Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hornet wielded strength all her life. From the days of her youth, when her small claws first grasped a needle still too large for her – to the countless harrowing battles against bug and beast alike. Her progenitors readied her full well to the dangers of their world. 

But this? This goes above and beyond the simple strength she used to possess. After binding the entirety of Grand Mother Silk, usurping that cruel Pale Monarch, Hornet drinks in deep the rich font of silk and divinity that now envelopes her. Even semi-conscious, she can feel the pulse of change coursing through her veins. Foreign sensations, the crunch of her shell as it splits and grows. This cocoon, no, this divine womb is developing her into something more. How fitting, that this region be known as the Cradle. 

Eventually, everything stills, and with an echoing roar, she bursts from the husk. Her body is revitalized. Different. 

She assesses her new shell, and with delight, flexes the claws on her four additional arms (it used to be a sore subject, her lacking limbs to match her weaver kin, a detrimental slight of Wyrm heritage, until she learned to train around it). Even her senses are sharper, the world gaining extra depth, more field of vision, as six eyes easily adjust to the darkness, taking in the remnants of the battle she had with Silk. It was a difficult battle, having to dodge her gigantic pins, along with her ensnaring threads. Twice, she felt the sting of her outraged swipes. But like all other challenges Pharloom presented, Hornet conquered them. A god, slain by her claw and needle. Dominance sings through her entire being, the thrill of a victory well earned.

Now, she stands tall and proud, a true heir to the Weavers; a new Queen to this ruined kingdom. She was raised by three queens, after all. Fitting, that after so long, she may lay claim to the title herself, even if it isn't to rule Hallownest. Perhaps there will come time for it to rise from the ashes, but Pharloom is a kingdom with potential. 

A soft gasp from behind has Hornet whipping her head around to find the pale child bearing witness to her new form. She still has the scars of their duel amidst the roses – rips and tears adorn her small and frail body and the hood on her head discarded to reveal long, frayed strands of silken hair not unlike that of the Pale Monarch. “Ah spider, dear. It seems you are not so little anymore.” Though still taunting, her words lack the usual mirth and haughty tone. Solemn, almost. 

Languidly, Hornet walks over, towering over her. “Indeed. Your mother is no more.” She kneels, and places a claw under Lace’s chin to lift her head so that she can stare deep into the fascinating pale depths of her eyes. Another clawed hand rests on her head. “You should bow to your new queen.” 

The silken bug does not comply. Instead she gives an indignant huff. “Hmph! So that's it then, spider? You tear through our Citadel, spouting heroics about saving this kingdom from a tyrannical god, only to take the throne for yourself? You are not a savior, but a usurper!" Even in this battered and beaten state, her rebellious spirit shines through. A part of Hornet savors her defiant personality. Tame her, break her down until she submits, says a side of her that was easier to ignore prior to her transformation. Such is the result of embracing her Pale nature. 

She needs only one hand to lift the offending creature by her wrists, above her head, causing a surprised yelp to erupt from her.

“Unhand me! You uncouth beast!” She struggles, kicking at Hornet’s body and failing to reach. Injured and unarmed, she can't put up any true resistance, the action more of an act. Though her squirming does tickle the hunters instinct in Hornet. Prey, squirming in her grasp, how fun. 

She tightens her hold, and her prey flinches, crying out. “Cease your complaints, foolish child. I've ended the curse in your kingdom and now wield the means to rebuild.” It takes all of Hornet’s willpower not to tear into the silken bug. Unravel those threads with her claws and fangs – and teach her a proper lesson in respect before her superiors. 

“Stop! Do not refer to me as ‘child’, you've liberated me of that role. I do have a proper name.” She stills, merely hanging by her literal threads in her grasp. “It is Lace, spider.”

She raises Lace so that they are eye level. “Then you will address me as Hornet.” 

“Fine! Fine, you win, Hornet. Do as you will with this pitiful ruin…At least allow me the dignity of a noble death. One last duel.” 

“You continue to seek destruction by my claw, it seems. But I will not grant it.” 

“What more do you want from a broken, orphaned husk?” she spits vitriol, but even now, it's more directed at herself. 

Hornet leans closer, until their masks nearly touch. “You are no mere husk, and there is use for you, yet.” 

Lace narrows her eyes. “You slay my mother and assume her reins over me. You too, demand my worship? My complacency?” There is a fury behind her voice. Something that sheer intimidation cannot squash. Delicious.

