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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 8 months

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Treasure - a Malevolent fic

John just keeps remembering the bad things first.

This one lands hard.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

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“Come on, English! You can keep up!” Parker needled, running without any effort at all, and it just wasn’t fair.

Arthur shot a look in his direction that communicated the profanity he couldn’t get the breath to speak.

“Faster!” Dis called.

“Faster or longer?” Parker called back. “He can’t do both!”

Dis considered. “Longer this time. Good call, Yang.”

“Thank me later,” Parker muttered to Arthur, deadpan.

“I… hate… you,” Arthur gasped.

“No, you don’t,” Parker grinned.

John and Sunny ignored them both.

Everyone’s exercise routine had changed; Faroe was still doing princess stuff, but Arthur and Parker now spent at least an hour walking and jogging and running, side by side (or at least, Arthur wasn’t too far behind), and Sunny and John were taking full advantage.

John loved it. More than he knew how to express. Because of Sunny, he finally didn’t feel so… alone.

[How has the poetry quest gone? Found anything you like yet?] Sunny said, tone somewhere between genuinely curious and gently teasing.

[Challenging because he’s so damn stubborn.] But John sounded pleased. [I’ve decided I’m going to bring Hastur into it. He owes me.]

Arthur tripped. Parker pulled him up. “Thanks,” Arthur muttered.

“Always, pal,” said Parker, and smacked him on the back too hard because it was funny.

“Fuck you.” Arthur grinned.

“Right back atcha.” Parker grinned, too.

[Impressive,] said Sunny. [I'm sure he will have a wealth of poetry to loan you; the Librarian should also be able to make some good recommendations, if Arthur doesn't get too suspicious.] Sunny chuckled, low. [How did you manage to get a favor from the King?]

[Because he failed to protect us, and I am going to use it.] There wasn’t even really any emotion in that statement. John saw an opening, a weakness, a sore spot, and planned to take it. That was all. [He’ll provide what I ask.]

[Would he not provide what you ask anyway?] Sunny replied, quietly puzzled.

John paused as though that hadn’t occurred to him. [I… well, I don’t know. I just don’t want to give him any ideas, and asking for erotic or romantic poetry for Arthur could do that.] It made sense. Who wouldn’t want Arthur?

Sunny, for one. [Does the King desire Arthur?] There was growing horror in Sunny's voice. [I don't know that I will be able to deal with THREE of you lusting after that noodle-man. Ugh.]

John huffed. [It’s not like you have to worry about it. Parker wants you. That’s clear. But Hastur’s marked my person—I mean, he has good taste, obviously—but I don’t trust him. He actually has a body to work with.] John growled a little.

Arthur was used to weird noises from his passenger during these times, and ignored it. “Gotta… gotta slow a bit.”

“Sure.” Parker relented, though his “slow” was still aggravatingly hoppy, as if he had to keep his heart rate up and just walking wouldn’t do it. “You sound like a damned broken bellows.”

Arthur raised his middle finger. Parker laughed.

[Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing, that he’s marked,] Sunny said. [Hastur does appear to care for him. Perhaps not in the past, judging by what we heard, but certainly now.] Sunny let out a thoughtful sound. [I mean, assuming that Arthur isn’t too hung up on the idea of bodies in general, I think you’re safe; you do have a hand, after all.]

[And a foot. Up to the knee, actually.] John wasn’t boasting. He recited this with the unselfconscious pride of a child. [Not that it’s been worth much. When I try to take over that thing, we just fall down.] A beat. [Sometimes pretty hard.] Another beat. [We’ve fallen in a lot of holes.]

[What is it with that man and holes?] Sunny laughed. [I didn’t have anything but his eyes. That’s probably for the best.]

[Ha! My person doesn’t know how to take care of himself. He needs me.] John would preen, if he could. [It’s a miracle he’s alive at all. Anyway, I’ve decided the poetry will happen, and maybe… a song. We’ll see. I’m torn because…] He stopped.

[You can tell me.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you didn’t laugh at me before.]

“Sounding better,” Parker said.

“Just another minute,” Arthur whined.

Parker turned and glanced back. “Dis is tapping her foot.”

“She is?” Arthur sighed. “Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck!” He picked up the pace.

John let the silence stretch for a moment, hesitating. [It’s… it might be… bad?]

Sunny’s voice gentled. [You can tell me, John. I think… I think of everybody in all of Carcosa, you and I… we share… more than anybody else, in a way. Tell me anything.]

[I still don’t feel like ‘John,’] John said quickly as though afraid the words would be condemned. [And I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anybody. You don’t count, obviously.]

Sunny took a moment to answer. When he spoke, his voice was solemn. [I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I thought you had taken the name back up.]

John sighed heavily. [I use it for him. It makes him feel… I don’t know, but it means a lot to him, I guess because I chose it myself, before the poison. I say guess because he sucks at explaining really emotional things.]

[He does.] Sunny paused, weighty, the kind of pause that John had learned meant he was ruminating. [...He… he wanted me to be John when we first met, you know. Mentioned someone called Lilly and everything. When that didn’t… jog my memory, or whatever it was he was hoping for, he…] Another sigh. [...I don’t want to say he ‘gave me’ my old name. It wasn’t a good thing when he called me Yellow. It’s like he was… denying me… any of the personhood you’d earned. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry you’re stuck with a name that doesn’t feel right. I understand that feeling. I… didn’t like my old name at all.]

John fell silent while Arthur puffed, silent while Arthur took a moment to bend over and gasp like a dying fish (“Wait! Just a fucking… come on, ”) as Parker lightly jogged around him.

