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Chapter Text

The moment the King of Hallownest received the message from a Weaver messenger, he had cancelled all of his meetings for that day, hopped on the tram, and headed directly to Deepnest.

Something had happened to his daughters, all three of time had gone missing, and now they were back, but something was wrong with them. No other information was given to him, which only made him more anxious.

As soon as he escaped everyone’s view, he unfolded his wings and flew through the tunnels as fast as he could, quickly arriving at the distant village that the Weavers inhabited. Some peeked out of their homes, others drew their weapons, some retreated inside, but none of them mattered to him right now. He landed atop the highest platform, the only building in this entire village that he had ever been in.

He barely managed to shove his wings under his cloak when he burst into the home. Two Devouts stood on either side of the room, and Herrah stood at the center, facing away from him.

“Herrah, I came as soon as I could.” He said, gasping for the breath he had lost on his quick journey. “What happened? Are they alright?” He asked.

“The three of them snuck out, someone must’ve told them about the Nosk den, because we found them on their way back from there.” Herrah explained, turning to look towards the Wyrm.

“Where are they? Did they return safely?” He asked, frantic and anxious.

“Yes, we retrieved all of them, but the problem is not that they got themselves hurt or something like that, no the problem is that we retrieved four of them.” She explains, beckoning him to follow her as she pulled the cloth blocking the nursery to the side, exposing the four children, their cloaks dirtied and stained to the point that the colors had all become a dark gray.

“I need you to take them to your lab. One of them is not my daughter, and I need to know which one it is. I need to make sure that the thing they brought back is taken care of.” Herrah explained. The King watched over the group of children as they ran around the room, chirping and clicking their mandibles.

“So a Nosk has infiltrated them?” He asks.

“No, a dirtcarver has. Of course it’s a Nosk! What else would they have brought back from the Nosk den?” Herrah hissed.

He watched them for a moment longer, trying to pick out any odd movements. None could be found, each of the children acted like, well, children.

“I’m not sure how much I can do besides examining their shells for inconsistencies. Their behaviors are still developing and they haven’t learned much yet. There is little to nothing I can do.” He explains.

“I don’t care how little there is to do. Find. The. Nosk. Then bring the Nosk to me, and I will end it. You don’t even have to get your hands dirty, but I need this beast dead.” Herrah explained.

“I don’t quite get your problem. If the children adopted the Nosk as their sister, then what’s the issue with letting it stay?” He asked, instantly realizing that that was the wrong thing you say.

“Because that thing that is pretending to be my daughter is one of the most deadly beasts in this entire kingdom! We have been at war with them for millennia! We are this close to finally getting rid of them, we’ve emptied their nest of eggs, and now we’ve collapsed the tunnel leading there. This Nosk is the last of its kind, and it is violent. Unless you want to lose all of your daughters, I suggest you weed the monster out as soon as possible.” Herrah growled, taking one last suspicious glance towards the playing children.

“Do not even ask about trade deals or the vessel plan until you have succeeded. Take them and hurry, it is only a matter of time before the beast matures and becomes violent.”

She leaves the room, leaving the King alone with the four children. They play, share toys, chirp at each other, act exactly like how they always do. One of them is chasing another with a wooden nail, and another is trying to stack building blocks while the last watches intently, face so close that their breath might knock it down.

“Children!” He says as he gets down on his knees. All of the children turn their attention to him, and soon he’s surrounded. “How about we go on a trip back to the palace? And then you can all play with all of the fun toys you have there.” He says, smiling as wide as he can, and making his voice as friendly as possible. The one with the nail shakes their head, but the one they were chasing is excited to go. Another nods and the last seems indifferent to the idea, still enraptured by the building block tower.

The one with the nail throws it at the tower, collapsing it into a pile. His child who was staring at it is now bawling their eyes out, desperately trying to restack them. He quickly rushes to the child’s side, using his extra limbs to restack the cubes.

“It’s okay, my child. There will be plenty of blocks and towers at the palace.” He cooes, as he picks them up. He collects all four of them in his arms and they immediately begin to settle.

They all looked the same, acted the same, played the same. A headache was already forming, but this was good. It at least gave him a chance to be closer to his children, and gave him something to keep his mind off of the approaching problem of the Infection. He couldn’t see any of these hatchlings as a monster, they were children, HIS children. He could only hope that Herrah was wrong.

Chapter Text

If there were any signs that any of his four daughters was a Nosk, they didn’t show themselves. None of them were overly violent, none of them acted strangely, had strange diets, acted in any way different from a normal child.

Since the incident, and despite Herrah’s demands, the children had been named. One by him, one by his Root, one by Herrah and the citizens of Deepnest, and one by his Great Knights (the group of five, and Ze’mer’s girlfriend, had spent many nights brainstorming names).

His silent daughter, whose cloak was black as the void that made up the Hollow Knight, her name was Lance. The people of Deepnest had named her, and she spent most of her time in the gardens, or with the Hollow Knight. The runner-up name in the poll was Ricky Ticky Tiktik, and he was very glad that Lance won. She collected flowers, she sometimes forgot to move for hours, sometimes retainers confused her with a statue, only to be jumped when she decided she had enough of mimicking the Hollow Knight’s stature. It was definitely worrying, and it was a habit he needed to break as soon as possible. She was also the hungriest, and when she was moving, she was likely moving in and out of the kitchen, snatching snacks and scraps to take back to their nest and feast on.

Sigma was his loudest daughter. Perhaps second loudest, it was hard to tell sometimes. He had named her, and her mother had forced her to keep the name despite the fact that no one liked it. Herrah never passed up a chance to show how much she hated him, even when it hurt other people. Thankfully, she showed no hatred toward the name, but did show distrust towards him, likely thanks to her mother. She wore a brilliant red cloak, and was the first to begin using her silk to create traps for the retainers. She was a fiend, she stole and she pillaged every room she entered for snacks and toys. She loved hunting, and spent most of her time with her mother. When she was forced to stay at the palace, she snuck off to her secret hiding spot. He knew it was somewhere on the ceiling, accessed through a hole just big enough for him to fit through, but where it was exactly was a mystery.

His other loud daughter, Protea, wore her name like a badge, despite it being an undeniably awful name. The moment she had seen the Great Knights doing their warmups, it had almost visibly clicked in her mind what she wanted to do. Since that day, she never took off her royal blue cloak, always wearing it and always wearing the crest that symbolized that she was one of the Great Knights. She spent so much time with Ogrim that she no longer had a sense of smell, but thanks to that had quickly become proficient in every way or combat that the Great Knights practiced, and had gained Ogrim’s kind personality and awful jokes. She snuck around the palace at night, searching for “evildoers”, and often snitched on her siblings when they attempted to sneak out. She was practically incapable of lying, and had burst into tears during her one and only attempt at doing so.

His last daughter, and the one closest to him, the one his Root named, was Edelweiss, or Edel for short. She had quickly taken a shine to him and his inventions. She was a critical thinker, and when tasked with a problem, she was quick to create a solution, either out of spare parts or out of the parts of already existing contraptions. She had once stolen almost every clock in the palace so she could take them apart, and she wasn’t caught until it was far too late to save any of the clocks. She wore a pristine, white cloak, which she got anxious about when eating, and got even more anxious about when it received a stain or tear. She lacked the ability to communicate with people, not physically, but mentally. It seemed his anxiety had rubbed off on her, and she had developed a number of nervous ticks. Although all of the children had some slight anxiety, hers was by far the worst, so much so that she has so far refused to attend any public gathering. Herrah blames him for the way she developed, and he blames himself just as much, if not more.

Currently, all four of the girls were cuddled into his lap. Bedtime was one of the only times he could get Sigma to listen to him, and also the only time he could keep all of them in one place. Protea did her best to wrap her arms around everyone, Edel laid directly against him, and Sigma laid as far away from him as possible (although it wasn’t that far, and she would usually slowly inch her way closer to him, whether out of the need for warmth, or her suppressed love for her father), and Lance leaned against his elbow, her small, delicate arms wrapped tightly around his. They always loved getting read to, and they always made sure never to miss storytime, even if most of them snuck out after dark to explore the palace once again.

He let out a quiet yawn, careful not to wake his children as they huddled closer together. When he agreed to have a child with the Queen of Deepnest, he never expected he would have more than one, and would never have imagined that it would be like this, but he was so glad this is what he got. He wondered if any of his daughters would ever get their wings, but judging from their lack of wing buds, it was unlikely. This saddened him, but at least they were happy, and none would be jealous of the others.

Slowly, he found himself drifting off to sleep. He gently placed down the book, and carried his daughters over to their nest. An assortment of pillows, stuffed animals, blankets, stolen items, old food, rocks, and anything else they could collect. He carefully slipped into the nest, holding them close to his chest as his eyes began to shut, and he curled around them like a wyrm would to its hatchlings. It made him happy, oh so happy, to know that they were safe, though they would certainly wake him before dawn. With the last of his energy, he gave each of them a small kiss on their forehead, like his mother had done to him when he was but a child.

And then sleep came, and then it went, and the children snuck away from their fathers embrace, but they would always return at the end of the day, as none of them could fall asleep without his stories and his cuddles.

Chapter Text

The King yawned, it was late, late that he had been working in his workshop, trying to perfect the seals of binding, so that he could be sure the vessel plan wouldn’t fail.

The stress was slowly getting to him, he needed to keep his people calm, prepare the dreamers, keep an eye on the infection, finish preparing the vessel plan, and keep an eye on his four daughters, who’s yells and havok filled the halls every hour of most days.

They were as evil as they were sweet. Sometimes Edel would sneak into his workshop and sit in his lap while he worked, and on some occasions, she would try to put something together. She once got her hands on something sharp and made a rotating weapon, and had almost killed a retainer when demonstrating how it worked to her sisters. No more sharp objects were allowed in his workshop.

Sigma had started stealing clothes and documents made of silk and unraveling them. Where the silk went from there was a mystery, but her acts of thievery were usually followed by a new trap being set up. Seven retainers had already fallen into these traps, wrapped up and hung from the ceiling, and would eventually be saved by a Great Knight, or Protea, or a Kingsmold. It was quite impressive how much the children could lift and carry.

Whether intentional or not, Lance had become a fear of many retainers. She spent a lot of time in the shadows, silent and still, and she would scare the retainers who walk past, either by jumping out or letting out a yell. It was good that she had begun to develop a voice, but she still rarely used it. When she wasn’t harassing retainers, she was atop the Hollow Knight’s shoulders, getting them to take her places. Most of these adventures ended in the kitchen, where Lance would eat as much food as she could get her hands on, and would share food with their voidborne half-sibling. Thanks to this, he learned that the Hollow Knight did in fact have a mouth.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sounds of soft, distant marching. He approached it curiously, making sure not to reveal his presence. “Hup! Two, thwee, fouw, hup! Two, thwee, fouw, hup!” Protea repeated as she walked back and forth down the hallway in front of their nestroom. She held a tree branch (undoubtedly a gift from their step-mother) in her left hand, and a small, round lid in her right hand, as if she were a guard in the Capital.

Suddenly, she stopped and went into a defensive stance. “Hawt! Who goes thewe?” Her fangs had recently grown in, she was the last of her sisters to receive them on account of her being the smallest. She put her sword and shield on the ground and hurried down the hallway a bit, pulling her “intruder” into the dim light of the lumafly lanterns, a bucket on wheels with a mop in it, all dressed up in a cloak.

She pulled it into the center of the hallway before rushing back. “Intwudew! I’ww not wet you hurt my famiwy!” She yelled, in a hushed voice as to not wake her sleeping sisters. She leapt forward, wacking the side of the mop with her branch before smacking the bucket with her shield, sending it rolling down the hallway. “Oh no! Come back!” She called, hurrying to stop the “intruder” from escaping.

With a strong leap, she tackled the mop, landing inside of the bucket and knocking it all over. He couldn’t help but chuckle, approaching his battle hardened child. There was a rustle beneath the cloak, and a moment later, her head popped out from the rubble.

“Daddy! I saved the whowe pawace!” She announced proudly. He reached out, grabbing her from her latest victim.

“I see. You’re very strong, and I’m very proud, I doubt even Ogrim could have handled that.” He said, a smile spreading across his mandibles.

“Nuh uh! Ogwim can do anything! But I bet Hegemow couldn’t do that! He’s too heavy!” She explained. He let out a soft laugh, going over to the pair of doors that led to their nestroom. They were locked.

“Protea, how did you get out of your room?” He asked. The child in his arms made themself comfortable, snuggling into his robes as much as she could.

“Thwough Sigma’s secwet tunnew! I can show you whewe it is!” She said, immediately unburrowing and leaping from his arms. And in a moment's notice, she had run out of sight and down the hall. Thankfully, he was still quite fit and easily caught up to where the child had run off to.

“It’s wight here!” She said, pointing at the small crack in the wall. “Sigma and Edew cawved it out with shawp things! But I know shawp things are bad, so I took them away!” She explained proudly.

He got down on his knees, gazing through the hole. It was barely small enough for him to fit his hand through, and was no way big enough for a growing child to fit through.

“Now, how did you fit through here? It looks very small.” He asked.

“Cawefuwwy, but I can’t show you cause I pwomised Sigma I wouldn’t.” She says.

“Well, then I guess I can’t return you to your nest. Where are you going to sleep tonight?” He asked. She tapped her chin in thought for a moment.

“I’ww go thwough, but you can’t wook! You pwomise you won’t wook, wight?” She asked. He nodded before turning around. Only a few moments later, there was a click at the door to their nestroom, and the door opened.

“Well, thank you for unlocking the door, please tell your sisters not to lock it again.” He said, voice little more than a whisper. Protea nodded eagerly. He crouched down and gave her a bedtime kiss on her forehead. “Go off to bed now, I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He cooed.

“I wove you too, dad!” She said, before pushing the door closed, and quickly running back to her sister's nest.

They were safe, she had once again ensured so, and now she could rest.

Chapter Text

The Queen’s gardens were usually quiet. This was where the Hollow Knight resided when not being ordered around, as did the Queen and her guard, and on occasion, a small child by the name of Lance. The flowers bloomed beautifully on days like these. The Queen of Hallownest, or the White Lady, as some called her, or Root, as less called her, sat peacefully with her knight on one side of her, and the Hollow Knight on the other. The Hollow Knight stood tall and steady, back straight, chin up, as it always stood. Dryya, being about half of its height, stood tall and proud, with her nail by her side.

At one point Dryya had sat in the gardens without her nail. Those times had long gone, ever since the failed assassination attempt on the King’s life, and the successful assassination attempt on the Lord Fool’s life, the political climate was much less safe. Even Deepnest was becoming dangerous, and the children spent less and less time with their mother, much to Sigma’s dismay.

The complete silence of the garden was momentarily disrupted by the sounds of quiet, quickly approaching footsteps, as Lance, the largest of Herrah’s children, ran up to the Queen.

“Hello, Lance. How nice to see you today.” The White Lady said with a smile on her face. Lance pouted.

“How’d you know I was coming? I was being sneaky!” She said, despite having run through several puddles to get to here. Her black cloak was caked in mud, as was part of her face.

“I could hear you through my roots, dear. There is a small part of me in every plant here.” The White Lady explained. Suddenly, a root that had been slithering towards the small weaver child wrapped around her torso and brought her to the White Lady’s lap. Lance let out a squeak, but once she was in the Queen’s lap, she settled down. The Root used a root to wipe away the mud on the child’s face.

“Say, my child, do you think you could help me make some flower arrangements today? I do need a few, and thought it might be fun for you to make some for yourself, your family, and your mother.” The Queen said. The child’s dull eyes seemed to almost brighten at this.

“Can I make one for Holly?” She asked. Dryya seemed to flinch at that question, but the Queen was much better at hiding that sort of thing. Holly was the name the children had gifted to the Hollow Knight. A name was a dangerous thing, especially when gifted to one meant to be hollow.

“Well, you must ask them first, it’s only polite.” She said. The child jumped off of her lap, leaving a muddy stain.

“Holly! Can I make you a bundle of flowers?” She asked. The vessel stood still, and although its head craned slightly to get a better look at the child, it made no indication it had heard.

“Holly has just whispered to my roots that they would like a bundle of flowers.” The White Lady said with a large smile. “Do you need me to tell you what the flowers mean again?” She asked. Lance shook her head before racing off into the gardens to gather flowers.

A few moments later she returned with a group of flowers. “Where do I put them?” She asked.

“Hand them to me, and I will place them in a vase.” The Queen offered. Lance extended her flowers and she grabbed them with one of her roots before delicately placing them in a vase.

“Those are Edel’s.” She announced before running off again. In this bundle were red columbines, symbolizing anxiety, daisies, symbolizing innocence and hope, hyssops, symbolizing cleanliness, and pansies, symbolizing thought.

In a few moments, the child returned with yet another collection of flowers. “These are Sigma’s,” She said, before once again racing away. This arrangement of flowers contained borages, symbolizing bluntness, hollyhocks, symbolizing ambition, yellow jasmines, symbolizing grace and elegance, and oaks, symbolizing strength.

Once again the child returned with more flowers. “Protea’s,” She said, before leaving her again. Nasturtiums, symbolizing patriotism, edelweisses, symbolizing courage and devotion, coreopsis, symbolizing eternal cheerfulness, and anthuriums, symbolizing hospitality.

Again, they returned with perhaps the biggest bundle yet. “This one is for Holly.” She said, handing them over to the Queen. This arrangement contained oak-leaved geraniums, symbolizing true friendship, hydrangeas, symbolizing gratitude for being understood, papavers, symbolizing remembrance and sacrifice, corianders, symbolizing hidden worth, dills, symbolizing power against evil, purple columbines, symbolizing resolution, and a single forget-me-not, symbolizing a plea to not be forgotten.

The child held two more flowers behind her back. A marigold, symbolizing cruelty and jealousy, and a purple hyacinth, symbolizing regret and a request for forgiveness.

“Could I ask who that bundle is for?” Lance shook her head.

“It’s not for anyone.” She mumbled, a large frown across her face. Dryya also frowned, not at the child’s most recent bundle, but instead at the one she had made for the Hollow Knight. It seemed the Queen wasn’t the only one who felt sympathy for the emotionless knight.

“How about you and Holly go to get some snacks from the kitchen?” The White Lady offered. Lance shook her head.

“I’m not hungry right now, I’m tired, Sigma was running around all night!” She explained.

“Well, vessel, can you take Lance back to her nestroom?” The Queen asked. The Knight made no acknowledgement of her request for several seconds, and then it started walking. Lance wrapped a hand around one of its long claws, waving at her step-mother and Dryya.

“Oh! Wait! I forgot one more flower for you!” She said, letting go of Holly’s claw for a moment to run off back into the garden.

Lance returned a few moments later, a pink carnation in hand. She tried to give it to their half-sibling, to Holly. They simply stared for a moment, and then they plucked a butterfly weed from the soil with their long, defined, jointed fingers, and handed it to her. She looked as if she would cry, but she ran toward her half-sibling and clung to their chest the best they could.

“Please don’t go. Please, I don’t want to lose you.” The child cried. The Hollow Knight looked around the surrounding area, checking to make sure there would be no one to witness their next actions. They got down on their knees and pulled their little sister into their lap and hugged them tightly. “Please don’t go, I love you, you promised you’d keep us safe.” Lance cried. They patted her back and held her, rocking her gently.

She eventually fell asleep, and was then returned to her nest, where she would remain asleep. The Hollow Knight did not leave the room until the Pale King came to put the rest of the children to bed. They had indeed promised their sister they would protect her, and they would not fail her.

Chapter Text

Sigma thought she was being smart, getting Edel to distract Holly while she made a run for it, but her plan was foiled when the familiar, cold, lanky fingers of their big sibling wrapped around her and brought her back to their lap.

“No! I was escaping!” She hissed, biting down on their finger. Hollow gave no reaction besides a gentle pat on the head. “I’m not a baby anymore! I can do stuff on my own.” Holly shook their head in disagreement.

“You are a baby.” They signed. They were still getting used to it, and knew they could only use it around their little sisters, but it made all four of them so happy, how could they resist at least trying?

Sigma, and the rest of her sisters, had learned Deepnest sign after Lance started to have trouble speaking. Nothing worrying, the doctor said, her vocal cords were just underdeveloped, which caused her voice to be lower and softer. It made for good narrating, though.

Anyways, Herrah had told Sigma how terrible her father was, and even though she didn’t see it nor understand it, it gave her an excuse to terrorize him and not feel bad. Retainers were caught in webs, papers and documents were eaten, his white robes were stained with stolen paints and honey.

But the highest mischief they had committed was teaching Holly how to sign. They were told time and time again that their older sibling needed to be hollow. They were the Hollow Knight, it only made sense. Sigma asked her step-mother what being hollow meant, and she explained it as having no mind to think, and no voice to speak.

In order to get the ultimate revenge on her father, Sigma unhollowed his knight. She taught them how to speak, and how to think, and what emotions meant. And father and mother never knew! And they wouldn’t, at least until Holly perfected their sign.

But due to this, their sibling had also become much more protective and cuddly. When tasked with watching over them, Holly kept them as close as possible. For Sigma, it was a challenge. Yes, she loved her half-sibling, but she also knew they were the strongest, fastest, and smartest knight in the entire kingdom! She couldn’t even imagine how proud her mother would be when she learned that her daughter had outsmarted the best Hallownest had to offer!

Currently, the group of sisters and sibling were in their nestroom. The same one Holly had grown up in, and that had later been gifted to the three sisters, and then room was made for the fourth, and now that the palace was becoming more dangerous, all five of the siblings lived in this room. Holly couldn’t complain, they loved their sisters to bits, and any excuse to play with them, they would take.

“Up! Up!” Protea demanded, arms raised and her smile wide. Holly used their other arm to lift Protea up to their head. She wrapped her arms around one of their horns, climbing up as far as they could go. “I’ll keep us safe!” She exclaimed, freeing one of her claws from their grip around their horns to pull the pale branch off of her back, before returning to having both arms wrapped around Holly’s horn. Even after hours of training, she was still full of energy.

Lance snuggled up closer to their side, her small hands holding their forearm in place. It wasn’t that they couldn’t move, but if they did, it would certainly be high treason to the order of the sisters. They would surely be executed on the spot. Their sibling hugged their arm as tightly as possible, which was understandable with how close it was getting to their end. Their approaching end deeply saddened them. The poor children’s mother and sibling would be taken from them in only a few days.

Edel sat perfectly in the center of their lap, not touched by any bit of their chitin, as she did not enjoy physical contact. She was exhausted from a long day of following Quirrel and asking him questions. Questions such as “why does it rain?”, and “where does the rain come from?”, and “how many inventions has Quirrel made?”, and “why Quirrel is so weak if his knowledge is power?”. As much as she enjoyed spending time with the Archivist, she was not scared of insulting him in the name of gaining more knowledge. Most of the knowledge wasn’t even important, and would likely be forgotten within a few days.

Sigma’s chewing on their finger began to hurt, so they gently pried their finger out of her jaws and returned to petting her head with their thumb. Sigma growled before trying to hide behind Edel. Sigma is one of the only people Edel trusts, which is something the red-clad spiderling bragged about a lot.

“You can’t get me, Holly! I’m safe here!” She hisses. Holly looked at Edel questioningly, and the nervous child nodded, accepting what would come next. Holly quickly scooped them up, tossing them a few feet before safely catching them. Edel let out a loud laugh, something she rarely did, but it made Holly beam with joy. Sigma let out a screech, but it was too late for her. She was trapped in their cuddle grip.

