Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Traveling with the flea caravan was an unexpected surprise, though Hornet did not mind it in the slightest. It was a welcome rest for her weary legs, and the fleas themselves were rather pleasant. Small and fluffy, with wandering tongues that lapped at Hornet’s face more often than not. Some may think them a nuisance, but Hornet adored them, though she rarely let her affections show. Still, she couldn’t help but bring one into her lap and sigh into its downy fur, a reprieve from. Well. Everything happening recently.

The carriage she rested in slowed to a halt, and as Hornet drifted back to reality, she heard soft raindrops on the roof. Greymoor.

She stepped out of the carriage to find the fleas all set up, with a bench and a pot of warm flea brew ready for any passersby.

Mooshka’s eye caught hers and she stepped towards him, her cloak already dampening in the relentless rain.

“Thank you for letting me ride with you, it was a welcome rest from my travels,” Hornet said. Mooshka heartily nodded.

“Of course! It was no burden, we take on many travelers. Besides, your needle and combat skills were a comforting thought on the journey, lest we encounter unwelcoming bugs!” His laugh boomed through the settlement.

Hornet would gladly take on anyone who dared harm the fleas. She nodded.

“Of course.”

Mooshka beamed at her and took a swig from a clear flask at his hip, filled with glowing orange liquid.

“Care for some brew?” he asked, leaning the flask towards Hornet. She watched the brew spill out of the bottle and land on the wet cobbled ground. Mooshka was oblivious to this.

“No, thank you. I have business to attend to,” Hornet told him. He shrugged and took another swig, burping.

Hornet turned tail and began her way to eastern Greymoor. “Until we meet again, warrior!” Mooshka yelled after her.

Hornet dashed and jumped with ease up the platforms of Greymoor, despite the slippery stones on her feet. Her destination was clear, though. The halfway home, to give Creige those crawbug ragpelts she had collected a while back. Better late than never, she supposed.

In just half an hour she had arrived at the door to the halfway home. Despite its generally dull atmosphere, Hornet enjoyed the company of the little place. A warmth emanated from its windows and doorframe, one that was missing from the rest of Greymoor.

Hornet pushed open the door, expecting to hear only the gentle hum of Creige the bartender and the vague drip of water from the leaking roof onto the paneled floors. Familiarity, comfort.

She was instead greeted by a lively scene, livelier than she had ever seen in Pharloom before. Dozens of bugs were crammed into the small tables and booths of the bar, laughing and drunkenly singing old songs. On a raised platform that Hornet had hardly noticed before was a small band, with a tall, lean bug playing a stringed instrument and two shorter ones, siblings perhaps, singing loudly, voices echoing through the small room.

Hornet wandered into the chaos in awe, looking around and trying not to trip on any stray limbs or wings. She stepped up to the bar and tried to catch Creige’s attention.

He was pouring a glass of his classic nectar and laughing heartily with a group of old, squat bugs. He slid them each a glass before turning his attention to Hornet.

“Ah! Our warrior returns. Care for a drink? Glass of nectar, syrup, honey. We got everything an’ anything!” his words were slightly slurred. Hornet supposed being drunk came with the territory of being a bartender.

“The crawbug ragpelts you requested?” she asked, ignoring his buzz. Creige stared for a second before snapping his claw.

“Aye! Thank you kindly, miss. Nearly forgot about that whole mess,” he said, scooping the pelts from Hornet’s claws and tucking them up on some shelf. “Anyways, a drink? Discount tonight, only 7 rosaries apiece!”

A wing smacked Hornet in the face and she elbowed the aggressor away.

“What’s the occasion? This is far from the usual one or two guests I see around,” Hornet said. Creige whistled in disbelief.

“Haventcha heard? Bellhart’s been freed! Some weaver had it trapped in her twitchy claws, nasty thing. Thank Gods she’s gone!”

Hornet blinked. She knew of the freed town, of course she did. She had been the one to do it. But it was not exactly recent news.

“Yes, I’m aware, but was it not several weeks ago that the town was unbound? I see no reason to delay such a celebration,” Hornet said.

Creige shrugged. “Apparently they waited until they had it all back up and runnin’ again, and they needed some generous donations for that!” He laughed heartily. She knew of these donations too, she gave them of course. It took ages to gather enough rosaries, but seeing the citizens so dismayed was unbearable. She even got a bellhome out of it, though it was entirely unnecessary. Still, she didn’t mind a place to call her own.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it’s all back to normal. May Bellhart flourish,” Hornet said, not wanting the attention that came with being the hero of the town. She appreciated recognition, but she was already overwhelmed by the bustling tavern and would rather avoid it right now.

