Chapter Text
The note in his hands, paper wrinkled and ink probably smudged, was a beginning as much as it was an ending.
Placing it on this open window sill meant soon, all of the events Derek had seen, one of the many possible futures he had known of for so long, would happen. They were always meant to happen; the possibility of the loss of life, of lives, of sound minds and free will and existence as they all knew it. Yet, the terrifying truths and knowledge he was gifted with weren't what was making his hands grip the note tighter. It wasn't the fact he didn't yet know exactly which timeline he was apart of, which ending they all were being hurdled down towards that shook him. No, it was because once he put this carefully written and short letter down on the open window sill before him, there was no taking it back. Once Derek put the note down, he would read it. And for some reason, that was more terrifying than any torture that could be placed on him.
He was so sure of himself when he snuck out of the barracks about a half hour ago, making sure he didn’t alert any of the nightwatch Knights that stood guard outside the cathedral like castle their ‘King’ resided in. He was positive in this when he wrote the small note an hour ago just as the other Knights who took their posts during the day began to snore, soft whimpers coming from their puppeted bodies, nightmares more than likely wracking whatever they had left of their own minds. But now? Now he couldn’t get close enough to the damn window to even look in. Weights held Derek down from where he was in the middle of the alleyway, his helmeted face reflecting back at him through the slightly opened pane. Tentacles, slimy and rotted curled around his ankles from between the cobblestones under his feet, writhing up his legs like beating muscles. The fumes made the air in his lungs sticky, his body struggling for fresh breath, for freedom, for the ability to move, damnit, move. Flashes of futures that weren’t yet solidified in his current reality took place in reflection of the closed window pane, making the darkness inside all the more horrifying as he saw everything.
Avery smiling as he read the note.
Avery tying his chestnut hair up when he decided he liked it a bit longer.
Avery crying in his bed. Being woken up by the acolytes in their mustardy hooded cloaks to pray at the front gates of the castle. Hanging from one of the pillars in his room. Laying on the banks of one of the few rivers that lead out of the village, his once dancing olive eyes lifeless as they stared up at a sky he could no longer see.
Tied to chairs. Reading. Drowning. Laughing. Suffocating. Screaming.
Derek didn’t realize the corners around his vision had gone dark until he took a quick breath in, pressure releasing from his chest, his head pounding with ache. He could see only his reflection staring back at him again and although he couldn’t see evidence of the snake like vines, no sign of gunk or viscous covering his dingy red cape, he didn’t want to look down to confirm.
It took a few minutes before he was confident the rancid air that had filled his lungs was cleared out, his breathing finally going down from small, shuddered gasps to a gentle in and out through his nose. It was a couple minutes more before his legs finally shifted underneath him. From the spot where he stood until he was up against the window sill itself, his body was not his own. The steps he took were made without protest but he wasn’t the one making them. No, Derek himself allowed his mind to drift as his boots quietly moved across each stone, soles scratching along the smooth, worn surfaces until he could see more of the room beyond the window. After a few seconds, he could see a small desk. Then a wardrobe. A nightstand came into view and a rug and, when he stopped, he could see his bed sitting just below the pane, Avery sleeping peacefully beneath its covers.
He was so close, so very close, Derek could reach out and brush a lock of his hair behind his ear without much leaning. Every freckle on Avery’s face, every scar that cut pearl white through his tanned skin, the soft rise and fall of his chest as he slept, he could see it all and it felt even more unfair, the positions they both were in. The paths they were always meant to take.
The first time Derek had seen Avery in person and not just as a light in a sea of dark timelines, it was when he was plucked from the masses to be groomed as the next possible vessel for their precious King. Cloaked in a paler yellow than the acolytes that flanked him on either side, Avery climbed the steps of the castle and stood as the others kneeled in prayer at the gates. Derek couldn’t see much of him, having to stay as still as all Knights must for the King, but he caught pieces. Red shining through chestnut strands, striking green eyes searching the pillars and arches in the impossible marble, a slightly upturned nose poking out from under the hood. The memories of the knowledge he held filled in the rest of his face, his body, but that was completely different from this.
