#had to cut down one of the hornets' horns because they were too long....

[xylo-art]

Wanted to doodle a bunch of Hornets that I like.. a trio of em..

Designs belong to -

@raddest-laddest

@dooblebugss

@featherlouise

[mrslittletall]

saw your whump post, honestly the "I'm fine" screams Hornet to me, so it'd be cool to see that! - dooblebugs

Title: The Idol Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: Hornet & Little Ghost Word Count: 2.825 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30941981

Summary: After the Hollow Knight is freed from the temple, Hornet does her best to take care of the ones that are still left in Hallownest. Everything should be fine... until it isn't.

(Author's note:  @dooblebugs

I thought about using canon verse with “Almost everyone lives AU” or your Mer AU. But ultimately, canon verse won, because I still miss some context for the Mer AU. I hope you enjoy.)

Hornet opened her eyes and jumped on her feet right away. Her day would always start with hunting and gathering food, preferably before Hollow woke up and tried to move, and it was a whole other problem trying to haul a bug their size back into bed, especially when they rigorously ignored their wounds.

While Hornet trusted Quirrel and Cloth enough to leave Hollow in their care for a while, she always felt better if she could look over them personally. However, the longer she hesitated with leaving, the longer she would need to come back, so Hornet left the house in Dirtmouth they had inhabited for Hollow's recovery and went towards the crossroads.

The little pitter-patter of tiny feet next to her prompted Hornet to look down. Ghost had decided to accompany her again. They always would. She could tell them a hundred times to stay behind, they would never listen. For a vessel meant to be void of mind, Ghost was one of the bugs with the strongest will that Hornet ever had seen.

“You will still come with me, even if I say no, right, little Ghost?”, Hornet said, shouldering her needle. Ghost didn't nod or sign at her, they simply stared, with their unblinking, never changing expression. It was enough for Hornet to know that they wouldn't leave.

“Alright, but don't get into my way.”, Hornet said. At this, Ghost swung their nail and jumped in front of Hornet in a pose that depicted a challenge, then their nail went down on the ground in a strike, the swing of it breaking through the calmness of the morning.

“I know! I know! You've beaten me twice, but... I have gone easy on you.”, Hornet half hissed. It was a blatant lie and she knew it. The first time she had simply underestimated them (or she simply had become tired of fighting) and the second time... she had given it her all and they still had remained victorious. In a sense, Ghost was the new king of Hallownest, but they didn't seem to put any mind on the title. They didn't even seem to be wanting to be celebrated for being the saviour of Hallownest. They simply joined Hornet every morning for hunting and went off on their own afterwards, always coming back to play with their friends in Dirtmouth.

As the both of them jumped down the well, Hornet couldn't help but think about that there wasn't much to rule anymore. This kingdom was in shambles. It had been two weeks and the dried off infection still crusted the crossroads, too little bugs alive to care much about cleaning the place up. It was becoming more and more difficult to get food, because so many of the infected had simply been reanimated husks, without any meat left in them.

They surely would have to wander to Greenpath again, hopefully finding a few vengeflies and mosscreeps to bring home.

Hornet was used being alone. She had been alone for a very long time. She had managed. She never was lonely... well, maybe a little lonely and now there was a bunch of strangers up in Dirtmouth who relied on her. Hornet never wanted for anyone to rely on her. She had seen what happened when bugs relied on someone and... there wasn't a solution.

She looked down on Ghost again, they had their nail on the ready and stared vigilantly in front of them. They must have crossed this crossroads a dozen times on their journey, still expecting to be attacked by the infected every given minute. Hornet could understand that it was hard for them to let go of old habits.

She was the same. She never let go of her needle as well. Even with the infection never being able to come back, she had to remain vigilant. She would protect her siblings, no matter what. She wouldn't, no she couldn't, let anyone down.

“We are nearing Greenpath.”, she said, only to cut through the silence between them. She knew it wasn't Ghost's fault that they didn't have a voice, but after years of not being able to talk to anyone, Hornet barely could stand the silence, when there was someone she could talk to. “Remember, when we hunt the mosscreeps, take their leaves as well, for the herbivores.”

While Hornet was able to eat plant matter as well, it never had been satisfying to her. She was the daughter of a spider and a wyrm, both predators, and therefore she usually would hunt for food. She was unsure about what kind of diet Ghost and Hollow needed, but they seemed to be content with the prey she brought back, so she wouldn't change anything about it.

“And remember, we can't hunt too much. The population needs a chance to recover.”, she said as well. The infection had done a number on the whole of Hallownest... it wasn't a surprise that there was such a food shortage. In fact, Hornet had cut her own food intake in favour of her siblings and anyone who couldn't hunt or still needed to recover. That bug, Tiso, came to mind. Had a far too big stomach for having been utterly destroyed by the colloseum of fools. Why Ghost had dragged him back to Dirthmouth, she would never understand.

Ghost showed that they understood with a little nod of their head and the both of them entered Greenpath. It was a MUCH nicer place without the infection, but they still had to pay attention, the fool eater plants were easy to overlook (not that Hornet had ever overlooked them, but Ghost tended to forget...) and there were some predators still around, though they were no match for her needle. The problem was to avoid them to not hunt too much. Like she had said to Ghost, they needed to give the population time to recover, if they wouldn't want all to starve beforehand.

“We get only enough for everyone back in Dirtmouth.”, Hornet said again. “Then we leave again. Let's search for some mosscreeps first.”

The both of them jumped and slashed their way through the vegetation of Greenpath. While Hornet preferred to use her needle, Ghost had found a lot of new ways to move around since the first time they fought and they dashed (literally leaving their shell behind and somehow phasing through time and space) and jumped with wings that reminded Hornet of her father... and she got a bad feeling in her guts every time she saw them.

After a bit of time, they had managed to hunt two vengeflies to bring back, Hornet keeping them cocooned up for transportation and were now searching through the vegetation for some mosscreeps. Finally, Hornet found one and struck it down with her needle, preparing a cocoon for it again, when Ghost picked something up from the grass.

“Ghost, what do you have there?”, Hornet asked. The item was too small to be prey and they tended to hoard stuff they found. It probably was just something that was completely worthless nowadays, only generating Geo when given to this historian in the City of Tears. She still wanted to know.

Ghost came over and laid the thing they had picked up in her outstretched hand. When she looked down on it, she froze.

It was a King's Idol, the item that the citizens of Hallownest had crafted to worship her reclusive father. Each of them looked different, but they all shared the general shape and depicted his most salient feature: The horns that resembled a crown.

Staring down at it, something in Hornet broke. It might have been the stress she felt since Ghost had arrived. Or the fact that Hollow recovered from years of abuse from both the gods of Hallownest. Or that she was running on an empty stomach most of the time. But once she saw that thing, all her frustration crashed down on her at once.

You!”, she hissed. “It was all your fault! You knew that the plan wouldn't work! You knew that they would suffer and you still have let it happen! The teacher, the watcher, my mother, all sacrificed for nothing! And then, in the moment you were needed the most, you vanished, you damn coward! We needed you! I needed you! I hate you. I hate you and I can't even say it to your face anymore!”

Hornet threw the king's idol on the ground with so much force that it skipped on the ground and then fell on her knees, slowly getting aware of the tears on her face and the presence of little ice cold hands patting her arm.

“I am fine.”, she said, wiping the tears away. Just a moment of weakness, nothing else. Even though she could feel the judgemental stare of Ghost, she was fine. She had to be. “Seriously, I am fine.”, she continued once more. “Let's continue hunting.”

As Hornet was putting her composure back together, she didn't notice how Ghost continued to stare at her, picking up the idol from the ground, and only starting to move again once she called out for them.

The hunt had been more or less successful. At least they had found enough prey that nobody should go terribly hungry (at least when Hornet halved her own portion again). As usual, hunting had taken the better part of the day. Hornet would have liked to go hunt at some different locations, but the Old Stag from the stag ways wasn't around lately, apparently he was taking care of some personal business. With him not being around, it was just too far to walk to the Fungal Wastes or Deepnest, at least not when she wanted to come back the same day.

Currently Hornet took in her meal in Hollow's room with Ghost present as well. She was busy thinking about if there was another route that would make sure she could hunt elsewhere but Greenpath for once, when she felt a nudge. When she looked down, she saw how Ghost offered them a half of their mosscreep, holding the prey up in their little hands, seemingly eagerly awaiting for her to take it.

“I can't take this, Ghost.”, Hornet said. “You need all the food you can get, you are still growing.”

Ghost cocked their head and for once their eternal deadpan expression was on point. Hornet knew how ridiculous her argument was. Ghost had been born before her. They hadn't grown in years. Their body had been unable to grow because they didn't had access to void. “You know what I mean.”, she defended herself. There was the possibility that Ghost would start to grow as long as they stayed in Hallownest.

Ghost offered their meal a little while longer and then gave up with a little frustrated stomp of their foot. It was then when Hornet felt another nudge... this time it was Hollow, who had simply watched the scene unfold in front of them, offering their part of their meal.

“Oh no, not you too, Hollow.”, Hornet sighed. “You need the food much more than me, you are still recovering. I won't accept anything from you.”

The both vessels shared a look and once again Hornet asked herself if they could talk to each with some kind of void telepathy, before both of them looked at the ground in defeat.

“I am fine.”, Hornet repeated herself, she knew that. “Really, I am fine...”

Hornet awoke the next morning... not because her stomach cramped and she had trouble sleeping because of it, but because someone nudged her. She cracked one eye open and murmured: “It's barely morning...” She just craved to go back to sleep, to forget about the day in front of her for a few minutes longer, but the nudging got more and more intense, until she shouted: “Fine! I am getting up! Stop bothering me!”

It was Ghost in front of her and immediately Hornet stopped being annoyed. What if something had happened? “Is something the matter with Hollow? Or is a threat approaching the village?”, she asked, already fumbling for her needle, once again forgetting that Ghost was more than capable of defending the village themselves. They just looked too much like a little, defenseless child, even though Hornet had experienced otherwise.

Gladly, Ghost shook their head, though this put Hornet right back into annoyance. “Then why have you woken me up?”, she said, falling back down in her pillows, ignoring the urge to close her eyes and looking at Ghost again, making sure to give them a judgemental stare.

Ghost did grip something under their cloak (wings? Hornet never knew what this thing around the vessels was) and after a bit of struggling, they produced a jar... a jar filled with honey. The smell actually made Hornet's mouth water. Honey was one of the few things she liked to eat that wasn't meat, mostly because she had trained in the Hive in her youth.

Though, as lucky as she felt about having more food, she couldn't help but scold Ghost. “Ghost, did you get this on your own? The Hive is dangerous, even without the infection! What if the Hive Knight would have found you?”

Ghost shook their head and then outstretched their hand, showing Hornet a shiny little charm. A charm she remembered. The charm of the Hive. “Wait, you have been there and challenged him already?” Hornet wanted to be surprised, but Ghost couldn't really surprise her anymore. When they could surprise her somehow, then it was that they were full of surprises.

“Anyway... I guess I have to thank you, though I don't approve that you sneak out at night into the Hive.”, Hornet murmured. “At least we have more food for the group now..”

Ghost rigorously shook their head and pressed the jar in her hands. “For me?”, Hornet asked and Ghost nodded.

“But... Ghost, I appreciate it, but I don't need.. the others need the food much more than...”

Another shook of their head and a stomp of their foot along with crossed arms and a slight turn around. Hornet suddenly felt very small, she had never seen them that upset.

“Alright, alright...”, she said. “Maybe I have eaten insufficient lately...”

Ghost nodded again and gave the jar of honey another press, so that she had to hold it firmly in her hands.

“Alright alright...”, Hornet finally gave in. “I will take your offer, Ghost.”

As she opened the jar, her hunger became more and more apparent and soon she dug in and had finished the whole jar in what felt like no time and finally, for once, she didn't feel overly hungry. Satisfied even.

She then saw Ghost holding up something. A little rock with a few letters written on it. Lately Cornifer had given them writing lessons, though it still was a work in progress.

“Fine?”

That was the word they had painted on the rock (where did they even have the colours from?).

“I am fine.”, Hornet said. “This time for real. I am sorry, Ghost, I shouldn't have lied to you. I just feel so... responsible for everyone. I can't show weakness in front of anyone.”

Ghost shook their head again and then got something out. Hornet recognized it as the King's Idol they had found in Greenpath. They tossed it at the ground, just as she had done and then hit it with their nail, leaving a notable crack in it.

“You as well don't have the best memories of him, right?”, Hornet said. Both of them had been left behind, though in a different kind of way. Ghost had been discarded and Hornet had been left with responsibility far too huge for her age.

Ghost nodded again and gave the King's Idol another smack, so that it landed in front of her. Hornet took it into her hands and stared at it. She did miss him, that she had to admit to herself, but she also knew that her anger and her disappointment were real and there was no reason to hide it in front of Ghost.

She squeezed the Idol until it cracked into two pieces and just watched as they fell down. “Thank you, Ghost.”, she said. “But make sure to not tell Hollow about this.”

The way Hollow idealized their father... it would break their heart seeing his image being defiled like that.

Another quick nod and then Ghost actually got another one out, their face clearly saying: “Wanna break another?”

A grin crept over Hornet's face. She would never get her mother back or escape her responsibilities, but at least she could vent out her frustrations, even though it took her sibling for her to realize.

“Oh you bet I want.” (Author's note: Little Ghost is kinda fun to write. I think they are a character mostly showing what they feel through body language and it was fun to come up with how they would act. I also like to think that they can stare very judgemental, even though their expression never changes, a stare of them can make anyone falter. Hornet's relationship to PK is... complicated. He hasn't actually been a bad father to her, but as the infection came back and depression took over, he left her alone more and more and she got angry about it... especially when he decided to just vanish. She felt utterly betrayed by it and it is a huge source of her frustration and anger. I put in some little references to the game in there, try to find them if you please.)

[decks-writing-blog]

Mute Buddies

This is a Dead Cells and Hollow Knight Crossover fic.

All the crossover art, especially the two pieces I drew, got me thinking about Ghost and Beheaded interacting and how they would be friends. And then I started thinking about ways they might've met and this fic is a result of those thoughts.

Also, because this is pre-game for Ghost they don't go by 'Ghost' since they're dubbed that by Hornet. They don't actually have a name at all in this fic because I wasn't sure what they would think of themself as.

~

By the time they spotted the island it was almost too late despite how close it was. Their sailboat, not ever meant to be out in the open ocean for so long, wasn’t faring well in the seemingly ceaseless storm. It had been battered and tossed around by the waves and wind until it had sprung a leak. And while dealing with that might’ve been easy under different circumstances the flood of rain pouring down complicated things quite a bit. Their one single bucket, despite being almost half their size was barely enough to bail out the water fast enough to keep the boat afloat. It was a losing battle though, they were only one little bug after all. So the island was a blessed sight indeed. All they had to do was get the boat to it, easier said than done of course but there was hope now at least and they had a goal.

As they drew closer it became ever more apparent that their vessel wasn’t the only one to suffer in these waters. Seems it was actually pretty common if the wrecked ships littering the bay were anything to go by. Only intermittently visible between flashes of lighting and waves pulling back to reveal bits and pieces of them, how many there were was impossible to guess. Not that it mattered beyond steering the sailboat through as safely as possible.

It was tough work; they couldn’t bail and hold the rudder at the same time and thus just had to hope that the boat would be able to reach shore before it sunk. Luckily there seemed to be a current pulling them towards the island. And the water filling the bottom of the boat now served to weigh it down, stopping the waves from pushing it around as much; another blessing even if initially it hadn’t been.

And thus after only a few minor collisions, the hull was grinding up onto the rocky shore with a scraping sound that couldn’t mean good things. Hopefully it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Not that they actually cared a whole lot right now regardless because they were on land. No getting tossed around helplessly in the ocean for them today.

Putting one hand on the boat’s railing, they vaulted over the edge and onto firm land for the first time in fartoo long. The world seemed to sway and rock around them as if they were still aboard the boat and being pushed around by waves. They’d been stuck on it for a very, very long time indeed. Far longer than they’d thought would be the case. Word around the port town they’d acquired it at was that there was nothing out here, just lots and lots of ocean before the edge of the world. They’d wanted to see that supposed edge of the world but instead they’d found this island. Given how sick and tired they’d grown of sitting in the boat with nothing to see or do, that was perfectly fine. The edge of the world probably wasn’t all that exciting anyway, certainly not worth such a voyage to get to it.

Now even with the rain still pouring down on them they could’ve easily just laid down and fallen asleep right then and there. But it wouldn’t be wise and… They turned back towards their vessel. Its sail was old and tattered, held to the mast with a fraying rope that doubtless wouldn’t last much longer and its creaky hull had a minimum of at least one hole in it. Overall, in even worse shape than they’d acquired it in. But it should be repairable, right? And thus they grabbed hold of its edge and pulled it up further up onto the rocky shore. The thought of getting back onto it and heading out into the ocean once more was thoroughly unpleasant but there was no way they’d want to stay forever on this island so preserving their most likely way off was a must. As soon as it was well out of even the highest waves’ reach, they turned away. Leaving it there, they went in search of a place to rest.

The shore was wide and rocky. Off to one side was a large building, visible in between flashes of lightning. Closer by was a large cliff face. It wasn’t sheer though. There were many holes of various sized cut into its face and further up what look like whole caves. It didn’t take them long to find a little nook not too high up that would serve as a good enough hiding spot. They wouldn’t be completely hidden within it, anyone really looking would probably be able to spot them. Not ideal but they were too tired to search for something better. And it would get them out of the rain and that’s what mattered most right now. Though how much did that really matter when their cloak was so thoroughly soaked through already?

They pulled themself up into it and curled up, pressing back against the rear wall. … They ought to be more wary and should probably patrol the area for potential danger before letting themself rest. It would be the smart thing to do but… they were far too tired to bother, especially since they’d already laid down. It’d probably be fine though, few bugs would care to be out in such weather regardless.

***

Beheaded started for the beached sailboat as soon as they spotted it shortly after reaching the bottom of the Undying Shore’s cliff. While the island seemed to be in constant flux – something to do with the time loop probably – rare was the day something that different popped up.

Off to the side and just out of the ocean’s reach, getting to it was easy. After a quick glance around to ensure no monsters were around, they leaned in to examine it.

A small sailboat, nothing all that exciting really other than the fact that despite its visibly battered state it was still the most intact vessel they’d seen anywhere on the island. Left out in the rain without a tarp its hull overflowed with rainwater. Barely seaworthy for sure. Where had it come from though? Had someone dragged it out here thinking to escape the island in it? … No. Even as small as it was, there was no way anyone carried it out here, down the cliff, over the rocky terrain and past all the blood thirsty monsters even if they had had help. And given the way its bow was pointed away from the ocean – if even Beheaded knew what the front of a boat looked like then surely anyone experienced enough with traversing the sea to even consider risking such a voyage would’ve pointed the boat towards the water – it seemed to have come from the ocean. Hmmm… curious.

Well, most often where there was one interesting thing to examine there were more. So, turning away for now, Beheaded set to looking for other clues.

It didn’t take long to determined that there wasn’t much of anything within the sailboat’s immediate vicinity so they expanded their search along the shore a bit. Still nothing but the usual bit of boat rubble that occasionally made its way to shore before being pulled back into the sea. Quite lame but… still just the sailboat alone was an interesting find. So oh well, they had monsters to get back to killing. Perhaps they’d find something more about the boat and its occupant later.

They paused halfway in their turn back towards the way they’d being going before. There was something in one of the cliffside’s crevices. Tucked up deep inside only a small flap of dark fabric was visible poking out and flapping in the wind. Ever wary of all the different hidey holes those dang exploding bats liked to nest in, Beheaded crept closer for a better look.

It wasn’t a bat, exploding or otherwise – thank all that was still good in this world – but instead a… creature? No, a doll. Its head looked like it might’ve been made of porcelain and was clearly hollow. Or at least, whatever was inside was tucked in far enough that it couldn’t be seen through its large eye-like holes from this angle. And it had to be a trick of the light, or lack thereof, but underneath a tattered blue-gray cloak was the darkest black material Beheaded had ever seen. So yeah, no way was it a living creature but instead a large weird doll. It wasn’t even breathing.

They put a hand into the crevice to poke it. The instant their finger made contact with its body through its cloak, it moved. Its head snapped to look directly at them with its empty eyes.

Beheaded sprang back, scrambling to draw their dagger. They fumbled and almost dropped it but had a firm grasp on it by the time the creature had finished sliding out of the crevice silent grace. It had a weapon drawn now too. Pointed at Beheaded and vaguely swordlike it was visibly dull, nicked and scratched, showing signs of frequent and hard use. Given that, the fact that it was dull meant little; Beheaded was no stranger to being utterly destroyed by unsharpened blades. Same with small things; the fact that it was only half their size if one was counting its horns didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous and couldn’t ‘kill’ them in an instant.

Despite all that it didn’t attack immediately, implying that whatever it was, it wasn’t animated by the Malaise. It would’ve attacked mindlessly and without hesitation otherwise. That didn’t mean it was friendly though even if it seemed to be waiting for them to make the first move. Which they weren’t going to do against something they’d never seen before; they’d made that mistake far too many times already and their pride still bore the resulting scars. So for once they were going to be patient and let it make the dumb impulsive move for them to take advantage of. The perfect plan!

Except it wasn’t moving, not even to breathe. Which was just plain creepy. Despite that it was kind of cute even if its eyes did look like big gaping black holes in its face. Assuming that was its face, could be a helmet. …. Beheaded was starting to get reallybored of this waiting for it to attack first thing.

They relaxed their battle-ready pose, though they didn’t sheath their dagger and remained alert as they took a step closer. It lowered its weapon but otherwise didn’t move, only titling its head a little further to keep looking at them as they stepped right up in front of it. Still didn’t attack though so they sheathed their dagger and crouched down in front of it, remaining poised to leap back in an instant if need be. This was similar to how they’d befriended Mushroom Boi though so it’d probably be fine.

But unlike Mushroom Boi when they reached out a hand to poke it on the top of its indeed quite hard head, it didn’t make a sound. Instead it lifted its own little pitch black hand to poke back, first their hand and then forearm and then, stepping closer further up their arm. Its hand was cold and somehow seemingly without texture or so little texture Beheaded couldn’t feel it through the rain. A very odd being indeed but seemingly not dangerous for now even as it stepped close enough to allow it to lift its hand up and put it into the magic fog that took the place of where the Beheaded’s head would’ve been if their body still had one. No one had ever done that to them before so it was hard to say if the resulting cold and unpleasant tingly sensation it created was just what it felt like to be touched in that way or specifically because of the strange being.

Regardless they quickly pulled away, straightening. The being didn’t seem to mind though. It continued staring up at them with its large expressionless eyes. It didn’t have a mouth and still didn’t look like it was breathing but there was what felt like intelligence in its… no, their gaze. … Or perhaps Beheaded was just so lonely they wanted to read this creature as another being similar to themself in that they both lacked a voice and ability to communicate via facial expressions like every other sapient creature Beheaded knew. So this was either a neat find or a depressing wakeup call about how lonely they’d become. … They were going to believe the former until given reason to do otherwise.

They stepped to the side to point back towards the battered sailboat. Then, looking back down at their horned being, they pointed at them before lifting their arms in as shrug, making it a question. Had they come on the boat?

The being looked over and then back up at Beheaded before nodding. Just a single small nod but still undoubtedly a confirmation that not only were they from the boat but also that they intelligent. That also meant they were from off the island!

Beheaded hadn’t ever stopped to consider what might be beyond the seas surrounding this place but if they had they certainly wouldn’t have ever thought something or someone from out there would ever end up here. Oh, the things they would’ve asked if either of them were capable of speech.

Though this was probably bad for the being, huh? With the whole Malaise being such a prevalent thing. If they weren’t already infected then they would probably be soon. … Unless they were immune like Collector and some of the others seemed to be and Beheaded for sure was. That wasn’t super likely though, was it? So… what an unlucky fellow to end up on this island of all places. But, alas, there was nothing that could be done about it now.

The being turned their gaze away to glance around. They looked up at the cliff for a bit and then over at the Mausoleum before looking back up at the Beheaded again. Only for a few seconds though before with a slight shrug in started in the direction of the Mausoleum.

Well, with no way to talk to each other and nothing else to do, they might as well move on. And since Beheaded had already been heading in that direction anyway, they followed. They could hang out with their new mute buddy for a while. Even if said buddy was unfortunately not likely to last long on the island.

[albino-whumpee]

Demon Angel AU: Bought and Sold

I had an idea, so I went ahead and wrote it for @whumptober2020 day 20 for the prompt “field medicine” and “medieval”. Hope you like it!

Summary: The demon plans the angel and his escape after learning the angel will get sold and sent to a rich family´s rarity zoo after he shows signs of being too exhausted to heal the demon properly to harvest his horns.

Tag list please tell me if you´d like to be added or taken out of it!: @as-a-matter-of-whump @orchidscript @haro-whumps @giggly-evil-puppy​ @grizzlie70 @rosesareviolentlyread

CW// captivity, slavery, winged whumpee, waterboarding, stress positions, bone sawing, magic exhaustion, manhandling, noncon bondage, whumpee hunted as pray, whumpee turned whumper, catching poles, cages, muzzles, convulsions, inaccurate field medicine (sorry!), forced bathing, implied noncon, blood, auditory and visual hallucinations, thralling and slightly gorey stuff at the end.

It had been a few months since they had arrived to the circus. The routinary wake up call in the morning where the demon was grabbed by the back of his shirt and had a muzzle with bit shoved into his mouth to then be dragged to the river close by for a quick “bath” that was essentially, just submerging him in water and rubbing away the blood and sweat from the day before, was exactly like any other day.

The demon was then seized and brought to the “Demon´s lair”, where he would be thrown into a cage inside the patch of woods until a costumer came. When that happened, the sound of a hornet and the door lifting would be his signal to run.

The demon ran everyday, tried to climb the trees or find something pointy enough to reap the leather binding his numb arms on his back and the muzzle covering half of his face, or tried to jump over the wooden walls, but it wasn´t that the only thing he had to worry about. The demon stopped dryly upon facing a human with his wooden pole with rope on one end. His tail swished in distress behind him, as the bulky human stepped forward and the demon stepped back.

He had had enough humans fishing him by the neck and digging the rest of the pole into his back, forcing him to step into the “trophy cage” to know not to understimate the stick.

The trophy cage was small and he would get stamped on his thigh by the human that caught him to prove they, among a group of three had caught the demon. They would then be asked if they wanted to bring a pair of horns as memento of their victory over the demons: a pair of his horns.

If he didn´t get caught, on the rare days that happened, they would hang him by his ankles or his arms for a while, just so they would be too sore and uncomfortable to properly run away the next day.

There were days where the demon felt hopeless about escaping someday. When he got frustrated from getting away from the gods and their angels to end up captured yet again less than two months later.

The angel, Sann, would sometimes reach to him through the cramped cell with his wings tightly pressed against him, still wearing the clothes that barely covered any skin. On those nights, where the demon leaned into that friendly hand, he heard the angel tell him they had ran away once, so they could do it again.

The demon braced himself from tearing up, because they would burn the angel if he touched his tears. So he just quietly sniffed them back and tried to believe him.

The only times he would see him was at night, more often than not, knocked out until the humans took him in the morning or was too tired to talk and fell asleep on his wing cocoon, the others would be when he was inside the trophy cage.

The demon would see flashes of him flying through the barred cage and the tall tents. Doing acrobacies in mid air that looked similar to when he was above in his homeland, but the feeling to which he flied to, was entirely different.

There was no soul on it, there was no joyful laughter making company to the beautiful dance Sann did on the sky when he first saw him through the small window of his cell, even before Sann first came to visit him at the dungeons.

How long had he observed Sann to know the closed turns were his favorite trick to do back then? How many times had he laughed when he saw those three pairs of wings work, and has seen the angel splat into the trees because he didn´t know the terrain so later he would come to him asking if he could help him take off a stick out of his wings?

