This blog is the central for a fanfiction revolving around an Undertale AU simply called 'Undertaint' Read up on the FAQ first! Avatar by the forever wonderful DrGaster of Deviantart!
IT TOOK ME SOO LONG I’m so sorry, I’m having probs atm. Again yes. But I’m working on the commissions as hard as I can. This one piece is for pendragonduelist ( I can’t tag them for some reason)
I hope you like it ! If you’d like me to change anything, please feel free to message me !
(A commission by @vivynek0! I love how this turned out... Gaster in particular looks perfect!! And his hand on Frisk’s shoulder is perfect too :D And Sans and Toriel look just like I’d imagined too!)
(so I had one of my patented Shade-Duelist Shower Thoughts (while actually under a shower!) and I suddenly found myself thinking about my AU Undertaint and how it’d be if it got the Underswap treatment. And lemme tell ya Swaptaint would be horrifying.
(I place it under a readmore because it is huge, 57+ pages!!)
(you can also read the story on AO3 and on Deviantart - the DA version is recommended because it’s a pdf file and it preserves all of the fonts and layout I used making the fic :) also the AO3 and DA versions have a little secret that you might just find here as well... maybe...)
“NYOO HOO HOO… I WILL NEVER BE A MEMBER OF THE ROYAL GUARD… I WILL NEVER BE THE ONE… UNDYNE SAYS I SHOULD GIVE UP, AND MAYBE… M-MAYBE SHE IS RIGHT…”
“Hey there, buddy, giving up is never the right idea!!”
“WHO… WHAT…?! WHO SAID THAT?! SANS, IF THAT IS YOU MAGICALLY ALTERING YOUR VOICE AGAIN TO BESIEGE ME-”
“No, it’s just little old me!”
“A FLOWER THAT TALKS? ...WELL, I GUESS I WON’T QUESTION IT, I’VE SEEN A LOT OF CRAZY THINGS IN MY LIFE… LIKE THAT WOMAN THAT WALKS HER BROTHER ON A LEASH… OR A LIVING BIRTHDAY CANDLE… OKAY, LITTLE FLOWER, HOW DO YOU DO?”
“Oh, I’m fiiiine and dandy! Say, what’s your name, buddy?”
“OH, I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!! PUZZLE-CREATOR EXTRAORDINAIRE AND SUPREME SPAGHETTORE OF SNOWDIN!! ...AND YOUR NAME, LITTLE FLOWER?”
“Flowey! Flowey the flower! ...Say, why don’t you tell me all about those troubles you’ve been having over a nice plate of spaghetti?”
“BUT YOU CANNOT EAT, SURELY!!”
“I’m not supposed to eat the spaghetti, silly, it’s for you!”
“OH! THAT SOUNDS LIKE A WONDERFUL IDEA, THEN! NYEH HEH HEH, SPAGHETTI WILL MAKE IT EASIER FOR ME TO TALK OF MY PROBLEMS! ...FLOWEY, I CAN ALREADY TELL WE WILL BE THE GREATEST OF FRIENDS!”
“SANS!!!” The skeleton winced as he heard his brother’s voice call out to him from the snowy road. Immediately, the Snowdrake he’d been talking to dashed quickly in between the trees, unwilling to risk the wrath of the heavily armored skeleton - not that Sans could blame the teenage wannabe comedian. He had a choice, after all: Papyrus wasn’t his brother. “SANS, YOU LAZYBONES!!! GET THOSE SHINS SHAKING AND GET OVER HERE!!”
“okay, bro, comin’...”, Sans said, shaking his head and walking away from the sentry station at the edge of the forest, near the doorway. His brother’s station was further down the road, near the river: Papyrus spent inordinate hours there every day polishing his chestplate or practicing his magic on anything that happened close enough, be it drifts of snow or other monsters.
Or hapless, unsuspecting brothers for that matter.
“NYEHEH!” His brother’s chuckle was all the warning he got before a veritable barrage of bones launched at him - tall ones, blue ones, twirling ones, and then an orange one that Sans stepped through. It seemed to disappoint Papyrus. His off-white teeth gnashed together for a second before he spoke up again, his voice a dangerous kind of neutral that Sans had learnt to become apprehensive about very quickly. “YOU’VE BECOME BETTER, BROTHER… PERHAPS WE CAN RAMP UP MY MAGIC JUST A LITTLE AGAIN-”
“papyrus, we’ve been over this, bro. we aren’t ramping up your magi-iiiiiiiiih!!” Another blue attack, and Sans was left to jump over increasingly higher stacks of bones until his legs felt like they’d fall off. Several of the bones had grazed him, and he found himself wincing in pain yet showing no sign of it. His brother still saw him as weak and that suited him fine. Being perceived as weak meant that he went just a little easier on him out of brotherly concern, albeit a heavily twisted version of that emotion. Or, at least, that was the explanation Sans came up with. The thought that his brother no longer cared about him was… painful, to say the least.
“YOUR OWN MAGIC CAN DO WITH A LITTLE RAMPING UP AS WELL, SANS… ONE DECENT HIT, AND A HUMAN CAN WALK OVER YOUR DUST! WE HAVE A DUTY TO THIS KINGDOM - A DUTY TO HER!”
“i know… nnnngh… i know, bro-”
“AND HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU, BROTHER, SPEAK PROPERLY OF ME!! I AM NOT YOUR ‘BRO’! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS, RIGHT HAND OF UNDYNE AND COMMANDER OF THE SNOWDIN BRANCH OF THE ROYAL GUARD! ... PERHAPS THE PROPER WAY FOR YOU TO LEARN SOME RESPECT IS TO TRAIN WITH ME UNTIL YOU GET IT RIGHT!!” Another barrage of bones, this time coupled with the dragon-like skulls that fired beams of concentrated, deadly magic, and Sans found himself actually dodging for dear life. When his brother got angry with him, genuinely angry like he was now, there was no talking to him, no trying to reason with him, and not even trying to mollify him with hasty words of apology. When Papyrus used the blasters, he wanted to hear him beg for his life from between charred teeth, sitting on broken bones. So the best and most painless way to get through his current predicament, Sans knew, was to let the blasters hit him after a while and let himself fall limp in the snow before speaking the words that always got his brother to leave him to his own devices again.
“...p-please… great Papyrus… d-don’t kill me… b-brother-”
“I WON’T KILL YOU, SANS… EVEN IF PERHAPS I SHOULD… BUT WHAT DIGNITY IS THERE IN KILLING SUCH A PATHETIC, WEAK EXCUSE FOR A MONSTER SUCH AS YOU? ... DON’T BOTHER COMING HOME TONIGHT. A NIGHT OUT HERE, IN THE COLD, WILL MAYBE MAKE THE LESSON STICK THIS TIME!”, Papyrus ground out, turning on his heels and stalking off, his torn red cape swooshing behind him and then disappearing in between the trees as the taller of the two skeletons turned back to Snowdin. A full minute passed in silence until Sans groaned and got up from the snow again, wincing as he felt the scorchmarks on his spine get exposed to the water dripping from the remains of his blue hooded sweater. Fortunately, it wasn’t like he didn’t have any other clothes in his sentry station. Papyrus being the way he was… He quickly walked over to his sentry station, ditching his torn hoodie on the ground and then digging around in the shelves of his sentry station to try and find another one, but all he found was one of Papyrus’ old sweaters: an ugly, red thing with an image of a golden flower on the front. He re-checked twice, but it seemed Papyrus had finally gone and destroyed his last sweater.
“...H-hey, yo, Sans…” The timid voice of the Snowdrake he’d been talking to before drifted towards him, preceding the monster itself into the small clearing. He’d brought his younger brother Chilldrake and their friend Icecap along, all of whom were looking at him nervously. “...You okay, brothah?”
“y-yeah… doin’ fine, snowy…”, Sans said, letting his magic flow - just a trickle, as usual - and healing the marks marring his vertebrae, causing the other monsters to relax again. Then, Chilldrake spoke up with relief clear in his voice.
“Man, Sanster, you’re lucky you know how ta heal! Us dopes don’t know cool stuff like that… Heck, us dopes don’t know any magic ‘cept our attacks!”
“heh, chill, bro…”, Sans said with a grin, resorting to using puns again to further defuse the situation - and, he mentally added, as a very subtle way to get the conversation away from the dangerous topic of his magic. “...your attacks are still the coolest magic i know. h-heh…” Sans winced as he allowed his magic to seep into his thick tibia, healing the abrasions Papyrus’ bone attacks had caused there. “...man, between you an’ me, i owe this to myself. should’a flaked out, if you catch my drift, snowy.” As usual, the Drake brothers were howling with laughter at his relentless use of puns, and Icecap laughed along heartily, filling the forest with a happier atmosphere than it usually held. Still, Icecap spoke timidly the next moment.
“...H-hey, Sans, bro… be careful, ‘kay? Papyrus is getting a lot more… tenacious…” Instantly, the others fell quiet again, and Sans sighed. For a few seconds, the thought of his brother had been completely absent from his mind… Then again, he couldn’t fault the other monsters for speaking about him. Papyrus, being Undyne’s right-hand man in the Royal Guard, had the duty to keep the monsters of the forest in line, as well as keeping them all on their toes about what to do when a human came along.
“Yeah, why’s Papyrus being such a big p-pri- Why’s he being so hell-bent on terrorizin’ all of us?”, Chilldrake asked, sighing miserably. “I thought, when Snowy an’ me moved away from home, we’d escape that kinda pressure, but no… we leave that big ol’ tin can behind and we run right into the hands of Scary McSkelly! U-uh, no offense, Sanster-”
“heh, none taken. i think papyrus is a big crummy heap of bones, too. just… well, he’s my bro - despite everything, i love him. You guys… consider yourselves lucky you don’t have him terrorizin’ you at home, too.”, he admitted; when his three friends sighed and nodded, probably also remembering that Papyrus had basically told him not to bother going home that evening, he continued in a grave, solemn tone: “...paps… didn’t always used to be like he is now… when we were younger… uh, ‘bout two or three years ago, as a matter of fact… we were settled nicely in snowdin, and suddenly paps had this silly idea that the royal guard needed a cool, tall skeleton in their ranks, so he wanted to try out for it. and he did, only to get undyne sayin’ he didn’t have the stuff for it. strong enough, she said, but not ruthless enough. so naturally, papyrus was heartbroken - but after a week or so of crying his eyes out, he comes home and says he was gonna train himself to be stronger. a week after that, he went back to undyne and he got accepted in the royal guard. undyne said she was… surprised. he did great, though - a little too great, even. ...come to think of it, that was the point where it started goin’ all wrong: papyrus comin’ home and saying that he was gonna train himself. he… looked off.” Sighing, Sans looked at his hands, wishing beyond anything that he could tell the other youths of Snowdin Forest what his suspicions were without sounding like an utter raving madman, or without betraying his past to them - a past he worked hard to let the world, himself included, just forget about. Icecap, fortunately, was the only one that spoke up at all about his evasive statement.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up about nothing, Sans, even if you saw something off about Papyrus, you probably couldn’t do anything about it! ...Hey, you, uh… what are you gonna do tonight? Bunk with the rest of us?”
“nah, probably ask grillbz for another favor… hope he doesn’t finally kick me to the curb… but nah, grillbz is too cool for that.”, Sans admitted - Grillby, the owner and bartender of ‘Grillby’s Bar and Restaurant’ in Snowdin, was one of the only people in the small town that knew hints of his past. Sans had been a confused youth when they’d been released from the lab by Alphys, after two years without any news of his and Papyrus’ ‘father’: he hadn’t been to school at all, hadn’t learnt any kind of skills apart from what came naturally to him… It was a wonder that Grillby had hired him at all to man a hotdog stand in Waterfall. Then again, he’d probably looked like he’d felt at that moment: a nervous wreck of a young adult monster. Grillby had asked some of the monsters at the librarby to teach Papyrus, which the Snowdin Post journalists and the librarian Bethys did all too gladly, and he’d given them a deal on their rent as long as they were getting on their feet, and Sans was forever grateful to the fire elemental for that. But... Just as things had started to appear better - they had their house in order, Grillby had given him a raise, Papyrus was old enough to take a little of the load off his shoulders… He didn’t blame Papyrus for wanting to join the Royal Guard: whatever his misguided reasons, the members of the king’s army brought home a nice paycheck and it would be lying to say that Papyrus wouldn’t make an excellent member, but he had been obsessed with it - then, and now. It was up to him, Sans realized, to try and keep his brother from doing something he couldn’t take back, like…
Like killing another innocent monster…
Sighing as the teenage runaways started talking in hushed whispers about Grillby and how dangerous it would be for Sans to head into Snowdin, so close to Papyrus, Sans decided to finally put on the sweater he still had in his hands: with a heavy sigh, he slipped his head and then his arms into it, easing down the sweater over his wide ribs and then down to his hipbones, flexing his fingers nervously at the lack of pockets to dig his skeletal hands into. When the others looked at him in surprise, he quickly spoke up again.
“heya, guys, i’m heading over to grillbz now, while paps is still patrolling the forest.” Instantly, the others stopped talking amongst each other and nodded.
“Sanster, take care’a yaself, okay?”, Chilldrake said, with his brother speaking a little more loudly.
“Yeah, Sans, don’t let Papyrus get to ya! H-he’s just…”
“i know, snowy, don’t sweat it. heh, see ya tomorrow.” Sans waved as he stepped behind a few trees which hid him from view, after which he conjured up a handful of magic and closed his eyes, stepping through a rip in the fabric of the Underground, ending himself up directly inside Grillby’s. It appeared to be a quiet evening, probably due to the fact that Papyrus was high-strung and many of the monsters in town tended to avoid exiting their houses if the tall skeleton was in a bad mood. Instantly, the fire elemental looked up from his counter and walked over to him.
“...” As always, Grillby was a man of little words - fire elementals were unable to speak, they just burned and hissed - but Sans understood his question clear as day. ‘Again?’ Sans meant to speak up and say that nothing had happened until he felt Grillby’s hand pass over the top of his skull and he winced. Quickly, he raised his own hand to the spot where his friend had touched, clearing away the bruised area with his magic before speaking in a meek tone.
“yeah - don’t worry, i healed the rest of the damage already, but… he kicked me out again. can i… stay here?”
“...” ‘...Yes, Sans. You don’t need to ask. You can close up with me and help clean. After that, you can sleep in one of the booths. ...But it’s getting worse, isn’t it? Did you… contact Alphys?”
“i’m not callin’ alphys again, grillbz, you know why. whatever it is that’s makin’ paps behave the way he is, she’s got it too - has had it for at least two years now. ...nah, alphys is out of the question. but i wish… there was something i could do… i wish there was someone that could still help…”, Sans admitted, sighing and sitting down on his usual barstool. “...it’s probably because it’s been a year since the last human fell. paps is gettin’ antsy… talkin’ in his sleep about wantin’ to set her free-”
“...?” A soft crackling like a hearthfire: ‘Who is this… ‘her’?’
“dunno, all i know is that paps thinks capturin’ humans and bringin’ them to ol’ fluffybuns will set someone free.”
“... … …” ‘Sans, have you tried your… magic anymore? You told me… you told me it resounded with Papyrus’ magic last time, and he backed down again…’ Now Sans gritted his teeth and shook his head.
“you know why i don’t use my magic anymore, grillbz. papyrus… last time, when he found out i had magic that powerful at my disposal, he nearly killed me. and he killed… he killed that kid’s parents lashin’ out at me. i don’t ever wanna see another kid crying ‘cause of my brother. …’sides, it’s a gift from him-”
“...fssshhh...” A low sizzle: ‘You shouldn’t hate your father, no matter what he did to you and your brother. Doctor Gaster… I didn’t know him that well, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to... I can’t believe he would-’
“he experimented on us, grillbz!”, Sans shouted, losing his temper for once. “we were nothin’ to him but a project, a test. grown in a damn lab from the remains of dead humans. he never loved us, he never even cared about us! ...d’you know how many bottles of ketchup it cost me to forgive myself for lettin’ ‘dad’ hurt paps?!”, Sans growled out dangerously, his pupils flickering from view, lending his face an eerie quality that even Grillby couldn’t help but know as a sign to stop pushing him. Then, however, Sans sighed and put his hands in the pockets of his hooded sweater again - or, at least, that was what he tried, but all the gesture accomplished was remind him of the fact that he’d had to ditch his hoodie back at his sentry station. Dropping his hands again, he leaned forward over the counter a little, raising his arms and folding them on top of the wooden counter while speaking.. “...forgeddaboudit. i just wanna have a li’l ketchup and relax now. lord knows i can’t exactly relax an’ let my guard down around my bro anymore.”, Sans admitted, wishing that thought didn’t make him feel as down. Grillby nodded and walked back to his usual spot behind the counter, resuming his cleaning after passing a bottle of Premium Sauce to the skeleton. But in the soft, low crackle of his flames, Sans could hear the offer plain as day.
‘...you can always relax here, Sans. I will not allow Papyrus to harm you - and it’s not like Papyrus can harm me, after all. Fire elementals are raw fire. ...Relax, and try not to think of your brother and his… issues.’
“heh… thanks for the offer, grillbz… you’re a pretty solid pal, y’know that?”, Sans admitted, idly scratching his hipbone before unscrewing the lid of the bottle of ketchup and taking a sip, allowing his magic to absorb the thick, red goop as it passed his teeth. Instantly, he felt a warmth sweep through his skeletal body, and he sighed, resting his head back on his arms, wondering if he could already chance a little nap.
“Ha ha ha ha ha…!”
“What a weirdo!!”
“Honestly, you’re such a waste of effort! Your sister looks so pretty but you’re such an ugly dumpling, Frisk!” The words cut, as usual, but not as badly as the way the teacher turning away did. Frisk was used to the harassment of her classmates due to the fact that she liked to wear boy’s clothes and play boy’s games like soccer and cops and robbers. Whenever the boys saw her coming, they stopped playing soccer and started calling her names like ‘weirdo’, ‘crybaby’, ‘freak’ or ‘dumpling’ - and for what? Because she didn’t look at all like her sister, all blonde hair and slender body and natural charm? The girls, on the other hand, she derived a much more underhanded derision from: they ignored her existence in a way that was completely devastating to her mentality. When Frisk spoke to them, they pretended not having heard; when Frisk made an effort to be more girly, they turned their backs on her and told the boys that ‘look, Frisk looks like a total loser today’. All in all, Frisk hated going to school.
If her parents had still been alive… her mother and father had been kind, caring, gentle people that had nourished and protected her. Her mother had been a kindergarten teacher, all smiles and warmth, not cold and calculating like her sister Alicia at all; her father had been an office clerk, as far as she remembered, and he’d always had a moment for her at the end of the day to read her a bedtime story or listen to her ramble on about her day and how many friends she’d made… but then… then, they’d died and she’d lost their warmth forever, and she’d been thrust into a colder, harsher world. Moving schools, away from her friends, living with Alicia, who had hated her from the very first day…
Frisk hadn’t known much about her older sister, only that she and their mother hadn’t gotten along at all, that she had moved out of the house when she went to kindergarten, and that she had tried something called ‘college’ before becoming a mildly successful fashion designer with a small store in the city where she lived. She hadn’t seen her sister much over the years, until they were reintroduced at the funeral. And that had been… Frisk had always thought Alicia would be like her mother, all smiles and warmth, and that was the reason why she’d said she’d like to stay with her after the funeral; but Alicia had turned out to be cold like ice, having all of their mother’s good looks and charm but none of her caring nature and compassion. The ultimate proof for this was Alicia’s reaction when she heard she’d have to take care of the little sister she had never much cared about: she got angry, and for the past three years of Frisk’s ten years of age, she’d been taking out that anger on her. She bought herself designer clothes and gave Frisk ill-fitting clothes from a BudgetMart down the road; she had an apartment with a large bedroom for herself, complete with a walk-in closet, and Frisk got to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor of the spare room, which she wasn’t allowed to decorate at all. All of Frisk’s toys were thrown away, and she never got any new ones, no matter how badly she wanted any. But whenever Frisk’s teachers invited Alicia to a PTA meeting, she wore the plainest dress she owned and complained how much of a burden Frisk was, how she suspected Frisk was a ‘special needs child’, how she tried and tried to give Frisk everything… If Frisk tried to speak up about it, her sister was quick to discredit her every word, and the punishment for something like that was that she didn’t get fed for two days, so she’d quickly learnt to keep quiet and bear the treatment her sister gave her.
“OUCH!!” The cry that rang out over the playground was followed by the inevitable follow-up: “Frisk punched me, miss Lawrence!!” The boy that had shouted was Simon, a truly ugly and ill-tempered boy a year older than his classmates and their ringleader in their cruel favorite game of ‘let’s push Frisk until she runs away’. Calling the teacher and telling her Frisk had done something bad was their favorite ‘joke’ to play on her, and it worked just as well as it always did.
“Frisk! What did I tell you yesterday?! Punching the boys is not okay!! ...Well, if you don’t want to learn your lesson with a warning, then maybe writing lines will make more of an impression!”
“...” Frisk didn’t speak up in her defense: she’d learnt how counterproductive that was the first time the other kids did something like this, when she’d protested and had ended up doubling her punishment. It didn’t even matter to her anymore that the teachers seemed to regard her keeping quiet as an admission of guilt.
“One hundred lines of ‘I am not allowed to punch other children’, due tomorrow morning before class starts. And don’t let it happen again, Frisk, or it’s detention!”, the teacher said sternly, and Frisk looked up at her wearily, causing the teacher to sigh and pull her off briskly towards the classroom. Once they were inside the hallway, the woman turned back to Frisk and looked her over. “Frisk, I don’t understand you. At all. Your sister says you’re maybe a special needs girl, but… well, I think your problems aren’t about your intelligence. In fact, you seem to be… above the rest of your peers when it comes to studying…. But you do have a behavioral problem. So far, I’ve believed that you maybe just needed a little more time to adjust to fifth grade, but… I’m starting to believe Alicia was right...” The teacher sighed and fixed Frisk with a stern look. “If you can’t behave properly, Frisk, we’ll have to put you in the special needs class after all.”
“N-no!”, Frisk said softly, looking pleadingly at the teacher and wishing, even if she knew it was hopeless, that the teacher understood from her eyes that she didn’t have any problems, that it was just the boys bullying her and her sister hating her. “I… they’ll…”
“Oh, Frisk…” The teacher’s sigh and the way she looked at Frisk next showed the young girl that it was no use, that the woman hadn’t seen anything in her eyes, that she hadn’t read her anxiety, something her following words proved all the more clearly. “...If you’ll just behave well, then you’ll be able to stay with the others. ...Now-” Fortunately, before the teacher could say that she should head outside to play with the others again, the bell rang, and Frisk turned to the classroom instead. “...Okay, Frisk, but remember, behave well.” Frisk nodded meekly before running to her classroom and sitting down behind her desk, first checking whether the others hadn’t taken stuff from her during recess. Someone had left another scribble of ‘FREAK’ in bright red marker across the front of her maths booklet again, but apart from that, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Sighing, Frisk let the lessons pass her by, answering at the appropriate times but otherwise sitting without seeing, meanwhile indulging in her usual daydream that she was back at her old school, surrounded by friends instead of bullies, with her mother to pick her up at the end of the day instead of her sister. It was a very effective daydream: by the time the bell rang, Frisk had daydreamed her way through maths and grammar, and she’d made her writing exercises while imagining it was her mother helping her loop the l’s and cross the t’s. The rest of the children ran pell-mell outside, to grab their coats, but Frisk waited for the last of them to exit the room before rising as well and slinging her backpack over her shoulders. Her coat had disappeared the previous day and Alicia had been too busy preparing a party to take her to the store, and she wasn’t allowed to go by herself just yet. As she walked outside, navigating her way through the sixth-graders who paid her no attention in order to avoid the boys and girls from her own class, she looked around at the school’s gates and saw her big sister standing at the school’s gate talking to her gym teacher, mister Atheridge. Alicia was all bright smiles and flirtatious winks, and mister Atheridge laughed and touched her arm - and Frisk felt helpless. If she walked up to her sister now, she was sure to get an earful in the car, but if she didn’t, then she could stand around and watch mister Atheridge kiss her older sister, and she wasn’t supposed to do that, Frisk thought firmly. Teachers were… teachers, not dating material for her sister… and especially not mister Atheridge, whose lovely though plain-looking wife would be coming in another ten minutes, surely, carrying their two baby daughters on her arms... Squaring her shoulders in a sudden bout of determination, Frisk walked over to her sister.
“Alicia, here I am…”, she said softly, and her sister nearly waved her off impatiently, only to halt the gesture of her hand when mister Atheridge spoke to her.
“Ah, Frisk! You did well in gym earlier today - maybe when you get your growth spurts, you’ll grow into a nice softball player, huh? ...Well, uh, I’ve got to go, anyway. It was nice to finally meet you, miss. Frisk, see you next week!” He waved at them and walked off, pressing a few buttons on his phone and then walking back into the school, at which point - predictably - Alicia pulled Frisk along ungently to her car, shoving her inside and then barking at her sister.
“You…! You’ve got the nerve to come and interrupt a grown-up conversation! What did I tell you about interrupting grownups when they’re talking, you disrespectful whiny brat?!” Frisk looked at her sister defiantly, not feeling up to playing meek anymore after an entire day’s worth bullying by her classmates, and Alicia snorted. “...Whatever, you little snotty brat - babies like you don’t deserve food. And it’s not like Fred doesn’t have my number. He’ll call. And when he does, you’d better keep your mouth shut to everyone, or-”
“You’re not supposed to go on a date with mister Atheridge, he’s-”, Frisk started, only for her sister to interrupt her, repeating her words in a mocking tone.
“‘You’re not supposed to go on a date with mister Atheridge!!’ Waah, waah!! Well, guess what, snivelly shrimp, what you think doesn’t matter! If he calls me and asks me out, I’m not saying no because ‘I’m not supposed to’! Now shut the hell up!”, she said warningly, starting the car, but Frisk spoke anyway, feeling tired yet defiant of her sister.
“No! Mister Atheridge has a wife and two baby daughters that he loves and you’d just ruin his life ‘cause you think it’s fun!! And-” Alicia moved so fast Frisk was surprised: turning in the driver’s seat, she hit Frisk with her opened hand across the face hard, throwing the girl sideways against the door of the car. Her glare burned when she fixed it on Frisk, speaking envenomed words to the young girl.
“You little snot-nosed piece of dirt! How dare you be so disrespectful and ingrateful! You’re not even worth the sole of my shoes! Really, you’re just as weak and inept as mom was, always with her ‘You’re going to ruin your life and the life of everyone around you if you don’t behave any better than this!’ - honestly, the world is better off without her, and it would be one hell of a lot better off without you!!” For a second, Frisk looked at her sister in disbelief, and then she blew up, there was no other word for it. Three years of constantly being belittled, of being put down with every other word, exploded violently out of her in the form of angry, vehement words.
“Mom deserved a better daughter than you, Alicia! I used to look up to you! I used to think you were the coolest girl! B-but now I see you’re nothing but rotten and bad! Mom loved you, and I used to love you too, but all you do is hate everything, how c-can a person like you ever be happy?! I hate you and your stupid expensive clothes and your stupid expensive food and your fake everything!! I hate you! You’re the one that should have been in that car and died, not mom and dad!!” Alicia probably meant to respond, Frisk knew, but she didn’t want to stay around and listen to her hateful words anymore: in a split second, she had her backpack back on her shoulders and she’d dashed out of the car, running out onto the schoolgrounds, across the playground into the undergrowth at the far end, where they weren’t supposed to go. She ran for a full quarter of an hour, only stopping when she felt her sides sting, like they had when she’d ran the quarter-mile on an empty stomach earlier that year in gym class. Then, she slowed to a jog, then to a stumbling walk, and finally she fell forward, to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably due to the aftershock of the adrenaline that had rushed through her system at her sister’s hateful words. “...A-alicia d-doesn’t even kn-know our m-mom… s-she doesn’t love anyone… s-she’s the one that… that…”, she stammered to herself, squeezing her hands into fists and then unclenching them again, digging her nails into her palms until they stung. Looking behind her, she saw that she’d left behind the small city, which stretched out below her. She’d run up the slopes of Mount Ebott, the Mountain of No Return, which not even Simon had dared climb. It was said that people that went up the mountain never returned - over the past twenty years, people had gone missing on and around the mountain, with rumors about terrible monsters kidnapping children of all ages abounding. Of course nobody believed those rumors, but the fact remained that people disappeared after hikes on the mountain’s slopes, and as a result the mayor had the mountain’s slopes sectioned off with fences, warnings, and even a veritable wall of dirt. But Frisk climbed over the fence and then ran around the low wall, winding her way further and further away from the city where Alicia had forced her to relocate to. She could see another town in the distance, that one much smaller than the city and enclosed by hills, and Frisk decided that she could maybe go there before realizing that going anywhere would just get her sent back to her sister, something every fiber of her being protested against. The sister that didn’t love her, the school that didn’t care about her at all, the life that didn’t feel like hers… she wanted none of it anymore. If that meant she had to live in the wild, then that was what she would do! “...I’m hungry… b-but I’m not going back to her, she won’t feed me anyway…”, Frisk told herself, turning back to the slopes of the mountain, finding that the wall had collapsed and crumbled in one section, making it easy for her to climb over and wind her way further up the slopes of the mountain, walking and meanwhile looking around for anything that looked edible. She found a handful of wild strawberries, a stray apple, and then she came upon a wild cherry tree that was chock-full of cherries that tasted even sweeter and more juicy than she’d thought upon first glance. After an hour spent walking, eating and watching the world below her - she could hear no police sirens and she knew that Alicia had just gone home, not even missing her or feeling guilty about her words - Frisk felt a chill creep up over her and the young girl directed her eyes upward, at the rapidly darkening sky. The moon was nearly full, so even at night, the surroundings would be bathed in light - so far away from artificial light, the moonlight would be enough to see by, Frisk hoped - but the stories about monsters could mean that there were very real and dangerous predators on the mountainsides, like… wild cats, and wild dogs… or wolves, even…
Thinking back on her classes on survival in the wild as a part of the fourth grade curriculum, she remembered that the most important thing to manage was to get a fire going: for warmth during the night, and as a way to ward off animals. However, she didn’t think she could manage a big fire, and she didn’t really have a lot of ways to get a fire going, so she turned to the second best thing: finding natural shelter. A high tree, a natural cave… Looking around, Frisk discovered a small, barely-visible trail turning away from the forest and towards a vertical rockface, and she decided to check whether there was a cave there for her to hide out in. At first she had no such luck, but then, just when she felt about ready to give up and turn back to the forest to find a high tree to climb into, her eyes fell on a cave mouth hidden by some shrubs and a lonely low-branched tree, with a veritable sea of golden-hearts growing in front of it, like a pathway leading into it invitingly. However, there was a deep, breathy sound coming from within, like a large animal growling softly, and this caused Frisk to walk up to the cave apprehensively. She grabbed hold of the first thing that she got her hands on - a small branch from the tree that grew in front of the cave entrance - and then, with a deep, steeling breath, turned around the corner, ready to run back out again at the first sight of trouble…
...but there was no animal there, ready to attack her and eat her. Instead, Frisk found a large, dry cave with old vines crisscrossing the ground, and in the middle of the cave a gaping hole. The girl, intrigued, sidled slowly and carefully up to it, peering into it and seeing nothing but darkness. For a second, Frisk felt compelled to drop a rock down there; a second later, Frisk found herself contemplating…
“N-no…”, she muttered, shaking her head and turning abruptly away. Her hand clenched around the branch hard enough for the wounds on her palm to sting all the more. “No matter how h-horrible Alicia is… I don’t… want to… risk that… I don’t want to die… b-but…” Slowly, a thought started forming in her head. What if she didn’t jump but made it to look like she did by leaving a farewell note at this spot? That way, if anyone did come to follow her to take her back to her sister, they’d find the note at the edge of the gaping hole and they’d assume she was just another victim of the mountain - meanwhile leaving her free to travel away and take up another name, so she could find a better place to live and maybe a nice, loving family… “...y-yeah, that’s what I’ll do…”, she whispered to herself, stepping a distance away from the gaping maw in the earth and then dropping to the ground, putting her backpack down and taking out her pens and her school notebook. “...I have to make it sound convincing… let’s see…’Alicia said I should have died with my mom and dad and maybe she’s right. I don’t have anyone that cares, I don’t have anywhere I feel safe… I don’t have a place here in this world anymore. My sister hates me, my school thinks I’m a violent idiot… This is goodbye forever. All I can hope now is that it won’t hurt.’ - that should work just fine.”, she said to herself, writing slowly and then wetting her finger with saliva and pushing her finger in random places against the ink to make splotches like she’d cried. “...Now all I need to do is put this somewhere they can find it…”, she told herself, quickly propping her backpack against the cave wall closest to the hole in the ground, carefully stepping over the vines crisscrossing the floor as she made her way over there, and putting the note next to it, pinned down by a small rock. “...Hah, good… now to go find a tree to sleep in, if they come here in the night, I don’t want to be here…”, she whispered to herself, turning back to the cave entrance, seeing how the faintest hint of dark orange and purple hues began to enter the steely blue of the sky, showing that it was going to become dark soon. Carefully, she stepped over the vines again, carefully edging her way back around the hole, but then…
She heard a creaking sound behind her, like an old staircase settling, and suddenly she found the wind knocked out of her by something heavy and wooden that came from out of nowhere. The force of the impact threw her sideways, right at the edge of the hole, and she tried to roll away from the black gaping opening in the floor, but then the piece of rock she lay on crumbled away under her and she fell backwards into the darkness with a deafening screech…
Long ago…
...monsters and humans…
...there was a war…
...countless lives lost…
...the monsters were banished…
...into the underground…
...behind a magical barrier…
...impossible to break without seven human souls...
...and there the monsters would stay…
...until their Angel would come…
...to release them from their torment…
With a jolt, Gaster landed in the middle of a field of Eschscholzia californica - golden flowers, as they were more commonly known. A shocked gasp left him at the impact of his feet with solid ground. He had chosen his ‘breach’ so wildly, without any of the usual careful planning he usually put into travelling through the fabric of time and space… if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t expected to ever find himself back in his world. But… but was this his world? Was this the timeline he’d originated from? And what was more important, why had he ended up back in it? Closing his eyes, the scientist recollected his senses, piecing together fragments of memory and sensation that would otherwise elude him. “H-u-h-... T-h-e-r-e--- w-a-s--- a--- r-i-p-p-l-e-… L-i-k-e--- a--- b-u-b-b-l-e--- b-u-r-s-t-i-n-g-… C-o-u-l-d--- t-h-i-s--- b-e--- t-h-e--- s-i-g-n-a-l--- I--- h-a-v-e--- b-e-e-n--- w-a-i-t-i-n-g--- f-o-r-?”
...A shrill, piercing shriek in the darkness, coming from overhead, had Gaster see the source of the ripple he’d felt: a small body plummeted towards the large razor-sharp spikes jutting up from the ground. It fell at an incredible velocity, drawing closer to the ground… Gaster gasped and waved his hand in front of him, creating a small cloud of denser air to slow down the body, settling it softly in his hands. It were those gestures - both the wave of his hand to conjure magic and his reaching out to the slight form - that drew his attention to his hands. They were heavily damaged: large holes had appeared in the palms, dripping black mist that dissolved a finger’s length away from his body, and from the hole to his wrists ran black lines, both over the palm and the back of his hand. And his wrists themselves were… gone. His arms, when he moved them, were completely absent, and so was his body underneath the black cape - the black cape which, when he moved, seemed to move like it was made of thick, black smoke, rolling over the floor and making virtually no sound anymore. “I--- h-a-v-e--- l-o-s-t--- a--- l-o-t--- m-o-r-e--- t-h-a-n--- I--- b-a-r-g-a-i-n-e-d--- f-o-r-...”, he mused, the sound of his own voice another change that surprised him: it sounded inarticulate and wheezy, like random gusts of wind through an instrument of sorts that mimicked speech. “...-I--- w-i-l-l--- h-a-v-e--- t-o--- a-d-j-u-s-t--- m-y-s-e-l-f--- f-o-r--- t-h-e--- t-i-m-e--- b-e-i-n-g-...”, he told himself softly, turning to the next and equally important matter of the fallen form. His first inspection showed that it was humaniform, wearing slightly worn pants and a striped sweater like monster children wore, with dark, shoulder-length hair and an expression of pain on its visage. It reminded Gaster of the two children he’d left behind - or, well, ‘children’ being a relative term, since the eldest of the two was definitely older. They had once been like this one: young, wounded, afraid… A sudden but not unfamiliar and certainly not unwelcome wave of worry about the fate of his two charges hit him, and he sighed. Maybe he couldn’t get back to his two children just yet… but Alphys cared for them, of that he was sure. What was more, for this moment at least, this human child needed him more, anyway.
