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They hadn't spoken since they had left the village -and more importantly for Arthur's peace of mind Horig- behind. Arthur did not care, body occupied with not stumbling over the roots and fallen branches John failed to call out in time and mind still mulling over how quickly he had given into Horig.
Survival, John had called it but at what cost, Arthur thought bitterly.
Stop, John then suddenly said though and Arthur froze. “What is it,” he said, hand automatically reaching for the rapier, body tensing up. There's something lying in front of us, John said. It appears … I think it might be a body. “There's much death in these woods,” Yorick chimed in. “Is it moving?” Arthur asked, ignoring Yorick's less than helpful comment.
I can't tell. The sun is about to set, shadows and darkness growing larger and larger. If it's moving, it's not doing it in any noticeable way. “Maybe it's just a dead deer.” Arthur said. “Or a fox.” These were woods after all and as Alexander had proven, they were inhabited by normal animals too and not just monsters. They had just happened to stumble across more monsters than animals so far.
Maybe, John said, sounding sceptical. It looks … oh. There's blood, Arthur. A trail of it, behind the creature. Arthur's body, already tense, froze up even more. “How much?” Too much for whatever is in front of us. “Can you see something hiding in the bushes?” Arthur asked, voice barely a whisper now. His hand rested on the handle of the rapier, ready to defend them from whatever might be lurking in the trees around them.
As if he had even managed to save himself from Horig, a part of him mumbled.
No, John said. There's just the trees surrounding us as far as I can tell. Get closer to it, I want to see if there's anything strange about the body. “Are you sure it's safe?” No, came John's irritated reply. But I can't see anything from over here, Arthur.
Reluctant and with his hand tightly on the rapier Arthur took a few steps towards the body. There was no relief when they weren't immediately attacked but Arthur felt his body relax slightly. Lean down, John instructed and Arthur complied, bending over.
It is … I cannot tell what it is, John then said after a few moments of silence. Or rather was. It’s dead, that much is obvious. Stabbed by the looks of it though the holes left are weird, the edges of the wounds even as if it had been impaled by something round. “How many wounds are there?” Arthur asked, feeling the usual tug of curiosity but weirdly faint this time around.
A lot, John said bluntly. It's a mere pulp of bloody flesh now, any clues to what it might have looked like alive unrecognizable. Stabbed or impaled or whatever the hell happened so often any identifying features are completely destroyed. It appears too small to be human though. And I think there's fur underneath all that blood.
“A bear couldn't have done that. Nor a wolf,” Arthur said. “Yorick, can you tell if this is Mother Darkness’ doing?” “No,” Yorick replied almost immediately. Arthur frowned. “No, she didn't or…” “No, I cannot tell. I do not feel her presence here.”
But do you feel any other presence? John asked and Arthur silently gratulated him on the restrain in his voice. You almost couldn't hear his irritation. “No,” Yorick replied though. “All I feel is your presence, my King. And your’s, Master.” It was something, Arthur supposed though he wasn't quite sure what exactly.
“Maybe it’s a hunt gone wrong,” he said, standing back up again. These aren't wounds made by arrows, John countered. Arthur shrugged. “Spears then or whatever the hell else they use. It's not like either of us is all that familiar with the weapons used in these times.” I suppose, John said though he still sounded sceptical. Either way, I think it's best we keep going.
“Agreed,” Arthur said. “This way, right?” Yes, John said and Arthur started walking again, leaving the carcass behind them. “Maybe it's a hunting group from Castle Kerringford,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “The castle could be nearby.” Perhaps, John said, sounding absent-mindedly. It's just…
“Just what, John?” Arthur asked, feeling curious against his better judgement. He did save you, some part of him mumbled. Saved the both of you and didn't sell himself out. Unlike you. “What are you thinking about?” Arthur asked louder, trying to drown out his thoughts.
It was a lot of blood. “Yes, you said so,” Arthur said with a frown. Too much blood for a body this size. Arthur, I think something else was bleeding there. “Huh,” Arthur said, not sure just what to make of that information. “I suppose that's good, right? If whatever has done this is hurt, they are less of a danger to us.” Or they might be even more desperate, John said grimly.