In his defense, he was just too interesting to take his eyes away.

He felt a sense of dread when he was pulled out of the cage and forced to walk back to the starter cage. Leaving Sann behind as two poles, one around his neck and the other pinching him in the back, dug into his skin.

How much he regretted he didn´t notice when the hunters came that night and how much he wished he could give him back that freedom to enjoy flying.

The demon was pushed forward and snarled at the human, receiving a painful poke to the side of his abdomen.

“You damn beast should behave like your winged pal. Now, that one knows his place” the human shouted as he digged the pole on his neck getting a pained groan that made him stumble and choke a little on the rope before the human pulled him straight again.

“Such a shame we won´t have him anymore” the other human commented in a sigh. The demon perked his ears and tried to turn, but the pole dug deeper.

“Keep walking” the man growled and the demon obeyed shoving away the anger coiling inside him. Anxiety began tro brew as the two humans continued to talk.

“So that´s really gonna happen? I thought the ring master was more interested in exploring the capabilities of his healing. There´s good coin there…” the man said in a langid voice.

“Oh, he was, but the angel is getting sick or something. It takes too long to make this one’s horns grow again. The Butcher was getting in trouble because he wasn’t providing enough, so he talked to him and Sir decided to put an advert for him” The demon almost stops on his tracks, but he knew better.

The Butcher had certainly hit Sann when he had stopped healing him mid horn before he collapsed on his side and his body squirmed in violent spams. It took him a few minutes to come back to himself.

During that moment it was the only time he was allowed to get close to him and touch him in the Butcher´s presence. The other humans screamed, thinking the demon was doing that to him and tried to hold the angel down, but when the demon used his tail to smack the humans away and hissed to leave him alone, the humans only watched the demon rept to the angel whisper through the muzzle that everything would be alright. 

They stared in awe at the demon as the angel came back to himself still shaking even after the convulsions stopped. Both creatures nuzzled each other´s face before inevitably, they were ripped apart. The demon in for another beating.

Of course they would think it was him. Humans didn´t know anything about the rarity´s that occured to them and came to demons for the answers to the questions they barely could formulate and then blame them when it didn´t go as planned.

What happened to the angel, was mere exhaustion, the demon knew, he would have to rest and stop healing him for at least four months if they wanted to continue their wicked business.

The demon continued muttering through the muzzle until the angel opened his eyes again. But even then, his eyes crossed just right when the Butcher straightened him up by the hair and fell flat inconscious into the ground.

With how often it had been happening lately, he had been put into his cage for a while, shows were suspended but instead, he was forced to sit perched up on his cage´s swing and look pretty for the visitors. Wave at them through the nausea he would tell him later he felt all day. He wouldn´t mention it either, but some of his bones and ribs were damaged too because of the human handler´s attempts to keep the angel still. 

Without being able to heal it, the angle experienced neverending pain.

“Apparently some rich family´s daughter decided to buy him to form part of her rarity´s zoo” The man said, tuning the demon back into the conversation unfolding before him. “Some of their men will come get him tomorrow night” The demon´s heart skipped a beat as he was shoved inside the cage in heavy panting. The human freed his neck from the rope, yet, he wasn´t relieved in the least when the human kicked the wooden cage “If he´s not around guess we won´t have any use for you anymore, beast” the man´s canines showed as he smiled and patted the cage “Can´t wait to finally have the chance to hunt you down. For real this time, little pest”

The demon kicked the cage as the humans laughed walking away.

“As if I will let a human do that” he spatted in the solitude of his cell before he heard the horn yet again and the door lifted. He still ran in stampede, but this time, he ran to his hiding spot above a tree. By now he had run through the space enough times to recollect enough rocks with his tail and smash them on the ground with just the right amount of strength to sharpen them. He didn´t have much time to experiment with durability, but as the months passed, the large river stone had become quite the sturdy knife. Polished and sharpened enough to cut through his tail, the signs of it, healed by the angel every night.

He grabbed the knife and carefully made a cut through the leather bindings on his arms, stopping right when he felt skin. It was enough overture to give way for the knife to enter and small enough to pass inadvertently.

But now, when he jumped down the tree, he ran through the obvious traps he had fell on the first few times, avoiding the most invisible ones, the bastardous, ankle breaking claws on the ground that would give out his position once he screamed and fell in pain until “the hunters” came to kick the shit out of him or even, hold him down with their poles or seize him. So in that state, he was less of a threat to try to inspect the odd demon that kept a somewhat human form.

He hated the humans that would do that the most. So he stayed a few inches above the ground now, trying to jump from branch to branch.

He wasn´t captured after that, every hunter lost and he was sent to hang next to the Butcher´s tent. This time, there weren´t horns cut up, even if Sann was better, they had sold out tickets to the “great last hunt”

Supposedly, the hunter that got him first the next day, would get to keep him and do to him whatever they pleased.

The demon tried not to think about it and keep the knife working inside the leather keeping his arms together. This night hanging upside down was exactly what he needed. Despite the ache on his ankles and the blood rushing to his head, his hands didn´t stop cutting until they cracked and his arms, numbed out and achy and possibly mismatched as he pulled them forward with a loud crack that forced him to bury the screech on his throat. He cracked his shoulders before bending to cut one of his ankles before the second, careful to not make any noise as he straightened up.

His arms were free finally, if just a bit too heavy, but finally he could lift them up to feel the buckles wrapping around his head, heavy metal padlocks hanging from three different places. He put all his strength in pulling the knife and cut off the leather straps around the edges of his head, slightly cutting one of his ears in the process before he felt it loose and threw it to the ground with a slam.

His chin was a drooling mess and his jaw was so sore without Sann’s healing, but he felt his fangs free, sharper than the knife on his hands or the Butcher’s saw. He passed his tongue over his lips. He felt his muscles aching to run and smash, his claws twitching to be dug into human flesh.

He had been fed everyday for the last months just once a day. Always having Sann put the disgusting gooey putridge between his lips before he ate too because of his useless arms. Whatever was on the bucket had never tasted quite like real food but sufficed to satiate their stomachs for a while.

Suddenly, he heard steps behind him. Heavy, familiar and blood thirsty.

The demon’s pupils became an edge that fixed on The Butcher’s voluminous figure as he set himself in an offensive position. The Butcher passed his hand over the horns hanging from his belt, the very first ones he chopped off his head with a laughter so low it sounded more like an animalistic growl.

The Butcher had never talked to him directly, but his voice, low and deep, sent a shudder down his spine.

“Very well, Pest. I had planned to take you to the young lady who bought the bird, when I caught you tomorrow, but this is perfect” the Butcher stretched his hand towards the bone saw and the fear installed on the demon´s head almost overthrew him, making him hiss and growl as his hair spiked and his tail swooshed irritated “We can just get started now”

The demon bared his fangs and twisted the knife on his hands, adrenaline running through him as the man walked closer, sure to win.

A say ran through the lands closer to the demon´s domains, where unfortunate humans were the one hunted by them, just like he was: For fun and sometimes as appetizers.

“There´s a say in my lands” the demon spoke the human tongue in a hundred voices that drilled inside the Butcher´s head “The sun stole the demon´s true shape, so when night falls, the moonlight grants their true form back to wear and hunt”

A ray of light illuminated over the small demon and shifted, the Butcher stopped on his tracks seeing the monstruos shape it took, a sound close to broken bones, going over and over as the demon became something that made the Butcher’s jaw fall, that made the demon inhale the scent of fear demons craved.

The human in his desperation, in the irrationality of fear, swinged the bone saw above his head, screaming madly.

“As you wish” the demon spoke in a hundred voices behind the Butcher. The demon was pleased to see the moment his eyes widened in absolute terror seeing his gigantic form as the curtain to his tent closed. Catching the blood from the man´s neck from staining the dirt outside.

The Butcher didn´t understand what happened was an illusion at all. The demon licked his bloody lips, sitting over the fallen body of the human, a bite that punctured his throat was non stop bleeding.

“You don´t even taste good enough to be a snack” the demon let out as he licked the blood off his fingers, a claw mark on the man´s stomach digging dip into him. He lifted himself off and picked up the bone saw. Put a little pressure into the middle that ended up breaking it “Well, I will give you that. You at least knew you should have me muzzled” he said tossing the shards away “Word spells are hard to cast with a metal bar inside your mouth” the demon kicked away the muzzle with a huff, “wished I had something better than just words, but demons like me gotta use what they have” he looked down at the human laying on the floor “Now then…”

The demon took the horns hanging from the Butcher´s waist and took one of his assistant´s aprons for himself. Putting the horns on the pockets. He could make very durable knifes with them after all. One for him and one for the angel.

He walked out the Butcher´s tent, finally free to let the humans know who the real hunter was.

[sophi-s]

In Their Hollow Heart

Chapter II: Absolution

Fandom: Hollow Knight video game

Words: 9,832

Characters: Hollow Knight, Hornet, Ghost (the Knight), the Radiance, Tiso (he’s alive, screw the cannon XD), the Pale King

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Violence, Sickness, Mind manipulation, Suicidal thoughts, Vomit, Gross imagery, Self harm TW, Permanent injury, Angst, SPOILERS for the game.

Summary:

The tormented Hollow Knight unexpectedly stands face to face with one they thought dead throughout their whole life. And to their astonishment, the very same bug does the impossible and relieves them of their duty.

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Another day passes in utter silence in the Black Egg Temple. Nothing disturbs the stillness of this place aside from a steady sound similar to a heartbeat which comes from the pulsing veins of Infection. And at the centre of the dark chamber illuminated weakly by the said Infection hangs a large, slender figure in armor and a cape. The passage of long years hasn’t done much justice to the once silver-white attire. Cloaked in shadow and held firmly by enchanted chains, the figure makes no move. Only indicators of the spark of life still flickering weakly in them is a loud, disturbingly raspy breath and the furious light in their eyes glinting with madness. Deemed worthy and strong enough to contain the Goddess of Dreams, the failed Vessel holds as still as a statue, sometimes squirming in futile attempts to break free from the chains. The disease keeps spreading without control, only halted by the Void in the ruined body of its host. Such is the fate of the Hollow Knight.

Since the Radiance had torn their willpower to pieces, the Hollow Knight found their true self slipping away into darkness way too often, hopelessly seeking relief in dreams but unsurprisingly finding none in the domain of their tormentor. If anything, all that waited for them there was more pain. Everything they wanted was to be finally free from this cursed existence, this… mockery of life. But it seems even that was too much to ask for, desoite the fact that they’d been promised an end long ago now. The Pure Vessel was never supposed to think, have feelings or desires. For its mind should be empty. They shouldn't want anything. And their fate was brutally reminding them of that.

Day by day, their body was burning up from the disease that held them tight in its grasp, making them wish for the end all the more. Memories began to fade as they fought to keep them from escaping. Without them… they would become just another husk animated by Her light. And it scared them.. Fear, alongside dejection, seemed to be an emotion that accompanied them constantly these days... They just needed one strong person to open this blasted Vault. Just one skilled knight to shatter the chains and put them out of their misery. But then the Radiance would be fully free. Nothing would be stopping Her from wiping the Hallownest off the pages of history. If only one of the lost siblings survived… empty like their father wanted. The true Hollow Knight. Just one, to successfully relieve them of their duty… Cruel. Something scolded the Vessel at these thoughts. They deserved what they'd gotten for their lies and had the audacity to wish for the same fate on someone else? Selfish. Cruel. Cruel! In despair (much stronger than sadness they knew already...), the Hollow Knight let themself slip away again, unable to argue with the laughter of the Goddess.

Like father, like son!

They had no wish to face the Radiance again so soon but their weariness took the better of them. Maybe this time She will have mercy on them and fulfill Her end of the bargain? Who knows? Soon they found out it unsurprisingly was not going ot be the case. However… when they left their infested shell behind to drift through the Realm of Dreams something has changed. Everything around was shaped differently. In this dream, they stood tall and proud, they were free and the scorching heat of the disease no longer troubled them. Memories returned in full with the moment they opened their black eyes. The pure nail rested in their hands - yes, hands! - its sharp tip on the ground at their feet as they started forward at nothing in particular. Like they had many times in the White Palace. What an odd dream… everything was dark and grey, chains swung from the sky around but never touched them and the inky smoke of Void drifted around. Just to make sure, they flex the fingers of their right hand. It responds as it should but it's.. numb. They have no feeling in the offending appendage. As though - bitter laughter bubbles up in their chest but never comes to be - it wasn't truly there. Was this another form of torture? Was the Radiance tormenting them again by showing them what they could've been but will never be? Their armor was beautiful and silver, glinting in the pale light of white sigils surrounding the strange arena they found themself in. As enchanting as the dream was, it caused them only further misery. Now they began to understand those who considered the Nightmare King the good-aligned deity and not the Radiance. Dreams cause disappointment with the reality - because it could be just like in this dream - while nightmares allow one find comfort and appreciate the world as it is.. A soft pitter patter of small feet behind them was all they needed to snap. Had She conjured an illusion of their baby sister running around them and bouncing in place, pleading to be picked up, as well?

Enough!

The Hollow Knight jammed their nail further into the ground in frighteningly unfamiliar fury - anger but... stronger, more violent somehow - as their armor started to give out underneath the pressure of seething Void before shattering into tiny pieces, leaving them only in their plain light-grey cloak. If She wanted them to cast off their hollow mask then congratulations, because She just managed to royally piss them off. Even that day when they saw three ethereal nails protruding from their father's chest as he fought for life bleeding out on the ground after Xero attacked him in disease-induced insanity they weren't this mad at the Goddess. And before they never thought it even possible. Whipping around angrily, ready to face the doppelganger of tiny Hornet, they intended to end this foul dream. I won't have the strength to cut her down. A small voice whispered. Illusion or not, they wouldn't have it in them to harm their little sister. Still, they were ready to face down whatever the Radiance wanted to throw at them. But what they saw instead made them freeze for a moment in shock and horror. Nothing could've prepared them for what waited behind them. As unmoving as always, their face didn't show the fear that paralyzed them. Fear just like any other but much more intense. Crippling. Petrifying. Horror.

Before them, standing no taller than their kneecap, stood… not Hornet. Worse still, someone they never thought they'd be seeing again as long as they still draw breath. Small, lithe and dressed in a ragged cloak.. A memory flashed before their eyes, a pale face gawking at them and silently crying for help.. None other than their lost twin. Just like the day they left the poor child to die in the Abyss, staring up at them with their large, empty eyes from the white shell with slim horns sporting tiny notches at their ends. And in those hollow eyes, there was no hatred, no accusation, no sadness, nothing.. aside from a small spark of something resembling surprised fondness. As though they were.. happy to see the older twin. Through the link of the Void, the Hollow Knight heard a small voice reach out to them. No, not a voice. more like.. a thought or an emotion shaped into a single word that struck them like a nail to the gut.

Sibling!

No, this can't be.. this isn't true! Their twin is dead! Resting on the bottom of the Abyss with all the shattered shells of other siblings. Does Her depravity know no bounds? They will not let the Radiance toy with them like that! Throwing their head back, the Hollow Knight wished to scream out their hatred into the darkened skies but… no sound leaves their throat. No voice...  As it was meant to be. No matter. It changes nothing. They barely paid any mind to a mysterious figure in a brass mask watching them from a gilded throne with curiosity and reverence as they lunged at the ghost of their sibling with cold rage and fiery determination. And to their surprise, they felt.. strong. Just like they used to before their imprisonment and absorbing the Old Light. And what was even odder, the fake twin easily avoided their attack by dissolving into a shadowy form that passed through their body without any resistance like icy cold air. Its cool brush unexpectedly turned into a sharp bite and to Hollow Knight’s surprise, once they looked down on themself they discovered that a shallow cut suddenly appeared on their side, dripping small amount of Void. Strange..

Unimportant. This was but a scratch, barely visible. Still, rather strange... Not letting it throw them off, the Pure Vessel immediately leaped into the air only to descend onto the twin's head and slam their nail into the ground, focusing to summon Soul Pillars and impale the little one. With no luck. The child unfolded six, glowing wings - just like the ones father had on his back, they noticed glumly - just in time to move out of the way of the pale blades. They followed up the narrow dodge by swinging their tiny, pure nail - a rare, fine weapon - at the older sibling's face. The blade cracked loudly against their shell, knocking stars into their vision for a moment. The Hollow Knight recoiled, both in pain from the strike and in shock from how… real it felt.

The Radiance is a master of weaving Dreams but something was not right. Even the most realistic dreams cannot feel so true. Vision should be more blurry, their senses duller.. but they weren't. Besides, a strike this hard definitely should've slapped them awake without issue. Yet, here they still were. But it's not like they had time to ponder over it. They were in the middle of a duel, for Wyrm's sake. Gathering their bearings, the Pure Vessel let their battle instincts take over. Writhing shadows consumed them and reformed their body on the other end of what they with all certainty could call an arena and extended their numb hand to shoot out a barrage of Soul Daggers at their opponent.

The fight went one like this for quite some time, the ghost managing to get hits on their sibling between their fast-paced, merciless attacks and spells. Small size worked on advantage for Hollow Knight's adversary who always somehow found a way to worm their way to their target without getting hit (minus that one time they failed to dodge one of the daggers and it slashed across their shoulder). At least until the Vessel has had enough of this little game. Intending to surprise the illusion of their twin, the Hollow Knight arched their back and released a pair of thrashing Void Tendrils from their own chest and finally knocked the little vessel down, leaving them stunned for a moment. Giving them no room to breathe, they followed up with a triple slash of their long nail and whacked the unfortunate child to the side before pouncing on them and pinning them down with their free hand.

No more trickery. This ends here and now. But… even though they were eager to shatter the cruel illusion, the Vessel had to admit that this fight made them feel… alive. For the first time in forever since the time stopped flowing for them. It was kind of sad to end this already. Why would the Radiance entertain me with a battle? But something in the back of their head was compelling them to carry on. Fully prepared to stab the nail down into the tiny body squirming in their hold, the Hollow Knight raised their weapon when suddenly… they heard clapping. Blinking down befuddled, they realised it was the child clapping their small, nubby hands, oblivious to the fact that Void was now seeping through a crack in their mask and from a slash across their chest, and that they were about to die. Congratulating them?

Sibling won! Sibling is still so strong!

Words sent through the Void said. If the Hollow Knight didn't know any better, they'd think the miniature twin seemed.. impressed. Were they actually impressed? What is going on? Focusing on the weak bond between the two of them, the Hollow Knight squinted. There was something… familiar about the presence of the tiny vessel and by no means was it the sense of closure they shared long ago. No, it was something else. Beating within their heart, familiar, yet foreign at the same time. It almost felt like the presence of the Pale King but.. darker. It felt like... home. Is that…? Slowly, the Hollow Knight let a small glimmer of hope rekindle in their broken heart. Believing that this might not be an illusion. But… what was it in that case? What does this mean? Their twin lives? How…?

Will come back! Help sibling! Just a little longer...

They chirped happily through the connection between their minds before some unseen power forced the Hollow Knight's hand down and brought the pure nail straight through their small heart, silencing it in an instant. Dream particles erupted from their shattered body and the Hollow Knight suddenly found themself back in the Egg. In chains, rotten through and absolutely flabbergasted. Severe confusion fused into one emotion with surprise. Whatever happened, it snapped them back to reality. To cold, rough bonds, to the burning Infection tearing its ruthless claws into their insides.. And for just a short moment, they felt their head clear out. Only one question remained. What was that supposed to mean? Whatever that was.. Their questions were aggressively halted by a jolt of pain and a mist clouding their senses.

Ever since this strange dream, the Radiance started to force Her will onto the Hollow Knight much more brutally, trying to keep them Her pawn - though they initially weren’t sure why - causing them so much pain it more than once made them pass out. But even still, the Vessel and the Radiance were one. They felt something in Her they hadn't before. And it was nothing different than straight out fear in its purest form. She was afraid. A Goddess. What could She possibly be afraid of? The little sibling. Something told them when the memory of the darkness pulsing within the small vessel's chest came to mind. Slowly, they began to understand. She was attempting to keep them as far away from that dream as possible as this one seemed to be out of Her direct control.. And soon, the Hollow Knight was about to realise they'd never been more right in their life before.

In spite of Her efforts, they returned to the arena again. Greeted by the sight of their twin just like the first time. And an unexplainable force made them fight the child. It ended as expected when the ghost fell yet again after a stray Soul Dagger cracked their shell apart. And again, impaled on a Soul Pillar. And again, caught in the area of an exploding Focus spell, after that. But they never gave up. And each time this dream repeated, the more apparent Radiance's apprehension was becoming. As broken and tortured as they were, the Hollow Knight found some small semblance of hope rising from the depths of their despair again. Resurrected by the supposedly dead twin sibling. Killing them over and over again brought the Vessel no joy but whatever this dream was, whatever the tiny voidling was attempting to do, it scared the life out of the Goddess of Dreams Herself, filling the Hollow Knight with wicked satisfaction. A pleasant feeling one feels after accomplishing some great feat or watching something... well, satisfying happen. Oh, how they wished to live to see Her get what's coming to her.. For the first time in what felt like forever, the Hollow Knight felt the urge to smile (metaphorically, as their face cannot really express much), even through the pain She was inflicting on them. Soon, they found themself looking forward to battling their twin again.

With each time the ghost challenged the Pure Vessel to a fight, they were getting stronger, faster, more cunning. And when a decisive strike of a small nail finally brought them down to their knees the Hollow Knight couldn't help the alien feeling of gentle warmth welling up in their chest, the overwhelming… joy. Was this what their father felt when they took on all of the Five Knights at the same time and won? Was this.. pride? Even leaking Void from every possible body part and in pain (different from the disease, more familiar and somewhat comforting), they wished to mentally smile at their tiny counterpart but never had a chance as ray of blinding light - dreadfully familiar bright light - descended on the twin siblings and a cry of outrage echoed through the air, making both of them look up. A brutal yank brought the Hollow Knight back into their plagued body but… something was different. No force was ripping their sentience out from their grasp. The Radiance, while present in their head, paid them no mind as Her overwhelming fury filled every fiber of their being, sending ripples through the Infection clinging to them. What is happening?

It continued for a couple more minutes before an excruciating pain shot through the Hollow Knight without a single warning as a soul rending screech of the Dream Goddess made their head feel like it was about to explode. They seized and trembled when the horrid sensation did not cease. Their heart began to hammer in their chest quickly and unevenly, sometimes skipping a beat until they twisted in their bindings and released a cry of agony. But it wasn't their voice. They lacked one of their own after all. It was the Radiance. All their entrails felt as though they were set on fire or something was tearing them apart from the inside. In fear and confusion, the Vessel trashed about, Infection pouring freely from their opened mouth and eyes but they could sense some feelings that weren't theirs. Rage. Denial. Terror. Through the burning light filling up the entirety of their vision they saw Her figure writhing amidst a foreign darkness invading Her domain. Just there, at the peak of this darkness - as if the steadied, yet still ravenous Abyssal Sea rose up to challenge its nemesis - stood the familiar presence of the Hollow Knight's twin. And She was undoubtedly completely and absolutely terrified.

But the satisfaction coming from this fear did not ease in pain or the gurgling coughs ejecting the pus from their throat. The Hollow Knight felt as though their head was being split in two as the Infection was aggressively beating against the walls of their weak body, violently peeling itself off their organs and simultaneously desperately trying to keep itself rooted inside. A strained wheeze that escaped them sounded like a death rattle of an asthmatic Wyrm. Fitting, considering their origins.. It was much less funny when taking into account the fact that they couldn't breathe. They screamed alongside the Radiance, desperately gulping down every, even the smallest gasp of air they could. Another shriek tore through them and the bulging tumors on their chest abruptly ruptured, as did the ones on the stump of their right arm, spilling the disgusting, rotten fluids every which way. Infection was sizzling and thrashing about with a mind of its own until it started to evaporate in the clouds of sticky, rapidly fading smoke.

It takes a lot to bring a seasoned warrior to the point of crying out of pain but this was more than enough. Before, the Infection existed mostly in "agreement" with its host but now the Vessel felt as though they had ingested a bucket of potent acid. Tears - their normal, Void tears - started to flow uncontrollably as they shivered in spasms. The Hollow Knight didn't know how long this ordeal lasted so far but even half dazed by the pain they knew one thing. They were dying without a doubt. And the Infection inside was dying with them. Despite the dark thoughts inhabiting their broken mind as of late, ones whispering of sweet, cold claws of death, they were scared. Their twin, one whom they presumed dead for so long came back in a desperate attempt to help them, even in a dream. They couldn't let their efforts be for naught and die just like that! Praying to all Gods of Hallownest for strength, the Vessel drew another struggling breath that lined their lungs with miniscule needles and pins.

Help... Someone... anyone...

And then suddenly… the screaming stopped. The next thing the Hollow Knight knew was that the light was gone from their sight, replaced by blackness. Seconds later, or maybe longer, they couldn't say for certain, a heavy impact brought the scraps of consciousness back to them. At first, they were sure they'd been struck but in truth it was their form limply hitting the floor when they crumpled in a heap like a puppet when one cuts the strings. The stone tiles were underneath their cheek, the hold of chains absent. Burning pain remained but it was… different somehow. It wasn't the searing of the Old Light but the injuries it left behind. Even with their mind swirling like a carousel, the Hollow Knight realised it felt.. clear. Clearer than it has in ages. No alien presence lingers in the depths of their psyche. Still, the splitting headache wasn't making the thoughts easier to formulate. Do not think. It will be easier this way.

Although the possibility of receiving an answer sacares them, the Hollow Knight has to make sure. They hesitantly search through their own mind and quietly call.

Old Light?

Nothing. Silence.

Are you still there..?

No response. Dead quiet. Darkness. No internal fire, no force pressing against the remnants of their resolve and forcing its will upon them. No wisps dancing around in their vision, only dots of black and sparks of white caused by the pain. In their heaving chest, their black heart skips a beat. Could it be? Hesitantly, the Hollow Knight tries to move, to lift their arm. The appendage raises according to their will, trembling violently and falling to the floor not even a second later but there's nothing aside from their exhaustion holding them back or setting their entire system ablaze. It has to be. The Infection left. As hard to believe as it is… the Radiance.. She's gone. They can't feel Her anymore. The Darkness took over. Her light has been extinguished, at long last. In their mind they can feel a large hole, an empty space where She used to reside but this emptiness feels... good.

Happy. No, that's not the right word to call the emotion that assaults them, making them want to scream and weep, and laugh out loud all at the same time while being able to do only the second part. Struggling to form a forbidden thought, fighting the still present fever, they search for the right name for this one. Ecstatic? Yeah, that feels more like it.. However, the Hollow Knight doesn't spare time to rejoice. If they do they soon too will be gone.

Clenching their jaws, the mangled Vessel attempts to lift themself on their remaining arm but the weakened appendage gives out underneath their meager weight as though it was made of jelly. Unfortunately, their armor wasn't making the whole thing easier. The fall leaves them disoriented and stunned for a moment until they feel something wet pooling beneath their face. Forcing their head, which seems to weigh far too much, as though it was made out of lead, to turn, they see black. Void. Void spilling from their wounds and their right eye where their shell had cracked. Not the pus but pure Void. As black as it could ever be. It was… both comforting in color and disconcerting in amount. Losing that much life essence would kill a normal bug at least six times over. They needed to try something different before their Shade slips free from its confines to rejoin the Abyssal Sea. Focusing on a Healing spell was out of question with how drained of energy they were. Attempts to pull themself back to their knees also yield no results aside from agonizing stabs through the torn chitin on their chest where the cysts once were and left deep, bleeding holes after they'd bursted. Not all tumors were gone just yet. Some were still there, throbbing and scorching them with the now apparently caustic fluids.

