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“Do you think even the worst person can change…? That everyone can be a good person, if they just try?”
—Dreemurr, Toriel, Untitled, Royal Archives, 29 ABE
“I did it— I killed him.” A young skeleton sobbed it to his mentor’s thick fur.
“It’s ok son. You fought for your kingdom today.” King Asgore comforted, holding the child close.
“I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“I know. It’s alright. It wasn’t your fault.” A light blue soul floated gently inside its container on the floor at the king’s feet. He eyed it forlornly as he soothed the skeleton. It should have been me. He told himself. I should have known he wasn’t ready for the responsibility. He’s just a kid.
“I’m sorry son.” Asgore said out loud as the skeleton pulled away, sniffling and drying up the last of his tears with his jacket sleeve.
When he had composed himself, the skeleton walked out of the flowery throne room, slowly and silently. The goat king watched as the kid stepped through the doorway and disappeared in a flash of gentle blue. Asgore picked up the soul container and walked back to his throne, sitting down with a heavy sigh. He looked into the container, meditating on the peacefully glowing heart inside. Was he really the good guy? Was all this really worth it? How many mistakes had he made? How many more mistakes would he make? Large tears began to fall, splattering off the glass container in the king’s paws. He set it down beside his throne, letting it rest in the soft flowerbed. He buried his head in his paws and wept to no one. How many lives did he have to ruin? No, how many lives had he chosen to ruin? There were no excuses.
“You broke him. I hope you know that.” Asgore looked up to see Toriel standing in the doorway, anger and sadness swirling chaotically in her eyes.
“Tori…”
“It's really quite impressive.” Asgore’s ex-wife continued. “You managed to kill a human, and ruin that poor skeleton’s life, all from the comfort of your throne. You must feel so accomplished.” The king stood up, preparing an angry reply, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew Toriel was right. “Now look at you, feeling sorry for yourself.” The goat woman went on, approaching Asgore. “You cry, to convince yourself you have any remorse. But the truth is, you don’t care. You never knew that human, and now you never will.” Toriel was right in front of the king now, close enough that they were almost touching. Toriel towered over her ex-husband despite their similar height.
“It had to be done.” Asgore whispered, looking down at his feet.
“NO!” Toriel screamed, shoving Asgore so that he stumbled and fell awkwardly back into his throne. He stayed seated, knowing it was pointless to fight back.
“You’re a COWARD!” Puffs of black smoke spouted from Toriel’s nostrils as she spat out her words with a ferocity Asgore had never seen in anyone else.
“Tori, please—” The king said, trying to settle the tone to a more discussable level. It didn’t work.
“Patrick was a child!”
“I don’t want to know their name.”
“You’re killing children, Asgore! Children!”
“It has to be done.” Asgore repeated.
“No” Toriel pronounced darkly, her tone dropping dangerously. “You’re nothing but a wretched monster, and you don’t deserve to be king.”
The goat woman summoned a few flames in her paw, then dropped it to her side, letting the fire fall to ground and catch on the flowers covering the throne room’s floor. Asgore watched, knowing the gesture was relatively harmless, but getting the message. Toriel walked out of the room, having said all she came to say. The king waited as the golden flowers at his feet all slowly curled up under the magical heat and withered into ash. When the last of the flames had gone out, Asgore grabbed the soul container and carried it down into the basement, setting it beside the deep purple soul he already had collected. Having done this, he walked back to the empty throne room, which was now filled with darkness by the coming night. The dejected king sat down on the floor, in the ash, in his ruined garden.
He curled up and wept then, like a pitiful child.
Asgore, the Great King of Monsters, wept, and was truly alone.