Chapter Text
With a gasp, Derlord forced his eyes open.
Heavy heavy silence enveloped him, sheets pressing into his skin, damp with sweat. His limbs felt like lead. For the first time in a while, his mind was clear. And a moment, just a moment, he allowed himself a little hope. Maybe, it was over.
Turning his head to the side took too much effort. But Avery, he needed to see Avery. The thought overwhelmed everything else. If only the King was kind enough to grant him a couple of seconds to take in his boyfriend. To see those smile lines that crinkled at the corners of the his eyes. To fill his soul with the slime's presence. To breathe him in like oxygen.
But the King in Yellow was not kind.
Reality swallowed his mind whole.
Pain. Like nothing a mortal should be able to comprehend. His head was splitting open. Knowledge like a knife. Knowledge like a cannon. Knowledge like a nuclear bomb. Shoved into his head so hard he felt like his cranium had shattered.
He couldn't think.
Reduced to a being of hurt that only knew how to feel.
At his side, Avery continued his vigil. A silent sentinel. The spark of kindness in his eyes muted by fatigue. He hadn't slept well in over a week, haunted by the Knight's screams that chased him through his every waking and sleeping moment.
The days since he had found his boyfriend curled up in bed, incapicitated by infinite knowledge, had all bled into one long nightmare of waking up to the Knight's incoherent cries that only conveyed pain, feeding him a regen potion, just so that he could wake up screaming again, just hours later.
He had flinched initially, unused to any sign of weakness from his stoic friend.
But gradually, he had grown numb.
Each time Derlord's eyes flew open, wide, panicked, unseeing, the void in his chest opened a little wider.
Gently, the slime tipped the potion into the Knight's mouth, watching the pink liquid funnel out. Cupping Derlord's face in his hands, he felt the knight's body relax against his touch, breath steadying. Even though the Knight's eyes were squeezed shut, he could tell that every ounce of Derlord's attention was on him.
His arms, though they trembled, found themselves around the Knight's waist, holding tight as if he could physically shield the Knight from what was poisoning him from inside. Gradually, his boyfriend's breathing evened out.
When he was sure that Derlord was unconscious, Avery carefully detached himself, reassuming his position at his side.
Clenching his hands against his legs, he fought back the tears that threatened to pour out.
He didn't know what to do.
That was the cruel cruel reality.
His boyfriend was being tortured with infinite knowledge.
He was being tortured with the cold certainty that everything he did only prolonged the knight's suffering.
Everything that he did would only delay the inevitable.
The Slime tightened his grip on the empty regen potion, the glass cold and hard against his skin. He glanced down at the Knight's tortured expression, the way the sheets, saturated with misery, accentuated the tension in his limbs. A paladin that had fallen to the pits of hell. Was it sinful to think that the knight was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen?
But what if...
Biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, Avery tried desperately to ward the thought from his mind.
A knife, a sword, a poison potion. The thought didn't discriminate. It took on many forms.
"No." Avery whispered to himself, voice bordering on hysterical, "No. Stop thinking."
But it always ended the same.
Derlord's face, calm for the first time in what felt like eons.
Derlord's body, cold for the rest of eternity.
*crack
The potion bottle cracked from Avery's bone crushing grip. The slime didn't even register the glass shards cutting his skin.
No.
He didn't even want to entertain that thought.
Even if it was selfish to keep Derlord alive.
Even if it meant wrenching the Knight back from that painless void again and again until his vocal cords broke from overuse.
Even if he had to kneel by his side for the rest of eternity.
Derlord was the one person he didn't want to live without.
And traitorously, hope didn't abandon him.
The process continued.
Rinse and repeat.
Gently feed the potion.
Hold him as his body twisted in pain.
Try to block out those heartwrenching utterances of agony.
Bloodshot eyes that didn't even dare to blink.
Selfish love.
Selfless love.
A slime hunched over his knight.
Defeated, though he hadn't lost yet.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The King was cruel indeed.
Derlord wasn't even allowed rest while asleep.
In his state of unconsciousness, he was granted the ability to move and think in exchange for torture of another kind altogether.
A cool breeze blew it's way past Derlord's helmet, whispering it's way over to a tombstone where it shook a petal off of a blue flower planted nearby. He heard the squelch of bare feet on wet grass. He didn't need to turn around to know what he would see next, but his body had responded before his mind could protest. There, in front of his eyes, was his boyfriend. Blue flowers clutched to his chest, eyes empty.
Like a sleepwalker, Avery walked by Derlord. The sweet scent of flowers floating behind him, their aroma the smell of death. With a twinge, the Knight realized that the slime's clothes were still wet.
*splash
Avery walked into the pond. The water swallowed him whole.
How many times had the King made him rewatch this scene?
How many times had he told himself to just close his eyes?
But how could he look away?
The slime sank into the water slowly, as if tucking himself into bed. So at peace. Eyes already closed.
Derlord clenched his fists at his side. Teeth gritted hard enough to crack his molars.
He knew nothing he did in this state would affect the narrative the King had in mind.
It's just a dream.
He couldn't stop himself.
