Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For several long moments, Toriel closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the sun on her face. It was the height of summer, but they lived far enough north that the temperatures never got sweltering. In fact, this late in the afternoon, the warm sunlight actually helped against the ever so slight chill of the oncoming night. Well, it would have chilled her, were it not for her thick layer of fur. Frisk once teased that she didn’t have to wear big floofy jackets in the winter because she herself was big and floofy.

Even with her eyes closed, the sounds and smells around her left a warm feeling in her chest as she stood on her front lawn. The smell of freshly cut grass, the rhythmic tac-tac-tac of a neighbor’s sprinkler, the distant sound of cars on the main road a few blocks away. Even the faint, oily smell of pollution made her tiny smile a bit wider, merely because of what it represented: change.

For so many countless years, the Underground had been her home, along with all monsterkind. It may have been their prison, but it sustained and fed them throughout their exile. It also never changed. The sparkling of the twinkle stones above never ceased. The hum of the Core could be heard everywhere. There was no day or night, no summer or winter, not even weather to mix things up. It had its variations, yes, but even those were static. Snowdin was always cold. The Hotlands were always hot. Waterfall was always wet. Were it not for clocks, one could be forgiven for thinking the whole Underground was frozen in time.

All that changed two years ago, thanks to one determined little boy. A messy haired, charming, and sometimes painfully quiet boy who had not only managed to save them all, but had also awakened a piece of Toriel’s heart she thought long dead. 

“Hey, Toriel!”

Taking one last deep breath, Toriel opened her eyes and saw her neighbor Lucille approaching, clad in a pair of shorts and a button down shirt. The retired teacher and her husband Melvin had lived in the quaint cul-de-sac for decades, earning them the reputation of the de facto leaders of the street. When Toriel and Frisk first moved in several weeks after Emergence Day, the elderly pair took to them rather quickly. Lucille immediately declared herself Frisk’s honorary aunt, which the boy never complained about, but then he barely complained about anything. Meanwhile, Melvin had taken a good, hard look at Toriel, scanning her up and down, and then asked how she kept her fur so shiny and full. “Our daughter has a Samoyed, and it’s a bitch and a half to keep it groomed.”

“Good afternoon, Lucille,” Toriel said, offering a bow of her head.

“Ugh, for the bajillionth time, it’s Lucy! What, the reception not too good at that altitude?” She winked, looking up and down Toriel’s six-foot-seven stature.

Toriel let out a chuckle. “I am sorry, Lucy. I will try to remember it the next time that we meet.”

“Ah, it’s fine, though we still need to get you over your fear of apostrophes!” Lucy let out a cackling laugh.

“This is how royalty is expected to speak,” Toriel said with a sly grin. “I suppose you could consider it a contraction -al obligation.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, running a hand through her long, salt-and-pepper hair, though a snorting giggle slipped between her lips. “I swear, your puns get worse every day.”

“And yet you still laugh.”

“I know,” she said. “I must be getting senile in my old age.”

“Come now, Lucy,” Toriel said. “You are still quite young.”

“Ha! Oh, that’s rich coming from little miss ‘Frozen In Time and Still Looking Fine’!” Lucy must have noticed Toriel’s blush, because she smiled wider. “Seriously, I wish I could look half as good as you when I get to be your age. Instead of being, you know... dust.”

Toriel laughed despite her blush. She still remembered the time she revealed her actual age to Lucy. She was good-naturedly whining about feeling so ancient at the age of sixty-three when Toriel casually mentioned the fact that she had been around since the Middle Ages. She did her best not to laugh at the gobsmacked look on Lucy’s face as she mumbled, “I’ll, uh... I’ll shut up now.”

“How is your hip feeling?” Toriel asked, eagerly changing the subject.

“Oh, like a million bucks!” She pumped her left leg up and down a few times, then swiveled at the waist. “Those magic paws of yours sure are something! I feel twenty years younger. It’s like I’m an old woman again, instead of an old ass woman.” The ladies shared a chuckle.

“I am glad to hear that,” she said, holding up a paw and channeling a bit of magic into it. Lucy’s eyes lit up upon seeing the tiny bands of emerald colored light arcing across her fingers. “It has been a very long time since I have used such concentrated healing magic on a human.”

“Well, if you ever want to try again, Mel’s brother has arthritis in places he didn’t know he had five years ago.”

Toriel smiled, but shook her head. “Until your FDA approves the commercial use of healing magic, I think it would be best if we kept this between us.”

“Oh, great,” Lucy said with a grim chuckle. “The way our government runs, I’ll be knee deep in the grave by the time they can agree that healing people is a good thing. Anywho, it’s Sunday, so I assume you’re out here waiting on the little one?”

Toriel nodded. “He should be here any minute. Unless, of course, his... father forgot to check his watch again.” That last part came through partially bared teeth, despite her efforts to control herself.

“Ah, yeah,” Lucy said with a nod. “I have heard the king can be a bit, uh... ‘not all there’ from time to time. Still, he gets the job done, right?”

“Sometimes.” 

“Heck, I saw him on TV again last week. Apparently he had signed an agreement with some small-time energy company making them the sole distributor of all those magic rocks y’all have down in the mountain. Heh, the company’s stock rose like five hundred percent in a matter of minutes.”

Toriel said nothing.

“I mean, damn! He gives this no-named startup exclusive rights to sell half the answer to our energy crisis. Everyone, and I mean everyone in the room, went nuts during the announcement, all asking why this unknown company and not one with a better track record, and do you know what he said?”

Toriel said nothing.

“The owner has a kind and generous heart,” Lucy said, dropping her voice in a vain attempt to match Asgore’s booming baritone. “And he makes a gosh darn good cup of tea!” Lucy cackled, shaking her head. “Boy, I tell ya, I wish half of human politicians had that gentle a heart.”

Toriel once more said nothing, but a low growl eked out from the back of her throat, and her upper lip curled just enough to show one of her fangs.

Lucy apparently noticed this, or perhaps how Toriel was now scowling at the intersection farther down the street, as she cleared her throat and scratched at the back of her neck as a blush spread across her deeply tanned skin. “Oh, right. Ex-husband. Read the room, got it.”

A few awkward moments of silence passed between the two. “Well, seeing as how I have thoroughly killed the mood, I’ll leave you be.” Lucy turned to leave, but paused. “Hey, you’re still coming to the mall with Marcy and me next Saturday, right?”

Toriel’s face softened. “Yes, of course. I am looking forward to it.”

“You and me both,” Lucy said, then leaned in a bit closer. “Mainly because I’m curious how she tries on clothes with no arms.” A final shared laugh, then she walked backwards towards her house. “Take care of yourself, Your Queenliness!”

Toriel sighed, then waved her goodbye. Somewhere in her mind, Toriel felt a bit bad for her rude behavior. Lucy obviously hadn't intended anything beyond idle chit-chat, but for countless years, merely thinking of his name had set her temper off like a flare. She worked for a very long time to ensure it did. If she was focusing on her anger towards him, any wayward, traitorous thoughts would be silenced. Still, loath though she was to admit it, Lucy had a point. Over the past two years, Asgore had been instrumental in the integration process for monsters.

After Frisk somehow shattered the Barrier, monster-kind was eager, yet nervous about emerging to the surface. For lifetimes upon lifetimes, they had been told that humans were bloodthirsty animals who would kill them on sight or lock them back underground. In the face of his people’s trepidations, Asgore had stepped up and taken charge. Far from the distant, despondent ruler he had been for years, he walked with careful purpose down the slopes of Mount Ebott, and towards the nearest human city, Ebott’s Wake.

Throughout the fearful first contact with the locals, to the initial meetings with national and world leaders, King Asgore dedicated himself to being the kind of king his people deserved. Granted, he wasn’t always the best at the negotiation table, as he was never the sharpest tack outside of magic or might, but his natural, absent-minded charm had a nasty habit of putting people at ease. This made it much easier to secure things like civil rights, housing, and education for monsters. The fact that monster kind had sole access to magical technology the likes of which humanity had only dreamed of certainly helped, as well.

Still, social moores were never his strong suit, and his “most trusted advisors” didn’t seem to be much better. Frisk once told Toriel that Undyne’s idea of negotiation involved a surprising amount of suplexes. And while all of Asgore’s letters asking for advice or negotiation tactics had gone straight into the trash, she had nevertheless answered the pleas from Papyrus and Gerson, offering her quiet advice from the shadows. Despite her feelings towards Asgore, she was still technically Queen of the monsters, and she had stayed away from them far too long.

Despite a century of aloof inaction, Asgore had managed to secure firm footing for monsters in this new integrated world. A scant two years later and aside from isolated pockets of extremists, humans and monsters got along better than they had over a thousand years ago. And all the while, he still managed to run that little flower shop of his, which was partially why her wastebasket occasionally smelled like daffodils. They always were her favorite, and his random bouquets over the years had been one of the things she lo—

No, she mentally chastised herself, severing that line of thinking. There was nothing for her down the path those thoughts inevitably led. Just ghosts. Memories from a long dead past, of a long dead man. As she had at least daily for a little over a century, Toriel closed her eyes and repeated the mantra that had sustained her throughout her exile.

Breathe in.

Joshua, Martha, Randy.

Breathe out.

Brad, Jennifer, Grace.

As if on cue, she heard the low rumble of a magitech engine turning onto the road that led to the cul-de-sac. Opening her eyes, she saw a large pickup truck trundling towards her. It was the biggest one the humans had that was still street legal, and yet it still sagged towards the driver’s side from the weight of the massive monster behind the wheel. According to Frisk, Asgore drove it because it was “big, powerful, and a bit slow, which for some reason I like.” He then apparently had no idea why Frisk burst out laughing.

However, as the truck drew closer, Toriel’s brow creased. Not in annoyance, but confusion. Something was wrong. For starters, there was no music. She confessed that she truly didn’t understand this “heavy metal” that Frisk was so fond of. It struck her as odd that the peaceful boy she ended up adopting—the one who refused to lift a hand even in self-defense while facing the deadliest foes in the Underground—enjoyed music that seemed to glorify battle and war. Nevertheless, whenever Asgore drove him home after their weekends together, it was always accompanied by the sound of crunching guitars and wailing vocals. Today, even with the windows rolled down, she heard nothing but the engine. 

Her confusion—now bordering on concern—worsened when the truck finally made it to the mouth of the cul-de-sac and she could make out Frisk’s face. When they first met, the boy had a permanently neutral look on his face, his unkempt hair obscuring his eyes and his lips forming a tight line. Toriel had come to the conclusion that it was a way of maintaining distance from others. Sort of a defense mechanism born of his life in the foster system. However, after a few years of stable home life, Frisk’s countenance resembled that of an average twelve year old boy, bright eyes and impish smile.

Which was why grew more concerned as the truck pulled up to the curb alongside their home. Frisk’s face was once more an inscrutable mystery, unreadable and unassuming. Toriel watched as he leaned over to hug Asgore, his scrawny arms not even coming close to wrapping around his father's bulk. Asgore didn’t reciprocate, both paws remaining on the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead. A comforting hit of irritation coursed through her at him slighting her son.

Our son, said a tiny, traitorous voice.

Toriel heard Frisk close the passenger door. She took a split second to recover her smile right before he rounded the truck. “Welcome home, my child!”

Frisk didn’t directly acknowledge her. He marched up to her, inscrutable eyes on the ground, and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling himself as close as he could. Toriel’s arms instantly fell upon him, one paw gently stroking his hair. Technically, this was all routine. Frisk always greeted her with a hug when he came home from his father’s place, but something about how tightly he was holding her set off all sorts of alarm bells in her head.

“Frisk dear,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

After a few more moments of maternal comfort, Frisk pulled back and looked up at her. Now he smiled at her, eyes open and any trace of his former mood gone. Mostly gone, as Toriel noticed that his smile didn’t quite make it all the way across his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, Mom! I just... accidentally knocked over a few of Dad’s favorite azaleas. Heh, you know how emotional he can get, and I felt kinda bad about making him cry.”

Well-honed maternal instincts let Toriel easily see through the lie, but there was a hint of... fragility, or vulnerability in his eyes that stopped her from calling him out on it. After two years, she knew her son well enough that if she pressed now, he would just shut down further. So, swallowing her gut instinct, she smiled and nodded down at him. “Very well. Now say goodbye, and when we get inside we can get started on dinner together. I am making your favorite stew tonight.”

“Sure thing, Mom," Frisk said.

He fussed when she planted a tiny kiss on the top of his head, then he turned back towards the truck. Toriel noted that Asgore had yet to look anywhere but straight ahead, and had to suppress a growl. There were obviously no overturned azaleas, so his pathetic countenance only irritated her. Not to mention the fact that he had snubbed Frisk’s attempt at a hug.

Still, Frisk approached the truck with a somewhat tight smile. “Well, I’ll... I-I’ll see you next weekend, Dad!” When he got no response, he reached up and placed a hand on Asgore’s beefy arm. “Hey, Dad?”

Asgore jumped ever so slightly, apparently snapped back to reality by the gentle touch. His head slowly turned, and he looked down at Frisk. Toriel could see Frisk’s reflection on the shiny truck, and noticed the hopeful smile he flashed at his father, as well as the fist he held up.

“Stay determined?” Frisk said.

A ghost of a smile passed over Asgore’s face as he slowly reached out and bumped his massive fist against Frisk’s. “Heh, I... I always try. I'll see you next Friday. I love you, my son.” He then placed his hand back on the wheel and turned back to face the road. As he did so, his eyes locked onto Toriel’s for just a brief moment. A pang tore through her heart, though she could not tell what kind.

Ever since Emergence Day—the first time he had seen her in a century—any time Asgore would look at Toriel, his eyes would be swimming in a sort of dopey, borderline mindless remorse, like a puppy who just knocked over the garbage. It honestly just irritated her, the way his mouth hung slightly open, as if an impotent apology were dancing through his mind, but never made it to his lips. It suited her just fine. Any reminder of how pathetic he really was, far away from the public eye, brought her an almost sick satisfaction. Knowing that he felt the guilt he rightly should was some form of justice, she believed.

Not this time, though. Their gazes had locked for but a fleeting instant, but what she saw in his eyes was not aimless regret or desperation. No, this time they just seemed... empty, or hollow. Haunted might be a better word. The look of a man whose entire world had either been upturned or completely destroyed. It was a look she had only seen in him once before.

As soon as it happened, however, it was over. Asgore put the truck into gear and slowly drove around the cul-de-sac and back down the road. Toriel stood there for a few moments, trying to process what she had just seen. Half a second later, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. She should not be wasting her time even pretending to worry about him, and that’s all it was: pretending. She didn’t hold any real concern over him. There wasn’t even a small part of her that wondered what had happened and if he was o—

“Mom?”

Frisk’s call nearly made her jump, she was so lost in her own mind. Toriel turned as saw Frisk standing in the doorway, looking at her curiously. She heaved a great sigh, then fixed him with a playful glare. “Child, how many times have I told you not to leave the front door open? You will let insects into the house.”

He smiled. “I know. I do it because it bugs you.”

Toriel laughed and waggled a finger at him. “Oh, your puns are getting better! They should be getting worse, though. Go and wash your hands so we can begin cooking.” As Frisk nodded and ran into the house, Toriel paused halfway to the door, her floppy ear flicking. She could still hear the faint sounds of Asgore’s truck. Curious, she turned one last time, and indeed saw that he had yet to turn onto the main road. She watched for a few seconds, then huffed and walked into the house. She had to make dinner for her son.

Asgore had stopped being her concern years ago. Who cares if his truck was stopped in the middle of the road? She no longer had to worry about seeing him slumped over the steering wheel. And seeing his broad shoulders shudder under the weight of wracking sobs was not something that should alarm her.

No, it certainly should not.

Chapter Text

Toriel hummed a quiet yet jaunty tune as she stood over the kitchen sink, washing the dishes from breakfast. A cool summer's breeze and the scent of freshly cut grass wafted in through the open window. The air ruffled several papers attached to the refrigerator, like the crayon drawing a student from her class at Ebott’s Wake Elementary had drawn of a large goat lady in purple robes standing in front of a group of stick figure children. Several of the Post-it notes on the fridge also swayed, like the one bearing a reminder to pick up more milk, and the one next to it that warned of punishment for any naughty boy who tried to get at the Butterscotch pie inside.

In the center of the room was a tiny table with two tiny chairs. Well, one tiny chair and one rather large chair. Plus, the table itself was only considered “tiny” compared to Toriel. Between her tall stature and slightly hefty figure—learning to cook human food had the side effect of having to eat human food, which didn’t exactly do wonders for a girl’s waistline—she tended to tower over most things in her modest home.

Once the shock and trepidation of their appearance had died down—and it was revealed that monsters had access to resources beyond tell—local governments and private businesses had fallen over themselves in a rush to provide housing, clothing, and other essential needs for monsterkind. Much of it was a publicity stunt, obviously—businesses desperate for the free advertising and politicians seeking to ensure their reelections, all by appearing as “forward thinking”— but a free home or car offered for selfish reasons was still a free home or car.

Given her standing amongst monsters, and her subtle contributions to the growing peace with humans, Toriel could have chosen to live wherever she wanted. Yet instead of living in an important city, like a capitol or center of industry, she instead settled on a quaint neighborhood just off a largely unimportant highway sitting in the shadow of Mount Ebott. Instead of a house specifically built for someone of her size, she settled for a humble yet spacious one-story home at the end of a tiny cul-de-sac, though she did have a company make the doorways a bit higher.

Such things suited her just fine. She never was one for flashy symbols of wealth or power. Honestly, that was the thing that had taken the longest for her to adjust to back then. For a girl from humble beginnings, moving into a large castle surrounded by fineries of all kinds had been quite the culture shock. Fortunately, Asgore had done a wonderful job of helping her—

“No,” Toriel muttered, screwing her eyes shut for several long seconds. She took a few calm, cleansing breaths, driving any thoughts of him from her mind. It was a routine she had been performing with irritating regularity ever since seeing Asgore on Sunday. Even five days later, that last image of him slumped over the steering wheel just refused to leave her. Some tiny, traitorous voice in the back of her mind kept demanding she be concerned, aided in part by the conversation she overheard Frisk having later that night.

As if on cue, the tinny sound of wailing guitars called from the living room. Fortunately for her ears, the sound of feet scampering into the room came next, and the accursed music was cut off. “Yo!” Frisk said. Several seconds later, “Oh, hey, M-K! What’s up?”

The casualness of his voice sent a warm smile on her face despite herself. Shortly after he moved in with Toriel, Frisk admitted that he never had any family of his own. When he had fallen into the heart of Mount Ebott that fateful day, he had been on the run from a foster home run by a wicked old woman that Toriel had the misfortune of interacting with when she began filing the paperwork to formally adopt the boy. Her jagged, angular face was twisted into what seemed to be a permanent scowl, and the utter contempt she showed towards Frisk during their one meeting infuriated Toriel so much that it was all she could do to keep the magic from gathering in her hands. Blasting the wrinkles off of the vile old crone would have felt nice in the moment, but it probably wouldn’t have endeared her to the adoption agency.

However, what had really thrown her for a loop was when Frisk admitted to not having any real friends, either. This just didn’t seem possible from the charming boy who had wandered into her ruins. Granted, he had a habit of being silent as a stone, preferring to sit and listen while others talked, but the warm aloofness he gave off seemed to endear him to every single monster he met. So it did her heart well once Frisk struck up a genuine friendship with “Monster Kid,” whose real name was Percival according to his mother, but when Frisk had referred to him as “that monster kid,” he eagerly adopted the nickname. Apparently they were both gaining popularity among monster and human students at the local middle school.

Toriel truly did her best not to invade Frisk’s privacy, but last Sunday, as she had been walking down the hallway towards the laundry room, her sensitive ears picked up his half of a conversation with Monster Kid.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just... I’m a bit worried about my dad. I screwed up this morning and ended up telling him something that I promised... a-a friend I’d keep secret. Dude, I can’t tell you, or I’d be breaking the promise again! Ugh, fine. It was... it’s something that could have really messed him up, and that’s all you’re getting, okay? Honestly, he took it better than I thought he would. No tears or anything. He just... got really quiet for the rest of the day. I barely got a few sentences out of him until we got back to Mom’s house.”

Despite her best efforts, Toriel couldn’t help but be worried... No, no. Not worried. Curious, that’s what she was. There’s no way she could be worried over Asgore. Still, she had known and lived with him for many years, so she knew that he didn’t usually get quiet when upset. He instead tried to avoid the issue, either by changing the subject or simply leaving the room. What Frisk described was so out of character. What could Frisk have possibly told him that would—

Toriel shook her head, a growl escaping her lips. What was wrong with her? Why should she care about Asgore’s mood? It was no longer hers to worry about. Whatever problem he’s having is most likely his own fault in some way. It always was. And now he was dragging her son down into his pathetic woes. Honestly, she was a bit to blame for that. She should have been more firm in keeping Frisk away from him in the early days, even if he wanted to spend time with him and “help out.”As if Asgore deserved his help. After all, she knew what he was really like beneath that genteel visage. She knew what he was truly capable of doing.

“No, no,” Frisk said from the other room, ripping Toriel from her thoughts. “It’s your week to bring a game.” A moment of silence. “Dude, you forget this, like, every time it’s your turn!” More silence. “Because,” he said, and Toriel could hear the grin on his face, “when you forget, you call me. And when you call me, you hold the phone with your tail, which means you can’t scratch that itch on your nose.” Several longer seconds of quiet, then Toriel’s sensitive ears picked up the sound of tinny yelling, nearly lost under Frisk's cackling laughter.

Despite herself, Toriel let out a quiet giggle at her son's antics. Frisk may have been an exceptionally kind soul for a boy of barely twelve, but these days he had a somewhat wicked sense of humor about him sometimes. Granted, with all the time he spent around Sans, she was lucky that he hadn’t deployed whoopie cushions throughout the house. 

The distant yet growing rumble of a large truck killed whatever good mood she had the moment prior. Her bemused smile melted into a scowl as she saw the approaching vehicle. Specifically, the massive goat monster that eased the behemoth of a truck up the driveway. She didn’t want to think about him, let alone see him. Still, it was the weekend, which means it was the agreed upon time for him to pick up Frisk.

Setting her shoulders, she looked back up just as he cut the rumbling magi-tech engine. The innovation had been dreamt up by Doctor Alphys and a team of humans at a university somewhere else in the state. A way to help solve the human’s climate crisis, as well as ingratiate them to the sudden appearance of monsters that came from underground. 

A loud metallic groan came as Asgore opened the door and stepped out, dressed in his typical Hawaiian shirt and jeans attire. Once he was out, Toriel quirked an eyebrow. The image of him slumped over his steering wheel was still fresh in her mind, as was the hollow gaze in his eyes, so it brought her up short when he stood to his full height of seven-foot-four—eight-foot-three if you included the horns—his eyes clear and focused. Very focused actually, not a trace of his previous sadness. Perhaps Frisk had overreacted? 

As he slammed the truck door shut, Toriel heard Frisk say, “Hey, I gotta go, M-K. I’ll see you Sunday.” She then heard him step towards the door, and gently ease it open. The moment he did, Asgore’s face lit up with a beaming smile. Frisk must have been as confused as her. “Dad?” he asked hesitantly.

