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It was far too easy for her to slip into a daydream, to let go of the world and live out a fantasy. Such a simple yet effective trap. No wonder so many of her subjects had already succumbed to the promises of Her light.
But the White Lady was no common, mortal bug, she was a queen. A queen longed not for a different world, what use would it be with an entire kingdom to manage? Higher Beings had no use for the empty promise found in dreams, the ability to spin the world into their vision innate in their very soul. For her, there was an endless set of options, servants to cater to her every need, an adoring husband dedicated to her happiness and a loyal guard always by her side. With a single gesture, kingdoms could crumble, the land resown with her own progeny. So why be so torn up over a few million? Armed with her love, a Wyrm had found the strength to defy His nature, to create rather than to destroy. With the sole purpose of her happiness, a goddess's will had been defied, once untamed wildlife tamed and gated off in her name. And yet...
Yet here she found herself, seated within her personal repose, hidden away from the prying eyes and heavy burdens found in the Palace's gilded halls. Her dear Dryya was poised outside, nail ready to fend off any who may disturb her beloved queen's rest. Within these walls, the White Lady was no queen. Here she could remain, surrounded by the comforting fragrance of her cherished flowers, carefully crafted ornaments of a long forgotten worship gently clinking in the breeze, her child quietly cradled in her embrace as she lay in blissful silence. Here she could allow her roots to bury and unfurl, coursing through the ground, lost in the sensation of all the life around her.
Through her exploring roots, the queen of Hallownest could be aware of so much. The Mosskin's footsteps ran loudest as they frolicked through Unn's dream, their primitive chittering words just barely comprehensive from such a distance. Beyond that, the crackling of charged lumaflies underscored the squelching of Monomon's Oomas as they drifted through the Foggy Canyon. Even further were echos of the hustle and chatter of bugs in Queen's Station, the thundering bounds of stags as they transported passengers all across the kingdom, the thuds of their hooves echoing like a steady heartbeat. More noise and sensation reverberated through the soil, layering and mixing into a bright melody, proof that their kingdom was blossoming with life and activity.
Funny how the preservation of such a lively, vivacious place would rob her own children of any chance at life.
The White Lady's eyes flew open, awareness shifting from the vast expanse of her kingdom to focus on the small bundle on her chest. She sat up, observing it more carefully. It was cold, a freezing nothingness that permeated its gleaming shell and sent a shiver through the roots she had wrapped around it. If someone had peered into the White Lady's cocoon, it would have been a fair mistake to assume the small figure perched on her chest was a doll of some kind. The vessel was always still unless commanded to do otherwise, the only instinctual movement seeming to be a very faint thrum, reverberating from the void within its shell. No laughter would ever escape its shell at the antics of the Great Knights, its heart would never race due to any innocent infatuation, its leg would never twitch in impatience as it sat too long during a royal ceremony. All of that was replaced with a strange, otherworldly hum from deep within their thorax. This vessel was pure in its hollowness and that quality would be what saved her beloved Wyrm's kingdom. Sometimes she longed to destroy it herself, if only to have a single day with her children before they were cursed to eternal nothingness.
Sometimes the White Lady allowed herself to pretend, to simply wander a realm of fantasy in her mind, if only for a short while. It started out simple, quiet musings on what could have been drifting around her head lazily, like alubas. If not consumed by void, how would her child have acted? Considering the nature of both herself and her beloved Wyrm, they would not have been a very loud or impulsive child, likely either preferring to tinker endlessly like their father or to tend to a garden like herself. Of course, any child of two Higher Beings would be raised to be meticulously polite, especially considering the scrutiny they would endure from the royal court.....
Perhaps they would have behaved similarly to the Hollow Knight, quiet and obedient.
From this single seed, an entire world blossomed in her mind, built entirely on what she hoped wished was true. For a time, she had misjudged her silly fantasies to be true, causing her to observe things that were not there. Things such as seeing the vessel slightly straighten up as the Pale King approached or it walking with heavier steps after being lectured during training, these were all figments spawned of a desperate heart that wished to cling to the closest thing to a child that she had. The White Lady could rest easy, knowing that her Wyrm's foresight was infallible. Their vessel was pure and their kingdom would be saved. This knowledge did nothing to halt the images of her condemned children from entering her mind.
