A Good Father 5
AO3 link for people who prefer to read fics there
A Good Father Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
First of all, Happy New Year!! I hope 2025 will bring many blessings and be a good year for all! ヾ(≧▽≦*)o
Well what do you know, once AGAIN the chapter kept getting longer and longer and LONGER! These characters kept dragging everything out and would not let me just move on! I really, REALLY wanted to cut the chapter short, but last time, I made a promise that the skelebros would be making their return in the next chapter, and I REFUSE to have my very first chapter of the new year start on a broken promise. So, this chapter took longer to come out than I would've liked, but in return you get one of the longest chapters I've ever written at over 7.8k words!
I hope the wait was worth it and that you enjoy this chapter!
____________________________________
One of the great joys of watching his daughter grow up, Asgore decided, was getting to see her developing her personality.
And what a personality it was!
His Frisk was proving herself to be an adventurous, energetic, and curious child. And above all, she was determined. Asgore was certain that there was nothing she could not do if she set her mind to it.
From the moment she became mobile, she explored her surroundings to the best of her abilities. First by crawling, then by toddling all around her home, tiny hands grabbing at anything and everything she could, examining every object she came across.
She crawled under every dark space, climbed onto every ledge, and opened every door and drawer.
And once she learned to talk, she began voicing her curiosity as well.
_____
“Daddy!” Frisk’s cry brought her father running to her side in an instant.
Asgore came to a halt when he saw his two-year-old daughter standing in front of his ex-wife’s old room. Frisk was on her tip-toes, arms stretched upwards and hands reaching up to grasp the door handle.
Frisk tugged on the handle with all her might, and huffed in frustration when the door refused to budge.
“Door no open!” she complained, her voice coming out in a loud, childish whine.
Asgore hesitated. His Soul clouded over with mixed feelings at the sight of that door, permanently closed for “renovations”.
“That’s right. That door is locked. It won’t open, no matter how hard you pull,” he tried to explain.
Frisk’s frown deepened. She gave the handle another rough yank, then let go when that once again proved fruitless. She bawled her tiny hands into fists and leveled a pout at her father.
“Why?”
Asgore let out a sigh, unsure how to explain the situation to his young child. He wasn’t sure he could adequately explain it to himself.
“That room used to belong to someone. Someone… important.” Asgore felt his Soul give a sharp pang as Toriel’s face flashed across his mind. He swallowed thickly and hurried on, before Frisk could ask about her. “But she left a very long time ago, so I locked the door to her room. I don’t want anyone going into it, in case that person ever decides to come back.” And in case he was ever tempted to wallow in a past he could never return to.
Frisk’s brow furrowed deeply as she considered her father’s words. Her gaze went to the door that wouldn’t open, then to her father who wouldn’t open it.
His eyes looked sad.
Frisk wanted to ask about it, about that mysterious someone who left, but she didn’t want to talk about things or people who made her father look sad. Besides, she didn’t know enough words yet.
Asgore let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, when his daughter nodded her head and walked away from the locked door. He very much doubted that that was the end of the matter. But he was relieved that, for now at least, Frisk was content to let it go.
However, his curious child eventually found another way to bring up topics he didn’t want to talk about.
_____
“Daddy?”
Asgore looked up from where he was folding his daughter’s freshly-washed clothes on her bed. “Yes, Frisk?”
The three-year-old girl reached up and grabbed hold of a photo frame sitting on top of her dresser.
Asgore’s breath caught in his throat when the little human showed him the photograph she held.
“Who them?” his daughter asked him with innocently curious eyes.
The old king pushed the clothes to the side and sat down on the bed with a sigh. He beckoned his child over and patted the spot next to him.
Frisk quickly went to his side and climbed onto her bed. She sat down beside her father and eagerly handed him her latest discovery, looking up at him with patient expectancy.
Asgore took a moment to gaze at the photo of his lost family. His eyes trailed across the smiling faces of his ex-wife and deceased children, Soul aching at the sight of loved ones he’d never see again. Old memories beckoned to him.
He felt his daughter, warm and alive, scoot closer to him and press herself into his side. Her presence, both tiny yet impossibly massive, helped ground him and settle the quivering of his Soul. Asgore would forever be grateful to his daughter for always managing to bring him back to the present, whenever he got lost in the past.
He cleared his throat and angled the photo so that she could see it better.
“This is the family I had, long, long before you were born.”
Frisk’s eyes widened at this incredible revelation, her mouth dropping open in her surprise. She leaned in even closer, eyes raking across the photograph and taking in every detail of these people - her father’s old family - with renewed fascination.
Asgore tried to quell the shaking in his hands as he pointed to each person in turn. “This is Toriel, my former wife. We had an argument-” more like she yelled at him, while he cowered in the face of her rage and disgust, “-and she left here a very long time ago. No one has seen her since.”
Frisk’s eyes narrowed. Asgore could practically see the thoughts churning in her head. He hurried on.
“This is Asriel, our son and first child. He…” Asgore took in a shaky breath. He drew comfort from his daughter’s presence, her bright Soul acting as a beacon of hope. “He died a very long time ago. As did our second child, Chara.”
