Work Text:
Hornet had a dream, not of the Radiance.
Hallownest was whole again. She could explore the hustling and thriving City of Tears. She could play with the weaverlings and deeplings in Deepnest. She could stride across the long halls of white palace, warmly greet its king, and be beckoned by him to observe his late findings and duties. His pale light would bask the nation and every bug would routinely pray to him as thanks for their enlightenment. There were no stray travellers to be killed for their desecrations, no desecrations to begin with, and no sacrifice required from her mother. Her mother was alive and well atop her throne, ruling fiercely and responsibly over her spiderkind. The Other Beast came to Hornet, easily picked her up, and hugged her that called to mind how Midwife rocked her infant self to sleep, except this was who her mother could be.
Escape the pain of this kingdom, Hornet was told. Receive the love that should have been but was long overdue. Accept the royalty that she truly is. Claim the pure crown. Finally, never suffer again.
This is not the real world. The kingdom has been ash ever since I was born and that is what I ever ruled.
And ash it will continue to be, never broken from its stasis. The fallen's chapter has ended, but this one will continue forever and relieve your burdens.
This one will continue forever only because it is what could have been.
We will love you forevermore, dear princess. There will be a time when you no longer need the cold, hard shell, for there is so much beauty in this world.
... There is, Hornet admitted.
Many times I wish I can loosen my shoulders and rest as I deserved, and drift into a peaceful sleep.
But peaceful as it is, this is not the kingdom I know.
This is not my home.
My home is a wreckage, a garden overrun by weeds. I am to tend what my actual father and mother have left behind, even though left behind is the horrors as well as the ghosts and the bones of its people and architectures.
Call me broken.
Call my future none.
But this is my family. This is among what I walk. Under it my needles sharpen and my reflexes polish. I have touched more of hollow caverns, vacated cathedrals, lone graves, wild nature, than a pristine paradise.
The false mother moved not an inch and said not a word, until:
I'm sorry ...
With a decisive turn, Hornet's needle was in her hand, bound with the silk that was weaved a second ago. The room was bright but rightly so, a mix of white and fiery glow just right. It was nice to stay here. It was nice to relax from the constant battle and tire, before she departed into the dark and dread she had always known.
Don't be.