#forced to answer a void wyrm question

[nrd-answers]

wings, how many void worms do you think one can fit on the tip of the needle? (The void worm in this scenario is a hypothetical form of existence that could theoretically exist within the void. Not an actual living thing. I am pretty sure there was an essay somewhere on if there was something adapted to the void but with mass ascension business I cannot be sure if it is still- [connection cut]

< Previous | First | Next >

[nonuggetshere]

Adding on to my previous ask as well as the hermit crab vessels, what if Ina's mask gets broken one way or another?

Do they frantically search for something suitable to contain their shade?

Do they make an panicked trip to the Mask Maker? If they do, does their shade get caught?

What if the White Palace is in shambles thinking they're dead?

Also with the hermit crab vessels and void growth, if their mask gets broken would they be unable to return to their original shape? Having accumulated more void over time? Enough so that they cannot force themselves into the same shape they once held?

Would they return after their mask having been broken entirely new? With none of their injuries and barely the same shape? Or would their injuries be one of the only things that let them be recognized?

-🕊️

(they're out of order, the first one was just easier to screenshot)

I LOVE ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS/IDEAS AND WILL DO MY BEST TO ANSWER BUT GOD AM I TIRED SO IT MIGHT NOT BE COMPREHENSIBLE

Personally, I think the knights think it's a battle scar. They don't think deeper on it and don't pry Ina about it.

Pale King would think similarly but with the added context of him knowing they're wyrm/root hybrid he figures it must be the result of sibling rivalry or they might have even got it from their own parent (wyrm families aren't known for their gentleness), or maybe they got it out in the wastelands. Again, he doesn't pry, especially when he knows asking about one's scars might bring up bad memories.

He might have proposed to have it fixed but Inanis would refuse.

But while the knights and the royals don't pry nor gossip, the rest of the court and the nobles are a different story. The most popular notion is that it's a battle scar, and yeah that does add to their mystery and some nobles do get weird about that.

If they ever break their mask, I think it'd depend a lot on the circumstances, but if it was just them around they'd probably just bline it to the mask maker and hope for the best. If it's done quickly enough and they're sneaky enough, the others might not even realise they're gone.

Personally, I see Inanis as fully grown so most of this doesn't apply to them, but even if they couldn't they probably wouldn't want their scars gone. It's a whole thing with their self-hatred and blame, and them seeing their scars and disability as proof of their failure; they wouldn't want to get rid of them, so they can always be reminded of what's on the line and that they can't fail again.

They eventually would grow out of this mindset, but still even if they could they wouldn't get rid of their scars, now seeing them as proof of what they went through, that they survived it and came out the other side better for it.

I think with the idea of vessels accumulating more void as they grow, I think they could regrow their arm with time (like a crab), if they were still growing. But Inanis is fully grown, so it wouldn't apply to them, for better or for worse.

[ganymedesclock]

Others write about Hollow Knight, you've got a way of making things make sense. Thank you for explaining about arena control with THK and Radi. Today's question: how many dream realms do you think exist? Radi is always called old Light, not Dream. In your read, does "expanse of dream,' 'one realm' 'the green children walked from dream' indicate that there are more than two dream realms out there? Also, WTF is up with that giant mushroom in the fungal core?

As best as I can tell from the lore, the feeling I get is less that there's a finite and discrete number of "realms" as much as that Radiance is a god of dreams, in the way that someone might be a god of war but not personally and singularly causing every single war.

The Seer mentions that Essence is fragments of dream, which she also calls old memories. This also ties in with what we understand of the ghosts- they appear to be echoes or memories of specific people. If Radiance had an actual ownership of dreams/cognition, then she'd have no reason to mind control anybody; she wouldn't be the antagonist, she'd be the setting. A more solid evidence of this is that since the White Palace is itself a very sealed dream, it seems to suggest PK fully expected to be able to hide from Radiance in a dream realm.

(That, or he didn’t care if she caught up to him at this point, but she clearly didn’t get in; the only possible ‘intruding’ element in the White Palace is void from the kingsmoulds)

I think the domain of Dream seems to be a godly context, and Radiance having immense power there is in part because she seems to be an immensely powerful god- one aligned more strongly with her divinity than she is with any sort of mortal or quasi-mortal reality. We can know what PK is- he’s the modified adult form of some kind of giant wasteland-dwelling sandworm dragon. While he’s also a god, he has some kind of context. People can talk about the “ancient caste” and speak of wyrms categorically.

We can’t really know what Radiance is. She is barely spoken of, and when she is, only as herself, the Old Light. The Hunter’s Journal entry for her even describes her in extremely minimalist and absolute terms, and has the Hunter himself musing that he may never be able to understand the force that causes the plague.

Was Radiance ordinary once- or as close to ordinary as PK was, and presumably WL, that sprouted out of this “god-rich” land as Godseeker puts it? Or is she just that much stranger than everything around her? She’s immersed in the domain of dream, of memories and belief. The fact that a whole tier of kickstarter backers isn’t just slid into the game, but recorded in the Shrine of Believers inside a pocket dream realm of its own gives some fascinating metatextual implications. Not that I think Radiance has a direct connection to the “real world” besides being a character in a game- but that the pattern repeated is something about belief and communication and the way things can become distorted as they echo through this space.

To answer your question, I think that dream is the medium through which virtually all of the gods that we encounter and many powerful beings work their power; it’s very omnipresent. Grimm has a special relationship with it, but basically there seem to be emanating/light gods, that generate some kind of dream, and consuming/dark gods that draw extant/ambient dream to themselves, and then both parties are gods because they can then use those dreams to shape reality.

If Radiance’s relationship with dream is unique, it seems to be a layered topic in that she has some amount of an innate special relationship with it, but also, that she is a tyrant of it- that she wants to take all of it for herself and wither any other dream that encroaches on ‘her’ territory.

[ruthlesslistener]

and the pale court album art is super cool and all but it raised more questions than answers about pk's design. idk if you've seen it but in case u did, his eyes look like the vessels, sort of?? Hornet and quirrel dont have those ridges in their official art. Is he hollow inside?? Am i able to poke my fingers into his eyeholes and feel nothing? Am i able to slap his head around like a coconut. Or are his eyes just going to suck me into another dimension. Wyrms s are

Anon I wish I could answer this ask for you but unfortunatly I cannot. That particular image has been haunting me ever since I had the misfortune of looking upon it. I have NO fucking idea whats going on in there, none of my friends have any fucking idea of what's going on in there, and everytime I see it I just wanna stick my fingers in there and jiggle him around like a particularily fucked-up bobblehead bc thats basically what he is in canon

If you want a serious answer? I think that he just has a really thick facial plate, and that his eyes (if they even phsyically exist- he's a god so ) are set deep into his head so that they're sufficiently protected from dirt, debris, or teeth, so he's essentially got a really strong helmet on his face at all times, which would likely make sense in the mind of a burrowing creature that's new to this whole sight thing. Either that, or they're not eyeballs as much as they are highly advanced eyespots that don't rely on refraction through water to form a coherent image. The only reason we have eyeballs with fluid on them is because we just evolved to take the ocean with us, after all, while a creature that's born out of fear, faith, or the earth itself doesn't have that evolutionary background to force it into one means of sight. That's kind of how the sight of his children seem to work anyways, with a flat plane of their shade absorbing as much light as possible through holes in their facial plate so that they can navigate the world around them. If the void just replaced what was already there, then that would explain why we wouldn't see eyeballs in there, bc it's just a concave pit of flesh specially made to absorb as much light as it possibly could. Hornet and Quirrel most likely have the liquid-filled eyes that our ocean-dwelling ancestors evolved, which means that they bulge out of the face just enough to not give that empty eye socket aesthetic

If you want a cursed answer? Those aren't eyes. Those are his nostrils, and he is navigating the world through scent alone, with that stupid-ass crown picking up minute vibrations in the air like some sort of radio transmitter.