Protea let out a squeak when her balance was upset, but Holly quickly grabbed her with their other arm. At this point, Lance was also up, but she used her waking moments to snuggle closer to Holly. Gathering them in their arms, they carried them over to their nest and gently set them down. “Stay.” They signed. Lance was already falling back to sleep, as was Edel.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Sigma hissed, but before she could bolt out of their nest, Protea tackled her. Sigma growled, but her threats were drowned out by her smaller sibling’s laughter. Sigma squirmed out from Protea’s grasp, turning the tables and grabbing Protea, picking her up before playfully slamming her into the stuffing of the nest.

“No fighting.” They reprimanded, earning a glare from Sigma. Before they knew what was happening, the small child was halfway across the room, but a quick teleport put them in front of her.

“No fair! You can’t do that!” The child complained. Holly huffed before retrieving the child once again, and carrying them back to the nest.

“Bedtime.” They signed, before pressing a gentle kiss to Sigma’s forehead. Sigma shoved her head up, either in an attempt to hurt them and get revenge, or to get a bigger kiss. They had learned about kisses from watching their father kiss their mother, and later seeing their father give their sisters bedtime kisses. According to Sigma, these were required, and it was impossible to sleep without them.

They gently kneeled, getting as close to Edel as they could without touching her, before blowing a kiss onto her shell. She giggled before wrapping herself in her clean blanket, and pulling her stuffed tiktik close to her side. Edel often got scared when alone, but as long as her tiktik was with her, she was never alone.

Protea buried her head into the blankets. She insisted that “mighty warriors” didn’t need kisses, but Holly disagreed. They snaked a finger to her stomach and tickled lightly, forcing Protea to roll over and giggle and writhe uncontrollably, giving them the perfect opportunity to kiss her forehead.

Lance raised her head slightly, ready for the incoming kiss. Holly pretended as if they hadn’t seen it, but Lance let out a growl, and when they continued to play dumb, she whimpered. And then their hand, which she hadn’t seen, lifted her off of the nest, and they pressed a kiss upon her mask. She seemed content with this, burying herself into the nest’s blankets. Sigma crawled over to Edel and pulled her into a hug, falling asleep soon after. Protea pulled Lance closer to the rest of them, wrapping her arms around the group of them as best she could, but being careful not to touch Edel. They were cute, so cute that it made their heart ache.

Father would be here soon. They dragged a blanket over the four children before settling on their bed, a simple layer of blankets. It might be basic, it might provide little to no comfort, but it was enough, and the bonus that they could make sure their sisters were safe. That was enough for them. They straightened their back, closed their eyes, and prepared for sleep to take them, if sleep would at all.

Only a few more days now, and they would be gone. But their sisters could take care of themselves. It was okay, they weren’t needed anymore.

Chapter Text

There they were, all four of them, sitting, sleeping, playing, right in their living room. It was becoming more and more normal, and with every day that the imposter child wasn’t revealed, the more they settled into the family, became harder to find.

The Pale King, that bastard, had told her that it was nothing to worry about. The children didn’t attack each other, didn’t exhibit any feral behaviors, and were just kids. He acted like Nosks weren’t one of the biggest threats to Deepnest, like her deceased husband hadn’t fought with their Queen to the death. She would never forget seeing that monster cleave him in half, right before her eyes. She had only wished she could have watched it die, but of course, it retreated into the lake far below, a drop that was sure to be fatal. It robbed her of her husband, and her revenge.

He acted as if the Nosks hadn’t been attacking Deepnest for eons, as if the appearance of another Nosk wasn’t extremely bad. There must be a new Queen, then. They had checked the Nosk den, they had cleared it out and ensured it was empty. They had hunted and killed every last one of the beasts, and now another one appeared without explanation. They knew the old den was gone, it was blown up. There must be a new one.

She felt a tug on her leg, looking down to see Sigma staring up at her. “Edel’s underneath the couch again.” She explained, pointing at the small child as she backed herself as far into the wall as possible.

“Come on! I just wanna hug you!” Protea cried as she tried to grab at her larger sister. Edel whimpered as she anxiously batted at dust and dirt, trying to keep it from getting in her cloak, while using her other hand to hug the toy tiktik as close to her chest as possible. Just a phase, she hoped. The Weavers would not respect her if she was as spick-and-span as the nobility of Hallownest. It was also becoming worrying that the child hadn’t yet grown out of her toy. She could not be a princess if she carried that tiktik with her everywhere.

She had honestly hoped Edel would inherit her father’s wings so the Weavers would realize they were picking on a god. The same part of her reminded her of her hate for the Pale King. If her children grew wings, she probably would have torn them off.

“Edel, honey. Come out from under the couch.” Herrah cooed. Edel nervously began approaching her but Protea dashed to a closer location, continuing her attempts to grab her sister. “Protea. Leave your sister alone, she doesn’t want a hug right now.” She reprimanded. Protea collapsed at this, a frown wide across her face. Edel crept out from under the couch, approaching her littlest sister. She gently pats them several times on their head with their free arm, before retreating to Sigma and Herrah.

Edel was a strange one. She inherited her father’s nervousness, but also his mind. It was to the point that she downright refused to be held or touched by anyone other than the king and Sigma, and occasionally the Hollow Knight. It made no sense to her, how could a child fear their mother’s touch? And this had been happening even before she started spending large amounts of time with the Wyrm, so it wasn’t a behavior he ingrained into her. She had become so desperate that she went to Monomon for help. Monomon said it was something called Haphephobia, a condition where intense fear and pain can occur just from physical contact with another bug.

It made her angry that the bastard king could hold her daughter but she couldn’t. And why did the child allow Sigma to hold her hand? Why was Sigma allowed to hug her and cuddle her? Why was the Hollow Knight occasionally granted permission but not always? She understood why Midwife would be able to hold the child, but nothing else made sense. She hated, hated, hated illnesses of the brain, because it never made sense to her. No one in her now-deceased family had any, the Pale King didn’t have any, so why did her child have one?

“Dinner is ready.” The Weaver servant exclaimed from the kitchen. After her husband, the previous king, had passed, most of their servants had left, but thankfully they weren’t fully abandoned. This Weaver, for example, had stayed and helped with the children, even when the Nosk had infiltrated their ranks.

Sigma grabbed Edel’s hand and pulled her along to the kitchen, almost causing the small child to fall over. Protea ran to the kitchen and somehow got there before Sigma and Edel, while Lance took her time, placing her toys back in their positions, and making her way to the kitchen. Another odd thing, why had Sigma grown to be the same size as Edel, while Lance had grown taller, and Protea had grown shorter? She could understand if it was only one of them, that would make it obvious who the Nosk is, but it was two of them.

The four children climbed into their chairs, always seated in a specific order. Lance, Protea, Sigma, and finally Edel. The Weaver servant picked up five plates in her hands and placed them around the table. “Annia, why don’t you serve yourself a plate?” Herrah asked.

“I don’t know, I should probably get home soon. I wouldn’t want to be late.” Annia said nervously. It was a lie, obviously. Annia had no one to go home to, as her family had died to the infection a few years prior, and she barely went home at all, spending most nights in the Capital city drinking. Not only was this a secret, but the very fact that she was Herrah’s servant was secret. It was dangerous to do either in such a dangerous political climate.

“At least take some food with you before you go.” Herrah pleaded. Annia nodded silently, wrapping up some of the meat in silk. The children had already begun eating. Lance shoved as much food in her mouth as she could, while Edel carefully cut off slices to eat. Protea took small bites out of the meat while she held it with her bare hands, grease and sauce running down her hands. Sigma took large bites, before realizing that she had bitten off too much, and spending the next few minutes chewing. She repeated this process with every bite.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Herrah. Good Night.” Annia said as she went for the door, putting on her heavy coat to protect her from the rain of the Capital. And with that, she was gone, leaving the small spider family of five to themselves for a long time. Unbeknownst to her at the time, this would be the last time she saw Annia, either murdered in the Capital, slain by beasts, or stolen away by that damned cult of bells. She sighed once the servant was gone, turning her attention to her children.

“My children, I would like to tell you something.” She said. All four of them turned their heads to her. “I would like to say that it does not matter to me if one of you is a Nosk. You are all my children, and you will always be, no matter what happens.” She explained, and she really meant it. She knew she didn’t have much time left until she began her eternal sleep, she wanted to spend as much time as she could with her children, and she wanted to be happy. “If the one who was not born of me would like to announce themself, there would be no consequences. That secret would not leave this room, but I understand if you do not wish to expose yourself.” Herrah felt like she was on the verge of tears. Her eventual doom had given her the best part of her life, and her eventual doom would take it all away.

None of her children said anything. That was alright. She could feel tears swelling at the corners of her eyes and she needed to remove her mask to wipe them away. “Why is mama crying?” Protea asked. Lance silently slinked out of her chair and approached her, wrapping her arms around her mother’s leg. Sigma and Protea got out of their seats to join the hug, doing their best to pull their mother into an embrace as she struggled not to cry. Suddenly, she felt a tight squeeze on her finger, opening her eyes to see Edel holding her finger with her unoccupied hand.

That broke her. The Beast of Deepnest, the Merciless Queen, broke down into tears while her children comforted her. She hoped her final days with them would be happy, that was all she could ever dream of.

Chapter Text

The King first learned that his daughter was affiliated with the Mantis Village through one of the Mantis Lord’s themselves, when they came to discuss trade routes. Kieza, the Fourth Mantis Lord, was shocked to find that he was Protea’s father, and because of this he “sweetened the deal” by giving him a small, personal area to hunt in. This was apparently because his daughter was “a strong yet sweet and honorable girl”, and because Kieza was proud that the small king could raise such a strong child. He didn’t have the heart to tell the Mantis Lord that he hadn’t actually trained Protea. The Lord’s explanation was followed by the Mantis Lord ranting about his own daughter for at least an hour. The King has yet to visit his hunting grounds, but Kieza said it is quite nice.

Apparently, without his knowledge, Protea had been “sneaking out” to the Mantis Village multiple times a week to visit a mantis named Amaryllis. Her first visit had been after she had discovered Ze’mer sneaking out to go to the mantis village, and demanded that the silverfish take her along so she could keep her safe. It was thanks to this journey that Protea not only met Ze’mer’s girlfriend, but also the four Mantis Lords and Amaryllis. How long this has been going on for, he has no clue, but apparently, everyone but him was aware of it.

When he asked the Great Knights about it, they all admitted that it had been going on for quite some time, but that they every time she snuck out recorded in a log in the training area. Protea wasn’t allowed to “sneak out” without informing at least three of the Great Knights, and her stepmother. His Root had laughed about it when she realized he had no clue, claiming she had left several reminders on his work desk throughout the years that his daughter had been sneaking out. He hadn’t believed her at first, but when he checked his work desk he found at least a hundred notes written on silk sheets mixed in with other, forgotten, dusty papers.

But yes, it was now known to him that his daughter was well respected in the Mantis Tribe, and had been trained by all four of the Mantis Lords at least once, despite having never defeated them in battle. It was, apparently, an almost weekly occurrence that Protea would demand to fight the Mantis Lords to prove her strength, only for the four to unanimously deny her, claiming she had already proved her worth tenfold. The spiderling didn’t accept this answer, and would ask again in a few days.

It was nice to know this, but truthfully it wouldn’t have been too important to him. His daughters had their own lives, and they could do with them whatever they wanted, as long as they stayed safe and returned home before midnight. But that changed when a rather anxious mantis, followed by a younger mantis and Protea, rushed into the Palace one day. The Mantis was not one of high ranking, judging by the fact that he had never met them, but he still held himself proudly, and seemed just as infallible as the Mantis Lords themselves, save for the fact that he seemed absolutely terrified of the god-king before him.

“Hello, your pale majesty.” The Mantis squeaked, bowing down before him. The other mantis, who was undoubtedly Amaryllis, was helping Protea get settled. Protea, on the other hand, held a large, blood-stained cloth to her mouth, and she looked like she was in a lot of pain.

“I assume you are Amaryllis’s father, yes? It is nice to meet you. Is my daughter okay?” The King said as he got off of his throne and approached the mantis, who scrambled back to his feet when the Wyrm approached him.

“Yes, that’s me. I… well you see, our daughters were playing as they do, and they were training, and your daughter slipped and face-planted into a wall and… well, she knocked out one of her fangs.” The father explained, trembling and cowering away from him.

“Ah, is she okay?” He asked, approaching Protea. She removed the cloth and gave him a big smile, which was noticeably missing one of her chelicerae, but besides that, and the blood that stained her royal blue cloak, she seemed to be okay.

“I do believe so. I am so absolutely sorry for this, I have heard from the Lords that you are a very forgiving king, and I came immediately to beg you not to hurt my daughter, it was a simple mistake and I promise it will never happen again. I can keep them separated if you need me to. I am so sorry.” The mantis said.

“I doubt your Lords would have said that. Quite the contrary, I am not a very forgiving king.” He said as he looked over his daughter’s state once again, thinking about the actions when he had first declared himself king of Hallownest. He thought about his fight against the Lord of Shades, his destruction of the Radiance, and the thousands of bodies in the Abyss. The mantis looked like he was on the verge of fainting, beads of sweat on his forehead and his hands shaking almost violently, and that’s when the King realized he forgot to finish his sentence.

“Do not fear, I would not hurt you. It is, as you’ve said, a simple mistake. She is still a child, such things happen. I would ask that you do not separate them, but I would also like to offer, if you and your tribe allow it, that Amaryllis visits the Palace at some point in the future.” He finishes. The mantis lets out a breath that he had been holding in, almost collapsing onto his knees.

“Thank you, oh most gracious god-king of Hallownest.” The mantis said, bowing once again.

“Please, don’t call me that.” He requested. He was a king, yes, but he hated seeing people beg like that. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and most of the time the people begging were either completely innocent or so obviously guilty that the begging made no difference.

“Of course, your majesty. Come along, Amaryllis, let us head back home.” He said, beckoning her to follow.

“I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer, if that’s okay, I’ll be back before dusk.” The mantis girl says. The mantis nods before practically dashing out of the palace, not even making sure it was okay with him that his daughter stays. Understandable, he supposes. He didn’t know so many people were so afraid of him. He would have to ask his Root for help on that.

“Well, you two have fun, and don’t get into trouble. I have some paperwork to get to, apparently, I’ve been ignoring a lot of papers.” He said. Protea let out a laugh at that. He hurried back to his office, leaving the two girls alone in the throne room.

“How’re you feeling?” Amaryllis asked, pushing Protea’s hand out of the way to assess her injuries.

“Babe, I’m fine. I promise, it hurts a bit but I’m strong, I’ll live.” Protea explained, flexing her muscles to impress her girlfriend. Amaryllis smirked and let out a giggle. She grabbed her hand and pulled her behind a pillar to get the two out of the vision of the emotionless kingsmolds.

“I’m sure a kiss will make you feel better, right?” Amaryllis teased. Protea’s entire face went red, and she almost felt like she would pass out.

“But… but we’re in the throne room, what if someone sees?” She said, voice barely above a whimper.

"But, my dear fleeting shadow, is it truly shameful to love and be loved in return?" Amaryllis asked. Her face turned even redder, to the point that Amaryllis actually worried she might pass out, so she hooked an arm around Protea’s waist in case the princess did pass out. “So I ask you again, my princess, would a kiss make you feel better?”

“That… that might make me feel a bit better, yes.” Protea whimpered, pulling the bloody cloth over her face. Amaryllis laughed at her, so soft and kind, yet still strong. The mantis pried her hands away from her face again, pressing a kiss upon her face. “Thanks.” Protea squeaked. Amaryllis laughed again, holding Protea’s head in her hands.

“I should probably be headed home, I’ll see you soon, yes?” Amaryllis asked. Protea nodded, rubbing her face where her girlfriend had kissed her. And with that, the two girls parted.

The next time Protea visited the Mantis Village, she discovered that the Mantis Lords had created a charm for her. They called it the Mark of Pride, made out of the chelicerae she had knocked out. It joined her Hallownest crest on her cloak, and it hasn’t since left.

Chapter Text

Edel was in the Archives. It was almost always quiet, and the cool, moist air felt nice on her carapace, and no one there was stupid enough to touch her to get her attention. It was her second favorite place, or maybe third. She enjoyed the atmosphere of her father’s workshop, and her own nestroom was more often than not silent. Still, the Archives was a nice place to study and learn. Sometimes she studied with Quirrel, sometimes she attended lectures from Monomon, sometimes she sat in some far corner of the Archives, reading stacks of journals and tubes of acid.

Today she was talking with Quirrel near the entrance of Uumuu’s container. She was asking about Uumuu, about how it functioned, how they created it, how they ran diagnosis checks and how they input more information into it. Quirrel, the smart pillbug he was, was able to answer every question he was asked. And then he had to leave, because Lurien had sent a complaint about a report of charged lumaflies on the Pilgrim’s Path.

And so that was how she was left alone, resting for a moment, recording the information Quirrel had told her on her already cramped tablet that she would later add to the dozens of tablets she owned, all stuffed in a secret cubby that only she and Sigma knew of. That’s when the sound of loud, approaching footsteps. She knew those footsteps, only because everyone else who visited the Archives was at least conscious of the fact that people were studying.

The Soul Master walked down the hallway, in his usual attire of large, billowing cloak, accompanied by two Soul Warriors, and his assistant. Edel knew little to nothing about the kid. She only knew that the assistant and the Soul Master had a similar relationship as Quirrel and Monomon did, that is to say, close friends (something about the way they kept a few feet away from the Soul Master, and how they were always in a defensive stance went against her assumption). Unfortunately, it was too late for her to make a run for it. She’d have to endure talking to the Soul Master.

“Ah, what do we have here?” He asked. His assistant looked up from the floor he’d been staring at, seemingly in a daze. “I never thought I’d see THE Edel, as in the daughter of the Pale King himself! Right here, in this dump of wasted talent and useless knowledge!” He said with a large grin on his face. “How are your studies going?”

“They’re going well, I’ve learned a lot here and I am excited to use what I’ve learned in the real world.” She said. It was a cookie-cutter response, something she’d said to everyone who’d ever asked her about her studies, but it seemed that her response got the Soul Master extremely excited.

“I’m very excited for the day that you join us at the Soul Sanctum. We are the most prestigious scholarly building in the entirety of Hallownest after all! And we’re the best place for you out there!” He exclaimed. What? She hid her bafflement at his gall of this man and pretended to be interested to the best of her abilities. “I know how you Deepnest-ians are, you like your low lighting, so I know you’d be excited to hear that we work in mostly low-light environments.” Correct in some sense, but only because she was photosensitive. It seems he wasn’t done, unfortunately. “I know how your father is about loud noises. Our rooms are completely soundproofed, if someone was getting murdered in the next room over, you wouldn’t even hear it.”

She made her best fake smile and lied through her teeth. “That’s all very interesting, sir. I’ll be sure to think about it when the time comes.” The Soul Master bought her lie and his grin only got larger.

“Well, Charlie, how about you get to know Edel here while I go and talk to Monomon?” The Soul Master asked. The mention of his name finally snapped him out of his trance.

“Who, sir?” He asked, voice still sounding slightly dazed.

“This beautiful young lady before you! Isn’t she dashing?” The Soul Master asked. She was starting to understand why no one wanted to be around him.

“What?” Charlie asked, like he didn’t quite understand that the Soul Master was trying to play Cupid.

“Don’t worry about it. Just talk to her while I go and discuss things with Monomon, okay?” The Soul Master explained. After a few moments of thinking, Charlie nodded in confirmation that he had indeed heard what he said. The Soul Master and his guards departed, leaving Charlie and Edel awkwardly standing a few feet apart from one another in complete silence.

“So, uh… how are your studies at the Sanctum going?” She asked. She hated small talk, but she would rather endure it than stand a moment more in this awkward silence. Charlie seemed confused by the question.

“I don’t really study, I just help in experiments and the such.” He explained.

“Ok. Well, how is your family?”

“Oh, well, my family died a while ago, and I haven’t seen them since I started working for him, and I’ve been under his wing since a few years before that,” Charlie explains. “I don’t really want to talk about it, sorry.” He adds. Now that she’s getting a closer look at him, he looks awful. He has small bags under his eyes, his hands are clammy and he picks and scratches at the joints of his hands, his shell seems discolored, and many parts are scarred over.

It’s none of her business, really, but she can’t help but be curious. “Are you okay? You don’t look too good.” Edel asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just on a new antidepressant. The Soul Master says it isn’t reacting well to my body, so he’s looking for a new one to put me on.” Charlie explains.

She thinks she’s onto something. She knows somethings off about the Soul Master, everyone does. She just needs to pry. “I’m also on antidepressants. What brand is it, that the Soul Master has you on?” She lies.

“Oh, I didn’t know there were brands. Most of the time he makes the concoctions himself, usually a bottle at a time. Are there store-bought antidepressants? I should probably tell him that, it’ll make things much easier.” Charlie explains. Something seems wrong.

“Do you know what he puts in the concoctions?” She asks, taking a step closer to him, bringing her voice down a notch in case the Soul Master was eavesdropping.

“Oh, heavens no. I’m only an assistant, I’m not allowed in the medicine closet.” He explains.

“Charlie, that’s your name, right?” She asks. Charlie nods. “Well, Charlie, when were you diagnosed with depression?” Charlie hesitates before answering, like he isn’t quite sure.

“Well… I wasn’t diagnosed until the Soul Master took me under his wing, but that was because my family was poor. But I have a lot of symptoms, like nausea, insomnia, and nightmares, fatigue, bouts of dizziness, dehumanization, hopelessness, flashbacks, loss of interest, I cry a lot, I’m not very social, I can never quite get enough sleep, and the agitation and anxiety.” He explains with a wave of his hand.

“Those aren’t normal symptoms, are you sure depression is the only thing you have?” She asked. He didn’t respond. “Charlie.” She said, to snap him out of his daze. “Are sure you’re okay?” He was shaking now. “Charlie, you can tell me what happened.” She said.

He seemed to snap at that. “No. No, I can’t tell you, you don’t get it, I can’t defect from the Soul Sanctum, not after everything the Soul Master has done for me, and after I’ve seen what he does to defectors.” The boy whimpers, on the verge of tears.

“What does that mean? Charlie, you can trust me, I promise. What happened?” Charlie was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack at this point. She grabbed his hand as her sister did to her when she had panic attacks. “You see this?” She asked while showing him their hands. “This means you’re safe. The Soul Master can’t hurt you as long as I’m holding your hand.” She explained. Even though it made her uncomfortable to the point that she thought she’d throw up, she endured it.

“I lied… I lied… I’m so sorry. I’ve seen my parents, my mother at least. They killed her, I found her body in the pit when they sent me down there to collect jewelry. Gods, her face, her face was so scared and she was all shriveled up, and there were so many bodies, and, and… they’ll kill me if they figure out I’ve defected… oh gods what have I done! They’re going to kill me!” He started bawling. She had expected only a misuse of drugs, but this was much worse.

“Okay, listen to me Charlie, I need to tell Lurien, okay?” She explained. Charlie’s eyes went wide, and he looked like he was about to pass out. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. See? You’re safe No one will know you told them, okay?” She said, and thankfully Charlie looked like he was calming down. He gripped her hand tighter, to the point that she feared he would break her carapace, but it was going to be okay, they were going to tell Lurien, inform him of what the Soul Master has been doing, and then Charlie would be safe.

Everything would be alright.

Chapter Text

Lurien groaned as he put up another signed document. Gods above, there were so many people in the Soul Sanctum, and the only ones who didn’t have criminal evidence against them were the kid, Charlie, and a few janitors. Everyone else had a large part in the hundreds of murders. So much paperwork. The Watcher wouldn’t be doing anything other than paperwork for months.

