Disclaimer: RWBY and Hollow Knight do not belong to me. They belong to RoosterTeeth and Team Cherry respectively.

Rider09: Hornet is always a good thing. Cept when she's trying to kill you, and even then

Pherix2003: Very astute observation! Hopefully this chapter clears some things and confuses others. And thank you very much, I do try to have a good timing.

Student: Thank you very much! All will become clear eventually, though you've gotten a few bullseyes. And yes, Infected Grimm are more nightmare fuel than regular Grimm, even if it is just trading one mistress for another...

DuneSiege: Thanks so much! As for Team RWBY having to kill their friend, well, I can't spoil things. But it wouldn't be Hollow Knight without tragedy, would it?

NocturnalHeaven: Thank you so much! I try to do every character justice, even if its only in little ways.

ThePolishSausageRoaster: No worries, no abandoning this piece. It's just too fun to write! And thank you, real life does occasionally get in the way - no sense of propriety, the real world. Hope this chapter meets expectations!

lanssa123, a54321, thank you very much!

Now that an impromptu fever is done with, let's get on with the chapter!

Chapter 5: The Watcher

In his Spire...

"That I do," Quirrel cleared his throat, "I saw them."

Lurien did not stir from his seat. Did not turn away from his telescope. Did not even unhunch his back.

"What were they like, close up?"

"Strange," Quirrel said at last, "Not like any bug I've ever met. With their eclectic dresses, you'd think that they were all nobles. All of them seem to wear primarily a single color, which makes me wonder if that indicates that each are from a different tribe. If so, perhaps they are a symbol of peace for their kingdom, a sign of unification?"

"What of the pale one?" Lurien asked.

"Her? If it weren't for the obvious, she'd fit right into the Pale Court. She has a nail though. An odd one, that she can set aflame! Normal fire, I'd hazard, I couldn't sense anything strange about it."

"Nothing else from her?" Lurien insisted.

"No?" Quirrel scratched his head, curious as to why the Watcher was most interested in the pale girl.

"I could ask her, if you wan-"

"No."

"Ahh."

Lurien became silent and Quirrel sat down in a nearby seat. The Watcher had insisted they not meet with the strange bugs until they knew more. How they would ever know more without meeting them was beyond Quirrel. The Watcher said that he had an eye on the stranger's world too, but-

He missed the Teacher. Monomon wouldn't rest until she had a tentacle wrapped around each of these enigmas. Safe and snug and unable to escape her questions. Quirrel desperately wanted to search for her. If one Dreamer had woken up, still alive, then surely-?

But this Hallownest didn't make sense. In the Hallownest Quirrel remembered, all he had to do was take a trek up from the City of Tears, through the Fungal Wastes, and he'd end up in the Fog Canyon where Monomon's lab laid. Here? The City of Tears was surrounded by walls of black stone and water. Almost none of the roads or paths led anywhere. It wasn't a simple cave-in, either. It was as if someone had made a copy of the City and just the City.

There were small paths that lead out of the City, but upon taking them Quirrel discovered that they were twisting mazes that made no sense, strange and fey. And they lead to places that didn't make sense. You couldn't go directly from the City to the edges of the Deepnest, yet Quirrel had done exactly that and just managed to escape.

This City of Tears might've only been filled with ghosts, but whatever had made this strange Hallownest had kept the Deepnest as deadly as the real thing.

"They have left."

Lurien's soft words broke Quirrel out of his thoughts.

"Have they?"

"Yes, using that strange nail made of dreams once more."

"What had they done beforehand?"

"They had explored the City for a while. Trying to interact with some of the ghosts."

Quirrel winced. Some of the ghosts were more 'real', but all of them did not recognize this strange Hallownest for what it was. That was how he knew that the Watcher and Lemm had been real while the Hornet currently zipping around hadn't been.

He wondered where the real Hornet was, and hoped her safe. Yes, she had once tried to kill him but he didn't hold it against her.

Lurien the Watcher twisted a knob on his telescope, and the air in front of the lens shimmered with those dream glyphs.

"Watching in on the other world?" Quirrel asked.

"Yes."

