Archive of Our Own

Peter Parker and Harry Osborn loved their family. It wasn’t exactly what one thought of when picturing a traditional family; in addition to Peter’s Aunt May, and Harry’s father Norman, there were a handful of people outside their bloodlines who had become invaluable, indivisible parts of their lives. A sort of ‘found family,’ if you will. 

But it wasn’t always this way. The cast of (literally) colorful characters who now resided in Harry’s penthouse had entered their lives around fourteen months ago. Originally they had lived deep beneath Mt. Ebott, the tallest mountain overlooking New York City from the fringes of the expansive forest at its base. They were monsters — monsters whose entire society had, centuries before, been banished beneath the mountain by ancient humans, for fear that their former allies would turn on them and wield their powerful magic against them. 

Denied the light of day year after year, the monsters grew bitter and resentful toward humans. They looked to their king, Asgore Dreemurr, for guidance, and awaited the day that he would gather enough human souls to shatter the seal keeping them beneath the earth and storm the Surface. He would destroy all of humanity, punishing them for the crimes of their ancestors, and allow monsters to live in peace once again. 

And it probably would have happened that way, had Peter and Harry not taken an accidental tumble straight into the heart of the mountain just about a year ago. That one, serendipitous slip set them, and the entirety of monsterdom, on a course that would change the future of humans and monsters forever. The journey was long and arduous, and there were close calls a plenty, but in the end Peter and Harry had emerged victorious with their beloved friends by their side. Down they’d come from the mountain prison, bringing with them a new era of peace. The monsters were where they belonged, and the boys would never have to say goodbye to the people who had become family to them down there under Mt. Ebott. At last, things were as they should be.

Well...almost.

Life since that fateful day had been as close to perfect as it had ever been for Peter and his best friend. Yes, the aches and pains of living in the super-powered capital of the world were as prominent as ever, and high school didn’t magically get any easier. And yes, Peter’s villains still gave him untold grief, and Harry’s father was still a condescending hardass. But when you had a family of monsters there to back you up and hold you tight after a long day, all of those issues seemed a lot smaller than they used to. The support of their friends was their strength. Waking up each morning and knowing that so many of the people they loved were finally where they should be — thanks in part to them, which was still staggering even all these months later — made the sun shine a little brighter, even on the cloudiest days.

Peter and Harry would have been completely content, if it wasn’t for one thing; one small, teensy, yet incredibly significant thing.

Their parents.

Or, rather, the rift between them.

Toriel Dreemurr had made it quite clear from the moment she reunited with them at the Barrier that she wanted no part of her ex-husband, King Asgore. She had left for a reason, so many years ago, and her disgust had been clear when she spoke to the shamed monarch with all the sharp words she’d been saving. Peter and Harry, feeling bad for Asgore after all he’d lost, had asked Toriel to forgive him.  He was sorry for the things he had done; anyone could see that. And neither of them believed he was a bad man at heart. Even good people could make awful mistakes. Though he’d nearly killed them, they couldn’t bring themselves to hate him. 

Despite their pleading, Toriel had not been able to bring herself to forgive Asgore that day. She’d been apologetic (to them, not to Asgore), but insisted that he had caused too much hurt to be forgiven. In the end, though, Toriel had reluctantly relented — eventually, she’d said, it might be possible to forgive. She would just need time. It wasn’t what Asgore had wanted to hear, certainly; and the slight heaviness had remained in Peter and Harry’s hearts, knowing the king would not receive the closure he’d been so desperately craving. Still, it was better than nothing. They understood, more than anyone, that forgiveness took time. Toriel had every right to heal on her own terms. She didn’t even have to forgive him at all, so just the possibility that it could happen was more than either of them could have hoped for.

Upon returning to the Surface, Toriel had continued to be the surrogate mother she’d been since the moment she’d found them in the Ruins. Asgore, too, became like a father to both Peter and Harry — working hard to make amends for what he’d done, he’d proven himself to bear just as much love for the fallen humans as the rest of their close circle of friends. 

When they had first met Asgore in the Underground, the boys had never expected they would come to view him as a parental figure, but now they couldn’t imagine living without him. He was kind, and he was patient, and he listened when they spoke. He shared Harry’s love of gardening, and Peter’s passion for problem-solving. Not a day went by when he didn’t check in with them emotionally, and if one of them had had an off day he would make it his personal mission to find a way to turn it around. He was just...so present. Harry would never say as much around Norman, but Asgore was the father he’d always wanted. Always needed. They loved him as dearly as they loved Toriel. 

That was why, in spite of their understanding of the complicated history between the Dreemurrs, the visible space between them hurt the boys so much. They all lived together in the same penthouse (aside from Peter, although he visited so much that he might as well have lived there), but when it came to the king and queen, they might as well have been on entirely different planets. 

Recently, though, they’d noticed something interesting. Something...exciting. There had been times, in the past several months, where the rift seemed to bridge for just a single instant. It had happened more and more as time went on, and Peter and Harry had picked up on it almost immediately. 

They were little moments; moments most people might write off as mere circumstantial accidents. To the boys, though, it felt like more. Like there was something waiting, in the both of them, just beneath the surface. Something neither Dreemurr was quite ready to acknowledge.

Like...there had been that one time, around the fourth week mark of the monsters’ return:

They’d all been around the table in Harry’s penthouse, having a rather late dinner on a Friday night. Asgore had prepared the meal they were currently eating. He didn’t cook very often, as he wasn’t as confident as Toriel or Papyrus in his culinary skills, but that night he’d felt like giving it a try. 

