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Chapter Text

Things turned out a lot different than the Pale King had initially thought. With the small push of a nomadic tribe of foreign moths traversing Hallownest, the Radiance had been given a chance to exist once more. Along with the appearance of her newfound following, the infection began to clear itself from plagued souls. While he was grateful for the positive turn of events, that left his plans for naught. Placed at his side was the Pure Vessel he'd put so much effort into making perfect and empty, the bars meant to imprison a forgotten goddess. It had no purpose now, nothing but a useless husk that was only good for following orders.

The wyrm entertained the idea of being a proper father to it; while it was tempting, it would feel wrong after all this time of resisting the urge to brood and coddle. Perhaps his Root would like to instead. She'd always wanted to be a proper mother, although there's not much of a parent you can be to something that exists without thoughts or emotions. He looked up at the vessel, standing tall and still beside his desk, empty eyes staring straight ahead. Would the creature of void be capable of emotions if they started treating it differently now?

"Pure Vessel, look at me," the Pale King ordered, the obedient knight obliging immediately.

It was strange to look into the eyes of something that felt so blank, so conditioned to be nothing. "Can you feel emotions, I wonder, after all this time?"

As expected, the vessel had no response. It simply stared at him, offering no sort of opinion on the matter. With a sigh, the Pale King looked back at the paperwork on his desk. He needed to write a letter to Herrah asking when they could meet and discuss their child's custody. Currently, Herrah had more time allocated with the hatchling, as her time had expected to be limited. Now that there was no threat looming over them, there wasn't a reason for the custody to be so lopsided. Would the Hollow Knight be able to play with the half-spiderling now that its purpose was terminated? Perhaps spending time with someone so emotive would help introduce it to individual thought, if it could house it at all.

“Go get the queen for me,” the wyrm said absently as he wrote, unmoving as the tall vessel left his side. The White Lady would surely be excited to know she could start mothering the thing, even if it wasn’t capable of showing affection in return. She’d always wanted a proper child, but the Pale King wasn’t interested in an heir.

Mere minutes later, the Pure Vessel returned with his beloved Root in tow. She looked a bit confused at the sudden summons, but approached him nonetheless, “What is it, my dear Wyrm?”

“As you’re aware, the Pure Vessel has no specific purpose now that the Radiance is placated,” he stated, looking up from his writing, “Perhaps it is time we changed that.”

The White Lady tilted her head curiously, pale eyes widening at his words, “What are you implying?”

“I’m implying that you can mother it all you want, if that is what you wish.”

That seemed to brighten his wife’s mood immensely, her roots and branches curling in delight, “Oh, that’s wonderful!”

The Pure Vessel was barely given a chance to react before the queen was hugging it with her tendrils, her smile reaching the tips of her eyes. Confused, the void creature held its arms in the air, attempting to take a step back. The queen released it, holding a tendril to her face when she saw how distraught the vessel was.

“I apologize, Knight. I forgot you’re not used to such actions,” she said contritely, humming to herself when it stepped away in what looked like… uncertainty?

The Pale King narrowed his dark eyes in thought, leaning back in his chair as he observed the two. Vessels do not feel uncertain. Vessels do not feel. Perhaps he was overthinking it, but something did not seem correct. Had the Hollow Knight been pure at all, or was it simply acting to please him? If that was the truth, then his plan was slated to fail from the start. The thought seethed in him, swirling around his mind like a cruel taunt.

"Pure Vessel, respond with truth and only the truth," the Pale King demanded, gaining the attention of both his wife and the vessel in question. "Have you ever been pure?"

It went rigid, staring at him with an indescribable amount of nothingness. The wyrm awaited an answer, his doubts growing with every second spent in silence. Slowly, the Hollow Knight shook its colorless head, lowering it in shame. It seemed to be expecting punishment, with the way it was holding itself so nervously, and the thought was honestly tempting to the king. The Knight's incompetence would have been the end for all of Hallownest.

"That is unbelievably frustrating," he growled lowly, clenching his fingers into fists. "You should have given me a sign that you weren't pure. Your failure to be so would have killed us all, do you know that?"

"Now, now, dear," the White Lady intervened, "I know you're upset, but there's no use fretting over it now."

"But my Root, it has been deceiving us this whole time. That is unacceptable."

Hesitantly, the Pure—or rather, frustratingly, Impure—Vessel lowered itself into a kneel, eyes to the ground. It only managed to irk the king further.

"Get out of my sight," the wyrm hissed, "I don't care where you go, just leave."

The White Lady let out a faint noise of protest as the vessel scrambled to its feet, fleeing from the room like a startled stag beetle. The goddess moved to follow it, worry etched in her glowing face.

"Do not follow it," he told her, although she had no reason to listen to him. "Since it's capable of thought, it should have a moment to understand just how much trouble it's in."

"Them," she replied, exasperation in her voice as she turned to him. "Do not follow them. I know you're upset, but we just determined they're more than just an emotionless husk. At least refer to them as such."

"I am too busy seething to care much about the difference," the Pale King snapped, occupying his hands with the task of folding Herrah's letter, "Leave me, please. I need time to myself."

With a huff, his wife left him to his own devices. The silence helped to calm his ire, along with the pounding thoughts in his head. As irate as he was, he couldn't stay that way forever, and so he collected himself and his thoughts. He slipped his letter into an envelope, sealing it with silver wax before standing from his chair. He left the comfort of his study to find a messenger, hoping to the stars that he'd have more luck talking to Herrah than he did with his wife and deceiving vessel.

Chapter Text

Hollow's thoughts ran as fast as a stag beetle, racing around their head like children in a game of chase. It felt wrong, now more than ever. A pure vessel did not think, did not feel, did not. Except, they did think, did feel, did. It felt so wrong, after all those years of rejecting such thoughts. They’d been running for a while, their legs burning with the effort. It was wrong; a pure vessel did not ache. Pausing, they took a chance to catch their breath and observe their surroundings. It appears they had ended up in Deepnest, the eerie atmosphere accompanied by the skittering of centipedes and grinding of garpedes. A lone dirtcarver emerged from the ground, charging for them without hesitation. The vessel cut through it with ease.

The Hollow Knight's opinion on Deepnest was limited. They'd accompanied their father a few times when he was negotiating with Herrah, and when he wanted to check on the progress of the stag station. It was dark and unsettling, especially now that they were alone. Silently, they made their way through the twisting tunnels, straining their memory to find the route leading to the distant village. If they found that, then at least they could leave using the stagways. Curious eyes followed them as they grew closer to the home of the spiders, hidden from sight even though they made their presence known. Eventually the woven homes of the village came into sight, suspended from the walls and ceiling like lights.

They glanced up at the platforms, gaze drifting to the stag station that lay at the very top. With a silent huff, they began the climb upwards, jumping from platform to platform. Their foot got caught a few times in the fine spider silk, but that did little to stop them from their mission. They had almost reached the station when they were interrupted by a small figure, clad in red and brandishing a little toy needle in their hand. Hollow paused as their thoughts wracked, head tilting as they tried to place why the spiderling looked so familiar.

"Hollow!" the hatchling exclaimed, discarding her needle in favor of hugging them. Well, hugging their face, anyway, since that's what she was capable of reaching from the platform slightly above them.

She seemed to sense the Knight's confusion, because she decided to introduce herself next, "It's me, Hornet! Don't you recognize me?"

Hollow shook their head once she'd pulled away, but the name was familiar to them. They leaned forward to bump heads with her, nuzzling her to show her that they understood who she was now. Hornet, their little half-sibling on their father's side. She had grown so much since they'd last seen her.

"Aren't I big? I molted a few times since I last saw you," Hornet said proudly, fumbling around for her toy needle. Once she found it, she held it up as if she were prepared for a battle. "Mother's been teaching me how to fight! She said I could have a proper needle once I'm old enough and know how to use this one right."

The Not-So-Pure Vessel nodded at her enthusiasm, turning to reveal their own weapon to her. Hornet's dark eyes seemed to light up with delight as she jumped down from her platform to theirs, gawking at the smooth nail. Their sister babbled about how she wanted a needle as big as theirs, tugging on the edge of their cloak as she navigated the village with ease. They paused when she slipped into one of the woven homes, reluctant to actually follow her inside. More likely than not, Hornet was taking them to see her mother, and Hollow did not know if they could handle Herrah's disappointment at their failure. Hornet didn't take no for an answer, however, poking her head out the door when she realized they hadn't been following. She pulled on their hand impatiently.

Eventually, Hollow acquiesced with her insistent begging, slinking after her into the home. Casual chatter filled the cozy space, lit beeswax candles adding to the homely ambiance. Hornet announced their presence with a loud "Mama!" and the hushed pitter-patter of her feet on the webbed ground. Herrah turned from where she sat, conversation ceasing as her child's laughter bounced around the room. Midwife noticed Hollow first, letting out a confused hum when she realized they were alone.

"Herrah, it appears we have a visitor," Midwife declared, and the queen of Deepnest finally turned her six eyes on the vessel.

Hollow kneeled in front of her, instinctively awaiting orders even though they'd only come here to get away.

Herrah looked past them at the entrance, as if she expected the Pale King to follow after them, "Where's your king, Knight? Or did he send you to check in on me, for whatever reason?"

They shook their head, glancing at the ground at the thought of their father. Briefly, they wondered if he was still mad, and swiftly deemed that he most likely was and would be for awhile. It was deserved; they had been hiding something so important from them, after all. They raised their head when Herrah called their title, waiting for her to speak.

"Does the king know you're here?" she asked, earning another shake of the head. "How strange. Perhaps I should order you back."

The Hollow Knight shook their head vigorously, wincing at the thought of facing their father so soon. Hornet piped up, asking her mother if they could stay with them for awhile, but Herrah was more interested in Hollow’s free will.

“I’ve never seen you do something of your own volition before,” she said thoughtfully, and Hollow froze. “It seems the Pale King wasn’t successful in making something completely pure.”

Shamefully, they lowered their head once more, limbs rigid from the fear of how the Beast might react. The Pale King’s wrath had already sent them spiralling; they couldn’t imagine Herrah’s adding onto that. Except, the harsh words they expected never came, instead replaced in favor of an invitation.

“You’re welcome to stay here for now,” Herrah offered, much to little Hornet’s delight, “I will be contacting the Pale King about your appearance here, however.”

As much as Hollow wanted to avoid their father, they knew they couldn’t do so forever. So they accept the queen’s offer, picking Hornet up when she skipped over to them, reaching up at them with her tiny claws. She climbed up to sit between their horns, giggling as she instructed them to leave the house and take them for a ride. Hollow did their best to forget about the Pale King’s ire for now, instead focusing on their little sibling and how happy she was.

Chapter Text

Much to the Pale King's astonishment, he got a letter from Herrah not long after sending his own. The contents of the note surprised him further; the Pure Vessel had run to Herrah, seemingly without being ordered to do so. When he’d sent it off, he hadn’t expected it to go all the way to Deepnest. Although, perhaps that shouldn’t be so surprising, since the sibling that liked to cause it so much trouble lived there. The Pale King muttered his displeasure to himself as he made his way down the pristine hallways, pausing when he saw his Root talking to one of the Five Great Knights. It had been a fair amount of time since he’d seen her, and their conversation had ended on a bitter note. He thought that perhaps he should apologise.

“My Root,” the wyrm announced himself, approaching the two elegantly. The White Lady gave him her attention, although she didn't look very pleased. Dryya glimpsed the expression on her face, opting to take a few steps away from the higher beings.

"I hope you've come to say you're sorry?" the White Lady said, very reasonably with the way he left things.

"I have," he replied simply, pushing down his pride at the thought. "I shouldn't have gotten angry with you, I apologise."

She seemed semi-satisfied, "That's a good start; I'll let you figure out the rest on your own. Were you going somewhere?"

"Yes, to Deepnest. The Hollow Knight turned up there and Herrah sent me a letter saying as much."

"Oh? I shall come with you, then," she declared, giving him no chance to object as she said her goodbyes to Dryya and started for the stag station. Dryya murmured a farewell to him as well before going her own way, leaving the Pale King to trail after his wife.

"I do wonder how Herrah is doing with her child," the White Lady mused as he caught up. "The little one must have molted since we've seen her, yes? She's bound to be up and about more often now."

"Yes, most likely," the wyrm replied absently as they boarded a stag. He wasn't sure how to feel about the spiderling; yes, she was his daughter, and yes, he wanted more custody over her, but the thought of actually parenting her was void to him. Raising her to be prim and proper, regal and eloquent. That was what interested him, and perhaps the experience of having a child he could actually coddle was just a little tempting. Technically, he could do the same to the Hollow Knight, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

They spent the stag ride talking idly, discussing generic things like the goddess' flora, or a few of the problems the citizens brought to them. It wasn't long before the neat tunnels turned to the dark soil of Deepnest, seemingly rumbling with the sound of distant Garpedes. One if the Devout greeted them at the station, leading them to one of the many homes suspended in the village. Once inside, the first thing the Pale King noticed was that the vessel was nowhere to be found. The next thing he noticed was that Herrah seemed to be weaving something; a blanket or cloak, mayhaps? It was difficult to tell at this stage, but it was the signature red that the queen of Deepnest often sported.

"Ah, so you've arrived," Herrah said as a way of greeting, looking up from her work. "The Knight and Hornet are currently out and about, although I'm not sure where. I can send someone to find them if you're in a hurry."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," the White Lady interjected, interrupting the king before he could even begin his sentence. "I was hoping I could chat with you, actually, and perhaps spend some time with your little one."

"Yes, and I would like to discuss the contents of the letter I sent you, if you've received it already," the god cut in, his tone a hint irate.

The Beast nodded at them both, returning to her task, "Of course. I did receive your letter, Wyrm; we could speak of it now, if you wish, and leave casual chatter for later."

The Pale King agreed, going over his points while she weaved. Herrah occasionally added her own concerns, and the two talked for around an hour before they were halted by Midwife's arrival. The centipede was carrying Hornet, who was clutching her toy needle and a dirtcarver mandible, and also covered in dirt. The Hollow Knight—who was completely spotless save for the hemolymph on its nail—followed them inside, freezing when it saw the Pale King. It lowered itself into a kneel before spoken to, eyes to the ground.

Hornet slipped herself off of Midwife's back, beaming as she ran up to her mother to show her her trophy. Herrah indulged in her excitement, cooing back at her as she attempted to brush the grime off of her cloak. She sighed, giving up as she deemed it too much effort without the proper equipment. The Pale King turned his attention to the Knight, resentment bubbling up within him. He was still upset; of course he was, he had every right to be, but why did that bother him so much?

"Vessel, look at me," he ordered, purposely avoiding the word 'Pure.' As always, the Hollow Knight did as told, raising its empty stare to him. "You are not yet forgiven, but you are to come back to the palace with us."

The Knight trembled, but nodded nonetheless, moving its head to look at something else. Anything but the king. The White Lady made her way over to it, saying something too soft for him to hear before wrapping her roots around it in a hug. This time, the vessel returned the gesture, albeit hesitantly. The scene pulled at something in his chest, but he couldn't place what. It unsettled him.

His thoughts were put on hold when little Hornet darted up to him, bouncing in place after she'd skidded to a stop. She held up the dirtcarver mandible, "Father, look! Hollow got it for me, isn't it cool?"

The wyrm didn't know what to say. He was supposed to praise her, or humor her, or something like that. "It's . . . wonderful?" the Pale King tried, and he was relatively certain he heard Herrah snort at his attempt.

"You're all welcome to spend the night, if you'd like," Herrah offered, her voice holding a hint of amusement, "We hardly had a chance to talk, queen of Hallownest."

The White Lady unwrapped herself from her child, who went to stand guard by the entrance out of habit, "That would be wonderful. Is there tea here? I'd love to talk over some."

The Pale King drowned out their nattering, much too preoccupied by Hornet, who was babbling on about dirtcarvers and garpedes, and the strange thing that looked just like her. He tried not to think about the last one too much, even if it was unusual; children supposedly had wild imaginations, so that had to be the explanation. At one point, she'd tried to grab onto his robes with her grubby hands, and he'd pushed her away with a pinch of focused soul. Which, thinking back on it, he probably shouldn't have used his soul for something so trivial, but the thought of soiling his clothes away from the palace was enough argument to ignore reason.

After what felt like an eternity (which was a while, considering he was a god) of beguiling Hornet, the White Lady declared that she was positively exhausted. Herrah showed them to an empty dwelling, which was well kept despite the lack of being lived in. The vessel was with Hornet at her demand; she adored her sibling, despite it lacking in communication and normal emotions. Bidding them goodnight, Herrah left them to their own devices in favor of heading to her own bed.

The wyrm and his wife climbed into bed without a word, taking comfort in each other's mere presence after a long day of sentiment and traveling. Eventually, he would have to forgive his Knight and move past what could have been, but he would worry about that another day. Glowing tendrils wrapped around him unconsciously, and it wasn't long before he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Hollow’s sleep had been restless, nightmares plaguing their thoughts throughout the night. Were vessels supposed to dream? They weren’t sure; the answer was probably no, but they’d already determined they were tainted. The palace was much quieter compared to the constant rumbling of Deepnest, and it bothered them greatly. Perhaps they were too sensitive, but they tried not to think about it too much. Having Hornet snuggled up to them helped a bit, her tiny form a reassurance in the unfamiliar darkness. Secretly, they hoped they’d be able to sleep by her side again.

When the morning came, the Knight was a tad weary, although they didn’t let that show. They remained stoic as their parents prepared to leave, following little Hornet around as she gathered her things. Herrah and the Pale King had decided she’d come back to the palace with them, and the idea made her ecstatic. She hummed to herself happily as she packed, glancing up at them every once and awhile.

“Aren’t you excited?” Hornet asked as she packed her toy needle, "You could teach me how to fight!"

The vessel stared at her, tilting their head in response. Would it be okay for them to teach a child how to fight? Maybe they'd give it a try; it could be fun, but the thought of getting caught by their father and getting in even more trouble frightened them. Hornet didn’t seem to notice their unease, dragging her bag along the ground thoughtlessly as she led the way out. Hollow plucked it from her hand, opting to hold it themselves. She didn’t seem to mind.

“Do you think father and the White Lady will watch if we train? I hope so, I want to show them how much I’ve learned,” she enthused, earning a shrug from Hollow. Their father usually watched them train, but they weren’t sure if they were interested in anything they did right now.

Whatever the spiderling was going to gush about next was muffled by Midwife, who had pulled Hornet into her arms, “Make sure not to cause trouble, hmm? And bring me back something exotic to eat.”

Hornet pushed against the centipede, her face mashed into her chest. Midwife seemed to realize her struggling, because she let go with a mischievous look on her face. The child pouted, sticking her tongue out at the caretaker before climbing up to Hollow’s head. They moved past the Deepnest resident, carefully making their way up to the stag station so Hornet wouldn’t fall. Waiting at the top were Hollow’s parents and Herrah, the mothers chatting casually.

Herrah lifted Hornet from the vessel's head when they approached, hugging her close. Hornet squeaked in protest before attempting to squeeze her mother back; she could barely reach her arms around the queen of Deepnest.

“Be good while you’re away,” she instructed, setting her daughter down, “Remember, you are a guest in the palace.
“Yes, mama,” Hornet promised, nodding her head for extra emphasis. Herrah nudged her towards the White Lady, who happily picked the spiderling up when she scampered over.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” the Pale King said with a nod, heading for the stags waiting near the tunnels, “We’ll be leaving now. I will return Hornet on the designated date.”