For a moment Quirrel was sure that the Watcher would remain silent. To his surprise, Lurien spoke in his soft tones.

"Their world has once more been illuminated by that orange light. Across the strange castle, people mill about. And..."

Quirrel did not miss how Lurien tensed.

"And?"

"...Vehicles, like trams but oh so massive, are flying like a swarm of Durandoo and Aluba towards the castle. Many on the ground below are staring at them."

Quirrel could scarcely imagine what scene the Watcher must have been watching. Some of what he described boggled the mind. He wished he could see it with his own eyes, what a sight this strange kingdom must have been.

Lurien becoming silent once more, and Quirrel knew that the Watcher wouldn't speak for a long time. He wasn't needed here at the moment. A polite goodbye that wasn't returned and an elevator ride later, Quirrel walked the streets of the City of Tears again.

He didn't think he'd get used to walking streets crowded with ghosts anytime soon. See through though they were, they didn't walk past him. Not physically. If he spoke to a ghostly citizen they'd treat him like a normal bug would. But turn around for a moment, then go back to talk to them again. And they'd act like they never saw you before.

Just like the enemies.

Quirrel had killed before, his nail wasn't for show. But foes were supposed to die and lie there on the ground, waiting for scavengers to pick them apart. They weren't supposed to disappear when you weren't looking and come back at a later time, alive as if you hadn't cut them in two.

This Hallownest could get to a bug's mind, if one wasn't careful. A good thing then that it seemed to be the ghost of the kingdom in its prime. When the streets of Hallownest had been safe, relatively speaking.

Quirrel made his way towards the richer part of town, where the dens were made from dark purple stone. Well dressed citizens gave him odd looks but didn't bother him. The guards were a different story, giving him particular looks and standing up a bit straighter. But Quirrel hadn't been stopped yet. He just waved politely, knowing that the guards wouldn't remember him or his 'lackadaisical attitude'.

Climbing sets of stairs, he finally found himself outside of a small purple house. The moment he knocked on the door it slammed open, revealing an irate Lemm.

"Finally, you return!"

"Ah, is something the matter-?" Quirrel began.

"Is something the matter? Only that you've left me with a complete loon!"

Quirrel peaked into the house and saw its owner sitting in her chair and humming happily, kicking her feet. Eternal Emilitia she had called herself, when Quirrel and Lemm found her. The only other bug they had found here that wasn't a dream. It had seemed to make sense to stay with her. Lurien the Watcher had very politely and firmly asked for solitude.

Sure, Emilitia had been a noble, with the attitude that entailed. But she'd also been around since Hallownest's prime. Surely a Relic Seeker like Lemm wouldn't have dared missed the opportunity to talk to such a person.

Lemm walked out of the door, into the rain that he often complained about, and Quirrel made to follow him after a goodbye to Emilitia. The older bug huffed down the stairs, grumbling.

"She only thinks about herself! Old she might be, but anything that hadn't pertained to her or what she thought was important she holds no memory of!"

"Surely she can't be that bad," Quirrel said. Lemm grumbled.

"Alright, I did manage to fill up a solid journal of the gossips and grudges of the nobles of the City."

"See? Gossip is quite the tool for anyone, be they teacher, warrior, or historian-"

"I know that," Lemm snapped, "This is a wealth of information, as banal as it may be. I just can't stand that woman. If only my shop was still here..."

Alas, Lemm's shop was now the home of a bug. Or, rather, it used to be the home of a bug. Tenses, Quirrel thought wryly, were also a problem here.

"So? How did your little mission go?" Lemm asked, a knife of curiosity barely hidden by ages of experienced cynicism.

"Those strange bugs appeared once more, along with the Hallownest."

"Hmph! And you did not talk to them?"

"The Watcher discouraged such an action."

"Does not let me interview him, does not let any of us meet with a living legend or these strangers..." Lemm muttered.

"I too would like to talk to them," Quirrel admitted. For different reasons than the Relic Seeker, most certainly. It is not that he did not share Lemm's curiosity, for he did. Above all else though, he craved understanding of what has happened to them all. The Hollow Knight was his best chance for that understanding.

