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A sibling. No, a sister . This one is untouched by the very darkness making up its body.
She- they?- she… She sleeps in the crib that used to be its. And the Pure Vessel sits, keeping watch over sister, in the chair where its Mother sat and sung it lullabies when Father wasn’t around. The Queen of Deepnest, sister’s mother, came to talk with the King of Hallownest. They hold their meeting few rooms away. Far, but close enough that when it focuses hard enough on the silence, it can hear an argument unfolding.
That's why Herrah hadn't taken sister with her. Disturbing the little one’s rest seemed to be unacceptable. Mother departed for Her gardens, together with Fierce Dryya, earlier today. And the rest of the Five Great Knights are patrolling the kingdom, looking for newly infected or distressed bugs, offering a helping claw to those who need it. The beast shared her distrust and doubt towards the royal retainers clearly, so the Pure Vessel ended up being the only valid choice for babysitting.
Except it has no idea what it should do. Instructions, it had, but…
Herrah told it to watch the child, don't wake her up. Protect her from any danger and if she starts crying, it is to take sister to her mother. Watching, it does. That's what it always does. Don't wake her? No problem. It’s as silent as the graves and their ghosts in the Resting Grounds. It’s more worried about the sound of the petals rustling over them both than any noise it could ever make. And there’s nothing to protect her from. This is the White Palace, it’s buried deeper than the Distant Village. It’s late evening, too. Nobody walks the halls at this time. Not even the Lumaflies glow as brightly as during the day, leaving the rooms comfortably dim and tinted slightly blue.
Everything is silent and calm and the princess sleeps peacefully. Duty well done. At least it thinks so before a small mewl comes out of the crib.
A mewl… That's not a cry. But it should be probably answered, still? What if that noise comes before a cry? Wouldn't it be better, more efficient, if it prevented such thing entirely? It wasn’t told to prevent anything, though. Would peeking under the blankets get it in trouble? It didn't get a permission to do such a thing. Herrah or Father could get angry. Well, Herrah would. Definitely. It doesn't know what Father would do. He can do anything to it, including throwing it back into the Abyss. And that's… It doesn't want to go back there. Maybe it should just ignore-
A yawn. The tiniest sounding thing it has probably ever heard. Equivaly tiny hand worms its way out of the blankets and waves around, looking for a living being that would hold her close. Maybe. It doesn't know anything about grubs besides the fact that they exist and maybe some basics that include any living, breathing being. Something inside of it tells it not to ignore sister’s small peeps. So it risks reaching out to her. It lets the top part of its finger brush against her palm and she grasps it. It freezes, a little bit too worried that if it will jerk away too fast it will hurt her.
Sister’s second hand emerges and clings to it along with the first. And it’s… She’s so soft . And her warmth… Different to Father’s or Mother’s. Father’s felt like a tide, either filling it fully, overwhelming it, or just lapping at the edges of its existence. Constantly moving. Mother’s was often weak. Her heat was just for Her and nobody else, She explained once. Not because of selfishness, She assured it. She wants to share her glow and love with everyone, it knows. It is just how her physical body and life works. Sister’s warmth is ever-present. Unmoving and reassuring just by being still and there. It lulled the Pure Vessel into ease it hadn't experienced ever before. She’s here, she’s safe and she’s living. And it’s the most wonderful thing ever.
It moves forward as she pulls its hand over her, making it a second, cold blanket. Is she too hot? Maybe it should remove the blanket, so she wouldn't be… With its second hand, it removes the cloth from over her head and stops. It stops moving, stops breathing, stops calculating and thinking. It can’t tear away its gaze from sister’s eyes, features of her stark white mask. In the moment, it feels like it should give up the Pure part of its title and give it to her. She deserves it more, because she is the most beautiful pristine thing it will have the honor to see in its entire life in Hallownest, it's sure. She’s the most perfect little red something on the face of earth and it is more than willing to fight anyone who'd dare to disagree.
Sister seems startled at first, she surely expected her mama to be there, not a stranger. It’s a complete stranger to her. It worries she will start crying, or scream or, worse yet, cover in fear. The unknown is dangerous, after all. It wouldn't blame her, but it would hurt. It doesn't know why it would, but something whispers in its mind it would shatter its entire being.
Her eyes move with a hidden smile, instead. Its shoulders sag with immeasurable relief. She giggles and it can’t help but think that has to be the nicest sound in the world. The royal band wouldn't be able to exceed it. Not the weirdly welcoming cacophony of voices and instruments combined with the calming murmur of rain in the City of Tears. Not even the wind chimes on Mother’s branches swaying in gentle breeze accompanied by her hums could.
The rest of the blanket covering sister goes flying as she kicks it away, only to nuzzle her face into its hand. Its head feels light and something in its chest tingles. It feels nice… It feels right… Except it isn't .
It shakes its head. It carefully pries its hand free from sister’s grip and pulls away, hiding it under its cape. It is not to feel. It is not to feel . It isn't its place to hold the Princess. Nobody ordered it, so it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t feel anything, even though sister looks at it with such betrayal. The drowning sensation filling its chest and throat is nothing. It is to be ignored.
She just sits there for a good while. Staring at it, hurt and confused. Why did sibling go away? Grumpy, she huffs, before she starts crawling towards it, determined. She really doesn't seem happy with its decision of leaving her. And she won't let it be.
The Pure Vessel just stares as she makes her way to the edge. It expects her to stop at the end of the crib. Surely, she wouldn't try to reach for it, right? It is a tad bit too far for her to grasp at its cape. Sister realizes that, right?