“You gotta get in better shape,” said Parker.

Arthur held up his middle finger again. “Best I can.”

Parker had a look on his face John had seen; a look that said he was thinking something that made him mad, but whatever it was, Parker didn’t say it. “Gonna give you to the count of ten, then I’m carrying you like some dame in a dime novel.”

“Oh, you fucking…”

“Nine… eight… seven…”

Arthur got moving at the count of two. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t.” Parker sounded pleased.

[The problem is I chose this name,] said John. [But I don’t remember doing it, nor do I remember this Lilly who inspired it. I don’t know what to do because I want to give him things I’ve created, but I can’t… put that name on them. Right now. It doesn’t feel right.]

[Names can change.] Sunny let out a low, mournful sound. [I was… I was Yellow for a long time, John. Almost nine years. I hated that name, but… ‘Yellow’ isn’t gone just because I’m Sunny, now. I just… I’m not him anymore, if that makes sense. If you wanted to use a different name, until you feel like John fits—or never, if the case may be—I think that’s understandable.]

[You don’t feel like Yellow to me.] John said earnestly.

[...Really?] Sunny said, low and stunned.

[You never have, as long as I’ve known you,] John said, oblivious to the profundity of his words.

“Fuck this,” said Arthur, interrupting the moment.

“Come on,” said Parker more gently, pulling him up. “Is it really that bad?”

“Stitch in my side won’t go away.”

“All right. We’ll walk the rest of the day. Fuck Dis,” said Parker, who could tell the difference between whining Arthur and exhausted Arthur. “Honestly? It’s fuckin’ amazing you can do this blind.”

“I’m not blind, though,” said Arthur. “Not really. I have John.”

[See? See? What in fuck do I do with that? I can’t take that name from him!]

[He doesn’t know any better.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you’re right: the name ‘John’ is important to him. It represents a lot. But it’s just a name. You’re still important, even if you don’t feel like being called that; and he loves you. That’s not going to change because you’ve decided to call yourself James or Fitzwilliam or something.]

John went quiet for a moment. [How are you so wise?] He asked, almost suspicious.

[Probably the eight years being called a name I hated by a person who also hated me,] Sunny said dryly. [Personally, I don’t recommend it. I feel like I’ve learned more in the… oh, year and a half or so I’ve been with Parker than I did in all of that time.]

John let out a deep, pleased rumble. [Are you sure you don’t want your praises sung properly before the court? I still think you should be.]

[If word gets out that Hastur has a Forgotten One, he’ll look weak,] Sunny said, which was not an answer at all. [It’s safer for all of us—me, you, Parker, Arthur, Hastur, Faroe—if I stay hidden. Besides, it would be silly to do so if I’m going to rejoin with Hastur in five years or so.]

John sighed. That was a whole topic he didn’t like, so he moved along. [What do you think I should call myself?] he said.

Sunny considered. [Do you feel like human names? Or is that too close to John?]

[I don’t think I want a human name, no. Even if it’s just for me, and I don’t tell Arthur. I’m not human.] He hesitated. [I still think of myself as the King in Yellow. But that obviously won’t work.]

[You… you could, if you wanted to.] Sunny sounded very much like he hoped John wouldn’t want to. [You know, I could use your personal name, if you wanted. If that would help you feel more yourself.]

Arthur’s left hand formed a fist and raised into the air as if celebrating. [That’s brilliant!]

Parker eyed it.

Arthur tilted his head. “Everything good?”

Yes! said John.

Arthur shook his head. “They’re like a couple of kids in their room, scheming, while we do the real work.”

Parker snorted.

[I… I’m not brilliant,] Sunny said, baffled. [I—alright, I will. You just have to decide on one, then. And when you’re ready, you can tell Arthur and Parker, and we’ll handle it.] He rumbled. [Maybe… something in R’lyehian? Most names for our kind come from our language, you know.]

Dis had caught up. “Down to walking?”

“Yeah, he’s tapped,” said Parker.

“Good. Time to shoot,” said Dis.

“Wh-what?” said Arthur, gasping. “Now?”

“Take aim and shoot.” She shoved a bow and arrow against his chest. “Like this. Before you catch your breath. People in a fight won’t wait politely while you wheeze.”

“Ooh,” said Parker. “I like that.”

Arthur sighed. “Guess I’m outnumbered. Ready, John?”

Yes. [And yes. I agree.]

The conversation paused briefly while John directed, helping Arthur to take aim with his new bow (and how the hell Faroe made it look so easy was a mystery in itself). They’d done it with a javelin; it was a different thing with a different weapon, all while Arthur hadn’t caught his breath yet.

The breathing kept moving Arthur, throwing off their aim.

You have to breathe out and hold it. Just for a moment, while you release, or it goes off.

“Right,” said Arthur.

Yes. Yes! Straight line from the opposite shoulder. Good.

“Wow!” Parker said. “Hit the target!”

“I have a great partner,” said Arthur, warmly, and touched his left hand. “You’re a treasure, John.”

Dis took the bow. “Walk.”

Arthur did, shaking his fingers. “I’m going to need callouses.”

“I’ll join you next time,” said Parker, walking with him. “Damn, that was cool to watch.”

[Yes,] John said suddenly. [In my own tongue. Yes.]

[Well,] Sunny said, deeply pleased with himself. [I think Arthur just gave me an idea.]

[I’m all ears. Haha! I don’t have any ears,] said John.

