Chapter Text
Arthur showed his appreciation for the fish and crabs that John had brought him by first gobbling it all up, and then asking to leave. This was not exactly what the cecaelian had hoped for.
"What do you mean?"
"What do you mean, 'what do I mean'?" Arthur barked back, baffled. "I want to leave. I thought that was a pretty straightforward statement."
"But…" John floundered, struggling to put into words what he wanted to say and what would be the best way to manipulate Arthur into doing just that. Normally, he didn't fight for phrasing, finding a way to lay traps with words alone like a brilliant architect. Something about Arthur, this raggedy and mysterious and beautiful tiger shark, sent him fumbling like an adolescent.
"No buts," Arthur cut in. "I want to leave. Being in here in setting my teeth on edge."
John had taken too long gathering his argument, and there was a stubborn set to the mer's jaw and brow. Gods, how John wanted to smooth the furrows away and send Arthur mewling on his back again. No. Focus, idiot.
"Arthur, you're still weak," John's voice was gently underlain with soothing subvocals, the rumbling bass and purr having a visible effect on Arthur. Good. "You're underfed, clearly, if you were crazy enough to attack me and desperate enough to eat my art."
"Maybe I am crazy. So what?" Arthur snapped, forcefully shaking himself and snapping his tail to propel himself into a faster pacing of swimming circles. "And how was I supposed to know that rusted out car was art?"
"That artwork was my discovery and thus mine."
John could hear the heat coming into his voice, the irritation, and narrowed his eyes at the smug amusement on Arthur's face. He was being baited into behaving poorly, into giving Arthur a reason to…do what? Attack? Escape? To do both without guilt?
"It's a rusted out car. Some bastard human invention that makes noise and shakes about badly. It takes things and people from one place to another, and it's ugly."
"How do you know so much about it, hm?" John mused, seeing an opening and unable to help himself from poking. "You seem to know quite a lot about the human world, Arthur. Very unusual for a mershark."
"No," Arthur stopped, a warning in his voice and face, his teeth bared. "I'm not talking about it."
"You're wounded still too," John continued, prying at the seams of Arthur's secrets like they were a mollusk. "Maimed in a way that not many I know could do without obliterating you. These were fine tools."
"Stop it."
"They hurt you," John stated, knowing it for the fact it was, and didn't keep the anger growling in his voice. Arthur stared at him, his own anger fading a bit into curious bewilderment.
"Why do you care?"
John didn't have an answer—not one he could easily formulate at that moment. And the moment was all Arthur gave him.
"Let me go, John, or I'll just start picking holes here to drive myself into."
"I've got a hole you can drive yourself into," John said before he could stop himself.
Arthur gave a heavy sigh, but couldn't hide all of the smile from his face with annoyance. "I'm serious. If you don't want me to get stuck somewhere and die, if you care, let me leave."
"Arthur…"
"I appreciate what you've done, and that you didn't eat me," Arthur held up his webbed hand, staying further argument. "But I can't stay cooped up in here. It's driving me mad, and I don't want to end up trying to kill you just to leave."
"As if you could," John scoffed, but drooped when Arthur's firm expression didn't flinch. "Very well. The only way large enough is one you can't swim through. I'll have to pull you through—it's the way we'd come in."
"Not ideal," Arthur grimaced and straightened his spine. "But I'll take it. Let's go then."
"Right now?" John wheedled, and drifted closer to Arthur, letting his tentacles trace over Arthur's outline, one curling under his chin and encouraging him to tilt his face up and meet his eyes. "Are you really in such a hurry to get away from me?"
"John," Arthur sounded exasperated, tired. "I want to leave this den. Now, please."
"Fine." John retreated momentarily, hoping to leave Arthur cold in his wake as he felt a sulk coming on. "Brace yourself."
"Thank you," Arthur said, his voice as gentle as John had heard it so far, and something in his heart clenched. It hurt.
"Whatever. Stay still."
John wrapped Arthur up carefully, embracing possibly for the last time, and shot through the largest entrance into his den, back out into the kelp forest around it. It was too quick a journey, too soon to lose his little shark, and John held fast to Arthur for another few moments longer. He only loosed him when the mer began to fidget nervously.
"Go then. Die out there, whatever."
"I meant it, John. Thank you for helping me, for feeding me. We may meet again."
"Not if you die."