The big sentences first, he told himself. This was the only part of his job that he hated, besides dealing with nobles, and pretty much anyone else besides the King, his butler, and maybe Monomon. He signed off on another Soul Twister, another execution. Wow, this next one was only three life sentences. Wasn’t that incredible?

When Edel showed up, and she was practically dragging a cockroach behind her, he had been very confused, but he knew something was wrong. Edel would never willingly come into physical contact with another bug. Charlie, the kid she dragged in, confessed everything that he knew about the Soul Sanctum, and before he even finished speaking, Lurien already had his Watcher Knights ready to go raid the Soul Sanctum. He was glad he didn’t have to run a report on the deceased individuals found inside, that would be even worse than what he had now.

Read their crimes, decide their punishments, sign off on it, put it in the pile to be sent to the King for review. His butler, Lumen, brought him another stack of papers. “Did they find more scholars in the walls or something?” Lurien asked, looking at the obscene amount of papers. Lumen shook his head.

“I just finished documenting all of the Soul Master’s crimes. I recommend you start on it now, the King wants his conviction by the end of the week.” Lumen explained. Just like Lurien, Lumen also had bags under his eyes. Sleep was not welcome in the Watcher’s Spire, and when it was, it was only here for a few hours.

Lurien sighed. It was at least three inches thick, documents upon documents of Lumen’s already cramped writing. If he didn’t find a crime worthy of execution in the first few pages, he would have to start adding up the life sentences. “Thank you, place them right there, I’ll get to it when I finish this acolytes conviction. I think he’s going to get to live.” Lurien said.

“That’s nice I suppose.” Lumen muttered, placing the pile of documents on the end of the table.

“Nevermind, he’s going to be executed.” Lurien corrected. Lumen let out a sad sigh before moving to his side of the Watcher’s Spire and collapsing onto the couch. The Watcher couldn’t blame Lumen for being upset about all of this, these acolytes, scholars, and warriors were all his childhood friends, his classmates, his neighbors, and now he was going to have to write them up to be executed. And also paperwork was awful. Hopefully, his dreams would be nicer to him than the waking world.

Lurien signed off of the execution and placed it in the completed forms pile before getting started on the awful amount of paperwork that was Beeble, the Fourth and final Soul Master. He started his examination by writing a note at the bottom of the page, reminding whoever publicly announced these convictions to say Beeble’s name. He skimmed through the Soul Masters prior record from before the King had put him on top of trials and convictions. No convictions to speak of, though he had been accused of plenty of crimes, including the murder of Lurien’s sister (he had led that case before he became the Watcher). He wanted to immediately end this by executing this bastard, but he had a mature job to do, he couldn’t just execute him no matter how much he wanted him dead.

The first dozen or so convictions were of nonconsensual druggings. He had obtained a ludicrous amount of drugs, both legal and illegal, from almost every pharmaceutical company and drug dealer in the city. Documents from his private studies showed that he drugged his employees in hopes of finding the “perfect state to extract soul”. He did this behind the guise of giving medicine to his employees, the worst druggings going to the child, Charlie. The kid was told he had depression, and was consequently drugged random concoctions of different medicines almost daily to keep him sedated

On the topic of Charlie, the kid had an entire page dedicated entirely to crimes committed against him by the Soul Master. According to the Soul Master’s diary, Beeble had become obsessed with the child because he thought Charlie was “perfect in both form, mind, and soul”. If the kid ever was any of those things, the druggings and PTSD had long since taken them away. Child endangerment was, of course, the most common. Charlie’s parents never signed a consent form for him to be taken away, so kidnapping was on the list. Wage theft, as well, as none of the money Charlie should have been making ever got to his parents. And, crossing records, all of the kid’s family members were dead, either from the infection or from the Soul Sanctum themselves. Wonderful, the kid needed to be sent to an orphanage, he also needed to be placed in intensive therapy and a witness protection program to protect him from any acolytes who didn’t go to work that day (there were at least a dozen who were now on the run).

Now onto the more serious crimes, if druggings weren’t already serious. Assisting in the kidnappings of hundreds of bugs, assisting in the murders of hundreds of bugs, misuse of bodies, grave robbing, torture, coverups, aiding in assassinations of witnesses, destruction of property both private and public, stealing from hospitals, muggings, aiding in the assassination of “defectors” to the Soul Sanctum, identity theft, arson, blackmail, bribery crimes, concealing escaped prisoners, counterfeiting, drug abuse violations, drug smuggling, drug trafficking, extortion, failure to appear on a felony offense, false bail, forced labor, forgery, injuring and killing city guards, illegal possession of explosives, money laundering, obstruction of court orders and justice, possession of narcotics, product tampering, probation violation, sabotage, shoplifting, stalking, theft of trade secrets, vandalism…

It had been multiple hours since he started reading the Soul Master’s crimes. Lurien crunched the numbers on the margins of the documents, and he stopped counting at about two hundred life sentences. Fuck this, he thinks, as he writes execution at the bottom of the page and calls it a day.

Chapter Text

“Hurry up, slowpoke! The Coliseum’s gonna be closed by the time you get your butt over here!” Protea teased. Sigma growled, tightening her grip on her needle and throwing it again to pull herself forward. Their mother had just started teaching them how to do it, it wasn’t her fault that she was having difficulty doing it. It also wasn’t her fault that Protea could run so fast. Damn her and her daily exercises.

“If you don’t be careful, I’m going to throw my needle directly into you. Then we’ll both miss the show.” Sigma threatened as she managed to gain some ground. Gods, Protea was so fast. If she wasn’t wasting her life on being a guard, she could be an amazing hunter. But if she wasn’t being a guard, she wouldn’t be this fast. She couldn’t do both, she guesses

“You couldn’t hit me if you tried!” Protea taunted. Oh, so this is how it’s gonna go? Sigma threw her needle directly at Protea, missing only by a few feet due to her moving.

“I could easily spear you, you dirtcarver! I’ll have you know I’ve never missed a shot with my needle before!” She growls.

“Just did, loser!” Protea teased, sticking her tongue out at her sister before breaking into a sprint before Sigma could throw her needle again. She cackles as she runs, but Sigma has a plan. She throws her needle into the ceiling right above Protea, reeling herself in far enough to swing herself, full speed, right into Protea’s back. Right before her plan is fulfilled, her needle dislodges itself from the ceiling, sending her crashing into Protea, which sends both of them into a tumble that wraps them up in silk.

“Ugh! Sigma you asshole!” Protea growls as she begins to thrash wildly in hopes of freeing herself.

“Smooth landing, princess.” A voice taunts, followed by someone else’s laughter. Sigma manages to struggle to the front of the bundle. Fuck. She just made a fool of herself in front of one of the strongest warriors in all of Hallownest, Xena the God Tamer herself (as well as Ercu, who's the champion of the Coliseum, but she doesn’t have a badass title like Xena does). Xena hooks the blade of a dagger under one of the tangled strings of silk, pulling hard and cutting it, sending both of the sisters collapsing onto the ground.

“Thanks, Xena.” Sigma mutters as she gets to her feet and brushes off the ash and dust.

“And who might this be? You bringing your little sister to see how strong I am?” Xena asked.

“No, she’s one of my twins.” Sigma corrects. Protea manages to escape the silk and shake the ash off of her cloak.

“Damn, how many twins you got? I feel bad for your mom.” Xena says before taking another huff on her pipe.

“So… how’s the Coliseum going? Why aren’t you in there fighting?” Sigma asked, peeking past the two girls to see that the usually packed lobby was empty.

“It was going good, but some old bug from the city shut down the entire Coliseum a few minutes ago, so no show.” Xena explained. Sigma groaned loudly in disappointment. “Sorry princess, I don’t make the rules.” She added before taking another huff on her pipe, followed by her blowing a ring of smoke at Sigma.

“And some old man showed up and you just listened to him? No arguments, no nothing?” Sigma asked as she swatted away the smoke.

“Listen, when someone shows up with a Hallownest Seal attached to their cloak and tells you to close up for today, you do it. I don’t want to fuck around with the King, and I doubt you do either. Just scramble home, I’ll buy you some tickets to tomorrow’s show.” Xena explained. Behind her, Ercu throws a large ball of ash flakes into the air, which quickly scatter in the wind. She begins gathering them again when they’ve all landed.

“I’m gonna go show this man a piece of my mind!” Sigma hisses, tightening her claws into a fist.

“You go girl! Go beat up that old, defenseless bug!” Xena encourages. “Oh wait, before you go, babe!” She calls, getting Ercu’s attention. “Show them that little dance you showed me earlier.” Ercu nods before getting to her feet and performing a short jig, and all the while she has the most serious look in her eyes. Once she’s done, Xena applauds her, and Sigma joins in a few seconds later, leaving Protea confused. She claps with them in fear that this feral gladiator will cleave her in two.

“Keep up the good work, Ercu, see you two later!” Sigma says as she grabs Protea’s hand and drags her towards the Coliseum.

“Remember! In case that guy is, like, a government or something, you aren’t affiliated with the Coliseum in any way!” Xena yells back as they enter the building. The fool chained up at the entrance was fast asleep, but Sigma knew better than to not wake them.

“What was all that about back there? I thought you said you’ve never been here before?” Protea asked, whispered, as to not wake up the sleeping bug in chains.

“Yeah, I lied. I’ve been here like a hundred times, but I’d be in trouble with dad if I told him that.” Sigma answered, also in a whisper.

“You didn’t even tell dad!”

“Of course I didn’t, he wouldn’t have said yes, but I fabricated the lie just in case he asked where we were going.” Sigma pulled the gate into the pit open, holding it long enough for Protea to slip under and join her on the other side.

“Do they know you’re the princess of Hallownest?” Protea asked as Sigma silently lowered the gate.

“Of course not. They just know I’m some girl from the city with a fancy cloak.” Sigma whispers. The light from the arena shines down the dark hallway, almost blindingly bright. Sigma stopped as she got close enough to see said arena, and the lone bug inside. Protea stopped as well, peaking past Sigma. It was their father, the Pale King.

“Dad is not old! Those bastards!” Sigma hissed. Protea placed a hang over her mouth to silence her, to which Sigma promptly bit down on, causing Protea to hiss and punch her in the side. They both went silent when their father cleared his throat, finishing his endless pacing and facing the throne of the Lord Fool, which still houses the dead Wyrm’s body.

“I have been debating whether I should even come here, if it’s even worth it to talk to you again. I guess I decided too late, but that doesn’t mean I have nothing to say to you.” Their father hissed. “My dear brother! Look at all of this! It’s a mess! It’s awful! A place designed to kill my people! You came to my lands, begged me for something to call your own, and then you did this? After everything you’ve done, I forgave you, and after everything I’ve done, you’ve decided to hurt me more.” He growls, before returning to his pacing.

“Do you remember when I first started calling you my sibling? My brother? I doubt you do, I doubt you ever really cared. I accepted you with open claws, I was excited to have an older sibling, and you? You just kept acting like a leech! You pushed me and you shoved me, you stole my food and you hit me and you bit me, and, and, and even after all of that I still cared about you!” Tears were forming in his eyes, beginning to run down his face.

“And! And after all that! After all that, dear brother, I still mourn your death! I still sent a messenger as soon as I was almost killed, to warn you, in some hope of saving your life! I still spent night after night crying, because I remembered the small moments where you weren’t rotten! When I actually felt like your brother, and not just a bother! Because I thought to myself, I thought about how my big brother was gone! How his corpse is still lying slouched in his throne!”

“Do you even remember me? Did you even know I was your brother? Or did you just come to leech off of someone else? Did you ever even think of me as your brother? Did you ever love me? Or were you like our parents? Did you hate me as much as they did?” He cried. “I had planned, I had a plan, to get rid of you, to drive you off of my land. And I felt bad about it, I really did, and when I received the news? It hurt me so much. I wouldn’t have actually gone through with it, you know I wouldn’t have, but that doesn’t change anything.”

He chewed on his fingertips as he paced back and forth. “I had a gift prepared for your hatchday, I don’t know what to do with it. I sent you invitations to some of my parties. Did you receive them? Did you just ignore them or did you not remember who I was?” He asked, letting out a pathetic laugh. “Oh, I can just imagine your confusion! You keep getting letters from some nobody! Some strange bug keeps pestering you about parties.”

He sniffled, wiping his tears on his sleeves. “Gods above. Are you even still my brother? Did my brother die somewhere out there in the wastes, and his empty husk simply showed up at my door?” He asked. “Were you ever my brother? Were you just like mother and father? Did you ever care about me?” He whimpered weakly. He collapsed onto his hands and knees and cried.

“Let’s get back to the palace. This isn’t any of our business.” Sigma whispered.

“No, fuck that.” Protea said, rushing forward to her fathers aid.

“What? What’re… what’re you two doing here?” He asked, his tail curling up under his cloak and his claws hugging closer to his body. Protea got down on her knees and pulled her smaller father into a hug. “Please let me go, I don’t deserve this comfort.” The Wyrm whimpered. Sigma’s internalized need to make her father unhappy triggered at hearing that, so she walked forward and joined the hug.

The hugs didn’t stop the Pale King from bawling his eyes out, but it helped him get it out. It would be a long time before the family went home

Chapter Text

She traveled through the air, using her needle and silk to quickly take her from place to place. She was getting bigger with every day, and her last molt had officially made her taller than her father (something she bragged about, of course).

It was hunting season, and the first major hunt she would be taking place in. Yeah, she’s hunted small game before. Dirtcarvers, Carver Hatchers, Corpse Creepers, even Mimics! And all that in only Deepnest. But none of them would even come close to the spoils of her next hunt. She was going to catch one of the wandering beasts that roamed close to Deepnest in this season, and this season only. She reeled herself in and hid behind a pile of rocks, gazing out across the large cavern before her. She couldn’t go too far, she knew that much, and she had been warned to retreat immediately if she heard the chimes of bells.

The beast she wanted to catch sometimes walked through canyons like this, with their long, spindly legs. Their tribe called them Quartecs, named after the last Weaver settlement (which was trampled and destroyed by, you guessed it, a herd of Quartecs). She watched the crack that brought in dim sunlight, waiting for their legs, knowing that one would, eventually, attempt to cross the large, open tunnel. This was the most dangerous place she had ever been to, but if she could catch one of these beasts, her mother would be so proud.

And then the main problem of this hunting spot showed itself. A large Tunneler attempted to cross. For a second, she thought about going in for the kill and bringing back this beast. It was certainly of impressive size. Her idea was shattered when a large claw dove through the overhead opening and wrapped around the beast, yanking it out of the tunnel. Well fuck. If a Great Beast was guarding this crack, then there would be no safe way to get a kill. She needed to move elsewhere. Carefully, and as silent as she could, she moved away from the crack, ignoring as a large chunk of shell was dropped into the crack, a large portion of meat still on it. Stealing game from a larger hunter was pathetic, not to mention that the meat was probably contaminated now that it’s been in contact with the Beast

She moved quickly through the tunnels, searching for another ravine or crack in the ground that would allow Beasts to migrate through. Thankfully, another one wasn’t too far, so she once again hid behind a pile of debris and waited. She waited for at least an hour, and nothing of interest crossed. Occasionally, a group of Dirtcarvers would pass, and at one point she saw a Grubberfly. Her eyelids grew heavy. What a fool she was, getting tired in such a dangerous place. At least she was safe here.

Her rest was ruined when another Tunneler crashed through the wall, sending shards of rock and shell flying in all directions. It must’ve picked up on her scent. She barely managed to dodge the debris, but this also brought her into the Beast’s line of sight. It let out a growl and charged at her. She jumped to the side, and a moment later it’s tough, shell-covered skull slammed into the wall. She took the chance to jump upon its back, driving her nail into the back of its head in an attempt to temporarily paralyze it.

It began struggling, tossing and turning and attempting to throw her off. She managed to loop a string of silk around its neck, keeping herself grounded on its back. With one last slam of her body, she drove her needle through one of its spines, causing it to turn rigid and momentarily go unconscious. She slipped off of the Beast’s back, catching her breath as the creature behind her twitched and squirmed it’s tail in an attempt to wake up the rest of its body. Now for the next step of the hunt, wrapping up prey. It was important that she keep it alive, so that it’s meat wouldn’t rot before it was eaten.

Looking over her silk supply, she cursed. She had used too much silk when traveling, there was no way she would be able to wrap it enough to keep it from escaping when it reawoke. But… if she didn’t bring it back alive, she wouldn’t be counted in the successful hunt. She curses at her eagerness, at her impatience, at her disability, her inability to produce silk. She climbs back atop the Beast and yanks the needle toward her, severing the Tunneler’s second spine. A few moments later, the Beast’s labored breathing comes to a stop, and she collapses against it and cries. Even if she had found a Quartec, she wouldn’t have been able to succeed. She was doomed from the start, cursed with a disadvantage. She doesn’t even need to go home to know she’s failed, but she still must return and disappoint her mother.

——

The Weaver Princess, or at least one of them, the only one to follow the tribe's tradition, is gawked at as she drags a large, dead beast, at least ten times her size, through the village. With the last of her silk, she manages to pull it up to the platform that her and her family's house lies upon. Herrah is not there, maybe she heard that Sigma had failed and decided to not be here when she returned. Sigma curls up and cries, soaking her already hemolymph-stained cloak. She digs her claws into the sides of her legs and pulls them as close to her as possible.

“Sigma? What’re you doing back so early? Are you okay?” Herrah asks, voice sincere and worried. Sigma looks up from where her face was pressed.

“I’m sorry, mother. I’ve failed you.” She cries. “I couldn’t do it, I— I can’t…”

“What can’t you do? What’s wrong?” Her mother asks.

“I couldn’t wrap my kill, I can’t produce silk. My spinners don’t work. I’ve failed the tribe, I have nothing to bring to the feast.” She cries. Herrah gathers her daughter in her arms and hugs her tightly.

“For how long have they not worked?” She asks as she rubs Sigma’s back, in hopes of comforting her child.

“I don’t know, they just… stopped working. I’ve been stealing silk… I’m so sorry. I failed the hunt, I’ve failed our traditions.” Sigma explains.

“My daughter, it’s okay. I didn’t succeed on my first hunt, and neither did the late King of Deepnest. Even if you cannot spin silk, you are still a Weaver, you are still capable of so much.” Herrah cooes. Sigma wraps her arms around her mother’s neck and hugs tightly.

“But… but I’m a freak. I can’t do anything, I didn’t get any part of you or dad. What am I? Why didn’t I get spinners? Why didn’t I get wings?” She cries

“You aren’t a freak, you’re just like everyone else in the village. There are plenty of Weavers who can’t produce silk, you not being able to make silk doesn’t make you any less a member of the tribe. You did good, so so good. Look at the Beast you’ve brought back. I’m still impressed, even if you couldn’t wrap it.” She says.

“You are? I didn’t disappoint you?” Sigma asks, wiping the tears from her face.

“Of course I’m not disappointed, I’m proud! You went so far and brought back a beast worthy of a feast!” Herrah says, a large smile across her face, showing off her fangs. She rubs the tears and hemolymph off of her daughters face with her claws. “It won’t last until the feast, but would you like to help me prepare it for a meal tonight?” She asked. Sigma nodded, smiling and wiping the remainder of the tears off her face.

“Yes ma’am. I would love to. Just… give me a moment. I need to take a bath.” Her daughter says, before jumping down from their platform and heading to the hot spring. Herrah smiled proudly as she grabbed the Beast and began cutting it so she could bring it through the door.

——

Her bath was short, she just needed to get the sweat and blood off of her, and as soon as she finished with that she felt refreshed and ready to help her mom prepare the large dinner that her beast would produce. The heat from the spring makes her light headed, and she quickly slips on her cloak the moment she’s dried herself off.

From the shadows, a Weaver spies on her, a spear held tightly in their claws. They had one chance at this, and if they messed it up they were dead. They jumped out of cover when she turned her back on them. The princess didn’t even see it coming. Their spear pierced her back, the tip of the weapon visible from Sigma’s front side. She let out a scream of pain that was surely audible throughout all of Deepnest. They would have to hurry and end her before the Queen came to stop them.

Sigma managed to pull herself off of the weapon embedded in her lower stomach, falling to the floor and reaching for her needle in an attempt to fight back. The Weaver stabbed her hand before she could even grab her nail, much less get to her feet, severing one of her fingers and causing her to let out another wail of pain. They grabbed her nail and threw it into the hot spring, far away from the both of them. The princess was crying now, trying her best to crawl away like the pathetic imposter she was. Or perhaps they were wrong, usually a Nosk would forfeit its form when it was realized, but the girl instead clutched at her chest and tried to save herself. No matter, they had already gone too far, they needed to finish the job.

They approached her, placing a leg on her back to keep her still, and raised their spear above their head. Just as they were about to bring it down, the blunt end of a greatnail slammed into their side, sending them tumbling off of the princess. Their mask and carapace were broken beyond comprehension.

“Sigma? My daughter? Are you okay?” The Queen of Deepnest asked desperately. The mother turned her eyes to them, a blaze of fury glowing behind them, and in a moment she was across the room and mere inches away from them. “You bastard! You dare hurt my daughter?” She hissed.

“I was only doing what is best for all of Deepnest. You have not only brought the pale blood of our greatest enemy into our home, but continue to care for them even when knowing that one of your bastard children is a monstrous beast!” The would-be assassin wheezed between broken gasps of air.

“You do not speak for any part of Deepnest, and you are a coward for turning your weapon against a young adult.” She growled, digging her claws into the sides of the Weaver’s shell and lifting them off of the ground.

“You know nothing of what Deepnest speaks. You are just like the Nosk who mimics your child, a lowly beast. You’re no better than the Nosk Queen who killed our King.” They gurgle, hemolymph bubbling out of their mouth. It’s regular, blue hemolymph, no sign of infection. With a yank, she tears the traitorous Weaver in two, dropping their body before hurrying back to her daughter, who she had placed back in the hot spring.

“Are you okay?” She asks, panic heavy in her voice.

“I’ll be fine, I’m fine. It hurts so much.” Sigma whimpers, pawing at her chest, which is rapidly healing thanks to the spring water’s magical effects. Herrah lightly hugs her child to her side. Everything’s going to be okay, she tells herself.

How many more times will she say it before she realizes it’s not true?

Chapter Text

The silence echoed against the empty room, to the point that her head throbbed and ached. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep her hands still. She twitched, dropping the small screw she was holding. It clanked loudly against the floor, shattering the silence and worsening her headache.

She yelled a curse, followed by her looking around the room. No one was in here, father hadn’t heard that. She sighed, grabbing the small screw with her shaky hands. On most days, she could do this. Usually, she could stay still, but today, she just couldn’t. She attempted to put the screw into its tiny hole once again, and just as she was about to place it, her hand twitched and messed up the alignment. She couldn’t do this. She took a deep breath, took a moment to place the screw back in its home, and take the contraption off of the table.

She had spent at least a week drawing up the blueprints for this thing, a week full of curses and frustration as her overstimulated mind failed to come up with anything meaningful. There were bags under her eyes, she was sure of it, and she was scared of leaving the workshop because the bright lights of the hallway would blind her.

She’d work on something else, for now, something simpler. One of the clocks she had kept hidden, she was excited to see its inner workings, despite having already seen every other clock in the palace. With as steady claws as she could muster, she split the back from the rest of the clock, careful not to apply pressure and break the glass. One last layer separated her from the insides of the clock, held in place by a pair of large screws.

Her screwdriver carefully twisted the screw until it was out enough that she could twist it the rest of the way with her claws. Once that was done with, she lifted the back of the clock, showing off its guts, gears, and screws. A beautiful design, and there was an even more beautiful design on the inside of the clock’s face. She carefully moved her screwdriver to one of the tiny screws that held the machinery to the face. How something so small could hold everything together, she did not know.

