where pilgrims are sinners, saints go to hell

9

After several hours of conversation in and about the garden, he had taken the rose to his quarters and placed it in the small table where he had spent so many hours working. He stared at it.

...he smiled again.

He couldn't help it. It had been so long since he had felt this... loved.

He felt his wings flare up, but in the solitude of his chambers he allowed them to stay that way.

How could he have fared by himself for so long? Truly her company was something precious. He wondered why he hadn't let himself indulge in it from the very beginning.

...oh. Yes, of course.

He had been so caught up in the unfamiliar feeling of acceptance that for a moment he had almost forgotten why he didn't deserve it in the first place.

A sudden wave of shame washed over him and he felt the now well known anger at his past self, along with the desperation of wishing he had done literally anything different from what he did. But this time, he also felt pity. For her; because she had somehow ended up here, with a being far more terrible than she could think, without any idea of it.

For a second, he imagined what it would be like if she found out. He knew that there was no way for that to happen unless he told the story himself; but the mental image of her face full of disgust, repulse and even fear directed at him was enough for him to come to a conclusion.

She had to leave -as much as he didn't want her to. She hadn't known what she was getting into when she had decided to approach the palace, and while she couldn't be blamed for it, it was best that she left before-

Before he had to see her like that.

His mind made up, he sighed heavily before leaving to go find her.

---

He had never let himself feel the true weight of what he did. He kept putting it off or trying to justify or sugarcoat it, because he had no idea how, or even if he would be able to pick himself up after he did.

He could have never guessed he wouldn't be on his own when it happened.

His guilt and regret had been building up for way too long, and he hadn't been able to stop the overflowing tears that now soaked the top of her dress.

His crying was so desperate and overdue that he couldn't even speak the thoughts that kept him wailing like that. But she didn't ask him to, and she didn't say anything either. She just held him and rubbed gentle circles on his shoulder while she let him cry himself out.

He couldn't tell exactly when, but at some point they had ended up half sitting, half laying down on her bed, still tangled together, and at this point he couldn't tell if it was because of the comfort the closeness offered him or because he so desperately didn't want her to see his face in such a state.

Eventually, his tears flowed slower and his breathing calmed down, but her light caress didn't stop.

He was exhausted. He had been for a long, long time.

The last thing he felt before slipping into unconsciousness was gratitude.

- - -

When he woke up he was very disorientated. The unfamiliar daze troubled him, and his head felt heavier than normal. He was very warm, though. It was comfortable. He didn't really want to move.

And then he remembered why he was there.

His eyes shot open, and then immediately closed again at the sudden intrusion of light. He blinked, slowly getting his sight adjusted to his surroundings.

All he could see was the light tan color that he knew by now to be her skin, and it took him a moment to realize that his eyes were leveled with her neck.

"Good morning, my King" she said, voice raspy. Her forehead was pressed against his crown, and she was looking down at him when his eyes met hers.

"...what happened?" It was hard to speak normally. His throat felt tight.

She smiled softly. "You fell asleep".

"Asleep...?" He couldn't remember the last time he had slept. It was probably before he shred his old body. He... didn't like waking up, but the rest had been nice. Maybe he could do it more often.

"Listen, about what happened" she started, "you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I understand if it's something you would rather not talk about, and I won't pressure you to. But" her voice shifted, taking a more serious tone "I'm not leaving the palace, or your side, anytime soon. So do us both a favor and don't try to force me to again".

"Of course". He replied rather quickly, because after yesterday's turn of events he loathed the idea of her departure even more. "And... there's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know".

"I'm sure there is, my King, but as I said, I won't pressure you. I'm here for whatever you might require, if you want me to be".

...there was one thing. That thought that had been in his head for eons and that felt forbidden to say out loud. There was nothing to lose now, though.

He had to say it. ...no, he wanted to say it. It was very overdue.

It still was harder than he thought it would be.

"...it was my fault. I made it... them, impure. Gods, my stupid, unjustified wanting ruined everything. So much, so much was sacrificed, and all for nothing. Because of me. Because all I could think every time I looked at them was how badly I wanted them, all of them, to be my... children". He never thought a single word could bear so much weight to it. And at the same time, now that it was out there, he felt a bit lighter. "That's all I have to say", he added, voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled sadly, and brought one of her fingers up to his face, slowly tracing the shape of his eye.

"You like to pretend you don't; for reasons unknown to me, but you feel so much. You love so dearly, it's nearly destructive. And that's not something bad, although it may sound like it is.

...it wasn't your fault. The nature of Void is not what you thought it was, but there was no way you could have known that. There is no point in blaming yourself anymore for what happened".

He was still convinced it was his fault, of course, but that small comment made the scientist in him wonder what exactly was wrong about his perception of Void.

And... being told like that how much he loved... hurt. He felt like he had failed, somehow. But why? ...perhaps the only rule he had written for his Hollow Knight had at some point become his only rule, as well.

Seeing how they hadn't been able to abide by it, it would make sense that he wouldn't, either.

Looking up at her and feeling her delicate touch on his face, he had to agree that perhaps, it wasn't such a bad thing.