Chapter Text
He was lost in the woods.
Well, that wasn’t exactly right- to be lost, he must have a home, somewhere to be found. That is not the case any longer. His home was destroyed when the Empress Undyne invaded the surface and killed six humans from his town, and it was lost when the old barrier broke and the monsters returned with her.
He didn’t know where his family was. He didn’t know if he had a family anymore. He didn’t know why the monsters returned with cries of sorrow instead of revenge (not to say there was a lack of that, either). The only person who could have known was the elderly Frisk, who was the only human to fall to Mt Ebott and survive with tales of their heroic adventure, but they were the first human that the Empress Undyne had killed (and the only human she had personally sought out, too. He remembered the tales Frisk had told everyone and wondered if he should have been surprised).
That, however, was months ago. His town was the first to be overrun. He fled. The second war between humans and monsters had officially begun.
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And now he was lost in the woods. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad; this was apparently the season for fruits and berries, and summer camp had taught him how to build a temporary night-long shelter from sticks and leaves. He avoided stagnant water, and filtered what he found as best as he could. He was doing perfectly fine.
There was no one else.
(He was perfectly fine.)
The last time he talked to someone was… well…
(He was perfectly fine.)
It was a monster, and it got up close, and it opened its mouth-
(he was perfec tly fine.)
it screamed, then, asking why he needs to be so cruel, why humans have to be so soulless even with their souls-
(he wa s per fect ly f i n e)
and he begged the monster for mercy because he didn’t do anything he was just a kid he was only ten he’s wearing a striped sweater and i t w a s n ‘ t h i s f a u l t
(h e w a s p e r f e c t l y f i n e)
Yes, he surmised, the forest wasn’t so bad. Really, the only thing he can complain about is the ground. It makes it hard for him to sleep.
(He is doing okay, because believing this is the only way he can keep what little determination he has.)
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Sans doesn’t really know what to think of the recent war. He knows that Toriel is infuriated, because she remembers when humans were friends and she remembers the children she loved and she cannot help but love the rest of the race because of this.
Sans only knew one of the humans very well, very personally, from many perspectives, and he always wonders why out of all the timelines they created they chose to stick with the one where they killed nearly everyone they came across. Logically, he realizes that he shouldn’t judge an entire race based on the actions of one—but he is a pessimist at heart, and he knows that there are many on the surface just like them, and he thinks of how even if they all managed to get to the top peacefully the humans would probably not want them there anyway.
He and Toriel never talk about it. They know that she is against it and he doesn’t have the power to be against it, and they live with unsaid words floating in the air between them because neither of them can stand to hear about what the other thinks of the war.
(But they also live with smiles and jokes and laughs and warm hugs and finally, finally being able to look at the stars and though they don’t talk about this they talk about other things and he thinks it’s okay if they keep this topic to themselves.)
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The last human to fall down—the human whose soul Undyne had taken—was a bright, fiery orange. It hurt Sans to look at them.
The human hadn’t killed anything, as far as he was aware, but that was mostly because there wasn’t anything in the Ruins to kill anymore. They had come across Sans and Toriel sitting by the black tree that has no leaves and froze and then Toriel invited them in for tea and pie. They agreed and followed Toriel into the house without sparing a glance at Sans.
While there, they painted a story for their hosts. An incomplete story, but a story nonetheless. They spoke of the town hero, Frisk, how they fell to the Underground but realized too late that they wanted to live. How they were attacked, over and over again, and sometimes they tried to spare the monsters but they became overwhelmed and began to kill out of fear. How they went through the entire world and killed each time they were attacked because they were trying to defend themselves. The human mentioned two monsters in particular Frisk had spared, one because she was the only mother they would have and the other because she accused them of being a murderer and they wanted to prove that they weren’t.
Sans was surprised. He thought that the humans would assume that the monsters were a myth after so long of being trapped. As it turns out, not only do human sorcerers still exist—albeit in weaker and smaller numbers—but there were a few (very few) monsters who had escaped the fate of exile, and their descendants were roaming the continent to this day.
(The human didn’t mention how these monsters live in fear and prejudice, how they were nearly slaves for their magic, how they nearly wished they were underground with the others, how someone would spit on them and all others would laugh—they didn’t mention this because they didn’t know to mention it. This treatment was completely normal, after all.)
Toriel knew this story. Sans had told her, a long time ago, of the different timelines, the different paths Frisk had taken (kill everybody; kill nobody; kill only one) and how, in this time—the one they apparently thought was best, the one they chose to settle in—Toriel and Undyne were the only ones to survive against them. She knew this. She’s heard this before. But, somehow, this human makes it even more real, they paint Frisk as a hero, they are loved in their town and they are one of the oldest there. They paint the relentless killer as the suffering saint.
Toriel does not know what to think about them anymore. She does not tell Sans this, and he doesn’t know.
Eventually, the human is done with their pie and their tea and their story and so they leave. Toriel doesn’t make much of an attempt to stop them, because they are orange and they are an adult and she knows her efforts will be fruitless (and, secretly, she wants to see the stars again).
