Very, very slowly approaches him, sliding her arms around him from behind. She pulls him just slightly closer to the darkness - far away from him to make things a little more interesting, but not enough to lose control and take him out for good.
She just wants to remind him how good darkness feels like.
"I knew I could count on you, Maxy ♥"
He couldn’t keep himself from startling when he felt arms cling to him, dropping the pickax he’d been carrying to the ground below. His feet stumbled as he was taken to the edge of the campfire’s protection, breath hitching and heart hammering in his chest as he fought against every well-earned survival instinct he’d developed over the years ( has it really been years ? ).
The dark was death. It was insanity. It was Them—
Not anymore. Perhaps it never was. The dark was home. It was her. Her voice — her praise. The last piece of divinity in a dammed world. He focused on it, anchored himself to it, and let himself think of nothing more.
“ Of course, ” his voice a murmur ( the likelihood for one of the survivors to be out this far away from camp in the middle of the night was unlikely, but still he took no chances. He would not waste what progress he'd already made, would not risk his queen's plans ). An almost flustered smile graced his face once he'd caught his breath, though he was quick to smooth it out, “ Anything for you, Charlie. ”
Nothing else mattered, had ever mattered. He would be king again. He would be with Charlie again. The dark could not scare him with that knowledge on his side ( it did ), not when there was clarity in his goals ( there wasn’t ), not when he would stop at nothing to achieve them ( would he ? ).
Maxwell forced his body to relax, letting himself take comfort in Charlie’s presence, soothing the tatters of his mind and drowning out the quiet, stubborn, treacherous thoughts with the growing intensity of Their whispers. This was what he'd always wanted, and the doubt in his mind could not argue with that. Not when he'd spent countless lifetimes craving the chance to repent to Charlie. Nothing and nobody else mattered, and he would repeat it until he could choke on it.
“ Anything, ” the word repeated with certainty, leaning just slightly closer — as much as he could dare — to her, a silent sigh laced with relief falling out.
( it'd always been easier to submit to the dark. )
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