My @code-swap gift for @secretcodelyokan! Sorry it's a little late. Your prompts mentioned the Chronicles and Odd/Yumi friendship, so here's a collection of scenes that really stuck in my head after reading books 3 and 4! Hope you enjoy 'w'
((Secret here, back with the sequel nobody asked for, plus ironic title. Just friendly reminder that this is my version, totally fanon, only made because urgh, stupid nocturnal muse. Anyways, let’s get this over with quick, my bed awaits! Which is why…I probably messed up somethings…like grammar and stuff…whoops…))
((Doodle: Secret did an amazing job with this and the story is under the cut!))
How long had it been?
Months?
Years?
He couldn’t tell for sure; but it didn’t matter much. He only had been counting. Counting the seconds that passed between one visit and the other.
Of course, he didn’t do it at first; he thought she’d just passed by, every once in a while, just checking on him (not like it made sense, since he never spoke to her or answered her questions), and gradually, she would’ve stopped coming and forgot about him altogether. Then, he started to realise, she didn’t stop; and he was always near the door, waiting for her daily update on the situation he had so cowardly left behind.
Each visit became gradually more and more frequent.
And, he noticed, at a precise schedule.
He had listened to her, he remembered every little detail she’d tell him; he had managed to figure out when her patrols began, when they ended (not like they ever seemed to, really) and he also started to notice a pattern: every day, at a certain hour, she’d come.
Never late.
Never too early.
Just…At that precise, hour and minute of the day. Always.
That was when he started, slowly but surely, to count. Count the seconds that passed, between one walk around and the other, one meditation and the other, thinking, wondering…If he ever got distracted, if he slept too much (when he slept is more appropriate), if he just forgot to count in the middle of something, he didn’t mind: he’d just get distracted more, killing time, until he heard her footsteps getting closer.
His child, back here to say hello.
But…She always sounded more and more…Different…Tired…
Why did he leave? Why didn’t he stay? Why did she had to take charge? Of course, it was probably for the best, but…
Sitting in the lonely room, pondering, Asgore could still remember the first time he had heard her voice from here (the first time he had heard her in general…Oh, that was unforgettable): it was after what seemed like days after he had locked himself in this cruel and silent place; he had been too filled with grief to care at that point, he was too sad, he just wanted to ignore her…
Yet, he had listened.
Listened to every single word coming from over that darn Barrier.
Look at what you’ve done, a voice had whispered in his head, as he had listened to what happened, and especially, her voice, which had cracked and ripped every once in a while, rather unexpectedly. You BROKE her. She’s CRUSHED. You FORCED that responsibility on her. You MONSTER!
Sadly, he would’ve realised what the voice meant too late. But back then, that harsh tone had been enough, if not too much for him, too terrible.
He had wanted to cry. He had wanted to apologize. She didn’t deserve this at all.
She hadn’t done anything wrong.
God why, why did you do this to her…Asgore, you idiot, why did you leave!
She had sounded proud. Not glad, nor feeling particularly special, just…that; and also slightly honoured (which was weird, considering he left chaos behind him, and his position was probably the worst possible one in the whole underground back then).
But there had been no happiness in her voice.
Despite her honoured and kind words, she had still spoken in monotone, even though she had tried to be cheerful; but how can you be happy in such a situation? He didn’t understand…What was she trying to prove? He had accepted her attempt in sounding all right, but what did it matter? She couldn’t mask her grief.
He had heard her telling him how everyone was insisting she was supposed to be Queen. Her tone had shifted then: she had sounded sad about it, slightly angry even. He had respected her for her actions, and he couldn’t help but feel…Sorry for her.
No surprise. He would’ve realised a few weeks later.
—
The second day she had come, he had noticed something else: her tone was tainted with sadness, grief even. Once again, he couldn’t help but hear her, and feel the pain in her words; he had left them, he had left her, all alone. Could he blame her, his child? His only living child? The only one who remembered him? Who still cared?
