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Derek falls asleep the instant he hits the bed.
The King stares for a moment, but the knight doesn’t even stir. The only movement is the rise and fall of his chest. He hadn’t even bothered taking off most of his armor. That can’t be comfortable.
You’re overworking him, the voice of its vessel echoes in its ear. It wills the vessel’s faint shape away with a slight tilt of its head.
Though perhaps the vessel does, annoyingly enough, have a point.
It hasn’t seen fatigue very often in humans, nor is it capable of experiencing it himself, but Derek does look exhausted. There are dark circles under his eyes. His hair is a mess. The King’s hand twitches slightly, a reflexive movement from the vessel, but it holds it back.
…Then, slowly, it continues the motion on its own, sweeping a lock of hair out of its knight’s face. As it does so, its fingers brush his cheek slightly. Derek’s expression twitches at the contact, and the King expects him to flinch away, but to its surprise, the knight instead leans in, cheek fitting snugly into the King’s palm. He sighs in his sleep, some of the tension seeping out of his form.
The King…continues staring, frozen in place.
…Oh, Derek, the vessel murmurs.
The King’s gaze narrows. “What?”
Almost immediately, it glances over at the knight, but there’s no response to the question said out loud. For how aware Derek normally is, he’s completely out cold now. Even when suffering excruciating migraines and dissociating from pain, even when pressed into the mattress and drowning in sensation, he always had some response to the King’s voice. But now…nothing.
He turns his attention back towards his vessel, who, for once, is stubbornly silent, seemingly out of petty spite. Not that it does anything to prevent the King from digging out the information itself.
Touch-starvation: the physiological need by humans and other species for physical contact with their own species or other living beings. Prolonged absence can have traumatic impacts on an individual's emotional, physical, and/or mental well-being.
“He is not lacking in physical contact,” he says out loud.
[You only touch to hurt him,] the vessel snaps. [You only keep him around to mock him.]
“He tried to destroy me,” it retorts. “Are you telling me a punishment is undeserved?”
[You’re sick. Do you think he wants to be near you? Have you forgotten that you fucking ra—]
Watch your words, Vessel.
[Or what—] He shrieks as the King tears through his shape with an angry wrist flick. Not that it gets rid of him permanently, but the vessel falls quiet, save for the anger it can feel through their connection. It ignores him, using its other hand to unclasp the parts of armor it can reach on Derek.
[What are you doing—]
The vessel is starting to recover faster than the King would like. “Making him more comfortable,” it scowls. “Or would you rather I leave him sleeping fully armored?”
The vessel draws back reluctantly. [Don’t hurt him.]
“And what would you do if I did?” Part of it wants to, out of spite if nothing else. Punish the vessel by forcing him to watch Derek suffer. It would be so easy—he may be in a mortal body now, but reality is such a loose thing. Breaking someone is barely an inconvenience. But…
“My King…may I please go to bed?”
Derek had asked so nicely, with none of the contempt normally present in his voice. Exhausted, yes, but earnest. Holding onto the King so tightly as if it was the only one that could keep him standing. It had been…oddly sweet.
…Ugh, affection. He hadn’t thought that the vessel would harbor such strong emotions. His mind was clean and pure, but these types of attachments are…irritating at best, dangerous at worst.
It looks at the knight, sleeping peacefully. Willingly or not, he has done exceptional work for Carcosa. There is no point in punishing him now.
It carefully sets aside the pieces of armor. It has to nudge Derek slightly to pull off other parts, and the knight stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake up. The King brushes his cheek gently with its thumb, noting the way Derek shifts faintly to adjust to the touch. Something in it curls strangely, oddly tense and not directly from the vessel. It’s not a bad feeling, but it can’t say it’s pleasant, either. The vessel frowns, hovering over its shoulder.
[Why haven’t you gotten rid of me?]
The King doesn’t respond.
[You claim you can get rid of me, but you haven’t. Can you actually do that?]
“Do you want to disappear?” it says. “That can be arranged.”
[Then why haven’t you done it?]
“I wasn’t aware you were as suicidal as he.”
[W-what?]
“He was going to sacrifice himself for you, you know.” It doesn’t take its eyes off Derek. “You spoke the spell before he did.”
[So…what? You’re keeping me in this limbo as a twisted sense of thanks?]
“Your attempt to understand everything is amusing, but only one human is even close to capable of it.”
The vessel hovers closer to Derek, and the King has to fight down a strange urge to shove him back. He can’t interact with the knight. Derek belongs to it and it alone. It’s already won the war, but it gets the perturbed feeling that it is still somehow losing a battle. That emotion is definitely unpleasant.
[Hey! Stop that.]
Its finger is starting to dig slightly into Derek’s cheek. Derek’s expression pinches slightly, and with an involuntary spasm, the finger lessens the pressure. The King strokes the redness left behind.
[See? Your touch only hurts.]
“Shut up.”
[Or what?]
The King moves carefully, letting its weight slowly dip onto the bed so as to not wake the knight when it leans down. The vessel snarls, yanking at their connection, trying to force its head back, but his efforts are easily dispelled when the King is expecting it.
Gently, it presses a kiss to his sleeping knight’s lips. Derek doesn’t stir. Briefly, it wonders how far it could push before he does wake, before sensation overrides exhaustion and pleasure overrides pain—
[You’re a monster.]
“And I can and will do worse if you continue on this…tiresome tirade of yours,” it replies calmly, knowing that the vessel will back down at this.
And the vessel does, silently seething. Good.
It withdraws from the bed. It removes his hand from his knight, and Derek makes a sound that could almost be interpreted as a whine. It pauses. The vessel’s fury tapers momentarily in conflict. He wants to say something, the King can tell. But he knows better than to while it’s still in the room with Derek.
It allows itself a second of hesitation, but eventually decides to leave its knight be. Carcosa calls for its ruler, and without its knight taking charge, some things are just…much more inefficient. They will need oversight while Derek rests.
“Sleep well,” it whispers, and closes the door.