Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was unpleasant waking up in surroundings entirely different than those he’d fallen asleep in, but not entirely unexpected. After Arthur’s voice had faded and Noel had gone hoarse calling out to him, Noel had accepted that this was a trick of Kayne’s. Either Kayne imitating Arthur’s voice or letting Noel talk to Arthur just to yank him away again. Kayne loved tormenting Noel. So naturally, Kayne would turn up either to gloat or find some new way to play with him.

The sight of the King in Yellow on his throne towering over Noel still turned his stomach, but it was hardly unexpected. It was a form Kayne knew bothered him, so naturally the god took it often. The King’s throne room was new, as were the figures of the dancers hovering on the edge of the room, but it wouldn’t have been the first time Kayne altered their surroundings.

Noel steeled himself as he rose from the cot he’d been lying on. It had been placed at the base of the throne right at the King’s...or rather Kayne’s feet. Noel had to remember not to think of the figure as the King. Otherwise, he’d either break down or fly into a fury, which was just what Kayne wanted him to do. Instead, Noel balled his hands into fists and glared into the darkness beneath the yellow hood.

“And here I thought you’d forgotten me. Should’ve known I’d never be so lucky.”

Kayne and Noel had been together for five months in New York. Five months of the most stressful and painful relationship Noel had ever had. Five months of Noel constantly planning to break things off, yet somehow never managing to get to it. Something Noel was beginning to think was not at all unrelated to the gaps in his memory. And then Kayne had just tossed him into the Threshold.

“Sorry, kitten! Much as I love playing house with you, things are heating up, and I won’t be able to look after you for a while. Just wait here like a good boy, and Daddy will come back for you when it’s all over!”

At first, Kayne had stopped by fairly often. Sometimes wanting sex, sometimes to goad Noel into a fight so Kayne could feel justified in punishing him. But recently, those visits had decreased. Noel wasn’t sure how long he’d spent alone, but it was long enough for any company to feel like a welcome distraction.

Kayne tilted his head to the side, and he shifted slightly on the throne. The robes swayed ever so slight, and damn, even the way Kayne moved was just like the King. Though Noel supposed Kayne had known the King much longer than Noel, certainly long enough to convincingly imitate the god. A hand lifted toward Noel, then dropped down to the armrest, as though Kayne had thought better of it.

“I could never forget you.” Kayne said in the King’s voice. He waved one of the King’s hands, and Noel had to force himself not to glance at it. Damn, he could remember how those fingers felt on him, inside of him, both the real King’s and Kayne’s imitation… “Barring outside interference, of course. You were always my favorite p...” The King’s voice broke off. There was a pause, as though Kayne was considering the exact word. “My favorite.” Then, as if he thought that wasn’t quite enough. “You were always so durable.”

Durable? Noel snorted. “We both know that’s not true.”

Kayne had never bothered to hide that from him.

“You’re no Artie, but you’ll do in a pinch.”

“Careful, darling. Don’t make me angry. Artie has me to thank for that scar on his neck. If I’d do that to him, what do you think I’d do to you?”

“Look, sweetheart, you have one job: Keep me entertained since Artie can’t. Do that well, and maybe I’ll keep you around as a spare toy when I’m done.”

“Where is he, by the way? Or was that an illusion, too?” Noel glanced around the throne room. “This one’s not bad.” He gestured to what looked like some type of vase or possibly an urn on the side of the throne. Greco-roman perhaps? “That’s out of place, though. Don’t recall there being much art.”

Noel had been in the King’s throne room more than enough time to know it by heart. It…the real one…had managed to be both luxurious and monotonous. Everything had been made of gold, but there had been few decorations (unless the Dancers counted). Some lamps in the corners to light the space, but not enough to do more than make the shadows a little less dim. The King hadn’t seen much need for anything that didn’t point back to himself. Kayne had added unnecessary support pillars here and there that towered into the ceiling-less blackness. There was some type of ornamental carving on the bases that Noel couldn’t make out. Some type of red flowering plant grew from large, golden tubs that lined the room, as though Kayne had thought the room needed more than one color. All of these could clearly be seen due to a giant chandelier hanging from the sky.