“Howdy, Frisk!” Asgore boomed, his rich baritone all but echoing throughout the neighborhood. He knelt down and threw his arms out wide. Moments later, Toriel saw Frisk leap into his arms. Asgore immediately lifted him with his beefy arms and spun him around. Frisk let out a squeak as his father squeezed him tight against his barrel chest. Asgore’s large belly shook as he laughed and twirled, though not as much as it used to.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Asgore’s newfound sense of purpose and dedication to his people agreed with him. He looked more vibrant and lively than ever, his fur neatly groomed and beard trimmed, and while his gut was nowhere near as big as it had been two years ago, it was still prominent enough to add to his jolly, goofball appearance. Truth be told, Toriel had always loved his belly. It made him more pleasing to cuddle, especially when held tight by his massive arms and—

A coffee cup in her hand suddenly cracked under her trembling iron grip. Letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, she let the now broken mug slide into the soapy water with a plop and made her way to the front door. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to feel that familiar yet now alien warmth in her bosom when she watched him play with their son; hearing Asgore's loud guffaws, like the pealing of a monastery bell, mixed with Frisk’s shrieking, gasping laughter as he was manhandled. She didn’t want to see in him what she had for the longest time, because it wasn’t there anymore. It couldn’t be there anymore. She closed her eyes.

Joshua. Martha. Randy. 

Slowly, the warmth washed away, sliding off of her heart like an oily residue, and that all too familiar anger bubbled back into her soul.

Bradly. Jennifer. Grace.

Those six names—names that she had spent a century in isolation searing into her mind, along with the joyous laughter and wide, innocent eyes—brought her the relative comfort of her contempt. Paradoxically, through her brow uncreased and her hands relaxed, she felt not joy or relief, but the same simmering anger that had fueled her for years and years. When she finally opened her eyes, gone was the kindhearted king, the gentle giant, the doting father and loyal husband. In his place...

... was him. She growled as she looked at him. She remembered the blazing rage in those red eyes. The roar of fury that echoed across the Underground, carrying his decree of death. And above it all, she remembered what he did.

“Golly, Frisk,” Asgore rumbled as he held out his right arm and flexed, allowing the boy to sit atop his bicep like a conquering hero. “It seems every time we meet, you get a bit heavier. Are you eatin' too much? I know how fond your mother is of pie.” 

Toriel’s temper flared. How dare he talk about her like that?! As if he knows her so well! Scowling, she took a deep breath and stood in the doorway. Through it, she saw Frisk frown as he climbed down Asgore’s imposing yet welcoming body.

“Eugh, not lately,” Frisk said with a grimace. “A few weeks ago, she tried to make me eat a slice of pie with snails in it!”

“Really?” Asgore said, scratching his bearded chin as he looked down at Frisk. “That was an old family favorite in the Underground! Has a nice garlicky crunch, you know?”

Frisk once more shuddered. “You goat people and your weird food,” he teased. The pair laughed a bit, but as they calmed down, Frisk looked up at him with careful eyes, as if not wanting to upset this tender moment. “How... how you doing, Dad? Really?”

Asgore closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he looked back down at Frisk, his eyes were warm, and though his smile remained, it was just a tad melancholic. “Let's say that... I've made my peace with the situation.”

Toriel heard Frisk let out a heavy breath, then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him as best he could. “That’s really great, Dad.”

“Frisk, my child,” Toriel called out. “I think that you should gather your things. I do not want you to forget your toothbrush again.”

“I already got it all, Mom,” Frisk said with a roll of his eyes, holding up a bulging backpack containing clothes and entertainment for the weekend.

Though Toriel noticed his snarky tone, when her narrowed eyes locked onto Asgore’s, she was taken aback slightly. Aside from last Sunday, every time he had looked at her since their reunion on Emergence Day she would see a flash of eager excitement cross his face, as if he expected this to be the time that she looked back at him the way she used to. However, all that vanished like wisps of smoke once he saw how she actually looked at him, replaced by the same pathetic, beaten down look he had apparently worn for years. 

Not this time, however. While there was still a touch of that sadness, these eyes looked back at her with a confidence she hadn’t seen in quite some time. All of the submissive, whipped puppy energy was gone, replaced by... she wasn't entirely sure what. Purpose was the first word that came to mind. It was almost the same look he had on TV when speaking to the public.

Oblivious to the thick tension that had fallen upon the quiet suburban street, Frisk dropped his backpack and ran back towards Toriel, reaching his tiny arms around her hips in a fierce hug. “I'll see you on Monday, Mom. You have any plans this weekend?”

The moment he looked up at her, she washed the scowl from her face and looked down with warm eyes. “Yes, actually. Perc... Monster Kid’s mother has invited Lucy and myself to join her at the mall tomorrow.” She knelt down and wrapped him up in a loving embrace. “Be good this weekend, my child. You will call me once you arrive at your father’s house?”

“I will,” he said quietly, just enjoying the warmth of her arms for a bit. When he finally pulled back, she grasped him by the cheeks and leaned in to give him a light peck on the forehead, to which he fussed and yanked away. “Come on, Mom,” he whined. Toriel giggled as Frisk turned towards the truck. Once he was facing away, she gently swatted him on the rump, earning a squeak and a tomato-like blush. “Mom!”

Toriel stood as Frisk stormed away, only to find her once more gazing directly into Asgore’s eyes.

"Frisk?” Asgore said, never once leaving Toriel’s eyes. “How about you sit in the truck for a moment. Find a good song for us to listen to on the drive home. I... I-I need to speak to your mother momentarily.”

Before Toriel could protest, Frisk said, “Okay, Dad!” He threw open the passenger side door of the truck, giving a little hop to fully get inside, and eased it shut, disappearing behind the dash to fiddle with his MP3 player.

Now alone, or as alone as two large monsters could be in a suburban cul de sac, Toriel sighed and once more fixed a heavy glare at her wayward husband. The far away noise of the highway and calls of the few remaining birds in the area were deafening as they stared each other down. Or rather, she stared him down. His hopeful look remained as he glanced her over. She was wearing her standard weekend garb, a pink and white plaid button down shirt and a pair of jeans. A far cry from the royal robes she had worn for years.

Just as she was about to break this painful silence, he finally found his words. “Golly, you look good, Tori... er, Toriel!” Granted, they weren’t very good words, which apparently even he knew, as his white fur did nothing to hide the blush spreading across his face. “N-Not that you did,'t always look good! Or... or, uh, do not look—”

“What do you want, Dreemurr?” she said flatly. The purposefully neutral tone seemed to stagger him a bit. He clasped his hands in front of him, twiddling his fingers as his eyes scanned back and forth, and she sighed. Even after all this time, she knew that all meant that he was trying to think of anything to say other than what he actually wanted to say. Suddenly, his eyebrows shot up, which meant he had found something... though Toriel noted that the wide grin that usually accompanied that tell was missing. A flash of... something stabbed through her chest. Annoyance? Concern? Sympathy? Maybe...

“Th-There is a summit coming up next month!" Asgore finally said. "Alphys tells me that trade ministers from both Atropia and the Republic of Krasnovia will be in attendance. If things go well, they may be the next countries that approve citizenship for monsters. I—” He cleared his throat and reached out a hand— “I-I mean we would certainly appreciate it if you would join—”

“As I have said before,” she said, cutting him off, “if you truly need political advice, have Undyne or Papyrus call me, and I will tell them what I advise you to do.”

Asgore’s hand trembled, then slowly lowered. “Yes, of course.”

That tightness in her chest returned, but she willed it away. Sensing that he would not be working up the courage to say what was really on his mind, she sighed, a hand rubbing the bridge of her snout. “I expect you to have our son back here by five o’clock on Sunday.” Not even waiting for a reply, she turned and trekked back towards the house. “Goodbye, As—”

“I’m sorry.”

Toriel froze. Her brows creased, not quite sure if she had heard him right. She slowly turned to face him once more, and saw that he had taken several steps towards her, now only several feet away. His shoulders were slumped, and though his eyes had grown slightly misty, he still held her gaze, that sad confidence beaming through. “What did you say?” she whispered.

“I said that I'm sorry, Tori. You... you were right. You were always right.”

Toriel almost felt light-headed. Was he actually apologizing? Were the words she had seen in his eyes the past two years finally breaking through? Her heart jumped, but she forced her scowl back. “It... it is far too little, far too late.”

“I know,” he said. “I've wasted so many nights, so many years trying to rationalize to myself, to... somehow excuse what I have done. But I've finally realized that's a fool’s errand. Heh, for a foolish man.

“I just...” He paused to wipe an errant tear from his eye, face scrunched in effort to find the words. “I-It was the only way I could find! The only way to break through the Barrier and help our p—”

“Oh, please,” she sneered. “You and I both know that you did not do any of that for ‘our people.’ It all came from your own brutish desire for vengeance!”

“You’re wrong!” he roared, and Toriel instinctively took a step back. It had been so long since he had raised his voice specifically at her, and the way his words echoed around the cul-de-sac was honestly a bit intimidating. “Part of it was anger, but I truly was trying to break through the Barrier for our people’s sake. Because that duty... a-and the anger, they... they were all I had left.”

Toriel let out a gasp, glaring at him with blazing eyes. “How dare you try and pass your blame onto me!”

“I'm not blaming you!” he said, though he did take a few ginger steps back under the weight of her eyes and posture. “I'm blaming myself! Because I... I drove you away.” His voice was beginning to crack as his head fell. “In a moment of grief and rage, I made a terrible decree, and with you gone, all eyes turned to me. That's why I remained down there, praying that no human would ever fall into our realm again! I didn't want to kill anyone!”

“Yet you did," she hissed. “Whatever desire you may claim to have had does not matter. Six times you had the opportunity to do the right thing, to show mercy, and six times you chose to become a murderer.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “I could sit here and offer every excuse I told myself to be able to sleep at night, but it wouldn't change anything. But it was all I could do to give our people hope. To try and replace what was lost after Asr—”

“Stop!” Whatever composure Toriel had was gone. She jabbed a trembling finger at him, her whole body leaning forward as if preparing to pounce. “Don’t you dare say their names! You... you have lost the right to say their names!” Toriel growled and ran the back of her hand across her shimmering eyes. “Asriel and Chara were kind-hearted, loving children, and you sullied their names! Spat on their memories! They... they w-would be just as disgusted by you as I am.”

Her words gushed from her mouth with the force of an erupting volcano, over a century’s worth of meticulously cultivated anger and loathing spewing forth like venomous barbs. She saw Asgore take a half step back under the weight of her acidic words and his entire posture deflate, eyes sinking to the ground, unable to meet hers. That tiny, traitorous voice in the back of her mind screamed that she had made her point and that it was time to ease off, but the torrent of emotions would not be stopped.

“You want to say names?" she hissed. "Joshua, Martha, Randy, Bradley, Jennifer, Grace! Innocent little boys and girls that I cared for, and that you murdered! Say their names! Remember their faces!”

“I do,” he whispered to the grass at his feet. “Every night.”

Those simple words, that raspy whisper, was enough to shock Toriel out of her tirade. She shut her eyes as tightly as she could, forced herself to take several deep, cleansing breaths, willed her pounding heart to calm and her eyes to dry. Very few of those things happened.

When she finally felt something resembling composed, she opened her eyes and looked at Asgore, who had yet to lift his gaze from the grass. His defeated visage did little to calm the racing emotions inside her gut. Nor did the look on Frisk’s face when she glanced at the truck. He still sat in the passenger seat, but the joy and eagerness from before had melted away, replaced by his trademark inscrutable squinty expression. Any other person on the planet trying to read him would come up blank, but a mother knows her child. She could see the conflict, the sadness, and the unease.

Forcing down the torrent in her chest, Toriel drew up on herself, setting her shoulders and once more doffing the regal, composed look of the queen she once was. “Go home, Asgore,” she said in as firm a voice as she could muster, which was just above a whisper. Shaking her head slightly, she turned and made for the door. She just made it to the porch when...

“Toriel! ”

She stiffened and let out a quiet bleat at his booming cry. Why was he calling her back? Had her words not been enough? She didn’t know if she could muster any more. She whirled around, and her heart skipped a beat. The broken, shattered creature that had been trembling on the grass a moment prior was gone. In its place was a towering man who stood on firm footing, broad shoulders squared and jaw set. Though his eyes were still moist, the meek and defeated gaze was gone, replaced once more by that smoldering confidence. Only precious few times in her life had she seen this look in Asgore’s eyes, which meant for the first time in a very long time, he was unreadable.

Asgore sniffled once, wiping his eyes with the back of his large hand, then locked his fierce eyes onto hers. “I know you probably don't want to hear this—”

“Then save us both the trouble and—"

“But I love you, Toriel Dreemurr!” The sheer conviction of his voice, that steely determination gave Toriel just enough of a shock for him to take a steadying breath. “I... I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and I swear by every twinkle stone in the Underground and every star in the night sky, I will always love you. You...” He sniffled, once more using a hand to dry the tears running down his cheek, “y-you were always the best thing that ever happened to me.” He let out something that may have been a laugh, but the sad resignation in his eyes did not speak of mirth. “I truly... I-I truly hope that one day you may realize that.”

A long pause followed, even quieter as before because the sprinkler had shut off. A few of the last birds in the area tweeted at each other, but beyond that, Toriel could hear nothing but the pounding of her heart. She could not tear her gaze from him, from the wistful smile on his face, or what appeared to be the deep sadness in his eyes.

Finally, the spell was broken when Asgore cleared his throat and stepped back towards his truck. “Well, uh, I-I suppose we should be going. I'll make sure Frisk calls you when we get home. A-And do not worry, Tori... er, Toriel, I promise to bring him back safe and sound.” As he turned toward the truck, she heard him mutter, “I will bring your son back,” under his breath. He opened the truck door and eased his bulk inside the groaning vehicle.

When he shut the door, Toriel saw him flash a smile towards Frisk, who promptly buried himself in Asgore’s chest. Asgore’s massive arm reached across his chest, his hand stroking the back of Frisk’s head, while the other turned the key, bringing the vehicle to life. As the truck backed out of the driveway, Frisk looked up at Toriel, and flashed a small smile. Then, to the sound of blaring guitars, the truck made its way out of the cul-de-sac, turning onto the main road and disappearing. 

For what felt like several eternities, Toriel stood rooted to the spot. Despite her drying eyes and slowing pulse, she still did not trust herself to move just yet. Her mind was trapped in a loop she thought she had left behind ages ago: anger and guilt. Anger and guilt, over and over again, as if her mind did not know what it wanted to feel.

Or who to blame.

Chapter Text

Objectively speaking, Mount Ebott was quite pleasing to the eyes. The base sloped up gently for a good distance, letting verdant forests of pines grow among the rich soil. Further up, the slope increased, leaving only grass and hardy bushes to find purchase. This far into summer, the craggy grey of the mountain’s face was visible, with only the top quarter of the peak still capped with snow. There was a reason it was a year-round tourist attraction. Even the newly freed monsters could not deny its beauty. While the picturesque mountain held a darker meaning for them—an unignorable reminder of their long dead ancestors locked away by long dead humans—it was still pleasing to look at.

Not for Toriel, though. Not at the moment. Despite the fact that she had been absentmindedly staring at it through the window of the mall food court for what felt like forever, her mind couldn't process the beauty or grandeur. The emeraldine forests and pearlescent top only reminded her of how badly she had wanted to leave Ebott’s Wake, and that she can’t. And it was all his fault.

“No way, Lucy. She actually said that?!”

Almost immediately after Emergence Day, she had done her best to distance herself from Asgore and all the negative emotion and painful memories he risked resurrecting. Initially she had to stay, as the town of Ebott’s Wake had become the de facto center of the newly revealed monster race. It was close to the mountain where many of them elected to stay until they were sure it was safe, so Asgore claimed it as his home, which would make it easier to handle both the political business of integration and the social duties of reassuring his people.

“If I’m lying, I’m dying, Marcy! I told Stephanie that she couldn’t trick another student into giving her his Valentine’s candy, and this cherubic, dimple-faced eight year old says, ‘But Mrs. Higgins, that’s bullshit!’”

Their people, honestly. As furious as she wanted to... as she was with him, Toriel decided that she had shirked her queenly duties long enough. Despite her exile, she was still seen as a role model and leader once the public realized she was still around. While she still did what she could to avoid him, she had done enough in the shadows to ease her conscience, and even felt a small twinge of pride.

“I mean, can you believe that, Tori?!”

“Mm-hmm.”

Still, once things had calmed down—after the rush of celebration, fear, gaining of trust, and acceptance—Toriel made plans to leave Ebott's Wake. All of her contributions to the ongoing process could be done remotely, and with monsters slowly but surely venturing out into the larger world, she would never be fully isolated from her people. The only thing that kept her in town was Frisk.

From the moment the barrier crumbled, Toriel decided she would always be there for the boy who had delivered them. When he said that he wanted to stay with her, she felt a joy she didn’t know she was still capable of. The first time he had called her mom, she quite literally collapsed, jubilant tears flowing freely as she held him. To hear that word once more, to feel the love behind it, it had placed another layer of protection over the wounds she had worked to bury.

The adoption papers had been signed, and about a month later, she was ready to announce their move. Frisk had yet to truly develop his friendship with Monster Kid, so she felt it was the right time. She had just been about to tell him the big news when she heard it, while he was sprawled on the living room couch talking to Sans over the phone.

He called Asgore “Dad.”

“Have any of your students ever done anything like that, Tori?”

“Mm-hmm.”

That one word, “Dad,” had sparked a whirlwind inside her heart. She was annoyed that she could no longer move away in good conscience. She was angry that he had inserted himself into her life that way, as she knew that he purposefully grew close to Frisk to keep her from leaving. And yet a small part of her—that tiny, treacherous voice that had been growing louder and louder since Friday morning—was pleased. No, not just pleased. Happy. Elated, even.

Based on what little he said about his previous life—how he was bounced between every orphanage in the state, which were usually run by women—Toriel guessed that Frisk never had a male role model in his life. That kind of thing was important for a young boy, to have a positive role model teaching them what it means to be a man.

“And then I drank a vat of boiling acid and killed seventeen tigers with a spoon.”

“Mm-hmm.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Asgore was quickly becoming just that. It seemed that Frisk had awakened something inside him, as well. That warmth she thought for sure was dead reignited. He smiled more, whenever she saw him in the nightly news broadcast. His voice, that twangy, laconic accent of his seemed clearer than ever. And the way his face lit up anytime he saw Frisk, the genuine happiness to hold his child, the way he laughed as they played. It was a side of him that she had not seen since—

“Toriel?”

The quiet yet forceful voice, and the feeling of Marcy’s tail resting on her hand, ripped Toriel from her brooding. “Oh! Uh, yes?”

Marcy’s slitted eyes were soft, her snout scrunched in concern. “You haven’t heard a word we’ve said, have you?”

“O-Of course I have!” Toriel gave a wide, toothy smile which instantly caved under the weight of Lucy’s deadpan glare, and she sighed. “No, I have not. I am very sorry, girls. I am just a bit... distracted today.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Lucy said. “Hell, you didn’t even crack a smirk when Marcy face-planted into that mannequin in J.R. Nickel’s!”

“H-Hey!” Marcy said, a blush spreading across her brownish-yellow scales. “Because you wouldn’t help me with my bags so I couldn’t use my tail to steady myself!”

“Maybe you need to reevaluate your spending habits.” Lucy winked at the smoldering saurian, then turned her attention back to Toriel. “Now, what is it that’s got you all worked up?”

“It...” Toriel sighed, looking away from Lucy’s concerned eyes. “It is nothing important.”

“Does it have something to do with the king?” Marcy asked. 

Toriel flinched at the question. “N-No. Why would—”

“Percival mentioned that Frisk was upset over some secret he blabbed to his father. Apparently it hit the king pretty hard.”

“Oh,” Lucy said, leaning forward onto the table, “so does this have something to do with yesterday morning?”

“What? W-What do you mean?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Come on, Tori. You and him have some pretty impressive pipes. Half the neighborhood heard y’alls little blowout. Granted, I couldn’t make out exactly what you were saying, but anyone with ears and half a brain could tell how angry you were.”

Toriel let out an internal sigh of relief knowing that Lucy didn’t hear all her words. The exact details of how the Barrier was broken had been left intentionally vague, with just enough information released to satisfy the humans’ curiosity. “Frisk used the power of both monster and human souls to break the spell,” was the official statement. Even most monsters didn’t know anything more beyond, “Asgore had six human souls.” Knowing that the king of the monsters had murdered six children over the span of a century would most definitely fracture the burgeoning peace, which was the only reason Toriel wasn't shouting from the rooftops what he had done.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Marcy asked.

Toriel shook her head. “No, I do not wish to burden you.”

“It’s not a burden,” she said, one more placing her tail on the back of Toriel’s paw. “We’re your friends.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said with a grin, “and what are girlfriends good for if not listening to you bitch about your ex-husband?”

“Mmm, technically he’s not her ex-husband.”

Toriel fixed a harsh glare at Marcy, who didn’t seem to notice.

“Wait, what?” Lucy said. “How would you know that?”

“Well,” Marcy continued, “monsters don’t really do ‘divorce.’ For us, marriage is less of a legal process and more of a spiritual one. A binding of two souls that lasts even beyond death.”

“Really? Huh,” Lucy said. “I guess that explains why monster weddings are such big deals. Remember that one three months ago, Tori? It took up the entire rec center for a whole weekend!”

“Yes,” Toriel said. “It is him. As it so often is these days.”

“Well, what happened?” Marcy asked.

“I do not know,” Toriel said. “Just... something about the way he spoke yesterday. He had a... confidence in his eyes that I have not seen in a very long time. He actually apologized for... w-what he had done. He has never done that before! For the past two years, I could see in his eyes that he wanted to, but he could never find the spine.”

Lucy arched an eyebrow. “So... you’re worried because he said he’s sorry for whatever he did?”

“I am not worried about him,” Toriel hissed. “I am just...”

“Concerned it may affect Frisk?” Marcy offered.

“Yes,” Toriel said after a hitch in her breath. “And the last thing he said, it... well it sounded like he was saying goodbye. Hmph, perhaps I will get lucky and he is moving away.”

“You would really celebrate him leaving town?” Lucy said.

“Yes.” Toriel’s voice offered no room for interpretation.

“And the fact that it would devastate Frisk is just, what, sour grapes to you?” The blunt nature of Lucy’s words, along with the acidic way she said them, made Toriel quietly gasp. “Look, Tori, I know that it’s none of my business, and that you and Asgore have history going way back, like ‘Threw Charlemagne's coronation party ’ way back, but... what did he do? Why do you hate him so much?”

Toriel sucked in a breath. “I... do not hate Asgore! I... I just...”

“Oh,” Lucy said as a knowing smile swept across her face. “Oh, I see! I know what’s really going on here!”

Marcy lifted her head from her plate of lo mein. “What?” she said after swallowing a bite.

“I shoulda noticed before. My sister went through the same thing after she got divorced.” Lucy turned towards Toriel. “You don’t hate him, you’re hung up on him!”

Toriel blinked slowly a few times. “I... am afraid I do not know that phrase.”

“You still love him!”

“I am not in love with—”

“A-bup-bup.” Lucy held up a finger. “I didn't say in love with him. I said you still love him. There’s a difference and you know it.”

Hundreds, thousands of denials raced through Toriel’s mind, countless ways of saying how wrong Lucy was, but none made it to her quivering lips. Apparently Lucy noticed how frantically her eyes were darting back and forth in search of a sufficient response, and she nodded.

“Methinks your silence speaks volumes, Tori.” She scooted her chair over, reached up, and placed a hand on Toriel’s shoulder. “Hey, there’s no shame in it. It happens to a lot of women. Like I said, it happened to my sister... though she did eventually get back with her ex, so...”

“No,” Toriel said firmly. "That will not happen. I... I-I do not love him, not anymore. The man he once was?” A shudder worked its way through her body. Lucy must have noticed, because she squeezed her just a bit tighter. “P-Perhaps, but that man died a long time ago.”

“Okay then,” Lucy said. “Tell me about him.”