“It is not worship from you that I seek.” Lace gives her a dubious look. “Though you attempted to take my life, I acknowledge that your interference freed me of that runic cage. Thus, I offer you an accord.” As she speaks, she sets Lace down, who sinks to the floor on her knees, to Hornet’s bemusement. “Your mother is gone and without her, you will wither away. But I can remake you. A life less frail. A purpose more than just a child. This is your opportunity to become your own bug. Or,” Hornet hooks a claw around one of the exposed threads in her body, giving it a light tug and earning a small cry from the silken being. “I can grant you that end you so desire.”  

Something glimmers in Lace’s eyes, though Hornet can't detect what. Fear? Revolt? Hatred? Excitement? A mix of emotions that stem from her complex relationship to her creator and own self. She's quiet for a while, staring at the floor while musing the offer. Then she laughs, throwing her head back in her iconic, manic manner. “Ahahahaha! Is that so? You see some kind of potential in this rotten construct?” She opens her arms wide. “Show me what new purpose I should serve then, oh mighty queen.” 

“A wise choice.” Using four of her arms, the weaver easily takes hold of each of the silken bug’s limbs and pushes her down to the floor, keeping her pinned and spread. Her two remaining hands drag sharp claws down her body, tearing her white garment to shreds, baring the fragile shell underneath. 

“Ah! I'm starting to think you enjoy handling me in such a rough manner!” she grumbles.

“Quiet. I need to acquaint myself with your physique.” Two more large clawed hands trace the curves and grooves of her “shell” making Lace shiver, which doesn't go unnoticed. It's an odd material, not quite carapace or chitin, and yet not quite flesh either. In the various cuts and tears, the white light of silk shines through, patchwork thread in place of blood and sinew. She really is a marvel, a wholly unique form of life. “How small. How soft,” the Weaver muses aloud, squeezing gently, the entirety of her thin waist fitting rather snugly in her hands. How would it feel to sink her fangs into this delectable little morsel? How easy it would be to devour her like this. “Perhaps I should leave you this way, keep you as a toy.”

Lace gasps indignantly. “A toy?! Oblivion would have been a kinder fate. You truly are cruel, spider!” 

The Weaver chuckles lowly. “It would have been a fate wasted on you. Now keep still.” Hornet begins to weave. Normally, she binds others to herself, but in this instance, she must do the opposite and share part of her own essence with Lace. The silk, her silk, begins to wrap and bind Lace's body, tighter and tighter, fusing into every fibre of her being. The tears and holes on her shell mend, the stitching immaculate, erasing her wounds. But there is more to be done. The silk that comprises her carries the trace of her mother, delicate and thin. She was woven incomplete, no doubt on purpose, to keep her child on a short leash, and dependent on the pale being. Time to fix that. Hornet digs deeper into her, channeling more power from new, deeper reserves. 

“Nnh! Ah! S-So much!” Lace couldn't hold back groans and whimpers, shaking and trembling as Hornet’s silk fills both her mind and body. Regardless, Hornet drinks all the noises in, that itch of dominance being scratched with each wail and tremor. Whatever and however much Hornet gives, Lace takes, as if feeding a neverending spool. 

Through the silk, the two connect on a level that transcends the physical. Thoughts, memories, and feelings from both of them mingle and exchange: The longing to be seen and loved by your creator. The heavy burden of tending to a kingdom’s corpse. The fear of being discarded like your older sibling. The many nights spent near a mother’s dreaming body. The bitter jealousy stemmed from neglect. The desire to craft a home by her own claw. 

In the core of Lace’s being, a gentle pulse emerges. Condensed thread forming a heart made of silk, and it beats, steady and strong. 

With a final, echoing scream and burst of light, the binding completes and Lace falls limp. 

Even Hornet is momentarily dazed, binding is an incredibly taxing and intense process. Beneath her, Lace is unconscious. Her body has likewise changed from the ordeal, which the Weaver studies with fascination. Hornet slides her claws under Lace to lift her from the floor. She feels warm.

Lace’s limbs elongated, body filling out, taking the form of a bug finally past their juvenile state. Her shell is still plush and soft to the touch, though now the layering has been reinforced. She bears a striking resemblance to Grand Mother Silk, and despite trying to create a child in her own image, Lace is independent in her design. Elegant, less fragile, and still unique.

It takes a few moments before the silken bug comes to. Waking with a gasp, looking at Hornet, and then clutching her claws to her own torso. 

“How do you feel?” Hornet inquires. 

“...Strange. There is a feeling in my chest. It is…heavy?” She inspects her claws, her abdomen, and marvels at her shell. 

Hornet gently presses the tip of her claw to her chest. “You own a heart now, Lace. Protect it well.” 

For a rare moment, Lace is speechless. Then she locks eyes with Hornet. “Why? Why extend such a gift to one such as I?”

