#⚔;; thread: for an eternity

[astorichan]

Covered In False Images

Fandom: Hollow Knight

Rating: Gen

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Radiance, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Pale King

Summary:

The Pale King's plan was flawless: his vessel was pure, flawless, reliable.

The vessel did not share that opinion.

Additional Tags: POV Third Person Omniscient, Past Tense, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Fanfic of AU, Fanfic of fanart, AU: Radiant Vessel

For @quirrel. Happy New Year!!

Text under readmore!

▪────  ⚔  ────▪

(They say that praying to be loved is a sin.

It has such a sweet scent.)

▪────  ⚔  ────▪

Shadows and light: two opposing forces.

Such was the idea behind the Pale King's ultimate weapon. When all else failed in subduing the Radiance’s rampage, weapons of Soul ineffective and healing properties of lifeblood useless, he turned to the darkness that slept beneath for aid.

Shadows and light: one meant to subdue another.

The shell of a child desecrated by the choking twilight listened to his every command. The only light it would ever follow was his, as was the only light that it could not overpower. He trained it to perfection, eradicating every flaw of its mortal design and preparing it for its eternal vigil.

When the day of the Sealing came, he was certain his plan would work. The vessel marched on with even, steady steps, its empty gaze cast forward; in his wake were left joyful Hallownestians, their reverent whispers rising as wisps of silver luminescence to tail him like a second cloak.

Shadows: bringing the kingdom much-needed shelter from the light.

If you weren’t there on the day that heralded Hallownest’s salvation, you would not know of the battle raging just outside of view. Life went on as though no plague had ever bathed the narrow caverns in haemolymph and rot, as though no smell of decay had ever wafted off bloated corpses strewn across the capitol’s streets.

But light would not surrender to the suffocating shadows so easily.

Within the pitch dark temple, beyond the offerings left on the threshold glimmering with Soul, two enemies as old as the world itself clashed once more. Their blades crossed, each wound, each victory and each loss quaked through the voided vessel’s shell that hung limp in its chains, eyes bored into the black egg’s inner wall forevermore.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the first flickers of lurid orange clawed their way into the fathomless darkness of the Hollow Knight’s gaze.

Shadows and light: unable to co-exist.

From the outside, the strenuous war was not visible, lest we count the first pustules full of scorching rot that sprouted from the vessel’s chest. But on the inside...

Its mind, the one it was not meant to possess, was flooded with the dawn’s whispers. The light wove its lies through the shadow in golden thread, unravelling streaks of silver and black alike. Frayed ends of collapsed lies stuck out, ugly and unseemly; the vessel’s trust in its King was giving out inch by painful inch.

Light: branded into shadows.

Why let yourself and your kingdom burn? the dawn asked over and over, when you can save everyone in truth?

And the vessel cracked under the unbearable weight of truth and rage. Golden ichor seeped out of the fissures left behind by the light’s onslaught, in its gaze the Old Light’s radiance and on its mask a fiery brand covering the Pale King’s spellwork. It would get back all that had been denied to it; it would get its revenge on the world that betrayed it.

Shadows: embracing the light.

The vessel let the dawn’s power course through it, the oppressive shroud of Void that had cornered the Old Light in a far-off corner of the Dream dissipating into nothing. All doubts thrown aside, it rose from the ashes of its former glory, shaking off the chains of deceit that had bound it for so long – and it incinerated the jailors holding it in the Temple.

If you didn’t know exactly what to look for, you would never notice the seals fizzling out like smoke from a fire. The morning following its treason came, and the denizens of Dirtmouth were no wiser as to the battle that came to a head mere hours ago.

From their eyes, though, surged golden luminosity.

Light: unbound, no longer held down by the choking shadows.

The infection spread like wildfire, in the Hollow Knight’s footsteps blooming twisted vines that carried disease within. Adorned with beautiful flowers, they invaded the shade of Hallownest’s caverns, and it was too late to do anything to stop the traitor’s descent.

Not that they didn’t try, of course.

Hallownest’s most powerful champions rose to defend the kingdom from the plague. But the vessel had been trained to perfection: it was infused with power beyond mortals’ understanding, prepared for an eternal war with the goddess of dreams.

Shadows: entwined with light.

The Hollow Knight brought down the kingdom’s greatest knights, its weapons infused with sunlight. It tore through chitin and flesh in primal, cold fury, its claws and mandibles tearing its former allies to shreds. Not even all their prowess combined was enough to resist two forces old as the world itself.