Apparently, she doesn't. It races to catch her the moment she topples over. If she’d fall, she would be injured and crying and it doesn't want to hear or see her weep.
Maybe this was sister’s plan the whole time. Make it catch her in its hands, because there would be no other choice. Clever. Slightly irritating, but clever. It guesses this isn't the last one of baked plans the Princess will commit to.
She now sits in its palms, content. She’s so small, so little, just how tiny can grubs get? It could hold her comfortably maybe even in just one hand. It hasn't even reached its final molt, yet... At least Father told it it hasn't. Will she grow big, too? As big as itself? Probably not, with how small she is now. It can’t remember any of its sibling being this small. That's alright, it will love her anyway. Size doesn't matter. Nothing matters.
Okay, maybe yes. The size might matter. Because it’s so scary to hold sister like this. What if she will fall? What then? She’s holding onto its fingers, just for the sake of holding it back, right now. With both- are those two other arms?? - with all four of her tiny paws. She’s also half spider. So she should be naturally immune to the whole falling thing. But that also means she’s half mortal, weaker than it, Father or Mother. If she did…
Sister mewls, making it look at her. No… No, it’s gonna be fine. Just look at her. How strong she is already. Her grip speaks volumes. One of her hands lets go, so she can reach out to it. What does she want? What does she need? It tilts its head and leans in close, as if the Princess would tell it of her wants not unlike a secret.
Grubs don't know of words, though, it knows that. Still, when its face is close enough to sister, two of her hands cup its cheeks. It slightly startles. How soft the touch is, how curious for now clawless fingertips slide over its shell, tracing almost invisible scars that experiences gifted it with almost every clash of nails. Her face is full of fascination. Of wonder. She touches her own cheek and seems so excited when she seems to figure out that their masks are, in a sense, same. Squeaking, she headbutts it. Forehead to forehead. Strong enough to make a hollow sound emit from its head, but weak enough that it didn't hurt. Its shell is hard and thick, of course it didn't feel a thing. Years made it that way. The training did, too. Sister doesn't have any of that, though.
At first she just seems surprised. Confused. A new sensation, most likely. Hardly she could have a chance to experience any sort of pain before. Oh no, it is the reason she experienced her first pain, how could it let it happen, what sort of guardian, knight, is it to let- Its berating stops when sister softly sobs. Its attention snaps to her and the little translucent tears forming in her dark eyes.
Something in its chest grows tight at the sight. Something it doesn't know how to name tells it to pull her close and stroke her back. So it does. Something that should be ignored, because it’s a mistake of its heart, tells it to hide her under its cape when she buries her face in its thorax. To keep her from any danger, to keep her in dark, because dark is secure. So it does. Because it’s safe to do so with her. She wouldn't tell anybody. And nobody watches.
It swears, to sister in its complete silence, that it will love her. Love is alright. Love is what keeps it going. It will stay strong for the love of her, just like it does for the love of Father, Mother and entire Hallownest.
Love is the only thing it refuses to ever fight off or ignore.
Sister quietly sobs for a while. But that's okay. Crying is important, it recalls the Teacher’s assistant saying. He said something about emotional pressure. How it should not be contained for too long, or else a bug can break underneath it at the most inconvenient time. It slightly wonders if Father ever cried. He seems full of emotional pressure.
The sobs quiet down and it feels her nuzzle closer. It presses her against its thorax ever so slightly more. It feels good. So good to be able to show its care.
Small soft snores fill the air as sister falls asleep. Its chest feels light again. How beautiful it is to be trusted enough to be fallen asleep on- Oh. Oh no. Oh no . How will it- How should it put her back into the crib without disturbing her rest? Oh no.
It ends up frozen, not knowing what to do, for entirety of Herrah’s visit. Thankfully, it’s the Queen that comes and not Father. She has a funny look on her face when it reveals sister clinging to it.
She lightly laughs, her voice gruff from yelling and yet soft for sister’s sake, “I suppose you two got to know each other, hmm? It seems it went well.” Well would be an understatement. It went amazing , except that last headbutt part, but that's only for the Pure Vessel and sister to know. “Come on, let me free you of her little grasp.”
She walks up to them and it flinches slightly away when her hands reach out to take her daughter. Its hold on sister turns protective for maybe just a millisecond before it rights itself. That short lived mistake is enough to give Herrah a pause. It starts to worry. Will she tell? Does she now know of its secret? Hopefully not…
It is left to worry alone in silence without getting any answer, though, as she takes sister wordlessly. It grasps its forgotten nail right away after the grub leaves its hands. Anxious as it is, its grip is needlessly strong.
Herrah collects the red blanket that the Princess was covered with and walks out of the door. It hears Father’s voice. He asks, did it do a satisfactory job?, before He calls out to it to join them.
The Pure Vessel, as obedient and as empty as it is, as it should be, walks out of the room to stand behind its king. Herrah levels it with a stare. Six eyes burrow into its two, but it makes no move to show its uneasiness sparked by her stare.
“Yes, they did. Perhaps we should come more often, whenever in need of a babysitter.”
While the Pale King tries to talk Herrah out of such thing, it realizes something. That was the first time the Queen of Deepnest called it “them”. That was the first time it heard hidden understanding in someone's voice, directed at it.
It watches, as it should. With feelings squirming in its guts, as it shouldn’t. There’s no helping against love, though. There’s nothing the Hollow Knight can do to try and reclaim its “purity” in the Beast’s eyes.
She now knows. It finds it doesn't mind too much. It will trust her. Because it’s safe to do so with her. She wouldn't tell anybody. And nobody watches, except the Queen who understands.