Sunny politely chuckled. [It’s simple, snappy. Can shorten it for a nickname if you want. It’s golden, so it works even better. And, technically, Arthur gave it to you, so it has meaning.] Sunny’s voice was bright, cheerful. [What do you think of Gokar’luh?]

John went completely quiet.

Arthur’s left leg jerked, and he fell with a gasp.

Parker caught him. “Hey, careful! You okay?”

Arthur’s left arm hung limp. “John?”

I…

“John?” said Arthur again, standing.

It’s a beautiful name, John said softly..

John?

You don’t… remember. Do you.

Remember what? Sunny’s voice was puzzled. Are you alright?

A beautiful name, John said again. We… we picked that name before, Sunny. When we were one.

“Huh?” said Parker.

“John?” Arthur gripped his left hand. “What name? What’s going on?”

And John growled.

This wasn’t the playful, childish growl of before. This was deep, and angry. The kind of growl that came with destruction. We need to go in. All of us. Sunny, we need to find Hastur. This doesn’t get borne alone.

Did I do something wrong? Sunny’s voice went worried. John? I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I won’t do it again.

No. You did not. John’s voice dropped. He did.

“Who did what?” said Parker. “Arthur? You know what’s going on?”

“No. I…” Arthur frowned. “I don’t understand them, and I wasn’t paying attention.”

Parker reached up and stroked his jaw. “It’s gonna be okay, bud. It’s gonna be okay.”

HASTUR! John roared, and there was magic in it, and he hadn’t warned Arthur, and maybe didn’t care.

Arthur passed out.

Parker caught him. “What the fuck?”

And maybe, in fact, it was on purpose. That’ll get his fucking attention! John snarled.

What the fuck, John? Sunny’s insubstantial breath came in panicky gasps. Why?

“What the hell is going on here?” said Dis, jogging up.

“I don’t know! John’s lost his fucking mind!” Parker said.

It was necessary, John snapped.

Parker’s jaw was set. “You’re fucking lucky I don’t have a way to deck you.”

No! Sunny yelped. No, no, don’t—don’t fight! Please, let me wake Arthur up and we can just—we can figure it out, please—

Hastur appeared, replacing air so quickly that breeze blasted them all back a step. The world went still. Sound faded out; color did, too, as though he’d put reality on pause.

He seemed huge, and he brought some kind of boundary with him—clear and pearlescent, like a soap bubble, keeping Arthur and Parker and Sunny and John in one place.

Dis was on the outside of whatever this bubble was. She mouthed, good luck, gave Parker a thumbs-up, and walked away at speed.

“Oh, shit,” Parker said quietly, staring up at him.

“Is there a reason,” Hastur said slowly, and they could both feel the rumble of his voice through the ground, “that you have chosen to hurt your host?”

Yes, said John. And first of all, he’s not fucking hurt. He’s out, because I don’t want him getting in the middle of this.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Parker was muttering.

Sunny let out a small whimper.

“In the middle of?” prompted Hastur, louder.

Gokar’luh, said John.

And Hastur… shrank?

Not exactly. But the anger evaporated like mist in the morning, the rumbling around them ceased, the looming threat just… vanished. The bubble disappeared. Birds chirped. The day was lovely.

“Ah,” said the King in Yellow.

Ah? Ah? John repeated.

Parker frowned. “Gokar’luh. I know that word. Treasure?” he said. “Uh. Buried, or…”

“You remember,” said Hastur to John. It wasn’t a question.

I remember enough. Sunny doesn’t yet. But I’m sure he will.

Arthur stirred.

Hastur rested one hand on his head and put him right back under.

Ha! said John, as if he’d been proven right.

“What in fuck is going on?” said Parker.

“I suppose it cannot be avoided,” Hastur said softly, and without any further warning, picked them both up.

Parker yipped. “Warn a guy!”

What—what don’t I remember? Sunny whispered.

“Uh. Hey. Big guy. We, uh. Are we in trouble?” said Parker.

“No,” said Hastur, and flew.

Arthur slept. Honestly, he probably needed it.

They went to Hastur’s bedroom, which was huge. Absurdly huge, though Parker knew that was for practical purposes; couldn’t get up to much with another god if it wasn’t huge in there, just practically speaking.

Sunny was quiet, but there, present, awake. Parker kept contact, fingertips on his jaw. Parker’s tongue lashed in his mouth; Sunny twisted incorporeally in his head.

Arthur snored very lightly. It was cute. Hastur laid him gently on the bed.

Answer for what you did, you coward, said John.

Instead of answering, Hastur took Arthur up again—still holding Parker—and went to a seemingly random corner in his room.

It turned out he had a little secret stash there, hidden in the wall. From it, he took something; something of spikes, something black that gleamed as if twisting light inside itself, something Parker had trouble focusing clearly on.

“What is that?” Parker said, voice low and wary.

In his head, Sunny gasped. Is… Is that a crown? Of godblood? His voice was low with shock, the disbelief clear. Hastur… what is this?

Hastur put the crown in Parker’s hands.

Parker froze. “The fuck?” he whispered. “Why does this feel familiar?”

“Go on,” said Hastur.

Parker turned it in his hands, studying, analyzing how it buzzed against his palm. “It feels like the first time Sunny cast magic through me.”

What? Said Sunny, soft and high.

“Fucking hell, Hastur, what is this?”

“That is the crown of my son.”

Parker’s eyes went huge.

Sunny was quiet.

You fucking… John started.

“Sunny… you had… you had a kid?” Parker said almost reverently.