With the final obstacle gone from their path, the two gods stood before Hallownest’s crown jewel. The White Palace gleamed with familiar, though no longer welcoming silver; motes of Soul swirled around the Hollow Knight as it treaded paths of its former home. None was fool enough to stand in its way – none, except the Pale King himself.

Shadows and light: allied against a mutual enemy.

Soul and blackened Dream clashed in a violent battle. The Palace’s walls creaked and lamented the sacrilege taking place within, on them left sprays of Void, godly ichor and infection alike.

But even the King could not hold out against the joined forces of unknowable darkness and luminous dawn. The radiant vessel cornered him, though its shell was littered with wounds deep and shallow, though its mask wept black miasma and its arm held only by the virtue of the Old Light’s strength; it cornered him, and as he stared into his perfect creation’s eyes, he saw only the raging pyre of fury and contempt.

Gone was the love it had once carried, the Hollow Knight wanted so desperately to believe as it plunged its nail through the Pale King’s chest. Gone was the unfulfillable wish to prove itself that ate it alive, it convinced itself as chitin snapped and silver haemolymph pooled at the feet of Hallownest’s new ruler. Gone was the conflict that tore the kingdom apart, clawing its way free from Hallownest’s very heart.

Gone was the reason behind its suffering, and so its anguish should’ve been gone as well. But was it truly so?

Shadows and light: finally reaching a truce.

When the Hollow Knight embraced her, the only one that had ever understood and accepted it, it could almost believe that the price it had exacted for its needless pain was enough. In her light, the reassurance she extended to it soothed every ache, every doubt that it could ever have.

Sometimes, though, in the darkest corners of its mind – those that still held, if by the thinnest of threads keeping the tapestry of its mindscape from coming undone – a wail like that of a wounded animal resounded, no end and no beginning to the elegy for the life it had taken with its own hands.

Shadows and light: ancient enemies.

It wondered, on those days, if someone heard those cries, muffled as they were. If maybe, just maybe, someone would come to enact the final act of vengeance long overdue.

But then, the Radiance’s gentle glow shrouded its fractured mind as she extended the same mercy to it as to the entire kingdom, and those thoughts were no more.

Shadows and light: ruling side by side.

Until, inevitably, someone would try to take what was rightfully its once more.

▪────  ⚔  ────▪

(My rage and other such things vanished long ago

But though I perform my act, I’m ignorant

Yet this story is still going

Because I wish for it to reach you)

[thewiickedones]

⚔   ──   ⚔    Now   Lucifer   was   losing   his   calm.   A   cold,   twisted   smirk   flicked   across   Lucifer’s   face   before   melting   away   once   more.   ❝   All   right,   then.   ❞   was   all   the   fallen   angel   said   before   the   sting   against   Sam's   cheek   took   on   new   meaning.   It   would   feel   as   though   every   pore   on   his   body   were   being   punctured   by   red-hot   needles,   every   cell   torn   apart   from   the   inside   out.

With   a   snap   of   his   fingers   Sam   was   back   in   the   void.   ❝   Good   thing   we   have   time.   ❞   Lucifer   said,   cheerfully,   even   sounded   patient,   as   if   just   indulging   a   stubborn   child.   ❝   You   know   I'll   break   you   eventually.   ❞   Lucifer   Lurked   within   the   darkness,   hidden   as   always   watching   as   Sam’s   torment   began   again.

Every   agony   Sam   could   imagine   was   nothing   compared   to   what   he   doled   out.   The   Devil   had   strings   connecting   each   nerve   in   Sam’s   body,   tugging   on   them   all   at   once   and   with   all   the   cruelty   of   a   bored   child.

Now   it   was   time   to   show   Sam   what   it   would   be   like   when   Michael   caught   up   to   Dean.   He   snapped   his   fingers   and   Dean   appeared,   propped   against   the   side   of   the   Impala,   squinting   in   the   dying   light.   There   was   a   shadow   behind   Dean,   growing   rapidly   as   Michael   closed   the   distance,   wings   spreading   wide   like   darkened   storm   clouds.   Michael’s   fingers   locked   around   Dean’s   forearm,   there   was   another   snap   and   everything   went   white.   Pain   rushed   in   again,   total   and   smothering.   Electric   claws   scraped   over   bone,   echoing   in   ways   Sam   couldn’t   know   were   possible.   Lucifer   watched   from   the   edge   of   the   darkness,   cool   and   collected..   The   soft   promise   of   before   was   gone—now   it   was   all   steel.