Frisk’s face fell, obviously disappointed at the news that she’d lost two siblings, long before having even had the chance to get to know them.
Asriel looked kind, and soft, like her father. And Chara kind of reminded her of herself. She wished that she could have met them. She was sure that they would have gotten along.
She reached a hand towards the image of her newly discovered - but long lost - siblings, tracing her finger across their features as if committing them to memory. She may never know them, but she would remember them.
Maybe in her dreams she could play with them, like she did in real life with her best friends, Papy and Sans.
Her eyes moved towards the image of the last person in the photo. Her father’s former wife.
She pointed at Toriel and asked her father, “is she my mummy?”.
Asgore wanted so badly to be able to say yes. But Toriel herself had denied that possibility when she left, all those years ago.
So instead, he shook his head. “No, Frisk, she isn’t. Your mummy was a human who came to the Underground from the Surface. She died when you were born. She loved you very much, though. More than anything in the world.”
He wanted to make sure that Frisk knew that. He owed at least that much to the woman who’d given him his daughter.
Frisk’s face fell again, taking this latest news even harder than the rest. She was so upset to learn that she’d also lost her mother before having ever known her, on top of two siblings. Her face scrunched up, fat tears welling in her eyes. It was so unfair!
Asgore felt his Soul constrict at the sadness radiating from his daughter’s own Soul. The trembling of her lower lip was mirrored by the trembling of his Soul.
He carefully put aside the photograph and gathered his child into his arms.
Frisk returned his hug with surprising force for one so small. She buried her head in his chest and let herself cry out her disappointment, expressing her discontented feelings in the only way she knew how.
Asgore gently rubbed his daughter’s back and pressed a kiss to her head. He desperately searched his mind for anything he could do to cheer her up.
Suddenly, an idea came to him.
“Golly, Frisk, I just thought of something!”
Frisk sniffed, a sound that shot through him like one of Wings’s bone attacks.
Her sobs subsided, and she looked up at him. Asgore’s Soul almost cracked at the wet tears in his daughter’s eyes. He gently wiped them away, not caring how they soaked into his fur or that the salt would later crust and clump it together unpleasantly.
“Since your mother was a human, her Soul was really strong! Just like yours is.”
Frisk blinked. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, at hearing that she had something so cool in common with her mother. Asgore widened his own smile in encouragement.
“Well, when a Soul is that strong, it persists even after a human’s death.” Asgore read the question forming in his daughter’s eyes and answered it. “That means that it did not disappear - it stayed with us. In fact, I’ve kept your mummy’s Soul, safe and sound, all this time. If you want, I can show it to you.”
Frisk was definitely intrigued by her father’s offer. It wouldn’t be the same as actually meeting her mother for real, but it was better than nothing. Besides, she’d never seen a Soul before. This could be very, very interesting!
“Yes pease, Daddy!” Frisk nodded eagerly, her previous tantrum already nothing but a distant memory in her mind.
Asgore smiled in relief. He stood up and held out his arms. “Alrighty then. Shall we go now?”
Frisk immediately launched herself at her father, who hurried to catch her. She giggled. “Yes! Now!”
Asgore chuckled and held her close. “Let’s go, then!”
Frisk cheered. “Go! Go!”
___
The little human’s excitement had quieted by the time they arrived at where the human Souls were being stored.
It was a room she had never been to before, nestled deep, deep below her home, and surrounded by thick, metal walls. The room was empty, save for several machines (which reminded her of the ones she’d seen in Doctor Gaster’s lab), as well as six large, glass cylinders, each containing a single faintly glowing, heart-shaped object. She noticed that each heart was a different colour.
Something about those colourful hearts made her feel very uneasy.
And while being in a new place would normally fill her with intense curiosity and a determination to explore all that she could, this room felt too… wrong.
It felt too cold… too quiet… too dark.
Or maybe that was just her imagination.
She clung tightly to her father’s hand as he led her towards one of the hearts - the pretty green one.
“This is it, Frisk,” her father’s voice was hushed, a quiet reverence colouring his tone. “This is your mother’s Soul.”
Stood before the container holding her late mother’s Soul, Frisk felt nervousness creep into her, despite her best efforts to suppress it.
Asgore kneeled down beside his daughter. He placed a hand on her back and gently coaxed her forward.
“Go ahead, young one,” he encouraged her. “Go and say hello to your mummy’s Soul.”
Frisk hesitated for a moment longer, before she resolutely shook off her sudden shyness. She marched towards the green heart - Soul, that was her mother’s Soul! - with as much determination as she could muster.
At her approach, the green Soul seemed to come to life - or something like it, at least. It drifted closer to her, pressing itself as close to her as the glass separating them would permit.
Frisk was positive that the Soul was glowing just a little brighter.
It emboldened her to place her hand on the glass, right where her mother’s Soul was.
The glass was cold.
And yet, Frisk imagined that she could almost feel the warmth of her mother’s Soul.
At her touch, the Soul’s light got brighter.
Frisk felt warmer.
It made her smile. She liked her mother’s Soul.
“Howdy, Mummy!” she greeted the Soul, injecting as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could, for her mother’s sake.