As intermittent conversation filled the spaces between bites, Toriel had suddenly wrinkled her nose. Peter, ever the sharp-eyed observer, had cocked his head.

“Toriel? Everything okay?” he’d asked.

Toriel had paused, that same strange expression on her face, before reaching into her mouth and pulling out a whole coriander. She’d studied it for a minute, and then she’d shaken her head and held it up for everyone else to see. 

“ You always do this,” she’d said, glancing across the table at Asgore. “Every time you make your curry, you forget to mince all of the corianders!” Toriel had turned a smirk onto the rest of the family, an unmistakable, mischievous twinkle in her rosy eyes. “It always happens, without fail. He gets so excited that he rushes ahead and misses some of them. I suppose some things really do not change!” 

And then she’d laughed, and the others had laughed, and out of the corner of his eyes Peter had noticed Asgore staring at Toriel with a mix of awe and surprise. He’d elbowed Harry, gestured to the king, then to Toriel. Harry had appeared confused for all of two seconds before his eyes grew as wide as Asgore’s. Neither he nor Peter had spoken a word aloud, but it was obvious they were thinking the same thing:

Toriel had actually referenced Asgore...casually. No vitriol whatsoever. At least, none they could detect.

The rest of the night there was little interaction between Toriel and Asgore. Even so, that fleeting moment of what almost felt like teasing remained solidly in the back of Peter and Harry’s minds. What it meant, if anything, they didn’t know, but it was so out of the ordinary that it got them starting to think.

That was the first time they’d really begun to take notice of this slight shift in dynamic. It didn’t stop there, though. Several weeks later, this exchange had taken place:

“God, I hate math.”

Harry had, as usual, become fed up with the complications of trigonometry. Peter wasn’t there that night, as he and Aunt May had made plans to see a movie, so he was on his own against the mathematical demons.

That was, until Toriel had finished up the dishes from the evening’s supper and come to sit beside him. 

“What is wrong, my child?” she’d asked, putting a hand on his shoulder and peering down at the homework sheet. “Are you having trouble?”

Harry had snorted. “That’s an understatement, but yeah. I just...I can’t figure out this stupid formula. We must’ve gone over it at least ten times in class, but I still can’t wrap my head around it.” Maybe Norman was right. Maybe he really was too slow for this level of math. 

Toriel had hummed thoughtfully. “Hmmm. Let me see if I can help. I am more knowledgeable about history, but I do know some mathematics.”

That was when Asgore had poked his head into the kitchen from the living room beyond. His face, framed by his long ears and curved horns, looked almost bashful as he peered at Harry and Toriel. One of his hands wrapped around the open door frame. He coughed once, twice, then said, “Um, excuse me. Harry, I could not help but overhear that you are having some difficulties with your math. I do not mean to intrude, but perhaps...perhaps I could help?”

Harry and Toriel had both looked up. Harry’s frustration, already somewhat eased by Toriel’s offer of assistance, melted even further at the sight of Asgore in the doorway. “Oh! Asgore, you think you can help?” he’d asked hopefully. “I’d really appreciate it. Three heads are probably even better than two.” He chuckled.

Toriel, gaze focused on the taller monster, said nothing. Her expression was unreadable. Still, she didn’t object as Asgore smiled and made his way into the kitchen, plopping himself in the seat on the other side of Harry. 

“I will do my best. What is the problem?”

So Harry had explained the basics of what his class was currently learning — the dreaded Sine, Cosine, and Tangent formulas. He knew that it was child’s play for someone like Peter, and probably most of the other kids, too, but Harry had accepted a long time ago that he wasn’t cut out for math. 

“I see,” Asgore said once he’d finished. He’d stroked his beard and nodded to himself. “Well, I think I remember most of this. It has been a while, but it cannot be too hard.” Leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on the table, he’d picked up Harry’s pencil and began to scribble something on the scrap sheet. “Let’s start with cosine. First, we—”

“Wait just a moment,” Toriel had said suddenly, snatching the pencil away from Asgore. Asgore and Harry looked up at her with wide eyes. They glanced at one another, Harry raising his eyebrows. Asgore made a tiny shrug.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Harry asked.

Toriel shook her head. “You should not be helping with this,” she’d said pointedly to Asgore. “You are terrible at this type of mathematics.” 

Asgore jolted. “What?” he gasped. “Tor—!” He caught himself, cleared his throat. “I...I mean, that is not true! I know trigonometry very well! I helped the boys with their homework all the time. I even helped them study for the big unit test.”

Harry had realized with a start that the king must have been referring to their four original children: Asriel, and Eddie, and the alternate versions of himself and Peter. He was so startled he nearly choked, but luckily managed to swallow it before he could. It was just...neither Dreemurr mentioned the Others very often. Especially not in such a casual way. He’d assumed it was because the memory was too painful, too raw even decades upon decades later. He didn’t blame them. This time, though, as Asgore spoke, it was like it had never been a taboo topic at all. Harry almost wondered if, for a second, the king and queen had forgotten he was there. That was the only explanation he could come up with for why he’d reference them like that. 

Toriel had snorted. “Yes,” she’d said. “And as I recall, the next day they all got Ds on their exams because YOU mixed up the formulas for cosine and tangent.” 

Asgore’s face had gone red as his mouth opened and closed helplessly for several moments. Then, with an embarrassed look, he’d dipped his head. “Oh...yes,” he said eventually. “I...I do remember that now.”

"They were mortified. They would not touch a calculator for weeks.” A wry smirk crossed Toriel’s face as she set the pencil down. “I think it would be best if I handle this. We do not want Harry to have a similar incident.”