Suddenly   Sam   was   suspended   in   the   agonizing   void.   It   enveloped   him,   a   living   thing   with   ragged   edges   of   fire,   pressing   against   him   like   a   storm   running   toward   him,   but   the   ground   was   quicksand,   the   air   too   thick   to   breathe,   each   breath   burning,   each   step   a   new   torment.   Michael   was   showing   Dean   no   mercy   as   he   beat   the   oldest   Winchester   into   submission,   just   like   he'd   planned   before   Sam   threw   himself   into   the   pit.   It   was   all   Dean's   flaw   to   keep   fighting,   to   keep   believing.   To   think   he   could   win   when   neither   of   them   ever   had.   That's   what   Michael   was   teaching   him.   The   same   thing   Lucifer   wanted   Sam   to   learn.   Resistance   gave   way   to   chaos,   and   chaos   gave   way   to...   nothing.   It   all   ended   the   same,   regardless   of   how   Sam   thought   he   could   rewrite   the   story.

❝   Is   it   making   sense   yet   ?   ❞   Lucifer   asked   after   one   mirthless   eternity.   ❝   You   gave   me   no   choice,   Sam.   ❞   His   bright   presence   faded   in   again,   simultaneously   close   and   unbearably   distant.   Even   in   this   darkness,   it   seemed   as   though   his   eyes   were   glowing,   huge   and   consuming.   ❝   I   didn't   want   to   do   this,   but   you   gave   me   no   choice.   ❞   What   remained   of   Sam   was   being   unraveled,   pulled   apart   thread   by   thread,   woven   back   into   knots   so   tight   any   hope   of   freedom   shriveled   and   turned   to   ash.

So many times, his motives had been questioned, criticized, and he'd been treated like a stupid child who didn't know right from wrong. But Lucifer. . .understood. For once, someone was acknowledging that all he'd ever tried to do was protect people and do the right thing. Maybe he'd gotten that wrong more than once, but he'd always tried, and that should've counted for more than it did. The very thought that someone finally understood his intentions had him crying for a different reason.

Sam swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "I'm thinking like a human because I am human," he replied weakly. He hadn't felt like it in a long time, but he figured there was nothing more human than sacrificing himself for his family.

Lucifer's speech was melodic, enticing. And there was a part of Sam that wanted to give in. Because Lucifer was right: Sam had been trying so hard, for so long, and he just wanted to be able to rest. The idea that all it took to end a lifetime of feeling wrong was to just say one little word? It was more appealing than Sam wanted to admit.

The Devil upped the ante by throwing in protecting Dean, sparing him any more pain. Dean had already suffered through their dad's parenting, and Hell--he didn't deserve to suffer any more. And if Sam could protect him for once? If he could spare his big brother pain? That would be good, right? It certainly wasn't any less than Dean had done for him.

But no matter how he justified it to himself, this time around, Sam couldn't deny the truth. There was a reason Lucifer had been locked away in a cage in the depths of Hell, and it wasn't because he was simply misunderstood.

With the remaining determination Sam had, he pulled back from the gentle hand on his cheek and shook his head. ". . .No," he whispered.

[deceitfulcharmer]

For an Eternity

@starsarescreamiing

⚔—;; Now that his audience with his own master was out of the way, Megatron deemed it time to remind someone else of who was in charge of the Decepticons -- untimely demise or not. Or, at least that’s what he would tell anyone who dared to ask.

　 In truth, he felt their brief reunions -- first on that wretched organic planet and second mere cycles ago -- were not enough to sate the burning in his spark. It lurched forwards within its chamber, desiring to be close to that of his most favourite would-be traitor. Right now he wanted nothing more than to have the Seeker’s frame held against his own, claws delving into the gaps between armour plates and rasped words of affection no other living soul would hear.

　 That, and he yearned to see the changes Starscream had made to his plating; he had been plain on Earth, but now he sported areas of dark grey over silver in the unmistakable shape of glyphs.

　 “Starscream,” he growled low, seeking out the familiar form in the gloom. “Come to me.”

[deceitfulcharmer]

Starscream.

“I noticed.”

It was a strange thing, the conflict in Starscream’s processor: his thoughts equal parts righteous anger, and a nearly overwhelming desire for his Master’s touch.

Yes, he remembered all too well their brief meeting back on Earth–he had scarcely been able to forget it.  A short look of contempt, a few words of the same, ‘you fail me yet again, Starscream.’  And then nothing but glimpses during battle, reassuring himself that there would be time for more after, needing more after.

But ‘after’ never came.

“You said scarcely a word to me,” he pressed on, daring to speak even as he braced himself against the possibility of a physical response to his insolence. “And then you were gone.”

