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Hornet was born a cursed being, a child of weaver and wyrm, an individual doomed to lose all she held dear. She had faced hardship, struggle; the fall of a kingdom, the quiet apocalypse that sprung from its corpse. Wherever she stepped, tragedy was only inches behind her.
Her mother was taken from her when she was only a child, and she became the daughter of three queens. A paradox, an improbability. She lost lovers to sickness and old age alike, and the losses had both stung like venom. It coursed through her shell and ripped into her insides, yet she continued on. What else could she have done?
Hornet, Daughter of Hallownest, had faced challenges incomprehensible to an ordinary bug. And yet despite all her tragedies, all her sorrows and fears, attempting to court Shakra Wielding Rings was the most frightening of them all.
She was already disregarding the knowledge that such a romance would inevitably end in loss. She was willing to push that to the back of her mind for the time being, it was not the issue. The issue was, well. It was difficult. Because, simply put, Shakra was incredible. It was evident that Hornet could never live up to her clearly high standards, all she could do was fumble her way through an earnest (and embarrassing) confession. Which she unfortunately planned to do, for her own sake.
She… Well, she found it difficult to focus when Shakra was around. She tripped over her own feet, missed shots she could have nailed with her eyes closed, and found herself short of breath. It was not conducive to a proper battle, that was for certain.
So all she needed to do was confess to Shakra, be rejected, then wait until her feelings dissipated. A flawed plan, certainly, but likely the simplest way to be finished with this embarrassing ordeal once and for all.
Enacting her plan, she found Shakra on her usual perch in Bellhart, distracted from her maps and glad to see Hornet paying her a visit. Shakra greeted her warmly, and Hornet’s heart fluttered.
And she told her.
Shakra did not react, not at first, anyhow. Hornet’s voice, the words spoken with it, froze her in place. Anxiety shot through Hornet, it may be worse than she had initially believed.
Then Shakra blinked. Once, twice. Her eyes grew wide and she flushed red. She had made her uncomfortable, Hornet realized. Her stomach disappeared from her abdomen and was replaced by a pit, a rapidly growing hole. She felt vaguely ill and took in a breath to prepare for the incoming rejection, but it never came.
The golden bug stood, and Hornet noted the glint of her tail swishing back and forth. That only happened when she was excited. Hornet’s thoughts twisted around themselves, forming a knot of confusion in her mind, one she tried to unravel with all her might but found herself too shaky to do so.
Without warning, Shakra stepped forwards and threw her arms around Hornet, the latter stiffening at her touch but then relaxing into it as if she was familiar with embraces such as this. The confused knot in her head tightened, and she wished she could pay it no mind, but she had chosen to confess for the sole purpose of getting over her juvenile feelings in the first place. She needed a definitive rejection, not a pity embrace.
Hornet’s face warmed as she realized that’s what it was. How foolish. She stuttered, her tongue slipping in her anxiety.
“I– does this– do you, ah, not reciprocate?” she asked anxiously, her eyes darting to the floor. Shakra held her for another beat, one that seemed to last an eternity. Hornet watched young bugs grow, age, and perish in that singular moment. Then Shakra released her, and the gnawing black hole in Hornet’s abdomen grew.
“Hornet,” Shakra said, in a tone unreadable to Hornet in her current state. Perhaps if she was sharper, she could decipher it, but the tangled threads of emotions that made up her mind at the moment were too knotted to do so.
Shakra gazed down at her, tilting her head as if assessing her. Her dark eyes seemed set, decided. Then she leaned down, slowly, close to Hornet’s face. They were quite close now. Hornet almost grew angry.
Why was Shakra toying with her in such a way? If her affection was indeed unrequited, then she should simply reject Hornet and leave her to sulk in her Bellhome for several days. It felt cruel, to be so close to her desires, yet eons from ever grasping them.