They were still insisting: they wanted her to be Queen. Again, and again, they demanded, she had explained. No pause.
“I told them it’s pointless; it’s like saying you’re both dead” she had added. “I told them I can’t be a Queen; I just…It’s not right!” She had been screaming now. “Why would I do this? Why the fuck would I use a title that doesn’t belong to me? You’re still alive, why the fuck would I steal what’s rightfully yours?”
She had sounded like she was about to cry. His SOUL had ached at the mere thought.
“How do I make them stop?” She had asked. “How?”
But Asgore had just stayed silent: he didn’t know. Nothing like that ever happened to him.
For a while, none of them spoke. Then, he had heard her slowly walk away, briskly.
The King’s heart had felt heavy, but really, he had no idea what to do; he had wished he could help her, but he didn’t know how.
He didn’t even feel like doing it.
He just…He just wanted to be alone.
—-
She had come back a week later; she had sounded proud, happy for once. Everything was in control, everything was going to be good, it was hard, but she managed.
He had felt happy for the first time in weeks. Yet, a terrible feeling lingered in his SOUL.
And, as days passed by, with every patrol, with every update, the feeling just got stronger.
The one day, he had heard her voice quieter than usual. So silent, in fact, he had to edge closer to the Barrier to hear her words.
“A kid” he had heard. “A kid fell in…They…They were so small, so fragile…And cold, so cold…” He had then heard her sigh heavily, and gulp. “I…I wanted to end them, but…They were so kind, so happy when they saw me…Their eyes sparkled like little stars…I…”
Undyne had then banged her fist at the Barrier. “They’re sleeping on the couch right now and…Damn it!” Another bang.
He hadn’t understood why was she so grieved by that; but he didn’t dare ask: he didn’t want her to know he hadn’t listened when she had talked about that…If she had ever talked, that is. Had she?
Suddenly, he had heard her scream.
“Why did I do this?” She had yelled, not necessarily to him. “Why didn’t I just kill them?”
Asgore’s eyes had widened; why was she saying that? Since when do they need to kill all humans passing by? Why? His own child had been a Human…
He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. He trusted her; why would she do this?
Why would she install such a policy?
For the first and last (though he didn’t know that yet) time, Asgore had walked further away from the Barrier as possible, trying to ignore her pleading apologies, for she too had realised what she had said.
He had refused to believe his adoptive daughter would do such a thing to innocent humans.
But she still did. Over and over again.
But he couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t.
He had her stories, how she described every single detail she knew about them.
She seemed happy: maybe the Policy had been lifted?
Part of him told him that it wasn’t true, that it hadn’t been deleted. She was still killing them off, one by one, worst of all, straight after befriending them.
Can’t you hear her voice, you stupid king? Can’t you hear that tinge of mourn, sadness, pain in her voice? She knew them all, she talked to them, laughed with them; she knew their favourite colours, their favourite food, she knew what they liked and disliked…But she still killed them.
In their sleep, closing her eyes, them falling willingly…what grim imagination the King had about their deaths! The voices insisted she was a murderer, but he always shook his head at that. He wanted to scream, to make them stop, but the words were blocked, clogged in his throat, not daring to let go. And he decided it was better this way; he just needed to ignore them.
His child wasn’t a murderer.
Sure, she was having a bad time, but not that bad.
—-
As the days passed on, the visits only became more and more frequent, daily in fact. And she sounded more and more tired.
How many hours does she work? He’d ask himself. Does she sleep? That last time she visited, when was the last time she had rested since then?
She never mentioned rest in her visits.
Only work, work, work.
But she also mentioned Humans; she mentioned the K-9 Unit and the rest of the Royal Guard. She mentioned reports; she mentioned the friendly but shy Royal Scientist (he remembered her name… Alphys, right?). She mentioned Papyrus, her new sweet but also ruthless second-in-command; she mentioned how she was training him, how she hoped to shape him up, toughen him up. And she also mentioned herself, sometimes, how she was feeling. And she also asked questions, to which he never answered, which only made things worse (he didn’t really know why; maybe it’s because he didn’t want to lie to her).
