Chapter Text
It was always jarring, returning to the White Palace after visiting the Hive.
The near-blinding glow of the structure's white walls and metal architecture took some adjusting after prolonged time in the warm yellow embrace of the Hive. It was like trying to look directly into a Snail Shaman's spell for more than a few moments. However, she was well adjusted to the intensity of high concentrations of Soul, and the glow of the White Palace she most reluctantly called home was no different.
Frankly, she was arriving much sooner than she would have preferred.
She had been scheduled to train under Vespa for another two cycles before needing to return. However, the Royal Retainer whose name she had been unbothered to remember had insisted that she must come to the palace in that very moment. Something of great urgency had occurred, and her father required her immediate assistance to handle properly.
She doubted this was truly the case, but alas, she had heeded the summons regardless.
Her berry red cloak clashed harshly against the white decor.
While her Pale royal garbs were waiting for her, and she was likely expected to change into them before proceeding...
Hornet of Desspnest, Daughter of Hallownest, pushed open the grand double doors of her father's Pale Court.
A red spot that did not belong in the pure white glow of the room.
A pair of Royal Retainers had moved to open the doors for her upon her approach. Fortunately, she had managed to beat them to it. She had repeatedly insisted that she was more than capable of opening her own doors. Unfortunately, this concept appeared to continue to elude them.
Upon entering the room, Hornet expected her eyes to be immediately drawn to her father, resting upon his throne at the centre of the room. His Light had a habit of drawing attention, even if it was unwanted. And although it had dimmed in recent times, it still far outshone all other sources of light in the kingdom combined.
However, to her surprise and mild interest, something else had managed to beat the Pale Monarch in ensnaring her attention.
"I know my rights! You cannot hold me without just cause! I demand to see my lawyer! I have a right to a phone call! ...HOW THE HECK DO I KNOW THAT?!"
In the centre of the court was perhaps the oddest bug that Hornet had ever laid her eyes upon, if only by his words.
The bug was kneeling in the centre of a large glowing rune carved into the floor. Hornet was familiar with it, as she had seen it in action many times. It was designed to restrict the movement of any bug that stood upon it, with varying levels of power. Handy for keeping prisoners in place, or simply keeping nervous messengers from running away due to the presence of the King.
Because of this, Hornet was confused about the additional security placed upon the screaming bug.
Two Kingsmould stood on either side of the bug, their curved claw-blades crossed together and pinning his head down, ready to slice it off at a moment's notice. Behind the prisoner and outside the rune stood Kindly Isma, standing firm, with a thick green vine held firmly in her grip and wrapped around the bug. His arms were bound tightly by the foliage, and Hornet knew that even if the bug attempted an escape without losing his head, he would not get far.
However, peeking out from the bonds, Hornet was able to make out the cloak that the bug wore. It was a crudely made silk blanket, so much so that Hornet would not be surprised if this bug merely ripped a web off the walls of Deepnest's caverns and wrapped it around himself.
The bug did not wear a mask, at least not one visible from behind. All Hornet could tell was that this bug had a faint black hair covering the carapace of his head. It reminded her of...
"My daughter, I thank you for arriving on such notice."
Hornet forced her gaze away from the bug as he chittered away to himself, muttering something about 'cop shows', though Hornet held no interest in learning what that was. Instead, she resumed her approach to her father's throne.
Hornet continued further, until it was the prisoner who faced her back and knelt before her father's throne. She could feel the lesser bug's eyes peering into her, but she paid it no mind. Just so long as it shut up its ramblings.
"It was of no trouble, Father. Though I must confess, I remain curious as to the reason why my lessons with Queen Vespa were interrupted so suddenly."
A subtle jab at the silent treaty she held with her Father that he'd violated.
He merely nodded.
"I apologise, dear daughter. I'll ensure you and the Queen of the Hive are compensated for this intrusion. However, this is a matter that could not wait."
Hornet looked up to the King of the Eternal Kingdom. Two more Kingsmoulds stood guard on either side of him. (̶S̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶e̶l̶s̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶l̶o̶n̶g̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶y̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶s̶i̶d̶e̶.̶)̶
"With all due respect, Father, I fail to see why this savage beast requires my attention."
The bug behind her released an exaggerated gasp. "Savage? I'll have you know I've been called a 'fascinating specimen' by my handlers. ...wait, that's not a good thing, is it?"
The Pale King sighed, "Unfortunately, I am afraid you are likely the only one within my borders qualified to handle this situation properly."
"I find that unlikely, but go on."
