#THE HANDS OF THE KING ARE THE HANDS OF A HEALER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

helvegen-s · 1 day

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Rage, rage | three

prologue | one | two | three |

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: heavy injures, description of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, bad language, english not being my first language

They look at each other, adrenaline boiling and screaming in everyone's veins. Nimue doesn't take her eyes off Rhysand, but she feels everyone looking at her.

She feels naked, unprotected.

She blinks to get used to all that light. She had never seen so much light and it's beautiful.

Her senses come to life as she lets go of Rhysand's hand, which she had unknowingly been clinging to. She breathes over and over, trying to calm herself, but involuntarily she begins to tremble.

What has she done, what has she done, what has she done.

Father is going to kill her.

Amidst her frenzy of thoughts, Rhysand starts barking orders. She doesn't hear them well, only scattered words: healer, help, house.

Nimue glimpses a huge house to her right, and realizes she has brought them all to the courtyard of a mansion. Around her, everyone seems to spring into action.

The blonde female runs into the house, and seconds later comes out accompanied by another woman, shorter and slighter. She can't tell if she's fae or a creature. When Nimue and her lock eyes, it's like they're looking in a mirror. Both frown but decide to ignore each other.

For Nimue, it's as if everything is happening in slow motion: when she wants to realize, there's another person there, attending to the two injured Ilyrian. A glow emanates from her hands, its warmth reaching the princess's face. A healer, she supposes. She had never seen one.

She fights against her own panic, trying to get used to all the hustle and bustle and all those sounds. The birds flying above her head, the sunlight, the smell of the sea, the smell of pine and cedar, the voices around her, the poor Ilyrian screaming in pain...

She lowers her gaze, and without thinking, she starts speaking: "I can help."

Everyone looks at her again, judging her. They scan her from head to toe.

The two females who were thrown into the Cauldron are to her left, crying and hugging the one who was with Rhysand. Are they sisters? They looked so much alike...

"I can help," she repeats, this time firmer. She starts walking and sees how Rhysand prepares to attack her, "I can heal both of them, if you let me."

She analyzes the High Lord's face, and sees how little by little he is giving in. No one articulates any words, with a simple nod of the male's head, he grants her permission. He has nothing more to lose.

She kneels beside the one with the shattered wings and begins to do what she does with herself and the wounds she has ever suffered: with her magic, she grasps every little nerve ending, every small piece of skin. She pulls them and threads them, weaves them, joins them and separates them as if making a tapestry. So little by little, she shapes the wings of that Ilyrian. It's all pure instinct, what her nature dictates to her.

Father always told her she was his Goddess of Destruction, but Nimue knew deep down that she was capable of fixing, of healing, of bringin good to the world.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, she was piece by piece, shred by shred, joining and repairing the broken wings of that male. When she reached the bones, she simply imagined how they should have originally been: she ordered them to return to their form, to be soldered, and they obediently complied.

With a final grunt from the male, Nimue finished her work. But before she could get up, he grabbed her arm:

"Thank you," he whispered. Nimue is stunned. Thank you?

Had anyone ever thanked her for anything? Had anyone shown her gratitude?

No, her real doubt wasn't that. Had she ever done anything worthy of others' gratitude?

She swallowed her fear and terror, kneeling on the ground. She watched as the male limped away from her and enveloped the blonde female in a hug, how he squeezed her tightly as they both cried on each other's shoulders.

She was so, so lost. Where was she? What was happening around her?

"What a miracle of a girl," the healer whispered. Standing between Rhysand and the slighter female, the more aged-looking woman never took her eyes off her, "You are a Cauldron's blessing. When you're done, I'll need you to teach me how you do that. You are a–"

"Silence, Madja," Rhysand's voice resonates under her feet and in the very mountain, as if he had spoken those words inside Nimue's skull. She shrinks, intimidated. That's the power of a High Lord, "Now him. Heal him.”

She looks away from Rhysand and sets her gaze on the last remaining male.

Kneeling on the ground beneath him is a pool of his own blood and something that seems to be shadows, moving frenetically back and forth. She had never seen anything like it, those... beings, moving around the man. Nimue hears faint noises that she can't quite understand.

Behind her, she feels a presence moving. Rhysand looks down at her, those violet eyes so deep that Nimue feels hypnotized, "Don't just stand there gaping and do what you did to Cassian. Now. Or I'll cut off your head, you filthy Hybern rat."

She nods, and when she turns back to the winged male, he looks back at her. His amber eyes follow every small movement she makes: from the slight tremble of her lower lip to the way she raises her hand.