“The Prince too was desperate to survive,” Yorick interjected. “He did not.“ “Right,” Arthur said, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. At times Yorick felt like a child who had barely learnt to talk and was now very happily testing out his newfound ability. Which given what Yorick had been before wasn't too far off the truth, Arthur supposed. “Guessing will not get us any further.” John snorted unimpressed. That's rich, coming from you, he said. Arthur chuckled. “Well, I don't think we need to solve every mystery we come across.”
Memories of the dance then suddenly, the heady intoxicating scent of the mushrooms and he hadn't just failed himself, had he? He had also failed John, John who had saved him mere days before, John who had found himself and stood up for it, John who said he loved him…
He shut down that last thought the second it appeared. Not like that, he told himself sternly. It wasn't like that. Not for John at least.
“Let's just keep going,” Arthur said, quickening his steps, taking John's silence as quiet agreement. It was around ten minutes of silent walking when he heard the sound. At first Arthur thought he'd misheard. A trick of the wind, his tired mind imagining things.
But then he heard it again, faint but undeniable, and this time there was no mistaking it for what it was. A neighing sound, coming from somewhere in the distance.
“Is that … do you hear a horse?” Arthur asked confused. A long pause coming from John. Maybe we should stop for the night, he then said, somehow managing to cloak his obvious concern as a mere suggestion. “No, I swear I heard something that sounded like a … neigh?”
We haven't seen the road in ages, Arthur. The forest is thick and hard going, barely passable at times for a human, much less a horse. And I doubt these woods make for good hunting grounds even during daytime.
“But I did hear something…” Arthur began, only to be interrupted again by the noise. Far off still but louder now and maybe it was the wind carrying along the sound or maybe whatever had made it was just louder this time but Arthur could definitely hear something that sounded like a horse.
And then the sound came again, echoing almost through the woods this time with the force carried alongside it, and suddenly it sounded nothing like a horse. Pain, Arthur's first thought was. Pain and wild, furious anger, what had sounded like a neigh before twisted now into something deeper, something hateful, something profoundly wrong.
What the hell was that, John said and Arthur felt the cold reassuring metal of the rapier’s handle against his hand, realizing he had reached for it without even noticing. “I don't… I don't know,” he said. “But I don't think it's a horse.” The noise again, louder and therefore maybe also closer, a feverish part of Arthur's mind whispered, closer, closing in, in front of you, behind you, can't tell, can't know, won't know till it was too late and Horig had trapped him with light and a ring of mushrooms…
His back hit something and he flinched and twisted around, rapier raised with shaking hand.
It's a tree, Arthur, John said. Turn back, I need to see what the fuck is going on! Arthur forced himself to obey, even as every part of him struggled against it. “C-can you … can you see something?” he asked, and it wasn't just his voice that was shaking. Get a grip, he sternly told himself. Get a fucking grip. You failed him once, don’t do it again.
Nothing, John said. Yorick, can you tell what it is? “I’m afraid not, my King,” Yorick replied, way too loud for Arthur's comfort. He was about to tell Yorick to keep quiet when there was another loud noise. A fearsome howling, different than the one before, and then suddenly it was cut off, turned into a momentarily pained whimper before falling silent.
“What the hell is going on, John!” Arthur yelled and he was shaking violently, he suddenly realized, body, hand, everything. The horrible angry pained sound again, answered by growling and was it closer now, was it coming from his right, or his left or just behind him, whatever terrifying thing was hiding in the darkness of the trees he couldn't see ready to jump them? And he was standing still, just letting it happen, giving up, giving in, giving in again, again, again.
Arthur, what are you doing?! John yelled but Arthur was already running, panicked breath coming fast, blood pounding in his ear, heart a painful drum drowning out whatever else John was saying. Stop, Arthur, you're running…
John's voice was swallowed by Arthur's yell of surprise as his blind rush was suddenly interrupted. His foot caught in something -root, fallen branch, who fucking cared- and he stumbled forward, arms automatically coming up to break his fall. He landed heavy on the ground, the impact of the fall knocking the air out of his body.
Arthur, what the fuck, are you okay?! John yelled and Arthur blinked several times, trying to shake off his dizziness. Keep our eyes open, John snapped at him. You idiot ran straight towards… He broke off all of a sudden and a chill ran through Arthur when he suddenly realized that the sounds had fallen silent. Mostly silent.
Somewhere in front of him, close, too fucking close, he could hear loud painting. Slowly he raised his head.