Despite her frustration, Hornet’s breath caught in her throat, and amusement danced in Shakra’s eyes. She raised her brow and tilted her head, just slightly, and in the impossibility of the moment, Hornet understood. She froze, then nodded, an unspoken response to Shakra’s unspoken question.
And Shakra closed the gap, kissing Hornet soundly.
She was warm and soft, everything Hornet had ever wanted and everything she knew she didn’t deserve. Like the previous moment, it seemed to last forever, though as Shakra drew back Hornet instantly wanted more. Greed the likes of which she had never felt overtook her, and she almost whined and dragged Shakra close to her again, but she kept her composure, instead focusing on Shakra.
Shakra, who was beaming like the sun, radiant in her brilliance. Her own face was flushed now, her eyes possessing a glimmer that was previously unknown to Hornet. She was stunning. Hornet swooned.
She knew this never could have happened, realistically. In what world would a divine being such as Shakra reciprocate feelings for her? It was improbable, impossible. Yet it was looking her in the face with shimmering dark eyes.
“Oh,” Hornet said breathlessly, an acknowledgement of the inconceivable truth that stood before her. Shakra laughed.
“‘Oh’ indeed.”
=========
On many separate occasions in her life, Hornet found herself unusually weak and irritable. She snapped at others while clumsily swinging her needle in combat, missing foes and dizzying herself in the process. She puzzled over her ailment, angry and self-pitying as to what she could possibly do to help herself.
It often took days to realize that she had not eaten in a while, and after promptly devouring a small army’s worth of sustenance, she found her confidence and composure regained. She found herself foolish for failing to realize her obvious needs, but she understood that until she recognized its absence, it was imperceptively gnawing away at her.
That was Hornet’s realization when she began to love again.
She had not understood how much its absence hurt, until she returned to her home after a long day to find Shakra waiting for her with an embrace and a kiss. Shakra, who held her close at night, stroked her fur and teased her, reminded her to eat when necessary.
She didn’t know how much she missed love until she looked love in the face every day.
It took little time to grow comfortable in Shakra’s presence, as, well, Hornet already was. Weeks of intermittent resting at her camps, falling asleep to her softly hummed tunes; it led to an easy transition from a platonic to romantic relationship.
Shakra seemed comfortable, too, as she did her best every day to fluster Hornet however she could. It was not always effective, as Hornet’s life had not been short, and she had had many lovers before, but there was something in the way Shakra complimented her that was… different. She seemed so earnest, so genuine. It wasn’t that any prior relations had not been so, it was that Shakra really made it clear.
She peppered Hornet in kisses, covering anywhere from her face to her neck to her stomach. She combed a claw through Hornet’s fur, spoke to her in that velvet voice Hornet so adored, and above anything else, she was generous with terms of endearment.
Hornet returned to Bellhart after a long day in the Citadel, immediately finding Shakra at her perch, etching away at her maps. She looked up and beamed, greeting Hornet with a “Yokkala. Welcome back, darling.”
Hornet turned to hide her reddening face, but Shakra noticed regardless, and giggled warmly. She was evidently thrilled by this information, and took no shame in using terms of endearment as often as possible.
After a hard-fought battle together, Shakra would rub Hornet’s back, applauding her efforts. “Excellent sparring, Red Lady,” she’d say, and Hornet would feel wobbly.
When Hornet returned from a several day long outing, Shakra embraced her and muttered, “I’m relieved you’re safe, my love.”
If the pair was intertwined in Hornet’s bed, holding each other softly, Shakra murmured against Hornet’s neck; “You’re incredible, angel.”
Hornet adored it. She found that no amount of words could express how much she loved these titles, granted to her by the bug she so cherished. Her heart flipped in her chest, her head swam with dizzying affection. She wanted Shakra everywhere, every hour of every day. She was entirely obsessed with the bug, and ensured that she understood that.