“...-D-o--- n-o-t--- w-o-r-r-y--- l-i-t-t-l-e--- o-n-e-...--- I--- w-i-l-l--- h-e-l-p--- y-o-u--- t-h-r-o-u-g-h--- t-h-i-s--- o-r-d-e-a-l-...” With the child in his arms - or, at least, with the child pressed against his roiling, vapor-like form - he did a quick scry of the surroundings: he found the place he’d ended up in… familiar. The empty structures around them, the pathways, the hidden mechanisms… these had to be the Ruins of Home, the first place monsterkind settled. It was said to be a lonely place, closed off by a magic far beyond the grasp of modern day monsters, excepting maybe King Asgore and Queen Toriel…
“T-h-e--- Q-u-e-e-n-!-!”, he gasped out, remembering her disappearance after the King had declared war on the humans for their role in Prince Asriel’s demise. She had seemingly disappeared off the face of the underground - where else could she have gone to but here, in the Ruins, hidden by magic dating back to the first days, ensuring that she could live undisturbed? “P-e-r-h-a-p-s--- s-h-e--- c-a-n-...”, he started, only to halt. The familiar darkness he could feel looming close by, at the edge of the place once called Home, was interwoven with the gentle, abundant energies of the Queen of all monsters. The taint had found her, even here, in this secluded place… and if it had found Queen Toriel, there was no telling who else was tainted. Hastily, he expanded his scry, careful to avoid the billowing darkness surrounding the edge of the Ruins, and when it was complete, he exhaled in relief. Not every monster had been tainted: he could feel the faint pinpricks of their souls, vaguely perceptible to his rough scry but clearly untainted. And the human child… her soul - for she was female, the scry revealed - was shining with a light unlike any other light he’d seen in the underground for a long time: determination sparkled off it in vast waves, coupled with a warm, gentle fire much like… much like Prince Asriel had had… If he had needed any other confirmation that this human would be special, the comparison between the deceased prince and her was it. Smiling fondly, he caressed the child’s forehead before laying her down in the flowerbed beneath their feet, kneeling down beside her and speaking to her quietly.
“S-o--- t-h-e--- W-i-l-t-e-d--- h-a-s--- o-n-l-y--- t-a-i-n-t-e-d--- t-h-e--- s-t-r-o-n-g--- o-n-e-s-...--- D-o--- n-o-t--- w-o-r-r-y--- c-h-i-l-d-...--- T-o-g-e-t-h-e-r--- w-e--- w-i-l-l--- p-e-r-s-e-v-e-r-e-...--- I--- w-i-l-l--- n-o-t--- l-e-a-v-e--- y-o-u--- t-o--- t-h-e--- m-e-r-c-y--- o-f--- t-h-a-t--- d-e-m-o-n-s-p-a-w-n-...” Getting up again, he straightened his coat out of force of habit - the fog solidified for a second, but no more - and he looked around, trying to think of the best course of action to preserve the child. She’d need to get out of the Ruins to begin with - they both would, because as certain as he was that the Wilted would want the human child dead and their soul, for lack of a better term, harvested, whether to feed the demon and strengthen it or to break the barrier and free it to the world of humans again… as certain as he was of that fact, he was even more certain that Charael would not take kindly to his reappearance, and he didn’t know how badly damaged his body and magic were so he didn’t want to risk a confrontation just yet. First, he had to explore the playing field, and then he needed to analyze the severity of the problem… and only when he was certain of success would he risk a challenge… Reasoning brought him calmth again, and Gaster nodded, feeling the swirling of his incorporeal mass slow down again, and with a contemplative look, he turned towards the gateway into the remains of their old Home.
“A-aaah!” Frisk shot up and blinked, looking around herself. She’d fallen, then she’d hit something solid and had blacked out… and then, she’d… dreamt? The dream had been disjointed but still clear: humans, monsters, first living together and then growing distant, then going to war. Heavy slaughter on the monsters’ side, though all the bodies she’d seen were definitely human. A lot of dust sweeping around, dust that carried names and had voices crying out softly... The humans had been the clear winner, and they’d banished the monsters into the underground - which was where she was now, Frisk hazarded a guess, looking up at the tiny pinprick of light on the ceiling of what looked to be a gigantic cave deep underneath the earth. But then, the dream had started dissolving… something about an Angel? Angels weren’t real, Frisk caught herself thinking, just before she added that monsters weren’t real, either. Maybe some of the berries she’d eaten were poisonous after all, and she was now hallucinating? But none of them had tasted bitter to her, on the contrary, and she’d learnt back in school that the poisonous ones were always bitter as a deterrant…
But the dream had not just dissolved, she suddenly realized… she’d dreamt of hands, wounded hands detached from, but all the same belonging to, a body she could not see in the darkness, and a voice that sounded… soothing and eerie at the same time… telling her that it’d be okay, that he’d help her - because the one speaking was a ‘he’, of that Frisk was certain - and that he’d take care of… the wilting? What wilting? She wasn’t a rose, as far as she knew.
Her involuntary reaction had showed that she was unharmed - though she did have scrapes on her forehead and the wounds on the palms of her hands were still there, neither of which stung - and that she hadn’t fallen to her death. A further look around revealed that she’d fallen right into a large flowerbed - hundreds, no, thousands of golden flowers, some as large as her palm, bloomed around her, spreading a herbal aroma in the stagnant air. But no matter how much she wanted to believe that the flowers had broken her fall, Frisk knew that wasn’t possible. Something else, or someone else, had to have helped, but… how? How could anything save for a miracle help prevent damage from a fall of at least two hundred yards? Not even the man that she’d seen in her dreams, with his detached hands looking like they’d been mauled, could have helped her survive! ...Or could he? Somehow, she felt like the man from that feverish dream did help her survive… that he’d… used magic…
“F-frisk, magic is not real…”, she croaked out, straightening her shirt and scanning her surroundings again. The cave she stood in was dark, sure enough, but not too dark not to see anything. High stalagmites rose from the cavern floor, standing as tall as skyscrapers around her. Some of the stalagmites bore large, rounded boulders at their pinnacle, and others were topped by the sharpest spikes she’d ever seen, but Frisk couldn’t see whether or not she’d hit any one of them during her fall. Her clothes did not show any sign of dust from impacting the rocks, either… so what was the solid something she’d hit?
...behind a magical barrier, impossible to break without seven human souls…
“Ah!” Unbidden, the words from that odd dream echoed in her mind again, and Frisk clutched her head in alarm. She no longer believed it were the berries that had caused the dream, but had no idea what was responsible for the near-feverish hallucination she’d had - and for the thought, becoming ever more pronounced, that magic was real here and that this was a dangerous place because of that wilting thing the wounded man had spoken of.
...Speaking of that wounded man, where was he? She’d seen him, of that she was certain: there was no way her imagination, active and broad as it was, could have thought up a person like him, with a fractured face and hands that were broken in a lot of ways and a form that seemed to be made up of black dripping fog… He’d felt real enough when he caught her, and his voice had been real enough when he’d told her it’d all be alright…
A sudden sound made Frisk scrabble up from the ground, taking care not to upset the flowerbed any more than she already had, and look towards the solitary doorway she saw near the far end of the cavern: a large opening hewn into the rockface, leading further into the cave. It was her only option, Frisk concluded. If she ever wanted to make it out of this cave she was in, then she’d have to move forward, because there was no way she could climb up again, to the tiny pinprick of light probably a mile above her.
“...Just… just go on… y-you stopped being afraid of monsters ages ago… besides, she is worse…”, Frisk told herself, shuddering at the thought of her sister, who thought mistreating her was a sisterly privilege. The first few steps she took were still a bit wobbly, but then she found she really had no injuries and she grew more determined again, stepping towards the large open doorway, allowing her hand to pass over the rough stone and smiling. The stone looked beautiful, a little like the grey chalcite that made up the paved part of the school’s playground, just… warmer, and more inviting. Smiling softly, she walked ahead, finding the next room smaller and more enclosed, with a solitary flower standing dead center, like the ones that she’d woke up on top of in the next room. Walking up to it, she was surprised to find its petals opening, revealing a face with bright beady eyes and a broad smile right where the flower-heart would normally be.
“Howdy! I’m Flowey! Flowey the flower!”, it spoke cheerfully, its voice high-pitched and girly, and yet… yet, there was something that kept Frisk from relaxing. She could feel… something. An undertone in the sweet, almost saccharine voice…
“...U-uh… I’m-”, Frisk started, only for the flower to cut her off.
“You’re new to the underground, aren’tcha? ...Boy, you must be so confused! Someone oughta explain to you how things work down here… I guess… little old me will have to do…” If Frisk had been apprehensive before, now she became downright wary and anxious. The flower’s eyes were off, she found: they were too beady, too deep, too… too inky.. She found her feet moving on autopilot, taking a step back, but suddenly she found herself trapped. On the ground around her, white lines glowed brightly, and when she tried to step over them, she found it impossible to lift her feet or push her torso forward. What was more, suddenly she found the ground around her feet glowing as well, bright red and in the shape of a heart. The flower chuckled and spoke up again. “See that heart? That is your soul, the very culmination of your being! Right now, your soul is still weak, but you’ll get stronger. How? Why, by gaining LOVE, of course!!”
“L-love?”, Frisk stammered, but again the flower seemed to ignore her, grinning sweetly in that way that had the child feeling threatened again.
“Down here, LOVE is spread through these little white friendliness pellets!” From out of nowhere, small white kernels appeared, rapidly spinning around their axis, and after only a second’s notice, they shot towards Frisk, who gasped and tried to dodge desperately. She was too late to avoid all of them, however: one of the rapidly gyrating pellets hit her on the shoulder and she felt a sharp, stabbing pain shoot through her, nearly causing her to black out. Tenaciously, she held on to consciousness, however, looking in utter shock at the flower to see its face had become twisted into a vile, loathsome expression with a mouth that looked like it had been smeared onto its face and eyes glowing a deep, almost blood-red crimson at their depths.
“W-what are you… F-flowey...?”, Frisk asked, her voice grainy and clipped, and the flower answered in a voice that suited its new malicious features.
“What I am does not matter, you little idiot!! In this underground, there is only one rule, and that’s mine!! I am the scourge of this world, the reborn master of all these pitiful monsters! All humans that fall here must die and their souls must be used-” It was that mention of her soul that got Frisk to act on impulse: the pain in her shoulder momentarily forgotten, she got back to her feet and ran, feeling like her entire body was enveloped tightly by tar but not stopping, never stopping.
‘You’re not getting my soul! You aren’t going to kill me! I won’t ever let you win, whatever you are!’
“GET BACK HERE!!! There’s no escaping me, pitiful wretch!! I am EVERYWHERE in this underground!! I control everything!! You’ll die a thousand deaths and I’ll get what I want anyway!!”, the malicious flower bellowed after her, its voice echoing screechily across the hallways Frisk was running through, but she was past caring. She ran up a staircase blindly, but then she found herself confronted by a closed door the next second. Frantically looking around, she saw a multitude of switches on the floor and a lever on the wall, all of which could open the door, but she had no time, and her body was still in fight-or-flight mode, meaning thinking was the last thing she’d have time for.
“O-oh no…”, she gasped, breathing hard from the exertion of having run so hard and fast away from the demon-flower. She could hear the sound of vines twisting and coiling behind her, showing that that… thing… had followed her. So there really was no escape… sobbing, Frisk sagged to her knees, only to see a sudden thick cloud of black rolling mist next to her, and a whisper, barely audible, in her ear.
“...-H-o-l-d--- o-n--- c-h-i-l-d-...”
She reached out on instinct, grabbing a tight hold of the unfixed and vaporous form of the man with the fractured hands, and then the world flickered and the room disappeared, only to be replaced by another enclosed hallway made completely of bricks and plaster, overgrown with moss and weeds. The door behind them was tightly shut, and Frisk knew almost instinctively that that door was the one that had held her before.
“T-that thing’s right th-there!”, she gasped out, but the dark, vapor-like figure slowly and solemnly shook his head.
“I-t--- c-a-n-n-o-t--- g-e-t--- t-o--- u-s--- t-h-a-t--- e-a-s-i-l-y-...--- T-h-e--- g-r-o-u-n-d--- h-e-r-e--- i-s--- p-a-v-e-d--- a-n-d--- t-h-e-y--- c-a-n-n-o-t--- b-u-r-r-o-w--- t-h-r-o-u-g-h--- e-a-s-i-l-y-...--- T-h-e-y--- w-o-u-l-d--- h-a-v-e--- t-o--- b-r-e-a-k--- t-h-e--- f-l-o-o-r--- o-p-e-n--- t-o--- g-e-t--- t-o--- y-o-u-...--- A-n-d--- I--- w-i-l-l--- n-o-t--- a-l-l-o-w--- t-h-a-t-...-c-h-i-l-d-...”, it whispered, and Frisk relaxed just a little, though her heart was still pounding in her chest.
“...I… T-thanks for… helping me… I d-don’t know… I don’t… I f-fell… O-oh, no…” Frisk broke down in tears again, helplessly clutching the mist-like figure and finding that he solidified a little before patting her with a detached and fractured hand.
“...T-tell me about yourself first…”, Frisk asked shyly, prompting a chuckle from the strangely fractured figure.
“V-e-r-y--- w-e-l-l-...--- I--- a-m--- p-r-o-f-e-s-s-o-r--- W-i-n-g-a-r-d--- D-i-n-a-t-i-o--- G-a-s-t-e-r-...--- B-u-t--- c-a-l-l--- m-e--- G-a-s-t-e-r-...--- c-h-i-l-d-...--- I--- w-a-s--- t-h-e--- R-o-y-a-l--- S-c-i-e-n-t-i-s-t--- o-f--- t-h-e--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r--- k-i-n-g-d-o-m--- y-e-a-r-s--- a-g-o-...--- B-e-f-o-r-e--- h-e-r-...” A flourish of his hands made a sound like a snort, and it was only then that Frisk understood that the sound wasn’t him whispering, it was… it was air passing through the holes in his hands and making the sounds of speech.
“...You… s-speak with your hands?”, she asked, and the man - Gaster, she amended - chuckled with a fluttering gesture.
“No.”, Frisk said firmly, nodding to emphasize her determination, and Gaster smiled, causing the fracture-lines on his face to widen a little and black fog to seep through. However, instead of making his face appear more eerie, it had a soothing effect on Frisk, who felt like the slight grey made the man’s face blend in better with the rest of his body.
“W-wait, Gaster, s-sir… ‘Charael’? I… who is Charael? ...Why is that flower after us? What is that flower? And… and why do you look wounded and broken?”, she asked, the final question holding a more subdued and worried tone that brought a gentle kind of glimmer in the depths of Gaster’s empty eyes, and after that he breathed raspily and spoke with careful, minute motions of his hands, making his speech even more quiet and jarring.
“Okay…”, Frisk said, taking the hand Gaster held out for her and following him, still feeling a multitude of emotions and sensations course through her but figuring that added safety against these ‘tainted’ others he mentioned would be more than welcome.
“...-T-h-e-r-e-...” Gaster stepped through another of his ‘breaches’, this time just a small spatial displacement to bypass the spikes he’d just drawn up again; the child gasped as she saw him draw open the archway, stepping in on one side and seemingly instantly stepping back out on the other side.
“W-what… what was that?”, she asked, awed, prompting a wave of mild pride from the depths of his being.
“T-h-a-t--- w-a-s--- a--- b-r-e-a-c-h-...--- A-...--- T-h-e--- e-x-p-l-a-n-a-t-i-o-n--- i-s--- v-e-r-y--- c-o-m-p-l-e-x-”, he started, only for the human child to interrupt him with a frown.
“I’m not dumb! I can understand complex things a lot better than the other kids of my class!” Judging from her tone, Gaster guessed that this child had been the subject of a lot of remarks about her intelligence and mental acuity, and he secretively found himself in admiration of her refusal to prove anyone right about those.
“...-C-h-i-l-d-...--- I--- w-i-l-l--- e-x-p-l-a-i-n--- m-y--- b-r-e-a-c-h-e-s--- a-n-d--- a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g--- y-o-u--- w-a-n-t-...--- B-u-t--- f-i-r-s-t--- y-o-u--- h-a-v-e--- t-o--- t-e-l-l--- m-e--- a-b-o-u-t--- y-o-u-r-s-e-l-f-...--- I-f--- w-e--- w-i-l-l--- b-e--- t-r-a-v-e-l-l-i-n-g--- t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r-...--- w-e--- s-h-o-u-l-d--- g-e-t--- t-o--- k-n-o-w--- e-a-c-h--- o-t-h-e-r-...”, he said, motioning widely with his hands between them, making a sound that resembled a soft ‘hmm’. The child contemplated for a moment before nodding.
“...I… okay. I guess… you don’t get many humans down here, huh? N-not with that flower thing lying in wait for them…” Gaster meant to motion, to tell her to continue, but she beat him to it. “...Uh, b-but is it safe to talk here? I mean, this… this room’s a little… close to that other room, r-right?”
“I-t--- i-s--- s-a-f-e--- h-e-r-e-...”, Gaster said, scrying the room with the faintest use of his magic he could muster, since Charael could probably sense anything more than the kind of magic the regular monsters would use. He could feel her darkness burrowing away from them, towards the edge of the ruins, and that caused him to relax. However, the child didn’t seem to share his sense of security.
“H-how can you tell?”, she asked, and Gaster sighed.
“T-a-k-e--- m-y--- h-a-n-d-...--- a-n-d--- I--- w-i-l-l--- s-h-o-w--- y-o-u-...” Hesitantly, the child took his hand, and Gaster shifted his perspective, allowing his magic to flow through her, tightening his grip in anticipation of her pulling away, as all other monsters did when they had a demonstration of another’s magic through their own form. However, the child… didn’t flinch. She gasped, and he could feel her tense, but she didn’t draw her hand away. ‘T-h-i-s--- c-h-i--d--- i-s--- t-r-u-l-y--- s-p-e-c-i-a-l-!-!’, the scientist thought, focusing on his magic again and allowing it to move to the edge of the ruins. “T-h-a-t-...--- d-a-r-k-n-e-s-s-...--- T-h-a-t--- i-s--- h-e-r-...--- T-h-e--- f-l-o-w-e-r-...--- T-h-e--- W-i-l-t-e-d-...”
“...I don’t… know what you mean w-when you call that t-thing ‘Wilted’, it looked… it looked in good shape to me… Too good shape. If it was a wilted flower, I probably wouldn’t have trusted it for even a second.”, the child admitted, though she relaxed finally. “...Okay, so… you wanted me to tell you about myself?”, she asked, and Gaster nodded.
“O-oh!”, the girl gasped, looking utterly shocked by her own oversight, but then she smiled again apologetically and spoke in a soft voice. “My name is Frisk. Frisk Faste. I’m ten since last April-”
“A-p-r-i-l-?--- I-s--- t-h-a-t--- a--- h-u-m-a-n--- s-e-a-s-o-n-?”, Gaster asked, prompting a light giggle from the girl Frisk.
“No, it’s a month! It’s… a name for a certain period of time… H-how do monsters, uh, t-tell the time? Do you even tell the time down here?”, Frisk asked, and Gaster, seeing that the child’s curiosity got the better of her, barring her from answering more questions he had, decided to accede her a little.
“M-o-n-s-t-e-r-s--- d-o--- h-a-v-e--- h-o-u-r-s--- a-n-d--- d-a-y-s-...--- B-u-t--- n-o-t--- t-h-e-s-e--- m-o-n-t-h-s--- y-o-u--- s-p-e-a-k--- o-f-...--- W-e--- k-n-o-w--- s-e-a-s-o-n-s-...--- a-n-d--- y-e-a-r-s-...--- C-h-i-l-d-...--- I--- m-e-a-n--- F-r-i-s-k-...--- W-h-a-t--- y-e-a-r--- i-s--- i-t-...--- i-n--- y-o-u-r--- c-a-l-e-n-d-a-r-?”, he asked, now feeling a little apprehensive. He’d asked the same question of the two humans that had been brought to him by King Asgore, before he’d…
Suddenly, Gaster found himself unable to hold Frisk’s gaze, prompting the human child to look at him in surprise. The previous two human children he’d seen had been nothing more than experiments to him - test subjects, unable to protest, containing the souls the King so desperately sought and their bodies being excellent material for his experimentation with determination and soul essence… Suddenly, he found himself feeling… ashamed. Ashamed, and worried for the fate of his two boys - because as much as they were his experiments, they were also dear to him, if only because their souls were made from fragments of his own, carefully primed and prodded with magic to form into whole souls without needing a second soul fragment from another monster and - more importantly, perhaps - without draining his soul in their process of growth.
“P-professor- I mean, Gaster? A-are you… okay?”, Frisk asked, and Gaster hastily looked back at her, nodding.
“It’s the year 201X.” That, if anything, startled Gaster. At least a decade had passed since he’d seen the true extent of Charael’s powers over her new form… at least a decade in which she’d been able to wreak havoc among monsterkind… The child saw the distress it caused him to consider this and carefully spoke. “...That’s… a s-surprise, for you, G-gaster?”
“Y-e-s-...--- I-...--- I-t--- i-s--- a--- l-o-n-g--- s-t-o-r-y-...”, he said, but Frisk shook her head and fixed him with another of those determined expressions.
“I’m not going anywhere anyway… so tell me. I want to know!”
“N-no…” Again, Gaster was startled, this time feeling more shocked than before. Humans didn’t teach the war in their history classes anymore? How could that be? Then, fortunately for his purposes, Frisk tacked on in a slightly softer tone: “...but I did get this… dream… when I fell… S-something about a war, and banishment, and a barrier… a-and an Angel? To humans, monsters are… s-stuff of legend nowadays. There’s so much we didn’t learn, so much that’s changed from that time… I mean, you use magic. Humans… don’t. We have… technology, but not magic.” So humanity had lost their ability to use magic somehow! His theories about humanity having sealed away magic together with the monsters were correct after all! He only realised he chuckled when his hands moved on their own accord, and he quickly turned the motions into a continuation to his answer of Frisk’s question.
“...So… so this ‘Wilted’ thing you speak about, that… dark spot… That’s a demon?”, Frisk asked, and Gaster motioned soundlessly with his hands before moving them to produce his new speech.
“Y-e-s-...--- T-h-a-t--- d-a-r-k-n-e-s-s--- i-s--- a--- f-e-m-a-l-e--- d-e-m-o-n--- t-h-a-t--- i-s--- c-a-l-l-e-d--- C-h-a-r-a-e-l-...--- T-h-e--- g-i-r-l--- s-h-e--- i-n-h-a-b-i-t-e-d--- w-a-s--- p-r-o-b-a-b-l-y--- n-a-m-e-d--- a-f-t-e-r--- h-e-r-...” Sighing, Gaster motioned minutely with his hands, making his ‘speech’ sound like a monotone whisper. “...-A-n-d--- s-h-e--- t-o-o-k--- o-v-e-r--- o-u-r--- p-r-i-n-c-e-...”
“O-oh, no, that’s… that’s horrible!! S-so this prince… A-asriel, wasn’t it? ...So he… got corrupted? A-and did he do… anything bad…?”, the girl asked tentatively, though Gaster could almost hear her thoughts query loudly whether he’d caused his injuries.
-but then suddenly gasping and jumping backwards, nearly colliding with him, as a small white monster appeared from a crack in the wall. Gaster instantly recognized it as a Froggit, one of the weaker and more defenseless kinds of monsters that had always lived in the outskirts of the monster realms - probably they’d gone into the Ruins of Home because there, they’d have a peaceful life. That notion made him remember the darkness at the edge of the area and the taint he’d felt close to the Queen’s soul, and he felt suddenly sorry for the monster and its family. Frisk, however, was freaking out in the meanwhile.
“H-h-help!”, she yelped, holding the stick she still brandished as a kind of weapon in front of her defensively, clearly feeling threatened by the appearance of the magical borders around their makeshift ‘battlefield’ and the bright red glow of their soul’s energy underneath their feet. The Froggit tilted its head to the side and croaked questioningly.
“Ribbit? What type of monster would you be?” Gaster started moving with his hands to speak but that drew the Froggit’s attention to him and caused it to expel a swarm of flies that homed in on his soul but that he could dodge fairly easily. Deciding to risk a more substantial use of magic, feeling that it wouldn’t attract the demon’s attention since it would be directed at the human child and not at attacking, the former Royal Scientist allowed a trickle of his magic to soak into the child’s mind to convey his thoughts to her.
‘Don’t attack… he means no harm… he only wants to defend himself… try to talk to it… like you would talk to another human you meet…’
“...O-okay...,”, Frisk answered meekly, looking slightly more alarmed but at the same time looking a little less upset - as if she’d genuinely feared she would have to fight for her life and kill the Froggit - before dropping down to her knees and, after looking for a while for the right words, speaking carefully and sincerely to the Froggit. “M-mister… or miss… I… I’m sorry, you j-just startled me… Hello… h-how do you do?”
“Ribbit! So polite! I’m fine, little one, and you?” Gaster hastily translated with another trickle of magic, prompting Frisk to smile and speak in reply.
“I-I’m doing okay. ...Listen, y-your attacks are… very good-” Instantly, the Froggit’s eyes closed and it gave a short, soft little croak. With nothing to translate, Gaster conveyed the emotion the Froggit displayed so that Frisk wouldn’t misinterpret it.
‘The Froggit is… flattered. It no longer wishes to attack you. Now is the time to tell it you’ll spare it…’
“Listen… uh… dear, uh, Froggit… I… let’s not fight, okay? I don’t want to fight.”
“Ribbit! Yes, that is a good idea!”, the Froggit agreed, hopping around her and then speaking to Gaster in a soft voice. “You… ribbit, you have the smell of a good person about you… But you come from outside the Ruins, ribbit! How did you do that? Are you a ghost?”
“Y-e-s-...--- F-o-r--- a-l-l--- i-n-t-e-n-t-s--- a-n-d--- p-u-r-p-o-s-e-s--- I--- a-m--- a--- g-h-o-s-t-...--- F-o-r-g-i-v-e--- u-s--- f-o-r--- n-o-t--- t-e-l-l-i-n-g--- y-o-u--- m-y--- n-a-m-e-”, Gaster started, only for the frog-like monster to solemnly nod, interrupting him a second later.
“Understood, ribbit. ...But the girl, she… she is a human, is she not? ...She does not understand us - m-me, I mean, ribbit. You seem to be able to talk to her… and you can use strong magic… can you help her understand us?”, the weaker monster asked, prompting Gaster to think about his question before smiling and nodding, moving his hand and creating incoherent whispers as he weaved a net of finely-wrought magic around the young human’s mind, tightening it in place with a careful motion of his right index finger. Frisk gasped, moving her hands to her head and then looking at Gaster somewhat reproachfully, but the former royal scientist didn’t feel sorry for it, especially not when the Froggit spoke again and the girl clearly understood his every word. “Greetings, little human! I am a Froggit and I hope you aren’t upset with your friend’s magic…”
“I… n-no, not upset, but… next time, uh, friend, maybe you should ask before you use magic on me… just so I’m prepared?”, she said, the anger not fully gone from her voice but a careful smile already gracing her features again. Gaster nodded solemnly, and that was apparently enough reassurance for Frisk to turn to the smaller monster instead. “...S-so, you’re a… Froggit? I-is that… I’m sorry if I don’t say it right, but is that… your, uh, family of monsters?”
“Ribbit, yes, human girl! You say it exactly right! All of the Froggits are a family, after all. ...Humans have families too, then?”
“Yes, but… but not as clearly visible as monsters… and, well, some families… fall apart.” The tone she used held anger and grief, and Gaster stored that information for later use, to ask the girl what had happened to her family. The way she looked behind her showed that it had happened recently, perhaps even recent enough to have brought her to the mountain in the first place. “...But Froggit, c-can I ask you something quickly?”, she followed up, and Gaster focused again on the conversation between the weak little monster and the human child.
“Go ahead, ribbit, ask what you want…”
“W-what-” Suddenly, the Froggit stiffened and croaked lowly.
“Ribbit ribbit… human, you and your friend should get away from here… She is coming-”
“S-h-e-?--- Y-o-u--- m-e-a-n--- t-h-e--- f-l-o-w-e-r-?”, Gaster asked instantly, his hands moving in sharp motions that lent urgency to his words, but the frog-monster shook his head.
“The flower cannot move in these ruins, ribbit - but its accomplice can, and she is coming here. She’s moving quickly… she’ll be here in ten more minutes… hide.”
“B-but where?”, Frisk asked, and the Froggit nodded, hopping towards the wall. There was a crawlspace there that was large enough for smaller monsters to walk through - Gaster noticed Frisk could certainly crawl through it, and he himself would have no trouble making another ‘breach’ to the other side.
“F-r-i-s-k-...--- F-o-l-l-o-w--- o-u-r--- n-e-w-f-o-u-n-d--- f-r-i-e-n-d-...--- I--- w-i-l-l--- w-a-i-t--- o-n--- t-h-e--- o-t-h-e-r--- s-i-d-e-...”, he said, waiting for Frisk to crouch down and crawl after the Froggit before making a ‘breach’ and stepping briefly through the madness of raw spacetime before appearing again on the other side of the wall, just in time to see the Froggit come through, Frisk right at his heels. The human girl didn’t even flinch anymore seeing him standing there - she knew, of course, how he managed the feat - but the Froggit looked at him in utter shock before croaking out an amazed sentence.
“...A human and a shadow-monster that speaks with his hands… you two are a fascinating pair, ribbit. ...Now follow me…” Gaster nodded soundlessly and followed the monster into an alcove, Frisk right behind him. A sudden warmth surrounding his palm made the fractured monster look down in surprise, only to find Frisk’s slender, fleshy hand pressing firmly against and around his, the black fog oozing from the holes in his palm curling around her fingers like a visible and tangible caress.
“C-h-i-l-d-...--- D-o--- y-o-u-...--- l-i-k-e--- h-o-l-d-i-n-g--- m-y--- h-a-n-d-?”, he asked, utterly dumbfounded by the gesture, and Frisk nodded.
“...You… I don’t know you, friend, but you helped me three times so far, so… A-and… well, that flower makes me feel… bad… so… I-is it okay for me to hold your hand?”, she asked timidly, prompting Gaster to nod. His magic from before had established a light permanent mental bond, gaining him the ability to see the human girl’s soul without expending additional magic, and though she was afraid, her soul still shone from within like a bright red beacon - much unlike that other red soul, whose light had been choked and dimmed by the demon lurking within.
“I-t--- i-s--- m-o-r-e--- t-h-a-n--- o-k-a-y--- F-r-i-s-k-...--- I--- a-m--- g-l-a-d--- t-o--b-e--- a-b-l-e--- t-o--- g-i-v-e--- y-o-u--- s-t-r-e-n-g-t-h-.”, Gaster said, squeezing the soft hand lightly and smiling. This girl’s determination made him feel like he could do anything - and with that sparkle of her hope shining within him, he knew exactly how to act in order to ensure that he and this precious child would survive…
“... …?” ‘I’m going to bed now, Sans, will you be okay?’ Grillby’s fire sounded weary,like smouldering coals disintegrating in a fireplace, and the short skeleton nodded, patting the pillow behind his head a little.
“yeah, grillbz, don’t sweat it-”
“... …” A soft sizzling sound - ‘pffheheheh...’ - showed that the fire elemental was mildly amused by his pun, and Sans grinned his usual broad grin.
“-i’ll be just fine, thanks to you. ...see ya tomorrow bright and early. i’ll cook ya breakfast. by now i kinda know how you like your eggs and bacon…”, the skeleton suggested, prompting a weary wave and a soft-spoken reply from his friend.
“... … … …” ‘I look forward to the treat, then. And if Papyrus gives you a hard time, remember, my offer still stands. He can’t hurt me.’
“thanks for the offer, but i’m not gonna take you up on it, grillbz. there’s no one that’s gotta suffer ‘cause of my brother, not anymore. that poor kid’s parents…” Grillby no longer replied, and Sans sighed as well, recognizing that the topic was an ill one to close off the night with. “...yeah, uh, see ya tomorrow, grillbz.”
“... …”, the answer came, sounding like the soft hiss of dying flames. ‘Good night, Sans. Try not to dream badly tonight.’ Sans mused on those last words a little as he settled a little more comfortably on the soft cushions of the booth, the blanket itchy wherever it touched the bare bones of his arms and legs. It wasn’t like he chose to have bad dreams… Some were memories of a past he chose to forget: dreams reminiscent of long, cold, dark and lonely days locked in a cell with nobody to keep him company, or with only Papyrus there to bring some warmth and light and comfort in his days; or dreams that brought back memories of intense pain as his soul was fractured and rebuilt along with his body… Some were nightmares that started when Papyrus had had a complete character overhaul: dreams of a thick and suffocating darkness in his brother’s chest, coiling around his bones and reaching out to choke him as well… But some - the worst ones, if he was honest - were dreams of a place that was as splintered as his life felt at times, a place where every footstep was like stepping into broken glass, with a hand littered with breaks and holes reached out to him and a disembodied whispering voice that was painfully familiar called his name… Closing his eyes and allowing his conscious thoughts to fade, Sans found himself wishing that, for once, he could choose to have dreams of a perfect world, where Papyrus wasn’t psychopathic and where half the world wasn’t terrified of him.
Of course, he didn’t have that luck. He dreamt again of his brother’s bones slowly turning black from within, with that darkness growing and billowing in his chest and then reaching out to him. His turning and running away was nothing out of the ordinary, too, but then… When his eyes shot open, he didn’t see the familiar scenery of Grillby’s, but the fractured void that featured in those other nightmares. ‘oh, great, now i’m mixing nightmares…’ Sans froze, watching the stars and glittering cracks in the fabric of the world around him float by as clouds would. He looked around to see… nothing. Not that he had expected to see anything. Still, this nightmare wasn’t as upsetting as the other ones he’d had about this place. Somehow, it seemed more… whole… than it had been before. Tentatively, he took a step forward, and when his foot didn’t feel like it would fall off, he took another, wondering faintly whether the change in his nightmare meant that his conscious mind was winning from the ephemera of his subconscious. Another crack floated by him, warming his bones as it passed at less than an inch from him, and that sensation of warmth reinforced his previous thoughts. He’d never felt anything but cold and pain in this fractured place… the warmth had to be that blanket’s warming properties seeping through into the dream…
“Theoretically, that is possible… but no.”, a voice beside him spoke: turning to see who it was, Sans was unable to bite back a shocked gasp.
“Dad...?” Standing there was the familiar tall figure that he wished he could forget yet remembered so clearly: clad in his usual black mantle, his white face bearing a pensive expression. W.D. Gaster, the former Royal Scientist, and his ‘father’. Yet the image shivered, and cracks appeared over the face he remembered so well, holes appearing in his hands and body through which black fog poured. When Gaster spoke next, Sans knew that the man he called his father wasn’t doing well, since his voice sounded soft and pained, and above all distant, which he somehow knew shouldn’t be the case anymore. While he spoke, his hands moved in familiar patterns, fingers spelling words and letters rapidly.
“Sans, my son, I do not have much time... go to the Ruins, fast. Blast open the door-”
“W-wait, wha- why?”, Sans stammered. The Ruins? What could be so important about the Ruins? He knew well enough what door Gaster meant, of course: Papyrus spent a lot of time there, claiming to be training - and for some reason, no other monsters came there, fearing the doorway… It was said that no monster could pass through them, after all… But what was Gaster’s interest in the Ruins?
“There is a human there, a human child, one that we must protect at all costs. Only you can do it... only you are still pure. Only you are not tainted by the Wilted. And you are the only one with the power to do it, Sans. I... m-my experiments on you were... successful.” Gaster looked away in his dream - the only indication of guilt and remorse he’d ever shown, and it was enough to throw Sans though he still took full heed of his next words. “You are strong, and still determined even if your soul is-” Sans’ mind reeled. His father mentioned his experiments with that mournful tone that could mean he was sorry for them… but what was he talking about? How were his experiments successful? What did his father mean with that word, ‘determined’, and why did he make it sound like it was all-important? Determination, what was that even? And what was ‘the Wilted’? Did he mean the darkness that he sometimes dreamed within Papyrus, the same darkness that had taken over Alphys and Undyne? But above all, why did he speak about his soul as if it was in some way flawed, or damaged?
“Dad, I don't understand any of this!!”, he spoke urgently, interrupting his father, and Gaster sighed, moving his hands minutely.