"And not if you die either," Arthur volleyed back. "But if not here in this life, in the next one."
John doesn't reply to that, watching Arthur solemnly as the shark turns and disappears among the kelp. He knew from his father's warnings what awaited all who died: The Dark World. Great and small, all that passed from this world were destined for it. He knew of no other, and feared that Arthur would end up there far sooner than John.
"You let him go?"
John sighed, but didn't turn away from the spot he last saw the tip of Arthur's tail, the kelp it batted still rippling. He could feel the change in currents indicating where his brother floated behind him.
"Yes," John finally tore himself away, the plating of his mask slid now into place, hiding his face. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Trouble in paradise?" Jaune teased, but held up all four of his hands, placating, when John growled in response. "I'm sorry. He seemed…"
"Careful," John warned.
"He seemed troubled, is all I mean to say. You did the right thing, again, in letting go."
"Don't. Please." John couldn't think of Lily, too, not with the feeling of Arthur still so fresh in his tentacles, the ghost of him in the waving tendrils of kelp that were already settling to their usual sway. "I'm not in the mood."
"Ooooooh," someone else cooed from behind the both of them, a chorus of mocking laughter following it. "Did you hear that? The little princeling isn't in the mood!"
Jaune stiffened, his colors flashing in reds and yellows synchronously with John's, and pulsed out sonar in warning. Both brothers scanned the kelp and the looming coral walls that made up their grotto and den. Over the ridge above the den and themselves, a small group of Xothians loomed over them. The Star Spawn of Cthulhu, denizens of the dead god that now made up the city of R'lyeh, were often a bothersome blight on the pair.
Unless Hastur were around. Unfortunately, right then, Hastur was not.
"What's the matter, princelings?" the potential ringleader of this group jeered, and the group of four started drifting their way down, tentacles and nubby wings propelling them rather swiftly to surround the twins down on the seafloor. "King Slutwaist not here to protect you?"
"How dare you!?" Jaune bellowed, mantle and tendrils billowing up to make himself appear bigger in his rage. John snarled behind the mask of his plating, flashing dangerous rings of color in dizzying, unearthly shades that did make one of the Xothians float back a bit.
"Oh we dare," the ringleader said, and didn't balk at the threat displays from either brother. Instead, his bulbous cuttlefish head pulsed with its own predatory colors, and his eyes crackled with magic. "Rumors have made their way to R'lyeh, whispers in the Head that your father, the Whore of Underwater Spaces, has fucked off somewhere. Maybe even died."
"Ah," John purred dangerously, "so you've come here to kill yourselves today, is that it? That can be the only reason for such blasphemous and dangerous language."
"Big words for someone who's outnumbered," a second Star Spawn said, and drifted closer to the twins. "So where is Daddy, then? Doesn't feel like he's anywhere close—ah!"
John snapped a tendril out, slapping the second one hard across its mantel, and lifted his plating back to bare all his thick, sharp teeth at the group.
"You watch your quivering mouth, you sacks of shit! We don't need to hide behind our father's cloak. We can deal with you ourselves!"
"And you'll wish you'd never been hatched for the disgraceful way you've spoken of him!" Jaune added, puffing up again and crackling with energy himself. "Encroaching on the King in Yellow's territory and assaulting his kin and his name is a death wish."
"Oh we're not the only ones saying this," the ringleader chimed in again, gleeful. "The Slut in Yellow has many new names now that he's cowed away somewhere."
"Or died," came the second one.
"Yes, or died," the ringleader raised one clawed hand, purple sparks of light dancing between each digit. "We didn't need to change the Peacock King though. That one's stupid enough on its own."
With a wordless cry, John slammed forward into the ringleader before Jaune could wrap his tentacles around him and pull back.
"John, no!"
The rest of the Star Spawn shot forward then, deflecting Jaune's snapping tendrils with well-timed shielding spells, and clawing forward with their own energized attacks. John wrestled with the ringleader, biting off one finger at the expense of getting badly stunned with a shocking blast right to the mouth. Three of them descended on him after that, including the bleeding leader, while the fourth battled magic against magic with Jaune.
Whatever rage and terror fueled the twins into holding their own was quickly waning under the onslaught of being doubly outnumbered. Inking would only cause more trouble for them, and the Xothians were near their equals one on one in magic. A sickening crack followed by enraged shrieking told Jaune that his brother had managed to kill at least one of their assailants, but the other two simply redoubled their efforts in trying to return the favor.
