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“The Pale King was probably just like that”, Hornet surmised.
Like that, they thought.
Bullshit.
Her hand ran a rag across her needle, polishing the surface. “It could very well have been in his nature as a wyrm. An obsession with control, perhaps.”
They stared back vacantly. The Hollow Knight only recently found itself actively thinking, let alone thinking about him. The first few months outside the black egg temple was a blur of dull aching pains and bouts of dissociation.
When the wounds from the infection finally began to heal, they slowly felt as if they were returning to their body. If only that didn’t come with the loaded baggage of thinking.
They always knew that they weren’t pure—but they sure tried to be. For most of their life they suppressed any ideas that appeared until it was deep within their shell. So far, in fact, that they were almost convinced they could live up to the kingdom’s expectations.
Without the weight of the kingdom on their shoulders, they began to think freely. Inklings of ideas and feelings formed, and the more they thought, the more they found it harder to stop. For a while they felt a heavy pit in themself, the recognizable emotion of guilt that has followed them since they became the Pale King’s pure vessel.
Now, for once, they felt something different.
Hornet observed The Hollow Knight carefully. “What does that face mean?”
They knew they weren’t making an expression. Part of them was glad she couldn’t see what they were feeling. It slowly lifted a pen and began to write on a piece of parchment,
Wyrms supposedly had premonitions, it is why the many factions of Hallownest put their faith in him. Having foresight would imply that he knowingly damned us to an eternal stasis. I don’t believe that this was solely about control.
Hornet traced her fingers over the words. Her hesitation, although brief, alarmed them. She finally lifted her gaze to meet theirs, “It is quite possible that he lied about that,” she said slowly. “His premonitions.”
Lied.
Would he lie?
The emotion they have been feeling lately is not all unfamiliar to it, but a lifetime of repressing their emotions leaves it unable to name it. At the very least, they know it as the same emotion to have brought the fall of Hallownest. The Hollow Knight recognized it in the deity sealed within their shell.
They think about her now, as they limp steadily in the rainfall. Hornet insisted she accompany them to the City of Tears, but they vehemently refused despite her arguments. It would do them some good to gain some independence.
Most of all, they did not want her to be there when they stood before their own statue.
Rationally, the Hollow Knight knew that they could not emote visibly. But it was such a personal matter–They didn’t know how they would react to seeing it. And now, gazing it up at it, they still can’t put the words to how they feel.
Their head slowly lowered to the text at the bottom.
—-
MEMORIAL TO THE HOLLOW KNIGHT
In the Black Vault far above.
Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal.
—-
Eternal.
They did not have the means to untangle their emotions.
At the very least, their father cared enough about it to have a memorial constructed. It would have put them at ease, if they didn’t think about how he imprisoned them in the first place, knowing that it would have all been for nothing–
They turned away from the statue. They could think about the implications later.
They needed answers.
Luckily, their destination was only a couple more minutes walking and an elevator-ride away. The dampness and slight chill in the air was beginning to do a number on their joints–The stump where their arm used to be being the most pronounced.
They ducked their head awkwardly when entering the door, their horns still managing to hit the frame.
Hornet mentioned the relic seeker in passing, when discussing the inhabitants of Hallownest she knew to be alive. They found themselves relieved to see that he still was. Relic Seeker Lemm had lifted his head when he heard their horn hit the ceiling, and now he stares at them like they just grew another head.
“Well I’ll be…”
It took them a moment to realize that they were the spitting image of the statue that Lemm must have seen so many times before. Something in them registered that this must be very weird for him, but they also did not particularly have the patience to let him process.
They took out a piece of parchment from their satchel; it was originally meant to keep it dry from the rain, but it appears the dampness still permeated it, leaving the pre-written ink to slightly bleed.
The Hollow Knight hands it to him.
Please tell me everything you know about the Pale King’s foresight. Thank you.
The relic seeker looked up at it with an incredulous look on his face. The Hollow Knight was not even sure that he read the parchment.
“The mystery knight from the fountain–At my door, no less,” Lemm glanced back down at the parchment, muttering, “Why do I get the strange visitors? There must be some mysterious forces at play, for this to be happening to me…” Once he properly reads it, he looks back at them and speaks louder.