She took a deep breath, in hopes of keeping her hand still as she carefully pushed against the screw and began to loosen it. Her hand jerked, causing her to scrape the face of the clock with her screwdriver, a large, ugly scrape. She dropped the screwdriver and held her head in her hands for a moment.

She let out a scream of frustration, grabbing the clock and throwing it onto the floor. The fragile clock shattered into pieces. She growled, claws digging into the table. She wanted to smash this clock until it was nothing but a lump of scrap! She wanted to rip her creation to shreds! She wanted to rip herself to shreds! She wanted to be able to do anything right! But instead, her hands shook and her eyes stung and her head throbbed and everything made so much noise that she felt like she was going to throw up. She slammed her head into the heavy, metal table, and instantly regretted it.

There was a loud crack, and when she lifted her head she was horrified to see pieces of her mask still on the table, as well as a screw facing upward, right where her face landed. She can’t breathe, she can’t breathe, her face is stinging and it hurts so bad. Her vision swims and she knows she’s on the verge of passing out.

Just breath, she told herself, even though she is still struggling to stop hyperventilating. She just needed to take a break from work, only a few minutes, then she’d be back. Her hands would work then, everything would be okay, and surely she was just hallucinating, there was no way she had broken her mask. She brushed her hands off before using them to smooth out the wrinkles in her cloak, ignoring the feeling of hemolymph pooling in her eye. This room felt almost suffocating, to the point that she was sure she was going to pass out. She grabbed a towel covered in oil and grease, washing it off in a sink across the room, before pressing it against her eye, to keep her blood from dripping onto her cloak.

She strode through the halls. It was completely quiet, no sounds, not even the sounds of her footsteps. This was good. This was what she needed. Not a box but a large tunnel. Sounds could move here, but they chose not to. She wore no shoes on most days, because shoes clicked and clacked and were far too loud. For one of her hatchdays, Lurien had given her these things called “socks”. They silenced her feet and felt comfortable, but certain types itched her feet to the point that it was unbearable.

She was snapped out of her thoughts, and her ears began to ring, something just shattered in one of the nearby rooms. She pressed her claws into her ears and grit her teeth as she approached the source of the sound. Protea was trying to catch Lance, who was atop a bookshelf.

“Lance! Return your stolen goods!” Protea demand. Lance hissed at her, hugging the bundle of food closer to her chest. Ever since the Mantis Tribe barred her from seeing her girlfriend, she had started being increasingly strict with her sisters, most likely to vent her anger and frustrations, which was slowly driving her sisters away from her.

“I’m hungry! I’ll not give it back!” Lance says, shoving another vase off of the bookshelf. Protea barely managed to jump out the way before the vase loudly smashed against the floor. The sound makes Edel wince, and her head throbs, and her wound stings

“Dad’s gonna be super mad! And Ogrim’s gonna kick your butt!” Protea threatened.

“Dad can’t stop me! And Ogrim smells! He can’t stop me either!” Lance answered. Perhaps realizing that she’s cornered on top of a bookshelf, she tears open the bundle with one of her claws and begins stuffing the scraps of meat into her mouth.

“That’s so gross! You shouldn’t eat like that! No one else does that!” Protea said.

“I’m not like everyone else! I’m hungry!” Lance growled, bits of food flying out of her open mouth as she shoved more in.

“That doesn’t even make sense! And you ate earlier! You even got double dessert!” Protea argued. They kept getting louder and louder, yelling at each other.

Gods, they’re so loud! She stuffs her claws in her ears in an attempt to plug them, and quickly walks away, as fast as she can. She needs to get as far away from everything as possible. She needs silence.

——

The room is silent, save for the breathing of the three sisters and one, large vessel. Hollow laid like a board, with Lance curled up under one of their arms. Protea is lying sprawled across Hollow’s chest, and Sigma is awake, she isn’t quite sure why. Edel is somewhere, but she isn’t here. While it’s not normal for her to not come to the nest at night, Sigma understands. She’s obviously going through something right now, everyone is. Edel’s gone from the Soul Sanctum to the death of Kieza’s daughter to her sister almost getting assassinated, all in such a short time. Sigma can only imagine how overwhelmed she must feel right now.

There’s a click at the door, and Sigma’s eyes shoot open. Light begins to pour into the room, and standing in the doorway is Edel, though her features are currently indiscernible. “Edel.” She hisses. “What’re you doing awake this late?”

“Sigma?” She asks, like she can’t see her. “I think I’ve messed up. I think I’ve messed up real bad.” Edel whimpers. Worry strikes through her and in a moment she’s scrambled to her feet and to the door.

“What’s wrong?” She asks. Edel steps out into the hallway, and the light washes over her. Her mask is cracked, a web-like break running up her face. Her eye is barely visible beneath all of the hemolymph, which leaks from the wound and onto her cloak. Now that she can see her, Edel’s entire front is covered in blood. There are visible tear tracks on her mask, and large bags under her eyes. “Oh gods, Edel, are you okay?”

“I think so. I’m so sorry, I was contemplating… I was fantasizing about… doing something awful. I’m so sorry.” She explained, rubbing at the crack running up and down her face.

“What?” Sigma asks, confused. She rubs the rest of the sleep out of her eyes.

“I was… I was planning on killing myself, but I knew that was wrong, I knew I needed to talk to someone about it. I’m sorry… I… I think I’m going through a crisis right now.” Edel explains.

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner? You know you can always talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t want to bother anyone. I’m so sorry.” Tears are starting to swell in Edel’s intact eye.

“Edel, you know you aren’t bothering us. We love you, I love you, you’re my sister.” Sigma says. The tears are rolling down Edel’s face now, and she’s taking in ragged breaths. “Can you see me? Out of your right eye?” She asks.

“I can’t, I can’t see out of that eye anymore. Oh, gods, mom is going to be so mad. I can’t hunt like this, what am I going to do when she makes us hunt?” Edel asks, spiraling down into another panic attack. Sigma places her hands on Edel's shoulders, to ground her, to let her know she's not alone.

“Edel, please calm down and listen to me. Mom isn’t going to be mad, she’ll understand. When was the last time you took a break? In general? When was the last time you slept?” She asks. Edel seems to shrink up even more at these questions.

“I’ve been very busy lately, I haven’t had the time to take breaks. I have an exam with Monomon coming up soon, and I need to help Charlie with his homework tomorrow, and I need to finish my invention and I need to help dad with his--” Sigma cuts her off by pulling her into a hug.

“Please, Edel, stop overworking yourself. I know how it feels to have so much to hold up, but it’s not healthy. We’re just kids, and you shouldn’t be treating yourself like this.”

“But… but dads gonna… and Charlie needs my help… and my entire future depends on these exams…” Edel wheezes out between sobs.

“No, listen to me Edel, you aren’t listening to anything I’m saying. Dad isn’t going to be upset, you can take the exams at a later date, Charlie can go to tutoring. You need a break, okay?”

“Okay, okay. I… I will. I will. I’m sorry for even thinking about doing it.” Edel says, tightening the hug and smearing hemolymph on Sigma’s cloak.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe, I’m safe, everyone is safe. I promise.” She hugged her sister, rubbing circles on her back to ease the tension in her shoulders. Eventually, they parted from the hug.

“What about my mask? It’s broken, I've ruined it.” Edel says as she wipes away the tears strolling down her face.

“It’s not ruined, nor is it broken. It’s just cracked. This crack might be here, you might be bleeding... but you're still here and you are still wanted here. And as long as you are here, you can still heal. Even scars can fade.” Sigma says.

“Thank you. Thanks for calming me down. I’m sorry about your cloak.” Edel apologizes. Sigma smiles, taking up Edel’s hand to comfort her.

“No need to thank me, that’s what sisters do, but we should probably get you to a doctor, like, right now.”

Chapter Text

After another long day of training with the Hollow Knight, training with her fellow knights, training with Protea, and doing her rounds around the palace, Isma was ready to retire and get some relaxation. The armory, as always, is empty and silent. The only time someone else spends time in this room is when Xero comes back from his eternal station at the edge of the Kingdom. Even then, he rarely talks. Sometimes he’ll tell of his experiences in the ashen cliffs, sometimes he slips up and gives hints of what exactly he’s guarding.

Isma unclasps the clasps of her armor, hanging it up on her portion of the armory racks. She takes a glance across the room at Xero’s dusty corner. She likes not to think of him, it’s best not to, to keep up morale and the such. She takes a quick trip to the showers to wash away the sweat and hemolymph, before drying off and putting on her white and green cloak. She takes a short moment to quickly polish her armor and her nails before heading out into the palace, destination: wherever Ogrim is. With how stressful these times are becoming, they haven’t gotten many chances to speak to each other, and she’s missed him very much.

The Great Knights have been becoming more and more distant over these past few months. Ze’mere has been sneaking out much more often, to the point that she’s been missing training. Isma worries for her, especially with how strained the relations between Hallownest and the Mantises are becoming. Hopefully, her relationship with the daughter of Kieza manages to stay on the down-low. If the Mantis Lords found out that Kieza’s daughter was dating an outsider, the consequences could be disastrous.

Xero is, well, he hasn’t returned in months upon months, and honestly? Isma has been worrying for him the most. The last time she saw him, he was suffering from a headache, and he was only here for a day. Since then, he hasn’t replied to any of the letters they’ve sent him, and since he’s the only bug at the outpost, there’s no one else to send for. She needs to visit him soon, if only to make sure he’s still alive, but also to provide him some much-needed company.

Dryya has been spending most of her time by the Queen’s side. She doesn’t even attend training anymore, she trains in front of the Queen. The assassination attempts have put her on edge, and Isma knows that if someone were to scare her, they would be cut in two before she even realized they weren’t a threat. She hasn’t seen Dryya without her armor on in, what, months? Almost a year at this point? She wouldn’t be surprised if Dryya had become one with her shell.

Ogrim is doing his best as always. He still tells his many stories, maybe in some hope that it will get Ze’mere to start telling her stories again. He tells tales of his time before Hallownest, of his treks through the Wastes, and of his expansive family, a family so large that he didn’t know every member. He still tells his awful jokes, he still trains Protea at every chance he gets, he still acts like a dad to everyone he can. The other day, he managed to gather all five of the Great Knights (excluding Xero, of course) to watch him attempt to do a double backflip. Surprisingly, he managed to complete one of the two backflips. He then landed on his face. That increased morale, if only by a bit.

The Hollow Knight, who could probably be a Great Knight if it wasn’t destined to die, has been spending much more time with its half-sisters. More often than not, it is accompanied by at least one of them, and it always guards their room at night in some way or another. She would never question her sire, but sometimes she does question it, if it isn’t truly hollow, if there was somehow some mistake in the choosing of this vessel. It almost seems to be getting tired, its swings are lazier, its jumps are lower, its dashes are slower. She questions if it could be degrading somehow. Either way, this degradation has been making everyone sick. Dryya is the least affected, but it is not clear why, especially when Ze’mere is the least to be in contact with the vessel. Ogrim, on the other hand, suffers from daily bouts of coughs and, only a week ago, he had to retire early due to a high fever. The King requested that they all take a break from their duties while he searches for a cure to what is ailing him, but the Knights unanimously decided to ignore his request.

Hegemol, well, he’s been spending much more time outside of his armor. It tickles her when she remembers how small the fly actually is, whenever she sees him with his pupils, and how he barely comes up to their waists even though they aren’t fully grown yet. She often wondered about his mighty suit of armor, a suit so secure that almost no weapon could pierce it, and yet he occupied not even a tenth of the suit. It seems she isn’t the only one to be curious of its nature, as Edel had many times attempted to steal the suit to examine it. Sigma, on the other hand, had attempted to steal the suit so she could pilot it. Even though he wasn’t even half their height, he still always managed to stop them. No matter his size, he wields his weapons with deadly precision, whether he’s carrying a mace or a greatnail. Once, he had managed to take on both Ogrim and Ze’mere at the same time while fighting with nothing but a mantis claw. But even him, with his jokes and humor, had begun to grow distant. He spent more and more time outside of his suit of armor, and now that his students had departed from him to begin learning on their own, she worried that the isolation he was now putting on himself would drive him mad.

She returns to the training yard, to think to herself, and to check if Ogrim has remained behind. The room is deathly quiet, save for distant snores. She approaches the sound, only to find Ogrim asleep, with Protea, snuggled up to his side. She smiles, thinking back to when Ogrim had told her that, if they ever are to have a child, he hopes the child is like Protea. Whenever Protea enters the same room as him, Ogrim instantly enters dad mode, making awful jokes and being overprotective. It’s plain that he loves the girl as if she were his own child. And honestly? Isma is pretty sure that everyone in the palace has adopted the young Knight. She’s lively, easily excitable, and is just a lovely person to be around. And when she was younger? She was extremely adorable, especially when she learned to mimic everyone’s battle cries, and when she had attempted to duel Dryya with a greatnail three times her size. Surprisingly, the girl had managed to swing it a few times before tiring herself out.

She takes a step closer to Ogrim and gently taps on his shoulder, and a few moments later, the Dung Beetle awakens. “Good morning sleepyhead.” She teases. A smile grows across his face and he wipes the sleep out of his eyes.

“I’m very sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep at some point.” He mutters before realizing that Protea is snuggled up like a grub on his chest. His smile only widens, and he carefully lifts Protea. “And Dryya says I’m not dad material!” He exclaims in a whisper. There’s a sense of pride in his voice that makes her heart flutter. “Uh, Isma? Can you get the door for me?” He asks, snapping her out of her thoughts once again. She rushes to the door and pulls it open, allowing the beetle to get through. They make small talk as they walk through the halls, which are, as usual, empty. Every day, more and more of the retainers quit or stop coming to work, likely due to the worsening infection. At least it keeps the halls quiet, she thinks to herself.

Finally, the pair arrives at the children’s nestroom, and Ogrim carefully pushes the door open with his shoulder. He tiptoes across the room, knowing that Edel has already gone to bed and is likely already snuggled up in the nest, and he carefully lays Protea down and quickly wraps her in blankets. Then he begins the careful trek back, watching his every step in case he steps on something loud or slips on a misplaced toy. Thankfully, he manages to reunite with Isma before too long, and then the door to the children’s room is closed.

“Sorry, Protea said she wanted to take a nap, and I guess I fell asleep as well while protecting her.” He says with a chuckle.

“No worries, it’s good to take rests, no matter how short they are,” Isma says, taking Ogrim’s claw in her hands. “Are you still up for our date tonight?” She asks, and Ogrim’s smile once again goes wide, and a subtle blush covers his face.

“Of course, that is if you still want to.” He says. He’s adorable, she can’t handle it, She laughs and tightens her grip on his claw before practically dragging him down the hallway toward the kitchen. They can’t truly leave the palace on days like these, but their date still occurs, as they set up a small table in the corner of the room and eat dinner together. Isma wishes this peacefulness could last forever, but knowing the chaotic nature of the four sisters? The peace will likely last only a few moments. Still, it’s nice while it lasts.

Chapter Text

She awoke, as she usually did, to an intense pang of hunger. Her stomach growled at her, forcing her to get out of bed. Her sisters and large sibling still slept comfortably. Comfortable while she struggled to even stay conscious. She silently crept across the room, carefully unlocking the door and slipping outside. Now she was in the hallway, and her hunger simply got worse.

Maybe she could…? Maybe she could just go eat a bit from the kitchen, and that would satiate her for now. Of course, the chef should be up by now, preparing breakfast for the lot of them. She could just steal some food, and if she was still hungry after dinner, she could steal more food later. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, before stretching the aches out of her joints. Her right arm popped in an uncomfortable way, and she reminded herself to not do that again.

Lance quickly made her way down the halls, walking past her father’s and step-mother’s room and heading straight for the kitchen. Her footsteps light, almost silent. The lumaflies of the kitchen were awake, their gentle glow helping wake her up fully. The cooks must be up. Good, good, someone can make some food for her. She needed to eat, she was so hungry. When was the last time she ate? It felt like months, but she knew it had only been a few hours. She scratched at her stomach, hungrily thinking of the meal she had eaten before bed last night.

Keeping up her stature as best she could, she walked into the kitchen. A lone chef was preparing the honey rolls that Sigma loved so dearly. She hoped her sister wouldn’t mind if some of them were missing. No, she couldn’t lie. Most of them would be missing if Lance got her hands on them. She just hoped that Sigma wouldn’t question her about it. “Ah! Princess Lance! I didn’t expect to see you up so early! Is something wrong?” The chef asked.

“No, no, nothing wrong, but I am rather hungry.” She answers. She can smell the sweetness radiating off of him, the smell of honey, flour, meat, vegetables. For only a moment, she thinks of what common bugs taste like, and then she snaps herself out of her dark thoughts.

“Well, you’re in luck! I just finished a batch of breakfast if you’d like some!” He said, offering out a plate. She nodded, taking the plate out of the chef’s hand and sitting down at the counter. The moment he looked away, she quickly stuffed the food in her mouth, barely caring to chew, just needing to eat now. Before she knew it, her plate was empty. Her stomach rumbled again.

Gods dammit! It didn’t help, she was still so hungry. Her stomach twisted and growled like a beast, urging her to eat more. More more more, that was all she could ever think about. She almost doubled over in pain, barely managing to keep herself upright. Thankfully, the chef didn’t notice her very apparent pain.

She pushed the plate across the counter and left the kitchen in a haste. She needed something more, something meaty and juicy. She moved quickly towards where she knew the freezer was. Surely, no one would mind if she had a quick snack and ate a few of the delectable corpses strung up in there.

She looked both ways down the hallway before pushing her way inside. These… these were fresh. She had to pull herself up one of the hanging meats, cutting away at the rope with one of her claws. With a snap, the meat collapsed to the floor. Her fangs quickly emerged, and she hungrily began to bite into the large Boofly corpse. It tasted so good, so so fucking good. There was something about fresh meat that she just couldn’t get from the food they prepared in the kitchen. It made her entire body tingle in an almost pleasant way, and she was sure she would enjoy the feeling if it wasn’t for her body constantly screaming at her to eat more.

She felt reinvigorated, her stomach no longer ached and she would be able to last a few more hours. She needed to find a more careful source, perhaps she could request to spend more time with her mother, so she could hunt. She thought of the crawlers in the Ancient Basin. Perhaps she could convince her father to let her hunt here. Maybe if she asked her mother that she wanted to hunt, she would take her with her, back to Deepnest, with or without her father’s permission. Her stomach rumbled at the very thought of being able to hunt fresh meat.

She wrapped up the remainder of the meat, shoving it under her cloak and slipping back out of the freezer. She hurried back to her sibling’s room, silently opening the door and creeping across the room toward Edel’s secret cubby. She pressed against the secret door, opening the hidden closet filled with journals. Pushing them aside, she placed the bundle of meat inside before closing it and climbing back into the nest with her sisters and sibling. Sleep eventually came, and she awoke and ate breakfast, and then she hurried back to the room to eat the scraps of meat.

This was her daily morning schedule, and had been since her hunger had become worse. And it continued to get worse and worse and worse. She wondered why, why she’s suffering like this, every time she wakes from hunger pains, which is only occurring more and more frequently.

——

She awoke again, wracked by pain as her stomach growled and rumbled. She clutched at it as she pulled herself out of bed. This time was worse than the others, so much worse. She genuinely felt like she was going to die. Her stomach throbbed as she crawled out of bed and towards the door. She could barely get herself to her feet, only managing to get up by clinging to the doorknob and dragging herself up. There was a painful sounding snap in her right arm, but she ignored it, pulling the door open and stumbling out into the hallway.

The lumaflies were awake, which meant the chef was awake as well. Her mouth watered at the thought of what they might taste like. She imagined herself walking into the kitchen and tackling the cook, biting his throat out and feasting on the delicious organs and flesh that she knew he had. She wished she had entered the kitchen, she wished she had murdered that chef and feasted on his flesh. Instead, her morality got the better of her and she ended up back in the meat freezer. This time, however, there was no meat, no nothing to sate her hunger. She clutched at her stomach and let out a pained sob.

She got an awful idea, then. She brought her hand up to her right shoulder, pressing down on the plates. They sank into the depression that had become her shoulder, like how the skin of a rotten apple collapsed under the smallest amount of pressure. She pressed harder, sinking her claws into the shell. A rotten liquid leaked out, and with a yank the shell split. Surprisingly, despite the fact that she could see the inside of her arm, it didn’t hurt. It just felt cold, so cold.

Cold, black, sludge-like liquid oozed from her opened joint, dripping down her arm like paint. She pulled a bit harder, and the rotting chitin snapped, and her arm collapsed to the ground. She should be panicking, or vomiting, or feeling anything, but instead, her hunger overcame her. She grabbed her arm and dug her fangs into her own flesh. The black sludge infecting her body diluted the taste of herself, but besides that, it soothed her stomach. Her body tingled and she coughed up a bit of black, rubbing it on her cloak and beginning her trek back to her room.

She didn’t even make it halfway there before she passed out from the steady blood loss that losing an arm brings.

——

When she eventually came back to consciousness, she was in her nestroom. Her sisters were not here, likely running about somewhere else. Distantly, she thought about how it didn't surprise her that her sisters weren’t here for her. Where her arm once was is now bandaged up, stained blue and black from the fluids leaking out of her wound. A bright light near the corner of the room let her know that her father was here. He noticed her waking almost immediately.

“Lance?” He asked, pain in his voice. He got up from his chair, his light dimming down to a weak glow barely above a lunaflies.

“I’m sorry.” She croaks out, rubbing uncomfortably at her nub.

“What?” He asked, concern quickly turning to confusion.

“I was so hungry, I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” She explains.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone what was happening?” He asked. He felt betrayed, it was evident enough in his posture and voice.

“Everyone already thinks so little of me. I didn’t want to make them think less.” She explains, her voice little more than a murmur. “At best they see me as a statue, and at worst they are scared of me. I don’t want to scare them more but I’m just so hungry and it won’t stop.”

Her father kneeled on the nest across from her. “But you know your sisters do not think that, you know I do not.” He said. He was lying, her sisters didn’t care about her, and her father certainly didn’t, because he was willing to take away the best part of her life. She wanted to cry, to curl up and die under the blankets because dealing with whatever has been happening to her is much worse.

“I’m sorry.” She sobs, tears running down her face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s void poisoning, I think. It’s eating up everything it can, and once it eats through everything you’ve eaten, it starts eating through you. I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize what was happening sooner. I can only assume it is because of your proximity to the Pure Vessel.” Her father explains.

“Please, it’s not Holly’s fault. Don’t punish them.” She cried.

“What? Who’s Holly?” He asked. There’s a long moment of neither of them talking, as Lance cried and pulled the blankets of the nest over her. “Is… is the Pure Vessel Holly?” He asks. He sounds almost hopeful, but at the same time he sounds defeated. She nodded silently.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t take them away, please.” She sobs.

“I wish I had a choice, but I cannot risk more lives. The infection has not been as extreme lately, but when it does spike, I must do what I have promised to. I am sorry, I am so dearly sorry.” He explains. He looks sad, but it’s hard for her to feel bad for him when it is completely his choice to do what must be done. She doesn’t care how selfish it is, she can’t lose her sibling. She can’t lose Holly.

“I need you to spend some time away from Holly, only a few days, so I can know the extent of the poisoning. I suspect that you aren’t the only victim of this, and I want to keep all of you safe.” He requests, practically begs. She shakes her head.