“Aye,” Creige said cheerfully. A bug on the other side of the bar waved him over, pointing at her empty glass and gesturing wildly. Creige shrugged at Hornet.

“Business calls, feel free to stay for a while. You’re always welcome here, warrior!” and he walked away to deal with the guest.

Hornet was still reeling from the busyness of the once quiet tavern. She did not much care for the noise, though the company of fellow bugs was always appreciated. She had a tendency to get lonely traveling in the caves and caverns of Pharloom, with only aggressive bugs to greet her. It was nice being around regular bugs again.

A long tail coated in metal armor suddenly slapped into Hornet’s side. She winced and turned to face the culprit, ready to give them a harsh glare.

Her aggression disappeared and her eyes grew wide. “Shakra?”

The cartographer was sitting on a stool at the bar next to a squat bug with a large scar on her face. Shakra was smiling halfheartedly and laughing with the bug when Hornet said her name. She turned and her eyes lit up when she saw the red-cloaked warrior.

“Poshanka! Hornet Wielding Needle! A pleasant surprise we are to meet here, of all places,” she said, beaming down at Hornet. “Sit, sit!”

Hornet hopped onto the empty barstool beside Shakra.

“Are you also celebrating the freeing of Bellhart?” Hornet asked. Shakra shrugged.

“I needed a drink,” she said candidly. Hornet nodded understandingly.

“And you, Red Lady? What possibly brings you here?” Shakra questioned back. Hornet pointed to Creige.

“A request from the bartender,” she said simply. Shakra nodded.

“I always do find you flitting about on quests from stray bugs you just met,” Shakra said. “To think it would be so easy as to write a request on a board, and aha, Hornet has completed it for me!” She burst into giggles. Hornet noticed the red tinge to her face.

“And how many drinks have you needed, exactly?” Hornet asked dryly. Shakra laughed harder, leaning back on her stool.

“Enough, young one! Enough,” she said warmly, passing her half-empty glass to Hornet with a wink. Hornet stared into the creamy liquid.

She wasn’t one for alcohol, but it was a special occasion…

Hornet tilted back her head and cracked open her rarely-used jaw, throwing back the drink in a single go. The glass clanked against her sharp teeth. Shakra beamed at her.

“Creige!” she called joyfully. “More nectar for the lady!”

=====

Hornet, despite being only 3 nectars in, was feeling woozy. Her head swayed and her thoughts were jumbled like grubs in a pile. Was this what alcohol was like? She could hardly find it pleasant. Luckily for her, she remained largely conscious of her actions and speech. She was glad of it, a loose tongue was unwise in Shakra’s presence.

Shakra, on the other hand. She was what one may call plastered.

The capable and strong warrior was transformed into a giggling mess, leaning on the bar table and hiccuping every other word. Hornet pretended her heart didn’t flutter at the sight.

“Ssso I said, a trapped flea sure doesn’t bite!” Shakra finished, cackling hysterically. Hornet didn’t remember the first part of her story. Shakra didn’t seem to either.

“She used to loooovee those jokes,” Shakra said, gazing down into her glass and circling her finger around the rim. Hornet suspected she was talking about her missing master. The bug continued.

“Sshe, she was… she was like my mother… She was soooo wond’rful.. Never backed away from a challenge.. And neither.. do I..” she trailed off, flopping her head on the table in front of her. Hornet’s heart ached for her.

“You’ll find her, Shakra,” she said, placing an awkward claw on Shakra’s shoulder. “I know it.” She was rarely one to comfort people, on account of her not quite knowing how, but she wanted to try. For Shakra.

Shakra picked her head up from the table and looked at Hornet with shining eyes.

“T’thanks, Red… Red……” she trailed off into thought, keeping her eyes on Hornet the entire time. She seemed almost entranced. Hornet shifted in her seat.

“She’d love to meet you,” Shakra said finally in a soft, quiet voice. Hornet’s insides twisted.

“She will, I’m certain of it,” Hornet said quietly, breaking eye contact and looking into the bottom of her glass of nectar.

“She’d like you,” Shakra continued. “I… If I could find her, I’d– I’d tell her..”

Shakra paused to take a long drink from her glass. She wiped her mouth with her arm and looked at Hornet with renewed confidence.

“I– I’d tell her I’d met the preeetiiest bug in the land!” she slurred loudly, almost tipping over on her stool. Hornet nodded, not quite processing Shakra’s words, until they hit her like a wet crawbug to the face.

