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Their nightmares were getting worst.
There is something in the air of Hallownest, Grimm was certain of it. A familiar rage of something that was so far beyond mortals, something that aligns more to his divine bloodline. Even if his domain was of nightmares, the feelings made him unsettled.
The knight’s nightmares made him unsettled.
There wasn’t much he can piece apart of the imagery, the knight’s nightmares had always been very abstract to him. The only things that showed up over and over again was flashes of light.
White. Gold. White. Gold.
Chains. Spikes.
Then an emptiness.
After he was finished, his eye sight sharpening to its usual sight. The flickering of candles light up the knight’s face, their eyes closed as they took deep and slow breaths. Unconsciously leaning into Grimm’s hands as they slept. Grimm carefully cupped their head like they were as fragile as the flower that now resides in his room. They were so peaceful, so relaxed, free from any stife that had been in their mind. Free from their duties and expectations.
Oh, how Grimm wanted to keep them safe.
But he knows that’s a futile dream.
Grimm sighed, about to let go of the knight but when he tried they only followed him. He was thankful that he finally convinced them to sit on the pile of pillows he says, for times like this when their large frame falls onto Grimm. The knight’s head was on top of his own, practically trying to slot him between their unconscious embrace. Grimm huffed out a fond laugh, just keeping a hold of them when he could.
Its selfish, really, keeping a knight away from their duties. Even he knows only fractions of who they are, from their hesitance in their curiosity to subtleties of interests. Even if their visits were few and far between, the knight was truly a special bug that Grimm knew can never let go of even if they go down different paths.
The Vessel sighed again, the weight of their head more apparent. Finally, no restraint of themself, even if it was only in their slumber. The weight of their kingdom off their shoulders for even a small moment.
What was that Wrym planning?
---
It was cold.
He stood in a dark and damp passageway, far above the White Palace and above the aristocrats. The air was stale and there was a distinct smell of mold and rot, his footsteps had echoed as he walked, the roadways only having few cracks from erosion.
There were other bugs prior, of course. He saw them enter and exit in small groups or individually. Due to Grimm’s size and style he wasn’t surprised for any whispers of looks he had gotten, if they knew they were gossiping about a higher being then certainly they’d be begging for his forgiveness. Give up their nightmares to please him. He didn’t care, of course, that wasn’t the reason he was here for.
It was cold.
As the time became later and later, fewer bugs came and went. Grimm remained in the same spot to stare at the building. Light came from the inside but he dare not approach it for he knew he wouldn’t be welcomed. It was sturdy and strong and dark, to fit the environment but still remained grand as any other royal structure.
He had never been this far up in this land, if he had then maybe he would have seen the construction. See the plannings as well as intervene on certain subjects, but stubborn bugs will always be exactly that. Stubborn. No matter how wrong they are or how much they set themselves up to fail.
He can here alone, he asked to be alone. They never missed a single time when Grimm was in the kingdom, no matter how inconsistent the location and time would be. They would always follow the signage and be next to his door within a few days. A statue that wasn’t there prior was also built since the last time he had visited, he didn’t have to be Gorb the Great Mind to figure it out.
The last bug left. A few moments passed before he walked slowly towards the building, due to the protections instilled he will only be able to touch the outside. In a way he was thankful for it, he doesn’t think his heart could take seeing a tomb.
A hand on the stone, it was smooth and carved with great detail. Another step closer until he can place his forehead on it. It felt like ice to his bones and yet he couldn’t move away. He knows that he has to at some point, move on with his life for the sake of his troupe. He knows that it was never meant to be.
It was silent in front of the Temple of the Black Egg. No sounds except for Grimm’s own breathing. The lamps still twinkled with light, bugs above him and below were moving on with their lives with the ever-present smell of sickness lingering in the back of their minds. While not truly alone, the other was locked behind seals and chains that he can never access.
So there he stood for a time. He wasn’t counting the moments, wasn’t counting or letting himself be in a place where time existed. He will go back soon, set plans for a new location. This kingdom has left a bitter taste in his mouth.
For he felt cold.