Chapter Text
You smoothened down your dress, examining the sleeves for horse hair or bits of dirt. The servants had been very careful when packing your clothes for this trip, especially given the people you were going to meet, everything wrapped with care to keep it pristine. They had done well - there wasn’t a hair or stain that you could see on your clothes, and the little pouch of herbs packed with it had kept it smelling fresh and clean. Any wrinkles that might have been present from being folded and packed tightly were carefully pressed and ironed out.
Checking the mirror for at least the dozenth time, you made sure the pins and ties that held your hair in an ornate braided updo were still in place, without a hair out of place. Your scalp still tingled slightly from the rigorous brushing and careful work that had gone into styling it, but you resisted the urge to scratch at it, not wanting to risk ruining it.
Your lips had been painted, your cheeks lightly powdered, and your hands and feet almost brutally manicured and sanded with a pumice stone, ridding them of the calluses from the week-long journey. The corset you wore was cinched tight under your dress, adding to the slight breathlessness you were already feeling. For jewelry you wore a simple silver chain around your neck with a small colored gemstone, the matching ones in your ears glittering delicately as you turned your head. As you pushed the stool you sat upon backward, you looked down at your shoes, the slippers meticulously cleaned and almost hidden by the hem of your dress as you stood.
You stepped out of your room, a guest room (one of several) that had been prepared for your arrival well in advance. You were beautiful, the servants reassured you, and your parents gave their approval with little fuss, too caught up about the upcoming audience for their usual nitpicking.
As they talked in hushed voices, probably trying to soothe each other’s nerves and reassure the other that the negotiations would turn out alright, you stood quietly off to the side, taking slow, deep breaths. You had no role in the discussion that would follow, but were here on formality - it was appropriate for the children to accompany the king and queen when meeting with royalty, after all. You were there more as a reminder for your parents of what they stood to lose if things went badly, if anything; you doubted anyone else in the room would spare you a second glance once things got underway.
There was no way to tell how long the three of you stood waiting before a servant finally came and beckoned you to follow. Your parents walked side by side, with you following behind and an additional two servants bringing up the rear.
The walk was long and silent as you were led through long, towering corridors, guards lining each of the arches that you passed. You spared them a glance out of the corner of your eye, but the armor they wore was thick and left no obvious openings, besides the slits and holes to see in the helms they wore, each one specially tailored to its wearer. Each one wielded a long poleaxe or halberd at parade rest, the blades pointed up toward the ceiling and gripped firmly in a thick gauntlet. The silence was oppressive, the sound of your collective footsteps carrying a weight not unlike a condemned man’s march to the gallows.
Besides the guards and the servants that had taken your things and showed you to your rooms when you’d first arrived, the castle seemed almost abandoned. It was deep in the new king’s conquered territory; rumor had it that the previous residents had tried to defy them, and in an act of spite killed every messenger sent here. The killings had been repaid in kind, and none of the royal family were spared. A perfect location for this meeting to take place, it seemed, if the rumors were to be believed.
At the end of the hall was a giant set of doors, the metal embedded in it carefully crafted to depict some kind of great battle. You were only able to get a glance at it before the guards on either side grabbed hold of the handles, pulling the heavy doors open with barely a heave of effort.
The room inside was very large, with great pillars creating a sort of walkway leading up to stone steps that fanned out in a wide oval shape originating from the back of the room. Tall arched windows let the late summer light in, the velvet curtains held in place with golden braids wrapped around ornate posts in the stone. A long red runner with a golden fringe spanned the center of the walkway, dampening your footsteps somewhat as you walked past the pillars.
The runner led up the steps, becoming more wrinkled and tattered the closer it got to the top of them. The rest of it became obscured as it disappeared under a massive pile of materials - rolled up tapestries, dozens of wooden crates in various sizes, numerous burlap sacks full of gold coins and precious gems, barrels no doubt containing carefully aged alcohol, you could even make out the hilts and handles of various weapons lying about - all of which lay sprawled all over the platform at the top of the steps.
You knew this was a throne room. Whatever seat that was supposed to be at the top of the steps was either buried under the loot gathered here, however, or was broken to pieces or removed by its current owners.
At the far end sat the trio responsible for bringing your parents’ kingdom to its knees.
The leader of which, who had been speaking to the creature on his left, turned his attention on the three of you as you approached, the servants accompanying you hanging back and standing in a makeshift half circle behind you, effectively blocking off any chance of retreat.
You had heard stories of the monsters that your people fought on the battlefield, seen their artwork in history books and heard the stories told by your teachers and the survivors that had made it back and were sane enough to recount them. It was another entirely to be in the presence of one, let alone three, and even from where you stood you could feel the power and magic radiating from them. It was enough to make an almost painful prickle down your spine that you could only imagine you get when a massive predator has just made eye contact with you.
The artistic renditions you found in the archives of your library hardly did them justice. Then again, nothing could truly capture the kind of skin-crawling fear and awe you have when in the presence of a massive skeleton naga.
The three of you stopped at the foot of the dais, your father in the center with your mother at his right hand, the picture of the proud king and queen come to negotiate for their people’s lives. Standing to your father’s left, you bowed your head in deference to them, a sign of respect, however you could not resist trying to look at them through your lashes as discreetly as possible.
Gaster stood tallest of the three of them, narrowed black eye sockets regarding the three of you silently. You could see the numerous hairline cracks and chips in his skull clearly, even from where you stood, the two most prominent stretching from the top of his skull to his right eye socket and the other splitting his left socket to his jagged maw in a near perfect straight line. He wore a long gambeson coat colored a deep black, the leather belts cinching the chest shut tight and encircling his waist a similar color with polished silver buckles holding them in place. The sleeves came down to his wrists, the cuffs wrapped in the same leather as the buckles in a fractal diamond shape crawling halfway up his forearm. From what you could see of his gloves, they were black like the rest of his outfit, though you could make out a glint of what looked like silver claws at the tips of his fingers, before he folded his arms behind his back, hiding them from view. The dark cape he wore was long, reaching several feet past his waist with an inch-wide border of intricate silver from where it sat covering his upper arms, the buckle used to hold it together looking suspiciously like a snake’s open jaws.
