Chapter Text
10.
Pain.
You’re no stranger to pain. Your whole world has been pain for as long as you can remember.
But this is different. A sharp throbbing in your leg, constant and screaming agony that is impossible to ignore, unlike the numbness of the dull throbbing you’ve experienced since you were big enough to walk. Your vision is black and spotty from how much pain you’re in, or maybe you hit your head harder than you realized. You’re trembling so hard trying to reach your leg that it barely registers when you realize that a fragment of bone has pierced through the skin.
The scream leaves your lips before you realize what you’re doing. For a moment, you forget why you climbed the mountain. You don’t think about wanting to die. The human body’s natural urge for self-preservation kicks in and you whimper, “Help me.”
But nobody comes.
You’re there for a while, bleeding out onto the cold stone of the rocks you’ve fallen on. How could this happen. How could you mess up dying.
Eventually, you hear the distant sound of chatter and footsteps. You’re not sure whether you’re just delusional or whether there’s actually somebody coming for you, but you scream out for help once more anyways.
There are footsteps approaching you as your vision fades entirely. A high-pitched but gentle voice asking you if you’re alright as something soft brushes against your face.
You can’t force your eyes open, but you make a pained noise.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, stay with me, okay? We’re going to get you help.” You have to be dead. There’s no way that this is actually happening. There’s nobody else underground.
“Just listen to my voice, alright?” You make a noise. “Come on, help is on the way. Try and stay awake. What’s your name?”
The question grounds you a bit. You still can’t force your eyes open- your head is throbbing too hard- but, after choking on coughs a few times, you force out, “Chara.”
“Chara, huh? That’s a nice name.” The voice has a smile in it. “My name is-”
You lose consciousness.
-----
Asriel.
Your savior.
You hate him.
He’s the reason you’ve been stuck in this damn infirmary for over a week now as you’re healed by what they claim to be magic. For some reason, that part is what’s difficult to believe despite the clear fact that the ones performing it are monsters.
Monsters are easy to believe in. They’re tangible. Magic can’t be for real; you can’t make problems disappear that easily.
When Asriel and his father Asgore- the king of this underworld, you’d learned- first brought you back to the castle’s infirmary, you’d slept for two days. They hadn’t thought you were going to wake up.
You’d been drifting in and out of consciousness even as your body slept. You were hoping that you wouldn’t wake up.
When you first awoke fully, you’d been in a room of monsters. The king and queen- Asgore and Toriel- along with two monster nurses. For a moment, you’d been sure that you were dead.
But then you felt the pain and knew that you couldn’t be. The pain wasn’t supposed to exist after death. That was why you’d wanted to die in the first place.
After they calmed you down- an impressive feat, considering your initial jerk had ripped an IV out of your arm and that had only freaked you out more- the king and queen sat down to speak to you. They’d introduced themselves before asking your name, which you’d reluctantly told them. Toriel had repeated it softly to herself with a small smile.
Obviously, they were much happier about you being there than you were.
“I don’t want to stay here,” you told them before they could ask you anything else. I want to be dead. “How do I leave?”
Toriel’s smile faded slowly. The two monsters exchanged a look.
“Well, we certainly don’t want to force you to stay here,” Asgore started, “but it’s not exactly… safe… for you to leave the castle right now.”
“Most of the monsters in the Underground aren’t really… used to humans,” Toriel explained. “We don’t know exactly how they’d react to seeing you. It’s best for you to stay for a while until they get acclimated to your presence.”
You’d been infuriated. You’d argued with them until it became clear that they weren’t budging, for whatever reason.
After that, you refuse to talk to them when they come in. The first time you officially (consciously) meet their son Asriel, the one who’d brought you here, you glare hard enough that he shrinks back and scurries out of the room.
You don’t expect to see any more of him, but he returns the next day, albeit a bit sheepishly and approaching you slowly as if you’re a scared animal. He has what looks like a sketchpad clutched in his paws with a pencil stuck through the binding at the top.
Instead of glaring, you just stare at the items. Asriel lingers awkwardly in the doorway before taking a step inside.
When he approaches your bed, you snap a panicked look at him. He hurriedly sets the book down at the end of the cot before retreating a few steps.
“In case you want something to do,” he says simply. He forces a small smile that has you more confused than anything else.
And that’s all he says before leaving.
You don’t give in to the temptation until the next day, when you reluctantly find yourself doodling the golden flowers from your village. The only color in a world so far full of bleakness.
They let you out of the infirmary on day eight. You’re hardly able to walk- your leg had been healed by magic, the bone no longer snapped, but it was tender and sometimes the muscles twitched involuntarily.
You get a room all to yourself in the castle. You’re surprised to learn that the royal family doesn’t actually really live in the castle itself, but more so in the small house right outside of it that they’d dubbed “New Home.” The castle was only for legal matters, royal events, and housing its staff.
They apologize for not having an extra room in New Home for you. As if you’re a part of their family.
You’re invited to eat meals with them in New Home, but you refuse. Your stomach is doing somersaults and you don’t know if it’s a result of the magic or just your nerves.
You start to feel sick and weak by day twelve and resign to eat dinner with the family.
It’s not awkward, as you expect it to be. The king and queen talk amongst themselves and with Asriel as casually as always, not ignoring your presence but not forcing you into a conversation. You appreciate it more than they probably realize.
Asriel keeps sneaking glances at you. You don’t pretend not to notice; instead, you meet his stare, making his white face redden as he hurriedly looks away.
Eventually, he looks at you and blurts, “How did you fall down here?”
You can tell that he’s just curious, not meaning it as anything accusatory, but you flinch all the same. His dark eyes soften a bit and his face flashes with an apology.
The chair squeaks loudly against the floor as you stand up. Asgore starts to say something, but Toriel silences him with a hand on his arm and nobody stops you as you practically run back into the castle and to the room somehow designated as yours.
