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John refuses to go quietly when he returns to the King in Yellow. He promised to save Arthur, to keep him alive if he'd return to him willingly. He fought, tooth and nail, refusing to allow himself to merge with King. He had lost Arthur- he refused to lose himself.
“Give him back to me or end this,” John spat bitterly, fighting against the King's consciousness as they both struggled for control of the one body.
“You are a fool to cling so tightly to a mortal. He was nothing . It would do you best to forget him and return to where you belong.”
“You took everything from me! He was my everything!” John snarls, lashing out at the King, left arm clawing at their right side, “Arthur was mine .”
“And now he is dead, gone to the Dark World without you,” The King taunts him, images of Arthur dead and lifeless in the snow plaguing John’s mind, “You thought of yourself as what? A guardian to him? And yet you failed .”
“I guess that makes you my guardian fucking angel." A memory of Arthur in their early days in the pits fills John’s mind, distracting him from the awful images The King attempted to torment him with.
”What’s a guardian angel?” John only had the confidence to ask when he and Arthur were on better speaking terms.
“I was mocking you when I called you that…” Arthur sighs. While it wasn’t his favorite subject, it was a welcome distraction. “In many religions they’re protectors, assigned to protect and guide an individual.”
“If you were a guardian angel, you’d probably be one of the more unsettling ones, with six wings or other eldritch abominations that always start by saying ‘Be not afraid.’ Arthur snorts softly while John listens intently. “Funny enough, in the stories they’re in they tend to be the most benevolent of the angels that would appear, despite their visuals.”
The memories don’t block out the sight of the portal the King opens, showing him the snowy wasteland and what little remains of Arthur's corpse.
“Return to me. There is nothing left that remains for you,” The King's voice whispers to him. John tries to reach out to the rift, towards Arthur, but it closes, leaving nothing but the King.
“Everything you have lost was done by your own hand.” The King continues, his presence sinking sharp claws into John's mind. “That wretched being took his own life because of you. His sacrifice was worthless. You are mine- and will remember that soon enough.”
John’s anguish was quickly replaced with rage as King tries to erase his entire being. Everything he worked so hard to gain. To be snuffed out like a flame. He wouldn't allow it, he was John Doe, not the King in Yellow.
The will to survive, to live and the desire to be free gives him power that surges through him and grants him control of their hands and grabs their crown. He grips it tightly before throwing it to ground, causing it to shatter in an explosion of light.
Where there was once one now stood two as John rose to his feet. An entity was wrapped in a shining golden cloak. A white eyeless mask covers his face while a hair of twisted horns curls out from his temples and a pair of mandibles stuck out from the side of his face. Long wisps of black tendril-like hair flows around him from beneath the cloak. John and the King mirror one another, until six black wings rose from John's back.
John wastes no time and lunges for King. Lashing out with clawed hands, aiming for his neck. John would rather spill his blood on the ground of his golden palace than allow himself to lose himself forever. Golden ichor spatters on the ground as the two halves of a god fought violently.
“I'll kill you for what you've done!” John hisses, stumbling back, ichor dripping from his wounds, “And if I can't, I will make every minute of your endless existence into a living nightmare!”
Tears stream down his face, grinning like a madman. The very sight angers the King at what this human had cultivated in his other half. He's surprised by its power despite being weakened.
“You're nothing but a child! I will not tolerate your lashing out. You will submit to me.”
“You would have done it by now if you could!” John cackles in glee, “I am more powerful than you anticipated. You no longer have power over me!” The King has already taken everything from him, everything he's cared for is gone.
“Enough of this!” The King snarls, pinning John to the ground by the throat.
“I will be your ruination!” John growls, claws digging into the hand in his throat. He refused to give the King any semblance of peace for the rest of his days for what he’s done. He’d be sure of it.
Time is a curious thing in the Dreamlands, as the two of them dueled eventually John would fall, broken and battered, only to rise again. Black and gold ichor covers the ground as limbs were torn off and healed once more, continuing the cycle. With a lot of luck, John ripped off several of King’s tentacles, only for the King to retaliate by ripping off another wing or limb. Golden fractures began to form on John’s onyx colored skin, from every hit and every healed wound.
John stumbles back when the King gets a good hit to his face, causing John’s mask to shatter. He breathes heavily, his body bloody and broken while the King could only watch him in rage at the human-like face that stares back.
