Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Chara?”

Asriel stands next to the bed, his fists balled anxiously in his sweater, his eyes trained on his best friend’s face. Chara makes no reply.

“Chara? Can you hear me?” Asriel whispers. “Oh, God...”

Chara stares at the ceiling, still and silent. A drop of fresh blood, brought up by their coughing fit less than a minute ago, beads at the corner of their mouth and traces a narrow line down their cheek. The seconds drag by; they still don’t answer.

“Chara,” Asriel croaks. He draws back the bloodstained duvet and lays a trembling paw on their chest. No breath buoys it up; no heartbeat pulses beneath his fingertips. Their nightshirt is still damp with cold sweat and sticky blood, but no life stirs under the thin fabric.

“No... not already...” Asriel whispers. He grabs Chara’s hand, squeezing it so hard they should surely cry out in annoyance and pull away. But they just keep staring at the ceiling, their fingers limp in his grasp.  A tear forms in Asriel’s eye and runs down his fur – one of many that have come before, just like the drop of blood from Chara’s mouth. He wipes it away quickly and chides himself. This is the moment! He needs to be ready.

“Chara.” Asriel lets go of his friend’s hand, leaving it to trail loosely over the side of the bed, and clutches at their chest with both paws. “What do I do? How do I... how do I get it out?” He fights back panic. Their soul should be leaving their body, shouldn’t it? Will he be able to see it when it does? Will he have to... to what? Reach out and catch it? What if he misses?

He takes a steadying breath. The seconds are wearing on, and still nothing has happened. Oh, God, what if he has to get it out himself? Just watching the bleeding brought on by the buttercups made him feel sick – he doubts he has it in him to inflict such a wound himself. But Mom and Dad will be back any second. This is his only chance.

He sets his claws against Chara’s chest and makes one last vain effort to slow his breathing, steady his paws so that he can make a clean cut. He screws up his courage, and–

Suddenly, the room is plunged into darkness. The sensation of the floorboards against Asriel’s feet and Chara’s skin under his claws grows distant. Even the noise of his own breathing seems deadened, overwhelmed by another sound. It’s faint at first, but it quickly grows louder: a high-pitched ringing that seems to bypass his ears and resonate within his very mind. He shakes his head, trying to dispel it, and peers into the darkness. He can barely even see Chara’s body in front of him.

Then, without warning, a bright crimson light forces Asriel to scrunch his eyes shut. The ringing changes in quality – it’s even more piercing now, but it no longer comes from inside his head. Instead it’s right in front of him; right beneath his paws. He opens his eyes just a crack. The light and the sound... they’re coming from the same place, right in the centre of Chara’s chest. He lifts his paws away in shock.

The light rises slowly out of Chara’s body, ethereal, bright red, like a brilliant ruby or a drop of shining blood. Its glow, getting softer now, bathes the room eerily. The ringing, which reached its peak as the light emerged, grows gradually quieter until Asriel has to lean in close to make it out. It hums out of the light, pure and sustained like the chime of a distant bell. There’s no doubt in Asriel’s mind that he’s hearing the sound of Chara’s soul.

What now? He cups his paws around the soul, beckons it closer. It follows the motion, drifting from its position above Chara’s chest like thistledown caught in the breeze. Asriel hesitates, stops moving... but the soul continues. It floats out of his hands towards him, moving of its own volition. He gasps as it gently bumps against his chest, sending ripples of warmth all through his body.

“Chara?” he whispers, his voice a mixture of fear and delight. “Is it – are you–?”

The soul rings a bit louder, and bumps against him a second time.

“Okay,” Asriel says. “Okay. Here we go.” He exhales slowly and lifts his hands up to the soul once more, pressing it back into his chest.

The light gets brighter; the ringing reaches a fever pitch. Asriel squeezes his eyes shut and pushes as hard as he can, willing Chara’s soul into his body. The ripples of heat grow faster, more intense, until Asriel’s hands and chest burn with each fresh pulse. More tears form in his eyes; he opens his mouth to scream...

