Chapter Text
Isma yelped as she caught the clearly unwell god-king. "How long was he down there?" The mosskin asked worriedly.
"Mel'ed queen said that 'che went to sleep at his side, only to wake to a note and his absence. Likely a few hours." Ze'mer draped her cloak over the king's unconscious form and began walking towards the palace.
"Ohhh, this is terrible…" Isma worried, fiddling with her weapons as they walked.
"Shhh." Ze'mer walked across the gilt bridge arriving before the Kingsmoulds. She watched them stoically, flashing her badge. "Let le'mer through, 'che comes on official crown business on request of the queen."
They stood aside and let her pass. They carried the king's body to the infirmary and Ze'mer set her precious burden down on one of the cots.
The medic came into the room and saw the patient brought in as Ze'mer pulled down her cape to reveal the face of their patient-and yelped loudly in distressed shock.
It would take some doing to get the medic to calm down and Isma ended up the one who informed the White Lady. She had ended up carrying the unconscious king to their bedroom, as to not disturb the infirmary and medics further. Nobody was sure what to do for the king but to let him rest in any case. Nobody knew what medicines would even work for a wyrm, let alone a god. Spring water and the Root's presence would have to do and waiting for his awakening, praying that he would to whatever higher being would listen.
Everything felt soft and silken, cotton of a high-quality beneath eir and soft silk over eir body, a cool warmth beside eir, that stroked at eir back soothingly. There were distant sounds that e couldn't make out, so many voices-but they seemed so far away. E stirred and felt a purr come out at the comforting and slowly opened eir eyes. There was a name on eir lips, but e couldn't quite recall it. "Mm...my…" E whispered and took a moment to realize that e had reached out not just with the left hand, but two of them for eir to realize a few things:
This was no dream.
E didn't know where e was.
There was someone who was in bed with eir and e didn't know immediately who.
E was still the wyrm and Pale King. Whoever he was.
E looked up at the pale, blue-eyed face before eir. The White Lady, of course. She looked delighted. "My husband, you've awakened at last! I am so relieved you've recovered." She hugged eir close, touching foreheads together. E grew stiff in the woman's arms. "...my love, what's wrong?"
E shivered as e looked up. This was Root. It could be nobody else and while Wyrm might love her… "I'm… sorry, who are you, dear lady?" E felt bad even as e said it, even as e meant it.
She was silenced and let go, her eyes going wide and then crinkling in clear shock then sorrow. "You… don't remember me? You don't know your own wife?" She spoke anxiously.
E rubbed where eir temples were, then rubbed over eir horns, still shaking. "My lady fair, I do not recall anything of myself before waking in a dark place enrobed in ragged silk." ...right, e had to talk fancy. That's what they would expect, even from a Wyrm who couldn't remember right?
Hands went to where a mouth would be, shock and horror in her expression. The stranger awkwardly sat on the bed, backing up a little and feeling increasingly uncomfortable as tears began to fall down the White Lady's face. "I had thought that night before you disappeared had been a goodbye. Maybe you knew it would happen. I wonder if you ran away or if you thought this would bring the solution you promised you'd found, the one that made you sob so brokenly?" She reached out and stroked eir face. "Is this the loss you mourned? Or is this the alternative for that?"
The stranger shuddered. "I wish I could tell you, but I sadly cannot. I cannot promise or enlighten you of anything. I can only offer you my shoulder to cry on."
She smiled sadly and put her hand under eir chin, staring into the stranger's eyes. "We'll have a lot of work to do, then. You'll need to be introduced to everyone, my dear. You were called after your species, Wyrm. Your name is secret, of course. We exchanged knowledge of our true names for our wedding vows, which I will continue keeping the secret of. You have a sweetness and honesty to you and I feel that I can trust you, my dear. I am the White Lady, Root. Guardian spirit of the land that Hallownest sits upon.
"I have been courted by many, but you alone have treated me with respect and love. Even now, you respect me and I shall return that respect." She spoke with her same sad smile. "I shall not court you, not until you've had time to recover. Until then… shall we be friends and partners?" She offered her hand.
Wyrm took her hand and touched it to eir forehead in a bow, hoping that was the polite thing to do. That's what knights did, right? Root actually laughed. "Still so very gallant in your mannerisms!"
Bingo. E let go of eir hand and decided to go for the two big questions; "Lady Root, who am I? Where am I? What am I? What are the voices I am hearing? Am I... am I mad?" E asked worriedly.
She smiled, a little amused. "Ah, apologies. The voices are not born of madness, those are your worshippers, praying to you. You are the Wyrm, the Pale King, the God of the Kingdom of Hallownest. You are in your bedroom, your palace that you have ruled from for almost two thousand years." She explained. "Your true name, I will not speak save that it means Chains of Light."
Somehow, that made a little too much sense. "What is a wyrm?" E asked her.
She helped the stranger up. "How about we get you dressed and you can see in the mirror what you are?"
E was helped up and e almost tripped over the long, fat tail that was behind eir. Root caught eir. "What the-" E cut eirself off by means of whapping eirself in the face with the tip of eir face, earning a growling hiss of pain. "Stop that!"
E grabbed eir tail and yelped at the sensation, dropping it-e had gripped too hard. E did actually trip this time, but used eir wings to prevent faceplanting onto the ground. E eased eirself down to the ground on shaky legs, tail swishing back and forth on the ground as e found some semblance of balance. E slipped into the white robes that Wyrm preferred and sighed happily at their softness. E looked into the mirror at last and… yes, that was the Pale King indeed. E felt eir face, eir horns, under the mask of a face, finding a mouth full of very, very sharp-feeling teeth and some molars.
Yep, extremely carnivorous.
E swayed on eir feet a bit. "Nnnh… I think I need to eat and drink. My head… it hurts and I feel light-headed."
"I'll send for some soup to start you with." Root promised. "Why don't you lie down until it gets here and rest?"
Yes… that sounded good to eir.
Root came out of the bedroom and went to the garden, having sent a message with the request for food to the five knights who gathered there. Isma looked visibly worried, more than the others. "Great Knights of Hallownest. About a guard rotation ago, the king began to act strangely. He made many arrangements that made no sense to me, considering many plans for facing the infection before-yet all were dropped after that point. He spent a whole work period with me, canceling all appointments for the next guard rotation after that. He disappeared from bed, after… well. You are aware that I sent you all to different corners of the kingdom to search for clues on where he might have gone and it was the honored ladies Isma and Ze'mer who found him, completely disoriented and not recognizing them, fainting and being brought in with… clear signs of void taint." She paused and let the five take that in, with four showing clear signs of horror. Hegemol was impossible to read through his armor, as usual.
"...that's terrible." Came a soft voice from within the metal carapace.
"Yes. He awoke today, still disoriented but stable. He was able to ask questions and speak coherently. My knights… the king has lost his memory. He does not remember me nor himself, at all. There's signs of him, he still speaks with eloquent dignity but…" She sighed. "He didn't even have good balance or control over his body. The full details will not be made public. The public shall only know thus: The king has been injured by the void and is recovering from the exposure. Even gods can be taken out by the noxious stuff, after all."
"You mean to say you are not revealing his lack of memory, your grace?" Dryya sounded a bit shocked.
"...no. With the infection raging, I do not want further panic from ordinary citizens." The Root spoke firmly. "We will simply have to support him best we can and keep looking for a solution to the infection until he either comes to his senses or we find a solution."
The knights knelt respectfully. "Yes, my queen." All echoed.
"What should we do for the king until then?" Ogrim asked curiously.
The White Lady hummed. "I suppose we teach him what he has forgotten and needs to know most urgently. We will need to bring in the whisper master for this."