They walked in silence for a moment, Lemm observing the City of Tears in its prime while Quirrel thought. It wasn't till Lemm stopped that Quirrel realized that they had reached the end of the City.

A uniform wall of black stone, marred only be the occasional building built on it and the rare clumps of mushrooms growing from various crevices. Quirrel knew that the City of Tears spent quite the effort on making sure that the Fungal Wastes never encroached onto the city, though he wouldn't be able to tell anyone how he knew this.

"Do you think you will try to explore those strange caverns past this border?" Lemm asked. Surprised by the sudden question, Quirrel took a moment to answer.

"Eventually, I suppose. Someone must find out more about this strange Hallownest."

"Someone with a death wish, perhaps," Lemm snorted, "One could never pay me enough to ever step foot into the Deepnest."

"Not even with the rich culture of its tribe?" Quirrel joked.

Lemm blinked and turned his gaze towards him.

"I had seen oblique references to the Tribe of Deepnest in my studies, and most of it was not positive. One or two sources, however, spoke of intricate weavings and a culture far removed from Hallownest's own."

"I do not remember much of the Tribe in its prime. They were a solitary people," that they occasionally ate intruders helped with that, "But I do have faint memories of Deepnest's chief. I remember her being well-spoken, with a certain aura of authority to her."

"You refer to the Beast?" Lemm's full curiosity was upon Quirrel.

"I do refer to Herrah the Beast. I'm afraid I could not tell you much. In any case, in my most recent sojourn into the Deepnest I saw many ruins of what it once was. Many...relics one could say."

"Yes, yes, laugh it up," despite his words, Lemm's eyes had a spark in them.

"Interested?" Quirrel turned towards the shorter bug. Lemm harrumphed.

"I did say you couldn't pay me enough to step foot into Deepnest. However, if some foolhardy adventurous sort-"

"-With a death wish-"

"-were to bring me some of the Deepnest's treasures, I would perhaps pay them a just and fair amount."

"Now if only we had knowledge of such an 'adventurous sort'."

Against his will, Quirrel's mind turned towards the small dark bug who fit that description perfectly. Based on Lemm's surlier than usual silence, the Relic Seeker's mind had most likely turned towards the same little knight.

Before either of them could begin a conversation about their strange friend, a loud noise emanated from one of the buildings, followed by grumbling. Lemm stepped back and Quirrel kept a ready hand on his nail, knees bent.

"Hullo there!" Quirrel called out, voice cheery despite being ready to rend something into little pieces. There was a moment of silence, even the rain of the City seeming to hush. As if the world was holding its breath.

And then a response.

"Hullo there!"

The bug that walked out of the darkness of the building was many heads taller than Quirrel, with a girth to match. With dark red armor and fluffy grey cloak, the part of the bug's attire that was most strange was his apron, splattered with paint. The bug blinked at them, puzzled.

"How strange."

"We could say the same about you," Lemm said.

From the darkness of the building, a more familiar voice rang out.

"Is that you, Relic Seeker?"

An old bearded beetle walked to the side of the painter, raising an eyebrow.

"Nailsmith?" Lemm asked. Quirrel raised a friendly arm.

"Greetings, Nailsmith! What brings you to this strange Hallownest?"

The red bug and the Nailsmith gave each other looks before turning back to them.

"So you too realize whatever illusion we are under."

"I'm not sure it is an illusion in the common sense. We are working on figuring it out," Quirrel admitted.

"Then perhaps we should find out all we know," the red bug mused.

Quirrel nodded.

"A fine suggestion, sir…?"

"Ah, forgive my manner," the red bug bowed, "I am called Nailmaster Sheo."

In his Spire...

If Weiss Schnee was the type of girl who kept a diary, today's journal entry would've gone like so -

'Dear diary, the past few days have been...rough. Blake's becoming more and more standoffish, continuing to avoid us even during lunch by using the Hollow Knight as an excuse. I don't have proof, but I do believe she's going a few nights sleepless.

The reckless dunce has completely focused on the White Fang. Not that the Fang is a laughing matter, but...Well, an interkingdom terrorist group is hardly the sort of thing first year students should be dealing with. And even if we could, they seemed to have gone...underground after our last attempt to help.

