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a place of warmth
Title: a place of warmth
Fandom: Hollow Knight
Character(s): The Knight, Grimm, Divine
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 1,630
Rating: PG
Warnings: Canon-typical reference to cannibalism
Summary: Nothing could be more difficult than defeating Grimm, except for dealing with fussy children.
Notes: I spent 90% of today crying over Hollow Knight and I'll write unrepentant fluff if I want to.
The Knight is sure that gathering the last four flames cannot possibly be as difficult as their battle with Grimm. Though Grimm said they had a magnificent performance - and strangely they have a light sensation when recalling his words - it was a hard fought battle, and at several times the Knight had been close to defeat. Even finding scarlet flames in the deepest realms of the kingdom, guarded by Grimmkin that hide in the very walls, cannot be a bigger challenge.
And it wouldn’t, except.
The Grimmchild will not settle down.
They keep zipping around the Knight’s head, occasionally landing on their mask only to resume buzzing around when the Knight moves a fraction. They chirp constantly, and even when they dip their foot down into the entrance to the crossroads, trying to remind the Grimmchild that they need to go back into dangerous territory, they don’t stop their commotion.
No battle would make the Knight certain enough of their skill to venture down with a constant impediment to their vision. They sit down on the nearby bench to consider options. Even that doesn’t make the Grimmchild settle: they only get louder.
They think to ask the Elderbug for advice, then remember that he’s not terribly fond of the troupe, including the Grimmchild. They’re being difficult right now, but the Knight doesn’t think they could be cruel to them.
They lead the Grimmchild into the main tent, but neither Grimm nor Brumm are around, leaving only a hint of lingering warmth. Grimm they expected, as he only turns up when he wants to, but Brumm’s absence is new. Perhaps he’s getting flames? The Knight hopes he’s doing a better job of it than they are right now.
That leaves Divine. The Knight is hesitant for reasons that only partially involve what the Geo cost for caregiving advice might be, but there’s no one else they can think of to turn to. They enter Divine’s tent, Grimmchild still buzzing around their head.
“What a fussy child you and Master have.” Divine smiles on only one side of her face. “Just can’t get them to settle, little lovely? Can’t get the scarlet flames when the child’s so fussy?”
They bob their head in a nod. She’s understood the situation immediately, so maybe this won’t take that long-
“Welll, I’m no good with the child. Master won’t let me alone with them at all. Humph! Master knows I wouldn’t do a thing to that precious, delicious child!”
The Grimmchild hisses at her. …The Knight thinks that Grimm was probably in the right to keep the Grimmchild away.
“Brumm can calm them down, but he’s gathering flames for you. Can’t see Brumm with the child throwing a fit, can’t get the child to stop throwing a fit without Brumm, no good, no good either way…”
After a second of consideration, the Knight jerks their head towards the main tent.
“Hm? Oh, you want to have Master take care of them?”
A nod. Grimm knows his own child best, or else he wouldn’t have this whole ritual to make them stronger.
“He’s napping.” Divine sighs heavily, though the Knight suspects it’s mostly to be heard over the child’s constant chirping and whining. “Trying to wake Master while he’s sleeping is, ahhh, not good. Not good at all. Why not wait?”
Wait until Grimm wakes up? The Knight supposes there isn’t much else they can do at this point, with venturing below impossibly reckless with a ‘fussy’ Grimmchild and leaving the child alone irresponsible and equally dangerous. The most reasonable course of action is to wait in Dirtmouth.
But they’ve already bought everything useful for sale, they’ve explored as far as can be explored to the west and east, and they’ve even heard all fifty-seven of Zote’s precepts. There isn’t anything left to do in Dirtmouth. So they sit down right there on the tent floor, and wait.
And wait.
Divine lets them wait in relative quiet (the Grimmchild still is fluttering about and making noise) for a minute before asking, “Are you going to just sit the whole time you wait, little lovely?”
They nod. The bench is a little more comfortable, but Grimm will probably check here first whenever he does wake up.
“Don’t you have anything else you want to do? Something else? A hobby?”
Slowly, they tilt their head to one side. A hobby? They understand what the word means, but they’ve never considered it as a thing they might have.