[shadowfluff]

HK Deer AU lore

Here is all I have on the Deer AU for now! Lots of spirits everywhere, fair warning! It’s a little bit confusing right now, once I have a better grasp on everything, I’ll make a prettier post!

So in this AU, the world of HK is a flat desert of ash, grey and lifeless. But the surface has been impacted by astral debris quite a lot in the past and it's littered with deep craters where life thrive. And those astral debris also brought some type of life with them, called Spirits, with very powerful spirits being called Higher Beings.

But even though it was not very hospitable, life still developped by itself on the planet, with two different species: the mighty Wyrms, and the frail humans. If Spirits are confined to craters, both wyrms and humans can traverse the ash deserts to travel from craters to craters. Anyway, the first Higher Being to live in the crater that would become Hallownest was Unn, who made her domain a lush forest. But time passed and she grew older and weaker, and let other Spirits take root in her territory, not that she minded because Grandma Unn is simply The Best and you can’t change my mind.

So, after a while, another Higher Being came here, with a slew of lesser spirits to worship Her: the Radiance. Radi was cool with other spirits, and tolerated them on her domain with no problem, but she thought humans lesser and forced them to live on the edges of the crater, away from the protection of the forest. She barely tolerated Unn's followers, but mostly because their worship made them almost more plant spirit than human in the end. During that time, in the cliffs that made the southern limit of Hallownest, a tribe of humans took residence in the dark caverns that littered the cliff face and allied themselves with the Spider Spirits that lived there, the Weavers, and called their new home Deepnest. Then some MORE time later, one of the last Wyrms came crashing through the eastern border and metamorphosed. He was a creature of Light too and Radi did not exactly like seeing him especially since technically wyrms weren't spirit, but she decided to leave him be for now.

MISTAKE since he saw the humans being forced out of the safety of the forest, left to suffer famine and sickness so close to the desert, and he rallied them, managed to convince the other spirits that he would make a much better king and almost killed her by taking her followers away from her. PK did not do that out of the kindness of his heart for humans though: Worship is a great source of power for Higher Beings and Wyrms alike and the humans were numerous, so lots of power, yeah! He unified the whole crater, or at least most of it, and created Hallownest: He also met a magnificient tree Spirit, almost as ancient as Unn and fell hopelessly in love, asking her to marry him after a long courtship, and she said yes! The White Lady wasn't a Higher Being yet, but when she became queen, she was worshipped as well, and thanks to that power elevated herself to Higher Being status.

PK had a beatiful city build into one of the cliffs that litters the crater, diverting away a whole river for that, and it would be the future City Of Tears, once the Infection sets in and the barrage that kept the river away breaks Life is not bad in Hallownest at that time, even though there is a clear discrimination between Humans and Spirits: humans are on the lower rung of the social ladder and it's very hard to climb higher: only the nobles can pretend to live more comfortable lives, but most of them are asshole.

So after a while the Infection happens and everyone turns toward PK for help and answers but unfortunately he has neither of those things. But he knows of the Void below and the great deer spirit who is supposed to rule it, the only Higher Being that was born from this planet, not brought to it, so powerful they could legit devour every other Spirit in the land, Higher beings or not, as well as any living things, really. But PK understands that only the Void could stop the Infection, and the existence of the Shade Lord is just a rumour so why not try it? So he get the Baby Murder Pit idea and convince his wife to have seeds he infused with his own power (as spirits can't have babies the same way humans do), starts treatises with the current queen of deepness for 1) having her as a Dreamer and 2) having the Weavers weave a spell strong enough to contain the Infection, go say hello to the Owl spirit in charge of his capital city, Lurien, so he gets another Dreamer, and hey! isn't that Monomon the jellyfish spirit, please help.

So PK disperses the seeds into the Abyss below, and wait two months before something tries to get out. Now, when he metamorphosed, he obtained an humanoid form, even if his skin is more chitin plate than skin, and his lovely lady is somewhat humanoid too, even if she has more branches than strictly necessary But what come out of the dark is not humanoid. It's a deer. He is horrified both by what happened (technically this... creature could be called his child) and because that somewhat validate the rumour of a Deer Shade Lord living somewhere down here, and have enough influence to force the vessels to adopt a form closer to their own. But at the same time, it can only mean there is indeed lot of void in the Vessels so yeah..? Most of the little ones that comes out of the Abyss show emotions, trying to get petted or seeking comfort from him so he breaks their necks and send them stumbling back into the pit, until one comes that doesn't show any reaction. Not when he inspect it, not even when he pets it, so he says Yeah! Empty Vessel Plan worked! And we all know how it goes from here.

PK trains his pure vessel, discovers than it fed off light so gives it a lot of his own light to eat and it grows MASSIVE (Hollow is much bigger than what a normal adult deer vessel is supposed to be) even use it as a mount the rare times he travels in his kingdom.

Herrah, Lurien and Monomon agree to become Dreamer, with Herrah asking to have a child with him in compensation (because if Spirits can't reproduce the human way between themselves, they can have children with humans, even if hybrids were heavily frowned upon) and thus Hornet is born!

And that’s all I have for now! Don’t hesitate to ask questions, it helps devellop the world even more!!

[lost-kinn]

on page 156 of the fangamer wanderer’s journal, ellina the wanderer writes that she can see “mysterious, colourless spheres” in the abyss, “most of them appear[ing] to have been broken open from the inside with tremendous force.” she goes on to ask “what sort of creature lays eggs like these?” to answer her question, these colourless eggs are pretty pointedly juxtaposed with the “pale, broken egg” that the pale king himself was implied to have been reborn from (111). it’s lovely that “pale” and “colourless” are almost-the-same-but-not-quite, with pale implying an off-white sheen and colourless implying a literal lack of color (reference to void, an absence of something), this lack being similar to pale but not the same as pale. ultimately, this word choice nicely ties together the implication that the vessels are the pale king’s biological offspring; the pale king was born from an egg, and so were his children. therefore, wyrms are confirmed to reproduce and reincarnate themselves through the usage of eggs; on the other hand the white lady is implied to be a pollinating fungus/pollinating rooted plant (hence the bindings to prevent pollination). as such, the pale king is the person in this couple who appears to lay any eggs. in this essay i have demonstrated that the pale king gets pegged.

[mrslittletall]

Title: Off Balance (Chapter 5) Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: The Pale King/The White Lady, The Pure Vessel, Quirrel Word Count: 4.953 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805333/chapters/56064319 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/611130227175849984/title-off-balance-chapter-4-fandom-hollow

Summary: The Pale King wants to confront Hollow about their behaviour and learns a few things himself.