Enough with this cursed plague! Without care for their own wellbeing, only wanting the Infection finally OUT, the Hollow Knight makes their conscious decision, rolls slightly to the side to have a more or less clear view and focuses their anger on the remaining cysts.. Their shivering hand wanders over to the last cluster of Infection still anchored to their body and hovers there for a single beat.. It's better to get this done with before they change their mind. In one swift motion, sharp tips of their claws sink into their own flesh. One drag is enough to tear deep gashes in the mutated membrane. The pustules split open with a sensation not dissimilar to being ran through with a white hot iron bar. The Hollow Knight gasps in pain, with a pang of worry realising that their breathing remained loud, ragged and unsettling. No wonder. After all this, most of their organs were likely severely damaged if not ceased to function at all. Orange liquid quickly drains from the self-inflicted wounds before being replaced by Void. It wasn't one of their finest moments, it hurt like hell but they didn't want this blasted stuff inside of them for a single second longer. Now, they were left still stuck splayed out on the floor and bleeding out at an alarming rate. They don't have much time left. Looking around, noting the lack of Infected veins and bubbles, they let their eyes linger on their old, trusty nail. If that doesn't work, then nothing will.

Scraping their head through the dust that accumulated on the floor throughout years, the Hollow Knight crawls to their discarded weapon, leaving a trail of quickly dissipating Void in their wake, and heaves themself up to get a hold of the hilt. Any second, they feared the chains would shoot out to trap them again but no such thing happened. Only two fo the longer sections remained attached to their shoulder pads and were dragging behind them. The Infection was eradicated. The purpose of the Temple fulfilled. As was theirs. Their hand trembles but otherwise holds fast as they pull up onto their knees, still wheezing dreadfully. For so long, the Hollow Knight ceaselessly begged all Higher Beings for the blessing of death, wishing their nail was in their reach so that they could end their own misery. Now… here it was in their grasp. Waiting, taunting. All it takes is one stab. Just one little push… You failed. Disappointment. Pick it up, turn the tip towards their already open chest and drive the blade through their heart. No one would miss a failure like you. The Vessel's hand tightens around the nail. It would be so easy… Just a second and it will be over. You're already as good as dead. Their task had come to an end. There's nothing more for them here. Do it!

Slowly, the Hollow Knight forces themself to stand on their weak and shaky legs, using their unkempt weapon as a crutch instead. Too late for that now. If they have to die, they'd rather do so out in the open. Everywhere but in this grave. All limbs hurt. The pain is insufferable… Do not feel.. They breathe raggedly, letting the sharp throbbing subside. Can they even make it to the outside world? What if the Dreamer Seals linger still? Do not think… No thoughts. Pick a destination. The entrance to the Egg. Don't ponder over it. Endure.

First steps come with difficulty - they hadn't walked in years and their legs feel as though the Infection has hollowed them out - they stumble and fall to their knees more than once but never give up. They refused to give up ever again. Eventually, each next step becomes easier as they drag their husk of a crippled body towards the doorway - the chains singing their grim song against the floor behind them - where their father disappeared all those years ago. Even now, after all the suffering they'd endured, the Hollow Knight hoped the Pale King is still out there somewhere. If so then the chances are once he realises the Radiance is no more, he will return to reclaim his Kingdom without the threat of the Infection hanging grimly over his head. And when that day comes, they will meet again. And after that, they will find mother too. And apologise for their defeat. Maybe they will even grant the Hollow Knight the forgiveness they don't deserve? Yes, that sounds good… If they live up to this moment, that is.. If not, then maybe their parents will at least lay their body to rest? Still, the thought of their father being dead and gone forever nearly makes them give in and fall again, unwilling to keep pushing forward. No. The Pale King is a God. It's not a trivial task to kill a Higher Being. They know it. He has to be alive. Doesn't he? Clinging to this tiny ray of hope, the Hollow Knight staggers through the dark corridor of the Temple, heading towards the light at the end where the (thank Wyrm!) opened door awaits.

A wave of stale air smelling of dirt crashes over them at the entrance and almost makes them cry with relief. No more sweet stench of Her plague. This is really happening.. Begging their weak body to hold on just a wee bit longer, they push towards their freedom. Though, no matter how hard they tried, their armor was slowing them down and making moving around difficult. In an attempt to spare the rapidly diminishing reserves of their strength, the Hollow Knight uses their claws to slash through the straps holding their shoulder pads in place they clumsily fight to unclip their ruined breastplate. With how it was bent out torn open and completely eaten through by the acidic Infection, it comes off without much difficulty and soon each armor piece hits the floor with a series of metallic clangs.

To be honest, the Vessel had no delusions they would survive this. Only one look at the ruptured chitin on their chest told them everything. After tearing the last pustules open they could've sworn for a moment they'd seen their heart trembling inside but it might as well have been a hallucination. In any case, they were too severely injured to pull through without aid and considering the sorry state of Hallownest, that is not happening. Even if they could call for help, they doubt anyone would heed their desperate pleas. Disoriented by the disappearance of the Infection and scared, any survivors, who aren't in equally as sorry state as them, are likely to head in the opposite direction. Besides, they couldn't imagine anyone would dare to touch the disgusting mess of a broken being they are now. At least… they will die happy, out in the open, gazing out at their homeland. Knowing it is safe and that they have their twin to thank for it. And that the ghost of their mistakes doesn't hold a grudge for the wrong they'd done.

A glimpse of red. A moving figure, just outside. Some strange sense of familiarity lights up a spark in the Hollow Knight's mind. Just a few more steps… After what felt like an eternity, the hero of Hallownest emerges from the Black Egg that was their and Her prison for so long and comes face to face with the shadow of their past. The Weaver clad in red dress took on a defensive stance and drew a needle once they leaned heavily against their nail, trying to steady their breathing. Red dress.. needle… strands of silk angrily lashing behind.. mask as pale as the King's.. Far more adult than they remember but still familiar. It cannot be.

It cannot be that for once since this madness had begun, the Hollow Knight has a stroke of good luck. Their tired eyes land on the one they remember as a small, temperamental girl. The spiderling princess of Deepnest. Even though the passage of time changed her, there can be no mistake. It was her. Their sister. Hornet… No longer a girl, but a young adult. How long has it truly been? And there was utter shock painted across her face once she realised that she's looking at her long lost, stoic sibling who was taken from her when she was a child. No aggressive glow in their eyes. Only soothing black, silently asking for help. What little strength they had left finally abandons them as they fall over face first again, smiling to themself inwardly. What a happy coincidence. Not only will death claim them free and at peace but in the presence of their beloved baby sister. Despite what they'd been expecting, they don't hit the floor. Instead, their body collapsed straight into Hornet's arms. How she didn't keel over underneath the weight of their much larger form was a mystery.

A firm grip on their shoulders, a pair of strong hands hardened by years of combat cautiously lower them to the kneeling position as a concerned Hornet fills their entire vision. How similar to their father she is… The same hands cup their face, just like Her wings had before (don't think about it, don't panic, it's just Hornet! They reprimanded themself when they begin to tremble), to make them look ta her. Clearly, she's saying something to them in a very frantic non-Hornet-like fashion but they can no longer hear. Her fingers gently caress the Hollow Knight's forehead, deliberately avoiding the crack in their shell and the spilling Void that could potentially kill her as the other hand rests on the underside of their mask. Such a gentle, loving gesture.. unfamiliar yet so… comforting… Each touch sends a delighted tremor through Hollow Knight's succumbing body. They didn't know one could be missing something that was never received in the first place. Yet, here they are. Yes.. yes, now they are ready. They are ready to go.. Were it not for Hornet, they wouldn't have managed to keep their head up. When they cough and wheeze, she starts speaking again. And this time bits and pieces do get through to the Hollow Knight.

"...-be alright-... -...ust hold on…!"

Weakly, the Vessel nuzzles their face into her touch as they heave in attempts to take another breath. Maybe the Hollow Knight was ready to face death but it doesn't mean they weren't afraid of it. They truly want to reassure Hornet that all will indeed be alright. But they can't. It's terribly cold out here… Flashes of images, glimpses of faces pass through their mind. Every bug they'd known well and those they met only once as well. As colorless and empty as their life had been, it was.. good. They lived a good life...

Then, suddenly, it's not Hornet they're looking at anymore. A luminous form of a small bug with multiple sleek horns shaping into a crown on the top of his head. The Pale King stands there with an aghast expression and holds their heavy head in his blackened hands making his child stare in bewilderment. He looked so real! But it cannot be him.. The feverish mind of he Vessel doesn't seem to care though. Am I dead already...? Black eyes in the pale face of their father watch the dying Hollow Knight with anguish gleaming in them. He���d never looked at them like this.. To hell with their Pure Vessel facade, they’re dying anyway... What does it matter at this point? An uncontrollable shiver makes them seize in pain rippling through their whole body as they swallow the black liquid filling their mouth and they lift their shaking hand to surprisingly firmly grasp the front of Pale King’s robes to keep him here just a little longer. The fabric seems.. strange to the touch...

Father, don't leave..

They want to call what they wished to years ago when they didn't have the courage to but.. No voice to cry suffering. The darkness is upon them and there's nothing in sight that could stop it. It was a miracle they lived long enough to crawl out of the Temple. If they were a normal bug so heavily Infected, they wouldn't have gotten up from where they'd fallen at all. Their last regret was that after all this, they will leave their twin behind. Again. And do so without so much as a single "thank you" for everything they'd done. But Gods... they were so tired.. Leaning forward the Hollow Knight rests their head on their father’s shoulder, possibly ruining the robe in the process with the Void leaking from their shell. Even if it was just the figment of their imagination, they didn’t care. To die peacefully, whether it be in the arms of Hornet or his father, was more than they could ask for or ever deserve. They breathe out with relief and for the first time in an eternity slip away into the embrace of sleep without fear in their heart, never expecting to wake up again.

Please, forgive me... All of you...

To their utter astonishment… they do. First thing they register is warmth. Not the burning fire of the disease tearing at their every nerve. A soft, comforting warmth filling up their entire being. Air around is hot and humid. Without opening their eyes, the Hollow Knight draws a loud breath that sounds kind of like a suffocating Vengefly. Strangely enough, the dense air does not hurt their damaged lungs. Quite the opposite. It spreads around their respiratory system like a balm, easing the burning left by Her plague. So long… so long since they felt any sort of something pleasant.. They could stay like this in the warmth forever and everything else can shove off with the odd, stinging pressure in their belly taking the lead. If only they could breathe easier… It takes barely a split of a second after their sudden wheeze for a pair of hands to rest on the sides of their head to steady it.

"No, no, don't you dare! Hornet's gonna tear my face off if you die!"

No memory of a name comes to mind with this male voice that sounds as though it was coming from behind a glass wall. As much as they want to remain inert, the Hollow Knight forces their eyes to pry open, wincing inwardly at the bright white glow of Soul surrounding everything, emanating from the… water they're in? A hot spring? Absent-mindedly noting they cannot see with their right eye as something was draped over it, the Hollow Knight looks up at… exactly, who? Looming over them upside down and still holding their head, was a hooded warrior with big white eyes. An ant most likely, judging by features. The unfamiliarity of the face made Hollow Knight tense in agitation but their limbs were unresponsive and aching, refusing to move. The stranger firmly held their head still even as they began to stir.

"Easy there. Not gonna hurt you. I'm a friend."

A friend? The no-longer-Sealed Vessel isn't sure what this means but they assume it's a good thing. The Pale King more than once called either one of the Five, or the future Dreamers (except for Herrah as she was the mother of his daughter) a "friend" with fondness in his voice when in good mood. Besides, if this ant really knows Hornet.. If they were being honest, the Hollow Knight was much too spent to feel threatened or try to analyse the situation to determine whether the ant does pose any threat or not. They ceased their struggling to continue wheezing heavily, fighting for air. Seems like it's not going away anytime soon.. With their every breath, the warrior's frown was deepening.

"No clue what battered you like that but I don't wanna meet it."

And you won't… The Hollow Knight thinks to themself with a sense of relief washing over them. She really is gone. They weren't sure what their twin did and how but they'd done it. No more Infection. No more pain. No more struggle.. A silent hope that they might have gotten a second chance makes them slump in the warm water working on their injuries. This warmth causes them to grow awfully sleepy, maybe they really did lose too much "blood" and were actually dying, but the stranger above them was determined to keep them in the waking world.

"For the love of- No! Stay with me! Hornet will kill me if you don't!"

Hornet.. The sound of her name somewhat keeps them from passing out. She must've been the one to bring them here. Then... it can’t have been their father they were seeing earlier... Just like they thought, their imagination was merely playing tricks on them, reshaping Hornet’s already similar features into those of the Pale Wyrm, and all this time it was her. Where did she go? Hornet wouldn't leave without a good reason… Speaking of which-..

TISO! Back the fuck off!"

Familiar, yet far more mature voice of Hollow Knight's younger sister almost brings small rocks raining down from the ceiling, making the ant in question jump away from them. As unexpected as her arrival is, it brings the Vessel peace and a sense of security.

"Okay, WOW! First you literally drag me down here by my antennae and now you yell at me for actually helping? Rude."

"May I remind you you owe me a favor? Now shut up and move."

"Geez, calm down princess! Your buddy was just breathing very loudly, I legitimately thought they're choking or something."

"I still don't trust you."

"Then why the FUCK-...?!"

As if to prove Tiso's point, the Hollow Knight descended into a fit of rattling coughs when they tried to move to see their sister, unintentionally making the strain in their stomach worse, proceeding to wheeze horribly afterwards. The Infection took a lot out of them… The arguing duo ceased in an instant (though the Hollow Knight could've sworn they felt the energy of "didn't I tell you" radiating off of the smug ant). Hornet didn't wait before walking into the hot spring and helping her older sibling sit up. Everything protests at the movement, especially their chest - now, like the stump of their arm, bound in bandages made of Weaver silk - but they don't stop her. They close their eyes as she does, breathing deeply until the painful wheezes slowly turn into nearly soundless huffs. Still, they feel and hear their breath eerily whistling in their lungs.

"That's it, keep breathing. It'll be alright. Here. This should help."

Out of a hidden pocket in her red dress she brandishes a bottle filled with gently glowing blue liquid. Lifeblood. So that's what she'd gone for.. The Hollow Knight blinks at the vial she holds, waiting for permission out of habit. They aren't quite sure if there is a point to keep the play up, especially before Hornet but… old habits die hard. Doing things without being prompted still felt... weird and uncomfortable. It causes a moment of awkward silence before Hornet frowns, seemingly catching a wind of what's going on, and brings the bottle closer to them.

"Take it. Drink."

In a beat the Hollow Knight seems to spring back to life and follows her instructions without any signs of hesitation. They down the blue concoction, bitter and by no means savory but they don't mind it. One, they aren't used to showing discomfort, two, they'd take the bitter over sweet and rotten any day. In comparison to the Infection, the Lifeblood was the best thing they'd tasted in a while. And true enough, the blue liquid works its magic quite quickly. The sharp throbbing of their wounds that the spring's power reduced to a bearable ache seemed to ease even more and some part of their strength returned to them. Honestly, they never understood why their father was so skeptical and untrusting towards the Lifeblood… On the other hand though, the Hollow Knight hangs their head low and grasps at their chest when they suddenly begin to feel awfully sick again.

"Hollow, are you-...?"

She starts but they silence her by lifting up their remaining hand when the familiar, sweetness dangerously quickly wells up in their throat. Oh no.. On an instinct, the Hollow Knight twists around and lurches forward, heaving out the contents of their stomach onto the cave floor. An unbelievably large amount of vibrant orange fluid mixed with freshly consumed Lifeblood and a little bit of Void makes its way out of the inside of their body, drawing disgusted groans from both witnesses. Well... so much for the Lifeblood treatment...

"EUGH! How the hell did all that stuff even fit inside this guy?!"

Mildly horrified Tiso asked the question into the air as Hornet, equally disturbed, didn't seem too eager to answer. The Hollow Knight was, thankfully, done in seconds and breathed out with relief once the tension left their stomach as the - hopefully - last traces of the Infection were expelled from their system. That feels so much better… As gross as the sticky substance was, the Hollow Knight found strange joy in watching the color fade into dull brown and eventually black before evaporating once and for all. Another proof. Though, the unpleasant aftertaste still lingered..

Sh-shit, I'm about to throw up too..."

With his hand over his mouth, Tiso quickly runs out of the cavern after the display and the smell left his own stomach very upset. The Hollow Knight isn't all that surprised. No one's going to try and convince the poor ant that what has just transpired wasn't thoroughly disgusting. Hornet merely rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her weakened sibling.

"How do you feel? Are you okay now?"

Never mind all the wounds which will surely leave awful scars. Never mind the dizziness that will eventually pass. Never mind the no longer existing right arm. The Hollow Knight looked Hornet straight in the eye but remained stone still, without a clue how to say it without words. Despite all the pain and the memories of suffering still fresh in their mind, they have never felt like this before. No more waking nightmares. No more Infection. No more Her. No more chains and bindings. Freedom. Peace. Safety. They are going to live to see another day and if the luck wishes to be on their side again, they will reunite with their father, mother and their sibling. Here they are, no threat in sight, beside their baby sister… "Okay" fails to describe one third of it.

"Hollow?"

Again, she called them this, trying to coax a response from the stiff voidling. And to be honest, it felt… nice. It was no longer the title mocking their existence but a sense of familiarity in it was putting the Vessel at ease. There's no need to pretend in front of Hornet. Who were they kidding, she certainly knew from the very beginning. And now she spoke this word as though it was a name like any other. The Hollow Knight never had a name. Though, they remember the Pale King accidentally calling them like this for short a couple times. Another fond memory. Yes. Yes, they like it that way.. They like that very much.

At Hornet's impatient and concerned prodding, Hollow bowed their much larger head until theirs and their sister's horns connected with an empty clunk. She seemed rather… shocked to say the least, judging by the look on her face. But fortunately the message was clear.

"You're ah... welcome, I guess.."

In response they only stared at her until she finally took a seat on the edge of the pool of healing water with her legs submerged. Hollow never had many interactions with people aside from following commands and watching their affairs from the side lines. Yet, there were moments, like after a particularly bad training session, when they received a gentle touch, most often from their mother. Root had a natural affinity to heal and she couldn't help but give into her motherly instincts when she saw her child hurting. Unfortunately, only until the young Pure Vessel managed to hone their skills to Focus Soul into healing injuries. And not so long ago Hornet was lightly stroking their head as they were knocking on death's door in her arms. Is this alright to ask her to do it again?

Uncertain, Hollow rested their heavy head beside where she sat, watching her out of the corner of their uncovered eye, the other wrapped up in Void-stained silk. Their memories of Hornet seemed so distant… The little girl with definitely too large amounts of energy stored within her tiny body was all over the Palace whenever she visited and she always found ways to sneak away to bother them. Not that they minded it. When Hollow found out the spiderling is their half sister from another mother, they took it as a point of honor to watch over her whenever they could, glad every time their father told them to do so. As cold and distant as he was, Hollow knew they loved their father, they just didn't know how to name this emotion yet. To feel safe and happy, to feel one would do anything for the person subjected to it.. With Hornet it felt… different. While they - metaphorically, of course - looked up to the Pale King, respected him and never doubted his words, every time Hornet was in sight they felt the same joyous warmth that came from the presence of either of their parents but laced with a protective instinct. They would follow the princess of Deepnest to hell and back if she asked them to and make sure she returns unscathed. Turns out, it is her who has to keep watch over them. How the tides have turned…

A small, lively child she always was, Hornet feared nothing and never backed out from any challenge. She even had a phase for a couple of months in the past when she declared she will kill the Infection for her dad on her own and it left the poor King utterly stressed out and terrified, ready to launch himself behind his cocky daughter at any moment so that Herrah doesn't gut him for being a "sorry excuse of a parent who can't even do his job properly". Memories like this bring the invisible smile to their face... Hollow couldn't imagine she would change much as she grew up. But it seems they still don't know their sister all that well.. With barely any noticeable hesitation she surprised her older sibling by lifting their head to her lap.

"I never thought I'd see you again. Let alone alive.."

She said more to herself than to anyone else as she rested her hand between their horns like they used to do to her when she was little. Uninfected. This word never left her mouth, as though saying it out loud would break the spell, but Hollow somehow knew that's what she meant. Nuzzled into the soft, albeit a bit worn dress and warmed by the magical waters of the hot spring, Hollow found a wave of unimaginable exhaustion, coming from years of being locked away with the Goddess of Dreams tormenting them, finally crashing over their broken body. After everything they've been through, they wanted and deserved to finally sleep in peace. But while before they were sure they were falling asleep never to return to the land of the living again and were okay with it, now some small, seemingly insignificant vestiges of fear lingered in the back of their psyche. They were plainly afraid of falling asleep. Hollow never wanted to have to stand before the Radiance ever again. However, this fear melted away with gentle strokes of Hornet's hand on their shell and the other one rubbing circles into their back to put them at ease the moment she noticed them fighting with their weariness.

"Hey, it's okay. She will never hurt you again."

Hollow knew this. They'd felt the Radiance at her strongest fall, even though they never thought it possible. Seems like the word "impossible" does not exist in their twin's dictionary.. But still, the fear was always there. What if I was wrong? What if this is just another hallucination? Those what ifs scared them all the same no matter what they'd seen and lived through. They knew that it's finally over. But they had to hear someone else say it with certainty. To make them believe. And Hornet's stern but sympathetic voice along with her comforting touch did just that. Finding new strength in their sore limbs, Hollow clambered up a little further onto the shore but not out of the warm water to lay more comfortably with their head still resting on Hornet's lap, and awkwardly reached around her waist with their left arm to snuggle up even closer like a desperate child they never had a chance to be. They weren't sure if they're doing the "hug-thing" right but it worked nonetheless. It took the fear away, soothed the ache of their shattered soul. With utmost certainty, they knew this was an emotion they liked feeling now that no one is here to judge them. Maybe they were wrong. Perhaps there's still a reason to keep going? Hornet never ceased caressing them and soon, Hollow found themself calmly falling asleep on her thighs with the last words they heard before slipping into the blessedly dreamless sleep ringing in their ears like a lullaby, the long forgotten tune of a small music box that the White Lady was so fond of...

…You are safe…

Out from the winding tunnels of Crossroads and into a cavern housing the healing waters of the hot spring, a pitch black shadow slithers across the ground like a serpent towards two sleeping figures slumped against one another. The temperature dips noticeably as it creeps closer to the Protector of Hallownest and the Hollow Knight resting at the shore oblivious to any form of danger while the hooded ant - saved from certain death by Hornet herself under the insistence of the Pale Wanderer - slumbers beneath an opposite wall with his arms crossed not to intrude on this peaceful moment. The shadow's attention is focused on the pair of pale siblings however. It raises and collapses in on itself like a liquid given life as it silently crawls up to the sleeping duo.

Reaching their side, the shadow begins to rise up from the ground and rapidly swell in size. The shapeless substance forms into a massive body with four, clawed arms, a large head adorned with multiple ghostly horns and dark tendrils swaying lightly from the creature's back. It stands tall on two animalistic legs half obscured by an ethereal robe melding perfectly with its torso and looms over the siblings, casting no shadow. If anything, its body is so dark that the light seems to bend around it. Eight, brilliant white eyes open in a faceless head and blink slowly, one pair after another. The Abyssal horror, blacker than anything existing in this world, composed of Void in its purest form and shape, barely fits in this cave but doesn't seem to care. It watches both the Void born creature and the half-spider for a couple seconds before its numerous eyes crinkle in something resembling a smile.

. . . S a f e . . .

The Void rumbles satisfied. Carefully, the giant lays something beside them - a small, pale mask split in two - and begins to focus. In barely half a minute, the dark menace shrinks and loses its intimidating shape once more in favor of sliding into the cracked shell, reforming a tiny body in a dark grey cloak tattered from long travels. As though it was the most natural thing in the world, the Ghost of Hallownest picks up the other half of their mask and as the last bits of their true form compress within their broken head they lift the missing piece and without any effort mend the crack that used to run through the middle of their face, leaving but a faint scar behind. This form was way too small, they could feel the Void pressing against it from the inside uncomfortably but for now it will have to do. Though, they liked this body and were very used to it. Maybe they could just make it grow properly in the near future?

With that transformation done, the warmth returns to the cavern. Casually, Ghost shuffles closer to their last remaining siblings and - mindful of numerous recently healed wounds Hollow bears - cuddles against Hornet's side next to Hollow's arm, careful not to wake up either of their siblings in the process. Especially Hollow. They need their rest the most. Actually, it's new to see Hornet of all people peacefully sleeping with the Hollow Knight's head on her lap. All of the sudden she seemed far less scary than the little vessel found her during their first meeting in Greenpath, though that may have something to do with their newfound Godhood. With a quiet sigh, Ghost lets their eyes slip closed but doesn't fall asleep. Their Ascension, although it brought unthinkable power that let them tear apart the Goddess of Dreams, left them utterly spent. Rooting out the Infection was not an evening stroll... But they have no desire to sleep. Not yet. For now, they're content with listening to breaths and heartbeats of their siblings. After cutting their way through the entire Pantheon of Hallownest in order to save this land, to save their lost twin, they feel like they've earned this moment of respite. Woe be upon any who thinks otherwise.. Eventually however, even the God of Gods gives into their exhaustion and falls into a deep slumber beside their siblings, knowing both of them are safe. Hallownest is safe. They all are..

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First try at drawing a proper background! Woo! Before you ask, I didn't give Ghost a shadow on purpose, I'm not that oblivious XD

[weaverlings]

how she takes her tea

pretty much pure fluff this time

alt link

Hornet woke in one soft and uncomplicated moment, knowing where she was, the name of this place washed in thin gray light. Home in the early morning.

She had slept most of the night through. Perhaps one awakening, dream-shrouded moment of cold sweat and soothing, nothing that had lasted long. It had been slight enough that her head and heart were clear now. She pulled an arm free of the blankets and draped it over the still form beside her.

"Good morning," Lace murmured drowsily. She shifted, pressing her back to Hornet's chest and tipping her head up to nudge Hornet's face.

"Good morning," Hornet answered, half into her pillow, entirely with wonder, "My love."

Lace rolled over and laid her palm over Hornet's cheek. "Yes. Only yours."

Hornet closed her eyes again. She took Lace's hand, twined their fingers together and pulled it from her face, only to press it to her chest, instead. She lay there, silent, absent any particular desire to move from this spot.

Lace took her other hand and ran it along the inner curve of the horn pressed into the pillow. Hornet purred, an instinct which came to her unbidden, but which she now allowed herself to indulge in freely. Lace took her hand back, this time, so she could reach over Hornet's side and set her palm between Hornet's shoulders, embracing her and the low vibrations that nearly lulled them both back to sleep.

Lace's mouth lazily brushed over her fangs. Hornet pulled them back so that Lace could kiss her properly, and then spoke, the first few words trilled before she silenced her purring, "I suppose it's time for breakfast, isn't it?"

Lace opened one eye, and huffed, "If it must be."

"Don't pout so," Hornet whispered. She sat up, let the sheets fall into her lap. "I'll be back in a moment."

"No, you won't."

"No?" Hornet answered mildly, as she swung her feet onto the floor.

"No," Lace said. "Because I am going to make breakfast this morning."

Lace caught Hornet's wrist before she could stand, and drew her hand back to herself to kiss her palm.

Hornet considered this, and then tilted her wrist up, allowing Lace a better angle. Hornet said, "I would like eggs. I can make these myself, if you would prefer not to."

Lace let go of Hornet's hand and sniffed. "Oh! I simply don't know where I'll find the means to comply with such an outrageous demand, Princess."

"In the icebox."

"Then perhaps I'll start my search there." Lace rolled out of bed, spun back around, and smoothed the folds of her nightdress around her waist, all with the fluidity of one motion. "Now, don't hurry for my sake. There's nowhere we have to be today, after all."

"As you wish."

"As it should be!"

Lace flounced from the room, and Hornet did not move to follow. She did watch her, through the living room until she disappeared into the kitchen, and then Hornet eyed that patch of carpet on the threshold, where Lace had stood last.

Hornet stood, anyway, kicked off the shorts she'd taken to wearing as pajamas and swirled her cloak down from its hook nearby onto her shoulders.

She considered her needle, hanging on a second hook. She tapped the sheathed blade where it narrowed to the tip with a single claw. But it was not the right tool for today. For now.