“It is something John wanted.” Kayne shrugged. “But where is who...?”

“Arthur. Come on. Don’t play dumb.” Noel wasn’t in the mood to play along, even if the sooner he gave Kayne the reaction the god wanted, the sooner the illusion would drop. “Either he was there or he wasn’t, but you wanted me to think he was.”

“Arthur…?” The body shifted on the throne, leaning forward eagerly. “I believe there has been a…misunderstanding. Arthur was here, but he left with John and Lillith. But if you’ve-”

“Lillith? Who the hell is Lillith?” God, Noel wish he had a smoke. But that was something Kayne wouldn’t allow him.

“It’s bad for you, darling! Humans have such short lifespans anyway. Why make yours shorter?”

Noel was certain it was just Kayne being petty.

“Oh, so you have not seen them?” There was a hint of disappointment in the voice, and the figure sagged heavily against the back of the throne. “A pity. They have passed beyond my sight. I would have welcomed information.”

A sense of unease crept into Noel’s mind. Something was off. Kayne enjoyed his games and illusions, but he had a predictability and impatience about him. He enjoyed shock and carnage, but he liked it to come quickly. Drawing it out with references to people and things he knew Noel wouldn’t understand only served as inside jokes to Kayne that would send him into peals of laughter. But instead, the voice continued.

“Unfortunately, that likely means they are nearing the final battle. There is-”

“I’m not in the mood for this, Kayne. Get to the point.”

The silence that followed was palpable. The type Noel had learned came before Kayne lashed out. But he didn’t care. There were only so many ways visits from Kayne ended, and while some were less painful than others, none were good.

It lasted several seconds, then the voice spoke again in a perplexed tone. “Kayne? I don’t...ah, I see. He does like his games, and to a human, one god must be very like another. Rest assured, I am not Kayne.”

Noel’s mouth went dry at this. Because while Kayne did like playing with him, he didn’t have the patience for sustained deception. Not convincingly.

“You’re not him.” Noel had managed to keep his voice even the last time. “Don’t you have any better tricks up your sleeve?”

“Are you sure about that, Charlie?” Kayne had responded, reaching out those long fingers to caress Noel’s face. Noel had traced their movements but had managed not to flinch away. Then Kayne had broken out into his hyena-like laugh. “Oh, you’re no fun anymore! But you’re right. I’ll need to find something else.”

“You will be safer here, and it will be easier for Joh and Arthur if Kayne has access to one less bargaining chip. It is...not impossible for Kayne to get to you in the Carcosa,” the voice continued, “but he will be busy trying to get Arthur, John and Lillith to-”

“Enough! Just get this over this!” Noel snapped. “I’m not falling for this, you piece of shit!”

He was shaking. His eyes darted around the room, looking for...he wasn’t sure what. He knew that no weapon would be enough, but he needed something...

“CAREFUL HOW YOU ADDRESS ME!” The King thundered.

And that was all it took for Noel to turn and run. He wasn’t proud of it, but in that moment, he didn’t care. It was one thing to confront the King in New York with Arthur and the Butcher by his side, a weapon in his pocket. But in the King’s own realm? All logical thought was driven from his mind. He just needed to get out. To get away.

Noel expected a pair of doors to slam shut, locking him in the throne room, or maybe for the Dancers to reach out for him, but no one tried to stop him. He emerged into a city in ruins. The dark towers that had once seemed to go past the heavens themselves now crumbled. Lampposts looked like they had been ripped from the ground and hurled into the walls. The walls had scorch marks at their base, and their height was uneven, with the tops crumbling in some places and others that had clearly had new materials built overtop what was left of the old wall. None of the areas were low enough for Noel to climb over.

Around him, giant wasps flew with stones, repairing the damage. Noel could feel their eyes dart toward him, but none moved to stop him, so he kept running through the streets. He didn’t think about the path. His body seemed to remember the way to the steps. But when he got there, an enormous gate blocked his way out. He pounded at it, trying to find even the smallest crack that he could use to get out, but it was useless. It had been made to keep much more powerful things out or in. He tried his hand at climbing the walls, but even though the wasps still paid him no heed, the cracks and dents that could have served as handholds vanished before he could reach them.