And then there was the crying.
It got increasingly frequent, starting from just heavy sighs and broken words to real sobs. And sometimes, he could hear her also cry for him, for him to answer her, to help her.
It broke his heart to hear her like this; but he didn’t know how to react.
What with the voices telling him lies, like the fact that she was a murderer.
What with him not knowing what to say.
What with him not knowing how to answer question he had no idea how to answer honestly.
What with the words clogging halfway out, or just melting away like snow in the sun the moment they climbed on his tongue.
It’s not like he didn’t try. He had tried before.
Many times.
Like when she had first told him, for example. Yes, her first visit, when she had informed him about her taking charge, about his wife disappearing: he had wanted, he had tried, to cry out, to mourn; even when she was talking, he had sometimes partly unwillingly tried to interrupt and ask more about the whole thing, but… But he had found himself unable to.
He couldn’t understand why (and still today, he had no clue). It was just…He had tried to open his mouth, but when he had managed to do so, nothing came out.
Had he lost his voice? He had wondered at one point, puzzled. No, it couldn’t be. No one loses their voices that fast.
Then what was wrong?
Before he could think of it any further, she had already left. Probably feeling down for him not answering.
—-
There had been another time, another visit, where she had walked in, sounding like she was about to break down.
The pressure.
It was all coming back to her now. Weighing like a ton of bricks and rocks.
It pained him to think that he hadn’t tried to help her. To comfort her. But it’s not like he didn’t try.
He had. Really hard. In fact, he was sure he could’ve said something this time.
He had tried to compliment her, to encourage her, I know it’s going to be hard, but I’m here if you need help, please don’t cry anymore, it’s going to be all right…
But then something popped up in his head.
Was he even telling the truth? Was he really being honest with what he was planning to say?
If not, then why lie?
Why keep promises he knew he could break?
These would only break her even more. He knew that.
So he decided to close his mouth. He couldn’t even mouth the words, anyway, last he remembered.
It was something he regretted to this day. Why had he let those doubts cross his mind? Why hadn’t he taken his chances?
—-
Then came the disaster.
Undyne had missed her daily check, more than twice in a row. When she had finally come back, she wasn’t happy.
She had made a mistake.
Her first mistake.
“There was…A machine…” She had tried to explain. “We…We tried…We had to… it…”
Mumbling incomprehensible syllables, it took a while for Asgore to understand what happened.
There was an accident while testing a machine of some sorts.
Something had gone wrong, he didn’t know what or why.
But there had been victims.
“She…she was taking the blame” the Captain had slammed her fists on the ground. “It was all my fault; I shouldn’t have asked for it to be built!”
She probably had expected an answer, or a question from him; but he had just sat there, shocked. He couldn’t have spoken even if he had tried.
Would have that happened if he had been there?
Why did it occur to her?
“Do you even care?”
His mind had shifted back to reality, as he had heard something bang against the Barrier.
Probably her fist.
“Did you hear me?” She had asked, louder this time. “Can you even hear me? Why won’t you answer me?”
He had opened his mouth to say something-
“I FAILED, ASGORE, I FAILED!” Undyne had screamed. “I’M A MESS RIGHT NOW; PEOPLE…PEOPLE DIED. BECAUSE OF ME AND…AND SOMEONE ELSE IS TAKING…TAKING THE BLAME NO MATTER WHAT I SAY! AND SHE’S HURT, OK? SHE’S…SHE’S REALLY HURT, AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO! WHY DON’T YOU SAY ANYTHING! WHY DON’T YOU REACT!”
He had listened to every word, like always, but his mouth had sealed itself shut once again.
He really wanted to talk to her.
He had just lost the courage to.