John is too weak to fight back as the King approaches wordlessly, grabbing him by the back of the head and slamming his face to the ground. Aiming to destroy the utter mockery of his face.
“You are a god, you will never be anything less,” The King snarls.
John remains silent, allowing the pain to distract him instead. He would not submit, he would not fall. He needed to get back up. He could not rest yet…
John screams as he feels an invasion of his mind as the King searches his memories, hellbent on taking every last memory of Arthur. To end this nonsense at the source. But John would not let him go, would never let go. It angers the King how a human had such a hold on this fragment.
“Let go!” The King orders.
“Stop!” John struggles in his grip, tensing as memories begin to fill his vision.
The first time Arthur played the piano in the office, singing the madness song on the boat, but the most recent memory that had such a deep hold in John’s heart, he could never let it go.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep…
“And miles to go before I sleep…” John mutters weakly.
“You will break and you will know your place,” The King snarls, summoning chains to hold him down and a golden bird cage to keep him contained. He’s had enough of this, “Your love will not save you. In the end it was his doom and it will be no different for you.”
The King turns away from the cage without another word. He will never understand what their connection was, but it didn’t matter. Eventually his other half would see reason.
John’s body aches as he tries in vain to break free of the chains. He sits, kneeling, while the chains strain his arms above his head, muscles taut and stiff in a way that will surely hurt when they’re released.. He would not even find rest in his prison. Though, in the reflection of the floor of his gilded cage, he could see himself staring back. He takes a moment to take in his features, despite the fractured and golden ichor that covered it. He breathes out a ragged breath and smiles weakly. As much as the King wished to destroy it, it was him. A small part of him wishes Arthur could have been able to see his face. Perhaps if he finds him in the Dark World he may get that chance…
The King doesn’t return again until John’s injuries have healed and they begin anew in a bid for control. John fought recklessly, running on pure hatred and spite. Eventually, all he would seek out was to be broken so badly he wouldn’t be able to be put back together. He isn't sure why he's still fighting, wanting so badly for it to end, but he refuses to let the King win. John and King’s conflict continues onward, time is passing quickly with little progress made on either side. The King would mock him, reminding him that their battle continues, centuries were passing on the mortal plane.
“Arthur is gone, an insignificant soul in the Dark Word among countless others,” The King spat, “You’re mad to keep fighting this hard for nothing.”
The King’s words drift in John’s mind and he realizes he and Arthur hadn’t settled on a place to meet in the Dark World. It seemed a little silly now, but it didn't matter…John would find him even if it took eternity.
John remains silent, only choosing to stand back up again. He was lost, but his mind was still his own. He would keep fighting until he could finally rest. And so their cycle continues. Battle, main, wound, locked away while his injuries would heal.
Each battle breaks John’s form further; for each break to heal over, leaving fractures resembling veins of gold splattered across his body. The worst of it was primarily his face and chest. If John had to guess, it was the King’s least favorite parts of him. His face and heart, two reminders of his humanity.
Still, John would not allow himself to become lost. He holds on fiercely to his humanity and to his memories of Arthur, all their shared memories, both good and bad. It was all that the King could not take from him no matter how badly he tried. The memory of Arthur keeps him from drowning and Faroe’s song fills the silence while he lies in his gilded cage, battered and broken.
“It’s time for you to return home, fragment,” The King approaches his cage once more, “Back where you belong.”
“I no longer belong to you,” John snaps as the cage fades away and he tries to get to his feet, still weakened from their last encounter.
The King grabs him, claws sinking into his chest as he forces him down violently. John cries out, weakly clawing at his hand and he clutches at the memories the King keeps trying to take from him. His heart glowing brightly in response between the golden cracks covering his skin. The light pulses wildly in rhythm with his heart. Tears stream down John’s face, staining his cheeks.
“You will not take all I have left of him,” John snarls, “I would rather die than become one with you. I will not lose everything I am!”
“Then you are a fool,” The King scoffs, throwing John back into the cage once more.
The moment John hits the ground his claws go for his own chest. Digging and clawing for his heart. He was tired and needed to end this. He wanted to finally sleep.
“Stop!” The King snaps, chains quickly wrapping around John’s wrists to force him to stop and John shrieks in anguish, “You are a fool!”
“Let me go! I want to rest!” John fights against his restraints.