(Author's note: It's sad bug hours.

Seriously, I planned for them to leave for Deepnest soon, but that fic got a mind of its own and suddenly something very different happened. I am so sorry to let you wait for Baby Hornet so long, I promise she will come up soon.)

The Pale King had to admit that the impromptu lesson in sign language was rather interesting. Quirrel mainly taught Hollow about the basics first, that it was possible to spell out every single letter of the Hallownest alphabet, but it was far more common to sign out words and he started with a basic rundown of often used words as well as a few commonly used phrases. The Pale King found himself mimicking the showed signs with his own claws, his attention half at the lesson and half at the time when he still had been a fully grown wyrm, which didn't had fingers or a need to sign. He was able to verbally talk or just send his thoughts right into the mind of whoever stood before him.

While he still was able to do the latter, in his current form sending his thoughts out would get people to worship him, not wanting to communicate. He also doubted (and hoped) that Hollow hadn't inherited this ability. He wondered what they had inherited from him. Looks obviously, that face and horns didn't lie about just who their father was. A tight control over soul. Anxiety. Alright, that last one wasn't the best thing to inherit. The Pale King shook himself out of his thoughts and concentrated fully on the lesson and his child in front of him again.

Hollow seemed to absorb everything Quirrel said, their gaze stayed firmly at his hands and they signed the shown words back flawlessly when Quirrel prompted them to do so. After a while of watching his child the Pale King's gaze shifted to Quirrel and it felt like the pill bug seemed to enjoy teaching Hollow, there was just such a particular shine around him. It felt like he already had took a liking to them, which made the Pale King glad. He was worried that it would be hard for them to get accepted, due to their void nature. Which was his fault. Ah, there was his anxiety again. He went back to trying out the signs Quirrel showed until Hollow's finger wavered and seemed to loose form.

“It's time for bed, Hollow.”, the Pale King said from the back and came closer to lay an arm around Hollow.

“It's rather late.”, Quirrel admitted. “We can continue this tomorrow. Hollow, your majesty.”, Quirrel gave both of them a bow.

“Let's get you into bed, Hollow.”, the Pale King said and they gave him a little nod before he led them out of the library and to their room. Would it have been earlier, before he had accepted them as his child, he wouldn't have come in with them, just put them down in front of the room and went away, but this time he found himself opening the door and waiting as Hollow got ready for bed.

Once they had climbed into bed, they forced their fingers to manifest another time and signed words which he did recognize as: “Good night, father.”

It put a smile on the Pale King's face, he was proud of just what a quick learner they were. Once Hollow's head hit the pillow and he could hear their breathing evening out, implying just how tired they had been, he tucked them in and rested a hand on one of their horns, whispering: “Sleep tight, my child.”

He stayed seated on the bed for a few minutes longer before he remembered that he had promised his Root to also go to to bed timely this night instead of pulling an all nighter trying out how to solve the infection without anything in mind. On his way to his chambers he encountered Quirrel again, who was cleaning his nail and seemed to have waited for him, because he said: “Can I talk to you for a minute, your majesty?”

“What is it?”, the Pale King asked, a knot forming in his chest.

“I wanted to ask for a schedule for the sign language lessons. You are surely busy and it would be better for Hollow to have a clear idea when lessons happening.”, Quirrel said and the knot of anxiety dissolved in the chest of the Pale King, he had expected something more concerning. Mostly about Hollow. Though this conversation reminded him that he had neglected his duties as the ruler of Hallownest sorely lately and his royal retainers would probably not let him off the bat any longer.

“We need to take a look at our schedule before we can decide.”, he said. “We will come back to you tomorrow.”

“Very well, then.”, Quirrel said and shouldered his nail, though instead of walking away, he continued talking: “May I ask another question? About Hollow?”

And there was the knot in the Pale King's chest again. He knew he could easily decline it, but concern won over and he heard himself say: “What is your question? Is something wrong with them?”

“Not physically, as long as I am aware.”, Quirrel said. “I am not really suited to answer this questions, with their body being different. I wanted to point out... during the lesson they were surely eager to learn and very interested in it, but... they never would act without a prompt. They always would wait for me, or you, to tell them that they could act now. This behaviour... is concerning. I... just wanted to ask if you are aware of it.”

The Pale King sighed, that Hollow would never act on their own was his own fault and again and again he got reminded of it, though Quirrel was the first one to point it out to him. Surely Monomon's influence.

“We are aware of this behaviour.”, he replied. “We also have to admit that this is our own fault.” He didn't knew why he added the last sentence, it wasn't like Quirrel needed to know. It wasn't like anyone needed to know how wrong he had raised his child. “We want to work on it, but we first wanted to give Hollow some time to find themselves.”

“I understand.”, Quirrel said. “I thank you for being so honest with me, your majesty, but...”, Quirrel seemed to search for words, “It isn't my place to talk about it, but I wanted to tell you, for children it is important to have clear guidance from their parents while they also feel that they can decide for themselves, especially at Hollow's age. May I suggest that you ask Lady Monomon for advice?” Quirrel looked at the Pale King and then adjusted his bandana. “Ah, but it's getting late, my apologies for keeping you up for so long. We will see each other at the next lesson for Hollow.”

He left and the Pale King looked after him for a while, thinking. He had to admit, he feared that he could influence Hollow any further and because of this had avoided to talk to them about their behaviour. It certainly was a behaviour that he was annoyed with, but it was his own fault that they were locked into listening to orders and after what he had planned for them, he felt more than bad getting mad at them for something that was his own fault. He knew, it couldn't continue like this, he had to confront them about it somewhen and better sooner or later before it became too engraved in their head and would be impossible to unlearn. That paired with the fact that almost nobody knew yet that Hollow was his child and heir and that further paired with the fact that the infection was still lingering and threatening the whole kingdom. These thoughts followed the Pale King as he went to bed and after an hour of just tossing and turning instead of sleeping he found himself in his Root's chambers and leaned against her towering form, feeling how her branches embraced him in her sleep, helping him drifting off to sleep.

When he awoke early the next day his Root was already awake and gently stroked his wings. “When I said I wanted you to sleep, I meant in your own bed, but at least you got some sleep, so I won't complain.”, she said. “Do you want to talk about what kept you up? Is it the lingering infection?”

The Pale King pulled himself up but still leaned against her stem. “This time it is Hollow.”, he said.

“What is troubling you about our child?”

Our child. The way she said it made it feel so real and still, he felt like he barely had the right to call himself the father of said child nor deserve the love they had for him.

“You probably noticed that Hollow will never act on their own unless prompted or just... follow everything you say to them literally?”, the Pale King murmured.

The White Lady stopped stroking his wings. “Yes, yes, that I have.”, she said coldly. “Just yesterday to be precise. Several times.”

“It's my fault that they are like this.”, he said, face buried in his claws. It was early morning and he already felt a headache coming. “I want for them... to unlearn it, but at the same time, I am afraid about confronting them about it. After what I had planned for them and everything. I still can't believe they don't resent me.”