So really, there was no good reason for hope to pierce her heart when she arrived to find the vessel inexplicably next to Dryya, as still as ever, standing in front of the Hidden Stag Station like a stone guardian built to protect it for eternity.
Contrary to their its calm demeanor, her loyal knight had seemed rather flustered, trying to bat it away with her nail.
"Shoo!" she hissed, "Why are you still following me?! Training's over so just-!" Upon noticing her approach, the fiercest of the Great Knights straightened up, hemolymph coloring her pearly shell a pale blue. "Ah, your Highness, there you are!" As her knight bowed, the Queen of Hallownest's gleaming blue eyes drifted over to the Hollow Knight, standing as still and as emotionless as ever. It did not appear to have suddenly manifested a mind. Yet it still stood by the stagway, despite Dryya's orders. Could it be...?
Upon noticing the direction her queen's eyes were resting, Dryya's shoulders stiffened, "Well...my liege...I see you've noticed our.....guest?" The tint of her shell darkened slightly, " I've been trying but I just....can't get it to leave! Well, not without potentially damaging it and... I worry that my restraint is rapidly weakening," her hand exponentially tightened on her nail;
The White Lady barely restrained a giggle at her knight's frustration, roots lightly patting her knight's back. "Oh Dryya, there is no need for you to fret about this! I am sure you did everything in your power to get rid of it but I would like to retreat to my gardens as soon as possible. If it is meant to follow us, then it shall. In time, I am certain an explanation will be given to us."
Dryya sighed, shoulders slumping slightly, "This would all be so much simpler if our wise king had foresaw it being so difficult and had seen fit giving it a voice to explain itself..." She glared at the vessel, as if it could even give her any kind of answer. The White Lady stared at it too, a derisive amusement rising inside of her. How fun it would be to see it displayed in a new setting! It certainly would provide good fodder for her daydreams to be rooted in.
The heavy pulse of the Royal Stag's footsteps resonated throughout the ground as he approached, faint at first but slowly increasing in volume, becoming a thundering heartbeat. As the stag approached, the vessel drew its nail, the faint thrum from within its carapace growing slightly louder as it crouched to the ground.
What on earth is it doing?
Air rushed past her as Dryya darted from her side to stand in front of the Hollow Knight.
Is it going to attack?
A chill shot from the tips of her roots as they wrapped around the vessel, restraining its legs.
Why would it-
A clang rang through the air as Dryya expertly parried the vessel's strike at the approaching stag, who had wisely skidded to a stop.
Dryya snatched the nail out of its claws, swiftly turning to the Royal Stag and bowing deeply, "I apologize sincerely for its behaviour, I have no idea what came over it!" Her voice raised slightly in pitch, a glare of frustration affixing the vessel.
"Th-It has never encountered a stag before...Perhaps it...;perceived you as a threat?" It was not often that her voice wavered, yet here they were. The White Lady looked down at the small vessel, searching its hollow eyes for answers. What was it thinking? On occasion, the Hollow Knight had acted seemingly on its own accord, but it had always been in response to some past order given. What command could have triggered this?
The Royal Stag relaxed slightly, carefully approaching the trio, eyes carefully fixed upon the Hollow Knight his voice a warm rumble, "Well I'd reckon a stag must be pretty odd looking to someone who hasn't ever seen one before. Sorry if I startled you, Little One, you think you can forgive me?" The vessel of course gave no answer or indication, there was no forgiveness that it could provide anyone. The stag seemed to deflate slightly at this but turned to address the queen with a bow, " We best be going soon if we wanna get to your gardens any time soon. Will the Little One be alright riding with us?"
Dryya nodded stiffly, "No need to worry, I can assure you that it will be on its best behaviour." She crouched down to address the Hollow Knight, her eyes sharp, "The stag is not a threat and you will not attack it for there is no reason to. I don't care what other orders you've been following up until now but this is imperative. Do I make myself clear?" The Hollow Knight nodded mechanically as it always did. After lingering for a second more than necessary, Dryya straightened up, the vessel's nail still tightly clutched in her hand, "Your weapon will be returned to you when we reach the gardens. Now, shall we?" She held up a hand to the White Lady, aiding her to ascend atop the stag.