As the Pale King began to explain, he gestured behind her, and Hornet took that as a sign to turn to face the prisoner.
"This beast was found stalking our citizens from within the walls of our kingdom's capital..."
"In my defence, that guy running the place is literally called 'The Watcher' and has a giant telescope that is definitely not pointed at the leaky ceiling. Just saying."
The Pale Kings ignored the bug's continued rambling. "We do not know how he got in, nor for how long he remained hidden. Naturally, a panic erupted upon his discovery, with many citizens mistaking him for a wild beast without a mind, which admittedly is not too far from the truth." "
"Rude."
"Numerous sentries were injured while attempting to restrain him, and it took Hegemol's great strength to finally pin him down. Isma was then dispatched with a platoon of sentries to restrain the bug and bring him here."
Hornet eyed this bug which had allegedly caused such chaos. His unmasked face certainly had the look of a savage beast. Sharp mandibles as sharp as those of a Garpede, four round predatory eyes which gazed straight at her, with four more smaller eyes angled to the side, both on the upper and lower ends of his face. It honestly was not too dissimilar to the maskless faces of Deepnest's critters and...
What was he doing? It looked like he was trying to squish half of his face against itself.
"STUPID LACK OF EYELIDS!!!"
"While this certainly does sound like a matter of the utmost seriousness, I still fail to see why I must be involved."
Behind her, Hornet could hear the subtle clicking of her father's own mandibles behind her.
The familiar sound of disappointment.
Hornet resisted the urge to clench the inside of her silk cloak.
"Dear daughter, surely you recognise the material this bug is cloaked in."
"...it is Silk."
"And I'm certain that you will still be able to find similar patches in the capital that had to be cut apart to free our brave sentries."
This time, Hornet wasn't able to stop herself from grabbing her cloak.
She hoped it went unnoticed.
"You believe him to be of Weaver descent?"
"That is the mystery that we are trying to solve. I hope you will be able to assist us in that."
The 'Weaver' flashed its mandibles in an arrogant manner, as if it were about to bite down on a delicious feast. Isma's vine and the Kingsmoulds' blades did not seem to bother him at all. Even when silent, the beast somehow managed to give her a headache.
"He is not a resident of Deepnest," she assured her father. "Of that, I am sure"
"I suspected as much; however, it is no secret that the Weavers did not originate from the caverns they now call home. And while the Hallownest currently holds no quarrel with the bugs of Deepnest..."
"...the same cannot be said for any Weavers outside our borders," finished Hornet.
Her father's logic was sound, frustratingly so. And while it was typical for him to suspect a foreign bug of scheming against his precious kingdom, it was not something that she was able to refute. After all, it was only logical for a king to attempt to sniff out any threats to his kingdom. This behaviour was not something new to her father. Especially after...
Horent released a tired sigh before turning to face her father once more. "I shall consult my aunts on the matter. Perhaps he possesses a characteristic that they will recognise, whether it be from one of their own, or a land foreign to us both."
The Pale King just nodded weakly. "Thank you, daughter. That is all that I ask."
"You know I'm right here, right? I can just tell you where I'm from. ...wait, no, I don't think I ever learned my terrainiam's address. Never mind!"
Hornet yearned to simply cut open the thorax of this bug and be done with it, but alas, a princess must keep appearances.
Turning to Isma, Hornet asked, "Does he ever fall silent?"
"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty."
The knight revered for her kindness sounded genuinely annoyed by this fact.
"Hey, if you woke up after a nap with the ability to talk and use opposable thumbs, you'd want to make the most of it as well."
Hornet raised her brow at this. "Are you claiming that you lacked a voice to communicate with before arriving in our kingdom?"
The lesser bug nodded. "Along with apposable thumbs and other necessities, yes."
So he lacked a sapient mind before entering the range of her father's beacon...
That was proof against Weaver heritage, but the Silk, while crude, said otherwise. Unless this bug had managed to sneak into Deepnest and fashion a cloak out of Silk on the walls before somehow reaching the capital unnoticed, he would have needed to produce it himself unless a Weaver gifted it to him.
Hornet sighed again.
"Lady Isma, if it is not too much trouble, I will require a length of one of your vines."
After some struggle, and more yapping than Hornet hoped to hear in her extremely long lifetime, they were able to get the prisoner restrained in a manner that allowed for easy transport.
It was a neat little trick that Hornet had recently mastered.
One that gave the prisoner full mobility so he wouldn't slow her down, but the moment he did anything she did not approve of, all it was a single command to force him to the floor. It was a skill that Hornet was rather proud of.