“There will be time for explanations when the child is safe! Hurry, Sans!!” He grabbed hold of Sans’ upper arms and pulled him forward through a crack in the void they stood in, throwing Sans into sudden dizzying blinding light-
“a a a a h ! ! !”, Sans croaked out, his left eye burning with cold blue fire, instantly searching around him for danger but finding only the light of the sun and an extremely startled Grillby present. The fire elemental’s entire arms and shoulders burned, his casual shirt laying in loose burnt shreds on the ground around him.
“...! …!!”, came his voice, sounding like the distant roar of a raging forest fire, rife with reproach and worry alike. ‘Sans, what’s gotten into you?! I came downstairs to wake you up and you nearly…!!’
“s-sorry, grillbz. i… bad dream.”, Sans defended, prompting the fire elemental to sigh - a sound, coming from him, akin to a soft ‘whoosh’ of a fire being ignited - and then sit down on the other side of the booth. “...grillbz, don’t sweat it-”, the skeleton tried, only for his friend to shake his head and speak again with a more gentle roar, like a big bonfire right alongside him, crackling wildly to show how emotional he was at that moment.
“... … …! … …” ‘Sans, don’t brush this off as nothing again. This may be the millionth nightmare in your life, but it is the first time you woke up this startled! ...Maybe you should have someone look into this… I heard Riverperson’s good at all of this supernatural stuff…’
“grillbz, really, i’m good, don’t worry… look, i’m just a little high-strung ‘cause of the entire papyrus cracking my bones again thing, okay? that’s probably the only thing that’s up.”
“...” This time, Grillby’s fire spat and flared as if a pinecone had been dropped into it: a more prickly tone of voice was hardly possible for the fire elemental. ‘Sans…’
“okay, okay, sheesh… i’ll ask rivers ‘bout it later today. but first… breakfast. promise not to fall asleep and burn the house down.”, he tried jokingly, and to his infinite relief the bartender chuckled softly, which sounded like the soft flicker of candle flames coming from him. “...hell, it’s gonna do me good, some food that ain’t ketchup or chisps…”, Sans admitted, getting out from under the blanket and then stretching his weary body, feeling how strained his bones felt after a night spent sleeping on the uncomfortable booth cushions. Sidling out of the booth, the cold floor of Grillby’s chilling his heelbones up to his ankles, Sans heaved a sigh, tacking on a muted reminder to himself: “...and i’m goin’ to need my energy for dealin’ with paps again today…”
“...Good morning, ribbit!” Frisk opened her eyes slowly, wondering for a second whether everything had been a dream and whether she’d wake up in her dreadful, cramped room at Alicia’s apartment, but the sight that greeted her was still the same: orange plastered walls, a deep reddish-brown tiled floor, moss and vines growing through cracks in the walls and ceiling and a family of six Froggits standing at the hallway leading back to the main part of the Ruins. Next to her, a thick black cloud of dense mist betrayed where her traveling companion, Gaster, was. Somehow, it felt slightly comforting to know he was there and she hadn’t hallucinated the entire thing; but a part of her mind was still freaked out about everything. “...Did you sleep well, child, friend?”
“Y-yes!”, Frisk said brightly, her hand closing on the small branch she’d picked up before to defend herself with, and Gaster’s words lent finesse to her answer.
“Our family is already affected…”, one of the frog-like monsters croaked mournfully before looking up at Gaster and speaking in an appreciative voice: “...but, ribbit, thanks for the well-wishes anyway… ...Child, friend, will you both be safe in the ruins? The flower’s accomplice is… very strong… She won’t hesitate to take your soul for herself, ribbit…”
“W-h-a-t--- c-h-o-i-c-e--- d-o--- w-e--- h-a-v-e-?”, Gaster said, a sentiment which Frisk built upon with extra care and tenacity.
“I want to make it home again, and I can’t climb up to the hole I fell through… so my only option is to make it through this cave, y-your home I mean… But… well, you didn’t talk about this ‘accomplice’ of that evil flower yet…”, she admitted: true to the Froggit’s timid nature, as she’d seen and heard about the previous night as they’d all introduced themselves, a silence fell. But it was sitll mildly disconcerting to see the six monsters croak lowly in alarm and hop around nervously. Then, the most bold of the group, which happened to be the same Froggit that had first ‘accosted’ Frisk, spoke.
“Ribbit, we… she’s a terrifying woman, and we don’t like talking about her… but if it can help, we can tell you what we know about her. She… This woman came here about fifteen years ago, ribbit, out of the blue. She used to be friendly with all of us, and treat us kindly… and for some reason, she left a snail pie right underneath the hole in the cave, where it’s said monsterkind first entered the underground, every year on the same date… the twentieth day of the fall season… And she always was ready to act as a mediator whenever two monsters had a quarrel, ribbit.”
“She sounds like a nice enough lady… s-so what happened?”
“S-h-e--- g-o-t--- t-a-i-n-t-e-d-...”, Gaster said, bowing his head mournfully, and the Froggits followed his example, save for the one Froggit that spoke.
“Yes… one day, she simply… changed, ribbit. Overnight. One day, she still tended to the wounds our baby had gotten from falling through cracks in the floor, and the next day… it was as if she didn’t care about anything but that flower anymore. Ribbit, she and it talked often… about souls, and humans, and happiness… and at first, she cried whenever the humans were mentioned, but slowly that went away as well… ...I’ll take you back to the corridor, ribbit. The flower’s accomplice is back in her home at the edge of the old city, so it’s safe to walk these halls again…”, the Froggit offered, hopping closer to Frisk, who patted it gently on the head with her free hand and then nodded.
“Yeah… Thank you, Froggits, you were very kind sharing your food and your evening with me and my friend!”, she spoke kindly, prompting a variety of grateful and shy reactions from the monster family. Then, when Gaster put his fractured hand on her shoulder and the Froggit croaked again to gently move her to following him, she waved in goodbye as she walked into the small, narrow corridor to the crawlspace again. As she crawled through the minute space, Gaster once again used the breach, as he called his magic ability to move from place to place without taking more than one step, ending up waiting at the other side of the wall for her and her minute monster friend. However, the Froggit spoke up urgently to her and Gaster before she could speak a farewell to it.
“...Human, friend… my family is afraid of the lady of the ruins, ribbit… but I am not. I listened to her and that flower… and I learnt a lot. They talked about the barrier - at first, I thought she meant to find a way to break the barrier without bloodshed, but that changed when the human child after her change fell. She killed it and cast a holding spell around the soul, and the flower… absorbed it. Then, ribbit, I learnt that she only wants that flower to break the barrier and unleash itself on the world of humans. That flower and its accomplice… they don’t care about the other monsters… Listen, child. I have listened with attention when the woman spoke, ribbit. We all know the legends. Seven human souls are needed… to break the barrier. The flower has six now… six humans fell since the appearance of that woman… not all of them here, but the flower said it has six souls now-”
“N-o-t--- s-e-v-e-n-?”, Gaster asked, surprising Frisk and the Froggit; Frisk, however, remembered that Gaster had spoken about the human child that fell, Chara, the girl that was tainted and that had tainted the prince of all monsters, Asriel, as well.
“Ribbit, if that flower had seven souls it could use, we would all be dead already… with seven human souls, a monster becomes a god. ...No, the flower has six souls it can use, ribbit, we can be sure of that fact, friend. ...But your soul, child, would make seven. So please… fight with all your might… Do not worry about the LV-”
“LV?”, Frisk instantly asked, but Gaster spoke quickly before she could.
“Much obliged, friend, human child… be safe, and stay strong, ribbit!”, the Froggit croaked in reply, disappearing again in the crawlspace under the wall, which Frisk now noticed blended in with the walls so well that it was practically invisible unless you sat right in front of it, level with it. Nothing bigger than her would fit through.
“...Gaster, what’s… LV?”, she asked, and the mistiform monster sighed before motioning for them to continue as he spoke: Frisk kept a steady pace alongside him, looking up at him from time to time and keeping an eye on their surroundings all the while, not feeling up to any surprises.
“L-V--- i-s--- a-n--- a-b-b-r-e-v-i-a-t-i-o-n-...--- I-t-...--- W-a-i-t-...--- F-r-i-s-k-...--- T-o--- u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d--- i-t--- y-o-u--- m-u-s-t--- f-i-r-s-t--- u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d--- a--- v-i-t-a-l--- f-a-c-t--- a-b-o-u-t--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r-s-...--- W-e--- d-o--- n-o-t--- d-i-e--- a-s--- h-u-m-a-n-s--- d-i-e-...--- I-f--- w-e--- d-i-e-...--- o-u-r--- b-o-d-i-e-s--- t-u-r-n--- t-o--- d-u-s-t--- i-m-m-e-d-i-a-t-e-l-y--- a-n-d--- o-u-r--- s-o-u-l-s--- p-e-r-i-s-h--- i-n--- a--- s-e-c-o-n-d-...” Frisk couldn’t help but gasp and shake her head slowly, disbelievingly but above all mournfully.
“I… that’s awful! H-how… Monsters sound so weak and fragile… h-how were humans s-so afraid of you?”, she asked, prompting a sigh from Gaster.
“Still, that’s awful… s-so the least amount of force is enough to… k-kill a monster? A-and… and there isn’t even a body left to bury? No grave to mourn and remember the monsters that passed away?”, Frisk questioned, and now Gaster nodded slowly.
“W-e--- b-u-i-l-d--- m-o-n-u-m-e-n-t-s--- t-o--- h-o-n-o-r--- o-u-r--- d-e-a-d--- j-u-s-t--- a-s--- h-u-m-a-n-s--- d-o-...--- B-u-t--- o-u-r--- b-o-d-i-e-s--- r-e-s-t--- i-n--- a--- d-i-f-f-e-r-e-n-t--- w-a-y-...”, Gaster admitted softly, showing that monsters didn’t have graveyards such as humans built, because there were no dead to be buried. But that obviously didn’t mean they didn’t set aside places to mourn and revere the monsters that had come before them, and that was a thing Frisk felt highly appreciative of. If she hadn’t had her parents’ grave to occasionally visit, those measly moments she got to spend remembering that they were smiling down on her from the afterlife, she would have succumbed to her gloom a long time ago. Then, clearly feeling his soul lighten a little at the thought, her new friend added: “...-a-n-d--- n-o-t--- a-l-l--- m-o-n-s-t-e-rs--- d-i-e--- b-e-c-a-u-s-e--- o-f--- v-i-o-l-e-n-c-e-...”
“Oh, yes, I hope not!”, Frisk said emphatically, prompting a smile from Gaster, who then continued his explanation.
“Gaster, I know what the word ‘quantification’ means, I may be a kid but I’m not an idiot. I’m smart!”, Frisk instantly insisted, prompting an amused chuckle from the black swirling monster.
“That demon flower… C-charael, you called her… right?”, Frisk asked, waiting for Gaster to nod before finishing her thought. “...She must have a lot of LV, then.”
“...Demons, monsters, EXP and LV… all of those sound like they’re from a video game.”, she admitted with a half-smile that turned into a somewhat shocked expression at his next words.
“W-h-a-t--- i-s--- a-...---’-v-i-d-e-o--- g-a-m-e-’-?” For a moment, Frisk wanted to explain, but then she reconsidered and shook her head. It was clear, now more than ever, that the monsters living here, in the underground, had been closed off from humans and their advances for years. Then, however, Gaster surprised her. “...I--- k-n-o-w--- v-i-d-e-o-s-...--- a-n-d--- g-a-m-e-s-...--- S-o--- w-o-u-l-d--- v-i-d-e-o --- g-a-m-e-s--- b-e--- a--- r-e-c-o-r-d-i-n-g--- o-f--- s-o-m-e-o-n-e--- p-l-a-y-i-n-g--- a--- g-a-m-e-?”
“Uh, almost, y-yeah…”, Frisk said, smiling broadly and changing the subject quickly before she’d have to explain what she meant by ‘almost’. They had to make sure to keep an eye out for any monsters that they needed to avoid, after all. “...Demons and monsters are stuff of fairy tales and folklore, too. It’s… well, like I said before, it would be funny to anyone up there to think about the situation I’m in now, they’d never believe it. But it’s real.”
“B-u-t--- i-t--- i-s--- r-e-a-l-...”, Gaster repeated her words, halting and prompting Frisk to stop walking as well. Looking past her travelling companion, Frisk noticed a small mannequin stand in the hallway they were in, directly opposite to them. “...-F-r-i-s-k-...--- P-e-r-h-a-p-s--- i-t--- w-o-u-l-d--- b-e--- p-r-u-d-e-n-t--- o-f--- m-e--- t-o--- e-x-p-l-a-i-n--- h-o-w--- w-e--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r-s--- b-a-t-t-l-e-...--- A-f-t-e-r--- a-l-l-...--- T-h-e--- b-e-t-t-e-r--- e-d-u-c-a-t-e-d--- y-o-u--- a-r-e-...--- t-h-e--- b-e-t-t-e-r--- o-u-r--- c-h-a-n-c-e-s--- t-o--- a-v-o-i-d--- C-h-a-r-a-e-l-...”
“O-okay…”, Frisk said, instantly taking a firmer hold of the stick she still held tightly in her right hand. She could feel her soul flutter again - this time, the appearance of the magical white borders which she couldn’t cross didn’t phase her anymore.
“H-how do I… avoid conflict?”, Frisk carefully repeated, looking at Gaster to see his hands move soundlessly for a second as he thought - probably, due to his pattern of speech, this was the same as wordlessly mouthing the answer to himself - and then he answered.
“Y-o-u--- c-a-n--- t-e-l-l--- a--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r--- t-h-a-t--- y-o-u--- d-o-n-’-t--- w-i-s-h--- t-o--- f-i-g-h-t-...--- a-n-d--- i-f--- t-h-e--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r--- a-l-s-o--- d-o-e-s--- n-o-t--- w-i-s-h--- t-o--- f-i-g-h-t---...--- t-h-e--- b-a-t-t-l-e--- e-n-d-s--- a-n-d--- y-o-u--- c-a-n--- i-n-t-e-r-a-c-t--- n-o-r-m-a-l-l-y-...--- l-i-k-e--- w-e--- d-i-d--- w-i-t-h--- t-h-e--- F-r-o-g-g-i-t--- f-a-m-i-l-y-...--- B-u-t--- o-n-l-y--- w-h-e-n--- y-o-u--- a-n-d--- t-h-e--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r--- b-o-t-h--- d-o--- n-o-t--- w-i-s-h--- t-o--- f-i-g-h-t--- w-i-l-l--- t-h-a-t--- w-o-r-k-...” Frisk nodded, feeling slightly worried by that addition. Yet she remembered her fight the previous day, with the Froggit and how it had stopped fighting after she’d flattered it by saying its attacks were strong, and that bolstered her courage enough for her to motion that Gaster could continue, which he did promptly. “Y-o-u--- c-a-n--- a-l-s-o--- r-u-n--- f-r-o-m--- a--- b-a-t-t-l-e--- j-u-s-t--- l-i-k-e--- y-o-u--- r-a-n--- f-r-o-m--- t-h-e--- W-i-l-t-e-d-...--- I--- d-i-d--- n-o-t--- t-h-i-n-k--- i-t--- p-o-s-s-i-b-l-e--- t-o--- r-u-n--- f-r-o-m--- a-n-o-t-h-e-r-’-s--- m-a-g-i-c-...--- t-o--- b-e--- h-o-n-e-s-t-...”
“You make that sound like I’m a freak, G-gaster…”, Frisk said sulkily, prompting a flutter of the man’s hands in a chuckle before he answered her statement in a lightly amused tone of voice.
“Train me how?”, Frisk asked softly, feeling the palms of her hands itch with nerves all of a sudden, prompting a patient pat on the shoulder from the fractured man she had come to rely on.
“T-r-a-i-n--- y-o-u--- b-y--- h-a-v-i-n-g--- y-o-u--- p-r-a-c-t-i-c-e--- v-a-r-i-o-u-s--- c-o-m-p-l-i-m-e-n-t-s--- o-n--- t-h-i-s--- w-i-l-l-i-n-g--- s-u-b-j-e-c-t-.” The dummy wasn’t exactly what Frisk would term a ‘willing subject’ at all: it stared at her blankly, and Frisk was just about to point out its inanimate nature to Gaster when the dummy winked at her and she froze. Her initial reaction was to jump back; however, she caught herself in time and looked at Gaster again, his speech soothing her and making her worries lessen. “W-h-a-t--- d-o--- y-o-u--- t-h-i-n-k--- t-h-i-s--- d-u-m-m-y--- w-o-u-l-d--- b-e--- f-l-a-t-t-e-r-e-d--- b-y-?”
“I… d-don’t know?”, Frisk said, but Gaster shook his head slowly.
“T-h-i-n-k--- h-a-r-d--- F-r-i-s-k-...--- D-o--- n-o-t--- g-i-v-e--- u-p--- e-a-s-i-l-y-...” Frisk nodded, looking the dummy over again. It looked in okay shape: there was a little bit of its stuffing hanging out of a loosened stitch, and scorchmarks littered the wall around it and the base of it, but it was clearly well maintained and often used. The dummy’s blank, vacant eyes winked again, and without giving it much thought, Frisk winked back, prompting the dummy to perk up a little, the loose stuffing wiggling slightly as it did so. That was when it hit Frisk.
“...Appreciation. I think this dummy wants to hear how good it is at its job, how great it is that it helps people train and practice… It must be proud of its job!”
“I--- b-e-l-i-e-v-e--- s-o--- t-o-o-...--- G-o--- a-h-e-a-d-...--- T-r-y--- i-t--- o-u-t-...”, Gaster said kindly, motioning with one of his detached hands towards the dummy, making another soft humming sound. Emboldened by her friend’s patience, Frisk stepped closer to the dummy, lowering the stick she’d brought along and speaking in a clear voice.
“Hello, uh, training dummy, I just wanted to say I think you’re doing a great job! You’re really helping the people you train with! And… well, I’d love to train with you some day…” The dummy’s coarse burlap exterior took on a slightly more reddish tinge near the training dummy’s cheeks, and Gaster patted Frisk on the arm proudly, motioning for the ground around the feet of the dummy.
“...Dummy, we won’t fight, okay?”, Frisk asked, and the dummy nodded: instantly, the white ‘walls’ on the ground disappeared and Frisk felt a tingling sensation as the ground around her own feet took on its own rust-colored hue again. Gaster smiled, motioning for her to follow him into the next room, but Frisk first approached the dummy and threw her arms around it. She could hear the creaking of its stitches tightening, and then… A soft, almost imperceptible hum rose from the dummy, and she drew away to find it looking happy, its button-eyes glittering and its stitched mouth clearly forming a smile. “...I wasn’t lying, though, I’d love to train with you someday…” She dashed after Gaster after that, finding her friend waiting for her in the next corridor.
“C-h-i-l-d-...--- I--- m-e-a-n--- F-r-i-s-k-...--- Y-o-u-r--- h-e-a-r-t--- i-s--- s-o--- v-e-r-y--- o-p-e-n--- t-o--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r-k-i-n-d-...--- E-v-e-n--- i-f--- a--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r--- w-i-l-l--- a-l-w-a-y-s--- a-t-t-a-c-k--- y-o-u--- w-h-e-n--- i-t--- f-i-r-s-t--- s-e-e-s--- y-o-u-...--- N-o--- o-t-h-e-r--- h-u-m-a-n--- i-n--- o-u-r--- h-i-s-t-o-r-y--- o-r--- o-u-r--- e-x-p-e-r-i-e-n-c-e--- h-a-s--- t-h-a-t--- k-i-n-d--- o-f-” Suddenly, the fog-exuding monster halted, his already white face paling even more and the cracks in it suddenly expelling a fine light grey vapor, which slowly descended down his form until it coiled and disappeared into the black fog that obscured his feet and legs. “...-F-r-i-s-k-...--- M-o-r-e--- a-n-d--- m-o-r-e-...--- I--- s-e-e--- h-o-w--- s-p-e-c-i-a-l--- y-o-u--- a-r-e-...--- I--- w-i-l-l--- n-o-t--- r-e-s-t--- u-n-t-i-l--- y-o-u--- a-r-e--- s-a-f-e--- f-r-o-m--- t-h-e--- W-i-l-t-e-d-...--- f-r-o-m--- C-h-a-r-a-e-l-...”, Gaster said in a softer tone of voice, allowing one of his hands to gently brush her cheek in a fatherly way - in fact, Frisk mused as she followed the scientist further down the corridor, in exactly the same way as her own father had always done after reading her a bedtime story… She felt safe with Gaster, despite his grisly appearance and the magic he still maintained around her. She felt safe with this man who spoke in hands.
“...-I--- d-i-d--- n-o-t--- r-e-m-e-m-b-e-r--- t-h-e--- h-a-l-l-w-a-y-s--- b-e-i-n-g--- t-h-i-s--- l-o-n-g-...”, Gaster admitted when he and Frisk finally reached the stone archway leading to the next corridor after what felt like hours walking through the long corridor with its path lazily swaying from left to right. The child looked up at him in surprise, her eyes large and questioning.
“You… lived here? Where? In between the ruins? There’s no houses here!”, Frisk spoke - a part of Gaster wanted to commend the lively young human for her mental acuity and curiosity, but the more analytical part of him realized that she didn’t realize something vital, something which he’d have to enlighten her on.
“...Your king isn’t real good at giving names, is he?”, Frisk asked softly - it took a full second, in which Gaster was already moving his hands, for the gaseous monster to realize Frisk was joking, and his hands moved to his stomach, producing a loud ‘pffffft’ sound as they went, while he laughed. It was soundless, and he couldn’t move his hands at all so he resorted to speaking magically again.
“Indeed our king is terrible at giving names… but he protected us well in those early days. Wild animals tried to attack us, but we subdued them and very firmly pushed them out of the underground. Now only monsters live here, in peace and relative prosperity, but still as much captive as we have been since the moment we were cast into this Underworld…” He sighed when Frisk looked appropriately upset, using his hands again to speak. “F-r-i-s-k-...--- M-a-n-y--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r-s--- s-t-i-l-l--- b-e-l-i-e-v-e--- h-u-m-a-n-s--- t-o--- b-e--- t-h-e--- c-a-u-s-e --- o-f--- o-u-r--- s-u-f-f-e-r-i-n-g-...--- Y-o-u--- m-a-y--- n-o-t--- b-e--- a-b-l-e--- t-o--- s-t-o-p--- a-l-l--- o-f--- t-h-e-m --- w-i-t-h--- s-i-m-p-l-e--- c-o-m-p-l-i-m-e-n-t-s-...--- M-a-y-b-e--- y-o-u--- w-i-l-l--- h-a-v-e--- t-o--- f-i-g-h-t--- s-o-m-e-d-a-y-”
“B-but Gaster, I…” Frisk looked upset by something for a few seconds, frowning and looking at her hands, which clenched into fists and then unclenched again; then, she shook her head and spoke on with all the determination her kind had so plentifully. “...I… had a few situations like that u-up there, in the human world, too… and… and fighting doesn’t prove your point, it just proves theirs. I… won’t stop caring and trying to make every monster see that I’m not like the humans that cast you down or that… did whatever they did to you… I’m not like them!”, she vehemently defended, and suddenly Gaster was reminded painfully and starkly of the other two humans, so many years ago…
‘Waaaah, pwease, we pwomise we be g-goo-hoo-h-hoood!!’
A hard jolt ran through his system at the memory. All he’d cared about back then was his science, his experiments, his… determination… Explaining it away with wanting to help monsterkind break free from their human-forced prison was only part of it, he knew. And the two humans that he’d stripped of their soul and then had injected with parts of his own soul and magic essences… his two children… Suddenly, he found himself crouching next to Frisk and enveloping her in a soft hug, tendrils of the black fog that seeped from his entire body wrapping around her like a shroud as he spoke, his voice soft and careful due to his speaking with only one hand.
“D-e-a-r--- c-h-i-l-d-...--- I--- a-m--- s-o-r-r-y--- f-o-r--- t-h-e--- p-a-i-n--- y-o-u--- w-i-l-l--- e-n-d-u-r-e-...--- a-n-d--- f-o-r--- t-h-e--- p-a-i-n--- t-h-a-t--- o-t-h-e-r-s--- l-i-k-e--- y-o-u--- e-n-d-u-r-e-d--- b-e-f-o-r-e--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r-s--- l-i-k-e--- m-e--- r-e-a-l-i-z-e-d--- t-h-a-t--- h-u-m-a-n-s--- c-o-m-e--- i-n--- a-s--- m-a-n-y--- s-h-a-p-e-s--- a-n-d--- s-o-u-l-s--- a-s--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r-s--- d-o-...--- I--- a-m--- s-o--- s-o-r-r-y-...--- S-o-r-r-y-...”, he whispered wheezily with one hand, his gestures jarring and lending a kind of stammer to his words. Frisk looked at him worriedly for a split second, one flutter of a soul only, and then she leaned her forehead against his shoulder and hugged him back tightly.
“...Gaster, you… I have a good feeling about you. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about…” Those words nearly caused Gaster to weep bitterly, but then he felt Frisk tense in his hold and whisper to him. “...I hear someone!”
“H-o-l-d--- o-n--- t-o--- m-e--- a-n-d--- d-o--- n-o-t--- l-e-t--- g-o-!-!”, Gasper spoke urgently with a hasty flourish of his hands before grabbing hold of Frisk and opening another ‘breach’, aiming hastily for the closest hiding place nearby - the inside of a large, hollow column. The breach closed around him and he felt the void tear at him due to his haste, but the pain was only minor, especially compared to the hurt he’d felt when flinging himself into the void before, to escape certain death… For the longest while, in the dark and cramped confines of the column, he could see or feel nothing, but then…
“...I was certain I felt something…” The voice startled him to the very depths of his soul, but he couldn’t gasp even if he wanted to, his hands being pressed tightly against Frisk’s form as they were. “Nothing. Nothing is here… I can feel that they were here, though… Perhaps the corridor made me mistake an echo for the actual source… Yes, of course, my child, they can’t escape… But you must be set free! ...I see. I see. Yes, I’ll come to meet you at the flowerbed, my child…”, the voice said, and footsteps headed away again, silence returning gradually until Gaster exhaled and opened another ‘breach’ into the next room, where a bowl of monster candy stood.
“...Gaster, you… that must’ve been her, right? T-the companion to t-that flower… t-to Charael, right?”
“S-she really is tainted?”, Frisk asked, and now Gaster sighed, expelling a cloud of vapor all around him.
“S-h-e--- i-s-...--- F-r-i-s-k-...” Looking at the child, he found her looking at him apprehensively though still with the determination he’d come to admire and even depend on in her, and that made him decide. The Queen was lost anyway, and the child should be protected… “...-D-o--- n-o-t--- w-o-r-r-y--- F-r-i-s-k-...--- I--- w-i-l-l--- d-o--- w-h-a-t-e-v-e-r--- i-t--- t-a-k-e-s--- t-o--- p-r-o-t-e-c-t--- y-o-u-...--- E-v-e-n--- f-r-o-m--- t-h-e--- w-o-m-a-n--- t-h-a-t--- o-n-c-e--- h-a-d--- m-y--- a-l-l-e-g-i-a-n-c-e-.”
“...T-thank you, Gaster…”, Frisk muttered, looking around anxiously. “But what did she mean, she felt something?” Gaster pondered the same question a moment. Then, with a sigh, he conceded his answer to Frisk with slow, soft movements of his hands, which in turn lent his voice something plaintive and highly worried.
“When you… oh! Oh, yes, that has to be it! I… well, m-maybe I’m wrong, but I imagine magic to be like… r-radio waves, or cell phone waves… If you hold a cellphone close to another receiver, like a radio, or vice versa, you get interference. The receiver that shouldn’t get the signal still gets something. We… didn’t learn about that in class, but I… s-snuck out of my room one night to look at a National Geographic show ‘cause Alicia…” Suddenly, Gaster could feel Frisk’s spirits dampen: it was an almost physical sensation of the room turning a little colder and the air a little more stagnant, prompting him to turn to the human girl.
“F-r-i-s-k-...--- T-h-i-s--- A-l-i-c-i-a-...--- I-s--- t-h-a-t--- y-o-u-r--- f-a-m-i-l-y-?” Unbidden but not unwelcomed, he got an image of what he supposed was a good-looking specimen of an adult female, with a body proportioned much like Queen Toriel’s but without the fur and with one extra digit on the hands and two on the feet, looking disgusted somehow.
“Alicia’s my older sister… b-but she’s not my family! She… all she is, is mean and petty and horrible! S-she used all of her money f-for her and she sometimes didn’t give me food i-if I misbehaved! I w-was nothing but a pet to her… n-nothing but a thing… an obstacle… S-she said she w-wished I’d d-died in the same ca-car crash a-a-as m-my parents…”, Frisk spluttered out, tears streaming over her face, and once again Gaster crouched down next to her, enveloping her in a hug that was meant to soothe the both of them this time. Her words had involuntarily reminded him of how poorly he’d treated the two skeletal boys he’d considered his own, seeing them much more as experiments than as proper living monster beings. But her last words had nullified that feeling again somewhat: not even he, as horrible as he’d been to his two ‘sons’, had so little regard for life that he’d told them something like that.
“T-thank you, G-gaster…”, Frisk admitted, very gently pushing her cheeks against the fabric of his cloak and giving him a brief but heartwarming sensation of solidity and groundedness for a moment. “...I… t-think my mom a-and dad would be proud o-of me, too… and I think t-they’d thank you f-for protecting me…”, she added in a whisper, prompting Gaster to feel a light drizzling sensation over his cheeks. Startled, he brought his hands up to his face only to discover that it felt slightly warm under his fingertips, where it had felt cold and clammy before. ‘Am I… is this… blushing due to flattery?’, he mused, looking at Frisk who was now fiercely drying her tears with the sleeves of her slightly torn shirt. It prompted him to pat her on the head again.
“F-r-i-s-k-...--- d-e-a-r--- c-h-i-l-d-...--- D-o--- y-o-u--- t-h-i-n-k--- w-e--- c-a-n--- r-i-s-k--- m-o-v-i-n-g--- o-n-?--- T-h-e--- Q-u-e-e-n--- i-s--- a-t--- t-h-e--- f-l-o-w-e-r-b-e-d--- i-n--- t-h-e--- c-a-v-e--- w-h-e-r-e--- y-o-u--- f-i-r-s-t--- f-e-l-l-” Suddenly, he felt the slightest pull on his soul - Frisk did, too, judging by her gasp - and the floor around them darkened, with the by-now familiar white lines flaring up. Looking at the doorway, Gaster saw the monster that had conjured the battlefield: a small, fluttering Whimsun, its wings flapping at impossible speeds in its fright, was softly crying. Instinctively, Frisk reached out to the small monster.
“H-hey, little monster, don’t cry, o-okay?” She took a step forward, and that proved too much for the frazzled nerves of the Whimsun: it flew off hastily and the room returned to normal. “O-oh… that… did I do it wrong, Gaster?”, she asked, prompting the former Royal Scientist to shake his head and exhale a relieved sigh on the inside. Whimsuns were just easily spooked, fortunately for Frisk, and perhaps they’d later be able to find the other Whimsun and talk to them calmly after this little one had calmed down a little.
“Y-o-u--- d-i-d--- i-t--- e-x-a-c-t-l-y--- r-i-g-h-t--- F-r-i-s-k-...--- W-h-i-m-s-u-n--- j-u-s-t--- a-r-e--- e-a-s-i-l-y--- f-r-i-g-h-t-e-n-e-d-...--- C-o-m-e--- o-n--- n-o-w-...--- L-e-t--- u-s--- m-o-v-e--- a-h-e-a-d-...--- T-h-e--- m-o-r-e--- g-r-o-u-n-d--- w-e--- c-o-v-e-r-...--- T-h-e--- f-a-s-t-e-r--- w-e--- c-a-n--- l-e-a-v-e--- t-h-e-s-e--- R-u-i-n-s--- a-n-d--- t-h-a-t--- a-c-c-u-r-s-e-d--- f-l-o-w-e-r--- b-e-h-i-n-d-...”, he suggested, to which Frisk only answered with a nod. Then, looking back at the bowl of monster candy, Gaster smiled and added: “...-T-a-k-e--- a--- t-r-e-a-t--- f-o-r--- y-o-u-r-s-e-l-f--- f-o-r--- t-h-e--- r-o-a-d-...”
“You mean that’s edible?”, Frisk asked, and now Gaster laughed again, though this time not speaking by using his magic as he laughed, instead waiting to recover from his sudden bout of amusement.
“Then take some, too, Gaster, go on!”, Frisk spoke without second thought, pushing him gently but decisively towards the bowl of candy, and Gaster dipped his hand into the bowl to extract a non-liquorice Vegetoid, putting it into his mouth and feeling it dissolve into pure energy inside of him, prompting a soft sigh from him. Frisk put her own piece, a non-liquorice ghost, into the pocket of her trousers. “...But yeah, let’s go, we probably have a long way to travel until we reach the exit of this place, right?”, she spoke - there was little to no annoyance or anger in her voice, just sheer determination and energy, and Gaster nodded wordlessly, keeping right next to this human that had just offered him a treat and that said her parents would surely be thankful for his keeping her safe… A warm feeling nested in his chest, something his logical mind was unable to explain fully, but for the very first time in his lifetime W.D. Gaster allowed a mystery to remain unexplained.
“...so i say to him - get this, kiddos - so i say to him, ‘what’s the problem? you wanted runnin’ water, didn’t ya?’” The small crowd of four in front of him - his usual admirer, Chilldrake, but also two young Icecaps and a Vegetoid that had chosen his break to stretch his leaves - roared with laughter at the joke about the complaining tenant, leaving Sans himself grinning. He’d felt a little gloomy that morning: the odd nightmare-like dream still reverberating through his mind, making him feel a sense of foreboding that having to go back to his sentry-station and possibly running into Papyrus didn’t help with at all… Fortunately, his brother hadn’t been anywhere near his station, probably reporting to Undyne in Waterfall first, and Sans didn’t hear any shouts in his direction even when he actually had his rapt audience laughing loudly.
“Ahahaha… oh, Sanster, ya sure know how to knock ‘em dead…”, Chilldrake said with tears streaming down his broad cheeks, and the Icecaps nodded, their own laughter more jittery and crystalline. The Vegetoid, however, showed a much more subdued amusement, speaking in its slightly deep, earthy voice.
“...You’re good, yes… one has to wonder how your job as a comedian at MTT Resort ended…”
“same reason your cousin ended up on the menu, veggi-bro - cutbacks. only thing is, he made the cut and i didn’t.” Despite the pun, none of the monsters laughed, Sans least of all, instead adopting a more solemn expression and tone of voice as he continued: “...but his sacrifice won’t be in vain, veggie… that, i guarantee ya.”
“Don’t make guarantees you can’t uphold, Sans - you’re a comedian, not a warrior. Papyrus has trained his entire adult life to do battle-”
“...heh, no worries, i can hold my own.”, Sans said, still grinning though his smile had nothing kind or amused anymore, and his pupils flickered just a little. None of the monsters took much heed, though, used to Sans’ sense of grandeur as they were, and they relaxed especially when the skeleton-monster added in a much more easy-going tone: “...besides, if paps laughs just once, his armor’s just gonna shatter from sheer astonishment. my bro ‘s way too serious, am i right?”
“Too da- darn right, Sanster!”, Chilldrake said, nearly swearing until he remembered the two Icecaps that were standing nearby and that were still monster-children. He muttered a quick apology, and Sans snorted.
“...anyways, my break’s up, kiddos… hurry on back to your homes ‘fore your parents report you as missing.” The Icecaps nodded and ran off, prompting a sigh from Chilldrake.
“Bettah go with ‘em to see that they get home in once piece… Sanster, brothah, see ya!”
“yeah, see ya…”, the short skeleton said, waving them off and then waiting until they were gone to turn to the remaining monster. “...hey, veggie, i’m sorry for bringin’ up your cousin.”
“Don’t be. Tom was a good monster, one of the better ones out there. He would’ve liked your jokes.”
“he did like my jokes.”, Sans amended, nodding the next second and patting his vegetable-monster companion on the leaves. “...veggie, could ya check if paps is at his post for me? you don’t have to surface or nothin’, but… i need to go to rivers.”
“...I will see.”, the monster conceded, instantly burrowing underground, leaving nothing but a small heap of earth in front of Sans’ sentry station as a reminder. Everything was quiet for a moment, and then the Vegetoid reappeared, shaking its leaves clean before speaking. “Papyrus isn’t there. Perhaps he is still conferring with Undyne?”
“...thank the stars for small favors, huh?”, Sans said emphatically before getting up from behind his sentry-station. “veggie, thanks. i owe ya big time.”