Derek’s chest tightened as he stared down at him, watching as Avery tangled himself in the thin blanket, turning onto his back. In the grand scheme of the world, he was so small and yet, was the only point Derek could focus on and ground himself to. There was no shaking in his arms now, only a drive to continue what he had started as he reached out and placed the small note on the window sill, flattening it out against the splintered wood. When he judged it to be flat enough, his nervous grip still evident as wrinkled scars on the paper, Derek slipped it slightly under one pane to keep it in place. He straightened, took one last look at Avery, and turned, heading back in the direction of the Knight’s barracks, his written words playing over and over in his head.
‘You are not alone.’
The self loathing and inner questions came later that next morning as he took his place among the other Knights. God, why did he do that? Why when he knew that, from that point on, things would only become more difficult for them.
‘Because we both needed something pushing us forward from here on out,’ he heard his own voice vouch for the act, echoing in his head. ‘Because you knew he needed to not feel alone right now.’
Derek swallowed hard, trying to force the tension from his shoulders, the pounding from his heart to calm down. It was no use, though. There it was again. Those tentacles. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them from where he stood at his post; the first to the right, the closest one to the bright yellow gates. He swore he could hear them slip under the large doors, his shoulders tensing even more as they wrapped around them. Breathing became a luxury as their foul fumes overtook the air around his head. One appendage began its journey down his torso while the other wrapped around his neck, squeezing and pulsing.
His sight began to darken around the edges as he fought for his own mindspace. As the present, the current here and now wavered in its battle against the visions that had plagued him for so long. He could hear them now; the laughter and the screams and the crunching of metal, the cracking of stone, the breaking of bones that cried for a savior. That cried for him.
The presence of yellow cloaks filled his view and with it brought fresh air. The small flock of mustardy fabric surrounding the bright canary in the middle was like a beacon that banished the darkness. Derek glanced over, grip tightening ever so slightly on the spear he held in place, leaning into it ever so gently to stabilize himself. He observed them all kneel, as they always do every morning, and tried to hold back the bile in his throat as prayer escaped from theirs. Not Avery’s, though. No, he, thankfully, never prayed to their beloved King in Yellow. Instead, he came closer to the doors, close enough for Derek to see a small folded piece of paper in his hands.
Was that his note?
Was it a reply?
Tentacles and Knights and acolytes and Kings no longer existed. The marble beneath their feet was turned to air. All there was in the world, to Derek, was Avery and his own cursed soul. He looked just as nervous as Derek did last night; fingers wringing the paper and smoothing it before causing it to wrinkle even more. Avery shifted from foot to foot and oh, how he wished it was a dance of their own. How he pleaded and begged that it was a letter for him. Something small to hold onto between guarding shifts. Something to remind him how human he truly was despite all he knew.
He pressed his lips together, green eyes scanning the gold of the gates before they glanced around at the Knights around him. Derek was so sure Avery could hear his heart beat against his chestplate. How did it not echo as he watched the other kneel and place the folded note on the cold floor, smoothing it out oh so very carefully before placing a rock on top to keep it in place.
“Nobody else would’ve written me anything,” Avery’s voice was so small and yet, it was the only thing Derek could hear for miles. “So that letter had to come from somebody here. Right?”
He sighed and looked around at the Knights at his sides again. “It had to have been. So…they’ll get this.” Running his hands through his long hair and over his face, Avery bowed over the letter he had placed down, almost seeming to pray over it than to any alien entity that lived beyond the castle walls.
“Please let them get this.”
Birds had spent entire evenings on his shoulders. Rain had come in neverending downpours until he was sure his armor would rust him in place. None of those moments had made Derek want to move out of his post more than seeing Avery stand with nervous worry in his eyes and turn to join the acolytes in their journey back down the stairs and to their own homes. He couldn’t, of course. Movement during the day in front of the other Knights could mean possible detection from their King. And if that were to happen, the release into the nonexistence after death would be nothing but a sweet, hopeful, unobtainable dream. A carrot on the end of a stick he could never reach.
