SeasonTale - Chapter 8
Woah no way, SeasonTale update? Crazy times we live in. Again please don't expect too many updates. I was bored. Masterpost
~o0o~
The dragon’s roar above shook the base, rattling the icicles clinging to the tower’s edges.
Fall flinched instinctively, his boots crunching against the frostbitten stone as he stepped through the threshold. The cold bit at his ankles like tiny teeth, gnawing through the worn fabric of his pants. He didn’t complain. Cold was familiar. Cold was honest.
The sanctuary was carved into the mountain itself—a black, jagged tower forged from obsidian and granite, its spires piercing the storm clouds like spears. Snow clung to its peaks, and the wind howled around it like a warning. From the outside, it was nearly invisible, camouflaged against the cliffs and sky. That was the point. It was hidden. Safe.
Most importantly, it was far from the Gaster’s reach.
Inside, however, was a contradiction.
Warmth.
Fall blinked at the sudden shift in atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of burning cedar and melting wax. Large woolen rugs sprawled across the stone floors like sleeping beasts. Firepits glowed in nearly every room, their flames dancing in quiet defiance of the blizzard outside. Candles flickered on shelves and windowsills, casting soft halos of light that made the shadows feel less threatening.
It was the coziest place Fall had ever seen.
And that was saying a lot, considering his culture didn’t believe in comfort.
The main hall opened into a living room filled with plush furniture—cushions so deep they looked like clouds. A modest kitchen stood nearby, its shelves sparsely stocked but lovingly arranged. A courtyard stretched beyond the glass doors, its snow-covered training posts standing like silent sentinels. And tucked into the far wing of the tower was the dragon den, where the beasts rested.
Solstice!Asgore had mentioned that the two dragons he and his wife rode had recently laid four eggs. They would be hatching soon. Fall didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d never seen a baby… anything before.
Up the winding staircases—each step creaking with age—was the second floor, where the bedrooms waited.
Fall chose the one with the least light.
It was instinctual. The curtains were thick, the walls dark, and the bed tucked into a corner like it was hiding. He liked that. It felt like a place where no one would find him.
But apparently, that wasn’t the plan.
Solstice!Asgore had smiled gently when Fall tried to protest. “You won’t be alone here,” he’d said. “Three other children like you will be joining you soon. You’ll share the space.”
Fall had stared at him like he’d spoken a foreign language. Share? Why would anyone do that?
This place was quiet. It was safe. Why ruin that with noise and company?
He’d tried to argue. Tried to explain that he didn’t do well with others. That he didn’t know how to talk, or laugh, or sleep near someone without flinching.
But the nice goat wouldn’t budge.
“You’ll learn,” Solstice!Asgore had said, placing a hand on Fall’s shoulder. “You’ll heal. And healing happens best when you’re not alone.”
Fall didn’t believe him. Not yet.
But he didn’t fight it anymore. He just nodded and retreated into his room, curling up on the bed with his back to the door.
The blankets were soft. Too soft.
They swallowed him whole the moment he flopped onto them, like a creature claiming its territory. He missed the rags he was used to—those taught him how to sleep with one eye open, how to brace for footsteps in the dark. These blankets felt like they were trying to lull him into a sleep he hadn’t earned. A sleep that didn’t come with consequences.
Outside, the dragon roared again, and the tower trembled.
Fall closed his eyes and tried to pretend he wasn’t afraid.
Solstice!Asgore lingered at the doorway, his silhouette framed by candlelight. He stepped forward slowly, bending his knees to make himself smaller, more approachable. “Your brothers have arrived,” he said gently.
Fall blinked.
Brothers? The word didn’t make sense. He had no brothers. He had no one.
But curiosity gnawed at him, louder than the call of sleep. He peeled himself from the bed, dragging the blanket with him like a shield, and jogged after Solstice!Asgore down the winding staircase. The stone steps spiraled like a spine, each one echoing under his feet as if the tower itself was listening.
The dragon den was alive with motion.
Two massive beasts stood parked like living ships, their wings folding in with slow, deliberate grace. Their eyes glowed like embers, and their breath steamed the air. Fall flinched at the sound of their roars.