“No,” Asgore admitted. “No, of course not.” He’d turned to Harry with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Harry. I almost made things worse, didn’t I?”

Harry had been quick to assure him. “No, no! It’s okay, Asgore, really. I appreciate your offer to help. Besides, I completely get it. Trigonometry is hard as BALLS. I hate this stuff.” He’d laughed, and was pleased to see Asgore smile a little. 

“I will leave you and Toriel to it, then.” 

As Asgore got up from the table and slowly headed back for the living room, Harry could tell just from his posture that he was still a bit disappointed. His heart sank. There had to be something he could do, right? Maybe—

“Perhaps you can help with science, if he needs it,” Toriel said just before he left through the door. Once again, Harry and Asgore’s heads snapped toward her, faces awash with shock. The comment had been made in an offhand manner, and she barely spared a glance for him before returning to the paper, but her eyes did meet his for a moment. “You were always better at biology than math.”

For a little while, all Asgore could do was stand there between the kitchen and the living room, dumbstruck. He was staring at Toriel, but she’d fully immersed herself in Harry’s trigonometry now. It was like she’d never even spoken to him. 

Again, Harry and Asgore locked eyes. The tiniest, encouraging smile turned up Harry’s lips. Though on the outside he remained calm, he couldn’t ignore the fluttering in his chest. Maybe he was over analyzing, but that brief exchange had almost felt like...a tease. 

Eventually Asgore had grown aware that he was lingering beyond what was necessary, and he’d turned and left — but not before looking back at Toriel one more time. The longing on his face was so oblivious it hurt. Toriel didn’t see it, but Harry did. He always did. 

There were more little moments like that over the course of the first year they shared together. Sometimes it was even less than what Harry had witnessed that day at the table, or what he and Peter noticed at dinner that one night, and sometimes it was more. Asgore casually pointing out Toriel’s favorite flowers during a walk; Toriel easily recalling one of their inside jokes when asked about it by Sans; Toriel instinctively turning to Asgore when trying to decide on ingredients before recognizing what she’d done and turning away, embarrassed. 

It wasn’t a lot, but it was clear that something was going on. Little by little, whether Toriel realized it or not, she was starting to treat her ex-husband more and more like a person, instead of a pest. 

It all came to a head one sunny Saturday afternoon. Peter was over as usual to spend some time with his adoptive brother and the rest of their family. This time, though, when he arrived at the penthouse doors, he immediately whisked Harry up the stairs and to his bedroom before his friend could even greet him. 

“Whoa! Uh, everything okay?” Harry asked, bewildered. “What’s going on?”

In response, Peter pulled something shiny from his pocket. The golden, heart-shaped locket from the Underground, emblazoned with the crest of the Dreemurr family, dangled from its chain around Peter’s finger. Harry sucked in a breath. 

“I think it’s time we show them this,” Peter said simply. “When we got home, I put it under my pillow. I didn’t want...I didn’t want Toriel or Asgore to see it and ask about it. I didn’t wanna bring up those memories for them.” He studied the locket as it glinted in the light streaming in through Harry’s large window. “But, now that some time has passed...I think we need to let them know.”

Harry’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. “Know?” he echoed. His heart was starting to race. “Know what? I thought we weren’t gonna—”

“Not about him,” Peter elaborated. “Or us. Er, OTHER us.” As much as he sometimes thought about telling their parents about alternate universes, and the fact that they’d sort of been their children once before, it would all just be too much. Like Asriel, that would have to stay between them. “Just...about this. About the fact that we know about their other kids.” He scuffed a toe along the floor. “I don’t want them to feel like they have to keep it quiet around us.” 

Harry took this in in silence. He nodded. “Yeah. Okay,” he sighed. “I guess you’re right. We should probably tell them.” 

So, later on, when most of the other monsters had gone out to do whatever it was they were doing that day, and Norman was holed up in his private study, Peter and Harry sat down with Toriel and Asgore on the long black couch in the living room. 

The monsters sat beside one another at a slight distance, Toriel’s body positioned so that she was half-turned away from Asgore. Her arms were folded across her chest, and though she was visibly uncomfortable at being so close in proximity to the king with few others around, her attention was fully focused on the boys. Asgore, meanwhile, sat with his back straight and hands folded in his lap. His eyes darted to the left every so often, stealing a glance at Toriel before facing front again.

“Toriel,” Peter began once he and Harry were comfortably settled on the opposite couch. His face and voice were soft as he regarded their parents. “Asgore. Thanks for agreeing to do this. I know it probably seems a little weird, asking you to sit with us for a while, but I promise it’s for a good reason.”

“Of course, my child. If there is something you need to talk to us about, we are happy to listen.” Toriel shifted slightly, keeping her eyes on Peter and Harry across the way. “Are you doing alright? Is there something that you need?”

“We’re fine,” Peter assured her. “Everything’s good. We more just wanted to talk to you about...this.” Taking a quick, deep breath, Peter unveiled the locket from inside his closed hand. It lay flat in his palm as he extended it across the small gap between couches for them to see. 

As soon as they laid eyes on the necklace, Toriel and Asgore drew simultaneous breaths. 

“O-Oh...my word,” Toriel whispered. Her voice caught in her throat. She brought one hand to her mouth, her head beginning to move from side to side of its own accord. They could see wetness creeping into her eyes. 

“Peter,” Asgore said haltingly. “Harry. Is...Is that…?” 