Derek swallowed hard and prepared himself to wait out the next several hours until the sun began to fall. It was torture. He swore, that small note was taunting him, teasing him, daring him to move an inch and be subjected to hell for a moment of light. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be looking at it for. Was it minutes? It had to have at least been an hour or so; his eyes straining to try and see the ink on the other side. For a while, Derek allowed his mind to drift off and visit other timelines to help answer this burning need to know what was written. It was a response. This he knew for sure. And the look on Avery’s face showed nothing but a desperate need to have his words be read. So it couldn’t have been a ‘leave me alone you creep’ or ‘thanks’ kind of reply. No, it had to be more than that. Though, the more he dug into the infinite possibilities, the worse his headache became. Much like trying to read a book dipped in water, words overlapping each other, so too had the many worlds he could see; blurred and jumbled together.
Even though he had given up on trying to figure out what the note could say a few minutes after Avery and the acolytes had left, the pain from jumping timelines lingered well into the evening. It was morning when Derek saw him place the paper not too far from his feet. And now? The sun was starting to paint the sky in purples and pinks as it set well behind the castle and the burning in his eyes was still rather prominent, the thudding pain gripping every part of his head like a vise. When the Knights began to turn one by one toward the barracks to start walking away from their posts, the sounds of their shifting feet and stomping spears only brought along a different rhythm to the beating ache that sat just above his brow. It synced with the carefully uniformed steps, causing Derek to grit his teeth when it was his turn to shift and walk.
He had to be discreet. Any odd movements, any differences that couldn’t be immediately explained would only prove that he had slipped out of their King’s control if even just a little. And if He found out that Derek was free in any sense of the word, death would seem a fairytale, humanity a myth.
Step. He stared at the rock that held the letter in place.
Step. Derek held his breath, thankful that it was right in his path.
Step. He swore he could hear the thudding of his heartbeat against his chestplate again. This was it.
Step - clank.
Derek had only a few seconds. He bent down and balled up the letter, shoving it into his gauntlet quickly before standing back up with the rock in hand. Every Knight had turned to face him and although he couldn’t see their eyes from the darkness of their helms, their stares brought with them a weight that was accusatory.
He lifted the rock above his head and watched as all the Knights tilted their heads to observe it, their gaze never leaving as he tossed it down the stairs of the castle. Not a single guard moved as it tumbled down each step, the noise almost echoing with each crack of stone against stone until finally, it stopped. It was so surreal to see each guard wait a moment longer before turning in unison and continued marching to the left, toward the barracks.
Was this real? Did he actually do it? Derek glanced around and slowly let out the breath he had been holding. There was no way he actually got away with it. He was certain they would catch him or one of them, maybe the one behind him, would take his shoulder and yank the last piece of hope he had left from his gauntlet. Their King wouldn’t allow something so human. And yet, nobody touched him. Nobody glanced his way when they retrieved their food from the kitchens. Nobody watched him as he ate the basic beef stew they were given each night to keep them alive. Nobody even seemed to notice the crumpled up piece of paper when it fell to the floor and rolled under his bed as he got undressed for their baths.
Maybe he really did get away with something so rebellious. Maybe he could have this.
Derek thought maybe he’d be caught when he glanced under the bed to see if the letter was still there. He figured someone must’ve noticed how he turned away from everyone else when they all laid down to sleep. It wasn’t until the soft snores and slight terrified whimpers that followed nightmares began that he knew he was safe. Safe enough to slip out of bed. Safe enough to sit on the floor by his simple cot. Safe enough to very, very carefully unroll the balled up paper, smoothing it out on his thigh a few times because this was important enough to be smoothed out.
It didn’t say much; just two questions written in plain handwriting, but it was enough to make Derek smile at the words.
‘Who are you? Are you alone, too?’
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the cold floor reading the words over and over. Who are you? Are you alone, too?
‘Not anymore,’ he thought, this thumb stroking the corner of the page. ‘Hopefully, not anymore.’