“I tire of seeing gods imprison their own children in impossible duties. It led to the ruin of not one, but two kingdoms. I will not tolerate it in mine.” Hornet stands to her full height. “Your will and life are your own. Live well, Lace.” She turns to leave the Cradle. There is still much to be done, after all. 

“Wait!” Lace, using both hands, grabs Hornet’s wrist, making the weaver pause. “What purpose do I serve now?” 

“That is for you to decide.” Hornet slips her arm out of the grasp and leaps off the platform to the ruins below. 

Chapter Text

A kingdom is not built in a day. Hornet reminds herself of this as she looks over the map of Pharloom meticulously penned by her own travels and Shakra’s excellent cartography skills. 

Before she can begin the foundations of the new kingdom, the ruins of the old must be cleaned. Pharloom contains rich natural resources that would be well applied to improving its infrastructure. Despite having less technological advancements, Hallownest was superior in its transportation design. Not to mention, its generosity with benches for rest – which Hornet had grown up believing a basic right for any bug. To say she was outraged to discover that benches here were locked behind a payment is an understatement, and the first of wrongs that will be corrected. 

But even before that, Hornet seeks to understand the land and its history better, of what it was prior to the Citadel’s corruption. Following the directive of the Caretaker in Songclave, Hornet finds herself here now in the Sands of Karak, to seek one of the Old Hearts of Pharloom. 

It is certainly an unforgiving place, with coral thorns, hungry sandworms, and hostile creatures lurking in every sharp corner. But there exists an old tower, where the fabled Old Heart resides. 

The Weaver passes through the area with relative ease, leaping, floating, somersaulting, and clawlining her way through the maze that is the Sands of Karak. Having additional limbs makes traversal all that easier. 

She lands upon a cavern, and is greeted by two exceptionally large conchflies, bursting from the walls with a great roar. “Garama!” She shouts back, flourishing her needle. 

The two conchflies fight with impressive coordination, drilling at her simultaneously in separate directions, and burrowing away into the floor, walls, and ceiling. And when they weren't drilling, they were shooting their cone shaped projectiles, ricocheting off every surface and forcing Hornet to stay defensive. She alternates between dodging their attacks and making her own, though the constant disappearances into the wall make it difficult to track where they would appear. 

One such cone would have found its mark in the back of Hornet’s head, had a pin not intercepted its trajectory. Unflinching, Hornet continues her assault, activating her threadstorm, killing it in the flurry of silken whips. 

The remaining conchfly lets loose an enraged wail, as Lace lands besides Hornet, retrieving her weapon. “A shame those new eyes did not grow on the back of your head,” she teases in her usual sly tone, ending with a giggle. 

Hornet keeps her attention on the remaining beast, as it takes an even more aggressive stance. “I have a strong constitution. It would've left a scratch at most.” 

“And mar your pretty shell? What a blessing I showed up when I did.” She leaps aside as the giant conchfly barrels towards them, drill first, at an even faster speed. 

The two find an easy rhythm to the fight, taking advantage of openings as the other dodges. It is Lace who deals the final blow, flipping through the air in crescent slashes, and landing upon the top of its head, pin driven clean through its body.

Lace backflips off, twirling her pin with a pleased smirk. “Ah, that felt good! The second one put up much more of a fight.” 

Gathering shell shards from the carapace of the two conchflies, Hornet spares a glance at her new companion. “It was enraged after we killed its mate. Having grown so large, the pair must have bonded for a long time.” 

“Hmph.” Expression unreadable, Lace decides to ignore the carcasses and focuses her attention on cleaning her pin with a piece of cloth. “What brings you to these sorry ruins, at the edge of the kingdom?” 

Hornet pockets the shards into her tool pouch, taking inventory of the number of tools remaining should there be future fights. “These ruins have been here prior to your Mother's dominion, and there is wisdom in understanding history. I seek the Old Hearts of Pharloom to make the foundation of the kingdom anew.” She turns to face Lace directly. “You've been following me. Why is that?” It is a fact that Hornet has known for a few days, ever since she left Songclave. 

Lace admires the shine of her pin, polished to a sheen. “You are remarkably easy to track. All I had to do was follow the dead bodies left in your wake.” Her tone is casual, dismissive. 

“And what is it that you seek from me now?” 

“Well, one does not find purpose so easily. I figured that perhaps I could glean some inspiration from you, oh noble and chivalrous spider.” 

Hornet finally regards Lace, taking note of the crude garb she dons, likely an attempt of her own at weaving some kind of covering from the tattered choir’s cloaks. She gets the sense that it isn't the entire reason, but there is no malicious intent. She nods her head. “You may accompany me. Be sure to keep pace as we travel.” 