Toriel blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, this man that he no longer is, the guy you fell for. Tell us what he was like back then.”

Toriel glanced at Marcy, hoping for an excuse, but she seemed just as interested as Lucy was. “I... oh, what is the point?”

“Humor me.”

“It may just help,” Marcy said. “The few times that Herschel and I have gotten into a really heated fight, focusing on what made me fall for him in the first place helped me calm down.”

Several long moments passed before Toriel huffed and folded her arms. “He was... funny.”

The ambient noise of the semi-busy mall was deafening around the table. Lucy arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“What?”

“‘He’s funny?’ That’s it?” Lucy rolled her eyes and fixed a deadpan glare at Toriel. “Tori, I’ve been married to Mel for forty-two years, and there are days that I’d just as soon kill him as kiss him. If I understand things right, you and Asgore were married for, what? A thousand years?”

“Give or take a century,” Toriel mumbled.

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “You don’t stay with a guy that long just because he makes you laugh. Either your standards are shockingly low, or you’re pussy-footing around the question.”

Marcy leaned forward. “We only want to help, Toriel.”

Toriel’s eyes danced between Marcy's concerned gaze and Lucy’s deadpan. Finally, she rolled her eyes and groaned. “He was... ugh, I do not know. He was... kind! Warm may be the more appropriate word. He was almost always smiling, as if the mere fact of existing made him happy. He had this earnestness about him, wearing his heart on his sleeve in front of everyone he met. That openness...” Toriel sighed. “It actually made him quite the ruler. Sir Gerson once said that Asgore could read people better than most people can read books. Anyone who spoke to him for longer than ten seconds would let their guard down without even knowing it. That, combined with his oddly keen ability to read emotions, meant he could usually figure out what the other person actually wanted. That made it quite easy to handle problems brought to us.”

“Really?” Marcy said. “But, I always heard that he was kinda, well...”

“Stupid?” Toriel finished for her. “No. Oblivious at times, yes. He just had a tendency to think with his heart instead of his brain. Sometimes that would lead to brilliantly simple solutions. Other times... well, he knew his limitations, so he did his best to keep the brightest minds in arm's reach. So he was not incompetent, just...”

“Dumb?” Lucy offered.

A tiny laugh escaped Toriel. “Yes. But he was so driven, eager to please. He had a bad habit of wandering around the Underground and just asking people if they needed help. Heh, I remember he once missed an important meeting on developing a new aqueduct system between Waterfall and Hotland because he was helping an old lady unpack in her new home!”

“Wow,” Lucy said. “He sounds like he was quite a catch. How did you two meet?”

Unbeknownst to Toriel, that tiny smile on her face was growing. “At a banquet held several decades before, um...” Her eyes flitted towards Lucy.

 “Before humanity attacked you out of fear and mistrust?” Toriel winced, but Lucy waved a hand. “Eh, sadly repeated coda throughout human history. You were saying?”

Toriel cleared her throat. “We were celebrating the birthday of Asgore’s father, King Goretel. At the time, he and his line were so respected that chieftains, priestesses, and elders from almost every clan were in attendance.”

“So, you were a princess from your clan?”

Toriel let out a quiet laugh. “I was no princess! I was actually making my living as an artisan at the time. I had some skill with a loom, though even back then I wanted to be a teacher. However, my mother was the primary advisor to our chief, so there I sat, wearing my finest and most uncomfortable dress, listening to a table full of bloviating elders spin tales of how great they were, and bored out of my mind. And then... I saw him across the dining hall.”

“Oh, was it love at first sight?” Marcy said dreamily.

“Hehehe, for him it was. I can still remember, it was right as dessert was being brought out that I noticed him on the other side of the dining hall. He looked so regal, dressed in his tailored suit that still somehow barely fit his frame. He would have been imposing were it not for the dopey, lovestruck look he had. His mouth was hanging wider than the Great Hall’s doorway, and I swear I saw little hearts in his eyes.”

A laugh swept across the table. “Then what?” Lucy asked.

“W-Well, I did not really think that the prince was interested in me. Still, I batted my eyes and gave a coy little wave. Imagine my shock when he began walking towards me, jaw still scraping across the floor. He did not look away or even blink, as if he were afraid that I would vanish. Of course, this meant that he could not see the waiter carrying a platter of desserts until they collided.”

Marcy gasped. “No!”

“Yes!” Toriel said with a laugh. “Pastries and whipped cream everywhere! While everyone else tended to the table of elders threatening war over being covered with dessert, I ran over to Asgore. I knelt down to him, placed my paw on his arm, and doing my best to hold back my giggles, I asked him if he was okay. He looked up at me with that dopey look, his fine suit covered in blueberry pie stains, and he said, ‘Golly, you are astoundingly beautiful’.”

“I have absolutely no trouble picturing that,” Lucy said. “As big a boy as he is, it's no surprise that he’d be clumsy.”

“Oh, but he could be so gentle when he wanted to,” Toriel said, gazing wistfully down at her salad, twirling her fork around. “He could lift a boulder over his head one moment, and the next he’d hold me like I was made of eggshells.” Her smile widened even as her eyes grew a bit misty. “I’ll never forget the day that Prince Asriel was born. The first time that Asgore held him, I swear I lost sight of the boy in those massive arms. Asgore had tears streaming down his face, but he didn’t say a word. Finally, after nearly five minutes, his brow creased, he looked up at me, and with utter sincerity said, ‘Tori, how could you and I have created something so small’?”

“A good father, was he?”

“The best,” Toriel said, only faintly aware of the lone tear sliding down her cheek. “He doted over Asriel night and day. He always made time for him, no matter what was happening. It only got worse when Chara arrived. He always used to escape to his garden after a bad day, but once Chara developed her own green thumb, those two would disappear into their own little world out there, pruning and planting into the small hours. If Asgore was ever missing from a meeting or event, you didn’t have to guess where he was. He was with them. He... h-he loved them so much."

“Wow,” Marcy said. “He... sounds like the perfect guy.”

“He is,” Toriel whispered.

“Uh, what was that?”

Lucy’s sudden intensity snapped Toriel out of her mind. “Hmm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said he was.”

“No,” Lucy said, “You said is. He is the perfect guy.”

“Wh...” Several emotions lanced through Toriel’s chest, and she couldn’t tell which was more intense. “N-No, I misspoke. I was lost thinking about a man who... no longer exists.”

“Uh, you sure about that?” Lucy said, folding her arms across her chest. “A big, kind-hearted, adorable doof? Based on what I’ve seen on TV, that’s Asgore to a T.”

Toriel violently shook her head. “No. N-No that is an act. A-An act he puts on for the cameras.” Toriel’s paws gripped the table as she tried to calm her racing heart. Why was her heart racing?

“Um, that also sounds like Asgore whenever he drops Frisk off at our house,” Marcy said. “Like... like he worships the ground that Frisk walks on. Frisk has to all but force him to leave.”

“You are both wrong,” Toriel hissed. “That is...”

Joshua, Martha, Randy, Bradley, Jennifer, Grace

“Th-that is not him anymore.” The room began to sway a bit, her mind a bit hazy due to her rapid breathing. “Y-You do not know what he is capable of, what he’s done! His sins... his sins are unforgivable.”

“Uh-huh,” Lucy was, leaning in towards Toriel, resting her weight against the table. “You know, Reverend Quill down at New Hope has a little phrase he likes to repeat. ‘The only unforgivable sin is the one you don’t ask forgiveness for.’ Correct me if I’m wrong, but Asgore did just that yesterday.” 

“Lucy,” Marcy said, pushing away from the table and stepping closer to Toriel, who now felt as if the entire mall was collapsing in on her. Or perhaps it was her heart under the weight of the accusations. 

“No, Marce,” Lucy said, “I think this calls for some tough love. Based on what I’ve seen, Asgore seems like a good guy, so I’m curious as to why Toriel here is so dead set on not seeing that.”

“B-Because he...”

Joshua, Martha, Randy

Toriel’s sweaty paws gripped the table tighter, her heart racing almost as fast as her mind. “H-He is irredeemable!”

“Why?” Lucy pressed.

“Lucy, seriously, stop it,” Marcy said a bit more forcefully. She now stood by Toriel’s side, resting her head against her furry shoulder.

“H-He has to be...”

Bradley, Jennifer, Grace

“Why?!”

“B-Because—”

“Toriel, Toriel!” Marcy wrapped her tail around Toriel’s arm and tugged as hard as she could. While not enough to actually move the large monster, it was enough to snap Toriel back to reality. Toriel took several panting breaths as Marcy stepped in front of her, bringing them eye to eye. “Okay, Tori, just breathe, okay?” She took a deep inhale, then slowly breathed out. After a few more times, Toriel followed suit, releasing shaky, harrowed breaths. Slowly, the sound of her pounding heart receded from her ears, and the world came back into focus a bit. “Are you better now?”

Toriel didn’t even trust herself to speak, so she just gave a shaky nod. 

“Good,” Marcy said, moving back a few steps. “Now, I think it’s clear that all of us—” She turned to glare at Lucy, who flinched at her narrowed eyes— “need to take some breaths. Why don’t you head home and get some rest, okay? Maybe call Frisk! We can do this again sometime when you’re feeling up to it.”

After a few more shaky breaths. Toriel nodded and slowly stood from her chair. “Y-Yes. I... I-I apologize for losing control there for a bit.”

“No, no,” Lucy said. She leapt from her chair so fast it nearly fell over, lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Toriel. “I’m sorry, Tori, I really am. I-I know I can be a bit of a stubborn bitch sometimes. I Really didn't mean anything by it. I just... forgot my manners.”

Toriel lifted her arms to return the gesture. “It is okay, Lucy. I know that you did not intend any serious offense.” After a few more pats on the back, Toriel pulled back and gave both ladies a shaky smile, then collected her purse from the table. “I-I shall see you both later.” With that, she turned and quickly walked away, though as she did, she heard them speaking behind her.

“What is wrong with you?!” Marcy hissed.

“I’m sorry!” Lucy said. “I really was just trying to help!”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to!”

“I just did!”

Their voices quickly faded as Toriel hurried towards the elevator. She stepped inside and smashed the button for the garage. As the doors eased shut, Toriel leaned back against the far wall and closed her eyes, taking a few steadying breaths. She tried to focus her mind on the quiet hum of the elevator. It was almost lost under her heavy breathing, but her mind firmly grasped it as a welcome distraction. If she was paying attention to a random sound, she wouldn’t be able to think about his warm embrace on a cold day. Or the random gifts with no occasion, as if he was simply thanking her for loving him. Or the cute way his brows would crinkle and his eyes went wide when he was confused. Or how tender and gentle he was with the kids, and how he doted on them—

“Stop, please,” she pleaded, banging the back of her head against the wall. Damn Asgore and his apology! Curse his suspicious behavior! It had been so easy for over a century. Long ago, she had left almost immediately after he made his disgusting decree, swearing to kill any human that entered their domain and use their souls to wage war on humanity. As monsterkind cheered for his cruelty, Toriel had gently, ever so gently picked up Chara’s body and fled to the Ruins, vowing to never return.

So for countless years, the last image of him in her mind was him snarling in rage, his eyes soaked in bloodthirst, the veins in his neck clearly visible as he roared nearly loud enough to shake the whole Underground. It had almost frightened her to see that lovable goof she knew transformed into a beast of howling fury and slathering teeth, but that final image had fueled her comfortable anger ever since. Any time an errant memory would try to remind her of happier times, that face would erase it almost instantly.

Even when she had seen him again for the first time on Emergence Day, one of the happiest days for their people in millennia, the sight of his dopey, wide-eyed face had only enraged her further. A “pathetic whelp,” she had called him, among other things. God above, she had actually enjoyed the way he shrank back and cowered under her righteous fury. How the light in his eyes instantly died when she refused even a chance of friendship.

The tinny ding of the elevator almost made Toriel cry out in shock. As it was, she merely clutched at her purse as the doors slowly slid open. She let out a huff and exited. It was late afternoon by this point, so the lights of the garage had switched on, leaving a somewhat disorienting mix of harsh fluorescent light and warm sunlight filtering in from outside. Weaving her way through the maze of cars, Toriel poured as much conscious effort as she could into hardening her heart once again, as it had been for years. Eventually, her mind got the better of her and she had to stop, resting her forehead against one of the large concrete pillars scattered throughout the garage. No matter how hard she tried, images of the real Asgore flashed through her. 

She had to stop! That lasting image of him, out of his mind with rage and hungry for blood, that was him after that day. He was irredeemable, unrepentant! That was why she had to leave! A cold, cruel beast like that would never have listened to her pleas for calm or rational thought. Even when she realized how he could have broken through the barrier without shedding more blood, she had known that it would fall on deaf ears. A mindless killer like him would have shrugged off any suggestions of a less violent way to achieve his goals. That's why she had to stay in the Ruins, so she could protect any human that fell into the Underground. So she could warn them about what he would do to them.

Joshua, Martha, Randy.

Boys and girls that made the tragic mistake of exploring a cave deemed off limits by humans. A single trip on an exposed root that sent them tumbling down into a world of monsters and magic.

Bradley, Jennifer, Grace.

She had to remember them. Focus on those lovely faces that had lit up the first time she showed them real magic. They were the ones worthy of warm memories! She had to remember how Martha, instead of being frightened at Toriel’s appearance, had immediately squealed, rushed to hug her, and called her “Miss Fuzzy.” The way Bradley had bravely jumped in front of her to defend her against the demonic Froggits that emerged from the bushes to say hello. How Grace had laughed at Toriel’s stories about the fairies and goblins she had known centuries past. She had to remember those defenseless children that she tried to protect.

“If you truly wish to leave the Ruins, Joshua, I will not stop you.”

She had tried.

“But I must warn you that you will be in grave danger, Martha.”

She had done her best. Really.

“There is a monster out there, Randall, named Asgore.”

They made their choices.

“If he finds you, he will kill you, Bradley.”

What more could she have done?

“I will not be able to protect you...”

With a tormented cry, Toriel lashed out at the concrete pillar with the magic she hadn’t been aware was gathered in her hand. The roiling mass of pearlescent mana surged through her, and with a deafening crunch, tore a large chunk out of the pillar, sending stone shrapnel flying. She stood there, glaring hatred at the offending stone, taking heavy, seething breaths. Tiny rainbow colored sparks danced off of her fingertips, casting dancing shadows throughout the garage. 

Eventually, the frustration and anger receded enough for her mind to focus a bit more. Her narrowed eyes went wide when she looked down at her hands and saw the smoldering magic just now ebbing. Her jaw was sore due to how hard she had clenched her teeth, and she was a bit light-headed due to how hard she had been breathing.

Lifting her eyes once more, Toriel gazed at the mess she had made. Fortunately, it seemed that the debris ripped from the pillar hadn’t hit any cars, saving her from an embarrassing call to the police. Clearing her throat, Toriel stood up straight, her paws moving to gently rub the area beneath her stubby horns. “Bless it all, Toriel,” she muttered after a few slow breaths, then resumed the trek to her car.

Just as she reached her vehicle, the sudden ringing of her cell phone inside her purse caused her to yelp and nearly drop her keys. Silently cursing her frayed nerves, she fished the phone out and saw the glowing picture of her and Frisk at a local park, meaning it was him calling. Good, she thought. Hearing his voice would certainly soothe her mind. Taking a few slow, cleansing breaths, she forced a smile on her face and pressed the button. “Frisk, my child! How is—”

“Mom!”

Toriel’s heart instantly went into overdrive at his harried, borderline panicked tone. “Frisk? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m at Dad’s place. Listen, you need to get over here quick. I think he’s in trouble!”

Chapter Text

To say that Toriel was not an experienced driver was quite the understatement. Horse-drawn carriages were rare when monsters were forced Underground, and their new home wasn’t exactly expansive, so there was ever a need to think up anything like a car. Still, over the past two years, she would say that she had become quite handy behind the wheel, if a bit overcautious.

Not tonight, though. Toriel drove her large custom-built car with fervent speed, dancing between other cars like a woman possessed. She didn’t run the few red lights that she encountered between the mall and Asgore’s house, but the ringing of Frisk’s harried words in her ear turned her foot to lead.

“I think he’s in trouble!”

Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest decision to immediately hang up and leap into her car, but Frisk’s tone—how frightened he sounded at the prospect of Asgore being in danger—drove most conscious thought from her mind. Frisk was the bravest boy she had ever met, if not one of the bravest people period, so hearing that level of apprehension let her know exactly how bad the situation was. The whirlwind of conflicting desires and confused emotions had dulled somewhat, but that tiny, traitorous voice in her heart was steadily growing louder. She desperately hoped Frisk was okay.

I hope he is okay...

What would typically be a twenty minute drive from the mall to the upscale neighborhood Asgore lived in took her just over ten. His home was quite a bit fancier than hers: a custom built, two-story building with large picture windows on the ground floor; a large front door to accommodate his bulk; a wide, finely manicured lawn; and of course, several exquisitely cared for flower beds. Asgore had once admitted that he only accepted the custom home and placement in the swanky neighborhood because he felt that humans wouldn’t respect his people if their king lived in more humble means. And for the gardening space, of course.

Her tires quietly screeched as she pulled into the driveway at a wide angle, nearly running into one of the flower beds that lay alongside it. Toriel threw open the car door and jumped out, not even bothering to close it as she hurried to the front door. She didn’t run, as she didn’t want to add to Frisk’s panic, but her long strides quickly carried her up the brick and mortar walkway, and she knocked on the door.

Milliseconds after the third knock, the door flew open. “Mom!” Frisk reached out and grabbed her hand. She let out a tiny bleat of shock as he yanked her inside the house. Well, as much as a twelve year old can yank someone three times his weight. She let herself be dragged into the large, sparsely furnished living room. Frisk finally released her hand and whirled around, eyes wide. “Where did you go?!”

“Frisk,” Toriel said, “please, calm down.”

“Calm?” he said. “I was calmer before! Why did you hang up on me?!”

Toriel flinched at the question. “Ah, yes. I apologize, child. I was a bit... distressed at the time.” His eyebrows quirked, and she prayed he didn’t ask for further information. She wasn’t feeling up to explaining the situation. She wasn’t even sure if she could properly explain the situation. When he didn’t speak, she continued. “Now, please tell me...” She trailed off as her eyes scanned her surroundings, idly musing that this was the first time she had even been inside Asgore’s home.

While the room was indeed spartanly furnished, aside from multiple plants and flower pots, it nevertheless felt fully occupied. A couch made of faux leather stretched across the length of it, the ninety degree bend at one end evening out towards an end table. A large glass coffee table took up most of what space was left, aside from a recliner on the opposite side from the couch. Both the recliner and sofa were quite large, which made sense given the sole occupant of the house.

Toriel’s hackles rose when she finally noticed the lack of said occupant. “Frisk, where is your father?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” he said, now pacing behind the expansive couch. The words came tumbling out of his mouth, almost running together into incomprehensible mush. “Dad was acting kinda funny all day yesterday and this morning. Like really touchy-feely and emotional, even more than usual. Then at like noon, he asked if I would be okay by myself for a bit because he had to take care of something. I said yeah, so he hugged me super tight, then left. A few hours later, he still hadn't come back, so I called his cell phone, but he didn’t answer. I tried the flower shop and his secretary at City Hall, nothing. Then I called Undyne and Papyrus, and neither of them had seen or heard from him. I tried Alphys, but she didn’t pick up either.”

As he spoke, that old, familiar anger towards Asgore flared up. “He left you on your own? And he did not tell you where he was going?!”

“Mom, focus! There’s more.” Frisk turned and walked further into the house, beckoning her to follow. They quickly arrived at a very large door, obviously custom built for a monster of Asgore’s size, and Frisk threw it open. Inside was a massive bed much like the one in her bedroom, easily twelve feet by nine. As with the living room, it was set up with an eye for utility rather than aesthetic. A small table sat next to the bed holding a large lamp, and along the far wall was a large dresser upon which sat multiple picture frames.

As Frisk led her deeper inside, towards the closet, she made out several of the pictures. One showed Asgore holding Frisk in a headlock, both grinning widely. Next to it was a picture of Undyne holding both Frisk and Asgore in headlocks, and while she showed her usual fanged smile, both looked like they were having trouble breathing. There were several others, but laying in the direct center, laid lovingly atop a tiny pillow, was a pair of weathered pink pruning shears. They were far too small for Asgore’s massive hands, but they had been perfectly sized for the little girl who enjoyed gardening almost as much as he did. 

“In here.” Frisk’s words snapped her out of her mind. Frisk had opened the door to the walk-in closet. It was surprisingly orderly, with everything hung neatly on the racks and what few items did sit on the ground were stacked with care. “Once I realized he was... m-missing, I got worried so I did some snooping. I know, I know,” he said, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “It’s wrong to go through other people’s stuff. Sorry, desperate times. I’ll apologize to him later.”

Toriel wanted to be annoyed at him trying to head off getting in trouble, but she was more concerned with the way he had stuttered when saying that Asgore was missing. Now paying closer attention, she let him continue.

“I went through some of his stuff, and I found this,” he said, pointing to a cardboard box tucked into the corner, and Toriel approached to take a closer look.

The box itself looked quite new, only a few signs of wear and tear from being moved, but the contents were a much different story. There was no lid, which let her see the massive pile of papers strewn about the inside. She could all but feel the age radiating off of them. Countless wrinkles marred the paper, several places along the edges torn and frayed.

Curious, Toriel plucked one from the top of the pile and walked back into the bedroom to avail herself of the brighter light. Squinting, she brought the parchment closer to her face, and almost immediately her eyes went wide. 

“What?” Frisk said. “You know what they are?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she muttered. “These are spell scrolls. Mages use them to develop new spells, to see it before them before they try to cast it. I haven’t seen a new one in ages, and never anything like this.” She could make out the runes and mana channels easily enough. The text however, the notes the spell designer used to describe every element, wasn’t written in any language she had ever seen. It didn’t even look like an alphabet, let alone words. Every character was an object of some kind: check marks, star shapes, houses, and even tiny fingers pointing every which way.

A tug at her sleeve tore her from the confusing parchment. Frisk was looking up at her with a look she could not place, somewhere between apprehension and regret. “Mom, I, uh... Th-this one was on top of the pile.” Slowly, he produced a manila folder from behind his back. “I’m... pretty sure this was the last one he read.”

Toriel was a bit confused as to why he was suddenly so meek, but she took the folder regardless. She opened it to reveal a single spell scroll... and a picture that made every nerve in her body tense. It was quite old, and well handled judging by the many creases and wrinkles. A trembling hand reached down to pick up the sepiatone photograph that she had not seen in over a hundred years, but had nevertheless been seared into her memory.

Asgore had set the timer for five second instead of ten, so none of them had been properly prepared. The faded picture showed Toriel shoulder to shoulder with Asgore, gazing into each other’s eyes. The photograph shook in her hand as her other reverently stroked across the two children standing in front of them, one smiling with his typical exuberance, the other hiding her face from the camera as she always did.

“Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?’ Her voice was a hoarse whisper, her eyes never leaving the picture.

“Mom!” Frisk’s more forceful call ripped her back from the brink so suddenly that she almost dropped the photo. Blinking back tears she hadn’t realized were there, she sniffled and looked down at Frisk. He reached up to rub her forearm. “I’m sorry, Mom, but we really need to figure this out,” he said, nodding towards the parchment she had dropped at some point. 

Toriel took several deep breaths, then smiled at him. “Right, of course.” She gently placed the picture on the bed, then bent down and retrieved the parchment. Like the other one, it was written in that seemingly random text, so she ignored the notes in favor of the spell lattice itself. Toriel did her best to ignore the wave of panic at the obvious tear stains on the parchment. She was never the most well-learned in magical theory, content to use her innate boss monster power to fuel healing spells and basic fire attacks if needed, but she did remember a thing or two from her mother-in-law’s instruction. 