Such simple correspondence. It was strange to him how something so little could give him such wonder and joy, such a grin on his face. What was he going to respond with? Should he go tonight? Derek had never been so giddy. Or maybe he had been.
Derek knew of so much; every one of his pasts, his presents, his futures. The lifetimes of everyone and everything from the dawn of time till the dusk of extinction, but he himself in this life always eluded him. What he had been before he became a Knight, his reasoning on leaving his life behind, they were so tangled with everything else that he wasn’t sure what was his own truth and what was the truth of the other Dereks. If he knew anything that belonged solely to him, though, it would be this. This and only this.
Sitting there beside his bed, Derek pulled out the few pieces of paper he had gathered in secret, snatched the pen he had tucked in his pillow case, and began to write his small response. It wasn’t much. There wasn’t much to say yet. To Avery, however, this reply might mean so much more than the words themselves.
There was no fear when he finished. None when he slipped the note into his pocket. In fact, there was nothing but a light flutter in his chest as he clipped on his cloak and fitted his helmet to his head, boots laced and gauntlets tightened around his arms. He knew the way. He’d practiced it many times before the first night he delivered that first letter. Through the kitchen, out the door leading to the small courtyard where the chickens and cows were kept. Using the vines to climb the stone wall, Derek hopped down onto the cobblestone streets of the village and began to weave through the back alleys, counting the turns until finally, he made it close to Avery’s open bedroom window.
The fluttering stopped at the same time his legs did. Derek stared at his reflection in the window, the pane wide open as if it was left for him, his face and body mostly hidden in the darkness. The only parts of himself he could see were the brilliant red of plumage on his helmet leading down to his cloak and the golden metal of not only the helmet itself but also the clasp of his cloak, the plates of his gauntlets. Even without the chestplate and the spear and the other bits and bobs of his uniform, he looked just like all the other Knights.
One by one, each of the others appeared behind him; faces shrouded in darkness, shoulders draped in red cloth, golden armor shielding them from the rest of the world. He could not find himself anymore in the sea of reflections. For a moment, there was no ‘him’. There was simply one collective guard; an army of uniformed obedience all held down by the same force. The same vines that he could hear cracking through the mortar and cobblestone at his feet. They climbed and climbed and he could see them in the reflection in the window, every single Knight starting to sport the same plant as it slithered over their shoulders, wrapping around their necks like woodland nooses.
There was no more air. Only poison now. And just as the vines started to reach into the helmets themselves, the gentle light of a flickering candle bounced off the glass of the window. It was a beacon, a lighthouse that brought in the rest of the world to the distant harbor of Derek’s mind. The corners of his vision, when did they become so dark?
The light in the bedroom came with soft humming mixed with clicks and pops and small, quick breaths through teeth. Mindless noise to replace mindnumbing silence. Derek tried so hard to focus on it as he caught his breath, stumbling around the corner to an alleyway hidden from sight and leaned against the closest wall, sliding down it until his body crashed onto the ground.
Bustling mornings in the village market, children playing and hiding behind these very walls as they chased each other, fights and arguments and congratulations all echoed in his ears. Each pitch growing in volume as the humming slowly disappeared and he swore it would send him through another string of timelines, so sure it would push him into another fit -
“Hello?”
A break in the waves that crashed against his shores. There was no more roaring. No more thunderous proof of lives having lived on these streets. There were crickets in the distance. A hoot or two a bit farther away. And them.
“Are you there?”
‘Yes,’ Derek thought. ‘I’m right here with you.’
He allowed the silence to carry on, focusing on the squeaking of the window as Avery played with it. Where the wall met the ground in front of him, Derek took in the sight of a very determined dandelion, its stem drooping, its yellow petals not yet bloomed but its leaves large and imposing. He almost felt bad for the weed; despite them being hated and considered harmful to other growing plants, it didn’t deserve to wither away before having lived. Before it could grant wishes.
Avery sighed at his window. “I guess you aren’t here.”
Their lives weren’t worth the risk of being found out. Not when Derek had seen all that their King could do. He frowned as Avery’s frustrated groan echoed through the alleyways.
“Great, now I’m going crazy,” he mumbled to himself.