“You can repay me by eating healthy once in a while. I’m more than happy to cook for you, Sans!”, the vegetable-like monster spoke solemnly before burrowing under the ground, probably already guessing he wouldn’t get any kind of reply. Sans, in the meantime, wound down the path towards the river, passing his brother’s sentry-station by after only ten minutes of walking. It looked eerie without his brother sitting in it, the wooden support beams of it still singed from his attack the previous day. Sans shook his head and meant to dig his hands deeper into the pockets of his hooded sweater, only realizing that he was no longer wearing it when his hands brushed his stomach ineffectually. Groaning, he continued on towards the river, another ten-minute walk from his brother’s sentry-station. He could hear the gentle rush of the broad, calm stream already when he turned left on Box Road, ignoring the odd box that stood there, its lid covered with snow - when he looked ahead, he could already see the Riverperson waiting for him, as they always waited right where they were needed.
“Tra la la… la la la…” Their soft, melodious singing already drifted towards Sans, filling him with mingled apprehension and emotional calmth. The Underground had a lot of unexplained mysteries, but the greatest one of all was the Riverperson, whom everyone called Rivers. They always wore a heavy shroud, their voice light and girly one moment, as they talked about humming and Temmies and how the river was wet or dry, and hoarse and urgent the next, when they warned about ominous portents. However, there was a third way in which they addressed others, a voice which drifted towards Sans the next second. “...I see you, Sans, son of Gaster. Step forward without fear - answers are near...” Their voice was warm yet even, businesslike yet not without the proper respect for his emotions, and Sans felt at ease again. Riverperson in their detached-but-aware state, he could deal with just fine.
“i see you, Riverperson. had a bad dream that i wanna talk to you about, to see if you can make more sense of it than i or grillbz can.”
“Hmm… Three gold, Sans, one for your brother’s sake… We’ll get to the bottom of what had you wake…” Their constant need to rhyme was odd even on their good days - and downright eerie on their ominous days - but now it broke the gravity of the situation a little in Sans’ eyes, which soothed him. “...Speak, my brother, of those nightmarish dreams… because it may not be as easily explained as it seems…”
“...so i always have the same nightmares, ya know? same ones i told you about before. ‘bout my da- about gaster… floatin’ around in the void, where it hurts to be... an’ about paps and the darkness in his chest… but last night, they decided to melt together… only different. they both changed. first there was the dream about paps that flowed into the dream about the void - only it wasn’t the void anymore, it was just empty, no pain, no nothin’… but he was there, same as always, an’ he warned me… pleaded with me to go to the ruins, to blast open the door… goin’ on about this human child that needs protectin’...”
“I see… Sans, son of Gaster, I’ve told you before - he’s your father, no matter what pain you endured… As for your dreams, I think they’re real… you didn’t feel the pain you usually feel…”
“what, just ‘cause it didn’t hurt to even move around?”, Sans asked in surprise, and now the Riverperson spoke in their usual hoarse, urgent tone they reserved for their doomsday prophecies and foreboding messages.
“You came here for answers and yet you disbelieve?! What good is scepticism going to achieve?! ...Everyone believes that Gaster was killed - but the hole he left in this world… was refilled. Yes, Gaster is back from the void where he fled! The darkness you dream of? It wanted him dead! Your brother, his friends, they’ve all fallen prey to this demon that took monsters’ last hopes away!! All it wants is the barrier to shatter, and then nothing we do anymore will matter!” They calmed down again suddenly, though their voice was still edgy and hoarse, not at all their more common girly and slightly awkward tone. “...But Gaster returned… and the void in your dreams is no longer fractured and ripped at the seams? Sans, my brother, you remember well how many humans already fell?”
“u-uh…” The question pulled at the edges of Sans’ being. The answer his mind kept shouting was ‘four’, but the truthful answer was ‘six’, of course. Finally, with a sigh, he conceded that Riverperson already knew and just wanted his confirmation. “...six, ‘course-”
“Sans, I’m afraid that is no longer right… for a human was down here among us last night!”
“w-what?! t-that… was just somethin’ my mind conjured up due to stress over paps’ behavior… w-wasn’t it? rivers?”, the short skeleton gasped out, looking at the shrouded figure in disbelief until they lowered their hood and looked at Sans, their three-lidded eyes fixing him with a look that he had only had the privilege of seeing once, when he was out of options about Papyrus’ changed behavior. They rarely lowered their hood for anyone, excepting Sans, whom they called ‘brother’ for some odd reason - and they did so again now, speaking with a light lisp as they explained.
“...Some things, dear brother, reason cannot explain… no, there’s really a human, I can see it quite plain. The dream that, to you, is so life-like and crippling, can only be caused by the barrier… rippling. Since no one can exit, not even that shade… it means that an entry was briefly made.”
“a-an entry? so that means… seven souls?”, Sans asked carefully. That darkness being real, he was more than willing to believe - it meant Papyrus hadn’t really turned evil, after all - but his dad returning? And a human child having fallen again, more than a year after the last one fell?
“Seven souls, all monsterkind needs, to break through the barrier and be set free. ...But the darkness is lurking amongst our kind… if we want to live, we must… leave it behind…”
“yeah, but that’s easier said than done… uh, right?”, he asked Riverperson since they seemed to have knowledge about this subject - as they had about most subjects, really. The ferryperson nodded in reply, its eyes fixing Sans with a steady piercing gaze, the one in the middle especially poignant.
“The demon that haunts us is strong, that is true… but even the strongest have weaknesses too. ...The human child must be the key. What else is the reason for Gaster’s plea?”
“s-so you’re saying that my dad is back, that the dream is real, and that there’s a kid in the ruins? a kid that this… darkness, this demon… wants to kill?” It felt too much for Sans. He’d expected a lot, but not… not Rivers telling him it was all true! A part of him felt relieved that he wasn’t going crazy after all - or at the very least that he wasn’t the only one going crazy after all - but another part felt… confused, and angry, and fearful, extremely fearful. He’d told his father it made no sense to him, and he still felt that way now. Rivers, however, didn’t seem to notice or care for his emotional upheaval, continuing in a whispered tone that hid the hoarseness a bit but that made the urgency in it all the more pressing.
“Sans, my brother, listen to me… This human child must be the key. There’s power walking the ruined halls, and woe to monsterkind if it falls! ...No, listen, my brother, and know it is true - the burden of saving them falls to you… You’re your father’s son, my dear pure-heart brother - truly monsterkind should trust no other! ...And if you heed the message Gaster sends… you will… purify ou- your brother and your friends!”, Rivers finished in a gasping tone that sounded startled and disbelieving, prompting Sans to feel much alike. Purify Papyrus, Alphys and the others?
“y-you mean… that darkness can be… removed from ‘em?!”
“...It is but a theory, Sans, my dear friend… but all that begins must also end. And just as a light chases darkness away, the human’s power can end a demon’s sway. Why else is that darkness so active anew? Why else is Papyrus so edgy to you?”
“paps is… always edgy.”, Sans said, though a sparkle of his soul kept glimmering, a sparkle that grew all the more bright and powerful at the Riverperson’s next words.
“Papyrus is much, but not totally black. If purged, his soul will get its integrity back. But remember this well, Sans - please, do not forget!”
“what?”, Sans tried, only for Rivers to shake their head and insistently add to their monologue.
“Do not, or you will surely regret!”
“promise and swear i won’t forget, rivers, cross my light blue soul and hope to turn to dust.”, Sans spoke solemnly, prompting the ferryperson to suddenly grasp his hands and speak hoarsely and forebodingly to him.
“Do not, whatever anyone will say or do, allow that darkness to take hold of YOU… Imagine your magic at a demon’s beck and call… who could stand against you, strongest of all?”
“...i-i… ‘m not…”, Sans sputtered, taking a step back involuntarily. If he’d felt uncomfortable before, now he was feeling truly and well outside the borders of safe territory. Fortunately, before he had to react further, Rivers’ hood reappeared - they didn’t put it back up, it simply blinked to its original position, hiding their face again, their voice also returning to its slightly businesslike tone.
“...Accept my sincere apology. You came here for comfort from your bad dreams, and I offered you more unease, it seems… Well, at least now your worries are founded at most… Here, take back two gold and go back to your post…”
“why not all three gold?”, the short skeleton asked, prompting a light chuckle from the Riverperson.
“Come back to me after Papyrus is fought and I’ll give you the healing your money has bought.” They said it with that light, girly voice again, and Sans groaned, realizing the meaning of her words.
“aw crap, he’s back at his post… welp, off to get savaged then. better me than some other innocent monster…”, he said - he was already halfway back to the road when Riverperson’s words floated his way, light and crystalline in tone yet all the more ominous when he considered the meaning of them.
“Tra la la… the man from the other side is waiting… waiting in the light… while the shadows grow...” Sans turned around to walk back to the shrouded figure, but they were gone all of a sudden - not a ripple in the water to indicate they were even there to begin with. And when he turned around, Papyrus’ angry shout pierced the quiet of the forest around him, coming from the direction of his abandoned post.
“THAT LAZYBONES IS LETTING UP HIS DUTIES AGAIN! ...SANS!!! IF I HAVE TO COME FIND YOU FOR OUR DAILY TRAINING, YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD NEVER SEEN THE LIGHT OF DAY!!” Sighing, Sans proceeded down the road, mentally prepared for another beating at the hands of his merciless brother - and yet dreading the healing he’d receive at the hands of the mysterious Riverperson later more than having to dodge energy blasts and bones from all sides…
“...-A--- m-a-z-e-...” Gaster’s words were enough to halt Frisk right before she stepped on. However, she didn’t see the high walls she had expected at his words, only… a long corridor that wound sharply to the left after about fifteen feet.
“Gaster, this… this isn’t a maze, just a corridor…”, Frisk said softly, smiling and shaking her head before stepping forward and suddenly finding the ground crumbling underneath her. In an attempt to steady her footing, she tried to pull back her foot, but it had already sunk deeper into the hole that was forming, her heel catching the still-solid edge of it and the force of her own move causing her to lose balance even more. Throwing her arms out, Frisk fell towards the brittle ground. “W-whoa, whoa, whoa-” Then, just as suddenly as the ground underneath her feet had crumbled and broken apart, she found hands grasp her under her armpits and pull her back into a stable position on solid ground - Gaster’s hands, she realized after a second, detached further from his body than she’d seen them be before. “G-gaster?”
“N-o-t--- e-v-e-r-y--- m-a-z-e--- h-a-s--- h-i-g-h--- w-a-l-l-s--- a-n-d--- w-i-n-d-i-n-g--- p-a-t-h-s-...--- T-h-i-s--- m-a-z-e--- h-a-s--- o-n-l-y--- o-n-e--- c-o-r-r-e-c-t--- p-a-t-h--- t-o--- t-r-a-v-e-r-s-e--- i-t--- s-a-f-e-l-y-...--- F-o-r-t-u-n-a-t-e-l-y--- I--- c-a-n--- s-e-e--- t-h-i-s--- p-a-t-h-...--- A-l-l-o-w--- m-e-...” Gaster’s hands already moved away from her armpits and up to her head, the movement prompting a soft ‘huhhh…’ sound. Frisk could feel the same sensation as when Gaster had suddenly used his magic on her to help her understand monsters: a prickly sensation in the back of her head, like something being threaded across her scalp and burning into it… not a pleasant feeling, which made the girl speak up in apprehension.
“W-wait!” However, Gaster’s hands clamped over her head, the holes in them settling over her eyes, and when Frisk dared open one… she gasped again. The ground before her now looked littered with fracture-lines that had definitely not been there before, and a path was clearly visible, running alongside the wall all the way to the wall opposite her and her companion, turning left there. Despite realizing what it meant, she still gently grasped one hand and raised it away from her eye, causing her to see a normal, unassuming hallway with one eye and a maze of fracturelines with one unbroken path running through it with the other. Quickly, she turned away from the hallway and towards her friend, speaking to him with an awed voice. “...W-what… Gaster, what-” Her friend withdrew one hand again to speak slowly to her, the tone mellow - Frisk wondered whether that was due to his being able to use only one hand to form the words, and decided she much preferred to think it was not just because of that.
“I--- d-o--- n-o-t--- h-a-v-e--- t-o--- u-s-e--- m-a-g-i-c--- t-o--- h-e-l-p--- y-o-u-...--- T-h-e--- l-i-t-t-l-e--- a-m-o-u-n-t--- o-f--- m-a-g-i-c--- I--- u-s-e-d--- b-e-f-o-r-e--- i-s--- a-l-r-e-a-d-y--- e-n-o-u-g-h-...--- T-h-i-s--- w-a-y-...--- I--- c-a-n--- s-h-a-r-e--- m-y--- s-i-g-h-t--- w-i-t-h--- y-o-u-...” He halted there, as though he understood her mental awe at the exact same moment when the full meaning of his words hit her: through the magic Gaster had used on her before, he had shared a little of himself with her. Being able to talk to monsters, and now being able to see the puzzle-solutions… that was Gaster’s gift to her. As if he’d heard her words, the tall and imposing monster chuckled, sending a few waves of vapor from around his feet swirling around her as well, and then spoke up once more. “O-h--- F-r-i-s-k-...--- O-n-l-y--- o-n-e--- a-s--- s-p-e-c-i-a-l--- a-s--- y-o-u--- w-o-u-l-d--- s-e-e--- m-y--- h-u-m-b-l-e--- g-i-f-t--- a-n-d--- t-h-i-n-k--- i-t--- i-s--- s-o--- v-a-l-u-a-b-l-e-...--- I--- m-e-r-e-l-y--- w-a-n-t--- t-o--- s-e-e--- y-o-u--- s-a-f-e--- c-h-i-l-d-...”
“You’re the only one at the moment…”, Frisk said somewhat gloomily, though she didn’t allow that thought to bring her down at all. She felt extra tenacious when thinking about her classmates that always picked on her and her sister that hated her existence. “...Okay, let’s go!”
“Y-o-u--- l-e-a-d-...--- I--- w-i-l-l--- f-o-l-l-o-w-...”, Gaster said kindly, moving his hand back in place so both of his hands were resting comfortably over her eyes similar to what it would feel like to wear a Halloween mask: the disembodied hands didn’t press against her face, or held onto her cheeks, but the pinkies lightly touched her eyebrows and the thumbs touched the corners of her mouth when she smiled, taking a first tentative step onto the path, and then, when the ground didn’t instantly crumble away under her feet as it had before, she followed them with a more decisive second and third step. As she reached the spot where the path turned to the left, she heard the soft ‘swish’ of Gaster’s gas-like form following her, walking or drifting behind her. Soon after turning left and passing the wall, however, the path veered to the left again, a thin four-foot-wide path heading back to the opposite wall, and then the path turned right twice, first at a patch of leaves and then again back at the opposite wall, heading all the way to the corner of the corridor before finally turning into the thick, steady ground of the doorway. Once there, Gaster’s hands let go of her face and she once again saw the ground as it was. “Y-o-u--- d-i-d--- v-e-r-y--- w-e-l-l--- c-h-i-l-d-...--- B-u-t--- l-e-t--- u-s--- c-o-n-t-i-n-u-e-...--- I-t--- i-s--- n-e-a-r-l-y--- n-i-g-h-t-f-a-l-l--- a-n-d--- I--- d-o--- n-o-t--- w-i-s-h--- t-o--- r-i-s-k--- a-n--- e-n-c-o-u-n-t-e-r--- w-i-t-h--- Q-u-e-e-n--- T-o-r-i-e-l-...” Frisk nodded wordlessly, allowing her friend to lead again as they headed into the next corridor, which had two exits. One of them led to an alcove with cobwebs hanging everywhere - cobwebs with gold coins hung in them, she noticed. The other doorway led to a large and spacious hallway that seemed like it would get them further towards escaping the winding ruins. But before they could get there, Frisk saw another obstacle that Gaster simply phased through but that solidified as she approached.
A ghost lay in the middle of the narrow passage in the center of the room, their pale white form a stark contrast to the leaves they rested on. Headphones adorned its head, but they didn’t seem to be connected to a music device of any kind. They snored loudly - or that was what they wished to pretend, at the very least, because they simply kept on saying ‘z’ out loud in between shuddering breaths, whispering incoherently from time to time as well. And it didn’t look like Frisk could tiptoe around them, either...
“...Gaster... hold up for a moment...”, Frisk spoke softly, prompting her friend and companion to turn around in the doorway to the next room.
“W-h-a-t--- i-s--- t-h-e--- m-a-t-t-e-r--- F-r-i-s-k-?” Frisk pointed to the ghost and instantly Gaster nodded. “A--- g-h-o-s-t-...--- H-m-m-...--- W-e--- c-a-n-n-o-t--- r-i-s-k--- l-e-a-v-i-n-g--- i-t--- b-e-h-i-n-d--- r-e-g-a-r-d-l-e-s-s--- o-f--- w-h-e-t-h-e-r-” Suddenly, the ghost opened one eye, started and squeezed the eye shut again; Frisk acted on instinct, dropping to her knees and giving their intangible form a soft shake. Instantly, the white box flared up around her as the ghost opened their eyes, startled.
“...oh n-noooo… a new monster… i don’t want trouble… j-just… go away…”
“I don’t want trouble either, mister ghost… please let me and my friend go-”, Frisk tried, smiling encouragingly at the spectre, though the kind gesture didn’t seem to register with him.
“...d-don’t talk to me… please… all i want is some quiet… that’s all…”, the ghost groaned out softly, and the next thing Frisk knew, the transparent monster wept large white tears that flew around them and towards her at high velocity, forcing her to dodge quickly. One of the smaller tears hit her arm, seeping through her sleeve and burning like acid on her skin underneath, but Frisk didn’t relent, instead keeping her smile firmly in place as she continued: “...My name is Frisk, mister ghost, and this is my friend… a-all we want is to continue and head out of the ruins…” The ghost blinked, looking at her in surprise, and on the ground underneath Frisk’s feet, a message flashed to life. “‘Really not feeling up to it right now, sorry’...”, she read out softly, looking back at the ghost and slowly lowering the branch she still carried in her hand - Gaster had told her not to drop her weapons until she could see the yellow glow around the feet of her opponent, but he hadn’t said she couldn’t relax just a little. “...Listen, I don’t feel up to fighting too. Least of all you, little ghost. I… you look very friendly, and-”
“y-you really think so…?”, the ghost spoke softly, their expression turning from horrified to surprised in a heartbeat, and then, when Frisk nodded with a loud hum to accompany and strengthen their agreement, they smiled and spoke in a no less soft but infinitely more eager tone. “w-wait… let me… show you something… special…” They once again wept the same thick white tears, but this time they floated upward instead of flying wildly towards her. Slowly, the white droplets formed a shape atop the ghost’s head: first, a perfect circular brim, and then slowly a large, tube-shaped structure, finally sealing at the top and forming a flawless top hat. “i call this… ‘dapper blook’... do you like it…?”
“It’s really great, and it suits you perfectly, uh, Dapper Blook!”, Frisk said decisively, and suddenly the ghost blushed - their cheeks solidified a little - and they stammered even more profusely than they had before.
“o-oh my… i… i… y-you…” A flash of yellow illuminated them while the magical barriers of the ‘battlefield’ around Frisk disappeared again. “...i came here, to the ruins, hoping that they’d be quiet, b-but… i met a really nice child here… frisk, r-riiight?”, they asked softly, to which Frisk answered with a firm nod.
“Frisk, yes. A-and this is my friend. Who, uh, is a bit shy and doesn’t like me giving his name to other monsters…”, she said meekly, prompting the ghost to nod slowly.
“that’s okay… i understand that… i never thought i’d meet a kind person like you, frisk… i’m napstablook… i live in waterfall… c-come visit me sometime, maybe… if you want… b-but it’s okay if you don’t want… ooooo…” Slowly, the ghost faded from view, probably feeling embarrassed and disappearing to avoid any awkward questions or looks - just like Frisk had often wished she could do, she thought the next second before pushing the thought away again. Those days were over. She would never go back to her sister and to those bullies at her school!
“C-h-i-l-d-...--- Y-o-u--- l-o-o-k-...--- V-e-r-y--- h-u-r-t--- b-y--- s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g-...” Gaster’s voice very tactfully broke her out of her train of thoughts, and she instantly smiled back at her friend before shrugging.
“...I was just thinking about my life before… I...it wasn’t really a happy thought…”, she admitted, prompting Gaster to nod and push her gently but firmly ahead with one hand while the other spoke slowly and solemnly.
“B-but Simon, he… he hit me a bunch of times!”, Frisk defended, and Gaster reacted without a second thought, his hands making careless gestures that lent a tone of amusement to his words.
“W-i-t-h--- a-n--- u-n-i-m-a-g-i-n-a-t-i-v-e--- n-a-m-e--- l-i-k-e--- t-h-a-t-...--- I--- a-m--- n-o-t--- s-u-r-p-r-i-s-e-d-...” There was nothing for it: Frisk laughed softly in the somewhat gloomy quiet of the ruins, and then she laughed a little more loudly, and Gaster joined in as well with hoarse, deep chuckles that poured thick grey smoke all around them… Frisk laughed all of the tension and residual anger she felt at the way her classmates treated her away, pushing the thought of the other children away firmly in favor of moving ahead. Though she decided to check out the small alcove before heading into the other hallway.
“‘SPIDER BAKE SALE - buy a donut made with 100% real spider milk! Special offer, only 7 gold! Buy some Spider Cider for 18 gold, made by spiders, for spiders and of spiders!’ Yuck… Who drinks that?!”, Frisk spoke out loud - she could swear that one of the spiders crawling the web in front of her raised one of its eight legs at her in a mimicry of shaking its fist at her, but spiders surely didn’t do that, so she paid it no heed. Instead, she turned to Gaster. “Gaster, do you… have gold?”
“I--- d-o--- n-o-t-...--- B-u-t--- y-o-u--- d-o-...”, he suggested, one of his hands moving to Frisk’s pocket, patting it and causing, much to Frisk’s surprise, a jangling sound to come from inside of it. “Y-o-u--- h-a-v-e--- f-i-v-e--- g-o-l-d-...--- T-h-a-t--- i-s--- n-o-t--- e-n-o-u-g-h--- i-s--- i-t-?”
“N-no, it’s not enough… I’m sorry, spiders, I’ll… have to pass by your bake sale…” Another one of the spiders that crawled in the web shrugged with all eight of its tiny shoulders, but the rest of the spiders waved them off - they actually waved their two front legs back and forth! - and she and Gaster headed out into the other corridor, which was a little shorter than the previous corridor and which had statues of Froggits standing next to the dirt path heading to the other doorway. “...It’s so very quiet in here… i-it’s kind of making me nervous…”, she admitted, prompting Gaster to sign her his answer in a comforting tone that was possibly partially due to the fact that he only used one hand for it, the other resting gently on her shoulder.
“I--- k-n-o-w-...--- B-u-t--- w-e--- a-r-e--- t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r--- i-n--- t-h-i-s--- a-t--- l-e-a-s-t-...--- N-o-w-” The only warning Frisk got was a soft scritching sound before she was once again trapped in a white-lined ‘battlefield’. This time, two monsters leapt from the shadows. One of them was almost a walking eye that blinked softly and that had a large toothy grin underneath its giant eye; the other was a sort of insectoid monster that had a reviling expression and that spoke up first.
“FOR THE HIVE MIND!!”
“G- friend, what are these monsters?!”, Frisk asked urgently, turning to Gaster, who spoke softly, with almost invisible motions of his hands - probably not to draw attention to himself.
“So in order to-”, Frisk started, halting with a startled gasp halfway through as large bubbles of magic floated her way. She barely dodged the first three when a pinprick of magic shaped like a bug hit her and she yelped. “Ouch!”
“CRUSH ALL RESISTANCE!!”, it screeched with its high-pitched voice, its beady little eyes settling on Frisk hatefully. The Loox, however, merely blinked and spoke in an almost meek and pleading voice…
“...please don’t pick on me…”
“I won’t pick on you, Loox. I’ll leave you alone. I know how painful it is to get picked on and I won’t do that to you.”, Frisk said, prompting another barrage of magical bubbles and tiny bug-shaped pinpricks, but this time she was better prepared for it and dodged all of them with ease, smiling when the ground underneath Loox’ feet turned yellow. “...Loox, you can walk away, okay? I won’t hurt you, I won’t even talk to you if you don’t want that!” Instantly, the Loox turned around and walked off, disappearing from view after only three steps, while Frisk desperately hoped that her theory was right and that the Migosp’s ‘hive mind’, without another monster to act hostile, would instead pick up on Gaster’s calmth instead. And she was proven right: the hateful expression slid right off the tiny insect-like enemy, and its nervous scritching ceased to be replaced with…
“...-W-e-l-l-...--- I--- t-h-o-u-g-h-t--- I--- h-a-d--- s-e-e-n--- i-t--- a-l-l-...--- B-u-t--- t-h-i-s--- i-s--- d-e-f-i-n-i-t-e-l-y--- s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g--- n-e-w-...”, Gaster said as the image of a skateboarding, dancing creature appeared at the edge of the ‘battlefield’, doing a little dance that the Migosp imitated with a broad grin.
“being me is the best!”, it squeaked, and Frisk laughed, nodding.
“Migosp, it was nice to meet you - I’ll leave you to your dancing, okay?” The magical barriers around Frisk disappeared together with the Migosp that flew off in the opposite direction they’d been heading, prompting Frisk to exhale a shaky sigh, followed by a soft chuckle. “I hope it won’t come after us…”
“Yeah, but I didn’t have enough money… b-but wait a minute, you said fighting and sparing monsters somehow made me get money, right?”, she asked - when Gaster nodded, she dug into her pocket again and counted the coins she had. “I’ve got eight gold now, I can buy a donut!” She smiled broadly, tugging gently on Gaster’s hand to get him to follow her back to the alcove where the spiders were. Once there, she crouched down at the smallest of the two spiderwebs and spoke to the spiders inhabiting it. “...I’d, uh, like a donut, please?” Instantly, one of the spiders crawled up the web and then crawled back down, a donut resting on its back. The scent of frosting and butter mingled with the musty odor of the alcove, and Frisk accepted the treat without a second thought. “Thank you!!” Another spider handed her a slip of paper and she tucked it into the pocket of her pants, briefly wondering what to do with the donut since she didn’t want to eat it right away.
“...I… wish I still had my backpack…”, she commented, prompting Gaster to smile and hold out his hand.
“G-i-v-e--- m-e--- t-h-e--- d-o-n-u-t-...--- a-n-d--- I--- w-i-l-l--- k-e-e-p--- i-t--- s-a-f-e--- f-o-r--- y-o-u-...” Frisk hesitated for a second, but then put the pastry on his outstretched hand, blinking when it suddenly flickered and faded from view.
“W-where…?”
“I--- h-a-v-e--- l-e-a-r-n-t--- a--- f-e-w--- t-r-i-c-k-s--- d-u-r-i-n-g--- m-y--- t-i-m-e--- i-n--- t-h-e--- v-o-i-d-...”, her friend spoke mysteriously, words which Frisk pondered for a while. However, she smiled as she decided that she would doubtlessly get the full story from him when he was ready to tell it, and she nodded.
“They’re handy tricks-” Gaster chuckled at the unintentional pun, setting Frisk off as well, but only for a few seconds before she continued: “...Let’s go. I hope we don’t run into that Migosp again... and I really hope it doesn’t run into that lady Toriel that is in cahoots with that flower-”
“I-n-...--- c-a-h-o-o-t-s-?---...-w-h-a-t--- a--- c-u-r-i-o-u-s--- e-x-p-r-e-s-s-i-o-n-...”, Gaster instantly spoke, which gained another bout of soft laughter from Frisk, a laughter that persisted between the two of them as they continued their trek further towards the edge of the ruins, towards freedom.
“F-r-i-s-k-...--- I-t--- i-s--- g-e-t-t-i-n-g--- l-a-t-e-...”, Gaster mused softly as Frisk and he were walking through a set of winding rooms that led them upward slowly. “A-r-e--- y-o-u--- s-t-i-l-l--- d-o-i-n-g--- o-k-a-y-?”
“I’m a bit tired, yeah…”, Frisk admitted to him, yawning loudly but then smiling and straightening her shoulders again as she added: “...but not too tired to go on a bit longer. We need a good place to rest the night, right? Not… out in the open like this.”
“No, not all humans… just… just the ones that have to deal with stress a lot, I think…”, Frisk said, and for what felt like the millionth time that day, Gaster found himself mournful of the life that had clearly befallen the girl. They hadn’t talked much yet, at least not much about the subjects that had mattered - and when they had broached the sensitive chapters of their lives, it had mostly been her life that had been discussed. Frisk didn’t like her sister much because her sister apparently didn’t treat her very well; her parents had passed away; she was being bullied at her school… But despite all that hardship, Gaster was pleased and even proud to see, Frisk was every bit as golden-hearted and perhaps twice as determined as anyone else. Kindness came natural to her, and she’d seemed relieved when the Loox had told her not to pick on it… not to mention the way she’d talked to the ghost they’d encountered before, so calmly and patiently, not even wincing when its attacks hit her… Truly, Frisk was a prime example of a human, and Gaster felt honored to meet her and travel with her.
But a part of him found him analyzing her at the same time as he was admiring her. A part of him calculated and reasoned even as he felt glad for her presence and companionship. The cold, hard scientist within him told him it was needless to get attached to this child, that all she was was a human - a subject for experimentation, no matter the kind, and that was all.
That part had to be the part of him that couldn’t bear to look her in the eye at certain times. Because that part of him was the part that overlayed other crying children over her image - other children that had been just as determined as she was, but that had had the ill fate to run into him at a different time of his life, where the cold and calculating part of him was still the dominant force of his being…
“N-o-...”
“Gaster, are you still doing okay?”, came the instant and concerned question from Frisk, prompting Gaster to firmly shelve the scientist in himself once more,
“Oh?”, she asked, prompting Gaster to give her a kind and patient smile while he elaborated his plan.
“Y-e-s-...--- W-e--- a-r-e--- q-u-i-t-e--- h-i-g-h--- u-p--- f-r-o-m--- t-h-e--- f-l-o-w-e-r-b-e-d--- w-h-e-r-e--- y-o-u--- f-i-r-s-t--- f-e-l-l-...--- T-h-e--- R-u-i-n-s--- a-r-e--- b-u-i-l-t--- i-n--- t-h-e--- f-i-r-s-t--- p-a-r-t--- o-f--- t-h-e--- c-a-v-e--- w-h-e-r-e--- m-o-n-s-t-e-r-k-i-n-d--- s-e-t-t-l-e-d-...--- W-e--- a-r-e--- n-o-w--- n-e-a-r--- t-h-e--- e-d-g-e--- o-f--- t-h-e--- R-u-i-n-s-...--- T-h-e--- e-x-i-t-!-!” Frisk remained quiet, sensing the continuation Gaster had in mind somehow, prompting the tall monster to exude a puff of dark fog before adding: ”...-B-u-t--- t-h-e--- l-a-r-g-e-s-t--- o-b-s-t-a-c-l-e--- y-e-t--- r-e-m-a-i-n-s-...--- T-h-e--- e-x-i-t--- t-o--- t-h-e--- R-u-i-n-s--- i-s--- s-i-t-u-a-t-e-d--- i-n--- t-h-e--- c-e-l-l-a-r--- o-f--- t-h-e--- o-l-d--- p-a-l-a-c-e-...--- W-h-e-r-e--- Q-u-e-e-n--- T-o-r-i-e-l--- l-i-v-e-s-...”
“...Oh…”, Frisk sighed in reply, but then she nodded more firmly and spoke in a tone of voice that Gaster could only be awed by: “...Well, then we’ll just have to wait for the right moment, slip inside, and… escape, right? ...I mean, she apparently goes to that flower a lot to talk, so… there’s bound to be a moment where we have the opportunity…”
“Uh, Gaster, t-that… that wasn’t me asking…”, Frisk stammered, and when Gaster turned around, he could see the by-now familiar delineations of a magical battlefield on the ground as what looked like a large turnip with a face appeared from in between the cracks of the ground.
“No, it was me!!”, it called out, grinning manically, and Gaster sighed, shaking his head. A Vegetoid, now and here, of all times… Then again, the child and he could do with a little food… and Vegetoids could always be depended upon for a satisfying meal.
“G- friend… t-that’s another monster, right? I-it looks horrifying…”, Frisk whispered, clearly wishing she could grab hold of his hand or embrace him for comfort but unable to reach outside the limits of the battlefield. However, Gaster felt it right to offer her what comfort he could.
“A meal?”, Frisk asked, and Gaster nodded - but the Vegetoid used Frisk’s distraction to mold its magic into the shape of foodstuffs and then throw them at the human child at random. “Aahh! I… bananas? Seriously, it’s trying to kill us with food?”, Frisk gasped out as she dodged the large white globules of magic, not deceived even if she eyed the magic hungrily. “Okay, h-how do I?”
“H-o-w--- w-o-u-l-d--- y-o-u--- a-s-k--- a-n-o-t-h-e-r--- h-u-m-a-n--- f-o-r--- f-o-o-d-?”, Gaster said, and Frisk nodded, turning to the Vegetoid next.
“Uh, m-mister Vegetoid, I’m very hungry… c-could you give me some food, p-please?”
“Well, of course I can…”, the monster said, smiling a little more benevolently as it again conjured large globs of magic shaped like vegetables, but this time one of them shone a light, healthy green, and Frisk didn’t need any explanation, dodging the white tomatoes and heads of lettuce but jumping over a white cucumber to capture its green brethren. Instantly, the ground around the Vegetoid’s body glowed a vibrant yellow, and Frisk patted her belly.
“Thank you, mister Vegetoid, for the food, it was very refreshing! Me and my friend-” The barriers fell away, but the Vegetoid did not disappear just yet, Gaster noticed - and when he spoke, fear struck the former Royal Scientist.
“Gaster? W-who is this… Sans? And Papyrus… that’s a kind of paper, no? Wh-why… why are you crying?”, she asked, and Gaster brought a disembodied hand to his face to feel crystalline tears leak out of his empty eyes and down his cold cheeks before evaporating at his chin, their vapor getting immediately swallowed by the rest of the fog he exuded.
“...Dear child, he cries because Sans and Papyrus are… Well, Gaster will be able to explain the situation a lot better than I can…”, the Vegetoid offered consolingly, allowing Gaster some much-needed moments to get his calmth and composure back. The plantlike monster continued in a more neutral tone as soon as Gaster nodded at him: “...I just came to say, doctor, that the world is much changed since you last walked it. You know of the Queen? Of your… of Papyrus? Of your pupil, Alphys?”
“I--- h-a-ve--- g-u-e-s-s-e-d-.--- I-t--- i-s--- w-h-a-t--- i-t--- i-s-...--- A-s--- l-o-n-g--- a-s--- F-r-i-s-k--- i-s--- s-a-f-e--- I--- w-i-l-l--- g-o--- f-o-r-w-a-r-d-...”, Gaster said with the kind of grim determination that Frisk inspired within him, and the child nodded, looking up at him for one second before speaking to the Vegetoid in much the same manner.
“As long as doctor Gaster helps me, I’ll keep going forward, no matter how scared I get.”
“You’re a brave and strong-willed child. That tenacity will serve you well. ...I wish you the best of luck, and may we meet again-” The Vegetoid was already busy burrowing back into the ground below them when Frisk spoke up urgently.
“W-wait! Mister Vegetoid, c-can I ask you something?”
“...Ask, child.”
“...You can burrow and surface here, but why can’t the flower?”, Frisk asked calmly, and Gaster very nearly picked up the young human girl and swung her around in a display of affection. Her mind clearly worked in the right way! The Vegetoid, too, seemed to appreciate her sharp mind, if his soft chuckle was any indication.
“My magic and the flower’s are different, very different even… I am a monster that was born a monster, with a pure soul and simple magic at my disposal - that is why the rocks of Old Home are not impenetrable to me. The flower… Flowey, as it likes calling itself… it is a demon with a merged soul of monster and human under its hands, with magic immensely more complex and dark at its beck and call. But the stones of Old Home were warded against its kind, with the tears of the innocent and the souls of generation upon generation of pure monsters infused in the very ground. As long as you stay within the boundaries of Old Home, you are safe from intrusion. That’s why there are still monsters living here and not in the first parts of the underground, before the labyrinths of these ruined halls. ...Though the lady of Old Home is also a threat, and she is not limited by the wards. The exit will not be easy to reach with her guarding it… Doctor Gaster, shall I tell Sans you have need of him?”, the Vegetoid asked, and Gaster nodded.