“Yes, yes. Farewell,” Herrah replied, waving to her daughter before descending from the stag station.

The group of four boarded the stags, riding in silence for the most part. Hornet was fascinated by some of the things merged within the tunnel walls, getting particularly awed when she saw a fossilized goam taking up a large length of the wall. There were a few times where she commented on how fun it was to go so fast, but Hollow couldn’t find entertainment in it. They supposed they were used to going fast, especially during training. When they arrived at the White Palace, Hornet immediately took off. The vessel made the decision to follow after her, and as they did so their father called after them.

“Keep her safe, Vessel,” the wyrm ordered, and they answered with a nod.

Of course, the chance for the hatchling to come to harm in the palace was slim to none, but they didn’t blame their father for fretting. Hornet seemed attracted to trouble, as they saw when they'd gone on the little journey through Deepnest. If it weren't for them, she would've gotten torn apart by the dirtcarvers, and probably would've followed that mimic as well. Maybe they should tell father about the mimic, or perhaps Herrah. It seemed dangerous, but then again, so did most of Deepnest.

Hornet had occupied herself with a stray wingmould, giggling in amusement when she squeezed it hard enough to get it to expand. Hollow pulled it from her grasp, earning a protested ‘Hey!’ as they pushed it up into the air. They shook their head at her, pointing at their nail. Training might keep her distracted for awhile; fewer chances for her to get into trouble, or get herself hurt. Her eyes lit up at the prospect of fighting, eagerly unhitching her toy needle from her dress’ waistband.

They spent a fair amount of time going over stances and different ways to strike. Hornet was an excellent student; she grasped the concepts swiftly, moving with the grace of a hatchling but holding the determination of a warrior. At one point, she used the wall to perch atop the wingmould, legs wobbly as she stood tall on the rounded surface. She pointed her needle at them, claiming victory, as there was no way they’d survive against her aerial attack. Hollow surrendered, placing their nail on the ground in defeat. Hornet did a little jump to celebrate her win, landing precariously back onto the void construct. Unfortunately, the way she hit the artificial bug caused it to pop open. She yelped as she fell through its void cloud, little hands grabbing at the edges of the wingmould with no luck. Hollow lurched forward, reaching to catch her before she could smack against the ground. Hornet fell safely into their arms, clenching their cloak stiffly.

“Wonderful catch,” the Pale King praised from the door, startling Hollow. They twisted around briskly, clutching Hornet to their chest. “Although, I’m not sure that I like that she was up there in the first place.”

The vessel put the shaking spiderling down, lifting their nail from the ground so they could sheath it. They kneeled for the king, turning to look at Hornet when she hugged their leg.

“Stand, Vessel. You are not in trouble, I only seek to check on the hatchling,” the wyrm said, tilting his head at the spider in question. She peeked at him, choosing to stay with her sibling.

He hummed in thought, “Well, the kitchen staff will make you something if you get hungry, Hornet. I will be in my workshop if you need me.”

With that, the Pale King strode down one of the many hallways, leaving the siblings to their own devices. Hollow looked to Hornet, awaiting a decision from her. She hesitated before answering, “Snacks?” Hollow took her hand in his—which was comical, given their size differences—leading her away from the deviant wingmould. Mayhaps they could train more later, if she were up for it, and maybe they could get their hands on a proper needle for her. That was for another time, though; now they were focused on keeping her fed.

Chapter Text

Having a child in the palace was one thing. The Pale King handled raising the Pure Vessel just fine, but the vessel lacked everything normal bugs had. Having an emotive, energetic, troublesome child in his home was an entirely different thing. It had only been two days and Hornet had managed to break a few of the Lady's precious flower vases, ripped a painting, and had somehow destroyed one of his wingmoulds. Luckily, the Hollow Knight was usually successful at keeping her distracted, but the wyrm couldn't rely on it forever. Hornet was his daughter; he needed to actually put in the effort of being a father, even if he wasn't quite sure how.

Currently, the king was tucked away in his workshop, tinkering with the useless wingmould his vessel had given him. They needed to replace it, and this also gave him the chance to improve their design. Something more childproof, although, the fact that they weren't childproof enough in the first place baffled him. His workbench was a mess of blueprints, both old and new, silver-white tools, and whatever other components he needed for his experiments. Older wingmould and kingsmould models were scattered about the room haphazardly, drawing the Pale King's attention from the shattered one in his hands. Perhaps he could use them as a reference, and maybe recycle a few assets he had originally discarded.

Hours passed as he executed his new project, toiling away at making the design perfect. His work halted, however, when he felt another presence enter the vicinity. Puzzled, he clicked his mandibles together; as far as he knew, no one else should be able to reach his workshop, not unless one of the palace residents suddenly grew wings. He abandoned his task, slinking off to check the entrance. What he didn’t expect to find was his daughter, clinging to the edge of the platform for dear life. The king’s thoughts swelled with panic as he grabbed Hornet, hoisting her onto solid ground. She was shivering, from the fear or the chilled wind he couldn’t tell. Most likely both.

“Hornet, how in the sun’s name did you get here?” the Pale King asked, smoothing out her cloak.

“I swung with my silk,” Hornet answered, her voice shaky. She held up her toy needle and spool of silk for emphasis.

“You swung?” he repeated in exasperation. “Where is the vessel? Did it not stop you?”

“We were training together, and I thought I could get the upper hand if I used my thread,” she explained, glancing at the edge nervously as she spoke. “I ended up swinging too far and I couldn’t get back up.”

“So you just . . . kept going?”

Hornet nodded, prompting a sigh from the king. His wings rustled restlessly, spreading as he prepared for flight, “I’m taking you back up, come here.”

She took a few steps away, “Can I stay here with you? What is this place?”

Frustration twinged at the edge of his mind, “No. It is too dangerous for someone as fragile as you.”

“I’m not fragile!” the spiderling protested, swiping her fake needle around. “I’m tough and powerful!”

“I don’t have time for you to be stubborn; I’m trying to fix the wingmould you so rudely destroyed.”

She paused at that, looking at the ground. “Oh. . . ,” she murmured, raising her eyes to look at him again, “Can I help fix it?”

"Absolutely not," the king said firmly, but the child didn't back down.

"Please? I won't break anything this time, I promise!"

The Pale King raised his eyes to the heavens; why had he sired such a persistent child? And for nothing? Silently, he exhaled an irritated breath before returning his attention to his daughter. She was staring up at him expectantly, eyes wide in their sockets.

The wyrm turned away from her, "Fine, but if you so much as touch something without permission, you are out."

He could almost feel her satisfaction radiating, her steps light as she zipped past him to his workshop. With an indignant click, he sped his pace to catch up to her, thanking the stars that she was only looking at his products. She wandered over to his workbench, struggling to peak at what was on top. Following her, he pushed some of the clutter on the table to the side, lifting her up to sit on the edge. While he busied himself with fortifying the wingmould armor, she scanned his blueprints, tilting her head at the terminology she couldn't understand.

“What can I do to help?” Hornet asked, swinging her legs idly as she watched him.

The Pale King pondered that for a moment, “Hm, well. . . . See that blueprint right there? Could you read the measurements for me when I ask?”

They worked together like that for awhile, with Hornet reading from the papers or grabbing a stray tool the king needed. By the time he was satisfied with his work, it was almost nightfall. The White Lady would surely be looking for them by now, or at least, for Hornet. He examined his work one last time before setting it down, picking his daughter up. His wings fluttered to life when he reached the exit, pulling them into the air. Hornet gasped at the sudden lack of ground, despite how much she swung around with her silk. She was holding onto him like her life was in danger; perhaps all the times she’d fallen while being here was enough to instill fear in her heart. Would Herrah be upset if they sent her daughter home with a phobia of heights? Very likely, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Landing next to the dining room, he set her down, his wings humming to a stop. She stared up at him in awe, prompting a confused grunt from him.

“That was so cool!” Hornet squealed, “It was kinda scary, but awesome! Do you think I’ll grow wings when I’m bigger?”

By the stars, he hoped not. He didn’t say that though, instead, he replied, “I cannot be sure. You are something new and without record.”

“I hope I do,” she said thoughtfully, then completely switched the subject, “Is it time for supper? I’m starving!”

The Pale King ushered her into the dining room without another word, thoughts governed by the horror that could’ve been destructive Hornet with wings.

Chapter Text

For awhile, the Hollow Knight could only feel panic. Their little sister had disappeared into the palace, swinging nimbly by a thread. The Pale King had given them the task of watching over her, and they had failed. Again. It swirled in their head like a swarm of famished vengeflies, growing hungrier and meaner by the second. When they saw that Hornet had been with the king the entire time, the panic faded into confusion, and then warped into an emotion they’d never before. Anger. Pure, unrivaled anger. They had given them such a fright, only for them to have been with their father the whole time? Without telling them, leaving them to wonder if she was okay?

Hornet didn’t seem to notice their anguish at all; she was bouncing on her feet when she saw them in the dining room, telling them about her time in father’s workshop. Hollow couldn’t help but be jealous, which only accentuated their ire. They refused to humor her during supper, focusing on gathering the soul from their meal instead. By the end of dinner, Hornet seemed a tad bit deflated, as if she couldn’t understand why they were mad. It almost made Hollow feel bad, if it weren’t for the irritation burning in their void. The vessel stood and left with all the intention of ignoring the rest of the bugs, aiming to head straight to their room. That plan was ruined, however, when the Pale King stepped in front of them.

Their father’s face was riddled with disappointment. The anger they had been feeling vanished in an instant.

“You were supposed to be watching her, she could have gotten hurt,” the Pale King scolded, “You let her run off. She almost fell to her death.”

Hollow winced, lowering their head in shame. They dropped to a kneel; how many times had they done that in the past week? It was demoralizing, but they’d never cared about that in the first place, had they? The king sighed, mandibles clicking quietly.

“I know Hornet can be a handful. You will not be punished, but if it happens again, I will not hesitate to discipline you.”

They didn’t raise their head until they heard the wyrm’s footsteps fade into the distance, rising to their feet slowly. Hornet was standing by the door to the dining room, hands clamped against the hem of her cloak. She scuffed her foot on the polished floor, staring down at it hesitantly.

“. . . Did you get in trouble because of me?” she asked tentatively, voice quiet.

The Knight turned away from her, staring blankly down the hall. They couldn't tell if they had any anger left, or if they were just empty; it was muddled up in their brain, now. Hornet sniffled behind them, drawing a glance from them. She had the heels of her hands pressed against her eyes, smudging tears that hasn't had a chance to fall yet. Hollow melted in that moment, any lingering hint of agitation flickering out. They stepped closer to her, crouching down so they could properly pull her into an embrace. It was wrong to blame her; she was just a child, and she hadn't meant to do it. Hollow wouldn't be like their father; Hollow wouldn't hold things against others. Not like him.

"I'm sorry," Hornet said quietly, class squeezing into their carapace. They shook their head, holding her little head in their hand; like they were cradling her, almost, but not quite.

They stayed like that until the spiderling calmed down, weariness winning out as the moon rose.
Hollow carried her to her room, gently setting her down amongst her bedsheets. It was strange to be in her room with how blank it was, a stark contrast to her vivid nature. Her room in Deepnest was decorated with crimson silks and an assortment of vibrant trinkets; nothing like her room in the palace. Briefly, they wondered if they would be able to change that, perhaps bring her a few things she might like. Realistically they knew that with time the barren walls would most likely change, but right now it felt so sterile. They didn’t dwell on it for long, however, bidding Hornet goodnight before heading to their own room. It took them almost no time at all to slip into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-----

Over breakfast the next morning, the White Lady invited the Hollow Knight and Hornet to join her in her gardens. The siblings accepted, of course; the queen's gardens were lovely, Hollow had accompanied her many a time. Hornet had yet to see its beauty, anticipation building when they showed her a flower they'd brought back from the assortment of flora. They left around noon, traveling through the stagways and arriving not much later.

Hornet absolutely adored the gardens, getting distracted every step of the way as the Lady led them. The queen didn't seem to mind, though; she was perfectly content with halting every few minutes, watching Hornet admire the flowers with a look of admiration on her face. Hollow stayed by their mother's side, dark eyes tracking their sibling as she played in the plush grass. They turned their head to the side, tilting their head when they saw the White Lady staring at them. She glanced down with a sigh, bringing an ethereal tendril to rest over her mouth.

“I apologize for your father,” their mother said, voice tinted with sorrow. “I wish he’d listen to reason, but he’s far too stubborn for his own good.”

The vessel lowered their head in thought, considering her words. Emotions were so complicated for them, years of being conditioned to be empty twisting their thoughts. They loved their father; of course they did, how could they not? But at the same time, they were afraid of him. Afraid of failing him. Afraid of failing Hallownest, even though they weren’t meant to be the Hollow Knight anymore. It was a confusing combination of affection and fear, and they disliked it greatly. They looked back up at their mother, waiting to see if she’d speak again. She caressed their face tenderly with one of her branches, her azure eyes loving and soft.

“I am going to try my hardest to get through to the Pale King, I promise,” she told them firmly, determination mingling with endearment. “No matter obstinate he may be, it is unfair for him to treat you like this.”

They leaned into her touch, a low rumbling escaping from their throat. It surprised them enough to get them to draw back, puzzled by the sound; the feeling. Like their void was vibrating loud enough to be heard. Had they been purring? They were capable of doing so? The White Lady seemed just as bewildered, but that quickly turned to laughter from her.

“How odd,” she managed to say between giggles, smiling at them, “I had no idea vessels could make a sound.”

The Hollow Knight covered their face in embarrassment despite their inability to blush, pointedly looking for Hornet so they could step out of the conversation. She had busied herself with an aluba, clinging to its tail while it dragged her lazily about the garden. The White Lady called her name to gain her attention, gesturing at a path that led further into the flora. Hornet bounced over, and the three of them continued their pleasant stroll.

Chapter Text

The Pale King had set the day aside for paperwork, but that didn't stop his daughter from being an absolute nuisance. While he was attempting to keep some semblance of a quiet work atmosphere, Hornet was crawling about his study like some sort of beast, grabbing things from the lowest shelves to examine them. He didn't bother trying to stop her; he wouldn't get very far, given how stubborn she had been during past experiences. As long as she didn't break anything and didn't put anything back out of order, he could care less about what she did. So he focused on reading and writing, doing his best to drone out whatever noise Hornet might be making in the background. It wasn’t long before she truly broke his thoughts, though, climbing up on his lap despite his protest. She placed a book in front of him, flipping through the many pages until she landed on one with information on the City of Tears.

“Can we go there?” Hornet inquired, looking up at him expectantly. The Pale King narrowed his eyes.

“I am trying to work, get down,” the Pale King replied, ignoring her question for the time being. He figured she’d keep asking, but it was worth a try.

“All you do is work,” she said with a pout, crossing her arms and pointedly gluing herself to him. “Please? I’ve never been there before, it looks really pretty in the book.”

With a sigh, the king set his quill back in its holder, lifting her from his lap so he could stand. He returned the book to its shelf, grabbing a silken umbrella from its stand, “Let’s go, if you’re so eager.”

Hornet sprung over to his side, barely containing her excitement, “Can Hollow come too?”

At that the wyrm froze, hesitating as he sought an answer to her query. She was looking up at him expectedly, dark eyes shining in the white light. Inviting the vessel was not in his interest—neither was this entire trip, but what could he do—and so he danced around the question.

“I’m sure the vessel is busy with something else,” he hemmed, leading the way out of his study. His daughter trailed close after him, giving a small noise of protest.

“I’m not going anywhere unless we go with Hollow,” she said obstinately.

“Then we won’t go to the city.”

“I’ll keep bothering you, then!”

The Pale King exhaled in exasperation, ceasing his movement to glare at her, “Why are you so intent on it coming with us?”

“Why are you so intent on leaving them behind?” Hornet retaliated, putting her hands on her hips.

He snuffed almost inaudibly, stumbling for a response, “I have no interest in spending time with it right now.”

“But they’re your family,” she argued, “You should spend more time with them! Please?”

“Fine!” he caved, irritation lacing his voice, “Go find it then.”

Hornet trotted off to find their sibling, leaving the Pale King to ponder his thoughts. He knew, reasonably, that he couldn’t avoid the Hollow Knight forever. Couldn’t make excuses or hem and haw at the idea of spending actual time with it. That was what he had wanted to do in the first place, wasn’t it? Before he found out that it hadn’t been pure. The king let out a deep breath, looking around him at the decorated walls to gather himself. Perhaps this is what he needed; someone to force him to get over himself. Not that he liked that idea. The spiderling returned with the taller being not too long later, a grin spread on her face. Without a word, the wyrm made his way to the stag station, calling them a steed once they arrived.

It didn’t take them much time to reach the City of Tears, a rhythmic tapping from the neverending rain hitting against the stag station’s window. Hornet pressed her face up against the glass, awed by the tears that never fell upon Deepnest or the palace. The Pale King waited by the exit, staring impatiently at her as the Knight tried to ease her from the view. It managed to drag her to where he was waiting, looking down at him as it held its sister’s hand. With elegance, the wyrm led them from the station, waving politely at any citizens that greeted him or bowed to him. Hornet didn’t seem to notice the curious bystanders; her attention was skyward, unflinching as raindrops pittered against her pale face. Many of the city goers were gazing at her and her sibling, whispering to each other as the group walked by. The king tried to ignore it, for the most part; what the commoners gossipped about was none of his business, but it was hard to block it out when his hearing was exceptionally fine. Rumours were going to start, he knew that, but what could he say about the heir of Deepnest?

The Pale King had nearly walked off without the two of them, only realizing they'd stopped following. Hornet was holding her hands up to the sky, grabbing at the water that slipped between her fingers. She was soaked through to her carapace, but that didn't seem to bother her at all. Beside her, the Hollow Knight observed her, tilting its head curiously before mimicking her actions. Slowly, it turned its expressionless head upwards, hesitantly reaching up with one arm. The king almost forgot that the vessel was supposed to be empty; it—no, they—were emoting right in front of him, breaking free from a cage as they allowed themselves to fully enjoy themselves in the downpour. Something stung in the Pale King's chest, poking and prodding at memories of the Pure Vessel. He almost let himself think about it, except the Knight met his eyes and the moment broke. They lowered their arms to their sides, seemingly embarrassed from the childish act, and . . . afraid? Hornet seemed to sense her sibling's mood shift, squinting up at them through the gloom and following their gaze to their father. She peered at him, waiting for him to say something, probably, or continue their walk.

He cleared his throat, turning from them as he asked, “Let us go see Lurien, I’m sure he’d like to see you both.”

They complied, following him through the rain-laden streets as he forced his conflicting thoughts to cease.

Chapter Text

Hornet’s stay at the palace eventually came to an end, which was quite unfortunate, because the Hollow Knight had found her company quite pleasant. The thought of her leaving them alone in the palace made them a little nervous, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. At their silbing’s wishes, the Pale King allowed the vessel to come along to deliver Hornet back to Deepnest, much to their delight. They waited beside the stag station, letting themselves fade away into their hovering thoughts. Their father had brought them along to the city (at Hornet’s request no doubt, but they didn’t dwell on that), and hadn’t seemed peeved when they had decided to emote. It frightened them a bit to think about how they’d clearly drowned out their original purpose, but it helped to know that the king didn’t appear to mind as much anymore. They didn’t have time to muse over their concepts, interrupted by a certain spider child. She climbed her way up to their horns, perching in between them happily. The Pale King approached much more elegantly, unamused by her antics.