He had walked over to the Barrier, placing a hand on it as if to reach her, to hold her once more like he used to do when she was little.
Hoping…hoping she could feel it.
I’m here. I’m sorry.
Then, he had heard something.
A sob.
Then another.
And another.
They were soft, but rang clearer in his head. His SOUL ached just at the sound.
Was this the first time she had cried in front of him since the whole Barrier thing? The first of many?
Or had she cried before, but he had pushed all the painful memories aside?
He had tried to recall…
No.
It wasn’t the first time.
But this time…This time he could hear her loud and clear.
This thing had really taken a toll on her.
So he had stood there, immobile, one hand on the Barrier, listening to her cries. Then, suddenly, he had heard her stand up and leave without a word, sniffling a little as she did.
Why hadn’t he said anything? Why hadn’t he even tried?
What kind of father was he?
He hadn’t move from that spot for the rest of the day, fearing she might never return after what happened.
But she still came back. And she still talked to him.
And the more she talked, the longer she’d stop to cry.
—-
There was one time, for example, many, many months after the Accident.
By then, he had completely accepted his role of Listener and not Speaker. In fact, the more he had stayed there silent, the more he lost the strength, the will to open his mouth and talk. He knew he didn’t have the courage, so why try? Why attempt at something he hadn’t done for a while now?
But it’s not like he didn’t care for her. It’s not like he wanted to ignore her problems.
He just didn’t know how to help.
Or how to say the right words.
What kind of power did a King who abandoned his kingdom at the hands of everyone have?
Anyway, back to the matter at hand.
One time, weeks after the accident, she came, early, as always. She seemed happy, tranquil. Yet, he could somehow sense the turmoil inside her, her stress and the pressure building up on her.
She told him, like always, of her routine: a disturbance, nothing unusual. No fallen humans. Good.
Then, she had asked, again, questions about him. But he hadn’t answered. Like always.
And she did not take it well.
She had actually started pleading at him to answer; he knew she had meant it, she had wanted him to answer really bad. She was tired of this silence. She was desperate.
Yet, he stayed silent.
He remembered everything about that day, like all the others: how she had asked, repeated, pleaded, pounded her fists on the pavement, begging for an answer.
And he also remembered how loud she had shouted at him.
“ANSWER ME YOU DUMBASS!”
This phrase had made him jump a little from his sitting position. He had been sitting quietly at this point, wrapped in his own guilt, in his own loneliness; she had never screamed like this before. Or this phrase.
He had silently leaned his hand on the Barrier, again, squinting his eyes shut to avoid the tears spilling out of his eyes.
Sorry.
Then, he had heard her sit down and start to cry.
And apologising.
Apologising for being weak.
Why would she, though? She wasn’t weak. Quite the contrary, actually.
She was strong. Even stronger than him.
She had taken over when he had left. She had pushed away the title of Queen. She had taken care of them. This wasn’t being weak.
You don’t need to apologise. He had wanted to say to her. Cry all you want. You’re brave, you can do this. I promise. I’m proud of you.
But no words had come out of his mouth. His hand just had stroked the Barrier, wrapped in more guilt and grief.
There was nothing he could do.
There was nothing to be done.
He could only hear her cries, and then later on, her sniffs and her slow, heavy steps.
And only then had he lowered his head and began to cry softly. It was the first time he had cried in a long time.
—-
More weeks had passed since that day. Asgore had counted those also.
Though, it was hard to tell the time in this place, what with it not having any windows or clocks. But he didn’t mind. Her visits were enough to tell.
Even though it wasn’t 100% precise, he still did his countdown. At least, it was useful to kill time.
Sometimes, he had to admit, he felt lonely in there. He wanted to see his family again. His wife. His so-
Oh, right. Nevermind.
But would anyone remember him if he came back? Would they even forgive him for what he did? For leaving them alone?
Would she forgive him?
…
No.
Not until he apologised.
Apologise for a what he did, for everything he caused. For the pressure he forced her to be put through.