“Yes.” Peter nodded. “It‘s the locket.” He didn’t know who, exactly, this particular locket had belonged to — whether it was the other Peter, Harry, or, God forbid, Eddie — so he just referred to it as ‘the locket,’ or ‘their locket.’ Regardless of whose neck it had been worn around, it was a gift from Asriel, and it had clearly been treasured.

Toriel blinked rapidly to clear her eyes, wiping at them with her long sleeve for good measure. “How...How did you get this?” she asked finally, when no one had spoken for some time. “Where did you find this?”

Now Peter and Harry grew a little sheepish. They glanced at Asgore. “Uh, well,” Harry started, “it’s kind of a funny story, heh. We, um...when we were going to the castle for the first time, through the Capitol...we kind of had to, uh...go through your house, Asgore.” He smiled in apology and rubbed his neck. “W-We didn’t wanna snoop or anything!! We just...well, we had to find the— the keys, to unlock your basement, so we had to check some of the rooms. And in one of them, was…” He nodded toward the locket in Peter’s hand. 

God, I hope he doesn’t get too mad. They hadn’t meant to invade his privacy. They’d just done what they’d had to do to get through!

To their relief, Asgore didn’t look angry. In fact, he looked almost... glad. 

“So it has been with you, all this time,” he murmured. He reached out toward the locket, pausing to ask Peter with his eyes if he might take it. The spider-boy dipped his head, and Asgore shakily picked it up. He cradled it in his hands like a precious diamond, or a newborn. His thumb found the latch, popping the cover open to reveal the picture within. Two stray tears rolled down his left cheek as he looked upon it. “I looked everywhere for it, before we left the Underground, but I could not find it. I thought I had lost it, or misplaced it somewhere that I would never remember. I thought...” He swallowed. “I thought I would never see it again.” Trembling, he looked back to Peter and Harry. “Thank you. I am so happy that it was not lost...but safe, with you. Thank you.”

Just seeing Asgore and Toriel get so teary-eyed was doing the same thing to Peter and Harry. They couldn’t cry, though; not yet. Not when there was more to say. They had to be strong, for them.

“Y-Yeah, of course,” Peter said with a wobbly little smile. “When we found it, we figured it might be important, so we decided to take it with us. Especially since it had their picture in it.” 

Toriel and Asgore’s posture changed suddenly. They were leaning in now, eyes almost boring into them. 

“...You said ‘their’ picture,” Toriel said slowly. “Do you...do you know who ‘they’ are?” She looked like she was holding her breath waiting for the answer, hands pulled close to her chest and head inclined forward. 

“Asriel,” Harry said. “And Peter, and Harry. And Eddie.”

A high-pitched noise eked out of Toriel’s mouth as she clamped both her hands over it. Asgore, meanwhile, sat back against the couch, a long breath leaving him in a whoosh. His eyes closed. Peter and Harry shared a quick look. They’d known it was going to be difficult, but they couldn’t back out. It was too important. They deserved to know.

“We know all about them,” Peter said quietly. “I...I know you guys don’t like to talk about them much, and I completely understand why. We’d never wanna force you to bring it up, so that’s why we didn’t show you this earlier. Sometimes, though, when you’ve mentioned ‘them,’ or ‘the boys,’ and we had to act like we didn’t hear or understand...it felt like we were keeping something from you. I…” Peter lowered his eyes. “We just wanted you to know that it’s okay to say their names.” He leaned over and gently took one of Toriel’s hands in his. “We know what happened. And we’re so, so sorry.”

Toriel’s hand gripped Peter’s tightly. “You knew,” she said. Her voice was no higher than a whisper. “You knew.”

“Yeah.” Harry rounded his shoulders. His foot traced an indecipherable pattern in the beige carpet. “W-We’re really sorry we didn’t say anything earlier. Really. It was just...we didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”

Asgore pushed himself up the couch so that he was sitting tall again. He looked at Peter and Harry, still cupping the open locket in his hands. “You cannot know...how much this means to us,” he said. “And…” Asgore hung his head. “I want to apologize for hiding something so important from you. Even though you already knew, I believe we should have told you about them far, far sooner. I hope we did not worry you too much.”

Peter and Harry looked surprised. “Asgore, you have nothing to apologize for,” said Peter. “Your family is your business. Sometimes, painful memories aren’t always ready to be shared.”

“You are our family.” Asgore clicked the  locket shut and handed it back to Peter, coiling the chain loosely in his palm. “You deserved to know. They deserved to be remembered by more than just two lonely old goats.”

Toriel, who’d been quiet during this short exchange, suddenly held her hand out toward Peter. “Please. May I see it?”

“Of course.”

He passed the necklace along to her, and like Asgore before her, she handled it like her life depended on keeping it safe. She opened the heart-shaped container and gazed down at the image of the four boys — three human, one monster — holding their flowers, smiling. Laughing. She rubbed her thumb across it gingerly. Her lip began to tremble.

“When we first learned your names,” she said, voice hoarse, “I could not believe my ears. I thought, for a moment, that I had been hallucinating. It could not be. Peter and Harry were…” She choked back a sob. “It did not make sense. I thought I must have heard wrong.” Her eyes lifted to meet theirs. “But I was not wrong. For days and days after we returned home, I...I thought to myself about it. I wondered at the odds of my children bearing the same names of two of the children I lost.” Toriel tucked one ear behind her robe. “Of course, it was only coincidence; I know that now. Still, some part of me could not stop wondering if, perhaps…” 

She trailed off, shook her head. 

“What?” Harry prompted gently. “What, Toriel?”