“The perfect thing for a little lovely, let me see…” She turns around and rummages through a pile of items in the back of her tent. The Knight considers just leaving rather than being charged for something that most likely was eaten and then expelled at some point, but maybe they’ll get a discount on this one.
“Aaaand here we go~”
It’s a wooden item with strings crossed over a hole. Divine holds it out to them.
The Knight hesitates, but when she doesn’t take it back or name its price, they take it. It feels terribly delicate.
“A gift! A gift for you. And for the child. A gift from Brumm, too!” She giggles. “Ahh, he never liked the lute, won’t mind it going missing for a good cause.”
They’re not sure if they should take this, but when they brush over one of the strings, it makes a sound that isn’t unpleasant. The Grimmchild seems to think so too, settling down on top of the Knight’s mask.
“They always did like music. Play a good song and they’ll behave for you, yes? But no practicing in my tent, not until you’re as good as Brumm!”
The Knight nods, and bows their head to thank Divine for her help. Her giggling accompanies them as they leave her tent.
They consider practicing in the main tent, but waking Grimm is not a good idea, especially not with an instrument they don’t know how to play. They don’t want to bother anyone else in Dirtmouth either, so after some consideration, they take the lute to the graveyard.
(They make a motion towards the crossroads entrance, but the Grimmchild starts yowling so loudly that even the Knight winces. Not satisfied yet, even if they have stopped flying everywhere.)
Some experimentation informs the Knight that plucking the strings makes different sounds for different strings. If they touch the thin top of the instrument, they make different noises from those, and turning the pegs near the top changes the sounds still more. Which is informative, but not near close to playing a song.
But they don’t sleep, and they can’t pursue any other goals with the Grimmchild fussing. So they turn their focus towards plucking strings that sound nice together. They aren’t even sure if their opinion of what ‘sounds nice’ is the same as the child’s or anyone else’s, but they need somewhere to start. The child stays still and quiet, only occasionally chirping something approving when the Knight finds a good combination of strings.
They aren’t sure how long it takes - several hours, perhaps - before that familiar flash of red appears. The Grimmchild squeals in what is probably delight and abandons their perch on the Knight’s mask in favor of Grimm’s shoulder.
“Good evening, my friend.” Grimm’s eyes sparkle. “Is that a familiar instrument I spy?”
Hanging their head, the Knight holds the lute out to him. They would like to apologize, or say that they only took it to calm Grimm’s child down, but all they can do is hope their theft is forgiven.
But rather than take the lute back, Grimm rests his hand gently on top of the Knight’s head. He’s warm, the Knight notes, with the faint astonishment of someone who had forgotten they were cold.
“Dear one, I am not angry with you. That instrument is old and has already been replaced, and it was offered to you freely. You have done no wrong. Rather, you have gone above and beyond your role, calming my child in such a state. Even those in our own troupe have difficulty with that.” Grimm lifts his hand again, taking the body heat with him, as his expression turns serious. “But as you’ve done more than your part in the ritual - something I should have done myself, no less - I feel I must repay you. What is it that you would like?”
The Knight immediately shakes their head. They didn’t do anything special, and they want nothing.
“No, dear friend, I insist! It would pain me not to reward your kindness.” Grimm presses a hand over his heart, or where the Knight assumes his heart should be.
They didn’t do anything to warrant this kindness, but they don’t want to upset Grimm either. If they need to ask for one tiny thing, then…
Hesitantly, they press their body against his side. He’s warm all over, immune to Dirtmouth’s chilling winds.
“Oh, is that all?” They can’t see his smile with their mask pressed up against him, but they can hear it. “Consider your wish granted.”
Then they’re being lifted. Panic makes them scrabble for purchase, which they find on Grimm’s shoulders as he holds them close to his chest. Arms wrapped around them, hold secure and still gentle.
This isn’t what they meant. They wouldn’t have asked for a… hug. This is what a hug feels like.
Still hesitant, uncertain if they’re allowed this much, they try to wrap their arms around Grimm in return. They can’t manage nearly as full a hold, nor is their embrace as warm and comforting as his, but Grimm just hums and lets them continue.
They aren’t used to going beyond their role. But it helps that when they do, no one seems to mind.