⚔—;; Anger tore through Megatron’s spark as the Seeker voiced his grievances, clawed fingers twitching as he just barely restrained himself from unleashing the full extent of his rage upon Starscream’s frame.

　　 Of course he had scarcely said a word; he had been within reach of the AllSpark after millennia frozen, trapped on the very same planet and forced into stasis until he was able to move once more. It hadn’t felt that long, no, it had felt more like an exceptionally long recharge cycle. That hadn’t changed the want in his spark for the cube nor for the contact of the one it had merged with just days prior to his departure.

　　 “I never intended to leave, Starscream!” the warlord all but roared, rage bubbling to the surface and boiling over until it culminated in him grasping Starscream roughly by the shoulder. Claws dug into armour and he used his grip to lift the shorter frame just enough to shove him against the nearby wall without a care for the unborn hatchlings.

　　 “The insect’s courage was unforeseen.”

For an Eternity

[deceitfulcharmer]

Starscream.

Starscream did not see the searching look in Megatron’s optics, for his own had immediately shuttered closed at the contact, a gentle trill of longing escaping him.  It had been long, far too long since they had shared this closeness.  His own helm butted forward, moving in a gentle side-to-side motion to rub their crests together.

At the last statement, the Seeker made a soft clicking noise of derision–equivalent to what humans would call a snort.  Him, down in the crushing depths of the ocean?  His wings would have crumpled under the pressure there.  And besides…

“The Fallen ordered me to remain here.” His optics unshuttered, and he was momentarily stunned by the intensity of Megatron’s gaze to close to his own.  He pulled away from their point of contact, trying desperately to ignore how the action almost physically pained him, spark aching for moretouch comeback.

No. He was still angry–no matter how much he ached.

“I was there when you awoke the first time, if you recall…my lord,” he added the last quickly.

⚔—;; The warlord responded to that trill with a growling purr of his own, savouring the contact between their helm crests. He hadn’t realised how much he had been starved of such intimate contact. While the millennia had seemed to drift by while he was in stasis, it seemed his spark knew just how long it had been apart from the one it desired to become one with be close to.

　　 When the Seeker brought up The Fallen, he could hardly argue. His mentor's word was above dispute, no matter how he may have wanted otherwise. He wondered briefly, though, if Starscream would have been there without such orders.

　　 Probably not. The fact those who went to retrieve him were of a sturdy build – barring the doctor – was not missed by the warlord. That wasn't to say the Seeker wasn't strong in his own right, but his frame was designed for speed and flight rather than brute strength.

　　 It still felt wrong to be so far apart from him.

　　 “So you were,” he acknowledged, clawed digits now caressing the armour at Starscream’s waist. “I was rather preoccupied then. You have my full attention now.”

For an Eternity

[deceitfulcharmer]

starsarescreamiing.

“I did.”

There was no denying the way Starscream’s plating pulled tighter against his frame at Megatron’s circling.  It was an instinct, almost as old as the war itself, this need to cringe and yield.  It served to ground the Seeker, to remind him of his feelings outside of bliss and missedyou and cameback.  It reminded him that perhaps he should still be shunning his leader, stewing in his anger and resentment for as long as he was allowed.

Except he didn’t want to.  When was the last time he touched someone, or someone touched him, outside of punishment or combat?  Starscream could no longer remember; his processor only supplied him with the feeling of a claw tracing over his plating, following the curves and angles of the symbols drawn there.  He did not want the contact to end, and his own servo grasped at it, holding it in place against him.

If only this had been the first greeting his master had seen fit to bestow upon him.

“It seemed a fitting tribute.  A way to…” Mourn. “…commemorate a great leader.”

⚔—;; Plating contracting under his burning gaze would have had him smirking -- had he the correct facial components -- but instead elicited an amused sound from the warlord instead. Still so submissive and willing to yield. Perfect. It felt just like old times and served to assure him that, despite Starscream’s earlier proclamation of ‘taking command’ in his absence, his rule was still absolute.

　 Not that he had any doubts, of course.

　 “You do flatter, Starscream,” he purred, still caressing plating under his Second’s grip. “Although you make it sound as though you had given up on the prospect of my return.”

　 Sliding his servo from underneath the Seeker’s, he continued his slow path around before stopping in front of him, frame impossibly close. His slow ex-vents released small clouds of condensation into the air and he gave a slight rumbling growl low in his chest, before leaning forwards to rest his forehelm against Starscream’s for the first time since their reunion.

　 Bright, burning optics remained online, remaining fixed upon those before him and searching for a reaction. He would say nothing of how his newly relit spark calmed significantly with their new closeness.