The lower half of his body was that of a massive serpent, scales blacker than his clothes that shone very little in the light filtering in the room, as if sucking it in. Even the scales on his underbelly were black, the same colored pitch as the rest of him. The area just below the waist was decorated with segmented armor shaped in a downward arrow, no doubt to allow ease of movement so it wouldn’t grate on his scales.
“Your Majesty,” he spoke, his jaw barely moving, his voice firm and conversational though you felt it project through the entire room. It was deep, a voice you could feel like a pit in your chest, and you could hear the faintest hiss as he spoke. “We are glad you could come.”
Your parents bowed their heads to him in greeting; you lowered yours further, dropping your gaze to the floor. “We are grateful for the invitation,” your father said, his voice so much lighter in comparison.
It was a strange feeling, for the power difference between the two of them to be so displaced by just a voice. You were so familiar with your father’s voice, growing up: the gentleness it carried when he read you bedtime stories, how proud he sounded when you did well in your studies, the exasperation it carried when the stresses of ruling got to him, and how frightening he was when he got angry.
There was plenty of that in the first few months when your family had received a messenger from these monsters, declaring that they intended on conquering this territory and were giving them the chance to surrender to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. The sentiment was received very badly, especially since immediately following it had declared they would need able-bodied humans to serve in their growing empire. Your father had been absolutely irate at this, and for a moment you feared he would actually kill the messenger for delivering such a thing. He told them in no uncertain terms that he was “not going to be cowed by these filthy snakes” and sent them on their way.
That had been six months ago. That was all it took for them to utterly, overwhelmingly, defeat your forces.
Each month a letter was sent, updating the king on the progress of their conquest, each time asking for his surrender, each one warning what would come next if he did not.
Messengers were sent first. Then bodies. And every time, the threat in each letter held true, no matter the efforts done to prevent it.
When the last letter was sent, demanding his surrender, your father finally put down his sword.
The naga to Gaster’s left let out a sharp “Hmph!” , placing a fist to his waist. “THE PRINCE IS NOT WITH YOU?” he demanded, barking sharply. His voice was more in what you considered was a normal range for a human, though it was very loud. You couldn’t help the subtle flinch you made when you heard it, though your parents didn’t so much as blink.
“No,” your king affirmed, “he was not well enough to accompany us.”
You doubt you would have kept your voice as even as he had if you had been the one to speak. Nothing had broken the family’s fighting spirit more than seeing their son, your brother, lying on an infirmary stretcher, bloodied and battered and covered in so much gauze and bandages you could barely see through to him.
The last letter had been sent with him, stained with so much dried blood that if the message had been longer it might not have been legible. Your parents had wept, seeing him, and when they left it was to make arrangements for surrender.
You stayed in the infirmary, holding his hand while the doctors and medics tried to save him, whispering words of comfort and assurance while he screamed as they cauterized his wounds. You helped clean him, bathe him, and spoon fed him broth and porridge on the days he had the strength to eat. You had visited him the night before you were to leave, and while he hadn’t opened his eyes he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.
You snuck a glance up at the monster that had nearly killed your brother as he folded his arms in annoyance.
Unlike Gaster, who looked ready to attend a strategy meeting, this one was decked out in a full set of armor, as if he had come fresh from the battlefield. It was all black as well, and looked heavy enough to topple the strongest man in your garrison. The pauldron on his left shoulder was decorated, a collection of edges and angles that made it look like a great skeletal hand was clutching some kind of orb, or perhaps was a macabre rendition of the tines of a crown. The armor on his forearms were polished, but you could see the chips and indents inlaid on them, no doubt from countless battles fending off swords aimed at cleaving his head from his shoulders. The chestpiece was sloped, and you saw more marks where spears had been deflected from his core, unable to penetrate. In the light you could make out subtle moldings in the armor to make it look like a massive ribcage. His right shoulder was covered by a cape that was fastened right under where his collarbone would be, the decorative brooch similar to the one that Gaster wore. It was a little shorter than his father’s, black on the outside and a brilliant red inside, ending several inches above the long tassets that encircled his waist, the belts holding them in place hidden from view. A matching, albeit tattered red scarf that had no doubt seen many battles was wrapped around his neck, and you knew this must be the one named Papyrus.
Similar to Gaster, the scales that made up the lower half of his body looked black, but you noticed as the light caught them there was an iridescent red sheen to them, the bands of color ghosting in and out of existence with each subtle movement. You could also see small, sharp spines jutting up along his spine, getting smaller and smaller until they disappeared at the tip of his tail. You looked up at his face, so much like his father’s, but with a single red light burning in the left socket. The one on the right was empty, three long lines gouging down it at a slight angle, and a fourth, straight and clean, striking across it at a much more steep angle. You recall not seeing that particular scar in any of the artwork or sketches of him, and you allowed yourself the slightest tinge of satisfaction that, after what he did to your brother, he hadn’t walked away completely unscathed.
After a moment he turned his ire onto his brother. “SANS!” he bellowed, “AREN’T YOU AT LEAST GOING TO GREET OUR GUESTS?” Gaster turned his head slightly, looking behind him to the other monster in the room on his right.