Blake doesn't seem to understand that we can't do anything, and she's destroying herself. We're all trying to help, but she keep refusing.

In other news, I'm still no closer to solving the mystery of Hallownest. School wasn't designed for 'magical mysteries' as Ruby puts it, and I've had precious little time to explore the strange place. When I do, Ruby, the Knight, and myself end up in seeming endless caverns. We've not yet found anything quite on the scale of the City of Tears. What we have discovered is that Hallownest seems to be consistent.

Entering from Beacon's courtyard always lands us in the City of Tears. Entering from our room lands us in a cave that goes two ways. Three ways if you include the well in the cavern roof. The well however is boarded up with gods knows how many tons of stone. Whatever is up there, and whoever created that pathway – perhaps the original creators of Hallownest? - have not been here for a long long time.

There is a sense of age to Hallownest that leaves me equal parts small and melancholic. I do not know why. There is frustratingly much I do not know about Hallownest, still. I would ask the Hollow Knight, but whenever they can they train. If Blake is determined, then the Knight is driven. I doubt even a Paladin could take them away from their training. The only thing that 'distracts' them are direct orders from me or forays into Hallownest.

And I've tried to directly order them to ease up a bit. I have been ignored, though very politely.

Perhaps soon I will have good news. General Ironwood's forces have docked at Beacon – what a strange sight it was to see Atlas warships in Vale's skies – and perhaps my sister will soon join him. I long to be able to speak to her, face to face. Perhaps she can help.

Taking the pen from the page, Weiss looked around furtively before shoving what was most certainly not a diary into an inconspicuous binder titled 'Finance', and placing that amongst the rest of her binders.

In his Spire...

"Go away! Gla gla!"

"It's alright," Quirrel soothed. Behind him Nailmaster Sheo was out of sight. If Quirrel was enough to frighten this Fluke, then the sight of the warrior would no doubt send her into hysterics.

"Gla gla! Strange things! L-Lurking! Glowing! Gla gla!" the Fluke gibbered.

Quirrel rubbed his head, thinking about how to get the Fluke from out of the small hole she had holed herself into.

"She has quite the accent," Sheo noted, quiet.

"I can't recall much about the Flukes," and this included what mist like memories he had of old Hallownest. It was most probable that he'd never encountered the Flukes before. Their tribe, if they could be called a tribe, lived in the City's sewers. The Royal Waterway was not a place inhabited by civilized creatures. So, to most of Hallownest, the Flukes were not civilized.

Civilized or not, Quirrel could hardly leave the girl hunkered down in this manhole. It wasn't safe – for all that this City was safe physically, Quirrel did not trust this realm. And the Fluke must have entered into the City through one of those twisting tunnels. Who or what else might follow her?

And, a small part of Quirrel simply wanted to gather every being of the real Hallownest in one place. Together they might be able to find a way back. Admittadley, what could a Fluke know?

On the other hand, what could a Fluke know?

"Please. I mean you no harm. You must be scared. I know of a safe place, where others like us are."

"Gla gla. S-Safe, gla? Little sisters gla gla?"

"Perhaps," Quirrel lied, feeling slightly bad about it.

The Fluke quivered in her hole for another moment, before tentatively looking up at him and reaching out a stubby arm. Quirrel grabbed the arm firmly(1) and helped the Fluke outside. She almost leapt right back into the hole at the sight of Sheo, and it was only many soft reassurances from Quirrel about how Sheo wasn't going to kill her that stopped the Fluke.

Making their way through the streets of the City with the Fluke in tow was an interesting experience. Quirrel was positive that she would try to bolt at some point. Instead, the Fluke kept her head down low, protecting the satchel she wore from the rain. A satchel that squirmed.

'Little sisters, perhaps?'

They made their way towards the center of the City. Dens became fancier and fancier, the ghosts of bugs became more and more aristocratic. The looks they got from the ghosts became more and more disgusted, and he knew it was only Sheo's intimidating presence that stopped the ghosts of the guards from kicking them out.

Somehow, without problem, they made it into the Watcher's Spire. It was here that they had all gathered despite the Watcher's wish for solitude, seeing as Emilitia would rather not deal with the 'rabble' and Lemm had been close to picking up a nail.

