You drift in and out of consciousness. Your waking moments are filled with pain, running from the tingling tips of your fingers, down your spine, and slowly spreading and consuming your entire body in an ache that burns so badly, that you refuse to move. The hours you spend asleep are plagued by nightmares of a cruel witch, sinking her claws into you and ripping your arm off.

You don't think that it really lasts long before you're back to a stable condition, but it feels like weeks when you're dreaming. Time almost seems to go backward, and it slips between your fingers and drowns you, leaving you so disoriented that when Terezi tells you that you've only been unconscious for two days, you are genuinely surprised. Two days? Only two? It's a mathematical impossibility, but everyone confirms it for you.

John, when he's handing you food, and you manage to croak out the question, Jade when you wake up with her and Rose at your bedside, and Karkat…

Well, he doesn't come to see you. Not while you're awake, anyway. That's probably your fault, so you can't be too mad at him. You do spend far too long rolling it over in your head, though, analyzing his motives from every possible angle.

You probably shouldn't have kissed him, now that you're thinking about it. Being separated for all that time, all the worrying you did over him… It's like how you used to feel about John, but your old feelings for him feel like a childish, schoolgirl crush compared to how you've started to think about Karkat. Kissing him, though? You couldn't have made a worse decision. He's probably going to yell at you like John is once you track him down, and slap you and reprimand you for being disgusting enough to kiss another boy. That kiss at the top of the cliff was probably only because he knew he was going to die. You wonder if he'll believe you if you say that the kiss was only to serve as a distraction.

On the third day after you're put to bed, you're awake enough to figure out where you are. Still in the Condesce's castle, unfortunately. The place gives you tingles of unease in your gut, but you don't really have anywhere else to go.

"If you try standing before that wound is healed up," Terezi all but growled at you, pointing at your shoulder, "I will gut you and tie you down with your intestines if I have to. Stay. Put." She looked like she meant it, too. And you take what Terezi says under hard concentration a lot of the time, though you didn't have to spend a lot of time thinking about that statement before you were agreeing with her.

Your stomach has nothing left but a jagged scar, so it isn't the issue here. No, the problem is that, every time you try to move your arm or put pressure on it, your stitches split open. Terezi curses you out the entire time she's fixing them up and wrapping them with fresh bandages. Your hand works mostly fine. You can make a fist, though you can't turn your wrist very far. Your writing was loopy before, but when you're allowed to try it out again (with Terezi's permission), the once thin, elegant letters look more like chicken scratch. It's not very encouraging.

"Why are you staying here?" You ask Feferi when she comes to see you on the night of your fifth day here. "You have your mother's money now - you could go anywhere. You could leave it all and be someone."

Feferi gives you a sad little smile. It's only been five days since her mother's death, but the stress is obviously weighing on her. She has bags under her eyes, rumpled clothes, her hair is tangled, and she's pale and fidgeting in her seat next to your bed. "I am someone." She says quietly. "These people can't govern themselves, and I need to give the land my mom stole back to the rightful rulers. Maybe I should appoint new Lords of the land…" She bites her lip gently. "I wish it was just as simple as leaving, Dave, but I have two funerals to plan."

Terezi doesn't let you go to the funeral, but John tells you about it afterward. Only their friend group had been there, and it was rather… uncomfortable. Feferi buried her mom next to her grandmother, in the same plot of land where all of their ancestors had been laid to rest. Apparently, the Condesce had ordered a mausoleum to be constructed for her eventual death, made of smooth, flawless marble. It has her name, and the family crest carved everywhere. There was nothing that Feferi could do about this at the moment, but John tells you that she saw it only right to lay Sollux to rest there. It had been a trial to get his body dressed for the funeral, but apparently, after he had been mostly drained of blood, the mess was easier to clean, and have a nice suit fitted for him.

"I don't think it was a new suit." You remarked calmly, looking out the window next to your bed while John told you the story. From your position, you can't see much aside from the extensive forest encircling the castle. It's a vast ocean of green, and you let your thoughts get lost in it. "I think it was the suit he was going to wear to their wedding."

For the services, no one had been quite sure what to say. Feferi had spoken for her mother, but hadn't seemed surprised or disappointed when no one else had anything to add, good or bad. Sollux's reception had been… longer. According to John, she had started to tear up halfway through and pressed on, and there is a note of pity in his voice as he describes how Feferi hadn't broken to tears until the lid of Sollux's marble casket had been sealed into place, and everyone - even Eridan - had managed at least a handful of parting words for Sollux. Then, she had leaned into Eridan's chest and cried as quietly as she could manage. You don't fault her for this.