While Shakra showered Hornet with terms of endearment, Hornet called the bug nothing but her own name. It was not for lack of affection, but quite the opposite. The fact that it was Shakra was central to her fondness for the bug, and she wished for her to know that. She wanted her to understand that it was Shakra she loved, so she muttered her name to her when they shared intimate moments. Kissing, embracing, simply existing in each others’ presence; Hornet repeated Shakra’s name like a prayer.
Despite her affinity for Shakra’s name, Hornet still loved hearing the collection of nicknames that flew from the bug's mouth. Some days, she rushed back to Bellhart, if only to see Shakra sooner.
It was one of those days, where Hornet departed early from the Citadel, dashing back through its gilded halls in order to return home to her lover. With Shakra reminding her to eat, she had grown stronger, and quicker with her steps, so it was a swift journey.
Hornet almost forgot that she had been gone for a few days until she opened her Bellhome’s door and Shakra immediately rushed to embrace her, lifting her off the ground and swinging her slightly about. Hornet melted against her, allowing herself to be carried as if she were no lighter than a feather. Shakra set her down, not before giving her a peck on the cheek, and guided her to the bed.
“Gara Takana, my love, you were gone for many days. I feared I’d need to enter the Citadel's cursed halls and retrieve you myself,” she said, promptly seating Hornet on the plush cushions of their shared bed. Hornet simply hummed.
“Much to do in Songclave, in the Citadel,” she replied. Shakra responded by pushing a warm cup of tea into her claws. The steam wafted off the top, filling her senses with the aroma of mint. Hornet sighed contently.
“So much that I must lay alone, my lover gone, for many days?” Shakra asked, sitting beside Hornet. As soon as she was seated, Hornet instinctively leaned against her, melting against her warm shell.
“Forgive me, for my... Transgressions,” Hornet said dryly, with a tease to her voice. Shakra chuckled and wrapped an arm around her.
“All is forgiven, darling.”
Hornet hid her flushed face behind her mug as she took a sip of her tea. Shakra’s eyes darted to her, amused, and Hornet knew her hiding was futile.
“Is it now?” Hornet mumbled into her cloak’s collar, an admittedly weak deflection. Shakra hummed curiously.
“What was that, beautiful?” She asked. Her tone betrayed that she heard Hornet quite clearly, and was teasing her for the fun of it. This bug would be the end of her, Hornet thought. She took another sip of tea.
Shakra, unimpressed by her silence, leaned her head down near Hornet’s. Despite having been together for a multitude of weeks, it still brought a splash of red to Hornet’s face.
“Hello, gorgeous? Are you there?”
Hornet attempted to swivel her head, her scarlet face away from Shakra’s amused gaze, but the bug took hold of her chin and tilted it back towards her. The mug of tea fell from her claws. Hornet couldn’t breathe.
“Hiding, are we?” Shakra teased. Hornet whined, she hadn’t given her a nickname that time. She felt childish doing so, but, well. She quite liked them.
Shakra, attentive as always, seemed to read Hornet’s mind.
“Ah, forgive me, Red Lady,” Shakra taunted. Hornet melted like putty in her claws.
“My love, my sun and stars,” Shakra continued. Hornet wasn’t certain she was real anymore.
“My darling, my angel, my Princess-”
Hornet’s eyes opened and she jolted, an electric current running through her shell. Shakra immediately dropped her claw and her brow furrowed. Hornet stared at her. How did she know?
“Hornet?” Shakra said, her once booming voice now quiet, anxious. “Have I done something?”
Yes, and no. Hornet wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about this. Her noble status wasn’t exactly a secret, but it certainly wasn’t something she paraded around. Had Shakra met with a Hallownest citizen? Someone who knew?
“How– how did you know,” Hornet asked plainly, though her voice was laced with anxiety. Shakra blinked.
“...Know what?” she said, her fear fading away into confusion. At least they were both feeling similarly.
“My status!” Hornet exclaimed. “How could you possibly come upon that information?”
Shakra stared at her. Was she angry? No, Hornet knew this look. She was thinking. Her obsidian eyes widened suddenly, her posture straightening.
