Chapter Text
The offer came on the fifth day of negotiations.
The Pale King had set aside a full week to argue with the Beast. She took no insult, suffered no indignity. The Hollow Knight watched as he tried to work her, needling her from every angle. Threats - all from the outside source of the infection, of course, not him – to bribes, to flattery. None of it worked.
Hollow held no surprise. A Pure Vessel did not. The Pale King was singular among the local sovereign states, they had heard that since they entered the White Palace. What purpose did a being like him have to stoop to the others' levels?
Until the Mantis Village threatened Hallownest's territory, the Hive refused to establish more than the most basic trade, and the King needed another Dreamer. Monomon and Lurien were strong in mind well beyond a normal bug. A rarity, even among Hallownest's extensive population.
When the White Lady pointed out Herrah's fortitude, it had seemed a blessing for the harrowed King. If he could not seal Hollow, then years of work went to waste, and he would lose innumerable more people to the infection while he developed and scrutinized more Vessels. Even then, the Vessels relied on the Dreamers. No simple binding spell would contain god and Void.
Herrah must have sensed the King's desperation when he came to her. To not see it would be foolish, and would have cost her so much already. The infection had yet to touch Deepnest - as far as she cared, she had the advantage to an incredible degree.
So when she sat down across from the King and Hollow, contemplating, it gave the King pause. He waited (as did Hollow, without any other order than to follow the King) for her to speak, to play her hand.
“I want a child.” Herrah watched them over her arms, folded before her face. “I want it to be yours.”
The air changed. Shock crackled down the King's flowing wings. His sharp intake of breath cut into the tension, pulling it closer around them all.
Hallownest had no heir. It needed no heir. The Pale King and White Lady, in theory, remained childless. The sea of Void washing up against the thousands of their siblings' broken masks said otherwise, but a Vessel was not a child.
And half the point of this was to cripple Deepnest without their queen. Without her, it would be a matter of a few political maneuvers to claim it, as officially part of Hallownest or as a separate territory. Either way, they'd gain the Weavers' silk.
“Hallownest needs no successors.” The words dripped from the Pale King's mouth, his eyes narrowing. His fingers laced together, and he straightened his back. It wouldn't get him anywhere near Herrah's height, but that was what Hollow was here for. Demonstration, yes, and intimidation. Though little intimidated the denizens of Deepnest.
“You are not the only royal present, Pale King.” Herrah's voice reverberated through her thorax, coming out just above a growl. She scrutinized the Hallownest entourage, eyes prying under the carapace. There was nothing to find under Hollow. Only Void. “I did not ask for your throne, I asked for your fatherhood, provided you can give it.”
“Of course I can,” the King muttered. He said nothing about the White Lady, or the Vessels, did not even glance Hollow's way. “Does nobody else in Deepnest satisfy you as a sire?”
“When I could claim to have bred a god? My child's place would be indisputable. Backed by the Devout and your blood in their veins, I could Dream for you untroubled.” She leaned in, almost across the table, as if to draw the Pale King onto her that very moment. A threat, then. She would not weaken Deepnest like he hoped.
The king of Hallownest and queen of Deepnest bristled at each other, each composing their own ways to sting the other into submission.
“Is there nothing else you wish?” The Pale King might as well have begged. He lost, he had nothing else to suggest for her. Nothing to give her but himself. They walked into this at a disadvantage. Of course Herrah would take the highest price she could for her own life, and for the safety of her queendom.
Mere minutes into the day's work, and they had reached this point.
Was the King this desperate, or was the Beast's guile so-
A Pure Vessel did not bother with the politicking of the courts. Hollow's grip tightened ever so slightly on the hilt of their nail.
“No. You come to my lands and ask me to give up everything for you and Hallownest-”
“The infection will spread here.” The Pale King's voice was tight enough it could have been plucked like a string.
“For now, you ask me to give everything for you and for Hallownest. All I ask of you is one viable egg and the wherewithal not to let the creature within suffer alone while I keep this one-” She gestured to Hollow - “In check. Is that a sufficient trade for you?”
The Pale King's thoughts churned. Herrah did not fidget, did not lean in, while he deliberated with himself. She sat back, patient, the perfect spider watching her prey squirm in her web.
And yet, could she withstand the snap of a wyrm's jaws?
He folded his hands neatly up against his stomach.“I accept this. Let me return to the White Lady and discuss matters with her, if you would be so understanding. For a life, a life.”