“Get down from there, we need to get going,” the king ordered, unsurprised when she failed to listen to him. He sighed, stepping past them to enter the station. The Knight followed not far behind, lifting Hornet from their head and placing her on a stag before climbing on after her. Their father mounted his own stag, and then they were off.

Unlike the other trips they’d had, Hornet was completely uninterested in their surroundings. Instead, her attention was set on bothering Hollow in the form of silk. She had busied herself with making silken bows around their horns, the translucent thread hardly standing out against their pale head. They stood still while she worked, amusement bubbling in their core when they thought about how ridiculous they must look. The Hollow Knight, bound in ribbons made by a child. It made them blithe despite themselves, nuzzling their sibling when she was done with her crafts. She giggled, bumping her face back against theirs. Woefully, Hollow's thoughts drifted to how she'd be absent from their life for who knows how long, and they grabbed her hand. So small compared to theirs, but it felt right in their palm.

When they arrived at Deepnest, the Pale King and Herrah went off to discuss Hornet's nest visit at the palace. That left Hollow alone with her, and she was certainly going to use their time together to have fun. She tugged on their cloak before hopping down the platforms, looking back to check if they were following every so often. The two of them navigated the narrow tunnels of Hornet’s home, avoiding rogue dirtcarvers and the occasional corpse creeper.

“Hollow, look!” Hornet exclaimed, pointing a finger at a distant bug.

At first, Hollow wasn’t sure why she was interested, but closer inspection showed that it was the Hornet imitation from the last time they were here. She navigated her way over to it, nimbly jumping over the writhing mass of centipedes. The Knight reached out for her too late, hand closing around air; they needed to stop her before the emulation did who-knows-what to her. They chased after their sister, jumping about the landscape much slower than she. Their lack of knowledge of the area made them nervous; there had been a few accounts of the floor crumbling out from under them, with a couple instances where they’d reacted too slow and fallen into a trap of spikes. By the time they reached where the mimic had been standing, their sibling and the creature had disappeared into the darkness. Hesitant, they peered into the dusty blackness, squinting at the vague shapes they could see.

Carefully, they focused their soul just ahead of them into its offensive form, giving them enough light to see for just a moment. The spell revealed more twisting passages, leading to what they assumed was that odd bug's den. With regard to the possible death pits scattered around Deepnest, they began to make their way down the tunnel. They only used their soul when they absolutely needed to; they might need it later to fight if the stranger was truly a threat. After a bit of agonizingly slow traveling, their attention perked when far off high-pitched protests could be heard down a passageway. With a newfound burst of energy they dashed down the dim route, which opened up into a large room that could confidently be labeled a graveyard.

Hanging from the ceiling of the den were corpses of quite a few species, many of the culprits being dirtcarvers. What the Hollow Knight didn't expect to see were the lifeless bodies of other vessels; discarded ones that had managed to escape the abyss, only to be preyed upon by an impersonating horror of Deepnest. They had been young, too, their heads a bit more square and their horns far more proportional than theirs. It made them upset to think about it—and their aggravation only grew when they caught sight of Hornet strung up among the rest of the dead. Fortunately, she was still very much alive and putting up a fight against her restraints. They took a step towards her, freezing when a screech sounded from the otherside of the room.

The false version of Hornet had twisted, hanging upside down from the neck of a much larger creature. Pitch-black limbs scrambled toward the Hollow Knight, who stood their ground with their hand hovering over their nail. Once the bug was close enough they darted to the side, briskly reaching for its neck and slamming it to the ground. It let out a startled shriek, struggling in their grip. The Knight unsheathed their nail with their free hand, shoving it clean through the monster’s neck. Its long limbs kicked at their body for a moment longer before going limp, and they released their hold on its neck. They looked up at Hornet, who was gawking at them in awe, and then jumped up to free her. She wiggled from their grip to go poke at the corpse of the enemy, crouching down beside its head that look so much like her. They were about to urge her back to the Distant Village when something tingled in the back of their mind, growing louder and more insistent by the second. It took them some time to realize the sounds were words, humming in their void like they belonged there.

Confused, Hollow shook their head, spinning around as if the answer to their predicament would be standing behind them. In a way, it had been; all they had to do was look up, and they met two empty eyes staring into theirs. Is was another vessel, Hollow realized, although that thought didn’t quite sink in. They were alive and right in front of them, pleading for help in a language that only creatures of the void could understand. Hollow reached up to detangle them, startling when a strange flying bug (bat?) swooped down to circle around them. It ’nyaa’d’ happily, landing in between their horns as they put the vessel down. They looked up at Hollow, whispering their thanks to them through the void. It felt odd to receive a message that way, but they tried not to show how it disgruntled them.

After a bit of staring at their sibling (their sibling), something clicked in their head that made them reel back, earning a head tilt from the smaller vessel. Hollow recognized them, but in a way that made their heart hurt. When they had been retrieved from the abyss by their father, this vessel was there, clinging onto the edge of the highest platform. Hollow had left them there, watched their grip loosen, watched them tumbled down to their inevitable death with the rest of their siblings. Except, they hadn’t died, and now they were reunited in Deepnest of all places. Hollow’s head tilted forward, much to the weird bat’s dismay, as they apologized over and over again in that strange way of communication. The vessel only stared back at them, offering no response. It made them anxious. Hornet had had her fun with the corpse, looking over to the three of them. She blinked when she saw the newcomers, bouncing over curiously as Hollow raised their head to meet her eyes.

“Who are they?” she questioned, climbing up on Hollow to fight for her spot on their head. The bat hissed threateningly, but made no move to actually hurt her.

Hollow hesitated, deciding on pointing at the new vessel and then themselves. Hornet didn’t understand at first, but she must have seen some form of resemblance in them, because she gasped as if someone had just stolen her toy nail, “They’re a vessel like you?”

They nodded in response, nearly shaking their sister and the bat off their head. Neither of them seemed to mind, though.

“That’s so cool! That means they’re our sibling, right?” she said, beaming down at the vessel. “We should take them to mother and father! They’ll be excited to see them, right?”

The Knight hardly thought their father would be thrilled to see one of his discarded children, but what else could they do? They did feel obligated to report this to the king, and Hornet seemed to want them to come along, so it made sense to escort them to him directly. Hollow plucked the bat from their head so Hornet could take that spot, opting to hold it in their arms instead. It didn’t seem to dislike the change, nuzzling into their chest. They looked to their sibling, gesturing to the exit with their head. The vessel nodded back, and the group of four began to make their way back to the home of the spiders.

Chapter Text

The Pale King was, to put it simply, flabbergasted. His emotions were a storm of confusion and ire, sort of how he felt about the vessel when they had revealed themselves as impure. Except, these emotions weren't directed at Hollow this time; they were directed at a different vessel, one that looked so young it should be imprisoned in the abyss. As it turned out it was not, in fact, in the abyss, and instead standing right in front of him. Like it belonged in Hallownest, like it was meant to be alive. What irked the king even more was the pest hovering next to it; the Grimmchild is what it was called, if he remembered correctly, and the presence of the Grimmchild meant its higher being of a father was around. The thought made him groan internally.

"Where did you find it?" the Pale King queried, turning to the one that could properly answer; Hornet.

"In the den of this big monster bug!" Hornet answered, looking up at Hollow. "Hollow killed it though! It had captured me and the new sibling, so they grabbed it like it was nothing and shoved their nail into its throat, it was so cool."

He narrowed his eyes at the word 'captured', but made no move to address it now. What was more important was the vessel, so he turned to it next. It was staring up at him with those empty, black eyes that seemed so familiar. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t ask it how it’d escaped the abyss; vessels couldn’t speak, after all. With a sigh, he decided he’d rather deal with this back in the comfort of his palace and not in the crawling darkness of Deepnest.

“You’ll be coming with us to the White Palace,” the king instructed the vessel, pointing a silver claw in its direction. "You don't have a choice in the matter."

The vessel made no move to protest, and so he motioned for the Hollow Knight to escort them to the nearby stag station. Once he and Herrah had finished their discussion he followed after them, tilting his head when he walked into the station to find Hollow carrying the vessel in between their horns. When they noticed him they glanced away sheepishly, setting their sibling on a stag before climbing aboard themselves. The Grimmchild curled itself where the vessel used to be, its tail wrapped around one of the Knight's horns (or, wrapped partially around it, anyway). He boarded his own stag before they set off into the winding tunnels, heading back to the safety of their home. Thankfully, the trip was mostly uneventful, excluding the few times when the godly pest (Grimmchild) decided to bug him. It seemed to catch the hint that it wasn't wanted after the fourth time the king flicked it away. Sulking, it chose to bother his Knight instead.

Upon arriving at the White Palace, many of the royal retainers passing by slowed to inspect the stranger. There were a few times where the Pale King had to shoo them back to their tasks, to which they apologized profusely once they realized what they’d one. He didn’t hold it against them; while they were unbearably loyal, they had a tendency to get distracted by things that seemed out of place. Such as the vessel he’d brought back with him. The king instructed Hollow to keep an eye on the stranger, trusting them with the task as he went to seek out his queen. She was tending to one of her gardens, pearly tendrils gently caressing delicate flower petals.

“My Root,” the wyrm announced himself, garnering the goddess’ attention, “I have something I must discuss with you.”

“What is it, my dear?” she replied, her touch abandoning the flora. Her pale eyes drifted to meet his obsidian ones, curiosity sparkling in them.

“It appears one of the failed vessels has survived, although how it managed such a feat is beyond me,” he started, glancing at her plants just to have something to look at. “It’s young, as if it has just left the abyss, and that troubles me. Is it no longer sealed?”

For what felt like ages his beloved didn’t respond, contemplating his statements in silence. It almost unnerved him, but he pinned that on how he was feeling about the new vessel.

“. . . Another child born from the infection lives?” the White Lady eventually uttered quietly. “It is ashamed that they have lived to remember being abandoned, but perhaps that can be fixed with time.”

He turned to face her properly once more, tilting his head to look up at her, “You mean to raise it?”

“To raise them,” she corrected sternly, yet her voice was soft. “It is our responsibility, is it not?”

The Pale King hushed, peering up at his wife hesitantly as he mulled the thought over. Raising another hatchling was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment, but rejecting the idea would be irresponsible. He exhaled mutely, idly running his claws against his robes as he worked up the will to answer.

“I suppose it is,” he admitted, earning an affectionate nuzzle from his mate. She tangled him into an inescapable embrace.

“This is our chance to be better,” she whispered to him, her cornflower eyes sliding shut. “I’ve wanted for that so badly for the longest time, my Wyrm.”

In a way, it was refreshing to be given an opportunity to fix part of what they’d done; his plan had been for the good of Hallownest, he knew, but at the same time he was not oblivious to the gruesome outcome it had. It didn’t help that it had all been for naught, either, but he tried to think about that less and less as the days went by. Hallownest was new again, it was time to move on to greater things. Withdrawing from his lover’s hug, he assisted her in caring for her garden, mind at peace. For the time being, anyway.

Chapter Text

Life in the White Palace wasn’t nearly as quiet as the Hollow Knight initially expected. Without Hornet, it had been bound to go back to being silent and lonely, but that had not been the case. Replacing the spiderling in being troublesome was the new vessel, who had taken a liking to wreaking havoc with the thing his father called Grimmchild. Their sibling, who had given themselves the name ‘Ghost,’ insisted that Hollow joined them, but they declined every time. They weren’t interested in gaining the king’s ire, but Ghost didn’t seem to mind being reprimanded every time. Very much like Hornet the smaller vessel was quite destructive, especially with the wingmoulds. There were many times when Hollow caught them swinging their nail at them for fun, and although Hollow wasn’t an expert on the void constructs, they were fairly sure their purpose wasn’t to be a training dummy. Ghost didn’t fight back when they dragged them away from their ruinous activities; most likely because they just planned to go right back to it when Hollow wasn’t looking.

Grimmchild wasn’t as terrible, but their damage could still be disastrous. He oftentimes followed Ghost around during their shenanigans, and while that was normal, their flames did not makes matters any better. Singed curtains and crisped flowers became commonplace among the pristine halls, and many of the staff had to do their best to avoid getting burned. As far as the Hollow Knight knew their sibling did nothing to stop him, and it made their head ache to think about. For the most part they were in charge of whatever Ghost did, which made them so very anxious, but the Pale King didn't seem to blame them for Ghost's bad habits. It relieved their stress to know that, but at the same time they felt like they were letting him down by keeping Ghost on such a loose leash. It wasn’t all bad to have them around, though. Despite their destructive tendencies they were also curious, endearingly so. Hollow enjoyed teaching them about things foreign to them, using their very own language. Finally a proper way to communicate comfortably.

As of right now, Ghost was investigating one of the queen’s miniature gardens with Hollow in tow. The taller of the siblings had Grimmchild in their arms, flaming mouth clamped shut by a firm hand. They would not let him burn their mother’s gardens. Ghost was hunched over a lone, unique flower, its petals gleaming a brilliant silver. They reached out with an uncharacteristic carefulness, stroking the petals as if they would crumble if they brushed them with force. Hollow crouched down next to them, ignoring Grimmchild’s insistent squirming as they did so. They nearly let him go when the White Lady’s voice startled them.

“So this is where you’ve been,” the queen said, making her way over to them. Her gaze drifted to the flower they’d been inspecting, and she hummed thoughtfully. “Isn’t it beautiful? Ze’mer gifted it to me, which was lovely of her. Do be careful with it though, it’s quite delicate.”

Ghost nodded, withdrawing their hand from the flora. They snatched Grimmchild from the Hollow Knight, trotting out of the room before they could take him back. Hollow let out a puff of air, standing proper and following after them after giving the White Lady an affectionate nuzzle. Only gods know what Ghost was planning to get up to next. They were sprinting down the hallway, Grimmchild draped over their shoulder. Hollow easily caught up to them, cutting them off with an arm. The smaller vessel looked up at them, humming a ‘Why?’ to them in void-speak. Hollow huffed silently, giving Ghost a look that said that they damn well knew why they were stopping them. Ghost dropped their head in defeat, relaxing their grip on Grimmchild. The bat cried out in victory, wiggling out of their grasp and taking to the air. He shot down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Hollow watched him leave, panic shouting in their head as he disappeared from sight. They took after after the child, forgetting about their sibling while they prioritized the possibility of the palace going up in flames.

Luckily, he didn’t get very far before the vessel managed to catch up. Unfortunately, however, the Grimmchild had gotten stopped by the Pale King himself. The Hollow Knight halted mid-step, hesitating as their father held the hatchling by his neck. Could he breathe? Did he breathe? Hollow wasn’t sure, but it worried them nonetheless. The king brought him up so he was level with him, glaring into his glowing eyes. Grimmchild struggled in the wyrm’s hold, tail wrapping feebly around his pale wrist in an attempt to support himself. Hollow chittered nervously—another void sound they’d have to get used to—gaining the attention of their father. They went stiff, lowering their eyes to the ground hesitantly.

“Do you think you’re in trouble?” the Pale King inquired, and they lifted their head slowly. He held Grimmchild out to them, “I don’t blame you for whatever this pest does. Tying down a god is not a simple task.”

Hollow took the higher being from their father, gently holding onto the bat’s tail to keep him from flying off. The king considered them for a moment before speaking again, averting his gaze to look at distant royal retainers, “I apologize for the way I treated you before, that was wrong of me.”

That was the last thing the Knight had expected. They tilted their head in question, waiting to see if he’d continue.

“Don’t be afraid to approach me, and don’t be afraid of getting in trouble,” he continued after a pause. “Although you’re not used to it yet, you are free to do as you wish.”

They stared at him, holding still as he turned to face them. Hollow lowered themselves into a kneel in front of him, Grimmchild wrapping himself around their neck. The ease they felt at the king’s words was astounding, and they wanted to thank him for it in someway. How, though, they couldn’t place. Their father gestured for them to stand, and they did so with a bowed head. They would have to think more about a thank you later, however, as Grimmchild’s quiet ‘nyaah’ reminded them that Ghost was still around. Somewhere in the palace. All alone. Oh, wyrm.

Chapter Text

As much as the king disliked having a discarded vessel in his palace, he couldn’t say that it was particularly terrible. While it was destructive, it was usually kept in check by the Hollow Knight, or keeping itself entertained in a far less devastating way. Either way, it seemed to stay out of his path (excluding the few times when the godling pest got loose). He sighed as he attempted to focus on paperwork, mind preoccupied with thoughts of the Knight, the City, the Kingdom. Perhaps he could visit the City of Tears again, bring along Hollow and simply forget. Clear his mind, his conscience, that nagging feeling that something’s not right in the place he claimed rulership. The quill in his hand clacked against his desk as he gave up focusing, opting instead to track down the vessel. His unease, he felt, was tied to the Grimmchild that stuck so dearly to it, and it was about time he tracked down the batling’s father.

Luckily for the Pale King, it didn’t take much searching to find his target. The little vessel and its companion were in one of the queen’s gardens, with the Grimmchild being forcefully held down as he tried to eat one of the flowers. Narrowing his dark eyes, he stepped over to the two and plucked the creature from the vessel’s grasp, holding him by the snout while he attempted to gain some semblance of balance. Slowly, deliberately, the vessel turned to look up at him, empty eyes pouring into him impassively. He did his best to ignore it, uneased by how void it was.

“I can sense the Nightmare King’s presence in my kingdom, and judging by your relationship with his child, I suspect you know where he is,” the Pale King accused, continuing when it showed no signs of replying in some way. "Take me to him."

Ghost—that is, the vessel—spent a few moments in silence before jumping up and snatching the child from him, turning to march in the direction of the stag station. The king followed after the pair, setting them straight when they got distracted by something simple like a lone retainer or stray wingmould. It was impeccably easy for the vessel to lose its concentration, despite how thorough it can be when it decides to put in the effort. After the trio boarded a stag they were off, speeding in the direction of Dirtmouth. When he saw the vessel point at the petite town, he figured it made sense for the troupe to be there; although, it was a mystery to him how they managed to get their caravans through the Howling Cliffs. He didn’t really care anyhow, he just wanted them gone. When they arrived, Ghost was quick to race off without him with the Grimmchild in tow, the godling tittering and spitting embers along the way. The Pale King fluttered after them, choosing to completely ignore the elevator as his offspring did.

Upon entering the quiet town, the Pale King was met with the sound of a distant accordion and bustling bugs. The vessel was headed right for it, drawing his gaze to the vibrant tents that were so very out of place in Dirtmouth. Standing off to the side was a distraught looking citizen, his solemn gaze glued to the troupe invading his home. The King didn’t blame him for being so; he disliked the troupe as much as this stranger, and he intended to fix that. Getting back to the task at hand, he made his way to the main tent that Ghost had already disappeared into. Inside was a cacophony of movement, moving props and performers a harsh sound against the accordion. They came to a stop as the wyrm passed through, tilting their heads with hushed whispers as his pale radiance glowed faintly against the severe reds of the lanterns. He followed the ever-stronger presence of the Nightmare King down a poorly lit corridor, hearing the painful rasp of his voice before seeing him. He and the vessel were talking; rather, Ghost was getting talked at while Grimm coddled his spawn.