Magic could not be kept up indefinitely, and the brothers were growing drained of theirs via defensive spells alone. Had they managed to join together in time, it may have turned the tide enough to get them away, but pinned now as they were, and separated, it looked grim.
"When we take you back to R'lyeh," the ringleader gurgled, tentacled mouth a mess of shortened nubs and blood from where John had bit him. "Oh, what a pretty price you'll fetch us. Respect and accolades, promise promotion in priesthood!"
That was when his head caved in from a rock.
The two remaining Star Spawn starred in stunned horror as their leader twitched and spasmed on the seabed, the offending hunk of coral-covered boulder rolled neatly to the side of him. It was all the time needed for Arthur to come tearing down and through them, his claws gutting one while his teeth sunk into the fleshy head of the other.
"Arthur!" Jaune yelled in surprise, but wasted no time in shooting over to his brother, who lay curled in a mess of tentacles. "John! John, wake up, it's Arthur!"
Squealing shrieks of rage escaped the gutted Xothian, while Arthur's muffled snarls buried into the head of its compatriot along with his teeth. The water was as murky with blood, tingling still with residual magic, and with a muffled pop and crunch, Arthur dropped the dead bastard from his mouth. One still remained, however, and it was already uttering guttural cursed R'lyehian from its maw, banking power between its clawed hands while its innards seeped out from its middle.
"Ah'mglw'nafh!"
A streak of acidic yellow struck into the last Xothian, boiling the sea in a diagonal line in its wake. The Xothian seized up like a dead crab, bubbled, and then burst into a mess of bone and viscera. Its banked magic fizzled out and dispersed over nearby coral and kelp, leaving them chalk white and brown with death respectively. John sat up, supported by his brothers arms, his hand still extended from where he'd cast the spell before collapsing into a heap again.
"John!" Arthur spat the remains of Star Spawn skull from from his mouth, and rushed over toward the twins. "Is he…?"
"He's fine," Jaune growled, scared and protective. "Just weakened."
"Okay," Arthur panted, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm. "Are you hurt?"
"I am fine." Jaune said, terse, and curled more of his limbs around his brother's body, golden eyes darting behind the slits of his armored plating. "You…came back."
"I heard the fighting," Arthur admitted, and his earfins fluttered a little. "And I…might have gotten a bit lost in the kelp."
Jaune scoffed, though it was more to disguise a laugh.
"What were those things?" Arthur's lip curled as he swam over the shredded or crushed remains of their enemies.
"Xothians, the Cthulhi or Star Spawn as their sometimes known," Jaune said with the naturally haughty 'I know more than you' tones he often employed. "The get of Cthulhu, or what remains of it."
"Who's Cthulhu?"
Jaune stared blankly at Arthur for a long beat. The shark started to fidget and bob in the water under the scrutiny, his pale skin flushing in away that made the freckles and ampullae of Lorenzini stand out.
"You're truly a long way from home, aren't you?"
"I'm beginning to see that now, yes," Arthur grit out, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "Are you going to answer me or just continue to be an asshole?"
"Both of you shut up," John groaned, and with some effort sat up further. "Let's not do this here. We need to go in case more of them show up."
"John, you're still weak," Jaune pointed out, wrapping his tendrils around his brother and assisting in righting him up fully.
"I don't care. This den is compromised right now," John looked around at the bodies drifting in the currents of their grotto with a sneer. "We go to Father's. None dare still travel there yet. We should…travel as him."
"John," Jaune paused, shooting a look toward Arthur and back to his brother. "Are you certain?"
"He saved our lives, Jaune," John sounded tired now. "He can be trusted with this. Besides, who would believe him?"
"Hey now," Arthur frowned. "What in the world are you two going on about anyway?"
"This."
There's a sudden twisting and joining of tendrils from both brothers, their limbs entwining and looping around each other. John's face vanishes in a whirl of billowing mantle, which drapes even more now like silken cloth caught in the currents. Their skin flashes and pulses with colors, dizzying to look at, and their height combined doubles them to impressive size. Jaune's face sits atop, Six arms contort and splay out like an insect in a threat display, and their entwined tentacles give the impression of being much thicker solid ones.
They are an eldritch being of power, beauty, and awe-inspiring terror.
Arthur's eyes widened comically. "Jesus."