Chapter Text
When something pulls Derek back into consciousness again, he realizes quickly that he was in a vast stone hall, body sprawled on the ground.
Moments pass, and after a while, he groans, sitting up slowly and with struggle, his armor making noise, feeling as if he had been sleeping for months. His migraine lingered on the back of his head, but for the most part, strangely enough, it was gone. But Derek didn't know just yet whether or not to be relieved with that discovery.
As his eyes darted around, he noted the statues with unclear shapes surrounding him, towering over as if to make him feel small on purpose.
However, averting his gaze down and furrowing his brows, Derek notices gold threading through the stone floor like veins. His legs had settled on a block of gold, shaped into that same strange symbol tied to the King in Yellow.
It was the one Derek had seen in the church— no, actually, this was the exact platform he stood on where thousands of eyes looked down on him as if he were less significant than an ant.
Ah .. Derek hummed silently.
This was the castle from before. The one beyond the massive yellow door at the end of the great hall, where the rows of bridges and countless doors seemed to have stretched endlessly outward.
Gaze drifting toward the far end of the room, Derek spots a throne, sharp and elongated as if it was carved out of the floor itself. Seated upon it was draped in a yellow cloak far too large from where it hung from, pooling on the ground as if it carried its own weight.
Beneath it— was a barely visible face. It was white, cracked like an ancient cursed doll.
The fractures run across it in uneven lines, making gaps for two yellow eyes.
It stared without blinking, without expression.
Derek meets its pointed gaze with caution, words caught in his throat.
He doesn't understand it. He doesn't even understand why he's here and why he's still alive. But he knew that the thing he was looking at was him. Or at least .. one of him.
Hastur.
The silence stretches. "..."
Then— a click. "Tch."
The sound of a tongue against teeth.
But the figure on the throne never opens its mouth. Rather, the sound came from all directions. "You ruined it." The voice echoed faintly. Again, with no clear indicator of its source, like a thought Derek felt like he formulated in his head.
Then a quiet, exasperated sigh followed as the figure— no, Hastur— leaned forward slightly, resting his chin against his palm and propping his elbow on the armrest. "But I suppose this makes things quite interesting."
Hastur lifts his other hand, his fingers long, pale and cracked, akin to his fragmented face. The air bends around it.
"Sleep once more," he says, "you insufficient vessel."
Derek's whole body felt like it had been dragged through hell and barely brought back together.
His head throbbed painfully once again. It was not as bad as before, yet it remained as excruciating, as if his head was about to be split into two.
Additionally, his throat was so dry. Almost to the point of burning.
When Derek woke up, the first thing that greeted him was the sun meeting his eyes. It peered through the window beside him.
With his vision starting to become clearer, a part of Derek expected to see something grand over his head, stone and maybe gold, but also something heavy and suffocating, watching his every move. But to his surprise, the ceiling he saw was made out of wood.
It was unremarkable, plain, but most of all— normal. Something he felt like he hadn't seen in a long time.
Slowly, Derek sat up with a furrowed brow. But then something beside him had shifted.
Derek turned his head to its direction.
".."
It was Avery, face brushed gently by the sun. He was fast asleep in a chair that was plastered beside the bed, arms folded onto the mattress for his head to rest on.
Derek watched him for a moment, a quiet exhale leaving him before he could stop it.
What a relief. He’s okay.
Then, Avery stirred and lifted his head slowly, his eyes not fully awake. They turned to Derek, gaze meeting.
".. D3rLord?" He let out, sounding breathless.
Derek only stared, wanting to respond, but couldn't even open his mouth.
Suddenly, Avery shot up, the chair scraping loudly behind him. "Ah!" He exclaimed. "Y-You're awake! You're actually awake .."
Derek silently watched as Avery stepped closer, hands hovering awkwardly. "I thought— I was so scared that you wouldn't wake up .." Then, he paused, quickly shaking his head. "Wait! Don't talk. I'll be back, okay?" Avery says, rushing out of the room.