The light vanishes. The ringing cuts out completely. Asriel draws in a deep, ragged breath and stumbles back, his feet thumping on the floorboards. There’s a moment of utter stillness.

And then the world explodes.

The ringing, the heat, the light all return at full force – but this time they come not from outside, but from the very centre of Asriel’s being. He falls on his hands and knees as unfathomable power wracks his body, demanding to be released at every point. He shouts at full volume; his claws scratch long grooves into the wooden floor; every strand of his fur stands on end. The sensation goes beyond pain or pleasure – pure, overwhelming energy the likes of which no living monster has ever wielded before washes over him in waves, intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure. He takes a shuddering breath, and feels the air whistling past huge, razor-sharp fangs.

In his head the ringing fades, giving way to thrilled, manic laughter. He recognises the voice even before it calls his name. Asriel!

He breaks off from howling and lifts his head up in shock. Chara?

Asriel! It’s me! Their voice is sparkling, elated. It worked! You did it, Asriel!

Chara! You’re here! he calls back. You’re here. You’re alive.

I’m here. I’m here. God, we’re so powerful, Asriel. Can you feel it?

A fresh wave of heat emanates from Asriel’s chest with those words, setting his fur bristling, causing him to bare his fangs instinctively. He nods. I can feel it alright. It’s almost too much. The power of monster and human soul combined thrums through him; his dust vibrates as though threatening to blast apart. This is insane, Chara!

It’s awesome, they reply. Asriel, we’re unstoppable.

A hysterical laugh escapes Asriel’s lips; Chara’s enthusiasm is infectious when their soul is so close to his. He springs to his feet and finds himself towering over the bed that just moments ago came up to his shoulders. Chara’s body looks so small and distant from this height. He tilts his head back and glances at the ceiling; it’s much closer than it was before. There’s an unfamiliar weight about his head as he moves it, as well. He reaches up tentatively with one hand and is surprised to feel a fully-grown pair of horns.

Oh my God, Chara! he yells excitedly. Check out how big we are.

There are footsteps pounding down the hall. Quick, Chara hisses, dragging his mind back to the task at hand.

Asriel turns to head for the door, but he’s only taken one step when he freezes, his feet rooted to the spot. Wait, Chara says.

Asriel’s body twists round involuntarily, and before he knows what’s happening he’s walked back to their bed in lurching, unsteady strides. He stumbles and flings out his arms to catch the mattress, barely managing to break his fall.

Chara? he asks in a panic. What’s going on?

My body, they say. We need to take it to the surface. Asriel’s paws clutch at it, drag it from beneath the sheets. It’s so small in his arms, still warm, but limp and utterly lifeless. How long has it been since their soul abandoned it? The rush of sensations that came with the sudden increase in power momentarily wiped out his sense of time.

Chara... he says, uncertainty resonating in his mind. He seems to have control of himself again now that their body is cradled in his arms.

I want them to see me, Chara says grimly. I want them to know what they did. Then we’ll make them pay.

Chara...

The door swings open. There stand Toriel and Asgore, wearing matching expressions of horror. Asriel turns to face them and they step back instinctively, leaving the doorway clear. Their wide eyes flick between the face of their son, altered almost beyond recognition, and the body of the child cradled in his arms.

“Mom... Dad...” Asriel says.

Go! Chara shouts, the force of their order propelling him to the door. We can talk to them later.

Asriel walks past his parents into the hall, progressing with ungainly steps on too-long legs. He’s seized with an urge to stop and examine his reflection as he passes the mirror, but Chara spurs him on towards the landing. There’ll be time for you to check yourself out later. Let’s go!

Asriel turns and heads down the stairs leading to the throne room. Mom and Dad looked so frightened, Chara, he says. I’ve never seen them like that.

Don’t worry, they reassure him. They’ll understand when it’s over. They know it’s still you.

Chara... we must look terrifying.