"How nice of you to join us, Wyrm," Grimm greeted, looking up from the godling in his arms. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"What are you doing in my kingdom, scavenger?" the Pale King huffed, "Last I checked, Hallownest is very much alive and in no need of your services."

"Perhaps that is true," the Nightmare King hummed, handing the Grimmchild to Ghost, "but we were drawn to the few flames that are here. As much as you dislike it, sister dearest has left a mark on your territory."

"Then get your flames and leave. You are not welcome here."

Grimm sighed dramatically, draping an arm over his eyes, "How inhospitable of you, Pale King. As much as I would love to move on from this kingdom, it seems the bearer of the Grimmchild's charm has yet to get the last few flames."

The wyrm bristled in place, taking a deep breath at Grimm's antics. He supposed, very reluctantly, that that was his fault. Ghost had been confined to the palace, and they were very obviously the current owner of the charm. He turned away with frustration, taking a moment to think before looking back at the short vessel. It was looking up at him with Grimmchild in its arms, blank eyes searching for a response.

"Go gather the flames," he ordered. "Gather them, and once the Nightmare King is gone, return to the White Palace."

Ghost didn't need to be told twice. It trotted off bouncing the child as it went, and disappearing into the crowd of circus folk. The king went to follow after it, keen to get back to his home, but was interrupted by the God of Nightmares.

"You have quite the wonderful child, Pale King," he said fondly, as if there was no tension between them. "I suppose your Hollow Knight is still around as well? Assuming you didn't throw them out when they became useless."

Ah. There was the venom. His fragile wings twitched irritably, "How they are doing is none of your concern."

"But they are 'doing,' then? That's good, you're not so heartless after all."

"I was never heartless to begin with," he hissed, turning to glare at the other. "Everything I did, everything I do, I do for Hallownest and its subjects."

The eerie glow of Grimm’s eyes softened in the poor light, “I know, dear wyrm. It’s just unfortunate you chose such a brutal solution.”

"It was the only solution."

"Clearly not, seeing as the Radiance has been handled and your Pure Vessel is still around."

At that the Pale King went silent, teeming with retorts where he stood, "I didn't foresee that outcome. It was just a small chance that moth tribe showed up; I needed something that I could do to stop the Radiance, instead of sitting and waiting for some savior to come and do it for me."

Grimm didn't seem to have a response for that; either that, or he simply didn't care enough to continue the conversation. Much to the King of Hallownest's gratitude, Grimm turned his attention to the distant practice of the performers.

"I need to get back to my troupe," he said, the fierce glow returning to his eyes. "I hope we can talk again, civilly, before I leave. Although I doubt you'd want to."

With that, the troupe master returned to his followers, leaving the wyrm to himself. The Pale King sat soundless for a moment, tamping down his irritation so he could leave without getting strange looks. Not that it mattered, anyway; the members of the troupe always looked at him skeptically, as if they'd never seen a god before. Perhaps they didn't know their own master was a higher being—Grimm acted like one of the normal members most of the time, from what he could tell. He briefly wondered if he kept them in the dark on purpose, and then decided he didn't care. Letting thoughts of the circus fade, he made his way out of the tent, retreating to the familiarity of his palace.

Chapter Text

For a few days, the White Palace was uncomfortably quiet. Hornet was in Deepnest, and Ghost was . . . well, they were somewhere in Hallownest, Hollow was sure. Their father had said the little vessel was collecting flames for the Grimmchild, although they didn't know what for. While Hollow was grateful for the break from their role of babysitter, it was achingly lonely without their sibling; odd, even, without their acts of vandalism terrorizing the residents of the palace. They let the thoughts simmer in their head as they sought out their mother. It had been a few days since they properly spent time with her, and they had to admit it made them feel a little sad. Finding her turned out to be no issue; she was where she usually was, among one of her gardens. Her sky blue eyes were shut serenely as she sat among her plants, and it took them a moment to realize she was speaking. They hesitated, unwilling to interrupt her when she seemed so content; fortunately, they didn't have to do it themselves.

"Good afternoon, Knight," the White Lady said in greeting, eyelids fluttering open as she turned to look at them. Hollow stood frozen in the doorway for a spell before pacing towards her, butting their head against hers in a form of endearment. Their mother reciprocated in kind, wrapping tender arms around them.

"It has been a fair bit since I've seen you without the little vessel," she commented, withdrawing to look at them better. "My Wyrm said they were out running errands for the Nightmare King, I suppose that’s still true?”

The Hollow Knight nodded, looking past the goddess to observe her flowers. She followed their dark gaze to the Delicate Flowers, humming in thought.

"Would you like one to keep? They're fragile, so you'd have to be careful, but I'm sure you could manage that," she said, and Hollow nodded hesitantly. While they were afraid of damaging the beautiful plant, they were sure they’d be able to manage. Hopefully. The Higher Being slipped her pale tendrils around one of the flowers, gently pulling it from the ground and holding it out to them. With the delicacy of a Weaver, they plucked the flower from her grasp, holding it within their large palms as they observed its splendor up close.

“You better run along now,” their mother suggested, eyeing their keepsake fondly. “Find a proper place for that flower, so it can flourish.”

Hollow bowed their head in agreement, nuzzling her one last time as a farewell before leaving her to herself. They wandered down the pristine halls toward their quarters, all the while cradling the flower to their thorax. It almost slipped from their fingers when Ghost turned the corner and barreled right into their legs, Grimmchild following suit to wrap around their horns. Confused (and a little upset; their flower was almost ruined by their siblings enthusiasm), they extended a question with voidspeak, asking where they'd been, how they were. They didn't have time to listen for the response, though, when another bug—were they a bug?—rounded the corner. Glowing red eyes met theirs, a crooked smile forming on the stranger's face. It took them a moment to realize he resembled the Grimmchild, and that he was radiating heat like the sun.

"Greetings, I am Troupe Master Grimm," the newcomer said with an elegant bow. "It's rare for me to leave my troupe, but Little Ghost insisted."

Ghost jumped energetically in place, pointing between themselves and Hollow. Grimm chuckled, his hoarse voice making it sound more like a wheeze, "Yes, yes. I know they're your sibling," he assured them, then glanced up to address the Hollow Knight. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I'm glad to know you're doing well; the Pale King wasn't very reasonable when I asked of your well-being."

Had they met before? They couldn't remember, but Grimm certainly seemed to know about them already. Even though he'd started by introducing himself. It was foreign to them that an absolute stranger would care about their well-being, and it made them feel . . . fuzzy? Warm? It was hard to tell, but the warmth might've been from Grimm's aura. Without thinking, they held their flower out to him, lowering their head a little so they didn't seem so imposing. The other was around the same height as them, not counting their horns, but that didn't stop them from feeling self conscious about it.

Grimm's hand reached for the flower, hovering in mid-air for a moment before he let it drop back to his side. He smiled softly, the light of his eyes dimming a bit, "A wonderful gesture, but I must decline. My fire would burn the poor thing to a crisp. Plants never do well around me, especially ones so delicate."

They withdrew the flower, staring down at it before tucking it in their cloak. Grimm sighed quietly, "I apologize, it's quite rude to refuse a gift. Perhaps I can make it up to you?"

Hollow tilted their head curiously, raising their head to meet his eyes. Ghost climbed up to sit between their horns with Grimmchild, but they paid them no mind. This was normal. The being of fire before them snapped his fingers, a plume of crimson flame forming and twisting into the shape of a rose. Hollow couldn't help but gawk, unintentionally speaking their amazement to their sibling. The vessel in question responded with exuberance (Isn't he cool? ). Grimm held the shaped fire out to them, and they hesitated. Wouldn't it burn them? Could void even get burned?

"It shan't scorch you, I made sure of that," he assured them, and Hollow cautiously took the rose. "It will last eternally, so long as you don't smother it."

The Hollow Knight admired the gift, careful not to ruin it as they let their arm drop. How could they thank him? They wracked their brain for ways to say thank you, but nothing appropriate came to mind. It was times like this that they wished they knew how to sign (and also hoped that others would understand it if they did). They didn't have long to dwell on it, however, when the familiar presence of their father entered the hall. It made them nervous for a moment; the air felt angry. Were they in trouble for something? Had they done something wrong? Their worries were appeased his voice rang through the air.

"Nightmare King," the Pale King hissed, gaining everyone's attention. He had come up from behind Hollow, standing a little ways off from the group. "What do you think you're doing in my palace?"

Grimm grinned smugly, gesturing to Ghost, “Your little vessel invited me. It’s rude to refuse, is it not? Especially when they’ve done so much for me and my troupe.”

The wyrm didn’t seem to care about politeness; his wings were fluttering with agitation, his voice an angry growl. “I told you to leave my kingdom, and yet, you’re still here. And in my home. I won’t hesitate to smite you, Grimm.”

The God of Nightmares winced at that, pausing carefully before he replied. “. . . Really, Wyrm. Can’t we be civil about this?”

“No. Is the ritual over?”

“Not quite,” he replied slowly, glancing at Ghost. “The summoner must fight my true form, but that requires a Dream Nail. I suppose you don’t have that?”

Ghost slipped from their seat, head slanted up at Grimm. They shrugged, shaking their head no.

“I can provide one,” the king said, glaring at Ghost as if he’d like to smite them, and gestured for them to follow.

“That’s very generous of you, dear wyrm,” Grimm rasped, his tone genuine.

“Anything that will remove you from my palace and Hallownest quicker,” the Pale King retorted, leading his child down a hallway and away.

Hollow watched them go, turning to the father of Grimmchild (who had fallen asleep) inquisitively. He exhaled, a tiny puff of fire breathing from his lungs as he stared down the long hallway, “I shouldn’t have come. I was hoping to talk to wyrm and his root, but it seems he still dislikes me.”

They tipped their head, hoping it was enough of a ‘Why?’ for Grimm to understand. He caught on quickly, “Why does the wyrm dislike anyone? I wish I knew. I think he hates me for existing.”

That seemed wrong to Hollow, but what did they know? Perhaps they could convince their father Grimm wasn’t so bad, even if it seemed unlikely he’d listen. Ghost came back mere minutes later, holding a strange nail in their hand that they could only assume was a Dream Nail. Grimm held his hand out to their small sibling, “Shall we dance one last time, my friend?”

Ghost took his outstretched hand, and the two of them disappeared into a pillar of fire. Hollow peered at the space they’d been a little sadly, figuring that was the last they’d see of the troupe master. They held up the flaming rose, appreciating its beauty before heading for their room.

Chapter Text

Hollow had never dreamed before. Vessels weren't meant to dream, certainly never designed with it in mind. The void in their hearts clashed harshly with that realm, and so, they simply never dreamed. Yet, Hollow could say with certainty that they were dreaming. It was hard to describe how they felt; floating, or maybe falling, ascending? Spinning, turning, twisting, suddenly nothing. Where were they? It was bright and orange, cloudy and clear. So clear, they could see the details in clouds miles away. This couldn't be real, but of course it wasn't, because they weren't awake. Reality was just a speck in their conscious, shrinking and shrinking the longer they dreamt. They took a step forward, the sensation startling given they had been hovering moments before. Why were they here? Did there have to be a reason? The Hollow Knight knew nothing of dreams and how they were supposed to work.

"What are you doing here?"

The vessel whipped around, line of thought broken as the voice echoed around them. As far as they could tell, no one was there with them, but the stranger spoke again.

"You're not supposed to be here, vessel. Leave."

Vessel? They didn’t recognize the voice, but they seemed to know them. It was times like this that they wished they had words of their own to speak, staring up into the blinding sky as their void hummed within them.

The voice hissed at their voidspeak, “Cease, vessel. The language of the Abyss certainly isn’t welcome here any more than you are.”

Frustration bloomed in Hollow’s core. How else were they to communicate with the voice? They cursed the way they were designed, questioning their demand in voidspeak out of spite. The stranger’s grunt filled the endless space, irritation lacing the voice.

“If you want to speak so badly, just think. This is the dream realm, not reality.”

Just . . . think? Similar to voidspeak, then. They could manage that. Inquiries streamed through their head, things like ‘The dream realm?’ and ‘How?’ and ‘Why am I here?’. For a moment, they were afraid it hadn’t worked, but the voice answered.

“I don’t know why or how; I assumed you knew. Perhaps this is the work of the Pale Wyrm? He is your father, after, and it was his goal to smite me. Maybe he hasn’t given up yet, despite the fact that I’ve very much moved on,” the voice said bitterly. “That would be like him, wouldn’t it? To seek to hunt me down in spite of it all.”

Hollow went silent—well, they stopped voicing their thoughts—at the mention of the Pale King. Why would their father try to smite someone? Something crucial bounced around their mind, taunting them with information they should already know. They must have failed miserably at keeping to themselves, because it wasn't long before the stranger saw fit to reply to them again.

"You seriously don't know who I am, vessel? I am astonished, and also quite insulted. You were meant to be my prison, and yet you are so cruelly ignorant to my existence.

The Radiance. They were conversing with the Radiance, and somehow they hadn't known. It should've been so obvious, with the way she had reacted to their voidspeak, and the fact that they were dreaming at all. Hollow clutched at their cloak, which was so, so unnaturally bright, seeking out something to ground them. It wasn't working, their anxiety only growing worse the longer they stood gazing into the clouds. Everything was blinding, and somehow, loud despite the lack of sound. If this was the Higher Being they'd been created to imprison, then why were they here? The Radiance claimed she didn't know, but maybe she was just playing with them; tormenting them for what could have been. They wanted to scream, to tell that it wasn't their fault, to say that they wanted nothing more than to find peace, but the words didn't come. They never did, and they never would. Void dripped from their eye sockets, tainting their pale mask as they buckled to their knees. The clouds were so suffocating, the gold of the skies so deafening. They only wanted it to stop.

". . . It seems your time here is far overdue. Wake, vessel, and don't come back."

Vibrance and radiance, darkness and void. Thundering and silence. Chaos to calm.

When they awoke, they were met by their father's eyes.

Chapter Text

The Hollow Knight was crying, and the Pale King didn't know what to do. As far as he knew, vessels couldn't even cry, but that turned out to be entirely false. They weren't normal tears, per say; they were pure void, pooling in Hollow's eye sockets and staining the white bed sheets black. It took him a moment to realize they were asleep, weeping silently as they . . . dreamed? Vessels should not—could not—dream. Their void structure prevented such, a natural enemy to the goddess of dreams. He had so many questions, so many concerns, so many . . . regrets? Was the vessel's crying his fault, somehow? Something he said, perhaps, or all the times he'd wronged them. Gently, he wiped at Hollow's tears with his hand, hesitating for a moment. Should he wake them? If they were having a nightmare, that would be the right thing to do, but there was also the possibility that they didn't want to see him. He couldn't be sure until they'd have a chance to converse. Beside him, Ghost was peeking over the side of the bed. It'd been the one to alert him of Hollow's distress, and for that he was grateful.

"You are dismissed, I no longer need you," the king ordered quietly, so as not to disturb Hollow. The little vessel stared up at him dispassionately, making no move to leave. He was about to try again when the Hollow Knight moved, sitting up rapidly in place. Empty eyes met his own, a fresh tear of void falling down their mask.

"Hollow," the Pale King said, hesitant. His next words came uncertain, a statement, but a question all the same. "You were . . . dreaming?"

Hollow gave him no reply, staring at him blankly as inky darkness swelled in their eye sockets. They looked to his blackened hand, touching their face experimentally, seemingly surprised by the void slicked against their fingers. Ghost climbed onto the bed with them, grabbing at their hand to get a better look at the void. The little vessel's hands were so much smaller than Hollow's; they could probably wrap their whole hand around Ghost's and more. As they gazed at each other in silence, he wondered if they were speaking to each other. He’d seen them communicate before, but it wasn’t as if they made noise when they did so.

“Hollow Knight,” he said, gaining the vessel’s attention. No more hesitance. “Were you dreaming, or were you not? This is important, you shouldn’t be able to dream.”

Slowly, Hollow nodded, a fresh wave of tears dripping down their face. Their sheets would be ruined, but that was a problem for later. Whatever they had dreamed about was taxing on their emotions, which was extremely worrying to him given there wasn’t much to be taxing (other than him, but he was trying not to think about that possibility).

“What were you dreaming about?” the wyrm inquired, although he wasn’t sure how they’d tell him. Perhaps he should find a page of silk parchment.

Asking that question turned out to be a terrible idea. The Hollow Knight grasped at their face, knocking Ghost away in the process. Tendrils of void lashed around their eyes in distress, air becoming thick with it as their panic grew. The Pale King took a step back, sighing softly as he went over his options.

“Never mind, you don’t need to answer that,” he said, hoping to calm them somewhat. “It is still late . . . mayhaps it is best to rest for now, and talk in the morning.”

Ghost had placed itself in its sibling’s lap, patting their face lightly. It appeared to work, Hollow’s hands dropping from their mask as the little vessel distracted them. The king slipped from the room without another word, thinking to himself soundlessly as he headed for his workshop. It would be easier to get his thoughts down, there, and he’d be able to work on his projects while he theorized. Unfortunately for him, he was interrupted by a certain godling hurtling at him at top speeds down the darkened hallway. Without flinching, he snatched it from the air, holding it by the tail as it dangled upside down. The batling hissed indignantly, flapping its leathery wings as it struggled in his grip. With an exhausted exhale, he adjusted his grip to hold the Grimmchild in a more comfortable manner.

The Pale King had wanted to throw the Grimmchild out. He had assumed the Nightmare King was going to take him with the rest of the troupe, but that turned out to be false. Instead, Ghost had showed up after the ritual holding the dream nail and carrying the god-spawn. If it wasn’t for Hollow’s attachment to the child, he would have gladly left it to fend for itself. It bothered him that it was wandering the palace by itself, but he supposed it was due to the siblings being together, so he couldn’t be too upset. Grimmchild turned in his arms, slapping him with a wing in the process as it attempted to free itself. He used another set of arms to hold its wings closed, ignoring its whines of protest.

“You either come with me, or I lock you outside,” he said lowly, and the creature’s movement ceased.

With that settled, he traveled to his workshop, putting the Grimmchild in one of the cages meant for rogue void constructs for the meantime. It grumbled unhappily at its confinement, but made no effort to break free. He gathered the parts for his current project, staring down at them as he gathered his thoughts. It was not right for vessels to dream, and yet, Hollow certainly had. Was Grimm at fault? Surely he wouldn’t give Hollow nightmares, unless it was to spite him. His gaze wandered to the Grimmchild, which was chasing its own tail. It would be foolish to assume something so immature could maliciously bring nightmares to Hollow, but he couldn’t help but wonder if just being around the young god could induce them. The vessels loved the Grimmchild, but perhaps it would be for their own good to get rid of the thing.

That, or it was the Radiance’s doing. The mere thought of her administering dreams in his subjects was enough to get him fuming, but he refrained from jumping to such conclusions. As far as he knew, she had no proper reason to instill her memory into the bugs of Hallownest anymore. If it was her that did it, then she could’ve been doing it to prod at him. He huffed at the prospect, rubbing at his face. Dealing with the Radiance once more was not something he wanted to do, but he would if he had to. For his kingdom, for his people. Hallownest would not fall victim to her again. He fiddled mindlessly with spare parts as he pondered, resigning himself to his work as the sky faded to grey.