From the first dragon, a goat-like figure dismounted. She was similar to Solstice!Asgore, but more elegant, more commanding. Her robes shimmered with starlight, and her presence bent the air around her. She moved like a queen, but her hands were gentle—cradling two small skeletons as they slid off the dragon’s back.
Fall’s breath caught.
They looked like him.
Not just vaguely. Not just in species.
They looked like fractured reflections of his own soul.
The first was draped in slave rags, his bones bruised and his eyes hollow. He moved slowly, like every step was a negotiation with pain. His gaze darted around the room, searching for exits, threats, anything familiar. Fall recognized that look. He’d worn it himself.
The second wore princely attire—deep blues and silvers, a cloak that shimmered like frost. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable. But his eyes… his eyes were snowflakes. Cold, intricate, and impossibly sad. Fall didn’t know what royalty looked like, but he knew what captivity did. This boy had both.
Then came the third.
He slid down the tail of the second dragon like it was a playground, landing with a thud and a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes were suns—bright, golden, scattered with triangular rays. He radiated a strange energy, like someone who had forgotten how to feel but remembered how to pretend. His clothes were yellow, his movements loose, almost careless. But Fall saw the stiffness in his fingers, the way he flinched when the dragon snorted too close.
Skeleton kids. Just like him. But not like him at all.
Fall stood frozen at the edge of the den, his blanket clutched in his fists. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if he was supposed to say anything. He watched them—watched how they moved, how they breathed, how they looked at the world.
The one in slave rags kept glancing at the floor, as if afraid it would disappear beneath him.
The princely one stood like he was waiting for orders, his hands clenched at his sides.
And the sunny one was already poking at the dragon’s wing, asking questions with his eyes.
Fall didn’t approach. He just watched.
And for the first time in his life, he wondered what it meant to belong.
Solstice!Asgore gently pressed a hoof against his back, the gesture feather-light but firm. “Well, let’s go greet them, shall we?” His voice was warm, but Fall didn’t return the smile. He didn’t know how.
They stepped forward together, slow and hesitant, as the female goat and the skeleton children mirrored the motion. The air between them felt like glass—fragile, reflective, waiting to shatter.
“You got them all?” the male goat asked, his voice low and edged with relief.
The female nodded, her eyes scanning the horizon beyond the den. “No one spotted. But the Gasters will come looking.”
“Let them,” the male replied. “Their plan has collapsed. We’ll raise them right.”
Only one child seemed to register the words—the one with snowflake eyes. He stood still, absorbing every syllable like it was a commandment. The others had already turned inward, their attention shifting to one another in cautious glances and unreadable expressions.
The one in slave rags flinched every time someone looked at him. When Fall’s gaze landed on him, he recoiled as if struck, his shoulders curling inward like he could fold himself out of existence.
The prince remained silent, his eyes scanning each skeleton child with surgical precision. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. His posture was perfect—too perfect. Like he was waiting for permission to breathe.
Fall’s stomach twisted.
Why were they all here?
What made them worthy of rescue—or collection?
Then the third skeleton broke the silence with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, to break the ice,” he said, voice light and performative, “I’m Summer. Pleasure to meet you all—”
He turned to the prince, eyes flicking over the pristine outfit. “Ooh! Love the look, Mr. Princey-boy. What’s your name?”
The prince looked up—not at Summer, but at the female goat. His lips parted, but no sound came. She offered a soft smile, stepping closer.
“It’s okay,” she said gently. “You don’t need permission to speak here.”
The words hit him like a slap and a hug all at once. His throat bobbed as he swallowed something invisible. Then, with mechanical precision, he replied, “Name’s Winter.”
Fall winced. The voice was too polished, too rehearsed. It sounded like it belonged to someone else entirely.
Summer raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Alright, Princey-boy,” he said, pivoting to the child who had nearly melted into the floor. “And you?”
The slave-ragged one flinched again, his eyes darting like prey. “...Number 24,” he whispered.
Summer tilted his head. “I said name, silly,” he said with a forced chuckle, slinging an arm around the boy’s shoulders.