At last, he sank to the ground with his back against the enormous gate. The first time he’d entered the Dreamlands, he would have though that there had to be a way out. Now, he realized that this was vain human optimism. He’d only escaped the first time because of Lorick. Noel had no idea if he could count on that again.

It was hours before he heard the familiar whir of the Dancers. Noel gritted his teeth and forced himself to get to his feet. It might count for little, but he wasn’t going to bow down. At least not until the King gave him no choice, which admittedly was likely to come sooner than Noel wanted to consider.

He only held marginally less antipathy toward the Dancers than he did toward the King. They weren’t devoid of personality and independent thought. Noel had grown uncomfortably familiar with each one of them during his first time in the Dreamlands. But that counted for little. They possessed an unwavering devotion to the King. They were living tools to be wielded by him in any way. The Dancers would not torment Noel of their own volition, but they would alternate between gentle touches and torture depending on what the King ordered them to do.

At least the three approaching didn’t slice out at Noel, and there was no laughter in their voices. That was...possibly a good sign. For now.

The one out front spoke.

Isetnofret, Noel’s mind supplied when he heard her voice. He could still feel her slender fingers coated with an oily substance, slipping inside him.

"You are blessed, Charlie Dowd. The King wishes us to prepare you. It will hurt less this way.

Noel dug his fingernails into his palm to focus on what she was saying now.

“It is nighttime where you come from. The King wishes us to escort you to your quarters.”

Quarters? That was a fancy term for whatever the hell awaited him. “And if I don’t want to?”

The Dancers exchanged glances.

Another, Goriel, replied. “You are a guest here. You may wander anywhere in the city that is not barred. However, the gates will not open for you, and you will not find the things humans need to survive outside of the King’s care.”

Noel sighed. Well, he hadn’t been able to make any headway outside. And despite what they said, he highly doubted this alleged freedom was as generous as it sounded. “Fine. Take me to my...quarters.”

Chapter Text

“Quarters,” as it turned out, was an apt enough word. The room was large. Easily thrice the size of his bedroom at home, and if the two doors besides the one they entered through were anything to go by, there was more to it. Globes of crystal that seemed to contain fire hovered in the air to illuminate the room. One in each corner and one at the midpoint of each wall. They were attached to no wall, pole, or chain, yet seemingly needed no support.

A queen-sized canopy bed with golden bedclothes was placed in the center. Delicate yellow netting reminiscent of the Dancers’ robes trailed from its top. In contrast, the walls were of the same black stone as the entire city. No windows or art, but shelves laden with books were built into the wall to the left of the bed. Though Noel was skeptical of what the King would consider good reading material, he had to admit it was an improvement over his previous stay in the Dreamlands. At least he wasn’t being chucked into the prison pits just yet.

To the right of the bed was a fireplace and in front of that a small table and chair. A goblet of some liquid and a plate of what looked like chicken and potatoes rested on the table.

Goriel gestured to the meal. “The King thought you might be hungry. He recommends you eat. Afterward, we are to help you bathe if-”

“I’m not a child! I can bathe myself!” Noel snapped.

“As you wish.” Goriel’s voice was even. He gestured toward one of the doors. “The bathroom is through there.”

“Hmm.”

When nothing else was forthcoming, Noel sat at the table. He was hungry. Kayne had given him plenty of food, but the last time Noel had eaten had been before he’d heard Arthur. That had to have been over 12 hours ago. While Noel didn’t entirely trust the food the King gave him, he’d learned during his first time to eat when he could and to not be picky about the food. Refusing to eat out of fear of what the King had put in the food (or even what the food was) would only lead to Noel feeling worse when the next punishment came. The meal at least looked, tasted, and felt like chicken, potatoes, and water. Better to be content with that than to worry if it was an illusion.

The Dancers hovered over him, silent and watchful as he ate.