Social graces indicate that, because of her fiancé's untimely death, Feferi should be wearing all black for at least a month before seeking out a new man to court. But she hasn't done that - her wardrobe hasn't changed in the slightest. There isn't enough time to properly mourn Sollux and her mom. She has a city to run, property to divide, decisions to make, money to manage… The stress of being the queen of three countries was thrust upon her shoulders overnight, no warning or preparation whatsoever. You can hardly blame the poor girl for crying when she has been given so much stress in her life so suddenly.

She is polite and gracious enough to let you and her friends live in her castle, while she toggles between countries with Eridan by her side while he assists her in working everything out.

You get the nicest room, because the castle staff absolutely refuses for it to go any other way. It's actually almost… creepy. After Feferi made an official announcement about the truth behind the deaths of your parents and your disappearance, the staff redoubled their already annoyingly insistent efforts to bend over backward for you, as though it somehow makes up for their late mistress's treatment towards you.

Terezi tells you a story about how when she tried to stitch you up the first time, when you were still unconscious, the Condesce's official doctor on staff had argued with her over the stitching pattern she had used for almost thirty minutes, until she stuck him with the needle herself and he got the hint.

You find this amusing. When your friends are too busy to fight off the maids who are constantly trying to come through your door, you get pampered to such an extent that, even as a prince, you find it strange and uncomfortable. You barely even make it two days before you're insisting that they stop. You're royalty, goddamn it, not some kind of god.

Instead of focusing on you, you tell them to spread their efforts to your friends. And, you ask one of them to check on Karkat for you and tell you how he's holding up. None of your friends will mention him. You tried to ask John if Karkat was at Sollux's funeral, only for the subject to be abruptly changed. You inquired about Karkat's health to Jade, and she suddenly remembered that she had been meaning to ask Feferi about starting a small, indoor garden to keep herself busy, and then left. It goes without saying that you have grown somewhat frustrated with them.

However, when you ask the maid to look at Karkat for you, she sighs. "Highness, I don't want to be the one to tell you this." She admits quietly, looking at her feet in shame. "The staff was told not to mention it, because it would upset you. But I can't lie to you. Master Karkat has… left."

You blink in surprise. "'Left'?" You repeat. "What does that mean?" You can't believe that He was actually allowed to leave without being stopped. Karkat is in a fragile state right now, and as soon as you start thinking about the poor mental state he was in, thousands of horror scenarios flood your mind. What if he's dead? Kidnapped? Or, if he got lost without food and is slowly dying of starvation?

The nurse looks incredibly uncomfortable now, but continues regardless. "He… left once he was told that you were awake." She says slowly, eyeing you as though worried you're going to lash out. "He- well, the staff was told to keep a room ready for his return. Apparently, he needed time to… "find himself," the way Master John puts it."

John. Of course.

"Why didn't you tell me that Karkat had left?" The words are out of your mouth the second he steps through your door the next day. Ordinarily, you wouldn't be quite so blunt with your frustrations, but this is ridiculous. You can't get out of bed, you can't be trusted to feed or bathe yourself - and no one even bothered to tell you that Karkat has been gone for over a week! You are injured, not helpless, and you will stand up right now and kick John's ass if that's what it takes to make him understand.

At the accusation, he pales, and shifts in place. He acts like he's going to back out of the room, but you fix John with a hard glare and he sighs. The door is shut, and he approaches your bed. He doesn't look regretful - not really - but he does look sorry. "He didn't want you to know." John sighs. "Look, Dave, you have every right to be mad at me for lying, but Karkat needs this. He's been through a lot recently, and some time to clear his head will be… good. There's a lot of things that he needs to think about. He asked specifically that I hold off on telling you for as long as possible. And, before you ask, no, I'm not sure when he's going to be back."

You open your mouth and then close it. That… answers most of your questions. John must have been thinking about what to tell you for a long time now. You feel your anger dissolve, and with a sigh, you fall back against the bed. You aren't looking at John anymore, but he stays by your side. He really knows you too well. You lick your lips - your mouth is far too dry. "Why didn't he want me to know?" You ask after a moment.