As for Isma's vine, well, the bug needed something to stick his mandibles into.
Perhaps that way she'd get some silence on her journey.
Due to her own personal security measures, Isma and the Kingsmould no longer needed to keep the potential Weaver pinned down, which Hornet still considered to be unnecessary. This simple bug could not be that much of a threat.
His cloak of webs still covered much of his body, and Hornet was not willing to risk anything by undressing this bug without consent. Therefore, she was not much else she could gather about this bug appearance-wise other than what she already knew.
(Other than that he was taller than her, discounting her horns, but that didn't mean anything.)
Her prisoner was glaring at her.
She could feel it.
Good. At least he was the one annoyed this time around.
Still, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.
"Are you certain you do not require any assistance, Princess Hornet?" questioned Isma.
Her tone was the same one she would use when Hornet would climb things she wasn't supposed to in her younger days.
"It is alright, Lady Isma," Hornet assured her. "It is only a brief tram ride to Deepnest. And once we are within its borders, this bug would be wise not to attempt to slip from my grasp. Lest something worse were to catch him first."
Isma offered a curt nod as well as a brief bow. She proceeded to move to the Pale King's throne and stand guard by his side. Where her...
"It is best that we set off now," decided Hornet, kneeling once more before her throne. "I shall return to you with news as soon as I am able, Father."
The Pale King merely nodded.
He did not speak again.
It was clear that this conversation was over.
Typical.
Horent stood up and turned her back to the throne. "Come along, bug. I am taking you to gain some answers."
Subtle vibrations in the air told her that he was still complaining, even without her father's gift of common language. No matter. So long as she paid them no mind, she wouldn't understand what nonsense he was spouting at the moment.
Not that she understood him before.
She, with the possible Weaver trailing behind her, stepped through the grand doors of the Pale Court once again. Said doors proceeded to shut behind her, blocking the Pale Monarch's light from being able to reach her.
Just as she liked it.
///
When the doors out of the room shut behind his daughter, the Pale King allowed himself to release a long, weary sigh. Every day, it hurt more. Every day, she seemed to distance herself more. Every day, he seemed to come closer to losing-
"No cost to great."
"My liege, are you alright?"
It was natural for Isma to notice. And to speak with such concern...
Out of all of his Great Knights, she, out of all of them, knew best when to address him as a king, and when to speak to him as a friend.
"I am as well as I can be these days, Isma." Turning to look down at her, he forced a little more soul into his voice. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off? You errand it after having to drag that scoundrel here."
She suddenly stiffened like a wise oak tree. When had he last seen one of those? Long enough for one to reach maturity at least, perhaps even the end of its life cycle.
His dear Root always desired to see one...
"My Lord, I couldn't possibly..."
'Thank you for finishing that particular thought for me, my dear.'
"I heard Ogrim was practising sculpting in his quarters today. Perhaps you'd be interested in joining him?"
That was more than enough to send Isma out of the throne room.
Of course she had the self-control to bow and exit the room 'properly', but the King was aware that she was itching to run to her not-so-subtle beloved. It was enough to warm the ancient being's soul.
But alas, once he could no longer hear the subtle pitter-patter of her steps against the palace's tiles outside the room, and he was alone once more, the cold was quick to seep back in. The Kingsmoulds hardly made for good company. After all, they were only constructs of Voi...
"Born of God and Void."
The King forced himself to shake those thoughts away.
It was necessary, he reminded himself.
There was no other way; he had foreseen it.
...and yet, he had failed to foresee the spider's arrival in his kingdom.
Of course, his foresight had limits. He could not predict everything. He was far from omniscient.
However, for something that had caused such a ruckus, for such a fascinating specimen, it was curious that he hadn't predicted such an arrival, even vaguely. Of course, it could just as easily be nothing at all. A minor event he simply overlooked.
However, this spider had already captured the king's curiosity in its web.
While the spider had knelt before the Pale King, the God of Knowledge made the decision to investigate this foreigner's connection to the beacon that expanded the minds of his people. What he found, it only fed his desire to learn more.
The only way that could describe it would be a tapestry, held together by an outer frame, with the strings it was made up of slowly being tightened together, so that the picture could stand on its own.
Soon enough, the spider would likely be able to keep his mind even outside of Hallownest.
He had never seen anything like it; the implications alone brought so much to the table.
...but it didn't matter.
So little of what had meant so much to him mattered anymore. Not after She appeared.
All that was left...
All that would come...
That was what mattered.