When he tries to speak, a trickle of blood runs down his lip to his chin, "Touch me and I'll cut off your hands, traitor."

Nimue trembles.

What the hell is she doing? Where has she gotten herself into?

Before she knows it, two streaks of water run down her cheeks. Is she crying? She had never cried before, what a strange sensation.

Her gaze travels to the hands of the male in front of her. He grips a beautiful black dagger, its tip directly aimed at Nimue's chest.

She swallows hard and, in a quick motion, grabs the arrow he has lodged in his chest and pulls it out with all her strength. She has been so fast that the male collapses forward, falling on top of her.

Rhysand and the healer, Madja, take care of getting him off her, and when Nimue tries to touch him again, the High Lord growls at her, "I told you to heal him, not to open up the damn hole in his chest further."

By pure instinct, Nimue snarls back at him, "I am healing him, you idiot. Back off."

Where she found the courage, she doesn't know. But they obey her, and she gets back to work.

The male is lying on his back on the ground, and Nimue places her hand on his chest, where the arrow was previously lodged. She begins to weave again, slowly, thread by thread.

Her gaze rests on his face, which, with closed eyes, lets out the occasional groan between his teeth.

Azriel feels like his chest is on fire. He feels the edges of the wound burning, he feels combustion from within. He takes gulps of air as he struggles not to lose consciousness, and blinded by the pain, he reaches his hand into the air and grabs onto the first thing he finds.

Nimue startles when his hand grabs her elbow, but she lets it be, the touch of his glove is a new, pleasant, and different sensation. She looks back at his face, and in a low voice, she speaks to him, "I'm almost done. Just making sure there's no trace of the poison that the arrow was coated with."

Azriel lets out a growl. He couldn't care less about the explanations. He just wants it to be over already.

The pain reaches the core of his bones and he opens his eyes abruptly, looking at the girl in front of him.

What is that?

Around her, he sees a thread, a small golden rope encircling her: it descends down her shoulders and arms, caresses her wrists and fingers, and wherever her skin meets his, he sees how the thread enters his own body.

Is he hallucinating?

Hasn't he had enough with the arrow between his ribs, that now the poison is making him hallucinate?

Behind the girl, he sees Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Mor, even damn Madja. He sees how in slow motion their brows furrow, he sees how they lean forward, looking puzzled at something that makes Azriel scared.

"What's going on?" he asks agitated. He tries to sit up on his elbows, but although the pain has already diminished, it still doesn't let him breathe properly, "What are you all looking at like that?"

Nimue furrows her brows as she pushes the man back to the ground so he stays still. She frowns, as she begins to feel something on her fingertips...

Something is not right.

The sensation travels up her forearm and shoulder, and settles in her chest. There inside, like a caged bird, that sensation starts tumbling, back and forth, faster and faster.

She removes her hand from the man's chest and he sits up in front of her, like a spring.

Azriel feels like he's going to explode. What has that witch put inside him? What kind of magic has she used on him?

"What the hell have you done to me?" he shouts. Azriel brings a hand to his chest when that pressure keeps growing.

Nimue mimics him, feeling like her chest is going to burst.

What has she done? Has she made a mistake? Perhaps her magic has betrayed her now for the first time...

She's hyperventilating, and when she feels that, indeed, she's going to explode like a firework, she looks into the eyes of the male in front of her.

And then everything suddenly calms down.

They stare at each other, stunned, not knowing what to say. Their breaths come together, equally fast and choppy.

And when their bodies stop vibrating and calm down, she feels it there.

There's something, something pulling her towards...

Towards him.

Azriel jumps to his feet, as if they hadn't just removed a poisoned arrow from his chest or he hadn't just lost liters and liters of blood. He finds Truth Teller in its usual place and with a practiced motion after years and years of battles, he grabs the girl by the collar of her clothes and lifts her up like a feather. The dagger rests comfortably against her neck, and she does nothing but look back at him, wide-eyed.

"Azriel!" Rhysand shouts. He ignores his High Lord, although every fiber of his being tells him to obey him, "Azriel, let her go!"

Then, Nimue comes to her senses. With a practiced movement, the winged male is kneeling on the ground again. The pretty black dagger is now in her hand, while with the other she pulls back his hair.

Azriel doesn't know when all this happened. He just knows that he blinked and now he's the prey. He clings to the girl's hand pulling his hair and tries to break free, but he can't understand how such a small woman can have the strength of a thousand men.