“And may the Angel guard you.”, the vegetable-like monster spoke solemnly before finally burrowing back underground and then clearly heading away, leaving Frisk and Gaster to continue their way. Gaster very carefully led his young charge into the final hallway, sighing as he briefly wondered whether Frisk really had power able to vanquish a demon the likes of the Wilted… but then, Frisk spoke, not a trace of worry or fear in her voice, and Gaster’s worries vanished in an instant.
“...Gaster, how did that Vegetoid’s attack even work? I feel… I was so hungry before, but now I’m doing just fine! And I didn’t eat at all!”
“Gaster.” Frisk spoke the word with a definitive air, prompting him to stop right in the doorway leading to the city of Old Home. However, when he looked down at Frisk, the girl was beaming up at him, her smile bright and her eyes fixed on his to transmit the shine in them. “...I don’t think there’s anyone better than you to travel with, I really don’t. You’re smart and you’re kind, and that’s all I need.” The compliment took him aback, so much so that he blushed without even realizing it before a thick cloud of near-white vapor surrounded his cheeks and dimmed his vision.
“F-r-i-s-k-...--- Y-o-u--- s-h-o-w--- m-e--- t-o-o--- m-u-c-h--- k-i-n-d-n-e-s-s-...--- B-u-t--- f-o-r--- n-o-w--- l-e-t-’-s--- f-o-c-u-s--- o-n--- f-i-n-d-i-n-g--- a--- s-a-f-e--- p-l-a-c-e--- t-o--- s-p-e-n-d--- o-u-r--- n-i-g-h-t-...” Bringing a hand to his head with a sound suspiciously much like a sigh, Gaster felt a sudden breeze hit him and dispell the fog again, causing him to only then notice how low his reserves were running, truly. “...-I--- t-o-o--- w-i-l-l--- w-e-l-c-o-m-e--- s-o-m-e--- r-e-s-t-o-r-a-t-i-v-e--- s-l-e-e-p-...”
“B-but before that…”, Frisk said, her smile disappearing in favor of another one of her determined expressions. Gaster could read her like an open book, even without using the link between them he’d created, and he nodded pre-emptively.
“Y-yeah, kind of… A-are they your… family?”, she asked tactfully, and Gaster nodded.
“T-h-e-y--- a-r-e--- m-y--- s-o-n-s-...--- A-n-d--- I--- w-i-l-l--- g-l-a-d-l-y--- t-e-l-l--- y-o-u--- a-b-o-u-t--- t-h-e-m--- b-e-f-o-r-e--- w-e--- r-e-t-i-r-e--- f-o-r--- t-h-e--- n-i-g-h-t-...--- I--- p-r-o-m-i-s-e-...” He focused again on the way they were going: a small back-alley leading right to some houses out of sight of the former castle: grasping Frisk’s outstretched hand gently, he pulled her along to the smallest and most out-of-sight one of them, which looked like it was completely empty but which would suit their purposes perfectly. The door opened relatively soundlessly, and once inside, Gaster quickly surveyed the two-room home: its furniture was in bad disrepair, with the table and chairs smashed into wreckage, but the couch still had all of its pillows and there were enough sheets in the house to cover themselves with so they’d stay warm during the night. It was a pre-Core house, though, and electricity hadn’t been pulled through any further than Snowdin Forest, he remembered, so they’d have to make do without light. He communicated as much to Frisk - or that was the intention, at least, because a sudden sound coming from Frisk’s trouser pocket startled him. It sounded familiar… and when Frisk spoke, he knew why.
“Oh, no, my battery-”
“C-h-i-l-d-...--- y-o-u--- h-a-v-e--- a--- m-o-b-i-l-e--- p-h-o-n-e-?”, Gaster asked in utter surprise, grinning as Frisk nodded timidly.. “W-e--- c-a-n--- u-s-e--- t-h-i-s--- t-o--- c-o-m-m-u-n-i-c-a-t-e-...--- T-a-k-e--- i-t--- o-u-t-...” Frisk complied without a word, digging her hand into her right trouser pocket and pulling out the device, allowing Gaster to look at it from all sides. Even by the standards of the Underground, it was a crude and outdated thing, that wasn’t fit for much other than calling. Remembering what Frisk had said about her sister and how she spent her money only on herself, Gaster guessed that this was another example of that. “A-h-h-...”, he said, putting his hands on either side of Frisk’s and allowing the faintest trace of his magic to touch the apparatus. His work with the Core and its finely-tuned circuitry that fully automated the entire process of maintenance and recalibration made sure he knew exactly what to look for and where: deep in the processor, hidden in layers of code, was an access point he could reconfigure so this phone picked up waves other than cellphone transmissions as well. He quickly altered the code to accept mu- and omikron-waves as well, the waves that made up a monster’s mind, and then he set the device to his own personal frequency before locking it and trying, for the first time since he met Frisk, to speak to her without his hands. The mobile phone first gave a little interference noise, showing it picked up his waves but couldn’t quite transform them, but then… “Ah, I see now… This works better than trying to communicate with you through magic…”, he spoke, grinning at the sound of his own voice sounding from the speaker of Frisk’s primitive phone. It sounded flat and wheezy, but it was his own audible voice again, after years and years inside the Void! “This takes far less effort from my side… Child, keep this mobile phone with you at all times - it will allow me to communicate with you without expending too much of my limited magical reserves…” It even allowed him to communicate with Frisk without any magic, he mused, though he supposed the faint little threat that still connected his essence to the mobile phone was magic as well - an undetectable strand of magic, but magic nonetheless. Then, focusing once more on the matter at hand, he spoke up again. “Now, let us move forward…”
“Gaster, your voice… it’s…” Frisk didn’t quite move just yet, but she followed Gaster as he walked into the second room to check it out. “...H-how did you do that?”
“It’s a long explanation…”, Gaster said - a wave of annoyance rolled off Frisk, and Gaster remembered how slighted she’d felt before when he’d used the same excuse, prompting him to smile benevolently at her and nod. “I will tell you all tonight… but first things first. Do you think this is a suitable room for you to sleep in, Frisk, my child?”, he asked. The bed looked decent, and it had a pillow, but it was made for a monster and not a human child. Gaster didn’t have any idea what the beds looked like on the surface. Fortunately, Frisk nodded happily. patting the bed with something that Gaster could even interpret as… joy.
“...Wow, this bed is so nice - and just big enough for me, too! What a coincidence?”
“I do not believe in coincidences, child…”, Gaster said, his voice crackling through the speaker of the mobile phone. However, Frisk smiled and spoke up firmly in reply.
“I used to not believe in fate - because of my mom and dad, you know, and because of Alicia. I couldn’t believe - I wouldn’t believe - that the way she treated me was my fate. But now, with the way you saved me from that Charael flower… thing… Now I believe in fate. Meeting you was destined… and so is escaping this place and helping you get the rest of those other monsters’ souls back!”
“I… It may be very hard to accomplish that destiny, Frisk, and you might… lose your life in the process…”, Gaster spoke softly, feeling awed by the young human’s determination. Truly it was a marvel, he mused absent-mindedly, how even a human so young and not yet at her full potential could have such power of will and sharpness of wit at her disposal, and such clear brightness in the very depths of her! That brightness showed itself again as Frisk spoke in reply to his statement.
“I know that… but if I’m meant to die anyway, then I’d rather die fighting than die running away, really.”
“...Let’s… make sure you don’t die.”, Gaster said softly, sitting down on the bed and sighing softly. “...Do you want me to tell you about Sans and Papyrus?”, he asked - Frisk’s eager nods had him smile on the outside but feel apprehensive on the outside. How could he tell her the truth? Then, however… “Sans and Papyrus are my sons. But not by the normal process. They were… created instead of born. So, as a result, they have… special souls, made from magic, a part of my soul, and… fallen children.”
“Y-you mean… other humans, right?”, Frisk asked, and Gaster nodded.
“It is not a happy story, and I have a role in it that I regret very much. But the most important part of the story is that Sans and Papyrus are my sons. They have a part of myself in their chest, pulsing life through them, a part I gave willingly and have never regretted parting with. I hold them both dear now. And in time… perhaps they can forgive me for… for my sins.”
“Gaster, you have no sins!”, Frisk said in highly affronted tones, prompting Gaster to once again feel the familiar bubbling sensation of a blush on his cheeks.
“I have more sins than you can tally, Frisk… but you flatter me by deeming me pure. ...I did not treat Sans and Papyrus well, like your sister didn’t treat you well, but I… When I was forced to enter the Void to escape certain death, my last conscious thought in this plane of existance, my last thought as I folded the corner and turned to a dark and dangerous new page… was of them. I… tried my hardest, while in the Void, to reach them and show them that I do indeed love them, that I am sorry for my mistakes… but I’m afraid the message did not reach them as I had intended, and by the time I did manage to reach Sans, Papyrus was already… touched by Charael and claimed.”, Gaster said mournfully, his voice shaking even more than the limitations of Frisk’s mobile phone forced upon it. Frisk sat in silence on the bed for a moment or two, but then she rose and decisively threw her arms around Gaster, pressing her cheek against his side and speaking again with that determination that the former Royal Scientist so admired in her.
“...Gaster, no matter what you did, as long as you love them and feel sorry about what you feel you did wrong, they’ll… As long as you’re sincere, they’ll see that you really love them, and as long as you’re patient and wait for them to forgive you… they’ll forgive you whatever you think you did wrong to them, okay?” Gaster found, once again, that her determination was infectious, and he nodded though he could not help but allow a few crystalline tears to fall and dissipate into fog long before they hit the top of Frisk’s head.
“...My child… Frisk… You are so very gentle and kind to trust me and continue trusting me, even if I mistreated my sons like your sister mistreated you… I promise you, child, I will not lay my head to rest until both my sons know that I love them dearly and that I would lay my life down gladly for either of them. That, I swear to you, Frisk of the surface world.”, he said solemnly, and Frisk smiled up at him, smiling broadly.
“That’s the spirit! ...But now that I know who Sans and Papyrus are…”, she said, though he could still feel the residual burning of so many more questions about his sons on her mind, “...tell me about how you got my mobile phone to speak your voice!”
“Ah… that, I’m happy to say, is very easy… you know how a mobile phone works, correct? The antenna set to a finely specific frequency catching the broadcasting waves of the call meant specifically for it? ...Well…”
By the time evening came around again, Sans’ head was reeling. Papyrus had been livid with him for ‘abandoning his post and duties’ and the resulting fight had been fierce, but nowhere near as ferocious and rage-fuelled as the previous day’s fight, and Sans had ended up getting a few deeper scratches on his skull from the teeth of one of his brother’s blasters and more than a few scrapes and cuts from the bones, but nothing too serious. After that, he’d seen the Riverperson again, and they’d healed him: their ominous warnings and predictions had hung heavy in the silence between them, but they didn’t speak up again and Sans had left for his station again feeling apprehensive a little. The feeling of the Riverperson’s three-lidded threefold gaze was unsettling on any day, but especially after the way she’d spoken of his nightmares bearing truth in them, and about Gaster…
“hell no, i’m not thinkin’ of him, not now…”, Sans ground out, watching his brother work in the kitchen to make himself food. Sighing and realizing that Papyrus wouldn’t expect him to linger any longer, he groaned as he got up from the sofa. “papyrus, i’m goin’ to grillby’s now-”
“SANS, YOU LAZY SKELETON! I THOUGHT YOU HAD ALREADY GONE THERE!!”, his brother yelled back angrily, prompting Sans to exhale softly.
“...yeah, well, you never go easy on me an’ i’m the older one, so excuse me if my bones decided to take a well-deserved break from shakin’ their way over to grillby’s. but i’m goin’ now, so i’ll be out of your hair-”
“IF I HAD ANY HAIR, SANS, YOU LAZYBONES EXCUSE FOR A BROTHER, IT WOULD HAVE LONG TURNED GREY AND DULL FROM YOUR CONSTANT EXCUSES… I SOMETIMES WONDER WHY I LET YOU GO ON THE WAY YOU GO… SUCH LAZINESS HAS NO USE, I’M SURE!”
“bro-”, Sans started, remembering too late that that amounted to disrespect in his brother’s eyes; Papyrus’ clenched fist, glowing with red energy, missed him so narrowly he could feel the burning sparks of energy on the surface of his jaw. But his tiring day and the fact that he was feeling high-strung as well due to his nightmares and Riverperson’s speech to him made Sans feel oddly remorseless even in the face of a brutal showdown with the one person he had in the entire world.
“HOW MANY TIMES MUST I PUNISH YOUR INSOLENCE?!!”, Papyrus spoke gratingly, and Sans snapped back.
“don’t you dare, don’t you dare talk about disrespect when you don’t know a damn thing ‘bout respect, papyrus! i’m the older brother, i’m the one that has five jobs takin’ care of the both of us, i’m the one that keep all the other monsters from talkin’ behind your back! i’m the one that funds the ingredients for that spaghetti you love cookin’ yourself so much - and those ingredients ain’t cheap! ...i’m your brother, your training dummy, your right-hand man, and all’a that’s never gotten a grateful word out of ya… are ya really that far gone?”, he said softly, shaking his head and turning on his heels. “...meh, forgeddaboudit, i’ll be at grillby’s if you need me. or if ya don’t.”
“SANS, DON’T YOU DARE-!” Papyrus’ answering verbal tirade was cut short when Sans closed the door behind himself, walking over to Grillby’s. It was a quiet night in there, with only half of the regulars present. Dogamy and Dogaressa sat at their usual table, but Doggo and the Dog twins were conspicuously not there; and of the other regulars, only Bunny and Mouther were sitting at their booths.
“Sansyyyy~”, the drunk Bunny said loudly, causing Sans to stop his mental pouting and look at her. “I-it’s too nice a day to be s-soooo moody! C-c’mon an’ have a drink with me!”
“heh… maybe later, bun-bun… grillbz, a bottle of ketchup, please.”
“...?”, the bartender crackled softly, the meaning of his words effortlessly translated mentally by Sans as: ‘...another rough day, then?’
“...paps finally got on my nerves.”
“And the boss d-didn’t hit you?”, Dogamy asked, his wife Dogaressa nodding vehemently.
“Yeah, the boss always hits us when we talk back to him! Sometimes hard…”
“We don’t like that!”, Dogamy spoke just when his wife wanted to speak the very same words, and they looked at each other glowingly for a moment before turning back to Sans and finally allowing him to answer the question.
“i left before he got a chance to.”
“... …”, Grillby reacted drily, with a sizzle like pinecones being thrown into an open fire. ‘You really should control your temper, Sans… so I take it you’ll sleep here again tonight?’
“nah… i’ll give him time to throw around some dishes and eat his food angrily, and have a good meal myself, and then i’ll head back an’ grovel for him, even if it should be the other way ‘round. ...yeah, he… said ‘don’t disrespect me, brother!’ all important-like, like he always does, an’ i just… yelled at him that he’s still the younger brother and that i work five jobs - five freakin’ jobs - to pay for him an’ his spaghetti, train with him and keep house with him, an’ all that without ever gettin’ a thank you from him.” For a while, the entire bar was deathly quiet, then Mouther raised his bottle of grape juice and proclaimed with unusual solemnitude.
“I think we gotta have a collection now, someone oughta pay for Sans’ funeral, no?” That broke the tension marvellously: Dogamy and Dogaressa started laughing first, then followed by the drunk Bunny, and finally Grillby, too, gave a soft crackling sound that was tantamount to a fire elemental chuckle. “...No takers? Sorry, Sans, my boy, guess you’d better grovel real good for your baby brother later, we’re not ready to handle your untimely and gruesome demise just yet… but tell ya what, I’ll buy you a bottle of Grillby’s finest ketchup so you can drown your suffering, how’s that sound?!” Now the majority of the patrons cheered, and Sans chuckled as well.
“heh, mouthy, sounds like a plan…” Sans grinned as Grillby gave him another bottle of ketchup and someone kicked the jukebox back into playing a hearty tune, and by the time two hours had passed, Sans felt ready to prostrate himself before his brother. “...fellas, ladies, think it’s time to head home and try an’ see if paps is all powered down.”
“...” Grillby’s usual ambient flames were near-silent, but Sans understood what they spelled out for him loud and clear. ‘...If not, just head back here, Fuku’s over at a friend’s so you can crash in her room if you promise to leave it tidy.’
“heh, thanks, grillbz, you’re a life-saver as always. ...well, see ya later-”
“Good luck, Sans!”, the two Dogi spoke at the same time, giggling as they looked at each other; Sans shook his head in amusement as he headed out the door, back into the cold. He regretted not having had time to check if the shop had any sweaters still in stock, since his hands were freezing and he no longer had pockets to stuff them in. Walking up to his house, he saw the light still on, and he opened the door very carefully, finding Papyrus asleep on the couch. Sighing and shaking his head with a smile, he walked in and gently lifted his brother into his arms with magic.
“...’ere we go…”, he whispered, prompting a soft grumble from the still-sleeping Papyrus.
“...NNGH… S-SANS… GOT A BONE TO PICK.. WITH YOU…”
“nah ya don’t.”, Sans said soothingly, carrying his brother up to his room slowly, using his magic to open the door. Papyrus’ room was still the same as it had been when he’d started changing: a ‘bone flag’ on the wall, action figures on his desk to re-enact ‘battle scenarios’, books on puzzles littering the bookcase alongside children’s books, though those looked like they hadn’t been touched in ages… his racecar bed… The only thing that had changed was the armor-stand in the far corner of the room and the amount of dust that had gathered in the corners of the room. Sans rarely came into his brother’s room anymore, not since Papyrus had started asserting himself so boldly and aggressively and had started seeing every last attempt at brotherly affection as ‘insolence’ or ‘disrespect’. “...instead of bein’ the terrifyin’ papyrus of the royal guard, why won’t ya be my little bro for a bit, just for the night, huh?”, he added lightly, and Papyrus snorted mid-snore.
“I HAVE… A DUTY TO HER… IN RETURN FOR MAKING ME STRONG AND ABLE…” It wasn’t the first time Papyrus mentioned the mysterious ‘her’, but it was the first time he spoke of that ‘her’ making him strong and able. Sans remembered the moment when his brother changed so well it could just as easily have happened days before instead of years: he’d been heartbroken about Undyne refusing to initiate him into the Royal Guard after all of his training, and then, suddenly…
“...listen, papyrus, you have no duties to no one-”, Sans said, only for Papyrus to groan and turn around, and Sans to get a sudden prickling, burning feeling at the back of his skull. All of a sudden, the shadows in the room felt suffocating and sticky, like tar, bubbling and pulling at his bones… “...whatever you are, let me talk to my brother, god damn it…”, he whispered, turning around to walk back out of the room when suddenly…
“...Papyrus is mine, not yours, trashbag… you’d better remember that…” The voice was unearthly, of that there could be no doubt, and it definitely wasn’t Papyrus’ usual grandiose, slightly scratchy and elevated speech. Instead it was… child-like, and hollow, or rather… malicious. Sans instantly turned around to see a blood red glow illuminate his brother’s outline in the dusky room - yet no light showed on the walls or the sheets.
“look-”, he started, only for Papyrus to groan again and the voice to speak up right after.
“Don’t think I don’t know how much he means to you, and you to him - I can read him like one of his dumb children’s books. If you don’t fall in line, I’ll snap his pretty spine piece by piece - or I’ll let him finally kill you and live with the guilt! ...No, you’ll be a good little skeleton, right? You’ll obey your brother like all the other monsters do, right? Because if I you don’t, it’s on him… and when it comes to punishing disobedience, trashbag, you’d better believe I’ll get really… creative…”
“you won’t kill him, you need him or you wouldn’t be in there…”, Sans ground out, suddenly remembering his dream and adding softly: “...wilted…”
“You found out my name, how… amusing… And are you really willing to bet that I need your brother, strong and ideally positioned as he is? After all, Undyne is just as strong, and just as well-positioned...” Sans felt like he was staring into the Void he so often dreamed about all of a sudden: he could see just fine in the twilit room, but he had the sensation of something creeping slowly up his bones and tickling the insides of them, making his entire body itch and burn very unpleasantly. His silence got the presence in the room to laugh softly and Papyrus to whimper. “...That’s what I thought, trashbag. Be a good little skeleton, and little ol’ me won’t have to punish your brother for your actions and words…”
“when i get my hands on you, you ominous demon piece of crap…”, Sans said emphaptically, prompting a louder laughter to issue from around Papyrus’ form.
“Is that supposed to be scary? Intimidating? Sans, Sans, Sans… do you think you can scare a force of pure malignancy? How utterly hilarious! You’re more fun than I expected! ...Oh, I’ll have fun breaking your mind slowly…”
“yeah, an’ is that supposed to scare me then, shadowy the faceless? i mean it, when i get my hands on you, little demon shit, you’re gonna be wishing you never even knew of my brother’s existence. i’m not stopping until you’re wiped off the face of this underground-”
“Oh, promises, promises… But you’ll do anything for your brother, Sans, and we both know it. Even get killed for him. ...Maybe I’ll test the limits of that someday… just to see how far I can push you before you finally…” *CRACK* With a loud sound very like a bone snapping in half, one of Papyrus’ action figurines, the one with the golden armor, was broken perfectly down the middle, the halves of it falling on the floor in front of Sans. The red glow died away, and Sans exhaled shakily before falling to his knees and picking up the pieces. He had no trouble believing that that darkness, that demon living inside of his brother, could snap Papyrus like a twig - and if they couldn’t do it themselves, then it had such a complete hold on him that it could get him to do it himself. And Sans, though he didn’t want to give in to that darkness, would rather kill himself than see Papyrus harmed in any way, not even if Papyrus did it to himself. Especially not if Papyrus did it to himself.
Inside of his room, he flicked the light on and watched his self-sustaining tornado whirl as he lay on his bed. Looking back at the snapped halves of the action figurine, Sans sighed. That action figure… the one with the golden armor… it was the one that Papyrus had always used to represent himself whenever he enacted battle scenarios - before he’d become… infected with that darkness, that is, Sans added wryly. After he’d become initiated, he’d used another one… a figurine that he’d modeled his own armor upon. Dark and imposing, not… bright and carefree as he’d once been… Shaking off the thoughts, Sans pressed the two halves together, summoning up a slight trickle of magic to try and mend the damage. It wasn’t the first time one of Papyrus’ action figures had gotten broken, and even if his brother had stopped caring about them since that darkness took over his life, that didn’t mean Sans would stop mending them, because he knew how much they meant to his brother. However, the trickle of magic didn’t have the slightest effect: it fizzled away uselessly before even coming into contact with the edges of the plastic humaniform figure. Which, of course, made the demon’s point even more clear: he couldn’t save his brother by any means he had available.
“ah man… papyrus, if there’s a way to get that darkness out of ya without breaking you in the process, you’d better believe i’m finding it, okay?”, he whispered to the darkness, closing his eyes and tossing the pieces of the action figurine into the self-sustaining tornado.
“...Son…” Once again, Sans stood in the Void, and this time it looked more like the Echo Flower room in Waterfall than an actual Void - if he disregarded the fact that he stood on thin air over an abyss filled with floating pinpricks of light, that is. Gaster was there again, looking as fractured as alway, fog thick around him, reaching out to Sans. “...Sans, please…”
“Dad, what…?”, Sans started, intending to ask what his father wanted of him, but Gaster shook his head, taking his hand gently. No matter how hard Sans pulled, he couldn’t dislodge his hand.
“Sans, there’s so little time… I need you, son, now more than ever. Frisk… the human child… we must do what we can to save her-”
“...You’d use that human child? Like you used me and Papyrus?”, Sans asked somewhat vindictively, and suddenly Gaster… disappeared. In his stead came a vision of a different kind: an ornate, hardstone gate, shining with magic. Then, an image of a skeleton leaning against it, as seen from the trees next to the gate. The skeleton spoke, joked, then laughed, and the image blurred. “What…?”
“I have been there, always, unable to reach out and communicate but wanting to… wanting so badly to reach to you, to your brother, and say that I am truly sorry for all that I did, in my… blindness. And now… I can feel how much you hate me, Sans… I am so very, very sorry to have been… I cannot make anything up to you. But please - if you will not do it for me, or for Frisk, then do it for Papyrus.”
“For Papyrus?”, Sans asked, and when Gaster spoke, it wasn’t his voice he heard, but another voice, a softer, more melodious and yet infinitely more ominous voice.
“...just as a light chases darkness away, the human’s power can end a demon’s sway. Papyrus is much, but not totally black. If purged, his soul will get its integrity back.” Then, Gaster motioned at himself, and Sans saw a pinprick of light floating in front of him, pulsing like a soul would. “...That is her. That is Frisk. Determination at its purest. A soul as pure and kind as the souls of the humans of old, the humans before the war. She can fight this demon, Charael…”
“C-charael…”, Sans said, feeling like the name somehow resounded with a memory buried far away, and Gaster whispered at him.
“...Don’t speak her name too loudly. Call her ‘The Wilted’, even to me, even in your thoughts. ...Sans, you know how serious this is from first-hand experience, you live with Papyrus…” That mention got Sans to suddenly start even in his dream.
“Dad, she… the Wilted… spoke to me tonight. She… there was a red glow around Papyrus, and she threatened… she said she’d kill him, snap him… she demolished one of his action figures to prove the point-”, Sans said, feeling that same itchy feeling crawl upon him again. Gaster gasped, but the pinprick he’d held in his hands suddenly flared and Sans heard a voice, light and warm, that soothed him.
“...Sans, right? Gaster told me about you. I’m Frisk. ...She did something to your brother’s action figures? ...Let me see… Gaster, can you help me?”
“...Sans, it’ll be better if you help her instead of me. After all, the action figure is there with you, and if I channel to you, the Wilted might pick up on the transfer… and the longer that blight does not realize I’m still alive and actually here, the better… Just… hold out your hands…” The spark that was Frisk drifted from Gaster’s hands to his, and once there, Sans felt… a hand in his own. Looking down in his dream, he saw a child with scraped knees and scratches over her cheek, smiling up at him broadly. Her striped sweater made him roll his eyes until he remembered that she was a child, even if she wasn’t a monster. Then, however, she spoke and he focused again on the matter at hand.
“...Ask yourself, Sans, if that demon thing wanted to kill Papyrus, why didn’t it? If it wanted to send you a message, why didn’t it break his arm or something? Why an action figurine? ...That thing doesn’t want your brother hurt, because she still needs him… and that means he’s safe, no matter what. ...Please, come and help me and Gaster. Meet us at the doorway to the Ruins, you know which one it is…”
“My dad’s got a pretty high opinion of ya, kiddo…”, Sans said, and Frisk giggled.
“He’s a nice man… and he really is sorry about you and your brother, you know… I don’t have my father anymore, and I’d give anything to have him back…”
“I bet your dad didn’t treat you the way Gaster treated me an’ Papyrus…”, Sans said, though he said it in a sorter tone, and he couldn’t help but look at Gaster again. Frisk, meanwhile, tugged on his hands.
“...Hey, come on… Here, put the halves together and now… Okay…” Sans placed the halves of the action figure back together, pressing them against one another and keeping his hands over them while Frisk pressed her hands over his. He could feel the warmth of those hands, the fleshiness that monster hands didn’t have… the physicality of the kid.
“...Holy sh- I… You’re the real deal, huh, kiddo?”, he asked, and Frisk nodded, looking up at him warmly.
“I’m really a human, yeah, and I’m really in the Ruins. And unfortunately the lady there is also really under the influence of that demon-flower-thing… Sans, you’re a nice guy, just as nice as your dad, and I think your brother is even more of a sweet man beneath all of that shadow in his heart - uh, sorry, his soul, monsters have a soul…” The grip of the human on his hands tightened, and Sans couldn’t look away, he found, his hands feeling hot to the point of combustion but nothing happened apart from the way his magic seemed to gather inside them. “Sans, whatever I can do to save your brother, I’ll do it - and whatever I can do to save all of the others that are in the grip of that demon thing… I’ll do it, even if it costs me my life. I’ll keep fighting. But please, help me, I can’t fight alone, okay? ...Come to that door that Gaster showed you, meet us halfway… I… have the feeling that that demon thing isn’t going to let me and your dad go without a fight…” Her determination - that was the word Gaster had used, a word that held only unpleasant memories to him however - made her soul shine a little brighter to Sans, and he nodded, feeling her grip on his hands relax and then fall away.
“...heh, kiddo, okay, you convinced me…”
“Thank you so much, Sans. ...We don’t know when we’ll be able to go towards the exit, but we hope it’ll be soon. So see you soon!”
“...see ya…” The sound of his own voice woke Sans up this time: no shock awakening, no startling transition, just… a soft, gentle awakening from the sound of his own words and a memory of warmth and physicality surrounding his hands…
His hands! They were still clasped together! Opening them, Sans saw the action figurine rest on his palms, as whole and untarnished as if it was brand new, not even a seam remaining as a reminder of where it had been snapped in half the previous night.
“...holy shit…” How was that even possible, he caught himself musing, when he hadn’t been able to do a thing the previous night? Then, he remembered Riverperson’s words, repeated by Gaster in his dream, and he grinned. “...maybe you really got somethin’ to fear now, wilty…”
“SANS!!” His good mood shattered as he heard Papyrus’ shout from downstairs: his brother sounded extremely agitated somehow, and Sans feared for a moment that he’d be awaited by a blaster if he opened his door, but then he shook his head. If that demon wanted to kill him, really wanted to kill him, then Papyrus wouldn’t have shouted for him. “SANS, YOU LAZYBONES, COME DOWN HERE!!”, Papyrus followed up his first shout, and Sans scrabbled to the staircase, racing down to find his brother in full armor, the chestplate polished to a shine and the shinguards freshly cleaned, his cape fastened with its usual golden flower pin.
“...yeah, bro?”
“FINALLY, YOU LISTEN… SANS, I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED TO THE CAPITOL FOR AN EMERGENCY MEETING OF THE ROYAL GUARD! I WILL BE STAYING IN THE CAPITOL FOR THREE DAYS, SO PLEASE DO ME THE COURTESY TO KEEP THE HOUSE CLEAN AND OUR REPUTATION IN SNOWDIN TOWN UNTARNISHED! NOW, REGARDING YOUR SENTRY DUTIES, IN WHICH YOU’VE BEEN SO SORELY LACKING LATELY... DURING MY ABSENCE, I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANYONE SLACKING OFF: NOT THE DOGS, AND CERTAINLY NOT YOU! YOU WILL NOT HAVE TO REPORT TO ME, BUT THE LEAST NOTION I GET THAT ANYONE ISN’T TAKING THEIR DUTIES SERIOUSLY, I WILL RETURN AND THE ONE THAT IS SLACKING OFF WILL BE TRULY SORRY… I’M INFORMING THE OTHERS IN TWO MINUTES BUT I WANTED TO INFORM YOU PERSONALLY- HANG ON, SANS, IS THAT… ONE OF MY ACTION FIGURINES?!”, Papyrus said, snatching it from Sans’ hands before he could answer, looking every bit ready to throw magic at him or perhaps even genuinely attack him.
“...it was broken an’ i fixed it for ya, brother…” Sans shied away from Papyrus, expecting a hit, and his brother raised the hand with the figurine in it, certainly causing the slight skeleton to expect a hit like that, but then…
“I’LL LET IT SLIDE, BUT ONLY BECAUSE YOU DID THIS OUT OF RESPECT FOR ME, CLEARLY. BUT DON’T LET ME CATCH YOU SNOOPING AROUND IN MY ROOM EVER AGAIN, SANS!! NEXT TIME I WILL NOT BE SO KIND TO YOU…” He turned around on his heels and, clanking softly, marched outside, prompting Sans to sigh and watch his brother stride importantly to Grillby’s, where the dog pack would be having their breakfast.
“...well, looks like i’ll be seein’ ya soon, kiddo…”, he breathed out, shaking his head and following his brother Maybe, if Papyrus left as quickly as he seemed intent on, he idly mused, there would still be time to shop for a new sweater before he’d have to take his usual shortcut into the forest, to his sentry-station…
“Child… I feel her moving… I believe it is time…” Gaster very softly spoke to Frisk through her cellphone, and instantly the human girl sat up in the bed, awake and ready. Gaster had been surprised, to say the least, when she’d appeared in his dreams, and even more so when she’d helped Sans and spoke soothingly to him. But when she’d woken up, she’d said that all she had done was talk from the heart, saying what she believed Sans needed to hear at that moment. Not only a very determined human child, but a very intelligent and compassionate child, Gaster caught himself thinking with pride.
Then, however, Sans’ thoughts came back to him and he had to suppress a groan.
‘I’ll bet your dad didn’t treat you the way Gaster treated me and Papyrus…’ Sans’ thoughts had been hateful towards him - and not without good reason, he caught himself thinking miserably - and he’d only agreed to come to the door between the Ruins and Snowdin after Frisk had pleaded with him…
“Gaster? Are you doing okay?”, Frisk whispered as she walked up beside him, looking up at him with worry clear in her hazel eyes, and Gaster forced himself to focus on the matter at hand again. Sans’ disgust for him could wait until the time where they met again, a time Gaster now found himself looking forward to and at the same time fearing. Now, what was more important was getting out of the Ruins without getting noticed by Toriel or Charael.
“...I’m fine… I’ll do my best not to speak from now on until the lady Toriel is far gone - this method of communication is non-magical but there’s still a risk she hears me…”, he warned Frisk, prompting the girl to nod gravely and bite her lip as well, to show she would keep quiet as well. Slowly, they wound their way out of the house and back up towards the main road. There, Gaster halted, holding Frisk back as well as a voice issued from further down the road.
“...My children, no worries, I’ll be there shortly… I haven’t seen them or heard them anymore since yesterday… Yes, I have scried, but they’re well-hidden! It’s no use looking for them, they could be anywhere in the Ruins by now… Okay, I will hurry, my children…” The soft rustling of a skirt followed, dying away slowly, but even after it was no longer audible, Gaster waited patiently for the former Queen of all monsters to be far away before motioning for Frisk to follow him.
“...Come, child…” Frisk nodded, putting a toy sword she’d found laying next to the door behind the waistband of her trousers, all the while still holding the thin, brittle branch she’d had in her hands as she fell, which led to her putting the toy weapon away somewhat clumsily. It was so comical that Gaster couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound coming through the speaker of Frisk’s mobile phone alongside some soft white noise. “Child… Frisk… does that toy give you more confidence?”
“A little, yeah.”, the human child admitted, shrugging the next second. “...More than a stick, anyway.” Again, Gaster chuckled, though this time he kept his hand on Frisk’s shoulder as they walked towards the castle. She was so full of life and so refreshing!
“Whatever gives you more confidence is fine by me… take it, by all means. What about the stick? Will you leave it behind here?”, he remarked calmly, fully expecting Frisk to nod and admit that she would, but to his surprise Frisk shook her head. “No? But what use do you have for two weapons?”
“...This stick, apart from the clothes I’m wearing, is the only thing I have left of the world up there… a-and I want to hang on to it. I mean… i-if it were the other way around… If you were the one coming from up there and falling down here, you’d want to keep everything you have of the place you came from, right, Gaster?”, Frisk explained timidly, and as she did, Gaster found himself looking at his hands, and then at Frisk again.
“...You are right. Frisk. And… I often wished, while in the Void, that I had something to hold on to… I often wished I had something to… remember myself by. You have that, and I understand why it is so important to you. ...Now…”, he said more solemnly as they arrived at the slightly larger home at the very top of the cave of the Ruins of Home, the former palace. Gaster had long since forgotten what it looked like, but seeing it again now, in all it’s red-stone glory, a perfect double for the later palace in the capitol, he wondered how he could have ever forgotten it. To his right, Frisk gasped at the sight of it, clearly and very appropriately awed by the structure. Yet Gaster didn’t forget the purpose of their being there. “...Let’s check for the exit quickly, okay, child? The less time we must spend here, the better…” He stepped forward and tested the door, finding that it opened with very little insistence. “...We will have to look for the exit methodically… where will we start?”
“...I… t-the kitchen…”, Frisk said so softly it sounded close to a whisper; Gaster meant to ask her why she thought the exit of the Ruins would be in the former Queen’s kitchen, but then a positively mouth-watering scent hit his nostrils and he smiled, nodding.
“...I do believe the lady will not notice if one or two items of food are missing from her personal stores, and we haven’t eaten much since we came to these ruined halls… Which reminds me, you do have a donut-”
“No, no, that’s okay… I don’t want to upset the spiders that made it!”, Frisk said rather transparently, her voice barely hiding her unease at the thought of the donut, something that Gaster completely understood if he was honest. It had indeed looked very rubbery and stringy when he’d taken hold of it, and if he hadn’t been mistaken, there were a few dark spots that hadn’t looked much like chocolate or raisins, but more like spiders… “...Come on, we need to hurry!”, Frisk said urgently, pulling him from his rêverie, and Gaster smiled as he followed the child, who seemed to have very little qualms about walking around in the Queen’s house uninvited or about taking food from another person’s fridge without asking permission. Then again, he mused as he noticed a large butterscotch-cinnamon pie standing on the stovetop to cool down, he certainly understood that hunger made for a fine companion to their hasty search, lending extra swiftness to their search. When he noticed a slice of the pie cut out of the tin and placed on a plate, he nudged Frisk gently and pointed at it.