Her eyes fluttered shut as the other two clambered on, the White Lady's mind drifting lazily into a quiet daydream. A rather dangerous indulgence in this age yet one the queen delved into rather often. After all, her mind was well guarded with heady blossoms, steadfast roots and vicious brambles. How cathartic it would be to see Her feathers torn and shredded, hanging off her branches like mere trinkets. Within this sanctuary, she allowed her mind to wandering, strolling through scenes of what could have been.
The day would have been arduous, charged with a quiet anticipation Dutiful as ever, her child would listen to their tutor's every command, parrying strikes and obediently taking notes on the history of their future kingdom. As unbothered as they would have seemed, her roots would have sensed their true state, the excitement in how their legs twitched, the impatience in how their eyes darted around the room, the nervousness in the tremor of their attacks.
Her dear Wyrm would have foresaw their request, relaying to her the week before what was to come in a quiet whisper as they lay in bed. Her heart would have lifted, the entire week creeping along at an unbearable pace. . There would have been no surprise when she saw them standing at the Stag Station. Despite their best efforts, her child would not have been able to hold perfectly still, fidgeting with their robes, claws running up and down their nail nervously. Their voice would be impossibly soft, the request to accompany her as fragile as spider silk. Her darling child, so sweet, so soft, so worried about helping others that a single self serving request would seem like an irredeemable crime. Upon hearing her approval, their face would light up, joy emerging like a bud cautiously blossoming under the sun's gentle warmth.
The thundering hooves of the stag would likely still startle them, but she would reassure them, roots delicately cradling their chitin as she softly explained the wondrous stagways, listing off all the stations that it would transport bugs to. They would sit transfixed as she spoke, begging her again to tell of the otherworldly creatures lurking in Fog Canyon or the bulbous fungi that comprised the Fungal Wastes. The entire stag ride would be spent describing Hallownest wonders to her child, dreaming of the day her dear Wyrm would allow them away from the palace long enough to see them all. Of course she could understand wanting to keep them close, the fierce urge to shield this tiny bundle of light from all the darkness of the world, protected and safe forever. Perhaps she could convince her reclusive beloved to leave his workshop long enough for a trip to the capital. Their child had seemed especially entranced with tales of the nobles's antics and Lurien would certainly be delighted to allow them to gaze through his telescope. It would be nice, to simply focus on family for a little while, not to worry about their status or the burdens of ruli-
A sudden skidding jolted her out of her thoughts, the deathly cold chitin of the vessel pressing against her side, the world suddenly coming back into focus, the dirt rough beneath her roots, humming with dormant life, waiting for a single spark of energy to emerge from the earth. Contraily, the Hollow Knight was perfectly still, not a single sound escaping the void lurking within it. As lifeless as a corpse.
Technically it was void puppeting the corpse of her dead child, but who really cared about semantics?
The garden had been getting slightly out of hand with her absence, leaves blanketing the architecture. thorns creeping along her flowerbeds. It seems Unn would continue trying to take back what she seemed to think were her lands. How childish it was to continue bickering with a much bigger threat looming overhead.
Nevertheless, it was rather satisfying to see her own roots squeeze the life out of the thorns, though the drops of orange fluid did stir some concern. No matter, the infection could wait until she returned to the palace.
For now, there was nothing to worry about except tending to her garden...
And the vessel potentially attacking her flowers. Oh dear.
It had been a blissful day, the vessel soon becoming a staple of her weekly retreats. Whenever she felt herself drifting too far into the realm of fantasy, the living reminder of her situation would be perched in her lap, its chilling carapace and eerie stillness dragging the White Lady back to reality. No matter how much she loathed it. If the decrease in concerned glances meant anything, Dryya likely also appreciated the vessel's presence. Why she would worry though, the White Lady had no idea.
The light would never be able to permeate her dreams, not even if she wanted it to.