A slow mocking clap drew both of their attention. Kayne stood between the two with a grin, “Wow, marigold, gonna need to reign it in! Now I have some pointers for the performance. First off, rather petty of you to stick our little songbird into a bird cage. Kinda on the nose, but you will get style points for the whole gilded cage!”
“What is this,” The King tenses at his presence.
“Ah, ah, don’t interrupt me!” Kayne clicks his tongue, snapping his fingers as puppet strings hold the King in place, “Now where was I…
John watches as Kayne easily walks through the bars of his cage to approach him and whatever he had summoned was keeping The King in his place. He did not know what to make of it or why Kayne was appearing now.
“I will give you both some props, overall the first fight, amazing, spectacular, the thing with the crown and rising like an angel with the wrath of god, inspiring, magnificent! But now things have gotten stale with the endless cycle of “John, the god that found his humanity” and the “King in Yellow” trapped in an endless cycle of battle for control. Rinse and repeat. It’s sad and pathetic.” Kayne shakes his head, taking in the sight of John before him, “There’s no payoff and now you just want to end it all? To just give up for the chance to reunite with Arthur? Okay, that part was a classic sweet juicy tragedy, but what’s the point? The story ends, you either reunite or they don’t and it just ends like that, can’t have that!” Kayne scoffs, leaning against the bars of his cage.
“If you’re unhappy with the show, then end this.” John growls softly, glaring at him, “I'm tired and want to sleep…”
“Oh, big words, but I’m gonna need you to ease it back, Romeo. You and your Juilet are kinda ruining my whole plan with this whole double suicide thing.” Kayne hums, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “I think we need to take a couple steps back and workshop some things,”
“You have no idea what you're dealing with, fragment,” The King snarls.
“Yeah, kinda the whole point of memory loss, don’t you think?” Kayne cackles in glee, “Besides, what I am is way less fun than this. Keep up, Midas.”
“I don't what you are, get to the fucking point!” John snaps, growing tired of Kayne’s games.
“Well! How do I put this…there’s no pay off right now if things just end in tragedy!” He scoffs, waving his hand away, “So many loose ends and for what? Besides…you and Artie are way more useful to me alive.”
“What?” John raises his head slowly to meet his gaze.
“Now that's got your attention,” Kayne grins, eyes narrowing.
“You can bring him back?” John breathes out.
“Naturally, but not without a cost, of course. A deal, really.” Kayne grins, twirling a bit of the chain around his fingers playfully.
“Don't—” The King snaps.
“Alright, enough of you.” Kayne rolls his eyes, waving his hand to create a barrier around John and himself, “The adults are talking now, theater kid.” Kayne doesn't even spare the King a second glance, turning all of his attention on John, “Now…where was I? Yes! You and Artie, both fucked.”
“Get to the point,”
“I’m getting there, just painting a word picture here. Work with me.” Kayne waves him off, “Arthur’s dead! Gone from this mortal existence. And you? Well, you’re as good as dead, or at least it looks like you’re not gonna be able to see our dear Artie in the Dark World any time soon if The King has anything to say about!”
“Kayne,” John growls softly.
“The King is smart enough not to break you bad enough to kill you. And you’ll keep repeating this cycle until the end of time, which is boring!” Kayne rolls his eyes, stepping through the bars of the cage to approach John. “So! I want to offer you a deal. I want to send you back to Arthur, a real touching reunion.”
“And what do you want in return?”
“Well, I need you to get him to New York. To a little cult called the Order of the Fallen Star, but you can’t tell him anything,” Kayne grins, tapping at John’s nose with each word, “I mean you could, but it won’t end well for you, marigold. Either way this is going to be so very fun for me- and that’s what really matters. What do you say?”
Kayne grins and the chains around John’s wrist disappear with the snap of his fingers. John is silent for a moment, rubbing his wrists while he takes in everything he’s been told.
“You can accept or continue your endless war with The King,” Kayne hums, tilting his head to look back at the King fighting to break through the barrier, “Oh! You were close that time! Maybe!” Kayne cackles in delight.
John watches the King attack the barrier, his screams as cracks appear on the barrier, only for them to close moments after. A small part of him found joy in watching the King fail and struggle, but deep down he just felt emptiness. He wanted this to end.
“Don’t leave me hanging, Johnny” Kayne grins, blood soaked hand offered out to him.