The woman worried her lower lip, her eyes sinking back to her lap. A period of silence lapsed on. Finally, though, she spoke again. “I wondered if, perhaps, you were a sign. A sign from...them.” She chuckled now, hiccuping halfway through. “It is silly, is it not? Believing, even for a second, that my sweet, departed children guided you there to the mountain that day. That they knew you were kind enough, and brave enough, to give us all the life we’d sought for generations.” 

Whoa. Peter’s fingers tightened over the loose piece of couch leather he’d been fiddling with. I...never even considered that. 

Some time ago, Peter wouldn’t have been the sort to believe in ‘signs’. He knew that coincidences did happen, and that the universe enjoyed being inexplicably random. Fast forward to the spider bite, though, and now their entire adventure beneath the mountain, and he looked at things quite differently. Could it all have been less random than they’d thought? Could the urge to visit Mt. Ebott that day been something more than simple teenage wanderlust? If parallel universes could spit a different version of the same person into a different world, then anything was possible. And if souls existed, who was to say a definitive afterlife didn’t, too?

Maybe the fallen children of the past weren’t completely gone, after all. 

Toriel laughed again, quieter this time. When her eyes swept back across their faces, she gave them a small, apologetic smile. “I did not say anything before because I did not want you to worry about the past. I did not want you to dwell on the things that had happened before you were even born. And...I did not want you comparing yourselves to the ones we lost.” 

So she did make the connection. Peter briefly exchanged glances with Harry. I always wanted to ask, but… 

Now that he thought about it, it would have been very hard not to recognize that your new sons had the same names as two of your dead sons. He and Harry had truthfully thought quite a bit about this connection, considering they were almost one hundred percent certain that the original fallen humans had been alternate versions of themselves, but there was no way they were going to bring that up to their parents. Not for a long time, anyway. 

Toriel (and, presumably, Asgore) had noticed. They’d just wanted to protect them. 

Closing the locket and sealing the photo back inside, Toriel gave it back to Peter. Her hand closed around his as she did, and her other hand went out and took Harry’s. Her face was earnest as she looked between them. “I want you to understand something,” she said. “No matter the reason...no matter if there even is a reason at all...you are loved for who you are. I will always miss them, but you are just as much my sons as they are, and I love you for being you. I love your kindness...and your courage...and your sweet, sensitive souls.” An unsteady but warm smile replaced the apologetic one. “You are one of a kind, both of you. Please do not ever think that we are secretly comparing you to...to the others. There is more than enough room in our hearts for all of you. And there is no greater gift that we have been given than being able to call you our children.” 

Peter and Harry were very close to losing it right there. The motherly love was almost too much to handle at once. 

We really should be used to it by now. 

Somehow, they maintained their composure as they looked into Toriel’s kind face. Voice wavering, Peter managed, “Thanks, Mom. Th-That means...everything.” 

Harry squeezed her hand harder in spite of the way his was shaking. “Thank you. I...we never thought any of those things,” he said truthfully, “but thank you. It means so much just to hear it from you.”

As the three of them held each other’s hands, and some sneaky tears fell down here or there, Asgore turned his head slowly to Toriel. His back had gone incredibly straight. He was looking at her in half awe, half disbelief. The king didn’t say anything. He just...stared, like he didn’t quite know what to make of her. When Toriel sensed his gaze, her eyes darted up to his face quickly.

“What?” 

Asgore’s expression didn’t change. His fingers flexed unconsciously in his lap. “Tori...you called them our children.” 

Toriel’s features shifted suddenly. Her eyes shot open, panic alight in the very centers, as her mouth rounded into a small ‘o’. Peter and Harry felt her fingers tighten their grip momentarily before going entirely slack. For a moment she stuttered and sputtered, searching for her voice, all while Asgore and the boys regarded her with a newfound, intensely focused curiosity. 

Harry looked to Peter. There was surprise painted all over his face, but more obvious than that was the hope. Peter was sure his face must have looked the same. His rapid heartbeat told him as much, pounding to the same rhythm as his swirling thoughts: Oh my God, oh my God. Oh my God. Is this—? Could she really—? Peter mentally reined himself in. Whoa. Hold on there, eager beaver. Let’s not jump to conclusions. 

It was too early to tell, and they knew that the chances of what they were anticipating were incredibly slim, but that didn’t stop the tiny seeds of hope within himself and Harry from finally starting to blossom. They focused back on Toriel intently as she hemmed and hawed a little more. Finally, she huffed.

“Well...yes! So what? That is the truth. They are your children, too, are they not? Just because we are not together does not mean they cannot be your children, if they wish. I am not that cruel.” She blew a short puff of air through her nose and turned her head away. When she chanced a look back a moment later, the others were still staring. “What?!” she demanded. Her arms flew up to tightly criss-cross her chest again. 

Peter shifted on the leather couch. It creaked in the specific way leather does as he crossed his legs, settling a little further forward on the cushion. He would have to choose his next words very carefully.

“...Mom...I hope this isn’t weird, but...can I ask you something?”

Toriel’s guarded stance remained the same, but she acknowledged Peter’s query with a small nod.

Okay. Here goes everything.

Peter cleared his throat. “Harry and I have noticed a particular sort of...pattern, recently.” 

“Pattern? What kind of pattern?” Toriel’s eyes flicked between him and Harry. They couldn’t be totally sure, but they thought they saw a great deal of apprehension there. “I do not follow.”

“A pattern between...you and Asgore.”