“So…” Noel said. “What’s after this?”

The third Dancer, Aurelia, was the one to reply. “After this, you may do as you wish until the King says otherwise. We are to attend you.”

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance you could leave me alone?”

Noel got the feeling they were glancing at each other beneath their masks. There was a sound that, were he not in the Dreamlands, could be wind or whispers. Voices but with no words that human ears couldn’t fully distinguish from ambient noise. Noel knew this was the way they talked to each other and doubted it was a language he could learn.

“If you prefer it.” Aurelia answered. “Though we will remain outside the room.”

Well, it was better than what Noel had expected. Solitude could be a luxury in the King’s realm.

”Welcome home, Charlie.” Isetnofret murmured as she turned to leave.

“Welcome home!” Goriel and Aurelia chorused as they filed out of the room.”

Noel had to grit his teeth to keep from responding to that. The worst part was that they weren’t mocking him. Their tone was sincere. The Dancers, who had chosen to leave behind whatever lives they’d once had to serve their King, couldn’t imagine others resenting the King’s attention. Lashing out at them over this would change nothing. It was a waste of energy.

Noel hastily finished his meal and rose to explore. The door Goriel hadn’t explained led to a walk-in closet full of extra clothes. The yellow robes, Noel already knew he’d never wear unless forced. However, there were several suits and trench coats not too different from Noel’s usual wardrobe in New York. The books on the shelves were a collection of classics, including various tomes of poetry and the complete works of Shakespeare. Overall, it seemed to be a room put together with care for the occupant’s comfort. Which naturally made Noel uneasy. It would only be a matter of time before the rug was ripped from under his feet. Still, there was nothing Noel could do to escape nor prevent whatever was to come, so he’d enjoy this while he could.

The bathroom looked like it was made by some rich prick who enjoyed showing off. Everything from the toilet to the bathtub was made of gold. The tub was at least three yards in diameter and had steps leading in. It already contained water, which was good since it didn’t appear to have faucet or drain.

Noel tentatively dipped a foot in and waited. The water was hot, but not overbearingly so. When after several seconds nothing felt wrong, he descended the steps into the bath. The water felt soothing as it lapped against his muscles. Though Noel still didn’t trust anything about this whole set up and was certain it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped, he let his eyes drift closed.

So…Arthur and John had been here, along with someone named Lillith? Or was that some lie the King had concocted? After all, the King had only spoken about this after Noel had brought them up. But Noel had heard Arthur. Or maybe Kayne had created an illusion. Or the King in Yellow. Noel wasn’t sure which was the worse option, but he knew he needed to add finding the kid to his list of things to do.

Kayne had mentioned Arthur and John a few times in the time they’d been together, but never enough to give Noel a solid idea of what was happening with them.

“Oh, they’re running an errand for me! Don’t worry about it!”

“Arthur and John have moved on! They’ve forgotten about you. Forgotten about Oscar. Even forgotten about the Butcher. They’re more interested in Dick.” And then he’d broken into a cackle. “Get it? Oh, of course you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, Arthur and John? Well, they’re just falling to pieces! BAHAHAHAHA!”

But hell if Noel knew how he could get to them when he had no idea where they were. First to work out how to get out of the Dreamlands, but he wouldn’t be able to do that tonight. Probably not even the next day, but then at least he could get a better idea of why the King had brought him here and develop a plan. Maybe. He hoped.

A half hour of soaking didn’t alleviate his anxiety, but it did help him think more clearly. The first time he’d been in the Dreamlands he’d learned how to take advantage of moments of calm. When the King had been bored with him. If Noel hadn’t slept when he could, he would have lost whatever sense of self he’d still had. Like it or not, he’d need to do that again.

Not knowing how to drain the tub, when Noel was done washing, he simply left it and grabbed a towel from a hook. The towel at least wasn’t yellow. It was white cotton. When he glanced back at the tub, the soap suds in the tub seemed to vanish on their own until the water was as clear as when he’d first seen it. Shrugging, Noel dried off and redressed.