Speaking of, the Relic Seeker looked up from the various parchment around him and squinted.

"A Fluke?" Lemm grumbled, eyes scrunched up.

"She was hiding in a tiny hole, scared out of her wits," Quirrel said, gently pushing the Fluke into the room. The girl took a look at Lemm and the Nailsmith, before rushing towards a corner of the spire's ground floor and hunkering down, murmuring to herself.

Lemm didn't look pleased, but his expression wasn't any different from how it usually was so Quirrel hazarded that it was simply the Relic Seeker's regular distaste for people and not something worse. A lucky break, considering how many bugs considered Flukes. The Nailsmith gave the girl a pitying glance before walking up to Nailmaster Sheo and hugging him.

"Back safe, thank goodness."

"If I can say one thing of this strange world, it is that it is safer than our Hallownest dear," Sheo smiled.

"Perhaps in matter of beasts. But this world isn't right, take it from this old shell."

"You noticed too, eh?" Sheo murmured.

"You'd have to be blind not to notice it," Lemm snorted, "And the Watcher still says nothing?"

Eyes turned towards Quirrel, and he sighed.

"No, he has yet to speak to me."

"Tales said that the Watcher of the City had been the King's most loyal subject, and a grave and melancholic figure," Sheo offered.

"From what I remember, those tales are true," Quirrel nodded. He had yet to tell them of his history, but Quirrel knew that one day he'd have to. These bugs trusted him. He could not spit on that trust. And...he yearned to share. On the lake shore, with the little shadowy knight, he had spilled his story and felt at peace. Quirrel would like to have more of that peace.

But for now, he'd hold back his tale.

"I believe I shall give him another visit. At the very least, to ask if there are any others like us currently wandering the City."

"Do you expect more?" the Nailsmith asked.

"I have a theory," Quirrel admitted, "But its only tentative. I don't want to share it until I'm more certain."

"Don't keep us in the dark for too long," Lemm warned.

"I won't," Quirrel chuckled, heading towards the elevator.

Lemm hadn't been affected by the Plauge. Emilitia hadn't been affected by the Plauge. The Nailmaster hadn't either. Quirrel was positive that Nailmaster Sheo was unaffected as well.

And, if his theory held weight, then the Fluke girl would also have never been affected.

In his Spire...

"Hey there Weiss."

Ruby plopped down next to Weiss, and the Schnee Heiress sighed. For the appearance of it, really. She would welcome Ruby's cheer, a breath of sunshine in an otherwise dreary day.

Weiss frowned at the improper saying, and rubbed her eyes. She must be more tired than she had thought.

"Whatcha doing?"

"It's planning for the Dance," Weiss said. The Vytal Festival Ball. A hallmark and pillar of the Vytal Festival, a celebration of the varied culture of Remnant! That the Ball would be a far cry from the formal dances of Atlas and the Schnee Manor was simply a cherry on top. Weiss was ecstatic about being given this responsibility by the Headmaster.

If only it hadn't happened because Team CFVY were on extended duration on a mission. She hoped that their senior team was okay.

"You look like you've been here for hours," Ruby said, stretching her arms over the desk and casting Weiss a curious head tilt.

"I have," Weiss admitted, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.

Now Ruby was giving her a disappointed look. It shouldn't have worked so well on a girl two years her younger, especially since Ruby pouted when she was disappointed with someone.

"There's a lot of planning involved," Weiss defended herself.

"Guess that's why they usually give it to a Team, huh?"

"Team CFVY have already done a bulk of the work. I simply must thank them when they come back."

The reason the Headmaster had only given this job to herself and Yang was probably because a majority of the paperwork had been done by Team CFVY. Though Weiss had a slight suspicion that even Headmaster Ozpin, oddly optimistic as he was, doubted Ruby and Blake's ability in this sort of endeavor. Eccentric though Coco Adell was, she had a flair for style that was key to these sort of events. A flair that Weiss, loathe though she was to admit it, did not have. Yang did though, and with Weiss to moderate her they made short work of the party planning. Till Yang had suddenly left her, laser pointer in hand and a determined look on her face.