John stares at his outstretched hand for a moment before finally taking it. He was sure Kayne had been watching him the entire time, waiting precisely for him to break and he did. Watching him go mad with grief, enjoying his misery before he approached him and made his offer. It really didn’t matter to John anymore.
He wanted to go home.
The deal with Kayne, taking his hand all felt like a lifetime ago. In many ways it was, it all felt so far away now that John was dropped in the middle of the 1300s in a rundown windmill with Arthur. It was all he could think about once Arthur had fallen asleep for the evening.
John sighs wearily, slowly manifesting his form and hovers over Arthur. He takes a moment to appreciate that Arthur was finally getting some rest. It's been far too long since Arthur had been able to get some rest. Sleeping in a windmill may have not been the most ideal place, but it was dry and John would keep him safe.
He takes a careful step forward, separating himself from Arthur to stand to his full height. He crouches slightly, horns brushing against the ceiling and the floor creaks beneath him while he checks on the barrier Arthur had placed on the door. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing and helped Arthur settle down to sleep.
John closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the silence and the gentle beating of rain on the rooftop. It was an odd and freeing feeling to just be. To stand here in his own form, in his own body in a sense.
Though, he had to be careful not to overdo it. If he kept his actions and abilities limited, he would not be a burden or a drain on Arthur's life force. However, these moments of freedom would not be worth the cost of losing Arthur. Especially not after all he's done to return to him.
John approaches Arthur slowly, reaching out towards him, hand hovering over him.
“Don't. Don't touch me. Not until I say you can.”
John grimaces, withdrawing his hand as he recalls what Arthur had told him earlier that evening. It ached, but he understood. Arthur's trust in him was shattered, after everything he did. After all the lies. He had no right to touch him.
John drops his hand and delicately grabs the lighter from Arthur's pocket instead with the tips of his clawed fingers. He moves onto the bag, pulling out a pen and a notebook. He walks back to the barrier, settling down against it. The lighter flicks on, casting his half of the room in a soft warm light. It was enough to let him see while opening the notebook to start to fill the pages with notes on their journey, his thoughts, anything to help get his thoughts organized. It helps pass the time far more than staring at the ceiling stuck in his own thoughts.
Eventually he has nothing left to write and finds himself drawing. His first attempts were atrocious, but he had nothing but time to help refine his craft. His first attempts were small drawings of nature, the first time he'd ever seen trees since he awoke, though Arthur quickly became a recurring subject among the smaller pieces. John had been so engrossed in his task he startles when Arthur sits up screaming.
“Arthur? Arthur, it's alright I’m here,” John drops everything and is at his side in seconds. He hovers over him, careful about touching him while breathing with Arthur to control his breathing.
Eventually Arthur's breathing calm, leaving them in the silence besides the rain on the roof top.
“Are you alright?” John’s voice gently broke the silence. His hand hovers just over Arthur’s back, wishing to reach out, but he knows he doesn’t have the right to touch him. Not until he allows him that honor.
“I will be. Just...give me a moment,” Arthur sighs deeply, his breathing slowly evening out.
John grimaces, having hoped Arthur could have at least been granted one good night of sleep. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Sit with me for a moment?” Arthur finally asks after considering it, “I…don’t want to be alone right now. It helps feeling like someone’s right beside me.”
Instead of answering, Arthur could hear the telltale sound of John’s form rippling and shifting beside him, slowly coming into shape. Sharp claws scrap the ground as John adjusts to sit comfortable beside him, leaving what Arthur assumes is a healthy space between them. Arthur hears something else shift beside him, as if something were slithering away…tendrils maybe? And then there was something much softer fluttering and brushing along the ground. John’s presence was overwhelming, to put it lightly. A large, looming unknown being beyond the darkness, within arm’s reach. Each new sound leaving Arthur feeling more curious.
“Can…can you describe yourself for me?” Arthur asks, unsure why he feels timid all of a sudden.
“ What? ” John sounds baffled, shifting slightly beside him.
“I’ve tried to imagine it before, but nothing’s solidified in my mind…and now that you can manifest…I’ve been curious,” Arthur admits sheepishly.