We look badass. Those humans are gonna pee their pants when they see you.

Asriel carries on through the final corridor and into the throne room. He’s quickly getting used to the extra height, and is amazed at how far his legs take him with each stride. He feels buoyant, packed with energy like a coiled spring. Like he could leap into the air and never have to land again.

He’s at the barrier now. He’s stood here many times before, and in the past he was always intimidated by its cold indifference: the constant, throbbing hum, the unyielding surface beneath his paws, hard as diamond and smooth as ice. But now it feels different. It reacts to his presence, its hum resonating with the two souls in his body and spiking like the buzz of swarming bees as he gets closer. And when he steps forward, prods it with a single toe, it reacts: bending under his touch, deforming around him until his whole foot is embedded in its surface.

The hum becomes painfully loud, and turns into a pins-and-needles tingle that shoots through Asriel’s leg as though threatening to shake him into dust. His claws tighten on Chara’s body and he takes a step back – the barrier seems to shove at his foot at it disconnects, repelling it like a magnet. He steadies himself and roars in anger.

What happened? Chara asks anxiously. Is it still blocking you?

Asriel doesn’t answer, instead glaring at the barrier with narrowed eyes. “No you don’t,” he growls. “Not this time.”

Asriel...?

“You’ve kept us here long enough.” Asriel squares his shoulders and leans forward, preparing to walk into the barrier again. “That ends today!”

He marches forward decisively, forcing his right leg through the barrier and following through with his left before it can repel him again. His whole torso plunges into its gleaming surface and it twists and deforms once again, moulding itself to his body like a sheet of plastic wrap. He presses on, screaming with pain and righteous anger, shoving his whole body into the wretched seal.

He feels the barrier tugging, a sensation like a million tiny barbs hooking into his skin and trying to drag him back. It clings and pulls, as though trying to strip his fur from his body or rip his newly-grown horns off his head. But he grimaces and endures and pushes onwards, and...

...his horns are the first thing through, stretching the seal taut and then piercing it, two neat puncture wounds that slide down their length and widen around his scalp, and...

...his head is next, fangs bared, roaring in defiance, eyes glowing and sharp stripes of black fur standing out on white jowls, and...

...then his chest, arms curled tight around the body of his best friend who gave their life so he could make this journey, razor-sharp claws still drawing flesh blood where they’ve pierced the corpse’s waxy skin, and...

...then the rest of his body, faster and faster as the barrier loses its grip, realises it’s failed to keep the mighty prince of monsters contained, and last of all...

...his left foot, the rocky outer surface still desperately clinging, stretching out like thick liquid before finally coming loose and falling back into the mountainside, the hole resealing as quickly as it appeared. Asriel plants his feet firmly on the ground and stands tall, illuminated by the fiery glow of sunset, breathing in the freshest air he’s tasted in his life. Chara’s roar of triumph echoes in his head and comes to his lips in time with his own.

For the first time since the barrier was created, a monster has exited the Underground.

Chapter Text

What are you doing, Asriel? Chara screams.

I can’t do it, Asriel answers, the voice in his head cracking in time with the tortured sobs escaping his mouth. I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.

We need to go back to the village, Chara says insistently. You’re hurt. Badly hurt. I can feel it.

Mom and Dad can heal us, Asriel says. We’ll be fine.

We’re dying, Asriel. We might not even make it back up the mountain! Turn around!

Asriel ignores Chara’s demand and trudges on up the side of Mt Ebott, wincing with every step. His whole body aches from the wounds the humans inflicted; dust pours from the jagged gashes torn in his robe by their weapons. Magic gushes from Chara’s soul at full force, straining to hold their shared body together, but it’s an uphill struggle. His form is crumbling faster than the fused souls can replenish it, and his strength is beginning to flag.

Asriel, listen, Chara says, their voice insistent but beginning to waver into panic. If we turn back now we can get another human soul. It might enough to heal you.

We can’t, Asriel says miserably. I can’t attack them. I’m not strong enough.

