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You hadn’t paid much mind to the little knight that wandered Hallownest with you. You’d occasionally brush past it or some mutilated corpse from its prior path, but you weren’t there for it. You were there to explore, to study, to find out how truly unsafe these lands are. There was another bug there, you think he said his name was Squirrel..? No, that wasn’t it. Regardless, he was there for the same purpose, though he noted a calling. You’d met in front of what he’d called, “The Temple of the Black Egg,” or whatever that meant. The place reeked of sorrow, regret, self loathing, and disappointment. He said he just got a bad vibe from it.
So color yourself surprised when the Lady in Red, later known as Hornet, stood in his place what could only be assumed as a few days later, and the “whole world” was covered in a sickly orange. She didn’t say much, just waited for the little knight, “Ghost,” as she called it. So, after a bit of awkward waiting with her, you left, rather gracefully stepping on a tiktik right outside the door and yelping in pain. Those bastards are a lot sharper than they look.
After a few long minutes of waiting for your foot to recover, you stood, wandering over to the chain that’s long forgotten its original purpose of transporting a water bucket and climbing up, toppling over the iron bench in Dirtmouth with a sigh of relief knowing you won’t have to limp around surprisingly sharp and/or explosive creatures. Elderbug offered you a place to rest, and you happily took the chance, falling into a wondrous nap on clearly abandoned bedding in a small shack.
You would’ve classified it as sleep had it been longer than twenty minutes before you were awoken by a gut-wrenching cry. No hopes of going to sleep after that. So you decided to make the smart decision. Wrap your acquired injuries. Oh and sprint down to the Temple of the Black Egg and forget every single important supply in Dirtmouth.
The orange fog was too strong to even see through. Though you still tried to walk in, only to be almost instantly sapped of your energy. So that must be why everything acts so.. suicidal when infected. Your wounds itched through the bandages, and thus, you deemed it a better idea to just sit outside.
That same scream echoed once more, and again. But when you heard it the fourth time, you were more shocked by Hornet jumping from the ledge you hadn’t even noticed her on, throwing her nail into the temple like a javelin, and flying in through a string attached, rather than the screech.
Only a few sounds followed.
A pierce,
Hornet’s attempt at encouragement - “Git gud!”
And a stab that, strangely, felt rather invasive to hear.
There was silence for a long moment after that. Occasionally, infected vines would twitch and “wince” like something was kicking it, but you just chalked it up to infection being the infection no one’s been able to survive and study simultaneously. That was until it disappeared. That's when you started to worry.
After what felt like an eternity later [probably five minutes], Hornet emerged from the temple, muttering under her breath and dragging along a very much not little knight. You stood, and she practically tossed the tall creature at you, just saying, “you take this one,” before leaving. You caught it. It didn’t seem conscious.
Somehow, you managed to lug the lanky knight to Dirtmouth, laying it down to tend to its wounds. Seems it was good to leave your stuff here, afterall. You wrapped its eye, some large open wounds, and its arm, or lack thereof, first. It was odd. This creature felt as if it was made of void. You were soon interrupted from your thoughts by the creature waking up, looking around, and seeing you with a dwindling roll of gauze. It tried to stand, but couldn’t even sit up, so it just stayed.
It didn’t answer any of your questions. It was annoying, but when it pointed to its throat, you understood. It was mute. Of course. How will your questions be answered now? Oh! The map shop must have some extra quills and parchment lying around, that’ll work. You helped the knight sit against the wall, before rushing next door to buy some supplies.
Only a few moments later, you were back with paper, a quill, and a thin slab of stone too fragile to write with, but study enough to write over. You placed them down by the knight, asking if it knew how to write. It nodded a slow yes, and you silently cheered in your head for the ability to communicate.
And communicate you two did. For hours, you’d ask them questions and watch as they wrote down answers in their poor handwriting, occasionally asking you a few. It was comforting, at least for you, to be able to talk to something - someone - who knew how to listen. Even if the reasoning behind it was horrifying. Eventually, their hand slowed its writing, and you could swear you saw light dimming in their unbandaged eye. You almost panicked, until realizing they just fell asleep. Gently, you took the supplies from them, placing them on a nearby table and laying the knight down, just taking a moment to look at the injured mess in front of you before sitting against the side of the mattress.