Hollow’s head was alight with doubts, void churning in their core as they stared down at their sibling. Ghost was persistent in asking about their dream, but they were still balking at the idea of explaining to them. Did the little vessel even know about the Radiance? The two of them were from the same clutch, and yet, Ghost seemed so much younger. Perhaps they still were in soul and mind, and that was what made them so carefree and enthusiastic. Either way, Hollow wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to tell them. It’s not as if they were worried about them telling anyone (How could they? As far as Hollow knew, they didn’t know how to write. But then again, they haven’t known them for that long.), but rather, they were concerned about what the Radiance would do if she found out. Involving those they cared about could put them at risk, unless she really didn’t have anything to do with them dreaming. It wasn’t something they wanted to chance.

Their head was filled with the comforting hum of voidspeak, concern buzzing in Ghost’s speech. Hollow gathered them into a tight hug, whispering false reassurances to them. Of course, they didn’t quite buy it, but they kept quiet for the time being. For that, Hollow was grateful; they didn’t want to think of their dream now, or ever, but it would resurface eventually. Specifically, in the morning. They shivered at the possibility, unintentionally squeezing Ghost tighter in the process. The smaller vessel shimmied in their arms, pushing against them feebly in a poor attempt at escape. It amused Hollow, a silly yet welcome distraction to their clouded mind, and their void vibrated with mirth. They rumbled with a low purr, nuzzling against their sibling affectionately. Ghost reciprocated in kind, putting a tiny hand against their thorax curiously as they embraced. Had Ghost never purred before? Hollow supposed they hadn’t up until recently, but they had been under pressure for years.

Ghost pulled away from Hollow, glancing up at them in the dim lighting with an unspoken inquiry. The taller of the two shrugged, pointing a finger at Ghost’s thorax, attempting to explain how it felt to them. Like the calm before a storm on the surface, the gentle cascade of rain in the City of Tears, the familiar thunder of Goams and Garpedes as they went about their lives. Like warmth and love from the White Lady, praise and encouragement from the Pale King. To Ghost, maybe none of those things were important. From the way they deadpanned, it all likely went over their head. Hollow huffed a sigh, their soft purr fading to quiet. Ghost would find a reason to purr someday. Hopefully.

For a moment, everything felt alright. Cuddling with their sibling, sharing blissful thoughts. Contemplation of the Old Light and her dreams fizzled out, replaced by content as the night grew brighter. Yet still, Hollow couldn’t help but feel like something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Chapter Text

They never got to talk about the dream come morning. In the stress of it all, the Pale King had incompetently forgotten that Hornet was due to arrive upon first light. So there he was, waiting in the vacant stag station as he did his best to keep the Grimmchild under control. The batling was busying itself with the summon bell, gnawing on it as if it were a toy. Fortunately, it hadn’t actually bothered to ring it yet; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand the continuous chime had it figured it out. That, and he doubted the stags would appreciate getting called for no good reason. Briefly, he wondered when he’d stooped to the role of babysitter. He didn’t have long to ponder, however; one of the many stags of Hallownest skidded to a stop in the station, Hornet jumping down from their back. The weaver that had escorted her gave the king a nod before saying a few words to the stag, and then they disappeared down the tunnel.

Hornet was practically bouncing in place, staring up at the Pale King with enthusiasm in her eyes. “I molted while I was home! Guess what I grew?” she said excitedly, hopping off the ground now.

He stared at her, inspecting her closely but noticing nothing different, “Proper fangs? Spinnerets?”

“No, no! I’m just gonna show you,” the spiderling declared impatiently, spinning around in place so her back was to him. When she lifted her cloak, his mind went blank.

Wings. Hornet had grown wings. They were pathetic little things right now; mere buds, a promise of what is soon to be. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel mortified. He could already foresee the chaos she would create—he didn’t need to use his foresight for that, either.

She turned back around, her voice wavering to a confused tone when she saw how unenthused he was. Her crimson cloak fell back around her as she said, “Are you not happy? I thought you would be . . . they’re gonna be like yours, right? Mother doesn’t have any wings, so. . . .”

The Pale King hesitated, glancing for a moment at the Grimmchild as he thought of something to say. Little Hornet followed his gaze, inhaling with exhilaration when she saw the godling. She skipped over to it, pulling it away from the bell so she could squeeze it in a hug. Grimmchild hissed with protest, but she paid it no mind.

“What is this?” she asked him, staring into the creature’s glowing eyes. “A pet? You said no when I asked about pets in the palace.”

“It is most certainly not a pet. I hardly want it here, but I have no choice in the matter,” he replied without missing a beat, and Hornet tilted her head in question.

“You have no choice? Isn’t it your palace, though?”

“Hollow quite likes it, and I doubt they would appreciate it if I got rid of it.”

He couldn’t see it, but he was sure she was grinning; he could hear it in her voice, “It’s Hollow’s, then? But you said it’s not a pet, what’s it supposed to be?”

“A young god, born from the kingdom’s flames. Hopefully, it won’t be around for long.”

She lit up at the prospect, holding Grimmchild closer, if that was possible, “Another god! Like you and the White Lady, right? That’s so cool!”

“It’s not ‘cool’,” he said with a tired sigh, turning to make his way to the exit. “Come, let us head to the palace. We can talk there, if that is what you wish.”

Hornet obeyed, walking alongside him in silence as they traveled to the White Palace. She’d let the Grimmchild go, who was now bothering him. He’d attempted to shoo the thing away, but gave up when it decided to settle in the middle of his horns. While he wasn’t amused, Hornet seemed to think it was adorable. When they arrived, the palace was just beginning to stir. Royal retainers and servants roamed the pale halls, beginning their daily duties. They bowed to them as they passed, and his daughter couldn’t help but gawk at them. Surely she must’ve been used to it by now, right?

“It is rude to stare,” the Pale King said quietly, earning her attention. She stared at him for a moment before looking straight ahead, doing her best to ignore the prostrating citizens as they walked.

He very nearly tripped over Ghost when they suddenly appeared in front of them, its form dark as void for a moment before their features were visible. Grimmchild ‘Nyaa’d’ happily at the sight of its caretaker, abandoning the wyrm to wrap around Ghost instead. Hornet gasped at the sight of her sibling, pouncing both the vessel and juvenile god into a crushing embrace; It nearly toppled the trio to the ground. Behind them, the Hollow Knight slunk into view, their movements slow and graceful compared to the children before them. The Pale King looked up at them, holding their gaze for just a second. Their head tilted timidly to the side, breaking eye contact with him as they focused on their siblings instead. So they were worried, then, that he’d keep his word and interrogate them about their dream. His breath exhaled as a whisper, tense and weary as he looked at his child. As pressing as the issue was, prodding them for information would be cruel right after the incident occurred.

“Good morning, Hollow,” the king of Hallownest greeted, eyes dropping to Ghost, “. . . and I suppose you as well, Ghost.”

Ghost’s head whipped up at the mention of its name, pointing at the Pale King and then itself. He squinted, watching as the vessel repeated the motion a few more times. “Yes, I am addressing you, vessel.” It squirmed its way out of Hornet’s grasp, trotting up to the king with purpose in its stride. He took an unintentional step away, wings shifting uncomfortably as its flickering eyes bore into him. Without warning, Ghost wrapped its arms around him—well, partially around him, anyway. The Pale Wyrm had to consciously keep himself from flinching at the freezing touch of the void being, arms hovering awkwardly as it—they?—bumped their head against his thorax in an endearing manner. Grimmchild fluttered nearby, circling them curiously as the other two siblings observed. While Hornet didn’t look phased, Hollow seemed . . . upset? It was hard to tell, with how expressionless vessels were. Their eyes met for an instant, dark eyes giving nothing away. They turned away, opting to watch their sister instead. He searched their body language for a clue, something to tip off their mood, but to no avail. With a low huff, he pushed Ghost away from himself, glaring at the Grimmchild as it did loops around his head.

“I am going to my workshop,” he announced, glancing at Hornet as her eyes brightened. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but he already knew what she was going to say. “Yes, you can come with me, Hornet.”

She bounced over to his side, “Can I make something this time?”

“Possibly . . . ,” he dithered, giving her his hand when she reached for it, “if you’re good. It can be dangerous if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll be careful!” she promised, swinging their arms idly.

The wyrm looked up at the Hollow Knight, pausing before telling them, “We will discuss the dream later. For now, do as you please.”

Hollow let out a puff of breath, barely audible even in the silent atmosphere of the early morning halls. They nudged Ghost with a hand, communicating with them in their language of void. The duo disappeared down one of the many passageways, Grimmchild flapping after them. He tugged on his daughter’s hand, leading her to his workshop.

The relief Hollow felt at being given a chance to ignore the dream battled with his irrational jealousy at seeing Ghost hug their father. It was a foolish thing to be irked by, and yet, the ugly emotions reared their petty heads in their heart. Ghost was walking beside them, playing a game of makeshift ping pong with their nail and Grimmchild’s fireballs. They couldn’t help but feel envious when they looked at them, bitter greed clawing them from the inside. The vessel had been the one to initiate the embrace, but it still burned like fire. Why hadn’t the Pale King ever shown him affection like that? Touch deprivation struck them like a whip, coiling around them as if a serpent. Ghost, Hornet, and Grimmchild had hugged them before, shown them love and kindness. But it wasn’t the same as their father doing so, and it never would be.

It took them a moment to realize Ghost had stopped, pivoting to give them a quizzical head tilt. Their sibling glanced at the ground, blank eyes darting up to meet theirs. Voidspeak hummed between them, so loud, yet so familiar and welcome.

Sibling sad? Sibling upset? Angry? Ghost spoke, unable to decide on what word they wanted to use. Hollow blinked, chastising themselves for allowing their sentiments to be read. Slowly, they shook their head, earning a disbelieving hand gesture from Ghost.

Why is sibling sad? Sibling sad because of me? Sad because of father? Hornet? Grimmchild? Dream?

Again, the Hollow Knight shook their head. Ghost, unconvinced, decided to climb to rest between their horns, peering down at them from their perch. Grimmchild settled himself on Ghost’s head, balancing impeccably between their own set of smaller horns.

Ghost patted Hollow’s forehead, Tell me sibling, why sad? It’s okay to be sad, tell me.

Hollow shut their raven-black eyes, slumping at their sibling’s persistence. They wobbled their head, knocking Ghost from their seat. Grimmchild gave a startled cry, deserting their caretaker to linger in the air above them. The taller vessel took a step back, void hissing under their mask. Ire lashed like thorns within the bright confines of the hallway, breaking free of their shell for just a tick. They didn’t want to talk about this, or the dream, or their father. With an irate whiff of air, they melted into shadow, leaving Ghost and the Grimmchild behind to be alone with their awful, pounding thoughts.

Chapter Text

It was dark, a consuming abyss of inky tendrils and stray void particles. Despite it being Hollow’s room, it felt unfamiliar and cold, pale whites of the walls overwhelming in the cloud of darkness. They were falling apart, they realized, but what could they do? Jealousy was a terrible thing, and they had fallen victim to it. Tears stained their porcelain cheeks, growing spots of black spotting on the already ruined sheets of their bed. In the corner of the room, Grimm’s scarlet flower raged on with fervor, artificial form flickering radiantly despite the suffocating air of void. Thoughts of its giver swam in their mind, positive thoughts beginning to battle out the negative. Then the Pale King’s low hiss rang in their mind, gritting out ’Nightmare King’. Was Grimm the reason why their dream had happened? Perhaps it was a nightmare, rather than a normal dream; it had certainly felt like one. And yet, that was hard to believe, given that the Radiance was in charge of the Dream Realm. Had part of her power slipped, falling away as did she when their father claimed Hallownest? They chuffed silently, shutting their eyes tight as they buried their face in their legs. Everything felt so hazy, although they couldn’t tell if it was from the overabundance of void or their anxieties chewing them out. When they finally looked up, their half-baked theories vanished.

Clouds. An endless sea of clouds, painted bronze and silver as far as the eye could see. The overbearing presence of void had dissipated, leaving Hollow exposed to the harsh light of the Dream Realm. It was the same as before, empty with nothing but a platform to stand on. The only thing that seemed to be missing now was the Goddess of Dreams herself. They rubbed at their face, smearing obsidian tears onto their hand, their mask, their cloak. A stark contrast against the sheer brightness of the dream. Their gaze darted around the dazzling space, searching for a sign of the Radiance as they did so. When they found no one, their thoughts wavered hesitantly, timidly making themselves known to any who might be listening. Are you here? Why am I here? Why are we here? At first, they thought they’d go unanswered. Nothing followed after their stream of consciousness, eerily stone cold silence filling the realm. And then, like a shrieking maskfly, pressure resounded in the air, a shrill yet melodious call accompanying it. Hollow braced their arms in front of them at the force of the wind, squinting at the Higher Being that had made her presence known.

Finally, they could put a face to the name (and voice).

The Radiance was grandiose and blinding, all the shades of the sun and the clouds and more. Her golden eyes shone like twin stars, boring into them with a fire rivaling Grimm’s flame. Fur that must’ve been softer than silk framed her imposing form, bristling in a non-existent breeze. She hovered away from the platform among the clouds, keeping herself aloft with the gentle flap of her wings. Hollow couldn’t help but stare, partially in awe of her magnificent aura, partially because they hadn’t thought she’d actually show up. Last time, they’d talked telepathically, sparing the both of them from actually having to see each other. From what they could tell, she hardly looked pleased, a scowl creasing her face. After all, they weren’t supposed to be here a second time (or at all).

“I told you to stay out,” the Radiance boomed, her voice radiating in their mind, yet echoing in the infinite sky.

Hollow lowered their gaze, uncertainty racking their brain, I don’t know why I’m here.

"It is impossible for a being of void to just show up here," she huffed, "so how did you get here? Did the Pale King send you again? Or was it my bothersome brother?"

Brother? they repeated, glancing up at her. The Radiance had a sibling?

"The Nightmare King. You carry traces of his scent."

Grimm was her brother? It made sense, if they thought about it; dreams and nightmares were one and the same, after all. They shook their head, contemplating how they'd explain.

I was upset, and when I woke up, I was here, they tried. I only ever met Grimm once . . . although, we do have the Grimmchild in the palace.

The goddess scoffed, "It still astounds me that Grimm would give up his immortality for that silly ritual. Either way, you should get rid of that thing. The older it gets, the stronger its connection to the nightmare and dream realms."

A twinge of hurt struck them, No.

"No? Don't you want to stop showing up here?" she questioned, exasperation in her singsong voice. "I certainly know that I want you to stop showing up in my realm. You don't belong here."

Although it was foolish, the terrible pang of rejection coursed through them. First, the Pale King, and now the Old Light resenting them for who they were. Void churned under their carapace, vicious and cold as they grew frustrated. The Radiance must have sensed their ire, because she spoke again with a sigh.

"I meant no ill intent towards you as a person. I am sure you are fine. But I am a being of light and time, and you are a creature of void. We are two opposing forces and I'd rather not chance that."

Hollow took a deep breath, letting it out in a quiet puff. Void particles floated around them, black specks against a light landscape (skyscape?). It felt out of place; they felt out of place. No matter how they felt about being judged for who they were, even they could tell how wrong it was to be here. They shut their eyes, folding their legs under themselves to sit on the sun-soaked ground. Exhaustion sliced them like a nail, sudden and unwelcome. Light bloomed in their vision, overwhelming their senses.

"I'm sure you have much to say, but I'd much rather be with my moths. Wake, vessel. Stay away this time."

Everything went dark.

Hornet was surprisingly obedient when she wanted to be. This time, she had started on a project on her own as the Pale King worked on one of his. He had no clue what she was tinkering; she refused to say, explaining that it would ruin the surprise. For the most part, they worked together in silence, with Hornet asking the occasional question. The king kept a watchful eye on her anyhow, making sure she wouldn’t hurt herself or something similar to that. After around an hour of comfortable quiet, she spoke up.

“What’s it like to fly?” Hornet asked, all the while crafting away.

“Well, you’ll find out, won’t you?” the Pale King replied, and then said, “It’s hard to explain. It’s like swimming through the air effortlessly, bending the winds to your will. Do you know how to swim yet?”

The spiderling shook her head, “Mother hasn’t had the time recently. Can you teach me?”

He paused, hesitating for a moment. “. . . Perhaps, if I have the time. Although I’m sure you could find a better teacher. I quite dislike getting my wings wet.”

“Is it uncomfortable? Will it be uncomfortable for my wings?”

“Yes, it is uncomfortable. I cannot say for you, since your wings are at a very minor stage.”

She hummed to herself, going quiet for the time being. The Pale King welcomed the silence, watching as Hornet picked up a stray blowtorch for her mystery craft. He gently grabbed her wrist before she could turn it on, plucking the tool from her grasp. Her protests went unheard as he held the torch out of her reach, examining her project.

“I’m not letting you use this, but I can help you if you need it,” he said, unphased by her pout. “Don’t give me that look. It’s too dangerous to let a child use.”

Hornet puffed out her cheeks stubbornly, “I can use it on my own! I’m old enough.”

“No, you are not,” he retorted, setting the object next to his work. “Your mother would kill me if I let you burn yourself.”

“I’ll be really careful, I promise!”

“The answer is no, and that is final.”

She made a small noise of displeasure, swinging her legs idly, “. . . Fine. Can you help me then? Please?”

He nodded, picking the blowtorch back up as he asked her what she wanted him to do. It went smoothly, for the most part, other than the times when she failed to be clear. She seemed pleased afterwards, though, thanking him as she went back to tinkering. With a satisfied hum, the king got back to his own work. Silence filled the space again, lasting another hour or so before Hornet let out a triumphant cry.

“Look! I made it for Hollow, do you think they’ll like it?” Hornet said, presenting her father with a crudely made mechanical dirtcarver.

“Why a dirtcarver?” was the first thing he said, and then, “You did a fine job on it, for your first project.”

She beamed at his praise, “They got me a cool dirtcarver mandible last time they were in Deepnest, so I wanted to make them something similar.”

The Pale King took it from her when she offered it, inspecting it with a tinkerer’s eye, “Does it move?”

“No, I didn’t know how to,” she replied. “I wanted to, though. That would’ve been cool!”

“You could’ve asked me, I already helped you with the welding.”

“Well, I didn’t want to! The surprise was already partially ruined.”

Much to his surprise, he laughed a low and short chuckle handing her creation back to her, “I’m sure Hollow will love it.”

They left the workshop after that, with Hornet babbling about how Deepnest and her mother were recently. She was so excited to give Hollow her craft that she was practically skipping beside him, hugging the false dirtcarver to her thorax. Grimmchild, however, distracted her from her goal as it barreled down the hallway, screeching all the while. The distress in its voice put the wyrm on edge, and he couldn’t help but think of scenarios as it stopped to float in front of them. It made a motion for him to follow, impatiently spinning in circles.
“Hornet, go find the White Lady,” the Pale King ordered, glancing at her as the batling grumbled anxiously.

“What? Why?” she replied, ignorant to the Grimmchild’s stress.

“Just go, please,” he reiterated firmly. “Now is not the time for arguing.”