John doesn't reply immediately. You hear his breathing, but he doesn't move or make a sound for a painfully long second. "I… think that he… that he left partly to spend some time- thinking about you." He admits, wringing his hands nervously. "That kiss really, um, confused him. He needs time, Dave."

You try to give Karkat time.

But one day turns into a week, and into a month, until you've run out of excuses to stay in Feferi's castle. Your shoulder is healed - relatively speaking. You still can't really move it, but the skin is staying together without stitches, and you aren't bleeding anymore. Word of your survival reached Derse, along with the even more surprising news that your sister is alive. You think that your people are going to burn this castle to the ground if you don't head home and allow yourself to be crowned king. And you aren't trying to avoid your royal responsibilities. You just…

You want Karkat to be there for the coronation.

Rose talks you into it, though. She packs up her stuff, makes a travel suitcase for you, and drags you and Kanaya all the way to Derse. Well, what she actually does is get a carriage and talk to Kanaya animatedly the entire journey while you sulk, but you still really don't want to be going. Karkat isn't back yet, and truth be told, you don't think he will be returning. He has nothing to come back to - no responsibilities or commits that tie him to you.

It's… disheartening, but that's alright. You think that being king will be good for you. And, more importantly, it's good for your people. When it comes to being a king, your father taught you that the ruler must push aside everything about themselves. The people come first - always. So, you can accept this. You're going to miss Karkat horribly, but… really, what is one person you've lost compared to the good of hundreds of thousands?

You pointedly ignore the nagging ache in your heart. You don't have time to miss Karkat, or fully embrace his absence. You're busy, from the moment you step foot into your castle.

Immediately, you're launched into wardrobe. Your father's crown was recovered, and you have lessons in that - practicing walking and dancing and eating with the extra weight on your head. You meet with a group of speechwriters who all think that they know exactly what you should say. You have a meeting with your dad's advisors - now yours - and they spend over half of the meeting discussing brides from other countries and nobles that are eligible for marriage, and the pros and cons that come with each of them. You tune out of that conversation, and let the bicker while you stare out the window and dreamily imagine what kind of wedding Karkat would like. You bet that he looks great in a suit.

They don't settle for any girl in the meeting, which is a relief - you don't like any of them. You don't know any of them. What you do know is a long list of their father's income, family crests, ancestry, possible advantages to the countries should you take so-and-so as a bride, and everything from the length of their daily lessons to who their great-great-great-grandfather was, but by the time all is said and done, you haven't learned a thing about any of their personalities. Favorite colors (Karkat told you that he's secretly always liked soft hues of yellow), or ambitions (Karkat wanted to build a real life for himself - family and all), or even if they like you at all (Karkat liked you - and you hope that he still does).

You have a week to prepare for the coronation, and in that time, you hardly ever see Rose. You're both swept up in plans, some of which you're pretty sure are supposed to make you fall in love with your sister. It's not like it's uncommon, but… it's safe to say that you are severely uninterested, and Rose doesn't have a much more positive view of the idea. She's just not your type.

On the night before your coronation, she barges into your room while you're busy trying to memorize your speech for the following morning. It was written by your group of advisors, and you kind of want to scrap it and toss it away. It's so boring that you can barely get through three sentences of it without yawning. You're grateful to see Rose, and you get to your feet so that she can drop into your chair with a huff, the ten folds of her stupid skirt puffing up to ruin the dramatic mood.

She pushes the folds down impatiently, frowning at you hard. "Dave," she speaks after a moment of staring, "how do you know if a girl likes you?"

You don't reply. You stare at Rose, and open your mouth, just to close it again. Girls? Your sister is asking you about girls? "I… am not sure how to answer that." You say slowly. "The only experience I've ever had with "girls" is Jade. I mean, there was the possible wives dad introduced me to over the years, but Jade was the only one who I think liked me. But, she pretty much scrawled the words on her forehead, so I don't think I can answer your question." You smirk faintly. "And, Kanaya strikes me as the quiet type, anyway."

Rose isn't even the slightest bit surprised by this. She groans and gets to her feet, holding her head in her hands. She tugs on her hair, and flings her arms up before dropping face-first onto your bed. It's been ten years since you last saw your sister have a meltdown like this. She fumbles for one of your pillows, pressing it to her face and letting out a scream of frustration.

