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She used to be kind.
She used to nurture others, used to give everyone smiles as they walked past with a beautiful blooms of Wisteria hanging from her head roots. She used to listen with gentle understanding to Her servants' needs. Used to wrap Her husband so lovingly in Her roots and cooed sweet nothings for only Him to hear, words that would make Pale King shine brighter out of happiness and embarrassment.
She used to look at Isma with such warmth, that the two of them shared a plant origin, that they had a common love for nature and a drive to protect it.
But now it was cold…
Isma was confused when she could feel a foreign seed started to fester within her, a seed of unknown origin was never good. She decided to ask her Queen about it, but the queen only laughed and told Isma not to worry. She had bestowed it on her as a gift of protection, a strange way to give such a gift but Isma was proud over it. The Queen said the seed was to protect her from harm, to help her make nature thrive.
And she believed Her . Because She was the Queen of Hallownest.
But the feeling only grew. That seed grew . Isma started to have black outs. Times where she didn’t remember what she had done during the day. She was scared to speak with someone about it, not until Ogrim asked about her strange behaviour a few days back. How she had seemed a lot more… stiff.
That’s when she realised it was too late.
She was scared to confront the Queen about it, it had been a gift from Her after all. But those black outs started to occur more frequently. She could feel the seeds' roots slowly spread, spread out to her hands. Her feet. She had strange bulges in the back of her head and once she removed one, she realised it was a seed pocket.
Why did she grow seeds similar to the one the White lady gave her…?
She wanted to ask her fellow knights of this recent discovery, to ask for advice, but she never got an opportunity to do so. A new disease had gotten loose, one that made roots grow inside the bugs it affected. And it was all within areas Isma had visited… all in areas where she had blacked out.
She started to fear for the worse…
She managed to catch Dryya on her way to guard the Queen, to ask if She had been acting differently. Her question was met with scorn, how could Isma even dare to assume something was wrong with the Queen? She hadn’t been acting different at all!!
Since then, she had held her doubts to herself…
Isma was asleep more often than she was awake. She never knew what she did during sleep. And she could do nothing different when she was awake. She feared for herself, feared for others as this root-based disease continued to spread through the kingdom. And no one knew of the source.
She managed to talk with Ogrim during a time when she was awake. To go. To run. To leave the palace and more importantly stay away from the
Queen
. No, she couldn’t come with. It would only cause him pain. But she begged him, for the good of Hallownest, run away and survive.
And so he ran.
She became more aware as she slept longer. Could see how she distributed food to the poor. Food with the seeds. Could see how she distributed seeds through shaking hands with others and nuzzling children. All to spread spores that could create the seeds. She was spreading it. She was the cause of the spread.
And the white root that had grown inside of her had gained full control. Isma’s body was no longer her own.
She even distributed seeds to her fellow knights… she was glad she sent Ogrim away when she did or he would have been caught in it too.
She never saw the King any more. Only the Queen. Because she was the true ruler now… She feared for what She had done to their loving King, what fate She had chosen for Him.
Isma was a puppet. A puppet controlled by the Queen. As more and more bugs were overtaken by the root disease, and the King never did anything to stop it, Isma suspected he had already been lost. Like she had… like her friends had. The root of the White Lady was a part of her. It grew out of her back and she knew, if the root’s core was cut off or penetrated, she would die. It had become so ingrained into her that it was impossible for her to live without the root.
Days. Weeks. Months. Years. Decennium. Centuries. She served the White lady for one purpose. To help Her consume the souls of others to feed Her eternal hunger. Isma was apparently easy to control for the White Lady, for she did most of the tasks that needed fine monitoring. She cared for the eggs the White Lady laid so they would hatch. Kept check on the rooted husks so new bugs who came to these lands would get seeded as well. Kept guard over her groove on the White Lady’s behalf. For what reason, she didn’t know.
On. And on. And on. With no will of her own. Only watching as her body worked tirelessly night and day for the Queen.
But as two small children so similar to the Wyrm and Root with their pale glow approached her, both with nails in their hands and their free hands interlocked with one another, perhaps she’d get peace…?
They engaged in battle. In the middle of the battle, Ogrim appeared to assist them, to try and bring Isma back with words of encouragement. And it helped her, it helped a lot. His presence gave her the determination to fight, to stop this madness . Madness that she had caused. Isma made the root in her back rise, to get more exposed to the world.
And they cut it off.
She lost her root connection and was finally free . She thought she’d die right there. Left to rest in peace for the sins she had committed. She admitted as much to the vessels and Ogrim, thanking them for it. But the children carried her to a spring to heal despite her protests that it would be useless…
She never thought she’d survive. Survive and try to repent for her sins. Sins she committed against her kingdom, her King, she could never forgive herself for what she caused.
So she joined the children in their battle. Their battle to defeat the monster that was no longer the Queen of Hallownest. But was rather the nightmare that caused its ruin.