The princess frowned, but she didn’t say anything else. She trotted down one of the halls, disappearing from view. With a quiet exhale, he looked up at the nightmare spawn, nodding at it in confirmation. It twirled around, zipping back the way it came with the Pale King in tow.

Chapter Text

They couldn't breathe, couldn't think. What had happened? It was hard to remember. Their body shook with coughs and it hurt, pain coursing through them. Vaguely, they noticed Ghost beside their bed, wavering in and out of focus. There was something orange splattered on their sheets, bright and unnerving in the void-choked room. It seemed familiar. Why did it seem familiar? Hollow tried to focus on their sibling, squinting in the darkness as their chest heaved with heavy breaths. Voidspeak hummed in the back of their mind, faint and unintelligible. Why couldn’t they hear them? They grasped at their cloak, desperate for a reason, finding the fabric torn. Did they do that when they knocked them away? An apology simmered in their head, trying and failing to reach their sibling. What had happened to their voidspeak? What was happening to them? Grimmchild’s chatter broke the silence, the godling swooping into the room to curl up beside Hollow. His warmth was comforting and familiar, a grounding point in a sea of uncertainty.

“Hollow?” came their father’s voice, sounding strained. From the thick void, perhaps. “Stars, what has she done?”

Hollow peered at him through their blurry eyes, wincing when his hand cupped their face. His words had sounded angry. Angry at them? It was hard to tell, hard to think.

“I should’ve pressed you for an answer about your dream,” the Pale King hissed lowly, and Hollow couldn’t tell if he was talking to them or himself. “Now it’s too late. I never should have let my guard down.”

Their dream . . . what had they dreamed about? Blinding light, an echoing voice, endless skies. Resentment and patience, understanding? Hollow’s head ached, thoughts churning into everything and nothing. Talk of nightmares and siblings, a mention of moths? They barely noticed when Ghost climbed over them, sitting beside the Grimmchild as they attempted to speak to them. Dreaming of . . . the Radiance? That seemed right, but it was hazy. Their gaze drifted to the orange goop they’d hacked up, vision wavy. Was this the infection? Were they infected? The Radiance had stopped though, hadn’t she? She seemed reasonable, but the sickness under their shell said otherwise.

Pale hands turned their face towards their father, concern etched in the king’s brow. “Can you hear me, Hollow? I need to know how infected you are.”

Feebly, they nodded, trembling with the effort of keeping their head raised. It had been ages since they’d struggled to balance properly, and now they were reliving it. They let themselves fall into the sheets, unbothered by the splotches of black and orange that mottled them. Even though they had just woken up, they were so, so very tired. Faint traces of the Pale King’s voice swirled around them, warnings, a desperate order. It hardly mattered to them anymore; suffocating shadows faded to painfully bright light.

The Pale King didn't know what to do, and it was driving him mad. There he was, standing before his ill child, clutching to their cloak like they would disappear right before his eyes. His ire was immeasurable, and so was his fright. For what reason had the Radiance infected Hollow? Right now, they lay still and broken before him, slumbering peacefully as though their life wasn’t in danger. Despite his words to stay awake, they’d fallen asleep anyway. Ghost was sat beside them, jostling their sibling gently in an attempt to wake them. Grimmchild was sleeping snuggled up against them, its rough breaths slower than normal. Was it with the Hollow Knight right now? Were they having a nightmare, or dreaming of the Old Light? He hoped it was the former; as terrible as nightmares may be, it was a better possibility than the latter.

“I need to . . . I don’t know, I need to figure out how to fix this,” he said hopelessly, turning away from the bed. “I should tell my Root about this . . . perhaps contact Monomon. She might know how to help.”

He felt something tug on his robes, glancing back to see the little vessel staring up at him with a tilted head. Did they want to help, or did they want something?

“Would you like to assist?” he asked, and when they nodded, he proceeded with: “Stay with Hollow, then. Keep an eye on them and the nightmare spawn.”

They let go of him, settling on the bed to keep watch. Satisfied, the king left them to their own devices, beginning his search for his wife.

Somewhere in the transition from the waking world to the dream realm, something had gone wrong. White light had faded to alizarin fog, harsh on their cloudy eyes. No matter where they looked, they only saw the pressing fog. They reached out, hoping to find a wall or an object; anything to give them a sense of reality. What they least expected was a hand gingerly wrapping around theirs, warm like a cozy hearth on a cold day. Around them, the fog fizzled into nothing, revealing their surroundings as a vibrant circus tent.

"It seems you are in quite the predicament, my friend," came the familiar rasp, bringing Hollow's attention back to the bug that had their hand. "How unfortunate."

At first glance, they'd thought it was Grimm; he had the same curved horns and glowing red eyes. His cloak was deep scarlet, complimenting the crimson of his horns. Hollow fought the urge to tug their hand away, putting what little trust they had in the stranger that looked so much like their friend. He must have noticed their discomfort, though, because he released their hand himself.

“Apologies if I startled you. I am Nightmare King Grimm,” he purred, stepping back so he could offer a dramatic bow, “and you are the dear Hollow Knight. How wonderful it is to be able to meet you, although the circumstances could be better.”

You're not Grimm? they couldn't help but think, hesitant and curious.

The Nightmare King chuckled, "We do look alike, don't we? But no, I am not the Grimm you know, although I know what he knows and see what he sees."

They dropped their head in thought, listening intently when Nightmare King Grimm continued.

"Now that that's cleared up, you're probably wondering why you're here," he began, sweeping a hand out to gesture at the vivid tent, or perhaps the dream in general. "I intervened when you fell asleep; your proximity with the Grimmchild allowed that. I worry that my sister would be less than pleased if you showed back up suffering and sick, even if she's the one that caused it."

. . . Thank you, they thought aloud, unconsciously leaning against a nearby tent support. Gleaming eyes followed the movement, bringing about a change of subject.

“Ah, I’ve been quite rude, haven’t I? Let us go sit down and have tea. Although it’s not real, it is still nice to feel the warmth,” he offered, holding his dark hand out to Hollow. This time, they were far less reluctant, taking it without pause. Perhaps they could forget for now, let the thoughts of infection fade to the back of their mind as they got to know a friend. The god smiled at them, leading them farther into the tent—into the dream—as their inner voice consumed their attention.

Chapter Text

The Hollow Knight hadn’t woken since they'd fallen infected a week ago, and the Pale King was getting desperate. Monomon had been working on a cure with no luck, and he honestly didn't know what he'd been expecting. They hadn't found a cure back then, so they wouldn't now. His chelicerae clicked frustratedly as he rounded the corner to Hollow's room, pushing the door open with a full sense of dread. Dread that the infection might've gotten worse, dread that they might be dead the next time he sees them. He lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when he hears Hollow's soft wheezing, just barely noticeable. The Grimmchild was snoring by their side, doing its part in keeping the Hollow Knight safe. Gently, he placed a tentative hand on his child’s head, disappointed but not surprised when they gave no reaction to the touch.

“I truly hope you really are with the Nightmare King,” he said softly, drawing away from them, “lest She make your sickness worse.”

He left on that final note, the door shutting silently behind him.

The Radiance was not unreasonable. No, in fact, she was usually quite rational when it came to issues or disagreements. Unfortunately, that was not the case now. No matter what the Nightmare King told her, she refused to listen, as if she could do no wrong despite her past. Ever since he’d pulled the infected Hollow Knight into his realm, he’d been visiting his sister often in an attempt to make her hear reason. To convince her to cure the one she’d hurt, reverse the effects of her plague.

“Dear sister, please listen to me,” Nightmare King Grimm pleaded, staring up at her among the golden clouds. “Would I lie to you about something so serious?”

“Don’t ‘sister’ me,” the goddess hissed, pale eyes narrowed skeptically. “You stopped being my sibling when you split yourself into three.”

“Don’t be like that, we aren’t any less related. Wasn’t I supposed to be the dramatic one?”

She scoffed, her voice flat, “What do you want, Grimm?”

“I keep trying to tell you that you’ve infected someone new,” he explained, “I just want you to—”

“And I keep telling you that’s impossible,” she cut him off, frustration in her voice. “I only appear in the dreams of my moths, and they’re fine.”

“They’re not a moth, they’re a vessel, I’ve told you that.”

“I can’t infect void, Grimm.”

“Yet you have, Radiance.”

“I don’t believe you, and that is absolute,” she replied with finality, and the dream faded into his circus tent.

It always went that way, but he never stopped trying.

The Hollow Knight didn’t seem particularly distressed about their current situation; perhaps years of preparing to be the Radiance’s prison had desensitized them to the infection, or perhaps they had already accepted their fate. Frankly, he didn’t like either option, so he did his best to keep them busy. Flashy magic tricks and simple shows kept them entertained, but their favorite thing to do was listen to his stories. Tales of the many kingdoms he’d been to, of the rolling landscapes and diverse bugs. Sometimes he’d ask them about their family, and they’d go on for hours gushing about them without further prompting. He had to admit that it was nice to have a companion in this empty realm, although the situation only made him sad. When Hollow asked him when they could go home, he felt his heart shatter.

“I don’t know, dear Hollow Knight,” the god said mournfully, earning a despondent head dip from the vessel. “I’m sorry, truly, my friend.”

They left him alone then, and he didn’t bother to follow. Right now they needed space and time to think, and he’d respect that. With a pitying sigh, he made an unspoken promise to himself; I will make you see reason, dear sister, I swear that on my heart.

The Radiance was not unreasonable, and Nightmare King Grimm would stand by that statement until she herself struck him down.

Chapter Text

A month went by with Hollow asleep, and all the Pale King could think about was how exhausted he was with the effort of attempting to wake them up. Monomon had developed a few test cures, but none of them properly killed the infection, only reduced it or slowed its growth. Despite her encouragement that they were getting closer, this could work, he could only house doubt. It frustrated him that he couldn't take the issue into his own hands and strangle it at the source. He'd thought about that a few times; dream nailing the Hollow Knight and confronting the Radiance for the second time, but he was uncertain of whether or not it would succeed. Dream nailing a being a void was something he’d never attempted before, and the thought of facing the Old Light again was a heavy feeling in his chest. But he would do it, if it meant saving Hollow. The wyrm tucked himself away in his workshop, an ancient dream nail clutched in his claws.

The Pale King’s goal was to modify it to properly interact with void in the case that it wouldn’t. Time passed without him acknowledging it, days and nights blending together as he tinkered. He only stopped to rest once the dream nail gave him feedback from a wingsmould. Of course, the feedback was minimal given that the void constructs were truly empty, but it was better than nothing. With a resigned sigh, he made his way to his quarters, a tad disappointed to find his Root missing. She was most likely with the Hollow Knight, ever so insistent that she stay with them as much as she could. Perhaps she was afraid their time together was limited; his eyes shut tight at the thought as he climbed into the empty bed, wings fluttering uncomfortably as his concerns overtook him. Sleep swirled around his weary conscious, days of nonstop work catching up with him.

Time felt non-existent in the Nightmare Realm. Sometimes Hollow wondered how long it’d been since they’d fallen ill; weeks or months or years, it wouldn’t matter to them. Everything blurred into one long, ever-lasting night. They huffed a sigh as their blank eyes gazed into a still cup of tea, their reflection staring back at them. There was a book on the table next to it, but they hadn’t touched it since Nightmare King Grimm set it there. Part of them wanted to ask how long they’d been here, but knowing would only make their homesick soul worse. The Nightmare King settled himself at the other end of the table, head propped on his hands as he watched them.

“Not in the mood for reading, my friend?” he inquired softly, his gruff voice cutting through the silence. Hollow shook their head, absently picking up their cup just so they had something to do. “Are you feeling restless? Perhaps we could dance, or I’m sure I could find a couple of nails to spar with.”

Hollow perked at the offer of sparring, void itching with the anticipation of a mock fight. It had felt like ages since they'd properly trained with their nail, the usual sessions with the Great Knights forgotten as they adjusted to their freedom. They nodded eagerly, abandoning their beverage as they stood and stretched their legs. The other Higher Being seemed to grin with amusement, leading the way to an empty tent. To one side velvety bleachers sat unoccupied, almost eerily so. The lack of an audience was unnerving in this setting—but that train of thought vacated them completely when Nightmare King Grimm formed an impressive nail out of pale crimson flame, its razor edge glinting as it hardened into a weapon. He tossed it to them and they caught it with ease, marvelling at its weight in their hand.

"I will fight without a nail or needle, as that is what I'm used to," Nightmare King Grimm declared, taking a stance at the other end of the arena. He bowed deeply, "Fight as fiercely as you'd like; I shall sync my dance with yours."

The Hollow Knight lowered their head in a bow, only darting forward once their opponent stood erect. He matched their speed easily, blocking their swing as he dashed to the side. Fire blazed in the spot where he'd been before, daring them to make a move. Reaching into their soul reserve, they sent a fan of glowing daggers at the King of Nightmares as he appeared in the air with a puff of ruby smoke. He dove at them, ethereal blades nicking his leathery cape as he soared. Hollow stepped nimbly to the side, narrowly avoiding his attack and the flames that licked hungrily at them. Their sparring partner wasted no time in disappearing, spikes the same shade as his cape emerging from the tent’s floor. One of the pillars managed to strike their arm, void hissing in protest as they staggered back. Nightmare King Grimm reappeared across the room as the spikes sank back into the ground, gleaming eyes portraying nothing as he awaited their move. With a sweep of their arm, inky tendrils of void lashed across the free space, catching the other off guard as they whipped and stabbed. He poofed into a red mist (not without taking a few hits, however), and repositioned himself behind the vessel.

“Quite impressive,” came his low voice, and they twisted around just in time for their nail to clash against obsidian claws. “You’ve been trained well, but perhaps I could teach you a few things.”

Hollow tilted their head curiously, nodding as they lowered their nail.

The two gods sparred for what felt like hours, with the Nightmare King throwing in tips and tricks throughout the session. After a while Hollow began to feel fatigued, quietly huffing as they caught their breath. Tentatively, they handed the flameborn nail back to its creator, and asked,

What if I talked to the Radiance?

Nightmare King Grimm paused as he received the weapon, gazing into its reflective blade as he willed it to dissolve. “That would be a bad idea; I’m not sure how she’d react.”

It’s better than waiting around though, isn’t it? they pushed, restless despite the workout—homesick.

“. . . My sister is not unreasonable, but she can be stubborn, and she hardly likes to admit when she makes a mistake,” he explained, stepping towards the sitting room they’d come from. “Until I get her to at least listen to what I have to say, I’m not comfortable bringing you to her.”
What if I go see her myself? they thought aloud, following him and pacing when he stopped. If I got to the Dream Realm on my own, you wouldn’t be able to stop me, would you?

He regarded them hesitantly, his voice hinting sorrow when he spoke. “No, I could not. I know you’re missing home, but please understand I’m only trying to help you.”

Hollow turned away from him, glaring at their forgotten cup of tea and the untouched book. I understand, but I refuse, they stated, leaving the bat-like god to himself.

Alone in the hushed quiet of his realm, Nightmare King Grimm chuckled to himself; “You’ve come quite far, dear Hollow Knight. From a thoughtless vessel, to someone who can refuse. Hopefully, my darling sister will see your potential as I have, my friend.”

Chapter Text

The Pale King decided it was time to act when the Grimmchild woke from its slumber. Admittedly, he had been putting it off since he modified one of his dream nails; as much as he hated to acknowledge it, he was afraid to confront the Radiance again. But he was going to have to get over himself for Hollow. When he arrived at their room he was greeted by Ghost and the nightmare spawn, perched nimbly on the Hollow Knight's back as they slept. They glanced at him and he scowled, satisfied when the two of them slipped off his child. Ghost stared curiously at the dream nail in his claws, pointing at it with a tilt of their head. Hesitating, he stepped over to Hollow's side, placing a hand on their cool head. They didn’t stir, still as a statue under his touch.

The wyrm sighed, reluctantly drawing his gaze from the Hollow Knight to look at his smaller child. “I’m going to talk to the Radiance myself,” he explained. “This has gone on for too long.”

Ghost nodded enthusiastically, patting the bed in agreement. They must be missing their sibling too, he realized, looking back at Hollow. With the resolve to come back to the waking world successful, he lifted the dream nail and struck.

The Dream Realm was as Hollow remembered it, aside from the sporadic twisting of the golden clouds around them. It seemed gloomier than normal, the usual honey-tinted skies darkened to an angry amber. Peculiarly, the Radiance was nowhere to be seen; she typically noticed their arrival at once, and yet she hadn’t shown a feather. Curiously, they reached out a tentative greeting, unnerved by the uncharacteristic silence. The Radiance’s booming voice responded fiercely, causing Hollow to flinch despite the lack of her physical form.

“Not now, vessel,” came her strained hiss, exhaustion mixing with irritation. “Come back later, if you want to talk to me that bad. I am dealing with something right now.”

They tried to ask what, but she had already left. With an exasperated huff, Hollow decided they’d just find her themself. It’s not as if they had anything better to do anyway. And so they walked, and walked, for what felt like hours. It was hard to tell when it was always bright, even despite the clouds that formed something akin to the roof of a thick forest. Unlike Grimm’s realm, the Dream Realm was incredibly empty. All they had seen so far other than the golden clouds was a pool of amber water here and there. They supposed the Radiance must spend more time in the waking world rather than asleep; she did mention her moths before. Perhaps she’d rather be with them than alone.

After traversing the glittering realm for what felt like a few more hours, they finally heard the Radiance’s familiar shrill. She sounded aggravated, her already thunderous voice raised higher. Hollow almost changed their mind and left; talking to her when she was so obviously seething could be a death wish. They paused, however, when a second voice made itself noticed: the Pale King. Panic bubbled under their carapace, anxious thoughts rocketing through their head. What was their father doing here? Had the Radiance done something to him, too? They moved without meaning to, without thinking, pushing through the thick clouds that separated them from the opposing gods.

“If you’d just let me speak, you incessant moth,” the Pale King scoffed, his aura glowing unusually bright, “I would tell you why I’m—”

“Silence, Pale Wyrm,” the Radiance snapped, fluff ruffled uncomfortably. “I don’t need the person who ruined my life in my realm. I’m very close to forcing you out myself, if you continue to refuse to leave.”

Hollow didn’t wait to hear their father’s reply, clicking fretfully as swords made out of pure light materialized around the Radiance. Both higher beings turned to them, their father’s wings fluttering with shock while the Radiance recoiled as if she’d been slapped.

The Pale King spoke first (or, tried to, anyway), “Hollow? Why—”

“You feel terrible, the goddess of dreams wheezed, taking a few paces back. The Pale King shot her a glare.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” he said with exasperation. “You’ve infected them, Old Light.”

For a long moment she didn’t speak, and they briefly wondered if she was just going to leave. But then her glow faltered, and when she next spoke, her words were soft and defeated.

“But . . . that’s impossible,” she argued weakly.

Nightmare King Grimm said you weren’t unreasonable, but I’m starting to disbelieve that, the Hollow Knight sniffed. I’m standing right in front of you, and still you refuse to see what you’ve done?

Her fur flattened against her, making her seem small and exposed, “I . . . I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem; you didn’t think, the Pale King pushed in, moving to stand next to Hollow. His worried gaze swept over them swiftly, and then back to the Radiance. “Fix them,” he demanded, wings flared in an attempt to be imposing.