You quickly pull the pillow away, hoping that no guards heard. You start to tell Rose to calm down, but she cuts you off before you can get a word out. "She's infuriating, Dave!" She snaps. "I got her to be the apprentice of the head designer on staff - she wants to create clothes to be closer to her aunt. I thought that we would spend a lot of time together, as I was going to obviously need new measurements and an entirely different wardrobe, but no, I get nothing! Every time I try to talk to her, she makes up an excuse to leave, or avoids me entirely! Did I do something wrong in the process of trying to be a good friend? Oh, God, she's been weird since even before the confrontation with the Condesce - do you think she hates me? Is it obvious that I like her and she's disgusted? Is that how girls are? I'm sorry, I just- I didn't get a lot of experience with girls when I was with Disciple-" you make a mental note to try and contact your ex-leader, "-and Kanaya is just- she's so complicated! I thought that we really connected, Dave, but- well, what if it was all just a lie so that she could get a big and important job, and now that she has it, she sees no reason to speak to me?" She bites her lip, twirling a strand of hair around her finger so tightly that you can see white lines in her skin where it's constricting blood flow.

You sit down next to her on the bed, and hesitate before putting your good hand on her shoulder. "Um… I think I know what she's doing there, at least." You say slowly. You think back to when Karkat was avoiding you, and being cruel to you, so you would want to stop being his friend. He said that it was to protect you, but you don't see what Kanaya could be protecting Rose from by staying separate. Of course, there isn't much of a problem with them being together, aside from-

Oh, right. The fact that she's a princess.

Wait.

You know that you must have shock written all over your face, but Rose doesn't remark on it. She talks for another few minutes before kissing your cheek and leaving, and you continue to sit on your bed. Your speech is forgotten, and now, your mind is whirling far too much to allow for sleep.

Is it… possible that Karkat- loved you? You can't help the small, fleeting hope that he still does. You want Karkat to love you, because you love him so much that your chest aches. God, how did you not see it before? All the support, the way he would gladly lose days of sleep for you, how your state of mind was always his top priority. You were so focused on John and being in that stupid wheelchair to even pay attention. And now-

Now he's gone. You wasted your time, and you let him go. You don't think Karkat will come back, and you honestly don't blame him. Your opportunity for something with him has left, and you're kicking yourself for allowing that to happen. How could you have been so completely blind? You can't believe that your feelings took so long to register with you. Looking back, it's so obvious. You're holding your head in your hands, running through every conversation you can remember, every time you thought that he might be staring at you, every little inflection that you never thought anything of at the time…

You get up to blow out the candle by your desk, putting the speech away. You aren't going to need it. And even if you had any desire to recite it before, now you can barely be bothered to pick up your feet to collapse in bed. You're still in your normal clothes, but the silk and fur are nice enough that you don't mind sleeping in it.

You sigh and close your eyes, trying to relax. It doesn't go so well. Your dreams are filled with fuzzy objects just out of reach, and familiar, warm hands holding you close.

Predictably, you're exhausted in the morning. You walk over to the large window overlooking the front of the castle, watching the commotion below with disinterest. A lot goes into a coronation. Firstly, everyone who's anyone is invited to watch. Afterwards, you're to travel around your capital city to great your subjects and receive adoration. There are decorations to plan, cleaning to do, food to cook, security to set into place… and a future king who needs to get dressed.

You don't get to bathe yourself. Instead, you are mauled by a team of ten maids and scrubbed so thoroughly that they must have completely taken off a layer of skin. You're sore and tender, but that doesn't stop the wardrobe team from cramming you into the most ridiculous outfit you've ever worn. It's bigger than some of Rose's dresses, and the result is a spark of blond hair overtop a virtual mountain of silk. You feel awkward and bloated, and moving is hard. You doubt that you'll be able to eat like this, but that's fine. You aren't supposed to eat until the after party - where you raise a glass in your kingdom's honor and are allowed to remove the heaviest robes and partake in the food prepared.

You're given your schedule by a member of your council. The actual coronation will be first - you're going to be escorted downstairs by the most decorated knights, and then the Head of the Church will say a few words and put the crown on your head, officially naming you as the king. Afterwards, there will be a trip down to the town in your carriage, where you're going to give that speech you've ignored, and address the people. Lastly, you return home for a party with the nobles and aristocrats that usually lasts an entire week. Your advisor is sure to remind you that there will be plenty of eligible young ladies in attendance for the event. You want to tell him that you don't care, but instead, you merely nod and keep your mouth shut. A king does have his duties.