“Will that still your hunger?”
“Ooh!”, she gasped, smiling and nodding vehemently, accepting half of the piece and eating it relishingly, licking the crumbs off her lips and fingers with each other bite. Gaster bit his half carefully, making sure not to spill a crumb, absorbing the food the instant it passed his lips. “...I feel all tingly… i-is that because this is food meant for monsters?”, Frisk asked, and Gaster meant to reply, only to find the scrapes on Frisk’s face vanished.
“...Child… It seems that monster food has a very peculiar effect on a human. Your wounds, they’ve… vanished.” He watched Frisk with curiosity, unable to completely switch off the scientifically-minded part of his mind that was fascinated by the discovery and wished to know just how much of an effect the food had had on his new young charge, but that half of him was quickly and efficiently silenced by the feeling of happiness that hit him as Frisk grinned and spoke up with wonder in her voice.
“I… you’re right! I don’t feel any of my bruises and achy spots anymore… and the scrapes on my knee and my cheek from the branches and the ground when I got hit by that flower-thing… I feel like I’m a brand new person!”, she admitted happily, pressing her fingers onto some crumbs on the plate and then eating them off again. Sighing contentedly, she looked at Gaster. “...Okay, let’s go check the rest of the house together.”
“We can cover more ground more quickly by splitting up…”, Gaster admitted, but Frisk - not entirely unexpectedly - shook her head and spoke softly and slightly fearfully to him.
“...You can feel that lady’s soul, or spirit, or magic… You can feel it if she comes closer again. And if you have to run to come get me, we might not have enough time to escape before she’s back. And the last thing I want is to get locked in here with her…”, she admitted, something Gaster could wholeheartedly agree with.
“...Together, then. And if we check a single room between the two of us instead of alone, we’ll still be swift… Let us start at the end of the hallway and work our way back towards the main hall…”, he suggested, prompting a nod from Frisk, who kept her hand nervously on the handle of her toy weapon but who still moved with clear determination and purpose, drawing Gaster’s admiration once again as they walked briskly through the hallway. Paintings of golden flowers, alongside vases filled with silk variants of the flower, littered the hallway, and Gaster idly spoke to himself. “...The Queen never liked them, but somehow…”
“The Queen never liked golden flowers?”, Frisk asked, and Gaster blushed mildly as he realized his voice had still sounded audibly from Frisk’s cellphone. Nodding, he explained his statement.
“The flowers are the King’s favorite, not the Queen’s. And golden flowers represent the grief she’s suffered. ...I told you how the demon corrupted Asriel, our prince, no?”, he asked, continuing after Frisk’s confirming nod: “...After his death, both the King and Queen were distraught with grief, and slowly a despair took over the entire Underground. But whereas the Queen understood that the humans killing her son had been misguided by fear and circumstance, the King grew to hate humankind for taking away the monsters’ future a second time. And whereas Queen Toriel sought to move forward and recover what she could from the grief, the King… wanted his son back at any cost. So he… commissioned me to look into the matter, to find a way to… bring back his son. Charael - or rather, the human soul that Charael had corrupted - and Asriel had merged, so their soul had persisted. But no matter what I did, I could not un-fuse the two. And to make matters worse, Asriel’s soul, fused to Charael’s or not, needed a vessel. Humans cannot absorb other humans’ souls, so that was out of the question for this merged entity, and monsters cannot absorb other monsters’ souls so that path was also barred from me. But something neither monster nor flower - alive, but lacking a soul of its own…”
“Like a flower?”, Frisk asked knowingly, prompting Gaster to nod and sigh.
“I figured there was no harm in it. Flowers are harmless, so the worst that could happen was that I made a flower that couldn’t withstand the power of the soul inside of it and that would wither away and die. But… my experiment failed. Or so it seemed. I observed the flower I had grafted the merged soul onto for days, weeks, months… years… Three years, it lay dormant. In the meantime, two humans fell and… and King Asgore captured them, then killed them in battle and took their souls prisoner. Human souls last for years, sometimes even for centuries, after their death, and even longer when magically preserved. ...King Asgore killed the humans and ordered me to… experiment. To see what made humans so much stronger than monsters. T-the result of those first experiments was the creation… the birth, I suppose… of my two sons. Sans and Papyrus were… created from the remains of those two first humans, and my magic, and what little scraps of human soul that had decided to cling to the vessel containing them. I… was pleased with the results I’d gotten, and… well… ...I… was a different man back then.”, Gaster said mournfully, unsurprised when Frisk drew her hand away from his. Yet when she pulled his sleeve and pointed at the wall, at a mirror that hung there, he blinked. What was she trying to say now?
“Gaster, look into this mirror. What do you see?”
“...I see myself… well, a broken version of myself…”
“I see a monster that’s genuinely sorry for the mistakes he made. I’m sure Sans can forgive you for what you did, and Papyrus too once we figure out how to get him out of the hold of that flower-demon-thing…”
“...Would you forgive your sister for the way she treated you?”, Gaster asked shrewdly, finding Frisk hesitate both mentally and outwardly at first but then speak firmly, mentally steeling herself.
“If she said she’s sorry and she treated me better, then yes. I wouldn’t forget it happened…”, she said, and Gaster saw images of Frisk crying at night, holding her blankets tightly for lack of anything or anyone else to hold onto. “...but I would forgive. Everyone deserves a second chance. ...Now come on, this door’s unlocked!”, she said firmly, her tone of voice enough to convince Gaster that she was genuinely as kind as that. Her sister, from what he gathered from her mind, had treated her horribly, and yet Frisk would actually forgive her if she’d open her heart to her… “Come on, Gaster…”, Frisk said a little more softly and insistently while pulling on his hand, prompting him to nod and follow his young human charge into the room.
“...I… this must be her room. Queen Toriel’s chambers.”, Gaster immediately knew, judging by the size of the bed and the slightly lacy socks that hung over the edge of one drawer. Yet the other thing he instantly noticed was the soft coating of dust that lay in the corners of the room. It filled him with deep grief, because he knew beyond a doubt that the dust was not just stonedust or the dust of walking through fallen leaves. “...The lady Toriel has… fiercely enforced the will of the Wilted throughout these Ruins. ...That dust, Frisk… take notice of that dust. It is not ordinary dust… but monster dust…”
“Monster dust? You mean…” For a second, Gaster feared he’d have to explain once more to the child what that term meant, but then Frisk gasped and shook her head in disbelief. “O-oh no, that’s… you mean she… killed innocent m-monsters?”
“Tread respectfully, my dear Frisk… we are in the company of the dearly and untimely departed of the monster families inhabiting the Ruins…”, Gaster acknowledged, and Frisk put a hand on her heart as a sign of respect, something the residual energies in the air seemed to recognize if their calming down was any indication. Looking around, he saw only one item of interest: the diary on the desk. When he approached the writing desk, he felt a thick cloud of dark, malicious energy hang thick over it, like a demonic ward to keep anyone apart from Queen Toriel away from it. However, when Frisk approached it… the ward melted away from her touch.
“If I’d need any more signs that you are truly the means to clear the influences of the Wilted away, this would be it, Frisk… You are exactly what the Underground needs… and I will fight my hardest to protect you…”, the former Royal Scientist said, feeling his soul send a pulse of magic throughout him, dark purple in hue, turning the fog that very color for a moment and somehow startling Frisk, which was why he quelled the impulse as soon as it arose.
“T-thanks, Gaster!”, Frisk said, hastily opening the diary that lay there. Gaster looked over her shoulder at the last entry, made the same morning. It wasn’t much of an entry, however, more like… a hasty, clumsy scribble. And what it said…
‘my children freedom and happiness is close at hand this last child must die DIE DIE DIE DIE she will be free again and we will have our paradise’
“...That isn’t scary at all, you know…”, Frisk said uneasily, prompting Gaster to look her over and sigh, putting one of his detached hands on her shoulder.
“Such demonic corruption spreads far and deep… if this makes you uneasy, we can go, the exit is not in here…”, he said softly, only to find that Frisk had leafed further back in the book and pointed out a passage in it near the middle.
“Look here, Gaster! …’25th of Summer. I met someone today - that is to say, I talked to someone today. He’s such a funny man! Or, heh, I should say ‘such a ‘punny’ man. *i’m laughing here* I never asked his name, but… he sounds familiar somehow, like we’ve known each other already… Here’s how it happened: I went to the cellar to check whether there were more of the Vegetoid family that had come, and then I heard someone talking on the other side of the exit gate’-”
“The cellar, then…”, Gaster said softly, squeezing Frisk’s shoulder. “You have been excellent in trying to divine whether there would be anything about the exit in the lady Toriel’s diary, my child.”
“I j-just wanted to see what she was like before the corruption, th-that’s all, the exit thing was just a coincidence.”, Frisk admitted meekly, and Gaster shook his head.
“I thought neither of us believes in coincidences, my child?” Frisk looked at him in surprise for a moment before laughing and nodding.
“...You have a good point. This was all meant to happen, of course. Okay, let’s go to the cellar and get out of here!”
“A sound plan…”, Gaster said, following Frisk at her heels as she briskly walked out of the room and back down the hallway to the central hall, where they’d seen the staircase leading down into the basement floor of the house. Freedom now beckoned so close, almost like the diary entry of the Queen had described… As if guessing what was occupying his mind, Frisk spoke to Gaster as they both walked quickly through the rough bare-brick corridor below the palace.
“...What do you think she meant with all that? With the ‘happiness is close at hand’ and the ‘we will have our paradise’? I-is she really so… did her soul get turned black? I-is she a demon, too, now?”
“...I… there is no way to be sure if Queen Toriel, or indeed any with the taint, can be rid of it, but… but the demonic magic fled your presence at the desk.”
“Oh, so there really was black magic hanging around the desk!”, Frisk said, and Gaster nodded.
“Indeed… but let us hurry… I-” He turned his magic once more towards scrying for the Queen’s movements, but to his shock he could no longer feel her presence. “I… fear we may be in trouble, Frisk. I can no longer sense Queen Toriel’s essences… we must forge forward with all due haste, I fear she is close…” Frisk nodded, and the two of them now ran the remainder of the corridor’s length, finding a large stone gateway. Frisk made it through just fine, but Gaster felt the dark energies pull at his being; when he pulled himself through, he could feel a ripple pulse through the stone, fading as it travelled upwards. So the Queen had grown wise to his scrying and had shrouded herself… “Frisk, dear child, the Queen knows I am here… I will run ahead and get Sans. Please, child, run as swift as you can after me… do not hesitate!!” Gaster meant to move, only to find himself frozen on the spot by the sudden appearance of the vivid white delineations of a magic battlefield right below his feet, while at the same time, a painfully familiar voice spoke behind him and Frisk.
“Come now, little one, is that any way to make a first impression?”
Frisk’s heart froze.
The expression could not be more appropriate, she found: it was as if she was thrown headlong into a freezing lake. A visible shiver ran through her, and a chill crept up her entire body, making her arms and legs ache all of a sudden.
“Turn around then!”, the voice said commandingly, and Frisk, despite her better judgment, did so, finding herself confronted with a monster that looked nothing like any other monster she’d seen so far. The woman was at least six feet tall, with pearly horns atop a head covered liberally with light grey fur, and with eyes the color of rust, or corroded metal. Her dress was torn at the side - and over it, she wore a light pink apron with thick red stains at the lower part. The apron suggested cooking - the flour on it certainly suggested it as well - but the knife she held in her hand and the viscous redness of the stains showed that those weren’t exactly berry stains. And to make the entire picture even more haunting to Frisk, the woman wore a golden flower in her hair, right between her horn and her floppy ear. It wasn’t exactly the flower-demon itself - herself, because she remembered Gaster saying that it was a female demon - but it reminded her who held the soul of this woman and who would hold her soul if she allowed herself to be defeated. The monster-lady, meanwhile, spoke up again with a somewhat cruel smile gracing her features. “There we go, child… now, why did you run away? Don’t you want to be saved? Don’t you want all of your worries and troubles to be over?”, she asked, but Frisk knew, from the undertone, that the salvation this monster-lady offered was not the kind of salvation that she wanted, that it was a more… permanent and sinister salvation.
“I just want to go home.”, Frisk said, shaking her head and then tacking on a firm: “Let me go.”
“Oh, but child, I wasn’t asking…”, the woman said, raising the hand holding the knife: Frisk sprang backwards, expecting a swing from the blade, but then energy surrounded the woman’s hands and small flames started raining from the ceiling. Biting back one of those words she wasn’t supposed to know, let alone utter, Frisk dodged the fiery rain as best as she could, looking around to see Gaster stand at the edge of the battlefield, caught just as she was. Did the monster-lady even see him at all? Other monsters had never failed to see him, but maybe he had… hidden himself with magic or something like that. The flames seemed to leap away from him, at any rate, so he was probably using magic as she’d suspected… And he had said that the longer it took for the flower to know for certain he was there, the better it was… Still, she felt more alone than she’d felt in the past three days, even considering what had happened between her and her sister - even considering how utterly alone she’d felt when she’d fled that Wilted thing...
“I won’t fight you!!”, Frisk said emphatically, though she clutched the toy sword more tightly in her hands. “Let me go!”
“You can’t survive all alone… and why run, if you can stay? Stay and find true happiness!”
“You mean stay and get killed by you and that flower-demon-thing?”, Frisk said, meaning to continue only to get interrupted by the monster-woman, whose voice became shrill and angry suddenly - the first display of an emotion that seemed to be all her own.
“Those are my children you are talking about!!” Fire rained down on her again, this time even heavier than before, with thicker fireballs as well, and Frisk got hit on the arm but didn’t even allow herself to wince.
“Your children are gone, lady… that demon took what they were and twisted it, and then it twisted you, too-”, Frisk tried, remembering what Gaster had said about trying to look into each monster she fought to find the right thing to say, but the woman only laughed cruelly and spoke in a voice that echoed the voice of the flower-demon.
“Oh, little itty-bitty human kiddy… All she sees is her poor, dear son and her sweet, innocent adoptive daughter… it’s no use trying to tell her otherwise, she’s mine!!! NOW DIE!!!” This time, a giant magical hand appeared above her head, seemingly throwing fireballs into the air in its wake that hung suspended for a moment before raining down around her and then bouncing around as they hit the white magical line behind her, though they once again mysteriously avoided Gaster. Frisk got hit twice this time, but still she didn’t wince, fuelled by pure willpower to continue looking for a way to stop the lady from fighting her. But she had no idea how, or what to do, so she decided that maybe simply standing her ground without any further comments about the flower would prove successful.
“...I still won’t fight you. No matter what you throw at me. I just want to go home.”
“Come now, child, you just need a little push in the right direction, I’m sure! Who would say no to being saved forever?!”, the woman jeered at her almost mockingly, and her next attack seemed meek until Frisk heard a soft whisper issue from her cellphone.
“I feel her amassing magic to your left, jump!” She moved to the left just in time for a veritable barrage of fire to appear out of nowhere - Frisk was given little time to get her bearings back, because next Gaster’s voice sounded again. “Now back to the left!” She complied a little more swiftly this time, and the fire barrage rained down ineffectually right beside her, causing the ground to sizzle for a brief moment from the intensity of the magic it had had to absorb. When Frisk moved back there tentatively, she felt heat rise from the ground.
‘Gaster, please… how do I get through to her?’
“I… do not know, Frisk, I’m sorry… you are smart, child, and strong… and, above all, you are kind and caring. I think those two characteristics will get through to the former Queen… All I can advise you is to keep light on your toes and let your heart speak…”
‘Let my heart speak? ...Gaster, how…?’, Frisk tried to ask, but Gaster offered no more advice to her, and she sighed, looking back at the woman.
“Why won’t you just let me go?”
“She needs to be set free! And what are you, child, compared to her? To my child, my dear sweet child?”, Toriel said loudly, and Frisk saw another barrage of fireballs, this time weaving themselves into an intricate wave-like pattern that barely gave her place to move. She got hit again and felt her legs protest, and she looked at Gaster again in worry.
‘I can’t keep this up… the burns hurt…’
“I wish I could help you… but the battlefield magic trapped me, and… and it is all I can do to stay invisible… If lady Toriel sees me, she’ll kill me… But, child, I do help you… I have picked up a few very handy tricks in the Void… such as altering magic without touching it. I am actually draining magic in the spots furthest away from you, so that the Queen’s magic is drawn away from you. It… is a very subtle method, and not always successful, but… but it keeps her from outright killing you…”, Gaster’s whisper issued through her mobile phone, and Frisk nodded, adding another thought.
‘...Thank you for that… but I really am hurt. I-is there anything…?’
“...I… now wish we hadn’t eaten that cinnamon-butterscotch pie…”, Gaster admitted - and perhaps it was because it felt the mention of foodstuffs, or maybe it was caused by Frisk taking a shaky step back to the center of the battlefield, but suddenly the young girl felt a pressure in her trouser pocket: something in there…
“You see? You are no match for me, child! Give up your struggle and come to me… Together, we’ll walk into paradise! No more pain, no more suffering! You’ll be happy!!”, the former Queen spoke, but Frisk was not listening to her at all at the moment. Digging her hand inside her trouser pocket, she closed her hands around the object she’d felt and pulled it out.
“The monster candy! Frisk, eat it, it should heal you just as the pie did!!”, Gaster said with renewed enthusiasm and urgency; Frisk did so, marvelling at the non-liquorice flavor of the ghost-shaped candy and feeling the ache from her burns fade into nothingness, along with the marks the fireballs had left on her skin and even her clothes. Queen Toriel looked utterly dumbfounded for a second before speaking once more in the voice that wasn’t her own but the flower’s.
“You foolish little girl! You’re just prolonging the inevitable! She’s gone easy on you before to give you a chance to come out of your own free will, but now she’s going to annihilate you! And then your soul will be MINE!!!” Right after the hateful words, fireballs once again rained down from overhead in the intricate spiralling pattern, but this time Frisk was better prepared for it, enduring a hit but no more than one.
“I’m not giving up! I’m never giving up!”, Frisk said emphatically, and the former monster queen looked at her with a malicious fire in her rust-colored eyes before speaking almost mechanically.
“Child, if you will not see reason, then I will make you see it. You’ll find salvation and peace whether you want it or not!” Once more, the giant magic hand appeared overhead, throwing fireballs in the air that rained down and then bounced around when they landed. Frisk dodged all of them successfully and decided to take another approach.
“All I want is to see the monster world, why can’t I?”
“Oh, no, you couldn’t, you shouldn’t - all the other monsters will do is hurt you, capture you, and kill you…” Her voice was jeering again, but the concern behind it was genuine, Frisk felt - but then, the monster-woman’s voice twisted again into that saccharine-sweet tone that the flower used, and Frisk felt her blood run cold. “Not that it matters… whether out there or in here, you’ll die and then your soul is MINE… and then your tears and your blood will be like the first droplet of an ocean… hahahahaha!!” The woman raised her hands for another attack, but now Frisk was faster than her magic, speaking and causing the initial fireballs of the attack to fizzle out again.
“I’m never going to be your seventh soul! Even if you kill me, I’m never going to be a part of your plan, you… evil and icky thing! Even if I have to use every last bit of my energy, I’m never ever going to end up in your hands! If I have to burn myself up for it, then so be it!” For a second, everything was quiet, and Frisk was acutely aware of Gaster’s mental gasp, but also of the way the former monster Queen’s eyes widened in shock and… fear? A new attack came, this one even more fervent than before, but Frisk felt bolstered by the fact that something she’d said had spooked the demonic presence within the woman… she dodged for dear life, enduring no hits but meanwhile thinking what it could have been that had spooked the demon so…
“...Your determination… your inner fire… that must be what the Wilted fears… Humans are strong, and a demon’s ideal tools for conquest, but they are also the instruments of a demon’s undoing. A demon must have a very strong claim to human souls in order for them to do their bidding - and your determination makes that claim weak…”, Gaster spoke through her mobile phone, prompting Frisk to mentally convey an answer to him.
‘She’ll never have my soul, I’d rather give my soul to you-’
‘NO child…! DO NOT OFFER…!’ Gaster’s answer - or rather, the horror Gaster felt at her brazen thought - flared back through their mental link, and Frisk sighed.
‘...Okay, no - but I’d rather burn myself up than allow that… thing… to even touch my soul for a second! ...But let’s hope it won’t come to that… I… have a plan. But it’ll be very hairy, so… please, i-if it comes to it, Gaster…’
“It will not.”, her friend said firmly through her telephone, and Frisk nodded, determination settling into her heart again, pushing away all fear she felt. Turning around, she faced Toriel with her head held high and her voice calm and unwavering.
“I understand why you want to give me ‘salvation’ and ‘peace’, miss Toriel… You want to give me the things your children didn’t have… and still don’t have…” The woman blinked, looking at her in wonder, and that told Frisk she was on the right track, prompting her to continue: “...You only want your children to be happy, and at peace, right?”
“Y-yes, I would do anything for it. For them!”, she said.
“But then… doesn’t it hurt you to see them suffer in that flower form? Doesn’t it hurt you to see that they can’t… move on to the paradise they deserve?” Now Toriel seemed to look pained as well as confused, and Frisk decided to give one little extra push to her point. “...Doesn’t it hurt that you… can’t let them go?”
“HUAH!!” The groan she got from the woman was more than enough to tell her she’d driven her point too hard, Fireballs rained down around her rapidly, following no pattern and moving erratically, and Frisk once again felt one, two, and then a third hit her, causing her body to ache once again to the point of her falling to her knees in pain.
“You little ignorant weakling! I know what you were trying to do, and I’ll never let her go, NEVER! She’s MINE, and soon you will be mine, too!!” Fire sprang from the woman’s fingertips, and she stepped closer, grinning maliciously.
“...Frisk, no…”, Gaster’s voice issued from the speaker of her mobile phone, but Frisk’s determination didn’t waver. She rose slowly and shakily to her feet again, deciding on one last ditch attempt at stopping the woman in her tracks. She loved her children, and what she did for her was out of some twisted and misguided sense of justness… so if her last idea didn’t work, she’d at least know that the woman was beyond help and she could burn herself up - even if she had no idea how to actually do that. Looking at the woman, she thought of Gaster, of his sons, of the way she’d met one of them already…
‘I just have to hope your son Sans is close at hand already… i-if he isn’t…’
“Frisk, please… I hope the same, but we have to consider that he isn’t…. and you cannot endure more, I’m afraid…”, Gaster whispered through the speaker of her mobile phone, sounding heartbroken at the situation, but Frisk sighed and spoke up, tears streaming over her cheeks as her body shook with sobs that were as sincere as she could get them.
“W-why?! Why don’t you let me go?!! W-why don’t you see I j-just want to go home-”
“Oh, but child, you are home-”, Toriel already started, her voice a horrible mockery of motherly, but Frisk cut through her speech loudly, speaking sincerely.
“NO!! I want m-my mom!! I want my own mom!! I j-just want t-to go home!! M-mommy, please… please… I m-miss you s-so m-mu-much…! P-please…” She sank to her knees, crying messily but meanwhile secretly wondering whether it was successful.
“Well, how pitiful you are! It’s almost too easy now!!”, the flower’s voice issued, but it sounded… strained, and Gaster gently whispered in her head via their mental link as she sobbed noisily.
‘...Keep crying and talking… the Queen isn’t attacking… despite the Wilted forcing her to… she cannot bring herself to kill you now that you’ve spoken so emotionally… your mentioning that you miss your mother appealed to her true self, and she is fighting the corruption...’
‘I hope it’ll be enough, though… t-to stop her or to hold her back until…’, Frisk mentally answered, meanwhile drying her eyes but then starting to cry again, releasing all of the tension she’d built up over three days in the underground and putting it into the most convincing show of tears she’d ever produced… and maybe she also wept a few real tears, she mused, for the woman that had to have been lost and distraught before that flower-demon got to it…
“...shit… *huff* shiiiiiit…” Skeletons didn’t have to breathe, but Sans was panting and gasping for air as he ran full pelt down the forest, oblivious to the traps he set off. Papyrus had left only an hour before, and normally he would have gone to the heavy stone door in the forest earlier, but he’d been eating lunch and Doggo had secretly slipped him ketchup, causing him to fall asleep at Grillby’s… “c-c’mon… *pfff* ain’t doggo’s fault, i should’a *huff* eaten light…”, he berated himself as he dashed past Dogamy and Dogaressa’s guard station, waving at the dog couple hastily just to make sure they weren’t too startled, and then… “whoa!”, he sharply gasped as he skidded over the ice, coasting on the soles of his sneakers, nearly falling over but keeping himself upright somehow, snow crunching underfoot again as he continued to run.
“Y-yo, Sanster, what’s the rush?!”, one of the Drake brothers called after him, but Sans didn’t stop. “Sanster!!”
“l-later, guys, this is important!”, he shouted, hoping they’d hear it. He ran past Doggo who was sitting outside his guard station smoking a dog treat - the dog didn’t look nearly as startled as he always looked, probably because he was running for once, Sans mused, making him more visible to the movement-sighted dog… His brother’s guard station looked somewhat eerie when empty - Sans pushed aside his thoughts about how Papyrus would find even his considering helping their father and this strong little human ‘treachery of the worst and most unforgivable kind’ and hurried on, past the odd box next to the road, past his own guard station, past the fence Papyrus had put up to keep humans out… Finally, he saw the door that his father had mentioned, looking just about as shut as always. There, at long last, he stopped running and sagged forward, one hand against the door and the other against his sternum, willing his soul to return to calmth again. “...’kay… *huff huff* ...okay… uh, the kiddo… pff... said she didn’t know when they’d make it to the exit… so, uh… guess i’ll wait here then…” He leaned against the door, smiling despite himself. His father had shown him a scene he’d all too readily pushed to the back of his mind, what with all the trouble he’d faced with Papyrus and all… “man, it’s been too long since i last came here… has to be, what, six years ago now that i last said goodbye to the ol’ lady? ...man, time flies when it wants to… wonder how that lady’s doin’ now… an’ if she’s still got those thousands of questions ‘bout humans…” Grinning, Sans sagged against the door, allowing the back of his skull to rest against it. “...now that i think about it, i kinda miss it. back then was… feels like another life…”, he admitted somewhat wryly to himself, sighing and closing his eyes, feeling a sinking feeling throughout his entire body, pulling at his magic…
Suddenly, he felt a wave of magic issue out from under the door, sweeping up the snow underneath his skeletal feet. It felt like any regular gust of hot air, but the magical energies woven into it made it impossible to mistake. Then, as he turned his head and leaned the spot where a flesh-monster’s ear would be against the thick stone of the door, he heard muffled voices and eerily familiar laughter… laughter that he’d heard issuing from Papyrus’ room before… and a voice, high-pitched and scratchy, that he’d heard only the previous evening…
‘...Please, help me. I can’t fight alone, okay?...’
“...shit…”, Sans cursed emphatically, recognizing what was going on without fail. The little human girl and his father had tried to escape the Ruins without being noticed, but they’d failed at it, and now they were battling the lady that lived there… The same lady, he suddenly realized, that he’d once talked to and joked around with. She’d fallen prey to the same darkness that had gotten to his brother… that was why she had suddenly stopped answering him, it had to be! “...i… i gotta get in there, but how?”, he whispered to himself, frantically searching the door even though he’d done so a dozen times years before. The door itself was smoother than he remembered, the stone turned slick by years of disuse and heavy weather on the Snowdin side of it - there hadn’t been so much as a groove for purchase on its surface years ago, and there certainly was nothing like that to be found on the stone now. “damn it…!”, he whispered even more urgently to himself, pressing his skull against the door again to now hear more of the same laughter and the same girly voice that he’d come to dread so much. “i gotta do something…”, he said angrily, glaring at the door as if that would burn a hole through it. Then, with a gasp, he turned on his heels and ran back to his sentry-station and past it, to the fork in the road and from there towards the stream, where he found who he was looking for sitting on their boat as always.
“I see you, Sans, son of Ga-”, the Riverperson started, but Sans cut across them quickly.
“sorry, Rivers, don’t got time for the usual mystical bullshit today - i need your help an’ i need it fast, here’s ten g-” To Sans’ surprise, as he held out his wallet, a waxy hand closed around his and pushed it back towards him.
“Take back the gold, Sans, brother dear - so things are as dire as I already feared?”
“the kiddo, i saw her - an’ my dad, but… she told me to come here an’ wait for them by the door to the ruins, but they’re fightin’ in there-”, Sans said, and once more the cloaked and hooded figure interrupted him impatiently.
“Then, Sans, let us display patience no more! Run back with due haste and break open the door!”
“rivers, the door won’t budge, and i don’t know how to get it open!”, Sans admitted, only for the mysterious ferryperson to grasp both his hands and speak again, and the way in which they did startled Sans. There were no superfluous rhymes, no ominous whisperings, just… a voice like any other monster’s, slightly girly but with something familiar and commanding within it as well...
“...Sans, our father gave us all something of himself, and now is the right time to use the gift he’s given you…” Sans meant to speak, but suddenly he detected a bright blue glow issuing from within the hood and he felt his own soul resonate with it, pulling out the magic reserves he kept hidden so deep down in order not to give any offense to his brother, the magic reserves that had gotten two innocent monsters killed just because Papyrus had been envious… “Papyrus is not around! Use it now - what better time or reason could you need?! You fear your magic because innocents died last time it was revealed? Well, you’ll come to worship it as it’s going to save the one innocent we should all lay our lives down for, the seventh soul, the truest soul!”
“...r-rivers…”, Sans stammered, feeling his entire being burn with the magical energies the other monster had seemingly drawn to the surface. “...the blasters? ...i never liked usin’ ‘em, they’re his-”
“Put aside your grudge and use your powers - or the entire Underground sees its darkest hours! I understand how the blasters make you feel, but the danger to all of us is too real!!”
“awright, awright!! I’m goin’!”, Sans said - but just as he meant to dash off, the Riverperson’s earlier words sank in fully, and he blinked. “w-wait… ‘our father’?!”
“Now’s not the time to think about me, there’s somewhere crucial you need to be! Run, brother, but remember, tread with care once the door is open and you are there!”
“sure!”, Sans called out in reply, by then already running off back to the doorway, skidding to a halt again five feet away from the door this time. “...oh man…”, the squat skeleton groaned, stretching out his arm and gathering his concentration, his eye flickering blue and then flaring up with magic that wasn’t even difficult to amass now, with his bones swarming with the energy that fuelled his being. Next to him, a shape appeared from out of nowhere, its mouth and eyes glowing with the same bright blue glow that now burned in his empty eyesocket in lieu of a magically-formed pupil.
“GRROOOAOOOO?”, it growled deeply, and Sans nudged his head in the direction of the door. “GRRRRUUUUUUAAAAAAAAH…!!!” Magic concentrated in its bifurcated maw and then, with a searing blast and an almighty explosion, the energy was fired in a concentrated beam that seemingly glanced off the door.
“damn it!”, Sans cursed, and it was as if the Gaster Blaster had heard the frustration in his voice, because it grumbled again.
“GRRRROOOAOOOO!!! UUUUUAAAAAHHHRRRRR…” Sans nodded. The blaster was clearly indicating that he’d need more power, and Sans found himself nodding.
“‘m with ya, pally… let’s give ‘em all we got!”
“GGRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” This time, Sans felt the energy being pulled through him and into the maw of his Gaster Blaster, whose entire surface now glowed like the bioluminescent mushrooms that grew in the darkest places of the Underground and yet still drew power from him. Sans felt himself grow light-headed, but despite his usual tendencies to give up long before he reached his peak, this time he gritted his teeth audibly and gave until he felt like giving more would turn his body too weak to retain its cohesion. Bones shivering and with a dull ache in his skull, he closed the eye that wasn’t glowing and prepared for the clash of magic against stone just a split second before the Gaster Blaster finally fired. The beam lit up the surrounding forest and sent the snow crashing off the lowest branches of the trees, melting the snow around the doorway and sending a flash of heat back towards Sans, nearly knocking him off his feet… But when the smoke and dust cleared, the doorway separating Snowdin Forest from the Ruins was blasted apart. “RRRRRRRGH…”
“y-yeah, ya did good, buddy, go back now…”, Sans said absent-mindedly as he walked forward as briskly as he could still manage, staggering on the first few steps. The Gaster Blaster disappeared again, lending Sans at least a bit of his energy back and turning his slow and tentative steps more decisive and hurried, even more so when he heard voices in the distance.
“NO!! I want m-my mom!! I want my own mom!! I j-just want t-to go home!! M-mommy, please… please… I m-miss you s-so m-mu-much…! P-please…” That sounded like the young human child he’d seen in his dreams, sobbing and crying vehemently - and the next voice...
“Well, how pitiful you are! It’s almost too easy now!!” That was the demon, he suspected, the darkness that sat in Papyrus’ chest as well, the same darkness that had laid claim to the ‘old lady’ he’d been sharing puns with through the door that was now gone… Gritting his teeth again, he hastened his steps yet again, his magic resting just below the surface - not readable but ready in case it was needed.
“Hrrrmmm…! It won’t matter, none of it will matter!!”, the cruel voice spoke once again, but Sans was now close enough to see the situation: the young human girl sitting on the floor, crying pitifully, its arms and legs littered in burnmarks, a corner of the battlefield that seemed to pull his attention towards it for some reason - a reason Sans could suspect all too well - and the woman he’d talked to so often, her hands covered in fire but shaking badly, clearly struggling with the act she was set to perform. The dark voice had sounded strained, and the lady didn’t move despite its insistence… she was fighting it!
Deciding not to risk finding out how successful she’d be, Sans spoke up as he ran up to the battlefield.
“don’t you dare hurt that kid, y’hear?!”, he said hoarsely - he panted but covered it up by skidding to a halt in front of the human. “...look, somewhere deep inside of ya is a mother’s love, yeah?”
“Don’t talk to me about mother’s love, orphaned wretch!”, the woman said, but Sans stood his ground, feeling the human’s warm hand on his sleeve, filling him with the same sense of purpose that had filled him that night.
“hey, i may be orphaned, but i know the difference between love an’ LOVE. the level of violence, that’s the shadow talkin’. but hell, you ain’t like that, are ya, old lady?” The woman looked taken aback and visibly recoiled when he called her ‘old lady’, and after a moment of utter silence, in which her expression changed from shock to apprehension and then something akin to ashamed meekness, the limits of the battlefield flickered away. Sans relaxed just a little too, adding in a more calm tone: “...see? i knew you weren’t like that. ...look, that shadow inside of ya… there’s ways in which it can get pushed out, an’ you bet we’re goin’ for that. but first, we gotta know if we can trust you not to lay a finger on the kiddo.” The woman seemed to find his words offensive at first: a glimpse of anger flickered in her eyes, and Sans tensed again, but then she relaxed and nodded.
“I understand, and… you have my word I won’t hurt the child. But… I thought the Ruins were closed off permanently… Who are you, and from where did you come?”
“name’s sans. sans the skeleton. an’ i’m from snowdin, beyond the… well, uh, there used to be a door… think we may know each other already?”, he couldn’t help but add with a soft smile, which the woman answered after a second’s confusion.
“O-oh! So you’re the one that… that told me all the puns?” Grinning at the fact that the woman remembered as well, Sans nodded.
“yep, that’s me, the punny man…”
“You always were a charming one, Sans…” The voice drifted from his right, and Sans turned in sudden mental restlessness to the man that stood there, the man he’d spent half a lifetime hating for what he’d done to both himself and his younger brother, the man that he’d said he would never forgive… but seeing him stand there, Sans found that thought challenged subtly. Even having seen his father in his dreams and nightmares before, he had thought the fog and the fracture-lines along Gaster’s hands and face to be exaggerations of his mind. But there he stood, fog curling around him like a blanket, oozing from the fracture-lines and from his cloak as though the void was inside him. Yet when his father spoke, a kernel of that anger returned to him. “...I thank the stars your patience ran out-”
“i didn’t come here ‘cause of you, doc gaster, but ‘cause of the kiddo…”, he said tensely, turning his back on his father in favor of reaching a hand at the child, deciding to break the tension the only way he knew. “...so, don’t think we shook hands yet, huh, kiddo? c’mon, put ‘er there…” The young girl nodded and eagerly squeezed his hand, and-
*PPPHHHHBBBBBBBTTTTTttttttt* The whoopee cushion in his hand performed admirably, its dry raspberry sound loud and somewhat echoing in the room - the woman nearly touched the ceiling, jumping at the sudden noise, and the human looked utterly surprised as well, but when the sound died away, the girl and then the monster-lady laughed softly.