“My wyrm, isn't that obvious.”, the White Lady lifted him up and placed him on her lap... what counted as her lap, it was never clear to say with her plant like body. “You have loved them from the start and they knew it. That is why they can show their feelings to you so openly, now that the burden of their mission isn't on them anymore.”

“...I hate how right you are with this...”, the Pale King said, meaning that he also was the reason that the Pure Vessel turned out to be, well, impure. He didn't regret his choice, accepting Hollow as his child had brought him a lot of joy so far, but there was also a lot of insecurity and anxiety. He just wasn't used to this whole parenting stuff. Especially because for his own race, it was usual to feed the younglings and then kick them out of the nest once they were strong enough to find their own territory to rule over. “I guess... I am afraid that I could do something wrong. Erm, more wrong than I did beforehand.”, he concluded his thoughts out aloud.

“My wyrm, you aren't alone in this.”, the White Lady snuggled him a bit more and he let himself relax in her touch, she always managed to make him feel better. “I am here too and there are bugs you can ask for help. Bugs that already raised children. Monomon for example. Did you know that she found her assistant as little grub and raised him herself?”

What? Monomon surely hadn't ever mentioned this and Quirrel still called her Lady Monomon, which didn't imply a family relationship between the two. He shook his head to answer her question. “I thought so. He told me himself yesterday when I went to talk to him. He speaks in very high regards of Monomon and it doesn't hurt you to get out more. It will also be better for Hollow to not be stuck in here all the time. I already plan to take them with me to the gardens.”

The thought of his Root taking Hollow to the garden made the Pale King a bit uneasy and he felt like he wanted to go with them should she take Hollow out on a trip, though Hollow surely would be fine without him for a day. Or... was it the other way around? Was it him that didn't want to be alone? Had he already become so dependent on his child?

“You are the second person to bring Monomon up in this regard.”, he said. “And as much as I enjoy being cuddled by you, Root, shall we get some breakfast?”

“A wonderful idea, my Wyrm.”, she said and gently put him down, getting up to her full height, offering one of her branches to the Pale King which he took into his claws and left her room with her. Dryya had started to guard it in the meantime and gave them both a bow when they left, though the Pale King felt that she narrowed her eyes at his sight. She had always been his Root's knight and didn't approve of this nightly visits, even though the both of them were married.

The White Lady gave Dryya a friendly greeting but the Pale King had his mind more at the prospect of getting his morning coffee soon. Though he had gotten some sleep in his Root's embrace, it hadn't been too much. On their way to the mess hall the couple encountered Hollow.

They had formed their fingers again and signed what he Pale King recognized as “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Hollow.”, the Pale King said.

“Good morning. Do you want to take your breakfast with us?”, the White Lady said and once again the Pale King saw how they looked at him. He sighed, the talk about their behaviour shouldn't be put off any longer, though it surely could wait after breakfast.

“Please come and join us at our breakfast.”, the Pale King said. It didn't sound too much like an order but was clear enough for Hollow to follow them without further ado.

The three of them could take in their breakfast at peace, the Pale King was especially glad about his morning coffee, pure black and strong, which finally woke him up completely for the day. Hollow seemed to take some interest in his morning beverage, but the White Lady just shook her head and told them that it tasted far too bitter, that made their interest in the coffee dwindle. Good, because the Pale King hadn't intended to share, but he had the feeling that he had gotten weak would Hollow have asked. Oh, who was he kidding, they wouldn't have asked, the would have waited for him to offer them to taste it.

Once they were done eating and all three of them left the room, the Pale King turned to Hollow and said: “Hollow, I need to talk with you.”, but before he could say when and where, his Royal Retainers showed up and it was apparent that they had work for him. “Uh, later then, Hollow.”, the Pale King said as he tried to process all the informations the retainers had for him.

The work for the Pale King had piled up a good deal the few days he had mainly taken care of Hollow, both to teach them how to keep their balance and the days where he had started to treat them like his child, so to his disdain he didn't found any time to talk with Hollow during the day nor finding time to work on the infection. At least he could set up a schedule with the retainers which left the evenings free for him, which he would use for Hollow's sign language lessons and the rest of the evenings (and a few nights if his Root wouldn't find out), would be spend finding a way to fight infection.

Several coffees later, which would make any bug jittery but the Pale King just able to stay awake during the day, he was just used to it so much already, evening finally rolled and after the sign language lesson he finally had time to talk with Hollow as he walked them to their room.

“So, I wanted to talk with you.”, he said as Hollow sat themselves on their bed, their gaze directed at him. “Um... it's not easy for me to bring this up, but...”, the Pale King was at a loss for words. How should he tell them he wanted them to stop doing what he taught them in the first place?

“Hollow, what do you want?”, he asked instead.

They cocked their head and then signed two words: “Make. Father. Happy.”

Oh no, that was too cute, but completely missed the point.

“I mean... I am glad that you think about me, but... I want to know what you want. What would make you happy.”

Hollow looked at their fingers for a while and then got out the journal, the answer probably was too complicated for the rudimentary sign language they had learned so far.

“I am happy as long as I can make you happy.”, they had wrote and they looked far too proud as they presented the notebook to him.

“Hollow, that's not what I mean...”, the Pale King sighed and sat himself on the bed next to them. “Imagine for a moment that I wouldn't exist. What would you do then?”

Apparently, he had said the wrong thing because Hollow started to shiver and then signed: “Not leave.”

“What?! No, child, I don't plan on leaving.”, the Pale King said, laying a hand over their shoulders, flinching at their icy body, but left it there until they calmed down. “Just, uh, theoretically. What would you do if you didn't had myself there to make happy?”

They thought for a bit and then wrote again. What they presented made the Pale King's blood freeze in his veins: “I don't know. I thought I would be the Vessel. I thought I would contain the infection. I never thought about anything that wouldn't be me the Vessel. I tried not to think about anything.”

“I am sorry.”, the Pale King just said, rubbing circles in Hollow's back, taking care to not accidentally hurt them with his claws. Hollow picked up their quill again to ask a question.

“How did you decide to become King?”

Well, that was an unexpected question. “...It's in my nature.”, the Pale King told them. “It's the nature of wyrm's to rule. I was searching for my kingdom and travelled to many places. Then I found it here.” What he didn't told them was, that he had literally died in this kingdom, after a fight with far stronger worm and while he could feel a certain connection to Hallownest, shedding his old body and rebirthing himself had been necessary or he would have died for good from his injuries.

“That is the reason why you fear so much to lose it.”

Hollow hadn't put a question mark behind this sentence, practically stating his thoughts. There he was, he wanted to confront his child about their behaviour and now they were probing into his own mind.

“Well, yes, of course... but I also have a certain obligation to protect Hallownest and now that we don't use the vessel plan anymore...” , the Pale King rambled, averting his gaze. There was a bit of silence as he concentrated on the folds in Hollow's pillow, but turned his head back again when he heard the scratching of Hollow's quill on the paper.

“Father... I can still be your vessel. I know... I wouldn't make it forever, but... I could contain her long enough until you found another vessel to take over.”

The Pale King couldn't, no, didn't want to believe what he just saw them say.