Arthur could practically feel John’s eyes boring into him; absolutely caught off guard by the question. He was starting to feel a little foolish himself for asking; it’d be easier to blame it on the lack of sleep. Asking felt…intimate in a way Arthur wasn’t sure if he was ready for. He was still so angry at him, for what he's done, but he cares for John and hopes he’s made that clear at the very least. They’d been through so much together that he figures this may be a good olive branch to offer him.
“Oh, well…” A pair of John's tendrils twist nervously. He opens his mouth, fumbling over how to start, “It goes without saying that my true form is not…human…”
“Maybe not in body, but you're getting there in heart,” Arthur replies, a small smile curling on his lips, “Do you know what you look like?”
“I…thank you, Arthur,” John chuckles softly, “Yes…The first time I ever saw myself was in that mirror before we found that underground city.”
“Wait, you were spooked by your own reflection?” Arthur snorts.
“You would have been as well, had you seen what I had,” John rolls his eyes.
“Why didn't you say anything before?”
“For the longest time all I ever knew was darkness and my own voice. It was a bit overwhelming, my face staring back at me. I…wanted something that was mine, I suppose,” John sighs, thinking back to that felt like a lifetime ago. “A lot has changed, for myself and between you and I since then. And as a result, my appearance has altered because of that.”
“Change is difficult, but it also shows how far we've come,” Arthur smiles genuinely and offers his hand to him, wanting to meet him halfway.
“I…” John flushes, looking between Arthur's hand and his face, then back to his hand. He takes a deep breath and reaches out; finger tips gently grazing along Arthur's before settling his hand over his.
Arthur's breath catches when he feels a large clawed hand rest over his. He takes John's hand eagerly in both of his hands to inspect it. Easily twice the size of his own hand. He raised his hand to rest one of his own hands flat against his.
“Your hands are like a child…” John chuckles, curling his fingers around Arthur’s
“You’re still upset by that comment, hmm?” Arthur chuckles.
John opened his mouth to argue, but lost any words as Arthur began to use his free hand to run his fingers up along his arm. Arthur continues to explore, utterly fascinated and none-the-wiser to the effect he was having on John.
The texture of his skin was odd, smooth like marble, except with a warmth indicating he was touching something alive. And the texture of John's skin changed intermittently; thin grooves covered his skin. Arthur trails his fingers along one, quickly realizing they all seemed to connect and span the rest of his body.
“Arthur…” John shudders at his touch.
“Extraordinary…” Arthur whispers.
John is rendered completely speechless while Arthur examines him. His heart beating wildly in his chest, ready to burst as Arthur traces the outline of the fractured veins across his skin. He covers his face with his free hand, a chill running up his spine as Arthur’s touch explores him. John isn’t sure what this feeling is that's overcome him, but doesn't want to stop Arthur either.
“Arthur!” John shrieks when Arthur’s hand rests over the largest cluster of golden fractures on his chest. The touch sending an electric shock went through him and caused him to squeeze Arthur’s hand too tightly, claws digging into the back of his hand.
”Ah, fuck! Sorry, sorry!” Arthur hisses in pain while John quickly let go of his hand.
“Fuck, are you okay?” John tries to calm his rapid heartbeat.
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s my fault. Sorry for getting carried away…” Arthur sighs, rubbing his hand, surprised to find his hand coming away wet, “Am I bleeding?”
”Yes, I’m sorry…My claws are sharp,” John sighs, carefully taking his hand to inspect the wound. Arthur watches him with a grin and can’t help but snort. “What?” John raises an eyebrow.
“Nothing, nothing, I just didn’t realize how sensitive you are,”
“Excuse me?”
“You practically jumped out of your own skin,” Arthur laughs.
“I can leave you here to bleed,”
“Alright, alright, I surrender,” Arthur snorts, watching him with a smile. He reaches up for him, wanting to reach for his face, but his fingers graze along a horn, “You have horns?”
“Yes,” John rolls his eyes.
“Can I—?” Arthur slips his hand out of his, already reaching out toward the top of his head.
“After I tend to your open wounds, for fuck’s sake, Arthur,” John groans, taking his hand back in his before reaching over to his pack to find a clean cloth to wrap around his hand.
“Okay, okay,” Arthur raises his free hands in surrender.
“You'll live, but it'll be best to apply pressure until the bleeding stops.” John sighs wearily, gently rubbing his thumb along his knuckles while applying pressure with his hand.
“Are you going to kiss it better? This is your fault after all,” Arthur chuckles, his tone light hearted.