“W’what?” she said blankly, face warming. Shakra ignored her confusion and continued.

“I’d.. I’d take you home, to- to my village, you c’could meet my broother,” she droned. “I- I could show you my faaavorite spot under the waterfall, a’and we’d gaze at the brilliant stars in the black sky,” Shakra spread her arms wide open, gesturing to the infinite maw of the night sky. Stargazing, she suggested.

Hornet wasn’t sure if Shakra was saying what she thought she was saying.

“Um, I–”

But Hornet barely had time to utter two words before Shakra quickly and suddenly leaned in close to her. Hornet gasped. She felt Shakra’s breath on her face. It smelled strongly of alcohol.

“I could show you to my bed, too,” Shakra said in a low, rumbling voice. Hornet’s face flushed the same red as her cloak.

Shakra leaned away from her and laughed heartily, taking great pleasure in Hornet’s flusteredness. Hornet pulled up the collar of her cloak to cover her burning face.

“Aww, hiding, are we?” Shakra teased, inching again closer to Hornet. Her chest was fluttering like a freed lumafly.

“I’tsookay,” Shakra hummed, taking a finger and deftly pulling the cloak collar down so she could see Hornet’s face.

“I don’t bite.”

Hornet’s heart pounded, blood rushed to her head. Gods, Shakra couldn’t just DO that. She was flirty and smooth and Hornet wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take without grabbing her face and kissing her senseless. Or perhaps collapsing into a puddle. Either one would do.

“Biting is the least of my concerns,” Hornet managed, avoiding eye contact.

“Welllll, what’s the greatest concern?” Shakra teased, backing away just a bit.

Hornet could not answer. How could she say that her greatest concern was forming a connection, her greatest concern was finding a mate only for them to wither and die in not even a quarter of her lifespan? She couldn’t say that to Shakra. Not here,
not now.

“I’d say it’s how much you’ve had to drink,” Hornet said dryly. Shakra hmphed, picking up her glass in defiance. She frowned upon finding it empty. Hornet hid her amusement.

The crowd, though slightly thinned since Hornet’s arrival, loudly cheered in the direction of the stage. Hornet looked up to see the source of the commotion.

The band, which had taken a break to have a few drinks, stumbled back on. The slender bug took their instrument and tuned it, before nodding at the singing twins. The music started up with a lively hum, though just slightly off-tune this time.

Shakra, eyes on the band, was tapping her foot along to the rhythm. She closed her eyes and hummed along. Hornet must admit, the music was pleasant. While she was too distracted to notice it much upon her entry, it was cleverly designed and well-sung. Lively, bright. Warming.

Shakra’s eyes opened with a new shine in them, and she looked mischievously down at Hornet. She stood from her chair and held a claw out to Hornet. Hornet tilted her head in confusion.

“May I have this dance?” Shakra asked.

Hornet stared at her, face heating up again. She was certainly not one for dances, even if Shakra was the one leading her.

Hornet didn’t realize she hadn’t answered until Shakra grasped Hornet’s thin wrist in her strong claw, dashing out in front of the band where a group of lively bugs swayed to the music. Ohhh no.

Hornet tried to pull away but Shakra’s grip was strong, and well, Hornet didn’t particularly mind being held by her capable claw.

That was, until Shakra placed her other claw on Hornet’s hip, and well, now she cared a bit more. Her body warmed and her face tinged red as Shakra tried to lead her in a drunken, stumbling dance.

“Follow my lead, young one!” Shakra shouted over the music, moving her feet back and forth in patterns mysterious to Hornet. She tried her best to follow along, but ended up feeling stilted and awkward in Shakra’s capable arms. Shakra laughed.

“And I was under the impression you were nimble, Red Lady,” she teased, lifting her arm and treating Hornet to a spin. Hornet’s cloak swirled around her.

“Nimble perhaps in combat, but this–” Hornet almost slammed into another bug, but Shakra pulled her swiftly out of the way, leaving Hornet close to her chest. Hornet blushed and continued. “This is a far different situation.”

“Psshh, nonsense! You’re more than capable, dearest," Shakra said, still holding Hornet tightly. Hornet couldn’t help but flush brighter. Dearest? Gods, she hadn’t heard that in a while.

“I really don’t–” Hornet started, but the music rapidly picked up pace. Bugs twirled around them, dark shells shining with the glow of the gleamlights that hung from the ceiling. Hornet herself was warm and slightly fuzzy with the alcohol. The bar was filled entirely with light.