“heh… not just punny, but jus’ plain funny, don’t ya think so?”, Sans said lightly, prompting a giggle from the young girl. “...by the way, what was the name? or do ya like bein’ called ‘kiddo’?”, he asked, prompting the girl to smile warmly and walk towards the hallway leading out of the ruins, clearly determined to make it outside even though the danger was past her now, what with the monster-woman now looking at her a little guiltily but without any lingering trace of resentment on her features.
“Frisk. Frisk Faste. ...I’m glad you came when you did, I… was starting to think miss Toriel would…”, she started, her voice dying away somewhat worried, and Sans nodded.
“...i know what ya mean…”, he admitted, though he exhaled softly and patted Frisk on the shoulder the next second. “but let’s not worry ‘bout that now, okay? you made it to me, an’ now you can trust me to keep an eyesocket out for ya, Frisk, kiddo…”
“Sans… we… we will need all the help we can get…”, Gaster said softly, sounding remorseful - something Sans wasn’t oblivious to but nevertheless didn’t react to in the slightest.
“Heh, thanks! ...So, uh, will you help me get back to the other side of the barrier?”, Frisk queried, prompting Sans to nod. The three of them had reached the hole where the doorway used to be in the meantime, and the skeleton touched the walls that had been broken open by the blast he’d issued. He’d always known his magic was strong, but- “Sans?”, the girl interrupted his thoughts, and this time his smile aimed at her was warm and grateful. He’d used the blasters out of necessity, but that didn’t mean he liked thinking about them that much.
“sure thing, kiddo. let’s head out there then, huh? don’t wanna stick around here, i gather…” The next second, however, he remembered Papyrus, and he looked somewhat uneasily at the hole in the rockface he’d created. His brother would never allow the human passage, claimed by the shadow as he was… Was he now taking this child from one danger only to put it right into another? And what was more, Frisk had said she’d do whatever it took to get to the surface: what if that meant she’d fight his brother? Humans were strong… However, his father’s voice cut his worries short
“...We shall face each challenge as it presents itself…”, Gaster said, as if guessing his thoughts, and Frisk nodded.
“...I don’t know what the monsters are like out there, but I can’t stay still or that flower’s going to get me for sure. Let’s head out and meet our challenges head-on. If I have to go under, I’m going under proudly standing my ground and not fearfully running away!” The tenacity in the girl’s voice was enough to make Sans grin all the more enthusiastically. Then, he turned around, seeing the lady of the ruins - Toriel, he corrected himself - standing at the remnants of the doorway, looking behind herself.
“...look, old lady, you don’t have to come with-”
“I will accompany you!”, she answered hastily, walking over to him and discarding her apron in the process, something Sans was marginally thankful for as the stains on it had unsettled him. “I was just… considering that the child is right. Meeting one’s challenges head-on is better than cowering in fear, after all…”
“heh, spoken like a true boss-monster. okay, c’mon then, let’s all four of us travel together.”
“Yes.”, she said with a broad smile before walking ahead of Sans briskly, down the road leading deeper into the snowy forest that Sans had left behind minutes before.
(What challenges will they find in that snowy forest? Is Papyrus going to be there earlier than he'd told Sans? And is Toriel safe to be around?...All those questions will have to wait until chapter 2...)
(Tonight, at about 10PM CEST, I’ll post chapter 1 of the fanfiction here, on AO3 and on Deviantart (there may be some mishaps to work through, the first chapter is 57 pages long and I have no idea whether or not I’ll need to break it up into smaller parts here and on AO3 - I have a PDF file ready for Deviantart). Until then, have this short... summary of sorts. Got to love reminders about the prologue... Speaking of the prologue, I hope you’ve all read it - if not, now may be a good time to do so...
(the first chapter of the Undertaint fanfiction ‘What was sown...’ will be posted this Sunday! So to celebrate, have this little side-endeavour where Sans has a bad dream...)
(another teaser to tide you over for the wait for chapter 1 of Undertaint! This time, we have... well, I supposed you could picture hands resting on a thick glass pane with this one... closed off and far away... and broken inside and out...)
(As the writing of the first chapter of Undertaint goes into the final stretches, I bring you a little teaser! This won’t be in the actual story, but it’s related to it... and very eerie in its own right...)
(This artist, I swear, is the greatest! Look at this perfection! LOOK at it!! Could be spoiler-y but then again... could also just be a dream of mine ;D
(Another sneak preview! ...Well, this was originally made as a personal reference but then I got carried away and I added some eerie sound layers and this was born. Meant to show the two ways in which Gaster speaks.)
(preview image is a commission done by the lovely DrGaster on Deviantart!)
...Well, here’s that voice fragment that was promised... not a sneak preview, but a voiced dialogue from the prologue of ‘What was sown...’. Poor WD... he never stood a chance...
“Chara, why’d you do it? Why did you lie to mom and say I was the one that put the flowers in?” Asriel’s voice was plaintive, his eyes still reddened from the tears he’d shed. Pathetic… “Sis, talk to me…”, the young prince of monsters whined again, wiping his cheeks and nose dry on his sleeve, putting his hand on the human girl’s shoulder. “Come on, talk to me! W-was it an accident, like you told mom? I mean, it was… it was you who said we had to use buttercups, not cups of butter… and now dad’s sick and mom’s crying and I’m crying and everyone’s worried!”
“Oh, Asriel…”, the girl said softly, shaking her head and smiling broadly. Dumb, naive fool of a prince… “Of course it was an accident! You really cry too easily!!”, she said brightly, taking care not to show how amused she was. Her tone was carefully morose and regretful, but on the inside the girl was beaming. Oh, how weak they were! Only a handful of the yellow flowers had been enough - and those weren’t even the most poisonous kind… How easy would it be to poison any of them if she so wanted! But she knew that killing the king now would not only arouse suspicion, but also that it was futile with regards to her greater plan. So she did what she had been doing for five years already, and she sighed, putting her hand on the young monster’s. “I didn’t know buttercups were bad for you - I would’ve eaten the pie too, remember? I-if your dad hadn’t eaten a piece before we came back inside when your mom called, then we would’ve all eaten the pie… I’m just happy nobody’s really hurt, and your dad isn’t really going to die.”, she said decisively. Because that would be too easy… It wouldn’t be fun, either, to have the king of all monsters die to a handful of buttercups, not to mention it’d be counterproductive. If King Asgore died, then his wife would just take over from him until Asriel was of the right age to take over. And doing anything similar would be too suspicious now. So she just had to sit back and allow this to play out. “...I think you’re way too worried, Asriel, maybe we should go outside and play?”, she suggested, prompting the young prince of the monster kingdom to look back at the hallway, where his mother was tending to his father, and then nodding hesitantly.
“Uh, o-okay… well, n-not too far away?”, he asked, and Chara nodded.
“Of course not too far away! ...Let’s play monsters and humans!”, she suggested, prompting the boy to smile and nod. His favorite game was always enough to lift his spirits again, nevermind that it felt just a little awkward playing it with Chara, seeing as his adoptive sister was an actual human. Oh, if he only knew…
“Okay, you’d better run then!”
Later that night, when everyone was fast asleep, Chara slipped out of bed and walked out of the house quietly, almost making no sound, halting only to take the knife she kept hidden away behind a rock near the exit to the house. She wound her way through the capitol towards the throne room and from there to the barrier, passing a finger over the barrier. She could feel it there, like a sheet of ice hanging in the middle of the hallway. Touching it wouldn’t harm her, but trying to force her body through… The barrier needed a human soul and a monster soul to be passed, which she did not have, so she was stuck for the moment. Then, Chara did what she always did and she sat down in front of the barrier, drawing intricate figures in the ground with the tip of her knife, grinning when they glowed a bright red before simmering down to a darker burgundy. The voice was inaudible to anyone that didn’t sit inside the circle of symbols, so she didn’t risk discovery - and the outer ring of sigils she’d drawn would muffle her voice to anyone that got the ill-advised idea to listen in, making it sound like the garbled talk of a sleepwalker.
Speak, Chara.
“The king got sick, just as I hoped. But he isn’t dying.”
You don’t sound upset, Seedling.
“Hold your tongue, Malph! I am Seedling no longer!”
That’s right, you’ve taken a soul… a child’s soul… You’re still a Seedling, you’ll be cast out as soon as the child matures and no longer accepts you. You know that, and still you persist with that silly name. Charael - why not a name as mine? Malphius-
“That name is even more horrible than mine - and what did you ever do to earn you speaking rights?! I wish to speak to Beli or Thana-”
Belial is busy, and Thanatael has better things to do-
“Don’t be coy with me. Let me speak to Thanatael or I’m coming to rip your throat out - I’m close to home, Malph, so the child would barely even notice my absence.” The other party of the conversation was quiet for a while until another, slightly more hiss-like voice sounded in her ears.
Charael… what a pleasssant ssssurprisssse… you came about your plan, then?
“The plan’s changed… at first, I wanted to kill off their king and sow despair in their hearts so they’d be weaker and unable to resist me, but… I have a different idea now… there’s legends down here, you see, I learnt about them only after the entire poisoning thing.”
Legendsss?
“Yes. Apparently a monster that takes a human soul becomes near-unstoppable, a beast that’s set on only destruction and madness - and what’s more, a beast that’s able to bypass this silly barrier at will. Imagine what it would be like to control that, Thana!”, Chara gasped out, unable to stop herself getting excited at the prospect. “An unstoppable monster at our beck and call! Stronger than any human, stronger by far than any monster! We’d be truly unstoppable!!”
I ssssensssse a downsssside, Charael… The voice sounded cold and ruthless now, a clear sign that the other party of the conversation was just as eager and excited as she felt, Chara knew, and she grinned cruelly.
“There is no downside, that’s the beauty of the plan! There is, however, a slight difficulty that needs to be overcome. The human soul… in order for the monster to truly absorb it, the human has to give it up voluntarily, and the monster has to accept it willingly.”
Ssso, then, how will you accomplissssh the feat?
“Simple. I already have a human soul at my beck and call. Everything that I say and do, little Chara’s soul says and does. So if I kill off this body and then allow for a monster to absorb it…say, their prince… The human soul is far stronger than the monster soul, so it’ll be easy to overpower them. And once that’s done… it’ll be time to play…”, she said with a broad, bright grin - she saw the glimmer of bright red reflected in the barrier and knew her eyes were betraying her, but right now that was of no consequence as there was no one around to see it. “Thanatael, do you approve of the new plan?”
...Proceed. Belial will be very pleasssed by your… creativity, Charael. When will you put the plan into effect?
“As soon as the king’s better. In about two weeks, I think. First, I need to make sure that I prepare my adoptive brother so he’ll do it.”
I will leave thissss up to your disssscretion, Charael. Do assss you think isssss bessssst. But do not fail usssss. We hunger, Charael… we hunger for our releasssse… we hunger for sssssoulsssss…
“Don’t worry, Thana, with my plan, you’ll have all the souls you could ever dream of, ripe for corruption!” Chara laughed loudly, even after the sigils’ sickly glow had died away and she risked discovery. She kept laughing as she considered how perfect the plan was, how easy it would be to convince Asriel to do her a favor, especially when she was dying… “Oh, and then I’ll never be Seedling ever again!!!”, she said, turning to the second part of her plan. Her annoying brother Malphius… she’d make him pay for upstaging her and harvesting souls before her!! “And Malphius… will be cast into the void nothing!!”, she whispered to herself, stroking her chest slowly, feeling her pulse even out again, willing her anger to die down again. Chara didn’t show anger or hatred, after all, just smiles and sweetness. If only those fools all knew…
Not a hair was out of place as Chara headed back to the house, hiding the knife behind a rock again before entering. Nobody was up, nobody had noticed her absence… nobody was any wiser…
They would never see it coming…
Asriel wept for hours, sitting by Chara’s bedside. Professor Gaster and his parents were in the living room, talking - or, well, he supposed it was talking what they did, since it was all hands, but the professor was weird like that. Stray wisps of the conversation made it through to him still, through the opened doors of the hallway and the living room - shadows dancing off the walls whenever one of the three adults moved… There were rasping noises whenever professor Gaster moved, too, and the rustle of cloth as his coat, or whatever the black shroud he wore was, moved so he could speak in hands again, but the voices of his parents were clear to him, attuned as his ears were to those words.
“...cannot be saved?”
“Oh no… sweet child will truly…?” His mother’s voice ended in sobs, and his father’s soothing baritone voice sounded a little closer to the door, making more of the words understandable to Asriel.
“...knew this ever since we found her… in that field of flowers… Well, I suppose… how can we… last moments… bearable, professor?” More rustling and a deep, almost wheezy breath followed, and then… the most chilling voice emanated from inside. It was deep and sonorous, but not at all soothing like his father’s voice: it made his skin crawl just like it would at the sound of ice scratching over glass, or nails on a chalkboard, only ten thousand times worse, and accompanying that sensation was a feeling of dread.
“My initial readings reveal… something unnatural… inside… Please be wary… this child… there is a blackness around her… please tread carefully… and her soul, please-”
“Professor, please, don’t use your magic in this house!” Asriel sat up straighter, startled by the definite edge in his mother’s voice. Clearly the professor had spoken using magic of some kind, and his mother didn’t like that very much. Maybe she felt just as awful as he did, Asriel mused - next, however, his father spoke again, his voice and tone calming.
“N-now, now… can’t help that he’s… But what did you mean, her soul…?” More rustling, this time more frantic to show that the hands were more pronounced this time, and for the longest time, it was quiet in the entire house. Then, however, his father spoke up again, his tone hesitant and mournful. “...I understand. We’ll be cautious. Should we… contain her?” More rustling followed, and Asriel heard his mother sob softly, prompting him to bite his lip softly, looking at the light coming from inside. His father moved to his mother, clearly, as his form blocked out most of the light from the living room for a second, and then his voice sounded again, a little more distant. “...understand, and we will… measures to ensure… ...wouldn’t want Asriel to…” More rustles followed, and then his father’s heavy sigh sounded close to the door before it apparently creaked open: light flooded the hallway, and two dark shadows moved over the wall as his father’s heavy footfalls sounded next to the barely-there sound of the professor’s steps. “...Thank you for your visit, professor Gaster. ...If the situation grows out of our control, we’ll call.” Another rustle of cloth, this one more than likely indicating a bow of the professor if the movement of the shadows on the wall was any indication, and then his father closed the front door and moved back to the living room after a heavy sigh that filled Asriel with worry and sorrow. Was Chara’s condition that bad? The professor had spoken - or, well, ‘spoken’ was a relative term - about her soul…
“A-asriel…” Chara’s voice startled the young prince from his thoughts. His adoptive sister sounded hoarse and weak, and plaintive. “...Asriel, what’s wrong?”, she asked, licking her dry lips and then swallowing the saliva she’d mustered up for that pitifully, wincing as she did. “Unh…”
“C-chara, the professor was here, talking t-to mom and dad… about, well, I-I’m not sure but… y-you’re not good… y-you’re dying…”, he said, sobbing, looking Chara in the eyes the next moment. “I d-don’t want you to leave me…”
“Asriel…” Chara’s voice sounded weak and constricted, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at him, extending her arms towards him - he nearly leapt into them, holding her tightly and crying together with her, his shoulders shaking badly while hers didn’t move much, probably because she lacked the strength to cry, he mused. After what felt like hours, he let go of her again, sitting next to her on the bed.
“...C-chara, if professor Gaster can’t… if even the smartest monster ever d-doesn’t know how to cure you… I don’t want to lose you-”
“M-maybe, Asriel… maybe you d-don’t… have to lose me…”, Chara said, prompting the prince to blink and look at the girl. She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant… Horror took a hold of him, and he shook his head.
“Chara, no, d-don’t talk like that!!”
“Asriel… I’m n-not dumb… I can feel h-how much it hurts to speak… to move… I’m n-not going to last long… S-so you have to… W-when I die, m-my soul… t-take my soul-”
“N-no, that’s wrong, Chara! Y-you should be… put to rest!”, Asriel said, to which his best friend reacted by putting a hand on his, startling him with how clammy it felt and how pale it looked, even compared to his own pure white fur-covered hand.
“A-asriel… I don’t… w-want to let you go, either… a-and I… g-give you my soul s-so you can put me at rest… t-there’s a field… of golden flowers-”
“Buttercups?”, he asked, looking at Chara as she shook her head slowly.
“N-no, different ones. ...I-in the village I came from… there’s a field… full of golden flowers… a-and I… want to be laid to rest there…” Now Asriel looked at the girl he’d grown to love as his sister, biting his lip again. She wanted to be put to rest in the world above?
“...T-that’s why you want to give me your soul? So… so I can bring you up there?” He looked at her, and for the first time since she’d fallen ill, he saw a sparkle of her inner fire back in her eyes, prompting him to smile and nod. “...Okay. Okay, I’ll… I’ll d-do it… I’ll carry you up… w-when you’re…” Sighing, the young prince looked at his hands again. “...I… don’t know how to… do t-the soul thing, though.”, he admitted, looking at his friend again to see her chuckle softly, weakly.
“I t-think you just… h-have to allow my soul into your form… a-and allow it to… link up to your own soul… I m-mean, it - uuhh… I-it can’t be hard… a-after all, the war… i-it happened there all the ti-time, no?”
“M-maybe, but those were strong monsters. Grown up monsters, n-not kids like me!”, he said slightly panicky, prompting Chara to once again speak to him soothingly.
“Asriel, you are strong - and maybe you’re not grown up yet, but you’re nearly too old for that striped shirt anyway. Y-you’ll do great.” When he sighed, she repeated her previous words, a little more faintly, and Asriel nodded. All he needed was his sister to believe in him. When she said he could do it, then he’d do it!
Chara could feel it clear as day. Her body’s heartbeat was erratic, and she could feel the pain each contraction of that most vital organ sent through the being she’d taken over. It wouldn’t be too long anymore. Soon, her body would pass away. She could feel the weak blanket of magic laying over her form - Toriel’s healing, but more importantly, Asgore’s soul containment magic. However, he couldn’t stay with her forever. Already, due to the long night and her body’s resilience, his magic was wavering… her soul could and would escape this confinement and go to Asriel!
Secretly, Chara had researched the process of how monsters could assimilate human souls - or rather, she’d begged Asriel to read up on it and bring her up to speed, so she ‘could know what she had to expect’. In reality, Chara wanted to know the extent of her control over the youth. And it turned out that that control would be supreme pretty much from the start. Her human soul had something called ‘determination’, which was the reason why a human soul was so much stronger than a monster’s soul. It also meant that the human soul, when given willingly and accepted willingly, would fuse permanently with the monster soul, creating a whole that was inseparable - and powerful beyond comprehension. A monster with a fused soul like that could reform its body and perform magic surpassing any other known magic, save for one feat of magic that not even such a strong being could match… the barrier couldn’t be manipulated. For that, seven human souls were necessary. Or, at least, Chara supposed that that was the meaning of the cryptic phrase ‘what seven made, only seven can undo’... Another painful throb of her heart showed that it was time, finally, to set her carefully made plans in motion at long last.
“Uhhhn… u-uhhh… h-haaah…”, she gasped - it were the only sounds her completely exhausted body was still able to produce, but even if she’d still been able to sing, she still would’ve only groaned. Immediately, Asgore and Toriel looked up, their faces showing a variety of emotions.
“Fluffybuns-”, Toriel said - Chara couldn’t help but wince at the saccharine, almost gooey display of affection the two indulged in, which got interpreted as an expression of pain, clearly, since the queen of monsters carefully brushed her forehead with one of her large, furry hands.
“I’ll go and get the professor…”, he admitted, heading out into the hallway quickly, returning with the professor, who looked at Chara rather blankly. She could already tell that this… figure… would be more difficult to fool than the king and queen,who thought that simple magic would be enough to contain her tainted soul. They thought her pure and weak, and therefore their magic was easy to break through. Professor Gaster, however, eyed her with unseen eyes and then drew a raspy breath before moving his hands soundlessly, the only audible noise coming from his cloak. Chara couldn’t understand any of what he ‘said’, but clearly her ‘father’ could, because he nodded gravely. “...So it truly is time…” More hand-motions followed, and then Asgore nodded. “I haven’t forgotten, professor… but is it really necessary…? It just… seems a bit excessive…” More of the hand gestures, but Chara could feel her body failing her and she mentally grinned. Showtime… She forced a choked gasp through her throat, startling the professor mid-motion, and when he looked at her, she molded her expression into one of shock and allowed her body to slip into a deep coma that mimicked death but that was not actually deep enough to free her soul just yet - the professor was too savvy to her true nature, if her soul was liberated, he’d just capture it and bottle it, and then nothing she’d so carefully plotted could happen... But it had her adoptive parents fooled, and more importantly, it had professor Gaster fooled as well: she could feel his breathless shock and then, slowly, his relaxation as his hands made slow yet still deliberate motions. She knew what they spelled out: with her death, the corruption could no longer spread to any of them, since human souls and monster souls could only merge if the human gave it up willingly and the monster accepted it of their own volition. Little do they know that the pact is already made… she thought lightly, having to put actual effort into not showing even the least sign of emotion on her heavy face. The professor cast his unseen eyes over her again, which Chara had been prepared for and which caused her to keep her tendrils close to the epicenter of her being, the shining soul that was the first half of her plan for success. After a few tense moments, the professor looked away again and then motioned softly while sighing melodiously. Then, he patted Toriel, who still sat in the chair she’d pulled up beside the bed and cried vehemently, on the shoulder and made several motions with his hands that were clearly meant to soothe, and he turned his back on her. A more clear sign that he didn’t consider her a threat would be hard to come by, and Chara nearly laughed until she remembered that that would ruin her entire plan. The professor left the room - Asgore got up to see their visitor to the door, and Toriel wept all the while, until her husband returned to the room and pulled her along. Then, what felt like hours passed. She could hear Toriel’s undignified crying, Asgore’s more restrained sorrowful words, even a few of the other voices she’d heard on occasion which were other frequent visitors of the royal family… and then, finally, a quiet descended over the house, and after a long, silent while, she could hear her brother’s tiptoeing footsteps move her way.
“C-chara…”, he whispered, walking over to her bed. “...Chara, a-are you still here?”
Yes, Asriel, I’m still here, she said - her body’s lips no longer moved, but telepathy came naturally to her. Her ‘brother’ looked at her in shock before sighing. She’d prepared him well, clearly, because he accepted her speech as her ‘soul’.
“...I c-can’t see your soul…”, he said, sounding happy but at the same time apprehensive, though that seemed to be more because he knew his parents wouldn’t approve than that he actually suspected foul play, and Chara finally did what she’d dreamed of doing for so long and she suffocated the body she inhabited, freeing her soul up at long last and baring it for her ‘brother’.
I didn’t want to upset mom and dad…, she said, carefully pushing away all thoughts she didn’t want her brother to be privy to, even managing to make her telepathic voice sound fearful the next second: ...a-and professor Gaster was creepy a-at the end, it was almost like he wanted to absorb my soul-
“D-don’t worry, Chara! N-no one’s stopping me from fulfilling your final wish!”, the prince said - then, after a soft sigh that sounded worried, he placed his hands in front of his chest and summoned up his soul. Chara directed herself that way, pressing the soul under her control and the young monster’s soul together and starting the melding process - and meanwhile wrapping her own invisible tendrils around the soul that was so eagerly accepting the human soul already under her sway, sowing her taint in the combined essence. Asriel felt it now, as well: shock showed on his face as he ground out disbelievingly: “N-no…”
Too late!!, Chara said triumphantly, feeling the combination of monster and human souls pulse with a power she hadn’t ever dared believe possible. It was so raw and overwhelming!!! “Oh, it’s perfect!!”, she spoke softly, realizing that she once again had voice. Looking down, she saw that Asriel’s body had changed to reflect his new essence: no longer a monster child, since he now had a complete essence at his disposal, but not a fully grown monster either since he hadn’t fully assimilated his parents’ essences. But it would do - no, it would be perfect to suit her needs. “...Say goodbye to home, Asriel - but don’t worry, I’ll return… once I’ve done what needs to be done… humanity will learn the true meaning of fear!!” She laughed mentally, drowning out the panicked feelings that were Asriel’s. She confidently strode forward, bending the body to her will - her human soul’s determination was truly useful for once, because Asriel’s being was brushed aside as if it was a mere mote of dust in her presence. She left the house, leaving the knife behind, feeling no more need for it now that she had sharp claws at her disposal. The heart locket that her human soul had such a strong connection to was left on her bed, to show to her ‘adoptive parents’ that she’d truly passed on from this world - hah, passed on indeed! Chara had only been a pawn: her true master, Charael, was unleashed, and this world would come to rue the day!!
Her first obstacle came in a slightly familiar form sitting huddled in a pile near the rear exit of the throne room. Chara remembered the youth, a charge of King Asgore - an eager, passionate and oddly committed scaly wisp of a young woman that was constantly training in some way or other. Normally, Chara would have respect for the woman’s belligerence, but now all she could feel was anger at how the woman was in the way.
“H-huh, who-”
“Out of my way!!”, she said loudly, her voice sounding like a mix between Asriel’s meek half-bleating voice and a more cruel voice that was Charael’s, as she summoned up the magic reserves she had at her disposal for the first time - one simple fireball had the ichthyan fall to the ground, screeching loudly and clutching the left side of her face, sickly brownish blood leaking from between her webbed fingers. Chara didn’t pause, however much Asriel’s part of the new being at her disposal pulled at the strings. He was weak, too weak, in the face of her supreme command! “Hahaha… Do not try to stop me!”
“A-asriel… no…”, the fish-creature groaned in between pained grunts that made the gills on either side of her neck flutter faintly, but Chara was already past her, heading to the barrier. She could feel the power oozing from the room, washing over her as it always did, but this time there was something different about the experience. Normally, the power of the barrier wrapped its tendrils around her, enveloping her in raw magic that prickled on her skin like needles pressing ever so subtly against the surface of her body. Now, however, it was like there was an invisible bubble around her. She could feel the magic, but it couldn’t touch her. And when she tried to place a hand against the barrier, it fled her touch.
“Oh, but this is priceless…”, Chara said, grinning cruelly as she stepped forward. One step and the barrier started to shimmer as the magic bended out of the way; another step and she stood right underneath the sheet of magic, no longer feeling the icy touch of it on her skin; one more step and the magic rushed back into place behind her. She was back in the world of the humans. Underneath her, deeper in the valley, lay the village where she’d found the little human whose soul was now serving her so well - they had thrown her into the pit atop the mountain, believing that that could kill her… and now, they’d be the first ones to be given the choice between life in servitude to her or bloody death. Laughing, she settled the slight weight of the girl in her arms again and then calmly strode forward, to the village. There stood the field of golden flowers, the non-poisonous variety of the buttercups she’d used to poison the king first and then her helpless human host. It hadn’t always been like that, if she remembered correctly: it had once been the scene of her first appearance above, where she’d been conjured up by an ignorant woman bearing a child who had been foolish enough to think she was satisfied with a slaughtered chicken. “Hehehehehe…”, she laughed coldly, stepping towards the village. People already exited their homes, armed with whatever farming tools or crude weapons they had access to, and Chara could nearly smell their burning corpses already. So many souls ready for the reaping! “Come on then!!”, she called out, spreading her arms wide, internally gathering the magic at her disposal and bundling it into a fierce attack, a fire the likes of which these pathetic humans would never see again…
However, just before the first humans reached her, the magic fizzled out of her grasp. Startled, she gathered her concentration again, reaching for the pool of magic inside of her, but as soon as she tried to mold it into another destructive spell, it slipped from her hold.
W-what is this?!, she thought in alarm, and to her horror a strained but clear voice sounded in reply.
You tricked me… a-and this way… you won’t trick anyone else again… n-never again…
YOU FOOL, WE’LL BOTH DIE!!, she mentally screeched, but by that point it was too late to act anymore: the first of the peasants reached her and cut into her viciously. Her arms were still stretched wide, and blood spattered the ground and the golden flowers under her feet… and all the while, internally, a part of her newly fused soul smiled even at the prospect of the end…
“M-mom… dad… I… I can’t feel anything! I can’t… I s-shouldn’t have… Chara… I tried to… b-but then… the humans… I d-don’t want to die, dad…! Please… please, don’t… don’t let me…!”
The first thing Charael felt again was the pulse of her soul. Just that: the faintest throb of determination deep within a body that felt unfamiliar and unwieldy, as though her limbs had been cut off and replaced with rigid beams. She was stretched thin… and this form, whatever it was, dampened the incredible wells of magic she’d felt before, when she’d merged with Asriel-
Asriel!!, she mentally cried out, getting no reply save for a weary mental whimper. Good, at least now the unruly fool of a monster prince had been subdued… but at what cost? She’d felt the blades cut into her form, she’d felt her life blood leak out and splash the ground… She’d felt death, close but not quite… Groaning mentally, she tried to see and, when no eyes opened, she willed her magic to concentrate and reveal her surroundings, meanwhile wondering why her limbs were so unresponsive that even her eyes wouldn’t cooperate...
When she turned her magical gaze downward, to her own body, she saw why. Her limbs were gone - no more pink five-fingered hands, no more white furry four-fingered claws, no more anything. All that was left were leaves that swayed when she tried wiggling her fingers, and roots that squirmed as she tried moving her legs and feet. She could see, though, so she could use her magic at least - and when she focused her magic, she could still speak.
“W-what… ha-happened?” Immediately, from the side, a monster in a lab coat rushed over. It wasn’t that horrid professor Gaster, Chara immediately noticed, but a shy, sweaty, overweight dinosaur-woman whose voice was slightly shrill and squeaky.
“Oh my GOD oh my GOD OH MY GOD, y-you’re… uh… t-the professor said y-you weren’t… t-that it di-didn’t work!”, she exclaimed, looking over Chara’s plantlike form from all sides before adding: “B-but the professor was wrong, y-you’re doing okay! ...J-just relax-”
“W-what… am I…?”, Chara voiced carefully, still finding that focusing her magic was difficult but manageable, showing that at least her determination was still present; the pulsing, in turn, showed that her soul hadn’t been altered in any way, still containing the taint and Asriel’s incredible magic. In front of her, the sweaty lab assistant looked around frantically before taking a rectangular object and setting it up in front of Chara, who now saw her new form fully for the first time. Golden leaves in perfect shape, a firm stem, sturdy roots that wriggled when she moved them carefully… she’d become a golden flower.
“...D-do you… like it?”, the lab assistant asked, chuckling nervously and speaking on when Chara couldn’t muster enough control of her magic through the sudden choking haze of rage that washed over her, interpreting her silence as being overcome with emotion of a completely different kind. “...T-they’re your father’s favorite kind… and t-there were d-dozens of seeds on you w-when you came back… A-and flowers are… w-well, you know… M-monsters can’t absorb o-other monsters’ souls, and w-we’re short on h-humans down here… s-so we needed something that was neither monster o-or human…” And you went with a flower?!, Chara loudly questioned mentally, feeling angry beyond even her own comprehension. Gone was her formidable form, gone was her flawless control over magic… all gone, and all because the monster she’d taken over had gotten control back long enough! But not again - no, never again! She could just imagine the reaction her brethren would have - Malphius, that utter idiot, would gloat endlessly about her having become Seedling again, literally…
Seedling… golden flower seeds...
Another plan started formulating in her mind, this one much more frantic and desperate but by no means less deliberate. She carefully molded her voice to reflect humble joy as she spoke to the lab assistant again.
“It’s… it’ll take some… getting used to… but I’m just glad I… didn’t die…”
“O-oh, w-we’re all glad too!”, the woman answered, though something in her tone betrayed that she was lying. Chara could already guess who was less-than-happy with her continued existance, a subject that the lab assistant broached very carefully the next moment: “...P-professor Gaster s-said your soul… i-is damaged in so-some way… but I don’t s-see it! I’ve looked a-at your soul a dozen times, a-and it’s just a n-na-natural soul! ...W-well, for as far as merged s-souls can be n-natural, of course…”, she added under her breath, showing the extent of the situation to Chara. The professor was still on the scene, and he kept a close eye on her - not only that, but he was still savvy to her presence, so she’d have to keep a very low profile, which was hard to do when she also had to learn to master this new form… Then, however, the lab assistant offered information that caused relief to wash through Chara. “...K-king Asgore, your father… w-well, he’s taken your death very badly, p-prince Asriel. H-he commissioned the professor to… well, to find a way to bring you back… a-and he ordered all other humans to be brought to him. F-for their souls. Your father… the humans d-did this to you, a-and he wants to… to… W-well, anyway, your father do-doesn’t like t-the way the professor speaks about you - a-and to be honest, I k-kind of find it a li-little disrespectful too, at times… h-he calls you… n-names? A-and he says you are… a bad seed?”
“...The professor… never liked me…”, Chara said. Maybe discrediting the professor would be easy - and with his meddling influence gone, she would be free to proceed with her new plan unimpeded! “Professor Gaster… always said I was… bad… he thinks he’s above… having children…”
“Oh, n-no! That’s… that can’t be true!”, the woman said, now sweating profusely enough due to sheer nerves and anxiety that, even lacking nostrils, Chara could smell her perspiration. It faintly occurred to her that she was breathing in the stink, but she pushed that notion aside, since it didn’t matter anyway. “Professor G-gaster, you s-see… he h-ha-has children! O-or, well, children… H-he has… rooms in th-the lab where I’m n-not supposed to enter… but that’s h-hard when t-there’s crying i-inside of the ro-rooms… Don’t… don’t tell the p-professor I… But I ha-had to…!”, she stammered, looking close to tears at that point, something Chara neither cared about or liked, but also something she knew she could exploit if she played it right. Molding her magical voice carefully so it sounded concerned, she asked the question the woman clearly was intent on answering whether she asked it or not.
“What… did he keep from you?”
“T-two… two. Y-young boys. Judging from t-their form a-and poise… I’d s-say they’ve b-been made from… from t-the magically enhanced remains of… of th-the two humans that fell so far. Just s-skeletons, but they… they walked a-and spoke and c-cried...” So other humans had come into the underground as well - that made Chara curious to an extent. Were they sent to kill her? Or did they just happen upon the same hole in the ground where the villagers had tossed her in? Yet, curious as she was, she had to remain focused on the lab assistant’s story. Any information she could use against that overly eager professor that could thwart her plans was good. “...They… d-didn’t talk much… o-one of them… said h-his father… He must’ve m-meant the professor! ...But… but who else? T-they were… their souls were… damaged… one of them, th-the, uh, youngest, seemed to heal j-just fine, but the oldest… I t-took a look, you see, and his soul… w-was still… n-not well. And they… age. I saw them l-last week, and t-the tooth that was missing from one of them w-was replaced. And n-not by magic...”, the woman admitted, shaking her head and then moving off again, checking some vials on a table nearby before taking one and heading over to Chara again, who became apprehensive upon seeing the bright green contents of the tube.
“What…?”
“Oh, j-just… fertilizer. I… t-the professor said not t-to give you anything apart from w-water, but… but you look a little peaked…” Before Chara had the opportunity to protest, the woman had already poured the vial’s contents on the soil her roots stood in. After a few moments, warmth flooded Chara’s body, from the bottom up, radiating through her, invigorating her. She could feel her magic recharge and tried to push a little harder, pulling more of her magic reserves and yielding results that were a little better this time. She could feel her roots respond to her mental commands better, and when she carefully used a fraction of her magic to make her form more manageable, the scientist’s gasp told her that she’d been successful in altering her appearance. Now she no longer needed a constant flow of magic to see and speak, just a minor trickle every time. “Y-you’ve got a face! It… it s-suits you…”
“Thank you!”, she said, finding her voice high-pitched and slightly grating on the ears but otherwise perfectly suited for her vegetable body. “...So the professor… has children?”
“Humph, h-he doesn’t s-see them as children, but as… a-as…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, nor did she need to: Chara understood perfectly well what the two skeletal monsters were to professor Gaster. Creations, experiments… objects. Storing the information carefully for future reference, she rustled her leaves and then smiled at the woman.
“You didn’t tell me your name!”
“Oh! O-oh, I forgot, y-you haven’t met me yet… I… m-my name’s Alphys. I h-have a younger s-sister, too, Bethys, b-but she still l-lives at home i-in… in t-the capitol. I l-live h-here, o-on the top floor of the lab. M-maybe one day, I’ll s-show you!”, she said enthusiastically, and Chara smiled in what she hoped was a kind expression until the sweaty woman spoke up again. “...W-we need to come up w-with a name for you, t-too, prince Asriel… w-we can’t keep c-calling you ‘A-asriel’... unless… u-unless you w-wa-want that-” Chara didn’t have to think long about the answer to that question: choosing a name that distanced herself from the cowardly, weak, pacifist crybaby of a ‘brother’ she’d had would mean she had more of a hold over him.
