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There’s no pomp and circumstance when the monsters coronate her. They do it in her real laboratory, the one over a mile under the Underground. They make a makeshift crown out of old supplies and documents, a scepter out of a steel pipe, and declare her ruler.
There are almost no monsters left to celebrate, if there was anything to celebrate, if her coronation wasn’t a final act of desperation for a species on the brink of extinction. Nobody had been spared - not even children had escaped the human’s cold, emotionless slaughter. Their dwindling numbers could fit in a single room.
When she’s coronated, she tries to present herself as a strong, powerful leader. She tries, but it takes everything in her power not to cry. She gives what she thought would pass for an impassioned speech when she wrote it, saying that “as long as even a single monster is left alive, the Kingdom of Monsters is never defeated” and “we will collect the souls again, we will break the barrier and be free,” but she says it all like she’s been reanimated from the dead.
At least she doesn’t stutter.
When she looks out at the small crowd, there’s no hope in the monsters’ eyes. That only makes sense - when she looks in the mirror later that day, she sees no hope in hers either.
It’s a week after Asgore’s death before they dare to travel out of her laboratory, in case the human comes back - and in case they don’t come back alone.
For many monsters, life soon returns to the closest thing to normalcy possible. The survivors of each part of the Underground return to their homes, their businesses abandoned, their neighbors lost. The city of New Home becomes completely empty - nobody wants to live so close to the Barrier. The amalgamates go to live with whatever family they have left, but most of them have no families anymore, so Alphys ends up taking care of them herself.
And Alphys sits on the King’s throne, far too big for her, far too big for anyone, and does her best to lead. Everything is different. There are no more royal scientists, as much as she searches desperately for anyone who will take a position as one. The Royal Guard has expanded to its absolute limit, with every living citizen expected to take positions in it. There’s only one advisor in the Kingdom of Monsters (soon to be the Democracy of Monsters, she hopes) - her Royal Advisor, Sir Gerson. He reluctantly took the position when Sans refused it.
After a month, she decides to ask him: “Do you... think I’m cut out for this?”
It’s a rhetorical question. She knows that, as much as she wants to, she can’t give up the throne. There’s nobody that would take it.
Gerson thinks for a moment. At last, he says, “Well, Your Majesty, I think you’ve got some good policies! Increasing education is a great idea, although I don’t know about all the military drills... but having all those traps built in Snowdin and New Home, that was a smart move. Getting rid of money altogether... it’s daring, and it kind of puts me and the other shopkeepers out of a job, but you know, I like your moxie!”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Gerson sighs and takes off his pith helmet. “No, I don’t.”
Alphys doesn’t flinch when he says that. She already figured as much herself.
“But, you know what I think?” Gerson says, looking at her firmly. “I think you’re the best we’ve got. The people want you as a leader - they might grumble, but they do love you. They do everything you say. They trust you. And you know, that counts for a lot these days.”
”That doesn’t make me a good leader.”
Gerson puts his pith helmet back on.
“Listen. Asgore wasn’t a great leader either.”
Alphys turns to him at that, eyes widening. She hasn’t heard anyone talk negatively about Asgore since his death. It's only been a week, after all.
“I know, that’s sacrilege,” Gerson continues, raising his hands. “But, believe me, it’s true. He never was the brightest leader. His wife did all the ruling for him, up until his children died. Then he went and declared war on humanity, the old fool - worse thing to ever happen to this place, if you ask me. Practically the whole reason this mess started.”
Alphys thinks about that.
“The war... it hasn’t stopped, you know.”
Gerson nods. “Of course not. But you aren’t planning to go out and kill all of humanity, are you?”
Alphys shakes her head.
“No. We’d... we’d all just die.”
“Exactly. So you’re already doing better than he did.”
Alphys tightly grips the steel pipe she still carries as a scepter.
“Am I, Gerson? I’ve.... I’ve promised them we’ll break the barrier, even if it takes another thousand years. What do we do then? They’re not going to want peace with humans. Humans aren’t going to want peace with us. The war’s going to continue whether we want it to or not, and neither of us will be around to see it. All we’re doing is dooming future generations to be... to be killed.”
“You don’t know that, Your Majesty.”
“I do know that,” she sighs.
“Well, take it from someone who’s been around a long, long time... a lot can change in a thousand years. Maybe there’ll be new rulers that want to continue the war. But, just maybe, there’ll be new rulers who want peace and have the means to achieve it. Who can say?”
She rubs at her temple. It is impossible to say, rationally speaking. But she’s anything but optimistic. Sure, she can do her best to lead now, but eventually, she’s going to... be gone. And what is she going to do then, when monsterkind faces the same problems it did before, when even a failure like her isn’t around to shepherd them? Will they find solutions? Or will history just repeat itself?
Finally, she says to Gerson, “Thanks, Gerson. You’re dismissed.”
Sometimes, she finds time to put down the makeshift scepter and go for a walk. She hates most places - the MTT Hotel and the CORE in Hotland, her old lab, the garbage dump in Waterfall. All of them remind her of what she’s lost, or worse, remind her of what she’s still capable of losing.