The reaction was immediate. Spring shuddered violently, his bones stiffening under the touch. His breath hitched, and for a moment, it looked like he might bolt.
Summer froze, his grin faltering. He lifted his arm slowly, as if realizing too late that he’d crossed a line. “Sorry,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Spring rubbed at his face, trying to scrub away the dirt—or maybe the memory. His voice came out like a squeak, barely audible. “Spring.”
Summer nodded, subdued now. “Spring,” he repeated, softer.
Then he turned to Fall, smile returning like a mask. He took a step forward, hand half-raised in greeting.
Fall didn’t hesitate. He lifted his own hand, palm out like a barrier, and locked eyes with him. “Fall,” he said, voice low and sharp. “Do not touch me.”
Summer stopped mid-step, blinking. Then he nodded, hands raised in surrender. “Got it,” he said, backing off with a sheepish grin that flickered and faded like candlelight in wind.
Solstice!Asgore stepped forward, his voice gentle but firm. “Let’s be kind to your new brothers,” he said, casting a glance at each child as if trying to memorize them. “I am Solstice!Asgore, former ruler of SeasonTale. This is my wife, Season!Toriel. We’ve intervened in your lives to hopefully offer you a better one.”
The children stared at him, blank-faced. A better life? The words didn’t land. They hovered in the air like smoke, too abstract to grasp.
Fall narrowed his eyes. Better than what? Than the fathers who taught them how to survive? Than the homes that taught them silence was safety? What happened before… felt normal. And normal was hard to argue with when it was all you knew. It felt like there wasn’t enough new danger in this place.
Season!Toriel stepped forward, her voice soft and maternal. “You all must be hungry. Shall we get some food?”
“Yes! I’m starving,” Summer chirped, already halfway across the dragon den before anyone could answer. His feet slapped against the stone floor, echoing through the chamber like laughter in a cathedral. “WOAH! LOOK AT THIS COURTYARD!” His voice bounced off the walls, filling the silence the others left behind.
Fall followed, not because he was hungry, but because he didn’t want to be left alone with the goats. His steps were quiet, calculated. He kept Summer in his peripheral vision, watching the way he touched everything like he was trying to prove he belonged. The kid looked back at the other two.
Winter didn’t move. Not until Season!Toriel gave him a nod. Only then did he step forward, posture perfect, eyes lowered. He walked like someone who had been punished for walking wrong.
Spring didn’t move at all. He shrank back, arms wrapped around his torso, head bowed. When Season!Toriel offered him a hand, he flinched so hard she withdrew it immediately.
“No thank you,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m not hungry.”
Fall rolled his eyes. They’re so weird.
All of them.
As they made their way through the winding halls, the goats offered a soft-spoken tour of the tower. The walls were carved with seasonal motifs—leaves, snowflakes, blossoms, sunbursts—each corridor shifting in temperature and scent as they passed through. One hallway smelled like cinnamon and pine. Another like fresh rain.
Summer darted ahead, poking his head into every room, narrating his discoveries with theatrical flair. “This place is HUGE! Look at this—there’s a whole room just for pillows! I’m gonna sleep in here forever.”
Fall trailed behind, absorbing everything in silence. He didn’t trust comfort. Comfort was a trap.
Winter walked like a shadow, eyes scanning the architecture as if searching for structural weaknesses. He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask questions. But Fall noticed how he lingered near exits, how he counted doors.
Spring stayed close to the wall, fingers trailing along the stone like he needed to anchor himself to something real. His eyes flicked toward every window, every crack in the floor, every flicker of movement. He didn’t look at anyone directly.
Season!Toriel led them to the kitchen, a warm space filled with flickering lanterns and the scent of fresh bread. The table was already set—four places, each with a different seasonal motif etched into the plate.
Fall hesitated at the threshold. He didn’t know which seat was his. He didn’t know if he wanted one.
Summer plopped into the chair with a sunburst, grinning. “Guess this one’s mine!”
Winter stood behind the snowflake plate, waiting.
Spring hovered near the doorway, eyes darting.
Fall looked at the leaf-shaped plate. Autumn. Of course. He sat down slowly, eyes scanning the others.
