Work Text:
He told no one. Not even his wife.
He just left .
And he took his palace with him.
He just wanted them to hate him. All the mortals, his wife, his daughter… if they hated him, they would turn to the next source of light—and as much as the Radiance made his blood run cold, he would do everything if it mean that she just stopped hurting people .
A true servant gives all to the Kingdom .
He had that engraved into a statue once. He had said that on multiple occasions. Contrary to what was unfortunately popular belief, he didn’t see himself as better—just stronger. He had a responsibility to the people and the land—he was a servant too. He gave all, too.
His retainers were in the palace. His retainers were in the palace . They shouldn’t be there, how did they get there, how could he get them out —
He couldn’t. They knew where he was, where he had gone. And he could tell by their pellucid forms that they were no longer alive. They could not survive here like he could. Trapped in their eternal devotion to him, forever bowing to him.
He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t take it. He needed to go deeper into his new self-imposed prison.
He fled, Kingsmoulds trailing behind and Wingmoulds flittering about as he shot past them. The guards nimbly dodged past every barrier their king put up, leaping over the blades and spikes with ease.
Deeper in. Further in. He kept running, taking to the air when his legs could no longer carry him. The metallic thumping of armored feet behind him was somehow more deafening than the machinery.
He nearly crashed into the wall. There was nowhere else to go, only a throne in a pristine white room. He curled up in it, hearing his guards settle in their posts outside.
It was better this way, he told himself. It was better to be alone and forgotten by everyone. For the people. For Hallownest.
But it still hurt.
***
The room was dimming. He could hear the clattering of armor falling to the floor, as if the Kingsmoulds inside had turned to liquid.
From the viscous noises he could hear, that’s probably what happened.
Shadows amassed in the center of the room. He pressed himself up against the back of the chair, shaky claws gripping the arms.
The mass grew taller, though it took no form, instead remaining a vague heap of darkness.
It grew glowing, white eyes, all narrowed and glaring at him. Wide eyes of a similar color and luminescence appeared in the shadows of the walls and corners, unblinking and completely and utterly damning.
“You,” the mass rasped. He didn’t respond, petrified.
“You stole from me, made guards and little flying things and children from the pieces—all left to rot,” it hissed. “You stole from me and didn’t even bother to care about what you used. Now you leave. You leave everything behind.”
The mass got closer. He curled into himself under its gaze.
“I see all. I hear all,” it continued. “You had good intentions. But you made the most foolish mistake a god can—you underestimated the mortals you ruled over.”
Its eyes narrowed in a way that indicated a smile, though it had no visible mouth.
“They still mourn you. They still worship you. They still love you. They blame the plague for your absence.” It laughed, the sound harsh and grating. “You failed. You failed! ”
A single tear rolled down his face.
“And now you are alone. Going out would surely be yet another foolish mistake. You are alone, and you cannot leave.” It was still laughing, now accompanied my amused chittering from the others in the smaller shadows. He felt no shame, though—only fear.
The mass reached out with a barbed tendril, wrapping it tightly around his arm harshly enough to break the shell. He cried out.
“There is no one here to hear your screams, Wyrm,” the thing snickered. “Only us. All of us… and then some. We are many, and we could not all fit in this room, so they listen through us.”
“What—who—you—“ He couldn’t form words. He couldn’t think past the agony in his arm and the creature looming over him.
“There is plenty of time to get re -acquainted with us,” it said, and before he could ask them to clarify, it whispered the worst thing he had ever heard in his immortal life—
“ Father .”