“I don’t care if they kill me, I want to spend what remaining time I have with my sibling.” She says, before getting up to her feet and walking out of the room. It hurts, it hurts so much, to leave her father alone when he is so obviously in despair, but for now she does not care. If he is right about the void poisoning, then she surely doesn’t have much time left. She’ll spend every moment she has with her sibling.

Even if it kills her.

Chapter Text

Things were too loud right now. Her stepmother had invited the Dreamers over for tea, and of course, all of them had accepted. Even Quirrel had come, but Edel suspects that was less for tea and more because he wanted to see Oro, who had also arrived on the exact same day that Quirrel had, as he always does. Were they dating? She couldn’t say. Was it a bit suspicious that they always seemed to gravitate to private rooms when they’re in the same building as each other? A little, but it was their private business. If she really wanted to know, she’d just get Sigma to spy on them when Oro took Quirrel off to somewhere that wasn’t the training field to “teach him nailarts” for the one-hundredth time.

Charlie couldn’t come over today, so she was on her own, and thanks to everyone being so loud, she needed to take a break. Thankfully, she knows just the place. Long ago, when she was small, she and Sigma discovered a small hole in a high-up wall, obscured by a shelf where an unused candle stood. While this hole in itself was a good place to take refuge, what was better was where it led to.

Throughout the palace, there were hundreds of rooms that either had no doors, or had doors that could be unlocked from the inside only, and all of them were connected via tunnels, one of the entrances being this hole in the wall. One room, for example, held only three stacks of playing cards. Another, one she had commandeered, was completely empty save for a stool. She has a music box in that room, and when everything becomes too loud, she sneaks through the secret tunnels of the White Palace and twists the crank of her music box in the sound-proofed room. No one can hear her and she can hear no one. It’s perfect, it really is.

That was her destination, though she had explored pretty much every one of these secrets rooms at this point. She and Sigma called them “spare rooms” because no one used them. Another room was filled with toys, a bed, scattered clothes, and a lot of old, dusty webs. Another was filled with sand. She hated that room. One room was divided in two by a mirror. Another room had a large, dusty suit of armor, with something dark swimming around it. She had never once dared to enter that room. Another room, one of the rooms she had to pass through to get to her sanctuary, had a small bed, a closet full of cloaks, a nailstand, and a single toy stuffed under the bed, a stuffed tiktik surrounded by blankets and hidden for no eyes to see. She often found herself returning to it, a thousand questions on her mind. Whose room was this? Why did they hide their toy? Why did they have a nailstand? They weren’t sure, but on this fateful day, they found their father in this room, crying to himself.

She peeked into the room, only to see him on his knees, his hands against his face, tears streaming down his chin and onto his cloak. It’s none of her business, and she probably should just keep going. If her father wants this room to be locked, then she should respect that. Unfortunately, she’s too nosey for her own good, and she ends up slinking down the wall to where her father mourns.

“Dad?” She asks, and he lifts his head from his hands.

“Edel? What’re you doing here? How did you get in?” He asked. He sounds so defeated, so devastated. On his lap is the stuffed tiktik, and wrapped around him like a cloak is the blanket used to hide it.

“There’s a tunnel system through the ceiling. I use it to get around.” She explains. He nods in understanding before wiping the swelling tears from his eyes. “Are you okay?” She asks.

“No. I don’t think I am.” He says.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asks as she approaches him. He lets out a long, pained sigh.

“I’m sad to say that I lied to you. The room you and your sisters reside in was never the Hollow Knight’s room. This was where they stayed, before we realized that they did not require sleep.” He explains. “When they were first brought out of the Abyss, your mother had been so sad that she could not baby them, could not treat them like the child she always wanted. And, deep down, I suppose I was sad as well. Looking back on this room, I wonder how cruel I was to do this to them.”

Them, it suddenly strikes her. Her father is referring to Holly as a “them” and not an “it”.

“I’m so sorry that I’ve set you and your sisters on a path to devastation. I’m sorry that I’m destined to hurt you so much. I didn’t know that you and your sisters had developed a relationship with the Hollow Knight, and surely you all must know their fate by now. I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t want to do any of this.” He cries. “And now I don’t know what to do, this plan that I have engineered is the only way to save my people, and yet it is almost as cruel as the very plague it aims to destroy, and I cannot go through with it with the knowledge that the Hollow Knight is not truly hollow.” Tears are streaming down his face again, and he digs his claws into the sides of his head.

“Did you know then? That they weren’t hollow?” Edel asks, and her father looks on the verge of tears, on the verge of passing out and collapsing.

“I did. Gods I did, I knew it from the moment I first laid them in bed and they tried to get comfortable. I knew when I found a toy under their bed, and when I realized they knew how to count despite never being taught how to. And it hurts, it truly does, that I know this. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could just forget they existed and send them to the Black Vault so that I can at least buy myself more time, and I know how unimaginably cruel that is, but I’ve already been so cruel, and I can’t risk losing what little family I have left. But I can’t. I can’t do it.” He cries.

“I’ve done these awful things and yet I can’t finish the deed. I can’t bring myself to seal the infection. In his final days, Lurien has become one of my closest friends, and even if I have not developed as close of a relationship with them, I know how much Herrah and Monomon mean to you four. Does it make me a bad king to not want to go through with it? Does it at least make me a better father?” He asks.

She drops down to her knees and shuffles closer to him. “I don’t know. I am not one who knows morals or parenthood, but I can say that, at the very least, your hesitance makes you a better person.” Edel mutters. He shakes his head and hunches over the doll again. She wraps her arm around him. She can’t really tell if she feels bad for him, but she wants to, she really really does. She wouldn’t be visiting her music box tonight, someone else needed comfort more than her.

Chapter Text

Sigma finished the coat of polish on her nail before putting it on its sheath on her back. She had a place to investigate today, somewhere that Ercu had pointed out to her on a map, and obviously, she had to check it out, though leaving the palace was prohibited, so she needed to be stealthy. She turned to her now-armless sister.

“Lance! I gotta go somewhere, you okay?” She whispered. Lance pulled herself to a sitting position, wiggling her nub of an arm.

“Well, besides the lack of arm, and the sickness slowly rotting me from the inside out, I’d say I’m pretty good,” Lance answered sarcastically.

“Good good, I won’t be gone for too long, I’ll definitely be back before midnight.” She explained before sneaking to the door and slipping out. Lance groaned as she slipped back out of her sitting position. She should probably be worried about whatever stupid thing Sigma is doing, but fuck that, she’s tired.

Sigma sneaks like a snake through the halls of the palace, slipping into rooms and around corners to avoid the decreasing number of nobles and retainers who come to the palace every day. Less show up, and those who are remaining stay the night in some hope that they’ll avoid the infection by staying in the home of the King. A bunch of fools, they are, Herrah has told her everything she needs to know about the infection! The King cannot protect anyone, it is simply a matter of strength! In that regard, she worries for Charlie, even though they aren’t her friend. And what about Ercu? She isn’t the strongest head-wise, what if she becomes infected? Too much to worry about, especially when she’s sneaking out.

She’s so distracted that she almost walks into view of Quirrel and Oro, who are currently arguing with each other.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You said you weren’t going to be leaving for another year!” Oro growls. Sigma can practically hear the anger in his voice, the rage, the betrayal.

“Not only was that a year ago, but plans have changed. I’m so sorry my friend, but Monomon needs me to go into the Wastes.” Quirrel explains. Oro shakes his head.

“No. You aren’t leaving, you promised me you weren’t going to leave.” Oro hissed. The larger man lifted Quirrel up by his bandana and slammed him into the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but rough enough to send the message. “You told me, you told me, you promised me that you aren’t going to leave! Why did you lie to me?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know at the time, I truly believed I would be staying here forever, but my teacher has plans to keep Hallownest, as well as you, safe,” Quirrel explained.

“Stag shit! I didn’t ask for you to keep me safe. That’s supposed to be my job, what other use are my twenty years practicing in the way of the nail for? You aren’t leaving.” Oro said.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, if and when I return, I will visit you immediately, I promise. I am deeply sorry for lying to you. I promise it will not be too long, I will be back before you can even tell I’m gone.” Quirrel says as he pulls Oro’s fingers off of him. “It’ll be just like when I had to study for an entire month, accept a little bit longer. I’ll come by and check on you before I leave, I promise.” He said before leaving the room, not even noticing Sigma on his way out.

The room was filled with silence for a very long time, and then the unmistakable sound of someone punching a hole directly through one of the walls of the room, followed by a beastly scream. “You gods-damned traitorous, lying pillbug!” Oro yelled. Sigma peaked into the room, seeing that Oro was now kneeling on the floor, crying while hemolymph leaked from his most-likely broken hand. She felt bad for him, but she didn’t have time to talk to a giant beetle.

She quickly snuck through the palace toward the exit of the palace, no longer distracted by the drama between the two (maybe-dating?) men. Unfortunately for her, another distraction got in her way.

“And the answer to the previous question is 17, right? So the velocity has to be 21.8 paces per second squared, correct?” Charlie asked. Edel shook her head.

“Not quite, it’s 32.9.” She corrected. Charlie looked devastated at this.

“Where did I go wrong?” Charlie muttered, dropping his pencil and slumping his head into his hands.

“Well, it looks like you used the wrong formula, for starters.” She explained, pointing at numbers on the page.

“Does this mean you’re gonna make me repeat all the formulas again?” Charlie groaned.

“Take a guess,” Edel said as she sat back down in her seat.

“No?”

“Take another guess.” Charlie sighed, completely collapsing onto the table.

“I hate math. It’s too complicated and it doesn’t do anything, and it won’t even affect me in my field.” He groaned. Suddenly, Quirrel entered the room, apparently having rushed over here right after leaving Oro to cry by himself.

“I made tea.” He said with a smile on his face.

“I don’t like tea.” Charlie groaned.

“I did not make the tea for you. This is my tea.” Quirrel explained as he took a seat.

“Then why’re you telling me?” Charlie hissed, lifting his head off of the table.

“It’s a conversation starter.” Edel interrupted.

“Well, that’s a lousy conversation starter,” Charlie grumbled, crossing his arms, visibly grumpy from having to do the math.

“Oh, is it? We are conversing, have you not noticed? Checkmate.” Quirrel said with a laugh. Charlie groaned in agony. Sigma knew his pain, the pain of math. It was awful, and she wouldn’t wish that fate upon even her greatest enemies. Okay, maybe she’d wish it upon her father, but only because it would be funny.

“I think I’m having a mid-life crisis.” The cockroach whimpered.

“Charlie, you’re only fifteen, I doubt you’re going through a mid-life crisis. It’s just physics, chill.” Edel said, hoping that that would be enough to calm him down.

“At this rate, and all of this stress, I’ll probably die at 30!” He cried.

This conversation wasn’t giving her any information, and as funny as it was to see Charlie suffer, she had a mission to go on, and a random spot on a map to explore. She crept the final distance to the exit of the palace, and out into the courtyard beyond. Checking her map, she looked around the surrounding area. It should be… somewhere this way.

She hurried down the path toward the marked point. This place was, hopefully, not just a randomly marked spot on a map. Of course, Ercu had never been to the Ancient Basin, so this spot was, most likely, absolutely nothing. But! One time! Ercu had marked a spot in the Pleasure House, and Sigma found a crystal brooch (which she returned to the songstress Marissa, of course). Sigma would never not take Ercu seriously again! Next time she might find treasure that could be hers!

She jumped over gaps, past crawlers, leaping across one particularly large pit filled with spikes, before reaching the only hallway leading to this apparent trove of treasures. A small tunnel, just barely big enough for her to fit through, but the rocks looked unstable, so the entryway might be widening over time. She squeezed through the tight tunnel, arriving in a long hallway. Just out of the corner of her eye, she saw something with a starch white mask dash further down the hallway and out of sight.

At a glance, it looked like her and her sisters, or maybe even Holly when they were smaller. White mask, black body, so familiar yet not right. It had two horns, one longer than the other, that extended to its left and forward, with a smaller, nub-like horn protruding from the ride side of its skull. She ran after it, almost instinctively, barely noticing that this place was on the verge of collapsing. Once she got close to where it had dived, it ran out of cover, attempting to escape the much taller, quickly approaching spider. She threw her needle beside where it was heading, intending to pull herself in front of the creature. Instead, when her needle stabbed into the wall, a rock fell down from the ceiling. The small creature barely dodged it, but didn’t dodge the next rock to fall, which slammed into its head, shattering part of its mask like porcelain.

The room was actively caving in at this point. Some distant, unfamiliar instinct kicked in that told her she needed to save this child. She yanked her needle out of the wall and pulled the thing into her arms before making a run for it. It squirmed feebly, either trying to get into her arms or trying to escape. Small hands, only slightly larger than hers when she was but a hatchling, gripped at her red cloak, smearing the nonwashable black into the cloth as it poured out of its shattered skull like how water flowed from a pitcher. She quickly shoved the child, it must be a child, through the hole, their largest horn barely fitting through, before crawling through after them. Not even a moment later, the tunnel collapsed, almost crushing her back half had she been even a moment later.

The child tried to pull themselves to their feet, but she managed to catch them before they fell back ove. “Hold on a second, I think I have some… something. I’m sure I have something, hold on.” She said, pulling them close to her to prevent them from running. The crack in their mask ran down the side of their head, and one of their hands came up to prod at their eye holes as void leaked from both of them. She had a jar of lifeblood given to her by Xena, a small amount of silk (hopefully enough for some bandages), and… that was it. Dammit.

She unflasked the lifeblood and poured the small amount into the thing’s exposed skull, watching as the blue, crushed seeds were quickly swallowed up by the infinite darkness that dwelled within Holly’s blood, and apparently, this child’s as well. She quickly worked on weaving her remaining silk (given to her by her mother, of course. She was given a daily allowance of silk nowadays) into bandages while the child moved their head back and forth, no doubt listening to the sound their brain-blood-fluid made as it sloshed around in their open skull.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to stay still while I wrap your head, okay? Can you do that?” She asked. The thing jumped, like it didn’t know she was there, before nodding, spilling a bit more head-fluid. “Keep your head steady, you’re spilling too much.” She added before beginning to tightly wrap their head in bandages, not even giving them a space to see out of. She made sure to layer the bandages, especially over the wound, in some hollow hope to keep more of their brain from escaping.

“Stop shaking your head.” She ordered, holding their head still for a moment to look for any more signs of leakage. Nothing. She collapsed against the pile of debris, rubbing the sweat off her brow. The thing climber into her lap as she did with Holly, and she gently rubbed its longest horn. “Sorry for almost killing you, are you okay?” She asked. It didn’t respond, grabbing onto her cloak and pulling it around itself, shivering almost violently.

This… thing, whatever it was? Another creature like Holly, but her father had told them that Holly was the only one of its kind, so either he didn’t know there were more, or… suddenly, like a lightbulb, it clicked in her mind why her mother hated her father so much. He must’ve done something awful, and she knew. Maybe this was it? Maybe he had killed them off? He couldn’t know about them, she needed to sneak them somewhere safe. It had almost died from a simple cave-in, so there was no way she could take it back to Deepnest. She couldn’t take it to the city, or to the Archives, Monomon and Lurien were devoted to the King, they would surely tell of the small creature. Maybe… maybe she could send it away from Hallownest with Quirrel? Or send it off with one of the nailmasters to be taught?

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice it fell asleep in her arms, curled up and still slightly shivering. She picked it up as Holly did to her when she was young. She didn’t even know anything about this… thing, but the fact that her father must have done something to them and however many more of these things there were. She would keep it safe, no matter what.

Chapter Text

Ogrim shook off the water that soaked his cloak and fluff, drying himself to the best of his ability. The last few months had been fairly painful, if he had to be honest. He and Isma had been becoming distant due to the slowly increasing stress that protecting the palace had become. More and more often, a horde of infected would arrive at the palace in an attempt to take the King’s life. Every time, the four Great Knights would defend the castle.

The Queen of Hallownest and Dryya spent most of their days in the Queen’s distant gardens. If Ogrim was honest, he felt betrayed that Dryya was no longer helping them. When she came to the palace, she didn’t even talk to them. It was, perhaps, understandable in a way. She was the closest to Xero, as he was her student, and Xero had gone completely missing. They didn’t even know that his post was abandoned for several days, and by the time someone went to check on him, it was likely too late.

Dryya herself checked the entirety of the Kingdom’s Edge, and she found nothing but a moth, who apparently didn’t know anything about the ant Knight. Xero was likely dead, or worse infected, but Ogrim hoped that his friend was okay. Dryya, though, certainly wasn’t okay. She no longer talked to anyone but the Queen, and refused to spend more than a day in the Palace.

Ah, he got sidetracked again. Today was a day for relaxation! For him to rekindle dying flames with Isma, to reinforce his friendships with his three fellow knights. Even if Dryya and Xero weren’t here, everything would still be as fun as it used to be, right?

No. As they gathered around a table to order something to drink, Ogrim could practically feel the tiredness and exhaustion radiating off of everyone in the group. Hegemol’s jokes and humor had run dry, and he spent most of his days walking the perimeter of the palace. Two of his students, Oro and Mato, had gotten into an argument and both of them had left in a fit of rage. Oro, in specific, was angry about something else, but he refused to tell anyone what had upset him. Before his departure, he had punched two separate holes in a wall, and had spent most of his time crying to himself. Sheo, the third and oldest of the triplets, was still around, but something told Ogrim that he wouldn’t be staying for long. He was sad, so sad, to lose the bugs he considered his children.

Ze’mere spent almost no time at the palace, instead opting to visit her girlfriend in the Queen’s Gardens, where she now resided. A large portion of the mantises, as well as one of the Lords, Kieza, had moved there after Ze’mere’s relationship with Kieza’s daughter was exposed. He had been furious, and had barred the girl from seeing her lover, but the two still met up anyways. It was a recipe for disaster, and Ogrim only hoped someone would come to their senses before it was too late. At least she was here now, talking about her girlfriend, assuring them the two of them were fine and would remain so.

He and Isma had decided to sit across from one another, and as the other two were talking, she wrapped a hand around his claw and gripped it tightly. He looked at her and smiled, to which she smiled back. He was sure his face was currently very red, but that’s alright. He was spending time with his best friends, holding the hand of the love of his life, whose gentle grip told him that everything would be alright, it would not get worse, all the cruelness of the world had already been set upon them, and now they could begin to heal.

His gaze drifted away from his lover and his friends to Protea, who was not supposed to be outside of the palace, but here she was, wearing a heavy cloak and hood in an attempt to hide her features. The hood did not, in fact, hide any of her features.

“One moment, I think I see Protea.” He says, getting everyone’s attention, and everyone turns to look at the King’s daughter as she looks around herself, apparently not seeing the group of Knights, despite all of them being, well, eyesores. Ogrim gets up from his seat, Isma giving his claw one last squeeze before he begins approaching the girl.

Protea hurried down the streets, anxiously looking around her and increasing her pace every time she thought someone might be approaching her, and eventually arriving at a small, stone statue of Unn, tucked away into a dead-end alleyway. Removing her hood, she kneeled on the soft moss in front of the statue.

“Unn, Goddess of green?” Protea said, as much of a greeting as it was a question. Ogrim silently stood behind her. “I have come to you today, to pray to you because I need your help.” She explained, clearing her throat.

“I have been to several shrines today, I will admit. I have prayed to every god I know because I’m scared. Recently, I was informed that my sister, Lance, is dying from void poisoning. I’m scared, I love my sister so much and I don’t know what I’d do without her. I don’t know what I’d do without any of my sisters. Edel recently suffered a crack to her mask, and she has been suffering from panic attacks and I want to help her but she told me that I can’t help her because I wouldn’t understand, and I know I don’t understand but I want to and I want to help her!” Protea was crying at this point, tears running down her face and joining the rain in soaking her to her core.

“And now Lance has lost an arm, and I found her just laying in the arm, covered in blood and black sludge, blood covering her mouth, and I don’t know what to do to help her, she’s killing herself before my eyes and I don’t know what to do. And, and, Sigma was almost assassinated recently, our own home isn’t even safe anymore! And everyone around me is depressed and sad, Xero is missing, Dryya doesn’t want to look at me anymore, everyone hates me and I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix this. Amaryllis hates me, I’m sure, she won’t even talk to me anymore when I sneak out to see her. She never shows and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Please, Unn, please help me…” She slouched forward, pressing her face into her hands and sobbing loudly. As silently as he could, Ogrim approached her and kneeled down beside her.

“Protea?” He asked, causing her to jump and crawl backward as fast as she could.

“Wha? How’d you find me? I thought you were enjoying time with your friends?” She sobbed, quickly attempting to wipe the tears off of her face, failing thanks to the rain.

“I saw you creeping about and I was worried. Are you okay?” He asked, even though it was obvious that she wasn’t.

“I’m okay, I’m okay but no one else is. Everyone around me is getting hurt and dying and I don’t want to lose anyone. I… I’m sorry.” She said. Ogrim hurriedly shuffled forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around his shell the best she could, burrowing her face into his cloak and muffling her sobs.

“It’s okay, It’s okay. I know how stressful things are right now, I know how much things hurt, but it will be okay, I promise. We… your father… Everyone is doing their best right now, to keep you and your sisters safe and to save Hallownest. I promise you, I would not let anything hurt you, not in a thousand years.” He said. She nodded into his chest. “Would you like to come back and eat lunch with us? I’m sure everyone would be glad to speak to you and see that you’re okay.”

She pulled her head back and looked him in the eyes. “They would? They don’t hate me?” She asked. He shook his head.

“Of course not, they love you more than anything, just as your sisters do. It’s okay, let’s go back.” He said, pulling himself to his feet and taking her hand in his claw. She nodded, wiping away at the tears and rain again, doing her best to smile. The two of them left the alleyway and the statue of Unn. Protea could only hope that the Goddess had heard her prayer. Little did she know, the Goddess had heard every word.

Chapter Text

Tonight was the night. Lance had made sure she stayed awake even after Holly had tucked her in and given her a bedtime smooch. No matter how hard it was to not cuddle up to her sibling’s side and get comfortable, she had something she needed to get to the bottom of, and seeing as her and her older sibling’s life was quickly approaching their ends. She carefully pushed Holly’s arm off of her and crawled out of bed, noticing that Edel was gone.

Edel was likely still studying late into the night with Charlie. The two of them could study for hours upon hours, sometimes even days, asking each other questions and reading tablets full of information, working towards their goals. Edel was a potential wrinkle, she might tattle, or wake someone, and then her plan would be forever ruined. She had to be careful and quiet.

She crept out of the room and down the halls. The first thing she needed to ensure was that Edel and Charlie, if he was in the palace, were asleep. She peaked her head around the corner of their study room, seeing Edel and Charlie in the corner of the room, shoulder to shoulder, Charlie, leaning against Edel and her arm over his shoulder, at least a dozen journals and tubes of acid surrounding them, both of them fast asleep. Perfect, it was go time.

She turned around and almost walked directly into Sigma. She jumped backward, and almost punched her sister across the face with her remaining arm. Thankfully, Sigma caught her fist. “What’re you doing up?” She hissed.

“I’m doing something, I have to find something out, something you wouldn’t understand,” Lance explains cryptically.

“Is it the giant, locked door at the bottom of the Ancient Basin?” Sigma asked.

“You should just go back to… wait, what? How’d you know that’s what I was going to sneak out to investigate?” Lance asked.

“Because that’s what I was going to investigate, I think something is living down there, and I need to know what it is,” Sigma explained. Lance nodded. This was good. Sigma was much stronger than her, and if something was living down there, she would need Sigma’s superior strength to protect herself.

“Okay. I have a plan to get the door open, I just need you to carry dad out of bed without waking him.” She explained.