"Where is Yang anyway? She's supposed to be helping," Weiss asked, holding back a whine.

"She's having a talk with Blake."

"Oh."

She could tell from Ruby's expression that her partner was also thinking about their teammate's increasing self destructive behavior. All attempts to talk to Blake led nowhere. If Yang had managed to corner her though…

"I hope she'll be okay," Ruby whispered.

"The best we can do is be there for her," Weiss said after a moment.

The younger girl gave her a look, before nodding.

"Right."

Weiss couldn't help but smile at Ruby's determined expression. Their team leader would try everything to help Blake, she knew it. Even if it got on the raven haired girl's nerves. But, that wasn't a bad thing-

Something buzzed and shrieked in a way all to familiar to Weiss and she had turned around just in time to slam a sheaf of papers into a vengefly. The small predatory bug was dazed for a moment before shrieking again and flying towards her face.

There was no thought involved. Ruby had shoved something in Weiss's hand and the heiress closed fingers over cool metal before slashing at the bug.

She'd have to ask Ruby why she had a combat knife of all things later, but at the moment Weiss watched as the bug was cleft in two. Falling to the ground with a damp thud – before dissolving into the strange glyphs that Weiss knew well by now.

They might've been in a library, but the silence that stretched between the two girls was deafening.

"Weiss, how did it-?" Ruby began, eyes wide.

"I, I don't," Weiss began, feeling chilled despite the warmth of the library.

In his Spire...

"I see a monster, roaming the halls of that strange world."

Quirrel's words died in his mouth as the Watcher spoke.

"It is not one of those strange dark creatures," Lurien whispered, "But a monster of Hallownest."

"What?" Quirrel asked, tensing.

"I see a monster, a nightmare," Lurien's words were almost inaudible, "And I see its next victim."

In his Spire...

Beacon had a curfew. Ren knew this. But sometimes sleep became so difficult that he had to pace around, do anything but sit still, to find rest. His team knew about it, and though Pyrrha and Jaune worried about him they still let him. Though, he thought dryly, they'd be a bit hypocritical if they stopped him, considering their own nightly escapades.

Beacon had a curfew, but seeing as how Headmaster Ozpin also wandered the halls at night and happily conversed with any students he came across, it wasn't terribly enforced. Even Professor Goodwitch didn't try to enforce it, though she would give a Look to anyone she found.

It wasn't like Ren was going to go far. Just a circuit around the dorms, real quick-

Something skittered in the dark.

Ren slowed his footsteps, eyes narrowing. Absently wishing he had night vision, he too his scroll out and turned on its flashlight. He began to call upon his aura as well, just in case. If this was another one of Cardin's pranks, then he would let Nora at them, he swore-

At the edge of the hallway stood his mother. His mother, who he'd last seen trying to comfort him before she'd been buried under tons of rubble. His mother, who he didn't even have a picture of and he was terrified of the day he'd forget how she looked-

His mother, exactly the way he remembered her, smiling at him before turning around.

Hesitant footsteps turned frantic, and in the darkness, many legs moved.

High up in his office, Headmaster Ozpin froze, the pulse of faint magic ringing through his bones.

In his Spire, looking over the City.

Notes:

(1: 'Quirrel grabbed the arm firmly' ) Flukes didn't have shells like other bugs. They were clammy and soft and fleshy. Moving tended to involve disquieting wobbling.

This chapter was a bit difficult, since nothing really happens in it till the end, action wise. It's the calm before the storm, people relaxing after the last chapter.

Better enjoy what time they do have to relax. There won't be much of that in the future.

As always, Sheo and the Nailmaster are a lovely couple, and they most certainly are sickeningly sweet in front of Lemm and Quirrel.

Also, hands up for those who actually remember or met the Fluke Hermit. She's an easy to miss NPC for Hollow Knight.

And, completely unrelated, I finally watched Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. Really fantastic good show, but has nothing to do with this crossover.

Gears are still winding up, though things are moving fast enough to destroy carefully thought out plans. What happened to Ren? Will he be saved? And what might this nightmare be?

Tune in next time!