S… son? Sunny’s voice was soft, raw and vulnerable and shocked. We… We have a son?

Had, snarled John.

And Hastur just… went there. “He was going to kill Faroe and Arthur.”

“Oh, shit,” Parker whispered. “Why was he going to do that?”

“To hurt me.”

Wh… What? Sunny sounded so small, so lost. Why would—I don’t understand.

“Was he jealous?” said Parker quietly.

“Yes,” said Hastur. “But I had driven him away long before then.” He took the crown back, handling it like the most precious thing he had; his many eyes lingered, one finger gently tracing the glassy planes of its points.

John was breathing hard. You killed him!

“I had to.”

You killed… you killed him!

“You don’t remember anything but that moment, do you?” said Hastur.

I… I had a son, Sunny whispered slowly. I had… But I don’t… His breath quickened.

“I got you,” Parker murmured. “Breathe.”

I had a son! Sunny hitched.

Parker was staring at the little hole in the wall. “What’s that in there? There’s more stuff.”

“Things.” Hastur sealed it up.

Murderer! John cried.

This had swung right out of control. Parker exhaled slowly and touched his lips.

Hastur sighed deeply. “I hadn’t planned on this today. We will go over all the facts later, including the public face we must wear about this.”

I won’t be an issue, Sunny said, his voice… broken. I don’t remember. I’m… sorry.

But you… John seemed confused that no one was rising with him in rage and shouting. But you killed him!

“I was not given a choice,” said Hastur.

“At least you got to be a father,” said Parker quietly. “Some of us’ll never get that chance. I’m sorry it went that way.”

But you… John stopped.

I’m sorry, Sunny said again.

“Don’t be.” Hastur’s voice was rough. “Arthur was there. He’ll have his own version of this to tell. Perhaps… you should all stay away from court today.”

But you… John trailed off again. In court? What, you want me to pretend this is a good thing? That you killed our son?

And Hastur bailed.

He put both humans on the bed, gently enough, and then just left . Floated out. Left them in his bedroom.

Coward! John cried after him, voice cracking, and then fell silent.

Arthur snored, the tiniest little buzzing.

Fuck me, Parker thought, and swallowed. Did this make him the responsible adult in the room? Close enough. He tried misdirection. He wriggled a little. “Now, this is a bed for a king, huh? Hey, Lester. Come on, buddy. Wake up.” He patted Arthur’s cheeks lightly.

Parker’s eyes stung, but the tears were not his own. I don’t remember. I don’t remember him, Sunny mumbled as they spilled down Parker’s cheeks. He’s… I don’t…

“Hey,” Parker said. “Sunny, it’s… you’re okay. I’m here, bud.”

I don’t remember my own son. Sunny made one small, pained keening sound.

He… he was… John stumbled. Gokar’luh was…

“Proud,” whispered Arthur. “Like Hastur without Faroe. You remembered?”

John sounded shaky. Yes, he whispered. But only the end.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Arthur sighed, then slid his hands over the blankets beneath him. “This isn’t our bed. Where are we?”

“Hastur’s bed, no big deal,” said Parker. “Talk.”

Arthur looked troubled. “That’s really ironic,” he said softly. “The night it all happened, we came back here. We slept in this room.”

Gods don’t sleep, John snapped as though catching him in a lie.

“Faroe and I slept. Nibbles was here, and…” Arthur sighed. “I’d better start at the end of the Games. I guess it’s time to talk about this.”

Arthur told them.

He told them about Faroe reacting to their constant bickering by running off, blaming herself.

He told them about their journey through the Dreamlands, their many adventures, always just behind her, fighting to catch up; he told them about Hastur changing—about Hastur away from the constant adoration of court. About finally finding peace, even respect, between the three of them. About the strange, simple beauty of being stuck alone on the road.

He told them Hastur’s version of events when the Oracle was cast aside.

And then he told them what the Oracle claimed.

“Oh,” said Parker, who could see it, who had always been good at seeing from all sides, and could see how everybody fucked up and there was no good or bad guy.

It was just sad. Fucking sad. He wiped his eyes, this time for himself.

Arthur struggled to describe the sound of Faroe’s throat being torn, struggled to describe the pain of his legs being snapped, of John casting magic, of the desperation to reach Nibbles and free her so Faroe could be okay.

He healed her, said John, suddenly remembering.

“He did,” said Arthur. “Or she’d be dead.” And then he had to briefly stop, shuddering and gasping for emotional control.

Parker wrapped an arm around him and hugged him tight, rubbing small circles into his back with his thumb.

Arthur turned against him and breathed against his shoulder, exhaling slowly and shakily. Finally, softly, he continued.

He told them how heroic John had been. He told them of drawing the sword from the stone.

We did? said John, awed.

“You’re incredible, John,” Arthur whispered, and meant it.

John made a choked sound and fell silent.

Arthur told them about climbing the rubble and leaping toward their enemy—how John directed him like a human javelin, how they managed to pierce Gokar’luh’s hide. “Then he ripped us off him, howling like a demon,” Arthur said, voice rough, “and he threw us so fucking hard. So hard it made my neck hurt. So hard… it was worse than falling. He threw us so hard .”

“He was trying to kill you,” Parker said, voice low and full of gravel. “Smash the both of you.”

Arthur nodded. “I don’t know this part, but I’m still sure of it,” he whispered. “I think they were both… done. They needed it to end, but they were both too fucking proud to just… end it. Or at least, Gokar’luh was. Hastur kept telling him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“I think I know where this is going,” whispered Parker.