She didn't need it. Wouldn't. Shouldn't.

She turned her back on it, bowed her head, a moment of gratitude for what had once been her only companion. Then she stepped into the living room, adjusting her cloak as she went.

The smell of frying lillifly eggs was already wafting into the bedroom, buttery and spiced with pepper. Hornet had not hurried for Lace's sake. She was simply hungry.

She nearly ran into Lace, stepping out of the kitchen as Hornet tried to enter it. Lace was carrying a tray, well-spread - a little pot of tea, a plate of toast and jar of jam, two plates of eggs.

Hornet observed automatically, "We should not eat in bed."

Lace offered, "It's laundry day, anyhow."

"And I have no desire to spend it dealing with jam stains." Hornet plucked the tray from Lace's hands, and the resulting indignant squeak drew her chelicerae up in a grin. She pressed on into the kitchen, "Join me at the table, won't you?"

"Very well. But only because you're handsome when you smile."

Hornet paused, squaring her shoulders, and behind her, Lace giggled. Hornet began to arrange the food on the table without further comment, but when Lace joined her, she was still smiling, the softest smile that fangs could manage.

Lace poured the tea, and administered the appropriate beats of milk for each of them, knowing Hornet's preference as well as she knew her own. No honey, nor sugar. She set Hornet's cup down in front of her, and dragged her chair around from the other side of the table to sit at Hornet's side.

When Hornet inclined her head curiously, Lace merely answered, "You said to join you," and took a sip of her own tea.

"So I did." Hornet slipped an arm around Lace's waist, inviting her to lean as much as she could while they were eating. Lace accepted, curling her legs onto her chair, and wrapping arm around Hornet in turn, though more for contact than balance. The cool, cottony fabric of her nightgown pressed to Hornet's cloak, fabric stirring over chitin.

Lace cut into one of her eggs with the side of her spoon, and to let yolk gather in it. She lifted the spoon to Hornet's mouth. "Come now. I want to know what you think."

"What could I tell  you  but 'delicious'?" But before Lace could present any of the ready alternatives, Hornet took what she'd been offered, and then nodded solemnly. "Indeed so. Thank you."  

Lace stretched up, looped her hands behind Hornet's neck, and kissed her again. "And how about that?"

"Ah. Better still, but…" She took a spoonful of her own eggs, and popped it into Lace's mouth. "We require sustenance, and sadly we won't find any nutrients that way."

Lace laughed, no longer the flawless sound it had once been, but twice as lovely by Hornet's estimate.

Once they had finished eating, it was, indeed, laundry day. Lace at last changed into something still clean, and they commenced in earnest. They gathered those garments and sheets which they needed to wash, and washed them. Next they loaded the sopping cloth back into the basket. Lace carried it down to the sunny courtyard, and Hornet set up the drying poles and ran a thread between them, and the two of them strung everything up.

As soon as this was done, Lace folded neatly into the clover and sprawled out. The courtyard was nearly empty today. Some children had claimed a corner for a game, and there was a neighbor, tending a particular patch of flowers. And now Lace, settled as luxuriously as she would have on the lounge inside, waiting for Hornet.

And Hornet understood that she had been wrong in her earlier assessment - she could make use of her favorite tool, after all.

Now,  Hornet thought, and turned away considerately, although she could not see their windows from this side.  While we have a moment. Now...

"If I bring my needle to play, will you sing with me?"

"Hm!" Lace propped herself up on her elbow. She took another look around, although she was doubtless as acutely aware of their surroundings as Hornet was, and nodded grandly. "If you'd like to hear me sing, then I will."

Hornet stretched, and announced, "I'll return shortly."

"Oh, do. I'll miss you terribly." Lace's tone was dry, but she reached up, wrapped Hornet's hand in hers and squeezed it. Once and then again when Hornet replied by brushing a thumb along the joints in Lace's flesh.

Hornet only had to run back inside and retrieve it. She might have brought it earlier, if she'd thought to do so, but there was no great loss. She had no further obligations today beyond that which fluttered on its line. She could spare a few moments.

She could. It was her choice, now, and it would not hurt anything, and - one way or another, she had made the decision to do so. It was her choice.

"There you are." Lace observed the once-weapon in Hornet's hands, and smiled. "Such a fine thing."

Hornet nodded. She sat down, crossed her legs, and laid her needle over them. She had been wrong earlier, but less than she'd thought. She hadn't needed it, nor would she. She wanted it, instead.

"We have mostly waiting to do now. Better to have music, too." She slid the sheath off and set it down beside her.

"You are such a sentimental creature," Lace replied fondly. Her eyes were as bright as the light off the metal, but unusually soft when she looked at Hornet, at the contentment in Hornet's own eyes as she worked.

From her spool, Hornet unwound strands of silk and drew them from the needle's base to the tip, snipping the final lengths with her claws to fasten. She plucked at them, testing the sound, and Lace hummed, matching the pitch with her voice and nodding approvingly.

Hornet leaned the needle against her scarred shoulder, resting the tip against the ground. Lace knew the song from the first measure, and joined in with her voice. They performed quietly, to keep the music as near to them as they could, while the sun warmed the flowers and their laundry and the two of them.  

[mythandlaur]

Burai here on anon, rip Side-blog personal blog. Anywhoo-- The Will of the Swarm, Children of the Archives, Light Unseen, and are ya winning the tournament son. If you don't mind.

The WIP Tag Game

@buraidragon​ You should know these--you were involved in at least two of them.

Lots of text under the cut!

The Will of the Swarm (working title only) - Spiral Knights - 2018

A collaborative project with friends Burai and apprenticeNerd; a roleplay adaptation that would’ve made for a multichapter fic. Knight-Elite Ixtharion and his protégé, the slightly pyromaniacal Ashoza, are called on for a cryptic rescue mission in the Wildwoods, only to find the person they’re rescuing is none other than Parma, reconnaissance specialist of the lost Alpha Squad, who bears worrying information from the Core and evidence of her claims in the form of a dark miasma that appears to have eaten away her right arm. Ix has some knowledge on prosthetics, and takes over the effort to get Parma set up with one, facilitating interaction and camaraderie between the trio--and it’s them who chase after Parma when she delves back into the deepest layers of the Clockworks upon word coming back of the fate of the Alpha Squad’s technician...consumed by the Swarm and working for Herex.

I still really enjoy this concept tbh??? Like I don’t know if I could WRITE write it but if you guys still wanted to poke at it after all this time I’d be game. I don’t have a snippet, but I do have some nigh-incomprehensible notes from a document dated August 2018

Events:

Parma needs to recover a little bit, explore Haven when she can (her arm’s definitely going though)

Ix dinner party

Discussion of important things/she lets them in on what she found

Vanguards find Shadow Rulen in the depths and Parma immediately runs off looking, Ix and Shoza having to follow after her

Other ideas and stuff:

Scout slowly becomes a Seraphynx

Drunk Ashoza happens at some point

Concepts:

Shadow Rulen/Technomancer Rulen:

Is possessed/corrupted by the Swarm and taken in by Herex

Speaks in the plural in this state

Creates a very large mech (possibly named “Omega” something for irony?)

Swarm turret gatling gun

Shard bomb launcher

Tears out bits of the world and slams them down on enemies

Weak to overheading

Last ditch attempts to escape deeper into the core

Potential concept of Rulen losing his body to the Swarm and becoming a spirit who possesses/manipulates technology

Grantz’s Sword:

This dude took his oath way too seriously and stuck around even after dying, possessing his sword which remains around the core

Doesn’t realize he’s dead

Inadvertently possesses whatever knight holds the sword

---

Children of the Archives - Hollow Knight - 2019

Another collaborative project between the same trio, an AU affectionately referred to as “Monomom”. There isn’t so much a plot summation for this as there are a bunch of concepts; basically, in this verse, a very large amount of Vessels find their way out of the Abyss and into the Teacher’s Archives, becoming mainstays around there long before the Infection starts to take hold. Though Monomon still fulfils her duty, she isn’t happy about it or the Pale King’s plan, and Quirrel stays behind to take care of the Vessels after she’s gone, though becomes infected as a result. Several events in the game go differently, partially because Hornet is aware of the vessels and is more open with Ghost because of that awareness. Was meant to probably be a verse with a lot of domestic nonsense going on overall.

I don’t have a snippet, but there’s a doc with a lot of concepts, including about three pages’ worth of Vessels created between the three of us. Have some favorites:

Trio - Early model, has three arms. Acts like the older brother to other Vessels. Probably has three small Nails. 

Ase - Broken Vessel, stoic leader, mature, has been wandering longer than the others, cares about siblings more than themself - Insists they’re strong and independent and don’t need help, try to get to the void, fail, several others from the Archives sneak out to drag them back to the Archives badly injured and scare the living daylights out of Quirrel

Lantern - Likes putting lumaflies in their head. Yes, the eyes glow depending how many there are. Theoretically if they Consume the shock ones, they could have laser beam eyes? 

Vault - Taller and thicker vessel that likes storing stuff inside of them. Not a fighter. They fight by flinging stone writings at people and running.

Spite - Seven horns, is upset about that, breaks one off that forms the core of their nail, always down to fight. Will probably stab you if you insult a sibling.

Ink - Gets really good at making ink, their shell’s always stained, loves learning, pesters the students. Probably carries brushes instead, and would hang around Sheo for art.

Legion- One Shade spread over five Vessels. They act as a collective within a collective. If threatened will pile into a very stable tower and initiate a five-tiered Loom. Highly skilled in combat, as you need to take all five of them out within a short time period to fully incapacitate them. You might find one of their Shells roaming Fog Canyon, too keep a scout’s eye out for any potential dangers. If nothing else, they’re bouncing off of jellyfish because it’s fun. Each Shell of Leigon’s has a pentagon inked onto the back, with a dot in each corner responding to which Shell it is. Legion’s shade is as large as Hollow’s. 

Smith: Slightly-large Vessel, missing a leg, really wants to be a Nailsmith. Alters between studying under The Nailsmith and practicing Nailcrafting on sibling’s blades. Keeps them in shape, if nothing else. Has a metal peg-leg they are perfectly willing to take off and smack you with if they’ve lost their nail.

---

Light Unseen - Destiny 2 - 2019

A backstory oneshot for Kaira, a blind Guardian only capable of seeing traces of Light where it’s present, and her Ghost, Nel, who acts as her guide. This particular bit of writing was meant to be Kaira and Nel’s first meeting, and Kaira’s first (and second) revival, as Nel tries to figure out how to accommodate her and help her escape from a Cabal ambush in the EDZ, eventually assisted by more experienced Guardians Irina and Elara-4, who become Kaira’s good friends.

I really, really love this character and I really, really want to do something more with her, but D2′s writing has gone in the crapper since Forsaken and I don’t agree with basically anything Bungie’s done with the game in the last year, so I’m in a bit of a pickle. I do have a snippet, though. Trigger warning for a brief description of an extremely long-dead corpse/skeleton.

Other Ghosts do this for years, he’s heard. But for him, it only takes a few minutes.

Sticking out of some bushes, the Ghost finds a leg. Not much of a leg, of course; the flesh has long since rotted away, and the elements have left just the barest scraps of fabric from the deceased’s clothes. As he delves into the bushs, branches scraping and poking at his shell, he sees the rest of the remains tangled inside are similarly skeletal. The skull is the worst, mangled and caved in around the eye sockets. He wonders how they’d come to be in a place like this, in a state like that. Had they fallen? Had someone, or something, tried to hide their body?

There’s no way for him to know, and he doubts he ever will. But it doesn’t matter, because what he does know is that this is it.

He doesn’t know in any logical capacity, but he knows because he can feel something inside of those bones reacting to his presence, like a pair of magnets drawn to each other’s polarities. He feels...warm, and whole, and his shell is buzzing as if with errant electricity, except it is not electricity, it is Light, his Light, the Light the Traveler had given him with the sole purpose of passing that wonderful gift on to another.

Their body isn’t really in an ideal position for resurrection, and he can’t do much about that given his lack of both size and limbs. But that doesn’t dampen his growing excitement, as he looks at those bones and wonders not for the first time what they’ll be like, what sort of adventures they’ll go on together.

There’s only one way to find out, he knows.

The red-shelled Ghost hovers there, relishing this moment of anticipation for a few seconds longer. And then, he can’t contain it any longer.

He opens himself up to the gift of the Light, and it all but consumes him; his form expands, a little blue sun with little metal planets orbiting around it, and every mechanical sensor cuts out. The part of him that isn’t mechanical reaches out, and from the tiny floating solar system comes a beam that bathes the lost bones in Light.

Flesh reforms itself in the wake of shimmering waves, and clothes over that. The skull rearranges its broken, twisted parts and knits itself back together. After what feels like an age to him, his sensors come back online as his shell wraps around him again, and he drifts back to check his handiwork.

They wear the cloak, hood, and mask of a Hunter, hiding their face. Their shape is vaguely feminine--he’s going to assume until they tell him themself. Her chest rises and falls slowly with her newly-restored breathing, as if she’s not yet fully awake, and she doesn’t seem to realize the fact that she’s lying in a bush.

“...Guardian?” He quells his excitement, trying to keep his voice soft as he flies in closer to her face--then quickly back as he realizes he may be too close. The branches rustle with a slight movement of her arm, and her head turns sluggishly. “Guardian, wake up. I’m sorry, I couldn’t move you--you’re going to have to get up.”

She tilts her head slightly upwards towards his voice. For a moment, there’s no other reaction, but then the words seem to register and she starts pushing herself into a sitting position. Branches snap and crack as she pushes against them, struggling, before she seems to realize a better way and starts sliding her feet along the ground, dragging herself out with her knees little by little until she can sit up unhindered. Once she’s up, she crosses her legs under her and sets her hands in her lap, chin dropped towards her chest as he hovers around her to make sure she’s all in one piece.

He can hardly believe it. His Guardian, living and breathing once again, right here in front of him. The Ghost flies around to hang in front of her face. “How do you feel?” No response, no acknowledgment. He guesses she’s still a little rattled. “Not much of a talker? Okay, you don’t have to talk right now, but we do need to get moving, there’s--”

The Hunter abruptly raises her head, and he stops talking. In the silence, a loud rumbling can be heard, gradually growing louder. Seconds pass, and he turns his eye upward to see a shadow in the sky above the trees--a very familiar shadow, as he’s seen several of these during his scouting missions.

“...Maybe they’ll pass us.”

The dropship stops in the air, almost directly overhead. The side of a wing is all he can see, but he can hear grunts and shouts all too close nearby, feet hitting the ground hard.

So, he’d been quite lucky to find his Guardian so quickly and easily. But apparently, he’d used up all that luck at once, and now a Cabal scouting party is here, for whatever reason.

“You know what I said about moving? We’re going to need to start on that right now.” The Ghost quickly disappears in a shimmer of light, still keeping an eye out around them. “I’m still here. I’ll explain everything later, I promise, but right now we’ve got to run. I’ve got a marker up for you, just follow that and don’t stop. Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

The Hunter stumbles to her feet, holding her arms out to steady herself. The Light is still waking inside of her; she probably doesn’t know how to control it, and without a gun, running is their only chance. She glances about wildly, and then takes off--not exactly in the direction of his marker, but he trusts she’s got a plan. If she’s a Hunter, she’s likely got impeccable instincts.

---

are ya winnin the puyo tournament son (doc name) - Puyo Puyo - October 2020

You know I had to do it. This is a oneshot based in an AU where Sig’s ancestor, Ajisai, is reconstituted by the deus ex machina duo themselves, Ecolo and (much to their chagrin) Satan. After spending a few weeks living in the middle of nowhere, Ajisai hears about an upcoming Puyo tournament and decides to participate in the festivities, using it as an excuse to endear themself to varying degrees to the students and visitors. Eventually, they confront Satan about his unacceptable behavior, and get a hint that Satan’s actions may be a bit more tragic than merely pathetic.

Basically this is just ‘what if Ajisai lived because I want to write more for them and I want to see how they’d interact with more characters’. It’s mostly just me goofing in 15th anniversary’s style and I don’t know if people would be interested, but I’m getting some enjoyment out of it.

Looking down on Primp Town from the ridge is rather like watching a beehive--except instead of honeycomb, the excited bees are rushing about building a network of colorful streamers and decorations hanging between buildings.

“You certainly have a lot of celebrations here, don’t you.”

Sig gives the barest of shrugs, not even bothering to glance up from the caterpillar that’s made itself at home on a finger of his claw. “Guess so. It’s fun, though.”

“What is it this time? The Primp Festival wasn’t too long ago. It can’t be that again, can it?”

“Puyo tournament. The school’s running it.”

“Ah, I see.”

“They did it last year, too. Bunch of Arle’s friends showed up.”

“You do realize I was there for the last one, yes?”

Sig finally looks over, and they patiently wait for him to arrive at the realization. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

Ajisai chuckles quietly under their breath as their descendant goes back to admiring the caterpillar. It is easy to forget that they’d been present during many of the major events in Sig’s life, if only because they look and act so different now that they have a whole body to themself again. It’s a small price to pay for their freedom, of course, and they owe Ecolo a great deal for the service.

Well, not just Ecolo, they suppose. There had been...others involved.

“It’s different playing in it yourself, though,” Sig continues after a pause. Ajisai shakes their head to dislodge the loose thoughts before turning back to him.

“Are you going to be joining in this year, then?”

“Yeah.” A tiny smile comes to Sig’s face, though he still doesn’t look up. Nothing more needs to be said, so a comfortable silence stretches on between them, as Sig watches the caterpillar climb his arm and offers his right hand to crawl on instead so he doesn’t lose the little thing. Meanwhile, Ajisai can’t help but glance back down towards the frenetic party preparations, slight fangs poking at their lower lip in thought.

They’ve been alive and well for at least two weeks now, and only four people even know about it; they’ve either been staying at Sig’s house rereading the collection they’d passed down to him or wandering about the Forest of Nahe aimlessly, occasionally slipping into town at night to have a look around before quickly leaving again. But...they’d like to go into town, if only to visit the library. There are so many of Sig’s classmates they’d never gotten to meet properly, too. After so long isolated, they finally remember what it’s like to feel a need for companionship.

There’s only the question of if they deserve it. If they’ll be welcome there.

Ajisai takes a deep breath. “Is this tournament only for the students?”

“No,” Sig replies without missing a beat, “Bunch of other people are probably gonna play. Arle’s friends, Ringo’s friends, the space guys, Ally…Dunno who’s coming, but I’d be surprised if those guys didn’t.”

“Hm.”

“You wanna play too?” Sig takes his attention from the caterpillar, looking over at them with half-lidded, questioning eyes and pursed lips. “You’re really good.”

“Well…” Leave it to their ‘nephew’ to see right through them. Ajisai looks away, hair flicking in slight agitation. They’ve picked up a thing or two about Puyo over the years, it’s true--they’ve even given some of Sig’s classmates a run for their money in the past. Though that only brings up the circumstances of those battles, which were...less than ideal. “Do you think they’d be willing to have me?”

“You’d have to ask Ms. Accord.” Typical Sig--doesn’t even notice their internal struggle, or perhaps he does and doesn’t think it’s an issue. He points down at the town with a clawed finger. “She’s probably down there helping set up.”

Ajisai narrows their eyes, considering it. They suppose the worst that can happen is them being told no and having to go back to the forest, but the idea of just walking into town as they are is a bit unnerving. Still… “Would you mind if I went down there now, then?”

“Go ahead,” Sig says, focus returning to the caterpillar. They can’t help but chuckle a bit under their breath at their nephew’s fascination, the same all-consuming interest that they had for books and stories. 

Ajisai stands, shaking the grass out of their cape before resting a hand on Sig’s left shoulder and squeezing slightly. “Don’t go running off,” they say with a wry smirk, fully aware that Sig will probably still be watching the caterpillar twenty minutes from now.

Sig knows it too, and huffs a little, amused snort through his nose. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

[readbookywooks]

SORCERY AND SUDDEN VENGEANCE

MEANWHILE Trumpkin and the two boys arrived at the dark little stone archway which led into the inside of the Mound, and two sentinel badgers (the white patches on their cheeks were all Edmund could see of them) leaped up with bared teeth and asked them in snarling voices, "Who goes there?" "Trumpkin," said the Dwarf. "Bringing the High King of Narnia out of the far past." The badgers nosed at the boys' hands. "At last," they said. "At last." "Give us a light, friends," said Trumpkin. The badgers found a torch just inside the arch and Peter lit it and handed it to Trumpkin. "The D.L.F. had better lead," he said. "We don't know our way about this place." Trumpkin took the torch and went ahead into the dark tunnel. It was a cold, black, musty place, with an occasional bat fluttering in the torchlight, and plenty of cobwebs. The boys, who had been mostly in the open air since that morning at the railway station, felt as if they were going into a trap or a prison. "I say, Peter," whispered Edmund. "Look at those carvings on the walls. Don't they look old? And yet we're older than that. When we were last here, they hadn't been made." "Yes," said Peter. "That makes one think." The Dwarf went on ahead and then turned to the right, and then to the left, and then down some steps, and then to the left again. Then at last they saw a light ahead - light from under a door. And now for the first time they heard voices, for they had come to the door of the central chamber. The voices inside were angry ones. Someone was talking so loudly that the approach of the boys and the Dwarf had not been heard. "Don't like the sound of that," whispered Trumpkin to Peter. "Let's listen for a moment." All three stood perfectly still on the outside of the door. "You know well enough," said a voice ("That's the King," whispered Trumpkin), "why the Horn was not blown at sunrise this morning. Have you forgotten that Miraz fell upon us almost before Trumpkin had gone, and we were fighting for our lives for the space of three hours and more? I blew it when first I had a breathing space." "I'm not likely to forget it," came the angry voice, "when my Dwarfs bore the brunt of the attack and one in five of them fell." ("That's Nikabrik," whispered Trumpkin.) "For shame, Dwarf," came a thick voice ("Trufflehunter's," said Trumpkin). "We all did as much as the Dwarfs and none more than the King." "Tell that tale your own way for all I care," answered Nikabrik. "But whether it was that the Horn was blown too late, or whether there was no magic in it, no help has come. You, you great clerk, you master magician, you know-all; are you still asking us to hang our hopes on Aslan and King Peter and all the rest of it?" "I must confess - I cannot deny it - that I am deeply disappointed in the result of the operation," came the answer. ("That'll be Doctor Cornelius," said Trumpkin.) "To speak plainly," said Nikabrik, "your wallet's empty, your eggs addled, your fish uncaught, your promises broken. Stand aside then and let others work. And that is why - " "The help will come," said Trufflehunter. "I stand by Aslan. Have patience, like us beasts. The help will come. It may be even now at the door." "Pah!" snarled Nikabrik. "You badgers would have us wait till the sky falls and we can all catch larks. I tell you we can't wait. Food is running short; we lose more than we can afford at every encounter; our followers are slipping away." "And why?" asked Trufflehunter. "I'll tell you why. Because it is noised among them that we have called on the Kings of old and the Kings of old have not answered. The last words Trumpkin spoke before he went (and went, most likely, to his death) were, `If you must blow the Horn, do not let the army know why you blow it or what you hope from it.' But that same evening everyone seemed to know." "You'd better have shoved your grey snout in a hornets' nest, Badger, than suggest that I am the blab," said Nikabrik. "Take it back, or - " "Oh, stop it, both of you," said King Caspian. "I want to know what it is that Nikabrik keeps on hinting we should do. But before that, I want to know who those two strangers are whom he has brought into our council and who stand there with their ears open and their mouths shut." "They are friends of mine," said Nikabrik. "And what better right have you yourself to be here than that you are a friend of Trumpkin's and the Badger's? And what right has that old dotard in the black gown to be here except that he is your friend? Why am I to be the only one who can't bring in his friends?" "His Majesty is the King to whom you have sworn allegiance," said Trufflehunter sternly. "Court manners, court manners," sneered Nikabrik. "But in this hole we may talk plainly. You know - and he knows that this Telmarine boy will be king of nowhere and nobody in a week unless we can help him out of the trap in which he sits." "Perhaps," said Cornelius, "your new friends would like to speak for themselves? You there, who and what are you?" "Worshipful Master Doctor," came a thin, whining voice. "So please you, I'm only a poor old woman, I am, and very obliged to his Worshipful Dwarfship for his friendship, I'm sure. His Majesty, bless his handsome face, has no need to be afraid of an old woman that's nearly doubled up with the rheumatics and hasn't two sticks to put under her kettle. I have some poor little skill - not like yours, Master Doctor, of course - in small spells and cantrips that I'd be glad to use against our enemies if it was agreeable to all concerned. For I hate 'em. Oh yes. No one hates better than me." "That is all most interesting and - er - satisfactory," said Doctor Cornelius. "I think I now know what you are, Madam. Perhaps your other friend, Nikabrik, would give some account of himself?" A dull, grey voice at which Peter's flesh crept replied, "I'm hunger. I'm thirst. Where I bite, I hold till I die, and even after death they must cut out my mouthful from my enemy's body and bury it with me. I can fast a hundred years and not die. I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze. I can drink a river of blood and not burst. Show me your enemies." "And it is in the presence of these two that you wish to disclose your plan?" said Caspian. "Yes," said Nikabrik. "And by their help that I mean to execute it." There was a minute or two during which Trumpkin and the boys could hear Caspian and his two friends speaking in low voices but could not make out what they were saying. Then Caspian spoke aloud. "Well, Nikabrik," he said, "we will hear your plan." There was a pause so long that the boys began to wonder if Nikabrik was ever going to begin; when he did, it was in a lower voice, as if he himself did not much like what he was saying. "All said and done," he muttered, "none of us knows the truth about the ancient days in Narnia. Trumpkin believed none of the stories. I was ready to put them to the trial. We tried first the Horn and it has failed. If there ever was a High King Peter and a Queen Susan and a King Edmund and a Queen Lucy, then either they have not heard us, or they cannot come, or they are our enemies - " "Or they are on the way," put in Trufflehunter. "You can go on saying that till Miraz has fed us all to his dogs. As I was saying, we have tried one link in the chain of old legends, and it has done us no good. Well. But when your sword breaks, you draw your dagger. The stories tell of other powers beside the ancient Kings and Queens. How if we could call them up?" "If you mean Aslan," said Trufflehunter, "it's all one calling on him and on the Kings. They were his servants. If he will not send them (but I make no doubt he will), is he more likely to come himself?" "No. You're right there," said Nikabrik. "Aslan and the Kings go together. Either Aslan is dead, or he is not on our side. Or else something stronger than himself keeps him back. And if he did come - how do we know he'd be our friend? He was not always a good friend to Dwarfs by all that's told. Not even to all beasts. Ask the Wolves. And anyway, he was in Narnia only once that I ever heard of, and he didn't stay long. You may drop Aslan out of the reckoning. I was thinking of someone else." There was no answer, and for a few minutes it was so still that Edmund could hear the wheezy and snuffling breath of the Badger. "Who do you mean?" said Caspian at last. "I mean a power so much greater than Aslan's that it held Narnia spellbound for years and years, if the stories are true." "The White Witch!" cried three voices all at once, and from the noise Peter guessed that three people had leaped to their feet. "Yes," said Nikabrik very slowly and distinctly, "I mean the Witch. Sit down again. Don't all take fright at a name as if you were children. We want power: and we want a power that will be on our side. As for power, do not the stories say that the Witch defeated Aslan, and bound him, and killed him on that very stone which is over there, just beyond the light?" "But they also say that he came to life again," said the Badger sharply. "Yes, they say," answered Nikabrik, "but you'll notice that we hear precious little about anything he did afterwards. He just fades out of the story. How do you explain that, if he really came to life? Isn't it much more likely that he didn't, and that the stories say nothing more about him because there was nothing more to say?" "He established the Kings and Queens," said Caspian. "A King who has just won a great battle can usually establish himself without the help of a performing lion," said Nikabrik. There was a fierce growl, probably from Trufflehunter. "And anyway," Nikabrik continued, "what came of the Kings and their reign? They faded too. But it's very different with the Witch. They say she ruled for a hundred years: a hundred years of winter. There's power, if you like. There's something practical." "But, heaven and earth!" said the King, "haven't we always been told that she was the worst enemy of all? Wasn't she a tyrant ten times worse than Miraz?" "Perhaps," said Nikabrik in a cold voice. "Perhaps she was for you humans, if there were any of you in those days. Perhaps she was for some of the beasts. She stamped out the Beavers, I dare say; at least there are none of them in Narnia now. But she got on all right with us Dwarfs. I'm a Dwarf and I stand by my own people. We're not afraid of the Witch." "But you've joined with us," said Trufflehunter. "Yes, and a lot of good it has done my people, so far," snapped Nikabrik. "Who is sent on all the dangerous !, raids? The Dwarfs. Who goes short when the rations fail? The Dwarfs. Who - ?" "Lies! All lies!" said the Badger. "And so," said Nikabrik, whose voice now rose to a scream, "if you can't help my people, I'll go to someone who can." "Is this open treason, Dwarf?" asked the King. "Put that sword back in its sheath, Caspian," said Nikabrik. "Murder at council, eh? Is that your game? Don't be fool enough to try it. Do you think I'm afraid of you? There's three on my side, and three on yours." "Come on, then," snarled Trufflehunter, but he was immediately interrupted. "Stop, stop, stop," said Doctor Cornelius. "You go on too fast. The Witch is dead. All the stories agree on that. What does Nikabrik mean by calling on the Witch?" That grey and terrible voice which had spoken only once before said, "Oh, is she?" And then the shrill, whining voice began, "Oh, bless his heart, his dear little Majesty needn't mind about the White Lady - that's what we call her - being dead. The Worshipful Master Doctor is only making game of a poor old woman like me when he says that. Sweet Mastery Doctor, learned Master Doctor, who ever heard of a witch that really died? You can always get them back." "Call her up," said the grey voice. "We are all ready. Draw the circle. Prepare the blue fire." Above the steadily increasing growl of the Badger and Cornelius's sharp "What?" rose the voice of King Caspian like thunder. "So that is your plan, Nikabrik! Black sorcery and the calling up of an accursed ghost. And I see who your companions are-a Hag and a Werewolf!" The next minute or so was very confused. There was an animal roaring, a clash of steel; the boys and Trumpkin rushed in; Peter had a glimpse of a horrible, grey, gaunt creature, half man and half wolf, in the very act of leaping upon a boy about his own age, and Edmund saw a badger and a Dwarf rolling on the floor in a sort of cat fight. Trumpkin found himself face to face with the Hag. Her nose and chin stuck out like a pair of nut-crackers, her dirty grey hair was flying about her face and she had just got Doctor Cornelius by the throat. At one slash of Trumpkin's sword her head rolled on the floor. Then the light was knocked over and it was all swords, teeth, claws, fists, and boots for about sixty seconds. Then silence. "Are you all right, Ed?" "I - I think so," panted Edmund. "I've got that brute Nikabrik, but he's still alive." "Weights and water-bottles!" came an angry voice. "It's me you're sitting on. Get off. You're like a young elephant." "Sorry, D.L.F.," said Edmund. "Is that better?" "Ow! No!" bellowed Trumpkin. "You're putting your ' boot in my mouth. Go away." ` "Is King Caspian anywhere?" asked Peter. "I'm here," said a rather faint voice. "Something bit me." They all heard the noise of someone striking a match. It was Edmund. The little flame showed his face, looking pale and dirty. He blundered about for a little, found the candle (they were no longer using the lamp, for they had run out of oil), set it on the table, and lit it. When the flame rose clear, several people scrambled to their feet. Six faces blinked at one another in the candlelight. "We don't seem to have any enemies left," said Peter. "There's the Hag, dead." (He turned his eyes quickly away from her.) "And Nikabrik, dead too. And I suppose this thing is a Werewolf. It's so long since I've seen one. Wolf's head and man's body. That means he was just turning from man into wolf at the moment he was killed. And you, I suppose, are King Caspian?" "Yes," said the other boy. "But I've no idea who you are." "It's the High King, King Peter," said Trumpkin. "Your Majesty is very welcome," said Caspian. "And so is your Majesty," said Peter. "I haven't come to take your place, you know, but to put you into it." , "Your Majesty," said another voice at Peter's elbow. He turned and found himself face to face with the Badger. Peter leaned forward, put his arms round the beast and kissed the furry head: it wasn't a girlish thing for him to do, because he was the High King. "Best of badgers," he said. "You never doubted us all through." "No credit to me, your Majesty," said Trufflehunter. "1'm a beast and we don't change. I'm a badger, what's more, and we hold on." "I am sorry for Nikabrik," said Caspian, "though he hated me from the first moment he saw me. He had gone sour inside from long suffering and hating. If we had won quickly he might have become a good Dwarf in the days of peace. I don't know which of us killed him. I'm glad of that." "You're bleeding," said Peter. "Yes, I'm bitten," said Caspian. "It was that - that wolf thing." Cleaning and bandaging the wound took a long time, and when it was done Trumpkin said, "Now. Before everything else we want some breakfast." "But not here," said Peter. "No," said Caspian with a shudder. "And we must send someone to take away the bodies." "Let the vermin be flung into a pit," said Peter. "But the Dwarf we will give to his people to be buried in their own fashion." They breakfasted at last in another of the dark cellars of Aslan's How. It was not such a breakfast as they would have chosen, for Caspian and Cornelius were thinking of venison pasties, and Peter and Edmund of buttered eggs and hot coffee, but what everyone got was a little bit of cold bear-meat (out of the boys' pockets), a lump of hard cheese, an onion, and a mug of water. But, from the way they fell to, anyone would have supposed it was delicious.