It's a … it's covered in blood, John whispered, voice a mix between horror and fascination. Bright white fur, tainted a deep dark red now. Bodies lying around it, not moving anymore, and it's … you were right, Arthur, it's a horse or at least looks like one.
Arthur didn't care what it was or what it looked like. Get up, he told his body. Get the fuck up, already!
Its limbs are long and thin, grotesquely almost so, with uneven white fur growing along its almost emancipated body. Its hooves are weirdly pointed and as bloodied as its… oh, it has a horn, Arthur. Get up, you failure, he screamed at himself. Growing from its head, long and thin and sharp, white as its fur maybe but it's hard … it's hard to tell underneath the red and the strings of flesh hanging off it.
Fucking get up! It's turning towards us, Arthur, stand up, we need to get away. But his useless body was frozen in fear, rejecting every panicked command to move his brain sent.
Arthur, it has … I think it has seen us! It's stomping its bloodied hooves, ears flat to its head, lowering itself… it's going to fucking kill us, get the hell up! Panic now in John's voice, no, outright fear and figured Arthur thought almost listlessly that this was what he’d leave John with as Arthur failed to keep them, keep him, save.
Its horn is pointed straight towards us, getting ready to spear us on it, Arthur, you need to fucking move! He had given in to Horig so easily. All it took was one single moment and he had given up. Maybe this was what he deserved.
Arthur, please, get the hell up, it is… John fell silent all of a sudden then. It stopped, he then whispered. It's lifting its head, looking towards its right, ear moving as if it's listening to something. And now it's … it's leaving, Arthur! It's running off! Back into the woods, away from us! There was relief in John's voice and Arthur knew he should feel it too but all there was was dullness, an absence of anything. He finally managed to move again at least, slowly sitting up, wincing at the brief sting of pain rushing through his body.
Are you okay? John asked, relief turning into concern. Why didn't you move? Are you hurt? “No,” Arthur replied automatically before stopping to actually see if he was right. The brief pain had subsided, the stitched up wound on his stomach felt as fine as it could given the circumstances and there didn't seem to be anything else amiss.
“No, I’m .. I’m fine,” he repeated. Then what the hell was that?! John hissed furiously and Arthur should feel the answering lick of flames at this, his own defensive anger echoing John's. But all he felt was the bitter sting of another moment of failure, of having failed John.
“I don't know,” he mumbled. You don't know?! We almost died there, getting stabbed by that thing- “Unicorn,” Yorick cut him off. “It was a unicorn that almost killed you, my King.”
The interruption seemed to have taken the wind out of John's sails.
I … it didn't look like a unicorn, John said. “It had a horn growing from its head, had it not? Unicorns are creatures with horns growing from their head” Yorick replied. Yes but … it was killing those things! “It was indeed killing them.” “Aren’t unicorns supposed to be good?” Arthur asked, forcing himself to take part in the conversation. “Creatures of purity and uh … well, other stuff.”
“Unicorns are creatures with horns growing from their head,” Yorick said the same moment John said with obvious irritation. There was nothing good or pure about that monster! “I do not know if unicorns understand purity or goodness,” Yorick said. A pause again and it was hard to feel interested in this conversation, Arthur realized, even though he knew he should be.
It killed those … those beings, John said, voice growing louder. “You have killed too, have you not, my King?” That was different! “Yes,” Yorick said. “You understand good and evil. A unicorn does not.” A frustrated growl coming from John and he needed to intervene, Arthur knew. Tell John that Horik didn't mean it that way, ask follow-up questions about this … unicorn, most importantly if and how it could be killed.
“We should leave before it comes back,” was all Arthur managed to muster though. Forced himself to stand up, started walking into what he hoped was the right direction though he didn't really know if he actually cared if it was. Wait, Arthur, John said though. I want to see what the unicorn was killing. Make sure we know what other monsters are in these woods.
There was an emphasis on the word monster, clearly directed towards Yorick. “Must we?” Arthur asked. “What does it matter?” Arthur, John said, sounding both confused and worried. I don't understand … please, just let me look for a moment. Arthur let out a silent sigh and then obediently walked to where John directed him towards.