“But at any rate, I’ll take whatever blessings I get. I’ll tell you everything I know, if you’ll tell me who you are.”
They felt themself slouch further under Lemm’s stare. Blessing? They couldn’t have imagined themself as a blessing before. But now, looking at the relic seeker’s display cases of various artifacts, they realize that Lemm has to be seeing them as one as well. They suppose they have a lot to offer him purely in terms of history and knowledge.
The Hollow Knight sits down in front of his desk, and Lemm has a smile in his eyes. He retrieves several relics from his display, handling them with a white cloth. “He was said to be omnipresent. These idols were his symbol of worship–Citizens would say that he could watch them through these. Kind of creepy, don’t you think?”
The Hollow Knight stared blankly at him. He continued, “Omnipresence implies the existence of foresight. Few have personally met the Pale King–It could be that these tales are just embellishments.” Lemm scrutinized them, trying to make out any changes of expression.
“Still, there’s at least some evidence to support the idea that he could see into the future.”
The Hollow Knight leaned forward ever so slightly. Lemm placed the idol on the table for them to look at. Four eyes? An intriguing choice by the designer.
“The mushrooms of the fungal wastes, actually. The only reason they chose to be under the Pale King’s rule was because of his foresight, they figured it would offer some form of protection. See where that got them.”
So many dead.
“Now, supposedly, the mushrooms are an intelligent hive mind. I doubt they’d take the Pale King’s word at face value, it probably needed to be proven to them. That’s just speculation on my part.”
That could mean that the Pale King didn’t lie. Was that a good thing?
“But, even if he did have foresight, it’d have to have been limited. I mean, why else would this kingdom have turned into this?” He gestured around him. “Maybe he lied about the extent of his foresight, or maybe it wasn’t limited and he did everything anyway, as is the nature of a Wyrm. Who’s to tell?”
All this for nothing. They didn’t know if that thought was about coming here, or about the Pale King. They felt something bubbling up in them. They were feeling sick.
“Well, now for your side of the bargain.” Lemm placed a stone tablet in front of them, along with a carving utensil.
“Tell me your story, mysterious knight.”
It came back to Dirtmouth exhausted. They felt like driving their claws into their own carapace, like swinging their nail at any bug they saw next. They could only faintly hear the dull accordian of the Troupe over the roaring in their ears of all their thoughts.
It had half a mind to rip the tents to shreds.
It wasn’t supposed to have a mind at all.
The Hollow Knight limped back to the house they had claimed–One of the many ones abandoned because of the infection.
Their own fault.
No, the Pale King’s fault. If he had future sight, which now seems likely, he willingly chose to doom the entire Kingdom. But why? It was supposed to be an eternal kingdom. Why did he lie? Why did he let this happen?
How could he do this to them?
They opened the door abruptly, swinging it open with more force than they intended to. Hornet jumped, and it saw how Hornet’s hand reflexively went over her needle before relaxing.
“You look unwell. What did-”
They felt blazing inside, and that made them nauseous. Was She back? Did their sibling not kill Her after all? Their joints ached, the spot where their arm used to be ached even more. They strode past Hornet, taking long steps despite the pain.
The house was not big–The only place they could retreat to was their bed. It curled up over their covers, facing away from her. They knew she was staring, and a part of them felt ashamed for ignoring her.
The other part felt like they may unintentionally harm her if she stopped to talk.
So many things went wrong today. They never should have gone down this rabbit hole. They never should have seen that statue of themself, never should have begun asking questions about the godly being that was their father, never should have took that deal with Lemm to inscribe–
No, they would not think about that. They refused to.
Hornet stood vigil by their side. The Hollow Knight’s bodily expressions were unusual for them–The balled fist, the way they're rigidly still, how they didn’t even bother to pull the blankets up. They found themself unable to control it, and that left a pit in their stomach.
It gripped the sheets, and tried to enjoy the silence.
—
The Hollow Knight does not recall falling asleep. It's something that just happened with no fanfare, as if it was its body’s natural state, like it had been asleep its entire life. Only a small part of their mind was present now. They took in the bright lights, the beautiful clouds and orange sky.