[weaverlings]

afterimage

summary: Strange to complain of a bad night, after everything that came before.

one day I'll delve into Lace's issues... I do have some thoughts for what they might be.

but for now, I am still consumed by concern for a certain spider demigod. the problem is less important than that her girlfriend care her.

alt link

tw: gore, for food prep reasons

Lace took a certain amount of pleasure from shelling meat. The crack of it, the soft pop under her fingertips just before the give. Start in the center of the back, break it, and then draw her hands forward to split up to the head.

Tip the blood into the bowl, and pry it open the rest of the way to pluck out the organs. The snap of connective tissue, practically musical itself.

She sang, "Dear little bug, don't be upset, you'll be such a fine supper yet..."

Hornet did not answer. No dry remarks about how the notion of being supper cheered few creatures. No rhymed reply; although Hornet was less given to proper singing, she might try sometimes.

Not even a laugh.

Lace's comic compositions, especially improvised, were not her strong suit, but Hornet never failed to appreciate them.

There was only the steady chop of the knife against the cutting board. Lace turned.

Hornet stood at the opposite counter. A pile of root slices loomed on one side of the board, already plenty for what they were making, but Hornet stayed her hand just long enough to grab another.

Lace saw the slight shift of Hornet's shoulders under her cloak as she started slicing again. Saw her complete stillness otherwise, her head bent. Lace could not see, from where she stood, Hornet's eyes, the focus in them absolute on the blade in her hand.

Sometimes all Hornet could bear was cold metal. Sometimes she needed something different.

Lace finished with the organs, but she was paying careful attention to the rhythm of the knife now. She heard the next pause and asked, "Hornet, how are the vegetables coming?"

"What? Ah. Excessively. I'm sorry."

The knife's handle clacked on the cutting board as Hornet set it down. Lace spun again, and crossed to her side.

"For what will make a richer flavor? No, it's quite alright."

Lace did not take Hornet's hand, or touch her, because Hornet was already moving, tying the netted sack of vegetables shut and tucking it away.

"I'm not worried about the vegetables. I'm worried about you," Lace said easily. "Go lie down, darling. I'll join you in a moment."

Hornet spoke into the cabinet, as she fussed with the packages arranged there. "We must finish supper."

"I think I can handle putting some stew on, don't you?"

Lace set a hand on Hornet's shoulder as she straightened. Hornet went still once again, did not move to dislodge Lace. She'd quieted even her breathing, as if her lungs might betray something in her, a secret, a desire, or something that was both.  

Lace insisted, "Go on. Lie down. I won't be going anywhere but to your side, I promise."

Hornet let out a slow breath. "Very well."

She had nothing else to offer. She whirled, cloak flaring and settling back around her, and left the kitchen.

Lace dealt swiftly with the few remaining vegetables, dumped them all in the pot with the blood and the organs cubed, coated in flour, and seared; and put it on to cook with more water than she estimated needing. She'd be away for a moment.

Then she followed Hornet to the bedroom. The lights were covered, the curtains drawn, and so the dim winter afternoon left them in darkness.

Hornet was in the center of the bed. She shifted to one side, though, hearing the door open. A new reflex.

She said, "Thank you for finishing supper."

"Mhm," Lace acknowledged. "It's a bad night, isn't it?"

Hornet laughed, cutting, humorless. "Funny to call it that."

"But it must be. You hardly protested when I told you to lie down."

"It was a reasonable suggestion. I was feeling unwell."

"Care to talk about it?"

"No."

"Would you like me to hold you, then?"

"You need not." And then, as Lace drew breath to speak, Hornet finished: "But you asked me what I liked, not what you needed."

"Well?"

Hornet pressed a hand over the eye not buried in the pillow. "Lie down with me?"

Lace climbed onto the bed and settled onto her side, facing Hornet without yet touching her.

All Hornet said was, "It is difficult sometimes."

"Oh, yes."

Lace waited, but it seemed that that was all Hornet cared to articulate, or all that she could. And then they lay together in silence. Hornet closed her eyes, and Lace would have thought Hornet was sleeping, were it not for the regular depth of her breathing.

Hornet was still again. She might be for some time yet, possessing as she did a dangerous capacity for patience. She'd honed it as sharp as her needle, but it had an edge that faded more slowly and could cut inward just as well.

She spoke sooner than Lace had expected. "It feels wrong. Somehow." Her eyes snapped open. "Physically, you see. I am talking about things not touching where they should. Where I am, I am not… It sounds foolish, doesn't it?"

"Not to me," Lace said.

"Truly?" Hornet set a hand between them.

"Truly." Lace took it in her own. She ran her thumb over Hornet's knuckles. "Can you feel that?"

"Yes." Another breath, intentional, like half of a breathing exercise. "I feel you."

"Yes, just so…" Lace pulled Hornet's hand closer and curled in on herself, enough to bring Hornet's knuckles to her mouth and kiss them. "And this, ma petite araignée?"

Hornet nodded.

Lace unfurled Hornet's closed hand, and kissed the tips of her claws, one by one. "And this… What does this tell you?"

"You're here."

"Yes. You're here, and so am I. This is our home."

Hornet spoke under her breath, as if to herself, "What we've made, carved out, here… Lace?"

"Yes, Hornet?"

A tremor in Hornet's voice, the kind Lace had never heard from her when she'd had a blade at her throat, when she was bleeding or near-broken. But it was there now, in the dark, in safety. "Now you may hold me."

Lace eased forward, and slipped an arm under Hornet's side so her hands could meet behind Hornet's back. Hornet hunched inward, her head tipped back so she could fit against Lace. Lace freed a hand to stroke down one horn.

Hornet tensed, but only nestled closer to Lace as she did so. She was shaking, just slightly; she could have held it in - no doubt she had been holding it in, and willfully made herself stop. She didn't seem quite able to cry, some part of her lodged away too tightly to allow it tonight.

Lace held Hornet, anyway. Held her and kissed her and through this - although Hornet kept her arms tucked between them, her palms pressed to Lace's chest - Lace had given her something to hold onto in turn. Something she could feel without doubting its nature.

[mrslittletall]

Title: Off Balance (Chapter 8) Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: The Pale King/The White Lady, The Pure Vessel, Herrah, Quirrel, The Five Great Knights Word Count: 7.756 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805333/chapters/59596573 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/618553918352441344/title-off-balance-chapter-7-fandom-hollow

Summary: After returning from Deepnest the Pale King gets confronted by his knights about Hollow.

(Author's note: This chapters are getting longer and longer, and while this one doesn't match the length of chapter 7, it still is pretty huge. I just have so much to tell! One of the scenes in here I actually had planned far earlier, but only now felt like the right time to include it.

By the way, I can't believe that you all like Homewrecker Herrah as much as me and I even got some fanart, drawn by @ninvic-0. Thank you very much!)

“Nobody.”, Hollow signed, the way they sorted out their shaky fingers the Pale King had to assume they weren't exactly truthful.

“Hollow, are you lying to me?”, he asked.

Hollow flinched and then shook their head, also raising their hands to sign out the word no.

While the Pale King had some doubts, there wasn't exactly any reason for Hollow to lie to him. Maybe nobody had taught this word to them and they simply had overheard it somewhere. He was even a bit proud that they stood up to him, if they were truthful or not, it was a big step on their way to becoming their own person.

“Fine, I believe you. You have no reason to lie to me.”, the Pale King said. “I just want to say, you can't toss this word around like that. The relationship between Herrah and me was political and not-”

The Pale King stopped talking when Herrah entered the room and said: “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing.”, the Pale King said without hesitation and he saw Hollow cock their head in a way that felt like they were judging him. He just didn't want to explain to Herrah that Hollow had called her a homewrecker, he would never hear the end of it.

“Say, Hollow, did you have fun today?”, Herrah said and Hollow nodded enthusiastically, the Pale King extended one arm and pulled them back into place by tugging at their robe when they threatened to fall over.

“It seems like there is some hope for you, Wyrm.”, Herrah said.

Hollow signed a few words and Herrah glanced to the Pale King for a translation. “They want to know if they can say goodbye to their sister.”, he said.

“Sure, why not.”, Herrah said. “She seems to like Hollow already. However, she is sleeping at the moment and I don't want to lay her down again, so they have to be as quiet as possible.”

“I was trained to be quiet.”, Hollow signed and stood up, walking over to Herrah with an upbeat step.

“What have they said?”, Herrah asked and the Pale King felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead.

“Uh, that they will be sure not to wake Hornet up.”, he said.

“Then come.”, Herrah said and took Hollow's arm. The Pale King followed them in some distance, doubting that Herrah would let him into the baby's room, his light was too bright.

Indeed, Herrah stopped him at the doorway and gestured only for Hollow to go insight. “She is sleeping in the crib.”, she said. The Pale King narrowed his eyes and tried to see in the dark, seeing a red bundle sleeping soundly in the aforementioned crib. The floor of the room was littered with toys, which made the Pale King wonder if he should get Hollow any toys. Technically, their body was too old to be considered playing with grub toys, but they never had been allowed to be a little grub. He wondered what kind of toys Hollow would like.

Hollow went over to the crib and proofed their skills to be quiet, by barely making any sound. They looked down at Hornet for a minute or two and then tucked the baby in, not unlike the Pale King used to tuck them in whenever he brought them to bed. The baby cooed and grabbed on the blankets. Hollow stood there a few seconds longer, probably enraptured before they went back to the door.

After all three of them were back in the visitor area, Hollow signed: “Can sister come visit us?”

“They want to know if Hornet can come visit us in the palace.”, the Pale King translated, fearing that the answer would be negative.

“I consider it.”, Herrah said, to the Pale King's surprise. “Hornet seems to like you and the thought of the wyrm dragging you through Deepnest again makes my exoskeleton crawl.”

The Pale King flinched under her words, while Hollow clapped their hands together in excitement. The Pale King had to admit, he was rather glad about Herrah maybe allowing Hornet to come visit him, as with Hollow, he had tried to stay distant, but he rather cared for the the little spiderling that was also his daughter. Besides, he had the feeling his Root would like to see the little energetic bundle too.

“You have our thanks for your hospitality, Herrah.”, the Pale King said and gave her a bow, if she liked or not.

“Yeah, yeah, cut all that court stuff.”, Herrah said, “Before you leave, make sure that your child is fine and that all of their needs are met. And please, consider to not leading them through Deepnest to the tram again. Take the stag station instead.”

“Speaking of the tram, what is holding up the construction of the station near your den, Herrah?”, the Pale King asked.

“Oh, my citizens simply told them that they don't like the idea.”, Herrah said and her voice betrayed a smirk under her mask. The Pale King froze, that meant that there probably were heavy attacks against the workers. He made a mental note to break off the works, at least until the relationship with Deepnest had stabilized. He had enough victims on his hands already.

After making sure that Hollow was ready to go, they said their goodbyes to Herrah and left the den. The Pale King took the few steps that would lead them to the stag station and then had to stop, anxiety rising in his chest at the though of having to alight at the busy station near the White Palace as well as some nausea rising up in him. “Ugh, I don't think I can do this...”, he said, Hollow staring at him with eyeholes that seemed to display concern.

After the Pale King had calmed down, Hollow had been a great help, buy sitting him down and holding his claw in their hand, they signed: “Father. We can leave with tram. I can do it.”

“Thank you, Hollow.”, the Pale King said, getting up. “This time I won't lose you, I promise.”

As they once again crossed Deepnest, making a break at the bench near the hot spring, Hollow signed: “Father, why do you not like stag station?”

“Different reasons.”, the Pale King replied. “Mostly too many bugs. They make me nervous. I prefer worship from far away, not up close. Then, the stags themselves. They don't like the trams. I feel judged by them.”

Hollow signed: “That is all?”

“...you got me.”, the Pale King said. “The first time I rode on the stags after establishing them, I got really really sick. It wasn't... one of my most elegant moments.”

Hollow put their hand over the part of their mask where there mouth would be and made a movement that could be considered a chuckle, one that wasn't heard of course.

“I am just glad my Root was with me to shield me from any curious views.”, the Pale King said, trailing along one of his prongs. “Come, Hollow, let's continue.”

A walk later the both of them were back in the tram and Hollow had pretty much instantly fallen asleep, leaning against the form of the Pale King, clinging to his arm. It was kind of adorable and so the Pale King didn't dare to move, to not wake them while the tram approached their destination. It had been a long day for them and they must have been very exhausted. Besides, he didn't want to wake them, they looked so peaceful sleeping leaned against him, he still could hardly fathom how they could put so much trust in him.

Though, with nobody to talk to, the Pale King lapsed into thoughts, especially all the things that Herrah had said to him. She had been right with every single sentence, it had felt like he was stabbed by several nails at once, but he knew that she was right. How much his distance had hurt Hollow, how dumb he had been to believe that he could create an empty being, in short, what an awful father he had been to them. He looked down at their sleeping form and softly caressed one of their horns. He wanted to make it up to them, but he had the feeling that he could never make up the emotional (and physical, when he thought about the path of pain) abuse he had put them through.

He still planned to do his very best to at least be a good father to them now and to not making them cry again. Which... had happened just today when he had lost them at Deepnest and they had been so shaken and scared and then he had collapsed in front of them and they had to take care of him. The already tight feeling in the Pale King's chest only got tighter and he had to take a deep breath to avoid falling into a full blown panic.

The rest of the ride the Pale King studied Hollow's sleeping body, they couldn't close the eyes in their shell, but he could see the regular heaving of their chest, indicating that they indeed were fast asleep and not dead. He had seen enough dead vessels already and he didn't want to be Hollow one of them and he seriously needed to stop thinking about the bodies in the abyss. He blamed the shape that looked like a vessel he had seen in Nosk's lair.

The tram came to a stop and the doors slid open. As much as it pained the Pale King, he had to wake up Hollow so that they could walk back to him with the palace, but they were dead out, not reacting to him gently nudging them at all. Instead of trying further to wake them, the Pale King lifted them up to carry them on his back. They seemed to sense the shift in posture, because he could feel their arms wrapping around him, laying their head on his shoulder.

“Don't worry, Hollow, it is only a short walk and then we can get you to bed.”, the Pale King said in a soft voice, not that his voice ever had been loud, but it was barely above a whisper.

The Pale King hadn't even covered half the distance to the palace when Hollow on his back stirred, raised their head and then pretty much shot up, losing their balance and making the Pale King trip, having a rather painful impact with the ground because his hands had been busy holding Hollow and he didn't exactly had thought about his extra hands hidden under the robe. He briefly wondered if that was how Hollow felt all the time.

As he turned around, he saw Hollow signing “Sorry sorry sorry” over and over again, like back in Deepnest.

“Stop this.”, he said and they stopped in an instant. “Are you hurt, Hollow?”

They slowly shook their head and then raised a shaky hand to point at him or more precisely, at his forehead. As the Pale King raised his own hand to check it out, he noticed a bit of his white blood on his claws. “That won't be any trouble.”, the Pale King said and focused his soul to heal the minor injury in mere seconds. “See, nothing bad happened. Can you walk?”

Hollow slowly nodded and then got up, coming closer to him, but not moving any further, pretty much standing there as still as a statue.

“...Do you want to take my hand?”, the Pale King said and offered it to his child. Said child finally started to move and took it into its own one. As the Pale King continued walking, with Hollow in tow, he wondered why they just hadn't asked to hold his hand, but of course, it was because they weren't used to voice their own desires. He had to tell them that they never had to feel bad for wanting physical contact with their parents. He was sure that his Root would wholeheartedly agree.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. In front of the palace some of the royal retainers bowed to the both of them and then hurried to carry out their duties. Not deep into the palace the Pale King could spot the White Lady.

“How has your trip been, you two?”, the White Lady asked and then frowned as she noticed the state of both of their robes, clearly being stitched with spider silk. “Did something happen?”

“I'll tell you later, Root.”, the Pale King said. “For now, I need to take care of Hollow. Let some tea and snacks be delivered by the retainers, we meet on the balcony.”

The White Lady nodded and looked after the both of them until they were out of sight. While the Pale King had preferred to get Hollow into bed right away, there was another thing he needed to do first, so he led them to his workshop.

As they entered and Hollow cocked their head in that questioning way, he sat them down on his chair. “Your foot.”, he said. “I need to take care of it. Don't move.”

After he had said that, he went to search through the mess of paper and tablets he had scattered in his work shop, trying to repurpose the sealing spell, until he finally found a bottle with some void. As he returned to Hollow, they sat there as stiff as a statue, literally not moving.

“You can relax, Hollow.”, the Pale King said. “I just wanted for you to not leave the chair.”

Hollow's posture relaxed at once and it felt like they released a breath they had been holding, making the Pale King frown. They had tried so hard to be the Vessel, that they even tortured themselves.

“Show me your foot.”, the Pale King said and they lifted the injured foot. The Pale King had noticed that they had limped with that foot since they had left the tram, the soul bandage could only prevent the injury from leaking, but not heal it. The Pale King dispelled the soul bandage and coated the foot in void.

Their body went to work right away and absorbed the void into it, filling the cut and only leaving smoothness behind. “There.”, the Pale King said. “Soul can't heal void, but void can. Now, let's get you to bed.”

Hollow, who had looked at their foot and seemed to be fascinated, touching and testing the healed area, nodded and slid off the chair, almost falling over in the process.

“Easy there.”, the Pale King said, laying a hand on their shoulder and gently guiding them out of the room. “You need some sleep.”

Arrived at their room, Hollow slipped out of their robes, carefully hanging it over the nearest chair before walking to their bed and slipping under the blankets. The Pale King followed them, glancing at the robe, they surely needed a replacement, and sat down at the edge of their bed.

“Good night, Hollow.”, the Pale King said, stroking their horn. Hollow didn't even react anymore, they had fallen asleep instantly, indicating just how exhausted they must have been. The Pale King tucked them in and watched them for a few more minutes, his tail swinging around as he recalled the events of the days and how scared he had been at losing them. He only stopped the nervous swinging when his tail got caught at something under the bed. The Pale King carefully got up and lowered himself to his knees to look under the bed. His natural light revealed several books.

With his curiosity piqued, the Pale King grabbed one of the books, maybe that has been how Hollow had taught themselves to read and write, but the book he was pulling out from under the bed wasn't an educational book. Instead, it was a cheesy romance story.

The Pale King opened the book to read the summary which only confirmed that it was a romance story full of cliches and when he went to investigate the other books, they all turned out to be equally cheesy romance novels.

“Huh, so that is where they learned the word...”, the Pale King said and put the books back under the bed. He didn't had a clue while Hollow was hiding them, they weren't from the “adult sort”, in fact, he was a bit glad that they did something without him knowing, but he didn't want to let them get the impression he wouldn't approve of their lecture, even though he had the feeling he should introduce them to a bit more... better books.

The Pale King got up and gave Hollow's horn a last stroke before he left the room, intending to meet up with his Root. As he was on his way to his own quarters first, to put on a not torn robe, he was approached by two of his great knights, Ogrim and Isma.

“Oh, you are back.”, he said. “Can you give us our reports tomorrow? Our queen is waiting for us.”

“It isn't about the report.”, Ogrim said. “We already gave it to the queen, she can inform you, your highness. We wanted to ask about the Hollow Knight.”

The Pale King flinched, physically flinched and hoped that it hadn't been too obvious.

“What about them?”, he asked.

“...We know that they couldn't continue their training with us because of their balance problems.”, Isma said. “But their balance problems are a lot better and we believe we could teach them to keep their balance while fighting better, however...”

Isma glanced to Ogrim who continued: “You have started to treat the Hollow Knight differently. It started with them taking in their meals with you and the queen and they have this lessons with Lady Monomon's assistant and right now we have seen you entering their room while guiding them...”

“Your majesty.”, Isma said, her voice firm and steady. “We have talked with the Royal Retainers in our absence and they told us that you were treating the Hollow Knight more like an heir than a weapon. We would like to know that the meaning of this is.”

The Pale King flinched a tiny little bit before regaining his composure, he couldn't falter in front of his knights. He knew that it would have come to this, his knights would liked to have some answers, while the supposed weapon against the infection wasn't treated as such anymore.

“We believe that you deserve an answer.”, the Pale King said. “All of the five knights. Come see us tomorrow one hour after breakfast. We will tell you everything.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”, Isma said and bowed. Ogrim joined her bow and added: “We will inform Hegemol, Ze'mer and Dryya of your summoning.”

“You are dismissed.”, the Pale King murmured, heart feeling heavy in his chest. That would feel awkward having to explain to the knights what he had almost done to his own child.

Not long after this conversation, the Pale King had put on some fresh robes and joined his Root on their favourite balcony, where she was waiting with tea and pastry, the smell truly wonderful in comparison with Herrah's indefinable Deepnest cookies.

He sat down next to the White Lady, who poured him a cup of tea and smiled at him: “There you are, my Wyrm.”

“Thank you, my Root.”, he said, taking a sip from the still steaming hot tea, calming down a bit. “You surely want to hear about our trip.”

“Mostly I want to know why your robes have been all torn.”, the White Lady said, picking up some pastry to nibble on while her other branch rested on his shoulder.

“...I lost Hollow to Deepnest.”, the Pale King said, staring in his tea cup which he held with both of his hands. He could feel how his Root's touch hardened. “It wasn't on purpose, of course!”, he quickly said. “However, when I was searching for them, I managed to cross paths with a predator that used their face to lure me into their lair, an infected one on top... I... shouldn't have had trouble to take them down, but because they were using Hollow's face, I was frozen and couldn't fight back...” The Pale King put his tea cup down and buried his face in his hands. “It was Hollow who came to my rescue. It was them who took the predator down. I think they didn't even knew how they did it...”

The Pale King noticed that he had started to shiver and he had slung his tail around his legs several times. The White Lady gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“So that is why your robes were torn.”, she said and then led her branch under the Pale King's robe, investigating the area where the cuts have been. “At least I don't detect any injuries, so you were able to heal yourself.”, she stated.

“Actually...”, the Pale King said, “I was out of soul after the fight, my last reserves were used to bandage up Hollow. They brought me to a hot spring where I could heal up.”

“How was Hollow taking the whole experience?”, the White Lady asked, retracting her branches and giving her husband a hug instead.

“They were scared, but they put their fear away in favour of me and bravely fought the predator. We can truly be proud of their abilities, they are a natural with the nail and with soul, they just lack experience. In a sense, the fight probably was good to hone their abilities, but I feel awful for having lost them in the first place... That.. shouldn't have been their first real fight.”