“Hollow! I never want to see you say anything like this ever again!”, he didn't even notice that he had yelled at them, only when Hollow flinched and shivered and... started to cry. Thick, inky tears were running down their face and it was breaking the Pale King's heart. He pulled them in a hug as quickly as possible. “Hollow, I am sorry, I didn't want to yell, it's alright, please don't cry.”, he tried to soothe them, feeling them shivering, not caring that their tears stained his robes. “I... I never wanted to make you feel useless... you... you aren't.”

The Pale King rubbed soothing circles in their back while they silently bawled their eyes out. “I know that you want to please me, but... you aren't the Vessel anymore, you are your own person and I want you to be comfortable being your own person.”, he said. “I know it's my fault... that you can't express yourself... I... I won't force you to do anything, but promise me... that we work on it, alright?”

Hollow stopped shivering and looked up at him, still a few tears dribbling down their face, but they wiped them away with their sleeve (pretty much ruining the robe) and nodded.

“Good. Have you calmed down?”, the Pale King asked.

After a few seconds of blankly staring Hollow shook their head.

“You are probably too upset to go to sleep now...”, the Pale King said. “How about you join me in my workshop until you feel better?”

Hollow nodded pretty much instantly. The choice to word questions like a half order seemed to work. This wasn't only on Hollow's part, the Pale King had to do his part too. He was their father after all.

“We should probably get you a second robe if your first one gets dirty...”, the Pale King said, not paying attention at his own robes which were smeared full with Hollow's tears. Hollow just took their robe off and wrapped their cloak like wings around them. “I guess that works too.”, the Pale King said.

The palace was mostly silent already as the duo walked to the Pale King's workshop, the Pale King could see how Hollow sometimes still wiped their face with their now uncovered arm, the one that wasn't carrying their nail, which they had insisted to take with them. Their old nail was still in their room and while the Pale King didn't knew why they didn't get rid of it, he decided to let them have their way. There were more troublesome things as his child latching onto an old toy. ...It wasn't even a toy. The Pale King asked himself if he should get Hollow some toys, but didn't had a clue what they would even like, especially at their age. He probably should ask Monomon for advice, just as he had been suggested.

Arrived at his workshop Hollow found a chair to sit in and just watched the Pale King, sitting perfectly still, well that wasn't entirely true, he could see them shiver a bit still.

“Wait here, Hollow, I am right back.”, the Pale King said, knowing that they wouldn't have left even if he hadn't said anything.

The Pale King searched for some of the Royal Retainers who were still awake and got lucky, finding a few of them playing cards in their free time, stopping the game immediately when he approached them and bowed, listening quietly to his request and then rushing off, all four of them even though one of them would have been more than enough to handle the task he had for them.

The Pale King returned to his workshop, where Hollow was still sitting. “You can explore the room, Hollow.”, the Pale King said. “Just don't touch anything without asking me first.”

Hollow shook their head and then signed: “Watch. You.”

“Alright then.”, the Pale King said, “Though I won't do anything to exciting. I need to write a few letters first.”

He was halfway through the first letter when there was a knock on the door. The Pale King dropped his quill and stood up, went to the door and encountered the Royal Retainer who had apparently won being the one who would deliver his request and a second one standing behind them, carrying some fresh robes. He took the two hot beverages he had ordered from them as well as the robe and said: “You have our thanks. You are dismissed. Both of you.”

The retainers gave him a bow and hurried off, the Pale King turned around and closed the door with a smack of his tail, walking back to Hollow who had watched the whole exchange, and offered them one of the mugs. “Some hot chocolate for you to calm down.”, he said and then put his own mug down, a cup of his usual black coffee. He stared at the robe for a while, asking himself why they had brought it until he realized that his robes were still stained black from Hollow's tears. He quickly changed robes out of sight of Hollow and then watched them when he returned.

Hollow seemed to light up at the beverage and he could see them “drink” it eagerly, at least it looked like drinking, but like always, he wasn't too sure just how they were consuming any kind of food.

“Be careful, it's hot.”, the Pale King said, but Hollow shook their head, it seemed to be just right for them.

The Pale King sipped from his own coffee and continued his letter. It was the one for Herrah. Now that he had worked out a schedule, he could determine a date for their meeting. He had to admit, he grew excited too, even though the meeting was meant for Hollow's sake, still, the little spiderling under Herrah's care was also his daughter, though he could consider himself lucky if Herrah would let him hold her. He just hoped that Hollow would get special treatment.

The next letter was assigned to Monomon and though he tried to make it sound as formally as possible when he read through it again it pretty much felt like he had written: “Monomon, help, I am a father now and I am not ready.” He decided to let his Root take another look over it before sending it, already imagining at what parts she would chuckle.

Once he laid his quill down, Hollow put their mug on the table next to him and stared at his mug.

“You don't want this, it's not sweet.”, the Pale King said. “Why are you so interested in my coffee anyway?”

“Smell. Good.”, Hollow signed.

“Well, I can tell you that you are still too young for coffee.”, the Pale King said. “Besides, this beverage helps you not sleeping and we want to calm you down for bed, remember?”

“Father not sleep? Mother. Angry.”, Hollow signed.

“I don't plan on staying up all night, I just don't want to get to bed right away.”, the Pale King said. “Besides, I am used to coffee, I can easily sleep after one cup.”

Hollow calmed down after that and then after a few more minutes of watching him as he read the letter to Monomon once again, got up and started to explore the workshop. The Pale King laid the letter down and watched them. Technically he should work on finding a solution for the infection, but with no ideas and still worried about his child, he had to delay it. Hollow looked at pretty much everything and didn't touch anything, just like he had requested, though they also didn't ask for permission to touch anything. They stayed a while in front of the moulds that the Pale King used to form the Wingsmould and Kingsmould, extended their hand but drew it back before they touched it. Lastly, they stood in front of the board on which the Pale King had doodled all kinds of “ideas” getting rid of the infection, but which only showed how out of options he felt.

They turned to the Pale King and pointed at the chalk, asking permission to use it. “Do you want to draw something?”, the Pale King asked and as they took it, he added: “You can wipe the whole board, that stuff was going nowhere anyway...”

Hollow did as he told them and being satisfied that they found a way to pass the time, the Pale King opened a book on the ancient civilization before he came to rule the kingdom, hoping to find some hints in there, getting lost in the words and feeling calmed down by the scratching of the chalk on the board.

He turned around to look at the board to see what Hollow had drawn once the sounds stopped, but felt an icy chill at the words on the board:

No cost too great.

No mind to think.

No will to break.

No voice to cry suffering.

Born of God and Void.

You shall seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams.

You are the Vessel.

You are the Hollow Knight.

These words... he had used them to condition the vessels to their task. Had repeated it to them over and over, so that they would get imprinted on containing the Radiance, containing the infection, living to just complete this task. Seeing how his own child recounted this mantra that flawlessly made him feel small and awfully sorry. Especially when he saw the next words written on the right side of the board.

“When I am not the Hollow Knight anymore, not the Vessel anymore, then who am I?”

Of course they would struggle. Of course they would be unsure of their identity, but the Pale King had never thought about this. He got up and crossed the room to give Hollow a second hug for the day.