Wolves, John then said after a long moment of silence, likely spent staring at what Arthur imagined to be a bloodbath. “What?” Arthur asked. It's wolves. Several of them, all stabbed or stomped to death. The wounds appear to be the same as the carcass we found earlier. “It's just wolves?” Arthur asked, feeling a sting of surprise. Yes, it appears so, John said. I had expected something else…
Arthur had maybe too but it didn't much matter, did it. “You looked,” he said. “Let's just leave.” John didn't say anything in reply as Arthur started walking and he was glad for it until John broke the silence several minutes later.
Yorick, what do you know about unicorns, he asked. “They are creatures with…” Horns growing out of their head, yes, I got that part. How smart are they though? “I do not understand this question,” Yorick said. “They are as smart as they need to be.” No, I mean you said they don't understand good and evil? So they don't care?
“Unicorns do not care about good and evil,” Yorick said. “Unicorns are creatures with…” Alright, alright! John said loudly. Arthur, what do you think? Arthur blinked, almost surprised at being included in the conversation. “Me?” he said. “Does it matter?”
A long moment of silence from John. What the hell is going on with you? John then said bluntly, anger obvious in his voice. First you freeze and we almost die, now you don't care to figure out how to survive this? “Look, I don't … I just don't see how this helps,” Arthur said defensively. “Who cares why this monster or creature or whatever is doing what it's doing?”
You care! You care a lot about these type of things! “Yeah, well maybe I realized it doesn't fucking matter!” The dance, the mushrooms, Horig and what good did caring about why when it still ended with him giving in. Giving up. A single moment all it took.
Stunned silence. What's wrong, Arthur? John then asked and the gentleness in his voice was somehow so much more unbearable than his anger. Ever since the village and Horig…
“Let's not,” Arthur said loudly, desperate for John to stop. “Let's just … let’s just keep walking. The castle, that's our goal, right. Not figuring out whatever is going on in these woods.” …if you say so, John said softly and Arthur wanted to apologize all of a sudden though he wasn't even quite sure for what exactly.
There was a heavy silence between them as Arthur kept walking, one not even broken by Yorick.
Arthur's mind was racing as he walked, jumping from Horig to the Hag to himself and to John and then back again. John’s story of how he had defeated the Hag, how he had found himself and saved Arthur had maybe not sounded heroic the first time John had told it, Arthur still in too much pain to fully pay attention, John's words coloured by worry for him even in his retelling. But it had been heroic, it was heroic, it was John not giving in, not bending as the world tried to break him.
And then there was Arthur. Breaking the moment Horig had pushed, desperate and reduced to nothing but a base primal urge to survive.
He had done a lot of horrible things to survive - the foul taste of Faust’s flesh in his mouth at this thought- had failed himself and others so often - Uncle trashing underneath him, Oscar screaming in pain, water dripping from an overflowing bathtub - but he thought he had gotten better. Had become a better man. It seemed all he had gotten better at was lying to himself, he thought bitterly.
Do you want to rest for a bit, John's gentle voice interrupted his dark thoughts. It's quite dark now and I am not sure how smart it is to just keep going with this thing wandering around.
It was a good enough suggestion and Arthur quietly complied, stopping before letting John direct him to a spot underneath a tree. You shouldn't sleep, we might need to move fast, John said when Arthur was sitting down. Voice still so gentle and unlike the anger he did not manage to feel before, this gentleness managed to get through.
A weak smile on Arthur's face, one John wouldn't have been able to see even during the day. Do you want to talk about it? John then said though and Arthur’s smile vanished. “There's nothing to talk about,” he mumbled, too exhausted to turn the obvious lie into something more convincing.
I think there is, John said and it was either a sign of how far they had come or John being genuinely worried about him that he still sounded so damn gentle. Is it … is it about Horig? Yes, Arthur wanted to reply, because wasn't it, wasn't it about lights dancing in the night, about mushroom circles and another damned ancient being and another even more damned cult worshipping it.
But was it really though? “No,” Arthur said. “It's … it’s just…” How to explain this to John, he thought. How to explain that he had fallen so low before but thought he had managed to dig himself out, with John's help, with his own strength. Only to be shown in such a drastic way that it had not actually mattered in the end.
He thought about John telling him what he'd said to the Hag, what he had said about Arthur's love having saved him. And oh, how his stupid heart had ached at that, even as he had told John without hesitation that he loved him too. Even as he had lied to John just how different the love he felt for him was. But then the lights. The mushrooms. Horig. One single moment proving his failure to be worthy of what John felt about him and even less worthy of what he felt for John.