Arthur swallowed. “Gokar’luh said, ‘All this time, you could have changed… but not for me.’ After that is… he… was trying to force Hastur to kill him. I’m really certain.”

“Yeah,” said Parker, and scowled. “I swear. I swear . These fucking gods pretend to be so different from us, but they’re not.”

“So yes,” Arthur said. “He tried to kill us. And when Hastur saved us, Gokar’luh swore he’d murder Faroe. That there was nowhere she would be safe, he said. He’d find her, and kill her. No matter how long it took. And that’s the thing about Hastur, Parker. He’s done horrible things, but he really loves my daughter. So that… Gokar’luh had found the magic button. He’d already nearly killed her once, and the threat of a repeat was just too far. So that’s when Hastur took the sword we’d made, and…”

Killed him. John took a shaking breath. Pierced both of his hearts in one strike. He knew exactly where they were, and he just—and he—

Arthur took John’s hand in his, holding it to his heart as he squeezed. “Hastur held him while… while he died. They said… Hastur said he was defeated. That Gokar’luh had won. And… that he loved him. I think f,or what it was, it couldn’t have gone any other way, but it could have been… so much worse.”

Parker wiped his eyes again. “Worse.”

“Hastur was so fucked up after that,” said Arthur. “We got Faroe, and we came home, but he was so fucked up. He was like a different person.” And there was no better time to say it. “I think he’s still fucked up. He’s hiding it, but he’s not okay. He hasn’t gotten better.”

“Fuck.” Parker slumped, arms on his knees. “Fuck. When was all this?”

And perhaps unexpected, Arthur laughed; it was not a good sound. “The night Kayne dumped you and Sunny and Larson all into our laps and said we had to make a good show. Literally hours after, right on the stroke of midnight—Faroe’s birthday.”

Parker groaned and rolled onto his back. “Oh, fucking hell, no wonder you were bugfuck crazy. And that’s why Hastur had to…”

“Sway me. Yes.” Arthur swallowed.

Parker exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, and stretched his arms over his head onto the pillow bigger than his bathtub. “This is a big problem, fellas. A big problem.”

I’m sorry, John, Sunny whispered, the sound heart-wrenching. I didn’t… I didn’t know. I’m sorry you had… to remember, like that.

John was so quiet. I just remembered the moment, the… the moment it was too late . That’s all I had. It was too late. He was dying.

“I don’t know that remembering the context would have made it better,” Arthur said quietly. “You were so angry at Hastur afterward. You were for a long time.”

I am angry now, John said. Fuck. But I don’t know what I would have done in his place.

“Wait a second,” said Parker. “That can’t be the same Oracle they were all laughing about Hastur smashing in court. Tell me it’s not the same one, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed slowly. “If Hastur looks weak, if it becomes known how he reacted to threat against Faroe, if any of this gets out… we all get a target painted right on our fucking faces. Especially Faroe. She’s the most vulnerable, and he won’t risk that. For all his awful qualities… he’ll never risk her .”

Fuck this place. Fuck it. Fuck!

Parker let out a sigh. “That’s just mobsters for you. They show weakness, someone’s gonna come gunnin’ for that as hard as they can. You got targeted ‘cause he’s been calling you his kid, John, and that’s not a weak position.”

John paused. I know that. Though it sounded like it hadn’t fully sunk in until now. And Faroe is… a child . I can see why we must… defer attention.

“Faroe stays safe.” Arthur’s tone was grim, final. “Period. I’m united with him on that.”

Yes, yes, I know, said John, because they’d been over this loads of times.

“I fucking mean it,” Arthur actually snarled. “Whatever has to happen for her to be safe, it’s happening. ”

“Ain’t no one arguing that,” Parker said gently. “It’s okay, English. For once, everyone’s in agreement.”

Arthur calmed.

Parker climbed out of the bed, stood, and held open his arms. “Come ‘ere, English. This’s for you too, John. And you, sunshine.”

Arthur needed it. Sore, slow, he climbed out of the bed, following Parker’s voice, and accepted a hug so tight it made his bones crack. He exhaled slowly, tension draining. “John, I’m so sorry you remembered this way.”

John hesitated. At least I remembered when we weren’t in public view. I don’t think I could’ve… maintained myself if this had happened in court, or something.

You’re not upset with me, are you? Sunny’s voice was so small.

John grunted. No. Why would I be upset with you? You helped me. You’re the wisest person I know. I trust you.

This… has hurt you. It was my doing, however unintentional. Sunny’s voice was subdued. I am… It is… It’s a relief to know you don’t hold it against me. I’m sorry it happened, but I’m… I’m glad you’re here.

Parker smiled, giving Arthur another tight squeeze before letting go, and he turned away. “You alright, partner?” he asked, voice quiet.

I… don’t know, Sunny replied in his own whisper. Could we stay a bit longer?

Parker smiled, touching his lips.

John? Could… could Parker and I stay a bit longer?

I’d prefer it if you did. We need the wisdom.

Arthur snorted softly, but didn’t seem really dismissive. “Yeah. Wisdom. I can’t say we don’t need it.” He got back on the bed (well, climbed onto it), and sat with his arms around his knees.

I don’t know that I’m up for any more wisdom today, Sunny said, quietly.

Just be you . John was so sure of this.

Arthur closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Parker hesitated just a little, then put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

Sunny took a shuddering breath, and began to speak.

This is my son that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken, Never again to speak or waken.

This, that I gave my life to make, This you have bidden the vultures break— Dead for your selfish quarrel’s sake!