Since her mother probably didn’t know a lot about her, on account of her being dead for so long, Frisk thought it best if she introduced herself, like her father had taught her to do when new monsters came to visit her. “I’m Fwisk! Nice to meetcha!”
Asgore smiled down at his daughter, pleased with her positive reaction to meeting her mother’s Soul.
“Very good, Frisk.” His daughter preened at the praise. “How’s about you tell your mummy all about yourself? So that she can get to know you better. I am sure that would make her happy.”
Frisk looked more than okay with this suggestion.
Turning towards her mother’s Soul, the little human launched into a long, barely coherent speech, all about herself (“I’m thwee! I live with my Daddy”), her likes (“I love Daddy, I love my fwiends, Sans an’ Papy, I love fowers…”), her dislikes (“I hate soda! Blergh!”), and anything that came to her mind, really (“last I stay with Sans an’ Papy, there a doggy an’ it, an’ it took Papy bone, an’ Papy so mad, so he-! An’ then his daddy- oh! He soooo funny! An’ Sans too! An’ Papy too! Hahaha!”).
Asgore was amazed at how talkative his little girl was being. Frisk was normally a rather quiet child, preferring to listen rather than to talk, only speaking up when she had something she wanted to say.
He’d never heard her talk so much before.
He found that he could listen to her all day long.
The old goat monster smiled softly as his daughter rambled to her mother’s Soul.
His child looked happy.
The Soul looked happy too. Well, he assumed it was happy, given how brightly it shone.
And… he was also happy. Happy enough that his Soul was shining too, deep in his chest.
Frisk paused to catch her breath after all that talking, and perhaps to gather her thoughts to share with her mother.
She stared at the floating heart, admiring the pretty, vibrant green colour. She wondered if her mother was as beautiful as her Soul. She also wondered if her own Soul was as beautiful as her mother’s. She hoped so. She wanted to feel close to her mother, even if they’d never properly meet.
Overcome by a sudden, childish urge, Frisk spread her arms wide and tried her best to hug the last remaining piece of her mother.
She wished that the glass wasn’t in the way.
She wished that she could hug her mother for real.
She wished that her mother was still alive.
But, above all…
“Thank you for staying with me, Mummy.”
She was happy that her mother didn’t completely disappear. That a part of her, no matter how small, no matter how out of her reach, had persisted.
_____
From then on, Asgore took Frisk to visit her mother’s Soul from time to time.
Each time Frisk decided that she had something important she wanted to share with her mother, she would ask her father to take her back to that dark room with the six hearts.
And each time, the green Soul would shine brighter, hovering as close to Frisk as possible.
Even the other Souls seemed to be glowing just that little bit brighter, floating just that tiny bit closer to Frisk.
Asgore wasn’t sure what to make of it.
He told Wings about the strange phenomenon, but if his Royal Scientist had any speculations on the matter, he didn’t share them with him.
The monster doctor did ask to study the Souls, though. A request that Asgore granted, after receiving a reassurance from Wings to not use the green Soul in any of his experiments, out of respect for Frisk’s mother.
Asgore didn’t know what his friend was looking for or what he hoped to find. But maybe, just maybe…
They might uncover some of the hidden mysteries of the human Soul. And knowing more about them could maybe, possibly, hopefully lead to Wings and his team of talented assistants discovering a way to break the Barrier without using seven human Souls.
It was a small hope.
And a fragile one.
But it was hope nevertheless.
And it was that small and fragile hope which guided Asgore for the next several months, for the next year, lifting his spirits high up, so high that he felt like he could almost touch the Surface once more.
“Daddy? When will my horns grow in?”
Until his daughter’s innocent question brought him crashing back down to below Earth once again.
_____
Doctor WingDings Gaster prided himself on his sharp intellect. He was celebrated throughout the entire Underground as a brilliant scientist without equal, an unparalleled genius. His accomplishments were many and well documented. He’d made advancements in the realm of science that few in the entire world could ever hope to match.
Admittedly, there were some areas that he was less knowledgeable about. Emotions and interpersonal relationships were more his late wife’s expertise. However, when it came to scientific research, he was the very best in his field.
It was why everyone depended on him to find a solution to their biggest problem - namely, how to escape from their terrible prison.
From the beginning, WingDings had put his Soul into looking for a way to free himself and his people. He’d dedicated many years of tireless research to this task.
But all he’d found was what they’d already suspected.
Only the Soul power of seven human Souls could break the Barrier.
Something that could not be recreated artificially, as he’d eventually been forced to accept.
And so, he’d then redirected his efforts into making their lives in the Underground more bearable.
This was what had led to his construction of the CORE, his greatest achievement thus far (although his children did rival this in his eye sockets).
With a reliable source of energy, monsters could finally begin to live comfortably.
Well, as comfortable as being forever imprisoned beneath a mountain could ever be.
And despite his best efforts and vast intellect, there were some things even he could not fix or improve.
Space was beginning to become a real concern, for one. With limited space and a steadily rising population, there was less and less room for everyone. Monsters were getting increasingly worried. Some had even started Falling Down.
The future was beginning to look bleak.
And WingDings was growing concerned.