Arthur, I… John said into the silence between them, again too long, again too heavy. “The unicorn,” Arthur interrupted. “Why do you think it killed the wolves?” …I don't know, John said after a short pause and Arthur was glad he allowed the blatant change of topic. There were a lot of them, a pack maybe. Maybe it just enjoyed killing them?
Arthur frowned slightly, feeling dissatisfied with this answer somehow but then, it wasn't like he was actually really interested in any of this. Let's try to keep out of its way and we won't … wait, did you hear that? Arthur's body tensed up. “Is it the unicorn?” he whispered. “Has it come back?”
No, it sounds… it's something else, John said. Can't you hear it? It took a moment but then Arthur actually managed to make something out beside the sound of his own pounding heart. A soft sound, a pitiful clicking noise, the distress and pain in it obvious.
It's coming from our right, Arthur, John said. Slowly Arthur got to his feet. A slow and careful step, a few more then. Arthur, you're moving away from it. He stopped. “Yes,” he hissed. “Yes, I am.” It sounds … it sounds like it's hurt, John said. “And?” Arthur asked. Don't you want to know what's going on? He wanted to close his eyes, count to ten and then run without looking back. “Last time you were angry cause I didn't get away quickly enough.” Arthur said, a spark of his old anger returning. That was different. “Is it?! We're leaving, John. Tell me where to go.” …to your left. Watch out for the tree…
He was interrupted by a snarl and then something heavy collided with Arthur. Fur, something wet, Arthur’s surprised yell mixing with John’s alarmed shout.
Arthur, it's a wolf, it's on top of you, watch out it's… He prepared for teeth burrowing into his throat but nothing came. Instead the body on top of him grew limp, unmoving and unresponsive, and he realized what the wetness he felt spreading on his chest was a moment later.
It's dead, Arthur, John said. Still bleeding on top of you but dead. Arthur raised his hand and he could feel John's moving too, the two of them pushing the dead animal off together. It's seems to have run into the unicorn, John said. A stab wound to its side, deep and ragged looking. Tried to get away probably but didn't make…
He trailed off. Arthur, he then said, and the tone in his voice made the blood in Arthur's veins freeze. It's there. Behind the trees. Watching us. Arthur did not have to ask what he was talking about. Run! John yelled and Arthur did without hesitation.
To your left, John yelled, Arthur flinching as a branch snapped against his face but not slowing down. Deeper into the thicket, maybe it can't follow us there. He felt leaves against his arms, turning into thorns, scratching at his exposed skin. He slowed down, had to, the bushes too thick to keep up his speed.
Faster, John urged though and he tried, he really tried. I think there's an opening ahead… stop, there's something there! It was too late, Arthur colliding with whatever was in his way. There was a moment of confusion when it wasn't a dry fallen branch or more leaves though and instead something warm and furry.
Arthur, John said, sounding even more alarmed than before. It's another unicorn. “What…” Arthur began but then something hit him from behind and there was the sound he heard when the unicorn fought the wolves, that angry hateful noise, a twisted version of a horse’s sound, worse this close up. He stumbled forward, hand coming up and feeling the fur of what had to be the other unicorn, weirdly soft underneath his hand, to stop himself from falling and then flinching away immediately, unsure where to turn.
It's the other unicorn, John yelled. It must have followed us and … Arthur, duck! Something moved just inches away from his face, Arthur managing to get out of the way just in time. It's trying to stab us with its fucking horn, John yelled. To your right, Arthur! He wasn't quite fast enough this time, felt the sleeve of his shirt being ripped and something sharp and pointy scratching along his arm.
“Fuck!” Arthur yelled in pain. It got your arm, Arthur, don't stop, it's coming back! Panic in John's voice and the gun was out of reach in their bag as was the dagger. He fumbled for the rapier but there was a sudden burst of violent pain, his thigh burning as it was impaled and the rapier slipped from his hand as he screamed.
It got your leg, Arthur, you need to get away! John yelled and Arthur couldn't hear him, the pain too fucking much, drowning out his voice. A sickening feeling then of the horn being pulled out and Arthur let out another scream. Arthur, John yelled, Arthur, you have to do something! He tried to move, tried to do anything but how was this different than with Horig?