The paper displayed an incredibly intricate runic circle festooned with script and symbols, and seven runes inscribed along the outer edge. Inside the circle was an oddly distorted, oblong Y-shape running left to right connecting to three of the runes. She intently studied the first for several long seconds. Why would Asgore have such intricate spell scrolls? Granted, he was a magical powerhouse who had no living equal, but he never was one for serious study. So why...

Her eyes went wide. “Oh, my word,” she muttered. She finally recognized the rune she had been staring at, and she felt her heart speed up.

“What?’ Frisk said, leaning in closer. “What is it? Do you know what the spell does?”

“No, not exactly. I have not seen this spell before, but I do recognize this rune,” she said, tapping the parchment with a claw tip. “It means this is... soul magic.”

“Soul magic?” Frisk repeated.

“Yes,” Toriel said, her eyes now studying the second rune attached to the oblong Y. “A very old, very forbidden school of magic. Asgore’s father, King Gortel, outlawed it millennia ago due to how dangerous it was for both the caster and the—” Her heart froze. She sucked in a heavy breath, a tremor working its way down her arm.

“What?” Frisk said, apparently noting her sudden shift. “Mom, what is it?”

She could not find the words to respond to him, not that she could have spoken if she wanted to. The moment she deciphered the second rune, the world fell out of focus, her eyes glued to the spell scroll. The first rune in the spell chain stood for SOUL. That by itself made her nervous, but the second rune filled her with absolute dread and panic.

REND

Suddenly, it all made sense: the surprising uptick in his mood, the long overdue apology, his conciliatory tone, the oddly cryptic farewell. The puzzle pieces slammed home in her head, the answer horrifyingly clear.

Lord in Heaven, he’s going to kill himself.

“Mom, what is it?” Frisk said a bit more impatiently.

Toriel swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath before turning to him, a very unconvincing smile on her face. “It... i-it is not important.”

“Mom, please tell—”

“What is important is that we find your father at once.” She folded up the musty parchment and stuffed it in her purse, then fished out her cell phone. “I will call my contact at the state department. Perhaps they know something. You should call Sans. I know that he and your father are not exactly on speaking terms, but he may—”

“I think I know where he is.”

The sudden meekness of his voice gave Toriel pause. She looked up from her cell phone and saw him standing before her, head bowed and all but trembling in his sneakers. She gingerly reached out and cupped his chin. When she guided his face to meet hers, he once more wore that inscrutable gaze of his, though Toriel could tell that he was trying to force it by the twitching of his nose and hitched breaths. “Frisk, you should have told me from the start! Now where is he?”

“The Ruins,” he muttered.

“He... the Ruins in the Underground?”

Frisk nodded. “A-At the flower bed where you first found me.”

Toriel blinked hard. Of all the places she could have guessed he would go for what she thought he was planning to do, that was not one of them. It didn’t make sense. She knew the significance of that flower bed—it was where she buried Chara all those years ago—but she never told Asgore that.

Of course you didn’t, you witch hissed the now very loud voice in her heart. Why would you? It’s not like he would ever want to mourn his daughter or anything. What kind of father would want to pay his respects to—

Toriel jerked her head to the side with a grunt. Now was not the time for that. “Why do you think he went there?”

Frisk said nothing for several long seconds. Toriel reached out and brushed the hair from his eyes, and saw the faintest hint of tears trying to break through his squint. Finally, he gave up trying and opened his eyes. She was somewhat shocked by the guilt and remorse shining through, as if he had committed some grave offense. His mouth opened, but he struggled to find his words. “I... I-I promised I wouldn’t tell.”

Placing her hands on his shoulders, Toriel knelt down, bringing them eye to eye. She did her best to keep her voice neutral, though given how perceptive he could be, she had little doubt that Frisk could read her nerves. “Frisk, listen to me. I believe that your father is going to... do something quite foolish, and I need to know all that I can. Whatever you may have promised him, it—”

“Not him,” he whispered. 

“Then who?”

His lower lip began to tremble, and Toriel could feel his body shaking. “I’m... I-I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Who? ”

By this point, the first tear had escaped his eye and trailed down his cheek. He roughly rubbed it away with the back of his hand, opened his mouth, and in a hoarse whisper croaked out, “A-Asriel.”

For several moments, Toriel said nothing. Her only immediate reaction was to crease her brow. “As... Frisk, what do you mean Asriel?” 

“It was Asriel, okay?!” He wriggled free of her embrace and took a few steps back, as if fearful of her reaction. “Ugh, look, after he broke the Barrier, he didn’t want to leave because he knew he would eventually turn back into Flowey! Then a few months ago he started to lose his love again and decided to fade away rather than live like that again. He made me promise not to tell you and Dad because he didn’t want you to worry, but I screwed up last weekend and ended up having to explain it all to Dad!”

The torrent of words was almost incomprehensible to Toriel. Her brows furrowed in confusion, head cocked to the side as she tried to comprehend what he had said. “He... he broke the...” She shook her head slightly, doing her best to ignore the heat building up in her chest. “Frisk, Asriel has been dead for over a century. He—”

“I know, I know. He was killed by humans after Chara died. But Alphys accidentally brought him back a few years before I fell into the Underground.”

Toriel rocked back on her heels, all but physically assaulted by the words. Slowly, she stood on shaking legs. “Frisk... w-why would you say such a thing?!”

“But it’s true!” he cried, taking a step towards her. “It was some determination experiment Alphys did on a flower from Dad’s old garden!”

“Frisk, that is enough.” 

“Dad had her do it to try and find a way to break through the Barrier without killing any more humans!” 

“Will you please—.”

“Mom, I’m so sorry, but he said—”

“Frisk, please stop!” Her words had come out more forceful than she had intended, judging by how shocked he looked, but her frustration won our over concern. “Listen, this is no time for… w-whatever you are speaking of. Now, stay here. I will go retrieve your father.” With that, she left the bedroom, heading for the front door. 

“Wait, what?” Frisk said, quickly following her through the living room. “No, I’m coming with you!”

“Absolutely not,” she said. She of all people knew how capable and resilient Frisk was, but given what she may find if too late to stop Asgore, she would never leave the opportunity for him to see that. Now before the front door, Toriel reached for the knob only for Frisk to jump in front of her. 

“Mom, after all I’ve done, I’m not going to just sit here out of the way.”

Toriel fixed him with a stern glare. “I said no, Frisk. Now stand aside.”

“Mom, please!” He begged. “I have to help him. This is all my fault! If I hadn’t told him that Asriel was still alive he—“

"Stop saying that!”

Toriel’s scream echoed through the large house for what felt like an eternity. Her heart broke at the look of shock on Frisk’s face, likely a mirror of her own. She could not remember the last time she raised her voice at him like that. No, she never had. The last time she yelled like that was yesterday when…

You… you have lost the right to say their names!

Heart in her throat, Toriel reached out a hands towards Frisk only to pull it back halfway. Part of her felt she no longer deserved to comfort him. Instead, she sniffled back her shame and gave him a shaky smile. “Do not worry, my child. I… I will return with your father.”

He gave a shaky smile and nodded. 

Toriel hurried out the door and got into her car. She turned the ignition, backed out of the driveway, then paused. The crushing weight of the past two days shook her to the core, but this was no time for reflection. Setting her shoulders, she raced away to the sound of screeching tires.

So focused on her destination, Toriel didn’t notice Frisk’s bicycle racing down the road in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

The sun was just starting to set by the time Toriel made it to the base of Mount Ebott and started up the long and winding road towards the peak. There was no caution or restraint on the road this time. She was pretty sure she had broken every traffic law she was aware of. Fortunately the roads had been largely empty most of the way. She had been pulled over by a police officer for speeding, and for the first time in who knows how long, she used her position to get out of trouble. The young officer had even sent a description of her car across the radio, saying she was to be left alone due to an “ambassadorial emergency.”

The barely two lane road snaked its way up and around the mountain, though it didn’t reach anywhere near the top. Fortunately, the hidden cave that led down into the Underground was only about a quarter of the way up. Toriel rounded the last curve before the road turned away from her destination when she saw Asgore’s massive truck pulled onto the shoulder. She maneuvered her car off the road and killed the engine. She threw open the door, not even bothering to lock it as she hurried towards the trail that led into the woods. 

When she passed his truck, she placed a hand in the hood, and a fresh wave of worry struck her. The engine was cold. He had been here for a while. She blinked in surprise upon seeing a car parked just on the other side. It was also a custom built car designed for a monster, and while she did not recognize it, the bevy of anime bumper stickers gave her a pretty good idea who it belonged to. 

The road had gotten her close, but it was still a good mile and a half hike up and across the mountain face to reach the mouth of the cave. Toriel hurried as best she could, but the dense foliage didn’t allow her seven foot frame a lot of room to maneuver. While she was desperate to reach the cave and stop whatever Asgore was planning, she was still grateful for the time to gather her thoughts. 

Much like earlier in the day, Toriel’s mind and heart were pulling her in different directions. Part of her wanted to be furious at Asgore for what she assumed he was planning to do. The man had responsibilities. He was a king, a spokesman for their entire race, but most importantly, he had a duty to Frisk. Even when she was at her most bitter, she never once doubted that Asgore loved their son. Once Frisk had inserted himself into his life, Asgore had put his happiness and well-being above all else save possibly their people. He was so dedicated to Frisk that it was almost like looking through a window into a hundred years ago.

That was the other side of the equation. While the memory of them still ached from time to time, Toriel had long processed her grief over the loss of Asriel and Chara. She would never forget them, never not have them in her heart, but she had moved on as best she could. It was now clear that Asgore had not. Not that her stubborn pride had made it any easier on him. She winced as she danced through the thick brush of the mountain, thinking of how her scorn and anger had likely exacerbated things for him. By his own words, he still loved her, which meant he still clung to those memories of the four of them together and happy. Seeing his last connection to them rebuke and demean him every time they met? It was no wonder he had turned to ending his life.

Still, while she did empathize with him, she could not let him go through with his plan. Not just for Frisk’s sake, nor the sake of their people. It was as she told Frisk on Emergence Day: Asgore had done terrible things, but even he deserved mercy.

The canopy above her did not allow much sunlight in, but judging by how dense the tree line had become, she knew she was close. Either by luck or providence, the only cave that allowed one-way passage into the Underground was surrounded by foliage so thick that it was all but impossible to happen upon it by accident. According to human pilots, it wasn’t even noticeable by air until they knew it was there.

As she neared the final copse of trees blocking the entrance, she let out a grunt and pushed a thick sapling out of her way, earning a resounding crack. Almost immediately, she heard a loud “Eep” beyond the woodline, and a familiar, nasally voice called out.

“Wh-Who’s there?! You, uh... y-y-you better not come any c-closer! I’m, uh, I’m a big... b-big scary monster! S-So ya better leave or, uh... I-I’ll attack you with... with my, um... l-laser... eyes?”

Toriel finally managed to breach the treeline. Alphys stood by the thick iron gate that blocked entry to the cave, dressed in a green sweater and tan slacks. “Doctor Alphys.”

The saurian gasped. “Y-Your Majesty!, Or... wait, no, y-you don’t... your highness! Um... T-Tori?”

Toriel inclined her head and approached. “What are you doing here? Where is Asgore?”

“Um, I-I’m not sure what I’m doing here. The King called me and asked me to m-meet him here. W-When I arrived, he just told me to wait here, ‘until it is complete,’ then he headed down into the Ruins. Th-that was about an hour ago.”

Toriel’s fist clenched. He had already been down there an hour? She silently prayed she would not be too late. A thought then struck her. She reached into her pocket and produced the folded spell scroll from Asgore’s house, unfurling it and holding it down to Alphys' eye level. “Tell me, Doctor, have you ever seen this before?”

Alphys squinted, then produced a tiny flashlight from her purse, flicking it on and inspecting the sheet. Her brows creased. “Um, i-is this a spell scroll?”

“Yes,” Toriel said. “Frisk found this in Asgore’s bedroom. I think it has something to do with why he is down there.”

“O-Oh. W-Well, I’m very s-sorry, but I’m more of a tech nerd than...” Her words trailed off as she squinted even more. She roughly pulled the sheet from Toriel’s hand and held it closer to her face. “Wait,” she mumbled. “What... what is that doing there?”

“What?” Toriel said, bending lower to read over her shoulder. “What is it? Do you recognize it?”

“Part of it,” she said. “Uh, Miss Toriel, do you have any guess what the spell does?”

“Only partially,” Toriel said. “I know that these two runes,” she pointed to the ones at the Y end of the shape, “represent the words ‘Soul’ and... ‘Rend.’ 

Alphys gasped. “R-Rend?!”

“Yes,” Toriel said with a nod. “I cannot quite make out this last one. ‘Project’ or ‘Extend,’ I think.”

“Oh, okay. And what is this?” She pointed a claw towards the oblong Y-shape in the center of the runic circle.

“That is called a simulacrum,” she explained. “A sort of... physical representation of the way mana flows through the spell. It allows the caster to visualize the spell, thus making it easier to cast. Why? Have you seen this shape before?”

“I see it all the time,” Alphys said, shaking her head. “This is identical to the circuitry used in the Core.”

Toriel’s heart skipped a beat. “Th... the Core?”

Alphys nodded. “There are multiple variations, but this is the exact configuration of the main power shunt.” When Toriel blinked at her dumbly, she blushed. “Uh, sorry. It’s what we use to transfer energy from the Core itself to the secondary systems.” She returned her gaze to the scroll, studying it for a few seconds, until her eyes went wide. “I... Miss Toriel, I think this spell may have been written by whoever it was that designed the Core! Where did you say the king found this?!”

“I do not know,” Toriel said, plucking the scroll from Alphys’ hands and placing it back in her pocket. “Please remain here, Doctor, and keep the gate open. I will be back shortly with the king.” With a final nod, she stepped past Alphys towards the locking mechanism of the gate.

“Please hurry,” Alphys squeaked. “He, uh... h-had a bad look about him.”

Swallowing back her emotions, she smiled and nodded, then returned to the gate. The thick iron bars covered the entire mouth of the cave with barely an inch between the tips of the bars and the stone face. A similar gate covered the entrance in New Home. All of the monsters had moved out of the Underground by now, though some liked to return every now and then, if not for nostalgia, then to retrieve something they left behind. Men and monsters were free to enter and leave at their whims, though given the dangers of entering by the Ruins, a special lock had been placed on this gate that only responded to boss monster magic.

Toriel placed her hand on the lock and closed her eyes. She channeled a bit of magic through her claws, and was rewarded with a satisfying click of the lock. Swinging it open, she stepped inside and made her way to the side of the cave. The ground directly in front of the mouth led downward in a not-so-gentle slope into the dark of the cave. This is how Chara, Frisk, and the other children made it to the bottom without seriously injuring themselves. Off to the side, hidden from what sunlight made it into the cave, was a sheer dropoff straight to the bottom, where they had installed an elevator after Emergence Day. Toriel stepped inside and switched the lever, descending into the darkness.

The elevator was lit only by a single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. She knew from experience that the ride down would take just under two minutes, which gave her precious little time to collect herself and come up with a plan. Given the emotional state Asgore had to be in if he was willing to take his own life, running in as an overly emotional mess would not help matters. This also meant she had no idea how to speak to him. Her first instinct was to just berate him like she would a child. That usually worked to walk him back from foolhardy plans, but for the aforementioned reasons, it would likely do more harm than good. A lance of panic ran through her as the elevator landed with a slight thud. Toriel closed her eyes and steadied her nerves. She had to remain calm, and take gentle yet firm charge of the situation. For Frisk. For Asgore. For Yourself.

The first thing she noted when the doors slid open was how bright it was. The elevator faced the cave wall that opened towards a hallway of sorts that swung around to the main chamber where the flower bed resided. A rudimentary lighting system had been installed several months after monsterkind left the Underground consisting of a series of naked incandescent bulbs, providing just enough light to navigate safely. However, the glow coming from around the bend was much brighter than it had any right to be. What really concerned Toriel, however, was the tingle at the base of her horns that grew more pronounced the closer she came to the final bend in the hallway. Whatever Asgore was doing down here was throwing off an awful lot of magic. That, combined with Alphys’ assessment of the spell scroll, gave Toriel a slight glimmer of hope. There were ways to commit suicide that required a lot less effort and mana. She paused at the final corner, took one last steadying breath, then entered the chamber.

Many facets of the cave had not changed since last she was there. The ceiling was just about fifty feet off the ground, looking down upon a circular chamber that spanned a hundred in each direction. To her immediate right was the bottom of the harsh slope from the surface. Only a tiny band of light reached this far down, spanning perhaps half the chamber. The flower bed in the center of the chamber was a rectangle measuring eight feet by five, from which sprung beautiful golden flowers sprouting to various heights. Those, however, were the only things left untouched.

The bright light she noticed before came from a massive runic circle carved into the cavern floor by lines of gleaming white magic about thirty feet in diameter, centered on the flower bed. Shadows danced across the walls and ceiling from the mana charged scripts and runes whose light wavered like pearlescent candles. On the closest edge to her, Toriel noted the two runes she had identified earlier: Soul and Rend. From them, the simulacrum Alphys recognized ran directly through the center of the bed to a point on the other side where Asgore knelt on the ground.

Dressed in his ceremonial armor, he had his back turned to her and one hand on the ground which, judging by the pulsing light, was feeding magic into the circle. “I believed asked that you remain above ground,” he said calmly without looking back.

Toriel set her shoulders and spoke clearly. “No, I do not believe you did.”

The pulsing light before him fizzled out in a tiny shower of sparks, and Asgore leapt to his feet and spun. “Toriel?!” He gawked at her dumbfounded for several seconds, until he sighed and a tiny, lopsided smirk graced his lips. “Frisk,” he more stated than asked.

“Yes, he called me.” Toriel said, folding her arms across her chest. Despite the situation, she couldn’t stop that tiny flare of frustration. “He was rather distressed after you left him alone and did not tell him where you were going.” 

Asgore winced. “Sorry. I did ask the neighbors to check in on him after sundown. I was going to do this earlier in the week, but I... I-I just wanted to spend one more day with him. Then this morning... I realized I had put it off too long.” He then made his way towards another part of the glowing circle.

His words sent a chill down Toriel’s spine. Perhaps her first guess had been correct after all. She carefully considered her words, not wanting to set him off. “A-And... what are you doing down here?”

“Righting a wrong,” he said as he knelt down next to a set of smaller support runes. “Correcting an imbalance.” He held out his hand, and Toriel saw several pulses of mana channel into the runes. “Trying to atone,” he whispered.

Toriel’s heart once more began to pound. “Asgore,” she said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the spell scroll, “after he called me, Frisk found this in your bedroom.” She held out the unfolded parchment.

Asgore looked up briefly, then huffed and returned to his task. “Damn that boy’s curiosity,” he muttered.

“‘That boy’s curiosity’ is the reason we are no longer trapped down here.” Toriel stepped towards the circle. “Listen, Asgore, I know that—” She grunted in pain as she rather roughly slammed into an invisible force field at the circle’s perimeter. Backpedaling a bit, she rubbed at her snout to ease the sting from the impact, then slowly approached again. Gingerly, she reached out a hand and tapped a claw tip against the invisible barrier. It shimmered and danced like a lake disturbed. She curled a fist and beat against it, but it held fast.

“Sorry, my love,” Asgore said, a sad smile on his face, “but I can't let you interfere."

“Inter…” Toriel swallowed back her rising panic and stepped along the perimeter of the barrier to come closer to him. “Asgore, listen to me. I… F-Frisk is worried about you. You have been acting quite odd this weekend, and he fears that—“

“Did he tell you?”

“What?”

Asgore stood and moved on to another set of script on the ground, though as he spoke, his eyes trailed towards the flower bed. Toriel followed his gaze to a large, wilting flower in the very center of the bed, twice as tall as any other. Its stem was a sickly yellow, and the drooping head had already lost a good portion of its petals. “Did he tell you why I came all the way here?”

Toriel did her best to control her breathing. For whatever reason, Asgore had bought into Frisk’s almost offensive story. She had to try and steer the conversation elsewhere. “He said... a few very confusing things, yes. Though given how worried he is about you, it is understandable that he would invent stories to—”

“It's not a story.” After a few moments of pumping mana into the scripts at his feet, Asgore slowly walked to the center of the bed gazing almost lovingly at the wilting flower. “It's true. I know it is.”

“Asgore, don’t—” She had to physically bite her tongue to cut off her acerbic words. Just because she had processed her grief over Asriel and Chara’s deaths didn’t mean she wanted to hear such frivolous uses of their names. When he simply kept staring at the flower instead of reacting to her silenced admonishment, she got an idea and reached into her other pocket. “Asgore? Asgore, look at me.” Slowly, he lifted his head, and right when their eyes met, Toriel held up the faded sepia tone photograph from his bedroom. She saw his whole body tense, and took this as a good sign that she had reached him.

“I... I miss them, too,” she said. “All the time.” She gently ran a claw tip across Chara’s shoulder length, bobbed haircut that she refused to let Toriel alter. Sniffing back the ghost of a tear, she looked back up at him. “I would do anything, anything if I could bring them back, even for a day, but I can not. They... they are dead, Asgore. Asriel and Chara are gone, and they will never come back. We owe it to them—”

“She is,” he interrupted, his eyes growing hard. “He’s not.”

A faint growl escaped Toriel’s lips. She brought a paw to pinch at the bridge of her nose. “Asgore, I know that you must feel very emotional right now, but please do not use our son’s name to—”

“I spoke to him, Tori.”

“You… what?”

Asgore still did not meet her eyes, his gaze locked on the dying flower. Asgore gingerly ran his paw along its surface, but froze when a large chunk of petals fell to the ground. “For years I… I-I thought it was a dream or a… half forgotten fantasy. But when Frisk told me the truth, I knew that it was real. I heard him.”

Toriel’s paw began to tremble. “Please stop—“

“I went into the garden like always when I heard a voice calling out to me. It was him! A crying face upon a large flower but it was his voice! B-But something was… wrong. He…”

He finally lifted his gaze to her, eyes brimming with barely contained tears. “I-I tried, Tori. God in heaven, I tried so hard to help him feel, but I… I couldn’t.” Sniffling, he stood back up and turned his back. “I failed him again,” he whispered. He slowly stood and returned to his preparations.

For the briefest moment, a series of hazy, distorted sensations flashed through Toriel's mind—tears falling upon golden petals, a warm embrace returned with icy breath, cries of joy, confusion, agony—but the next moment they faded back into nothing, and she shook her head.

“That is enough!” Toriel snapped. She slammed her fist into the barrier again, but to no avail. “I do not care how depressed you are. Stop using Asriel as a character in whatever fantasy you have built!”

“It's not a fantasy,” he growled.

“I have had enough—”

"He’s alive, Toriel!" Asgore rounded on her. Tears fell unabated from his blazing eyes as he took deep, snarling breaths. “He is in there!” He jabbed a trembling claw towards the flower. “He's trapped, he's in pain, and… a-and it's all my fault," he whimpered, voice cracking. "I authorized the determination experiments, I gave Alphys the flower, I did this to him!" Asgore eye's grew unfocused and hollow. "I couldn't save him... I couldn't even let him die properly.”

Toriel’s upper lip curled, but as her eyes flicked briefly towards the flower, her heart skipped a beat. Since she last looked at it, the bulb of the flower had somehow rotated. It was now facing her, revealing the sickly, off white head bereft of petals. She shook her head. The wind must have moved it, she reasoned, pointedly ignoring the dead, stagnant air of the cave. 