‘Sans’ hadn’t even stirred at his brother’s outburst, sprawled out on his side with his head propped up on a massive, bony elbow. He lay on the biggest pile of materials, furs and various bolts of fine cloth unraveled and draped haphazardly along the length of his body, cushioning and insulating him from the cold stone floor. Several sacks of gold and jewels were sitting near his upper body, his other arm draped over his side to play with their contents at his leisure. Of the three of them, he was dressed the most casually, bordering on utterly decadent. You were careful to get ahold of yourself before you openly gawked at all the exposed bone on display. No armor, no padded garments, not even a dress shirt; the only thing covering him was a long, almost see-through swath of red cloth that looped around one shoulder, reaching down to his elbow, coming back down and wrapping around his waist in a kind of sash, fastened in place with the same style brooch as his brother and father. You could see gold chains, varying in size and thickness, wrapped around his middle as well, and it was hard to miss the jewelry adorning his thick fingers and wrists, winking at you as they caught the light. His bones were massive, chipped and scarred all over, from the parts of his spine you could see to his thick ribs and all over his arms. You doubted a heavy swing from an axe could break any of them, though it was apparent many had tried in the past. His skull was more round compared to the other two, sockets somehow closed with a pair of bony eyelids over them, and with a golden fang matching the gold adorning him. He was lax, his toothy mouth set in an easy grin, looking all the world as if he were sunbathing.
The scales that made up his lower body were starkly different compared to the other two - where theirs were almost all a solid color, his were a dark red, a similar color to his brother’s when they caught the light. From what you could see of him without looking too obviously, the scales down the sides of his body were much darker, almost black, and as they spread out on either side the black faded into red in gradually smaller and smaller markings. His belly scales were a deep charcoal color, which made the red of his scales and sash stand out all the more starkly. If you wrapped your arms around the thickest part of his lower body, you doubted your arms would be able to wrap around even halfway.
His relaxed posture and blatant disregard for decorum didn’t fool you in the slightest. You knew he was just as dangerous as his brother, even moreso, when he wanted to be. The battles led against him had been the most devastating, entire battalions wiped out with the survivors alive only long enough to send a message before dying in the infirmary tents. He was renowned for his cruelty and ruthlessness in battle, delighting in the suffering and bloodshed he caused. If it had been Sans your brother had fought against, there wouldn’t have been enough of him left to send back.
He raised his arm in a cheeky wave, his grin widening. Papyrus lashed his tail angrily, fuming at the lackadaisical response, but a quick, firm glance from Gaster quelled him enough to behave. It seemed this sort of disrespect was not new for him.
Gaster moved to the side, bowing his head slightly to your parents. “Shall we begin?”
They took this as permission to approach, walking up the steps as Gaster and Papyrus turned to a large table that had been requisitioned from one of the other rooms. At your level you couldn’t see what was on it, and you weren’t sure if the gesture was meant to include you, so you remained where you stood.
As if sensing your hidden question, Gaster turned slightly from where he stood at the table, and though there were no lights or eyes in his sockets you could still feel it as they fixed on you. Your gaze snapped from your parents’ backs to him, and for a frightening moment you worried you had offended him by not keeping your head bowed in respect. You saw no anger or irritation, however, his cape stirring slightly as his hand emerged from under it to beckon you with a finger. Immediately recognizing the request, you shook off the small jolt of surprise you felt at his acknowledgement and walked up the steps after your parents, who had already taken their place at the table between the two monsters. Uncertain where you should stand, you stood offset behind your father, leaving a respectful distance between yourself and Gaster. You weren’t sure if you were imagining the coldness you felt radiating from him, resisting the urge to watch the minor twitches of movement of Gaster’s lower body as he leaned forward, carefully smoothing out a detailed map of the kingdom under his claws. There were several paper weights keeping the map from rolling in on itself at each corner, a box of colored pins off to the side to Gaster’s left. Several of them were already embedded in the map, though you couldn’t tell what the colors were meant to signify. There were several pieces of parchment and an inkwell with a quill pen sitting nearby as well.
The negotiations went underway quickly.
Gaster and his sons would assume complete control of the kingdom. From the trade routes on land, to the ships in your navy, and the remainder of your garrison, all the way down to the blacksmiths, general workers, and even the schools; they would have direct supervision and decision-making power over all of them. He had no interest in deposing either of your parents, which came as a small surprise; he was a firm believer that keeping the current rulers and creating a peaceful transition of authority was far more effective than replacing them. They would install their own troops in key areas of the kingdom, and Papyrus himself would be in charge of training the new troops for their army, as well as any new recruits. He then started asking questions about specifics of the kingdom - how many schools they had, the size of their fleet, the paths of their trade routes, the approximate census of the kingdom, among other things. You had just a surface knowledge of all of this, your head swimming with all of the details he wanted to know, but luckily your input wasn’t necessary.
You stood quietly while everything was hashed out, colored pins placed on the map as he jotted down notes. When you tried glancing at the parchment, you couldn’t make sense of anything he was writing; it was in some runic language you had never seen before. Papyrus occasionally interrupted with questions of his own, and your father answered them to the best of his ability. His were more focused on the stationing of soldiers and defensive measures employed by the kingdom, not that they did much against them in the end. He placed his own pins on the map, marking out areas where additional defenses would be needed.
You were so absorbed in the discussion that it took you longer than normal to realize that you were being watched. Because you were so focused on the current discussion of broadening the scope of training and apprenticeships offered in the schools (“to bring them up to our standard,” Gaster had said), you hadn’t noticed the feeling of something’s hungry stare raking over your back.
You froze when you realized this, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as a cold shiver shot through you. There was only one other monster in the room that could be giving you such a once-over, and you had been certain at first that he had no interest in these talks whatsoever. You weren’t sure what changed, or why he was focusing on you specifically.
