, not hands roughened by honest work.
Others could keep their fairy tale princesses, he decided. The woman of the Nether, brilliant red eyes gleaming with curiosity and excitement, was like the Amazons of legend.
Davild didn’t feel like Heracles retrieving the girdle of Hippolyta, as much as Icarus taking wing, when he asked to kiss her.
~
The rain clouds obscured the sun. In a few hours, it would be dark enough for the night creatures to crawl out.
He’d have to be quick, but for now, the woods were safe.
~
An arrow whizzed through the air, thunking into a crimson stem behind him. The hunting party growled as they began to re-load their crossbows.
<Wait!> David called out, raising his hands in the air. <I am not dangerous!>
<What are you doing in our forest?> a piglin demanded.
<I have come to trade>, he said quickly. <I am a friend of Blazeshield.>
One of the hunters stepped forward, a large, younger man with strikingly red eyes. <Oh, so you’re the one she keeps running off with?>
David barely managed to leap out of the way of the arrow, aimed straight to his head. He turned on his heel and ran.
<And stay out!> someone yelled after him.
~
A small creek cut the path through the forest, the sound of rainwater hitting the surface calming and pleasant. The water wasn’t deep, something anyone could wade through, but after enough times of getting his feet wet he’d thrown in large stepping stones. He held his arms out for balance as he hopped from stone to stone, mindful of the rain-slicked surface.
~
<By bedrock above and below…> she gasped. <David, look! Water! On the ground!>
<It’s called a “creek”, my lady>, David said, smiling as Blazeshield stepped into the stream without hesitation.
<There’s so much of it! I know you explained it, but seeing it-> She put her hand in the water, splashing it. <Where does it come from? Where does it go?>
<It comes from a lake>, he explained as she kicked the water, giggling with child-like glee, <and it joins a- It’s called a “river”, it’s like a lava fall but on the ground?>
<There’s even more water?> she asked, amazed. <And it's all just on the ground? Flowing free?>
David stepped into the creek, and took her by the hand. <One day, I’ll take you to see the “ocean”.>
“Ocean…” Blazeshield took his face between her hands, sinking her fingers into his hair. She never quite understood kissing, it wasn’t something piglins did- but when she nuzzled him with her snout, it was just as good.
~
The tool in his hand became heavier and heavier with each step. He moved it from his right to his left. The wooden handle of his pickaxe pressed lightly against his ring.
~
<They’ll never let you in the village>, Blazeshield said, cradling David in her lap. <I’ve tried to talk to them, but they just…>
<It’s okay>, he murmured, cupping her cheek gently. <I don’t care what they think of me.>
<Do you…> She hesitated. <Do you think I could come to the Overworld? With you?>
David froze. <My love, you don’t have to->
<I want to.>
The very next day, they stepped through the portal together. David brought her through the forest, to his little cabin on the edge of town. He showed her everything he could think of. They watched the sunset, the stars, and then woke up to watch the sun rise again. They danced in the rain, they swam in the lake. He brought her a bouquet of every single different flower he could find. The villagers whispered and stared, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn.
On the third day, he took her to the blacksmiths and asked for a pair of rings. Not gold ones, not even silver, but of iron. It was the happiest he’d ever been.
On the fifth day, the coughing started.
David knew the signs of zombification. He knew what the nausea and the greenish pallor of her skin meant. Coughing, that was different.
<I- I can’t- breathe>, Blazeshield rasped, as David held her shivering form. <Take me back- I need- air->
As soon as she was back on the other side of the portal, she gasped, like her throat had been unclogged. The shivering stopped as she breathed long, greedy gulps.
Soon after, David would learn from one of the Nether explorers that the Overworld air was poison for piglins. He cursed himself for not thinking to ask. He cursed himself for not thinking.
Blazeshield wouldn't step through the portal ever again.
~
The path ended in a clearing. He’d tried to make it nice, built little wooden steps to the obsidian frame, placed torches in the ground to light the way. Planted flowers.