He huffed, roughly rubbing a paw across his eyes. “It's not right,” he growled. “It's not fair that I stand here a free man while he suffers what I did to him! That another child suffers because of my incompetence. And now he is wasting away, he is dying all over again, because he doesn't have a soul.” His face fell, a single paw clutching at his chest. “Mine may be stained by the blood of innocent children, but… but I think he could still find use for it.”

“Asgore, what are you...” She gasped.

“It’s what we use to transfer energy from the Core.”

“I will bring your son back.”

SOUL. 

REND.

PROJECT.

“No,” Toriel breathed. “No, no, no, Asgore? Asgore, listen to me.” She focused and channeled as much magic as she could muster into her hand until it was glowing brightly and slammed it against the barrier, only for it to rebound so hard it nearly dislocated her shoulder. Shaking out her aching paw, she slid further along the force field, pressing herself as close as she could. “I understand that you are feeling very upset... a-and confused.”

Asgore’s only response was to begin a slow walk along the outside of the runic circle. He held his right paw out, and Toriel could see the tiny vibrations in the air, his eyes scanning along every script and rune. He was likely running a final check before...

“I-I only just realized that you never properly dealt with your grief over losing them. And... a-and that I have likely not been much help, given the way I have treated you.”

Finished with his circuit, Asgore moved to a position about three feet from the flower. Taking in a deep breath, he swept his paw around in a circle, leaving a glowing circle in the air before him.

“But we can work this out! I-I am sure that... somehow we can help you through this!”

Asgore whipped his paw down, and the circle wrapped around him and landed on the ground, leaving him standing in the center of what Toriel knew to be a control ring, where the caster would stand to keep the spell stable.

“If you would just...”

Asgore formed a fist.

“Asgore Dreemurr, look at me!”

Visibly shocked by her outburst, Asgore looked up at her.

“Now I know.... I-I think...” Toriel violently shook her head and glared at him. “Oh, for God’s sake, Asgore, it's just a flower! It's not Asriel, or anyone else! If you do this, you will tear your soul apart and project it into nothing! The only thing you will succeed in doing is killing yourself!”

“I should think you would be happy,” he mumbled.

“Wh... what?”

Asgore blew out a sharp breath and looked at her with oddly neutral eyes. “Come now, Tori. I may not be the wisest man, but I'm no fool. I know you hate me.”

The words all but physically hit Toriel, as she staggered back a few steps. “N-No, I... I don't.”

“Not that I blame you,” he continued. “The only one who hates me more than you is myself.”

“Asgore, I do not hate you!”

“Really?” Asgore actually let out a small laugh. “Ever since that day, you have looked at me with nothing but disgust and contempt.” His gaze now had an accusatory glare in them.

“No... I-I mean yes, but...”

"Over a hundred years, and you still recoil at the mere sight of me!"

"Asgore, you don't..."

“If not for hate, how else could you maintain that kind of fury?”

“B-Because I... I-I—”

“These are my final moments on Earth, Toriel. Just admit that—”

“Because I still love you, you stupid oaf!”
 
Her words hung in the air like a cloying smoke, echoing off the dark walls of the cavern. For his part, Asgore did not seem to react at first, though his brow eventually creased. “Wh—”
 
“God... damn it all!" Toriel spun and walked away from the barrier, her paws going to the base of her stubby horns. Hot tears welled in her eyes as she turned back around to glare at him. “I still love you, all right?! I never stopped loving you! Don't you see? That is why I have been so bitter and spiteful towards you! Because I had to. I had to be furious with you!” Toriel roughly rubbed at her eyes with her palms. “I had to because it... it was the only way I could live with myself.”
 
Asgore had not yet moved from his place inside the control ring, but his wide eyes gawked at Toriel’s blabbering confession.
 
Her tears flowed freely now. The aggression in her posture was long gone, and she now stood with her shoulders slumped. “I... I should have stayed. Our people needed me, you needed me! But when you made that declaration, I... the rage in your voice, the blood lust in your eyes! All I could think was, 'How is this the same man who welcomed a human girl into his home? What... wh-what would Chara think if she heard you?'"
 
Asgore visibly stiffened at the words, and Toriel felt a fresh spike of self-loathing lance through her chest. Still, she couldn't stop now.
 
"So I ran. Instead of trying to find another solution or even just talking you out of your insane plan, I fled and locked myself away in the Ruins like a coward. My grief and sorrow had turned to disgust and anger, and I convinced myself that there was no other way. And.." She sniffled, crudely using her forearm to dry her face. "A-And with every drop of blood spilled, I deluded myself into thinking that my hands were clean, and that—"
 
"Enough, Tori," Asgore interjected, his eyes once more glistening with tears. "This is not your burden to bear. You left so you could protect humans. I am the one who killed those children!"

"And I did nothing to stop you!"
 
Asgore flinched and instinctively took a step backwards as Toriel advanced towards the barrier, jabbing a trembling finger at him.
 
"I will not allow you to shoulder the weight of my sins as well, Dreemurr! You are in no place to absolve me of anything! Not when I... could have stopped you. I could have stopped you at any time! I barely had to lift a finger to stop you from fighting Frisk! When Joshua first opened the door to leave the Ruins, I had a choice. I had to choose between relinquishing my pride and coming back to help our people, to help you, or clinging to my anger."
 
Toriel sniffled. With every word out of her mouth, her anger melted away, replaced by a creeping self-loathing that nibbled at her heart. "But I did not want to help you Asgore. I... I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to hate you! I just had to prove that I was right. That the kind, gentle man I fell in love with was gone, and that a cold-blooded murderer had taken his place. I let my pride and... and my petty grudge against you make me guilty by inaction. I clung to my anger, and I let them die."
 
Toriel let out a joyless chuckle. "Pathetic, is it not? Six children fallen, six souls harvested, all because a stubborn, selfish old woman would rather stew in her anger and hate the love of her life than admit she made a mistake. Because I wanted to use that image of you roaring in anger and thirsting for vengeance as a balm to hide from my pain. Because blaming you... w-was easier than blaming myself."

The cave went silent for several eternal moments, save for the quiet hum of magic and Toriel's trembling breaths. When she finally felt in control enough, she slowly stood and met his eyes again. His face had sunk into a sort of sullen neutrality, and he shied away from her gaze.

“But I was wrong, Asgore. I know that now. I suppose I always knew, even when I wouldn’t let myself admit it, that you were not that... that snapshot of you at your worst. I see it, we all do! Undyne, Alphys, and Papyrus have all mentioned it. You smile wider, you are taking better care of yourself, you have become the leader your people deserve!” She took one more step towards the force field. “And do you know why that is?”

Asgore still had not moved, nor given any physical sign that he was even listening. After a long, pregnant pause, he spoke in barely a whisper. “Frisk.”

“Yes,” Toriel said. “Your son. Our son, our living son. Please believe me when I say that I am not the best thing that ever happened to you. He is. Frisk has accomplished so many miracles over the past two years. He gave our people back the sky, he helped lay the foundation for lasting peace, and he—” She sniffled and wiped the back of her paw across her eyes, and a wide smile graced her lips despite her tears— “heh, h-he brought back the man that I love.”

Asgore said nothing.

“Asgore, that boy had no one before us. No one to care for him, guide him, or support him until he fell into our lives. I know that sounds just as familiar to you as it does to me,” she said in a lower tone, her paw subconsciously moving to the pocket containing the photograph of a dimple-cheeked little girl.

Asgore still said nothing, though Toriel could see a slight tremble in his clenched fist.

“If you do this, you will be taking all of that away from him,” Toriel said. “You will undo everything we have done over the past two years to get him to open up. You will not be bringing anyone back to life,” she said, nodding towards that wilting flower. “All you will do is take your pain and your grief and pass onto him. He does not deserve that.” Toriel heaved a deep sigh. "Regardless of what happened in the past... o-or what becomes of you and I, Frisk needs his father."

Asgore said nothing. His entire posture had slumped, his head hung and eyes cast to the ground at his feet.

“So please, Asgore, I beg of you,” Toriel said as she took several steps back and gestured towards the force field, "lower this barrier. Give up this foolish endeavor. Go home to your son.”

An eternity passed as Toriel waited for his response. Her heart was pounding like a drum in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her. After baring her soul and letting out over a century’s worth of pain, she so desperately wanted to walk out of this cave with him. What happened after that was a concern for much later. For now, she just stared hopefully at him.

“He doesn't need me,” Asgore whispered. A fresh wave of panic slammed through Toriel’s body as he finally looked up at her with glistening eyes and a sad smile. “You're more than enough.” He jabbed his left fist into the air, and with a crack of sparks and a hiss of magic, his crimson trident appeared in his paw. “You always have been.” He then raised his weapon into the air and—

“Gorey, please!” Toriel threw herself against the shield once more. She hadn’t planned on using his old pet name. It just burst from the depths of her heart, but it had a visible effect on him, as his smile widened a hair. Lower lip quivering, Toriel slowly shook her head. “Don’t,” she breathed.

Asgore let out a few breathy laughs as the tears once more flowed down his cheeks. “Y-You... are astoundingly beautiful.” With a final smile, Asgore lifted his trident and slammed it onto the ground.

Toriel’s cry was lost under the thunderous roar of magic that all but shook her bones. She had to look away from the blinding flash of light, but after blinking several times, she once more pressed herself against the barrier. "Asgore!"

Inside the shield, a gale-force wind was rising up from the ground, buffeting his cape and his beard. The faintly shimmering runes and scripts now blazed with white light, casting a chaotic pattern of shadows twisting and writhing on the ceiling. Asgore still stood, but it was clear that he was using his trident to support his weight. His face was twisted in pain, fangs bared and brows heavily creased. “As... A-Asriel! ” he cried over the driving wind and thrum of magic. “Asriel! Where... nrgh, where are you?!”

“No, no!” Toriel impotently slammed her fists against the shield, trying and failing to concentrate enough to draw magic into the blows. A shimmering sphere of magic swirled into being before Asgore's chest, slowly taking the form of a white, upside-down heart. His Soul Marker, the representation of his very essence. “Asgore, please stop!”

“Asriel, please!” His trident shuddered and wavered, his knees beginning to buckle. Asgore’s jaw was clenched so hard Toriel could see the muscles underneath, yet despite his face screwed up in obvious torment, his eyes darted back and forth, as if desperately looking for something. “Hear me, son! F-Follow... m-my voice!”

As Toriel watched in sickened fascination, the solid interior of his soul marker started to flicker, like static on a television. Under the almost painful brilliance of the magic blazing from below him, she saw tiny motes lift away from the marker, hovering around his marker like moths before a flame. “God, no!” she cried, her tears leeching strength from her blows. “Asgore, don’t do this, please!”

Asgore was panting now, his whole body shuddering simply from the act of staying on his feet. His trident flickered out of existence and he collapsed to one knee. “Asr... Asriel! I’m here!” He let out a pained grunt, his head drooping. “P-Please hear me...”

“Asgore!” Toriel shouted, herself barely able to stay on her feet. The deep, sonorous thrum of magic was steadily increasing in both volume and pitch, like a turbine engine powering up. “Please stop—”

Asgore gasped. His head whipped around to face the far end of the cavern. His eyes went wide, and despite the obvious agony, a beaming smile spread across his face. “Asriel? Asriel! Yes, it... nrgh, i-it’s me! It’s Papa!” He pumped his fist and his trident flashed back into existence. He planted it firmly into the ground, using it as a crutch to climb back to his feet, and extended his right paw out towards nothing. “Give me your hand!”

Through her tear-blurred vision, Toriel could see no one in the whirlwind of magic other than Asgore. Still, he stared rapturously at some invisible thing about five feet off the ground. Her knees failed her, and she collapsed to the ground, giving a few weak slams against the shield. “Asgore,” she sobbed. “D-Don't leave us.”

“Do not worry, my son!” Asgore shouted into the empty air before him as he stretched his paw out even further. Eyes glazed over in pain and his expectant grin wavering, he kept his paw extended, shaking it a few times as if enticing someone to grab it. "E-Everything will be fine! Now please... take my hand!”

After a few seconds of nothing but howling wind, Asgore suddenly grabbed at the empty air and let out an agonized roar, collapsing to one knee. The tiny cloud of magical dust that had been hovering in front of his soul marker floated away from him, like dandelion buds in the wind, heading directly towards the flower. As the flow increased, the tips of Asgore’s feet faded from existence, leaving not even dust.

She could take no more. Toriel slowly turned away from the horrific sight. Back leaning against the shield, she curled in on herself, hugging her knees to her chest. Her loud cries had morphed into tiny, whimpering sobs as she shook. This wasn't fair. After so many years, she had finally admitted to herself what she always knew, leaving herself open to the possibility of a future, and it was being ripped away before she could even grasp it. Worst of all, she had to sit there and listen to the man who had been, and could have once more been the love of her life, let out strangled gasps as he—

"--d, w---'s g--ng -n?"

Toriel’s ear flicked. Despite her body shivering under the weight of her deep sobs, she lifted her head at the faint sound. She wasn’t even sure she had heard anything beneath the howling wind and Asgore’s pain-wracked cries. It almost sounded like a—

"Da-, no! -t-p, d-n't do this!"

Her whole body tensed. Her heart stopped in her chest. The blood in her veins turned to ice when she heard that voice. It was faint, just barely on the edge of her perception, and it was tinny and hollow, as if coming from a phone with bad reception. Still, though she had not heard it in over a hundred years, it was a voice she could never forget. No mother could. Hands trembling like leaves in a storm, she slowly turned around, and her entire reality collapsed around her.

By this point, everything below Asgore’s thighs had faded into nothing. His soul marker was nearly halfway depleted. He was still grunting and groaning in torment, teeth barred and eyes clenched shut. While his left paw maintained a white-knuckled grip on his trident, his right was still clenched around nothing, though she could see it jerk around as if someone were trying to break loose from his grip . The magical dust from his soul marker still flowed into the flower, but a second stream had appeared. This one drifted away from the flower to a spot next to Asgore, about four feet off the ground, where a tiny soul marker had formed, filling it from the bottom up.

“Please, Dad, stop it! Let go!”

“No,” Toriel whispered as the voice—that eager, gentle voice with the inexplicably folksy accent, just like his father—came as loud and clear as if he were standing right next to her. “It... i-it can't...”

Vigorously wiping her eyes to ensure she was not hallucinating, Toriel gawked as a messy tuft of white fur materialized out of nothing a foot above the marker. As if being unveiled by a cloak, the space beneath filled out into the head of a young boy, translucent at first, but quickly gaining opacity. A set of floppy ears followed, and then a pair of verdant green eyes, so full of youth and vigor the last time she had seen them, now drowning in panic as the scrawny arm that faded into existence tried in vain to pull away from Asgore’s iron grip.

“Stop! Please, stop! I-I don’t want this!”

“As...A-Asriel?” she croaked, but she couldn't deny her own eyes. His bare chest was now visible as he violently tugged and twisted his body in an effort to break free from his father. She once more slammed her fists against the shimmering barrier, body trembling with unchecked and unfocused emotion. “Asriel! Asriel!”

Asriel tensed, apparently now able to hear her voice. He turned his head and stared. “Mom?!”

“Yes!” Toriel shot to her feet, tears now falling upon a face smiling in disbelief. “Yes, my child! I-It’s me!”

“Mom, help!” Asriel cried, once more putting all his effort into escaping his father’s vice-like grip. “Please, stop him!”

“Don’t... grraggh, don’t you dare, Toriel!” Asgore finally opened his eyes. He took several moments to gaze lovingly at Asriel, then whipped his head to glare at Toriel. “This is my choice!”

“Please, Dad!” Asriel’s eyes—oh, those adorable eyes she had only seen in still photographs and faded memories for decades—turned back to his father. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt b-because of me!”

Asgore’s eyes went wide as barely a quarter of his soul marker remained, everything below his belly button now wiped from sight. “I... I-I do this f-freely, my son,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Old... man dies... young boy l-lives. Fair... nrgh, f-fair trade.”

“No,” Asriel whined. “I d-don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this...”

Outside of the magical tempest, Toriel’s heart was frantically trying to grasp what she was seeing. Asgore was really doing it. He was actually bringing Asriel back from the dead. Nearly half of the boy’s body was now visible, and judging by the pace she had observed so far, it would be maybe less than a minute before she could hold him once more. Oh, to feel him in her arms again! To see those wide, innocent eyes looking up at her with wonder! To hear his high-pitched, excitable voice ramble on about a random bug he had found in the garden, or hear him humming a mindless tune as he drew a picture of them and—

“Please, Papa,” Asriel whimpered, just barely audible over the now high-pitched screech of magic. He had given up trying to escape Asgore’s clutches, standing limply on legs now only missing from the knees down as he sobbed. His free hand wiped his damp cheeks. “I d-don’t want this. I’ve already h-hurt enough people... hurt you enough...”

“It... nrgh, i-it's... okay... m-my s-son,” Asgore struggled out. His voice had lost its typical booming baritone, leaving it raspy and hoarse. Everything below his chest had been wiped from existence, and as that invisible line of nothing slowly consumed him, his remaining body went limp, though he never lost his death grip on Asriel’s hand. “Your mother is... waiting f-for you. She... has an entire w-world to... to show you.”

Toriel’s mind finally caught up with her heart, allowing her to truly process what was happening. Asgore was dying. In less than a minute, the man who had given her all of the best things in her life would simply wink out of existence. A man she had subjected to over two years of verbal and emotional abuse, using him as a scapegoat so she could hide from her guilt and grief. She would never be able to apologize. Never be able to explore if happier times could be recaptured. Never again hear his rumbling laugh, feel the tightness of his embrace, the tenderness of his lips, the warmth of his heart.

But... this made sense, right? Despite her feelings, Asgore still had to pay for his crimes. He had killed six innocent children, so it was fitting justice that he die to bring one back to life. Besides, she would have Asriel back. There were so many new things on the surface for him to see, so many lessons to learn and people to meet. Asgore had lived for over a thousand years, while Asriel was cut down after only ten. It was a fair trade, wasn’t it? Old man dies, young boy lives. It all made logical sense... didn't it?

Joshua, Martha, Randy, Bradley, Jennifer, Grace.

“No,” Asriel sobbed. “I-I don’t... don’t want this.”

Asriel, Martha, Randy, Bradley, Jennifer.

“Do... do n-not worry, my s-son,” Asgore panted. Everything below his armpits had been scrubbed from sight. “Ev...everything... will be f-fine.”

Asriel, Asgore, Randy, Brad.

“Papa...”

Asriel, Asgore, Chara, Frisk.

“I.. I love you, m... my s-son.”

Asriel, Asgore, Chara, Frisk.

“G-good.. bye...”

Asriel, Asgore, Chara, Frisk.

“No!”

Toriel’s cry rang clear even over the scream of magic. She raised her hand and focused her every ounce of magic she could muster from her near inexhaustible Boss Monster mana pool into her palm. Tiny wisps of smoke rose from claw tips that trembled with power, glowing almost as bright as the magical tempest. Right as she smelled burnt fur and charring flesh, she let out a wordless roar and slammed her palm into the shield shattering it in an explosion of sparks.

Immediately, Toriel was buffeted by the gale-force winds now free to swirl around the cavern. She staggered back, but with a low growl, she threw up an arm to guard against the magical tempest and stepped into the circle. She cried out as a lance of searing pain stabbed through her chest. An army of fire ants had wormed their way into her chest and were nibbling at her heart. She momentarily folded in on herself from the pain, but after a few snarling breaths she stood back up, teeth bared and brow furrowed.

“T-Tori,” Asgore managed to croak. “Wh.. what are y-you...”

Sparing a glance at him, Toriel saw that she had disturbed the spell enough to slow the advance of nothingness creeping up his body, but not stop it completely.

“Yes!” Asriel cried. “Stop him, Mom! I-I don’t want him to do this!”

Toriel grunted as she slowly yet purposefully staggered towards Asriel, fighting both the pain in her chest and the howling wind trying to throw her about the cavern. Her breath came in deep, shuddering gasps, every pounding footfall a triumph of effort. A new light shone just beneath her vision. Her soul marker, no doubt flickering and blinking like Asgore’s.

“No!” Asgore cried between panting breaths. “M-My love, please! Let... nrgh, l-let me do... this one.. l-last thing... f-for...”

She was nearly within arms reach of Asriel now. Toriel could clearly hear him sniffle as he wiped at his tear-stained cheeks.

“I-It’s okay, Mama. Really! I’m at peace.” The sorrow in his expression had been replaced with a sort of calm acceptance. “I... I-I'm finally ready to let go.”

“Tori, please,” Asgore choked out. “D-Don’t—”

With a furious cry born of pain, love, and defiance, Toriel lunged forward and grabbed Asriel’s free hand. She let out a harrowing scream the moment she touched him as the pain in her chest amplified tenfold. The tiny fire ants morphed into razor blades, viciously cutting and tearing at her heart, her soul. She couldn’t take it, and collapsed to one knee, scarcely able to draw breath to scream again.

“Mom? Mom, no!” Asriel shrieked. He twisted and pulled in an effort to escape, but Toriel’s grip was too strong.

“T-Tori?!” Asgore’s eyes went wide as his arm slowly faded from the shoulder down. “Wh... what are you—”

Toriel took a snarling breath and turned towards Asgore, reaching out with her other arm. With an almost preternatural strength, she snatched Asgore’s hand with the same iron grip she had on Asriel. The unimaginable pain redoubled, a whirlwind of knives that sliced and chipped away at her soul, but her eyes remained as fierce as a feral animal.

The scream of magic around them shifted, almost an auditory blinking, as if the spell was confused. Still, Toriel could faintly see tiny motes of light drifting away from her, moving towards the flower. A cold, hollow void formed in her chest, somewhat dulling the pain that was ripping her apart from the inside out. A tingling numbness crawled up her legs. Sparing a glance down, she saw the tip of her big toe grow transparent, as if washed away by an unseen tide.

Looking to her right, Asgore was still panting and grunting from the pain, but the progressive march of nothingness down his body had slowed. Just before it met his wrist, it ceased altogether, and then after several seconds, slowly receded, his burly arm fading back into being.

A spike of triumph broke through Toriel's agony. She spared a glance towards Asriel and saw the stream of magical energy connecting his soul marker to the flower was now flowing in both directions. Tiny sparkles of white energy, and a few specks of radiant gold, drifted into the flower and then back into her and Asgore. The pain in her chest lessened ever so slightly as the golden motes of life entered her body. 

When she slammed her way through the barrier, Toriel had been too blinded by a potent mix of sadness, anger, and love to think of any sort of plan. Her body simply moved, driven more by her heart than her mind. Now, it seemed her mindless actions were paying off. Asgore’s groans of pain had softened, and his body was creeping back into reality. Whatever she was doing, it was working! She—

Asriel’s sudden cry of pain cut through her growing elation like a hot blade. Whipping her head around, she let out a wordless scream as she saw his body begin to fade away once more, as if a reverse of what was happening to Asgore. Finally noticing that the numbness in her legs was spreading, she looked down to see that everything below her thighs was gone. A glance about the three of them showed that all of their soul markers were now filled to exactly the same level. The flow of soul magic from all three of them had stalled, the tiny motes flickering back and forth like a glitch.

The thrum of magic in the air warbled, the blazing light from the spell circle flashing and wavering. The once clear lines of the runes now spat sparks and arcs of magical energy in random directions. Toriel felt a deep sorrow in her gut almost as unbearable as the pain in her chest. She had screwed up. The spell had obviously been designed for a one-way transfer from one person to another. One soul between two people, and now it was trying to share two souls among three. The magic in the air seemed to turn feral and wild, dancing about the cavern in a volatile rhythm as Toriel felt her arms grow heavy.