“A new name sounds like a wonderful idea! After all, it’s not like people are going to believe it’s really me inside this flower, right?”, she said, causing the woman to nod.
“R-right… Uh, w-what do you think of… Flowey?” Chara mused on that for a while, nodding gently once she found no flaw with it. It was an unassuming, if a little uncreative, name that suited the body and the voice she’d given herself. Flowey the flower. If she started executing her new plan, who would look for a golden flower with a girly voice named Flowey as the culprit?
“I like it!”, she said brightly and completely uncontrived.
“Fine, then Flowey it is! ...Okay, i-it’s getting a little late… uh, a-and I’ll want to, uh, u-update the professor about his… uh, about you.”, Alphys said cheerfully, backing away softly but halting again at the doorway. “T-there’s a buzzer n-next to you that ca-calls me if you… if you need anything, o-okay? I c-carry the receiver on me all t-the time. E-even when I’m watching a-anime.” The term meant nothing to Chara, but she stored it for later reference as well, instead nodding and speaking meekly.
“Okay, thank you so much!” The woman grinned warmly and nervously before switching off the lights, leaving only an incubator lamp glowing overhead - Chara faintly wondered what its purpose was until she felt her leaves tingle and she realized that she was photosynthesizing. A huff left her.
“Trapped in this miserable form… and with nothing to show for my name…”, she whispered in the red glare surrounding her, feeling tired beyond comprehension. Still, there was hope: her magic reserves were still there, hard-to-reach perhaps but not gone, and her unassuming form would ensure that she’d be able to hatch her plan without anyone suspecting a thing. ...The only one she’d have to watch out for was the professor… but if things turned sour, she could upset his balance a little by setting his experiments loose and causing chaos…
“...a-and then she asked… t-then she asked me ‘w-where do you live, punk?!’, and I said Hotland a-and she said ‘that sucks’ b-but the next thing s-she asked me was whe-whether she could m-maybe have a shower if s-she came over and I m-maybe shrieked out an a-an-answer but…” Alphys smiled softly as she spoke to Flowey, who had become a pleasant companion over the course of the days. At first, the former prince Asriel’s new form had been a bit sullen, but now that he was growing stronger again, able to use his magic better and better every day, he seemed to perk up and become downright warm and caring again, to the point of often asking her about her work, about the professor, about the king and the queen, about Gaster’s children… and about whether other humans had followed the two that had perished at the hands of King Asgore… Flowey’s refusal to call the king ‘father’ was a good thing, ultimately, Alphys had decided - whether the world liked it or not, Asriel had died back then, on the flowers surrounding his parents’ thrones, and his body had scattered like dust but his soul… his soul had lingered, pulsing with something that could only be the fabled determination which professor Gaster had taught her about, the reason why human souls lingered on far longer than monster souls. Asriel, after all, had absorbed the soul of his adoptive sister Chara, who had been human. “...A-anyway, she promised she’d visit more often now… i-in the garbage dump, I m-mean, I w-wo-wouldn’t really want her t-to come over to the lab, ehehe! ...heh…” Flowey smiled serenely back at her, showing he didn’t mind her awkwardness at all, and then he softly changed the subject.
“...How are your other friends doing?”
“Oh, y-you mean the boys? Well, t-today, they s-showed me their ‘blue attacks’... t-they’re actually better than I t-thought, even for boys… B-but, well… they a-ask me about their ‘father’ a l-lot more now… Especially t-the youngest o-of the two. His soul… i-it’s strong, but a-at the same time it’s… normal, you know? I-it’s… he’s healed up perfectly. H-his brother ha-hasn’t.”
“Well, shouldn’t they be curious about the man that made them?”, Flowey asked lightly, almost amusedly, and Alphys blushed. Her floral companion was naturally very interested in the two boys, since they were also… creations of professor Gaster. But there was always something she couldn’t quite place her finger on, something awkward and even spiteful in his eyes when he asked about the professor and the two others who had been born and raised in the lab. She hesitated for a second, after which Flowey gently and more meekly pressed her. “I mean, they call him father, don’t they? They must love him!”
“O-oh, yes, they do! The eldest is de-devoted to him, a-and the youngest of the two boys c-c-constantly wants to make both his brother and his father proud!! They’re v-very… attached t-to him!” But that, Alphys caught herself thinking, was mostly wishful thinking on her part. The eldest of the two boys was growing up fast, and his mood was souring more and more against the ‘father’ that wasn’t present much, and the youngest of the two looked for guidance and comfort from his elder brother even when their ‘father’ was there. Flowey didn’t seem to sense her hesitation and nerves this time, because he didn’t comment, merely getting a slightly pensive look before speaking up again.
“...Uh, speaking of the professor… I haven’t seen him yet-”
“Oh, yes,t-that’s ‘cause he’s always w-wo-working in the Core n-nowadays! T-the puzzle c-configurations are r-resetting too randomly a-and he’s checking i-it out. P-plus he’s v-visiting King Asgore to t-tend to the souls - a-and because they’re… friends… The King’s been doing… well, not so greatly… s-since… since…” Suddenly, Alphys gasped mentally. She hadn’t yet talked to the prince - to Flowey, she corrected herself - about his mother! When Flowey spoke up in clear confusion, the scientist lizard realized that she had gasped out loud as well.
“Since what?”
“W-we-well… uh… s-since… don’t be upset, F-flowey… but yo-your mother… S-she didn’t l-li-like t-the laws your father i-instated… about h-humans… a-and when he… a-argued with her about it, s-she left.” She was prepared for a massive freakout on Flowey’s part, but when the flower gasped, its magically-made features distorting into a grimace, it felt… contrived. Like the former prince wasn’t upset about his parents splitting up but felt like he had to show at least some measure of emotionality. It worried the scientist extremely.
Flowey’s character betrayed signs of… of a worrying development of his psyche, the professor would say, but Alphys preferred to think of it as trouble adjusting to his new body. He constantly showed signs of wanting to push his new body, of wanting to transform it with magic, asking her questions like whether his plantlike form could still do things like move and eat and whether he still needed to sleep at all… He also kept moving around in the more spacious planter she’d gifted him, moving from side to side inside of it and diving underneath the soil whenever he wanted to be undisturbed. And that happened increasingly more and more...
However, then she remembered the king’s description of Asriel’s transformation and she shook her head, dismissing her earlier worries. The way King Asgore had described it, absorbing Chara’s soul had catapulted the young prince from childhood right into adulthood - he hadn’t stood as tall as his parents, but he’d definitely no longer been that sweet little boy she’d met fifteen years ago, back when she’d been summoned to the palace to give Chara a check-up based on her knowledge of the human body. So maybe his trouble adjusting was with good cause: he hadn’t had the time to get used to his transformation, and right after that, he’d been attacked by those humans, and as far as he knew, he’d instantly come back in the shape of a flower… so maybe his current issues could be traced back to that understandable cause.
“...W-where did she go?”, Flowey asked softly, prompting Alphys to look at her charge again and exhaling the last of her tension away.
“T-to the Ruins, back at the G-gateway… Anyway, t-tha-that’s a long time ago - t-the second human fell a-after t-that moment. H-he must’ve seen the queen…”
“...Alphys, you… I know you don’t like me asking about… about how long it’s been since I was remade…”, Flowey spoke delicately, his magical features turned away from her, probably to hide the sorrow that sounded in his voice, “...b-but please… it sounds like that’s decades ago, that can’t be right…”
“I-it’s been a long time, A- Flowey. A long time.”, Alphys admitted miserably, unable to continue perpetuating a lie to her charge and then looking at the door, slowly shuffling up to it. It was already late, but not past the usual hour where she said her goodbyes to her companion, and so her next words felt like excuses more than anything: “...G-good night, F-flowey. S-see you in the morning.” She closed the door of the lab where she kept Flowey, a little out of the way of the main lab but not as far out of the way as the two other inhabitants, which were kept by professor Gaster in the most remote corner of the lab. Smiling, she set off towards that room, perking up at the thought of seeing her two little friends again. After a few minutes, she found herself at the doorway to their room, opening it to find the two boys sitting on the bed of the tallest and eldest of the two, who was reading to the both of them.
“...and fluffy bunny looked and looked, but he couldn’t find- o-oh, hey, alphys!” Instantly, both boys perked up, and the smallest of the two spoke in a loud and eager voice.
“NYEH!! ALPHYS, YOU MISSED THE BEST PART OF THE STORY! DOES MY BROTHER HAVE TO START OVER?!”
“N-no, no, that’s okay… so, h-how are yo-you today?”, she asked, prompting the eldest of the two to sigh.
“meh, we’re okay… my bro spent all of today training his magic, it’s growing stronger by the day. he used his blue attack on me and boy was it hard to dodge. ...hey, alphys, it’s been a while since he was here… is he even coming back at all?” It sounded hopeful, and Alphys sighed heavily.
“H-he has to c-come back - he’s due b-back a-a-any day now, the p-puzzles have been re-reset again a-and King Asgore do-doesn’t l-like the professor to s-s-stay long-”
“i wonder why.”, the eldest of the two boys said, gritting his teeth and shaking his head, prompting Alphys to smile at the two and change the subject.
“B-but in the m-meantime! I’ve thought a-about your question a lot!”
“ABOUT OUR NAMES? HAVE YOU FINALLY FOUND SUITABLE NAMES FOR US?! WOWIE!!”, the youngest of the two eagerly said, and his brother added to the sentiment in a no less eager but not quite as loud voice.
“heh, so ya finally found us decent names? this is really the last time i’ve got to call my bro ‘two’ then?”
“Yes! ...W-well, I… the p-professor…”, she hesitantly admitted, looking away in shame until the eldest of the two skeletal monsters spoke in a gritty, angry, utterly not childish voice.
“screw the professor.” His white magic pupils had disappeared from his eyes, adding to the eerie display, but then they flickered back into being and the youth’s voice softened again. “...sorry, alphys, you can’t help it either… and hey, as long as you use our real names, who cares about our ‘dad’, huh?”
“Uh, r-ri-right!”, she said, grinning a little helplessly, feeling at once ashamed and afraid of her mentor and supervisor for a fleeting moment, but then she smiled warmly at the boys again. “I think they s-suit you, too! I was w-writing a, uh, a r-report on my computer t-the other day-”
“ARE YOU SURE IT WAS A REPORT, ALPHYS? BECAUSE YOU BLUSH LIKE YOU DID WHEN YOU TOLD US ABOUT THE STORIES YOU WRITE ABOUT YOURSELF AND THE LOVELY LADY YOU MET AT THE GARBAGE DUMP!!” The youngest boy’s inescapable lack of tact made Alphys lose track of her thoughts again, and she groaned helplessly until his sibling spoke up.
“bro, alphys didn’t tell us about those stories so we could tease her with ‘em - that’d be trashy of us to do…”, he said jokingly, and the three of them laughed for a little before Alphys turned her attention back to the matter at hand.
“S-so, anyway, your names! I was writing up a r-report on my computer the o-other day a-and I accidentally p-put it in the wrong font… uh, you two remember when I showed you the c-computer a while back? T-the font with t-the symbols?”, she asked, prompting silent nods from both boys. “W-well, that happened again. I m-maybe forgot to change it back t-to a regular font, l-like Arial… But i-it got me thinking that the font… h-has hands in it, a-and the professor s-speaks in hands, p-plus the font’s name i-is Wing Dings a-and the professor’s i-initials are W.D…. S-so, I was thinking, m-maybe I should name you f-for some nice fonts too!”
“...heh, sounds like a better idea than ‘dad’ had when he named us… honestly, ‘one’ and ‘two’? kids come up with better than that…”, the eldest of the two spoke, prompting Alphys to shrug.
“I t-thi-think the professor w-was… k-kinda exhausted after… c-creating you two… h-he… put a l-lot into the process… p-parts of his own soul, a l-lot of magic… B-but anyway!!”, she said, turning back to the matter at hand a second time. “...Y-you, for instance, a-always say you’re the greatest a-and the best at puzzles, so… so I named you f-for the coolest font I h-have! Papyrus!” The skeletal boy thought about that for a while and then spoke slowly, almost searchingly.
“THE GREAT PAPYRUS… NYEH… I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS…!! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!! IT SOUNDS GREAT, ALPHYS! I WILL TREASURE THIS TRULY GREAT NAME FOREVER!! ...BUT WHAT NAME HAVE YOU COME UP WITH FOR MY BROTHER?”
“Well, he likes making jokes and puns, so I found the perfect name for a future comedian like him… there’s a font named ‘Comic Sans’ - and maybe we can’t name you ‘Comic’-”
“why not, it’d be funny…”, the teenage boy said, grinning idly and allowing Alphys to continue.
“...But how would you like ‘Sans’?” The teenaged monster pondered on that for a while before nodding.
“sans is a good name, think i’ll keep it.”
“THEN IT IS SETTLED!! FROM TODAY ON, WE WILL BE SANS AND THE GREAT PAPYRUS! AND DO NOT WORRY, ALPHYS! IF DAD ASKS US ABOUT THESE NAMES, WE WILL SAY WE CAME UP WITH THEM OURSELVES!! AFTER ALL, HE CALLS US ‘CLEVER’ ALL THE TIME, NYEHEH!”
“H-heh, thank you, Papyrus… uh, a-anyway, that’s why I c-came over-”, Alphys started, only to get interrupted by the door suddenly hissing open again behind her. In the doorway stood the professor, looking appropriately angry, his own white pupils gone and his cloak billowing on a wind nobody felt.
“Alphys!! I thought I told you… this part of the lab… is off limits! You have no business… being here!! You should remain… with the determination experiments… and monitor them!!” Gaster’s voice was like nails scraping over glass, making his anger all the more tangible to Alphys, and she shivered.
“I-i-i’m s-sorry, professor, b-but… they… th-they were c-crying… T-they were h-hu-hungry! I c-couldn’t l-let them sta-starve, right?”
“Hmmm…”, the cloaked figure uttered displeasedly, moving his hands in his more familiar way of speech. ‘Yes, they needed food. What did you give them?’
“M-milk, and c-cookies. T-the l-low-fat kind, w-wouldn’t want t-them to… to…” Again, the professor spoke with his hands, though this time the gestures were more relaxed.
‘You did well, Alphys. ...But now I’m back and I’ll take care of them. ...How are the determination experiments going? Or did you completely slack off on your duties in favor of these two, or your beloved ‘human history’?’ His face had an amused expression, but Alphys knew well enough that to anger the man now would see that relaxation wiped completely from his mind in a blink of an eye. Fortunately, she had a lot of good news to report.
“T-they’re going very well - w-well, that’s to s-say… the f-fallen ones h-haven’t woken b-back up yet, but… b-but t-the other experiment-” Instantly, when she mentioned it, the professor turned to her, his shoulders tense and his eyes empty.
“You mean… the golden flower experiment… was successful?!”
“Y-yes… h-he woke up a-about a day a-after you l-left again, p-professor! H-he can speak, he c-can use his magic-” Suddenly, the professor backed out of the room again, one of his ghastly hands closing on her wrist and pulling her along. He paused only to lock the door behind them again, but then he ran full pelt back to the main room of the lab, where the fallen monsters were all still comatose in their beds, heading back into the greenhouse lab, where she tended to Flowey. “P-professor, what’s the-”, Alphys started, only to fall silent at the sight of the empty planter standing on the workbench in between the mirrors. Though ‘empty’ would be a wrong term, because several other golden flowers had cropped up inside of it. They were all, however, flawed in a way - off-color, missing petals, decaying where they stood… “O-oh no…”, Alphys muttered, prompting the professor to speak again, his voice oddly suiting the situation.
“This is horrible news… the taint… it persisted inside of it… I felt it…” Suddenly, he turned to Alphys, his eyesockets glowing a vibrant light blue on the right side and a darker blue that was almost imperceptible in the black of his eyesocket on the left side, and he spoke in a magical hiss that was at once fearful and frightening. “Alphys, was he… she… curious?”
“S-she? How… w-we’re talking about prince A-asriel, a-aren’t we?”, she responded, but the professor shook his head, grabbing her with ghastly hands once again.
“She… The human soul… the tainted human soul… and the taint persisted… did the flower ask anything? It is important… it is vital…”
“P-professor, you’re f-fri-frightening me…”, Alphys groaned, fidgeting in the hold of her mentor, but he looked at her with those glowing eyes and she found herself thinking of all the times where Flowey and she had talked, all the times when she’d been worried, all the times where she’d been close to calling the professor… “H-he… yes, he asked a lot-”
“Tell me everything, Alphys… it is vital… we must not allow… this taint to spread… tell me everything you spoke of… everything she asked…” Alphys gulped and nodded, feeling horrified to the very depths of her soul - both by the thought of disappointing the professor, the man she’d looked up to all of her life, and at the thought of something wicked and black living inside the so innocent-looking creature that she believed Asriel - no, Flowey, she again amended - to be…
Charael sat amidst the mass of flowers in the palace - after her escape from the laboratory, she’d immediately headed over to the one place where no one would look for her, which was the mass of similarly-hued flowers surrounding her ‘father’’s throne. Her ‘mother’’s throne was hidden underneath a white sheet to protect it from dust and placed at the far end of the throne room, against a wall, looking very much like a spectre of the past looming over the entire room.
However, Charael wasn’t focused on the room itself, but rather on the people inside of it. She’d been observing her ‘father’, King Asgore Dreemurr, go through his daily routine for days now: so far, he’d been called away three times, once by professor Gaster to notify him of her disappearance and two times by the Royal Guard for urgent business. Now, however, he was receiving a visitor, something that had happened twice a day the past week on fixed times. It was always a heavily armored soldier: Charael had seen several of them stand guard around the Core at night, when she’d surreptitiously sent out feelers from her current position, a feat that was easy to do now that she’d practiced so heavily. But the king’s current visitor… whoever it was, he hadn’t been with the king before. Then, the armored form rose after having kneeled in front of the king and took off its helmet, revealing a familiar though marred face. One eye was a vibrant yellow with a slit pupil, the other eye was gone, a brownish hole taking up its place. With a shock, Charael realized that she was responsible for that, and for a second, she meant to laugh, only to catch herself in time. Being discovered was the last thing she wanted right now.
“Our patrols didn’t find anything unusual, King Asgore. And no other entrances but the three we know of: the barrier room, the Gateway in the Ruins, and the Waterfall. Anyone that tries to enter through the barrier room walks right into your hands, and anyone dumb enough to risk swimming down the Waterfall gets to meet me, fuhuhuhu!!”
“And what about professor Gaster’s, uh, escapee?”, the king asked, prompting Undyne to scratch her scaly head in bewilderment and then sigh dramatically.
“We saw nothing. Then again, his description wasn’t really a whole lot to go on - ‘tiny, high-pitched voice, Vegetoid-like’...” The king sighed as well, and for a while the two stood in silence, boring Charael; then, the fish-like woman spoke up in a more contemplative voice. “...King Asgore, I’ve gotta ask… do you believe the professor when he says that he’s managed to give prince Asriel’s soul a new body?” Now Charael perked up, wanting to hear the answer of her ‘father’. The king looked at his charge for a long time, and she’d already started an apologetic bow when he spoke up melodiously and mournfully, his baritone voice soothing even at a serious moment like that.
“...I believe him, mostly because I loved my son and I’d do anything to have him back. One day, Undyne… one day, you’ll have children of your own, and then you’ll understand - though I hope you don’t have to share my pain with me.”
“...” For a while, Undyne stood in silence in front of her king, but then she spoke on in the same contemplative tone she’d used the previous moment. “Gerson… kinda said the same to me after Asriel died. Man, you and him, you don’t deserve to suffer like you did! And even if Asriel got my eye… he didn’t deserve to die like that. ...If you believe that that little runaway science experiment really is your son come back to life, King Asgore, then I’ll believe it too!”, she finished with vehemence, bowing deeply before putting her helmet back on and stepping out of the throne room, leaving the king alone. It was the moment Charael had been waiting for: after the late evening audience with the Royal Guard, the king retired to his palace - which was still the same as she remembered it - and ate his dinner. He was invariably alone from that moment on, and so he was an easier target. Plus, Charael mused as she ducked underneath the surface, burrowing through the soil easily by using her magic, by the time the professor had any idea she was behind it, she’d be long gone…
She’d tested out her thoughts on the fact that she, in this new flower form, could propagate her taint and harvest souls that way back in the lab. Her first test had been a failure: she’d tried to make other flowers like her, sentient and gifted with souls, but that had failed right from the start. The flowers were equally soulless, and the taint even made them wilt far faster or grow wrong. But when she’d realized that the tainted seeds could be ingested by monsters and absorbed by their magic, she’d started wondering whether that wasn’t a faster and far more efficient way to get what she desired. It was somehow fitting that Asgore, her once-father, would be the test subject: after all, she’d tested out the buttercups on him as well, and corrupting the most kind-hearted monster of the underground would be the best possible start of her rise to power!
She unearthed herself inside of a flowerpot in the living room, on the table. This, too, she’d contemplated a lot of times. She could dream the layout of the house, down to the color of the tablecloth and the placement of the books in the bookcase. All she needed to do was stand still in the planter, then use her magic to distract the king and plant the seeds in his food. With any luck, he wouldn’t even notice them… However, just as she’d summoned up the seeds and was ready to use her magic to make a book fall from the bookcase, a knock on the door sounded and the king got up from his chair, looking utterly bemused.
“A visitor? This late at night? I wonder who…” He got up and walked to the door, leaving Charael to feel fortunate for the convenient guest: she summoned up a few of the hard seeds she’d experimented with, which were tiny enough to be confused for grains of sugar lumped together, and then shot them into the pie. She figured three would be enough to spread the taint to Asgore’s soul. Then, she tuned her ears to the muffled wisps of conversation that she could catch. The voice was unfamiliar but it held a lot of authority, something that was explained when the king mentioned the other person’s name.
“...Gerson, I appreciate you… ...didn’t see anything…?”
“Eehehehe, nope! ...that little flower went, it wasn’t… ...garbage dump neither…” Her floral self was once again the topic of conversation, something that was explained the next moment as the king asked the old hero another question.
“Gerson, do you… believe Gaster? He says… ...cannot believe that Asriel… ...h-he must be mistaken, right?” A long silence followed, and then, after a deep and weary sigh, the other monster’s answer came.
“...Gaster… ...lot of things, but… ...can bring back the kiddo. So no, I don’t…” Charael laughed inwardly at that, addressing the fragment of Asriel’s soul that was still at her command.
‘You see, you pathetic excuse of a monster? You’re truly and utterly dead! So stop your struggling!! You can’t accomplish anything with it anymore! And you certainly can’t save anyone anymore!!’ There came no answer, and she grinned in satisfaction, carefully hiding herself in the planter a second time when the king returned inside, willing the shivering of her leaves in anticipation to calm down. He ate the pie with big, eager bites, swallowing the seeds whole, and once he was done, he put the plate in the kitchen while Charael looked at him. She could literally feel the seeds inside of his body now, their own brand of infernal magic worming its way to his soul and wrapping careful tendrils of corruption around it, worming their way to the depths of that glowing center of the king’s being to assume total control. The first sign very subtly presented itself when the king returned to the living room on his way to his room to sleep: his steps faltered and he pressed a hand to his chest, an expression of worry flittering over his features for a moment. Then, he sighed and walked on, but Charael had seen and grinned. The first part of her plan was ready, now all she needed to do was wait until the king of all monsters was under her sway…
Gaster walked so quickly that his cloak billowed behind him like a cloud of thick gloom following in his wake. He’d been with his two boys, who now insisted on being called ‘Sans’ and ‘Papyrus’ thanks to Alphys’ influence, when he’d suddenly gotten a call from Gerson of all people. The old war veteran claimed that he’d been over to visit the king when he noticed that the king looked very pale and ill. Gerson had done the natural thing and had offered the king some food for vitality, but Asgore had refused every last bite of it, insisting that he felt fine… and then fainting mid-sentence. Gerson had first put the king to his bed - which was an enormous effort, because the king was nearly four times his size - and had then called the lab, where he’d reached Alphys, who had in turn called him. After giving Alphys the necessary instructions - don’t go to the boys as they were still recovering from the last round of experiments, check the others’ vital signs every hour, and clean up the specimen fridges - he’d taken his instruments for medical examination, put on his coat and had rushed out of the lab heading straight for the CORE’s main elevator. However, as he walked across the perilous walkway leading to the elevator, he suddenly heard a soft but clearly audible voice behind him.
“Running so fast, Professor?” It was a lovely voice by all rights: girly, light, slightly mischievous, but when he turned around and saw the flower, a shiver crawled up his spine long before it spoke a continuation in a much more saccharine tone but with an undertone darker than any monster had any right to sound. “Careful, you wouldn’t want to fall here…”
“Asriel, Chara… no… Charael…”, he said, remembering what he’d heard as a soft whisper when he’d scried the soul the last time: the flower was quiet for a while until it chuckled softly.
“So you know my real name, Gaster… then you know what it means, too?”
“The Demon That Comes When Called. The Wilted.”
“Good, good!”, the voice said - it sounded giddy, and the girlish quality of the voice made it sound wrong to the professor, who crossed his arms and straightened his back extending his already tall form so he towered over the minute thing. Yet he could feel that his presentation was just a front, and he knew it knew as much. “...You fought me being… transplanted into this form…”, it spoke superfluously, prompting him to nod just as unnecessarily.
“Yes, demonspawn. I fought it because your existence is wrong-”
“No more than yours, void-dweller.”, it said, still grinning smugly. That, however, ended when Gaster gathered a little of his magic, which was not yet at full strength again after his last experiments with his boys but had had ample time nonetheless, and set his pupils aglow in his otherwise empty eyesockets.
“Do not dare to discuss with me, Seed of Darkness, who has more validity in this Underworld! Your place is far, far below mine! And you’d do well to remember that your influence cannot corrupt monsters as it can humans!” The professor chuckled, shaking his head and stepping back from the flower. “You are weak here, Charael, with no human souls to harvest, with no monsters to accept your dirty corruption-”
“Oh, they’ll accept me…”, the flower said smoothly, but with a wavering note in its voice, which showed to Gaster two things: first of all, it was already trying to corrupt the monsters, but secondly and most importantly, it was failing.
“You’re responsible for the king’s illness… and you see how effective your attempt at corrupting him is. He isn’t succumbing to your vile influence - instead, his very soul is fighting to reject your presence! It won’t be long before he fully rejects it! And then what is your plan? Your feeble, miserable plan?”
“Silence, insolent wretch!!”, the flower bellowed in a voice that was hateful and twisted, not at all like the sweet and light voice it had used before, leading Gaster to conclude that it realized as well how unstable its hold was. “You know nothing, scientist! You know nothing of my plan, and of my powers!”
“I know enough, Charael. I know more than enough. Your plan is weak, and you’ll never succeed with it. King Asgore is too strong for you. And now that I’ve caught you, I’ll do what needed to be done long ago and set Asriel’s soul free at long last. A human soul without a body… what will you be then?”
“Your insolence knows no bounds!”, the flower protested in a grainy voice that sounded reminiscent of the human child’s voice, showing that the corruption had not happened upon the underground by coincidence. Then, however, the flower rolled its magic-created eyes. “...You’ll be the first to die.”
‘You have no power over me.’, professor Gaster motioned with his hands, unwilling to spend any more of his magic on conversing with the flower, and he turned around, ready to continue on his way to the castle when suddenly, he felt a thorny branch wrap around his ankle and hoist him in the air, turning him around. Startled, he grasped for his magic, ready to incinerate the flower, but as he looked at it, his hold on the awe-inspiring powers he’d amassed faltered. The flower had truly mastered its human soul and the power it held: no longer a mere overly large golden flower, it had grown and… evolved. Thorny branches whipped around a form that was… gruesome enough to be worthy of an experiment of his, Gaster mused. And here he thought his two boys would be ill-received because of their skeletal nature.
“I have power over you, void-dweller… The power to end you!! But not yet… not yet…”, the flower said, reverting back to the sugary-sweet, light, girlish voice it had first used, lending extra cruelty to its next monologue: “...The king isn’t succumbing to my powers rapidly enough, but in time he will… He’s taught me that I need more than just the seeds to sway a monster to my hold… I need persuasion… I need to whisper in their ears that with my help, they can do what they wish to do… with my help, they can be more, be greater… Let’s face it, monsters are just as weak as humans are to the powers of demonic persuasion… Except you, of course. You, void-dweller, have outlived your days as Royal Scientist.” With an almost-careless flick of its thorny branches, the flower threw him off to the side, right at the bubbling lava below. With the last of his powers, professor W.D. Gaster opened a ‘breach’, as he called them himself, wildly aimed, and stepped through into the rumbling, tearing chaos that was the raw space-time continuum…
Toriel looked up at the ruins while tending to the small patch of golden flowers she’d found near the Gateway, the hole down which all of monsterkind had been herded in the beginning. She’d only been small at the Day of Banishment, but she remembered landing in a patch of fragrant golden flowers, and ever since that day, she’d started associating the small yellow flowers with a sense of worry assuaged. Because as afraid as she’d been back then of the humans and their sharp swords and spears, landing in a field of flowers told her that it’d all be okay. Because the cave couldn’t be all that bad if flowers could grow there, she’d told herself. Asgore had organized all of them and had set them about to the task of building, of looking out for resources, of looking ahead in the cave to see how far it stretched…
Now, however, those initial days were far behind monsterkind. She’d grown up, her parents had died, she’d fulfilled their final wish and had married King Asgore, they’d had a son and had then been blessed by a second child, a human child that had fallen into the Underworld with no way of returning to the surface… and she’d lost both her children, a grief that still sat bitterly in her heart…
“...Oh… I should not think of that now…”, she firmly berated herself, turning back to her duties in tending to the flowers, weeding out the wilted ones so the healthy ones got more light and air. However, she invariably found her heart hardening as she thought of that other patch of flowers - it brought her thoughts of heated arguments with her ex-husband Asgore.
It had been fifteen years since she’d left the capitol and headed back to the old castle in the Ruins; fifteen years in which she’d found two more humans - a patient boy, thick-set and bespectacled, interested in science and biology, and then a very modest and soft-spoken gangly youth with a missing tooth that had been honest to her from the very beginning in missing his home. She’d tried to keep them with her, but in the end their hearts grew dim and their eyes kept darting back to the hole in the cavern’s ceiling, and she’d had no choice but to deliver them to the mercy of the monsters outside the Ruins. The patient youth had been a teenager when he went, holding the more awkward and younger child with the unwavering sense of integrity by the hand as they headed out into the magical snow-drifts of the forest, and… that’s where all knowledge of them ended. She’d never heard from them again… Asgore had probably killed them and taken their souls, like he’d vowed on the night when their son’s ashes had scattered on the earthen floor of the throne room and it was all professor Gaster could do to capture the merged soul of the two children, of Chara and Asriel… instead of accepting the loss and mourning it, he’d chosen to reforge his grief into anger, into hatred, into everything that monsters were known for in those fairy tales that had existed above.
“...Oh, that stubborn fool!!”, she admitted to herself in a heated tone, crumpling a few of the wilted golden flowers in her hands as she clenched them to fists. “He does not understand that violence and despair don’t need to be the answer!! He’s had two chances so far to do the proper thing and he just won’t!”
“...then why don’t you do the right thing for him?...” The sound of a smooth, sweet voice billowed into her ears, sounding distant but clearly audible. Looking around, Toriel could see no one there, and she sighed.
“...Sitting here in this flowerbed for so long must have affected me more than I thought… I do believe it’s time for some more pie!” She walked back to the picknick basket she’d brought with her, taking out the snail pie she’d made fresh that morning, eating the second piece of it. For the second time that day, she frowned at her apparent mistake of having put in too much sugar - tiny clumps of it filled the otherwise perfect pie, crunching in between her teeth. Nevertheless, the taste of the pie was still good, and after some initial added bite, the pie offered no more kernels of sugar. Still, however, she felt something in the pit of her stomach, a sort of half-nauseous feeling that worried her. “...I… m-maybe need to check my stores again… did I maybe put in too many snails?”, she whispered to herself, shrugging after a few minutes more of unease. It’d pass - maybe just a stomach bug…
“...you are so much better at doing the right thing than King Asgore ever was… you can protect these humans that fall down here, with a little help… you can be the savior they need, the guardian angel they deserve… and all it’d take is letting me help you…”, the voice sounded again, and now Toriel looked around in confusion, finally speaking up.
“...Who is there? I-is… did someone…?” But that wasn’t possible, she realized: it had been almost nine years since the young boy fell. The Ruins had been a very lonely place, with only a few minor monsters keeping her company - a small family of Froggits, a nest of Whimsun, some Vegetoids that found the soil there very rich in nutrients… “P-please, if someone is playing a joke on me…”
“I’m not playing a trick on you, Queen Toriel… I’m serious as can be… you can be the angel they deserve, if you’d only let me help you…”
“...” For a moment, Toriel’s mind wandered to the person that visited the door out of the Ruins, the man with the hoarse voice that told her knock-knock jokes and puns through the heavy stone slab, and she wondered whether he could be doing this, but then she shook her head. His voice was scratchy and deep, not… not light and almost girly like this voice. “...Whoever this is, it’s not funny…”, she said decisively, and the voice reacted almost instantly.
“I am not kidding, Queen Toriel, and I’m not intending to be funny… Losing those children can’t be easy on a woman with a heart as persistent as yours, with a soul as strong and loving as yours… Allow me to help you, and together we can make sure no child walks away again… no child will ever leave you to hurt again…” Toriel sighed, looking around again before speaking with a slightly wavering voice.
“...I-if you mean it, then show yourself…” Suddenly, amidst the mass of golden flowers, a large specimen popped up, sporting a face that blended in with the flower’s center seamlessly: dark eyes, a sweet smile, and a voice that sounded soothing and lovely when it spoke up again.
“You can trust me, Toriel… after all, you’ve trusted me before, haven’t you? Don’t I seem familiar?”, the flower said, smiling when Toriel’s eyes widened. The flower indeed had something familiar about it, something that pulled at her heart… and when she reached a hand to its petal, she knew why in a single moment.
“A-asriel? Chara?”
“Oh, mommy, I was so afraid you wouldn’t recognize me…”, it spoke in a relieved voice, smiling happily, and Toriel had to hold herself back from throwing herself around the flower and probably squishing it. Instead, she felt tears of unadulterated joy leak into the fur of her muzzle as she spoke.
“Oh, my children… h-how… How did you… did the professor do this?”
“Yes, he did - oh, mom, it was horrible, he just stuffed our soul in here l-like it was nothing, and dad j-just let him… I escaped-”
“It d-doesn’t matter now, my children… my child…”, she amended, remembering professor Gaster’s explanation about Asriel having absorbed Chara’s soul and how they’d become one being in doing so. “...You’re here, with me, now… and if it’s you that spoke to me before…”
“Yes, mommy, it’s me that spoke to you before!”, the flower intoned sweetly, happily, prompting a smile from Toriel as she nodded while continuing.
“Then I will allow you to help me in taking care of the children! ...But how…?”
“Oh, we have powers now, mommy, a lot of new powers… we can use our magic to make you grow stronger!”, the flower-Asriel told her, and she nodded, causing her child to continue: “Don’t worry if it feels weird, okay? Just… just trust us… trust me…”, it said sweetly, giggling softly as Toriel felt a wave of magic rise around her, flowing into her, warming her body.
Then, however, she could feel something sharp at her soul, like needles being thrust into it from the outside, and she groaned. Then, when the magic started to burn in conjunction with it, she screamed. But not for long.
“...Oh, my child…”, she said softly as she rose and looked at her paws, seeing the fur on them having turned a few shades darker, making them greyish. “...What…?”
“I’m sorry, mother, but it was necessary. You see why, don’t you?”, the flower asked in a somewhat cold and distant voice, but Toriel nodded nonetheless, feeling deep within what her flower-child meant. Her child was trapped, and this was the way to free it - to free her, because she was dead sure that her combined child was female now.
“I see, my child, but…” Something inside of her rebelled fiercely - this went against everything she stood for, after all. However, the flower responded sweetly to her hesitation.
“It really is the only way, mother… you do want me to be freed, right? To walk in the light of the sun? To be happy?” Toriel nodded, pushing aside her hesitation, and the burning feeling in her soul did the rest, bringing a grin to her features.
“Of course, my child. I understand. You can depend on me… the humans will be taken care of…”
