Archive of Our Own ^beta

The song of the End had wrapped around the three of them, whispering promises of love in their ears. No matter how many times Viking experienced it, he would always love it’s poem. Opening his eyes as his feet made contact with solid ground once again, he sighed, realizing he wasn’t alone at spawn. Seemed he would have two royal roommates for the time being. Grimacing at how the corrupted earth seemed to pull at his feet, Viking shifted in place before properly addressing The King in the North and Shadow. 

“Well then!” He clapped his hands together, accentuating his overly cheerful tone. “Looks like we’ll be going back to my place so if you could please come grab a-” His voice was seemingly snatched from his throat as spawn protection wore off. They all seemed to stumble as the oppressive atmosphere settled in, something unseen trying to hook its claws into them. “Ah. I seem to have forgotten something.” Viking’s voice is strained as he speaks. 

“And what would that be exactly?” Tkitn is looking at him with suspicion and maybe a bit of concern. He doesn’t blame him considering the situation. 

“Spawn hates me specifically!” He was trying for something cheerful and joking but that was hard to convey through gritted teeth. 

It felt like the inky darkness covering the ground was crawling up his legs. Trying to shake it off was pointless, as any movement just made it spread faster. His chest felt heavy, like someone had filled it with cobblestone. His hands fumbled to grab one of his abyss watchers in an attempt to flee but they just kept slipping away. Or maybe his hands were phasing? Or maybe he wasn’t grabbing the right thing? The corruption had already spread to his eyes, making him effectively blind. He could just barely hear people talking. What were they saying? Something about running maybe? They were talking about taking something. He didn’t have much time to focus on that though, the next wave of corruption swept through him and he fell to the ground with a strangled scream as he felt like his veins were filled with lava and it hurts it hurts it hurts! He sticks his hand out, trying to feel along the ground which way was best to go, which way would get him away from the pain the quickest. He’s done this a few times before, he’ll make it out. He tells himself that and hears a muffled “You what?” from someone nearby. Oh yeah, a moment of clarity struck him as he caught a glimpse of two caped figures. He’d forgotten about the kings that were with him. 

“I’ll-“ something catches in his throat and he’s thrown into a coughing fit, feeling something thick, almost oily leave his mouth. “’ll be fine, j’st gotta get outta here” his words are slurring together. His mouth feels gross. His hands have phased through the ground slightly. But. He’ll. Be. Fine. 

“Shadow is locating the waypoint, we’ll get you out of here soon. Until then, try not to strain yourself. You don’t seem to be doing well.” The King in the North’s voice is soft, or maybe his hearing is still messed up. Gently, he guides him away from whatever he had coughed up. He can feel his hands push at him, trying to get him to lay down. Viking tells himself that the only reason he’s allowing this type of treatment is because there’s not much else he can do right now anyway and that this is more efficient. He is not simply complying because he doesn’t have the strength to fight against it. He’s not . 

“It’s not, uh. It’s not n’rma- normally this bad.” He does his best to swallow down more of the goop. It doesn’t seem like coughing up what’s basically congealed corruption onto another person would be the greatest in any scenario.

“What do you mean, “it’s not normally this bad”?” tkitn sounds startled for some reason. “How many times has this happened?” A hand brushes through his hair for a second as something soft is placed under his head. His eyes clear for a second and tkitn’s silhouette is different, seemingly missing his usual cloak. “Don’t tell me the others in this land allow you to frequent this place!?”

Viking huffs a bit at that, launching into a brief coughing fit. There’s a hand rubbing his back, a foreign sense of comfort. He manages a deep gasp before answering. “They probably don’t care. If anyone does, they haven’t mentioned it.” The hand paused for a second at that. “I mainly come back for the farms we left behind. Can never have too much iron.” He tries for a joking tone, he can only hope it doesn’t actually sound as pathetic as he feels it does. Shivers wrack his body, stealing his ability to speak any further as he’s suddenly burning and freezing and dying again and he can’t die again please there’s so much he still needs to do!

He doesn’t hear as the King in the North calls to him. Doesn’t feel the hands that switch from shaking him in an attempt to wake him to cradling him against a strong chest. He doesn’t register the vibrations from that chest as tkitn speaks to Shadow who has appeared once again, victorious in finding the waystone. He doesn’t know that he is being lifted in a bridal carry, held oh so gently as if he is something fragile, something precious. He doesn’t know that he is safe. And that a King wishes now, more than ever, to steal him away. For he is one of his now. And a good king always protects his own.