In her mindless effort to save Asriel and Asgore, she may have damned them all. She was trapped, though. What would happen if she tried to release her grip on one of them? Would they all simply wink out of existence? Would the unchecked magic tear their souls to shreds and scatter them to the winds? Would only the one she let go be swallowed up by the creeping nothingness while the other returned to life? Could she even make that choice? A formless wail escaped her lips as she felt her strength waning. Mentally, she prayed, screamed to the heavens for a way out, any way out that didn’t involve her having to make an impossible choice.

The fatigue coursing through her was overwhelming. Almost every drop of strength had been sapped out of her, her body remaining upright and her hands clenched more by rictor than will. She could hear whimpering cries of pain to her left, and deep groans of sadness to her right. Even the unknowable pain had grown distant, like a storm moving across the plains. Despite the furious cataclysm of magic that surrounded her, her mind grew hazy, her thoughts sluggish as her eyes closed and her body sagged. The iron grip of her paws slowly loosened, and she felt the paws of those she held, those she loved more than anything, grow limp. Maybe it was better this way? To meet her end hand in hand with her boys?

No.

Toriel’s body shuddered as that one tiny word, barely a whisper in the back of her mind and in a voice she wasn’t sure was her own, echoed through her ears. She struggled to open her eyes. Despite the searing brilliance of the magic storm, her vision focused just enough to see Asgore. The look on his face was heartbreaking. It did not speak of pain, love, or even loss, but regret. The look of a man who had tried for the stars, but failed and was falling to his death. Struggling to turn her head, she looked to Asriel. The youthful exuberance she had seen for ten years was nowhere to be found, but neither was the pain or fear from just before. Instead, his face, and indeed his whole posture, screamed of sorrow. The look of a boy who was more hurt by the deaths of those around him than his own.

No!

Her chest began to heave. Flecks of spittle flew from her mouth as she took heavy, seething breaths through gritted teeth. Deep within her chest, beneath the whirlwind of pain and numbing cold, a new sensation built. A tiny seed, she knew not what kind, was sprouting inside her. A hot, radiant energy suffusing her soul, spreading throughout every nerve, every fiber in her being. Her eyes narrowed, and her grip on the paws of her boys tightened to an almost painful degree. A rage was bubbling just beneath the surface, not a violent or hateful one, but some writhing mass of energy, focus, and will.

The sight of her wayward husband and the promise of possibility. The sight of her fallen son, and the potential future of joy and love. The prospect of leaving Frisk once more without a family. The knowledge that she was the only one who could do anything about it. All of it swirled and danced in her mind as a righteous fury bloomed inside of her, coalescing into one simple word that spewed from the depths of her soul with the force of a raging volcano.

No!

Eyes blazing and fangs bared, Toriel latched onto this alien feeling like a life preserver and used it, along with every drop of will and strength she could muster, to push back against the encroaching cold. She didn’t know how she was doing or, or what exactly she was even doing, but she couldn’t give a damn. With a low growl, she staggered to her feet. Her spirit surged forth, an explosion of light and warmth inside her chest that slowly yet steadily moved throughout her entire body. Toriel felt as if she may fly apart at any moment, or melt into nothing from the overwhelming power coursing through her, but she held fast, every ounce of her being focused on fighting back. On reshaping the world around her. On changing their fate.

The stream from her soul marker resumed its flow towards the flower, but the pearlescent motes of light quickly turned to a brilliant gold. The flow increased in speed and power, the excess energy rebounding into Asriel and Asgore's chests. The numbing cold from her legs eased, and a brief glance showed that the encroaching blankness was receding, her body coming back from oblivion.

“Tori?” Asgore groaned. His body had stopped disappearing, but it did not return as hers was. “Wh-What are you...”

“I... lost you both... once before." She gnashed her teeth as the wave of cold tried to advance up her body yet again, only to break across her will like waves on a ship’s bow. "I won't lose you again!"

“Mom,” Asriel breathed. Glancing over, she saw him gawking in confused wonder at the stream of radiant energy billowing from her chest. “You’re... y-you have...” He blinked several times, then his eyes shot wide, and a tiny smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “O-Okay. Okay, Mom! We can do it! We can actually do this!” he said with a resolute nod. He closed his eyes and muttered, “Alright, alright, come on. One last time.” Toriel could feel the grip on her hand tighten as he tensed and growled through gritted teeth.

The howl of magic echoing around them calmed as the energy from Asriel’s soul marker also turned a brilliant gold and surged towards the flower and then back into Asgore and Toriel. No, calm was not the right term. The tempest that swirled through the cavern grew focused, the random eddies of magic smoothed into a singular current swirling in and around them. A beautiful ballet of light resonating with whatever force Toriel and now Asriel were emitting. The wind still buffeted them, but it too had changed from sudden bursts back to a steady flow.

By now, the steady march of numbness had receded all the way past her knees. Her grunts and growls were now more from effort than pain, as the biting razor blades from before had been replaced by an almost soothing warmth. Once more looking towards Asriel, she felt a choked sob push against her throat. His soul marker was nearly two-thirds full by now, a dazzling mix of white and gold. Almost his entire body was visible, and though his face still twisted in effort, the dazzling halo of magic that surrounded him combined with his shaky grin gave the appearance of an angel sent from Heaven. 

Toriel cried out as a sudden spike of pain lanced through her. The agony from before was threatening to return, and she could also feel the retreating nothingness on her legs slow to a crawl then stop altogether about halfway down her ankles. She heard Asriel let out a whimper as the same happened to him. What was wrong? She still did not know exactly how or why this sudden surge of energy coursed through her, but something was stopping its advance. What could—

“Dad!” At Asriel’s shout, Toriel looked over to Asgore and gasped. He remained on one knee, face twisted in pain. Most of his lower body was still missing, and she could guess why. The outpouring of magic from his marker had resumed, but it was sluggish and anemic. Like a fluorescent bulb trying to power on, the energy was flickering back and forth between ivory and golden as he gasped and struggled. “Dad, we need you! You have to push!”

“I.. I-I am t-trying,” he panted. The exhaustion was painfully evident in his voice, and his massive body was hunched over. “I do not... know i-if I can...can...”

“Asgore Dreemurr! ” Toriel screamed. “Do you want your son to live or not?! ”

Her cutting words had the intended effect. Asgore’s eyes went wide. He first looked at Toriel’s domineering glare, then to Asriel’s encouraging smile. A deep scowl formed on his face as he struggled to his feet. The grip on Toriel’s hand was almost painful as he took a gulping, smoldering breath and then growled, his entire body shaking with focus. As the light from his chest fully turned a gleaming gold, that low, angry growl surged in volume until it morphed into a roar so loud it overpowered the deafening bellow of the magical storm encompassing them. He had a feral look in his eyes which Toriel had only seen once before, but instead of disgust and fear, she felt a deep love coursing through her.

All three of them stood together, hand in hand as magic from their very souls grew and overflowed from within. The floating markers on their chests were filled to the brim with a mixture of white and golden light. The flower between them vibrated and danced from all the energy that was pouring into it. Cracks appeared all along its surface, veins of pure, gleaming energy bursting forth. The miasma around them was no longer a sound, but a dense wall of pressure that pressed in on them. Still, they felt no pain. As the magic within them, the flower, and all around reached a fever pitch, Toriel felt as if she were bathing in gentle sunlight, perfectly content surrounded by the love of her family. Finally, the flower gave one last violent shudder, then exploded in a blinding flash of light, and Toriel’s world turned white.

Chapter Text

Toriel groaned as sensation slowly returned to her. First came the dull, throbbing ache on the back of her skull, along with the cold stone floor of the cavern, and someone pushing insistently on her shoulder. Her hearing was dominated by a high-pitched whine, underneath which she could hear a distant voice, but it was too muddied to make out.

She felt more than heard herself let out a groan as she tried to rouse herself, doing her best to get her arms beneath her so she could sit up. As the ringing in her ears finally abated, she heard the worried cries of a ghost.

“Mom?! Mom, wake up!”

Her eyes shot open as she launched herself to a sitting position, earning a throb at the base of her skull and a tiny wave of nausea. The world slowly came into focus, and the first thing she saw was a pair of big, beautiful green eyes dripping with worry and concern.

“A-Are you okay?" Asriel cried. "Please be okay!”

The memory of the past ten minutes came roaring back into Toriel's mind, slamming into her thumping heart like a freight train. No longer buoyed by adrenaline, her sluggish mind tried and failed to process who knelt before her. A trembling hand hesitantly reached out for the boy who could not have been there, only to pull back as if burned before touching him. “No,” she pleaded, her hoarse voice nearly failing her. “P-please, I... I thought I was done having this dream.”

Asriel sniffled, then reached out and took her hand, gently lifting it to his cheek. Toriel shuddered as she felt the soft fur beneath her palm. “It’s not a dream, Mom,” he said with a sniffle. “I'm really here. You... y-you brought me back.”

Toriel let out a choked sob as her heart painfully throbbed. She scarcely had time to open her arms before Asriel darted forward and buried himself into her embrace. She held him gently at first, afraid if she hugged him too tight he would vanish. Slowly, she applied more and more pressure, until she was squeezing with all her might. Despite how many she had already shed that night, heavy tears rolled down her cheek and she rubbed along his back and head. 

“A-Asriel! Oh, my special boy!” She leaned her head down and peppered the top of his head with kisses. “I nev... I-I can’t... y-you...” Words simply failed her as she rocked him back and forth. Even if she could have spoken under the force of her heaving breaths and wracking sobs, there was not a word in any language she knew that could describe the heavenly joy, contentment, and fulfillment coursing through her every vein as she cradled first born son. Her little prince. Her world.

She had no idea how long they sat there, smothered in each other’s embrace, exchanging tiny words and phrases completely inadequate to describe what they were feeling. Could have been ten minutes. Could have been ten hours. Once her tears had finally run dry, and she felt sure that if she released him he would not disappear, she slowly pulled back to gaze at him through reddened eyes. His were similarly tear soaked, though there was a tiny ember of something beneath the relief and joy that she could not place at the moment. 

Toriel opened her mouth, but hesitated. What should she say? What could she say? Occasionally over the years she had mentally run through what she might have said in a fantasy like this, but those had been pillow thoughts, the stray, unfocused ideas that leaked into her mind as she fell asleep. Now that the impossible moment was actually here, her little angel in her arms, what would her first words of substance be? What could she possibly say to convey what she felt?

“Asriel?" She gripped his shoulders firmly as she spoke with absolute conviction. "I love you. For a hundred years, I... I felt as if I never said it enough. That,” she sniffled, “th-that I would never get the opportunity to make sure you understood the true weight behind those words. I love you, Asriel, more than you could ever know. When you... d-died, a piece of me turned to dust, as well.”

As she spoke, Asriel’s smile waned for some reason. He tried to look away, but she reached out and gently brought his gaze back to her. “Listen to me, child. I do not know how this miracle happened, but now that I have you back in my arms, I am going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know just how much I love you.”

“P-Please stop,” he whispered, once more turning his eyes away. 

“What? Asriel, I just said that—”

"Just stop, alright?!"

Toriel blinked at his sudden outburst, taken aback by the aggression and bitterness in his voice the likes of which she’d never heard before. Asriel glared at her, and she finally identified that tiny ember in those eyes that seemed far too old for such a child: shame. Regret. Self-loathing. Three things she experienced intimately over the past century, but could not fathom how her little boy could feel them as strongly as he apparently did.

Moments later, Asriel’s eyes went wide and he let out a tiny gasp. Gnashing his teeth, he attempted to scoot away from her, but Toriel would not let him retreat. “Look,” Asriel said, avoiding her gaze, “there’s a lot you don’t know, okay? A lot of stuff has happened since Alphys first brought me back. I... I-I’ve done things.” A deep shudder ran through his body. “Terrible things. Things that w-would make you cry if you knew. So please—”

Toriel gently covered his mouth with her palm, earning a squeak of surprise. She held it there just long enough to know that she silenced him, then pulled it back and wrapped both her hands around his cheeks. “Asriel, look at me. Look at me,” she commanded when he refused to comply. Slowly his eyes, laden with a guilt she could not fathom, once more met hers. “I do not care.”

Asriel let out a derisive snort and wiped his eyes. “Because you don't know. I love you, but don’t think that—”

“Asriel!” Her forceful yell caused him to jerk in her grasp, his ears instinctively cowing under her stern eyes. “I do not care,” she repeated, though her voice had begun to waver. She lowered her head to bring herself eye to eye with him. After waiting a few seconds to ensure he was listening and paying attention, she spoke. “Did you hear me say that I love you?”

“Yes, b-but—”

“No buts.” Her eyes were firm and authoritative, but her voice was kind and gentle, the one she had used to sooth his nightmares a lifetime ago. “Asriel, when you love someone, truly and deeply love them, you love them completely. Mind, body, and soul. You love their strengths, you love their weaknesses, their blessings and their flaws. At their best and at their worst, you keep on loving them, even if it hurts in the moment. And even when they stray and do wrong, you forgive them. Not once, not twice, or even seventy-seven times, but as many as it takes for them to come back to you, because you have decided that they are worth the wait. I... I-I only wish I had remembered that a long time ago.”

After several moments of letting her heart cool, Toriel once more looked at him, deep into those eyes that seemed far too wizened for a boy so young. “You are my son, Asriel Dreemurr. So believe me when I say that whatever you may have done that I am not aware of, whatever crimes you committed do not matter . They do not change the fact that you are worthy of love, forgiveness, and mercy, and that I will still love you with all of my heart, through this life and the next. Not because I have to, but because I choose to.”

“No,” he said, sniffling. He tried to pull away, but offered only token resistance when Toriel held him in place. “The things I’ve done, to you, dad, every monster in the Underground... it’s unforgivable.”

Toriel held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, hoping that the love shining through her eyes would convey what words could not. Finally, she leaned in closer, bringing them mere inches apart, and offered a gentle smile. “The only unforgivable sin is the one you don’t ask forgiveness for,” she said evenly, then placed a lingering kiss on his forehead.

When she finally pulled back, Asriel was looking at her through narrowed, glistening eyes, seeking any sign that she was being untruthful. His lip began to quiver when he found none. Her let out a tiny snort, and rolled his eyes even as the tears snakes down his muzzle. “Th-that was cheesy even by your standards, Mom.”

She just smiled at him and once more pulled him into a warm embrace, allowing him to weep gently into her breast. For what felt like an eternity, the world around them—the cool air of the gave, the dull white glow from the floor, literally everything except the boy in her arms—fell away into nothingness. 

Finally, Asriel pulled away from her, wiped his nose, and offered a shaky half-smile. “Back to life for less than five minutes and I’m already crying! Some things never change, huh Mom?”

Despite herself, Toriel let out a tiny snort. She opened her mouth to speak when a low grumble came from across the cavern, accompanied by the rattle of armor. She and Asriel looked at each other for all of a split second then jumped to their feet.

Asgore had finally regained consciousness and was struggling up to a seated position. He was gingerly rubbing at the back of his head when he heard them approach and looked up. His eyes all but bulged out of his head as he saw Asriel purposefully marching towards him. Like her previously, his mind didn't seem to be able to choose an emotion, so his face was a somewhat dopey blank slate. Asriel stormed right up to him...

And slugged him on the shoulder.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Dad?!” Asriel yelled as he shook out his hand, which had just punched solid metal. “What were you thinking?! Trying to just give me your soul?!”

Asgore said nothing, though his eyes had grown moist, and a large smile was spreading across his face.

“Did you really think I would want that? Th-That I would be all happy and smiling knowing you killed yourself just so I c-could live?! Did anything about me ever say that I would be okay with that?!”

A trembling hand slowly reached for Asriel’s cheek, tears now flowing freely down Asgore’s smiling face.

“Ugh, that was the dumbest, most stupid idea I—” When Asgore cupped his chin, Asriel tried and failed to pull away, but Toriel noted that Asgore’s grip looked to be feather light. “L-Let go! I’m mad at you!”

Asgore still said nothing, but his entire face was beaming in a way Toriel had not seen in over a hundred years. His massive paw dwarfed the boy's head, yet he slowly stroked along the side of Asriel’s face, as if trying to commit every inch of him to memory.

“Look, I’m tired of hurting people,” Asriel said, still not attempting to remove his father’s hand. “I never want to hurt anyone ever again. S-So do me a favor and use your head next time, okay?!” When Asgore still did not respond, Asriel let out an adorable little growl. “Are you going to hug me or not?!”

Needing no further invitation, Asgore’s arms reached out and snatched Asriel into a hug, which was readily returned as the boy wrapped his scrawny arms around as much of his father’s bulk as he could. Asgore still made no sounds aside from heavy breaths occasionally followed by an almost relieved laugh, content to simply sit on the cold cavern floor and enjoy an embrace he likely never thought he would be able to again. He leaned down and kissed the top of Asriel’s head before cradling it to his chest, his body gently swaying back and forth.

Toriel’s heart felt lighter than air as she observed from a respectful distance, more than happy to give Asgore what time he needed to express his joy as she had. All previous thoughts of their relationship, history, and what may lie ahead fell away upon seeing Asgore holding their son. For a split second, it was like no time had passed at all, like she was standing in the throne room at the castle in New Home, watching Asriel hug his father before running off to play with one of his friends.

Eventually, Asgore eased his grip on Asriel, allowing the boy to break the embrace. Instead of standing, Asriel pulled back just enough to sit on Asgore’s thigh and let him drape an arm around his narrow shoulders. After giving him one final squeeze, Asgore finally turned his attention to her. “Toriel, I do not... what did you do? What did we do?! Why did our soul magic change color and surge so powerfully?”

“I... I do not know,” Toriel admitted. “I just remember seeing you both in pain and... f-fading away. Then I thought about how badly I wanted us all to return to the surface together, to not leave Frisk on his own, and then I just... decided that I was not going to let that happen. I felt some tiny bit of energy from Asriel flare in my chest and that power just overflowed within me. It was as if I was...”

“Filled with determination,” Asriel finished for her, speaking as if he was revealing some great secret.

Toriel wasn’t sure why that phrase was significant, but apparently Asgore did, judging by the way his jaw dropped and he turned to gawk at Asriel. His eyebrows shot up, as if asking Really? When Asriel nodded, Asgore blinked dumbly for a few seconds, then held up his hand in front of his face, rotating it as if he’d never seen it before. “Doctor Alphys is going to have a nervous breakdown when she—”

A harsh crackle of energy made all three of them jump. Toriel whirled her head around and finally took in their surroundings once more. Throughout their reunions, the runic circle on the cavern floor had not dissipated. If anything, it looked brighter than ever. The biggest change, however, was the glow of the magic. Slowly yet steadily, it morphed from an alabaster white to a bright red hue.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Asriel asked.

“I... I-I don’t know.” Asgore reluctantly released Asriel and stood. He held out his hand and the air around it vibrated as he got a read on the magic signature. “The spell is still active for some reason.”

“What?” Toriel said. “Why?”

“I have no idea,” he said, now pacing around the circle. “As best I could gather, the spell was designed to seek and identify vessels able to contain soul energy. Now that Asriel is here, there should be nothing for it to pick up, so I do not—”

“Chara...” Asriel breathed

Toriel blinked hard. She shared a look with Asgore, then both turned to look at Asriel who stood with his eyes and mouth wide. “What did you say, Asriel?” she asked.

“I-It’s Chara,” he said. “It has to be!”

“Asriel, that is—” Toriel bit her tongue right before she told the boy just resurrected after a hundred years that it was impossible.

Having abandoned his scanning of the spell, Asgore walked over to him and knelt down. “Son, why do you think it is her?”

“Because she was in there with me! Or, she was in me, or... or whatever! After I absorbed her soul, she was still conscious. I could hear her, she was talking to me, we shared control of my body! A-And after I woke up in Dad’s garden, I figured she was really gone until Frisk arrived.”

“Frisk?” Toriel asked. She may have just witnessed a miracle, but she was still utterly confused about what was going on.

Asriel nodded. “When Frisk fell down here, he was so determined that he overrode my ability to reset, and that somehow... woke her up, I guess. I could sense her as I watched Frisk run around down here. That’s probably why I mistook him for her for so long. But after the Barrier fell, I couldn’t sense her anymore, I don’t know why. She must still be around though!”

Asgore put a shaky hand on his shoulder. “Asriel, the... th-the only reason that Doctor Alphys’ experiment worked on you is because the flower had absorbed some of your essence from the dust in the garden. As desperately as I want this to be true, there is no way Chara could have lingered like that.”

“But what else could it be?!” Asriel cried.

“I do not—”

“What did you just say?” Toriel interrupted.

Asgore slowly turned to face her. “Huh?”

“A-About this experiment,” Toriel said. A tiny spark in her heart had flickered, and judging by what she had just experienced, she was not going to ignore it. “Tell me about it.”

Asgore bit his lip, then cleared his throat. “W-Well, Alphys was experimenting with determination, the aspect of a human soul that lets them—”

“Skip to the garden!”

“Uh, w-well she injected pure determination, or D-T, into a flower from my old garden, right, uh,” his eyes flickered to Asriel briefly, “r-right where Asriel had collapsed. Apparently the dust from his body got absorbed by the soil and made its way into the flower, which is why the D-T was able to reawaken him. M-Minus his soul, of course.”

Toriel sucked in a breath. “Asgore... this is where I buried Chara.”

“O-Oh,” Asgore said. “I... W-Well, I always was curious—”

“Focus!" Toriel turned away from him and knelt down by the edge of the flower bed. She gently ran her fingers through the tiny forest of golden petals.“When I buried her, I wrapped her in her favorite blanket, nothing more. You are a gardener, so think. After a hundred years buried in well maintained and tended earth...” She trailed off, waiting for him to finish her thought, if for no other reason than to ensure she had not gone mad.

Several seconds later, she heard him gasp, then he knelt by her side, staring at the flowers. “Her... body would have largely decomposed and... been reincorporated into the soil.”

“And then parts of her got absorbed by the flowers!” Asriel knelt between them, grinning widely. “That has to be it! That spell must be sensing her the way it did me, only she’s in all of these flowers!”

Asgore leaned forward to look at Asriel, one eyebrow raised. “Asriel, that seems like... a bit of a stretch.”

Asriel shot his father an incredulous glare. “And your son being resurrected as a plant is, what, your average Tuesday?! Look, I don’t know how it happened. Maybe because our souls were fused when we died, or maybe she’s just that stubborn, who cares?! Please, we have to try. I know that Chara did some bad things... a-and wanted to do even more, but I could see into her heart the whole time. She really did have good intentions. She actually did want to help us! Besides,” he said, his smile shaking ever so slightly, “i-if I’m worth saving, then so is she.”

Toriel nodded. “After all I have seen tonight, I am willing to operate on faith.” She felt Asriel grab her hand and give it a squeeze, so she looked down and returned his smile. “If there is even a chance that she can be brought back, we must try.”

For several moments, she could see the wheels inside Asgore’ head turning. “Toriel,” he eventually said, “even if she’s somehow still around... she’s a human. Not even three boss monsters working together could come close to producing something as powerful as a human soul.”

“We can do it,” Asriel said. “I know we can. We just have to stay determined.”

Asgore looked from Asriel to Toriel. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When they opened again, they were brimming with confidence. With a resolute nod, he stood and made his way to the opposite side of the flower bed and held out his hands. “When the spell activates, focus all of your mind on Chara. If she truly is here, she will appear if we call her.”

“Right!” Asriel jumped to his feet and ran over to grab Asgore’s hand. “Just hang on, Chara,” he said, looking down at the flowers with a fierce look. “I still owe you an apology.”

