"No." But there's a flicker of uncertainty in his face, a brittleness to the insistence: "I am myself, and no one else."

He believed it when he first started fighting. Or at least he'd been angry enough to insist. He's not sure which it is, anymore: the Dark World is not kind to anyone, but it is even harsher to those without a title to wield. How long had he managed as John Doe, down there?

It doesn't matter. He is here now, and he's going to get Arthur's body out of this pit.

"I doubt anyone here would be granted a clean death." His tone is grimly certain. "That wouldn't be his style."