Just before the music reached its climax, Shakra led her in another twirl. Hornet tried her best to reciprocate, bringing her arm up as high as possible in an attempt to spin Shakra. But the bug was too tall and ended up ducking under Hornet’s arm, giggling. Hornet’s heart melted.

The end of the song. Shakra took Hornet and led her in one last move. Hornet was prepared for anything– spins, twirls, footwork. She could do it, poorly perhaps, but her confidence was boosted by euphoria and alcohol.

She was not, however, prepared for Shakra to place her claws deftly on Hornet’s back and dip her down towards the floor while Hornet clung to the bug’s shoulders. The song finished and cheers erupted for the band, but the whole world was silent and still for Hornet.

Shakra’s claws held Hornet carefully, gently, as she gazed down at her with bright, shining eyes. Her antennae were kinked and knotted and her already shining golden armor practically glowed with the warmth of the bar. Hornet was utterly enchanted.

Shakra pulled Hornet back up to standing, leaving the two so close Hornet could hear Shakra’s heartbeat, rapid in her chest.

Shakra’s tangled antennae irked her, so Hornet beckoned her down to her level with a welcoming claw. The bug obliged without question. Hornet reached up and carefully undid the knot that had wound itself into the antennae. When she was finished with her task, she just gazed at Shakra, too scared to move or say anything.

One of the moving bugs on their way back to the bar smacked into the pair, startling Hornet out of her trance. She backed away quickly, separating herself from Shakra. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, the whole bar could probably hear its song.

Shakra, now returned to full height, was gazing softly down at her.

“Hornet…” she muttered softly. She almost looked like she was about to say something. Hornet braced herself for the incoming words, but she should have been bracing herself for Shakra collapsing forwards onto her shoulder.

Hornet grunted against the impact, quickly utilizing her silk to help support her. What had she done wrong, was Shakra overexerted? Surely such a warrior should not faint from a mere dance.

Hornet, unfamiliar with alcohol and its effects, rushed over to Creige for advice.

“Creige,” she said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “She’s collapsed, what shall I do? Was it the alcohol, the dance, the—“

Hornet felt Shakra rumble a drunken giggle from her resting spot on Hornet’s shoulder. She turned just slightly to find Shakra’s eyes open and looking at her softly.

Creige looked up from washing off a glass to eyeball the cartographer and shrugged.

“Just had a bit too much to drink, she’ll be right as rain come mornin’” he said, continuing his work.

Hornet exhaled in relief. She was fine. Now the issue was finding a suitable place for Shakra to rest. The bench in the halfway home was nice, yes, but not suitable for a night’s sleep.

“Have you any open rooms tonight?” Hornet asked. She suspected not, given the full bar, but Creige nodded.

“Aye, just one. Right up the stairs, here’s the key,” he tossed a worn bronze key into Hornet’s claws.

“And rosaries?” she asked. He shook his head.

“Figured I’d let the lovebugs stay for free, eh?” he winked. Hornet’s face heated.

“Thank you, Creige,” she said firmly, ignoring his comment and ascending the stairs to the room.

Hornet was an agile warrior, yes, but as for physical strength, she relied more on quick thinking and clever traps to overpower her enemies. Thus, carrying Shakra’s muscled body up the stairs of the halfway home was no easy feat. It was not helped by Shakra’s half-asleep woozy state, where she frequently mumbled under her breath and for the love of the Gods could not stop giggling. It was adorable, and distracting.

Still, Hornet kicked open the door to find a cozy little room, with a chair or two next to a window looking out into the rainy streets of Greymoor. And, of course, a bed. Small, with thin mauve blankets.

Hornet brought Shakra over to the bed, finally depositing her with a grunt. She looked at the bug on the bed and nodded.

“A fine resting place, indeed,” Hornet said, rather pleased with herself. She placed the key on the nightstand and began turning to leave, but something in her prolonged the stay just a bit. One final glance wouldn’t hurt, surely?

She gazed down at the half asleep warrior, with her long, muscular limbs and shimmering armor. Those golden rings, so intricate yet so lethal. There was an enchanting quality about something so beautiful taking a life with such ease.

“Rest well, my warrior,” Hornet said softly, tracing her claw lightly across Shakra’s cheek. She ripped her eyes away and stepped forward, but a claw grasped her wrist. She turned back to the bed to find Shakra, eyes half lidded and gazing at Hornet.