But there’s one place that she doesn’t mind going. It’s to Bratty and Catty’s new makeshift store in Waterfall, in a cave with runes that nobody can read. Bratty and Catty are some of the only friends she still has - she missed their presence in her life terribly and is, somewhat morbidly, almost grateful to have it back.
The first time she visits, both Bratty and Catty congratulate her on becoming Queen and give her free merchandise, saying “advancing your career is, like, so in right now.” She thinks they’re making a morbid joke, a bit of gallow’s humor, just based on their appearance. Bratty and Catty both seem very... tired. They don’t smile as much and there are dark bags under their eyes - they can really only really be described as “haggard.”
But she appreciates having them around anyway. A little humor, even if it’s joking about how everyone is dead, is exactly what she needs.
The second time, they decide to go back to the garbage dump, to relive “old times.”
“Remember when... when we found that rare Mew Mew Kissy Cutie fangame?” Alphys had said as they explored.
“Ugh, like, of course you want to talk about that,” Bratty had replied, rolling her eyes. “You’re the Queen now. Like, I don’t know, have some taste or whatever.”
“I’ve totally got a better one,” Catty had said. “Remember... our first kiss?”
Bratty had blinked. “Uh, no. Our first kiss was not here.”
“You, like, definitely know I meant with Alphys.”
Bratty had grinned. “Haha, I totally did.” She looked at Alphys. “You, like, remember too, right?”
Alphys had blushed crimson and immediately changed the subject. It really had been like old times - Bratty and Catty teasing her while she looked for rare treasures. Maybe, if nobody else would, she had thought, she’d be able to watch some anime with them and just veg out for a while.
But the third time she visited, Bratty and Catty’s shop was gone. So were Bratty and Catty.
And Alphys felt more like a failure than ever.
“This is all my fault.”
“no, it isn’t. it’s outside of our control. you know that. this is a failed timeline - the anomaly...”
Alphys puts down her golden flower tea - the King’s favorite, and bitter on her tongue - and stares at Sans in disbelief.
“Why would you think that helps, Sans?”
Sans looks like he might be frowning, as much as someone with a permanent grin etched into their face can frown.
“i’m just saying, is all. the timeline could be reset any day now. any minute now. whoever - whatever - is controlling it’s gonna get bored. and it’ll be like this never happened.”
“That’s just a theory,” she replies, staring back down into her mug. Her reflection, dark circles under its eyes, stares back at her. “We don’t know how the timelines work. We don’t even know what the ‘anomaly’ is, much... much less if we should, uh, anthropomorphize it.”
She pauses.
“And it’s still my fault,” she says. “Everything that happened is my fault. I should have killed them, before they could kill anyone else.” Her mug shakes in her hand. “I’m... I’m a coward.”
Sans’ eyes go empty. He slouches, looking more defeated than she’s ever seen him.
“you’re not the only coward.”
She looks back up at Sans. “What?”
“killing them when you had the chance. i could have done the same. and the only reason i didn’t... is because i went and made a promise to this silly little old lady in the ruins that i wouldn’t.” He gives a small shrug. “and you know what? they killed her too.”
He laughs hollowly.
“heh heh... should have trusted my gut.”
She continues staring at Sans, unsure what to make of what he’s just told her. At last, she says, “I guess we’re both cowards then.”
“yeah. guess we are.”
Alphys knew it was a horrible thing she was asking for. The phone of the “little old lady” in the Ruins - the last hope they had of contacting the human. Sans had found it when they’d opened the doors leading to the Ruins, in a pile of robes under a blanket of dust.
Sans had only once looked angrier than when he found it, and that was when they’d discovered the death of his brother. She didn’t understand what relationship he had once had with the old woman who had apparently been living in the ruins, but... she couldn’t blame him. She was angry too.
That’s why she wanted to make this call. No. That was why she had to make this call. Even if Gerson thought it was pointless, that it wouldn’t help anything, she needed to say something to the person who had killed everyone she’d ever cared about.
“here,” said Sans, handing her a slip of paper. “i’ve got the number.”
She nodded and dialed it with her own phone, putting it up to her ear. It seemed to ring forever - long past the point any sane person would have given up on it - until, finally, someone answered.
Or, rather, it stopped ringing. Nobody actually spoke. She could barely hear anything at all to know there was someone on the other end of the line.
“So... you’re the one who killed all my friends.
"I just called to tell you... I hate you.”
There was no response, not even a gasp, not even a breath. It somehow made her angrier at them - she wanted to shout at them to say something, anything, so if nothing else, she could put a voice to the person whose face was imprinted into her brain.
But she knew there was no point. This was only for herself, her own selfishness - this was never going to be anything but a one-sided conversation. She keeps talking and talking, to nobody.
“God... I miss everyone. Now that they’re gone, it... it feels so clear what I should have done. What I should have said.”
She takes a sharp breath, but she doesn’t cry. She doesn’t have the strength to be weak enough to cry.
“Just daydreaming here, but...
“I really should have killed you when I had the chance.”