The first thing he did after reentering the bedroom was to tear the nightmare-fuel netting from the canopy of the bed and shove it into the closet. He didn’t need to wake up from a nightmare, limbs tangled in those. It was only when he returned that he noticed something resting on his pillow. A diadem. The band was braided gold, and a diamond was set in the middle. Noel was no judge of jewelry, but it looked like something made for royalty. He chucked it across the room. He wasn’t sure whether it did anything or was just a decoration, but he wasn’t going to dress himself up like a member of the King’s court.

The mattress was softer than anything Noel had slept on before. The moment he lay down and pulled the blankets over him, the lights dimmed, allowing just enough light so that, if Noel needed them, he could find his way around the room. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

His dreams weren’t pleasant, but at least the nightmares were of the normal variety, the type he’d had before he’d ever heard of the King in Yellow. In it, Noel was wandering through what looked like some type of hotel. He could hear Arthur calling out for him, but every time Noel thought he’d found the room the kid was in and kicked in the door, his voice would come from the opposite direction. Eventually, Noel had searched every single room, only for an entire new floor to appear.

Even so, Noel felt more rested when he woke. Breakfast was set out on the table. Pancakes and juice. The Dancers hovered around it. Noel wondered how long they had been there and whether, if he asked, they’d stay out unless he gave them permission to enter. He doubted it and decided not to focus on that now. As much as he disliked them, the Dancers were only as much a threat as the King wanted them to be. They wouldn’t act without the King’s orders.

“Mornin’.” Noel muttered, tossing aside the blankets and moving to the table.

“Good morning, Charlie Dowd.” Isetnofret replied. “The King wishes to see you.”

Suddenly, Noel’s stomach clenched, and he didn’t feel hungry. Nevertheless, he lifted his fork and began cutting the pancakes. In the Dreamlands, there was no telling when the next meal would come. “Well, I don’t want to see him.”

She waved a hand. “That is insignificant.”

“And if I refused?”

“You have no choice,” came the expected response. “The King rules this domain. You are a guest and must obey his wishes. If you did not come with us, we would carry you.”

“And by guest you mean prisoner.” Noel corrected.

“The King says you are a guest, so you are a guest.”

“Ah. So, I can leave then?”

“If the King permits it.”

“Then I’m a prisoner.”

“The King says you are a guest.” Isetnofret insisted.

Noel let the matter drop. He chewed as slowly as possible. He briefly considered refusing to move anyway on principle, but he knew it was only a matter of time before this good treatment ended. Quite likely during the meeting with the King. No point in making it come sooner.

The King had seen fit to provide him with a hairbrush, a toothbrush, and toothpaste, but no razor to shave with. Noel dragged his morning grooming process out as long as he could before going out to meet the Dancers.

His quarters weren’t far from the throne room. A left out of his room and down a hallway. Right at the first intersection, then down another through a pair of massive doors. Noel memorized the route. It might come in handy, always assuming the layout didn’t rearrange itself according to the King’s whims.

The King sat on his throne, every bit as imposing as he’d been the night before. Other Dancers pirouetted around him, but they moved to the sides of the room as Isetnofret, Aurelia, and Goriel escorted Noel forward. The three Dancers knelt before their master, but Noel remained standing. He knew all too well that there were limits to what he could do here. That before this stay was over, he’d be forced to do many things he couldn’t stomach the thought of. But he was determined not to acquiesce to the King’s demands willingly.

“Charlie Dowd is here.” Isetnofret spoke as though Noel wasn’t visible just behind them.

“Thank you.” The King waved a hand to the side. “You may rise and let us speak.”

Isetnofret, Goriel, and Aurelia rose and moved to join their fellow Dancers.

“Good morning, Charlie. Did you sleep well?”

Noel steeled himself. “You know, I gotta say no. Room was nice, but its owner leaves something to be desired.”

“I suppose that is...understandable.” The King paused. “I was not kind to you during your previous stay. For that, I apologize. I guarantee this time will better.”