The Radiance peered guiltily at Hollow, avoiding looking at the Pale King. Lowering her eyes slowly, she said, “. . . When you wake, the infection will have begun to die,” and then, hesitantly, almost silently, “I . . . apologize.”

Hollow hadn’t expected an apology, although, perhaps they should have, with what the Nightmare King had said. They didn’t know how to answer her, and so they gave her a curt nod in acknowledgement, satisfied when she raised her head to meet their eyes. They tugged on their father’s robes, leading them off into the golden mist.

Chapter Text

Everything ached when Hollow awoke, partially from the infection, and partially the fact that they’d been in bed for stars know how long. The first thing they saw was the Pale King, who was busy fretting over the lingering infection as they fully collected their thoughts. Ghost was peering up at them in the dim lighting of their room, reaching up with a little hand to pat them on the snout. They purred contentedly, nuzzling into their touch as the Grimmchild curled up on their head with a joyful “Mrrrah!”. Gently, they lifted Ghost onto the bed so they could properly cuddle, with the batling sliding off their head to join in.

“How are you feeling, Hollow?” the Pale King asked softly, drawing Hollow’s attention away from their sibling.

Hollow hesitated for a moment before answering with a so-so gesture with their hand, sitting up slowly so they could better evaluate themself. For the most part they felt fine, save for the dull ache under their carapace. Ghost flopped into their lap as their father hummed thoughtfully, turning towards the door.

“I am going to go find your mother, and something for you to eat,” he declared, leaving them to catch up with Ghost.

Sibling okay? Ghost whispered in voidspeak, poking at their dark shell with a stubby claw.

They nodded, buzzing reassuringly with void as they nuzzled the littler vessel. For a while, they simply existed together, occasionally whispering a thought to one another in the silence of the palace. The Grimmchild had fallen asleep between the two of them, his warmth a stark contrast against beings of void. It was comforting, in a way, but it also reminded Hollow of being with Nightmare King Grimm for so long. They shut their eyes, attempting to shove the thoughts elsewhere. Their time in the Nightmare Realm hadn’t been bad, per say, but they had been so homesick. It didn’t matter now, though; they were awake and with their family again, not stuck in an endless slumber.

“Hollow?”

The White Lady’s voice broke them out of their pondering, gentle and curious. They opened their eyes to see her peeking in the doorway, roots curling around the door as she waited for a response. She stepped inside when they tilted their head, her cerulean eyes bright as she went to squeeze them in a hug. The Grimmchild squeaked in protest, wriggling as they were pinned by silvery tendrils against the bed. Ghost wrapped around one of them, looking up at the goddess as she snuggled Hollow.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d fallen back asleep or not, I didn’t want to disturb you if you had,” she explained, pulling away when she realized how stiff Hollow was. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Hollow! You must be in pain after being infected like that.”

They nudged her with their snout to let her know it was okay, a purr rumbling in their thorax. Rebelliously, the nightmare godling gnawed at one of the Lady’s roots, although she didn’t seem to notice (or perhaps she was just used to the Grimmchild’s antics).

“Would you like to go to the gardens after you eat? The fresh air might do you some good,” their mother asked, beaming when they nodded their head. “Wonderful! I have some gorgeous flowers I’d like to show you. Ghost can come too, if they’d like.”

Ghost’s head bobbed enthusiastically, wrenching the Grimmchild away from the White Lady so they could hold him up. She paused, quiet for a moment, “. . . I suppose he can come. You must keep him from burning anything, though.”

Satisfied, Ghost held him to their thorax, slipping off the bed to trot out the door. They narrowly avoided running into the Pale King, hopping past him to cause chaos somewhere else, no doubt. The king watched them go, expression unreadable as he mumbled something under his breath, before he went and presented Hollow with a raw shadow creeper. Most bugs took the time to properly prepare their food, but doing so drained most of the Soul from the corpses. Hollow never had an opinion on the matter (how could they, under the circumstances?), thoughts drifting around the subject as they silently took the creeper. It made a satisfying crunch as they drained it of Soul, gulping the body down afterwards. At that moment, they decided it didn’t matter to them too much; they just enjoyed the sensation of actually eating something. In the Nightmare Realm, Nightmare King Grimm would offer them drinks and snacks that tasted as if they were real, but the feeling hadn’t been there. Their father watched mutely, his fluttering wings the only indication he was nervous, hesitant, upset? It was so hard to tell, with the way his gaze stayed steady. Hollow tilted their head at his gaze, prompting him to speak.

After another beat of silence, he said, “I am glad you are back.”

It was amazing how six words could make someone feel, Hollow thought, a tad surprised. The sentence sparked an ember of warmth in their heart (did beings of void have a proper heart?), blooming into delight. They wished they could speak, or that their father could hear voidspeak, so that they could tell him how much they’d missed him. How much they’d missed home. Almost desperately, they reached out for him, grabbing him once he was close enough so they could crush him in a hug. He let out a startled squeak, stiff in their grip, but made no move to push them away. Behind him, the White Lady had her hand over her mouth, a smile crinkling her eyes. When they finally let him go, the Pale King stumbled back, regaining his composure in an instant as he smoothed out his robes.

He met their eyes for a tick, folding his wings. “. . . I will be in my workshop if you need me,” the king said, ducking out of the room.

The White Lady laughed then, a lovely sound that made Hollow’s heart soar. They’d missed her, too. “Unfortunately, my Wyrm doesn’t quite enjoy hugging much,” she giggled. “I know I said I wanted to take you to my gardens, but perhaps you’d like to take a detour to Deepnest? I’m sure you must be missing Hornet.”

Hollow nodded eagerly, nearly knocking themself over in the process with how heavy their horns were. They were already standing as their mother asked when they wanted to leave, following close behind her as she led the way to the stag station. It was hard to explain how much they’d missed Hornet while they were infected. Going long periods with her in Deepnest had already been a drag, but it had felt like ages in the timeless space of the Nightmare Realm. Her energy had always cheered them up, and just the thought of getting to see her again was enough to make them antsy. When they rerouted to find Ghost and the Grimmchild, Hollow’s body was laced with agitation despite themself. Ghost even asked what was wrong, to which they only replied ‘Hornet’, and they instantly understood. They couldn’t tell if they were predictable, or if Ghost just understood them better than they realized.

The stag ride to Deepnest only made Hollow’s restlessness worse, distracting themself with the Grimmchild or Ghost’s charms, when they offered them. The White Lady was on the stag ahead of them, and while she was talking to them, they couldn’t focus on her words. Luckily, the ride was fairly short despite Hollow’s fidgeting, and they all but jumped off the stag in excitement. They ran ahead of the others, careful to watch where they leapt as they descended the suspended platforms. As soon as they reached Herrah’s home they went to knock; except, someone barreled into their legs, nearly sending them both hurtling off the platform. Hollow teetered for a moment before recovering their balance, hand hovering over the spot where the hilt of their nail would have been, had they grabbed it earlier. Their caution dissipated when they glanced down and saw Hornet, however, scooping her up to squeeze her. Hornet giggled, smooshing her face against theirs.

“Hollow!” she managed between bursts of laughter, her wings flittering as she spoke. Wait—her wings? Since when did Hornet have wings? She wasn’t wearing her cloak like she usually did, and they faintly glittering in the dim lighting of the Distant Village.

Hollow set her down so they could stare at her correctly, squinting at the wings sprouting out of her carapace. Noticing their puzzled look, she said, “Oh! I guess I didn’t get to show you last time. I grew wings!”

They looked just like the Pale King’s (of course they did, they were his), pristine and delicate despite Hornet’s active personality. Judging from their size, it would only be another molt or so before they’d be large enough to lift her. She beat them in emphasis, disappointed when they failed to raise her. Hollow’s body shook in a snicker as she tried again, despite the lack of wind and the power her wings lacked. That didn’t phase her, though; she seemed nothing if not determined, going as far as jumping off the platform and straight for the pool of water below. Fortunately, Hollow caught her before she could fall very far, and this was another moment when they wished they had a voice so they could tell Hornet what a terrible idea that was. A disappointed void chitter would have to do, even if she wasn’t quite sure what it meant. Oh well.

Grimmchild came zipping by at top speeds, circling around them with cheery cries as Ghost trailed after him. The White Lady followed not far behind, gracefully traversing the platforms as Ghost haphazardly leapt and dashed between them. It wasn’t long before Herrah came out to see what all the commotion was about.

“I didn’t know you were coming?” the spider hummed, and then, “Come in, then! No use huddling just outside.”

While Herrah and the White Lady mingled, the siblings and batling busied themselves in the depths of Deepnest. Hornet was set on showing them some of the new horrors she’d found in the past month, and Hollow couldn’t help but find her enthusiasm endearing. For the most part, the discoveries were fairly tame; a garpede corpse here, a scarily tame carver hatcher there. However, Grimmchild was anything but pleased when Hornet surprised him with a corpse crawler (“it’s not that scary!”), throwing a fit until they all agreed to go back to the village. On the way back, Hornet insisted on sitting on Hollow’s shoulders, which led to Ghost sitting in between their horns, which led to the Grimmchild wrapping himself around their neck like a scarf. Hollow didn’t mind, how could they when their siblings were having fun?

When they arrived at the village, the White Lady was delighted to see them together like that. “Oh, I wish your father were here to see this,” the goddess mused, her eyes sparkling.

“Where is that old wyrm, anyway?” Herrah inquired, holding a hand out to the Grimmchild when he wandered over to her. The godling smashed his face against it, purring satisfactorily.

“Locked away in his workshop again,” the White Lady replied with a sigh. “He should be resting, after all the work he did. I hope he decided to after we left.”

Herrah snorted, “I’m not surprised, all he seems to think of is working.”

“He’s just very serious is all,” the Lady replied as she poured herself more tea.

“Is that why I haven’t been able to come to the palace?” Hornet piped in, sitting herself at the table, “because of how busy he’s been?”

The room went silent. Hollow lowered their head, avoiding looking at the others. Hornet’s head whipped around the room, confused by the sudden quiet. Hollow shuffled closer to the exit, keen to make their escape if they decided to tell her the truth. Herrah and the White Lady gave each other a hesitant look, glancing at Hollow, who’s eyes were glued to the floor.

“Well. . . ,” the White Lady dithered, pulling the spiderling’s attention back to her. “Perhaps let’s talk about that some other time. It wouldn’t make for very polite table conversation.”

Hornet seemed unsatisfied, but didn’t say anything else on the matter. “Well, can I go back with you to the palace? Please?” she pleaded, ignoring her mother’s amused titter.

“If it’s alright with your mother, then I don’t see why not.”

Hornet hopped out of her seat when Herrah nodded, running over to hug Hollow in all her excitement. Lifting their head just a bit, Hollow wrapped an arm around her to return the gesture.

“Can we go now?” she asked, straining her neck to look back at the White Lady as she embraced her sibling.

“I suppose so, but we did have plans to visit my gardens,” the goddess answered, earning an elated gasp from Hornet.

The mothers said their goodbyes to each other as Hornet practically pushed everyone out of the house, leaping nimbly up the platforms. She made the usually peaceful stag ride to the gardens much more animated, weaving accessories out of silk for Ghost and the Grimmchild (who burned them out of excitement. Hornet didn’t mind, she just replaced them.). When they got to their destination, she bounced in place as she waited for the White Lady to show the way.

The root took them much farther than they’d gone the few times before, leading them to a room with flowers as big, if not bigger, as Hollow. Hornet immediately stuffed herself in one of them, sneezing as its pollen tickled her nose. The White Lady laughed softly, closely watching as Ghost led the Grimmchild over to one of the blossoms. Like with the delicate flowers, they held the godling’s mouth shut, much to his dismay. Hollow watched their siblings from their mother’s side, brushing up against her affectionately as she hummed a pleasant tune.

“We won’t tell Hornet anything until you’re ready,” she said abruptly, her roots wrapping around them in a comforting gesture. “Even so, I’m sure she wouldn’t judge you for it. It wasn’t even your fault.”

Hollow nodded stiffly, leaning into her touch and her words. Part of them knew that Hornet wouldn’t love them any less, but the fear that she would nagged at their conscience. They let the White Lady nuzzle them and fuss over them, trying to purge the thoughts from their head. When Hornet ran over to them, bubbling with laughter and covered in pollen, they figured it was going to be alright.

Chapter Text

The next time Hollow slept, they dreamed. Not like before with the Radiance, but actual, vivid dreams that swept reality from under them. They’d never dreamed before, not like this, and it was almost overwhelming. Visions of their parents, Hornet, Ghost, of things they couldn’t even begin to imagine. Was this what it had always been like for normal bugs, they wondered, a little jealous and perhaps a little sad. Everything was so colorful and perfect, lacking the dull pain from the infection and the festering anxieties. They gloried in the blanket of positive emotions, wrapping themself in it like a protective shroud. Would they dream like this always, now, or was it a one time thing? A fluke from all their time switching between the Realms of Dream and Nightmare? They hoped not; to go back to that empty nothingness at night, to let their dream fade away as if it had never happened. . . . They supposed it wouldn’t matter, then, if they just let themself forget. But it would hurt to lose it.

Cruelly, they were ripped from the tantalizing expanse of their shifting dream, rudely awakened by the weight of a little body jumping on them. Frustration bloomed in their core, ugly and unreasonable. They half-heartedly swatted at the smaller bug, dark eyes blinking groggily. Tiny hands tugged at their blankets, exposing their cool carapace to the air (not that that did very much when they already ran so cold).

“Wake up, Hollow!” Hornet squeaked, pushing herself under their arm. “I wanna see if father will take us to the City of Tears again.”

They couldn’t stay irritated with her for long, huffing out a silent sigh as they sat up. Their sister stared up at them, winglets fluttering with anticipation as she bounced idly on their bed. She giggled as they gently nudged her off the bed, following her out into the pristine hallways of the White Palace. Ghost met them on the way to the Pale King's study, Grimmchild in tow and as wiggly as always. Some part of them told them they should deter little Hornet and Ghost away from their father’s study; he was most likely working on paperwork, and wouldn’t want to be disturbed. The other, more insistent part of them was telling them that they wanted to spend time with the Pale King as much as their siblings. (Definitely more, as Ghost only wanted to come along to spend time with Hollow and Hornet. They weren't as close to the king as they were.)

As Hollow had predicted, the Pale King was deep in his work. Paperwork was cluttered on his otherwise organized desk, some of it on the floor. Was he aware it had fallen? Or that they had even entered the room? It would seem he hadn't, with the way his quill kept moving across his paper. That wouldn’t last for long, though; Hornet made it her mission to get his attention, pulling herself up to sit on his desk. His black eyes flickered to her, pen going still in his hand.

“Child, what are you doing on my desk,” the Pale King asked, setting his quill down so he could nudge her off.

“Getting you attention!” Hornet replied, sliding off the desk with a giggle. “Did it work?”

“I suppose it did,” he said with a sigh, straightening out some of the stray paperwork she’d sat on. “What is it you want?”

“Can we go to the City of Tears again? We haven’t gone with Ghost,” she inquired, climbing up to Hollow’s horns to watch from her perch. He gave her an exasperated look, claws tapping absentmindedly on the desk as he thought.

“You aren’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer,” he stated, and then, “I suppose we can.”

Hornet cheered from her seat, exciting Grimmchild into spewing cheerful flames. Fortunately, they were only sparks; gods know what would have happened had he set something on fire. The group made their way to the stag station, grabbing umbrellas along the way to prepare for the neverending rain. Ghost and the Grimmchild stayed a step ahead, chasing each other through the hallways. Hollow could tell their little sister wanted to join, energy coursing through her like electricity as her legs gently kicked. She stayed put, however; perhaps she was worried they’d feel left out. The thought made their heart feel fuzzy. The stag ride to the city was rather chaotic. Grimmchild was keen to follow along in the air, coughing fireballs at the legs of the poor stag beetles. Hollow was sure the Pale King would simply get it over with and smite the godling. It was a miracle that he didn’t.

The City of Tears was as they’d remembered it. Glass and steel glimmered beautifully in the light of the lumafly lamps, droplets of water falling with a rhythmic pitter-patter. Although Hollow held an umbrella for their siblings, Hornet immediately disregarded the cover, laughing as she ran out into the rain. Her wings fluttered as fat drops of lake water hit them, and Hollow wondered for a moment how uncomfortable it was for them to be wet. Grimmchild wrapped himself around their horn, glaring out at the rain as if it had personally offended him. Water would keep him in check, they noted. Just for the times he got out of hand.

The Pale King did his best to keep them rounded together, holding some semblance of order as they traversed the capital. Hornet led the way for the most part, distracted by one thing or another as she skipped down the street. Ghost was no better, stopping to peer into shops or admire statues they passed.

“Can we stop in here?” Hornet queried, peeking into a shop stock full of nick-nacks and decorations.

The Pale King considered her request, humming to himself. “Yes, but come here. At least wring out your cloak under the umbrella before we go in; you’re soaking wet.”

She huffed, but didn’t put up a fight. Once she and Ghost were no longer dripping, the five of them made their way into the little shop. Hornet disappeared into one of the aisles, Grimmchild uncoiling from Hollow to flap after her. Hollow’s attention was taken by a shelf of dreamcatcher’s, their forms reminiscent of the motes of essence they’d seen in the Dream and Nightmare Realms. They tilted their head when their father stepped next to them, meeting his jet eyes with their own. His focus drifted to the dreamcatchers, taking one in a pale hand as he spoke.

“Do you feel rooted to either of the sleeping realms?” he asked quietly, absently turning the dreamcatcher over in his grip. “I was worried you might be, after spending so much time trapped in them.”

Hollow’s head dipped in contemplation. They hadn’t thought about it before, but it could explain the dream they had had. Hesitantly, they nodded, reaching out to further inspect one of the crafts. It was woven with leaf fiber, pastel yellow and seafoam beads accompanied by synthetic white feathers.

“Do you want it?” the Pale King inquired, and they gazed blankly at it. They mustered up a shrug, letting him take it from their grip.

Hornet announced her presence with a squeak, skidding to a stop next to her father. She was holding a cloak pin, its shape resembling that of a Hallownest seal, its color a vibrant crimson. “Can I get this?” she said, bouncing slightly on her feet. Ghost and the Grimmchild emerged from the aisles empty handed, stopping next to her.

While the others talked, Hollow thought back to their dream. It had mostly faded now, its lively colors cloudy and dim. They let their eyes drift shut, yearning to return to that carefree place, even if just for a moment. All they could do was hope they would dream again tonight, hope they wouldn’t just return to that emptiness they’d known for so long.

“. . .low. Hollow?”

The Pale King’s voice snapped them out of their daze, eyes blinking open. They tried to focus on him, mind foggy from their fantasies.

“Are you feeling alright? Perhaps we should head home,” he hummed, concern edging his voice. Hornet made a little sound of protest, following along as he went to pay for the things they’d picked out.

Ghost looked up at them, head slanted in thought. Sibling okay? they asked, grabbing the Grimmchild out of the air as he went to fireball something in the shop. They tucked him under their arm, gaze unmoving as they waited for a response. Hollow could only dip their head, unsure of their own emotions. How could they be sure when they hadn’t been feeling for so long, hadn’t experienced something like this before? They let their sibling take their hand, let them lead them out of the store and into the unstoppable downpour. It helped them clear their head, upturning their face into the rain. Their umbrella was just a limp weight in their hand, forgotten. They felt a gentle hand place itself on their back, ushering them forward and further into the city.