Fandom: Hollow Knight
Character(s): The Knight, Grimm, Divine
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 1,630
Rating: PG
Warnings: Canon-typical reference to cannibalism
Summary: Nothing could be more difficult than defeating Grimm, except for dealing with fussy children.
Notes: I spent 90% of today crying over Hollow Knight and I'll write unrepentant fluff if I want to.
The Knight is sure that gathering the last four flames cannot possibly be as difficult as their battle with Grimm. Though Grimm said they had a magnificent performance - and strangely they have a light sensation when recalling his words - it was a hard fought battle, and at several times the Knight had been close to defeat. Even finding scarlet flames in the deepest realms of the kingdom, guarded by Grimmkin that hide in the very walls, cannot be a bigger challenge.
And it wouldn’t, except.
The Grimmchild will not settle down.
They keep zipping around the Knight’s head, occasionally landing on their mask only to resume buzzing around when the Knight moves a fraction. They chirp constantly, and even when they dip their foot down into the entrance to the crossroads, trying to remind the Grimmchild that they need to go back into dangerous territory, they don’t stop their commotion.
No battle would make the Knight certain enough of their skill to venture down with a constant impediment to their vision. They sit down on the nearby bench to consider options. Even that doesn’t make the Grimmchild settle: they only get louder.
They think to ask the Elderbug for advice, then remember that he’s not terribly fond of the troupe, including the Grimmchild. They’re being difficult right now, but the Knight doesn’t think they could be cruel to them.
They lead the Grimmchild into the main tent, but neither Grimm nor Brumm are around, leaving only a hint of lingering warmth. Grimm they expected, as he only turns up when he wants to, but Brumm’s absence is new. Perhaps he’s getting flames? The Knight hopes he’s doing a better job of it than they are right now.
That leaves Divine. The Knight is hesitant for reasons that only partially involve what the Geo cost for caregiving advice might be, but there’s no one else they can think of to turn to. They enter Divine’s tent, Grimmchild still buzzing around their head.
“What a fussy child you and Master have.” Divine smiles on only one side of her face. “Just can’t get them to settle, little lovely? Can’t get the scarlet flames when the child’s so fussy?”
They bob their head in a nod. She’s understood the situation immediately, so maybe this won’t take that long-
“Welll, I’m no good with the child. Master won’t let me alone with them at all. Humph! Master knows I wouldn’t do a thing to that precious, delicious child!”
The Grimmchild hisses at her. …The Knight thinks that Grimm was probably in the right to keep the Grimmchild away.
“Brumm can calm them down, but he’s gathering flames for you. Can’t see Brumm with the child throwing a fit, can’t get the child to stop throwing a fit without Brumm, no good, no good either way…”
After a second of consideration, the Knight jerks their head towards the main tent.
“Hm? Oh, you want to have Master take care of them?”
A nod. Grimm knows his own child best, or else he wouldn’t have this whole ritual to make them stronger.
“He’s napping.” Divine sighs heavily, though the Knight suspects it’s mostly to be heard over the child’s constant chirping and whining. “Trying to wake Master while he’s sleeping is, ahhh, not good. Not good at all. Why not wait?”
Wait until Grimm wakes up? The Knight supposes there isn’t much else they can do at this point, with venturing below impossibly reckless with a ‘fussy’ Grimmchild and leaving the child alone irresponsible and equally dangerous. The most reasonable course of action is to wait in Dirtmouth.
But they’ve already bought everything useful for sale, they’ve explored as far as can be explored to the west and east, and they’ve even heard all fifty-seven of Zote’s precepts. There isn’t anything left to do in Dirtmouth. So they sit down right there on the tent floor, and wait.
And wait.
Divine lets them wait in relative quiet (the Grimmchild still is fluttering about and making noise) for a minute before asking, “Are you going to just sit the whole time you wait, little lovely?”
They nod. The bench is a little more comfortable, but Grimm will probably check here first whenever he does wake up.
“Don’t you have anything else you want to do? Something else? A hobby?”
Slowly, they tilt their head to one side. A hobby? They understand what the word means, but they’ve never considered it as a thing they might have.