The longer monsters remained trapped Underground, the more desperate they’d become to find a way out. And the more desperate monsters became, the more WingDings feared that they might be tempted to look to their one surefire ticket out of this situation -
Frisk.
The final human Soul they needed to be free.
And Asgore’s only living child.
WingDings refused.
He refused to allow them to sacrifice his dearest friend’s beloved daughter, his king’s greatest source of hope and happiness. The child that he’d helped bring into the world, who he had watched grow for the past four years, and who he had devoted so much time and effort into keeping alive. The child that he’d come to care for as if she were his own.
Such an option was utterly unacceptable.
Therefore, he had to come up with an alternative. And soon.
As luck or fate would have it, a possible lead had suddenly presented itself to him.
Gaster ran a bony finger down the glass cylinder housing the light blue Soul.
The Soul trembled almost imperceptibly, then seemed to back away from him ever so slightly.
He would’ve missed the action if he hadn’t been looking so closely.
Gaster smiled.
How very
Very
Interesting.
He typed some notes into his computer.
The nature of Souls had long remained a mystery.
Monsters had their own beliefs as to what comprised a monster Soul, whether true or not. But no one had ever done any extensive research on Souls before. There were a couple of reasons for this.
For one, it was considered unethical by most. Souls were the very culmination of one’s being, whether one was a monster or a human. To mess with a person’s very essence was seen as disrespectful, at best.
Not that such a thing would’ve stopped Gaster from doing what was necessary to protect those he loved.
Regardless, the greater obstacle was that it was quite simply impossible to properly study a monster Soul, given how deeply attuned a monster’s Soul was to their body. The two were intrinsically linked, inseparable. Which was why monster Souls did not persist after a monster’s death. Even Boss Monster Souls could only persist for a few, all too brief moments, before shattering and turning into Dust like the rest.
And as for human Souls, well…
It wasn’t as if a human would ever willingly give up its Soul - or even allow one to be taken - for monsters to study. Especially not since humans were unable to sense and call forth Souls, the way monsters could.
Human Souls were an even bigger mystery to humans than they were to monsters.
Which was why Gaster had never thought to include human Souls in his research. He’d never been able to experiment on them and study them before.
Until now.
If he could figure out how the human Soul worked, the way he had with the human body, then perhaps…
He might be able to deduce some way to replicate its power.
He might even find a way to harness its power for the benefit of Monsterkind.
Gaster looked over all of the notes he’d taken during his observation of the six human Souls.
They were truly a treasure trove of information - if one knew how to look.
And how to probe.
Gaster had become very good at prising information out of his subjects.
But one mystery yet remained, one important secret remaining tantalisingly out of his reach -
What made human Souls so powerful?
Gaster was unable to identify the source of their great power with the current tools at his disposal. But he was a genius, after all. He just needed to create a machine that could isolate and extract this mysterious component from the human Souls, so that he could properly examine it.
The Royal Scientist dragged a stack of papers towards himself and grabbed a pencil. With careful, precise strokes, he began to draw up potential blueprint designs for such a machine.
It was as he was sketching the machine’s inner mechanisms, that his personal cell phone began to ring, the one whose number was known to only a select, precious few.
His hand automatically went to answer it, a response born from four years of his closest friend frequently calling him at all times of the day (and occasionally the night).
“HELLO?”
As he’d expected, Asgore’s voice greeted him immediately.
“Wings! I need your help! Frisk- I told her- but she asked-!” WingDings was struck by a strong feeling of déjà vu. “I don’t know what to do, please come here right now, she won’t stop crying-!”
WingDings was already putting his papers and instruments away and packing up to leave.
“ASGORE, PLEASE CALM YOURSELF.” He didn’t know what the problem was this time, but he sincerely hoped that it did not involve another dying human. Not his human, at least. “TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND EXPLAIN TO ME CLEARLY: WHAT HAPPENED WITH FRISK? IS SHE ALL RIGHT? IS SHE SAFE AND UNHARMED?”
“Yes, she’s fine.” Even WingDings was taken aback by the sheer force of the wave of relief that swept over him upon hearing that. “Well, physically at least. She’s upset, though. Really, really upset!”
As was Asgore, clearly, from the way he sounded to be on the verge of tears.
“You see, she asked me when her horns were going to grow in. So, I decided that now is the perfect time to explain to her that she’s adopted and that she’s a human, not a monster.”
Oh. Oh.
Honestly, WingDings was a little surprised that Frisk hadn’t realised that a lot sooner. Then again, monsters all had radically different appearances and magic, and she was only a young child. WingDings had probably gotten too used to how perceptive Sans was.
“And then! She burst into tears and ran into her room!” Asgore wailed, most likely in tears himself at this point, if WingDings knew him at all. “She won’t come out and I can still hear her crying. Oh Wingsy, what do I do?”
WingDings felt his Soul constrict at the misery in his oldest friend’s voice. Asgore had always been a crybaby, with a Soul too gentle and kind for this harsh and cruel world. And Toriel was no longer here to soothe his pain and ease his worries.
Which meant that it was now up to WingDings.
And he would not let Asgore down, the way Toriel had.