“Lead the way, then.” 

The two soon reach the Coral Tower, or rather, what is left of it. Entering the structure, they find the husks of dozens of soldiers, standing an eternal vigil over the body of a much larger and imposing bug sitting on a hardened throne. His shell is covered in the same red crust found common in the area, and though he must've been dead for a while, there emits a sense of power from the body. It is clear this was a tribe of proud and loyal warriors, who followed the orders of their Lord to death. 

Hornet finds the scene impressive. 

Lace pokes at one of the husks with the tip of her pin, giggling when it falls over. “It seems that they decided to huddle and hide here when Mother arrived. What a pity.” 

 “I doubt they chose the coward’s way. Perhaps this was a preparation of sorts.” Hornet uses her silk to string her needlin, plucking a few low, somber tones. 

Lace narrows her eyes as Hornet plays, crossing her arms. “Are we merely here to play tribute to old decaying corpses?” 

“This is a special song.” She continues the Elegy of the Deep, taught to her by the snail in Songclave, its slow melody echoing around them, and within herself as well. She feels a pull, like that of a tunnel opening, her spirit plucked through. 

“W-well…it’s – argh!” Lace falls to the ground. 

Hornet soon joins her. 

Hornet wakes to an entirely different surrounding. Vibrant, lively, and beautiful, even. Red coral growths sprout from the walls, as far above them, groups of strange bugs seem to swim in the air. 

“What did you do?!” Lace’s shrill demand snaps Hornet's attention to the silken being beside her. 

“The song. The Old Heart may have resonated with it, and pulled us into a memory of this place before it fell to ruin. Incredible.” 

Lace places her claws on her hips, less than pleased by their predicament. “Great. How are we going to get out?” 

The spider arcs her head up. If this is a tower, then they must be at the base floor. “We will ascend, and meet the Lord of this domain.” Crouching, she readies a silksoar. “Get ready.” 

“For what?” 

Seeing her stay in place, a set of hornet’s arms fashion a quick lasso of Silk, and tosses it over Lace, pulling her close enough to grab her around the waist. At the same time Hornet throws her needle up to the ceiling, and then leaps into the air. 

“Kyaaa!” Lace, screaming, flails her limbs, not unlike a ragdoll as they sail upwards. Hornet jumps off the ceiling and onto the platform below. She then lets go, Lace flopping onto the ground with an undignified “Oof!” She pulls herself up, shooting her a glare. “Cruel beast! Handling me so roughly! What other tricks are you hiding, I wonder,” she grumbles, properly frazzled after that ordeal. She smooths out her silken threads.  

Hornet regards her in amusement, walking forward to another opening leading upwards. “Come, Lace. I'm sure we are expected.” 

Lace mutters under her breath but follows a generous distance behind. 

What awaits them is a large chamber, and upon entering, thorny coral slams down over the exits. A commanding roar from above vibrates through the room, and soldiers burst from the ceiling. 

“Hmph! What a welcome.” The two stand back to back, respective weapons drawn as enemies descend. 

“A test of sorts. Seems we must prove worthy to challenge the Lord.” 

Lace simply laughs in the manic manner she does, lunging forward to pierce the soldier in front of her. Hornet jumps into the air and strikes downward on her opponent’s head. 

Once again, they find an unspoken harmony in battle. Dancing around each other and the enemies, they slice and stab through wave after wave of the coral tower sentries. 

And it goes smoothly, until an exceptionally large soldier emerges, its sheer size and weight causing the room to shake, charging at them with surprising speed. Hornet leaps out of the way, but Lace attempts to push an attack. The soldier, seeing his opportunity, stops its charge to  lift its leg and stomp, causing coral spikes to burst from the ground, piercing and tearing through Lace’s body. Her cry of pain echoes through the chamber. 

Hornet dashes over, using the back of her own shell to shield her from the next hit. Growling, she summons three pale nails out of silk, and sends them each into the body of the large soldier. Three times, it pierces through their foe, and he falls over with a groan.

Hornet looks her over, assessing the damage. The worst tear is in her abdomen, where a spike has completely pierced through, leaving a gaping hole. There are smaller cuts on her legs and back. “Stay still while I mend you.”

“Don’t bother,” Lace whispers below her. Damaged, but still very much alive. 

“Vren!” She channels her silk and binds it to Lace, stitching her whole once more. 

The silken bug turns her head away. “Twice now you’ve wasted your Silk on me. One might wonder if you're starting to grow fond.” 

Hornet narrows her eyes. “You were reckless. I said to protect your heart. Do you not heed my words?” 