“Stay,” she mumbled softly, sweetly. Not a proposition, merely an invitation.

Gods, Hornet really shouldn’t. She knew better, she had years of knowledge and heartbreak to know better than to accept her offer. It wasn’t worth it, in the end. She had to harden her heart.

But seeing Shakra, so beautiful, so perfect, lying on that bed, pleading for Hornet to stay, please stay. Walls she had worked for years to build cracked and crumbled at the plea of a single bug. How pathetic.

Hornet approached the bed and Shakra shifted to the side to make room for her. Her heart pounded as she sat, then laid next to the bug. She turned her head to find Shakra’s face mere inches from hers.

“Hi,” Hornet said stupidly. Shakra burst into a fit of giggles. Hornet couldn’t help but join her.

Shakra stretched an arm over Hornet’s body, wrapping it around her and pulling them closer to each other. Hornet soaked in the intimacy, though she couldn’t help but notice Shakra was just slightly cold. She had an idea to help that.

Hornet slowly, carefully stretched her downy wings over Shakra’s body, fluttering them slightly and sending pearly feathers floating down around them. She was still unused to using them, but she had to admit they were excellent for comfort.

Shakra’s eyes widened. “R’red Lady, you…” she trailed off as her eyes drooped again, cuddling under the warmth of Hornet’s wings.

“You m’must be an angel…” Shakra murmured softly. Hornet didn’t know what to say.

The bugs were practically intertwined now. Hornet felt Shakra’s breath on her shell, she felt the rise and fall of her chest against her own. A soft rumble echoed from Hornet’s core, a purr. Shakra ran a claw along Hornet’s wing, resulting in a pleasant shiver, and more purring.

“Sensitive, hm?..” Shakra muttered softly, her deep voice vibrating through Hornet’s body. Hornet curled closer to Shakra, she wanted to open her chest and crawl in to live with her organs.

Hornet began drifting out of consciousness, the combined alcohol and cozyness was too much for her. Her thoughts lulled to a drip instead of the usual waterfall, and she pressed her face against Shakra’s chest. She drifted to sleep listening to soft breathing and a steady heartbeat.

Chapter Text

The quiet tapping of rain on the roof stirred Hornet to a pleasant, half-awoken state. She was too tired to crack open her eyes, but her rested body told her she had been sleeping near something big and warm, something that embraced her. She cared not what it was, only that it didn’t move, save for its rhythmic breath that maintained Hornet’s sense of comfortableness and safety.

Hornet inched closer towards the mystery figure, being rewarded with the arms around her being pulled tighter. She began to purr, a quiet hum that, combined with the other bug’s breathing, created something like a song. Hornet wouldn’t mind staying in this moment for eternity.

She had awoken enough to open her eyes, finding a metallic, golden shell greeting her. It glowed in the morning light which leaked through the small windows in the room. How curious, it almost reminded her of Shakra.

Hornet’s eyes snapped wide open. She turned her head to find Shakra’s sleeping face just inches from her own, eyes shut in a tranquil expression. Oh, no.

Hornet’s face burned hot. What had happened last night? How much had she ended up drinking? Gods, she knew alcohol was a terrible idea.

Memories trickled back into her mind of drinking, dancing, and hauling Shakra up the stairs of the halfway home into the cozy room where they now laid. She had a hard time believing it was real, not some fantastical dream she had.

And Gods, Hornet’s head ached. It would do some good for her to avoid alcohol in the future. For a variety of reasons.

Hornet did what she does best and quickly analyzed the situation. If she stood to leave, Shakra would likely be awakened, resulting in a conversation that’s awkward at best and devastating at worst. But if she did nothing, then what? Shakra would awaken eventually, no matter how long Hornet laid motionless in the bed. But Hornet really didn’t want to face her choices right now.

Hornet’s brilliant plan was. Well. Nonexistent. She was going to lay in bed until either Shakra awoke or they both died here together. At this point she’d prefer the latter, it would save her a deal of embarrassment.

As minutes passed by, Hornet would try and fail to still her racing heart. She had been wrapped in Shakra’s arms all night, being conscious and in the same state should have been unremarkable. But she couldn’t quell the rush of blood to her cheeks, the flutters in her stomach. She was a wreck.

Yet despite her anxiousness, Hornet couldn’t deny that she had found a very comfortable resting place indeed. In the arms of a strong, muscled warrior, she had never been more comfortable.

Sleep was not a necessity for Hornet, and while she appreciated that which she got, she still was vaguely uncomfortable with the concept. It left her open, vulnerable. Her world was unkind, she needed to be on guard.