“WELL FOR STARTERS, GO PUT THE KETTLE ON. I AM CERTAIN THAT A CUP OF TEA WILL DO US BOTH GOOD.” He could hear Asgore move to carry out his order. “I WILL BE OVER THERE VERY SOON, ASGORE. AND I WILL BRING MY SONS WITH ME. THEY WILL BE ABLE TO COMFORT FRISK FAR BETTER THAN US OLD MEN CAN. AFTER ALL, FRIENDS ARE AN INCOMPARABLE TREASURE.”
As WingDings well knew.
Asgore sniffed softly into his phone. He seemed to be calming down already, which relieved the old skeleton. “Thank you, Wingsy. I’m so happy you’re here. Gee, I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”
WingDings smiled, feeling a tingle in his Soul. Warmth spread through his rib cage and across his cheekbones.
“YOU NEED NOT EVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THAT, GOREY.”
_____
Sans shuffled his feet, discomfort prickling along his spine, as he and his little brother stood in front of Frisk’s bedroom door. Unease itched in his bones at the situation he’d found himself in.
When his father had suddenly appeared and dragged him and Papyrus away from their homework, the brothers had only received a vague and rushed explanation. But they had understood the gist of it.
Frisk was sad.
And it was up to him and Papyrus to cheer her up.
His little bro was more than up for the task, obviously. And Sans…
Well, what were friends for?
Papyrus knocked on Frisk’s door with all the force and exuberance he put into everything he did in life. The youngest skeleton monster waited just long enough to receive a response, before throwing open the door and marching into their friend’s room like he owned the place (and with how much time he’d spent in that room, he practically did).
Sans followed his brother at a more sedate pace, making sure to close the door behind him as (his father’s) manners dictated.
By the time he joined his brother’s side, Papyrus had already engulfed their human friend in an all-encompassing hug, allowing Frisk to cry into the skeleton’s chest.
Papyrus was showing remarkable restraint in not reacting to the copious amounts of disgusting human fluids Frisk was unleashing upon him. He clearly had Sans beat in the friendship department. Sans was so proud of his little brother.
In between Frisk’s wails and sobs, Sans managed to catch a few words which helped shed some light on what had gotten his little buddy in such a sorry state.
“D-Daddy said I- *sniff* I’m ad-dopted!”
Oh. Oh.
He and Papyrus had been told about Frisk being Mr. Dreemurr’s adopted child from the beginning, but it seemed that Frisk had remained unaware of this fact this whole time.
Sans winced. Oof, that had clearly come as a shock to her. No wonder she was so distraught.
“A-And he s-said that I.. I… I-” Papyrus rubbed her back as Frisk choked on her words. She took in a few deep breaths and said in a long, anguished wail, “I’m a huuumaaaann!! Waaaaaaahh!!”
Sans blinked. She… She hadn’t realised that she was a human? Really? Had no one ever told her?
He searched his mind for any moment anyone had called Frisk a human, but came up short.
Huh. He lightly furrowed his brows in contemplation. It seemed that the topic had just never come up. Everyone had always called Frisk by her name, and no one had ever referred to her as a human - at least not in her presence. And it appeared that even the knowledge that her mother was a human hadn’t been enough to clue her in to the truth.
Papyrus looked just as nonplussed by this revelation as Sans was.
Frisk was struggling to get her next words out, as emotions overwhelmed her.
“I’m n-n-not a monsteeeeerr!! I c-can’t use m-magiiiic!!” She drew in a deep breath and yelled at the top of her lungs, “I WON’T HAVE HOOOOOORNS!!”
That last part seemed to be what upset Frisk the most, given the Papyrus-worthy volume of her cry. It was clearly too terrible a truth for her to accept, as she devolved into incoherent bawling afterwards.
She remained inconsolable from that point on, despite the brothers’ best attempts to calm her down and console her.
Sans was at a complete loss as to what to do. His Soul felt like it was crying out in pain alongside Frisk.
He massaged a hand over his sternum, right above his Soul, vainly hoping to ease the sharp aching in his rib cage. His eyelights slowly dimmed, before blinking out altogether.
His best friend was crying. She was sad.
That was unacceptable.
He had to do something; he needed to fix this.
But how?
It wasn’t like he could change Frisk into a monster, or make her capable of using magic, or give her-
Wait.
A vague memory clawed its way up to the surface.
Several months ago, he and his brother were playing in the Garbage Dump in Waterfall, as they often did while their father was busy with work. They were rummaging through the trash, hoping to find anything interesting that had floated down from the Surface. And among all the discarded junk, Sans had found something.
He wasn’t sure why he’d taken an interest in it. It hadn’t seemed like anything special.
But for some reason, it had made him think of Frisk, his little human friend with the nice goat monster for a father.
So he’d kept it.
He’d taken it home with him. He’d cleaned it up (because his father would give him hell if he left dirty trash in his room). And he’d put it away… somewhere.
He just needed to find it and give it to Frisk.
His face set with as much determination as his young monster body could hold.
“guys, i gotta pop away for a sec. there’s a li’l somethin’ i think might cheer ya up, frisk.”