“That is ridiculous.” She said it quickly, almost too quickly. “I am sure you are mistaken.” The goat woman stood up abruptly. Hands smoothing out the creases in her robe, she said, “Now, if that was all that you wanted to discuss, I am afraid I will have to excuse myself. I was planning to go out to the park today, and—”

“Please,” Peter interrupted, “Mom, sit down. Please?” He implored her with the classic Parker Puppy Dog Eyes. It was a cheap shot, he knew, but he wasn’t about to let this moment slip away.

Toriel hesitated, hovering above the couch. She was clearly thinking, weighing the pros and cons of whatever conversation she was about to be roped into. At last, she sat back down with a defeated little sigh. “Alright.”

“Thank you.” Peter glanced back and forth between Toriel and Asgore. “So. As I was saying...we’ve been noticing a sort of pattern with you two lately. One that’s been getting more obvious, even if you can’t recognize it.” He paused, looked at Toriel. “Or refuse to.”

Toriel wanted to say something, he could tell. She was leaning forward more than would be comfortable, brow furrowed and lip scrunched so much it was almost entirely hidden. To her credit, though, she let him continue. 

“A long time ago, we asked if you might consider forgiving Asgore. Remember? By the Barrier.” He certainly remembered, clear as day. How could he forget? It had been just after Toriel had shown back up in their lives like a guardian angel, after they’d well been convinced that they would never see her again. You didn’t forget moments like that.

“...I remember.” Her voice was flat. 

“At the time, you said you couldn’t,” Peter continued. “And neither of us could blame you. But if I recall correctly, I also remember you saying that you might be able to, someday. That maybe, with enough time, it’d be possible.” 

His heart was pounding in his ears with every word he spoke. Confronting one’s own mother, however gently, about a topic like this was daunting even for a superhero. The last thing he or Harry wanted to do was upset her. 

“You have every right to do what’s best for you. And if you still can’t bring yourself to forgive Asgore for the pain he caused you...for the things he did...that’s okay. Forgiveness isn’t easy.” He scratched at the spot behind his ear. “But...from what we’ve been seeing lately...I’m wondering if, maybe, now might be the time.” 

He sat back on the couch and folded his hands. They clenched each other so tight his knuckles started to fade white. A soft pat on his shoulder prompted a grateful smile in Harry’s direction.

“Great job,” Harry mouthed. 

“Thanks.”

He just hoped that it had been enough. Whatever her answer, he would accept it — but in the seat of his soul, Peter believed Asgore had earned the right to forgiveness. The king had spent many a month doing nothing but good for their family and the surrounding community; nothing could change what he’d done, but it was clear he wanted to atone for his crimes in any and every way possible.

He had been granted some absolution already, in a way — Peter and Harry had forgiven him before they’d even left the Underground. Even so, both boys knew that he would never truly be able to forgive himself until the person he’d caused perhaps the greatest strife forgave him, as well. But would she be willing to?

The Dreemurrs were silent for some time. Peter and Harry watched and waited, anxious but hopeful, eyes locked on their mother. Asgore didn’t seem to know what to do with himself; he kept sneaking looks at the woman beside him every so often, but would look away before long. His hands kept shifting from his lap, to his chest, to the couch, and back. His feet tapped a nervous rhythm on the carpeted floor. Once or twice he almost started to say something, but every time he opened his mouth it would just clamp shut again. It was a stalemate.

Please, Harry thought. Please, Mom. Please…  

On the off-chance they were wrong about the signals they’d thought they’d seen, Harry feared this might ruin any future hope of reconciliation between the king and queen. So he prayed, silently, that what they believed was true. 

When the air had grown too heavy to bear the weight of the silence any longer, Toriel spoke. “Peter...Harry.” She looked between them in turn. A hand stroked her ear unconsciously. “I do not quite know what you have seen, or heard, but...I am sorry. Even now, the thought of forgiving the cruelties he brought upon so many…” She glared at Asgore out of the corner of her eye. Asgore flinched. “It is impossible. I know that I said it could happen, back under the mountain, but I just do not think I can. It is far too late.”

Peter and Harry wilted like limp flowers. 

No… 

“But...but...b-but-!” Harry protested. “Wh-What about all those times that—?” He shook his head in desperation. “Th-The time at dinner! You joked about his cooking! A-A-And when you were helping me with my math homework! You never used to tease him like that! You usually just ignore him!” 

“And just now,” Peter added. “You called us ‘your children’. Both of yours.” He slid to the very end of his seat, balancing precariously on the edge as he pleaded, “I see the way you look at him, Mom. It’s been different. You’re talking more. You’re less hostile. I know you see it, too. The way you’re dodging the topic right now...it’s like you just don’t wanna admit it.” 

Peter realized he was treading into dangerous territory, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. If, after all this, she still adamantly refused without hesitation, he would leave it be. He would. But sometimes, people just needed a little nudge to say what they didn’t want to be true. He’d seen it in himself many times, and he saw it in Toriel now. 

“This may be presumptuous,” the spider-boy finished quietly, “but I think that...after all this time...you’ve already started to forgive him.” He smiled slightly. “Forgiveness isn’t weakness, Mom. It’s one of the strongest things you can do.” 

Toriel was staring at Peter. She just couldn’t seem to look away. Her entire body, which had been closed off for the majority of their plea, started to shake. Her mouth trembled too, violently; the words were there, but too scared to come out. 

“I…” She put her hands to her head, squeezed her eyes shut. “I-I...I…”

“Tori.” Asgore’s low, rumbling voice spoke for the first time in a while. He was gazing at her now, eyes sad and resigned with a smile to match. “It is alright.” 