“What? Why would I…. huh?” Sigma asked, completely, absolutely confused.

“I’ve noticed, when we used to go on walks through the Basin, his chest would begin to glow whenever we went near the door. I think he might be the key to the door, in some way or another, but if he’s locked it, then we can’t wake him up until we’ve found out what’s down there.” Lance explained.

“Then let’s go kidnap our dad!” Sigma said with a grin, maybe a bit too loud. There was a shuffle in the study room, and a moment later, a dim light echoed into the hallway. “Oh shit,” Sigma muttered.

Lance pushed a hand over Sigma’s mouth and pulled her out of the hallway and into an adjacent room. Charlie exited the room, looking nervously back and forth before beginning to move, quickly and silently down the hall, like he had done this a thousand times before. Sigma squinted at him. She had seen Charlie and Edel when they fell asleep together, they were practically inseparable. Despite already agreeing to help her sister, her curiosity got the better of her and she began following the young cockroach.

“Where are you going?” Lance hissed. She glanced at her sister and then back at the shrinking candlelight.

“I’ll meet you there, I need to get to the bottom of something else,” Sigma answered before struggling out of Lance’s one-handed grip and quietly chasing after the scholar.

Her chase eventually led her to a random hallway, where she saw Charlie slip into a room. She approached the door and put her ear against it, hearing shuffling and someone digging through glass containers. Fuck stealth, she was confronting her sister’s best friend/adopted brother. If he was Edel’s adopted brother, then he was her adopted brother as well. She pushed the door open, catching Charlie in the act of drinking an unlabeled bottle, purple fluid running down his chin.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, and Charlie immediately dropped the glass and skittered backward.

“It’s not what you think, I swear! I… Well, I don’t know how to explain it to you but I swear it’s not what you think!” He says. She can see that his pupils are enlarged from here, and reaching into the box he was digging through, she finds a bottle with a label. Zertrilen, a drug she knew Lurien complained about. Crotaphle, a drug that she had caught a noble taking in an empty room once.

“What the fuck is all this, Charlie?” She asks, finding the bottle he had been drinking from. She licks up a drop of the remaining liquid. It has a sweet taste, like berry juice, but even that small of a sample caused her head to swim and the corners of her vision to blur. “These… These are drugs? Charlie, have you been doing drugs?” Sigma asked, bewildered.

Charlie, huddled in the corner, terrified, his fear likely heightened by the entire bottle of… whatever that drug had been. “I couldn’t help it, the withdrawal hurt so much, I thought it would just be easier if I used some of my money to get some to keep everything from hurting! I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would care that I’m still on them!” He cries.

“Of course people care, you numbskull! Edel cares! Quirrel cares! Monomon cares! Hell, I care! This shit… this shit’ll kill you!” She says while thrusting the bottle of Zertrilen at him. He cowers, hugging his legs close to his body. “I’m taking all of these, they’re going away, and I’m going to tell Edel what you’ve been doing.” She threatens.

Fear shoots into Charlie’s eyes. “No! No please don’t tell her, she’s so proud of me and… and she’ll hate me if she knew that I didn’t stop! Please!” Tears are streaming down his face, genuine fear, to the point that he looks like he’s going to have a heart attack. He’s hyperventilating and clutching at his chest.

“Fine. I won’t tell her, you’ll tell her. All of this shit is going somewhere where you’ll never find it, and when your withdrawal hits again you’re going to tell her what’s happening.” He looks like he’s about to say something when she cuts him off again. “What do you think will make her more upset? Finding you dead from overdosing, dead from not getting treatment, or you admit you didn’t stop? If you’re too stupid to answer that, I’ll answer it for you. She cares about you, like a brother, if she found you dead she would never forgive herself.” Sigma hissed.

He ducked his head down, nodding shamefully. “Take care of yourself, go snuggle back up to her. She cares about you a lot, and if you upset her, I’m gonna upset you.” Charlie nodded again. Taking the box of drugs, Sigma left Charlie alone in the room. After a few moments of nothing but the flicker of the candle, Sigma burst back into the room. “I told you to go cuddle up to my sister and be her little brother. Stop moping you mop.”

----

Lance paced back and forth, picking at her hip joint anxiously. What was taking Sigma so long? Why did she have to run off after Charlie? If Sigma didn’t come back, would she be able to carry her father with one arm? So many questions swimming in her head that she didn’t notice Sigma approaching with a box under her arm.

“I’m here, it's time. Hold this while I go in to pick him up.” Sigma said while handing the box over to Lance. She hesitantly picked it up, looking at the mountain of bottles inside. “Don’t question it. I’ll be back in a second.” She says before silently pulling the door open and creeping into the room. The White Lady, their step mother, was nestled beneath the blankets, her root like hair spread across a pillow, while their father was tucked under her arm, held against her chest like an oversized doll.

She delicately lifted the White Lady’s arm, careful not to move it quickly. She had no clue how deeply their stepmother slept, and finding out wasn’t an option. She gently placed the huge arm down and reached for her father, who curled up more now that he lacked the warmth of his Root. Good, he was in prime carry condition now. She picked up the coil that was her father and gently and slowly lifted him off of the White Lady’s chest. Thankfully, their father was a heavy sleeper when he slept with his wife. With luck, he wouldn’t awake.

He did not, in fact, wake, so she was able to carefully carry her father out of his bedroom, rejoining her sister in the hallway. “I’ve got him, let’s hurry up and get down there.” She whispered. Lance nodded and the two headed out of the palace and towards the mysterious sealed door. Lance jumped haphazardly, while Sigma was cursed to climb down with her father over her shoulder. How he hadn’t woken up yet was a mystery.

Sure enough, as they approached the door, his chest glowed brightly, brilliant light flowing from engraving like the brightest lumaflies shining through a magnifying glass. She forcibly uncoiled her father and held his chest up to the door. It glowed, and the symbol grew even brighter, and then in a flash of light, the door was gone.

As she gently dropped her father, she examined where the door was. Where did it go? Her father had told her that things couldn’t simply “disappear”, so the door had to be somewhere… but where? Lance was much less curious about the workings of the door and more interested in getting to the bottom of the pit before her. She dropped the box off the side, hearing the distant crash of glass against… something else. Sigma barely noticed that her sister was gone until she heard a second distant crunching of what sounded like carapace. Panic filled her as she hurried to the edge and peered down. Lance was gone.

She jumped from platform to platform, dodging crawlers and spikes and corpses to get to the ground level. She finally reached the ground, out of breath, finding Lance laying face down on the… oh gods. There were shells everywhere, white masks just like Holly’s. Is this where Holly and the other vessel had come from? She swallowed down her vomit and hurried to her sister’s side.

“Lance? Lance! Are you okay?” She yelled, shaking her sister. Lance jolted, jumping out of Sigma’s worried grasp and crawling away.

“Go back home. Get out of here, this place is dangerous.” Lance hisses as she gathers broken shells with her remaining arm, pulling them close to her side.

“What the hell are you doing? What the hell is wrong with you Lance! These are corpses, put them down!” Sigma yells, attempting to wrestle the cracked carapaces out of her grasp. Lance growls and attempts to slash at Sigma, her claws dragging a deep line across her sister's chest.

Sigma collapsed backward, scurrying away and leaving Lance to gather more shells. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sigma asks, tears running down her face as she pressed her hand against her open wound. Lance looked almost as upset as her, and she let go of all of the shells and collapsed into her hand.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what’s going on, I feel like I need to be here, you need to leave. I need to be alone.” Lance cries in her scratchy, void-tainted voice. Suddenly, there is a bright light as someone lands behind them.

“Sigma? Lance? What’re you doing here? How did you get here?” Their father asks. He himself sounds on the verge of tears, and his light is glowing so dimly that it looks like it might go out.

“You.” Lance hissed, leaping to her feet. “What did you do?” The King of Hallownest, perhaps just realizing what he is standing on, almost passes out. He falls to his knees, devastation painting his face.

“What? No, no no no no! No! They, the statistics said that… no…” Tears are streaming down his face now as he fully wakes up. He picks up one of the broken shells and Sigma can see his heart shatter. Maybe… maybe he truly didn’t know what was down here? She hoped he didn’t, she wanted to at least believe he was a good person.

“Shut the fuck up, you lying piece of shit! Look around you! Look what you’ve done!” Lance practically screams, her voice raising beyond a whisper for the first time in her life. Their father does look around them. He looks like he can’t breathe, as he digs his fingers into his chest so hard that blood begins to leak from them.

“Lance, calm down. Give him a chance to explain.” Sigma says, interrupting the deafening silence that followed Lance’s screams.

“Why should I care to listen to him? Look around you! He’s a murderer!” The Wyrm flinches at that, curling in on himself even tighter.

“I didn’t know any of them survived.” He sobbed. “There was only supposed to be one, I only waited for one… I don’t… I didn’t… the statistics said that it was a one in ten thousand chance for… gods, how many were born? How many are stillborn and how many survived? Oh, gods… oh gods what have I done?” He picks up another shell, one that looks so similar to Holly’s, and rubs the space between its horns. There’s no response, nothing, because it's nothing more than a corpse now.

Sigma approaches her father and kneels in front of him. “Gods… I… this is all my fault but… but I didn’t know I didn’t know any of them would survive past the egg. I didn’t think they would form this much, I… the void poisoning should have killed them, why didn’t it put them out of their misery before they could feel pain? Why didn’t it work like it was supposed to?” He whines.

“I can’t say it’s not your fault, but… I guess there’s something in the fact that you didn’t know.” Sigma says.

Lance hisses. “He’s lying, like he’s always done. He’s just trying to get your pity, if he really cares then he wouldn’t be sending the last of his children to die in an egg.”

“I… there isn’t another way… so many people are dying and this was the only way that I could find forward. This is the only path with a future without the Radiant light.” He explains through broken sobs.

Lance has no response to that, she just grimaces and paces back and forth, the masks crunching beneath her feet.

“You… you can still fix this.” Sigma says after a long moment of silence. Both Lance and her father look at her. “Not all of them died, some got out, some might still be down here. You just need to find them.”

“There aren’t any left, they wouldn’t have survived.” He says, pathetically.

“You’re wrong. I found one in the Basin.” She explains, catching Lance’s interest now.

“What? Where are they?” He asks, his wings unfurling from his back.

“Sit down. They’re safe, but I don’t know if I can trust you yet.” She said. He visibly deflated at that, collapsing back onto the pile of shells.

“You can’t kill Holly. They aren’t even pure, your plan is going to fail and more people are going to die.” Lance hisses.

“Yeah, that, but also you need to help Lance. She isn’t doing good, she’s dying at an alarming rate, her arm occasionally leaks black ooze, you need to get all that gunk out of her, and then you can spend time with your two new children.” She commands. The King nods solemnly as he picks up another shell.

“Yes, if Lance will agree to it, I can work to get the void out of her.” He says. Lance is about to say something but decides against it. “As for Holly, I know. I can’t do it anymore, I don’t even have the guts to go through the Dreamer plan. I will… I will do my best to give them a new childhood, and I will find every last living vessel even if it kills me. They deserve better than this.” He says. “The Dreamer plan was supposed to keep all of them alive, they should be able to wake up once the Radiance is gone, and… and the seal should keep Holly alive, but I understand, the plan cannot be completed.”

Lance still doesn’t look happy, even though she’s been given even more time to spend with her sibling, but Sigma is at least proud that her father is trying to be better. She looks up at the light at the peak of the Abyss.

It’s very high up, it’s almost ridiculous how tall this place is. Sigma scratches her chin and wonders aloud, “How’re we supposed to get out of here?”

Chapter Text

The Queen of Deepnest and her four daughters crept through the tunnels of Deepnest, the distant crawling and biting and gnashing of feral bugs echoing through the dark walls and twisting veins of this land. This was it, their coming-of-age hunt, and they were on the trail of a Beast. Edel uncomfortably fidgeted, undoubtedly disturbed from the loud noises, while Sigma walked with an air of cocky confidence that reminded Herrah of her husband. Protea was still getting used to holding a spear, much more prepared to use something like a nail or mace, nothing as light as this. Lance… well, she wasn’t doing as much as Herrah had hoped, but losing an arm would do that to you. That damned Wyrm, letting his monstrosities hurt her children.

To be completely honest, she had never seen this area before, but when she saw a Dirtcarver Queen burrow through the weak wall that had blocked this tunnel, she was easily able to knock it down. The hallways were long and winding, some ending in drops into spikes and dead ends, all accompanied by the weak floor occasionally giving in. As much as she wanted them to prove themselves, she was worried that the Wyrm blood in them weakened them, so her presence was needed, and she made sure to scope out every pit and drop to keep them safe.

“Mother, I don’t think the Dirtcarver went this way.” Edel whimpers, eye jumping about the walls frantically.

“No, she definitely did. I can smell flesh, we must be coming up on a nest.” Herrah explained. Her children seemed anxious, worried, even Sigma was on edge, and to be fair she was too, she was just much better at hiding it. They, too, would need to learn to hide their worries, since they were destined to become the Queens of Deepnest.

But as much as she was caught up in future thoughts, it was beginning to dawn on her how strange it was that the Queen hadn’t emerged to attack them, or that it hadn’t called for any mates or even any of its children. Maybe it had left, or maybe it had escaped behind them when they weren’t looking. She was almost on the verge of giving up and turning back when the tunnel finally opened up. And then, not even a moment later, she realized where they were.

They were in a Nosk den. The scratches on the walls, the shadow-covered corpses strung up on the ceiling, the nest made in the center of the room. Somehow, they had formed a second one without anyone noticing. How many years had it been here? How many years have they been breeding down here? Herrah’s stomach dropped and she put her hand up and motioned for her daughters to stop following. The entire room was filled with a rotten stench, and the first thing her eyes landed on was the rotting corpse of the Nosk Queen. A smile came to her face as she approached it.

“So this is where you ran off to, you bitch. Couldn’t face me like a warrior, and instead, you bled out like a coward.” She taunted, before grabbing the Nosk’s head and twisting it until there was a loud crack and the skull came loose. This would make an amazing trophy. She turned back to face them, and was about to rejoin them and announce the death of the Nosk Queen, when she stepped on something soft. The sensation of cotton tickling her leg, and she looked down to see a torn doll in the imitation of a stag. She laid the skull on the floor and lifted the toy, examining the long gash through it.

This… This was Edel’s, but, but that didn’t make sense. She raised it and showed it to Edel, only to find that the girl was hiding behind Sigma, her gaze snapping between her, and above her. Instinctively, her gaze drifted upwards to the ceiling and that’s when her heart finally dropped down into her chest.

Dangling in webs from the ceiling were the corpses of three children, one wearing a red dress, another wearing a white dress, and the last wearing a black dress. She froze and just stared at them for a moment as the gears churned in her head, unable to understand how her children could be dead, hanging from the ceiling, while they also stood across the room from her. And then it hit her like a stag running at full speed, and she tightened the grip on her spear.

Sigma instinctively held her spear at the ready while Edel whimpered once again, fear running through her. Good, she thought to herself. “You’re Nosks?” She says, much more a statement than a question. Protea is trying her best to mirror Sigma’s stance but her knees are shaking. Lance is standing headstrong, she knows what must and will come next. Their deaths.

“Mother, please.” Sigma starts, but Herrah is immediately filled with rage.

“Don’t you dare call me mother, you murderous beasts! You expect me to hear a word from your mouth after you killed my children?” Herrah hisses, approaching the group of imposters. She’d been feeding and raising a nest of monsters this entire time, one final trick by the bastard that murdered her husband.

“We didn’t do it, we wouldn’t have done it even though we were starving,” Protea says, trying to explain but tears are welling in her eyes. “We do not choose our mothers, or the circumstance into which we are born. We didn’t know, we can hardly remember this place we were so little. This was a terror for us, please believe me. She chose something for us that we didn’t want, we refused her meal and she died shortly after. I’m sorry, Herrah, mother, please…” The Blue clad beast whimpers.

“Silence, you… disgusting creatures. Tell me their demise so I can enact the same fate upon you.” Herrah hisses. Sigma looks like she is going to throw up, and Lance steps forward.

“We were so close to their age, almost to the day. The queen was weak, I remember her voice being so much a whisper, I can't even remember her true form. Just her looking like you for them. You were always my mother.” Lance explains with her croaky voice, on the verge of tears. She seems the least afraid, perhaps realizing that crying wasn’t going to give them a way out.

Herrah can picture it, a monster wearing her face calling her children down the very same path she and her daughters— no, these fiends, had just traveled through. Edel must’ve been the first to fall judging by the placement of her doll, her curious nature drawing her closer to the beast before it stabbed its claw through her and bit into her flesh, tearing her open. The order of the rest didn’t matter, as the Queen would have torn them apart with ease and without remorse. She pictured them huddled in the corner of the room, tears running down their faces. She grit her teeth.

“Then I will cut you open as she did to them.” She growls, raising her spear. “You can be like your coward mother and run, or you can fight me and keep your pride like I raised you to.” To her surprise, unlike the cowardly Nosk Queen, Sigma approaches her with her spear drawn and ready.

“I’ll not let you hurt my sisters,” Sigma says, before turning back to the rest of her hatchmates. “Run!” She commands, and after a moment of hesitation, the three leave her. Herrah doesn’t give her a chance to prepare herself before she lunges at Sigma, almost managing to drive the tip through her chest. Unfortunately, the changeling dodges, but doesn’t make an attempt to fight back. Disappointing, to say the least, that she doesn’t have the guts to fight her.

“Please, mother, I don’t want to hurt you,” Sigma begs, as she barely dodges another lunge from Herrah.

“Do not call me mother. I am not your mother, you monster.” Herrah growls, managing to stab Sigma in the stomach. Sigma— no, the creature doubles over, clutching at her, its bleeding chest. Herrah stabs it in the arm, digging her spear into its limb until it lets go of its weapon. It lets out a scream of pain. “Pathetic.” She growls.

“Please.” Sigma whines, as Herrah digs her foot into its back, into the scar from the assassination attempt. She should have let the Weaver finish it then and there.

Suddenly, she felt stone slam into the side of her head, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Hurry, we need to run.” Edel said, pulling Sigma off of the ground.

“I’m sorry” Sigma cried, giving one last look back at her mother, who was knocked unconscious from Edel’s attack.

——

Herrah awoke many hours later, surprised to find herself alive. The Nosks, those creatures, should have finished her off. Perhaps they weren’t hungry at the moment, perhaps they were saving her for later. She would not allow herself to be a meal for these bastards.

Rubbing the back of her head, she left the Nosk den, leaving the corpses of her children behind as well as the torn doll. She’d come back for them later, dig them a proper grave, but for now, she had to give the news to the people.

It wasn’t hard to gather everyone, a simple yell was enough to get every Weaver’s attention, and they gathered around her. “The princesses of Deepnest are dead. Murdered.” She announces. A wave of gasps and whispers break out through the crowd and she can feel the anger running through her blood.

“Murdered by none other than the Nosks!” She yelled. Children hid behind their parents and even the strongest of warriors cowered at the name. “But we must not let this injustice go unpunished! They will come back, in an attempt to steal from us, to kill us, to snuff us out, and we will not let that happen!” She thought of the assassin, of the odd behaviors of the things she Thought were her daughters. The constant eating, the odd growth, the lack of wings, the inability to spin silk. How could she have been so stupid?

“We will find them! We will kill them! We will not let a single one of them escape! Our war against the Nosks will come to an end, and we will kill every last one of them for the crime they have committed against us!” People cheered at that, applause and war cries. She turned her back on the crowd and returned to her home.

She wanted to blame someone for this, blame the Wyrm or Monomon or Lurien or anyone, but deep in her chest she knew that the blame landed on her. She had let her children wander and they had paid the price. Gods dammit. Gods damn those creatures, Gods damn the Pale King for convincing her to raise them, Gods damn Monomon for not being able to figure out that they were Nosks, Gods damn Lurien for convincing her that it was okay to accept the Nosk to begin with.

Gods damn her, for being such a fool to believe that she could be happy.

Chapter Text

The Pale King sat in his workshop, as he usually did, but today was much different. He couldn’t look at anything without feeling immense pain.

Everything, from his tools to his desk to the very floor reminded him of his daughters. Gods, why was the world so cruel? Did he deserve this? For his crimes? For the Abyss? Was this the world's revenge?

He put his tools down, abandoning his project (another idea for how to stop the infection). Everyday things got worse, everyday more and more infected attempted to breach the Watcher’s Spire or the Archives or Deepnest or even the Palace. No where was safe anymore.

His wife had disappeared in the night, likely running off to her gardens. She didn’t even tell him she was going, and when he sent a letter to her, she didn’t respond. The gardens were overrun by Mantises who attacked and killed everything they could get their hands on. He was so worried for her. He had received news that a caterpillar, a hatchling no more than a few months old, was found dead in the Gardens. He was running out of time.

He left his workshop in a hurry, memories of his deceased children haunting him at every glance. He held his eyes closed and just ran, hoping he could just escape everything, but instead, he ended up running into a door.

He hurried inside, slamming the door behind him, and collapsing onto the floor. The moment he opened his eyes, however, he realized how much he’d fucked up. He had ran into his children’s nestroom, filled with toys and drawings and inventions and… and… it was too much, far too much. He started crying, pulling his legs to his chest and bawling into his robes. He missed his daughters, he missed their chaos and their games and their cuddles and voices, and the worst part was that all of these memories weren’t of his actual daughters.

He had never gotten the chance to see them, to spend time with them. Herrah had kept them in Deepnest until they ventured into the Nosks den, until they… until they died.

He grabbed at blankets and pillows and toys, burrying his head into the pile and crying. He would do anything to have his daughters back, anything.

——

His entire body felt clammy, cold, uncomfortable. His muscles ached and he was sweating intensely. He didn’t have long left in the palace, they were going to kick him out soon, he just knew it, but he couldn’t let them see him like this.

He had tried the obvious. He put on heavy cloaks only to feel like he was burning alive, he had tried to sleep it off, but only woke up in an even worse condition, he had done everything he knew he could do but nothing stopped the pain of his withdrawals.

He felt delirious at this point. He hadn’t slept in days, he hadn’t eaten in longer, and all of his rogue thoughts that weren’t focused on his suffering drifted to his best and only friend, Edel. Edel, who had helped him get to sleep every night. Edel, who had been his only reason to not relapse (or do something worse). Edel, who had apparently died during her only day out of the palace.

He didn't know the details, but he had cried for hours after he learned what happened. He still could barely believe it, he missed her so much, and she was just gone.

So caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the figure in front of him until he almost bumped into it, and the moment his eyes fell upon it he fell into his behind, crawling back like mad.

The Soul Master, somehow still alive, stood in front of him, blood leaking from his throat. “Did you really think you would escape? Did you really think they’d care about you?” He says, voice echoey and ethereal. Charlie dragged himself away, trying to escape, but when he looked back, the figure was gone.

He was losing his mind, he was going to die, he was going to go insane and then they’d lock him up. His feet tingle and his teeth clattered and his mind buzzed and all of it irritated him so much he could barely take it.

Surely… he had promised Edel he wouldn’t relapse but… she was dead now. He tried to shake that thought out of his head but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking. If she was dead… then the promise was off, right? He didn’t have to care about not relapsing?

He limped out of his room, covered in sweat and looking like absolute shit. He knew where he was going. Sigma might have taken his stash, but he had more than one.

He was going to make sure this was his last relapse. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone else ever again.

——

Herrah, with her spear held tightly in her hand, ventured deep into the depths of Deepnest. Attached to her back was a shovel and several bags made of a strong canvas. She thought to her mother, and how she had said that a parent should never have to bury their children.