　 “I was disappointed to not see you with the others when I awoke.”

For an Eternity

[deceitfulcharmer]

starsarescreamiing:

Anger or not, there was no helping the way Starscream’s optics shuttered at that touch, a low, clicking trill escaping his vocalizer.  He leaned into the other’s claws, and in that moment he could have forgiven Megatron everything: the panic in his spark as he felt their tenuous connection fading, lost before it could guide him home; the millennia of silence that followed; their brief reunion on that wretched organic planet, cold and harsh, over too soon and too horribly.

At the mention of his markings the Seeker’s optics flickered back online, mechanisms spiraling as they struggled to focus through the fog of bliss.

“…you do not recognize them, then?”

⚔—;; The Seeker’s response to his touch elicited a contented sound from the warlord and perhaps he would have smirked if he had the proper mouth components to do so. Instead, he continued with his caress of the armour within his grasp as his spark jumped upon hearing that trill. While the thousands of years in stasis had blended together into nothing but cold-dark-alone, he had sorely missed that sound.

　 “I haven’t had the chance to read them properly,” he admitted, trying to read what he could from where he was standing. The sequence of glyphs was certainly familiar – perhaps a better look at the rest was needed…

　 Slowly, Megatron stepped to the side and circled Starscream, clawed servo trailing over that frame as he made his way around. His optics flicked over every new marking, piecing together the order and what was meant. As he neared the end of his reading, he realised what Starscream had done.

　 “These are mine.” His growled words were accompanied by a lone claw tracing over the shape of one of the glyphs. “You completed it.”

For an Eternity

[deceitfulcharmer]

starsarescreamiing:

Starscream needed little persuasion to go to Megatron.  Indeed, it was all he could do not to throw himself into his leader’s arms, to press their frames together and rediscover every gap and crevice between that silver plating.

But he held back.  Not out of respect, or even wariness (though there was plenty of that, to be sure).  No; he lingered at a distance because the heat in his spark was not entirely born from joy.  A part of it was something tighter, something clenched and hostile.

He was angry.

“I assume the Fallen has finished with you, for the moment.” The Seeker ignored the offered servo, though he nonetheless came to stand within its reach. “And he has, ah, filled you in on the various developments during your…absence?”

⚔—;; When Starscream ignored his invitation and only moved a little closer, the intricate pieces of plating making up Megatron’s face shifted so that it appeared as though his optics narrowed. It was an expression that was made up of both irritation and contemplation; he had expected that the Seeker would not hesitate to be close to him once again – especially after what they had shared prior to his departure.

　 “Yes. It appears our need for energon grows more pressing every day. ” His response was perhaps colder than called for; he cared little for small talk right now, but decided to indulge the other regardless. “He tells me there is a way to generate energon on the human planet without using the Cube.”

　 With Starscream now within reach Megatron’s clawed hand came to rest upon his shoulder, the pointed ends working their way between armour plates and feeling out sensitive areas he memorised millennia ago.

　 “You have new markings,” he stated as his optics roved over newly blackened areas. “You did not have these when we last met.”

For an Eternity

[deceitfulcharmer]

starsarescreamiing:

“Come to me.”

Just the sound of that voice was enough to make Starscream’s spark jump in its chamber, a sensation as painful as it was joyous.  It was the voice he had missed for millennia, heard only as he recharged, leaving him to wake up grasping beside him for someone who was no longer there to reach back; the voice he then had barely heard again, for the first time in forever, before it was silenced once more–for good this time.

Or so he had thought.

The Seeker slipped from the nook he had carved out of the wall, the place he had taken to spending most of his free time in since their last mission on Earth, to pad over toward his Master.  He kept his helm bowed submissively, talons twisting together.

“Lord Megatron,” he crooned, the same mercury-sweet tone he had used before in greeting the other. “What may I do for you, Master?”

⚔—;; Movement in one of the walls immediately drew Megatron’s gaze and he paused, waiting for his Seeker to come to him, optics burning bright in the vast, dimly lit expanse of a room. While he was just as eager to be truly reunited with his would-be mate, he made no attempt to meet him halfway; Starscream served him, not the other way around.

　 A gravelly purr sounded in the warlord’s throat – a contented sound he only made around Starscream – in response to his bow, to his words. In that moment it seemed as though no time had passed at all, as though they had never been separated those thousands of years ago.

　 “Come here,” came his response, caught halfway between a command to a subordinate and a request to a lover. He remained at full height, waiting with one arm slightly outstretched in silent invitation as his concealed spark pulsed insistently.

For an Eternity