nealuchi | the softness of someone else's home

Title: the softness of someone else's home
Fandom: Hollow Knight
Character(s): The Knight, Mato
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Hurt/Comfortish
Word Count: 500
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers
Summary: The Knight is adopted by a Nailmaster. They don't know how to feel about that.
Notes: Presumes that the Knight has completed the Birthplace before meeting Mato for the first time.

This house is warm.

The cliffs were cold, the wind and the howling forever chipping at the Knight’s back. This house is warm and welcoming, a respite from the wind.

(Their birthplace was cold. They don’t belong here.)

Like his brothers, the Nailmaster Mato offers a Nail Art, and they accept, because they were made to be able to fight. Of all that they’ve received that was never meant for them, training is not one of them.

But.

“I hope you don’t think me too forward when I say that I consider you to be my child.”

They freeze solid. Still looking up at him, they try to impose the Pale King’s form over his and fail. Nothing in Mato resembles their father. (Mato would not hurl them off these cliffs. Not for the greater good. The cost would be too great.)

“My pupil, have I said something wrong?” Mato asks.

They barely manage to shake their head. No, Mato can say whatever he chooses to. The bond of teacher and pupil is not so different from parent and child, as they understand it.

(Once the pupil has learned enough, the teacher sends them out into the world. Forcefully, if need be.)

“You seemed frightened.”

Frightened? Is that the name for this emotion that has their body locked in place?

“I have no knowledge of any master that came before me, but I, at least, am honored to have you as my pupil and my child.”

Their father would not be honored by the failures that came before and after them. They are only one of thousands of rejects. But Mato is different.

When motion returns to their body, they decide to sit with Mato for a little longer.

“I myself have sworn never to lay eyes on the Nailsage again. Not until I have truly mastered his teachings.”

If the Knight could, they would frown. They are unable to tell the Pale King exactly what they think of his plan - even if they return to find his corpse, and they have no desire to brave the buzzsaws again to do so, they have no voice to give complaint and the King has no ears to hear. Sly, on the other hand, is in the nearest village, almost a straight drop.

“Do you think me ungrateful for choosing not to see him, my pupil?” Mato asks, and the Knight hesitates. Ungrateful isn’t the word they would use, if they could use words. More unaware.

They take Mato’s hand and squeeze it tightly.

“…Your master that came before me,” Mato guesses. They shake their head. “Or a parent?” They nod. “A parent you can no longer speak to.” They nod again. “Regardless of my reasons for choosing not to see my Master, you worry that I won’t be able to see him again until it’s too late.” A more emphatic nod.

For a moment, all is still and silent. Then Mato, still linked hand in hand with the Knight, opens the door.