Alas, that was what she had to do, to grant them a proper burial, to set things right.

She arrived at the tunnel she had traversed only a few nights before, the tunnel that she has traversed with four murderers, monsters, fiends. The tunnel, as it had been before, was deathly silent, not even the scurry of a Dirtcarver. Nothing dared to go near the Nosk’s Den.

A dim light filtered into the hallway, an oddly large amount of lumaflies buzzing around the ceiling. She scanned the room, first noticing that the Nosk Queen’s corpse was missing, and then noticing that so were her daughters. She spread her mandibles and growled, anger rising in her throat.

Those bastards! Those monsters! They couldn’t rest with only stealing her daughters once, they had to do it twice! Of course they would, it was the nature of Nosks. They were the lowest of the low, the least honorable creatures to ever exist. Her mother had told her stories of how Nosks would break into homes to eat children and elders when the strong slept. Despicable.

She was about to storm out of the room, to go find those things and finally put an end to their species as a whole, when something caught her eye. The familiar blue and gray of the stuffed stag toy. She approached it, picking it up and looking it over.

It looked like it did the day the Wyrm had sent it to her, pristine and fixed, though she could still see the stitch marks, proving that it had been repaired. Nothing could cover up their deeds.

The ground below her was soft, and a quick look down proved why. Three patches of loose dirt, along with three stones stabbed into the patches. A pair of familiar flowers were placed on top.

A marigold, symbolizing cruelty and jealousy, and a purple hyacinth, symbolizing regret and a request for forgiveness.

The Nosks had dug these graves, buried their counterparts properly, and done their best to fix what little they could. It wasn’t enough, of course, but… gods dammit.

Herrah collapsed onto her knees, bawling up her fists and collecting dirt under her claws. She started crying, tears falling from her face and soaking into the dirt. She stayed there for a long time, remembering good memories of her children and of the imposters that claimed to be them, soured by the truth and by the fact that the monsters hated themselves just as much as she hated them.

——

Ogrim was alone, currently the only bug in the training zone. Where the other two great Knights were was unknown. Well, he knew that Dryya was in the gardens, but Ze’mere had just up and disappeared one day, likely to run off with her lover and escape from the infection before it was too late.

Ogrim was alone, and he hated it. Almost every hour of his day, of his week, maybe even his month, was dedicated to training now, and it was slowly but surely destroying him. His joints grew weak, his mind wandered and the urge to sleep, to dream, grew more and more with every passing hour he spent training.

He had already mastered his techniques, there was nothing more he could learn, but still he trained, because if he stopped training, then he would have to think about how his pupil was dead, and his friends were missing, and that he was likely the last of the Great Knights.

Finishing with another drill, he collapsed onto the ground, heaving in an attempt to regain his breath. He needed some water, or some food, or anything that could preoccupy his mind, because training wasn’t working anymore. Training just reminded him of Protea, and how much she loved training.

When she had failed to show up to training like she had promised (despite him telling her that she could skip the day and it would be okay), he instantly knew something was wrong. She would never break a promise if she could help it. His worst fears were confirmed when a weaver messenger arrived at the Palace later that day with the news that the princesses, all of them, were dead. He had received no other information.

As he was leaving the training area, he noticed that a door on the far side of the room was open a jar, only slightly, but enough that he could know that it was opened, when he had clearly made sure to close it before beginning his training.

With claws bared, ready to kill the infected intruder, he approached the door, and flung it open the moment he reached it.

The last thing he expected to see was Protea with a knife, attempting to cut throat open. Her eyes went wide and she scampered to the back of the room, dropping the blade and squeezing herself under a small bench that should have been too small for her to fit under.

Relief flooded his body and he rushed to her. “Protea! Oh gods, I thought you were dead! Thank goodness you’re alive!” He got on his knees and attempted to pull her out from under the bench, but she managed to shove herself deeper beneath it, out of his reach.

“Leave.” She said in a raspy voice. “Please leave me alone.” She begged, the soft sounds of crunching chitin and breaking plates slipping out from beneath the bench. He backed up, attempting to get a good look at her, only to be greeted by something that was certainly not Protea. It had her mask, yes, but its body was strange and deformed, legs too long and with too many joints and limbs. Tears were running down her face. “I’m not Protea, Protea’s dead, she never existed.” She sobs.

Ogrim is confused, but his fatherly instinct takes control, and he manages to grab it, whatever it is, but the only thing that matters to him is that this has to be Protea. He pulls her out from under the bench. The mass of limbs and her odd torso don’t straighten out, and instead she just remains a pile, her joints bending in wrong directions as she attempts to escape him. He lets her go, and watches as she scrambles away, but thankfully doesn’t retreat under the bench again.

“Please… I’m… I don’t want to lie to anyone anymore… but I can’t get this stupid mask off, no matter how much I try.” She cries, straightening out her limbs and regaining her usual body. She’s still wearing her cloak, but even though it’s pulled tightly around her body, he can still see moving limbs and growing splotches of hemolymph poking through. With her free hand (The one that isn’t holding her cloak together in a white knuckle grip) is trying to pull her head off, digging her claws into her carapace.

“Stop hurting yourself. I… you aren’t making any sense. How can you be dead? You’re right in front of me!” Ogrim says, voice still hopeful.

“Because… I’m a monster, we’re all monsters. We’re Nosks, imposters, it’s all our fault they’re dead.” Protea cries. “We were hungry but we didn’t know… we didn’t know she’d kill them… we just wanted to live.”

Oh. Everything clicks into place, and he hurries to pull Protea into a hug. She tries to run but he’s faster, and manages to wrap his arms around her tightly. “Please, it’s okay. Please tell me what happened. I want to help you, I really do.” Ogrim says. Protea hesitantly wraps her arms around him, claws lightly digging into the back of his shell.

“You promise? Mom— no, Herrah tried to kill us, but… but…” Protea sobbed into his chest, unable to finish her sentence.

“I promise, I’d never hurt you, it’s okay. I promise.” He says, and she continues to cry. She’s safe now, but he realizes that, judging on her condition, the rest of the daughters are in danger. He needs to tell the King as soon as possible.

Chapter Text

The King is mourning, of course, as he has been doing for the past… week? It had to have been at least a week at this point, but he was not sure. Time was not kind to him, and seemed to stretch on infinitely to the point that a single hour would last days. He is still mourning when Isma rushes into his room. “My King, there are a pair of heavily armed bugs at the entrance to the palace, they have not approached but the retainers are worried they are a threat.” Isma explains, out of breath.

“Why couldn’t you deal with it?” He asks, a frown spread across his mandibles.

“Because they are friends of Sigma, well, were. I believed it to be only appropriate that you break the news to them.” Isma explains. The King sighs, gives her a nod, and pulls himself to his feet, wiping the tear marks off of his face. If he is going to stand in front of his subjects after such a long time of being absent, then he is going to at least look presentable (lest more unsavory and inappropriate rumors about him spread again).

His walk through the palace is as regal as he can make it, and the retainers that he passes look upon him with the same respect that they did before his daughters were born. It makes him sick to think that their perception of him changed because he will no longer be gushing over his children. For a moment, he thinks of firing all of them for that, but if he did then the palace would fall into disrepair, but it might be a worth tradeoff.

When he arrives at the front of the palace, he sees a pair of bugs in heavy armor, both branded with the Lord Fool’s symbol. He grimaces, if only because of the memories that symbol brings. One of them, armed with a large sword, wearing an interesting crimson helmet, with crimson armor to match. Next to her is another bug with crooked antennas, wearing a torn tan tunic tied at the waist with a black rope, and wearing a key tied around her neck. She has a pair of scars that run over her eye and down past her mouth. Next to them is a giant beast covered in armor and wearing a large mask. Thankfully, it seems to be docile right now.

The bug in crimson armor is looking over a piece of spider silk, confusion covering her face. “Is this the right address? I can’t read this shitty handwriting.” The crimson armored bug asks, showing the paper to the other bug. They stare at it with a vacant smile before shaking their head.

“I can’t read.” She exclaims. The King approaches them, already preparing enough soul to form a blade if necessary. Thankfully, neither of them reach for their weapons when he approaches them.

“Hey! Old man, do you know where any other large, white palaces are in the Ancient Basin?” The crimson clad bug asks.

“I believe this to be the only one. Who are you two?” He says in response, a bit upset at being called an “old man”. He’s only a few milenna old, that's barely anything compared to how long his mother lived, and she hadn’t even lived through her entire life span.

“I’m Xena, the strongest warrior in all of Hallownest.” The crimson-clad bug explains with a flex. “This here is one of my girlfriends, Ercu.” She says, while pointing back at the other bug, who is currently fighting the beast over a scrap of meat, and somehow winning. She’s growling like a literal beast. “Do you know a girl named Sigma?”

“Yes, she’s my daughter.” He says. “She was the princess of Hallownest.”

Once again, the crimson-clad bug looks to be processing this information. “Yo! So that means she really was a princess! That's crazy!” Xena laughs, and Ercu lets go of the meat (which she is pulling on with her teeth) to laugh with her friend. “Do you know where she is? We were gonna hang today after she got home from some hunt or something.”

“She’s dead.” He says, getting it out now before he gets emotional about it. Xena looks at him and squints, like she's processing the information, though neither her nor Ercu seem to be shocked or upset.

“Okay. Yeah, okay. Well, tell her that we were looking for her when she gets back, okay? Thanks.”

“What? No, Sigma isn’t coming back, she’s dead.” The King repeats, tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes.

“Trust me man, I’ve gotten to know…” And then she stops for a moment to count something on her fingers. “Two, maybe three if you count myself, girls, and I can promise you that pretending to be dead is just girl stuff, you know?” She says to the man with four daughters and a wife (he knows at least five girls, that's more than three).

Ercu beside her, standing in a crouched position, nods furiously. “I preteneded I was dead for several months! My parents had a funeral for me and everything!” Xena nods like that proves anything.

“I wish you were right.” He says with a frown.”

“I’m always right, right babe?” Xena asks. Ercu nods even harder, with an intensity so extreme that she's probably going to have a headache later. “Well, when she gets back, tell her we stopped by.” She adds as she climbs atop the large beast, with Ercu joining her a moment later, and then the two ride off away from the palace, and he’s left wondering what just happened.

He can only hope these random fighters are right, and that his daughters will return.

----

Herrah is disturbed from her mourning when a Weaver hurries into the room, covered in hemolymph and burn marks. “My Queen!” He yells, stumbling and collapsing in front of her. She hurries toward the Weaver and lifts them up.

“Muurge, what is wrong? What’s happened?” She asks. There’s a large gash running down the Weaver’s face, and one of their arms has been chopped clean off.

“My Queen! Deepnest! The Village! It’s on fire!” He squeaks out, trying to clog up his wound with a wad of silk, which quickly becomes soaked blue. Her mind goes to the first, most obvious answer. The graves were a trap, a distraction, the Nosks who murdered her daughter had come to finish the job and destroy the rest of her kingdom.

“Protect yourself, Muurge. Stay here until I return, and if I do not, make your way to the hot spring. I will go save as many as I can.” She says, before placing the spider down and running out of the den, and making a mad dash back to her Village. She can only hope she isn’t too late.

----

The Distant Village is on fire, several buildings and platforms having collapsed and fallen down to the lake below. The ravine that the Village rests in is brighter than it has been in ages. The first figure she spots is Sigma, her signature red cloak burnt on the edges and her shining nail drawn. Several Weavers are cowering behind her, covered in burns and hemolymph. The second thing that catches her eyes is the banners of Pharloom.

The cultists from Pharloom had come to steal them back. Dammit. She needed to save the surviving people from both the cultists and the Nosks. She pulled the greatnail off of her back, but before she could even make a move, she felt a spear get stabbed into her back. She turned to face her attacker only to be jabbed in the stomach by the robed cultist.

“Surrender yourself, beast!” The cultists hissed, and a moment later their spear was torn from its hands. Herrah swung her greatnail and cleaved the bug in half. Unfortunately for her, the other cultists knew of her location now. She couldn’t wait a moment longer, barreling through a pair of cultists and toward her people. A taller bug, covered in armor that she recognized as a citadel soldier. She dashed at it, and her greatnail clanged against its four scabbards.

With every swing, her blade was blocked or countered, until the soldier slammed the hilt of its blade into her head, right where Edel had previously hit her with a rock. “Mother!” Sigma yelled, giving up on her fighting against other members of the cult to help her, only to be slashed across the chest with a sword and knocked to the ground, leaving her prone.

Herrah pushed herself back to her feet, letting out a hiss of pain and raising her nail. “Halt.” Ordered the citadel soldier. “Take a step closer and the girl dies.” It hisses, grounding its heel into Sigma’s chest wound. The thing, apparently the only Nosk to come to the village, whimpered in pain. Squirming in hopes of escaping.

“Try me, I care not if the girl perishes,” Herrah growls back. Just then she can see all the fight in Sigma’s eyes die out, and her instincts to comfort her daughter kick in, but she has to remind herself that *thing* isn’t her daughter.

The soldier growls, before stomping on Sigma’s head so hard that she goes unconscious. They sheath one of their blades and pick up the unconscious child before retreating with most of the surviving cultists. Herrah hurried to the rest of the Weavers who hadn’t retreated or perished.

“Is everyone okay?” She asks, lifting the most injured looking to examine their wounds.

“We’re fine, for the most part, the princess saved us! She saved my mommy!” One of the younger Weavers exclaimed. At that moment, something in her snaps. She thinks of the children she had before the Nosk incident, and then she thinks of Lance and her flowers and comforting silence, of Edel and how much she beamed when Herrah was proud of one of her inventions, of Protea and how much she strived to become stronger, to the point that she might be one of the strongest bugs in all of Hallownest. She thinks of Sigma and how the girl did everything she could to perfectly follow their traditions.

The next thing Herrah knows, she's running at full speed toward where the cultists had run off to, galloping down the tunnels, following the scent of the cultists. It takes her to the edge of the Kingdom, the wild winds thrashing and cutting her chitin. She looks across the horizon, seeing a distant light nearly on the horizon, too far for her to get to them.

Sigma was gone, that was all she could be sure of. For the first time in her life she actually felt regret, but there was no time for that. She needed to find the King and… and maybe she could right this wrong.

----

Sigma snapped awake, tears covering her face, her body shaking and the memory of her nightmare still fresh in her head. “Mama!” She cried, thankfully not waking any of her surrounding sisters. Herrah hurried into the room only a moment later, rushing to her child's side and gently lifting them out of bed.

“Sigma, my dear, are you okay?” Her mother asks. Sigma nods, wiping at the tears and whimpering. “A nightmare?” Sigma nods again. Herrah cooes gently to her child, settling down into their nest.

“I had a nightmare that… that you didn’t love me anymore, I was so scared.” Sigma whines, hugging Herrah’s claw tightly.

“Don’t worry my child, I would never, not in a million eons, hate you. I love you and your sisters more than anything.” Herrah says.

Sigma sniffles, wiping away the rest of her tears. “You promise?” Herrah nods and presses a gentle kiss against her daughter's forehead. Sigma quickly settles, falling back to sleep in her mothers arms, knowing she is safe.

Sigma wakes up moments later, the cold metal of the cage against her carapace. The lands around her are unfamiliar, but she can tell she's so far from home.She remembers how her mother allowed her to die, and she goes limp in the cage, resigned to her fate. She can only hope her death comes quickly.

Chapter Text

Quirrel, with his heavy bag, is currently walking the halls of the White Palace. He shouldn’t be here, he is supposed to be somewhere in the Wastes, or, if the Madam never came up with her plan to protect her seal, he would be doing research with Edel.

Instead, Edel was dead and the Dreamer plan was cancelled, and now he was going to, eventually, have to confront his ex-lover, Oro. Were they lovers? Were they just close friends? They didn’t do anything that lovers did, except occasionally going out for drinks and food, but Quirrel often did that with his fellow Archivists. They did everything that being lovers included, without being lovers.What were he and Oro?

Well, the only thing he knew is that the two of them were about to have an argument, as he turned a corner only to come face to face with the large, muscular, dull warrior, who is an exact opposite to him in every way.

“Pillbug.” Oro huffed, his heavy nail slung across his back. “I thought you said you weren’t coming back.” There was an anger and malice in his voice, which was understandable, Quirrel deserved the anger.

“Nailmaster Oro, it’s nice to see you again.” Quirrel said, extending his hand for Oro to shake. The humongous beetle ignored his offer and simply approached him, towering over the much smaller bug.

“Why did you leave. I told you not to.” Oro growled, bandaged hand coming up to grab the collar of the pillbugs cloak. For most people, this would surely be terrifying, but this was Oro’s way of showing that he cared (or it was his way of showing that he was about to crush Quirrel’s head like a grape, but he was pretty sure that Oro wouldn’t do that to him).

“I left for the better of both you and everyone both you and I care about. I didn’t want you or your family to suffer from the infection.” He explained.

“I didn’t ask you to leave for the better of me. I can take care of myself. I needed you.” Oro huffed, a large frown covering his face. “I told you not to leave.”

“I know. I know you did, but I care about you. I care about you so much, and I wouldn’t be able to take it if any harm came to you.” Quirrel explained, resting a hand against Oro’s rough face. Oro’s other hand moved and pressed Quirrel’s hand against his face.

“I’ll accept your apology.” Oro said.

“Thank you. Do you happen to know where Charlie is? I need to check on him.” Quirrel asked. Oro huffed, pointing down the hall.

“I assume Charlie is the cockroach. I saw him enter a closet down there. He hasn’t come out yet. I know you care about him so I’ve kept an eye on him.” Oro explained.

When Quirrel pushed the door to the closet open, he expected to see Charlie doing notes, or maybe examining something. What he didn’t expect was to see Charlie laying on the floor in a puddle of vomit, with blood leaking out of his mouth, his shell pale.

Quirrel rushed to the young bug’s side, pressing his head to their chest, hearing that his breathing was extremely shallow and ragged, and his pulse was slow and erratic. “Charlie? Charlie are you okay?” They weren’t responsive. He shook them, only for their eyes to snap open, pupils blown wide and dilated. They choked on vomit, managing to force more out of their throat. He was burning up, much hotter than he should be.

“Oro! Oro! Hurry and get a medic!” Quirrel yelled, and a moment later he felt burly hands pick him and Charlie up, and then they were being rushed down the halls. Charlie was breathing, that was what was important. He would live, it would be okay.

----

The King was mourning, once again, when the Queen of Deepnest burst into his workshop. If there was anyone he didn’t want to see ever again, it was Herrah. “Wyrm, I need your help.” She yelled, far too loud.

“Herrah, please leave me be. You have caused me nothing but pain.” The King whimpered.

“I care not for your whining. I need your help finding our daughters. Sigma has been kidnapped, Edel is dangerous to herself when left alone, and Lance is already on a mental decline. If we don’t find them soon--”

“We? If we don’t find them? Our daughters? Since when is it our and we? Since their birth it has always been your daughters!” The King hissed.

“What are you talking about? I knew you were pathetic and petty but I didn’t know you were this petty.” Herrah growled.

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear another word from you, you bastard beast!” The King snapped. Herrah was about to say something when he cut her off. “I have been mourning the deaths of my daughters for days, and I never even got the pleasure of meeting them! Everything has been about you! You kept my children from me because you were too obsessed with your own pride to let me even see them! It only became our children when you knew one of them wasn’t yours! You’re a damned selfish! You were willing to ruin their lives out of pettiness and your hatred for me! You’ve only ever wanted to hurt me and my people! Every problem you’ve solved with violence! You told me to murder one of my children once I found out who wasn’t yours! Your first instinct upon learning that they were Nosks was to murder them! They were innocent! I don’t want to hear about how you want to solve the problem! I don’t care if you’ve gone through a change of heart! I never want to see you again! Get out of my palace!” The King screamed, summoning a blade of soul.

Right before Herrah and the King started fighting, the door to his workshop flung open, and Protea, Ogrim, and the Pure Vessel rushed in.

Chapter Text

Protea hurried around the palace, careful to hide from the view of the Retainers who infested the halls like flies on a corpse, swarming and making this place their home because they’re too scared to go home. She wouldn’t have minded if they weren’t a danger to her.

Ogrim was waiting for her near her father’s room, but she needed more support, in case things went south. She needed Holly, but she couldn’t find them anywhere. A distant part of her feared she was too late, and Holly was gone, but she shoved that part out of her head and kept racing down halls.

She narrowly avoided Oro as he ran down the hallway with Quirrel and Charlie in his arms by slipping into a room. Neither Oro nor Quirrel should be here, so that was a cause for concern, but she had more pressing matters at hand, like finding her sisters before it was too late.

She slipped back out of the room, running down the hallway until she arrived at the last place she could think to look, her and her siblings’ room. If Holly was resting, or mourning, they would be here. It only made sense. She quietly pushed the door open and crept inside.

Sure enough, Holly’s large mask was visible over the piles and piles of blankets and toys and pillows that used to be their nest. They turned their head to look at who intruded upon them, allowing Protea to get a good look at the black streaks of void running down their face and staining the blankets.

“Holly, I need your help.” She said, carefully taking a step toward them. They made a sound akin to a whimper (which they shouldn’t be able to do. It was a bit concerning that they were able to make sounds) before disappearing beneath the pile, and a moment later, Protea ducked to dodge the flying mass of blankets.

“Get out. Leave me alone. I don’t want to be hurt anymore.” Holly signed, throwing a pillow at her with a force a little too intense.

“Holly please, Sigma and Edel and Lance are in trouble, we need to help them before they get hurt, or worse. Please, Holly.” Protea said, testing Holly’s patience by taking another step closer.

“You can do that on your own. I’ve suffered enough. I don’t want to be hurt anymore.” Holly signed quickly before chucking another ball of nest at her, to which she dodged.

“I know you’ve suffered, but things are going to get worse! You know Edel can’t be left alone, you know Lance is dying of void poisoning! You know Sigma wouldn’t leave Deepnest for the world and you know Herrah is going to kill her if she finds out! Please Holly!” Protea screamed, tears swelling in the corners of her eyes, threatening to overflow at any moment.

“I want to die. It’s too much. Leave me be please, I can’t take it.” Holly signed, shaking almost violently as a stream of black ran down their face. She took another step closer, keeping her hands ready in case Holly decided to become more violent, or decided to throw another ball of cloth at her.

“What else do you want? Do you you want to be the only one of us left when you’re sealed in the Blackegg?” She cried, tears running down her face.

“I want my sisters back.” Holly signed, void tears coating their mask.

“They were never your sisters, Holly! They hated you because Herrah told them to! We’re the only sisters you’ve ever had, and we’re about to die for a second time!” Protea screamed.

Holly collapsed, curling up into a ball and crying, a small puddle forming beneath them, all of the blankets and pillows soaked in the infinite black. Protea approached them, putting a hand on their back. They arch their back and let out a silent wail, opening their mouth wide to gasp in air.

“It’s okay, it’s okay Holly. I promise, but we need to find our sisters before it’s too late. Please, help me, please.” Protea begs as she wipes the tears from her face. Holly nods, bringing one. of the stained blankets to their face to wipe the tears away, which only ended up smearing it more.

Okay. Okay, they’ve got Holly on their side now, they just needed to confront their father. Taking their hand, she hurries back to where Ogrim is waiting for them. Thanks to Holly’s size, the retainers are starting to notice them. Some silently turn away and walk briskly in the opposite direction, while others let out terrified screams and run away as fast as possible. It didn’t matter, none of them had the guts to approach the Hollow Knight, no matter how brave they think they are

When she bursts into her fathers room with Ogrim and Holly behind her, the last thing she expected to see was her mother, greatnail drawn. Herrah’s eyes land on Protea first.