"Now I'm going to let go of you and you're not going to attack me. Understood?" She utters each word slowly, as if speaking in another language.

Nimue takes a step back, releasing the dagger, which falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Azriel stands up, and in a leap, he's next to Rhysand in an attack position.

Before Nimue, everyone present is on high alert. Some in attack position, others simply ready for whatever may happen.

The first to speak is Azriel, with the same accusatory tone as before, "What have you done to me? Undo it." He's trembling, and Nimue can't tell if it's from fear or from the pure rage she sees in his face.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't undo it, because she herself doesn't know what has happened.

What is that pulling her? What is that feeling in her chest, an anchor dragging her toward that winged male?

Everyone remains silent, looking at each other.

However, it's Rhysand who speaks first, the voice of reason in a desperate situation, "Let's all calm down."

Because he doesn't know if he's the only one who sees it, who feels it. That sudden change in the air. It smells like cedar and mist, like Azriel. But if he pays attention, he smells the sea salt and the sweetness of poison in the air. The scent that the girl in front of them emits. It's intoxicating and chilling at the same time. He couldn't say.

What he can say, however, is what he sees crystal clear. Azriel's essence, mixed with that of the unknown girl. He sees how both mingle in the air.

And then, Rhysand would swear that he stopped hearing Azriel's heartbeat next to him.

"My mate," his friend whispers. His face, a complete expression of surprise, something that the Shadow Singer rarely showed, "She's my mate.”

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @donttellthecats

A/N:I really hope you are all enjoying it. Every kind of support is greatly appreciated, and thank you so much to those who already support it!! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know 🥰

#azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel fic

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queerofthedagger · 1 day

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One thing that's just been keeping me up for a week straight is that, while we tend to associate Elrond as the one incredibly skilled in healing - rightfully so - there is also that "little" titbit of how "the hands of a King [of Gondor] are the hands of a healer," which, infamously, is the line of Elrond's brother.

Which leaves just enough room to speculate that they may have both had a talent in healing, and in turn begs the question of just which part of their ancestry they got it from.

And the options there are all wild in their own right - on the one hand, there is Elwing's side which would make some sense due to Lúthien/Melian, but then in at least one version of the tale at the end of the Fall of Gondolin, it's said that Elwing and her people believed that the 'power of healing in their camp' came from the Silmaril if I remember correctly. Which implies that it's not a skill their line has been known to have an extraordinary talent in.

The alternative option is, of course, Eärendil. Now that means it comes either from Tuor, or it means Idril, which means through Turgon/the House of Fingolfin. And if I think about that too much I might just go insane because oh man the implications.

But also all the ancestral musings aside, just the idea that the line of Gondor's Kings is carrying forth Elros' own talent in healing as this permanent relic, reminder, and tangible leftover for Elrond, of something they shared and learned together? just. man

#*mine #mona's rambling #tolkien #silmarillion #silm #elrond peredhel #elros tar minyatur #silm meta #there is of course also the fully-headcanon-territory #that if it /does/ come from the house of fingolfin and maedhros and maglor knew this they may have taught them specifically and that just #makes me MORE insane #but that's so much speculation i didn't want to put it in the og post #also i have no illusion that i'm the first to think of this i'm sure people have said this better and more coherently #but i'm not kidding when i say this has been driving me round the bend for a week so #yk

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ichorai · 1 day

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A SONG OF CURSES AND CROWNS ; series masterlist.

A SONG OF CURSES AND CROWNS — a collection of stories in westeros following the characters of jujutsu kaisen ... themes/warnings will be specified in each part.

main masterlist.

ONE. the wolf and the beast ; assassin!toji x stark!reader (3.3k) nobody told him that his target had a direwolf.

TWO. blacksmith!choso x highborn!reader you’re engaged to kenjaku, the father of the man you’ve already fallen in love with.

THREE. night’s watchman!yuji x wildling!reader and as you aimed the tip of your arrow to his chest, yuji knew he’d fallen in love with you.

FOUR. bard!yuta x witch!reader every night, the same nightmare. that is—until he came across you in a tavern, shrouded in mystery and shadow, whispering promises of ridding him of dreams.

FIVE. king!gojo x knight!reader gojo, the young king who refuses to marry and turns down any potential suitors, grows attached to a mysterious knight who easily dominates over all his best warriors in a tourney.

SIX. prince!megumi x prisoner!reader he had no business being in the castle dungeons. and, upon further consideration, neither did you.

