Chapter Text
The Pale King of Hallownest was a truly depressed creature. He’d been once a proud monarch, ruling a vast kingdom filled with riches and one he had not just supplied with material wealth, but one he’d done his best to support the intellectual wrath as well, with poets and writers galore; they were allowed to mostly say their case, even if he disagreed with them on certain points.
His foreign situation was, at the least, stable. No other more distant kingdoms posed any threat, Unn was content with peace, and the Hive hadn’t warred with Hallownest for centuries. The fiercely independent mantis tribe had a truce with them, and with that they had kept Deepnest at bay. Their relationship with Hallownest was very tenuous, but they still had beneficial trade ties for silk and other goods. Perhaps with time, they could have come to a better understanding of each other given time, but it was not to be.
A poor decision in the younger years of the kingdom, the allowance of missionaries to flood into Resting Grounds and Crystal Peak, converting the lonely moths away from the faith of their distant god, had resulted in disaster.
The once absent Radiance, who had reeled into the Dream Realm once most of her people had forgotten her, agonizing for centuries in lonely seething, unable to do anything for she had been traveling the distant dreams of the world when the missionaries had done their work and the moths turned the minds away.
Until she had gathered great strength, and from the silence spread her influence, forcibly, violently, cruelly to all corners of Hallownest.
He’d taken desperate measures, further delving into the secrets of the void for the first part of the plan, attempting to forge an empty vessel strong enough to contain the Old Light.
Yet he failed in his initial designs. The kingsmoulds were conceptually quite simple, but that was the problem. They could only do so much, and improvements on their design ended fruitless.
The King was close to despair when his Root came and solemnly offered an idea. They would produce eggs, but would leave them to develop and hatch in the Abyss, corrupting the young and creating a Pure Vessel.
It was terrible. It was murder. It was perfect. Yet they proceeded anyway, sowing their eggs like seeds into the parts of the depths that were not sea.
Many did not make it far out of the egg. Barely a few jumps, the height was still enough to crack their fragile shells, sending them skittering to the bottom, their shade giving out a soundless cry of torment. Some got closer than others, even entering his line of sight before plummeting to their doom. He had forced himself to ignore such sounds and sights for nearly a day, until one vessel swiftly and surely made its way to the top.
They would be his Hollow Knight, his shame yet also his greatest pride. He had made deals with three individuals with strong minds and wills to become his Dreamers to aid in the second part of the seal. Herrah the Beast demanded the most, a child from his and her blood. He had agreed, and had gained not only the Beast’s slumber, but also the Weavers aid with the powerful Seal of Binding.
His daughter, who would be known as Hornet, was a fierce highlight of the end. She was savage and fierce, yet the King found himself unable to iron out her wild spirit in all but appearance. She was not just sharp and boisterous, and with those times of calm and quiet she had stood with him, in his workshop, and he showed her the arts of crafting and engineering. They were counted among his most treasured memories
Yet the steadfast Hollow Knight reached his limit, and the Light broke through, almost as strong as before. Perhaps he or others had corrupted the Pure Vessel. Perhaps they were never hollow. Perhaps no Vessel had been hollow.
Either way, it made no difference, because he failed, Hallownest crumbled, they suffered, and it was all for nothing.
He ruminated on these thousand thoughts on his silver throne, barely moving an inch. It had been decades since he sealed himself in his little pocket of the Dream Realm. Perhaps it would have been better to go out in a blaze. Perhaps it was better-
Voices. No, not voices. The strange unspoken candance of the Void. He lifted his hung head an inch up. There were little tendrils of Void, running like little veins or wires, snaking slowly, and ever closer.
He had already been feeding void from his deep regrets and stains from his experiments (hence why the room was so dark), but this was concentrated. Focused.
No matter. Let it come.
After an eternity, it finally did, first tentatively touching the tip of his tail. It was freezing cold, but that was not what made the Pale King gasp.
It transmitted a feeling, a silent emotion. It was curiosity, anger, and bitterness. Yet it was familiar, and almost childlike. It could only be one thing.
The void tendrils began to snake over his body, spreading like his beloved wife’s vines. Yet he did not resist in the slightest, allowing it to wrap itself around his horns, body and face.
The tendrils paused, not expecting their prey to give up so easily.
The Pale King breathed deeply, ignoring the once-clutched mantra of no cost too great, and one last time spoke. “My children. I await your judgement. I have failed you. I have failed everyone.” A small tear welled from his eye, staining his once-pristine shell.
The void, puppeted by the vengeful souls, hesitated no more and squeezed, instantly sending the Pale King into darkness of the absolute deepest nature, true emptiness. But it would only last for a few quiet minutes.