“You are mine and your mother's child.”, he said. “And you can take your time figuring out who you are. As your father, I only know one thing for sure. You are Hollow and I love you.” (Author's note: Whoops, surprise angst! Anyone else loving the idea that Quirrel is GREAT with children and often goes teaching classes when Monomon doesn't have much work for him? I am cherishing him more and more lately.) Chapter 6

[aliferous-ly]

For When There’s Nothing Left To Do: Chapter Four

Chapter Summary: Virgil leaves, and there are a few consequences of his actions. Meanwhile, Damian fumes (or, contemplates, depending on who’s asked). 

Pairings: eventual LAMP, chapter contains moxiety 

Warnings: leaving, swearing, deceit, manipulation, verbal manipulation, ghibli tears, knives

Read on AO3

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine

Virgil hated himself.

He also clambered through the woods, following the trail of broken branches.

You’re HORRIBLE you’re awful you abandoned him in the woods he’s all alone and hurting and you LEFT.

A nasty seed sprouted in Virgil’s heart and he pushed at his chest, kneading and massaging, hoping the pain would dull. The disgusted growth of vines and thorns spread through his body, circling his organs and bones, tightening and strangling...

Logan needed him. Logan was alone, Logan was in pain, Logan needed words of affirmation and words of love and words of you matter, you haven’t disappeared–

But Virgil left. Three days, three days of suppressed giggles and brushing hands, of Logan teaching him how to knead dough and Virgil teaching him a game with cards. Their childhood reignited, and Virgil had felt a calm like no other wash over him.

But he left. He left in the middle of the night, moving from Logan’s arms to write a note and gather his belongings and leave, walking out the door like it was the easiest action in the world, through the forest.

Bright, inhuman eyes followed his movements and Virgil nearly keeled over in regret.

“It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine,” Virgil chanted under his breath, climbing over a fallen tree. “It’s fine it’s fine it’s–” his bare forearm brushed against a leaf and it exploded, Virgil yelping in fear and losing his balance.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Logan had said. “I’ve been alone for so long I forgot how it felt to be happy...”

Virgil cried, brushing at his cheeks and forcing himself to his feet. “It’s fine it’s fine...”

Virgil was making them tea. He took his glove off to feel the temperature of the water, expecting it to become perfect or to simply do nothing – as his magic was fickle, but it never did anything he didn’t want it to.

The water froze instantly, cracking the mug from the expansion, and icy fear swept through his veins.

“Find the town, Roman said there was a town nearby,” Virgil said, panting and shaking.

“Who are you talking to?”

Virgil shrieked but managed to keep his balance.

A creature the size of a beaver perched on a branch far above his head. They had luminescent skin and the front of a feline with a monkey-like face. Past their midsection their body turned into a tail, moving hypnotically through the air, their entire body glowing a soft green-blue color.

“Who are – what are–” Virgil sputtered, bringing his hands up in case he needed to guard his chest or neck.

“I am G.” They shook their shoulders, a thin gauze floating out from their neck. “I protect L.”

Logan.

“He didn’t – he didn’t mention you,” Virgil said, which. Probably was not the smartest thing in that moment.

“L does not know about me,” G stated. “I am the invisible protector. Because of L, this forest has gained meaning again.”

“Uh...” Virgil rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating.

“And you gave L meaning again,” G said. “V.”

“What the hell,” Virgil whispered.

“V, why do you run?”

“Get away from me,” Virgil said flatly, starting to walk away. The broken trees and grooves in the ground had already set him on edge thinking of the wyrm, and now this... thing was talking to him.

He made it past two fallen trees when he noticed G floating behind him, quiet and pensive. Virgil turned around and they perched on another branch with their two front paws, this time level with his eyes.

The iris of their eyes seemed to swirl with galaxies, pale green and deep purple mixing in unison.

G didn’t ask again but Virgil knew what they wished to hear.

“How do you know my name?” Virgil asked instead. “Well, the first letter, anyway.”

“V is not your name,” G stated. “V is a bastardization of your name.”

Virgil sighed, a headache starting between his ears. “What is my name, then?”

They opened their mouth and let out an inhuman mixture of squeaks and slides, and Virgil regretted asking.

“What are you?” Virgil asked, again avoiding the answer G wanted.

“I am the spirit of the forest, eternal and void, and protector of L.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Answer,” G said, their voice soft but demanding, a small shimmer of green-blue escaping their mouth.

Why do you run?

“I can’t hurt him, alright?” Virgil snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “God! Are you happy? I can’t hurt him! He doesn’t deserve that!”

“Human,” G said, formerly airy voice hard as steel and colder, too. “You coward.”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Virgil said, words darkening with anger. “I am protecting him. You think I want to leave? You think I want to leave the three best days of my life? You don’t know anything.”

“On the contrary,” G said. They didn’t elaborate and Virgil let out an irritated noise from the back of his throat, continuing his trek through the forest.

His fingers brushed against a pencil, and the pencil crumbled into ash.

Virgil lost his breath. He hadn’t activated his magic. He’d just been holding it...

“Protecting,” Virgil repeated under his breath. His feet jerked, fury remaining from his conversation.

G followed him. “Human, human,” G called.

“Leave me ALONE!” Virgil screeched, voice cracking. “I can’t! I can’t die and I can’t live, my box is missing, my magic is haywire, and I’m a danger! To everything! Around me!”

G stared at him, unblinking. “You coward.”

Virgil yelled and threw a rock at G, sparkling with magic. G vanished into thin air before the rock hit its mark.

Virgil pushed at his cheeks, fresh tears making tracks down his face, and forged on.

The rock hit the ground and sparked for a second before lying, dormant.

—

Patton had no question as to how Roman managed to woo a prince.

And that was how he referred to his former companion, the prince, never by name. Patton wondered if it were a statement of pride – “I personally know a prince!” – or a matter of privacy – “nobody can know his name because I respect him.”

Based on the content of Roman’s speeches, he assumed it was the latter.

Either way, simply watching Roman talk was enough for Patton. Roman used his whole body to talk, gesturing and pacing even, sometimes. His voice, full and deep, sounded melodic to Patton’s ears, and he could listen to Roman all day.

And Patton sent him away at dusk, as he should have, saying a silent goodbye and watching his silhouette disappear into the inn. Night fell, and Patton… well.

But then he came back.

And he stayed.

Patton hummed happily to himself, meticulously working through some embroidery. He’d taken it up a few years ago but hadn’t managed to maintain his former motivation.

Roman gave him his motivation back, and Patton thought he’d give Roman his little handkerchief with small forget-me-nots scattered on the corner, small green vines forming a delicate border.

Once he was done, of course.

A loud bang pounded through the church and Patton startled, the needle pricking his finger. Patton frowned at the small spot of blood, the tiny prick glowing green before disappearing altogether.

Then he focused his attention to the front of the church, his fake smile already plastered on his face as he prepared to address the newcomer–

The smile fell off his face like water off a duck’s back, all the blood fleeing from his face. His skin felt tingly, like he was moments away from being in danger of fainting. His vision tunneled for a few scary seconds, white spots blinking like he’d stared at the sun for too long.

“Damian,” Patton said hoarsely, scrambling to his feet and twisting his limbs awkwardly, like he’d forgotten how to move.