A quick glance showed that Gaster and Papyrus were still focused on the map, not having noticed anything amiss. You tried to ignore it, trying to tune back into the conversation, but his gaze almost burned where it wandered, and it was setting your nerves on edge. Finally, unable to handle it any longer, you turned your head, ever so slowly, your gaze dropping from the table to look out of the corner of your eye at him, just enough to be able to see him-
Glowing red eyelights locked eyes with you, and you felt your heart stutter in your chest at their intensity. You sucked in air in an almost inaudible gasp, your lips parting slightly as you felt goosebumps pricking your skin, and you were never more thankful that you wore long sleeves to hide that from this monster. His grin was still there, as relaxed as ever, and he hadn’t moved from where he lounged on his pile of loot, but his demeanor was far from the lazy, careless one he had from earlier.
He was alert, uncaring of the negotiations being held over the fate of your kingdom, his focus solely on you. You found yourself unable to tear your gaze away, feeling like a grazing deer that’s just looked up and met a prowling mountain lion’s hungry stare, knowing in that split second that nothing you do will get you out of range of its leap in time.
He held your gaze for the span of several heartbeats, the seconds seeming to drag on, the voices at the table fading into white noise as he took in the features of your face, lingering on your painted lips and braided hair before returning to your eyes. It felt like he was seeing straight through you, into the very core of you, stripping away the superfluous, artificial outer layers until you were laid bare before him in the truest sense. It was a terrifying feeling, worse than the ogling stare you had felt earlier, and for that long moment you looked back at him you forgot how to breathe.
Finally, he blinked, and the spell was broken. You turned your attention back on the table with as subtle a head turn as you could manage, trying to calm your racing heart as you took in deep breaths through your nose. None of them had noticed the brief moment you had with him, and you tried to bring yourself mentally back into the conversation. While you had turned away, several more pins had been placed, with colored strings wound along some of them. You still felt his eyes on you, though you did your best to ignore it this time.
For a while, it seemed like he had lost interest, or had fallen back into a doze…
...until you felt something slithering over your slippered foot.
Years of training yourself for attending the courts of your kingdom and schooling yourself to be stoic was the only thing that kept you from jumping with a cry of surprise and drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
The scales were cool, almost cold against your warm skin. You didn’t have to look down to see what it was, or whose tail it belonged to. Neither Gaster nor Papyrus seemed the type to try to play footsie with you while engaged in such intense discussion.
You felt it wind very slowly around your ankle, its touch feeling almost curious, testing. You carefully shifted your weight to the leg it was touching, raising your free foot up under your dress as you tried to dislodge it. It retreated for a moment, and you hoped he got the hint, but then it gripped your leg more firmly, winding suddenly upward. You pulled your other foot away just in time to keep it from getting caught, standing awkwardly with one leg up under your dress as it began crawling up your calf. He was messing with you on purpose, you realized as you lowered your foot back to the floor, he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. You held your free leg apart, not wanting to touch more of his tail than absolutely necessary, trying your best to suppress a shiver as you felt the ghost of a touch against the back of your knee.
It was extremely difficult to focus when you could feel him squeezing your leg, gently but firmly, with the subtle twitch of muscle under his scales as he did so. You tried to anyway, refusing to let yourself be goaded into embarrassing yourself.
When you didn’t give him the reaction he was looking for, you thought that might be the end of it.
Then the bastard had the gall to slip his tail up around your thigh, much higher than considered decent.
You jerked, your face flushing in mortification at the sensation before your patience snapped, and with little thought of the consequences you raised the leg that he had coiled around, bringing the heel of your slipper down as hard as you could on his tail with a sharp stomp!
Sans had clearly not expected you to react the way you had, unable to throw you off balance or pull his tail back in time. He sucked in breath through his teeth in a sharp hiss of pain, his tail releasing you and yanked out from under your dress to a safe distance. All conversation at the table stopped, but you couldn’t see any of their expressions as you had turned to give this uncouth pervert a very dirty, unlady-like glare. He had sat up slightly, his head no longer resting on his knuckles, his face twisted slightly in a wince as he looked at his tail, then back up to you. You met his stare unwaveringly, fists clenched at your sides as your face felt hot with anger.
After a few seconds of the intense staredown, you realized what you had just done, and who you had done it in front of. This cooled your anger down significantly, like a splash of cold water over your head, and for a moment you were almost too afraid to turn around-
“Sans.”
Gaster’s utterance of his name was harsh, sounding somehow more stern than your father ever could be, and you were thankful that it wasn’t your name he had said instead or you might have buckled right then and there. Knowing that it wasn’t you he was annoyed with, you turned your attention back to the table. Gaster was glaring at Sans, sockets narrowed and frowning very disapprovingly, with Papyrus staring over you to fix him with a similar look. You just barely caught the look of fear on your father’s face before he was able to school his impression back to that stoic mask, though you caught the questioning look in his eyes as he looked you over. Your mother was not quite as convincing, looking at you quite worriedly, uncertain if she should be more concerned over you causing a disruption or the reason why you had.
After a moment Gaster and Papyrus turned their stares on you. You couldn’t look any of them in the eye, your head bowed and your gaze low in what you hoped was a respectful manner. “My apologies,” you said softly. Luckily no one decided to push the matter, as it was obvious who the culprit was. Gaster merely cleared his throat lightly as he picked up where he had left off.
You remained unmolested for the rest of the discussion, though Sans’ stare never left you.