“The important thing is that both of you are safe.”, the White Lady said and pulled the Pale King a bit closer before picking up a pastry and handing it to him. “Here, my Wyrm, you need to try these, they are surely divine.”

“If a Higher Being says that, I am bound to believe that.”, the Pale King said and tried the pastry, which really had the right amount of sweetness and crispness. He had the feeling that Hollow would love them.

“So, how are Herrah and Hornet?”, the White Lady asked. “I hope Herrah hasn't teased you too much.”

Upon hearing his wife's words, the current bite got stuck in the Pale King's throat and he quickly drank some more tea to avoid choking. The White Lady chuckled at his side, with one of her branches in front of her mouth. “Judging by your reaction, Herrah hasn't minced her words.”

“Not one bit.”, the Pale King confirmed. “At least she was very kind to Hollow. Hollow seemed to enjoy being in her presence and playing with their sister. They even wanted to say goodbye to her. If not for them falling over so much, I could imagine them taking care of Hornet once in a while. The little grub has quite grown since I last saw her... and... she is so warm. I forgot how warm little grubs used to be...”

“Oh, Herrah has let you hold her?”, the White Lady asked.

“It was more that she prompted me to hold her. After all, I am her father... even though she was conceived for a political alliance...”

“Little Hornet reminds me a lot of you, actually.”, the White Lady said. “I hope that Herrah will be fine with her visiting the palace once she is older.”

“She might be.”, the Pale King said. “She hinted that Hornet surely would like to play with Hollow again.”

“I see that your trip was a success then.”, the White Lady smiled.

“It had some bumps, but yes, I assume..”, the Pale King said, taking another sip of the tea. “By the way, Root, have you observed that Hollow became more independent lately?”

“Other than that we don't have to tell them to sit down anymore when we eat together, not much.”, the White Lady said. “It only has been a week, they surely need some more time.”

“I think they already might have broken their dependency on me a bit.”, the Pale King said. “When Herrah took Hornet to lay her down to sleep, they wanted to know the details about how Hornet is related to them and when I explained it to them, they asked me if Herrah is a homewrecker.”

The White Lady stared at him and then broke into a cheerful laugh: “Oh, that is too wonderful, I wonder how Herrah will react when I tell her.”

“Please don't!”, the Pale King put both of his hands into the air in a pleading gesture. “Anyway, I surely haven't taught them this word and you surely haven't taught it to them either.” The White Lady shook her head, confirming it wasn't her.

“Maybe it was their teacher, Quirrel.”, she assumed.

“I thought about asking him too and berating him for teaching our child inappropriate words, but in fact, I found all these cheesy romance novels under her bed.” As the White Lady frowned, he added: “None of the juicy ones, don't worry.”

“So they have secretly read this novels and that is where they have learned the word.”, the White Lady said. “While I don't exactly approve with their choice of literature, that they were choosing it themselves and didn't even told us, is something a child their age usually does. I think we can consider this a breakthrough.”

“I know and I am so glad about it.”, the Pale King sighed and leaned back to cuddle against his Root. “I want them to be happy. It's the least I can do, after I have been such a bad father to them... Especially because they are our last living offspring...” As he felt his Root flinch, he added: “I am sorry, Root, I know you were never fine with the plan, I shouldn't have forced you...”

“Wyrm, what are you talking about?”, the White Lady asked. “You never forced me to have a part in the plan. That I agreed to it was my own conscious decision.”

The Pale King rose from his position and stared at his Root: “It was?”

“...I never told you this, but... our children had a high mortality rate anyway, because they would be hybrids, no matter what we did. I... thought, that it wouldn't be too bad to experiment with them, when half of them died anyway and there would only one of them picked to be the Vessel. I assumed that there would be enough children left for us to love, so that we can forget about the awful sacrifices. I never had anticipated that only one of them would survive...”

“Root.”, the Pale King said, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. “And here I thought all the time that you resented the part of me that went through with the plan...”

“It must have been evem harder for you.”, the White Lady embraced the Pale King and wiped his tears with her sleeve. “You were in the middle of all the experiments, I only sowed my spores and then detached myself.”

The Pale King nestled in his Root's embrace, but his tears didn't stop to fall: “I have let them fall, Root... I did nothing to save them...”

The White Lady replied simply buy pulling him tighter into the hug: “You did what you thought you had to do, my Wyrm...”

“...Compassion would have tainted them.”, he mumbled, feeling how his Root's branches stroked over his back and gently touched his wings, not saying anything anymore, just embracing him, waiting for him to calm down.

After what felt like an eternity had passed, the sobbing of the Pale King ceased and he raised his head, wiping the tears off his face with his sleeve. “When is the last time you cried in my arms?”, the White Lady asked, getting out a handkerchief which she handed to him. The Pale King gratefully accepted it and mumbled: “When I asked you to marry me and you said yes.”

“Are you feeling better now?”, the White Lady asked, which actually gave the Pale King some food for thought. He was still feeling awful for what happened to the Vessel, he was still feeling awful for how he treated Hollow, he still had Herrah's voice ringing in his ears, calling him out on his failings, but for some reason, he felt lighter.

“Yes. In a way.”, he replied and gave his Root her handkerchief back after he had dried his face.

“...Maybe sometimes it is better to cry it out.”, his Root said, breaking the embrace. “Bottling it all up... can't be healthy. For the both of us.”

“You are sounding like Monomon.”, the Pale King said with a chuckle.

“I may have spend some time with her assistant lately.”, the White Lady said. “It surely won't hurt you to see Monomon and talk to her. Oh, and take Hollow with you.”

The Pale King cocked his head as he stared at his wife. “You already have figured this all out, haven't you?”, he said before falling silent again, leaning his head against his Root as he remembered his earlier conversation with the knights. “Root, there is something else...”, he murmured.

“Yes?”, the White Lady asked, her gaze directed on him, worry shining in her blue eyes.

“The knights have caught on that we treat Hollow differently.”, he sighed. “I promised them to tell them the truth the next day.”

“Do you want me to be present?”, his Root asked without hesitation.

“You wouldn't mind?”, the Pale King asked and the White Lady traced one of his prongs.

“Of course. That is a matter that concerns the three of us.”, she said. “Besides, Dryya usually won't leave my side when I am in the palace. She is even guarding the door right now.”

“True.”, the Pale King said, smiling as he thought about Dryya's protectiveness. Dryya would follow his Root at the end of the world and back, so loyal was she and still, she managed to be an individual, with her own feelings, not afraid of speaking her mind, acting as a leader to any troupes she had been assigned to. Secretly the Pale King wished that Hollow could pick up some mannerisms of her, though, that would only made them a copy of Dryya and surely not their own person. Why did parenthood had to be so complicated?

“You had a long day today, so I would like to see you in bed on time.”, the White Lady said as she poured him another cup of tea.

“I was planning to.”, the Pale King said, taking a sip from the tea, already feeling drowsy. Had she used her sleeping spores again? “I can't concentrate on battling the infection today anyway. I heard the knights have given you their reports, how about you tell me about them while we finish this tea?”

After a good night's sleep (definitely sleeping spores, he didn't even had nightmares this time), the Pale King met up with Hollow and informed them of the meeting with the knights, because he wanted them to be present for it. The White Lady also had suggested to get Quirrel in, so that he could easily translate their sign language, which the pill bug gladly agreed to. After they had their breakfast, the Pale King went through what he wanted to say and repeatedly told Hollow to only speak when he prompted them to, as if they wouldn't do it anyway. The hour until the meeting with the knights passed more quickly than the Pale King was comfortable with and he might have had a cup of coffee too much, because on the way to the throne room he was positively jittery.

“I should think twice to let you have coffee before an important meeting.”, the White Lady said. “It makes me wonder if I have two children.”

It had been an attempt at an light hearted joke, but as soon as the words were out, she realized her mistake and her, the Pale King and Hollow looked at the ground rather awkwardly, walking the rest of the way in silence. Only once they entered the throne room, the White Lady spoke again. “Anyway.”, she said, taking her seat next to the Pale King. “Let's give our best that everything will go well.”

“I hope that it will...”, the Pale King said, sitting down on his throne and realizing that once again his tail had curled around his feet. That became a daily occurrence lately. As he still was busy to physically untangle his tail from his legs, he noticed that Hollow had taken their place at his side, standing there as stiff as a statue.

“Um, you can relax, Hollow.”, the Pale King said and then was met with stares of both his child and his wife, noticing that he still had his tail in his hands.

“You are one to talk, dear.”, the White Lady chuckled.

The Pale King quickly let go of his tail which tangled around his legs again and accepted his fate. “Let's get this over with.”, he whispered to himself, looking at Hollow, who still stood stiff next to him and to his Root, who sat on her own throne looking beautiful and regal.

Soon after they all had taken their spots, there was a knock on the door, but it weren't the knights, instead, it was Quirrel, which made the Pale King breath out in relief of having a little more time. Quirrel came in and then stood a little away from Hollow, near enough to see their signing, but far enough to not intrude in their personal space or make him seem associated with the royal family. The Pale King could see him sign a few words to Hollow which he couldn't make out in the moment, Hollow signed something back and then their posture seemed to relax just a tiny bit.

Not even two minutes later a second knock was heard and this time it were the five great knights, Ogrim was the first to enter, followed by Isma and then Dryya. Then Ze'mer entered and the last one to come into was Hegemol. They all lined themselves up and then sank down to their knees. The Pale King rose from his throne and said: “Please rise.”

After all five of them had risen up, the Pale King folded his hands on his back and spoke: “We have asked for your presence at this place at this hour, because both Ogrim and Isma have spoken of some concern to us, regarding the Hollow Knight.” The Pale King gestured to Hollow, which was back to standing as stiff and straight as possible. He noticed that their robes still had the fixed arm of spider silk, there hadn't been enough time to organize them a new one.

“That is correct.”, Ogrim spoke. “Your majesty, from what you have told us, the Hollow Knight is a weapon against the infection, so we have been rather confused as how you have interacted with it lately.”

Isma nodded along to his words and Hegemol and Dryya were whispering to each other while Ze'mer's gaze was entirely locked on Hollow.

“These words have been true, once.”, the Pale King said. “The Hollow Knight had been intended to be our weapon against the infection, more precisely, to contain the infection, sealed away so that it would never be able to threaten our kingdom ever again. However...”, the Pale King took a deep breath before continuing. “We had to realize that the being we thought had been empty had been tainted by our feelings for it... it had started to develop a mind of its own, it had started to feel. After all, we couldn't deny anymore that Hollow is our child.”

There, it was out. He had said it. His Root had been rather positive, but when the Pale King looked at his knights all he could see what shock, across five faces, with the one who was dumbfounded the most being Ogrim.

“...Your majesty.”, Ogrim spoke. “Have you just told us that the weapon against the infection is your own child?”

“Correct.”, the Pale King said, trying to sound as detached as possible, not letting the whirlwind of emotions inside of him showing through. “It was necessary for the Vessel to be a being that was born of a god and void.”

“That is not the point.”, Ogrim spoke and his face darkened, the normally so jolly warrior looked legitimately furious. “The point is, that you planned to sacrifice your own child.”

“Your majesty, is Ogrim correct with his observations?”, Isma asked. “Have you planned to use your own child to fight the infection?” Isma's voice had been calm, but the Pale King couldn't miss how much weight she had given to the word child.

“Yes, unfortunately.”, the Pale King said. “That had been the plan. Though, we don't hold onto this plan anymore. It was bound to fail anyway.”

“So.”, Hegemol spoke from the background, his voice gentle as ever, but a certain shakiness in them. “You are telling us that you experimented on your own child to create the so called Hollow Knight.”

“Yes.”, the Pale King said once again, looking downwards, having trouble to keep eye contact with his knights before raising his head and locking his gaze on all five of them again. “We exposed Hollow to the void, altering their body, however, the void wasn't able to alter their mind. We realized the errors of our ways, Hollow will not be send to contain the infection.”

“Like I already said, that isn't the point.”, Ogrim spoke again, this time his voice was shaking. “The point is. Your majesty, how could you do something that cruel to your own child?!”

The question hit the Pale King as hard as had someone hurled a brick at him. How had he done it? By being sure that the plan would work. By trying to detach himself. By telling himself that no cost would be too great. By trying to convince himself that the impure ones were disposable. In truth, all the dead children from the abyss haunted him in his nightmares, in truth, he had feared so much that he would taint the one pure vessel that had ascended, in truth, he hated what he had done, what he was about to do, but he had to save his kingdom.

“No cost should have been too great so save our kingdom.”, he mumble, reciting that mantra that he had recited to himself over and over again, knowing that there indeed was a cost to great, to his knights.

He could see how Ze'mer, who yet had to talk glanced at Isma and Hegemol laid a hand on Ogrim's shoulder who now was shaking with rage. Instead of him, it was Dryya who spoke first. “Mylady.”, she addressed the queen. “Why did you let this happen? Have you been...” Dryya didn't finish the sentence, but the Pale King knew that she wanted to ask if he had forced his wife into participating. He himself had even thought it had been true a day prior.

“I assure you, my fierce Dryya, that my involvement in the creation of the Pure Vessel was my own conscious decision. It was my husband who proposed the plan to me, but he never forced me to partake. I believed that the plan could save our kingdom.”

“You can't be serious!”, Ogrim hissed out. “Both of you! How could you ever had thought you did the right thing?!”

The Pale King flinched at his words, but straightened himself up right away. He had to stay regal in front of his knights, as justified as Ogrim's anger was, he couldn't let him talk down to him like that. He narrowed his eyes and spoke: “Watch your tongue, Ogrim of the five great knights. We understand your outrage, but we can't let you speak to us and especially our wife in such a tone.”

Ogrim opened his mouth, but before he could say another word, Isma spoke. “Wait, we haven't heard what the child has to say about this matter.” She made a few steps close to Hollow and said in a gentle voice. “Can you tell us how you feel about the actions of your parents?”

Hollow looked to the Pale King. They still stood there pretty stiff and the Pale King noticed that Quirrel next to them had taken in a rather awkward stance. The Pale King knew that Hollow was waiting for his permission, so he nodded to them.

“I will translate directly what you have to say.”, Quirrel said. They nodded to him and then started to sign.

“I am not mad at father and mother. My whole life I thought I should be the Hollow Knight.” Quirrel interrupted himself and then continued translating with a rather shaky voice: “No.. thinking is bad.. my whole life I was trained to be the Hollow Knight, but I turned out to be impure. It was me who failed, it is my own fault, my fault alone. Because I couldn't stop thinking.”

As Quirrel finished talking, all the eyes were on Hollows and Quirrel said in a low voice: “Um, Hollow, do you want to talk later...?”

“Your majesty!”, Ogrim said in a booming voice, cutting through the eerie silence. “This child thinks they are to blame. This child thinks they are at fault because you have told them that they are not even a living being. There is no way that you can excuse your actions. You... abused your own child!”

“We don't deny that we have treated the Hollow purely at first.”, the Pale King had to admit. “However, we realized that our actions were wrong. We are aware that we have hurt Hollow greatly and we aspire to never stoop so low again. Both us and our Root have accepted them as our child, we won't let any harm come into their way anymore.”

“That still is not the point.”, Ogrim growled. “That you have stopped doesn't mean that you can ask for forgiveness that easily. I... don't even get why that child can call you father so easily, they should hold nothing but disdain for you!”

Yes, that was what the Pale King also thought he deserved. How Hollow didn't hate him, but instead loved him, was over his head. He didn't had an answer for Ogrim and turned his head to the side when he heard Quirrel mutter: “Oh dear... I... shall I really translate that...”

“They deserve to have a voice after we have taken that from them.” the Pale King muttered.

“Alright.”, Quirrel took a deep breath and then said: “They ask if you are fighting because of them and they, uh, seem to be rather upset about it...”

As soon as Quirrel's words were out, any noises died in the throne room and the Pale King looked at Hollow, seeing that they were shaking and that thick void tears were running down their face, their nail clutched tightly in their hands.

It was Isma who broke the silence, walked over to them, tapped with her foot and then hissed out: “You should all be ashamed!” She then bowed down to Hollow, whispered a few words to them and then led them out of the room, with Hollow looking back at the Pale King, fresh void tears appearing in their eyeholes.

“Um... I better look after them too...”, Quirrel mumbled and practically rushed out of the throne room.

Dryya looked at the White Lady, who nodded to her. Dryya gave a bow and then went to join Isma, leaving only Ogrim, Hegemol and Ze'mer in the room.

“This hasn't been the end of that discussion.”, Ogrim hissed and rushed out of the room. Hegemol cleared his throat and then said: “I better go after him, to calm him down.”

As Hegemol had left the room, the White Lady said: “Well, that went less than optimal.”

“Less than optimal?”, the Pale King said and then raised his voice, which meant that it for once wasn't barely above a whisper. “Root, that was a disaster!”

The Pale King buried his face in his hands, murmuring to himself: “There is no way that I can atone for my sins...” before slumping down in his throne, only raising when he heard a voice.

“Um..”, Ze'mer said, who still had been in the room and had seen his pathetic behaviour. He hadn't even noticed that she hadn't left.

“Your majesty, please allow che a question.”, she said.

“...What is it, Ze'mer?”, the Pale King said, straightening himself up on his throne.

“The true nature of the infection... What is it? You know more than you told, right? Please, che need to know...”

“Ze'mer, aren't you mad?”, the White Lady asked after the Pale King failed to answer her right away.

“Whilst che does not approve of your actions, che can understand what has driven you.”, Ze'mer said. “The infection is threatening those close to che, so che need to know how to help. Che can understand, because che also would do everything to protect che's loved ones. Ai.”

The Pale King looked to his Root which simply nodded to him.

“Very well.”, he said, his heart feeling light that at least one of his knights showed some understanding. “We will tell you what you desire to know, but first you have to tell us your side of the story.” (Author's note: I like the thought that Hollow adores super bad cheesy romance novel and yes, that is where they learned the word homewrecker, because that novels overuse the love triangle trope to hell. The scene with White Lady was an important to add, because it seems to be believed that she was forced to partake into the plan, which isn't true. It turned out exactly like I wanted, so I am very satisfied with. The scene with the five great knights was difficult to write and as you can see, they aren't too happy about what they hear, minus Ze'mer. Even though I have already hinted at her reasonings, I will get into more detail in the next chapter. As always, I hope you enjoyed and I thank you so much for the comments and the fanart.) Chapter 9 

[weaverlings]

dark dye

(Or: THK has a bad trauma/pain day. Many of us have been there, I think.)

So uh. I was trying to keep a rough sequence for all of these but that didn't quite work. so two things:

1. This is set somewhat later in the "post-everything" timeline I'm considering, not like... right after they settle in. They've all had some time to get used to each other.

2. THK and Ghost get names! They chose these names. They are in fact Hive names like Hornet's, because of Hornet. Because she's the family they choose, the sister they respect and admire!

I couldn't find any English names I liked though, so I grabbed partial scientific names.

Ghost is Polybia (after a kind of wasp that establishes a nest as part of a group) and THK is Abispa (after a kind of large solitary wasp, but that's just because… it sounds vaguely like a setting-appropriate name and also I think once they're not Isolated they're still pretty quiet and don't mind being alone as long as they can choose to go to someone else).

also shoutout to the Hollow Knight Stans Only discord for taking a look before I posted this!

Alt Link

Warnings for: canon-typical body horror, mild emetophobia, trauma

*

It was a bad morning. Abispa had context for this now.

There were good mornings. Mornings when they woke easily, and their body moved readily under their own power.

This was a bad morning. Their body was stiff, and their joints were almost too heavy to lift. Their side ached, the shell throbbed whenever they tried to move. Nestled tightly in their blankets, the weight was no longer a comfort. It grew oppressive, holding them down in their nightmares. They kept sliding back.

Shell going soft, soft and fragile. Rotting. Splitting. They grab at their torso but the chains  -- weren't there. Their hand clamped over their midsection, and the scars seared, like fire, like -- the light blazing in Hornet's eyes, stained orange, like the light glinting off of the tip of her needle, aimed at the heart of them, and all they can do is throw themself  -- into the wall of what used to be an elevator, now their room, now their --  fate. No. No. Not  them  , not, no- 

But there is Polybia. Chains tight around their small body. And only a faint glimmer of light in their eyes, as if distant, but for them to show even that much, soon their shell, too, will go soft. Soft and fragile. And then they will rot.

When Abispa finally clawed their way out of their room, the first thing they did was check Polybia's. Their sibling had prepared an elaborate nest, a little suite, really: claiming the openings of three stag tunnels and carving out holes large enough to crawl through in the walls between them. Spaces for sleeping, for activity, and for storage.

Abispa knocked beside each one. No answer.

They swept back the curtains. Peered in to search among the cushions and trinkets.

Polybia wasn't there.

No! No-  Abispa's claws tangled in the final curtain. They nearly tore it off. Where was Polybia? Where was their small sibling? Where? Where?

Somewhere else. They forced their fingers open. Polybia still wandered often, and they could defend themself it they had to. Of course, they were only wandering. Perhaps they had gone to visit-

It was a bad morning. Abispa knew where Polybia had gone. Abispa was meant to have gone, too. They had both planned to visit Sheo and the Nailsmith that morning, and Polybia had no doubt gone on ahead. So they were fine. No doubt. Except that, as the day went on and Abispa never arrived, Polybia would worry. Abispa knew this.

Just as much, they knew they had no chance of following after. They were barely able to make the jump over their room, to land before the threshold to Hornet's.

They couldn't be in their own room, not now, not after all but fighting their way out of it. They couldn't go out. They could have waited for their sibling's return in the central platform, and they likely would, but they just wanted to see Hornet. She would certainly know Polybia's whereabouts. They were with Sheo, no doubt. No doubt. But Hornet would know, would be able to confirm this.

They had to stop and gather themself before they knocked. Hornet drew back the certain over the entrance soon after. "Yes?"

Hornet was there. She was there. They were not alone. They hadn't understood the extent of their own worry - almost terror - until relief flooded them. They could hardly stand it, such relief. They could hardly stand. They were going to be sick. That was a real possibility. They braced their hand on the wall.

Hornet said, "If you're looking for Polybia, they left some time ago. You can still join them, I'm sure."

Abispa caught the curtain with one hand, and pulled it just a little wider.

She looked them over once. She made no secret of it. They watched her gaze linger on their hand supporting them, the weak sloping of their shoulders.

She eased back into the tunnel. "Alright. Come in."

They should have gone back to the central platform. Instead, they crawled into Hornet's room after her, and tucked themself against one wall, careful of the tapestry hanging above them. She sat back down at her work: bundles of silk, some soaking in vats of dye, some hanging on a rack for drying. One bundle waited on a mat before her, there to catch the excess dye. It would wait a little longer. They still had her attention.

She asked, "Did you need something?"

They shook their head. Nothing she hadn't already given, at least.

"Are you feeling unwell?"

A nod, this time, and then they let their head fall back against the wall, resting on their horns.

"You may stay, then. Although I'm afraid I won't be very good company."

They nodded again. They weren't even sure if they wanted company. Just presence.

Hornet worked in silence. All of her movements were practiced, rhythmic. She leaned in as she worked her silk: wringing it, stretching it out to dry. They leaned forward, too, watching intently. She was so precise always, but they were not sure they had ever seen her be so delicate. When a batch was ready, she pulled it from the rack and spooled it. This was the only sound, the rush of winding silk. Gentle. Mesmerizing.

It lulled them, after their poor sleep. The room blurred. They caught their mask in their hand, and-

Their head cracked against the low ceiling. Their mask pulsed from the blow, and they doubled over into their lap, grasping at their own face. Their chest heaved. The ache had been so close to settling into a low burn, easy to ignore, but now their own shell stabbed them again and again. The dream was fading already, but there was something - something. Chains again. Singing. Her singing, the voice that blazed.

"Abispa!"

They looked up to find Hornet's mask by theirs. Her hand brushed the shell, just skirting the edges of the crack in it. It seemed no worse than before. She stepped back, but her chin tipped up, her gaze staying fixed on them.

"I am sorry. You fell asleep, but perhaps I should have roused you."

They did not affirm or reject the idea. They settled back on the wall again, heavily. They collapsed, really. She took them in again. Always assessing, their sister. Always making choices.

She said, "Wait here."

They watched her as she left. Always, she assessed them. They wondered when she would find them wanting. When she would decide they were too much of a burden, and did not deserve to shelter here.

They tucked their head to their chest, and tried to focus on breathing. Tried to. Their mind worked against them. It tugged at the frayed edges of their last nightmare, half-remembered. The singing. Her voice, blazing.

They did not often dream of her. They dreamed of symptoms, or events. Real and unreal.

The quarantined city, the panicked pounding at the gates, filtered through their sense of the world. Arriving at Sheo's home to find only puddles of orange and fragments of carapace. Wet snap of breaking shell, thud of their arm onto the vault's floor before it melted into void. Polybia embracing the Hollow Knight's fate, knowing the chains, bearing the weight of the seals.

But her voice. They remembered her voice now. Singing. Screaming. The sound of her rage carving its way through their throat.

Their hand found their mask again. A single claw worried the crack.

"Be careful. You'll worsen it."

They were unaware of Hornet's return until she was right in front of them. They ducked their head, and quickly pressed their hand flat over their lap.

"You needn't be sorry. Here."

She set down a lumpy package of silk on the floor between them. Then she sat down behind it, and cut through the wrappings. A kettle of tea, which had been bound carefully to prevent spilling, and a cup and a bowl, which had been cushioned for her jump from the elevator.

They stared at her as she poured, but her actions didn't really register until she offered them a bowl of tea. They took it, and stared into its depths.

"Mossbloom," she said. "You enjoy it particularly, yes?"

They were still, at first. Then they looked up at her, and tilted their head.

"Yes. I remember."

To answer her question, they drained half of the bowl in one long draught. She nodded, and undid her mask to set it aside. She took only a sip of her own, before standing again. She gathered cushions from a pile in the corner, below her hammock. She arranged these next to them.

"You should lie down. You do not have to sleep, but rest."

Their side still ached. This was true. Sitting stiff and hunched over was not helping. They took her advice, and there was some improvement at once - there was the echo of pain that somehow meant relief.

Hornet slid their bowl into easy reach, and then sat cross-legged, with her own tea held loosely over her lap. She took another sip, and closed her eyes. Then she set her cup down, and resumed her work. She did poorly without something to busy her hands.

They drank tea. They leaned on cushions in their sister's room. They lounged, in fact.

They lounged. The room was cool and dark and quiet. Their finger tapped on the stone, matching the rhythm of Hornet's work, until they caught themself. But they always started again, not even realizing they had until they made themself stop. Finally, they made a fist, and pressed it to the floor.

They thought: the Hollow Knight, lounging. Drinking tea and having family.  Thinking. This was everything that should not be.

Perhaps it wasn't.

Her blazing voice rang, remembered. She had shown them things. Things they wanted. Once she had heard them, one single thought stirring the void, it had been easy for her. She had so little else to do, and the mind of a wyrmspawn was such a straightforward tool, easily melted and reforged and dulled.

Their hand shook. They uncurled it and reached out for their bowl. They took a sip of tea. It was bitter. Thin.

She had never shown them anything like this. She had taken some pleasure in overwhelming them. Everything was sweet, new, sickening.

The infection smothered in the prison of their body, freedom for them, at last, and glory fit for the finest knight - all of it unraveled into visions of Hallownest as it truly was. A celebratory feast rotted into bright bile in their mouth. A caress from Father's claws, his welcoming arms, became her burning embrace.

But more than their mere torment, it was the acknowledgment she delighted in. When they thrashed in their bindings. When they wept tears like tar. And when their body was, finally, more her possession than their own, mere trembling was sometimes enough.

They felt inescapably at her whims, until it overflowed and poured out of them, their body giving out and giving up and burning burning burning and they clawed at their mask and they didn't expect to be able to reach, so when their hand connected it cut into the shell.

"Abispa-"

The Hollow Knight did not understand.

"Abispa?" More urgently.

They looked up at - Hornet. Sister.

Hornet, who was calling to them, softly. Calling their name. They had a name.