All that fear melted away in Shakra’s arms. In this little room in Greymoor, in a kingdom she did not inhabit, Hornet felt the safest she had in years. She could imagine herself waking up like this every morning.

A quiet groan, a small shift in movement and Hornet froze again. Shakra was awakening. She tried to remember her plan before realizing she never made one to begin with.

Hornet was like a statue as Shakra drifted back to consciousness. She couldn’t move, couldn’t alert her to her presence. Her racing heart threatened to betray her, Hornet wished to tear it out of her chest.

But Shakra is no fool, she’ll notice Hornet wrapped around her tall, muscular figure anytime now. Hornet’s thoughts raced with anticipation.

Shakra let out another small groan, which made Hornet’s heart flutter all over again. She really was something special. Hornet was finding it harder to deny her attraction to the bug.

Slowly, Shakra’s eyes fluttered open, and as they locked onto her, Hornet realized she had forgotten to close her own eyes to give the effect of sleep.

Upon realizing she was next to Hornet, Shakra’s eyes widened, not unlike Hornet’s initial reaction to the situation.

“Hornet Wielding Needle,” Shakra said, clearly surprised, but not moving away. “Wh’what are you-” she paused, and Hornet could practically see last night’s memories flooding back to her.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

Her face reddened, and she couldn’t take her eyes off Hornet. It was quite adorable, but Hornet couldn’t deny her anxiousness had peaked.

“W’well, this is a welcome continuation to the night, wouldn’t you say?” Shakra said, her voice trembling with attempted confidence, though Hornet could sense her anxiety. She was attempting to feign courage, Hornet realized. It was almost endearing.

“I…” Hornet trailed off. Shakra still hadn’t moved away, not fled the scene to disappear forevermore into Pharloom’s caverns. Hornet couldn’t help but notice that she herself wasn’t fleeing, either.

Shakra’s tail wagged just a bit. Hornet could’ve exploded. Her mind raced with thoughts of waking up to Shakra’s warm face, her wagging tail and deep voice greeting her as she woke in a small home together. Days spent on walks, sparring with each other, playing music together. Company, understanding. A common interest, a love. She wanted it more than she could express.

No, no. No. She couldn’t. She stopped allowing herself the indulgence of fantasies years ago, and now thanks to Shakra they were returning, haunting her like a ledge she couldn’t quite grab hold of, an enemy she couldn’t quite kill.

Hornet moved abruptly away from Shakra to the edge of the bed, her insides running cold. Her breathing grew heavy. Shakra’s warm expression dropped away from her face and was replaced with concern as she moved to sit upright.

“Hornet? Is, ah, is this alright?” she asked, her voice straining just a bit. Her head tilted as she asked the question, like a confused flea. It pulled at Hornet’s heartstrings.

“I– yes. No,” Hornet said quickly. “I must depart, Shakra.” Hornet stood and brushed off her cloak, trying to soothe the harsh creases that had formed throughout the night.

Something shifted in Shakra’s expression. A realization, something shattering, perhaps.

“Are– are you certain? I thought–”

“You thought wrong,” Hornet said, harsher than she intended. She watched the shine fade from Shakra’s eyes, a candle blown out.

“Oh,” the cartographer said softly, voice breaking. “I– I apologize.”

Hornet turned to avoid her gaze. She grabbed her needle, clenching it hard in her claw.

“Farewell,” she said, pushing open the door and not sparing a backwards glance at Shakra. She waited just a second for a response, but only silence answered her. She walked out the door, fending off the tears that welled in her eyes.

Hornet descended the stairs of the halfway home, ignoring Creige’s morning greeting and starting with a sprint to western Greymoor.

She didn’t stop running, not when she passed the flea caravan and not to greet Bellhart’s inhabitants. The mayor called her name as she passed. She ignored it.

She only stopped in Shellwood, once she had found a small lake in a quiet corner of the moss filled land. The water of the lake was bluish-green and deep, enchanting. Easy to get lost in. A few bugs skated elegantly across the surface, thin limbs dancing as they moved around each other, never colliding. Hornet stuck her needle in the soft peat of the lake’s bank and sat just on the edge of the water.

Her heart could have been exposed and beating out in the warm air of Shellwood, for how much it ached.

Her mind raced with the memories of events just hours passed. They were fresh wounds, raw and bleeding and ones that she could not bind with silk alone.

A rejection, an exit. A mistake. No, not a mistake. It was necessary. She knew it, deep down she knew it. Still, she doubted herself.