The sun was well on its way toward the horizon by the time everything was said and done, the light filtering through the windows carrying an orange tinge to it. Your feet hurt from standing in place for so long, and the three of you were very drained from the talks. Gaster had been very thorough, filling every sheet of paper on the table with notes and even more scribbled in the margins of the map. Colored pins and string were all over it, labeling trade routes and territorial boundaries. Papyrus seemed satisfied as well, his questions about the kingdom’s forces answered to the best of your parents’ ability. You hadn’t needed to say a word the whole exchange, a silent audience as everything was divided and organized to your new overlord’s tastes. The three of you were waved away, and you returned to the foot of the dais, waiting for any final remarks.
“Your cooperation is appreciated,” Gaster said, “this will make the transition much easier.” He folded his hands behind his back once more, tilting his chin upward ever so slightly. “There is only one more matter to settle.”
The three of you watched him, waiting with bated breath on what he was going to say. Was taking over the kingdom not enough for them?
Gaster turned to his left. “Papyrus,” he asked, “is there anything you wish to request of them?”
Your eyes widened at the question, and you were sure it had come as a shock to your parents as well. They had already essentially taken everything the kingdom had, keeping them in power in name only - what else could they possibly take?
Papyrus’ sockets narrowed, his working eyelight staring at the three of you as he seemed to contemplate his answer. The silence was tense, you knew whatever he asked for, you would have no choice but to give to him. Whatever this “request” was, it was just a thinly veiled offer for the princes to take whatever else hadn’t already been given to them.
“THE PRINCE,” he said finally, and you felt your heart leap into your throat before he continued, “WILL HE SURVIVE HIS INJURIES?”
What on earth kind of question was that? You kept your eyes on him as your father managed to find his voice, no doubt having the same, dreadful conclusions you were. “Y-yes,” he replied, “the doctors...say that he should be mostly recovered in the next month or so.”
Papyrus nodded sharply. “GOOD. HE IS A SKILLED WARRIOR, HIS DEATH WOULD BE A WASTE. WHEN HE IS FULLY RECOVERED, I WISH FOR HIM TO SERVE UNDER ME. I WILL TRAIN HIM PERSONALLY AS ONE OF MY COMMANDERS. SKILL SUCH AS HIS WOULD BE WASTED IN THE GENERAL MILITIA.”
His reply stunned you. You had almost expected something far more cruel, like some kind of death sentence or the removal of his sword arm for raising it against him. But serving him…?
When he didn’t continue, Gaster turned to his right. “Sans...do you have anything to request?”
Your blood ran cold at his question. Sure enough, when you looked his way, the other brother was staring straight at you. His claws were stirring the gold pieces in one of the open sacks below him, the gentle clinking of metal against bone filling the silence.
You didn’t dare entertain the hope that he would say nothing, or that he would mention something that had nothing to do with you. This was the perfect opportunity for him to get his revenge for you stomping on his tail earlier.
After a long, suspenseful silence, he lifted his head from where it had been resting in his palm. “princess,” he purred, his throaty growl making your skin prickle with goosebumps while his voice was low enough to caress your insides in the worst way. He raised the hand that had been messing with the gold, palm up as he twitched his index finger. “come here.”
You felt the blood drain from your face at his command, static filling your ears as it felt like your surroundings faded out for one terrifying moment as the gravity of the situation hit you.
Out of the corner of your eye you saw your father grabbing your mother’s wrist, urging her into silence; no doubt she was about to cry out something, probably to beg to spare you from whatever he wanted with you, but neither of them were in any position to defy him. Trying to go against them now could undo these peace talks quickly, and killing the three of you would take very little effort on their part.
Papyrus made a slight wrinkling of his nasal bone, frowning in distaste. Gaster was impassive, his son’s request garnering no visible reaction. Sans, meanwhile, merely waited patiently, his grin practically splitting his face as he waited for you to obey.
Your heart hammered in your chest, and you felt dizzy, like you might faint, but you locked your knees and stood your ground. You knew what you had to do.
It wasn’t like you could deny him, no more than your parents could hope to defy Gaster now.
Still reeling from the sudden panic you felt in the past few seconds, you numbly placed one foot in front of the other, slowly climbing the steps toward where he lay, patiently waiting for you. The static filling your mind persisted even as you got closer, and if you were able to think clearly you would almost have been grateful, as it meant none of the morbid fantasies of all sorts of terrible punishments he could enact on you in front of your family couldn’t play through your mind on a hellish repeat. Your eyes never left his, and you were sure he could see the fear in them the closer you approached, walking stiffly until you stopped just within arm’s reach.
He made no effort to hide how he looked you up and down, drinking in your reactions eagerly. He could see the subtle trembling in your shoulders, the way your hands were balled into fists at your sides to try to keep them from shaking. Your eyes were glassy, your delicate skin, which had been so pink and flushed earlier, was a dreadful white, as if you might collapse just from standing this close.
Your trembling only worsened as he sat up, pushing off of his makeshift chaise and rearing up to get a proper look at you. He towered over you, just the skeletal portion of his upper body was bigger than you were tall. You couldn’t maintain eye contact as he moved, too frightened to do much but stare straight ahead, the red of his sash and his gold belts filling your vision.
When you saw his hands begin to move, you flinched, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to brace yourself for whatever was coming.
Nothing happened for a long moment. There was no burst of pain, no angry hissing, no screaming coming from the base of the dais at whatever he was doing. Some grim part of you wondered what he was waiting for.
The brush of a claw against the back of your hand startled you, before you felt thick, cool bone gingerly wrap around your hands. You chanced a peek between barely cracked eyelids and watched as he brought your hands up in front of you, your fingers half-clenched in uncertainty as they rested against his.
His hands were huge. If he had really wanted to grab you, his whole hand could envelop you from wrist to elbow. Then all he’d have to do is squeeze and he could break every bone in your arm...but the hold he had on your hands was delicate, like he was reminding himself he couldn’t be too rough with you. You watched with growing confusion as he examined your hands, looking at your palms and at your fingernails, running his thumb against your skin and giving the most careful of squeezes, as if testing to feel the bones lying beneath.