She had never have conjured a name for them. She had never conjured a sister. No tea, no cushions, no cool or dark or quiet.

They held out their hand. It was still shaking, but Hornet took it between both of hers, squeezing their palm. This couldn't have been a dream. It was infinitely better than anything anyone, included themself, could have thought to desire. The Radiance couldn't have plucked from them what they'd never imagined.

When Hornet again reached the point where she was ready to spool her silk, she paused. She placed the spool on the floor in front of them. They stared at it.

She asked, "Will you help me?"

They gulped down the rest of their tea. They nodded.

"Turn this, please. I will hold the silk so that it winds."

It was simple work, just enough to keep them occupied. They spun their hand, and it was clear that Hornet was letting them set the pace now, slower than she would have gone. But if she was impatient, she kept it hidden even without her mask. She adjusted the position of the thread occasionally, guiding it up or down according to the thickness of the spool. They adjusted their grip when they needed, and she insisted that they pause sometimes to stretch their hand.

"Just so," she said, when they were done and she examined their work. "Would you like to begin the next?"

They nodded quickly, and she prepared it for them. They were halfway through when a rapid knocking echoed from down the tunnel. Hornet didn't move, just called, "You may come in, Polybia."

She was unconcerned. If it wasn't Polybia, then whoever it was would find they had bitten off more than they could swallow, or else the siblings would have a problem that keeping the intruder out of one room wouldn't have solved.

The soft rush of cloak and shadow approaching resolved any concerns. Polybia hopped down into the room a moment later, and made one last dash up to Abispa's side.

Abispa lowered their head, and Polybia lifted theirs. They both bumped their masks together.

Hornet asked, "Welcome back. How did your visit go?"

Polybia fished out a scrap of silk paper from their cloak in response. The surface was covered in aimless lines and swirls, color rambling thoughtlessly over color.

"Very distinctive," Hornet said approvingly.

They nodded, but their own art didn't hold their interest for long. When Abispa leaned in to look, Polybia bumped their masks again, inquiring.

Abispa sank in on themself. Their hand shifted to hold their side. Polybia pressed their mask to Abispa's once more, and lifted their hand to hold it beside the crack. Abispa withdrew enough to nod.

Hornet stood up. "I will bring more tea for you. I did not know you'd be back so soon."

She hadn't even finished speaking before Polybia perked up. They patted Abispa's arm and spun away to snatch up the kettle. It was nearly as large as their body, but they set off back to the elevator with no evident struggle. Their siblings had no time to protest. It seemed they would bring their own tea.

Hornet watched them go, then laughed softly and sat back down. "And to think, I once thought myself quick. They've taught me better."

Abispa stared at her, and then shook their head earnestly.

She laughed again. "It's alright. I am glad they proved themself my match." She gave them a level look, and then added, "I am glad you were here to assist me today."

They heard her. They felt. They felt inescapably. But.

They didn't want to escape. Their chest was tight, and there was fluid pressing around their eyeholes like they were about to weep, and they never wanted to stop feeling like this. How to articulate this feeling? What to call it? They didn't know. They just wished to keep it.

And after a few moments of silence - of sitting in the cool and dark and quiet with their sister, while their sibling rattling dishes below echoed up faintly -  nothing came along to take it. Nothing burned. Their side, faintly. But nothing burned it all away, nothing tore it from their grasp. They were not hanging back in the black vault.

This was no dream. For the first time, it occurred to them: they could keep this.

They sat up, and reached out to Hornet. Her gaze flicked up to them quickly, and she patted their knuckles.

A loud clatter announced Polybia's return to the entrance. They emerged a moment later with a new tray, and on it: the kettle, their own cup, thankfully intact, and the small jar of honey Hornet kept.

"So that's what you were after," she observed. "You could have asked."

They set the tray down in the triangle they completed, and tilted their head at her.

"Of course I would have allowed it. It is to share. As long as no one uses the whole jar at once," she said thoughtfully, "there will be no trouble. Do you mean to use the whole jar, Polybia?"

They shook their head.

Hornet's chelicerae twitched up, a rare spidery smile. "I thought not."

Polybia poured themself some tea, and sweetened it to their liking.

Hornet took a sip of her own forgotten tea. She swallowed the now-cold drink, and couldn't stop herself from pulling a face. She had two knowing gazes on her immediately.

"Yes, yes," she said. She downed the rest of it in one draught, and poured herself more. She stirred in one spoonful of honey as an incentive. "I will not forget again. Alright?"

They both nodded. She pushed the kettle over to Abispa, who poured some for themself as well. They ignored the honey entirely. They would rather savor the bitterness.

Polybia finished quickly their tea quickly. They stood up, and walked over to stand beside Abispa. Polybia traced along the scars in their sibling's shell, and held their gaze. Abispa shook their head, dismissing Polybia's concerns.

Polybia still stared. Abispa shook their head again, and set their hand between Polybia's horns. Their thumb traced up and down the outer curve, until Polybia was satisfied enough to relax.

The smaller sibling reclaimed their cup, and poured themself more tea. They topped off Abispa's while they had the kettle, and added another generous portion of honey to their own. Then they climbed onto Abispa's lap.

They all drank in silence, until Hornet finished her tea. She grabbed both the spool they had completed and the partial one. Polybia's gaze snapped to her, but she said, "I know. I only have a question. It is about the project I have in mind. Abispa?"

They jolted. Abispa set their bowl down and straightened suddenly, at attention. Polybia steadied themselves, and crossed their arms. She set the silk down in front of Abispa, and held up a hand, a pacifying gesture for both of them.

She told Abispa, "I only want to know which color you prefer."

They held her gaze, and then looked down at the silk. There was a deep, elegant red and a blue like lumafly-lit stone. They thought, and then tapped the blue.

"Thank you," she said. "That will do."

Both siblings tilted their heads at her.

"You have expressed a fondness for tapestries like these." She gestured above their head, at the decoration on the wall behind them. "And I have been weaving more, as of late. thought I would make one for you. This will be the central color."

Abispa stared at her. They could do nothing else. They had no respond ready; they had too much in their head at once to pick out any one sentiment to express. Finally, and with great deliberation, they plucked Polybia from their lap. They moved the kettle aside, then the jar of honey. They slid into the space where the dishes had been, and bent so their mask rested just above her face.

She stretched up to meet them, and when she accepted their invitation, they wrapped their arm around her. They crushed her close, for just a moment, and then let her back down.

"It's no trouble! You needn't-" Her chelicerae worked furiously, and she pressed a hand over them to hide it, speaking into her shell. "It's no trouble. Truly."

Their chest shook silently, the shape of a laugh, and they tapped between her horns.

She cleared her throat, but the sound gave way to her own laughter. She shook her head helplessly, and told Polybia. "You'll have one, too. If you would like, of course."

They nodded enthusiastically.

"Good." She folded her arms under her cloak. "Now. Since you've both decided that my room is a common area for the evening, you may assist me."

She gestured to the unfinished spool. "Abispa, you know what to do. Please inform Polybia. I will prepare more silk."

Polybia wasn't inclined to complain about more art, after they'd ended their session with Sheo early, and Abispa was happy to teach them. Hornet gathered up the pieces of her own work as her siblings sat down to theirs. They carried on, until Polybia was visibly nodding off.

That night, it was the memory of whispering silk that carried Abispa into their own long, dreamless sleep.

[mrslittletall]

Title: Off Balance (Chapter 7) Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: The Pale King, The Pure Vessel, Herrah, Hornet Word Count: 10.962 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805333/chapters/58496248 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/616114517764685824/title-off-balance-chapter-6-fandom-hollow

Summary: The Pale King and Hollow venture into Deepnest to meet up with Herrah, so that Hollow can meet their sister. Not everything goes smoothly.

(Author's note: Long chapter is long!

I would have liked to cut this chapter in two, but it feels like it has to be this long, it would feel wrong to cut it in half and publish as two chapters. There was so much I wanted to put into this chapter and I am satisfied I managed, I am just amazed that I managed to break the 10k word mark. That is the longest chapter I have ever written.

Once again, I need to thank all of you who commented on this piece, your support is what keeps me going.

I also need to thank @catanutella, who draw some art inspired by my fic which you can find here and @ruthlesslistener which latest Hollow Knight oneshot inspired me to add a tiny scene at the end.

Also, I shit you not, I dreamed up a scene for this chapter! Ask me which it was if you want or try to find it our yourself ^^)

“We will take the tram from the Basin to Deepnest.”, the Pale King said to Hollow as they walked away from the palace. “Once we are there, we have to walk the rest by foot.” The Pale King had preferred to take the tram that would lead more closely to Herrah's den, but even though construction works had gone on for a while now, it just never seemed to get finished. Maybe he should use the opportunity and see what the problem was, when he was already there.

“Tram?”, Hollow asked, quickly signing each individual letter, not knowing a sign for the word they just had learned.

“It's a vehicle that moves on rails.”, the Pale King explained. “It can move rather fast and get you from one point of Hallownest to another in a short amount of time, but it is fixed on one layer. The tram we are going to take will get us to the lower levels of Deepnest and then we need to climb up to meet Herrah at her den.”

“Understood.”, Hollow signed, silently following the Pale King, only the foot steps of their void feet, mixing with the clacking of the Pale King's claws, were heard. If one didn't knew they were there, it was easy to forget about their presence. The familiar guilty pang bloomed in the Pale King's chest, his teachings of not to feel anything had made them that way, that was the only reason they were so good at being silent, at acting as if they wouldn't exist.

It was only a short walk to the tram station, Hollow didn't even need any help, their balance had improved vastly over the last week, they mostly still had trouble with balance while trying to fight and when teleporting, they just wouldn't be able to stand straight after it, they always would get pulled down by their horns, having a few painful impacts with the floor whenever the Pale King hadn't managed to catch them in time. It had gone so far that they had to transfer the training near a soul statue, so that they could deal with the constant cracks in their shell. For how much the Pale King encouraged Hollow to make their own decision, training until they were so dry of Soul they could barely stand wasn't one he approved of, they could be surprisingly stubborn about their training. He just wondered from who Hollow had inherited that train, or not, he exactly knew from who they had inherited it.

Arrived at the tram station, the Pale King breathed out a short sigh of relief at how empty it was. This particular station was mostly occupied by bugs coming from and going to Deepnest, which wasn't a common occurrence. The main reason why the Pale King didn't want to ride the stag ways, even though he had ordered to build them, wasn't only that the stags weren't too fond at his decision to build the trams, but rather that they were riddled with bugs, bugs who would stare at him, bow to him and do nothing but praise him, a thing that was fine when they were far away, but felt extremely awkward when he was in the middle of it. He would feel like wanting to run away screaming, but would be forced to stay and act regal, he was their king after all, a higher being. It would only make him incredible cramped and would give him a desire to stay in the palace for a whole year, he wouldn't be a good role model for Hollow as well. They had picked up on his anxiety anyway already, no need to display it in front of them any more.

The Pale King pulled out the tram pass he had organized before they left and inserted it in the slot at the station, only a short while later the tram arrived. Hollow stared at it and if they would have been able to make an expression, the Pale King could swear their eyeholes would have gone larger.

“That is the tram.”, the Pale King said and moved closer to the door. “Let us enter.”

The both of them entered and the tram was as empty as the station in front of them, which was much to the Pale King's preference. That was the good thing about having a bad relationship with Deepnest, nobody ever wanted to go there. The Pale King sat down and gestured for Hollow to sit down next to him. As the tram rumbled and started moving, the Pale King noticed that Hollow fidgeted with their fingers.

“Are you nervous?”, he asked them.

“Yes.”, Hollow signed and the Pale King laid his claws on their shoulder. One of the advices in Monomon's letter, make your child feel safe and understood when they are unsure. Physical affection always seemed to help with Hollow.

There were a few minutes of silence before Hollow signed: “What is Deepnest like?”

“It's a dark place.”, the Pale King replied. “Actually, while we have to wait to arrive at our destination this is a good opportunity to tell you about a few rules.”

Hollow turned their head at the Pale King and cocked it lightly, showing that they were listening.

“Like I said, it is a dark place.”, the Pale King said. “Quite literally. When the White Palace is a place full of light, then Deepnest is a place devoid of light. I, naturally, glow in the dark, so I would like for you to stick close to me.” Hollow nodded as the Pale King got something out of his robes, a tiny glass ball filled with a few glowing flies. “But if we ever get separated, I need you to have this. It is a lumafly lantern. It will grant you light in a dark place.”

Hollow accepted the lantern and stared at it, stroking it with their fingers, observing it from all angles, obviously being fascinated by it. “Of course it would be better if we don't get separated.”, the Pale King said, leaving Hollow a few minutes to observe the lantern until they were satisfied.

“Next, Deepnest isn't a part of the kingdom.”, the Pale King said. “It consists mostly of predators and they could attack us, especially if they are infected.” The Pale King shuddered a bit, the infection was still a problem with no solution. He needed to find one, soon, at least before Hollow would offer to be the Vessel again. He still got an icy feeling in his stomach when he even thought about that scene.

“Herrah is kind of the leader of Deepnest, we don't want to anger her, so don't kill anyone that isn't infected.”, the Pale King said. “It would be better if you use your nail only in an emergency situation, let me handle any predators, I know enough spells to incapacitate them.”

Hollow nodded, but still clutched their nail. The Pale King remembered, that while Hollow had trained with a nail since they hatched, they never actually had gotten send out to fight the infected with the five great knights. They truly were a skilled warrior, but they lacked proper experience.

“So, in short, stay close to me, only use your nail when absolutely necessary. Do you understand?”, the Pale King asked and they confirmed with a nod.

A few more moments of silence and then Hollow signed another question: “Why is sister at Deepnest?” The Pale King noticed that they used the signs for dark and nest for the last word, practically calling it Darknest, but he got it just fine.

“It's because Hornet is watched over by Herrah.”, the Pale King said. “She... was part of the bargain to convince Herrah to be a dreamer. It's.. complicated.”

While the Pale King would have liked to tell Hollow exactly just how Hornet had come into existence, he felt it was a bit too much to unload on them that he practically had engaged in a dalliance with Herrah and Hornet could be considered his bastard child. His Root never had been mad at him for it though and she even seemed fond of Hornet, often talking about her whenever she met up with Herrah. The Pale King assumed that it was kind of a coping mechanism for his Root at the loss of her biological children.

Hollow didn't ask further. Why should they, he had let through that he was uncomfortable talking about this topic and they surely wouldn't pry further. The rest of the ride was spent in silence until the tram came to a screeching halt and Hollow nearly fell over at the sudden loss of balance, being supported by the Pale King who had grabbed the end of their robe.

“We are here.”, he said. “Stay close to me, Hollow.”

Hollow nodded and the both of them exited the tram. Around the station, there was still light, but it was barely possible to see two metres into the dark. Now the daunting task to navigate Deepnest and actually reach Herrah's den was in front of them. The Pale King pulled out a map of the place and planned a route while Hollow was looking at every direction, taking in the sight, or more the darkness, there wasn't much to see.

Once the Pale King had mapped out the route and saved it in his mind, he looked at Hollow who clearly had waited for his attention, because they signed: “Place is dark.” They looked around another time. “Not even birthplace was that dark.”

“Can... can we not talk about this place, please?”, the Pale King said, having a sinking feeling in his stomach, the sinking feeling of several thousand dead children locked in this place.

“Sorry.”, Hollow signed and they looked down, almost toppling over. Whenever they even shifted their horns downwards, their balance would be off at once.

“It's quite alright, Hollow.”, the Pale King said. “I am just... not ready facing that place again.” Or more, he had vowed to himself that he would never return to it. What was the point? Hollow had been the only survivor. All other vessels had been stillborn, cracked shortly after birth or had fell on the way to the top. It had been a cruel thing to watch and he had been a cruel father to let it happen, the guilt gnawing at him even months later.

However, enough about being lost in thoughts. They were on their way to something more bright. At least for Hollow it should be, the Pale King only felt incredibly awkward around Herrah, especially after the had... He shook his head and started to put one foot in front of the other. The sooner they managed to cross Deepnest, the better.

“Follow me and stay close.”, the Pale King said and Hollow nodded, starting to follow him. His natural light illuminated the caves around them, so that there wasn't a need for a light source, like he had explained to Hollow earlier. Most of Deepnest's inhabitants were quite sensitive to light, so he hoped that this would be enough to keep them at bay, even the infected ones. He had overheard some of the Royal Retainers once and some of them had admitted that it downright hurt looking at him, so bright could his light be.

The Pale King looked back to make sure that Hollow was following him. Despite their void nature, they weren't bothered by his light at all and if, they were excellent in hiding it. He saw that they had drawn their nail, despite him telling them earlier to only use it in an emergency situation, but he also knew that Hollow viewed their nail as emotional comfort. They probably only were holding it, with both hands, he realized, one at the handle and one at the tip, to calm themselves down from any fears they felt.

“Hollow, if anything is bothering you, tell me.”, the Pale King said, but Hollow shook their head and continued to follow him. They either were fine with the situation or tried to be brave and the Pale King suspected the latter was the case. However, because he tried to encourage them to be their own person, he didn't want to to make them feel that they couldn't make their own decisions. If he would tell them that they didn't have to be brave, they would only take this as cue to fall completely back into their dependency on him. Getting this mindset out of them was still a work in progress.

The walk was silent, well asides from the noises that Deepnest would make, the constant crawling and chittering of the bugs in the darkness and generally noises that made anyone feel unwelcome here. In the outer parts of Deepnest there lived mostly Dirtcarvers, a predator that would burrow underground and strike when their prey least expected it. Luckily, most of them still seemed to have their wits about them and didn't emerge, probably knowing that even with the bad relationship Hallownest and Deepnest had with each other, that it wouldn't be wise to attack the literal king and whichever bug was following him. On the rare occasions of an infected Dirtcarver emerging, the Pale King summoned a few spears and would incapacitate them in place, still hoping that they could find a cure for the infection and wouldn't have to take down every bug which displayed symptoms. At least the infection didn't seem to have spread too much to Deepnest, for most of the time, their walk was rather peaceful, in lack of better descriptions for Deepnest.

A bit further in, the Pale King spotted the first Deephunters glaring at him, quickly running away once him and Hollow approached, either being bothered by the light or fearing that this prey could be too big for them, not wanting to waste their venom. Of course their venom would be hardly deadly for a Higher Being, but it would still hurt and in too high concentration could start to get deadly, so the Pale King was rather satisfied that he didn't had to fend them back.

Occasionally the Pale King turned around to check on Hollow, once again regretting that he hadn't given them a voice, because without them making a single sound, it was hard to interpret just how they felt. They looked around and took in the surroundings, bravely following him step by step, sometimes needing help climbing a ledge by the Pale King, because jumping still caused them balance troubles and their wings weren't useful for flight, never commenting on the situation, probably because their hands were busy holding their nail and they didn't want to let go to sign or write in their journal.

“Are you feeling fine, Hollow?”, the Pale King asked after they had approximately reached the halfway point to Herrah's Den. Hollow just nodded and seemed to clutch their nail harder.

“Alright then.”, the Pale King said and started walking again. The ground of that tunnel felt kind of off, he thought. It felt like it could burst anytime and just as he realized that the weight of two bugs may be too much for the already fragile ground, it crumbled. In the spur of the moment the Pale King spread his wings to lift himself up, turning around having kind of suspected that Hollow had either jumped or teleported when they felt the ground giving in, but his child was nowhere to be seen.

“Hollow?!”, the Pale King asked, panic blooming in his chest. “Hollow, where are you?!”

Of course they didn't answer, couldn't answer, how could they without a voice. He had to find them and quick. That they weren't anywhere at the edge of the newly formed gap meant, that they probably had fallen down and what if they had gotten hurt and couldn't move and not even cry for help down there? The Pale King got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Wait.”, he told himself, in an attempt to calm himself down. “If they have gotten hurt, then they must still be down there.” He flew the gap down, which thankfully wasn't that deep, but still deep enough for a bug to break their shell if they landed wrong and Hollow had the tendency to land on their head when they fell.

They weren't down there. At least that meant they hadn't gotten hurt enough so that they couldn't move or that they were able to heal any injuries with soul, but that was the only comfort the Pale King had. He actually had preferred to found them down there, where he easily would have been able to fix them up with his own soul, them not being there meant that they now were wandering through Deepnest, alone and scared and maybe out of enough soul to heal any injuries they could suffer.

“Hollow?”, the Pale King shouted again. “If you can hear me, make some noise.”

There wasn't anything and the earlier panic manifested back in the Pale King. What if he would never find Hollow again? What if he would only find their shell? What if their shade would get unleashed, lashing out at him for all the suffering he had inflicted on them? What should he tell his Root, that he lost their last living child? He sunk to the ground, heavily breathing, as the panic took completely over. The last time he had felt this hopeless had been when the Radiance nearly had killed him and he needed to channel every last amount of Soul to heal the life threatening injury. At least, that had only been about himself, now, he had lost the very one being he was responsible for, he had started to care so much about and he didn't want to lose for anything in the entirety of Hallownest.

The frantic beating of his heart in his chest slowed down as he made a decision. He wouldn't let Deepnest take his child. The Pale King got up and considered how he should start the search. Sadly, he had neglected to tell Hollow what to do when they got separated, it would be best for them to stay put, but judging how scared they seemed to be off Deepnest, they probably panicked once they got separated and ran away.

The Pale King noticed something on the ground which didn't reflect his light. Only one thing in Hallownest was able to swallow his light and that was... void. Indeed, there were traces of void on the floor, which implied that Hollow indeed had gotten hurt by their fall, but not hurt enough that they couldn't move anymore. If the Pale King would follow the trail, he would find them.

He hadn't followed the trail for long when he caught the glimpse of something white and black hushing along the tunnels, with two very big horns. “Oh, Hollow, there you are.”, the Pale King said, following their figure, not questioning why they didn't stop when they heard his voice or just why they could move so gracefully quick, even though they usually would fall over every few steps at this pace.

“Hollow, wait.”, the Pale King said, “Where are you heading? I am right here. Look, I am sorry that I left you hanging earlier. Aren't you hurt? Let's take a look at your wound.”

Hollow didn't answer, of course, but they also didn't sign or did... anything to show that they heard the Pale King. Sometimes they would stop and wait for the Pale King to catch up before hurrying into the tunnels again. “Have you discovered something and want to show it to me?”, the Pale King asked, getting more and more confused about Hollow's behaviour, a feeling that something was wrong with them grew inside of him, maybe they really had hit their head and now couldn't think straight or some parasite of Deepnest had taken over them. Either way, for the Pale King to help them, he needed to come closer and they always would run away again, when he was close enough to finally reach them.

“Hollow, stop this.”, the Pale King said “This isn't funny anymore.” They had arrived at a rather spacious tunnel and just now the Pale King noticed that there were two things wrong with Hollow.

The first one was, that they weren't carrying the Lumafly Lantern he had given them earlier. Judging from their earlier remark, they couldn't see in the dark.

The second, and that was the more alarming one, was that they weren't carrying their nail they had hold on so conscientiously earlier. Even when they had lost the nail, the Pale King knew that they would go search it before doing anything else. That was probably why they hadn't been there, they had let go of their nail and went to search it in a panic as their comfort item vanished from their grasp.

The suspicions of the Pale King about having faced an imposter became true when the “Hollow” in front of him started to transform and their body turned into one of a big black and orange predator (an infected one), hissing and bubbling at him. Of course it would attack, of all the bugs in Hallownest, he was the one the Radiance wanted to be dead the most.

“Hmph, don't underestimate me.”, the Pale King said, flicking his wrist to summon several projectiles, dictating them to fly at the predator and impale it. He knew he couldn't just incapacitate this one, but judging from the fury the creature had for him, its mind had been completely took over by the will and orders of the Radiance, getting it out of its misery could be considered an act of mercy.

The creature started to charge against him and the Pale King ordered his projectiles to target its head, but shortly before they could impact, he hesitated.

That was still Hollow's face the creature was wearing and even though the Pale King knew that he was unreasonable, after all he did to Hollow, he couldn't bring himself to hurt this face, even if it was clearly an imposter in front of him.

His hesitation was enough that he predator could pin him under its claws, roaring at him. He could practically hear the Radiance's excitement at finally having a chance to strike her arch enemy down, with the help of a powerful predator she had managed to overtake. The Pale King knew that he needed to attack, defend himself, but his gaze was still on the face of Hollow that the imposter was wearing and there was it, that crushing guilt. There was the picture inside of his mind of Hollow cowering in fear when he had made several projectiles fly at them, wanting to test their new balance, still thinking that they were nothing but an empty being, realizing how hard they had tried to pretend and it made him unable to move, even when the claw drove into his flesh, a hot pain searing through his shoulder and blood seeping out of the wound.

The pain briefly brought him back to the severity of the situation, if he wouldn't do something, anything, the predator would cut him down and the Radiance would get her will. Though, why she didn't order the predator to kill him right away... she probably wanted him to suffer, kill him slowly and painfully. He could use this to his advantage. He forced himself to conjure another projectile and hurled it between him and the claw, rolling away when the predator shrieked in protest at the sudden obstacle, struggling to get to his feet. He couldn't fight the creature, not as long as it was wearing Hollow's face and making him incapable of hurting it because of his own guilt, but at least he could flee and find the real Hollow, who hopefully hadn't become a victim of this predator.

That thought, together with the wound, was enough for the Pale King to struggle and fall over, the impact jostling the injury and making him incapable of getting up because of the pain.

“Focus...”, he murmured to himself, trying to conjure soul to heal himself, but it was too late. The predator had already caught up to him and he closed his eyes awaiting the impact of its razor sharp claws in his back, but it never happened. Instead, he heard the sound of metal clashing against claws.

As he opened his eyes and turned his head, he saw Hollow, the real Hollow, standing between him and the predator, their nail fighting against the force of their strike. They were shaking and the Pale King couldn't say if it was from effort or rage. He only knew that he was more than glad to see them, alive and well, though they did get pushed backwards one by one.

Enough of lying around., the Pale King thought to himself and though it would have been more wise to heal his injury first, seeing his child in danger made him lose any reasonable thoughts and so he jumped up and conjured several projectiles, ignoring the pain flaring up from his wound.

“Leave our child alone.”, he hissed, throwing the projectiles at the predator, now that his real child was here, that mind trick wouldn't work on him anymore.

His aim was a bit shaky, but most of the projectiles hit their mark, well, would, if the predator wouldn't have jumped backwards, dodging a majority of them in the last second. At least it gave Hollow some breathing room. The Pale King turned his head to check on them, only to see they were face first on the ground. Of course, they had tried with all their might to push back their foe and when suddenly the force pushing them back vanished, they would lose their balance and with them being still off balance, they wouldn't be able to keep themselves up.

With the nail in their right hand, they struggled to get up. The predator took this as a chance and their claw was about to strike down. The Pale King, while not being fond of it, it would cost him large amounts of soul, teleported between the claw and his child, summoning a barrage of projectiles to protect the both of them, but he wasn't quick enough, the claw managed to rip another wound, this time in his arm, he gasped as the pain hit him.

If he would have been in his wyrm form, that predator would have just been an easy meal, swallowed in one gulp, but he wasn't in his wyrm form anymore, he had changed himself to a form that was more akin to the bugs of this kingdom and with that came disadvantages. As he summoned another barrage of projectiles to not let the next strike hit them, especially not his child, he noticed that Hollow had managed to get up again and also noticed that they weren't waiting behind him, instead, they jumped up and drove their nail into one eye of the predator, which shrieked in pain, orange goop leaked out of it.

“Hollow, what are you doing?! Stay behind me!”, the Pale King yelled, unaware that he had been on the defense all this time and Hollow just wanted to give him an opening, he could only watch when after the attack they failed their landing and the impact with the ground sounded rather painful.

The Pale King dropped any projectiles he still controlled and hurried over to his child, summoning new projectiles on the way, intending to string them between the predator and his child, but pain, blood loss and exhaustion from all the soul he had used caught up to him and made him unable to spread his wings, instead, he scurried over the ground, having to see how the claws of the predator bolted down on a helpless Hollow, which stared, simply stared and shortly before the claw could hit them, they didn't use their nail in an attempt to block it, but instead looked away and flicked their left hand, spear pillars emerging from the ground, impaling the predator on them.

