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The Pale King had raced to Deepnest as soon as he had received the notice from Herrah.
He'd been in such a hurry, that he had barrelled through Aspids and Vengeflies and other wild beasts to get to his destination as fast as possible, had annihilated all rock walls stalactites and stalagmites in his way like nobody's business.
He didn't care. He only had one thing on his mind.
By the time he had finally reached his goal, the Deepnest queen was already waiting for him.
Herrah the Beast was resting in a silken cocoon. Her mask was off and she looked exhausted. But her six eyes were softer than usual, almost shimmering, and she was holding something in her arms.
“You came here quicker than I thought”, she remarked, when he burst into the room.
The Pale King wanted to respond, wanted to ask how she was, how the little reason for his coming was doing, if everything had gone swimmingly … but his mind was currently a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions and all he could get out was incoherent nonsense.
Herrah rolled her eyes. “Ugh, shut up and get your glowy tail over here, you short-ass centipede. Everything went fine. It's a girl.”
His heart raced faster than light.
A daughter!, he thought. A little girl!
As he came closer, he could see, that the thing she was holding in her arms was a little red bundle wrapped around … a newly hatched Spiderling.
“This is the child?”, he whispered to hide the sudden lump in his throat.
“Indeed. Wanna hold her?”
He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to touch such an innocent little creature with his blood- (Void-)stained hands.
But something inside him was crying out and filling him with the overwhelming urge to hold this little thing – this little life – in his arms.
“Yes, prithee!”, he choked out.
Ever so carefully, Herrah placed her (their) baby into the Pale King's arms.
A baby with his face and eyes, her mother's horns and a black shell save the head and she was so tiny, she fit snugly into his arms. She didn't have his glow, yet it felt like she was illuminating his soul and driving away the darkness in his mind, just by … existing.
“What a marvel”, he whispered and her mother nodded in agreement.
“Yeah … she's perfect”, Herrah muttered, her voice cracking.
Yes, he thought, perfect indeed.
The baby let out a tiny coo, stared at him with her tiny baby eyes and freed one of her tiny baby hands from her red bundle to wrap it around one of his fingers.
He felt like he was going to explode or melt into a puddle right then and there.
Suddenly a new, nigh inconceivable and terrifying thought crossed his mind: he could love this child. She was Herrah's and she was his too and she was alive and she was beautiful and he could love her without fear …
“You're bawling, Wyrm boy”, Herrah stated and probably meant to sound mocking, but failed.
The Pale King pointedly ignored the tears that were indeed running down his face and retorted: “Thou art crying as well!”
“No, I'm not!”, she spat, even though she was crying from all six eyes.
“If thou art not crying, We are not crying either!”, he snapped and hugged the little star close to himself, while bawling his eyes out.
“Fine!”, Herrah rasped.
And then they both bawled like idiots, while their little daughter made confused baby noises.
Once both of them had gotten a grip on their feelings, they took a deep breath and the Pale King (reluctantly) handed their daughter back to her mother.
Now that the little one was safely in her mother's arms again, Herrah cradled her with all four arms and started to purr up a storm.
The little Spiderling responded with tiny purrs of her own.
So. Freaking. Cute.
The Pale King allowed himself to bask in this little moment.
Then he remembered the reason this little Spiderling existed in the first place and his heart sank a little.
“Speak up, Wyrm.”
Ah. Of course Herrah the Beast would've noticed.
He took a deep breath and whispered: “Thou wilt not see her grow up.”
Her expression sobered a bit, but she remained calm. “I know. You upheld your part of our agreement and I will fulfil mine. But I'll tell you something, Wyrm …” She held her child closer and her purrs grew louder. “She's worth it. My little miracle …”
The Pale King couldn't help but smile.
“Dost thou have any plans for her future?”, he asked softly. “Anything thou wishest Us to-”
“I want her to be able to forge her own path”, Herrah cut him off. “I want her to be not an heir, not a queen, not a guardian. And most of all, I want her to be raised by Vespa once I'm gone. Got that?”
Vespa, the Hive Queen. Who happened to be Herrah's lover, so the Pale King knew why the Weaver would trust her with her precious little miracle.
“It shall be as thou wilt”, he promised her. “'Tis the least We can do.”
“Good. But don't worry, Wyrm boy, she'll still stay over in your White Palace from time to time. As long as you're good to her. You are her father, after all.”
He almost teared up again. It was far more than he deserved, he knew. That he would be allowed to have her at all.
The Pale King almost missed, when Herrah spoke up again: “And you? What do you want from her?”
What did he want for his daughter …?
To be perfectly honest, he had never actually thought about that before. He hadn't expected the Deepnest Queen to care about his opinion, so he had dismissed any such thought.
But now that he thought about it, the answer was … surprisingly simple.
“Thou meanest, aside from the obvious, that she may grow up safe and happy? Hmm … We wish that she never turn out like Us. That she shall be as thou wilt.”