Meanwhile, Derek continued to lay there, his breathing shallow. He had yet to process anything. His body ached, and his mind felt .. off. What happened after he invoked that spell? Where were they at?
This seemed to be Avery's place.
Soon, Avery came back with a glass of water, moving carefully this time. "Drink slowly, okay?" He said, slipping an arm behind Derek's shoulders for support. Derek doesn't stop him, allowing the glass to touch his lips.
It was cool, and he drank in small amounts. Despite it going down on the back of his mouth quite painfully— it still helped soothe the burning in his throat. Meanwhile, Avery watched him attentively the entire time.
When Derek finished, Avery lowered the glass and placed it on the bedside table before settling back into the chair beside him.
".. Are you okay? No— actually, do you feel any pain? If so, tell me where."
Derek blinked slowly, muttering, "No."
Avery let out a shaky breath. "Dude, you were out for 3 days. I .. I really thought you were gone, you know?"
Then, quieter, Avery spoke some more, fidgeting with his thumbs. " .. Why did you push me?"
A pause. Then, Derek silently sighed through his nose.
He had it coming really. He knew Avery would ask that. Still, Derek hesitated at the question, sensing a tone of .. not anger from Avery, but hurt.
"You asked if I'd stay," Avery continued, voice softer now. "And if I'd leave. But .." He stopped himself, exhaling.
Derek looked away, avoiding his gaze. His throat still felt like sandpaper, but he forced the words to come out anyway. ".. sorry."
Avery stared at him, still feeling a little scornful about it. He had said sorry, but Avery could easily tell that Derek didn't leave a trace of regret in what he'd done.
If anything, if the same situation were to occur again, Avery didn't doubt that he would do the same.
Avery let out a quiet sigh and ran a hand through his green hair. Derek couldn't help but pick up on the frustration coming off him.
"Whatever, you need to get better first." Avery only muttered, crossing his arms with a small frown while Derek found it in himself to look at him again. "That's the only reason why I'm not staying mad at you right now, you got that?"
He stood up again, taking with him the empty glass from the bedside table. "Wait here, I'll get you something to eat." But as he was about to leave the room, he halted by the door frame, glancing back at Derek. "Don't .. Don't you ever throw your life away like that again. You understand? I will never forgive you if you do, Derek."
Again, Derek couldn't reply. Not only because his throat hurt like hell, but also, he couldn't give a guaranteed answer. Brushing past Avery's lingering gaze as he left was all that Derek could do.
The rest of the day passed by slowly.
Derek barely even spoke. His body needed time, and his mind needed a lot more. But well, for someone who claimed to be angry at Derek, Avery seemed to be unable of being away.
He stayed close, hovering more than he probably realized— bringing food, carefully chosen to be easier to digest. At one point, Avery had even spoon-feed him some porridge. It didn't taste great, but it was enough for Derek. He didn't exactly have the right to complain. He couldn't. He never even left the bed. His body was too sore.
Throughout the day, Avery also kept checking on him constantly and bringing water, even when Derek insisted that he was fine. But when night eventually fell, the house finally had gone quiet.
Derek took the bed of course, as per Avery's request. There was a couch pressed against the wall that faced him directly, and Avery had said that he was fine sleeping there, so Derek didn't fight it.
The room dimmed as Avery switched off the lights with a lever. Even with the couch as his bed, he settled in easily, pulling the blanket up under his chin. "Goodnight, D3rLord." Avery mumbled, half-asleep already. He yawned into his hand, not taking long before he was passed out.
Meanwhile, Derek laid there on the bed, head angled slightly toward the couch, watching Avery's steady breathing. Despite the dark, he tried to make out his sleeping face. Avery had a soft, relaxed expression, looking completely unguarded. He was so deep into his slumber that drool had slipped free from the corner of his mouth.