SEVEN. knight!ino x tyrell!reader you aspire to be a healer, even though women aren’t allowed to be maesters. ino, who’s infatuated with you, offers for you to practice on him.

EIGHT. hand of the king!geto x lady!reader during the first few moons of your arranged marriage, geto seems to hate you—all cold and distant, barely ever acknowledging you at all. you’re determined to find out why.

NINE. sailor!yuki x merperson!reader perhaps a shipwreck wasn’t all that bad. it was what led her to you, after all.

TEN. lord!toge x painter!reader there’s much to do with the tongue other than speak.

ELEVEN. commoner!miwa x lord!muta they both stuck out like sore thumbs—with her pale blue hair and her shoddy dress; his scarred face and club-foot that gave him a terrible limp. it was only natural that they gravitated towards each other. the bastard and the cripple, the court whispered. it was a twisted tale of romance at best, an accursed union at worst.

TWELVE. dragonrider!sukuna x dragonkeeper!reader sukuna misliked how his own dragon seemed to like you more than him.

THIRTEEN. knight!nanami x lady of the vale!reader nanami considered himself a dutiful, honorable man. even if he was completely unworthy to marry an aristocrat like you, he would stand guard by your side regardless.

FOURTEEN. master of laws!higuruma x mistress of whisperers!reader the two of you often butted heads during small council meetings, which led to much unresolved tension within the castle. having had enough, the king decided to lock the two of you in an empty chamber until all was resolved—or until one of you was dead. whichever came first.

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bean-bean2000 · 2 days

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The Maid - Part 10

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, depression, mentions of suicide, despair, feeling trapped. Mentions of abuse and rape.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

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You stand there, staring at each other until Loki breaks the silence.

"Why do you keep lying to me? What are you hiding from me?" he questions you, eyeing you up and down.

"I - I'm not hiding anything, I just -" you're cut-off by Loki slamming his hand against the reading desk next to him.

You shriek in fear and jump away.

"Damn it, woman! I will give you one last chance." staring into your eyes, you can see the anger swirling behind them.

You're breathing heavy, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Unable to form an answer, your eyes are frantically searching around the room for a way out.

"I've enchanted the room. You can't leave and nobody can come in." he says, stalking closer to you like a predator ready to pounce on his prey.

"Are you a witch? A spy? A traitor? A clever ploy, how could anyone suspect a mere maid of anything?" He's circling you now. Your hairs stand on the back of your neck.

"No, I'm not a witch." you choke out.

"Ah so a spy or a traitor then?" he hisses.

"No - I'm... not I swear to you." He closes the distance between you again, towering over you in rage.

Boldly, you look up at him "Having trouble finding a lie? Because there isn't one." you bite back.

A smirk pulls at his lips as he studies you.

"So, not a witch, nor a traitor nor a spy... then what could you be hiding from me, the king and why?" he questions aloud.

You swallow thickly and stare at the floor.

"I don't know" you whisper as you look up.

"You don't what you're hiding or why you're lying?" he retorts.

You let out a shaky sigh as you pull out a chair and sit down. Loki follows suit, sitting in front of you.

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

"No. I'm not a witch, or spy or traitor." you say to him, staring directly into his eyes. You see him searching for your lies but sits back when he can't find one.

"I don't know who I am. I'm nobody." your voice is shaking from containing your emotions.

"How do you mean? That is impossible" Loki replies dryly.

"And before you even think about it, there's no way out of this until I'm satisfied with your answer."

You pull at your fingers in your lap.

Nothing left to lose now anyway

"My parents found me one night while they were travelling between realms. They used to work as intermediaries for the royals between the realms, carrying to a fro items to be traded. My father told me that he found me between the nine realms."

Loki interrupts you "that is impossible."

"My father was told the same by the others when he returned with me, an infant, hungry, cold and crying. He went to every realm and searched for my parents but nobody claimed me. Soon, word spread of how I was found and the realms forbade my father from bringing me to any of them, out of fear that I was cursed. My parents always wanted a child but were never able to have so they considered me a blessing rather than a curse, and they adopted me.

"As I grew up, I was isolated, feared amongst everyone as I was an 'unknown'. I didn't belong anywhere. My parents home schooled me, until I was 18, since nobody would let me within a few feet from any of the villages. Then, my mother fell very ill. Healers refused to come to her aid in fear of crossing my path and being cursed as well. They warned my father that I was the reason for her illness and that she would never heal.'"

"A few years later, it was apparent that she was dying, quickly. My father could not bear it and turned to alcohol."