“The perfect thing for a little lovely, let me see…” She turns around and rummages through a pile of items in the back of her tent. The Knight considers just leaving rather than being charged for something that most likely was eaten and then expelled at some point, but maybe they’ll get a discount on this one.
“Aaaand here we go~”
It’s a wooden item with strings crossed over a hole. Divine holds it out to them.
The Knight hesitates, but when she doesn’t take it back or name its price, they take it. It feels terribly delicate.
“A gift! A gift for you. And for the child. A gift from Brumm, too!” She giggles. “Ahh, he never liked the lute, won’t mind it going missing for a good cause.”
They’re not sure if they should take this, but when they brush over one of the strings, it makes a sound that isn’t unpleasant. The Grimmchild seems to think so too, settling down on top of the Knight’s mask.
“They always did like music. Play a good song and they’ll behave for you, yes? But no practicing in my tent, not until you’re as good as Brumm!”
The Knight nods, and bows their head to thank Divine for her help. Her giggling accompanies them as they leave her tent.
They consider practicing in the main tent, but waking Grimm is not a good idea, especially not with an instrument they don’t know how to play. They don’t want to bother anyone else in Dirtmouth either, so after some consideration, they take the lute to the graveyard.
(They make a motion towards the crossroads entrance, but the Grimmchild starts yowling so loudly that even the Knight winces. Not satisfied yet, even if they have stopped flying everywhere.)
Some experimentation informs the Knight that plucking the strings makes different sounds for different strings. If they touch the thin top of the instrument, they make different noises from those, and turning the pegs near the top changes the sounds still more. Which is informative, but not near close to playing a song.
But they don’t sleep, and they can’t pursue any other goals with the Grimmchild fussing. So they turn their focus towards plucking strings that sound nice together. They aren’t even sure if their opinion of what ‘sounds nice’ is the same as the child’s or anyone else’s, but they need somewhere to start. The child stays still and quiet, only occasionally chirping something approving when the Knight finds a good combination of strings.
They aren’t sure how long it takes - several hours, perhaps - before that familiar flash of red appears. The Grimmchild squeals in what is probably delight and abandons their perch on the Knight’s mask in favor of Grimm’s shoulder.
“Good evening, my friend.” Grimm’s eyes sparkle. “Is that a familiar instrument I spy?”
Hanging their head, the Knight holds the lute out to him. They would like to apologize, or say that they only took it to calm Grimm’s child down, but all they can do is hope their theft is forgiven.
But rather than take the lute back, Grimm rests his hand gently on top of the Knight’s head. He’s warm, the Knight notes, with the faint astonishment of someone who had forgotten they were cold.
“Dear one, I am not angry with you. That instrument is old and has already been replaced, and it was offered to you freely. You have done no wrong. Rather, you have gone above and beyond your role, calming my child in such a state. Even those in our own troupe have difficulty with that.” Grimm lifts his hand again, taking the body heat with him, as his expression turns serious. “But as you’ve done more than your part in the ritual - something I should have done myself, no less - I feel I must repay you. What is it that you would like?”
The Knight immediately shakes their head. They didn’t do anything special, and they want nothing.
“No, dear friend, I insist! It would pain me not to reward your kindness.” Grimm presses a hand over his heart, or where the Knight assumes his heart should be.
They didn’t do anything to warrant this kindness, but they don’t want to upset Grimm either. If they need to ask for one tiny thing, then…
Hesitantly, they press their body against his side. He’s warm all over, immune to Dirtmouth’s chilling winds.
“Oh, is that all?” They can’t see his smile with their mask pressed up against him, but they can hear it. “Consider your wish granted.”
Then they’re being lifted. Panic makes them scrabble for purchase, which they find on Grimm’s shoulders as he holds them close to his chest. Arms wrapped around them, hold secure and still gentle.
This isn’t what they meant. They wouldn’t have asked for a… hug. This is what a hug feels like.
Still hesitant, uncertain if they’re allowed this much, they try to wrap their arms around Grimm in return. They can’t manage nearly as full a hold, nor is their embrace as warm and comforting as his, but Grimm just hums and lets them continue.
They aren’t used to going beyond their role. But it helps that when they do, no one seems to mind.