On the other hand, her darling Wyrm had seemed heavily opposed to the vessel's accompaniment. That first time, he had been thrown into a complete panic after a few mere hours, darting through the stagways in a frenzy, gossamer wings sparking with magic as he stormed into her repose The vessel's hollow gaze seemed to freeze him in his tracks. Or perhaps it was the fact that it was cradled in her lap.
He had quite a bit to say about that little detail.
A claw fidgeted with the hem of robes stained by the dust of the stagways. Bemusedly, the White Lady wondered if any of his subjects had recognized him as he sped through
"...So you took it here?" His voice rasped inside her mind, weighed down with a heavy draining fatigue. Oh dear, how long had it been since he slept? She supposed that she hadn't exactly been the most attentive. Roots circled around him, gently rubbing the tension from the carapace as she nodded softly.
She tried to keep her voice quiet and smooth, as not to alarm him, "Yes, dearest. I apologize for not informing you but I..I did not think it would impact you to such an extent." She curled around him, trying her best to comfort him. He always worked too much, thought too much, driving himself to the brink of exhaustion over and over, as a moment's rest would end him. But her Wyrm usually kept some composure, the signs only noticeable if one was carefully searching for them.
It seemed the vessel was a sore point for both of them.
Barely perceptible tremors began to dissipate as he leaned into her, a soft exhale escaping his throat. For a while, they remained like that, intimately hidden from all the troubles of the world, basking in each other's presence.
But it seems every precious moment must end far too soon. He glanced up at her, eyes weary but still stern,
"You know what I'm going to say." his voice whispered in her mind. She sighed, roots tightening slightly around him, "I hate to chastise you, you know that. But...you can't just hold it in your lap." The exclamation rang out, shattering the peaceful intimacy they had a moment ago, weeks of frustration captured in one phrase, "We...We need to be careful. And I know, I...I understand it's difficult but..." He broke off, head hung in defeat, "With all we've sacrificed, we can't afford any risks here." His voice grew flat, the same tone of stubborn stoicism he took when he was trying to block out his own feelings and remain objective.
A soft bundle of warmth unfurled at her core, despite the biting frustration she felt. He should really believe more in his abilities. He was a Higher Being, capable of anything he put his mind to, no matter how atrocious. Whatever was once her child had been killed and hollowed out by void before they even had a chance to emerge from the egg. The vessel was nothing if not purged of any life that may have once hidden within that shell. She cradled his face in her roots, lifting his head up to meet her eyes.
"You needn't worry, darling." His shoulders deflated slightly, a soft exhale of relief escaping him, "Nothing could ever corrupt the Hollow Knight. You're very skilled at what you do and I have no doubt in your abilities so-" He stiffened again, wings flaring out from beneath his robes as he backed out from her grasp.
"That's not-! I'm ...... I'm sorry..." Her beloved winced slightly at his own tone, wings drooping slightly. She stared at him, awaiting an explanation, "I-It's not that it isn't hollow, it's just....best to take every precaution." He approached her, delicate claws ghosting across her cheeks as he gazed into her eyes, "I know it's hard, you want to shower the world around you with love. That's beautiful and it's one of the many reasons I love you. But with the vessel...we can't risk it. Love, do you understand?"
She nodded quietly, her roots once again wrapping him in her embrace. Being cautious was how he preferred, every road to the futures he saw clouded with doubt and potential missteps. But what he couldn't seem to see was how perfect and capable he was. She would try and retain some distance from the vessel, if only for his peace of mind. It wouldn't be the worst thing if she occasionally held it in her arms or whispered a lullaby from long faded lands or explained the uses of flowers in garden to it. It was all pretend, simply an extension of the elaborate fantasy she crafted in her mind. Her wyrm's work could never be impacted by such silly, banal things.
After all, if a single comforting touch would rupture their whole plan, her husband might as well have gifted their kingdom to the Radiance.
It had been nothing short of a miracle that she had been able to convince him to allow the vessel to accompany her to the garden on subsequent visits. In hindsight, his worry was merited. If she was being honest, there were a few moments in those hours that had stirred the lingering, stupid, traitorous notions of the vessel truly being impure. Images of it waiting by the stag station, of it directly disobeying Dryya's orders, of it unexpectedly swiping at the Royal Stag, they floated in the back of her mind, feeding her creeping doubt.