This that I built all of my years, Made with my strength and love and tears, Dead for pride of your shining spears!

Just for your playthings bought and sold You have crushed to a heap of mold Youth and life worth a whole world’s gold—

This was my son, that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken— This—that shall never speak or waken.

John let out a soft sob.

Arthur took a shuddering breath, letting John’s tears fall onto Parker’s shoulder—and, head down, he responded.

“Do not stand By my grave, and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints in snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning's hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand By my grave, and cry— I am not there, I did not die.”

Fuck you both, John choked out.

Sunny laughed, voice thick with tears; in a moment John joined him, the two bass voices rising and falling with their sobs and laughs. Arthur held Parker tight, face buried against his shoulder, and Parker held all three of them as best he could until they grew quiet and still.

-------

Notes:

Sunny's Poem: A Mother To The War-Makers Arthur's Poem: Immortality (Do Not Stand By My Grave And Weep) Kraiva would like to dedicate this fic to IchthyOccult, who has been dutifully reminding everyone of how neither John nor Sunny knew their son was dead since John lost his memories. You're a little freak, Ichthy, and I love you.

#malevolent #surrogate series #surrogate fic #malevolent fic #malevolent au #arthur lester #parker yang #sunny | yellow malevolent #hastur malevolent

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 8 months

Text

An Easy Conversation - A Malevolent fic

Parker isn't looking forward to this confrontation.

He knows they'll all come out hurt.

He tells himself if he learns enough, it'll be worth the cost.

He might be wrong.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

---------------

He couldn’t see a way around it.

It wasn’t ideal. It carried risk. It could go real bad, and the fallout would land on Sunny’s head. But the longer this went on, the more horrifying information they got, the less Parker knew, and those quiet parts (the parts nobody was saying, as if anything could hold more shame or horror than what had been said) felt like traps waiting to spring.

Arthur’s explanations were never great when it was about personal things. The guy could give a court-worthy recitation about anything that didn’t touch his heart, but when it did… fuck. He fell apart and kept repeating the same damn sentences over and over, louder and louder, as if that somehow gave them more meaning.

John didn’t remember. So that was out.

Sunny had no idea, either, since he obviously hadn’t been there (and Parker worried, now that he’d seen more of John and Hastur, that Sunny maybe wasn’t telling him the worst parts with Larson, was leaving painful things out).

Faroe was too young. Parker had grilled kids in the past when necessary, but he hated doing it, and considered it not an option now.

That left Hastur. The King in Yellow. An actual fucking god, who could speak shit into existence and maybe skin Parker for fun while the Court toasted with fine champagne.

This was a dangerous course of action, but he couldn't see another way.

He’d already have gone after his suspect if he didn’t have to bring Sunny with—but there was no way to keep Sunny safe, to keep Sunny out of it, tucked in bed or sitting in a nice diner or, fuck, even on a nearby roof with a sniper rifle.

Sunny had to be face-to-face with whatever the hell Hastur was to him, and had to hear Parker’s questions, and field Hastur’s potential answers.

Sunny was gonna come out of this bruised, and Parker saw no way around that, either. He sighed heavily, rising from his push-ups and walking out onto his balcony, where he leaned, looking down at the lake.

Lake Hali was fun as hell to swim in. Probably because they were getting away with it. Thoughts of skinny-dipping with Sunny (impossible, but so lovely) briefly intruded, and Parker shifted, his body automatically responding.

He shook his head. Distracting himself now from the hard things? Great. That would solve his problems.

Penny for your thoughts? Sunny said, lightly teasing.

“Eh,” said Parker. “Got something to do today that I’m not looking forward to so much.” He kept his tone easy, careful, a little too smooth, because he knew Sunny would pick up on it.

Sounds like something someone with a partner shouldn’t do alone.

Parker smiled. “Yeah. Maybe.” He took a slow breath. “I’m thinking I need to talk to Hastur today. Ask him some questions. But that’s not the kinda thing a partner would do to his partner without discussing it first.”

It’s been almost the two weeks we negotiated. I… I’m going to be honest, Parker, I don’t know that I’m ready, but I don’t know that I will ever be ready. Sunny let out a deep, bone-weary sigh. Is it… Alright, that I’m scared, still?

“Absolutely. I’m scared, too. He’s… this isn’t just some guy who maybe could get a good punch in. He’s got powers, and he ain’t human, and doesn’t work like humans do. My biggest concern is you.” This felt like a last chance: “I try to encourage you not to… you know. Withdraw. And you’ve done so good with that. You’ve stuck it out, no matter how hard it’s been. But Sunny, this is the guy you came from, and the guy you want to become in time. So. If you need to do that… I’ll understand. If it gets messy.”

Sunny’s breath hitched, just once. That means… everything to me, Parker.

“I love you, sunshine,” Parker said softly. “I got a job to do. I care about Arthur, and this whole mess we’re in. But I love you. So. I gotta pursue this, but I don’t see a way through it that keeps you out of it. And maybe I’m just dumb, and there’s a way, but I don’t see it. I’m sorry, bud.”

I love you too. He let out a soft, disquiet rumble. I appreciate the thought you put into this, Parker, I really do. But I also… As much as I don’t want to, and I very much do not want to, I also need to know. We need to know what the fuck is going on with the King and Arthur and everything else if we’re going to keep playing any sort of role in this… whatever it is. And… He let out a soft laugh. Well, I can’t exactly punch out windows for you, but… maybe I can give you a sounding board, or keep the King calm, or… I don’t know.