Did she really do that, push Shakra away when it started to become something? Something. She had not experienced something in a while. She missed it so much, she missed having someone so much.

No, she had to. She had to. There was no other way, she would have lost her mind trying to cope with her death. This was simpler, this was easier. A quiet heartbreak to prevent a raging storm years down the line.

But she looked so hopeful, so warm. A hardened warrior turned soft with affection. Hornet hadn’t had something like this in years, something kind that embraced her, made her feel safe. She already missed it.

It’s okay, she tried reasoning. Shakra wouldn’t have stayed regardless. Once she discovered how terrible Hornet truly was, killing without hesitation and leaving innocent bugs to their own cruel fates. She was no hero, she was nothing at all.

Her chest still felt like it would explode any minute. The pain must have lasted hours, hours she spent staring into the pond’s swirling waters, watching bugs float across the surface and trying not to break down crying. She was glad for her strength Had anyone found her sobbing in such a state, Hornet would’ve had no dignity nor will to continue her journey.

She took a moment to admire Shellwood’s beauty, its emerald grasses and eddying teal waters. The bugs inhabiting it which, despite their aggression, held their own form of beauty. White petaled creatures who burst with yellow clouds of pollen, creatures that masqueraded as sticks and twigs only to spring to life when one got too close. Small purple things that flitted about, guarding their homes with their lives. She couldn’t help but gaze at it all in wonder.

A quiet moment in the midst of her turmoil. It was welcomed.

Hornet rubbed at her eyes, erasing any trace of tears that had welled in them. She could not return to any civilized place like this. They needed strength, not a sobbing spiderling, no matter how subtle her watery eyes may have been.

Hornet made sure no bugs would surprise her with a weapon to her shell before edging closer to the bank of the lake. She peered into its water, finding her reflection staring back at her. She looked sad, worn. She tried to ignore it.

She tried to ignore that she may never see Shakra’s face again, never be held in her capable arms, never share a drunken dance or bed with her. Never hear her sing again, oh how she would miss her singing.

Hornet closed her eyes and plunged her face into the depths, drowning out the thoughts with the cool water of the lake. It welcomed her like a frigid embrace. She wanted to stay here forever. Damn Pharloom, damn Hallownest. She was tired, she was so very tired.

She retracted from the water, eyes still squeezed shut. Her claws rubbed at her face, clearing it of any remaining water, though some still snuck into her eyes, rendering them blurry.

She blinked the water away, vision returning to her. Her reflection still stared back at her, looking the same as before. What startled her was another reflection just above her.

Her claw darted to her needle and she almost drew it from the ground, but she halted in place once she realized who stood in front of her.

Shakra was standing over her, shell shining with the ambient light of Shellwood. She was gorgeous. She was standing in front of her.

Before Hornet had a chance to say anything, Shakra began to speak.

“Hornet,” she said softly. Something in her voice sounded broken. “I wanted to apologize.”

Hornet almost asked what she had to apologize for.

“There was a misunderstanding, it appears,” Shakra said quietly. “I did not mean any ill intent, I meant only to– well. Grow closer to you.”

She sounded almost hopeful, for a moment, before it disappeared. Smoke gone from the air, a shimmer in water. Almost nonexistent, but its presence was still missed. She continued.

“That was my mistake. I–” she sucked in a breath. I overstepped, and I am so, so–”

“You didn’t,” Hornet interrupted quietly, almost inaudible, eyes staring at the ground. Shakra’s breath caught in her throat.

“What?” She asked, in some form of disbelief.

“You didn’t overstep,” Hornet repeated, not daring to meet Shakra’s face. She took a breath. Was she really doing this?

Her eyes moved to Shakra, who was looking at her hopefully. Her insides twisted.

“Then,” Shakra began. “Why did you go?”

Such a simple question, said in a quiet, almost childlike tone of voice. One that betrayed hurt so obviously that Hornet’s eyes welled up again. She turned away. She couldn’t face her.

“Because I can’t have it,” she said harshly, voice trembling.

Shakra knelt down to sit with her by the lake. “What do you mean, Hornet, of course you can.” She carefully placed a claw on Hornet’s shoulder, soothing her by running it up and down her arm. She was so kind.

Horned inhaled shakily. “Not forever.”

“Nothing lasts forever, dearest,” Shakra said, leaning closer to Hornet. That nickname again. Hornet wanted to disappear.

“For me it does.”

Shakra stilled, her claw pausing on Hornet’s arm.