The corner of Derek’s lip twitched up underneath his helmet. ‘Don’t join the club, the stews not worth it.’ He could still feel the skin of a potato between two of his back teeth.
It was comforting in a way. Although the conversation was one sided and didn’t last more than maybe a minute or two with pauses in between, there was a piece of humanity there he hadn’t had before. The ability to connect with another person; it’s all any human truly desires.
He felt almost disappointed when there were no more words and only the muffled sounds of shifting and tapping. Head tilting back, his vision turned from the poor weed at his feet to the stars above his head. Derek wasn’t sure if it was his own memories that helped him make up the constellations in the sky or if it was the knowledge that was thrusted upon him, and he wasn’t sure if he cared in that moment. He was just relieved to have something to keep him busy as he listened for the shuffling to end.
Sagittarius and Libra. Ursa major and Hercules. Crowns and dragons and water bearers all sharing the same sky with scorpions and lions. Planets swirled around them and he could see those two, seeing their brilliant oranges and blues from his lonely place on Earth.
Derek watched a singular set of stars pass over the middle of the roof of the house in front of him to the edge and decided that enough time had passed for him to stand, brush off the dirt of his black under clothes, and walk back into the alley. Back toward Avery’s still open window.
He took each step carefully as he approached, seeing that the candle he had going before was still lit and bright enough to see its light dancing off the branches of a nearby tree. It was enough to draw him like a moth and keep him focused. That jumping in his chest made him worried he’d trip with every footfall, his body anticipating the landing at any moment. And when he finally made it to the sill, Derek allowed himself to pause and shake his head at the sight.
Avery had indeed fallen asleep in his bed but not before taking some precautions. The candle at his nightstand sat on a metal plate, a sewing pin poking out of the wax just below the frame. An alarm to wake him in a short amount of time. And judging by the book laying on the pillow beside his face, fingers curled around a section to keep his place, he had tried to stay awake as long as possible.
All this just to see him?
Derek couldn’t stop himself from breathing out a chuckle. All this just to see him. There was no hesitation this time. There was only a blind hopeful joy that danced throughout him as he placed his response underneath the framed glass panes.
TING, TING-TING!
The sewing pin fell from its place in the candle down to the metal plate below, turning that joy he had felt to a cold stone that dropped into his stomach. Avery immediately groaned and shifted in his sheets. Derek turned and quickly made his way back to his spot around the corner, thankful he didn’t have his chestplate on. With how hard his heart thudded against his ribs, he was sure the whole village could hear him.
A small gasp shot through the night silence and all he could think was that he was found out. He had to have been found out. God, he could see it now; the possible ways they each could be punished for something so gentle and pure. How could he bring Avery into this for his own selfishness? His own need for connection, for something that he knew for sure was his, it would get them erased from existence.
The words of his reply were etched into the back of his eyelids as he closed them, trying to push back the visions that wished to plague him once more.
‘I am alone.’
And he should have stayed -
“You’re not alone.”
Derek wanted so badly to run. To forget he had ever written anyone a note of any kind. To burn all the materials he had hidden under his bed. But those three words gripped him tighter than the vines or the tentacles or the puppet strings he fought tooth and nail to be rid of.
They choked him more than anything ever could.
“You’re not alone,” Avery repeated in that faint, sleep riddled voice. “If I’m not alone, then you aren’t, either. And if you want, we could be alone together.”
His body shuddered under the weight of this possibility he could never have fathomed him having. Out of so many different outcomes, so many different timelines and worlds and universes where he was rejected or killed or too late, he ended up here.
The window creaked as it was closed. Derek brought a hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back the burning behind his eyes yet he couldn’t stop the tears as they welled against his fingers.
‘And if you want, we could be alone together,’ he heard echoing against the walls.
“I want-” his own voice, cracked from emotion and horse from lack of use, startled him. It didn’t stop him, though. After a moment, his shoulders relaxed and his breathing slowly became even, the few tears pressing against his fingertips falling as he let go of the bridge of his nose.
“I want to be alone together with you."