**flashback**

"Father, please stop! I can't do this alone!" you screamed at him desperately.

He stumbled across the room in rage in his drunken state.

"This would have never happened had I left you there to die. Everyone warned me but I could not believe that an infant could ever cause such suffering. Yet, here I am, watching my wife die as everybody watches and nobody helps. BECAUSE OF YOU!" his voice booms against the walls of your home.

"You're the reason we will both die. You were a curse disguised in an infants form. You will forever plague everyone and everything you touch." he spits at you. Chugging the last bit of the bottle he throws it across the room, shattering on the floor.

"I never wanted you. I should have left you but she insisted you were only an infant, innocent... bah, FOOLS! You were never my daughter and never will be. You have caused the demise of this home and will suffer the rest of your life because of it." he growled at you as he slapped you across your face, sending you spiralling over the kitchen table.

Your mind was buzzing from the hit, unable to focus, until you feel your body being lifted and thrown to the wet ground.

"GET OUT! Stay out with the animals where you belong. Never return." he screamed at you and hurled another object in your direction.

"I said GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" he yelled as you scrambled to your feet in fear and ran as far as you could for as long as possible before collapsing on the ground in the middle of a field. You sobbed until you could no longer produce tears or feel anything. You felt hollow. The worst loneliness you have ever felt. You truly had nobody.

The next morning you awoke on the floor. Willing yourself to get up and find food and water, you stumbled upon a crowd, murmurring to themselves.

"Have you heard they both died last night? He threw her out and they shortly died after. They were found next to each other on the bed. They should have listened to the warnings. She is a curse." a stranger said to another as they worked through their items on the selling kiosk.

You felt like you couldn't breathe. You turned around and felt your feet pounding against the earth, running in any direction away from them. Tears flowed down your face freely as you ran and ran.

When you stopped, you collapsed once more onto the ground.

You were thrown away like an animal. Left to your devices, in the wild, with nothing.

They were right. I am cursed.

**end of flashback**

You shook your head from the terrible memories that replayed in your mind but when you looked back into Loki's eyes you knew he had seen your flashback. He stared at you with such pity and understanding.

Embarrassed you stood up quickly from your seat. Blinking away the tears.

"To answer your question, again. I am nobody. As you said, I am simply a maid." you looked at him with your lips placed in a tight smile.

Before he could say anything you grabbed your supplies "I must finish cleaning, my king. I have fallen behind schedule." you say to him mechanically.

He watches you as you climb the stairs and resume your cleaning.

Tapping his fingers on the table he releases the enchantment and walks out.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in and lean against a wall.

How much of that did he see, if anything at all? Why did he look at me like that? Now that he knows some of my truth, he will surely cast me out like everyone else has. He is no different. Nobody wants to deal with a cursed woman. Especially not a king.

You sigh heavily as you continue sweeping, keeping your mind busy with the task at hand.

At the end of the day you retire to your room and sit on the floor, back leaning on the bed.

"I can do this. Just like we practiced. Focus on pushing those feelings down, locked away. Make sure you feel nothing before waking." you say to yourself.

You close your eyes and begin imagining locking your heart, and all emotions with it in a box, sealed tight and tucked away in the deepest parts of your mind. Once you felt hollow, felt nothing, you opened your eyes.

You walk to to the bathroom and stare at your reflection.

"Good. It worked."

Your eyes are blank and dull and now shining bright blue. Nothing is seen behind them. You feel empty, and finally at peace.

You've dissociated.

You had found out you could do this, years ago to survive through the trauma. You don't know how or why, but never cared to look into it as it has kept you alive far longer than without it.

"Now, hold on to this as long as you can and just keep going." you say aloud, comforting yourself in the dire room.

You lay down on the bed and close your eyes.

With your emotions and memories locked away in the deepest parts of your mind, you fall asleep easily.

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Tag list:

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

@cakesandtom

@dorck26

@buckitostan

@princessdragon23

@classicsandfantasy

@wolfsmom1

@stardream14

@em0220

@goblingirlsarah

@meow-meowmotherfucker-blog

@huntress-artemiss

@lunazeichnet

@luxky-aish

#fanfic #marvel #angst #loki #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki series #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #fluf #enemies to friends to lovers

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kingofattolia · 9 months

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Breaking News: I Am Obsessed With Aragorn

#grace for ts #this is how my rotk reread is going #after taking a month to read two towers i have devoured the first third of rotk this very evening like a rabid bear #lotr #THE HANDS OF THE KING ARE THE HANDS OF A HEALER

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softlysilverfountainsfall · 1 year

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All I'm saying is that "the hands of the king are the hands of a healer" can't have come out of nowhere, and I bet it goes back to Elros Tar-Minyatur and Numenor because there's no reason for Elros not to be a healer too, and the idea/phrase just traveled all the way down to Arnor and Gondor through the Third Age.