All at once, the shaking stopped. She turned her head inch by inch, until she had met her former husband’s eyes. Where once there had been confusion, frustration, apprehension, there was now just an uncertain curiosity. 

“It is alright,” Asgore repeated. “You do not have to forgive me. Not now, not ever.” The large man let out a slow, measured breath. “The truth is...if I were you, I would hate me, too.” He chuckled as if this were a joke, but the sound was so empty and bleak it was obvious that it was anything but. “I made a split-second choice based on anger, and fear, and when I finally realized what I had done, I was too afraid to go back. I feared it would make me...weak. Undecided. A coward. I was too much of a fool to understand that committing such atrocities in the name of ‘freedom’ was the real mark of cowardice.” He brushed a hand through his messy hair. “If I cannot even forgive myself, I should not expect anyone else to. Least of all, someone I hurt so terribly.” 

Peter and Harry were frozen, rooted to the spot on the carpet as they watched their father speak. Their hearts sank lower and lower with every resigned statement. 

He’s...giving up?

Why now? Why when they were so close? Why when there was still a chance, however tiny, that he could receive the mercy he’d been so desperately looking for? 

“Asgore— Dad,” Peter stammered, “wh-what are you saying? You’re not unforgivable! Y-You just made some bad decisions! You can’t undo the things you did, but it doesn’t mean you have to— to give up!” He pushed himself up with some effort and stood in front of Asgore with his hands clasped. He couldn’t just let the king believe that he was barred from forgiveness. Everybody deserved a second chance, if they proved they were truly sorry.

Asgore just smiled sadly and shook his great head. “No. It is okay, Peter. I want to thank you and Harry for advocating so strongly for me, but I think it is well past time that I accept the truth. I cannot keep waiting...wishing...for something that will never happen.” He sighed. “I made the choice. Now I will have to live with it, as I should.” 

One hand gently guiding Peter out of the way, Asgore stood up and began to make his way toward the stairs. His long, purple robe trailed behind him, covering everything but his horns and his mane of gold. Peter and Harry could only watch, hearts broken, as he went. They wanted to chase after him, but even if they did, what could they do? He’d made up his mind. That was his prerogative, as it was Toriel’s not to forgive. 

They’d tried their best. It appeared it just...wasn’t meant to work out.

And then Toriel spoke again. Her voice was so quiet it was a miracle her words could even be heard, but they were — not just by the boys, but Asgore, too.

“I waited so long to tell you exactly what I thought of you.”

Asgore paused. He was at the base of the stairs now, hand already gliding up the railing in preparation of ascension. Hesitantly, he let go of the banister and turned toward the couch. 

Toriel, still staring down at her lap, continued.

“Every day that I spent in those Ruins, I thought about what I would say when... if ...I ever saw you again. I stayed up late so many nights, wondering how it could be possible that the man I once loved more than anything could turn into such a...such a monster .” She spat the word. “What I said by the Barrier was only a fraction of what I have felt these past decades, what things have been seething inside of me. I wanted to say more. So, so much more. I wanted to make absolutely sure that you knew just how terrible you were.”

Asgore hung his head. “Tori...I—”

“I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle it,” she said. “Living with you again. I was full of so much anger. Hurt. Betrayal. I thought it would be too much for me, after everything.” Her hands squeezed one another. She bent her head low, and Peter and Harry could just see the beginnings of tears making their way down her face.

“Mom,” Peter started quietly. “Are you—”

“But, now...over these last few months...something far worse has happened.” At last, Toriel looked up. She shifted on the couch so that she was facing Asgore, trails of teardrops forming discolored streaks on her fur. “I started remembering why I loved you.”

Asgore, Peter, and Harry all felt the same physical jolt rip through them. The jaw of the king himself went slack, his pupils shrinking to tiny little pinpricks. He couldn’t have looked more flabbergasted if he’d tried. Peter and Harry, meanwhile, fished around for their voices and found nothing. All they could do was stare at one another with at least five different emotions being telegraphed between them at once. 

Oh my God. Oh my gOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

“Tori...” Asgore murmured. He sounded utterly dazed.

“When I left that castle, I swore I would never have anything to do with you ever again. I told myself I could never forgive something so heinous, no matter what we’d once shared. I couldn’t. I did not want to forgive you.” Toriel wiped at her face, but it barely made a dent in the free-flowing tears. She sniffled. “But, somehow, being up here...seeing you the way I used to see you...seeing you be a father to the boys...I felt a crack in the wall around my heart.”

Asgore was moving back toward the couch, now, going slow as though not to startle a skittish animal. Toriel had turned back around, holding her head in her hands as Peter and Harry sat by her feet and laid comforting hands upon her lap. 

“I tried so desperately to patch it,” she choked out. “I tried.” Her words were becoming higher-pitched as her throat grew constricted. “Every day, another part of me wants to forgive you, to let go, but I am so afraid. I do not want to risk loving you again. I do not want to risk losing you again.” She looked up again, right into Asgore’s stunned face. She had never looked more conflicted. “But, then...I fear that some part of me never stopped loving you.”

The goat man pressed a fist to his mouth as his own eyes welled up. He carefully sat down on the cushion beside Toriel as she began to sob. They were deep, heart-wrenching sobs, so old and deep that Peter and Harry could hardly stand to hear them. They wanted more than anything to say something, to comfort her better than they could, but there was no way in hell they were going to interrupt this moment. It was important for Toriel and Asgore to finish this themselves. Together.