“I’m sorry…” John sighs softly.
“No, I’m sorry, I’ve been teasing you and treating you like a child with a new toy. Looks like we're both getting used to his new form…” Arthur smiles weakly, “God, this is probably the first time you’ve been touched since acquiring this form, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine, Arthur. While this experience has been a bit overwhelming, I don’t dislike it…but I appreciate you trying to be mindful of my situation,” John checks Arthur’s hand, pleased to see he’s stopped bleeding and works to wrap his hand. He spares a glance at Arthur while he works and pauses, noticing the way Arthur is smiling at him and he looks away flustered, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s nice…being taken care of,” Arthur looks away laughing, “It's been a minute since I’ve had someone fuss over me like this. It’s a little overwhelming, in a good way. And it’s nice being able to interact with you like this. Feels less lonely…having you physically here rather than just a voice in my head.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” John looks back at him with a smile. “Like this, you could teach me how to play the piano…Or we could dance like you wanted to.”
“And here I thought you just had tentacles down there with all that slithering I've been hearing.” Arthur chuckles.
“That's my cloak,”
“Yellow?”
“Mhmm,”
”Of course,” Arthur chuckles, surprised when he felt a tendril reach out and curl around his arm, “Can you feel my touch? Are they additional limbs or just a part of the cloak that you can control?”
“I can feel your very curious hands,” John snorts.
“Right,” Arthur laughs, “God, I’m surprised you still remember that promise. Feels like a lifetime ago…”
“Several lifetimes…” John sighs, reaching up tentatively to caress Arthur’s face. It surprises him when Arthur leans into his touch and closes his eyes, “How are you feeling? Your hand.”
“Not dead yet,” he grins, but doesn't open his eyes. “A little sore, but I'll live.”
“Good. I'll be sure to be mindful…The last thing we need is me accidentally killing you.”
“Can't have that, can we?”
“I can’t lose you again…” John signs, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his hand, lingering for a moment while Arthur relaxes to his touch.
“You won’t…” Arthur sighs.
The two fall into a comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the presence of the other, before Arthur speaks up again.
“Can I see your face?” He asks quietly.
John nods, taking both his hands in his, guiding his hands to rest against his cheek. John closes his eyes as he relaxes considerably to his touch. Arthur is slower this time, more mindful as he traces the outline of his face.
It surprises Arthur how human John's face feels, two eyes, nose, hair… besides the obvious inhuman features; his horns, the texture of his skin, a pair of mandibles that twitch slightly with each touch.
Arthur smiles, running his thumb across John's lips until John opens his mouth and playfully bites down on his thumb.
“Hey!” Arthur scoffs, retaliating by tugging at John's hair. “I feel you've become much more devious since gaining this ability.”
“I have a lot of tormenting to catch up on,” John snorts, his voice echoing in Arthur’s mind.
“You did plenty as a disembodied voice in my head,” Arthur rolls his eyes. “My case in point.”
John laughs heartily at that, finally releasing him as he does so. Arthur can’t help but smile. It’s been a long time since they’d had a moment to laugh like this.
“Did you choose to look like this? More human?” He asks curiously.
“No, but I am able to manipulate it if I desire. This is a much smaller version of my true form that takes less of a toll on your life force. I believe it’s meant to resemble his psyche at the moment…” John considers for a moment, “A mix of human and beast like features that represents while I’ve been gaining humanity, a large part of my being is still very alien and monstrous…”
”Makes sense…” Arthur hums, letting go of his hair to stroke his fingers along his face.
“I used to have a mask…it shattered after encountering the King.”
“Really? What did he look like?”
”Mhm…The King in Yellow’s form was very monstrous, an elegant beauty to the horror, while Yellow was the most undefined like a shadow, cloaked in a ragged yellow coat floating around his body that morphed into 8 tentacles at the ends. It was very similar to my own cloak. He wore a half broken pallad mask, the face on the revealed side of his face nothing more than shadow and golden eyes glowing in the darkness. My mask finally shattered when I opposed the King and so my being reflects that now.”
“Fascinating…” Arthur breathes out slowly, trying to imagine it.
“Yes, I suppose it is…”
“What are these veins? They were on your arm and I can feel them on your face,” Arthur comments, wondering if they were all connected.