For a moment, Noel couldn’t process what he was hearing. He hadn’t known what exactly to expect from the King, but it wasn’t this. Yet, the words were so utterly inadequate compared to what the King had done to him. “You...you apologize?!?” Noel laughed. “10 years! You tortured me for 10 years, and you apologize?!?!”

The King shifted on his throne. “Yes. I am aware that does not undo the damage. I have come to see that, for a human,10 years is quite a long time. Nevertheless, I am sorry. If there is anything I can do to make amends-” The King broke off as Noel burst into wild laughter.

Noel couldn’t help it. He felt like he’d gone mad. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he’d spent too long alone in the Threshold and none of this was real. Or maybe he’d never left the prison pits the first time and everything that had followed was one long hallucination. It was more plausible than the King apologizing.

The King tilted his head as though curious at the sight in front of him. “I don’t understand-”

“You want to make amends?” Noel found his breath. “Send me back to New York. Or Arkham. Hell, even Harper’s Hill. Anywhere but here. I don’t want to be here.”

The King sighed as though in frustration. “I am afraid I cannot do that, Charlie Dowd. Were I to send you anywhere in your world, Kayne would find you in mere seconds.”

“I don’t care. I’ll take my chances.” It wasn’t as though Noel relished the idea of that, but Kayne wasn’t worse than the King; he was just different. More powerful, perhaps, if Kayne could be believed, but just as sadistic.

“No.” The King’s voice was resolute. “You are perhaps unaware of all that has transpired and of what Kayne plans to do. There is more than your whims at risk.”

“WHIMS?!?”

The King continued as though Noel hadn’t spoken. “John and Arthur will find it hard enough to stand firm against Kayne. You would just be a distraction.”

“A distraction?!?! Listen to me, you pedantic fuck. I-”

“Kayne has the Blackstone and will be searching for the Manager and the Obelisk. He-”

“Hey-” Noel interjected.

“-will do anything, use anything and anyone to convince Arthur and John-”

“Backup-”

“-to give him what he-” The King droned on.

“Shut up for five seconds!” Noel shouted. He wanted to argue, to rage against the King, but he had absolutely no idea what the King was going on about.

To his surprise, the King did not punish him for his outburst, though the long yellow fingers gripped the arms of the throne tightly. When the King spoke, his voice was terse. “Very well, what is it?”

“What the hell is the Blackstone and the Obelisk? And who’s the Manager?”

“Oh,” The King’s grip relaxed. “I suppose Kayne has kept you even more in the dark than I imagined. Are you aware of Azathoth at least?”

“Who's that? Another one of you freaks?”

A sigh. “I suppose I should assume you know next to nothing then. How disappointing. Azathoth is the Lord of All Things, and Kayne’s father. In a sense, he is the creator of your world. He has been asleep for eons, and your world is merely a dream of his.”

“A dream...a dream in what sense?”

”In the sense that were he to wake, all of what you know would cease to be.”

That wasn’t an easy thing for Noel to wrap his head around, so he just accepted it for now. Many things in the Dreamlands tested what humans would consider truth, and if one dwelled too long on them, trying to understand the illogical, one could go mad. He’d ponder all the King told him later.

“Kayne wishes to become the most powerful being in all of existence. To do this, he has traveled through every timeline and dimension to kill the other versions of himself. All but one, who escaped: the Manager. The Blackstone and the Obelisk are powerful artifacts that will allow Kayne to kill Azathoth. Kayne’s hope is that if he slays Azathoth, he will become the supreme god and be able to start over.” The King drummed his fingers on his throne. “That would not be good for my world or for yours.”

“Ah.” Noel said. “I see.” He didn’t. Not fully, but he got the basics. Kayne wanted to end the world. “And where do Arthur and John come into all of this?”

“They and Lillith, Kayne’s daughter, are trying to stop him. To do this, they have traveled to your world.” The King grew quiet for a moment. Noel got the sense that he was contemplating his next words. “John has... he was... John and Arthur have been through much since you last saw them. I know of it, or most of it at least. What John was there for. Yet perhaps it would be better for them to tell you when they can. Kayne sent them to England, but a different version and time than your own. From there, they went to the Waylay, then to the Dark World, and at last back here. There was a point where John and I merged into one, but he decided to return to Arthur.”