You woke up the next morning, surprised to see the sun had risen for the first time since you’d been there. The Vessel hadn’t woken up yet, so you decided to go out in search of supplies. It was noon by the time you came back, and your current roommate had gone for a walk. You’d spotted them wandering around with as close to a worried vibe as they could give off, being unable to show emotion properly and all. They were visibly struggling to move, and you saw a wound had reopened and began bleeding through the bandages you had put on the night before. Rushing to them, you took no hesitation in grabbing their hand and dragging them along with you. They seemed genuinely relieved to see you, though looked worried once more when you dropped their hand to go inside the shack and grab some things. After you walked out, gesturing for them to follow, you climbed down the well and put down your things, before helping them down as well. They followed you like a lost puppy until you reached your destination.
You’d found these springs while mindlessly wandering around the crossroads, and knew the water there had some healing properties, while also just being cleaner than the random puddles most water was sourced from here. You placed your bag down by the water, taking out a clean bowl, rag, and some lifeblood seeds you had grabbed earlier. The Vessel stood behind you, silently watching as you prepared the lifeblood before looking up at them and standing.
You motioned to their cloak.
“May I? I need to tend to your wounds,” you said, earning a small nod in response.
You gently unclipped the clasp on its neck, removing the dirty garb they wore and slowly taking off the bandages on their body before gently guiding them into the water, removing your own robe and joining them. After, you wet the rag in water and squeezed most of it out before dunking it into the bowl of lifeblood, trying to be as gentle as possible when cleaning The Vessel’s body and wounds. They winced every now and then when you dabbed the cloth over some particularly nasty injuries, but you just reassured them they were safe and added a bit more lifeblood to those spots.
After you’d cleaned them, you helped them out of the water and grabbed a fresh roll of gauze from your bag and began to rebandage them, making sure to not ignore any cuts or stabs. Once you felt there was no chance for The Vessel to get much more hurt from their current wounds, you stood, taking its discarded cloak and dipping it in the water, making an attempt to clean it until you noticed how absolutely horrible it was on the scale of clothing. You’d assumed it’d be a bit cut up so you’d brought an extra just in case, but you certainly had not expected for the cloak to rip at the slightest bit of movement in the water.
Discarding the now very ruined cloak, you dug through your bag and took out the spare. You were hoping that their old cloak would have worked at least for as long as it took for you to run over and buy a properly fit one, but no, it dissolved like cotton candy when you tried to brush off some dirt. You draped the spare robe over them and hoped it would fit well enough for now, and to your happiness, it did. Then, you put on your own fresh clothes and closed your bag, taking it and helping up the now clean Vessel.
And that's how it was for a while. You’d talk, they’d write. You’d bring them to the hot springs, they’d thank you in whatever gesture you’d both come up with. They slowly recovered, and began to protect you, always saying they, “needed to pay you back,” even when you refused. They carried that paper with them on every excursion, refusing to leave your side lest you fell in a battle they couldn't save you from.
It was odd. When Hornet tossed to you the hollow shell of a bug, you'd expected to be annoyed by it. But it was actually more comforting than you thought, not being able to see their emotions as easy. It meant you didn't have to worry about them openly being upset with you, though you occasionally worried they were under the mask. Sometimes, it was a bit awkward seeing as The Vessel couldn't speak nor allow itself a moment of vulnerability, but as you warmed up to them, and them to you, you could tell something shifted. Like they found comfort in your silence when you helped clean their horns. Like they enjoyed your long talks, even though they felt guilty for making you wait so long to see their response. Like they deemed you safe and let their guard down.
There was never really any discomfort, at least from you. They never knew how to describe how they felt; for how could they put together words for something they were taught to never have? The Vessel wasn't even supposed to have words - “No mind to think, no voice to cry suffering,” - yet they did. They had no voice of their own, but they had their mind. The mind that was needed for them to truly be the Pure Vessel their father wanted.
The Radiance had no need for a vessel with no mind. But with mind came the imperfections of emotion, of want, of need. “Do not hope,” their father had drilled into them. But they did hope. They hoped the most then that the Pale King would be proud of them. And once, he was. And that was his greatest mistake.
You were grateful for that mistake, in a way. It meant you had someone to talk to. It was all feelings that the both of you wanted. Even if it, on both sides, seemed selfish, you both were always happy. They got someone who didn't discard them for being a being, and you got someone who, even just for themselves, would willingly protect you and talk to you and help you and more.
The Hollow Knight would occasionally write to you asking if you felt annoyed having to take care of them. You always declined. You weren't annoyed; you weren't really.. anything. You were grateful for their help, sometimes a teeny little bit annoyed having to help them with a simple task - though you couldn't blame them, - but there was never truly a, “You make me feel intense emotion,” between either of you. Just two bugs existing with each other.