“you’re so soft and warm,” he whispered, cupping your hands in his with a gentle grip on your wrists, “aren’t you, princess?”
You swallowed, staring at your hands completely swallowed in his, unable to even begin to think of a response to that.
He moved slowly, sliding both of your hands into his left and pressing his thumb against the backs of them, applying just enough pressure to hold them there. He then reached for your face with his right, index finger sliding under your chin and his thumb playing with your bottom lip as he forced you to tilt your head back. You shuddered at his playful touch, tears threatening to spill as you looked up into those burning eyelights, that feeling of being trapped by his stare returning full force. Humming lightly, he turned your face to the left, admiring the expanse of skin of your exposed neck. You saw his jaws part ever so slightly, hearing him take in a long, sustained breath.
Was...was he smelling you? You shuddered at the thought, fingers digging into the bones of his palm for a split second. Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed, though, and Sans let out the breath he had taken in with an amused huff. He tilted your head the other way, seeming to admire the intricacies of your hair, not a strand out of place this whole time. You could only watch helplessly as he took his time examining you, feeling slightly nauseous and more than a little faint as he brushed his fingers against your face, a tear slipping free as he dragged the backs of his knuckles down your cheek. His eyelights focused on it, dilating slightly with interest, as he caught it with the tip of his finger. Meeting your eye, he brought his finger up to his mouth, and…
Your eyes grew wide when a long, glowing, forked tongue emerged from behind his teeth, taking a long, slow lick. Your mouth opened slightly, the corners of your mouth pulled back in a frightened grimace. That damnable smile of his widened at that, taking his sweet time pulling his tongue back into his mouth so you could get a good look at it, clearly delighting in the reaction it caused.
When he removed his hand from your face, you thought that maybe that was the end of it, that he’d had his fun and he would let you go. But his hand only trailed down, brushing against your collarbone, down the intricate patterning of your dress…
...and pressing firmly against your waist, cupping it as he felt you up.
Alarmed, you managed to snatch one of your hands away (his grip on the other suddenly tight ) and gripped him where his thumb connected to his palm, trying to force it away from you. “Don’t,” you blurted out, your stare hardening slightly as you tried to contort yourself away from his wandering touch.
He let out a chuckle before he seized your hand in his, drawing you up until you were forced to stand on your tippy toes. “or what, princess?” he asked, purring in a way that made your skin crawl. You glared at him, opening your mouth to demand he let you go when you were suddenly jerked upward clear off your feet with a cry of surprise. The hand on your waist found its way to your rear, giving it a squeeze (and eliciting an angered “Hey!” from you in response) as he cupped it, holding you high up and very firmly against his chest. You found yourself at eye level with him like this, your arms braced against the thick bones of his ribcage to try to maintain at least a modicum of distance between the two of you.
You could only imagine the looks on your parents’ faces behind you, watching this. You had no idea what kind of face you were making, trapped and at the mercy of this massive predator.
He was grinning at you, looking insufferably smug as his free hand came to gently grab your chin, eyelights flaring at the sensation of your skin under his phalanges. “yer lookin’ mighty pale there,” he murmured, his breath warm as it puffed against your face and neck, “how ‘bout i help get some color back in those cheeks?” You felt him squeeze your cheeks between two of his fingers, making your lips pucker and part slightly at the pressure. His eyelights switched their focus from your eyes to your mouth, and you could swear they had dilated slightly at the movement. You couldn’t help the sharp inhale of breath as he leaned closer, his own jaws parted and illuminated by the glow of his tongue that was waiting to slither out.
Something about him closing in toward your face, the setting sun glinting off his golden fang, and the realization that all this was happening in front of an audience snapped you out of whatever shocked, fearful daze you were in. Then you were reacting before you could fully realize what you were doing.
You grabbed hold of his collarbone with one hand, your fingers barely fitting around the girth of it as you kicked your legs out, hoping to connect with one of his ribs but instead finding the gaps on either side. Planting your feet on a rib each (and hearing his grunt of surprise) you reached out with your other hand and drove your palm straight into the space between his eyes, the surprise of the movement enough to cause him to be pushed back slightly. Using the hand on his collarbone you pulled yourself up into a strange half-stance, lifting yourself out of the hand he was using to hold you up and free of the one he had used to grip your face.
You were left standing on his ribs and hanging onto his collarbone, like you were climbing a very strange bony ladder. Snapping your hand away from his face, not wanting any part of you that close to his mouth for too long, you used your forearm to give the hand near your face a mighty shove, only budging it an inch.
“Hands. Off,” you hissed.
He stared up at you, eyelights constricted to the size of a coin, very clearly not expecting your extreme reaction. The room was eerily silent.
A heartbeat passed.
Then two.
Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter, the force of it nearly jostling you from your perch on his chest. His hands left where they had been hovering near you to hold his sides, magic crackling at the corners of his sockets and forming little glowing red tears.
To your right, Papyrus was glaring at his brother, tail lashing in irritation at his antics. Gaster’s hands were still clasped behind his back, though even he was looking on at the scene with no small amount of disdain. At the base of the stairs, your mother and father were watching in horror, your mother clutching your father’s arm in growing alarm.
You were utterly stunned at this response, still hanging onto him, the adrenaline spike you got when he tried to kiss you beginning to wane and leaving you too dumbfounded to be scared for the moment.
Just as his laughter began to subside you felt his tail lash around your waist, plucking you off of him with a yelp as it wound up your chest, holding you suspended in the air in front of him.