Mostly, it's just easiest to tune everything out. You paint a smile on your face, and let yourself be ushered downstairs, to the throne room. As promised, the Head of Church - a short, squat man with barely any facial features - addresses the room with his wheezy little voice, and when he's finished, places your father's crown on your head.

You stand, waving and smiling to the cheering crowd. You aren't sure what the huge fuss is about. You could have placed the crown on your own head, and skipped the speech. But, tradition is tradition. You thank the man, as you're supposed to, and shake hands with people you're lead past on the way out of the building.

By now, the sun is high in the sky. You can't believe how quickly the hours are ticking away. The enormity of it all suddenly hits you, even as you're taking a seat in your carriage. Rose can't join you, but you wish that she was allowed to. It seems ridiculous that they would name someone like you king. You're nothing but a child - how can you be expected to know how to run an entire country?

And what about the short term? You have a speech to be giving soon, and you have absolutely no clue what you're going to do. You look out the window to try and understand where you are, but all you see is unfamiliar buildings and rubble. You aren't sure how long you've been away from home, but the citizens have gotten very good at making progress, Hundreds of new homes are up, though the ash from the fire is still being swept away.

You remember Karkat describing the devastating flames to you once, and your heart squeezes at the memory of him. You would have listened to him talk for hours, gladly. And he was always willing to extend the same courtesy to you. Karkat has always been there for you. He always believed you, and listened to your thoughts, your fears, the internal struggles…

He was the only person who looked at you as though there was something worth seeing.

The carriage rolls to a stop, and the door is propped open for you. You step out, squinting against the light. You do have a new pair of shades (courtesy of Feferi), but they don't make the festive town square seem any less bright.

As soon as you step out, the noise is deafening. Your ears hurt, and you want to shrink back into the carriage. But your parents always lived a secluded life, and kept you hidden from all except the people they thought they could trust. You've lived with these people. You know them. You know what they want.

So you stand up straight and tall, and plaster a smile on your face, waving at the people as you cross from the steps of your carriage to the raised stage they've placed in the square for you to stand.

Despite the burnt buildings surrounding them, the people are incredibly pleased to see you. They cheer and shout your name and clap and stamp your feet, and there are music and singing, all of it so loud that you have trouble focusing. But you know that they need something to feel good about, so you stay quiet, waiting for them all to calm down.

It takes a while, though you don't mind the wait. It's nice to see these people happy. You even recognize a few of them from the time you spent working here. Automatically, your eyes flit over to John's bakery. You wonder if his dad is alright. At some point, John mentioned that his dad had been out of town during the fire, but coming back to that husk of a home, and his son missing… You search out his face in the crowd, though you don't find it.

Maintaining your smile is one of the most difficult things you've ever had to do. How can they expect you to smile? The town square was your home. It was one of the few places you ever felt like you belonged. This is where you met Karkat. He had bumped into you (on purpose or on accident, you aren't sure), and you, with your superficial need to be as helpful as possible, had invited him into your life without a second thought.

You try not to think about Karkat. You can't. It's too much to juggle. When you're king, you need to accept that there are some things you'll never have. Karkat is one of them, and you need to move on.

Around you, the crowd finally quiets. The last of the music fades out. You keep smiling. In the back of your mind, the last bits of that speech you're supposed to give fades out into obscurity. You don't need it. You feel almost serine, because you know exactly what your people want to hear. It helps to have lived with them for a while.

"Today, I am your new king." You speak normally, but in the anticipation of the crowd, your voice seems to boom, carrying for miles. "You all should, therefore, be my subjects. But I am not my father. I'm not going to lock myself away in that castle as though you all don't exist, or don't matter. I see you all," you pause for a moment, "as equals. Partners, in running this country. I may make the laws, but you all keep us going. There would be nothing for me to rule if it wasn't for all of you, and as your king, I'm going to do all I can to make each and every person feel as important as I think they are.

"If I'm going to be honest with you all, I'll go ahead and admit it. This morning, I was dreading the prospect of being king." You reach up, and remove the crown from your head, drawing gasps from the audience. It's understandable. The king is never supposed to remove his crown during a formal occasion such as this. You turn it over in your hands, inspecting the gems that had been replaced, and the gold that had to be bent back into place after that fiasco with the Condesce. It's still a crown, but it's a little broken and a little bent. You think it's perfect. "This crown," You hold it up, "is as much yours as it is mine. A king is nothing without his people, and it is with a heavy heart that I thank you all for allowing me to be your ruler."