“Protea, my daughter.” Herrah says, but before she can even make a move, Holly moves in front of her, their nail also drawn. “Vessel. Put your blade away. I have no intention of hurting her.”

She doesn’t know what to do, she's frozen in fear, thinking of the nightmares she’d had since she last saw her, of all the horrible things that she knew her mother would do if she got the chance. She quickly runs to the other side of the room, giving up her uniform form to fit underneath the dresser. “Herrah please.” Protea whimpers. Herrah ignores her pleas and approaches anyways.

“Herrah! Step away from my daughter!” The King hissed. Herrah continues to ignore him and she easily pushes Holly out of the way. Ogrim’s attempt to stop her is halted with a glare.

“Protea, come out. I won’t hurt you.” Herrah demands. Suddenly, she feels an extreme blast of soul and is knocked backward.

“I said to step away from my daughter! Get out of my palace!” The King hisses, a soul blade in hand.

She growls. “You know nothing, Wyrm. I am trying to protect what I have left. Sigma is gone, the cultists from Pharloom stole her.”

At that, Protea peeks out from beneath the dresser, and the King lowers his blade. “What do you mean? Where is she?” He says.

“I tried my best to save her, but by the time I caught up with them, they were already well into the Wastes. I was not willing to lose myself, my people who remain still need me.” Herrah explains. “When they realize she’s not a Weaver, they’ll either kill her, or come back for the rest of them.”

“Gods… I need to go after her. Ogrim, send word to the rest of the Great Knights, we need to find Lance and Edel as fast as possible.” The King says. “Protea, I need you to stay in the palace. Do not leave under any circumstances.”

“No, I can help. I know where they might hide” Protea says, fully emerging from beneath the dresser.

“I know, but I can’t risk losing you again. Please, stay here.” The King begs. Protea nods. At that, the King is already out the room, flying down the hall as fast as he can, toward Deepnest and then beyond. He will find his daughter, even if it kills him.

----

Charlie awakens, feeling like complete shit. Which is understandable, seeing as he completely crumpled. He expected to have died, but apparently the Gods were not so kind as to allow him an end to his pain.

He opens his eyes, seeing Quirrel, a bug he almost thinks of as his father, standing next Oro the Nailmaster (If Quirrel is his dad, then is Oro his step-dad? No, he can’t be thinking about this right now. His brain is too weak for metaphysical questions). The next bug his eyes land on his Protea, who is currently asleep on another bed not far from him, and the moment he sees her he tries to pull himself to his feet. If she’s alive… If Protea is alive then Edel must be too!

“Oh! He’s awake! Charlie? Charlie can you hear me? Lay back down please, you’re too weak to be moving this much.” Quirrel cooed as he tried to push Charlie back down.

“Edel? Where’s Edel? Is she alive?” He asks, voice scratchy and little more than a croak.

“They haven’t found her yet but she’s okay. Please, calm down, you’ll see her once they bring her home.” That’s all Charlie has to hear to decide that he isn’t going to lay down for a moment longer.

He shoves Quirrel away from him and grabs a scalpel from a nearby tray, pointing it at the other bugs in the room. “Stay back! I’m going to find her!” He hisses.

“Please, Charlie, I’ve almost lost you once I don’t want to--” But before Quirrel can even finish his sentence, the young scholar is already making a run for the door. Oro tries to stop him, but he manages to use what little soul he has in him to teleport out of the room.

He hears commotion down the hall, and scrambles back to his feet. Quirrel and Oro are faster than him, if they pursue him he won’t be able to escape. He runs, and as he runs he tries to think of where Edel could be, and then it hits him, like a Tram at top speed. He needs to get to a Stag station, he needs to get to the Blue Lake as fast as possible.

Chapter Text

The Stag wasn’t fast enough, and all Charlie could do was wait and nervously pick at the edges of his shell. He was scared, so incredibly scared that he wouldn’t find Edel here. Scared he’s going to find anything else than Edel sitting at the edge of the lake.

“Can you go any faster? I need to get to the Resting Grounds.” Charlie asked, tapping impatiently on the Stag’s neck. They simply huffed and kept moving. Gods, what if he was already too late? What if Edel had… what if she had.... He didn’t want to think about it. He had already lost her once, and if his inactivity had caused him to lose her again? He wouldn’t be able to take it.

The second the Stag came to a stop, Charlie was already off its back and running. Running past the few bugs who wandered the Resting Grounds, running faster than he ever had in his life, running to the point that he couldn’t breath. He ran into the cavern that housed the Blue Lake and practically collapsed into the sand.

Edel was standing in the water at about knee height, simply staring across the water and at the way the light shimmered and shined off of the water’s surface. “Edel!” Charlie yelled, managing to pull himself to his feet and stumble closer to her. She didn’t turn to face him, keeping her eyes focused ahead. “Edel?” He asked, fear in his voice, fear at what he was about to lose.

“I’m so tired, Charlie.” Edel muttered.

“I know. I know how you feel. Please, Edel, come here. Let's talk this out.” Charlie pleaded between heavy breaths.

“Just leave me be, Charlie. You’ll be better off without me.” She growled.

“What? Edel, you know that's not true!” He said, hurrying toward her. The moment he grabbed her elbow, she flinched, turning around and slashing at him blindly.

“I said, leave me be!” She hissed, before realizing what she had done. Blood ran down Charlie's face from where she had cut him, one of his eyes clenched shut. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t mean to.” She cried. A drop of hemolymph landed in the water, spreading out in an odd pattern, but was instantly destroyed by Charlie as he closed the rest of the distance between them.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to. Please, Edel. I don’t want to lose you again.” He cried.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I keep doing it, everytime I see someone, everytime someone cares about me. Even my own mother hates me because I hurt her.” Edel whimpers, tears running own her face, falling and joining the sea of water and sorrow beneath her.

“You didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I know you didn’t.” Charlie said, taking another step towards her. She countered by stepping farther into the water, the waves going up to her waist now.

“It doesn’t matter if I didn’t mean to. My mother has suffered, my father has suffered, my sisters, Quirrel, even you. I’ve caused so much pain.” She sobbed, bringing a hand to wipe the tears away, taking a deep breath when her hand ghosted over her scar.

“Edel. Edel, look at me please.” He begged. Reluctantly, she turned to face him. The crack in her mask was broken open, the flesh beneath the shards ugly and raw. “Oh gods, your scar… what did you do?” She didn’t respond, only turning away from him again.

“Please just leave. Forget me and go on living without me. It’s better this way.” She muttered.

“Edel, please.”

“Stop calling me Edel! I’m not Edel, I never was, I’m a monster! I hurt you, I hurt my mother, I hurt my father! Everything would be okay if I was never born, Edel would still be alive!” She screamed. “Edel is dead!”

He cowered slightly from her yelling, for a moment thinking he was back in the Soul Sanctum. Her eyes softened when she realized that he was cowering away from her in fear. “Gods, I’m such a freak.”

“No, no you aren’t. You’re the only Edel I’ve ever known. There's never been another one, I’m sure of it. Please, Edel. Don’t do this, we need you, I need you. I… please Edel.” He begged.

They both stood in silence for a long time, to the point that it was so dense that Charlie felt like he was going to throw up. “I overdosed again. I’m sorry.” He blurted. That finally got Edel to look at him, to stop hiding away. “I was in so much pain and I was all alone. I couldn’t take the pain of the withdrawals. I just wanted to die. I know how you feel, I didn’t think anyone would care if I died, but I was wrong. We’re both wrong, Edel. Everyone cares about us. Herrah cares about you, the King cares about you. Quirrel cares about both of us. I care about you. I care about you so much. You’re my best friend, you’ve saved my life multiple times, so please. Let me help save yours.” He pleaded. His tears ran down his face, mixing with the blood leaking from his wound.

Edel waded closer to him, and then he felt her arms wrap around him. “I’m sorry. I… I… I care about you too. You’re like a brother to me.” She muttered. He hugged back, shaking slightly as tears rolled down his face and tears ran down hers. It was going to be okay, they both knew this now, for sure this time. They were safe.

Chapter Text

The King was who knows where, Protea was safe at home, all of the Wyrm’s knights were searching, and she was left with the strange, eldest child of the King, his Hollow Knight, which was now following close behind her with its greatnail in hand.

Every time she turned to look at it, she looked at its empty, emotionless face and its perfect posture. Why was it following her? She knew it was “pure”, but it hadn’t been ordered to follow her. Had the King decided to… no. No, she shouldn’t be thinking like that anymore, she had just been chewed out for it.

Either way, the fact that this… thing wouldn’t leave her alone was already slowing her down. The King would actually kill her if she lost another of her children, so she could take no chances, and had to wait for the Vessel to catch up whenever she got too far ahead.

Where was Lance? Why was she so much harder to find her? She had gotten news that Edel was located, Protea was already in the palace, and Sigma had been sneaking into the Distant Village (thanks to Midwife, who had been sneaking her in. If Midwife hadn’t done that, Sigma might still be alive). But Lance… Lance was nowhere to be found.

Ogrim was searching the Capital and the Ancient Basin. Isma was searching the Queen’s Gardens and Greenpath, because that was the area she knew most. Hegemol and his students were searching the Kingdoms Edge, Crystal Peaks, Resting Grounds, and the small town of Dirtmouth on the surface. Ze’mere was also searching the Queen’s Gardens and the Fungal Wastes. Dryya and the Queen… well, she had no clue if they were even searching. The Queen had no love for her, and, at this point, barely even talked to the King, so there was no reason for her or her knight to help. Still, it hurt that they weren’t helping.

She had gone into the depths of Deepnest, and the fact that the Vessel had followed her gave her some hope, because this thing was good friends with her daughter, so if it was following her, then that MUST mean she’s going in the right direction.

Finally, she came across something that might lead her in the right direction. The corpse of a bug, torn into pieces, blood and meat torn from its shell. Morbid, yes, but… it was done in such an inefficient what that no normal predator bug would do this.

“Vessel. Stay here. I am going to check the surrounding area for Lance. If you wander, I will not search for you.” She ordered. The Vessel simply stood and stared with its empty, freakish eyes. It certainly had its fathers eyes, cold and emotionless.

With her blade drawn, she searched the surrounding area. Hopefully this was her daughter and not some random Beast. She froze when she heard something being crushed and torn. “Lance?” She called out, hearing a loud hiss. “Lance, my daughter. Show yourself.” Herrah yelled.

Her daughter did not come, so she crept closer to the source of the sound. Lance let out another hiss as Herrah turned the corner and came face to face with her. Lance was crouched over a Dirtcarver, its back torn open. Hemolymph ran down her chin as she tore at another piece of stolen flesh. “Begone.” Lance hissed, wrapping her remaining arm around the corpse and crawling backward, deeper into the cavern.

“I will not leave without you, Lance.” Herrah said as she approached her daughter, her nail now placed on her back.

“Then you will not leave at all.” Lance growled before leaping at her mother, attempting to scratch at Herrah with her only arm. After a moment of trying, Lance retreated to the corpse.

“Why’re you acting like this? I thought you to be the most sane of your sisters.” Herrah hissed rather rudely.

“I am nothing more than a beast, you’ve said it yourself. Leave me to die of my sickness, Herrah.” Lance went into a defensive stance, as best she could with only three limbs.

“I was a fool then, blinded by anger. I do not wish to lose you.” Herrah explained.

“And you’ve changed now? You may be a fool but I am not. Sigma has always been the golden child, you wouldn’t have come to find me unless something happened to her.” Lance growled. Herrah had nothing to say, as Lance was correct. Lance continued to eat the flesh.

“Let me help you.” Herrah begged.

“I don’t need help!” Lance screamed, before doubling over, clutching at her stomach. Herrah rushed to her side in an instant. “Hands off me!” Lance hisses.

“I’m trying to help you! Please, tell me what you need me to do!” Herrah begged, grabbing Lance and holding her to her chest so she couldn’t escape. Lance thrashed in an attempt to escape, before curling in on herself and vomiting black liquid onto Herrah’s arms. It was extremely cold and burned her carapace.

She needed a doctor, and fast. Herrah ran back while Lance scratched and bit at her arms. The Hollow Knight was still standing where she told them to stay, and the moment they saw Lance they hurried to her and tried to take Lance from her arms. Lance reached out, whimpering between gasps of breath, the black liquid running down her chin. “Back off, Vessel. We need to hurry and find a doctor, and I will not be letting Lance out of my grasp.” Lance hissed, scratching at Herrah’s arms.

“Please, she doesn’t have much time left.” The Vessel signed in Deepnest sign language, something she didn’t know it could do, but seeing that the King has failed at almost everything else, this isn’t that surprising.

Herrah’s heart dropped, but she held onto hope. “She still has time, I just need to get her to a doctor and everything will be okay.” She says, trying to run past the Vessel, who quickly moves to stand in front of her. It shakes its head.

“Not enough time. She will die too soon.” It signs, and although she doesn’t want to believe it, she knows it's probably true. She knows nothing of uncommon illnesses, of anything that isn’t a cold, of any of the problems in one's mind or within their innermost being. This vessel… this thing, it can tell no lies, if the Wyrm is to be believed. She practically collapses, the thrashing Lance still in her arms.

With great reluctance she lets go of Lance and watches as her dying daughter runs from her, embracing her half-sibling. “I am sorry, Lance. I… you’re dying. There’s no point in doing this for me anymore.” She says. Lance looks at her with sadness in her eyes, sadness in the fact that, in her last moments, she would rather be anywhere other than her mother’s arms. “You are free, take her away from me.”

The Hollow Knight seems to ignore her, instead hugging their half-sister as close to them as possible. “I missed you.” Lance cried. “I missed you so much.”

“I love you.” The Hollow Knight signs, and then they keep signing it, making sure that Lance sees it. Lance hugs them closer, and a few seconds later, she goes limp in her sibling’s arms. Herrah can barely stop herself from crying, and she fails, breaking into uncontrollable sobbing. The Hollow Knight collapses beside her, squeezing Lance tighter to their chest. They shook her, perhaps hoping she would revive, and when she didn’t awake, they shook with silent sobs, holding her tighter. She gently laid a hand on its shoulder, to comfort it through her own river of tears. She didn’t deserve comfort, but it did.

And then, Lance shook. She heaved, throwing up the meat she had eaten earlier, but no more of the black liquid remained. “Lance? Lance! Thank the Gods you’re alive!” Herrah yelled.

The Hollow Knight practically jumped with joy. “Took the void out of her, didn’t know I could do it, but I had to try.” The Hollow Knight signed. Herrah wrapped her arms around the Hollow Knight and Lance and pulled them into a tight embrace.

“Thank you, thank you so much. Lance. Lance, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was so awful, I was so selfish, I promise I’ll never let myself be that awful again. I do love you, I promise. I love all four of you so much, much more than I could ever say.” Herrah cried, so unlike her, but in this moment she didn’t care. For all she cared, the whole world could see her in this moment and it wouldn’t make a difference.

Lance hugged back, the first time she had hugged her mother in years.

Chapter Text

Amaryllis was, for the first time in at least a year, back in the Mantis Village. When Keiza, the youngest Mantis Lord, had been forced out of the village due to his daughters relationship with the Great Knight Ze’mere, her father had forced her to go with them in hopes of “saving” her from her “traitorous relationship with Protea. In only a week, Amaryllis’s father had managed to ruin their relationship. Much later, she learned that the reason for Keiza’s banishing was that another relationship between a resident of the Mantis Village and a resident of Hallownest led to the bug being let into the Village, which they then used to try and assassinate the lords.

It was no longer safe for Mantises to have relationships with outsiders.

Now she was back, and she was back in the place she grew up in, tired from a day of digging. At some point during her “vacation” away from the love of her life and her friends, her father had succumbed to the infection. Was it bad that she wasn’t mourning his death? Was it bad that the worst part of today was the pain in her joints after digging a grave for him?

Gods, she’s a fucking mess. Kieza hadn’t returned with his daughter and the rest of the tribe he took. And to be honest? He was more of a father to her and the other young mantises than her actual father was. She was more upset that he had left. And to where? He had left to the Howling Cliffs to get back his honor through… well, he hadn’t explained how he was going to do it. Now she was without two fathers.

As she entered her old home, she was greeted by a lack of dust. Her father had been a coward, she wouldn’t be surprised if he spent the last year exclusively dusting. But this… someone had been in here today. She pulled the spear off her back, beginning to search. Had some juvenile come and prank her? Had a thief broken in? Maybe her father had a twin brother she didn’t know of… no, that was a stupid thought. Her father was the only survivor of his clutch
.
“Intruder, reveal yourself before I cut you down.” She hissed. There was a tumble and several crashes from inside her nestroom. Oh, so this was an intruder. She approached the cloth door, swiping it out of the way and rushing into the room, prepared to strike down the first bug she saw. Inside, she was greeted by a very scared, very familiar bug crouched in the corner of the room, fear covering her face.

“Protea?” Amaryllis asked, genuinely surprised to see her. Protea was crumpled in an odd way, her limbs bent in odd ways, decreasing her overall size in a failed attempt at hiding.

“I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me. I… I missed you so much. I needed to make sure you were still alive.” Protea whimpered.

The year of “vacation” practically disintegrated the moment she saw the tears running down her girlfriend’s face. “I won’t hurt you, don’t worry. How… why? You know how dangerous it is right now. You can’t be here.” Amaryllis said, hurrying to Protea’s side. Protea tried to press further to the wall, like she was trying to slip through the wall and escape.

“I missed you so much… and… I needed to show you what I am.” She explained, before unfolding and showing off her strange, bent, beast-like form. “I’m not a spiderling… I’m not even a Weaver. I never was, and I’m so sorry that I lied to you.” She sobbed. “I understand if you don’t want to see me ever again… I understand if you think I’m a freak.”

Amaryllis had heard enough. She wrapped her arms around Protea, gathering her in her arms and hugging her tightly. “I could never think of you as a freak. I could never feel anything less than love for you.” She promised.

Protea curled up more, whimpering softly. “But… look at me, I’m a beast. Even my mother barely loves me now that she knows.”

Amaryllis scoffed. “Protea, I care not what species you are. I did not fall in love with your arms or your legs or your abdomen. Yes, your face is beautiful, but I fell in love with you, your personality and your laugh and your humor. Everything else is just a bonus.”

“But… I’m a monster. You should be scared. What if I hurt you?” Protea asked.

“I know you. You would never hurt me. No matter how much of a beast you are, you’re still you.” Amaryllis cooed. “I still love you, I always will.” She promised. Protea hugged her back as tightly as she could, as if she feared Amaryllis would disappear if she let go.

Chapter Text

The King searched for days, if not weeks. He knew not how much time he spent looking, but he couldn’t even figure out where Pharloom was. Herrah, nor any of the elders of Deepnest, knew where the old kingdom was. Was it even real? Was Pharloom just a tale told to children?

He was devastated, Sigma was gone, stolen away and taken to a nonexistent kingdom. He returned to the White Palace, greeting Protea, Edel, Lance, Herrah, the unnamed Vessel, and Holly with empty hands. He cried for days more, as did his children and, surprisingly, Herrah.

The searches of the Kingdom did bring light to some things. Xero had been found, thankfully still alive. Apparently, he had become disoriented in the ash of the Kingdom’s Edge, and nearly died. Thankfully, in his last moments, a moth found him and nursed him back to health. Xero has been hidden in the Resting Grounds to keep him safe.

He had requested that no one go further south as to protect his grave. He was surprised to find that it had caved in, and when he managed to dig out the collapsed stone and ashes, he found that the Brand laid upon his egg was gone. Before he left, he thought he heard a sound, almost like a Ghost was watching him over his shoulder. Perhaps it was for the best. He destroyed the remains of his remains.

During the search of the Howling Cliffs, Mato found that Kieza the ex-Mantis Lord had moved into his home. Due to Kieza refusing to move out, the two had become roommates. At the end of the search, Oro did not return to his hut at the Kingdom’s Edge, while Sheo moved into the Capital and began following a different calling, in the form of arts.

He visited the White Lady, and although she didn’t agree to come home, she said she would think about it. The news of Holly and the unnamed Vessel led to her arriving at the Palace, with Dryya following behind her. Although they would likely never be in love again, they could raise the children she always wanted to have. Together.

Ze’mere gathered the courage and challenged the three remaining Mantis Lords, finally earning the right to love the love of her life without having to worry about being rejected by the tribe. She had proved herself. Meanwhile, Protea promised to challenge the Mantis Lords once she became of age to do so. Until then, she was still allowed to love Amaryllis, but she would not be accepted into the tribe. It was only a matter of time that Protea challenged them, and unless she was vanquished, she would not accept defeat.

Everything ended happily, he supposed. Despite his still missing daughter. He did everything he could to keep searching, following clues and requesting help from the Moth Tribe, giving them resources in trade for being able to speak with Herrah’s ancestors, which proved useless in the end. No one remembered where Pharloom was, and the only bugs who did had long since left this realm. He had almost given up hope, when a pair of bugs burst through the Palace doors.

----

He had been negotiating with Herrah on the day that it happened, about finally finishing the tram into Deepnest. This would allow for easier trades between the two Kingdoms, and allow for diplomats and traders to travel between the Capital and the Distant Village without being attacked by Dirtcarvers and other beasts.

While talking through the main hall near the entrance, they were interrupted by the doors to the Palace swinging open. He nearly screamed when Sigma rushed in, tears running down her face. Another bug (who he later learned was actually a mushroom) followed, dawned in white clothes, embroidered with golden symbols and strings.

“Mom? Dad?” Sigma asked, perhaps somewhat fearful of seeing Herrah. That fear was instantly destroyed when Herrah rushed to her, pulling her into a tight hug. The King hurried to her, joining in on the hug. “Mom! Dad!” She yelled, smiling widely as tears flowed down her cheeks.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” the King asked.

“Whose this?” Herrah growled, recognizing the symbols that the white-clad mushroom wore as the symbols of the cult. Herrah crossed the room in a moment, pulling her greatnail off of her back and pointing it at the cult member.

“No! Mother, don’t hurt her!” Sigma screamed, wiggling out of her fathers embrace and rushing between her and the mushroom. “This is Lace, she was with the cult but she saved me! She’s a strong warrior just like you, and she’s only tried to kill me a few times! I promise she isn’t a threat!” She explained frantically. Herrah hesitantly returned her blade to its sheath.

“What happened? How did you escape?” the King repeated.

“They took me to Pharloom and kept me in a cage, but I managed to escape, and I convinced Lace to help me escape. There are more Weavers being held captive in Pharloom, I helped them escape. Annia! She was there too! And then we were in the Capital and everything was on fire, and… I don’t know what happened next. The ceiling collapsed and Lace pulled me from the flames. I don’t know how I survived.” Sigma explained between sobs, doing her best to wipe the tears out of her eyes.

Edel, accompanied by Charlie, entered the room. Charlie was carrying a large stack of journals, tablets, and acid tubes, but the moment the two of them saw Sigma, all of it clattered to the ground (and thankfully, the acid tubes didn’t shatter). They both crossed the room in a second, pulling Sigma into a hug. “Oh gods, Sigma, I missed you so much! Charlie, Charlie go get Lance and Protea and Holly and Brooks! Hurry!” Edel pleaded. Charlie nodded and immediately teleported out of the room, and only a few moments later, Lance and Protea raced into the room, followed shortly by Holly and Brooks (who had only recently taken on a name, which they loved).

The siblings hugged, all of them, including Charlie. The sisters muttered and cried about how much they missed each other. Herrah and the Wyrm joined the hug after a few moments. Tears were shed, but finally the family was reunited.