After that, you take your meals in your room.
You hide in there with the door locked and Toriel leaves plates of food right outside. It usually takes you a few hours to work up the nerve to open the door and take it, and it’s always miraculously still hot when you do.
It’s by far the best food you’ve ever had. Your stomach doesn’t know how to react to eating so much when you usually go days in between meals.
By day twenty-two (you’ve been keeping tallies in the sketchbook that Asriel had given to you and had yet to ask for back) you’re a pacing mess, nervous and antsy and practically ripping your own hair out. You only sleep when Toriel uses magic to continue healing you and the side effects make you drowsy. At night, you lay awake and stare at the ceiling as your breath comes out ragged and uneven.
You can’t sleep in a room so big. Your queen-sized bed is in the center of the room and you’re practically swimming in it. When the lights are out and you can’t see anything, you’re unsettled knowing that there’s so much empty space surrounding you. That you’re so exposed.
Despite this, you haven’t asked about leaving anymore.
You’re sure the royal family hasn’t noticed your state of distress. What little they see of you probably has them thinking that you’re doing well- and you are, compared to where you were. You were bony and frail when you’d fallen, and your cheeks had filled out more even just in a few weeks.
You only ever leave your room to sneak to the bathroom or when you have weekly check-ups with the royal scientist, Dr. Gaster (he’s more of an inventor than a biological doctor, but Toriel had assured you that he knew the most about human biology). Toriel is the only one you let into your room, and that’s only for her to administer healing magic to your leg in hopes of diminishing the aches.
A breakdown occurs on the night of day twenty-three after hours of futilely trying to sleep. The darkness was unsettling enough that you eventually had to turn the lights on to get your heartbeat to slow down, and you hate yourself for it. You shouldn’t be afraid of the dark.
None of the monsters down here are afraid of the dark. They’ve lived in it for too long.
You sit on the edge of your bed with the sheets still made-up perfectly and you pant to yourself, desperately trying to slow your breathing as you run your fingers through your hair over and over and over. Calm down, Chara. Don’t be a baby.
A traitorous sob forces its way past your lips. Hot tears hit your bare legs past where your pajama shorts end.
A hesitant knock sounds at the door.
Your head snaps up. It’s the middle of the night; nobody should be down this corridor. The knock didn’t sound like Asgore’s, which was heavy and loud, or like Toriel’s, which was soft but firm. No, it was more like something in-between, and as the servants knew better than to come to your room ever, it had to be Asriel.
You’ve heard him wandering the castle halls sometimes at night. Toriel told you that sometimes he has trouble sleeping and likes to go on walks. He had to have heard you.
You’re too focused on wiping at your eyes with the back of your hands that you forget to tell him not to come in. The door pushes open slowly.
Before the monster prince can take a step inside, you snap, “Get out.” The words are icy and sharp, and the first things that you’ve said to him other than telling him your name in your pained delusional state, but he doesn’t flinch.
He doesn’t get out, either. He takes another step inside, and your eyes narrow.
Your jaw hardens. You’re still trying to steady your breathing, though it’s easier now that you have a distraction. You’re sure that your face is flushed all the way down to your neck from your sobs.
“It’s okay to cry, you know,” Asriel says with a gentle smile, as if he’d read your thoughts. He shuts the door quietly and your eyes snap towards it. You’re trapped. He takes another step forward. “I cry all the time.”
“That- that’s because you’re a crybaby,” you answer quickly, though your voice cracks a bit and reveals your hypocrisy.
Asriel doesn’t take offense, instead laughing at the words. You only glare harder. “Nobody should have to cry. You’re safe here, you know.”
“I wasn’t crying,” you insist again, though when Asriel takes another step forward you’re sure he can see that your cheeks are redder than usual and that your eyes are puffy.
He holds up a hesitant paw before stepping even closer. Your mouth goes dry, and when you don’t protest, he sits down next to you on the edge of the bed. You can feel the heat radiating off of him even with the space between you, and you scoot a few inches away until you’re nearly off the bed.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks.
You stare at him. Dark eyes- you can’t tell if they’re brown or black, but they’re much darker than Toriel’s amber ones- stare back at you, the slightest hint of a kind smile on his face.
“No,” you snap quickly, but you lower your eyes- you can’t take that stare, oh my god- and fold your hands over themselves anxiously. Asriel doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes still trained on your shaking form.
The silence ticks on. There’s a lump in your throat that doesn’t belong there.
“This room is too big. It’s too quiet at night,” you say eventually. The words are as small as you feel right now.
From your peripheral vision, you can see Asriel looking curiously around your room. You’re sure it doesn’t seem too big to him- he’s royalty. Though from what you’ve seen of New Home, his bedroom isn’t even this big. Toriel had told you that they all liked to stay humble.
After a few seconds, Asriel speaks again. “We can move another bed into my room,” he suggests. Your eyes snap up. “Then it’ll be like you only have half the space. Plus, I totally snore at night, so it won’t be that quiet.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes and his friendly smile has grown.
You don’t understand.
You glare at him because you’re sure he’s joking. He’s making fun of you. Why would he be nice to you when you’ve been anything but? He doesn’t even know you. What he does know isn’t good. You’re weird. A freak. Disgusting. Worthless.
So why is he looking at you like that?
You can feel your glare soften on its own. You’re sure you look confused. Asriel just continues to smile, holding your stare until your glare disappears completely. You open your mouth to speak but then snap it shut.
Maybe he’s tired of waiting for you to say something or maybe he can just tell that you’re done speaking for the night- how can he read you so well already?- but either way, he gets up and heads for the door. You don’t stop him.
The next day, you wordlessly begin moving your few belongings into the young prince’s room.