As you set the crown back on your head, you are met with a roaring cheer from the crowd. It's twice as loud as the one they had greeted you with, to the point that the stage vibrates beneath your feet. This time, your smile is a little bit less forced.

You just wish that you could have shared this occasion with Karkat.

The advisors aren't going to be pleased, but you don't give a damn. They're "advisors," specifically because the most they can do is offer you their council. Nothing gives them any control over you.

You're driven back up to the castle with the cheers of the crowd still ringing in your ears. It feels… good. You think that you can find a purpose in life by being king. It is what you want, isn't it? You have complete control over this country. No one else can ever be quite as influential, so why don't you do some good with all that power?

You wonder if Karkat would be proud.

The rest of the day passes in something of a blur for you. Of course, you attend the royal feast after your little speech, and you eat until your stomach aches. The food is definitely something that you've missed about the palace life. One of the only things, actually. You don't much care for the socializing that you have to do afterward, but it isn't a big deal. You just shut off your brain, and greet people with a few phrases you've memorized specifically for events like this. A lot of people want to talk about your parents; what good rulers they were, how much you look like your dad, how sorry they are for your loss.

None of them mean any of it. You don't really care for their lack of sincerity, though. You put most of your attention to the windows, waiting for the sun to hit the horizon. Then, it is socially acceptable for you to leave. You entertain your "guests" until then, though. You talk to a few young ladies, all single and practically throwing themselves at you, but not one of them stands out. They all want to talk about how much money and power and land they can bring you. Not one of them asks you a single question about yourself - personally. You aren't sure why you expected them to.

It goes without saying, but you leave the room feeling apathetic, and no closer to a suitable bride than before. What kind of girl would you want, anyway? You aren't sure. Marriage between royals has very little to do with love, so you would want a girl who was easy on the eyes, and had a pleasant personality. If you're going to marry, you want to be wed to someone who can be your friend.

You trudge up the stairs, muffling a yawn. Oh, you can't wait to sleep. Your bones are aching, and you want nothing more than to sleep for a solid 24 hours. You wave to the guards stationed outside of your bedroom. They don't return it, but one of them reaches out and opens your door for you, their eyes still fixated on the wall behind you. When you were little, you thought of it almost as a game - to see if you could get these guards to move or flinch or blink. They never did. Now, all you do is walk by them, and into your room.

It's dark, but you don't think much of it. It's late, anyway. Your eyes could use a break from the brightness.

You take off your crown, setting it in its case, perched on your nightstand. You close it, and flick the locks into place so that it doesn't open on its own. Your room feels a little stuffy, so you pull back the curtains over your thin windows, watching the bushes and trees in the garden flit with the breeze that's barely there. You take a deep breath of the fresh air, and shrug out of your robes. Contemplating the silk for a moment, you merely fold it gracelessly over the frame of your bed. You don't really care if one of your thousand robes has a crease in it.

"You aren't very perceptive." You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of someone's voice, whirling around to face whoever spoke. Your hand slaps to your hip, for the sword that you know isn't there, and you freeze. "It's either fate, or sheer dumb luck that you're still alive, Dave, because there's no way you're still breathing thanks to awareness of your surroundings."

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, and you struggle to catch up with what's happening - to think of something at least semi-intelligent to reply with. But nothing comes to you. "Karkat…?" You manage, taking a weak step forward. "Is that you…?"

He steps out of the shadows of your room, reaching up and pulling his hood down to expose his face. You realize with a start that he looks ten times better than he did the last time you got to see him.

He's bony still, and you think that he always will be, but it's not to an unhealthy degree anymore. Beneath his loose-fitting clothes, you can see better-developed and honed muscle, and you can't help but rake your eyes over his body approvingly. The bruises under his eyes have relaxed back into normal bags, and his skin looks a couple of shades darker. Mostly, though, you notice the look in his eyes. Unlike before, there is no empty, expressionless stare when he looks at you. He's smirking now, faintly, but still unmistakably doing so.

"Yeah, it's me." He says. "You always were good at astute observations, Dave." His words sound mocking, but you're left confused by the tone he uses to say them. It's almost… affectionate.

