Chapter Text
Third POV
Harlequin does not remember walking here.
One second—
He’s in the cottage.
Warm.
Safe.
Smelling faintly of cinnamon and butterscotch.
The next—
He’s standing in the middle of a courtroom.
“…What.”
His voice echoes slightly.
Because of course it does.
The room is massive.
Overly dramatic.
Polished wood, towering pillars, banners hanging from the ceiling like this is some kind of royal trial instead of whatever the hell this is supposed to be.
And then—
It gets worse.
He turns.
On one side—
The circus.
All of them.
Jester standing at the front, arms crossed, posture straight, eyes locked forward with that same unreadable intensity.
Bil beside him, calm as always, though his eye is clearly watching everything.
Doctor slightly behind, arms folded, gaze sharp and clinical like he’s analyzing the entire courtroom.
Pierrot…
Just standing there.
Watching.
And behind them—
The Fools.
All lined up.
Silent.
Creepy.
Definitely judging him.
“…Great,” Harlequin mutters under his breath.
Then—
He turns the other way.
And freezes.
Because—
That’s not the circus.
That’s—
Toriel stands at the front, calm, composed, hands folded gently in front of her like this is just another polite gathering and not a trial for custody.
Behind her—
Monsters he recognizes from the photos in her home.
Familiar faces he’s never met but somehow still knows.
Warm.
Normal.
Not… whatever his life usually is.
“…Okay, what is happening—”
“ORDER IN THE COURT!”
The voice booms.
Harlequin flinches.
Everyone flinches.
Except—
The skeleton sitting in the judge’s chair.
Short.
Lazy posture.
Feet kicked up.
A bottle of ketchup sitting casually beside him.
He doesn’t even look like he should be a judge.
“…you done?” the skeleton says, half-lidded eyes scanning the room.
Harlequin stares.
“…Sans???”
No one answers him.
Because of course they don’t.
Because this isn’t about him understanding what’s going on.
This is about—
“NYEH HEH HEH!”
Harlequin jumps.
A tall skeleton in a suit steps forward dramatically, holding a book like it’s the most important legal document in existence.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMONSTERS!” he announces proudly. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL BE OVERSEEING THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THIS MOST IMPORTANT CASE!”
“…why are you in a suit,” Sans mutters from the judge’s chair.
“BECAUSE THIS IS A VERY SERIOUS MATTER, SANS!”
Papyrus slams the book open.
Harlequin feels his soul leave his body.
“We have gathered here today,” Papyrus continues loudly, “to determine the primary custody of one—”
He points dramatically.
“—HARLEQUIN!”
“…NOPE.”
Harlequin immediately turns like he’s about to walk out.
Two invisible forces shove him back into place.
“YOU MAY NOT LEAVE THE COURTROOM!” Papyrus declares.
“I DIDN’T AGREE TO THIS—”
“OBJECTION,” Sans says lazily, raising a hand without looking up.
“…to what.”
“dunno. felt right.”
Papyrus ignores him.
“THE TWO GUARDIANS IN QUESTION HAVE BOTH FILED FOR CUSTODY—”
Harlequin slowly turns.
Toriel.
Standing calm.
Gentle.
Looking at him with that same soft, reassuring expression.
And then—
Jester.
Standing straight.
Still.
Watching everything.
Watching him.
“…you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Harlequin whispers.
Papyrus gestures dramatically between them.
“ON ONE SIDE—TORIEL, CARING MOTHER FIGURE!”
Toriel inclines her head politely.
“ON THE OTHER—JESTER, LEADER OF THE CIRCUS PACK!”
Jester does not move.
Does not react.
Just… stares.
Papyrus slams the book shut.
“THE QUESTION BEFORE THIS COURT—”
A dramatic pause.
“WHO GETS CUSTODY OF HARLEQUIN?!”
Silence.
Complete.
Absolute.
Then—
“…can i object to being the thing you’re deciding over,” Harlequin says flatly.
“DENIED!”
“i’ll allow it,” Sans says at the same time.
“…thanks.”
“no problem.”
Papyrus points again.
“LET THE CUSTODY BATTLE BEGIN!”
Toriel and Jester turn.