It’s nearly two weeks later when she hears word of the broken barrier, long after all the other monsters have invaded the surface. Sans continues not to question where she hears her information. He suspects it has to do with wherever she manages to buy groceries.
They leave the Ruins. They bring nothing. They pass by Snowdin, and Waterfall, and Hotland, and they would ask the River Person for a ride except they have gone too and Sans would take Toriel on a shortcut except it’s been far too long since he has been able to walk through his home. Everything is empty. They reach the Core.
They do not go to the coffins in the room below.
They go to the Throne Room. Undyne’s shiny silver throne is empty and beginning to gather dust, and this time there are two seats in the back covered in cloth.
They find the room where the barrier was, and they go further.
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There was a forest beneath the mountain, and in the distance, a town. Toriel says she believes that it’s where Frisk is from. Neither of them believe that Frisk is there anymore.
The walk through the forest is pleasant, and stargazing in the clearing they settled on even more so. Sans never hoped to believe he’d be able to see actual stars in this timeline, despite what he promised Toriel (he promised that, when they finally get to the surface, they would stare at the stars and he would point them all out to her, and then he promised that they would enjoy rainstorms together. With her, it was always “when”).
Sans and Toriel never really left that clearing. It was perfect for watching the sunset and sunrise through the trees, there were no leaves or branches overhead to cover the sky, and there was an abundance of berry bushes close by. Eventually a small shack had appeared at the edge of the space—only used for sleeping, and only then sometimes, because the outside world was a gift neither of them wanted to take for granted.
The months passed. There were picnics and jokes and they could never forget their sadness but they had learned to be happy with it in the Ruins and it was much easier to be happy with it in a (nearly) perfect world.
There is no talk about the war.
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He doesn’t remember how long he’s been wandering around the forest before he starts crying.
It was inevitable. He is ten years old, he doesn’t know if his family is alive, he’s been living on berries and weeds and sleeping under sticks and grass and he grew up talking to someone every day but now there is no one but him.
Regardless, he is ashamed. He’s fine, he’s okay, he is alive and surviving and before this he was never allowed to go into the forest alone so that’s good, right?
But he sobs and he sobs and he sometimes forgets to breathe in and his back is rattling with the effort. In the edges of his vision there are arms, reaching out to grab him, to take his soul and crush it and tell him that he’s fine because it’s his kind that are the truly soulless ones. He is terrified and it makes him cry harder.
He doesn’t know how long it takes, but eventually he runs out of tears and he gets his breath back and he stands back up and starts walking because he is fine. He’s okay now.
Eventually he finds some sticks and leaves and grass and creates a makeshift shelter that’s only big enough to lie down in. He crawls inside.
He doesn’t sleep.
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The next day he opens his eyes. There’s sunlight beyond the leaves, and he takes that as his cue to start moving again. He can’t really remember why he needs to keep going through the forest, but he feels safer the farther he walks.
With relish he kicks off the large branch that was supporting the smaller twigs and leaves, and the debris flutters on and around him. This, he believes, must be the best part about not having adult supervision—being able to wake up whenever he feels like and kicking whatever he wants. It’s pretty great.
He stands up and bends to get the branch he’s been carting around. He doesn’t have any of his actual belongings with him, so he grabbed the largest branch he could find to carry with him because it felt weird not to own anything. It’s served him well thus far.
The only thing he does to prepare for his continued journey is look around and pick a direction he hasn’t come from. He suspects that this method has been bringing him closer to Mt Ebott, but he reasons that all the monsters have probably left by now so it’s safe. Safer than anywhere else nearby, at least.
And so he walks.
And walks.
Sometimes he sits down to rest his legs, but lately being still during the day is a bad thought. It’s easier for things to spot him with the sun out, and even though he doesn’t think there are any monsters around that area he thinks that it’s also worse to be still in the light.
He’s been in the forest a long time, he thinks, and he’s been walking for most of that time. His sweater is in tatters and his shorts are stained and he has scratches on his legs and he is used to all of this and he thinks it’s a habit by now to wake up and pick a direction and walk.
This day is different, though. It’s a strange break in routine
He walks, and at one point he hears the soft murmuring of voices saying indistinguishable things. At first he thinks he’s imagining it, because it wouldn’t be the first time to think that the wind is voices, but as he continues walking it gets louder and less indistinguishable and he thinks at least one person is laughing very, very hard.
He’s excited. Of course he is, these are people, they’re humans, and he doesn’t know when the last time he properly talked to someone was (he’s still not sure if the monsters count) but it has been too long and he has the potential to be happy now.
He starts to run, even though his legs are aching, they have been ever since he stood up that morning, but he runs and steps on every branch and he’s not sure if the voices are still there but he follows them anyway.
Then he stops, because he is at a small clearing, and he can see Mt Ebott at a distance, and in the middle are not humans and they are staring
right
at
him