Arthur feels them running down John's chin and neck. Arthur attempts to follow the lines down when John grabs his hands to stop him from continuing. After a moment he slowly lessens his grip after hesitating and guides Arthur's hands down to his chest over his heart. The same spot he touched before when he startled John earlier.
“What am I feeling, John?” Arthur trails his fingers gently along his chest, feeling John’s heartbeat beneath his finger tips. The texture beneath his hands felt so different compared to the rest of John’s body. John is quiet for a moment, resting his hands over Arthur’s as he takes a deep breath.
“Remnants of my time with the King after they'd been separated. Scars from countless battles and bid for control until my body finally broke,” John admits, sounding somewhere else far away, “My body would crumble, only for the King to put me back together…Eventually he grew tired of me and I shattered, returning to the Dark World…”
“The scars remain with me after I return to you. A reminder of what I endured to get back to return home to you,” John's hand tightens over Arthur's hand and Arthur can feel the warmth and power of his beating heart grow faster through his fingers.
“The King focused especially right here…My heart, he would mock me for having gained one during my time with you…” John chuckles weakly, “In a way, he wasn't wrong. I would have never gained my heart without you…”
“John…” Arthur’s flushes, his heart aching for everything he’s gone through.
“Jesus…I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like,” Arthur pulls him into a hug.
The touch surprises John, but he accepts it, sinking his face into Arthur's neck. He lets out a ragged breath, feeling like a dam starting to break from the pressure. He didn’t want to break, he couldn’t…
“It's okay, John. I'm here. I'm here…”
His kindness breaks something in John that the King or the Dark World never could. Tears cloud his vision as his form envelops Arthur, curling around him as a sob wracks through his body. Arthur only tightens his arms around him, determined to keep John together while he breaks.
“Sometimes I envy that you can dream,” John laughs bitterly, tears streaming down his face freely, “It's probably for the best I can't…I don’t know if I’d have the strength to relive any of what I endured…”
The memories were enough to paralyze him with fear. He feels himself breaking even more whenever he thinks about what happened, but avoiding it makes it feel worse, like blades piercing his body. And yet, he’d go through it all over again if it meant he could save Arthur.
“I'm broken, Arthur…”
“That may be, but you've endured…you've survived. You are the Undefeated—”
”Don’t,” John cut him off, his breath shaky. He's failed so many times, caused so much pain and destruction, “I don’t deserve that title- nor your kindness.”
Arthur is quiet, unsure what to say for a moment.
“John, look at me,” He sighs softly, and John slowly raises his head.
Arthur cups his face gently, wiping at the tears with his thumbs, feeling the golden veins at the edges of John's eyes, mimicking his tears. John's breath catches, feeling as if the only thing keeping him from shattering is Arthur's hands.
“I can't even begin to imagine the pain and loss you've endured, but I do understand feeling so broken...so empty, that it doesn't feel like you'll ever be able to put the pieces back together, that you don't deserve to feel anything else…” Arthur sighs, leaning up to press a kiss to John’s head, resting his head against John's and closing his eyes, “I'm not going to let you drown.”
John stares at Arthur at him in awe, warmth blooming in his chest from the warm embrace and the gentle touch. He didn’t deserve this warmth, but he accepted it all the same.
“I’m still afraid…to lose everything, to lose you again…” John sighs wearily. Arthur’s words lifting a heavy shackle that had been weighing him down since his imprisonment, he feels lighter, “I don’t want to push you away or allow fear to control me or hurt you anymore.”
This is the first time since they'd been separated that he didn't feel alone, it was agony feeling alone when they reunited, it was like he was being devoured alive, he vows to never push him away or isolate him.
“I won’t either…” Arthur sighs, knowing they still had a long way to rebuild their trust, but this was a good start. He understands John's fear of loss and rejection more than he knows. He smiles wearily, gently brushing his knuckles against John's cheek, feeling John lean into his touch.
A light suddenly pierces through the darkness of Arthur's eyes. Arthur breaths out a gasp, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light as a form suddenly begins to take shape before him.
“Arthur, there’s a golden light emanating from my heart…I’ve never seen this happen before…Are you—?” John stops when Arthur starts to laugh, tears in his eyes.
“John, I’m fine, better than fine,” Arthur laughs, cupping his face, trailing his fingers along his face, absolutely giddy, “I can see you! I can see you… ”
John stares at him, surprised and in utter awe until he grins as well and he laughs, Arthur’s glee was contagious. Arthur laughs, pulling John towards him, peppering his face in kisses. Thanking him between kisses, feeling so overwhelmed and happy.
