Chapter Text
There is something picturesque about late summers to King—no, Groundkeeper Asgore. Sure, the scorching days made him sweat horribly and made him wish he could shave all the fur of his body, but this was also the time of year where his prized dahlia flowers are flourishing in front of the school. He remembers how his mother grew them in her old courtyard and how impressive at the hardiness of these little plants. The man shakes his head, chuckling and scanning the results of his handiwork.
The schoolyard is nothing short of a botanical garden, filled with the brightest of petals to subdue but atheistically and accenting pleasing floral arrangement. The children of the school usually took their lunch to sit in the yard, admiring the beautiful atmosphere of the grounds. Since its summer, not a lot of children visit the ground as they are on summer vacation. In a week it will change as school will be back in session.
Asgore sighs and leans on the creaky, refurbished shed that he calls his home. In his mind is a reminder that soon enough it would have been 15 years since leaving the underground. The feeling is quite poignant to him, and certainly to the others from the underground. Frisk moved to another continent to work as a humanitarian aid for both humans and monsters. Once a month he would get a postcard from Frisk along with the story of the adventures they went on. Frisk always looked so happy doing what they always wanted to do: helping others. Asgore will never forget how much Frisk helped him when he needed it the most. He will never forget the advice Frisk gave him, which to this day echoes in his thoughts.
To err is human AND monster. To forgive, is divine.
Asgore nods absentmindedly as if Frisk was in front of him, talking at that very moment. His eyes lulls halfway as he enjoys the nostalgic memories of his old friend and the cool shade provided by the shed’s roof. The precious daylight was slowly dimming and the serendipitous melody of cicadas and crickets fill the air. A light breeze swept over the land, cooling the sweat on the gigantic beast’s brow and filling the senses with a strong scent of freshly cut grass from earlier mowing. Delighted by how this evening is going, Asgore’s back slowly slides down the side of the shack to sit down on the ground with a muted “thump”.
The horizon turns into a clash of warm orange flaring in conflict against the cool bluish-purple sky overtaking it. As day retires into its evening slumber, night dominates the sky. Stars begin to speckle the dark canvas above the school. Asgore opens a lazy eye, simpering at the marvels of life. He notice however, there was another light. One of the classroom lights in the school was turned on, shining through the glass pane. He found it quite odd this time of year for someone to be in the building and that he didn’t hear anyone come onto the grounds. Picking himself up and dusting off the cut grass from his pants, Asgore goes to investigate of who is inside the school. He carefully treads to the window and looks inside. A smile inches on his face.
There, at the principal’s desk, sits a shorter female goat monster looking over a pile of documents. She absentmindedly takes a sip of tea sitting on a coaster on her table, unaware that a hulking goat-man was peering in. The woman kept a neat appearance from horns to feet, as did the office. Her gaze is laced with both motherly tenderness and deep carmine which feels like it sparks warmth even when she’s merely reading. Asgore simper turns languid, wondering if he should greet the woman or go back to his abode to retire for the evening. With a sigh, it was with a heavy heart that he decided to greet her when she was not wallowing in work. He turns on his grass-stained heels to head back. Before he even takes his first step, the sound of the window opening could be heard.
“Oh, good evening Asgore!” greeted the woman. Asgore’s ear pricks slightly at the sound of her silvery voice, turning his head to face her. He waves and replies, “Howdy! Erm, Good evening Tori…el.”
Toriel. That name still tightens his throat and chokes him.
“How was your summer?” She asks, putting her elbows on the window sill. Asgore takes a hesitant step towards Toriel, rubbing at the back of his head.
“Ah, well…” He begins, trying to pick the words out the air as his hand moves around with little rhyme or reason. “I spent this summer planting some new annuals and trees over near the playground. I also had a barbeque with Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys out over near the ol’ shack. All in all, I was just getting things ready for, erm, the new semester.” Toriel nodded, smiling at him. Asgore held his breath quietly, patiently observing the goatwoman.
“That seems like a nice way to spend a summer. I went to visit Frisk in Thailand for about six weeks to see the new project I’ve been hearing about. The humanitarian group was about to go to a dilapidated farming village there and help repair the area. There were so many cute animals and the villagers were very kind, even if there was a language barrier.”
“Oh my, that is wonderful. I am glad you and Frisk got to see each other.” Asgore chuckles. “Anything else?”
“Frisk asked how Mister Dadguy was doing.” Toriel chuckles.
“Well, despite being sweaty from this weather, I think I’m doing all right for myself! Frisk shouldn’t have to worry about an old man like me!” A weaker laugh escapes Asgore’s mouth. Toriel picked up on the old king’s sudden dithered anxiety. She motions for him to come closer with her hand. His legs felt like anchors to the ground, but when he finally arrived she took his hand between hers and sandwiches them slightly. A slight trickle was felt down Asgore’s throat as he tried to embody and understand the emotion running through him.
“Asgore. You mean a lot to Frisk, and that is not an understatement.” She began with a sigh that can rival the first breath of a summer day. “I know it was hard when Frisk grew up. But, I think you did an excellent job filling the part of the father figure.”
Toriel pauses to hear Asgore, as he opened his mouth. The only sound that could be heard was the crickets and the awkward silence between them. The pregnant pause was broken with a throaty request.
“Can, uh, erm, I come in? That, uh, is if you, uh, don’t mind me coming in.”
After a small consideration, Toriel nods. “Yes, yes. Come in, Asgore.”
He nods and hurries himself to the front. He takes a deep breath, opens the door, and enters. He contemplates on why he decided to continue working at the school long after Frisk graduated. “This is your life now.”
His meticulous strides soon halted as he stumbles upon the principal’s office. He raises a fist to knock at the door but he was a moment too late as it swings open with a whining creak of the hinges. Toriel stands on the other side looking up at the beast of a man. She bows her head, gestures, and invites the man in to her office.