Arthur, move! John yelled, voice so far away and he had failed him again, failed him the way he had failed everybody. Maybe he thought it was better this way. Maybe the unicorn would leave his body alone once he was dead, maybe John could project himself then without having to consider Arthur's weak mortal form, maybe John would be saved that way.
Whatever awaited John when he was gone, Arthur hoped it was better than him.
It's coming back, it's aiming for your heart! Pain, deep, deep pain and he had tried to become better, be better, live not just survive … and then Horig. Then one single moment proving how he had failed all of this.
Arthur…
Had failed John. As he had failed so many he loved before. As he kept failing them. Bella and Parker. Noel and Oscar. Faroe. Until all he had left was John. And now he’d be gone too. Gone because of him, even though he had told Arthur he loved him. Loved him. Loved Arthur. Loved…
No, he thought suddenly. His hand felt blindly for his right, meeting cold metal. No, he thought again. Grabbed it. “No,” he mumbled almost feverishly, words tasting like blood. “No.” He had failed them. All of them. But not again. With the last of his strength he raised the rapier. “Not again!” Not John too.
The impact of flesh impaling itself on the rapier almost made Arthur's grip slip. He held on though, handle grabbed so tightly it hurt and there was a wet sound when he forced himself to pull it out despite his hurt body’s protests, hearing a loud painfilled whinny in return. For a moment Arthur was baffled at how much like a mere horse it sounded.
You … you got it, Arthur, it's bleeding! John yelled though then. Quick, before it tries to use its horn again! Arthur swung the rapier once more, feeling another satisfying hit followed by another pained neigh. He must have hit its leg this time because he heard the sound of something heavy hitting the ground.
It's down, Arthur, John yelled. Get it before it can get back up again! “The other one,” Arthur suddenly remembered though. He forced himself to stand, his impaled thigh burning like fire as he did so but somehow he managed to keep himself standing upright. “Where is the other one?”
Behind you, it's … it hasn't moved. “Is it dead?” Arthur asked, trying not to get distracted by the pain spreading from his thigh. No, it … it looks … it’s raising its head now, it's trying to … oh. It's looking at the unicorn in front of us.
“What?” Arthur asked, surprised. It's trying to get up, its head turned towards the unicorn in front of you. It doesn't … it seems to have trouble standing. Its horn, it is broken and there are claw marks on its side. Deep and barely healed, dried blood still clinging to the dark fur around the edges. A sound, a weak whinny then, echoed pitifully by the unicorn in front of them. Arthur instinctively raised the rapier again.
The other one is trying to get up, John said. You got its leg but it's still trying to stand and … I think it's trying to get to the one with the broken horn. “Why is it…” Arthur broke off as another desperate and broken whinny came from the unicorn with the broken horn and Arthur flinched when he felt the one in front of them moving.
It's getting up, Arthur! Quick! John yelled and he had his rapier. All it would take was a few more hits to get it back down, to make it stay down. But the unicorn behind them let out another terrible sound, answered once more in kind by the one in front of them and Yorick had said unicorns were creatures with horns growing from their heads. Nothing more. Nothing else.
Movement in front of him and Arthur instinctively stepped away, rapier raised but held still. It's standing, John said, voice tense. Bleeding from its leg and side but standing. Staring straight at us.
Arthur could almost feel the weight of its gaze on him. It's eyeing us up. Not like a predator would but not like a prey animal either. It's just looking at us. A whinny coming from their side. Its head snapped to the right, looking at the other unicorn, John said. And now it's moving, walking towards the other unicorn, its injured leg almost giving in with every step.
A sound then of something heavy crushing bushes underneath its weight and Arthur didn't need John to know the unicorn had sat down. They are lying next to each other. The one with the broken horn is weakly nuzzling the other one’s face. The other one is leaning towards it … it seems it's trying for their horns to touch. As much as they can, I suppose. It's almost covering the others’ body with its own. They are the same size but it feels like it's trying to hide it behind it. To…
“Protect it,” Arthur said softly. “I think it's trying to protect the injured unicorn,” What? What do you mean? “The wolves. You said the other unicorn had claw marks, right?” Yes, on its right side … you think the wolves did it? “And its partn… the other unicorn is trying to protect it. Like animals do. It's just an animal, John.”
