Chapter Text
“Auntie Hownet, auntie Hownet”, the queen heard a squeaky voice call her with a tug on her cape.
She took deep breathe, holding her temples as if by it a headache could really be avoided, weren’t she so wrong?
“What is it, Grimm?”, she sighed in displeasure, almost hissing; she put down her quill.
The child of her sibling looked straight at her sockets with these big, scarlet, eyes of his that much resembled his father’s.
“Can I go out to play?”, he made few lines on the dirt of the room with one foot.
“If I allow you, will you bother me no more?”.
Her “nephew” smiled widely and shook his head in affirmation several times, Hornet feared he’d get himself dizzy and the child would end vomiting fire at her, so she pressured to answer.
“Then yes. You can”.
“Nyah!”, the little worm celebrated throwing his winged arms into the air.
Hornet made a sweeping motion with her hand to tell the small spawn of hell she had for nephew to dispel as she continued to look through the documentation of few missing grubs. The child nodded eagerly to tell his aunt he was heading off soon, but, before that: he pounced into the older female, her muscles stiffening at the warm touch.
“Twanks you, auntie Hownet!”, he cuddled Hornet’s neck.
“Do not”, she said simply, pushing him back to the floor, gentle enough to don’t hurt him too much.
Grimmchild giggled, knowing his aunt meant no harm and it was merely her way of playing with him.
Hornet huffed, “Shoo”, she swept her hand once more, “Go already”.
The child laughed and rushed out of the room, he was too eager to be outside to notice how in no time he had strayed so far of his aunt’s kingdom. Too late it was when he noticed the shadowy tall figure carrying a round crystal enclosure.
…
Hornet placed her quill aside, something was unusual: it had been long since the child last pestered her; she stood up and walked to one of her subjects.
“Is prince Grimm back yet?”.
They shook their head —or rather, whole body— as a no.
She nodded thanks before keep on making her path through the kingdom.
“Have you seen Grimm?”
The responses continued to be negative, and the more she asked, the more anxious she began to feel. She took her needle tightly on hand and rushed to see the midwife, as she usually got information into her claws one way or another.
“Midwife”, the queen called out, said bug came out of her hideout not after long.
“Oh! But look who graces paying a visit to this humble host, the queen of deepest herself!”.
“Talk no more, do you know where Grimmchild is?”.
“The little worm? My, my, but of course”.
If almost by instinct, Hornet drew her nail. “If you ate him-!”.
She laughed. “Oh, my queen, believe me I wish, I’m famishing! But I did not”.
“Where is he?”.
…
Hornet walked through the dark corridors of the love tower after hacking her way into it with the aid of her weavers. The rotting carcases of different breeds of bugs laid within the rosy glass containers.
Her heart skipped a beat, what if…?
She shook her head; there was no way Grimmchild’s flame would be extinguished that easily: he was the offspring of her sibling, the thought of the little pester dying as these weak bugs was unmasterable. Yet, she pressured her pace, better safe than sorry.
“Grimm!”, she called out, but her own voice was not the only one to echo through the halls. “Grimm is that you?”.
From deeper into the tower, she could hear her nephew’s soft “Nyah!”.
“Hang in there, child!”.
The grip on her needle tightened as she rushed through the long hall which turned soon into battle arena when both extremes closed and the child’s kidnapper showed itself, the collector.
It laughed like a maniac before dancing frantically along the room and scurrying onto the ceiling, throwing flask at Hornet which she avoided with ease. Once the glasses having crashed against the floor, small bugs were released; none of them meant actual threat, they were slain in one hit.
Eventually, the collector showed yet again: dancing madly, arrhythmical, like an adolescent bug whose crush had just noticed her, it sickened Hornet to see such an outrageous display and —for the little or less she knew about her protegee’s late father, Grimm (or “that cradle robber”, as how she had dubbed him)— she was aware he’d feel heavily insulted for the mockery of the art he so loved.
She threw her nail forwards, the collector avoided the hit with a jump and a mid-air swirl; luck, the queen judged before whipping that creep with the thread, its own erratic movements getting tangled up.
With her prey tightly tied into her net, Hornet slashed the collector with her needle multiple times until, finally, a black substance commenced to leak from its body, she deemed it time to deliver the killing blow with few final words.
“You will not torment our young anymore”.
The collector began to laugh once again and evaporated into pitch black molecules, leaving no sign of it shortly. Hornet withdrew her needle and climbed up further into the tower.
At its tallest point, Grimmchild had been caged within a glass bubble alongside the few grubs that remained missing. Feeling the presence of his guardian, Grimmchild uncurled and straightened up, Hornet could practically see how his inner fire flared back to life as he laid eyes on her.
“Nyah!”, he squealed, pawing at the crystal.
“Back off”, Hornet ordered.
The child eagerly did as his aunt told him, and she freed him with a stab of her needle.
“Auntie!”
Grimmchild lunged himself at the other bug as a mass of void and flames, materializing once he nested on Hornet’s arms, the impact throwing her back, but she didn’t mind.
“Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”.
She checked under his wings, at his face and so his torso, finding nothing but only relaxing when the baby burrowed his head on her neck and nuzzled against her while happily purring her worries away.
“Right…”.
Hornet stood up and placed the boy down, trying to pretend this sudden outburst of affection had never happened. She stepped forwards as to take leave, but a gentle tugging on her cape stopped her.
“Huh?”
Grimmchild stared at her with big scarlet eyes.
“What is it?”
He pointed at the whining grubs behind them.
…
“It was no problem, really”.
He, along his kids, cheered and threw gifts at the queen and prince, the last squealing eagerly and picking up with his little wings the most he could.
“We only did what was right for our people”.
The Grubfather laughed again, now his last gift being a pretty charm alike to his children; Grimmchild took it and his eyes widened greatly as his jaw dropped.
“Ooh!”
Hornet bowed, “Well, thanks for your gratitude, sir. I’m sure these gifts will be of prince Grimm’s liking”.
“Twanks you, sir!”, the child squeaked and awkwardly bowed thanks.
Hornet decided it was time to leave and gently nudged Grimmchild. Both royals bowed farewell, the queen aiding the small prince this time to make a more tasteful attempt this time before taking their leave; the pretty charm, (Grubberfly’s elegy), falling off the child’s wings while they departed.
“Worry not, little Grimm; I’ll retrieve it”.
Hornet stepped back into the grub’s lair.
“Excuse me, sir…”.
She choked on her words at the sight of the Grubfather with a belly full and no grubs around, only their squeaky, soft, puppy sounds remaining, coming from the innards of their father.
“Huh…”.
“Auntie?”, Grimmchild called out from outside.
Hornet picked up the charm, “I’m coming!”, she pressured to say before reuniting with the child.