“Let us head home,” the Pale King decided, opening his umbrella as he took the lead.

The stroll to the stag station was relaxing for Hollow. Something about the rain made them feel at ease, the sound of it pittering against the pavement cathartic. They hadn’t opened their umbrella; the feeling of the chilly water was pleasant and kept their mind cloudless. Hornet attempted to lure them into puddles a few times, disappointed when they failed to fall into her trap. Much to the Pale King’s chagrin, the Grimmchild had bundled himself in his crown. He hadn’t shooed the batling away yet, much to Hollow’s delight. Maybe, hopefully, he was warming up to him.

Back at the White Palace, Hollow resigned themself to their room. They hung their dreamcatcher up next to Grimm’s fire rose, admiring the way the pinks and reds danced so beautifully with the white feathers. After that, they settled in bed, closing their eyes with the wish of a dream.

The Queen’s Gardens were quiet that day, populated by only a few nobility, and of course, the queen and her guard. Slowly, the King of Hallownest approached her, gathering his thoughts as he did so. She was gorgeous among her shrubbery, her snowy bark immaculate against the greens and teals. But he was not here to appreciate her beauty, not this time. He sighed, gaining the attention of her guard, Dryya, who in turn gained the attention of her Lady. The White Lady’s eyes lit up upon seeing her husband, her arms wrapping around him in a warm hug.

“Hello, my dear Wyrm,” she greeted happily, putting him down so that she may look at him fully. “I was not aware you’d be joining me today.”

“I did not plan to,” he admitted, pausing to plan his words, “I am here to talk about the Hollow Knight.”

Worry etched her brow, and he continued, “I took them and their siblings to the City of Tears earlier. They seemed . . . more out of it than normal. Their thoughts were elsewhere.”

“Perhaps they are just adjusting to their emotions,” she suggested, although she didn’t sound so sure.

He shook his head, focusing on one of the oversized flowers as he spoke, “I am worried it is related to the Dream Realm. When I asked if they felt connected to it, they could not provide an answer.”

His wife wrapped a reassuring root around him, “If it is a problem with the Dream Realm, I am sure we can find a way to fix it. You handled the Radiance well, did you not?”

“I suppose so,” he answered, leaning into her touch. “As much as I despise it, we will just have to wait and see.”

She pulled him into her embrace again, nuzzling him, “Yes, we will just have to wait, but until then, care to go for a stroll with me?”

“I would love to, my Root.”

Chapter Text

When Hollow fell asleep that night, they hadn’t expected to see the too-familiar crimson haze of the Nightmare Realm. Unlike their first excursion here, they had woken in Nightmare King Grimm’s circus tent, although the god was nowhere to be found. They wandered tentatively through the tents, reaching out with their mind for their friend. When they didn’t receive an answer they paused, confusion muddling their thoughts. Had coming here been an accident on the Nightmare King’s part? They were about to attempt to wake when a spark touched their conscience, a small ember growing into a flame as it led them to Nightmare King Grimm’s location. He was seated at a familiar round table, teacup in hand as he waited. Hollow took the empty chair, staring into the swirling steam from their own tea.

"Hello, Hollow," the Nightmare King greeted, a toothy grin on his face. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

Hollow nodded slowly in response, picking their teacup up without taking a sip. It's a pleasure to see you, too, but . . . why am I back here? What's happening?

"Ah, I apologize. I suppose you wouldn't want to be back here so soon after getting out," he said as he set his tea down. "I only wished to check up on you. The child is often with the little Ghost, so I'm left wondering how you are."

I didn't mean it like that, they backpedaled. I don't mind being here, I was just confused.

"That's a relief," he replied, although he didn't look entirely convinced. His glowing eyes bore into Hollow's dark ones, unblinking as he spoke. "You've been dreaming properly recently, haven't you?"

Hollow went still, dithering as they took a long sip of their drink. It tasted harshly of cinnamon, they noted. They nodded hesitantly, afraid of what he might think.

"I thought so," Nightmare King Grimm hummed. "Your essence mingles with dreams, now. I am glad my sister has thought to make it so."

The Radiance is causing my dreams? they asked disbelievingly, shock evident in their tone.

"A void being shan't dream, otherwise," he said. "She's blessed you. Perhaps she feels bad for what happened. Or perhaps this is a side effect of being in her realm a few times."

They went quiet—well, quieter than they already were, if that was possible—staring into the depths of their teacup. The possibility of it being a side effect had occurred to them, but not the idea that the Radiance had blessed them. It sounded ridiculous, really, as they tossed it around in their mind. Hollow tilted their head, looking back up at the god across from them. He was gazing at them intently, head propped up by his dark claws.

"Do you like them? The dreams, I mean," he asked after a spell of silence. "It must be quite the experience for someone that's gone their whole life without them."

Hollow nodded, setting their cup down. It was hard to explain how it felt to dream. Like being weightless, free of worry; free. They didn't say any of that, though, earning a curious look from Nightmare King Grimm when they remained silent. He didn't push them, though.

"That's good, then," he said instead. "We don't have to talk about that. I really did just want to see if you were doing alright. I can send you off to dream now, if you'd like."

Hollow hummed their agreement, saying their farewell as the Nightmare Realm faded around them. Nightmare King Grimm stood up from his seat, humming to himself as he strolled off into the crimson mist of his home. He was concerned for the Hollow Knight, but resolved that they were fine for the time being. Best to just talk to his sister about it, for now.

Dirtmouth was a dreary little town, although it was quaint and welcoming despite the stillness that fell over its many rooftops. The Pale King hardly bothered to check on it, letting it run itself as he kept watch over his palace and his capital. He had made an exception today, however, as Ghost had insisted he and their siblings come along for a trip. They bounced along a worn path, Grimmchild cackling and swooping ahead of them as they went. Hollow walked beside him with Hornet perched between their horns. As they strolled, a few of the townsfolk peered through small windows, no doubt surprised to see their king in their midst.

Ghost led them to a little shop not far from the stag station, motioning for them to wait outside while they went in. After a few moments, they came back out with what he assumed to be the shopkeepers. A weevil with a pair of glasses came out first, followed by a bug with a curved nose. Ghost stopped in front of them, bouncing enthusiastically in place as they waved their arms at their siblings. Hollow’s height clearly astounded them, but they were polite enough not to blurt it out.

“Are these your friends, little traveler?” the taller of the two asked, voice pleasant and expression intrigued.

Ghost nodded as Hornet said, “We’re their siblings! Who’re you?”

“Oh, how delightful!” the shopkeeper replied, “I’m Iselda, and this is my husband, Cornifer.”

“A pleasure to meet the little traveler’s family,” Cornifer joined in. “It was always nice meeting them along their journey.”

“I’m Hornet! And this is Hollow,” Hornet said enthusiastically, slipping off her sibling’s head, “and that’s Ghost, and this is my dad!”

The Pale King held still as the attention was turned to him, meeting their curious gazes. They didn’t seem to know who he was, which was fair given how little he visited Dirtmouth.

“I am the Pale King, Ruler of Hallownest,” he introduced himself. “It is a pleasure to meet you both, and I suppose I must thank you for looking after Ghost.”

Realization dawned on their faces, and they hurried to lower into a bow. “That’s why you looked so familiar, you resemble the king’s idols ever so,” Iselda said, and then with a hint of anxiousness in her voice, “Although, I suppose that’s because you’re the king. . . .”

“You may stand,” he said, taking note of their nervous fidgeting as they did so.

“I didn’t know that you had children, your Majesty,” Cornifer commented, his tone unsure as he said it. “They’re quite lovely.”

“I like to keep my life private, you understand,” the king replied, his eyes shifting to watch Hornet as she ran off to bother a nearby bug. Hollow followed slowly after her, casting a glance back at him as they went.

"Of course," Iselda replied after a moment, hesitant. "We're sorry to bother you, your Majesty. We'll get out of your hair now."

Ghost bounced a little and shook their head, pointing at the two shopkeepers insistently. Grimmchild flew circles around them enthusiastically, curling up on Cornifer's head.

"You are hardly bothering me. I am here because Ghost wanted us to meet you," the Pale King stated. "But I am sure you must be busy, mayhaps we are the ones bothering you."

"No, no, of course not!" Iselda was quick to deny. "Would you like to come in for tea?"

The Pale King shook his head slightly, "No, thank you. Ghost, let us catch up with your siblings before Hornet gets into trouble."

Ghost nodded, snatching Grimmchild from Cornifer before running off in the direction the others had gone. The king said his farewell and followed after them, pleased to see that Hornet hadn't caused any havoc. She was chattering away at an older looking bug, seated in the bench next to them. Her legs were swinging as she talked, and Hollow was stationed next to the bench rather than on it.

"Where'd you get that flower?" Hornet asked the bug, eyeing the violet blossom curiously. He recognized it as a flower from his wife's garden.

"A little traveler gave it to me," the stranger replied. "Kind little thing they are. Oh! And here they come now."

The little vessel hopped up next to their sister, waving at the bug. He offered a little wave back, eyes slipping to the Pale King.

"Have we met before? You seem awfully familiar," the bug asked. "My name is Elderbug, perhaps that rings some bells?"

"That's our dad, he's the king!" Hornet piped up. "Maybe that's why?"

His mouth dropped open, surprise gracing his face. "Oh, pardon me! Forgive me for my ignorance, I think this might be my first time seeing you in person, your Majesty."

"I hardly visit Dirtmouth, so it may very well be so," the Pale King agreed. "You are forgiven."

"Can we come here more often?" Hornet asked. "I like it here, I wanna visit again sometime."

"Perhaps your mother would take you," the king suggested. "I am far too busy to be taking you here whenever you'd like."

She pouted, but didn't push it. The little spiderling turned to Ghost, "You've been down the well, right? Is it cool? Can you take me? Race you there!"

Hornet leaped off the bench, zooming off down the street. Ghost gave chase with the Grimmchild, going surprisingly fast for their size, and Hollow seemed to sigh as they disappeared from sight. They went off after them, weaving between buildings as quick as they could. The Pale King let out a quiet huff, making to go after the children. As he walked, he reflected on the fact that Ghost, Hornet, and the Grimmchild were going to grow up together. He pushed the thought out of mind, determined to avoid the thoughts of chaos they would create, and especially avoiding using his foresight. Later, perhaps, but not now. He wasn't ready for the anxiety.

What a mess he'd gotten himself into, truly.

Chapter Text

For the most part, life in the White Palace was as it normally was. Well, as normal as it could be with a tiny menace of a vessel and their fiery fiend of a godling living among it. The Hollow Knight did their best to keep them under control, and they often went out to spend time with their friends; for that the Pale King was grateful. The less time Ghost and the Grimmchild were in the palace, the less time they had to cause trouble. Hornet had been back in Deepnest with her mother for the time being, so that ruled her chaos out of the mix. That is, until he received a dreadful letter from Herrah.

Hornet had gone through another molt, and her wings had come in fully. Keeping the spiderling from throwing herself off the suspended platforms of her village had been a trying task, according to the Queen of Deepnest, and oh stars, she was going to bring their daughter to stay with him. While that did mean he could teach Hornet to fly properly, it also meant she was going to fly properly in his home. No where would be safe anymore, there'd be nothing to stop her from getting into things now. The Pale King sighed, wandering absentmindedly down the halls of his home in the direction of the stag station. Hollow fell into step beside him at some point, their quiet presence welcome.

“You seem very distant, lately,” the Pale King said after they arrived at the station. “Sometimes I wonder what is on your mind. Do you still dream, Hollow?”

When he turned to look at them, he was met with a dark stare, still and unwavering. They held his gaze for a long moment before glancing away, offering him a slight nod. He didn't reply at first, watching them as they stood still as a statue.

"I take it they are normal dreams, then? Not infection inducing ones?" he asked, pulling Hollow's attention back to him.

They gave another nod, and the king sighed inwardly in relief. "That is fine, then. I was worried you were in danger of becoming sick again," he said. "Although it is strange you are dreaming at all. Perhaps a side effect of the infection."

Hollow didn't give a response, simply looking at him as he went on. The pair eventually fell into silence while they waited, a colder quiet than before. Despite his earlier fears, he was glad when the stag showed up with little Hornet. Her wings were hidden by her crimson cloak, but that did little to ease his worries. She skipped over to them, eyes alight with excitement.

"My wings are all grown now!" Hornet said immediately, holding her cloak up so she could show him. They fluttered prettily in the bright lighting, shining and glittering just like his wings did. “Will you teach me how to fly? Please?”

“Yes, I will teach you how to fly,” the Pale King replied, pausing when she squealed in delight. “It is important you learn how to properly fly so that you don’t hurt yourself.”

“That’s what mama said, too,” she said, turning to her older sibling. “What about you, Hollow? Can you fly?”

Hollow didn’t reply for a second, slowly shaking their head. Hornet tilted her head curiously, “No? Don’t you have wings, too?”

They shook their head again, their movements stiff, before glancing away. She seemed putoff by their response, looking to her father for answers. The Pale King could offer her none—well, he could, but she would not like the answer, and frankly, he didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to admit what he’d done to the being he thought could not think, did not care. The truth was, Hollow did have wings at one point. They’d grown in when they were much smaller, almost Hornet’s age if not a bit older. But once they’d grown in proper, the king had had them clipped. Removed from them entirely. They’d had no use, were just in the way, and he’d been afraid the freedom of flying would corrupt them. Clearly Hollow remembered the process, because they were trembling now, very faintly. He wanted so badly to say something, to say that he hadn’t known, hadn’t wanted to know. That he was sorry. But he couldn’t, not with Hornet there. He wasn’t sure he could even if she wasn’t.

“Hollow never grew wings, Hornet,” he lied instead, trying his best to ignore the confused stare from Hollow. “I suspect it has to do with their void nature.”

Hornet nodded, although she didn’t seem entirely convinced. She decided to take the lead, walking past them and into the palace proper. The king and his child trailed behind her, quiet as she yammered on about how she had been doing in Deepnest.

"Can you teach me how to fly right now?" Hornet asked after a bit.

"It will have to wait, I'm afraid, the king replied. "I have work I must attend to."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but seemingly decided against it as she turned to Hollow. "Come on, Hollow. Let's go find Ghost," she said, marching off in a random direction. Hollow cast a long look at their father, holding his gaze for a bit before following Hornet. The Pale King sighed to himself, dragging his eyes away from them to make his way to his study.

"If father won't teach me, then I'll ask Grimmchild!" Hornet declared, determination in her stride. "He flies all the time, he should be able to help."

Hollow thought that was a terrible idea, and very much tried to tell her so, but she wouldn't listen. The Pale King would be furious if she got hurt, they were sure. They gently grabbed her arm, firmly shaking their head no. Hornet huffed, attempting to tug her wrist out of their grip. Ghost and the Grimmchild chose that instant to round the corner, nearly barreling into the two. Hornet’s attention whipped over to them, an excited exhale escaping her when she saw Grimmchild. She was speaking before Hollow could stop her.

“There you are! Grimmchild, I need your help!” Hornet exclaimed, succeeding in wiggling out of Hollow’s grip. “Can you teach me how to fly?”

The Grimmchild tilted his head at the question, nodding enthusiastically. He swooped back the way they came, beckoning for Hornet to follow. She complied hastily, chasing after him as she giggled. Hollow loped after them, Ghost dashing beside them. They whispered to Ghost in voidspeak, asking (okay, begging) them to stop Grimmchild before someone got hurt. If they were listening, they didn't seem to care.

Grimmchild led them outside the palace, perching on the railing overlooking the depths of the Ancient Basin. Hornet skidded to a stop beside him, taking her cloak off before climbing up on the railing herself. Hollow nearly ran into her in their haste to get her down, snatching her off the edge and taking a few steps back. She made a disapproving grunt, pushing against their arms in an attempt to free herself.

“Hollow!” Hornet whined, limbs flailing stubbornly. “That’s not fair! He’s gonna teach me to fly!”

They turned her in their grip so she was facing them, shaking their head firmly. She stuck her tongue out at them, chomping down hard on one of their fingers. They dropped her out of shock, watching the beads of void form where her little fangs had pierced them. The spiderling jumped back onto the railing, waiting for Grimmchild to give her instructions. He blinked at her before looking at the drop ahead of them, flapping his wings a few times before purposefully slipping off the edge. His tail caught on her as he fell, taking her with him into a freefall.

Hollow, understandably, panicked. They rushed over to the railing, peering over the edge with a growing sense of horror growing in their gut. The two children were making no move to stop their descent, twirling around each other playfully. Hornet’s wings were fluttering, but the movements were sporadic and ineffective. Grimmchild beat his wings a couple times, speeding up his fall so he was below her and facing up. He made sure he had her attention before he flipped over, spreading his wings fully so his drop slowed dramatically. She mimicked him, letting out a panicked squeak when it didn’t work, craning her neck to look up at him. He hovered in the air, gaping after her for a minute before diving after her, desperately trying to lift her.

The eldest of the siblings had had enough. Hollow launched themself over the edge, teleporting to speed up their descent. They put themself below Hornet and the Grimmchild, nabbing them both out of the air with one arm. Their free hand reached out to grab at the rocky wall of the cliff, slowly slowing them down and eventually stopping the fall completely. For a long moment they just hung off the cliff face, breathing heavily as they gained their bearings. Hornet was shivering against them, her face buried in their cloak. Grimmchild crawled his way out of their arm, choosing to float beside them instead. They glanced down at their sister, shifting their arm a little to get her attention. She looked up at them, fearful tears in her eyes. They gestured up at the top of the cliff with their head, dropping their arm down a bit in an attempt to get her to latch onto their body. After a few tries she transferred from their hold, holding tightly onto their cloak and thorax.

Like Hollow feared, the ascent was much more arduous than the descent. It was a slow climb, and they were too afraid to teleport in fear of dropping Hornet or ending up in a place without footholds. Hornet’s trembling had calmed down at least, easing their worry a little. When they reached the top, Ghost was sitting on the ground, their head drooped forward. They jumped to their feet when Hollow climbed over the railing, the familiar hum of their voidspeak filling their mind.

Sibling okay? Both sibling? Ghost questioned, hopping impatiently around them. Hollow gently set Hornet down, observing as the smaller vessel inspected her for injuries. She met Hollow’s eyes, her chelicerae quivering.

“I—I’m sorry,” Hornet apologized, a quaver in her voice. “I should have listened to you, I’m sorry.”

Hollow let out a quiet puff of air, kneeling in front of her. They gave her a stern glare, wagging their finger at her to show their disappointment before holding their arms out to her. She snuggled into their embrace, letting out a content sigh. Ghost squirmed into the hug, Grimmchild, who had landed, inched his way towards the siblings. He looked up at them, very much looking like a kicked mosscreep, clearly guilty for what had happened. Hollow stared at him through narrowed eyes, giving into his sad ‘nyaars’ and inviting him into the group cuddle. He joined them happily, curling around Ghost. They stayed like that for a bit, but it wasn’t long before Hornet had recovered from the shock. She wriggled out of the hug, slipping her previously discarded cloak back on. Ghost and Grimmchild followed suit, chasing after her as she raced back into the White Palace. Hollow got to their feet, following after them and preparing themself for whatever havoc they caused.

They really hoped the Pale King would teach Hornet to fly properly, soon.