It didn’t seem like Frisk had heard him above the sound of her ongoing tears and lamentation.
That was okay, Sans told himself, even as his Soul quivered. He was going to make this better. Hopefully.
He would at least try.
Papyrus smiled up at him, and gave him a thumbs up and an “OKIE DOKIE!”, which was all the encouragement Sans needed.
He had to try.
“be right back.”
With one last glance at his brother and his best friend, Sans exited Frisk’s bedroom.
And entered his own.
He cast his eyelights over his room, mentally mapping out the entire place and all of his many dimensionally-improbable hidey holes, where he hid all the stuff he thought his father would lecture him for.
This… this could take a while.
Sans felt his shoulders drop. But he squared them up again and gave his cheekbones a quick slap.
He’d better get to it, then.
_____
After digging through what felt like his entire room - and making a mess that he was definitely not looking forward to having to clean up later - Sans held up his prize in victory.
He wasted no more time, as he rushed from his room and back to Frisk’s.
He was surprised (but really shouldn’t have been) to find that Papyrus had somehow finally managed to calm his little human down.
Heh, his little bro really was the coolest.
The two were still locked together in a hug, but Frisk was no longer trembling from the force of her sobs, and was instead resting peacefully in the young skeleton’s arms, her face pressed into his shoulder.
She sniffled from time to time, but was otherwise blessedly silent. Almost as shocking was how uncharacteristically quiet Papyrus was. The youngest Gaster was whispering something into Frisk’s ear, too low for Sans to pick up, and to which the girl responded with the occasional nod.
Sans smiled. His face softened as tension left his frame.
He allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the sweet scene, before pressing forwards.
Loathe as he was to interrupt this tender moment, he had an important gift to deliver.
Frisk looked up at his approach, which Sans took as a good sign.
Smiling proudly, if nervously, he offered his best friend the fruits of his labour.
“here, frisky. i got you a present. hope ya like it.”
Frisk’s eyelashes fluttered rapidly as she blinked away the tears lingering in her eyes. Her vision slowly cleared, allowing her take in what Sans was holding in his lightly-trembling hand.
It was a headband with little red horns on it.
Frisk stared. She didn’t say a word for a few tense seconds, eyes glued to the headband. Sans fought the instinctive urge to rattle his bones as the silence grew (he was NINE now, way too old for baby bones behaviour).
For one Soul-wrenching moment, he thought Frisk was about to burst into tears again.
But instead, her eyes widened in undeniable wonder, something bright and beautiful sparkling in her gaze.
“Golly. For me?” Her voice was a little hoarse from so much crying, but so full of hope that it made Sans’s Soul tingle. He smiled bashfully at her.
“yep. just for you.”
Frisk’s hands reached out for the headband, tiny fingers closing so delicately around it, as if afraid of breaking it.
Sans relinquished his gift readily to her, and watched in relieved satisfaction as Frisk quickly set about affixing the headband to the top of her head. Papyrus was all too eager to help her.
When they were done, Frisk stepped back, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. She tilted her head this way and that, getting used to the new weight on her head, and making sure that her new treasure was resting securely in place.
She beamed at them, her face shining with happiness. “I love it!”
The two brothers returned her smile; her joy was infectious. Sans could feel his eyelights go wide and fuzzy with glee.
“i’m glad, pal. real glad.”
And he was. More than anyone would ever know.
Frisk giggled and posed for her friends. “How do I look?”
Papyrus gave her a double thumbs up, eye sockets twinkling and mouth stretching wide in his biggest grin. “YOU LOOK GREAT!!”
Sans winked at her. “yup. you’re the g.o.a.t.”
Frisk stilled, her head tilting to the side.
“Goat? Like Daddy?” Then she gasped, her face lighting up. “Oh! Do I look like Daddy?!”
Not really. She still looked like a human, just with horns. And a horned human looked nothing like a fluffy goat monster.
But of course, Sans would never tell her that. He’d Dust himself first. Instead, he nodded his skull, his mouth curving into an easy grin.
“yup. you look just like his kid.”
The smile Frisk graced him with was truly radiant. It made warmth bloom in his Soul, flowing out throughout his entire body. His face felt the warmest. Sans barely resisted the urge to hide his skull in his hoodie (like a baby bone).
Papyrus suddenly had a look of realisation on his skull.
“OH! I GET IT! KID, LIKE A BABY GOAT! NYEH HEH HEH! WOWIE, THAT WAS CLEVER!!”
Sans grinned broadly at his brother.
“what, you’ve only just realised it, pap? heh, you’ve gotta be kid-ding me.”
Papyrus leveled a harsh frown at his older brother and stomped his foot.
“SANS! YOU’VE ALREADY USED THAT PUN! DON’T BE LAZY!!”
Sans chuckled. He shrugged his shoulders in a careless gesture.
“heheheh. sorry, i- oof!”
His words were cut off when a solid weight slammed into his chest. Two small arms wrapped tightly around him.
“Thank you Sans!” Frisk’s voice was muffled by his hoodie, but her gratitude came through loud and clear. “Thank you so much! This is the best. Gift. EVER!”
Sans’s grin softened into a genuine smile. He returned Frisk’s hug.