He almost wanted to laugh at the realization. Leave aside the horn, its grotesque features, the unnatural sounds it made and all you were left with was an animal protecting another of its kind from a predator. Instincts, Arthur thought. The urge to survive. There was no sense of good or evil to be found in that. Yorick had been right. “We should leave,” Arthur said. Are you sure? “It's hurt. They both are. I don't think it hunted the wolves. I think it was just trying to get them away from its mate.” You think if we go it will leave us alone? Not try and hunt us down once it feels better?
“Unicorns do not understand the concept of revenge,” Yorick interjected, Arthur flinching at the sudden sound. “They are…” “Creatures with horns growing out of their head. Yes. Thank you, Yorick.” He turned away. “Let's leave while we can,” he said. Walking hurt, his thigh protesting at every step but he managed to make it out of the thicket somehow without a horn being rammed into his back.
He took a deep breath once they had left the bushes behind them, the forest floor at least a bit easier to traverse than the shrubbery, even as his leg kept protesting. Let me see, John said after a few more minutes of walking that hopefully had put enough of a distance between them and the unicorns.
Slowly Arthur sank down, pulling his trouser down to reveal the wound. At least it's not your stomach again, John said after a long moment. Arthur let out a shaky laugh. “Not close to death again this time?” he said breathlessly. It has stopped bleeding at least. Didn't go through and missed any major arteries, I think. “Lucky me,” Arthur mumbled, pulling his trousers back up. “Suppose it's better though, if it had hit us lower it might have gotten your foot instead.” That would have been preferable. “It would not,” Arthur said and his stomach twisted at the thought of John feeling physical pain because of Arthur’s failure on top of everything else.
“I’m sorry I froze,” Arthur mumbled, exhaustion driving away the last of his adrenaline fuelled strength.” Don't, John replied sharply. You got us out in the end, didn't you? Like you always do.
Arthur couldn't help but laugh at that, a breathless laugh that turned into a cough halfway through.
“I failed you, John,” he then said. “Just like I did with Horig.” So this is about Horig… “Yes,” Arthur said. “And no, I guess. It's just … you managed with the Hag. You stood true to yourself and saved me. And what did I do? Gave in. Made that damned deal.” Saved yourself, John added quietly. Saved us. “And still lost,” Arthur mumbled. Let his head fall back, shoulders falling down. “So many people hurt because I couldn't be the better man I pretend I am. Because when the moment came, I failed them. Failed you.”
A sudden pull on his sleeve. Lift my hand to your face, John said and surprised Arthur obeyed. John's hand softly cradled his cheek once he was close enough and Arthur almost shuddered at the touch.
Do you think I love you because you never fail, John then said softly. Or because you keep trying so hard to be better? “I … I don't know…” Arthur mumbled, feeling slightly stunned, both at the touch and the words. Everything that happened, and yet you're still here. Yet you still are. Horig can't take that away from you. One moment of weakness and even if you think it's one moment too many won’t take that away from you.
John's thumb started gently stroking over his cheek and Arthur wanted to sink into the touch. “I almost got us killed again just now,” he said. And then you saved us. Again. Like you always do in the end. Almost killed a goddamn unicorn to survive.
“Not just survive,” Arthur said, voice shaking slightly. John's fingers were still resting against his cheek, the contact comfort, warmth and safety. “Live so you can too.” But also something more, something else, something that once again made him think of what John had said to the Hag, had just now said again, to him this time.
“John,” he whispered, unable anymore to hold back the question that had been haunting him since they had left the Hag’s caves. “John, I need to … when you say you love me, just how do you mean it?” The soft caressing of his cheek stopped and he wanted to take the words back immediately.
But John's hand did not move away from his face. I thought it was obvious, he said, voice quiet but steady. I can … I can say it again though if you want me to. I will say it again if you want me to. A laugh escaping Arthur at that. “No,” he said, feeling lightheaded. “No, not now. I think I get it.”
He felt his shoulders relax as John's hand cradled his face, the soft caressing continuing as the burning pain in his thigh eased away under the warmth and touch. Maybe just one moment too, he thought. Just like his failures before, one mere moment.
But John said he loved him not for never failing but for trying. And this, Arthur thought as he allowed himself to get lost in John's touch, was maybe something he could keep doing.