He reached up and wiped away a tear that had slid down his cheekbone, hissing chuckles escaping as his shoulders still shook as he tried to get ahold of himself again. “stars, princess, you’re a little spitfire, aren’t you?” He watched as you tried to pry his tail from around you, squirming in his grip, taking in the little, breathless gasp you made when he squeezed a little tighter.
You glared at him as you tried to force your fingers between his tail and yourself. The stress of the past six months, the dread on the journey here, and the indignation you suffered at his crude advances while your kingdom, your people being bartered over….
All of it got the better of you in this moment as you snarled back, “And you are a conniving snake, though right now all I see is a pig.”
No sooner had the words left your mouth that you felt his tail shoot up from your chest toward your neck. Your cry of surprise caught in your throat as you felt cold scales wrap around your throat, your hands flying to grip at it in a desperate attempt to pry it off even as you felt the tip of it circle round once and half again. Behind you your parents cried out, your mother screaming your name as your father cried for Gaster to stop him.
Sans took up all of your vision, his eyelights burning in their intensity with a sharpness to his smile that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Curiously, you could feel no anger or malice in his stare, or the way he was holding you - he could have snapped your neck, or crushed your body in his coils like a grape, but he was holding you tightly, yet carefully. Tight enough to keep you from slipping free, but not painfully so. Even the grip he had on your neck wasn’t choking; it was firm, and you knew that if he really wanted to he could crush your windpipe with a twitch, but it felt like it was more there for appearances, to scare you with what he could do.
(That wasn’t to say it wasn’t working, you were thoroughly terrified and so were your parents, by the sound of the shouting and begging behind you.)
You felt his claws thread through the intricate braids and pins in your hair, enough for him to get a grip and force you to tilt your head back to look up at him. You couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped at the sensation, still clutching the coils around your neck.
“so feisty,” he said slowly, his voice low with a husky growl that made your stomach plummet. He forced your head to tilt back just a little further, his tongue snaking out of his mouth to lick across his teeth as he held you closer. His voice dropped even lower, a whispered secret to only be shared with you. “i like that.”
“Sans,” Gaster growled out in warning. “That is enough.”
Sans’ eyelights twitched to his father for a moment, his smile falling slightly, but he obeyed, and you felt yourself being lowered back to the floor. You couldn’t hear your parents’ sighs of relief over the sound of your heartbeat hammering in your ears, jolting slightly when you felt your feet touch the floor. You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding when his coils slipped away from you, reaching up to touch your neck with a shudder as you swallowed.
Your relief was short-lived as a heavy hand slid gently over your back, drawing you closer until you were pulled right up against him. You let out a small gasp, pulling your arms up to try to create some space before you were pressed against Sans’ waist, right up against the sash and jeweled belts he wore. You tried to push against him, not wanting to touch him more than necessary, but his grip held firm, his massive hand covering most of your back and part of your shoulder. When you looked up at him his gaze was not on you, but on your parents, who were still watching fearfully at the foot of the steps.
“such a pretty little princess you have,” he said softly, his voice low and playful, but the way he stared out at your parents was anything but. “i think i’ll keep her.”
Your blood ran cold at his words, your whole body going rigid in his hold while you heard your parents cry out behind you. “Please no!” you heard your mother shout, and from the small scuffle you heard you assumed your father was holding her back from charging up the stairs to pry you away from him.
“Why?!” You managed to turn just enough to see your father, the color drained from his face as he addressed the three of them. “You took our kingdom, our son, now you would take our daughter from us as well?!”
“she hurt my feelings,” Sans said, the faux hurt in his voice completely spoiled by the mocking grin on his face. “besides, it’d be a shame to separate them, wouldn’t it?” Shivering, you looked up at him just in time to meet his gaze as he looked down at you, still trapped against his side.
“wouldn’t you like to see your brother again, princess?” he purred, sockets lidding as your mouth dropped open in growing horror. “after all…” The hand that pressed against your back lifted, a large bony finger sliding under your chin to tilt your face up toward his. “keeping you would give your brother something to focus on when recovering…something to look forward to during his training….” His voice dropped lower as he spoke, his thumb gently brushing the skin of your cheek. “something to keep him in line …if he wants to keep you safe.” As he spoke, he carefully took hold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his sockets narrowing ever so slightly at your frightened expression, drinking in your reactions.
“All the better to ensure your cooperation,” Gaster added, and when you managed to tear your gaze away you could see him folding his hands behind his back. “Rest assured, we will not harm your children…provided you uphold your end of the bargain.” His gaze was cool and stony as he stared them down, unwavering.
You weren’t sure what was worse, in that moment - seeing the expressions of shock and grief and impotent outrage on your parents’ faces, or that neither of them tried to speak out against this. They couldn’t, you knew they couldn’t…but it still hurt all the same. You could see your father’s jaw was clenched, hands held tightly in fists at his side, while your mother clutched his arm and looked close to tears. The amount of restraint they were showing not to try to come to your rescue must have been tremendous.
After a long, tense moment of silence, Gaster spoke again. “I believe this concludes our negotiations,” he said slowly, his tone one of clear dismissal. If it weren’t for the dead silence in the room, you might have missed your mother’s choked sob. Your father looked ashen, having lost so much in just one day, and then this.
You tried to cry out to them, the dread of knowing this would be the last time you would see them welling up inside you too much to stifle, but before you could get the beginnings of a word out Sans covered your mouth with his hand, fingers curling around your head and neck as he tugged you back against him. Your hands flew to his, squirming as you tried to pry it off, but to no avail. He didn’t seem the slightest bit put off at your struggling, content to hold you close as he watched to see what they would do. Your struggling hadn’t gone unnoticed, only adding onto the horror and despair of the situation as they could only watch this monster manhandle their poor, frightened daughter.