He could feel her heart beating against his rib cage. His Soul felt ticklish.
“heh. no problem, kid.”
_____
A cup of tea did in fact do WingDings and Asgore some good.
Not a lot, but enough for the old skeleton monster to settle his nerves, and for his fluffy best friend to calm down enough to be receptive to WingDings’s reassurances.
“I AM CERTAIN THAT SANS AND PAPYRUS HAVE THE MATTER WELL IN HAND.” He watched Asgore take a small sip of his tea, and was pleased to note that his friend’s hands were no longer shaking. “FRISK IS YOUNG AND EMOTIONAL, BUT NOT UNREASONABLE. IT IS NATURAL FOR HER TO THROW A TANTRUM AT HER AGE.” Stars knew Papyrus did so, and frequently. “SHE WILL CALM DOWN EVENTUALLY, ONCE THE SHOCK HAS WORN OFF.”
Asgore still looked unconvinced. WingDings sighed and drummed his fingers against the side of his mug. His phalanges made a satisfying clacking sound.
“MY SONS KNOW FRISK WELL. THEY HAVE BEEN VERY GOOD FRIENDS WITH HER HER ENTIRE LIFE. THEY WILL BE ABLE TO REACH HER THROUGH THE STORM OF HER TURBULENT EMOTIONS. THEY WILL BE ABLE TO SOOTHE HER PAIN AND BRING HER COMFORT.” The corners of his mouth curled into a confident smile. “I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES.”
Asgore let out a surprised snort of laughter, almost choking on his tea.
WingDings sipped on his tea to hide his self-satisfied smirk.
It had always been far too easy to elicit such a reaction from Asgore. When they were young, he and Toriel had often had pun battles, if only to see who could make Asgore laugh the hardest. WingDings was proud to say that he’d won most of them, with his superior wordplay.
Those were fun times…
The Royal Scientist immediately stamped down on the thought. He forcefully pushed away those old, dusty memories, and squashed the feelings they evoked in him. Those times were gone, and they would never return. Just like Toriel. There was only the present. And the future, he reminded himself. They would have a future.
Asgore’s laughter eventually slowed to a stop, and he wiped away the tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. He faced his closest friend, offering him a grateful smile.
“Thank you, Wings,” he said softly. “I am sure you are right.”
WingDings raised a browbone at him. “I AM ALWAYS RIGHT. AS YOU SHOULD KNOW.”
Asgore chuckled at his friend’s haughty words and air. Fondness filled his Soul.
“Indeed you are, my friend,” he conceded. He let out a sigh. “I suppose I must put my faith in your boys to do what I could not. They have been better friends to Frisk, than I have been her father.”
WingDings slammed a hand down on the table, startling a bleat out of Asgore.
“NONSENSE!” he growled. His eyelights flashed dangerously. “YOU HAVE BEEN THE BEST FATHER TO FRISK!!” And he was certainly a better father than WingDings was, although the doctor refrained from saying so. He didn’t want Asgore leaping to his defense and starting a pointless argument. “YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THERE FOR HER! ALWAYS DONE YOUR BEST FOR HER! ALWAYS GIVEN YOUR ALL FOR HER! WITHOUT FAIL! WITHOUT HESITATION! WITHOUT COMPLAINT! NO ONE WOULD, NO ONE COULD ASK MORE OF YOU!!”
Asgore stared at him, speechless. His eyes began tearing up again, though for vastly different reasons than before.
“I-... I don’t know what to say, Wings,” he admitted, rather unnecessarily. He opened his mouth, to say what he didn’t know, but snapped it shut again when WingDings placed a hand on top of his.
“BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY… ASGORE.” WingDings’s gaze caught the king’s and held it captive. Asgore felt his Soul shiver. “FRISK LOVES YOU. THAT IS UNDENIABLE. AND YOU OF ALL MONSTERS SHOULD KNOW HOW ENDURING LOVE CAN BE.”
Asgore swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth. He could only nod his agreement to that statement.
His mind briefly flew to thoughts of his ex-wife and lost children, before returning to the present - to the hand on his, hard yet comforting, and to the eyelights arresting his vision, bright lights shining in an inky abyss. To the friend who’d been by his side for longer than any other.
Oh yes, Asgore knew all too well just how enduring love could be.
Wings’s gaze softened. His voice turned equally soft, though no less sure and steady, brimming with unshakable confidence.
“FRISK WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU. THIS WILL NOT CHANGE THAT. NOTHING WILL CHANGE THAT. OF THIS, I AM UTTERLY CERTAIN. AND AS I HAVE TOLD YOU, I AM ALWAYS RIGHT.”
A smile rose onto Asgore’s face. His Soul felt mellow and fuzzy. It pulsed with a gentle warmth that chased away the cold of his previous fears.
He turned his hand over to clasp Wings’s.
“I know,” was all he could say. Asgore squeezed his oldest and dearest friend’s hand. The hand squeezed back. Their Souls beat in unison. “Thank you, Wingsy. For… everything.”
Wings gave him one of the warmest smiles Asgore had ever seen on his Royal Scientist’s face.
