D3rlord had never been completely alright.
He had always been a little odd in the head, ever since he’d arrived at Avery’s home, ever since Avery had found him in that cave; alone & frightened out of his damn wits.
Avery hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He’d only seen the distraught knight as a person to take pity upon; so, he took the knight in, allowing him to take refuge in his own home. It was hard, harbouring the knight, as he’d apparently contracted a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder. At every glimpse of yellow, D3rlord would dissolve into an anxiety or panic attack, his breathing shallow & sobbing like a child. Avery hadn’t found fault with that, he didn’t blame the guy. After all, after hearing the tales & the horror that D3rlord had been through, he was amazed by the knight’s resilience to come so far after such an incident.
Avery had to comfort D3rlord after many of his panic attacks, & this yet again he didn’t find fault with. It was nice, taking care of someone, after all. It grew the bond between the knight & the slime boy, & at some point, D3rlord had even swore his fealty upon Avery; declaring the kindly slime boy his liege.
Finally, things seemed to be going alright. D3Rlord’s panic attacks were dying down by the week, & he eventually managed to tolerate the sight of the colour yellow. Avery could wear his sunflower-patterned shirts again, & the curtains could be kept shut once more as D3Rlord’s fright of something lurking out there, waiting for him, died down.
But there was something else still lurking in the shadows, an entity that had remained with D3Rlord even through all this time.
The King in Yellow.
It had never left D3Rlord, not truly, not ever. The knight had been painfully naïve to believe that the King would have just given up on him after making D3Rlord fall cause to every piece of knowledge in the known earth, of what was & what was to come.
& D3Rlord recognised the signs. It recognised the signs of the King coming back to him, but this time it was inside of him. It was inside of his mind, inhabiting his head, a parasite feeding off his remaining sanity.
He wanted to protect Avery. He didn’t want the slime boy to witness the same exact horrors he had been forced to fall subject to; he wouldn’t wish that upon his worst enemy (well—he would), & certainly not the only person who had bothered to take care of him in this state.
Certainly not to the only person that had ever truly cared for him.
So, D3Rlord locked himself away. He kept himself in confinement in his room, keeping the curtains shut so no source of light could come in. He never slept upon his bed, the sheets remaining immaculate. He marked the passing hours on the wooden walls, his gauntlets scratched & dented with the marks he drove into the walls with them.
He counted the days. Counted the hours until the King in Yellow would come back, come & consume his mind for good. He hoped to die in this room alone, leaving Avery carefree & hopefully, hopefully free to live the rest of his life without this burden.
D3Rlord was curled up on the floor, resting on his side against a wall. The same wall he’d marked over & over with counting tally marks, so many he’d even lost count of them, for all his knowledge.
“D3Rlord?”
It was Avery.
Knocking on the door from outside.
D3Rlord had kept himself in solitary confinement for goodness knew how long, so much so the boy had consequently grown worried for him. Worried sick.
D3Rlord responded faster than Avery had even spoken the question, having known that the slime boy would knock on his door at that exact moment, having known everything.
“Do not come in.”
Yet, at the same time, it was futile, really, that D3Rlord had said that.
He knew that Avery would come in anyway.