You step closer to him, close enough to reach out and touch, but keep your hands to yourself. All of this should be so straight-up and simple for you, but instead, your mind is spinning, grasping for some rope of reason to root yourself in. You aren't sure how he got up here, especially without tipping off anyone. "But- but how did you…?" You can't find a way to finish your question, but you don't need to.

Karkat shrugs, as if breaking through your security was the easiest thing in the world. "Rose helped me out, I'll admit. I wanted this to be a surprise, so we couldn't raise any alarms." He sighs, and pushes off of the wall, approaching you. He gently grasps the front of your blouse, tied in the front in an elegant bow, and tugs on it until it falls away.

The purpose of doing this is completely lost on you, but if he was aiming to make you flustered, he has succeeded in flying colors. Your shirt hangs open now, giving quite a good view of the flush creeping its way up your body. You turn a deep shade of red, and while you feel embarrassed, you can't bring yourself to look away from his eyes. God, you've missed just looking at him.

"I don't think the silk really… suits you, your highness." Karkat says with a severe expression, leaning in a little closer. You almost let your eyes close, almost lean in and meet him halfway, but…

Instead, you place a finger to his lips, shaking your head as you step back and move away, back to the window. You take a deep breath of the fresh air. You need a moment to calm down and think about this. When your face doesn't burn anymore, you turn back to Karkat.

"Look," you sigh, running a heavy hand (your only functioning hand) through your hair, "as… as much as I would love that, Karkat, you can't just- I mean, I'm glad you got some self-confidence and personality back after your trip, but you can't just saunter back into my life and kiss me. No, you- there's so much that's been going on in my life. I'm a king now." You say the word with detestement, grimacing. "You could be killed for being found in here, you know."

Karkat looks like he's struggling with something for a moment, but then he lets out a slow breath, and nods. "I know." He says quietly. "I've been gone, and I'm sorry. I wanted to come back the moment I left, Dave, but… I needed it. I made up with my mom - somehow - and I… I found myself again after so long with the Condesce." He takes a step towards you, and when you don't make a move to protest, he takes another one. "I'm- I'm not arrogant enough to believe that you're just going to throw yourself at me. You have every right to be angry with me. But I came here to make up with you, and I'm willing to wait as long as it takes."

You huff out a bit of laughter. "I already forgive you." You remark quietly. "I just… I don't know, Karkat. Everything's so confusing. I have to marry some random girl selected for me, regardless of if I like her or not. I was ready to give up on being with you to be a good king, but- is it selfish of me to want both?" You bite your lip gently.

Either Karkat moves really fast, or he moves really quietly, because the next time you look up, he's taking hold of your hand. You don't pull away, relishing the warmth as he gives a soft squeeze. "Dave, it's okay to want something for yourself." He says soothingly. "You're one of the most selfless people I know. And it's completely fine to want things, as long as you're not hurting other people with it." He smiles at you, and your heart skips a beat.

There are so many things you want to say to Karkat. You want to tell him how beautiful he looks, how proud you are of all he's done, how much you adore him in his entirety… Words don't properly describe how much you love him. You want nothing but the best for Karkat, and you want to make him happy. After all he has been through, he at least deserves that much.

But rather than stumble over words and make a fool of yourself, you merely tug Karkat closer, awkwardly positioning both of your arms around his slight body to hug him close. "I missed you." You mutter against the crook of his neck.

Bony arms go around your waist, and Karkat sighs gently against your cheek. "I missed you, too, Dave." He says, his voice so faint that you would have missed it had you not been paying attention.

You want to kiss him.

All you would have to do is lift your head - merely brush your lips together, and that would be enough for you. It would be so easy.

Instead, you give Karkat a squeeze and don't let go for a long, long time. You don't need to kiss him to tell him how you feel. Without uttering a word, you're breaking down in his arms, and you let Karkat piece you back together with his touch. You let him back into your life eagerly, and when you finally do leave Karkat's hold, it's only to move to your bed and hold him to sleep.

And for the first time in a long time, you can be certain that he'll be there when you wake up.

A/N: I was thinking about writing a little mini-story with Karkat's journey. It wouldn't be terribly long, maybe just a oneshot or a handful of chapters. I'm not sure how many people would want that, but it's up in the air if that's something you're interested in. It would mostly be full of OCs, but I think it would be fun.

One last chapter to go!