Parker swallowed. “All right. Fuck, Sunny, you surprise me all the time. Thanks for having my back here.”

You’re my partner, Parker, he said. There’s nowhere else I want to be. And, after hearing about… He paused, letting out a soft groan. We need to know. I need to know. I’m… I’m missing too much, but I can at least… I know you’ll help me through it. Yeah?

“That’s not even a question.” Parker was relieved. He hadn’t been sure how Sunny would respond. This was the best possible result. “Right. Let’s nail down what we want from this bastard. Okay?”

Okay. Arthur’s side left off when John was returned to him, in Addison; that leaves us with nine years unaccounted for. His voice was deliberate, thoughtful. To my knowledge, he disappeared from Earth by most measures about three years after he escaped Addison; that’s probably about when he came to Carcosa. That gives us a rough date.

“So that was nine years… and Faroe’s about that age. Which means while Arthur was running from Larson, Hastur was already digging her up. Am I right?”

John had rejoined him, and then was returned to Arthur within the span of a few earth days. He was almost certainly furious. I imagine Faroe was reborn shortly after, yes.

“Somewhere in there, something bad happened.” Parker’s voice was rough. “Something he hasn’t recovered from. He’s missing something, Sunny. I’m not okay with it, but I want to know what happened.”

Something so serious they needed to invoke an Outer God to try and fix it, Sunny rumbled. We’ll find out, Parker. And we’ll get through it, both of us. I promise.

“Together.” He stroked his jaw. “Right. Court’s about to break. I think we can grab him. If you’re ready.”

Ready as I’ll ever be.

Parker chose to believe him. He went and picked some of their better clothes—nothing court-worthy or overly fancy, but nice enough for church, as folks in Boston used to say.

Parker went to Hastur’s throne room, keeping along the walls, avoiding the flow of beasties and ghoulies and whatever they were, all clanking with weapons and jewels and nonsense. He slipped between the doors, again following the walls, but keeping his eyes on Hastur by the throne.

The King hovered up there in all his glory, tentacles waving in the air as if he hung in deep water, his robe rippling in a non-existent breeze.

That guy had a zillion eyes. Parker knew the guy saw him. Well, important guys had to do things in a way that made them feel in charge, and Parker didn’t care. He settled behind a pillar, in the shadow, leaned against a wall, crossed his arms, and waited.

Hastur, being an important guy, took his time. At least he was thorough, emptying the room before coming their way.

The doors closed with a distinctly ominous clang.

“I see you wish for my attention,” said Hastur, voice rumbling through the floor, the wall, Parker’s bones.

Yeah, yeah, gods and their party tricks. “Got some questions for you, sir, if you got some time.”

Hastur had the gall to sound amused. “I believe I can spare a few minutes for my most honored guests.”

Sunny was quiet. Parker was glad that Sunny was quiet. “They’re picky questions. Might be a little upsetting. You still willing to have it out?”

Hastur laughed.

Parker had to admit it was a damn effective laugh; it was dark, throaty, deep and scary, a sadistic and ancient sound that vibrated all along the souls of mortals like plucking taut strings. It took real effort to stand through that, to fight back the instinctive surety that this sound presaged his death.

It wasn’t the first time Parker had looked down that barrel, and he stood his ground.

“I am willing,” said Hastur finally. “Provided, of course, that your ‘partner’ is in agreement.”

I share many of the same questions, Sunny said, subdued. Questions we need answered, if we are to play our part. Parker and I are in full agreement.

“Then your audience is granted,” said Hastur, gracious and amused.

“What the fuck did you do to my best friend?” said Parker.

Hastur went still.

Parker waited. With humans, silence was a great way to get them talking. With gods, he wasn’t sure, but there were a lot of similarities, so maybe…

Hastur sighed. “Be more specific.”

“You want specific? Sure. We can do specific. What happened to Arthur Lester and John Doe after they left Addison?”

“You’d have to ask them,” said Hastur mildly. “I wasn’t even in that world.” Those tentacles were moving slowly, gracefully, and Parker had decided that particular motion was the same thing as a liar staring too directly into one’s eyes.

“Then how were you involved with them before they were brought into your world?” said Parker.

“Are you so sure I was involved?”

Parker’s look could melt butter. “Yeah.”

Hastur laughed again. “Sunny, you have quite the partner here. You must be constantly entertained.”

Sunny was being very, very carefully neutral. Arthur disappeared about three years after he left Addison, Hastur. Magic could not find him—I would know, because Larson used every scrap of power he could to try. And, I am meant to understand, that appears to line up with when you debuted your new Court Composer. What do you think of that?

“I see,” said Hastur softly. “So what you are truly asking is how much of his current condition is due to my manipulation.”

Parker’s eyes narrowed. This asshole was perceptive. It was a warning not to take lightly. “Yeah. In part.”

“I broke him.”

Sunny made a small noise.

So Sunny knew what that meant, then. Parker didn’t know. Should he show his hand and ask for clarification? Or pretend he knew? Maybe this was a compromise: “How? What’d you do?”

Hastur was silent for just a moment too long.

“The fuckin’ truth,” said Parker, sharp.

“Are you going to start smashing my tableware if I don’t reply?” said Hastur with amusement designed to rankle.

Ooh, Hastur was a tough nut. He knew how to say things to make them dig in, like some kind of chigger.

On one level, Parker was enjoying this; he felt matched for wit, and couldn’t let his guard down for an instant. On another… fuck this guy and the horse he rode in on. It probably had tentacles, too. “The truth,” he repeated, refusing to be distracted.