“ALWAYS, GOREY. ALWAYS.”
The two monsters shared a long and heartfelt look, conveying in their gazes what words alone could never express, their Souls speaking louder than any voice ever could.
Except maybe Frisk’s.
“DADDY!!”
Asgore immediately shot to his feet, spinning towards his daughter just in time to catch her as she barrelled into his legs.
“Daddy, Daddy, look!! I got HORNS!!” she yelled up at him, bouncing up and down on her feet in excitement.
Asgore was taken aback by his daughter’s complete change in demeanour. The little girl in front of him could not be any more different from the one he’d last seen crying her eyes out in her room.
It seemed Wings’s sons had succeeded in cheering Frisk up after all. His friend had been right. Like always, his mind whispered to him, sounding distinctly like Wings.
And then his child’s words finally registered in his brain.
“What? Horns?”
He knelt down beside his daughter and peered at the top of her head.
There were indeed a pair of little red horns peeking out from her brown hair.
Asgore blinked. He looked closer and noticed that the horns were attached to a headband.
He smiled at his daughter, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
“Golly! You do indeed have horns. And what a fine pair they are!”
Frisk beamed at him. Her small body was unable to contain her joy, as it spilled out of her in giddy giggles.
“Do you like them?” she asked her father, her bright eyes eagerly seeking his approval.
Asgore didn’t know how anyone could possibly look at those eyes and that smile, and say anything other than -
“Yes! I love your horns, Frisk. They suit you well.”
Frisk gasped. “They do?! Yay! I’m so happy!”
Asgore’s Soul felt full to bursting as his daughter cheered.
Suddenly, Frisk’s excitement dimmed a little. She looked unsure of herself for the first time since bursting into the room.
“Daddy?” The hesitation in his daughter’s voice was a stark contrast to her previous elation. “Do I look like you now? Do I look like your real kid?”
Asgore wanted to cry. To think that he’d ever doubted that this precious, perfect child loved him.
He placed his palms on Frisk’s cheeks, gently cradling her face in his hands.
It felt like he was cradling his Soul in his hands.
In many ways, he was.
“Frisk, you are my real child,” he spoke with unyielding confidence. “You always have been, and you always will be. Nothing will ever change that. Monster or not, magic or not, horns or not, you are my daughter. From the moment you were born, you became my entire world.” He looked deeply into her eyes, feeling his Soul swell with boundless and unwavering love for his child. “And what a wonderful world I see.”
Tears gathered in Frisk’s eyes, but before he could watch them spill over, his daughter launched herself at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, practically strangling him - not that he cared. Her tears soaked into his fur - again, not that he cared.
Asgore returned his daughter’s hug. One hand moved to rub her back in soothing motions, while the other one went to stroke her head, his fingers carefully carding through the short strands of her hair. Frisk clung onto him even tighter.
“I love you, Daddy,” she cried into his fur, her words reaching into his Soul to seize it and declare it hers. Asgore surrendered it happily.
“I love you too, Frisk. More than anything.”
_____
Later that evening, some time after Asgore had profusely thanked the Gaster family when seeing them off, it was Frisk’s bedtime.
Asgore tucked his daughter into her bed, making sure that she was nice and snug beneath the covers.
Her horned headband was safely placed atop her dresser. Frisk had been unhappy about having to remove it, but relented in the end, if only to keep her most prized possession safe from harm. Her father had promised to help her put it back on in the morning, and reassured her that she could wear it whenever she wanted, with the exception of bedtime and bathtime.
As Asgore sat down next to Frisk to read her a bedtime story, a question came to his mind.
“Hey Frisk? Where did you get your horns from?”
Frisk replied eagerly, “Sans gave them to me!”
She looked absolutely giddy as she thought back to that moment. It was sure to become one of her most cherished memories.
Asgore chuckled. “Well, that sure was awfully kind of him. I’ll be sure to give him my thanks, next time I see him.”
Frisk smiled and snuggled deeper under the covers. Just then, a look of deep contemplation came over her face.
“Daddy?”
“Hm?” he replied absentmindedly, his thoughts drifting back to the past day’s events.
Frisk gave her father a look full of determination.
“When I grow up, I’m gonna marry Sans.”
Asgore fell off of the bed and landed hard on the floor.
No matter what, his darling daughter always managed to bring him crashing back to the present.
______________________________________
Asgore and Gaster: slowest of slow burns. Frisk and Sans: wedding planned at age four. Father and daughter share many similarities, but romance is not one of them.
Fun fact, Gaster was not supposed to have a significant part in this chapter. He was only supposed to appear BRIEFLY when Asgore called him, and then when Frisk ran in to show off her new horns. But this attention hog just butted in and refused to leave. I can see where his son gets it from...
Speaking of Gaster's son, Sans's part was literally meant to be half as long as it ended up being! But his lazy ass kept dragging everything out. Typical. These skeletons are gonna drive me spare smh.
Anyway, lesson learned, never make promises. I don't know when the next chapter will come out, because I think I'm going to replay the game again to remind myself of... everything. And everyone. Gotta make sure these idiots are all in character (as much as can be, considering this is a pre-canon AU)
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