Gaster nodded towards the servants that still stood behind them, watching the scene in stoic (or perhaps fearful) silence. “You may escort the king and queen back to their quarters. Make sure they have everything they will need for the journey back.”
For a moment it looked like the two were going to fight Gaster’s dismissal, but the servants stepped forward, wordlessly gesturing toward the door. Your father’s shoulders sagged in defeat, and you could see your mother couldn’t stop the tears from falling as they were led away. You struggled, feeling your vision beginning to blur with unshed tears as you reached out toward them, but the hand covering your mouth didn’t budge.
You saw their devastated, heartbroken faces as they looked back at you one last time before the doors closed with a resounding boom behind them.
Your whole body went cold, your breath caught in your throat as your arm fell back to your side. The silence was deafening…until Gaster spoke again.
He turned to Sans, a look of clear exasperation on his face. “Was that really necessary, Sans?” he asked irritably. “The whole point of this meeting was to establish relations, not to incite reason for rebellion.”
Sans met his gaze with a shrug and a lazy grin. “you can’t get too mad, remember this is the first time i’ve asked for something during this whole campaign.” He seemed to have forgotten that he was still holding you hostage, since you had stopped struggling. At least you thought he had, until you felt his thumb gently petting the back of your neck. “and papyrus asked for the human that gave him his newest scar, what’s wrong with me asking for the girl?”
“THE HUMAN WAS A SKILLED WARRIOR AND WOULD MAKE FOR A VALUABLE ADDITION TO OUR ARMY, PROVIDED HE RECOVERS FROM HIS INJURIES,” Papyrus snapped, glaring at him. “I CAN THINK OF VERY LITTLE USE FOR THE PRINCESS, EXCEPT TO INDULGE IN SOME SORDID FANTASY OF YOURS.”
You flinched at that, eyes going wide with fright. W- What?!
“easy, bro, you’ll scare her,” he said, scolding his brother gently. He looked down at you fondly, finally removing his hand from over your mouth. You tried to back up but found his hand hadn’t strayed far, gently catching you around your back. His touch was careful, like if he moved too quickly or was too forceful you would fall apart in his hand.
You fought down the tears that had threatened to spill as you looked up at him, arms clutched to your chest protectively. “W-wha-” Dammit your voice was wavering. You had to pause to swallow and steady your voice. You were royalty, you needed to be strong, for your family and your people. You took a breath and tried again. “What do you want with me?” you asked more steadily.
Sans blinked, surprised at your attempt at poise, before barking out a laugh. “come now, princess, there’s no need for false bravado here. besides, you didn’t really think i would actually hurt you, did you?” His hand slid lower down your back, cupping it and lifting you in his hold ever so slightly. “that was just something i said to scare the king and queen a little, to keep them from getting any unwise ideas.” His sockets lidded, the lights in his sockets fuzzy but burning with such intensity you felt a creeping shiver crawl over your body.
“as for what i want with you, well….”
You couldn’t stop the flinch when you heard the gentle hiss of scales gliding against stone, tearing your gaze away from him just long enough to look fearfully at the section of his lower body that had curled itself around you. You felt the coolness of his scales through your dress as it brushed against the back of your thighs.
“you interest me,” he said simply as you looked back up at him. “it was fun playing with you earlier, seeing you get all scared before you found your courage.” His grin turned more sharp as he leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper. “not just anyone can get away with calling the prince of the new empire a pig, after all.”
You swallowed, paling considerably at this. You hadn’t meant to lose your temper and speak out of turn like that, and briefly you wondered what horrible consequences he probably had planned for you (or worse, your family, or your people ). But then he let out a gruff chuckle, clearly able to read where your thoughts were going.
“relax, like i said i have no interest in hurting you,” he said softly, his tone reassuring even as his coils pressed closer, more firm in their hold on you. “no, despite what you may think of me, i would never do something so barbaric…at least, to a lady.” You felt his body shift, his coils overlapping each other as you felt a growing pressure against your legs and back. For a moment you wondered what he was doing, fearing you might lose your balance, but then you were scooped off the ground, the thick muscle of his tail holding you in a strange seated position as you were lifted closer to his face. You gasped, your fear of touching him momentarily forgotten as you tried to brace yourself.
“no, i think it would be far more entertaining to take you in as my pet,” he purred, his warm breath washing over your face. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open slightly as you registered what he just said, much to his delight and amusement. He chuckled again, gliding the back of his finger up your cheek. “ohh yesss, it would make your punishment much more fun , and i can get more… creative.” You didn’t miss the way his gaze raked over your body, lingering on certain areas that made your skin crawl and a blush rise to your face despite how cold you felt all over at his words.
He drew back his hand and slowly lowered you toward the floor. “it’s been a long day for you, i’m sure,” he said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just insinuated something utterly dreadful - “and you’re probably eager to return to your chambers. seeing as negotiations are complete, there’s no reason for us to stay any longer.” Your feet gently met the floor, but you were too shaken to stand, still reeling from everything. Gaster and Papyrus were already getting ready to leave, marking their copy of the map and talking quietly about what their next move would be and having little interest in Sans’ conversation with his newly acquired prize.
Sans didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull away from you, either. He seemed to take your reluctance to stand as a sign of permission, squeezing you ever so slightly. “how about i carry you back to your chambers?” he whispered softly, already dragging you along with him as he sunk into the shadows towards one of the corridors leading out of the throne room. “we’ll give you a chance to recover, get something to eat, maybe give you something to help you sleep….”
You were snapped out of your daze as the shadow of the archway fell over you, and you looked up into his eyes, burning like two embers in a dying hearth. The shadows swallowed you, and in the way he towered over you, suspended in his coils, you suddenly felt very small, little more than a mouse before him.
“then, come the morning, we’ll be on our way to your new home.”