“Patton,” Damian said, his normally smooth-as-silk voice harsh and low, a scratching sound that grated against Patton’s ears. “Been a while, huh?”

“No,” Patton said lowly, shaking and trembling. “No, no no no no nonono…”

“Really, Patton, it’s almost like you don’t like me,” Damian said, voice betraying the underlying truth in his words. Patton hated this, he hated listening to Damian and trying to decipher his words and figure out which were lies, which were truths, which were some gray space in between.

“Get away from me,” Patton forced out, his throat threatening to close completely. “Get – get away.”

“I need to talk to you first,” Damian said, approaching Patton.

“STOP!” Patton held his hand out and stumbled backwards. “I– I don’t want you here, leave me alone!”

“The thing is, Patton,” Damian said slowly, meticulously. “What you want doesn’t matter, eh? You need to do something for me, and you listen, correct?”

Patton viciously shook his head and Damian grabbed onto his wrist, squeezing tightly – a heavy contrast to Roman’s light, caring touch. Panic shot through Patton’s veins and he tried to wrench his hand away, but Damian’s grip was like steel.

“P-please, please let go,” Patton said, his voice started to devolve into sputtering. “I d-don’t–”

“You will listen to me,” Damian said, words like a bear trap. His eyes started glowing a soft gold. “Don’t forget the power I hold over you.”

Various sputters fell from Patton’s lips, indiscernible.

“You will listen, correct?”

“Correct,” Patton said, voice inflicted and doubled for a split second. His hand shot to cover his mouth, tears springing in his eyes helplessly. No no no nononononono–

Damian’s eyes were alight and Patton hated the entire situation, his own eyes wide and fearful. I can’t go through this again, I can’t listen to him again, I have no power I’m weak and everything I do…

“You must bring Roman here,” Damian said. Something broke within Patton, his own little crack. “And you are going to tell him to leave and never come back.”

“You’re wonderful, Patton. You are yourself, simply intensified and overwhelmed. The townspeople don’t see it. But you’re wonderful and your magic does not warrant quarantine.”

A seed of strength and resolve sprouted in Patton’s chest. No. No. He wouldn’t listen to Damian. Not now, not ever.

Patton pushed through and pushed past Damian, falling onto his hands while trying to sprint away, away, away.

Damian shouted and reached around, grasping for Patton, but he slipped out of Damian’s fingers and started crying, large tears dripping down his cheeks. A loud sob tore from his throat and Patton scrambled forwards, the cold church floor slipping under his nails.

Somehow, Patton avoided Damian’s grasping fingers and bolted out the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and leftover thread in his pocket.

A yell sounded from inside the church but Patton wasn’t going back, he wasn’t turning around. All he could do was sprint towards the woods and hope, just hope, that Damian wasn’t following him.

Because Damian wouldn’t be able to use him this time. He wouldn't.

Patton wouldn’t let him.

—

I’m sorry.

Logan trembled, the paper crumpling between his fingers, thick creases cutting through words. Staring at his window, through the glass, into the dense forest.

His legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the floor, shoulders shaking. I’m sorry.

Logan touched his face, veins frozen and water streaking down his cheeks. His carefully constructed dam of emotions cracked.

I’m sorry.

A choked noise jumped from Logan’s throat. The house started to shake.

—

G’s words affected him more than he wanted them to.

Virgil didn’t stop thinking about Logan during his entire trip, which ended up... well, it seemed to be lasting longer than it should. He swore he’d reach the town by now, he hadn’t gotten that far off course when escaping the wyrm.

Dear Logan, by this time you must have realized I’m gone.

Virgil walked around a particularly large tree, taking a moment to feel the roughness of the bark when it started crumbling to ash underneath his fingertips. Alarmed, Virgil drew back. His left glove had turned into liquid an hour ago or so and Virgil didn’t want to touch his extras in case they disappeared, too.

It’s come to my attention that I am a danger to everyone around me.

Virgil came to a stream and stared at it. The storm a few days ago must have been larger than he thought, because the water swelled along the banks and rushed over rocks. The earlier concern about being lost came back full force, squeezing around his lungs and pounding on his head.

After the third broken cup – which I didn’t drop, by the way – I knew something had to be done.

He bit his lip and slowly approached the stream, removing his right glove as he went. The water was ice-cold to the touch, and Virgil plunged both hands into the water until they were submerged.

I can’t endanger you. You mean too much to me for that.

Virgil infused magic into his hands and pulsed. Large sparks flickered from his fingers and a much larger amount of magic than he intended expelled from his palms. The water turned into sand at least ten feet both ways from where Virgil sat. Not waiting another second, Virgil scurried across the stretch of sand before the backlog of water upstream overtook him.

I’m sorry. I know what I did is unforgivable, and I’m not asking for forgiveness, I don’t deserve that…

Something crashed through the trees and Virgil swung behind a large trunk, breathing heavily and peeking out behind the wood. A sniffle, then silence. The hairs on Virgil’s arms raised. Something wasn’t right.

I’m sorry. From Love –Virgil

“Is... is somebody there?”

Virgil startled and pressed his back to the rough bark, hoping and praying whoever had spoken would leave.

“Hey, I’m… I’m sorry for scaring you,” the voice called out again. Ferns rustled nearby Virgil’s tree and liquid terror shot through Virgil’s veins. He started shaking, goosebumps covering his skin.

“Please, I don’t mean any harm.” Their voice sounded not five feet from Virgil’s tree and he swallowed thickly, shrinking down and wrapping his arms around his knees.

“My name is Patton,” they said softly. They sounded nice enough, but Virgil had long learned to never trust anyone, no matter how kind they appeared.

(Maybe… maybe he’d made one exception for Logan. But Logan was a hermit, and he’d started crying within an hour of Virgil waking up, and he was basically Virgil’s longest friend, so he didn’t count.)

“Patton” appeared in his line of vision but Virgil stayed quiet, trying to sink into the tree or maybe under the earth and never come back up.

“Please,” Patton said, voice cracking, worn. “I want – proof, I want to know if Roman was right and I – is someone there?”

Virgil paused. Roman... how many people named Roman were there?

Did that mean Roman was alive?

Hope threatened to overtake his being and Virgil swallowed thickly, pushing the tentative hope deep down, unwilling to set himself up for failure.

“Oh,” Patton said, and Virgil looked up. Their eyes locked.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet, ready to bolt.

“No, please, don’t!” Patton pleaded, stumbling forward. “I’m all alone and I don’t know what to do! Please don’t leave!”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil said. The words came out rough and low.

“I’ll heal you!” Patton said, tripping over his words. “I’ll – I’ll help you in any way I can, maybe, I just...”

Virgil stared at him, eyes unreadable. He wanted to know about Roman but he definitely could not say so outright. “You mentioned someone else before, why don’t you go back to them?”

“Roman?” Patton said, expression changing drastically into surprise. The mere mention of the name had Patton straightening his spine, confidence seeping into his tone. “He’s a friend, I... left him in the village when I ran, but I can’t go back...” Patton frowned. “I wish I could’ve talked to him more... he said he was looking for a prince. No, his prince,” Patton clarified, a finger tapping against his chin.