The hope, the cruel cruel hope that perhaps this time he could save the slime, save himself the agony of watching the scene play out again, overwhelmed every rational thought inside of his brain.
Footsteps heavy, heartbeat far heavier, the Knight ran to the side of the pond. The sound of blood pulsed through his ears. Breaths tore themselves out of his lungs, sharp and painful like skin ripped off of bloodied muscle.
Plunging his hand into the water, he tried desperately to reach for the slime's inert body.
Futile.
His hands passed through the slime's body. Those flowers in Avery's grip floated to the surface of the water. Bubbles spilling out of his mouth like pearls.
He wanted, no, needed to dive into the water.
How else could he drag the slime back from death's front door?
But something deep inside of him was afraid.
Something deep inside of him knew.
Something deep inside of him was holding him back.
He still remembered a passage, wrought on yellow pages, set on a lectern inside of a decrepit church.
"Earn your right to drown. Earn your right to rest. Only when your grave is as blue as the waters, will you be granted slumber."
He couldn't risk it.
Not when he had earned the right to rest tenfold.
Not when stepping foot into the lake could take away his last chance to see Avery, the real Avery again.
He needed to stop.
But how could he?
The Slime was so close.
He could still feel Avery's heartbeat in his chest.
Closing his eyes did nothing. The slime's image was tattooed on the inside of his eyelids.
And worst of all, every figment of his being was screaming that this was real.
It's just a dream.
His heartbeat slowed.
Just a dream.
His heartbeat stopped.
just a dream. just a dream.
justadreamjustadreamjustadreamjustadream...
Derlord dropped his head into his hands.
If it was just a dream, why did it still hurt just as much as when the King had shown it to him the first time?
He fought against the urge to vomit, sweat beading on his body. The world swayed around him, all of the colors bleeding into a grotesque shade of blue.
How he hated that color.
The King in Yellow's voice echoed from deep inside of him, tantalizing, terrifying.
"Just give in, I can make this all go away. Don't you want peace?"
His voice dropped to a whisper, a whisper that carried more weight than a shout.
"What are you waiting for? Get in the water."
He had been giving Derlord that choice since he had been trapped in the endless cycle of dreams and pain.
Derlord didn't respond.
His mind felt like it was going to fray.
But he knew.
He needed to stay strong.
He needed to survive.
He needed to make it out to see Avery again. Needed to see the sunlight on his boyfriend's skin. His life, along with his heart belonged in part to Avery after all. And he would do anything to protect what Avery held dear.
But that voice, that accursed voice, that voice he had grown to hate, still echoed in the back of his mind.
"Protect? Foolish knave. You think you could ever protect him?"
And for the first time, the dream shifted.
Suddenly, Derlord was back on that platform, floating eyes peering into every fibre of his being. He felt small, powerless, but he knew that the trump card laid in the palm of his hand.
He had chanted the ritual.
He had felt that oppressive presence shudder.
But then, he had seen the slime, and his heart had dropped to the bottom of his stomach.
"What's in your inventory?"
He had asked, voice cracking at the edges like yellowed parchment.
but Avery didn't fall for it this time.
"Der, I know what you're going to do. But it doesn't have to be this way, we could fight him together!"
Oh how Derlord wanted to just drop that wooden sword and run into the Slime's warm embrace.
But he couldn't do anything.
The Knight's body had moved on it's own accord, motions jerky like a puppet's. His hands weren't his own. His arms weren't his own. His legs weren't his own. When had the wood of his sword turned into diamond?
His boyfriend was strong from his training playing skywars, but the inescapable force controlling Derlord's body was by far stronger.
He watched helplessly, as if a spectator, as his body pinned the slime down, sword pressed against Avery's neck.
The slime chuckled, as if it was all a joke, as if everything was okay,
"Come on Der, quit it! It's not that serious."
And when he had looked up, Derlord saw in his eyes pure, unadulterated trust, love, and adoration. Even as bruises formed where Derlord had hit him too hard. Even as blood ran down his face in tiny rivulets. He believed that Derlord wouldn't hurt him, with every figment of his being, every corner of his soul.
But Derlord's body wasn't his own to control anymore.
His body wouldn't even let him hold the slime in death.
His body wouldn't even let him take one last look back.
The King in Yellow's message was devastatingly clear.
The Knight's resolve wavered.
What would happen if when Derlord woke up, the King in Yellow could still control his body as easily as he controlled his dreams?
Did he deserve to love the slime?
A diamond sword buried up to the hilt, stained in fresh blood.
To feel Avery's skin under his hand?
cold and dead. dead and cold.
To kiss the corner of his mouth when it tilted upwards into that crooked little smile?
the smile that still screamed trust even as his body cooled
The King's hold on him strengthened. It was dragging him into darkness. It was dragging him into oblivion. It was dragging him from Avery.
His body had tensed, prepared to claw his way back to the land of the living like he had done every time before.
But this time was different.
Did he really want to wake up of it meant he risked Avery's safety?
And for the first time, Derlord hesitated.
That hesitation nearly cost him his life.
In the end, Derlord managed to force his eyes open.
The world was silent long enough for him to register the tears that were streaming down his face.
Then, pain drowned his consciousness once again.