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Rain pelted on the windows, which were slightly cracked open, allowing the cold breeze to settle in the dimly lit room. The clouds outside covered all sources of rich sunlight. It was frigid and dark, the only light reaching from the windows. Armor lay carelessly around the room, the once mighty helmet lying unmoving on the bedside table. D3rlord lay in bed, clad in blankets as if that was the only thing keeping him together.
It was a week after he decided to explore the depths of the cave. He should have stopped; he could have turned back. YET, he insisted on continuing to explore. And that's what led to how he was currently. He gripped his head; it hurt; it always hurt after glimpsing at him. Everything hurt, everything was too loud. It was all too loud, too much for any mortal to endure. D3rlord was trembling; it was cold. But he couldn't bring himself to leave bed; he was hungry, he was weak. He did not want to leave the little comfort his home still brought him. He could feel his presence right over his shoulders. The breeze outside, the air he breathed, the footsteps, the whispers, the wind chimes, everything was too LOUD. D3rlord couldn't think straight, not a mere thought.
“I know you're here.”
No response.
“Please just leave me be.”
A faint breeze brushed against D3rlord's face.
“Stop toying with me, I'm tired of it.”
D3rlord sat up; his brown hair was tied back in a messy ponytail; he was exhausted, his eyes were slack with dark eye bags beneath them, and he looked like he didn't get a single flicker of respite. Well, he didn't, how could one rest with all the knowledge of the world as it exists flowing through his fragile mortal mind? D3rlord felt a familiar warmth on his shoulder.
“Do you earn leisure from disregarding me, my knight?”
D3rlord refused to reply; the king didn't appreciate that.
“Look at me, my knight.”
D3rlord felt something wrap around his leg. He tried to tug his leg back underneath the blankets. He turned his head slightly and was met by the king's face. D3rlord flinched and turned his head away, and the king yanked his chin back. The king held both sides of D3rlord's head, forcing him to look directly at the endless void that lay beneath the king's veil. D3rlord was squirming in the king's grasp. The king held him down with his other arms..? How many did he have? D3rlord felt what he could make out as hands all over his body; they were oddly warm, almost soothing on his skin, and it felt oddly intimate.
D3rlord’s headache heightened as the king forced him to maintain eye contact with the void in front of him.
“Why do you shy away from me now, little lord?”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Ah, that got a reaction out of you.”
“Shut up…”
“Hm, how come you're trembling underneath all these blankets? Has my knight caught a cold?”
D3rlord didn't like to be caught off guard like this; he didn't like anyone seeing him without his armor on, let alone an eldritch being who happens to tower over him.
“Just a common cold, I was mining out in the rain last night; don't you already know this? I can tell when you're lingering, you know.” D3rlord scoffed.
“You know me too well, my knight.”
The king pulled away from D3rlord, walking (hovering?) over to the cracked window, closing it. Some water had gotten inside D3rlord’s home, trickling onto the wooden floor. The king started the fireplace, which lay in the corner of the home. D3rlord tucked the blankets back around himself. He didn't want to move, let alone talk to the king, right now. D3rlord rolled over in bed to face the king; he was lingering as always. He approached the bed slowly as if D3rlord was a scared animal. D3rlord didn't like this; every deed the king did for him felt like he was toying with him. After all, he was a mortal, and the king was a being of worship. D3rlord enforced in his mind that the king was just constantly toying with him, like the rest of his worshippers.
“I'm not toying with you.”
“I told you to stay out of my head.”
“I can't help it, you're remarkably fascinating, my knight.
“Don't gush on me, I don't need your praises.”
“You're being very feisty today.”
D3rlord rolled over, refusing to face the king. The bed creaked underneath the king's weight. D3rlord felt many arms encase him into a warm embrace. The king was warm; it was very comfortable, though D3rlord would never confess it himself. It felt really good, otherworldly. Though the king wasn't far from that.
“You're lucky I feel like shit right now.”
“Hmm, is that so? You seem to be relishing in yourself.”
“Geez, don't word it that way.”
“What's the issue this time, little lord?”
D3rlord closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth the king offered him. He normally didn't like giving into the king's offerings, but it felt too good to refuse. He was melting in the king's touch, he was vulnerable, he didn't enjoy it, but he decided he would allow himself to enjoy it just this once. This was absurd. Was he actually falling for an eldrich god? Its ridiculous , the king was simply just toying with him like his other stupid worshippers. He hated this; he hated how he pressed himself against the touch, melting into it, allowing himself some respite in a sea of stress and pain.
His headache faded; it was replaced by another worldly, almost dreamlike haze. D3rlord couldn't tell what was real or fake. What he was feeling. It felt like he was sinking into a pit of quicksand; he couldn't breathe. He needed to get out. It wasn't warm anymore; it was scorching hot. It was burning him from the inside out.
“Rest now, little lord, it will all wither away soon.”