“Now I know this is all new to you,” Season said after giving the nod to Winter to let him sit down. “But our goal right now is to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“Comfort is a trap,” Fall muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. “What are you hiding from us?”
Season inhaled sharply and Solstice took the lead. “We wish to hide nothing from you. Ask any question, and we will answer it.”
“W-When will I see Papyrus again?” Spring muttered before shrinking back as eyes were laid on him.
Winter looked curiously at Spring, while Summer rested his elbows on the table and stared intently at him. Autumn scoffed. Why would he care about Papyrus? How does he even know–
“Each of you have a different Papyrus,” Season began, sitting at one of the head seats at the table, while Solstice sat at the other after grabbing some bread to share with the skeletons. “Spring, your papyrus was closer to you than the others. You may see him when he is well again.”
Spring’s eyes flicked toward the bread Solstice placed on the table, then quickly away. His hands trembled in his lap, clenched so tightly his knuckles turned pale. He didn’t reach for anything. Not yet.
Fall leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His gaze swept across the table like a blade. “Different Papyruses?” he muttered. “What does that even mean?”
Season!Toriel folded her hands on the table, her voice calm but deliberate. “Each of you were raised in different kingdoms. Each of you were given a Papyrus—some as caretakers, some as companions, some as brothers. They were meant to guide you, but… not all of them were allowed to.”
Fall scoffed again, but said nothing.
Winter finally sat, posture rigid, hands folded neatly in front of him. He hadn’t touched the bread either. His eyes remained fixed on Solstice, waiting for the next instruction.
Summer, meanwhile, had already taken a bite. He chewed slowly, staring at Spring with a tilted head. “So… your Papyrus was like your dad or something?”
Spring flinched at the word. “No,” he whispered. “He was… kind.”
Summer blinked. “Huh. Weird.”
Fall rolled his eyes. “You’re weird.”
“Thanks,” Summer grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, tossing the bread between his hands like a ball. “So, what now? We just sit here and pretend we’re normal?”
Solstice leaned forward, his voice low and steady. “No pretending. You’re not here to be normal. You’re here to be free.”
The word hung in the air like smoke.
“Starting tomorrow,” Season!Toriel continued, “you’ll begin your studies. We’ve prepared a schedule tailored to each of you. You’ll learn combat, language, mathematics, history, and dragon riding. You’ll be trained not just to survive—but to lead.”
Spring’s eyes widened. “Combat?”
“Yes,” Solstice nodded. “But not the kind you were forced into. You’ll learn to protect, not punish.”
Winter looked down, his fingers twitching. He didn’t know how to protect. He only knew how to obey. His gaze sharpened. “Will we be tested?”
Season!Toriel smiled gently. “You’ll be challenged. But not punished.”
Winter nodded slowly, processing the difference.
Fall narrowed his eyes. “And what if we don’t want to lead?”
Solstice met his gaze without flinching. “Then you’ll learn to live. That’s enough.”
Summer tapped his fingers on the table. “Dragon riding sounds cool. Do we get our own dragons?”
“Eventually,” Solstice chuckled. “But first, you’ll learn how to earn their trust.”
Summer’s grin returned, brighter this time. “I’m good with animals. I had a pet rock once.”
Fall snorted. “Of course you did.”
The silence that followed wasn’t hostile. It was awkward.
Season!Toriel stood, brushing crumbs from her lap. “You’ll each be shown to your rooms now. Fall already knows his. The rest of you, follow me.”
Spring hesitated, eyes darting to the bread again. He reached out slowly, took a piece, and held it close like a treasure. He didn’t eat it. Not yet.
Winter stood immediately, hands at his sides, waiting for the signal to move.
Summer bounced up, already halfway to the door. “Bet my room has a window. I’m gonna name my dragon ‘Blossom.’”
Fall didn’t move. He watched them go, his eyes lingering on Spring’s hunched shoulders and Winter’s stiff spine. He didn’t know what kind of studies they’d be doing. He didn’t care.
It was too different from the life he knew, and he wasn’t sure if he was okay with that.