#elros was a healer too agenda #elros #elros tar minyatur #numenor #arnor #gondor #kings of gondor #kings of armor #the hands of the king are the hands of a healer #aragorn #elrond #peredhel #themes and legacies #softlysilver

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finrod-feelagund · 3 months

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Early adventures in healing with song

#the silm #doodles #silmarillion #elrond #elros #elrond and elros #the hands of a king are the hands of a healer #funky sindarin fashion because I say so

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ruthlesslistener · 8 months

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☠ , ☮ and maybe ൠ with Hollow?

HOLLOW MY BELOVED

☠ Angry/Violent headcanon

-Hollow is naturally extremely slow to anger and is very good at controlling said anger when it starts to kindle, but once they've properly gotten angry, it's all over. Expect a cold, calculative fury that is deliberatly honed to an edge by all their built-up grieviances, as well as a grudge that'll never quite go away. Their siblings get a pass to an extent in that they won't hate them forever if they be annoying about something, but Hollow will also never let them live it down. For actual hatred, though, just take a look at what they did to the Radiance in Dream No More, where they tore open her face and staring deep into her eyes as they held her in place to be ripped apart by their other sibling. That's what Hollow's anger looks like. They've got a long fuse, but the explosives attatched to the end of that fuse might as well be a nuclear warhead

As for the violence aspect of it- they've been trained to be a godkiller, and even if they failed bc the actual plan of attack was rather passive, that doesn't mean that they aren't any less dangerous. They won't ever feel the desire to turn that violence upon the civilians of Hallownest (unless they turn to the Radiance or otherwise be a problem), because they believe it to be their duty to protect anyone living within the caverns, but outsiders don't get that luxury and would be dead in a fight against them before they even had a chance to draw a weapon. Hollow's also got a deeply-buried hunting instinct as well, so there's a double layer of them viewing enemies as both adversaries and prey that makes them extra fatal in a fight

☮ friendship headcanon

-Hollow doesn't really make friends as much as people sort of be nice to them, and they gain increased loyalty to them in return, but I like to headcanon that the closest they ever came to having a friend was with Quirrel, back when he was young and Hollow was still an adolescent. Monomon and the Pale King were both friends (though PK himself didn't think of it as such), so as Monomon's apprentice/adopted son, Quirrel got brought along quite often. Eventually when he was around 15 and learning how to mentor others, he was given permission to practice his lessons on the Pure Vessel as a dummy student, and eventually began to talk to them just as a person and a confident when he was left alone while Monomon and PK did their research. He had no idea that Hollow grew to be quite attached to him in the process, and neither did Hollow- they just knew that they felt calmer and at ease when he was around, and that realization both baffled and frightened them

In post-canon aus, I like to imagine that they reconvene with each other while Hollow's still recovering, and form a closer bond as a god of the lost and their favored disciple. That sounds really fancy, but it's basically just a souped-up qpp that accounts for the fact that Quirrel and Hollow are alien to each other. I also like to imagine them as fwbs when Hollow begins to have heats again post-recovery because Hollow is aroace and trusts nobody but Quirrel, while Quirrel himself is easygoing and curious enough about his friend's strange nature to offer a helping hand

ൠ random headcanon

-This is entirely inspired by Broken Open, but I feel like Hollow would be a really good midwife and/or caretaker for those that are fragile and close to death. The Void is aligned close enough with endings for them to technically qualify as a death god, and they've had enough brushes with it for them to be able to identify it when it's close. More than that, however, I feel like as the God of Nothingness they have a naturally numbing/calming aura around them that stills the world into silence, which is very useful for soothing people who are frightened or in pain. I also feel like their protective nature would mean that they'd naturally fall into the roll of a caretaker, and that a profession opposite from what they were reared for would suit them well, even if they would never be able to fully shake their knighthood. They're a protector first and foremost- they don't know how to be (or want to be) anything else

#slimeel #yknow how tolkien had that whole 'the hands of a healer are the hands of a king'#yeah thats the sort of person i feel hollow to be- a protector and caretaker before a royal #the hollow knight #hollow knight #pure vessel #hollow knight headcanons #ask game #ask meme

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