“What?”

The question was asked in a hollow tone of voice, in disbelief and confusion.

Hornet winced, avoiding Shakra’s gaze like it would turn her to stone. She couldn’t bear to see her expression. She took a shaky breath.

“I have seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, the collapse of nations, the end of the world,” she said quietly. “I’ve watched countless generations of births and deaths. I’ve watched lovers wither and die while I stay strong and hearty, I’ve seen their children have children, I’ve seen everything.”

Hornet braced herself to find Shakra’s eyes. They were looking wide-eyed, almost in horror. In denial. In disbelief. She continued.

“I’ve walked every path you could possibly imagine. Time marches on, I stay still. It’s always been like this, it always will be.”

Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes down her cheeks. She looked directly into Shakra’s eyes.

“I’ll place flowers on your grave and live to see it crumble to dust. Love has never been a possibility for me, and it is foolish to pretend it ever was.”

Shakra was silent, just staring at Hornet. She understood now. She knew. She had burdened Shakra, beautiful, kind Shakra with her burden. Remorse and relief danced in Hornet’s thoughts.

Hornet held her composure, she stayed strong. She did not cry, she did not scream. She held herself together like she had been doing for decades before this.

Until Shakra said two words. So softly, so quietly. With such reverence, such gentleness and softness and love woven into them.

“Oh, Hornet.”

And Hornet began to sob.

She collapsed forward into Shakra’s arms, the tears coming quick and loud like a broken dam, a strained rope snapping. They stung her eyes, they fell down her face and dotted her scarlet cloak. She watched them fall and slide off Shakra’s golden shell, dropping to the ground and being absorbed into its coating of moss.

As soon as Hornet began to cry, Shakra had wrapped her arms around Hornet in a warm embrace. She rubbed her back, she whispered sweet nothings at her. She comforted Hornet like it was second nature.

Sobs wracked her body. She hadn’t cried like this in years, decades. She curled up in her cloak and hid her face in her collar. Gods, how embarrassing. The daughter of Hallownest, crying in the arms of a kind cartographer that had dared show her sympathy.

Such weakness, her mother would be ashamed.

The storm of tears slowed to a drizzle, and Hornet turned her head up to look at Shakra.

“I want it so bad, Shakra,” she said quietly, with a sort of resignation. “But I know how this ends.”

Shakra gazed at her like she was the only thing in the world. Shellwood melted away to only the two of them, wrapped in an embrace that Hornet would do anything to stay in.

“Hornet,” Shakra said. “I had no idea your pain. It must be agonizing. And I understand if you wish to part, I do. I could not hold that against you.” She took a claw and traced it lightly along Hornet’s cheek.

“But love is not something to deny yourself, no matter the cost. I would very much like to spend the rest of my days with you.”

Hornet’s eyes grew wet once again.

“And I with you,” she said, taking her arms and wrapping them around Shakra’s neck. Hornet moved forwards to nuzzle her face against Shakra’s in a gesture not unlike a kiss.

“I want to grow old with you so very much, Shakra,” Hornet whispered, faces still pressed together, eyes shut tight. A tear slipped from her eye.

“And I with you,” Shakra said, repeating her words back to her. They separated from the nuzzle, Hornet intent on gazing into Shakra’s eyes.

“I’d rather live a hundred lifetimes missing you than endure one without knowing your touch,” Hornet said reverently, looking at Shakra as if she hung the stars.

Shakra giggled just a bit, music to Hornet. “So the warrior fancies herself a poet.”

Hornet quieted her with a real kiss, opening her mouth and finding Shakra’s in order to slip her tongue inside, to explore. Shakra made a small noise of surprise, but quickly leaned into it, cupping Hornet’s head with her claw.

They separated, and now it was Shakra’s turn to look at Hornet like she created the whole universe, like she was the only thing of importance in all the kingdom. Hornet’s heart ached, in a warmer way this time. Like returning home after a long time away.

Hornet leaned in for another kiss, but was startled by something hitting her leg. She looked down to see one of the skating water bugs bumping into her repeatedly, like it wanted something from her. She grunted in annoyance. Shakra laughed.

“Perhaps we should move to a more suitable location?” Shakra said, her voice rumbling through Hornet’s body. She shivered pleasantly.

“The people of Bellhart were kind enough to gift me a home in the town,” Hornet said. “We could… continue there?”

Shakra beamed at her. She leaned in close to Hornet once again, her breath tickling Hornet’s face.

“I would find that lovely, Red Lady.”