If only their father had been able to see this.
And then their body began to burn.
A searing pain in their eyes started, followed by their shoulder. They felt an ancient deity within them, one who seared with hatred and hurt and anger. They felt their carapace bubbling up, burning, burning, burning,
And suddenly, they were falling, ripped from the lights and into a dull, dark room. They no longer burned; there only existed a comfortable warmth emitted from the red lanterns hanging from the ceiling.
Red lanterns. They suddenly realized where they were, and turned their body around to face the Troupe Master himself.
“You, my friend, have disturbing dreams. No doubt my sister did a number on you.”
They stared down at him. It never crossed their mind that they had never actually met him in person before; it was only communicated to them that their sibling, the little knight, started a ritual and never ended it. It certainly explained the reason why the troupe was still in town.
It pointedly did not explain why the troupe master was in front of them. He was smaller than they realized.
His back straightened, eyes narrowing. “I will warn you now, it is not wise to call me short while I’m in your dreams. I could send you tumbling straight back into a nightmare worse than the one you came from, if I willed it.”
They ducked their head in (mostly) apology, but froze. He could-?
“You may call me Grimm. Your sibling was the one who summoned me here, you see. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but I recognize that you may be in need of assistance.”
A smile made it into his eyes, “I have some of the answers you seek.”
No, was their immediate answer.
“No?”
I know everything I need to. Whichever way you twist it, he has done awful things–Things beyond explanation. I have thought about it in every which way, and I cannot possibly conceive of a possibility where he is good.
The troupe master looked taken aback. He sat on the floor, and gestured for the Hollow Knight to do the same. Hesitantly, they complied.
“Tell me, birth-cursed vessel, why does the Pale King need to be good?”
They felt another flare of that insufferable burning emotion,
The same reason any King should be good and true.
“No, you misunderstand me. Why do you need the Pale King to be good so badly? Why have you gone through so much effort trying to understand a godly being, driven by things you will never know? Isn’t it enough to know that it was, and not is?”
Their hand gripped their thigh. Why did they go through all these lengths? They always knew he had done inexcusable things, but the idea of him having known about everything, and done it anyway, after all that time–
“He loved you, you know?”
Their whole body went numb.
“You don’t have to excuse your affection for him. It is not your fault that you weren’t pure as your creators intended.” Grimm’s gaze was distant. “He was a complicated man, from what I gather. Having gone through good things, along with all of the bad, and everything he put you through, most likely would complicate your feelings.”
How do you know this about me- About him?
“You are laid bare here, prince. You do not need to go searching or explain your history to me, I see it all. Yours is also not the only nightmare I’ve visited in this faded Kingdom.”
They slowly lowered their head to the floor, the weight of holding up their head and back too much. I am plagued, they admitted. Grimm scooted closer, intrigued.
I keep feeling, feeling that same feeling that She felt for him. I feel so cheated, so confused that he would do this to me, to my kin, that he would train me so rigorously and set me up to fail, only to have loved me this entire time-
Grimm rested his hand on their mask, tracing a finger up the crack softly. For some god forsaken reason, it was at that that they began to shudder, sobs racking their body. Black tears pooled at their eyes, and they knew that this was just their subconscious simulating the concept based on what they’ve seen in others. Only in my dreams could I be capable of crying, they distantly thought.
Grimm let them rest their large head in his lap (they did not currently care about how startled he was at this, it’s what he deserves for entering their mind). “Fury has its righteous place, on occasions. Yours is justified. But be warned, don’t let it consume you. Don’t give him the right to remain constantly in your thoughts, he doesn’t deserve it.”
His palm rested between their eyes. “Rest now, pale prince. Make tomorrow a better day.”
...
They felt themself bask in the warmth of the lanterns before fading away into a dreamless sleep. When they awoke, their eyes were sore, and their body ached; they didn’t even want to lift their head. But, turning, they saw that Hornet never left its side.
She rested a hand on top of one of their horns, speaking softly so as to not irritate them. “Are you alright?”
They shook their head. No.
But they would be.