“Tori…” Asgore swallowed and tried again. “Tori…every day after you left, I grew to loathe myself more and more. I thought that if I could only go back, if I could only rewind to before any of this happened...I could make the right choice. But I couldn’t. That is not how life works.” He took a deep breath, probably hoping to stave off further tears. “I thought of going after you, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I was terrified of what you would say, if I found you. And for that, I am more of a coward than I already was. I wanted to free our people, wanted to finally see the light, but I was so blinded by fury that I realized far too late... you were my greatest light.” He managed to smile, despite the mess his face had become. “I just want you to know that I would trade every single moment after, every hollow victory, if I could just take back my most shameful mistake.”

Well, there go the tears.

Peter couldn’t hold it in any longer. He felt the wetness on his eyelashes before it graced his cheek. Harry was already sniffling and using his sweater sleeve as a tissue — not that it had helped much. They just...never thought that they would see this day. They’d hoped, and they’d imagined it, but it had seemed so unlikely that they had almost given up. Just like Asgore. 

I’m so damn glad we didn’t. 

Asgore shakily took one of Toriel’s hands in his. His huge paw fully engulfed her dainty one. “As much as I would love to be with you again...to have our life back, the way it was…I do not deserve to be forgiven. I am fortunate enough as I am to be allowed to stay here, with you, with Peter and Harry. With everyone. I do not want you to agonize over this anymore. Please...understand that I will be okay. I must face the consequences of my actions, like any worthwhile king must.” He withdrew his hand, folding both back in his lap. “Just let me know what it is that I can do to make things easier for you. If you would like me to leave the penthouse, I understand. It might be best for all of us.” Asgore looked toward the ceiling far above. He closed his eyes. “I am done pitying myself. I have wallowed more than enough for a lifetime.”

It took some time, but Toriel’s sobs eventually faded. Harry ran and got her (and himself and Peter) some tissues, which she gratefully accepted and used to blot her red-rimmed eyes. When at last she was at least somewhat composed, she gazed back up at Asgore. Her face was...calm. Serene. 

“Asgore,” she said. “I forgive you.”

Peter and Harry grabbed onto one another. It was instinct, an immediate reaction. Finally, the magic words had been uttered. 

“Oh my God,” Peter whispered. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

Asgore’s reaction was even more visceral. He jolted back against the couch, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“...What?” His mouth trembled. “Wh...What did you say?”

“I said I forgive you, Asgore.”

Asgore tried to speak, but no words came out. It seemed the Mountain King had truly been rendered speechless. 

Toriel reached up and placed her hands on either side of Asgore’s face. Her eyes, which once regarded him with only coolness and disdain, were shining like stars. 

“I never believed that you could see the truth of what you had done. I never believed you could understand. I thought that you would wallow in your own self-pity forever, instead of taking responsibility for your actions. But what you have just said...and the things you have done to make amends...have shown me that you have.” Toriel’s smile could have powered all of New York. “Despite what I thought, you are still the man that I married.” 

Without any hesitation, she leaned up and kissed Asgore softly on the lips, hands still cradling his face. Asgore sat there, still completely frozen, as the woman he loved kissed him for the first time in over a century. Peter and Harry could see the gears whirring at warp speed in his brain, trying to process the entirety of what had just happened and if it was actually real. 

He must have shut down for a second, Peter thought through a fresh bout of tears and a goofy grin. Too much to take in at once. I don’t blame him. I probably would, too.

Toriel broke the kiss after about ten seconds. She sat back and let her hands drop, one of which slipped comfortably into Asgore’s. Her gaze was still focused on him, unwavering. 

“I hated myself for this weakness,” she said. “For hoping, however intermittently, that you could change. I hated that I wanted you, still, even after what you had done. And you have done terrible things. However…” She glanced down at the boys by her feet for a moment. Her smile grew fond. “Peter and Harry are right. Forgiveness is not weakness. Love is not weakness. I am tired of pretending that it is. Was I not the one who taught them so, all that time ago?”

Asgore took a deep breath as his cognitive functions finally returned to their full power. He was shaking just the slightest bit as he gazed back at her, like he couldn’t believe this was really happening. 

“I...Tori,” he said. “You do not...you do not have to. I told you, I understand your reasons for it. I do not want—”

“Asgore.” 

“...Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Toriel smirked and pressed another kiss to Asgore’s mouth. This time, instead of going slack, the king was brave enough to reciprocate. Pretty soon they had their arms around one another, melting into each other’s embrace as if they’d never been apart. Peter and Harry, not wanting to be left out of the celebration, sprung up from their positions on the floor and threw themselves at their parents. 

“Mom!! Dad!” 

Saying that with such freedom was intoxicating. Never again would they have to feel as though they were upsetting Toriel by calling Asgore ‘Dad’.

“Come here, you,” Asgore laughed, pulling them into the huddle. His beaming face was more reward than they could’ve hoped for. “Oh, my boys. My boys. I cannot thank you enough.” 

Toriel swatted him lightly. “I think you mean our boys.”

The king laughed and wrapped his family even tighter in his gigantic arms. Sitting there, surrounded by the outpouring of love from the king and queen of monsters, Peter and Harry felt the underlying apprehension of the past few months dissipate entirely. They’d done it. Somehow, they’d actually done it. They had helped bring the Dreemurrs back together. They were a family again.

Wherever Asriel and the other Peter and Harry were, Peter hoped that all three of them could sense that the huge rift in their clan had been mended. He hoped that it would bring them a sort of peace that they hadn’t known in quite a while. And someday, far in the future, when their time had come to an end, he hoped that they would be together: the seven Dreemurrs, reunited, in whatever afterlife they found. 

A family.