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“So, what brings you to my tent?” Grimm asked, pouring a cup of tea for his guest.
Said guest was hunched over (poor manners, really) and though her mask revealed nothing, it was obvious she was scowling.
“I wished to use my normal methods of removing unwanted visitors,” Hornet said, the words sounding like they were dragged out of her with a hook. “But Ghost insisted I… talk things out with you.”
She said ‘talk’ like the word had killed her mother, Grimm noticed with amusement.
“What do you wish to speak about?” Grimm tilted his head, interested in seeing how this would go.
“I want you out of my kingdom,” Hornet hissed, gripping her teacup so hard it looked like either the porcelain or her claws would shatter. “As soon as you’re able. Preferably today. Get out.”
“No,” Grimm replied simply.
“No?” Hornet straightened, meeting Grimm’s scarlet gaze head on. Not many bugs could do that—Grimm’s eyes were intimidating… and that was one of the more appealing descriptions he had heard.
“I cannot leave until the Ritual is completed,” Grimm explained.
“And when will that be?” Hornet asked stiffly.
“Whenever Ghost decides.” It took some effort, but Grimm managed to keep a straight face. The last thing he needed was to make an enemy of Hornet. Her word was far stronger than his own, and to leave the Ritual incomplete was a painful ordeal.
Hornet sighed, annoyed. Curiosity won over caution, and Grimm asked, “Where, exactly, do you take issue with me?”
Hornet’s gaze snapped up to meet his. “I know trouble when I see it,” she said. “I know evil when I see it. Your intentions are impure. Corrupt. I cannot allow you to continue.”
“You have no choice but to allow us to complete the Ritual,” Grimm said, feeling the Nightmare King’s flames tickle at the edges of his mind. He couldn’t lose control—not here. Not now. “We are bound here until it is done.” Not quite a lie, but not quite the truth, either.
Something else about Hornet’s declaration caught the Nightmare King’s attention, and he snarled from within Grimm’s mind. Evil? She calls us evil? She reeks of death! She is just as bad are we are, if not worse! The audacity! The audacity!
Ignoring him, Grimm added, “Besides, I’m not evil. At least not in my eyes.”
“No evil person thinks they’re evil,” Hornet shot back.
“Ah, but evil is subjective,” Grimm hummed. “It’s all a matter of perspective. Take little Ghost, for example—“
“They’re not evil!” Hornet snarled.
“Let me finish,” Grimm intoned. “Ghost can be violent. They often resort to force rather than diplomacy, and they’ve been known to… how should I put this… play a bit rough. Plenty have died by their nail and spells, not all of them mindless. Some were sentient. Some weren’t infected at all. You have no idea what they did outside of Hallownest. To their sentient victims, Ghost is evil.”
Hornet was silent, but Grimm could tell she was about to protest again. I’ll have to up my game a bit to get the point across.
“Let’s pick another example, then,” he said, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. Hornet just glared at him.
“Take… hmm…” Grimm snapped his fingers. “Take the Radiance—“
“She was evil!” Hornet snapped. “How can you call her anything but evil?!”
“Tell me, Hornet, what else was she supposed to do? You of all people should know what it’s like to struggle to survive—to do anything to survive,” Grimm narrowed his eyes. “You’re no saint, either. How many of your own flesh and blood did you kill before Ghost came along?”
“But she seized minds,” Hornet hissed out through gritted mandibles. “She destroyed people. Took their agency.”
“Isn’t killing someone taking their agency as well?” Grimm mused.
“It’s not the same!” Hornet cried.
“You’re right,” Grimm agreed. “It’s not. What she did is despicable, yes, but only by our standards, not hers.”
“The morals of the dead do not concern me,” Hornet huffed.
“They don’t concern me, either. But if we are to discuss morality, we should take a look at the extremes, no?” Grimm shrugged casually. “It helps to make sense of the nonsensical, in my experience.”
“She is evil.”
“To you.”
“You dare defend her?!”
“Of course not.”
“Then why disagree?”
“I’m not disagreeing. The world is not black and white, Hornet—there are near infinite shades of gray. Your perspective is not the only one, nor is it necessarily the right one.” Grimm sipped his tea. “You only see good and evil, not combinations of the two. Is that why you’re so hostile?”
“What I am is none of your business,” Hornet snapped.
“My point exactly,” Grimm laughed softly. “Is there anyone here in Hallownest who is truly, completely good?” When Hornet looked as if she was about to answer, he held up a hand. “Don’t say Quirrel, we know he’s a gem to everyone.”
Hornet was silent after that, seemingly thinking.
“Cloth,” she said suddenly, startling Grimm.
“She came here to kill herself. One of the most selfish acts one can commit, or so they say,” Grimm replied. “Don’t you think Nola would have wanted her to live on?”
“She had no one,” Hornet insisted. “She came to die, but she lived. She is kind. She is good.”
“She lived because she had high standards for her death,” Grimm said. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“What of Bretta, then?” Hornet challenged. “She’s harmless.”
“Tell that to Ghost,” Grimm retorted, quite offended on the behalf of the poor Vessel. “She obsesses over them like some lovesick schoolgirl, then the moment she hears something bad about them, she’s shunning the poor thing! How is that harmless?”
Hornet snarled, a wordless thing that would have scared anyone except for Grimm. The Nightmare King, caged as he was in the confines of Grimm’s mind, snarled right back, pacing along the bars of his proverbial cage.
“Fine then! Lemm!” Hornet’s entire body was stiff with rage, Grimm noted. Any more anger and she just might explode.
“Lemm is a shut-in, Hornet,” Grimm sighed. “He doesn’t even talk to anyone outside of Ghost and Quirrel, and even then, he’s not exactly polite.”
“Sly.”
“Is rude to anyone who lacks Geo.”
“Tiso!”
“His arrogance knows no bounds and he overestimates his own power. Not very nice qualities to have.”
“Myla?”
“…I’ll give you that one.”
Hornet sat back, drinking half her tea before speaking. “So if good and evil are subjective, is anyone truly either of them?”
Grimm eyed her, seeing past the cracks in her stoic facade and seeing the scared little girl underneath.
Before he could answer, Hornet whispered faintly, almost too quiet to hear, “Is there anyone I can trust…?”
“Don’t let my words stop you,” Grimm said. “And for your first question… everyone has their burdens. It’s what you choose to do with them that determines what shade of grey you become.”
Hornet stood, placing her teacup on the table. “I… need to think.” She briskly walked out of the tent. Grimm watched her go, finishing his tea before standing to clear the table.
He could only hope his words would make it through that thick shell of hers.