It was very soon after being chosen that the Hollow Knight knew deeply that they would not be able to fulfil their role as the pure vessel.
As they stood there, staring into the eyes of their unchosen kin, doomed to die, if they could, very soon. It was then that a small something, not an unfeeling, first clung to them and took root. A clod tangled on the assigned purpose of their existence.
While it was inevitable that such a thing would have occurred sooner or later, the not so empty dark in their kin's eyes, so focused on theirs as they clutched onto the cold metal platform, certainly sowed the first seeds of it. A primal stirring, simple but undecipherable at the time. Who would have known that even that would've constituted as an idea?
The crux of their father's plan was, unfortunately, their supposed purity from it.
The months and then years that passed proved something they dreaded. However they tried to banish thoughts and feelings, they would not leave. In fact, they grew and grew and grew until they had to face the burning orange their father hated so much and finally understood why that requirement was there at all.
…
Why? Why were they chosen?
Thoughts like this permeated their brain as they hung in the sealed chamber, and when the orange eventually bled out from them, they knew they finally failed.
They gingerly traced the crack that split their mask and looked to their mother. The gaze she fixed them with had a different quality than they were used to; it possessed a far more sympathetic tint that was absent prior to the sealing. Neither could the age-clouded eyes hide a quiet sort of regretfulness.
A slight headbutt to her side was enough to catch her attention, and the Hollow Knight spoke, albeit unevenly.
"How… did you cho-ose?
Sighing heavily, the White Lady said "I did not. A convoluted process it was not, but no aid I provided."
They lowered their head in disappointment, but made no other physical gesture.
"Closure, is it? You want to know." It was not a question. "Then seek the King."
Their head whipped up sharply. Whatever feelings they felt mixed into a slurry; apprehension, relief, guilt, and surprisingly, a twinge of anger swirled and bubbled.
"Go," she stated quietly. "You will find an answer."
And with no small amount of hesitation, the Hollow Knight clambered gracelessly out the exit and set out for the White Palace. Though on their frantic journey to their mother they had seen the outside post sealing, the dripping void and single-minded focus made them miss more than they liked to admit.
Going to see it now through a clear, although still burdened mind still sparked a sort of dulled interest. How had the world fared all this time?
The answer: not particularly well, as far as they had seen, anyways.
Empty husks with infection stains littered even the Queen's beloved garden, having overtaken the once heavily guarded retreat. Strange mantis-like creatures also lay scattered around as well. It seemed as though the race might have formed a new breed somehow.
Suddenly, they noticed the entrance to the stag station mother had always used in prior to her binding. They slowly maneuvered themself toward it, and saw the tarnished summoning bell. Regardless of the urge to see more of the Hallownest, taking a ride would make the commute far simpler, to their annoyance. Exploring could come later
With a weak strike, a ringing noise echoed into the empty halls. In half a minute, a time-worn old stag dashed into view with a surprised expression. His eyes grew wide as he realized his newest customer.
"You...aren't you the King's child?"
"...Yes."
The two stared at each other for a few moments, until the silence was broken by the stag.
"Where would you like to go?"
"Palace Grounds."
"Understood. Climb on."
They did as he said, and soon they felt the cool air of the tunnel ruffle the tattered edges of their cloak. It was only stepping off the stag's back did he initiate any more conversation.
"Have you ever come upon a silent grub with a pale, horned head and a cloak like yours?" he asked.
They nodded, having talked more than they were comfortable with today.
The stag gave a crinkled smile. "You remind me a little of each other, you know?"
Not knowing how to respond, the Hollow Knight stared at him and walked out. It was a rather inadequate response his mother would have chided him for, but he didn't seem to mind, so it must have been alright.
It took awhile for the question of how the stag, uncleared for the knowledge of the hidden station, knew about its existence. It was merely a curiosity and ignored it as they went off in pursuit of their original goal. However, when they finally arrived, only the still-towering remains of the palace greeted them, looking as if someone had dumped the entire structure on the ground and watched it crumble in.
They stood in stunned silence, absently noting the white, void-stained armor scattered on the ground in the vague shape of Kingsmould.
A slight twitch in the leg was enough to spur them to move on. When confronted by the rubble, they merely picked their way around it until the heap hid the ground from view. Then, they stepped atop it, staring skyward at the cavernous ceiling, nail hanging loosely from their hand.
Lost? Is what they would call themself now?
Gradually, they lowered their head. Out of the corner of their eye, a small flash of white stood out amongst the shattered walls and bent metal. Somehow, it beckoned in a way they couldn't quite explain.
The Hollow Knight made their way to it, focus completely centered and absorbed. They did not flinch as they dug it out, rough shards cutting and scraping calloused hands.
When enough rubble had been cleared, they gripped the sides and gently pried it out. Then, they carefully set it on the ground and observed the egg; it was leathery and round and possessed a peculiar, unearthly sheen.
They drew nail and stabbed down on it.
A small, white figure, pale as the egg itself, toppled bare out of the gaping cut. It was taking heaving breaths, steadying its weakened body as it looked up at their son with barely open eyes.
"Wh-who… are you?" it gasped.
Elsewhere, the Queen closed her eyes and felt a wave of familiar energy wash over her, and her once-tight bindings split and tear.
"So he has finally returned?" she asked. "Not quite whole though?"
Nobody was there to hear, so the words merely echoed off the walls and died unanswered. Undeterred, she reached up pulled down some smaller roots on her head. Dust fell as they were moved after years of stillness, but she hardly seemed to care.
She only gave it a cursory wipe with her sleeve and deftly sliced a small portion off.
Lifting the root, the White Lady pressed it to her head, eyes still shut.
"The wrongdoings of my past… they remain forever. Even then I long for things I should not. My actions now, are they compromise or repentance?"
The severed root glowed a blinding light and she opened her clouded eyes. As soon as the light completely faded, she toppled over, cradling her new-born self.
It would only be later, when Dryya shook off the last dregs of sleep and checked in worriedly, noticing the change in soul leaking out of cocoon, that the dead body would be discovered and the sleeping child pried out of its hands.