The Pale King watched with wide eyes as the death cry of the creature sounded and even Hollow managed to direct their gaze back, crawling a bit backwards when they saw what had happened. Copious amounts of the infection regorged on the ground, staining Hollow, and the shell of the predator soon fell lifeless on the ground once the pillars vanished.

Hollow started shaking and soon tears ran down their face. The Pale King was at their side in an instant to pull them into a hug.

“Father.”, they signed. “Scared.”

“I know.”, the Pale King said. “I was scared too.” Scared of losing you. “I am so sorry that I lost you earlier.” He hugged them tighter, their shaking still not ceasing. They must have been terrified and still, they had saved him. Without their interference, he would have let himself strike down by the predator, simply because he couldn't get the image out of his mind of a Hollow that had cowered in fear of him.

Hollow reciprocated the hug, but withdrew their hand and stared at the white liquid on it. His blood.

“Father, you are hurt.”, they signed. “You saved me. Now you are hurt.” They then proceeded to sign the word sorry in quick succession until the Pale King took their hands in his claws, not without wincing, that arm and shoulder of his hurt, preventing them from signing the word out once more.

“The opposite is the case, Hollow. If you wouldn't have come, I would have let myself struck down. It was you who made me able to move again and it was you who took down the predator.”, he said, slowly releasing their hands.

“I did?”, they asked. “Not you?”

Clearly they were confused and seemed to think that the last attack had come from the Pale King, not from them, no wonder, they never had used this attack before. The Pale King was once again astonished about their tight control over soul, even though they had done it in a panic, they had managed to copy a complex spell that he may have shown them once or twice when they still had been a grub.

“No, that was all you, Hollow.”, the Pale King said and then scanned their body. “Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”

Hollow first shook their head and then nodded, contradicting themselves.

“Well, yes or no?”, the Pale King asked.

They raised shaky hands to sign: “Cut my foot earlier. Is not bad. Healed my shell with soul.”

That meant, they had gotten hurt earlier by their fall and, like the Pale King had anticipated, fell face first, though that didn't explain how they managed to cut their foot. Which also was void and so couldn't be healed with soul, which only would heal the shell.

“Can you explain how it happened?”, the Pale King said.

Hollow was silent for a while and then signed: “Fell. Felt a panic. Teleported. Foot got caught in something sharp. Fell over again. Hit my head. Healed it with Soul. Then couldn't see you anymore. Went to search.”

Alright, that explained just how it had come to all of the events that led to this moment. The Pale King should have never let Hollow fall down into that pit, they didn't knew what they should do and had tried to find their only source of comfort and the person they depended on: Him.

“Let me see your wound.”, the Pale King said.

“Father, your own wounds...”, they signed, but he shook his head and said: “I can heal myself in a second, let's take care of you first.” The relief of his child being safe was enough to make him forget that there still was blood seeping out of his own cuts, staining his robes and the ground around him.

Hollow shyly presented him their left food, which indeed had a nasty cut in it which leaked void blood.

“I can't heal void with soul.”, he said. “But we can make sure that it doesn't bleed anymore.” He conjured a bit more soul and formed it into the form of strap, which wrapped itself around Hollow's feet, securing the wound tightly and keeping it from leaking. “There, now you should be able to strain it without trouble.”

Hollow got up and took a few shaky steps, nodding, then stared expectant at him.

“I know, I know, I will heal myself now.”, the Pale King said and conjured up soul to guide into his injuries, but he had to realize that there wasn't any soul left to guide anywhere.

“I … seem to be out of soul.”, he said and along with the realization and the relief about Hollow being fine, the severity of his injuries came toppling down on him and he could feel himself slip into unconsciousness.

When the Pale King awoke, he still noticed a dull pain in his arm and shoulder, but they felt much more manageable. He was propped up against a wall and when he investigated his wounds, he saw that they were wrapped tightly, not with soul, but with what looked suspiciously like Hollow's robe. He turned his head to search for them and found them in the middle of the cave, where the predator had hung it's prey from the ceiling, working on getting a Dirtcarver down with their nail. There were several more dead bugs hanging from the ceiling, clearly victim of Deepnest's philosophy of “eat or get eaten”. One of them looked kinda like a Vessel. The Pale King blinked and then shook his head, was his mind still playing tricks on him? Asides from Hollow, no other Vessel survived.

Once Hollow managed to cut down the Dirtcarver, they took the prey in both hands and brought it over to the Pale King, cutting pieces out of it with their nail.

“What are you doing?”, the Pale King asked, startling them. They turned their head to them, laid their nail down and signed: “Father, you are awake.”

“Yes, indeed.”, the Pale King said. “So, what are you doing?”

“Food.”, they signed. “Tried to heal you. Failed. Only healed myself. Patched up your wounds.”

Indeed, their robe was in poor shape and they obviously had cut off one sleeve to use it as bandages for his injuries and now they tried to feed him, probably hoping that his soul would be able to get replenished by eating.

“Soul doesn't get replenished by eating.”, he said. “Only by resting or directly absorbing it from a source. That is why we have the soul statues in the palace.”, he said.

They stopped cutting up the Dirtcarver and looked at the Pale King. He didn't need words to know what they wanted to say. “Eating surely won't hurt.”, he said. Even though in his current form he had started to cherish food that had been prepared, he had just ate everything raw once. It wouldn't kill him to devour one Dirtcarver, especially when it would make his child happy. “But I want you to eat too.”, he said. Hollow was still a growing grub and would need large amounts of energy once their second transformation hit. He wouldn't let them go hungry.

Hollow nodded and soon they were biting down on the Dirtcarver, which soft shell luckily was easy to break through. By tasting the raw meat, the Pale King even could feel some of his old instincts coming back, the desire to hunt and taste fresh blood on his tongue. He couldn't believe how primitive and brutal he once had been. Hollow ate in silence next to him, in their own unique way, which pretty much just looked like their void body absorbed the food. That was probably what they were doing. He needed to finally ask them just how they were eating, but that was a question for another day.

After they were finished, the Pale King got up and took a look at Hollow, their cut robes and the orange stains of infection on their shel as well as his own torn robes, his bandages shimmering through. “We are pretty worn up.”, he said and took out the map, until he found the landmark of the lair of the predator, studying it to find the route back to Herrah. Even though he would have preferred to get Hollow home that instant, they seemed to have calmed down and he could only imagine how mad Herrah would get if he wouldn't show up.

“Oh, there is a hot spring on the way.”, the Pale King said. “We should stop there, to get cleaned up and heal our injuries. Hot springs are a natural source of soul.”

Hollow nodded and the Pale King took a step forwards only to get dizzy and almost fall over. He had lost too much blood. Hollow tried to catch him, but only fell over with him.

“My apologies.”, the Pale King said. “I seem to be a bit weaker than I thought...”

Hollow got up, straightened themselves, put their nail into the ground and then lifted him up with a strength he didn't even know they possessed, using their left arm to support him and their nail to prop themselves up, giving him a stare that the Pale King only could interpret as: “Lead the way.”

A gladly uneventful, but rather painful journey later, the both of them had arrived at the hot spring. “Finally.”, the Pale King said, as Hollow released their grip on them. He opened his robe and let it fall on the ground before stepping into the hot water, already feeling how the natural soul in it seeped into his body and closed the cuts on his arm and his shoulder. As he was in the process to remove the bandages, he saw Hollow joining him.

“I don't know if the hot spring can heal your void body, so better don't take off the bandage around your foot, just in case.”, the Pale King said. Hollow nodded and in the natural light of the hot spring, he could see a lot better just how dirty their shell was.

“Hollow, come here.”, he said, gesturing for them to come closer, which they did, their empty eyeholes staring at him. “Turn around, I am going to wash your horns.”

Hollow did so without hesitating, even sinking a bit deeper into the water, giving the Pale King easier access to their horns. The Pale King started to gently clean their horns with the hot water of the spring, scrubbing off the dirt and especially the chunks of infection that had gotten stuck in the jagged parts. Hollow of course didn't say anything, didn't even move while he worked, but he had the feeling that their former tense posture seemed to relax under his care.

Once he was done, he laid his hands on Hollow's shoulder and said: “There, now you look presentable again.”

Hollow nodded and then watched as the Pale King proceeded to wash his own body, mostly making sure that his body would absorb all the soul it could. As he carefully cleaned the area around the King's Brand, not wanting to damage the charm, he noticed that Hollow stared on it or more, at a area slightly beneath it.

“What is it, Hollow?”, the Pale King asked, stopping to wash himself and waiting for them to explain. They raised their hands, or stubs, upon their relaxation they seemed to have released the shapeshift. After a few seconds of forcing the void to form fingers again, they signed: “Scar? How?”

The Pale King's face fell a bit upon their question. He had preferred for that question to be asked another time.

“...It was the Radiance.”, he murmured, staring down into the hazy water. “I grossly underestimated her and her willingness to attack when I was still a young and clueless wyrm and just had arrived at this kingdom.”

He raised a hand and laid it over the scar. He could still feel the pain, shock and panic from back then. “Trying to negotiate, she didn't want to listen and hit me with one heavy blast. I could heal myself with soul, but I used up all of it to heal up the deadly wound. It was the day that I learned that I wouldn't win a direct fight against her.”

He removed the hand from his chest and looked at Hollow, which, from the outside, pretty much looked like always, but their stance implied shock. It maybe had been too much for them, he was pretty much their whole world and knowing that he almost died to the enemy they had been supposed to seal...

“F..forget about this.”, the Pale King said, noticing that while he had told that tale, he had unintentionally flared his wings. “That hasn't anything to do with you.”

Hollow just shook their head and also didn't raise their hands to sign. Instead, they got up, staggering for a tiny moment before catching their balance and then moved behind the Pale King. The Pale King just assumed that they had enough of bathing and wanted to shook the water off, when he felt the icy sensation of their fingers at his wings and winced in surprise.

“What are you doing, Hollow?”, he asked. “Be careful, these things are sensitive.”

Hollow stopped and tapped his shoulder to get his attention. As he turned around, they signed: “Will wash wings of Father. Father complained about them not easy to wash.”

“You remembered that?”, the Pale King said, kind of amazed. He had indeed said something to them, shortly after they hatched and he had brought them in the palace, giving them their first bath and having talking to them as if they were a real hatchling and not a mindless construct to seal the Radiance. Well, now he knew they had been a real hatchling. That meant, they must have felt emotions since they had been very young.

Hollow nodded and the Pale King had the feeling they would have said more things, but their hands was busy gently grooming his wings, their icy touch combined with the hot water of the spring a completely new sensation, but not an unpleasant one. So far, he had only allowed his Root to touch his wings. Thinking about it, Hollow's touch was not unlike the one of his Root, proving once more that they were indeed his and his wife's child.

Once they were done and retreated, the Pale King felt not only clean, but also relaxed and bursting with soul. He stood up and shook the water off, walking over to his robes, because he didn't intend to stand in front of Herrah's door naked, even though she had already seen him like that, he didn't want to send the wrong message. To his disdain, his robe was not only torn, but also stained with his blood.

And Hollow's robe didn't look much better, mostly stained with orange infection blotches and that one sleeve completely cut off, having formed his earlier bandages, which were now laying next to the hot spring, soaked and stained with his blood.

“...Let's at least wash them.”, the Pale King said and used the water of the hot spring to clean the robes out, removing any stains and then using his soul to dry them, at least enough that they could be worn comfortably again.

He handed Hollow their robe and slipped into his own. “We can't do anything against the cuts.”, he sighed. “And I am afraid we have to get a new robe for you.” As Hollow let their head hang, he quickly added: “Oh no, don't worry, you did the right thing.” Hollow's head perked up again and the Pale King finished his thought: “However, it's better than to stand to stand in front of Herrah's door step naked. She will have to live with our clothes being torn.”

After all, it had been a predator in her territory that they owed their current state. Herrah could be glad that it had been infected, had the creature been lucid, it would have seriously worsened the relationship between Deepnest and Hallownest.

As the Pale King studied the map and planned out the route, Hollow stepped next to him and he saw the soul bandage around their foot, a stab of guilt in his chest. That had only happened because he hadn't paid enough attention. Once the Pale King folded the map and put it away, his hand found the one of Hollow and closed around it.

“I won't let go of your hand.”, he said and he could feel them squeeze his hand, telling him that they understood.

The rest of the way they didn't get attacked by an infected powerful predator anymore, but Deepnest showed beautifully just why it was so feared by almost all bugs, with Weavers scampering around, appearing from seemingly nowhere, Stalking Devouts demonstrating just how they chopped up their prey as well as the creature known as Corpse Creeper waiting in seemingly harmless husks, that had became prey for another bug, and bursting out when last expected, as well as the ground constantly crumbling and while the Pale King didn't lose Hollow anymore, the moment the ground vanished under them again, Hollow got a good scare.

Now they were finally in front of Herrah's Den and Hollow couldn't help it anymore, they were shaking, finally giving in their fear and nestling against the Pale King, who did his best to calm them down, by rubbing soothing circles in their back.

“There you are.”, the voice of Herrah sounded, appearing out of the shadows. “You certainly took your time.”

“There is a reason for our delay.”, the Pale King said, slipping in his monarch personality, but Herrah's gaze was entirely fixated on Hollow.

“What's wrong with them?”, the asked.

“...Deepnest was a bit much...”, the Pale King murmured and Herrah scoffed.

“Of course Deepnest would be too much for a child that you treated like a thing until you finally realized how dumb this was. Why did you even make them walk through the entirety of Deepnest when there is a stag station right there? Let me guess, because you didn't want to be seen by anyone in public.”

The Pale King shrunk down under her words more and more, each of her words was driving the nail deeper into the coffin.

“Come here, child.”, Herrah said, her voice taking on a rather motherly tone. “Let's get you a hot drink and some food to calm you down.” The Pale King saw how she gently guided Hollow inside, who turned their head to look at him, with that cocking of their head that portrayed concern.

After a good while had passed, the Pale King managed to get himself together and followed Herrah and Hollow inside, where he found them sitting at a table, Hollow having a steaming cup of ...whatever in front of them as well as something that looked like cookies, but probably was made out of meat. Either way, they didn't seem to care, because their shaking had stopped and they were devouring the “cookies” without a second thought.

“Ah, there you are, wyrm.”, Herrah said as she spotted him. “You said there was a reason for your delay. Is it the same reason why the robes of your child are torn?” She gave him another glance and he was sure she narrowed all of her eight eyes under that mask. “Your own don't look much better. How unusual for you to come into another's territory in such an unkempt state.”

“We were attacked by an infected predator.”, the Pale King said. “It lured is into its lair. Hollow managed to take it out.”

“Let me guess. Big, black, with long legs and showed you something you care about to lure you in?”, Herrah said. The Pale King nodded and Hollow added by doodling a picture of how the predator looked on their journal, which they apparently had used to converse with Herrah, judging by the few words written in it.

“Nosk, as I was thinking. One of the predators that could rival me, but never dared to attack my den. It always would hunt far away from it.”

The Pale King shuddered a bit, how casually Herrah was talking about territorial behaviour, it reminded him once again of the wyrm tribe, only that he had decided to take a much more civilized approach. The reason that Deepnest didn't get along with Hallownest was mainly because they still held on to their instincts, even with a mind to think.

“You must be quite a fighter to have taken it down.”, Herrah said, her gaze on Hollow, as opposed as when she was staring the Pale King down, it very much softened once they talked to Hollow.

They just shook their head and wrote something in their journal. Herrah looked at it and said: “What, that wyrm that just sits in his palace and tinkers in his workshop all the time? Unbelievable.”

“We can hear everything you say, Herrah...”, the Pale King said, not having enough energy to start a full-fledged argument. Herrah always seemed to be able to just put him into her pocket. He kind of found it unbelievable that he really had shared a night with her.

Herrah gave him that glance that looked like she wanted to say “Do I look like I care?” and he could hundred percent believe that this sentence was on the tip of her tongue.

“Whatever.”, she said. “You came here for a reason, mainly for the reason that Hollow had the chance to meet their sister.”

Hollow nodded and almost fell with their head on the table, balancing themselves with their hands just in time and then signed two words. Herrah looked at the Pale King and he knew that she silently prompted him to translate.

“They want to know where there sister is now.”, the Pale King said. In truth Hollow had only signed the words for “sister” and “where”, but he decided to embellish their words a bit more.

“Just in the back room.”, Herrah said and stood up from the table. “But before we go there, just a minute.” Herrah made a sound as if she had clicked her fingers, which felt impossible, because she didn't even had fingers, she was a spider after all, and shortly after, a weaver appeared. “Fix the robes of the king and the child.”, she said and the weaver got to work right away, soon the robes of the Pale King had been patched up with spider silk and Hollow's robe even got a whole new sleeve from the same silk. They tugged and prodded at it with interest.

“All your clothes should be made by spider silk.”, Herrah said. “You won't find a more sturdy material in the whole of Deepnest.”

It's not like Deepnest would ever offer their silk to us., the Pale King thought, but didn't enunciate. For now, he decided to stay polite. It was for Hollow's sake after all.

“We thank you very much for your assistance, Herrah.”, he said and even gave her a polite bow, which only earned him another one of those Herrah-glances.

“Now, let's get you to meet your sister.”, Herrah said, attention at Hollow, who stopped investigating their fixed up robe and looked from Herrah to the Pale King.

“Go.”, he just said and saw how one of Herrah's legs gently laid down on Hollow's shoulders and guided them through the room. He himself followed them at a certain distance, fearing a bit that his natural light would upset the child, that had been born in Deepnest and certainly was more used to the darkness, though Herrah's Den wasn't as dark as the rest of Deepnest. For once, he cherished Hollow's void body, that didn't reflect light. They certainly wouldn't upset their little sister with being too bright.

It surely was only a short walk, but for the Pale King it felt unbearable long. He hadn't seen his daughter since she had hatched, wanting to wait for her to grow until inviting her in the White Palace, hoping that Herrah would agree for her to come over and, he had to admit, there had been a part in him that hoped that she would allow him to raise her once she turned dreamer, but he had buried this part deep under his sense of duty. He hadn't even raised the child of himself and his Root right, how should he be able to raise his bastard daughter?

Finally arrived (though it probably only had been a minute or so), Herrah stopped and gestured to a red bundle sitting on the floor, a bright white face with black eyes and two horns starting to grow from the top, similar to Herrah's. She was busy stacking blocks on each other (the Pale King didn't want to know from which bug husk they had been fabricated) and giggled once the whole structure crumpled and fell.

“There, this is my sweet, little Hornet.”, Herrah said, nothing but love and devotion in her voice. Hollow just stood there and stared and then raised both hands to their face. The Pale King had never seen them done this before, but he could only assume that they tried to express just how adorable Hornet was for them. “Why don't you go over to her?”

Hollow once again looked back to the Pale King, who gave them a gesture to just go. Now that any danger was averted, they seemed to be full back on their dependency for him, though this was a new situation for them, so he could hardly blame them.

Hollow took a few shaky steps towards Hornet, fidgeting with their hands, then seemed to take a deep breath and took the last few steps to their sister with much more confidence, carefully sitting down next to her. Hornet stopped her game of block stacking to look at the new bug beside her. Hollow raised their hand to wave. Hornet waved back with one of her little spider arms, it was kind of adorable and then she took Hollow's hand and invited them to join her in her game.

“This went better than expected.”, the Pale King sighed out, not aware that he had said this out aloud.

“Oh? Did you expect for your child to attack their sister, wyrm?”, Herrah said.

“What?! No, of course not.”, the Pale King said, wondering how Herrah even could come to that conclusion and remembering that maybe after their union he had rambled about how it was common for wyrm hatchlings to eat their siblings and that Herrah maybe should keep her half wyrm hatchling fed as well as possible. “We were... worried about other stuff.”

“I noticed.”, Herrah said, crossing her two upper front legs. “All that glancing back to you, being unsure what to say or how to act, waiting for someone, anyone to command them.” The Pale King already flinched under her words, feeling that he knew what would come next. “When I took them in, I had to tell them to sit down, had to tell them that it was fine to take from the offered refreshments and had to ask them if they had a way to communicate, because they would literally not move on their own.” She gave him another sideway glance. “Wyrm, you have done your best to raise this child into an obedient little knight.”

“We know...”, the Pale King said, looking at the ground. “We are working on reversing it. It's... a work in progress.”

“Good luck trying to get this behaviour out of them.”, Herrah said. “Children need love, care and devotion and not being told that they are a mindless construct only there to act as a vessel.”

These words hit the Pale King so hard, that he could physically feel them. “We know we haven't been the best father to them...”, he started in a weak attempt to defend himself.

“Not the best? Wyrm, that is the understatement of the century. Or the millennia, to put it in a time span that your race understands.”, Herrah said and managed to drown out any arguments the Pale King had in stock for the moment.

After a few minutes, he regained his composure and said: “...You were fine with the plan.”

“To keep my people... and her..”, she gestured at Hornet who was currently clapping at how high Hollow was able to stack the blocks, “safe. I never was fine with your 'methods', wyrm.”

“We realized that our methods were wrong.”, the Pale King said, trying to put his attention on Hollow and Hornet. This whole conversation was making him feel sick.

“Better late than never.”, Herrah said. “However, be aware, that husks in your closet will come to haunt you.”

They already do., the Pale King thought to himself, not a single day passed where he regretted what had happened in the Abyss. Desperately trying to change the subject, he said: “Hornet has grown quite a bit since we last saw her.”

At once, Herrah's tone softened, it was more than clear that Hornet was her world, her everything and that she would do everything for her. Even becoming a dreamer. “Yes, she did had her last molt just recently. I still have her old exoskeleton.”

“Herrah, what?”, the Pale King said, feeling a tiny bit grossed out. He didn't remember that his parents had collected his molt, but wyrm society was a lot different than bug society. Also, he probably had eaten his molts as a hatchling, anything edible just wasn't safe around wyrm hatchlings. He silently thanked himself that his transformation into bug physiologically had succeeded that far, that at least his children hadn't tried to eat each other. Not that this would have helped them anyhow, they still were very dead in the abyss... He seriously needed to stop thinking about this. He blamed the shape similar to a Vessel he believed to have seen in Nosk's lair.

“Hmph, of course you haven't kept anything personal of your child, being too busy to convince them to be, you know, the Vessel.”

Ah, there they were again. The Pale King had to admit, he never had cleaned out the void chrysalis that Hollow had hatched from into their current adolescent form. Back then he had just convinced himself that he didn't had time for it, but nowadays he knew that he had grown attached and wanted to keep that sign of their development. He didn't try to engage into another conversation with Herrah and instead watched Hollow and Hornet.

Hornet had lost interest in her block stacking game and had became far more engrossed by Hollow, or more, their horns. They had lowered their head for her to take a better look and she examined especially the jagged parts, seeming to be fascinated by them. It made sense for the Pale King, she only knew her own horns and that of her mother, which were smooth, how Hollow's horn jagged at three places was something completely new for the little spiderling.

“They seem to like each other.”, Herrah said. “I haven't seen Hornet that fascinated since a while.”

The Pale King just nodded, not taking his gaze of his children. Looking at Hornet like this, still a tiny grub, not even able to talk properly yet, just reminded him how hard he had tried to convince himself that Hollow was nothing but an empty vessel, damaging them and their relationship in the process. He had never allowed them to be a child, raised them for a purpose and only realized how wrong he had acted when they already had reached their adolescence. The Pale King suddenly understood just why Quirrel had advised against letting them visit a school, they were emotionally certainly not ready for it, not only because of their dependency, but also because he had never allowed them to be a normal child and now that he allowed it, they had trouble getting the concept and it was his fault alone.

After Hornet had enough of Hollow's horn and they raised again (not with almost falling over the other way, which made Hornet giggle), she tugged on their robes. Hollow looked at the Pale King and Herrah and the Pale King knew this gaze, they were asking for advice, or more, asking how to act.

“She wants you to pick her up.”, Herrah said and as Hollow cocked their head at her, she added: “It's fine, she is a sturdy little grub. Just yesterday she climbed the cupboard and didn't had a single scratch when she fell down.”

Now the Pale King gave Herrah a side glance and that after she had lectured him about bad parenting, but then he remembered that Herrah was half spider and spiders just never seemed to get hurt when they fell down. Also, he doubted that Herrah would have let Hornet done something she deemed dangerous.

Hollow carefully extended their arms and searched for a way to pick Hornet up. Once they managed, the grub flinching a bit, surely because of the sudden coldness, they gently sat her down on their lap. Hornet looked up at them for a brief moment and then cuddled their face in their robes.

It was more than adorable and the Pale King averted his gaze, feeling his face blush, as all these feelings about his children, both of them, threatened to spill over, but was pushed forwards by Herrah.

“Why are you standing there, wyrm? These are your children, you should join them.”

He took a few shaky steps towards them, realizing just how much he acted liked Hollow earlier when he caught himself fidgeting with his claws, almost falling over his own tail when it wrapped around his legs. Then, he followed Hollow's example and took a deep breath, covering the last few steps with a newfound confidence, sitting down to both of his children.

“Hollow, do you like your sister?”, the Pale King asked, knowing that Hornet was still a bit too young to answer any questions. They nodded and if they had been able to smile, the Pale King was sure they would have done it. Hornet stared at him with wide eyes, that eyes that only grubs could have and Hollow picked her up from their lap and offered for him to take her.

“Um..”, the Pale King said, being ready to jump up and hide behind Herrah, “What if she gets fuzzy...”

“You are her father, wyrm.”, Herrah sighed. “Just hold her.”

So, the Pale King complied and gently took Hornet into his arms, she was a lot warmer than he anticipated and tugged at his robes, clearly being interested in them. Hollow sat next to the Pale King, their gaze on their sister and he could feel Herrah's watchful gaze on him, but mostly he was amazed. How this little grub, that came from an union between him and the queen of Deepnest, could feel so comfortable in his arms. He decided to just cherish this moment, for once not thinking about anything he would regret, thinking about that Hornet would be able to grow up with her mother and maybe, when she was older, even visit the White Palace, and if only to play with Hollow.

After a while Hornet had enough from getting cuddled and demanded to be sat down by rather loud chirping, which the Pale King did. The little spiderling dashed with an awesome speed to her mother which picked her up and said: “Well, I think that was enough excitement for her. I should try and lay her down for a nap.”

Herrah then excused herself and left the room, leaving the Pale King and Hollow alone.

“Father.”, Hollow signed. “I don't understand one thing.”

“What is it you don't understand?”, the Pale King asked.

Hollow signed a few words and then shook their head, clearly unsatisfied with how they formed the sentence and instead flipped their journal out.

“Herrah said she is Hornet's mother, but she is my sister, so why isn't my mother also Hornet's mother?”

“Um.”, the Pale King said, having preferred to explain it to them at another date. “It is true that Hornet is the daughter of Herrah. The daughter of Herrah and... me. We could say, the two of you are... half siblings, you share one parent.”

Hollow stared at the Pale King and then wrote another sentence: “Does that mean Herrah is a homewrecker?”

The Pale King had a bit of trouble believing his own eyes as he stared down at their journal: “Who even taught you this word?!” (Author's note: A big thanks to @dreamlikequality who inspired me to add the scene with Nosk. A thing about Hollow is, that I really enjoy the challenge of writing them as mute and not being able to form any expressions, so that I need to think about several factors when they want to talk. Their sign language improved in this chapter, but their sentences are still easy and simple. However, I am not perfect, so if you want to add anything to how to write a mute character and how to handle sign language, feel free to tell me. Hornet is still young in this chapter, young enough to not being able to talk yet, I would say as a human child she would be around one year old. It was my first time writing Herrah and as one of the characters we don't know much about, a lot of it is headcanon based, but I hope you enjoy my interpretation of her. Please tell me your thoughts and favourite parts of that chapter in the comments down below. Thank you very much.) Chapter 8