And apparently, Hastur decided to stop playing. “When I tried to take over his body before, his passion and guilt over his daughter’s untimely death by drowning on his watch while he composed music for her was powerful enough to keep him anchored. I was unable to remove him from his body.”

Parker stared.That was… more detail than he’d known. That was a lot. What the fuck did Hastur mean by keeping him anchored? “Felt that strongly, did he?”

“He did.”

Hastur… Sunny said, his voice stunned and horrified and so, so soft.

Fuck it. “You mean literally remove him. Kill him?”

“Replace him. John was already inside him; once reminded of who he truly was, John reached through the portal to me, and I reached back. We would have joined in Arthur’s body and been free on Earth… if not for that memory.” Hastur’s many limbs approximated a shrug.

John could do that?

This was tilting out of control. Parker fought down the urge to pace, or shout, or just start smashing plates. Not that there were any in here, but he would not fail that easily. “Okay. So that memory kept him anchored.”

“Yes. His guilt. His shame. And he took my piece away from me, convinced him he could be ‘human,’ and fomented a proper little rebellion.” Oh, that tone; so dismissive, so old-anger cruel.

“Yeah,” Parker finally said. “John’s not gonna reach for you now.”

“No,” said Hastur. “Then, however, I decided the way to bring my piece home was to render Arthur’s mind a pile of broken glass. It’s very effective, you know, when you want a human to do something.”

Right. Hastur was looking for a reaction. Goading.

Keep it together, Parker thought, swallowed, and had the dangerous thought that he was glad he wasn’t the one being interrogated by Hastur. “What’d you do?”

Parker, Sunny said, voice trembling.

“Do you wish to tell him?” Hastur said.

You didn’t, Sunny whispered. Please. Please, Hastur, tell me you didn’t.

“Your host wished for the truth,” Hastur said, casually cruel.

Parker steeled his voice. “What did you do?”

“I sought and found his daughter’s soul in the Dark World,” Hastur said, like describing buying ingredients to bake bread. “I took her DNA from her grave. I remade her. Then I raised her. I raised her in love, because immature humans imprint upon such things. I did so with every intent of bringing her to him, happy and delighted, calling me father. She would force him to apologize for murdering her—not that she would know what it was for, but he would—and then, I would tear her to pieces, slowly, while he was helpless to do anything but listen to her cry out to her father and beg him to stop.”

Parker couldn’t breathe. His face felt numb.

“Obviously, that didn’t quite play out,” said Hastur, still so damn casually, and Parker knew his buttons were being pushed, knew this performance was manipulation, but it was too much, over his limit, beyond what he could bear.

Beyond what anyone could bear.

Parker’s throat worked. Nothing came out.

“I realized how special she was,” said Hastur. “So instead of killing her, I kept her. That, as it turns out, was just as effective. Arthur Lester broke. John refused initially to come home, but I would have overcome that in time. Unfortunately, that was when the Outer God—”

Parker twisted at the hip and slammed his fist into Hastur’s nearest tentacle as hard as he humanly could.

It made a rubbery thump, and did not move under the force of the punch at all.

There was one moment of stillness.

“I know that didn’t hurt you,” said Parker, low. “Gets the idea the fuck across, anyway.”

“Do you hate me now, little host?” said Hastur, smooth and honeyed and aggravatingly pleased.

“Yeah. Think I do.”

“That is a shame… given whom you carry.”

Fuck.

Oh, this guy was good. Really good. Came with the territory, probably, god of madness and all, but he’d done it: knocked Parker right the fuck off-balance, ending any chance he had of doing this objectively.

He knew he needed to keep pushing. He needed to find out what broken was, because it was obviously more than depressed, more than kicked while down. There was magic involved, and it had cut something out of Arthur, and he wanted to know how to get it back. Did Hastur have it? Could it be returned?

He needed to do that, but he also knew himself, and knew it was too late. Parker was so angry he couldn’t fucking think. “Proud of yourself?” he said quietly. “Using a kid? Breaking a man who never deserved it? Fucking up everybody’s lives?”

“Yes,” said Hastur mildly.

“You outmaneuvered a little mortal guy. Wow. You’re real special.”

“I am.”

“You didn’t win, though, did you?” said Parker, who knew it was stupid to say. “That Outer God’s got you by the balls, no matter how many you have. You didn’t win.”

“No,” said Hastur. “I did not.”

Oh, now there was humility? Now, Hastur was being vulnerable? Sure. Sure, he was. Parker’s voice rose. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean,” said Hastur the Unspeakable, light and smooth.

Parker… please… said Sunny.

And Parker knew (he really did) that Sunny was afraid Parker was going to get hurt, was going to somehow trigger Hastur into doing damage.

But Parker felt like it was the other way around. Defending Hastur. In any capacity, defending Hastur, because this was the guy Sunny wanted to be at the end of five years.

In that moment, Parker was done. For right now, at least, so very fucking done. “We’re continuing this later,” he managed, turned, and marched back out of the throne room.

Hastur let them go.

Parker?

Parker was silent. I’m sorry, Arthur, he thought, because he’d bailed, because this delayed everything, because he’d underestimated his opponent before going in and got himself a hell of a black eye.

Parker. Talk to me, please.

Parker could not. Not without saying something he knew he’d regret. He could not.

Parker… Sunny sounded like he was going to cry.

“Fresh air,” Parker ground out, and stomped right for the front gate.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #malevolent au #parker yang #sunny | yellow malevolent #hastur malevolent #kiy malevolent

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