Lace scoffs. “I’ve suffered worse, from that strange pin you wield no less! What of your own injuries?!” She crawls out from under Hornet, brushing some broken shards of coral out of her shell before attempting to lift Hornet’s cloak. She finds that her wrist is snatched and held by Hornet’s claws before even making contact. 

“They are inconsequential,” she states in a low, warning tone. 

“Hypocrite!” Lace pulls her arm free of the firm grasp, and rubs at her silken shell. “I don't understand why you insist on protecting me. Is it pity? You think me some weak, helpless damsel for you to save?” 

Ungrateful brat. “It would do you well to learn how to express gratitude.” 

“Why? Why do all this? I’m not even a bug, just a pathetic–” 

SLAP!

Being made out of silk, her shell absorbs part of the impact, but it does effectively render her speechless. Hornet follows up by closing the distance between them. “Why? Because when I claimed this kingdom, that includes you. I have already determined your worth long ago.” She grabs Lace by the chin, forcing her head up to meet her gaze. “So I will say this only once. Cease the belief that you are lesser, unless you truly want to be treated as such.” Hornet growls, leaning close enough that her mask just barely touches her forehead.  

Lace squirms in her hold, staring desperately at Hornet, her own claws grasping at the hand that holds her in place. “You–!! How dare you strike me!” 

Hornet squeezes harder. “Promise it.” 

“Ugh! Fine…I promise.”  

Hornet holds her for a beat longer, then releases Lace, who falls to her knees, rubbing at her face and pouting. “Wicked spider!” There is no bite to her words, merely a veiled whine. “Applying violence when tenderness would suffice. What an odd way to show you care.” 

“Your ego is bruised far more easily than you are.” She gathers her strength to bind her own wounds, then walks the opposite end of the chamber. “I expect you will exercise more caution moving forward.” 

More challenges await the duo, ascending floor after floor only to fight against more inhabitants of the Coral Tower. This time, they fare far better, sustaining hardly any damage. By the fourth round of such combat, the final path to the tower’s peak opens. 

Hornet looks upwards at the top of the Coral Tower. She crouches, silk swirling at her feet to prepare for the jump. Instead of lassoing her, she opens her arms in invitation for Lace. 

Lace gives her a hesitant, dubious stare, before sighing and acquiesces to being held. She wraps her own arms around Hornet’s neck. “Can’t you use that winged cloak of yours?”

“It is a shame that they are not the kind of wings used in actual flight. Besides, this is more efficient.” Hornet secures her with two sets of arms and throws her needle up. 

“It tangles my threads!”  

Her complaints fall on deaf ears. Hornet leaps, silksoaring up to the very top and gliding down with Lace in hand. The floor closes up beneath them, and sitting on a large coral throne is the lord of the tower. He is larger than his subjects, bearing a scarred and thick shell. The epitome of a proud, hardened warrior. 

He stands, beating a clawed fist on his chest. “I am Khann, Crust King!” he yells, in a booming voice. 

“Greetings Crust King, I am Hornet. I’ve come to seek–” 

“No talking. We fight! Show me your strength!” He bellows a warcry and jumps from the throne, landing before them. 

Lace laughs, flourishing her pin. “Gladly!” 

The Crust King barrages them with giant coral spikes, summoning them from the walls, floor and ceiling. The spikes keep Hornet and Lace separated on opposite sides of Khann, but it does little to deter their onslaught of attacks when openings arise. While he is certainly tough, it is quickly evident he can't match the speed of the Pale duo. 

Lace staggers the Crust King with a three swipe combo of her pin, distracting him as Hornet closes the gap with her clawline and deals the finishing blow. His shell cracks open under the force of the strike, blinding light seeping through his body, growing stronger as everything fades to white. 

Our claws to crush... Our claws to rule... Our claws to save them all…

When Hornet wakes, she finds herself back in front of the corpse of the Crust King. Nestled in the now empty and broken shell, is a beating heart encased in red scales. She carefully plucks it from its owner. 

“My. What a striking image you cast, holding a heart in your hand.” Lace strolls over, leaning down to inspect the organ. “What will you do with it?” 

“I am undecided. But this is only one of four such Old Hearts of Pharloom. Combined, they should provide immense power.” Hornet carefully tucks the encrusted heart into her pouch, where it beats steady and slow. “And what of you? Gleaned a purpose for yourself, yet?” 

Lace tilts her head back, one arm raised to place a hand on the top of her face, in her signature melodramatic pose. “No such inspiration, yet. I fear you'll have to tolerate my company for a while longer, spider dear.” 

Hornet studies her for a moment. Then nods. “So be it.”