“Can’t say I blame him.” Noel muttered.

He found some relief in this. That John had rejected his other half. Noel had liked John, but the detective would have been lying if he didn’t admit to wondering how much he could trust that feeling. All he knew about John had come from others. From Arthur. From the Grand Vizier relaying his words. From Kayne.

“Oh, sweetie! Trust me. You’re better off with me! Poor Artie doesn’t know what Johnny boy is capable of. What John’s done to Arthur so many times, if only Arthur remembered it! At least I’m honest about who I am.”

But if John had rejected the King, then that was at least some sign Noel’s faith in him wasn’t misplaced. “So, if Arthur and John are off trying to save the world, what are you doing here? Sitting and waiting for the blow to fall?”

The King’s voice took on a note of irritation. “I am unable to travel between worlds, fragmented as I am. There is little I can do. However, that is why I decided to rescue you from the Threshold and bring you here.”

“Rescue...?” The word left a sour taste in Noel’s mouth. It didn’t fit with the King.

“Kayne,” the King continued, “will use any bargaining chip necessary to force Arthur and John to comply with his demands. I cannot gather all the people Kayne could use, but you were at least within my reach.”

His reach... Noel couldn’t forget the feeling of those fingers. The times he’d lain helpless in the King’s grasp, tentacles binding every limb, making movement all but impossible. Being unable to do anything but take whatever pleasure or pain the King had forced on him, tentacles thrusting into every hole as those fingers roamed over him. Or the times those fingers had torn at his flesh, leaving him wounded in ways no one could have survived without supernatural intervention.

“Yeah, well, no offense, but if it’s a choice between being here with you and where the action is, I’d rather you sent me to where Arthur and John are. You want to help them? Send me to them. You can do that, right? Even if you can’t send yourself?” Noel couldn’t stay here. He’d go mad, if he hadn’t already.

The King made a dismissive sound. “I could send you to your own world, but I have lost sight of Arthur and John, which likely means they are near Kayne.”

“Then send me-”

“But I will not send you back. As I said, this is more important than even you. Your bravery does you credit, but were Arthur and John to waver in an attempt to spare you, the entire universe would end. I am not willing to risk that. You may not be safe even here. Kayne is vastly more powerful than I am. Nevertheless, searching for you would take him time, and he is more likely to resort to other tactics if you are not in the Threshold or in your world.”

It made sense. Noel knew that. If everything the King was saying was true (and that was something Noel would need to debate later), Noel would only be a hindrance. He had no idea how to defeat Kayne. He’d been putty in the god’s hands. Even so...

“Isn’t there anywhere else? Some other dimension?” He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t.

The King nodded. “Many, but few that would be pleasant. Why? Are your quarters not to your liking? If there’s anything-”

Noel broke out in a humorless laugh. “It’s not my quarters, you dumb fuck!” The Dancers shifted uneasily at this. “IT’S YOU! YOU TORTURED ME FOR 10 YEARS, AND YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST APOLOGIZE AND EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE! WELL, IT’S NOT! I DON’T WANT TO GO ANYWHERE NEAR YOU! I...I....I just want to go anywhere but here! I can’t...”

Isetnofret, Goriel, and Aurelia started to move toward him, but the King motioned for them to stay to the side. “I understand.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I’m afraid I cannot let you leave the Dreamlands, Charlie Dowd. At least not until this is over. But while you are here, you are free to move about Carcosa as you wish. Any area I do not wish you to enter will simply be blocked from you. No inhabitant of the city will harm you. And when this is over, I will send you wherever you wish to go.”

“That’s not enough!” Noel insisted. He couldn’t be here. Not while everything reminded him of his past imprisonment here.

“Perhaps not,” the King allowed. “But the only alternative would be for me to make you think you were elsewhere-”

“No!” Noel took a step backward, but no one tried to grab him. He’d had more than enough of the King’s illusions, and he wasn’t going to enter one willingly.

“Then you will be my guest here indefinitely.”