“Princess?” she asked slowly. Hornet nodded as if it were obvious. Which it was.
“You– you’re. You are a Princess? A royal?” Shakra asked, nothing in her voice except wonder. Hornet nodded, almost frustrated.
“Yes! How did you happen upon that information?” she demanded. Shakra laughed dryly, pressing her claw to her forehead in disbelief.
“I– Yakanesh, Hornet, I had no idea. I was simply being affectionate, I–” she cut herself off with a snort. Hornet’s stiff shell relaxed, and she slowly leaned back into Shakra’s side. .
“I hadn’t a clue I was courting a bug of such high status…” Shakra murmured, mindlessly stroking Hornet’s arm. Hornet hummed.
“My status means nothing to me, nothing special, at least. Many bugs have their own thoughts on the matter– some think it heightens my worth, some think it lowers it. To me, it is simply a title. Just as you are Shakra-Wielding-Rings, I am Hornet, Princess of Hallownest.”
Shakra was silent, and for a moment Hornet feared she had said something wrong. But then Shakra pressed a kiss to her cheek and mumbled against the porcelain white of her shell.
“That is a humble way to look at it. I admire that.”
Hornet said nothing, simply nestled closer against Shakra’s side. She felt foolish, having panicked over such an inconsequential thing. It was a habit, she supposed. Many were hostile due to her status, just as many were obedient. In times prior, she wished to shed it, like an old shell after a molt. Now, she recognized that it wasn’t as simple. Whether she wished it or not, she was a Princess, and she had learned to accept everything that came with it.
The pair sat in comfortable silence, their hearts beating the same rhythm. That was yet another thing Hornet adored about Shakra, her ability to rest in silence. Silence could feel sharp like the edges of hard rocks under feet, or cold, like a chilled wind that ripped through cloak and shell alike. With Shakra it was comfortable, rounded and warm. Silence was soft, so long as Shakra was near.
“Did you ever have a, ah, a knight? Or a guard?” Shakra asked suddenly. Hornet snorted, though she knew Shakra didn’t realize the absurdity of her question.
“There was never a need for one. Since childhood, I was well-prepared for battle.” It was one of the highlights of her youth, training with Vespa in the Hive. Flurries of attacks and stinging jabs, ducking below the rush of wind that came with a swing; nostalgia rumbled in Hornet just thinking about it.
Shakra hummed a quiet disapproval, then lifted a claw to tap her chin, slowly and teasingly.
“Well, I believe a Princess needs a knight,” she decided. Hornet chuckled, it was almost cute that Shakra was so stubborn in her ideas that Hornet needed a protector, even if she was joking. Still, Shakra had bested her in a few spars, so it was not absurd…
Regardless, Hornet followed Shakra’s line of thinking.
“And would that be you, my brave protector?” she asked wryly.
“Why not?” Shakra replied, puffing out her chest. Hornet tilted her head in amusement.
“I think you forget that I am well trained in battle, and have bested you many times,” Hornet replied slyly. She omitted the fact that the inverse was also true.
“Gendaa, you are no fun! You could never be too cautious, and besides, knights do more than fight, no?” Shakra said.
Hornet arched her brow in a play taunt. If Shakra was so knowledgeable about knight duties, let her speak on them.
“Such as?” Hornet asked.
Shakra blanked for a moment, and Hornet was about to tease her, but her antenna perked in the way they did when she had an idea.
“Such as,” she enunciated those two words before continuing. “Tending to the princess, and– and assisting her with her royal tasks.”
Hornet stared at her. That was almost comically incorrect.
“Actually, they don–”
Shakra interrupted her with a kiss, which proved an effective counterargument. While Hornet was stunned by affection, Shakra moved off her position on the bed into a kneeling one on the floor beside Hornet. Hornet’s eyes darted to Shakra and she felt her insides flutter pleasantly.