Virgil’s face flushed and he looked away so Patton couldn’t see. “Sounds flighty.”

“He’s wonderful, you see,” Patton said. “I’ve never had anyone help me before, and the way he spoke... he said I deserved love, like anyone else.”

Virgil blinked. What the hell? “What the hell?”

“Y... yeah! Roman said I deserved love, and I deserved friendship, and I deserved all those other things most people get, even though...”

Virgil’s veins froze. “Even though...?”

“Even though... uh... I have... emotional... issues.”

That was a stretch of truth if he’d ever seen one, but Virgil couldn’t find any reason not to trust Patton, other than the fact that he was a complete stranger.

“Alright, Patton, what do you want?” Virgil said flatly.

“Sorry?” Patton asked.

“You said you didn’t want me to leave. I’m not leaving at this moment. What do you want?”

“I want...” Patton said. “I want to find something. Something valuable to me.”

“And what’s that?” Virgil asked, examining his fingernails.

“A knife.”

Virgil choked on his own spit. “Sorry, what?”

“It’s a knife,” Patton said, spreading his hands out to show the length. “Has engravings on it. One for health. Have you seen it?”

Virgil stumbled backwards, mouth agape as images flashed before his eyes. One for health. He pressed a palm to the rough bark of a tree. Two for strength. Patton made a soft sound of alarm, reaching towards him. Three for aid. The bark started smoothing out under his fingers. And four for when there’s nothing left to do.

The tree solidified into a perfect cylinder of metal, the leaves glinting iridescent green.

“You have a knife,” Virgil said. His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears, which were pounding. “You have one of the knives. I never thought I’d...”

“You have one too,” Patton guessed, lightly touching the cold metal. “You’re one of us.”

“I don’t have a knife,” Virgil said. “Well. I have a box.”

Patton stared at him.

Virgil stared back.

“And with Roman...”

“What about Roman?” Virgil asked, harsh and scorching, too passionate to be for some stranger.

“Do you... do you know him?” Patton asked, voice small.

“He’s.... I’m...” Virgil weighed his options. “The prince. The prince he was talking about? That’s... that’s me.”

“The prince,” Patton repeated, dumbfounded. “You’re the prince. You’re the prince! Oh my goodness, now we really need to find him – Oh, oh, should I bow? I’ve never met a prince before, I don’t know how to–”

“Don’t,” Virgil said. “Don’t treat me like a prince. Just treat me like a random stranger.”

“Okay...” Patton said, trailing off.

He fidgeted, waiting for Virgil to say something. When Virgil remained quiet, he continued.

“That means...” Patton said. “We have three of the four items. Or we know three holders of the four holders.”

“Three?” Virgil said. “There’s only two of us here.”

Patton’s expression twisted into something horribly sad, eyes woeful as he gazed at Virgil. His voice was hushed as he said, “he didn’t tell you?”

A slow realization swept through Virgil but he asked, he had to ask to make sure... “Who?”

“Roman,” Patton said, unknowingly taking Virgil’s world and squeezing it like a lemon. “Two for strength. That’s Roman.”

“Then we have...” Virgil tried to start, mouth dry. “We have one for health, two for strength, and three for aid.”

“What?” Patton said. His eyebrows furrowed, shoulders relaxing as he fiddled with his hands.

“You didn’t know?” Virgil asked.

“Know what?”

“The final blade,” Virgil said carefully, avoiding Patton’s eyes. “You don’t need it to open the box.”

“What?”

“The first two, yeah,” Virgil said hurriedly. “Yours and... and Roman’s, I’m guessing, and then mine, of course, as the box that needs to be opened, but the stone can be taken with just those three.”

“Then what’s the fourth... or the third knife for?” Patton asked.

“That?” Virgil clenched and unclenched his hand. “That activates it.”

“For when there’s nothing left to do,” Patton whispered. “Oh my god.”

Virgil paused at his horrified tone. “...what is it?”

“I’m starting to think our knives didn’t disappear,” Patton said. “I think they were stolen.”

Virgil saw himself opening a drawer and finding it bare, he felt the terror and loss, he felt his magic start to go haywire and malfunction...

“Patton,” Virgil started. “We need to find Roman.”

“He’s back at town,” Patton said. “I’m sorry, I can’t... I can’t go back there.”

“It’s okay, Patton, I’ll be there, I can protect you–”

“It’s not about protection!” Patton said, both loud and quiet, shoulders hunched. “I can’t... I can’t... they threw me in a church, and treated me like... like an item or something, something to be maintained and dealt with...” Patton took a deep breath, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly. “I’m not going back. I ran for a reason.”

“Okay,” Virgil conceded. “We won’t go back to town.”

Then what was their next move? Virgil didn’t know whether he should break off from Patton and find Roman himself, then find Patton after... but that sounded like too much in the hands of fate, and Virgil didn’t want to lose Patton just after they’d found each other...

“We could go to the hermit,” Patton said quietly. “He might know who stole them. And if not, I could stay with him while you find Roman... because I want to help, I just...”

“It’s okay, Patton,” Virgil said. “I understand. Don’t worry about it.”

Patton stared at nothing for a few long seconds. “What should we do?”

“I like your idea,” Virgil said, not mentioning his own lack of ideas. “We can go to this... hermit, and go from there.”

“Alright,” Patton said, taking a deep breath. He turned to Virgil with a grin, conflict alight in his eyes, and said, “Let’s go see Logan.”

Virgil froze.

His heart beating in his ears, Virgil turned his startled gaze towards Patton.

“Logan?”

—

Damian rubbed his chin and frowned at the pain pulsating from his skin there. He certainly hadn’t expected that response from Patton. Perhaps he’d... miscalculated Patton’s change from interacting with Roman.

Patton was gone, either way. Which shouldn’t really matter, in the long run, except that Damian wasn’t stupid and he knew that the holders would be attracted to one another – like magnets, by some instinct or fate, Damian didn’t really care.

But he knew that once two met, they would find each other in a domino effect. Rapidly. Seeing as how Patton and Roman had hit it off instantly, despite Damian’s best efforts... only proved to show there were some forces Damian couldn’t control.

Which, goddammit. Damian liked controlling things.

But again, it didn’t matter. Patton didn’t have his knife regardless, and Damian had three of four pieces.

But where the hell was the final blade?

Damian shook the map and growled, peering at the enchanted paper. The knife symbol flashed spastically all over the map, fluctuating and never staying in one place for more than a split second.

It didn’t make any damn sense.

He’d stolen the box from the prince, for god’s sake, Damian was willing to go through just about anything for this. He taken a knife from under the nose of a knight (in training), he’d snatched a blade from Patton, possessive as he was. Damian knew he needed the last one for... something. Something.

He couldn’t find it.

And damn if that didn’t irritate him.

But, it didn’t matter. He noticed the box only had two slots for keys, so he didn’t need the third knife, anyhow. Maybe the third knife was only a failsafe.

...He didn’t really believe that, but thinking it helped. Damian knew, better than anyone, that lying to yourself was easier than telling the truth.

Either way... he had to leave, before all four of them found each other. He had to go back to the tower, regardless of the final knife. Time was running out.

He had to save Thomas.