~
He exited the portal, and almost stumbled back in it when he saw a piglin man. The stranger was sitting on a felled log of crimson stem, sharpening an axe. He was an older man, streaks of grey in his hair and in his beard, but still built like a warrior. When he raised his gaze to David, he saw piercing red eyes. Eyes that looked familiar.
<I think it's high time we talked about your intentions with my daughter>, the old man spoke, voice deep and even, almost gentle.
~
The rain struck against the dark stone of the portal, its glossy surface shining like a mirror. The magic of it churned and sighed, its spiralling patterns almost hypnotic.
~
<I only want good for her! I’m not-> David scrambled. <I know I’m not to your standards, but I only want her to be happy.>
<And how exactly are you good for her?> the other demanded sharply. <What can you do? Can you mine stone to build a home for her? Can you hunt to feed her? Can you fight to protect her from raiders?>
<She loves me as I am>, he defended. <I’m not strong, but I can do other things. I’m smart, I know how to make many things- And I care about her, I care about her so much->
<So she’s supposed to be strong enough for the both of you?> the other asked. <How can you ever be anything more than a burden?>
<It’s her decision, isn’t it?>
The old man looked at him, something in his eyes that David couldn’t quite read. <You are hurting her.>
David balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. <I would never-!>
<As long as she’s chasing daydreams with you, she won't hear of anyone else. She’s a strong girl, anyone in the village would be lucky to have her- Anyone in the village would be a more suitable mate than you .>
<There is more to life than some- some supposedly perfect mate!> David snapped. <She’s not some piece of cattle for you to sell off!>
<Of course not>, the older man said calmly. <But my wife and I won’t live forever. All I want is for her to have someone by her side who can support her, and that’s not you. You’re worse. You drag her down with you.>
<I- I-> David stammered.
<I remember the day you two met>, the other continued. <She came home with that bandage around her arm, I remember finding it odd. She was dodgy when I asked about it. Finally admitted that she’d been struck by a wither skeleton.>
<I bandaged her. I healed her wound. Doesn’t that mean anything?> David asked.
<You were the reason she got hurt.> For the first time, David could see a flash of genuine anger in the old man’s eyes. <She was saving you, and she still has the scar. Have you ever seen a limb lost to wither sickness? I have.>
<But she was fine!> David pleaded. <I used my skills, my potions- I won’t be a burden, I can help, I can make her life better->
<You nearly killed her.>
David flinched.
<You say you care about her, and yet you nearly killed her.> The other man’s voice was icy. <You took her with you, from her family, from her home, from everything she’s ever known. You were that selfish. And for what? Just for her to rot away? Just for her to die with you?>
<I- I didn’t know->
<So not only selfish, but an ignorant fool as well.> The words were biting, as sharp as the edge of the axe, rending into David with fury. <You can never be together. She can’t come with you. You won’t survive here. It’s all pointless. So why do you keep coming back?>
<I love her>, David whispered.
The other stood up, loosely gripping the axe. David stepped back as the other reached for him- to clasp a hand on his shoulder.
<I love her too>, he said, his deep voice almost soft. <That’s why I won’t let you hurt her anymore.>
David swallowed, eyes flitting to the axe.
The older man noticed and smiled sadly. <No. Not yet. Not unless I have to.> he stepped back, regarding the axe in his hand. <The next time I see you, though… If I ever see you.>
He lifted his gaze to the obsidian gateway. <I don’t know much about magic, but I know that thing needs its frame to work.>
David’s eyes went wide. <You’re going to destroy the portal.>
The older man turned to look at him, searching for something with his eyes.
<Go home, Overworlder>, he said in a low, soothing timbre, <and if you truly love her… You know what to do.>
~
The rain was cold. His boots were caked with mud, his thin cloak did little to shield him. The rain struck against the dark stone of the portal, its glossy surface shining like a mirror. The wooden handle of his pickaxe pressed lightly against his ring.
The pickaxe was an old iron thing. It wasn’t meant to mine obsidian; it would take a long, long time to break any of it, and even then, it would chip into useless powder instead of usable stone chunks.
There would be nothing left. Good.
He raised his pick, struck, and the magic of the portal shattered like glass.