You’re the strongest thing on the planet! Chara howls. You need to do this, or you will die.

Asriel whimpers out loud as Chara’s anger washes over him. A rock turns under his foot and he lists sideways, already unbalanced from exhaustion and the weight of Chara’s body in his arms. He lands in the dust, fresh pain thudding through his right arm and flank, and groans miserably. A trickle of dust runs from the cut on his forehead and catches in his eyes, blurring his vision. His arms and shins and torso are covered in irritating clinging seeds that he longs to tear off and fling away – but he barely has the strength to stand, let alone groom his fur.

Please, Asriel, Chara says, the quaver in their voice betraying the tears they can no longer cry. I don’t want you to die.

“I’m not gonna die,” Asriel whispers, as though speaking the words out loud might help make them true. “We’re not gonna die. We’re gonna... hngh...” He shifts his body, his feet scrabbling at the loose earth of the mountainside. “We’re gonna get home, and heal up, and figure out a – a better way.”

Asriel’s feet find purchase; he tightens his arms around his best friend’s body and, with a gargantuan effort, hauls himself to his feet. His mouth twists in a snarl of agony and fresh dust still spills from his robe, but he keeps his balance and takes another leaden step up the mountain. The illusory rock wall concealing the barrier is just a few yards away now, up a shallow slope free of obstacles. He can make it. It’s gonna be fine.

Keep it together, Azzy, Chara grunts, apparently having given up on getting him to go back. Just a bit further. You can make it.

Asriel feels an extra surge of strength emanating from his friend’s soul, and grins in spite of everything. He ignores the dust he’s losing and manages to take a few more steps. We’re gonna make it.

Chara screams with determination, the last of their energy pouring from their soul like water through a burst dam. Asriel roars in reponse, letting their willpower propel him forwards. He slides across the dust, stumbles and almost falls... but he makes it to the barrier at last, leaning his weight against it gratefully.

It reacts to his presence, just as it did when he exited mere minutes ago – but this time it’s different. It seems to beckon him in, already tugging at his brutalised form before he even makes contact. Welcome back, it seems to say. Welcome home. This is where you belong.

The angel who saw the surface enters the Underground once again.

Asriel’s exhausted muscles give out completely; he falls forwards and the barrier practically carries him through, sending him sprawling on the grey floor of the castle. His joints are in agony; his skin feels hot and cold all at once beneath his fur. He lies face-down on the cool stone, the body in him arms pinned beneath him, lacking the strength to even lift his head.

Chara, he murmurs vaguely. We made it. A faint smile forms on his lips. They’re safe at last.

But something’s wrong. Chara doesn’t answer; no jubilation flows from their weary soul. Its last reserves have been exhausted, and when Asriel reaches within for fresh strength he finds only hollow exhaustion. He feels a pang of fear, but even fear is hard to sustain when he’s so tired...

Chara, he says again.

Asriel, comes Chara’s voice, quieter than before, and still fading. Asriel. I’m sorry.

Chara? Asriel calls back. Chara...

Asgore and Toriel are there, he realises. They rush to his side, warm steady paws already grabbing his shoulders, lifting him off the ground, helping him into the garden. Numbly he wonders why his legs won’t seem to bear his weight properly.

His parents are speaking, but he can’t understand the words. Their voices are vague and echoey. There’s a soft thump in the distance; looking down, he sees that Chara’s body has slipped from his grasp and landed in the small patch of grass that hasn’t yet been consumed by the growing white light. He stretches out his arms to pick them up, but finds there’s nothing left of them but white stumps that swim before his eyes. He can’t feel his parents’ hands anymore; he can’t feel his own legs. There’s no sight but pure white light, no sound except for the endless ringing.

I’m sorry, Chara, Asriel thinks.

The prince’s body crumbles and scatters on the ground. A bright white soul with a red light glowing at its centre emerges from the dust, floating between the king and queen. It trembles for a moment, shatters, and is gone.