Wordlessly, Toriel stepped between them, took Asriel’s hand, and closed her eyes. Despite her confidence, part of her mind was screaming at her to stop, to simply drop it. She and Asgore had already performed a miracle tonight. Was it hubris to assume they could do it again? Insanity to even attempt it? Perhaps they should leave well enough alone. Just return to the surface with their son and just enjoy the lives they now could. Should they risk everything on a fleeting chance? She took a deep breath, and let her mind wander to her favorite memory of Chara.

It was about nine months before their deaths, the day after she and Asriel had accidentally poisoned Asgore with the buttercup pie. While Asriel had been crying nonstop, Chara had simply let out a harried laugh and retreated to their room. Chara had been reserved and a bit distant from her and Asgore the whole six months she had lived with them, almost refusing to connect with them the way she had with Asriel. Given what little details she had volunteered about the neglect and abuse she suffered on the surface, it made sense she would be hesitant to open up to them.

When Toriel had finally enacted her parental rights and opened the bedroom door, she nearly broke into tears when she saw Chara packing a bag. She had said that it was better this way, that she would prefer to just leave now instead of waiting around for them to kick her out. Toriel had marched right up to her, snatched her into a fierce hug, and told her in no uncertain terms that she was not going anywhere. That whether she liked it or not, she was a part of their family, and that they would never let her go like that. Even a hundred years later, Toriel could still hear Chara’s trembling words clear as day in her head.

“Um, Missus Dreemurr? Would... would it be okay if I started calling you... M-Mom?”

Exhaling a slow breath, Toriel opened her eyes and looked down at Asriel, returning his smile with a nod. She then looked over to Asgore. “Do it.”

Asgore nodded, then once more pumped his fist to summon his trident. He lifted it in the air, but before he lowered it, he took several long moments to look at her and Asriel. He smiled at them. “I... I love you both so much.”

“I love you, too, Dad,” Asriel said. “Heh, I… I-I really, really do!”

When Asgore looked at Toriel, she blinked away a single tear and gave him a small nod. He responded with a great dopey smile, before a look of deep focus crossed his face. He took three deep, heaving breaths, then slammed the trident down.

As before, a blinding flash of light coincided with the deafening boom of magic and harsh wind that filled the cavern. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad this time, though. When the whirlwind of knives once more descended upon her heart, that new warmth in her soul, that determination, dulled them greatly. Still, Toriel let out a soft grunt, and she heard Asriel do the same. Asgore dismissed his trident and grabbed her hand, which she squeezed tightly. Slowly, Toriel forced her eyes open.

Had she not known exactly what they were doing, she may have thought they were summoning a demon of some kind. The brilliant white glow of the magic from before had shifted to a blood red, causing the dancing shadows along the walls and ceiling to seem almost angry and deadly. Tiny arcs of mana danced between the scripts and runes of the magic circle, while even more leaped out to connect with the myriad of golden flowers around them. The sound was the same, though: a deep, almost guttural noise, same as it had been before Asgore grabbed Asriel’s hand.

Looking to her right, Toriel saw Asgore’s soul marker hovering before his chest, the usual pearlescent shine now streaked with bands of brilliant gold, a beautiful ballet of life and will. Asriel’s had also appeared, and the glow just beneath her field of vision meant hers had, too. Despite not quite knowing how this worked, she deigned them ready. “ Chara?!” she cried. “Sweetie, c-can you hear me?!”

“Chara!” Asriel shouted. “It’s Ree! We’re... nrgh, w-we’re here to get you out!”

Toriel felt that familiar numbing cold on the edges of her body, but she forced out more of that warming energy, establishing a bulwark around her soul. The feeling lessened, but did not completely abate, which gave her doubt how long they could hold this up. She immediately shook off that thought. This would work. This had to work. She wasn’t leaving without her daughter.

Asgore let out a loud growl. “Ch...Chara! Please, honey, if you can hear us, follow the sound of our voices! W-We are waiting for you!”

Though her vision was dulled by the flickering lights of the spell, Toriel still whipped her eyes back and forth, straining to pick up any sign of Chara. The only thing that had changed was the motes of light from their soul markers were starting to drift away, but this time they had nowhere to go, no empty marker to receive their energy and will. She could not hear anything aside from the static bellowing of the spell, which had not yet risen in pitch because they had yet to connect with anything. “Chara, please!” Toriel shouted. “W-We’re right here! Come on, child, c-come to us!”

“Chara,” Asgore yelled, “Please s-say something!” His jaw was tight and his fangs were bared, but his voice was pained, almost plaintive as he called out for their daughter. 

Still they received no response, their pleas met only by the monotone roar of the magic that shook the cavern walls. The blaze of the mana around them was dulling ever so slowly, the writhing shadows losing their luster and form. The coldness in her chest was slowly yet steadily gaining ground, the comforting blanket around her spirit working harder and harder to push back. And still, there was no sign of Chara, or anything aside from the arcing bands of energy that had now connected with every single flower at their feet. 

Asgore cried out and fell to one knee so suddenly that he almost pulled Asriel down with him. Toriel looked down at him, wanting to help but not knowing how. This wasn’t like before when she was actively pushing herself into something. All she could feel around her was a void, the wisps of magic around her marker vibrating with a desire to move, but having no target.

“Chara!” Asriel cried, a growing sadness in his voice. “Please! C-Come out so we can all go home!”

Toriel looked to her left. Though his face was as determined as before, Asriel’s shoulders had slumped, exhaustion and despair taking their toll. On her other side, Asgore was still panting and groaning from the effort of staying upright, but she could tell that he wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. She herself was beginning to feel the strain of simply holding the line, maintaining this static level of effort with no goal in sight. She had to dig deeper. This couldn’t be how the night ended. She didn’t care if she had to give every ounce of will in her body, Toriel was—

Everything changed in an instant. The crimson glow from beneath them surged in luminosity, the crackling of energy audible even over the now climbing pitch of the spell kicking into action. She gasped as she felt the energy around her soul marker begin to move away from her, but she couldn’t tell where it was going. Her eyes darted around, but still saw no trace of Chara or a marker. “Wh-Where is she?! I don’t—”

“Look!” 

Toriel whirled her head around at Asriel’s cry. He was staring at the ground beneath them with widening eyes, and when she followed his gaze, her jaw dropped. The dazzling white and gold motes of life from their markers were flowing downward towards the ground between them, coalescing on a single point. It seemed to be little more than a tiny red dot, barely even visible among the miasma of magical energy now twisting and churning around each and every flower of the bed. As she watched in rote fascination, the tiny dot started moving.

No, not moving. It was extending. Twin beams of red arced their way out from that one point, lazily wrapping around nothing until they finally met just above their starting point. The flow from their markers increased greatly now that lying less than a foot off the ground was an empty red soul marker.

“Is... i-is that...” Toriel’s words failed her as the marker slowly filled from the bottom up. As it did, a cream colored surface radiated out in all directions. Her breath hitched once she clearly saw an elbow appear, as if a tiny body was laying on its side.

“It’s her,” Asriel cried. “It’s her, it’s her!”

At his call, Asgore’s gaze lifted from the ground beneath him, and he too gasped at the materializing body between them. “Chara,” she barely heard him whisper. A look of forced concentration fell upon him as he roughly jumped back to his feet. "We found her! Everybody push! ”

Toriel did not need to be told twice. With a renewed hope and fierce determination, she once more latched onto that newfound well of energy within her. Focusing all her might, the weight of a hundred years of longing and loss, her spirit surged forth, pouring everything into the slowly filling body. The flow from her marker increased greatly, the floating wisps of life now moving with a dedicated purpose.

Her heart soared as more and more of Chara’s body faded into being. Toriel could now tell that she lay on her side, curled up in the fetal position. Her marker was about a quarter full of white and golden energy, and Toriel saw the beginnings of her shoulders slowly appear. Any moment now she would once more be able to see her face, those pretty eyes and adorable dimples that often didn’t match her grumpy expression. Chara hadn’t had as much time with them as Frisk, so she never opened up the way he had. Now, as the first strands of brown hair came into being, Toriel promised herself that she would spend as much time as—

Suddenly, Asriel let out a grunt of pain and exertion. Moments later, she felt what he was likely feeling: the flow of energy from her marker met with resistance. It wasn’t much at first, but as the seconds dragged on, it steadily grew. Toriel clenched her teeth and focused even more, but there was no denying that she was having to push harder and harder to force less and less magic into Chara’s marker. The scream of the magic around them was once more warbling, rising and lowering in pitch like an engine running out of gas. The glow from the circle at their feet was also flickering.

Looking down, she let out a panicked cry as she saw the growing outline of Chara’s body slow to a stop. Much like the sound and light from the spell, it wavered a millimeter back and forth several times, before ever so slowly walking back its progress. Her hair vanished once again, followed by her shoulders. Toriel tensed her entire body, a loud growl of effort escaping her throat as she threw even more of this newfound determination towards her goal, but it was quickly becoming a losing battle.

“Wh-What’s happening?!” Asriel cried. He suddenly fell to his knees, and as a wave of lethargy swept over her, Toriel followed suit, Asgore quickly behind her. “Why... is it s-stopping?!”

“N-Not enough,” Asgore hissed through gritted teeth. Toriel felt a burst of frigid air inside her chest as the beam from her marker dimmed. “Not.. n-not enough.”

“No!” Toriel shouted as the energy and life from Chara;’s marker, which had been nearly halfway full, drained out. The beam of energy from her own lost strength as well, and she watched in despair as Chara once more faded out of sight. "Please! We... nrgh, we have come so far!”

Asriel let out a formless wail of sadness, tears yet again welling in his eyes. “Chara,” he whimpered. “Chara, no...”

By now, all that remained of Chara was a slowly fading outline of her now empty marker. Toriel roared in effort, but all of her life, will, and energy no longer had anywhere to go. The wind around them was almost completely still, and the sights and sounds of magic were dimming. Panting, Toriel blinked tears from her eyes taking one last look at her daughter, a deep sadness settling in her gut.

“I... I am s-sorry, Chara,” she heard Asgore struggle out between pants. “P... p-please know we—”

The light around them exploded, shining brighter than a thousand suns. The thrum of magic surged, from a dying diesel engine to the scream of a fighter jet in less than a second as the wind came back with a vengeance, battering Toriel’s face. She cried out and tried to avert her eyes from the blazing light, but it shone everywhere around her. Right as she felt Asriel let go of her hand, the growing cold weight in her chest disappeared. Toriel took all of half a second to question this, then shook her head and focused her will once more, the retreating energy from her marker shot forth like a bullet from a gun, a brilliant beam of swirling gold and white that slammed into the now barely visible marker before them. In less than a second, it had flashed back into being and was again slowly filling, revealing more of Chara’s body.

Toriel felt Asriel grip her hand again. She turned to face him, but instead saw a pair of blazing crimson eyes beneath a rat’s nest of black hair. Frisk gave her a pained smile, tight but firm. Alongside him, Asriel held his other hand, his face beaming and his eyes once again misty. Toriel’s choked sob was lost under the howl of magic, but her chest all but ached at the sight of both her sons hand in hand.

Frisk let out a tiny grunt as his red soul marker appeared beneath him. “Wh-what should I be doing here?!” he yelled.

“Focus on her!” Asriel cried, his eyes once more on his sister’s materializing body.

“Focus on us ,” Toriel shouted, taking one last loving look at him before also returning her focus to Chara.

“Focus on all of us!” Asgore hollered, now back on his feet and staring at his daughter’s body.

“Alright!” Frisk said. Toriel heard him take a deep breath, then growl in effort. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bright flash, and then a beam of brilliant crimson lanced out and connected with the three white and gold beams from the rest of them. Nothing changed for a few moments, until all four beams began to intertwine, forming a sort of web around Chara’s marker. The now beautiful mix of red, white, and gold surged into Chara’s body, and it was almost comical how much of a difference Frisk made. In the span of a few seconds, nearly her entire marker was filled and her body was almost completely visible. 

Just like before, the dancing combination of their magics overflowed from Chara’s body and rebounded towards them. Toriel let out a cry at the sudden surge of magical energy that slammed into her, and she heard the others do the same. All five markers were now filled with the same light, an angelic blend of radiant gold, brilliant white, and shimmering red energy. As the sound and light around them reached a crescendo, Toriel felt the whole world sink beneath an overwhelming rush of power, energy, and life. She smiled as a final blinding flash enveloped her.

Though the release of energy was tenfold more intense, Toriel did not feel nearly as ill effects this time. She was still knocked off her feet, but she was aware enough to roll her body and avoid a rough landing. The disorientation was lessened as well, though it did take her a few moments and a gentle shake of the head for the cobwebs to clear. Once the world had come back into focus, the first thing she heard was a tiny groan behind her. She spun around and gasped. “Frisk!”

Toriel leapt to her feet and rushed over to where Frisk was slowly sitting up. He had apparently been tossed back with a bit more force, judging by how he was rubbing at the small of his back. She knelt down at his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Child, are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” he said in a somewhat groggy voice. “I-I’m fine, Mom.” He then nodded to the other side of the cavern. 

“Are you sure?” she said, already trying to focus some healing magic into her palm.

He gently batted her hand away. “Seriously, I’m okay. Go.” He all but pushed her away, though now that she was sure he was not injured, she needed little persuasion to jump to her feet and run over to where Asgore and Asriel knelt.

“Is she okay?” she heard Asriel say as she approached.

Asgore unclipped the cloak from his pauldrons and wrapped it around Chara’s body, picking her up and cradling her to his barrel chest. Toriel heard him mutter a few words, then he angled his body to allow her access.

Toriel knelt down beside them. Chara seemed very pale, much more so than she ever remembered her being, but her skin was warm to the touch. She reached down and placed two fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse. She let out a breathy cry of joy as she found one. Quickly, she leaned her head down near Chara’s face, letting out a relieved laugh when she felt her breath against her cheek. “She's alive!” 

Asgore let out a loud sob and pulled Chara tightly to his body. Tears were already streaming down his face as he leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “My little girl,” he breathed. He looked up and met Toriel’s eyes. “T-Tori, we...”

In his arms, Chara stirred and let out a tiny groan. 

Asgore, Toriel, and Asriel all gasped and leaned in closer. 

“Chara?” Asgore whispered.

Slowly, Chara's eyelids fluttered open. “Ngh… D-Daddy?” she croaked. 

“Yes, sweetie,” Asgore said. “I’m here.”

“We all are,” Toriel said. Gently, she gently brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.

“Mom,” she rasped, her voice quivering as her unfocused eyes roamed back and forth. “R-Ree needs… have to s-save…”

“It’s okay, Chara,” Asriel said as he leaned in from behind her head, allowing her to see his face upside-down. “I’m alright. We… we both are.”

The moment Asriel crossed her field of view, her whole body relaxed, and she sank deeper into Asgore’s arms. She opened her mouth, but her eyelids fluttered, and all she got out was a vague mumble before she slipped back to sleep.

Asgore let out another quiet sob and pulled her body as close to his chest as he could. He rocked her back and forth several times, then looked up at his wife and son. “I… I love—“

Before Toriel even knew what she was doing, she dove forward and wrapped her arms around him, sandwiching Chara between them in a gentle embrace. Moments later, she felt Asriel join them. The three of them sat for what felt like an eternity, gently weeping tears of joy as for the first time in over a century they hugged, and cried, as a family.

Eventually, Toriel felt Asriel wiggle his way out of the hug pile. Reluctant though she was to let go of Chara, she gingerly pulled away after leaving a final kiss on her cheek. She then turned to see Asriel stomp over to where Frisk stood near the drop off from the sloped wall of the cavern, watching the reunion with a warm smile. 

Asriel came to a stop mere feet away from Frisk. The human was about a head taller than him, which made sense as Frisk was twelve, and Asriel seemed to have the same ten year old body he had before. Asriel placed his hands on his hips, glaring up at Frisk with a half smile. “You told,” he said in an accusing tone.

“Heh, sorry,” Frisk said, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck. “It just, uh... slipped out.”

“After all this time together, I do not know why I am surprised that you would not stay away like I told you,” Toriel said, her stern glare offset by a cheeky smile. She snorted when Frisk’s only response was to blush and shrug his shoulders. “But how did you get here so quickly?”

As if on cue, a scratchy voice echoed from above. “Yo, Frisk! Everything okay down there, dude?” Toriel looked up to see an armless body silhouetted by the setting sun. “Mom’s kinda freaking out after that light show.”

“Tell your mother that everything is fine, Percival,” Toriel called up. She then blanched, realizing her mistake. 

“Yeah,” Frisk said. “We’re... wait, Percival?”

“Oh, come on, Miss Dreemurr!” came the harried reply.

While Toriel tried and failed to suppress her giggles, Asriel was looking up at Frisk with a curious gaze. “Um, Frisk?”

“Yeah?”

Asriel seemed to mull over his words for a few moments, and much like his father, Toriel could see him trying to find the best way to put what he wanted to say. “Uh, you know—” He shot a quick glance to Toriel— “you know what Chara did, and... wh-what she wanted to do, right?”

Frisk nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“Oh,” Asriel said. “Well, then... why did you risk yourself to help us save her?”

“Ah, you know me,” he said, reaching over and giving Asriel a little pat on the shoulder. “I’m all about second chances.” Frisk’s posture suddenly changed. He wavered on his feet, and Toriel could see a faint blush spreading across his face. “B-Besides I, uh... I-I know you called her your sister, and... w-well, I mean, your parents are also my parents, so... I don’t know...”

Asriel rolled his misty eyes and let out a tiny snort. “Y-You idiot.” With a trembling smile and a tiny sob, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Frisk, pulling him into a tight hug.

Immediately, Frisk’s arms shot up and he gently pushed him away. “Whoa, okay, can we not?!”

“What?” Asriel said with a sniff, wiping a single tear that had worked its way down his cheek. “I can’t hug my... m-my big bro?”

“No, it’s not that,” Frisk said, taking a half step back. “It’s just... well, you’re naked!”

“Huh?” Perplexed, Asriel looked down and apparently only then noticed his nudity. He let out a loud, bleating cry of shock, then turned and ran. His hands frantically tried to cover himself as he scrambled behind the nearest stalagmite. “Frisk, why the hell didn't you tell me?!”

“How do you not notice being butt naked?!” Frisk replied. “I figured you were okay with it!”

“You figured that I was okay just walking around with my thingy hanging out?!”

“Pfft... thingy?”

“J-Just shut up and give me some undies or something!”

“I didn’t bring any with me.”

“Well then, let me borrow yours!”

“Dude, gross!”

“Ugh, can I go back to being a flower now?”

They continued to bicker and laugh, and Toriel was certain that it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

Chapter Text

Ebott’s Wake General Hospital wasn’t the most advanced facility in the world, which made sense because the town of Ebott’s Wake itself wasn’t exactly a sprawling metropolis. While it had gotten its fair share of upgrades since Emergence Day, what with the town being ground zero for the newly released monster race and the magical technology they possessed, it was still far from cutting edge. There were exactly two high-end suites with all the marvels modern medicine could provide, though as expensive as they were to operate, the rooms were hardly used, reserved for the very wealthy and visiting dignitaries. So when King Asgore kicked in the front door with his family, including two unknown children, they had been ushered to the top floor in a heartbeat.

Toriel sat in the observation room for the main suite, a small offshoot containing only a few chairs facing the large window that peered inside. The chair was obviously made for someone much smaller than her, as she heard an ominous creak when she sat down, and the hard wooden seat offered little comfort. Still, she sat sipping on a half-drained cup of coffee. She normally avoided the stuff in favor of tea as the added caffeine tended to make her jittery, but after only five hours of sleep following the emotional roller coaster of last night and the ensuing whirlwind of questions, tests, and needles, she felt she needed the extra kick.

A tiny smile pulled at her face when she thought of the look on Alphys’ face once they rode the elevator back to the surface, two previously dead children in tow. The poor saurian almost had three heart attacks that night: once after learning how Asriel had survived— “My experiment worked?!” —and another after they awkwardly explained how all three monsters had gained and used such determination— “How are you not melting?!”  

It was only after a desperate call to Undyne, and the subsequent screamed words of confidence and generous application of smooches, that Alphys calmed down enough to actually do her job and try to figure out if they were all healthy. Which, surprisingly enough, they were.

Alphys and the other doctors, a team of both human and monster physicians, had actually been a bit concerned over how well the test results for all five of them were. Aside from Chara suffering a Vitamin D deficiency and being in desperate need of a bath, they were all the picture of health, be it human or monster. However, the most exciting and confusing revelation was that all five of their souls were now somehow linked, each carrying a bit of the others, which meant all of them now contained elements of both human and monster souls. This was confirmed when Alphys asked Toriel to conjure a tiny flame to test her magic, and the ensuing fireball had singed the hair and/or fur of everyone in the room.

Even more confusing was when Alphys went to gather a scraping of Asgore’s skin for analysis and drew actual blood. It wasn’t much, but it had been enough to cause Alphys’ third near-miss coronary— “What in the name of Mew Mew’s magical bonnet is even real anymore?!” The final big news of the evening was when she told them due to their linked souls, Chara and Frisk may become the first humans in over eight hundred years to develop magical abilities, reclaiming what had been lost to time and technological progress.

The battery of pokes, prods, and questions eventually ended, mainly because it was getting late and Toriel put her foot down, demanding that her children be allowed to rest. Chara had regained consciousness again, but she was still so groggy and disoriented that she almost eagerly went back to sleep when they put her in the room’s primary bed. Asriel had similarly drifted away the moment he lay on the only other bed. A small cot had been wheeled in for Frisk, who utterly refused to leave their side. Toriel had nearly gone to tears seeing how protective he was over them, but some niggling thought at the back of her mind told her that this was far more than him simply bonding with his new siblings. There was obviously a larger story there that she was not privy to, and while she was desperately curious and concerned, she decided that it could wait until they all got a good night’s sleep. 

As for her, Toriel had been assigned to one of the nearby rooms that held a double sized bed, though she was reluctant to leave her children. Some part of her still feared this all a wonderfully terrible dream, and that Asriel and Chara would vanish the moment they left her sight. Though, the children hadn’t been the only concern last night.

While she had stayed to watch over them, Asgore had to go be the king once more. Word had somehow gotten out about the sudden return of the long-dead prince and princess, thus a large crowd of curious humans, excited monsters, and salivating journalists had descended on the hospital. Security had quickly ushered them all outside, and flanked by Undyne and Papyrus, Asgore addressed the crowd, answering what questions he could while leaving some details vague or plain omitted. After he grew tired of answering questions instead of seeing his kids, he had used his tried and true method of ending a press conference quickly: “If you have any further questions, my trusted advisor Papyrus shall answer them for you.”

The press had dispersed in less than five minutes.

As if by fate, he had come upstairs at the same time that Toriel finally left the children to sleep and went to her assigned room. Which just so happened to be right next to Asgore’s. The two nearly walked into each other as they made for their rooms. What followed was a good thirty seconds of awkward stares, aborted words, and conflicting emotions. Eventually, Toriel sighed and wished him a good night, saying they would talk in the morning. Due to the combination of concern for her children and the chaotic storm in her heart over Asgore, sleep had not come easily, hence her sipping the bitter coffee in her paw. Though she barely paid the foul tasting brew any mind, as her entire focus lay on the beautiful scene before her.

Her children— all three of her children—sat on the other side of the large observation window, engaging in what looked to be awkward conversation. Chara was laying on her side facing away, though the last time Toriel had seen her face she wore a dark expression, an odd mix of anger, sadness, and guilt. Asriel, now clad in a set of child’s hospital scrubs, sat on the foot of her bed, babbling as he had been for the past few minutes, trying and failing to get a reaction out of his sister. Frisk stood between the two, leaning against the other bed with his arms folded like some sort of bodyguard or referee. Several times, Toriel had risen from her chair and made for the door, but a pleading look from Frisk kept her outside. She so badly wanted to offer comfort to Chara, who was obviously troubled deeply by something, but she dutifully waited outside for now.