At the same time.
And lock eyes.
The air shifts.
Not violently.
Not aggressively.
But tense.
Like two completely different worlds have just collided over the same person.
Harlequin stands in the middle.
Looking between them.
Slowly.
“…i’m dreaming,” he decides.
“yeah,” Sans says, taking a sip from his ketchup bottle. “you are.”
“…cool.”
A beat.
“…this is still a nightmare.”
“also correct.”
And just like that—
The courtroom explodes into chaos.
Ticket Taker POV
How.
Did I end up here.
I stand in what is very clearly a courtroom—an overly dramatic one at that—staring across polished floors at a group of monsters I have never seen in my entire existence, while two living skeletons casually argue over something that should not be legally binding in any known dimension.
“…I want to go home,” I mutter under my breath.
No one hears me.
Of course.
Because why would they.
My gaze drifts—no, snaps—back to the center of the room where Harlequin stands, looking like he has fully accepted his fate and is currently reconsidering every life decision that led him here.
“…I understand him,” I say quietly.
Deeply.
Spiritually.
Emotionally.
Then I look to the left.
Jester.
Oh, this is worse.
He is not in disguise.
At all.
Four pairs of arms crossed in that unnervingly controlled way he has when he is this close to doing something that will escalate the situation dramatically, his expression set into a frown that could probably crack stone if applied correctly.
And he is—
Oh.
He is death staring the goat monster.
Of course he is.
I follow his gaze.
And there she is.
The goat woman.
Toriel, if I recall correctly from Harlequin’s very vague and suspiciously fond descriptions.
She stands there.
Calm.
Gentle.
Composed.
Smiling at—
…me?
I blink.
Once.
Twice.
She is still smiling.
Warmly.
Like we are not currently on opposite sides of a courtroom battle over custody.
“…why is she nice,” I whisper, deeply unsettled.
This is wrong.
This is very wrong.
And then—
She turns.
And stares back at Jester.
Sternly.
Still calm.
Still composed.
But—
Oh.
Oh, that is terrifying.
I have never seen someone match Jester’s intensity without immediately regretting it.
This is new.
I do not like new.
I glance sideways.
Pierrot is just… looking around.
Silently.
Taking everything in like this is some kind of field trip.
“…of course,” I sigh.
Doctor, on the other hand, looks fascinated.
Not alarmed.
Not confused.
Fascinated.
His gaze is locked onto the monsters behind Toriel, specifically—
Oh.
The fire one.
Yes.
That tracks.
I follow his line of sight and catch the living flame monster sitting there with a similar expression—one of deep, tired understanding.
They make eye contact.
There is a moment.
A silent exchange.
A mutual acknowledgement of:
We are surrounded by idiots.
“…I feel that,” I mutter.
Then—
“NYEH HEH HEH!”
I jump.
Physically.
Visibly.
“…I hate this place,” I whisper.
The tall skeleton—Papyrus—slams his book open like he is announcing the end of the world instead of—
“THE CASE FOR TORIEL!”
Ah.
Yes.
Of course.
Papyrus paces dramatically, gesturing wildly as he speaks.
“THIS KIND AND WONDERFUL WOMAN HAS PROVIDED FOOD, SHELTER, AND EMOTIONAL SUPPORT TO THE YOUNG HARLEQUIN!”
He points dramatically at Toriel.
She smiles politely.
Like this is normal.
“OBJECTION!”
The short skeleton—Sans—raises a hand lazily from the judge’s seat.
Papyrus freezes.
“…ON WHAT GROUNDS?!”
Sans shrugs.
“dunno. felt like you were winning too hard.”
“…SANS!”
I rub my temple.
“…This is not a real court,” I whisper.
“Nope,” Sans agrees from across the room.
“…WHY CAN YOU HEAR ME.”
“i hear everything. it’s a curse.”
“…fantastic.”
Papyrus resumes immediately.
“FURTHERMORE! SHE HAS DEMONSTRATED EXCELLENT PARENTAL QUALITIES!”
“SECONDED,” Sans says.
“YOU ARE NOT HELPING!”
“i’m helping emotionally.”
Meanwhile—
Jester has not moved.