Idiot. Derek thought, yet not looking away.
For a while, there was nothing. Just silence. But then—
"You stare at him quite a lot, knight."
Derek jolted, body shooting upright despite himself. His eyes had snapped around the room, scanning every corner. But there was nothing. No one there apart from him and Avery.
Yet .. he hears it again, a low chuckle this time. And Derek finally realizes that the voice wasn't in the room.
Rather, it was in his head.
"I knew it." Derek muttered under his breath, expression turning cold. "You're still alive."
Silence followed. But then a faint, almost amused exhale echoed. "That I am." The voice settled in his mind with an unsettling familiarity, one he recognized instantly, yet felt no comfort in.
".. I've been unconscious for 3 days." Derek's jaw tightened, stealing another glance at Avery— still asleep, still safe. "Did you do anything?" And before he continued, Derek stopped himself for a moment, but forced it out anyway. ".. Did you do anything to Avery?"
This time, a click echoed in his mind. "Tch."
It sounded annoyed.
"Relax." The tone shifted, almost mocking him. "I didn't touch your little companion."
Derek exhaled slowly, yet the uneasiness still lingered.
This wasn't supposed to happen. The king. He was supposed to be dead. Derek was supposed to be dead. That was the plan from the start. Invoke the spell and become one. To take Hastur with him and die.
Then, suddenly, his body moved, head slowly and deliberately turning until his gaze locked onto Avery once again.
Derek froze.
It was wrong. He hadn't done that.
"How interesting." Hastur mused.
Derek doesn't respond. His body .. it felt wrong in general.
"You .." Derek's voice dropped. "You moved me."
It wasn't a question. Instead, it was a statement.
"Mm." A quiet, almost pleased sound. Derek's chest tightened.
"It seems this body isn't entirely yours anymore." Hastur hummed again. "Then, should I kill you? knight." He continued. "Or perhaps .."
Derek swallowed, eyes not leaving Avery just yet.
"I start with him instead—"
"No." Derek spat. Hastur ignored him.
"If I remove him first, you would be easier to manage." He went on calmly, as if thinking out loud. "And once you're gone .. I might even be free of this inconvenience entirely."
He paused for a while. "And that is when .. my plan continues."
Now, Derek's breath is sharper. But he forces the panic down his throat, forcing his brain to think. "No." He said, steadier. "You can't."
Within, he could feel Hastur tilt. "Oh?"
Derek continued, his voice more controlled. "You can move me." He admitted. "But not fully, right king?"
Hastur doesn't reply.
That's right. Actually, he could barely move him. Just now, instead of turning his head toward Avery's direction, the king could have easily killed him.
But it wasn't just that.
3 days.
Hastur had 3 days. 3 days to gain control of his body, to kill Derek and Avery, yet he didn't. Avery was unharmed.
After what felt like forever, Derek finally felt a small smirk creep on his face.
But also ..
"You don't know what'll happen to you once I die."
A pause.
"While yes, there stands a chance where you will be freed— that you can leave my body and find a different vessel to continue with your plan." Now, Derek could almost laugh. "But you could also die with me. For real, this time."
Silence, again. But Derek felt it inside, a shift.
Then, a laugh followed. Low at first.
But it grew louder, and louder. "Hahahahaha!" Hysterical.
"You dare—" Hastur's voice cut through the laughter, something twisted underneath it, "to provoke a god like me, human?"
Derek doesn't flinch. "Hahahahaha!"
Eventually, the laughter stopped. "Very well. I won't kill you." The king says, but Derek doesn't relax. "At least not yet."
Then, Hastur continued. "Though, I do wonder .."
Derek frowned in response. "What." And suddenly, he feels it again within him. A change. The king's attention was drifting.
Back to Avery. Watching.
".. how long you can protect him."
Derek clenched his jaw, saying nothing, but eyes refusing to leave Avery's sleeping figure. And a quiet chuckle echoed once more in his head.