For her cries.
For never answering.
For being a bad mentor and father.
…
Yes.
That’s exactly what he was going to do.
He was going to apologise. Today. Immediately. Or at least, when she came.
So he stood up and started pacing, trying to find the right words. He was very nervous: he hadn’t spoken aloud in a long time after all, let alone to her…and after all this time, what was he supposed to say? “sorry”?
But sorry wouldn’t cut it.
He had to put more in it.
He started pacing faster, thinking of more and more words, until it turned more into a speech, and he had to cut some corners. He didn’t want to offend her and make it sound professional and unfriendly.
It had to come from his heart. It was Undyne after all, not a simple substitute.
He knew she’d never forgive him that easily, but it was worth trying. It was worth it for her.
For his last child.
For the one who took control with dignity and sacrificing so many things.
For the one who always remembered him, always told him what happened, never forgot…
Asgore slowed his pacing, mumbling his apology as he did so.
—-
It was done.
He knew what to say.
He had examined it through and through, really carefully, and had repeated it out loud several times, and he was positive it would be a good start. A brilliant one, in fact.
He knew this was going to work.
She was going to forgive him. Or at least, a little bit. Enough.
He was going to talk to her again, encourage her, give her advice, or try. Answer her questions. And also say sorry.
Yes, that’s exactly what he was going to do.
Filled with determination, he sat down and waited for her. He knew she’d be here any second.
At least, he thought so?
He couldn’t say for sure, really. He had been too busy preparing his apology to count the time.
Well, he could wait.
She’d be here any second anyway.
But…
What if he had missed her? What if she had gone and left why he wasn’t listening?
Had that really happen?
Oh God, what if she was crushed now? That he didn’t pay attention to her anymore? That he spoke to himself but not to her?
Oh Asgore, how could you have been so stupid-
No, no, no! This is not what happened! He was positive!
He knew she would be coming soon. Anytime soon.
And anyway, she’d be back…right?
Of course she’ll be back! what kind of questions was he asking himself?
It was just like assuming she had killed children. She would never do that. She would never leave him, betray him.
That was stupid. Stop thinking about it.
So he waited.
And counted, while he was at it, just to kill time.
…
…
…
Two minutes. Still nothing.
Maybe she was late. Or maybe he had stopped early.
Really, he had started thinking about the apology just three hours after the last meeting. How much time had he spent on that thing?
He pondered at this for a while, and in the end decided that he surely hadn’t spent more than six hours on it. So, he was still early.
He kept counting, and waiting.
And waited.
And waited.
After all, even if she had missed a day, so what? She had done so before anyway.
It didn’t matter.
He didn’t need sleep much.
He’d wait a whole month if he had to. It wasn’t important.
What was important was to talk to her, apologise, make her happy.
Make her smile. A genuine one.
Even though he couldn’t see her from the Barrier, it would be the most pleasant thing he would’ve ever done in those many months. Then, he found himself wondering if maybe she had grown a little too while he was gone. (shame he never wondered about that until now)
Well, it had only been a few months, but she had changed so much in behaviour, as far as he knew…who knows what else was differnet.
…
…
It had been a while now. Where was she?
She had never been so late for a meeting…was something wrong?
No, no he refused to believe that. She was ok. She was just late. Maybe another disturbance?
Never mind. Asgore thought, closing his eyes with a smile. She’ll be here any moment now. Any moment…
Yes, it was only a matter of seconds, minutes…
B U T N O B O D Y C A M E.
((Bonus sad points: Beta actually heard his apology while she was passing by and nearly started to cry))
I know I don’t really talk about my fics here, considering I don’t have a following for people reading my works, but I’m seriously beyond thankful of the support Night of the Overthinker got. It was a Secret Santa work, yes, but the fact that many others also enjoyed it makes me beyond happy, especially considering how doubtful I was over it. Thank you all so much for your support!! I hope I can provide more vnc work that makes you happy <3
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