Not blinked.
Not relaxed.
His gaze remains locked on Toriel like he is actively deciding whether or not to challenge the entire concept of this courtroom.
“…Please don’t,” I whisper in his general direction.
He does not respond.
Of course he doesn’t.
Harlequin, still in the center, slowly turns his head toward me.
“…Bil,” he says flatly.
“Yes?”
“Help.”
“…I cannot.”
He stares at me.
“…You’re useless.”
“I am aware.”
Papyrus slams the book again.
“AND THAT IS WHY TORIEL SHOULD HAVE PRIMARY CUSTODY!”
Silence.
Then—
All eyes turn.
To Jester.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no—
I straighten instinctively, bracing for impact as Jester finally shifts, uncrossing one set of arms just slightly as his posture adjusts.
“…This is going to escalate,” I say calmly.
Pierrot nods silently.
Doctor leans forward slightly.
The fire monster in the back crosses their arms like they are about to enjoy this.
And Harlequin?
Harlequin just looks like he’s ready to lay down on the floor and accept whatever happens next.
“…I should have stayed in the tent,” I sigh.
Too late now.
Way too late.
Sans POV
…okay.
so.
Either I just came back from the afterlife—
again—
Or I walked straight into the weirdest timeline glitch I’ve ever seen.
And considering my track record?
yeah.
could be both.
I lean back in the judge’s chair, one leg kicked up, ketchup bottle still sitting next to me like it’s part of some official court decor, and just… stare.
because this?
This is not normal.
even for me.
“Alright,” I mutter under my breath, scratching the back of my skull as I glance around the courtroom again. “Let’s see what we got here…”
on one side—
tori.
well.
version of tori.
Looks like her.
acts like her.
same warm smile.
same posture.
same presence that makes everything feel a little… softer.
But I know better.
because I’ve seen her.
really seen her.
in timelines that didn’t last.
in endings that didn’t go right.
in moments that—
…
I blink slowly, pushing that thought aside.
not the time.
not the place.
on the other side—
spider guy.
jester.
Yeah, I’ve heard of his type before.
not personally.
But you don’t go hopping timelines without picking up a few patterns.
protective.
controlled.
one step away from turning this entire courtroom into a problem.
He’s holding back.
barely.
I can tell.
He doesn’t belong here either.
None of them really do.
except—
I tilt my head slightly, eyelights narrowing just a bit as I look toward the center.
harlequin.
standing there like he’s questioning every life choice he’s ever made.
“…same, kid,” I mumble.
But here’s the thing.
this whole setup?
this “custody battle”?
this scene?
it feels…
scripted.
too clean.
too convenient.
like someone grabbed pieces from different timelines and mashed them together into a—
“…comedy skit,” I finish under my breath.
yeah.
That’s exactly what this is.
a weird, stitched-together moment that shouldn’t exist.
copies.
not perfect ones.
but close enough that most people wouldn’t notice.
except—
I do.
because I remember.
everything.
every reset.
every variation.
every version where things went right—
and all the ones where they didn’t.
and right now?
I’m the only one here acting like this isn’t normal.
“…figures,” I sigh, picking up the ketchup bottle and taking a slow sip like that’s somehow gonna help me process this.
It doesn’t.
nothing ever really does.
My gaze drifts back to Tori—
the copy of her—
watching the way she stands, the way she looks at Harlequin like he’s something worth protecting.
worth caring about.
And yeah.
That part?
That part feels real.
too real.
My eyelights soften just a fraction before i force them back to normal, my grin settling in place like it always does.
because no matter what this is—
a glitch.
a joke.
some kind of cosmic mess—
It’s still showing me something I don’t get to see often.
her.
happy.
whole.
not broken.
not gone.
not—
…
I take another sip.
“…yeah,” I mutter.
“I’ll roll with it.”
because if this is some afterlife detour—
or timeline hiccup—
or whatever—
Then I might as well enjoy the show.
My gaze flicks between Jester and Toriel, then back to Harlequin, my grin widening just slightly.
“…besides,” I add quietly, settling deeper into the judge’s seat.
“This is about to get really interesting.”
And for once?
I’m not in a hurry to leave.