It had been so trite, so simple. Honestly, the queen of Hallownest should have assumed something like this.
"Your Majesty, I don't know what to tell you. It would NOT listen to me, no matter how many times I told it to leave!" Out of all the knights, Dryya seemed to be the most open with her disrespect towards the king, never one to hide her animosity. It seemed that the brief escape from the palace had done nothing to dull her sharp tongue. If anything, she was more tense now than before.
"So it was refusing to follow orders? Reminds me of someone I know." His voice rang deadpan, though there was twinkle in his eyes that relayed his amusement. The constant bickering was more gentle barbs fueled by mild irritation rather than any real aggression. It was an odd friendship but it certainly livened up the rather bland court proceedings.
At his insult, Dryya stiffened slightly, eyes darting away, "I...well...everyone else was...busy?"
His only response was a slightly arched eyebrow. The White Lady silently sipped her tea, observing the scene with only a slight concern. Dryya was hardly the only Great Knight to have ever disobeyed the king, it had once been almost expected. But with the infection and her husband's growing tenseness, she worried for Dryya's career. The queen decided to chime in.
"If I may pry, what is this about?"
Both of them started at the same time, only to halt and glare at each other. Dryya begrudgingly motioned for the Pale King to speak.
"Well, my dear Root, before you departed, I had requested that Dryya take someone with her in order to better protect you. Despite assuring she that she would, it seems that she had decided to forego my instructions." That was met with a huff of disdain from the knight. "Is there anything you can say for yourself, Dryya?" His voice practically dripped with smug sarcasm as he took a sip of his tea. He was definitely messing with her.
It seemed to be working. Hemolymph once again colored Dryya's carapace as she fumbled for a retort. She was always better with a nail than she was at exchanging verbal blows. "I...well...you see-the Hollow Knight is here, so you really shouldn't be-" She cut herself off, whipping around to stare at the vessel, sitting unperturbed.
The Pale King followed her gaze, brow furrowed. After a moment, a quiet, "Oh," escaped his lips, "Of course."
The White Lady looked between the two, trying to piece together whatever realization had just struck them. The vessel seemed utterly unconcerned with the gazes now fixed upon it.
Dryya was the first to break the silence, bursting into a fit of hearty laughter,"Oh my Wyrm- And to think I was- I...Your majesty, if you had just trusted me, none of this would have happened! Next time, be more careful when giving orders! Or just make sure the vessel isn't around to overhear."
He shook his head slightly, a slight smile hidden behind his hand, "Well, next time you should actually obey me. I can only assume it felt compelled to follow my orders because you indicated that you would not. And being the king, your orders mean nothing to it as my word is law." Despite his stern words, his eyes gleamed with relief.
Her beloved Wyrm looked up at her, eyes warm with mirth, "I suppose this at least assures us that the vessel cannot be exploited by any other bug. Certainly good to know that Herrah is unable control our kingdom's saviour."
Despite how it felt like her hopes were all shattering, she had responded with a beaming smile.
It was proven. This being, this tool was nothing but the corpse of her child, not a shred of life lurking within it. So nothing was at risk if it bore the burden of all her secrets, if it became the guardian to the secrets that haunted her heart. No kingdom would be endangered if she cradled it here, alone in her repose, tears spilling over all the children she had lost. No one would have to know if she cooed at it, pretending that her child was alive and simply sleeping in her arms, calm and safe and alive and still and happy and...
Every precious moment must end far too soon. Every stolen instance of joy is ripped away at the first opportunity, reality crashing back in.
The vessel stared out at her, cold carapace pressed against her roots, all consuming endless darkness churning within its sockets. There was nothing there. It was absolute in its emptiness, perfectly pure, so hollow that there would not even be a heart to be softened by affection.
The White Lady closed her eyes, cradling her child's corpse to her chest as she lay back onto the the ground. The world doesn't need their queen.
She could permit herself to pretend a moment more.