“Ensuring she feels comfortable in her quarters,” Shakra continued.
“Shakra, whatever are you doing,” Hornet asked dryly, though she was not at all objecting to the situation. Shakra responded not with words, but by placing her head in Hornet’s lap, and gazing up at her through her lashes. Hornet felt her insides melt.
“Admire her, for she is quite beautiful,” Shakra said in a low voice. Hornet shivered, waves of heat flooding through her shell, into her claws and fingers. The days of being flustered by such compliments should have been years past her, yet she found her heart quickening. That was the effect Shakra had, she supposed.
“Shakra–” she attempted to interrupt, but Shakra paid her no heed.
“The most beautiful in the land,”
“Shakra–”
“Of all the flowers in the garden, she is the most lovely,”
“Shakra–”
“The brave knight falls to her knees, knowing her dear princess is the finest beauty in all the land, that none could best her in combat nor grace,”
Shakra unabashedly sang Hornet’s praises while the latter hid her face in her claws, praying that her furious blush wasn’t visible beneath them, but knowing that it was. The harsh, critical edges of her thoughts fuzzed over until they were rounded; sanded down by affection. She couldn’t think of anything at all, save for Shakra’s velvet voice, ceaselessly complimenting her.
Hornet felt Shakra’s head depart from its resting place on her lap, and she sensed large claws creeping their way up her shell. They inched upwards towards her face, almost torturously slowly, before gingerly prying her own claws away, revealing the expression beneath it. Hornet was certain that her eyes were shimmering and glossy, gazing helplessly at Shakra. She assumed from the heat that rippled through her shell that she was flushed an embarrassing shade of scarlet, and her theory was confirmed when Shakra’s eyes landed upon her and she chuckled softly.
As Hornet’s gaze met Shakra’s, she could practically feel the latter drinking her expression in. It was sweet, endearing, how Shakra’s eyes traced over every part of her, leaving no stone unturned, no part of Hornet unloved.
She watched feebly as Shakra’s strong and competent claws took hold of one of her own. Her fingers grasped it with an unspoken strength, yet her touch overflowed with tenderness. She turned it over, caressed it slightly, then brought it to her mouth and kissed it.
Hornet wasn’t present in her mind anymore, she was certainly on another plane of existence; the dream world, perhaps? Somewhere else entirely? That was the only suitable explanation for how she was so flustered she could hardly think.
She managed to return to her mind, only to find it flooded with overwhelming adoration for Shakra. With a need for her to be loved, appreciated, cherished; everything that she deserved. She tried speaking, but her tongue was unable to form words, so she stayed mute.
“Hornet? Hornet, are you alright?”
Shakra’s voice, so sweet, so soft. It floated into her thoughts, like a feather drifting on a breeze. She held it and ran her fingers along its edges, felt the softness on her shell. She looked up to see Shakra quite close to her, and her head swam.
She blinked once, twice. Then she promptly buried her face in her claws, groaning.
“You are unbearable,” she grumbled, peeking at Shakra through her clasped fingers. “Showering me with affection, flustering me so. I can hardly take it.”
Shakra’s concern melted away and was replaced with fondness. She laughed, and Hornet played it over in her mind, rolling it around. She released her claws from her face, and bent forward to kiss Shakra, grasping her face with her palps.
“That is another duty of a knight,” Shakra teased when Hornet pulled away. Hornet rolled her eyes, but moved her claws to cradle Shakra’s face. She stroked a thumb over Shakra’s cheek, causing a shiver and a warm sigh. Shakra flushed red.
“Pretty…” Hornet said mindlessly. Shakra’s tail swished through the air, and Hornet beamed.
“You’re wonderful,” she said, pressing her forehead to Shakra’s. Her mind was too occupied for extravagant expressions of her affection, so she said it in the most plain way she could; her true thoughts.
Shakra hummed, a small, joyful sound. “As are you, Princess.”
Hornet giggled and kissed her.