Heavy footfalls came through the door to the hallway, and Asgore sat down beside her, the chair groaning in protest at his bulk. “What are they talking about?” he asked.

“No idea.”

“I know you can hear them.”

Smiling, Toriel held up a finger. The tip of her claw lit with dull rainbow light, and a similarly colored barrier shimmered into sight along the observation window. “They asked for privacy.”

“Hmm.” Asgore held out a fresh mug to her, which she accepted without looking away, though the smell brought a tiny, wistful smile to her face. Chamomile, her favorite, no doubt with a dollop of honey like she always took it. The two sat in companionable silence for several minutes, watching the seemingly impossible scene before them. Eventually, Asgore let out a quiet laugh. “God above, Tori. I feel like I should pinch myself but... I-I don’t think I could ever dream of anything quite so...”

“Perfect,” she finished.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I reached out to my liaison in City Hall. She will be sending over the paperwork needed to officially declare them as living citizens, and our children. Heh, she mentioned that since they were never on the census to begin with, it will be much easier to—”

On the other side of the glass, Chara suddenly launched herself into a seated position, glaring at Asriel through tear-soaked eyes as she screamed at him. Whatever cutting words she said had an effect, as Asriel recoiled on the bed and his whole body shivered. Frisk then stepped forward and placed a hand on Asriel’s shoulder before turning to Chara, jabbing a finger at her and delivering his own acidic words. She did not respond, but Toriel could see a slight tremble work its way down her arm.

“Asgore?”

“Yes?”

Toriel took a breath. “For years, I have had a… suspicion that there was more going on that night than we knew. That there was more to the story than Asriel simply wanting to bring Chara to the flowers.”

She heard Asgore shuffle his feet. “I never wanted to say anything, but I’ve felt the same. Even as devoted to Chara as he was… h-heh, is, something that reckless and dangerous was just so out of character for him.”

Toriel paused for a moment, a question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to dancing on her lips. “When Frisk told you about Asriel, did he mention anything about... this?” She made a sweeping gesture with her free hand. “About what really happened?”

“Not really,” he said. “He vaguely mentioned something about them having ‘a plan,’ and at the time I wasn’t in any mind to ask any questions.” He sighed and looked back towards the children. “I suppose we’ll just have to trust that they’ll tell their story when they’re ready.”

Toriel nodded and took a long sip from her mug, hoping the warmth would soothe her worry. Behind the glass, Asriel had regained some of that fire she had seen briefly last night and was having a heated exchange with Chara, both of them glaring at each other with accusatory eyes. For his part, Frisk had removed himself a bit and was sitting on the opposite bed as they exercised whatever demons lay between them. 

While they screamed at each other, Toriel and Asgore were enjoying several minutes of decidedly awkward silence. The creaking of their chairs and muted footsteps from the hallway were quite deafening as they watched the silent scene through the window. Toriel slowly sipped her tea, having come to the same conclusion Asgore likely had: there was a very heavy conversation on the horizon, and neither seemed to be in a rush to get there. 

“So, uh,” Asgore eventually said, “I-I suppose this means you and I will start aging again. Once Asriel grows up a bit, that is.”

Toriel made to respond, but paused as a thought crossed her mind. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Huh?”

“Well, you heard Alphys,” she said. “All of our souls are now linked. Who knows what effects that may have on us. For goodness sake, I almost blew up the hospital last night, and you bled! It seems the old rules have been thrown out. Heh, I suppose I shall just have to be on the lookout for gray hairs.”

When Asgore didn’t respond, she turned to see him staring at her, looking utterly perplexed. “How… how would you be able to tell?” he asked with total sincerity. 

Deceased cookware couldn’t have deadpanned as hard as Toriel was. “A girl knows these things,” she said flatly.

“Oh,” Asgore said happily, nodding his understanding.

Toriel let out something halfway between a sigh and a laugh, then turned back to the silent drama unfolding before them. Whatever venom Chara and Asriel were spewing at one another had run dry. Chara was staring down at her lap while Asriel had scooted closer, laying a hand on her leg as he spoke. Frisk still sat on the other bed, but Toriel could see the hopeful expression blooming on his face.

“So,” Asgore said slowly, “what now?”

“Well,” Toriel said, “the doctors said that you, Frisk, and I are free to leave when we want, though they want to keep Asriel and Chara a bit longer for observation. Alphys also suggested we refrain from using magic until we can properly gauge our new limits. Once the children are discharged, I think they should stay with you at first, since your house is larger than mine. At least until—”

“No,” Asgore interrupted. “I, uh... I-I meant what now... between you and I?”

“Oh,” Toriel said. “That what now.” The tempest that had been raging in her chest for the past three days roared back to life. Toriel suddenly found the ground beneath her quite fascinating as a cavalcade of tangled emotions, desires, and thoughts vied for control of her mind. After so long apart, so many years being disgusted by him and rebuffing every attempt at reconciliation, so much open hostility and hidden longing, what could the next step possibly be? Was there even a step to take? Her mind was so wrapped up in itself that her heart seemed to gain control and fall back on comforting anger. “Well, before anything else, I wish to say that Asriel was correct last night.”

Asgore blinked. “Um, which—”

“What were you thinking, Asgore?!” Toriel finally turned to face him, venomous eyes growing misty. “Regardless of whether your plan would have worked or not, you were going to kill yourself! What could have possessed you to think that was a good idea?!”

“I wasn’t thinking,” he mumbled, broad shoulders slumped under the weight of her cutting words. “I... all I could think of was saving Asriel. Everything else just... blurred out.”

“I can understand that,” Toriel said, “but you went about it in the most foolhardy way possible! You could have taken the scroll to Alphys. Perhaps she could have found a safer way to proceed, a way to bring him back without risking your very soul. You...” She stopped herself from saying that he could have talked to her. She knew for a fact that if he had come to her with such a ridiculous sounding plan, she would have slapped him in the face and slammed the door. “Did you ever stop to think what losing you would do to our people? To Frisk?! To...” Toriel sniffled. “T-To me?”

Asgore winced at that. “No,” he whispered.

Toriel opened her mouth to continue, but that loud voice in her heart told her that she had made her point. Any further dressing down would just be adding insult to injury. She took a deep breath before continuing in a much calmer tone. “Asgore, I understand that you were hurting, and that I have... likely not helped your mental well-being over the past two years, but you must see that you have so many people who care about you, and depend on you. Not just in this family, but everywhere!”

Asgore slowly nodded.

“Good, because regardless of where we go from here, if you ever even think of doing something so bull-headedly stupid again, I promise it will be the last time you see me or them,” she said, nodding towards the children in the other room. “Not because I want to punish you, I... I-I do not. But because those three have endured so much pain and suffering in their short lives, and watching their father self-destruct would be too much for them... as it would be for me. Do you understand?”

Asgore remained silent for a bit, likely pondering her words. He then looked at her with a tiny smile. “I do. And I promise that I will never do anything like that again.”

She nodded then turned back to the window. Frisk had moved to stand right next to Chara, who was now actually looking at him as he spoke, his eyes soft and a gentle smile on his face. Asriel sat next to her on the bed, gently squeezing her hand with his.

“So... wh-where do we go from here?” Asgore finally blurted out, as if ripping the band-aid off the situation. “To be clear, Toriel, I-I am not expecting you to... leap into my arms and pick up right where we left off. I mean, even if you did mean all those things you said last night, I know—”

“I meant them,” Toriel said. “Every word of it.” She would have giggled at how his eyes comically bulged out of his head at her words, but the chaotic mix of emotions pouring out of her heart prevented any mirth. Several times she had opened her mouth to elaborate, but her voice seemed to refuse to work properly, as all that made it out of her mouth were aborted stutters and half formed words. A frustrated groan finally escaped her and she let her head fall back against the wall behind them. “God, everything is so... complicated and conflicted!

“So much time has passed, so many things have changed. We are not the same people we were before... well, before. It is true that the flame I held for you never died, but it has… dimmed over the years, and I…” Toriel let out something like a growl and rubbed at her eyes. “I don't know how long it will take to rekindle it, or if I even can.”

Toriel tried to think of a softer way to say her next piece, but none came to mind. “But most importantly, Asgore, even after acknowledging my failures and what role I played… I don't know if I can look past what you've done.”

“Good,” he mumbled. “I can’t. I don't think I ever will.” Toriel opened her mouth, but Asgore continued, his eyes glued to the ground. “I wasn't lying when I said I remember their names and faces all the time. Usually as a fleeting thought before I turn out the lights at night, though sometimes they come as nightmares. They always say the same thing, though.” The coffee mug in his paw trembled harder. “They ask me why,” he whispered.

“You were right, Toriel. My intentions, my desires, and my hopes don’t matter. Six times I m-made the choice. And it has only gotten worse over the past two years. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t heard one of their screams echoing in my mind, or seen their faces on children in the street.  Any time I start to feel content, or at peace, or... h-happy, one of their faces will bubble into the back of my mind and remind me that I do not deserve it. That the only thing I deserve is exactly what I gave them.”

“Asgore...”

“You asked me what made me think it was a good idea to sacrifice my life last night. When Frisk told me the truth about what became of Asriel, I... the weight of all my failures came crashing down. Despite the horrible things I'd done, I never broke the barrier. I failed as a king." The tremble in his paws worked its way to his shoulders. "I drove you away so completely that you didn't just leave me, you left all of us. I f-failed as a husband."

Toriel opened her mouth to respond, but he never gave her the chance.

"And n-not only did I let our children die, I condemned Asriel to a loveless purgatory as a shadow of the boy he'd been. I-I failed as a father." The tears that had built in his eyes finally broke free. "I walked into that cave last night knowing that I would not walk out. I would either bring Asriel back, die in the attempt, or... o-or I..."

The mug fell from his shaking paw and shattered with a devastating sound. Toriel reached out and grabbed his hand before she knew what she was doing, but she did not pull away once she realized it. She gave a firm squeeze as his broad shoulders trembled, remaining silent as he sniffled several times, trying his best to stop the flow of tears.

The pair sat there for an indeterminate amount of time while Asgore attempted to compose himself. Once his muffled sobs died off, Toriel gave his hand one final squeeze before letting go. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he turned to look at her. “I, uh... I-I managed to track down the children's families. Well, descendants really. The only relatives that remain are great nieces and nephews.”

Toriel had thought of doing the same thing ever since Emergence Day, but she knew that if she did, she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from telling them the truth. As mad as she was at him, she did not want to harm the burgeoning peace by revealing the true sins of the King of the monsters. “Have you contacted them?” she asked.

Asgore took in a deep breath. “I will. One day, when the peace is set in stone. When our people are fully integrated and have no further need for a king, I will confess my crimes and submit myself to whatever justice is demanded of me. No legal loopholes, no diplomatic posturing or immunity. I will take the punishment I rightly deserve.” He looked up at the observation window and let out a tiny gasp. Toriel followed his gaze, and her heart throbbed in her chest.

Whatever heady conversation that had been taking place was over. Chara had thrown herself around Asriel, squeezing him tight as tears flowed freely down her face. Asriel was similarly crying, one paw gently rubbing her back as his mouth moved, most likely offering her words of comfort. Frisk stood to the side, until Asriel’s other paw reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him into the embrace. Several moments later, Toriel’s paw covered her mouth to silence a happy sob when Chara’s arm wrapped around him, as well. Frisk looked up at Toriel through the window and gave her a tiny nod, signalling that she and Asgore could enter when they wanted.

While she wanted nothing more than to do just that, she had a good feeling her own conversation wasn't quite finished. When Asgore finally looked back to her, his eyes were clear and focused. “Tori, I told you that I still love you, and I meant it. If you were to ask me back right now, I would say yes in a heartbeat.”

“Asgore, I—”

“But,” he said, holding up a hand, “I understand that particular ball is in your court. Any movement on that front will happen completely at your pace. For now, all I want you to know is that I promise to be there for them.” He gave a nod back towards the window. “I am going to spend the rest of my life being the kind of father those three deserve. I swear that I will never abandon those children, because they are worthy of every gift I can give and more. And that I will continue to be there for them whether you want me by your side or not.”

“Oh, Asgore, I...” Toriel yet again sighed in frustration, one paw rubbing at the base of her horns. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out as her heart was screaming at her mind and vice versa, both telling her different things, though one thread was clear in both. Eventually, a grim chuckle squeaked past her lips. “If only there were some way to turn back the clock, you know? Reset back to the beginning, when things were... simpler.”

As she idly mused, a curious look came over Asgore. Toriel could see the wheels spinning in his head, and then he suddenly gasped and smiled. He gingerly grabbed the mug out of her paw, stood, and hurried out of the room. She watched him leave, then sighed and turned back to the heartwarming scene in the other room. The kids had finally separated, and while the tears still flowed, both Asriel and Chara were smiling, him more so than her, as he spoke animatedly. When he saw her looking in, Asriel smiled wider and waved her in. Toriel decided she had given them quite enough space. She stood and reached for the door.

“Uh, e-excuse me, miss!”

Toriel jerked to a halt, her paw inches away from the knob. Slowly she turned to see Asgore standing in the doorway holding two steaming mugs, and grinning like a schoolboy. “Howdy!” he said in a very exaggerated manner. “Uh, my name is Asgore Dreemurr. I-I was walking by this room when I spotted you, and I thought to myself. ‘Golly, that woman is astoundingly beautiful!’ So, I was wondering if, uh, if you maybe wanted to h-have a cup of tea and... get to know each other?” He stepped forward and held out one of the mugs, his nervous eyes offsetting the toothy grin he wore.

For several long seconds, Toriel just stared at him, wondering if he had lost his mind. Finally, it sank in what he was trying to do. She sighed, rolling her eyes and fixing him with a deadpan stare. “A for effort, Dreemurr.”

His entire body deflated. “Oh. Uh... sorry.” He turned to leave, only to nearly drop the mugs when she gently grabbed his forearm. He slowly turned around to see Toriel looking at him with a tiny smile and a flicker of hope in her eyes.

“I didn’t say no.”

Chapter Text

Howdy, AO3! I'm Jake The Army Guy! I call myself that because my name is Jake, I served thirteen years in the U.S. Army, and I think that last bit is self-explanatory. ;) While this is my first story posted here, I've actually been writing fan fiction for almost ten years in the My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fandom. If you're curious, you can check out my page on FIMFiction. This story here is not only my first Undertale fic, but also my first ever non-MLP work of fiction. So I really hope I did well, but then I guess y'all will be the judges of that.

Anywho, the purpose of this little addendum is to preemptively answer some questions about the decisions I made while writing this story. Like most fan fiction authors, I tweaked a few details here and there to show my interpretation of the characters and world presented in the game, but I did my best to remain as true to canon as possible. This ain't no AU. Lord knows there's enough of those floating around out there. Still, I think I may have done some things that might make a casual fan question and purists seethe, so here's a few things to help explain what I done did do here.

Where did the idea for this story come from?

The seed for this fic was actually planted the first time I finished Undertale, which was in June of this year. Yeah, I know, I tend to jump on the bandwagon after the tires fall off and the engine dies. I was very taken by the story of Asgore because tragic characters like him, flawed yet good hearted people who do terrible things because they see no other way, always fascinate me. Maybe it's due to the my time overseas, but I can understand those types of decisions. So when Toriel showed up at the end to berate and insult Asgore, it didn't sit well with me. That only got worse when I saw how the fandom looked at the two of them. People tend to be mixed with regards to Asgore, some looking at him with compassion, others with disdain, both of which are understandable and accurate. With Toriel, however, it seems people almost universally view her as a kind, loving angel who can do no wrong. This is likely due to her overtly maternal character, along with the more... sticky side of things, but this also stuck in my craw a bit. Maybe it's a "sympathy for the Devil" type of thing, or maybe it's just my love of stories about fathers and positive male role models. See, I never had either of those growing up, so stories about Dad's doing their best are a favored trope of mine. Plus, after seeing how vindictive and spiteful Toriel is towards him in Deltarune, I wanted to give him a chance.

So I wanted to explore what I felt was something people tend to overlook, or at least see with nothing but sympathy: Toriel's guilt over what happened to the six children. To be perfectly clear, Asgore is the one who killed them. As I say in the story several times, he made the choice, so he is absolutely guilty. But at the very least, Toriel is culpable in their deaths, if for no other reason than the whole "Good Samaritan" thing. She chose to stand and do nothing knowing full well what would happen to them. It may not be legal guilt, but it's something that I feel would weigh heavily on the heart of someone as empathetic as Goat Mom.

I also wanted to show how them getting back together might look. I'm a bit of a slut for a happy ending, as you can probably tell, and part of that is the rekindling of romance. I absolutely understand why some can't see them ever getting together again, but I'm also a bit of a hopeless romantic who believes in "Wuv, twoo wuv" as it were. Add to that a phrase I heard a while back about "You can be angrier at none more than those you love" and I there is the possibility, which is why I ended it the way I did. No big reconciliation, no grand, sweeping declarations of love, no spinning her around on a wind-swept hill. Just, "Let's take it slow and see where this takes us."

Also, I wanted to save Asriel because he is the most precious bean that ever lived and dammit he deserves his happy ending, as well. I've spent the last ten years immersed in a fandom based on characters who were specifically designed to be as cute as possible, yet no pony has ever triggered my Cuddle Reaction quicker or as thoroughly as this sweater-wearing ball of fluff. It happens a lot in fiction, but it's usually Frisk that does it, and I wanted to keep with my theme of a father's love. And I saved Chara because reasons. Speaking of which:

Why did you portray the characters like you did?

Asgore: As I just said, I love stories about good dads, so I wanted Asgore to be one. Also, this was me clapping back a two tropes I can't stand: the idiot ruler, and the Sitcom Dad. The idiot ruler is where you have an absolute monarch who is a total moron who can't do anything right and other people actually run things. Granted, the game tells us that Toriel made a lot of the decisions as queen, but that doesn't necessarily mean that Asgore is incompetent. He just always had her to lean on. Plus, after the barrier broke, I like to think that he would have broken out of his malaise and stepped up. The "Sitcom Dad" is your Homer Simpsons and Tim "The Tool Man" Taylors. The dad that's a bumbling dumbass who always messes everything up so his wife can come in at the end, put her hands on her hips, and say, "Oh, that man of mine!" I think that's offensive to both men and women. So I ended up with an Asgore who was just what I said he was in the story, your bog standard Himbo: kind, good natured, eager to please, big and handsome, and kind of dumb. Think Shining Armor from MLP, or any character Brendan Fraiser played in the 90's.

Toriel: With her, I tried to keep her in sync with what most people see her as: kind, calm, and matronly. However, due to my previously stated desire to explore her feelings of guilt, I added what I felt were believable flaws that would lead her to do what she did: her being a bit prideful and stubborn underneath. Just like Asgore, she made a terrible decision in a moment of grief and anger, choosing to leave instead of trying to fix things. However while Asgore continued on his path due to malaise and depression, Toriel stayed in exile because she was too prideful to admit she made a mistake, and just a bit of a coward for staying with her comfortable anger rather than acknowledge the pain of her wrongs. Also, as this is her story at the end of the day, I didn't want her to be a passive observer during the climax. Just because I wanted to highlight a father's love doesn't mean that a mother's isn't just as powerful. Plus, I suppose there's some symbolism to be found in both the mother and the father creating a life, though that wasn't intended.

Frisk: First off, I chose to make Frisk a boy because... I don't know, that's just how I always saw him. I think the whole point of the gender neutral pronoun game was that Frisk could be anybody, plus they had to be neutral so that Asriel could mistake them for Chara. So I told Professor Oak that he was a boy. Also, he talks a lot here because that just makes more sense. He was quiet and distant in the Underground because his life in the system taught him to be reserved in forming connections. However, after two years of a loving, stable family life, I just feel he would have opened up and become more like your normal twelve year old. And I gave him blue eyes because I think blue eyes are pretty. Don't judge me.

Asriel: I've actually noticed some discourse on the actual fate of Asriel post-Pacifist route as all he says is that he, "Doesn't have much of a life left." Some say he will fully turn back into Flowey, emotionless and uncaring, while others claim he will revert back into a flower, but maintain his emotions. That seems to be the case, as when you boot up the game after beating Pacifist, Flowey appears and says he doesn't think he could reset again, and asks you not to, to let people enjoy their happy endings. Hell, that's the reason why I haven't played the game again! LOL I tend to believe the latter normally, but for this story I wanted a bit of a "ticking clock," so I added that he was fading away. The way I rationalized this was that this whole thing started because he was scared of dying without a soul. SO with this closure, I think it could follow that he would let himself wither away. Also, I kept his childlike personality because I also think that makes for a more interesting and tragic character moving forward. He is once more the kind, gentle little boy he was, but he's saddled with the memory of the horrific things he did as Flowey.

Chara: And here's the big one. To start, you can blame CoramDeo and his utterly fantastic story Worth A Thousand Words for not only Chara being a girl and being more sympathetic, but for the very existence of this story. I had the idea for my story, but seeing how beautifully he explored guilt, shame, regret, and comfort in his story really lit a fire under my ass to make me want to put words on paper. Seriously, go read that now. It's so good, way better than mine.

I know that Chara is portrayed as a remorseless killer in a lot of art, and even in the game, but honestly? That's just boring to me. "Evil because evil" is one of the laziest and dumbest tropes out there. The best villains, even the ones who want to do horrible things, are the ones where you can understand why they do what they do. Now, the game tells us practically zilch about Chara's backstory. Hell, you don't even see her in the True Pacifist Route. SO I decided to come up with my own backstory for her, with blackjack and ho... uh, maybe not that last bit. Here's the TL:DR

Chara grew up a child of the system. Bounced from foster home to foster home, she had been abused and neglected her whole life, shown little to no mercy or kindness. Eventually, she ran away and fell into the Underground, met Asriel, and all that happy horsecrap. While she bonded with Asriel okay, she never opened herself up to Asgore and Toriel until the buttercup pie incident, which I choose to see as an accident. She finally opened herself to them, and became their loving, if not a bit standoffish and grumpy, daughter. For the first time, she was truly happy... at first.

As she lived with her new family, she grew increasingly resentful towards humanity, the ones who had abused and abandoned her, while also trapping her new family underground, along with the monsters she saw as superior to them. Once it got to be too much, she came up with her plan, like we see in the game: convince Asriel to take her soul, go to the surface, find six more, and free the monsters. Her lifetime of neglect let her devalue her own life, and believe her family really was better off without her so long as they were freed. However, once they reached her old town, Chara saw some of her old tormentors. Feeling the exhilarating rush of power in their joined body, she decided to get vengeance and tried to attack them, only for Asriel to stop them. The rest unfolds as tragically as we know it does.

Doesn't that just sound more satisfying and relatable? I mean, what's more compelling:

A) Chara was a Rosemary's Baby demon who literally wanted to wipe out all of humanity because good is dumb?

or

B) Chara was a scared, abused little girl who wanted to lash out at those who wronged her, so "All humans" was really just her tormentors?

Plus, I liked the idea that Toriel alluded to in the story, about how Chara and Frisk have virtually identical backstories. However, while Chara internalized all that abuse and became cynical and bitter, Frisk still held onto that belief that people can be good and deserve mercy. See, it's like poetry, it... it-it rhymes.

So... yeah! That's most of my thoughts and goals for writing this story. As I said in my note previously, I truly hope you enjoyed it. This was a true labor of passion and love, and knowing that someone as entertained by something I wrote is one of the best feelings in the world for me. As I always say, till next time stay safe, stay free, and stay metal! Jake The Army Guy out!