The light brightens with each kiss. John laughs, face flushing with a golden blush, his long flowing hair floats in the air as if it were underwater. Arthur yelps, feeling himself lifting off the ground as well. Oh, John was floating. They were floating. Arthur flushes, clinging to John tighter while John laughs, wrapping his arms around him.
“It’s alright, I won’t let you fall, Arthur,” John laughs, pressing a kiss to his head as he lowers them back to the ground, laying over Arthur, careful not to crush him.
“You're beautiful…” Arthur breathes out as he lays back, caressing John’s face in his hands. Taking a moment to finally take in all of John.
“I'm...what?” John stares at him, a gold blush blossoming on his cheek and ears.
“You heard me.” Arthur laughs, running his knuckles against his cheek, “Gods...I tried to imagine it, but it doesn't even compare to the real thing…”
“I…” Golden eyes stare back at him bashfully.
“Oh…” Arthur gasps softly now that he can see John’s heart. All the fractures along John’s body all link and connect to a large shard the color of gold on his chest. He reaches for it again, earning a sharp gasp from John and he shudders to his touch.
“I'm sorry, did I hurt you?” Arthur draws his hand back and looks up at him.
“No, I...I just wasn't expecting that time…Give me a moment…” John breathes out softly, watching Arthur with half lidded eyes.
He feels like he's in a trance, watching Arthur gently run his fingers through his hair and along his horns while he waits for him. It was so overwhelming how gentle his touch was. Each touch was like electricity, driving him mad.
Two tendrils of hair reach out and grab Arthur's hands, pinning them to the ground, surprising him as John buries his face into his neck.
“John?” Arthur flushes, “What has gotten into you— oh… ”
Arthur trails off as John places a kiss to his neck and jaw, then his face, mirroring Arthur's actions from before.
“You’re infuriating, Arthur…” John finally breathes out, “I need you to know how maddening it is, your touch along my skin…” He releases Arthur’s hands, pleased when his arms wrapped around his head while John’s hands run along his body, claws lightly grazing along his back.
He grins, getting the reaction he was searching for as Arthur's breath hitches at his touch. After being alone for so long, his touch, his kindness, the teasing, it was all intoxicating and he needed more, overpowering his thoughts of fear, that he shouldn't…
He needs him.
John turns his head to face Arthur, nuzzling his nose gently against his. Arthur returns the gesture and John can feel Arthur's breath against his lip.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Don't...Please don't stop…” Arthur breathes out softly.
“May I?” John hums softly, his lips ghosting over Arthur’s.
Arthur's face flushes at how gentle John was to him. He takes a breath and nods, “You may.”
John finally closes the gap between them and presses his lips against his. It's a gentle thing, far more gentle than Arthur was expecting.
“My heart…” John's voice echoes in his mind while deepening the kiss.
Trailing his claws lightly along his spine, earning himself a moan. Arthur flushes at the adoration in John's voice and tightens his arms around his neck.
“John, you're—” Arthur gasps out before John kisses him again and he eagerly accepts.
A fire ignited deep within John, one he never wanted extinguished. This was not enough, he needed more. He needed all of Arthur.
“My eyes,” Arthur breathes out, pulling John into another kiss. Parting his mouth for him; an invitation John eagerly accepts. A pair of black raven wings unfurl from John's back and stretch out, surprising Arthur as he pulls away to catch his breath, “Oh, John…”
“Is…it too much?” John blushes, trailing a gentle hand through his hair.
“You’re perfect, darling…” Arthur chuckles softly before his grimaces, his head beginning to ache, feeling the familiar strain on his body, “Fuck…not now,”
John sighs softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before allowing his form to dispel. “I’d stay longer, if I could…I don’t want to risk your life.”
“I know…I…thank you,” Arthur flushed, curling up and covering his face, embarrassed now. Thank you?
“Of course, my heart,” John laughs, his voice ringing warmly in their mind.
Arthur smiles at the name, it was going to take some getting used to, but it was nice to hear. He sighs, intertwining his fingers around John’s. John accepts his hand, trailing his thumb gently along his hand. There was a long road ahead of them, but he was glad to have John by his side.