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Ceroba regarded the little tea cup in her hand, a simple thing with the visage of a sleeping fox coiled around its sides and its tail projecting to form the handle. Filled with a golden floral tea, a slightly sweet and earthy scent filled her nose, and a similar taste filled her mouth when she lifted it to take a sip. Overall it was a truly excellent cup of tea, likely the product of centuries of honed skills.
If only this place could be as nice, she thought to herself as she turned her attention to her surroundings. The small dining room, much like the rest of the house, was a sea of gray — an oppressive monotony broken only by the varying shades and the occasional flash of a yellow flower. Ceroba couldn't help but focus on them, demanding her attention as they stood out from the gray like stars in the night sky (or so she assumed). They were impressive, she had to admit; bright and healthy without a hint of blemish, speaking to yet another craft honed over a millenia. Even so, Ceroba couldn't imagine anyone wanting to stay too long — likely explaining why its owner spends much time out and about. And yet she found she would rather focus on it than on the aforementioned owner on the other side of the table.
Asgore, for his part, also looked around nervously, trying to avoid direct eye contact as well. As the silence between them threatened to reach unbearable levels of awkwardness, he finally cleared his throat and spoke “Is the tea to your liking?”
“It is,” she answered, short, curt, trying to focus on anything but him. She doesn't trust herself to speak too long with him lest her contempt starts seeping into her voice. She briefly looked at him long enough to take note of his subtle squirming and wondered to herself how he could have ever been regarded as a mighty and glorious king by the wider underground.
Of course she knew better, and always had when she learned he fired her late husband even though he gave him eight tries. That was the beginning of the end, wasn't it? When he started to seek an alternative solution to protecting the underground and came up with the idea for that damned serum. If only Asgore didn't fire Chujin, he still could have been here if only I wasn't so blind, and confronted him sooner.
“So” his voice interrupted her thoughts. “How is your daughter? I have heard she was one of the ones that Alphys…returned.”
“Hm?” Ceroba perked up. “She is doing well.”
“I hope that my invitation has not…deprived you of your time with her,” Asgore belatedly replied.
Then why did you send the invitation? A venomous thought slithered across her mind. Why didn't you do your job and investigate when we asked you to? Or even just order her to tell the truth? Instead you insisted that Alphys had everything under control and my daughter languished in that basement this whole time! The basement I sent her to. Ceroba seethed silently over the years lost, actively making an effort to keep her expression neutral.
“No,” she answered. “She is with one of her…cohabitants' families at the moment, the Pyropes I believe.” She sighed before taking another sip of her tea. “My own home is no longer suitable for her needs. Thankfully the other families have set aside a guest room for me, so I'll never be too far from her.” She rested her head on her free hand, gazing at a flower absentmindedly. “I plan to fix that with whatever home I build on the surface, though the others insist that I'm still welcome to stay over with them.” She looked up at the ceiling towards nothing in particular. “I might take them up on that offer.”
“That is quite good to hear,” Asgore replied. Ceroba's ears twitched, she couldn't help but hear a faint tone of envy in the response. Did she just imagine it?
“What of your other friends who-” His face fell as he cut himself off, not wanting to bring up the reason he knew them. “I believe their names were Martlet and Starlo. I sent them invitations as well, but only you showed up.”
Ceroba’s eyes narrowed slightly; she could tell there was another question he was wanting to ask. For now, she would play along. “They were busy; the barrier breaking means they need to prepare for the big move.”
This was true for Starlo, who was working with the rest of the Feisty(j) Five to coordinate the Wild East’s migration, with only a moderate amount of resulting shenanigans. For Martlet, it was only true by technicality. The barriers' fall served to tear open the wound caused by Clover’s death, and the fact that the last human (Frisk, she recalled) didn't need to die to free them only rubbed salt on it. Of course Martlet felt bad for feeling bad; after all, she should be happy that Clover’s sacrifice wasn't in vain, that no other humans had to die. And yet she couldn't help but dwell on how unfair it all was. Ceroba could sympathize.
“Oh.” Asgore looked a little sad. “I do hope it won't cause them too much trouble. Speaking of your friends, does Starlo still have that statue?”
Ceroba's eyes narrowed a bit more. “Yes he does.” Her voice carried a harder edge to it. She knew exactly what he was referring to: a memorial to Clover, erected in the Wild East in honor of their sacrifice. It was an earnest gesture of remembrance on behalf of the denizens of the Wild East, but when the wider underground caught wind it caused a bit of controversy. There were those who called it treasonous, particularly the captain of the now defunct royal guard who insisted it was some kind of residual mind control. “Funny,” she thought to herself bitterly, “that she seems to be Frisk's biggest fan now, after all the trouble she gave us. And of course she got to keep them, lucky her”.
“Thank you for helping us resolve that matter.” If there was one thing about him that she would begrudgingly respect, it was that he was quick to put his foot down and defend them. “I doubt Undyne would have stopped bothering us otherwise.”
Asgore looked away sheepishly “I assure you, her opinions on humans have softened considerably.”
“Obviously,” she said, staring intensely at the remaining liquid in her cup while holding back the words “not that it matters anymore”. The only human that mattered to her was gone, and she knew it wasn’t just for the benefit of all monsters. If Clover stayed they would have to live a life in hiding, constantly looking over their shoulders for the sight of royal guard armor, constantly worrying if they were seen by someone not invested in their safety. They knew that every day they lived like that was a day they put all their friends in danger of being branded as traitors, and wanted to spare them that suffering. They deserved so much more, all of them did.
“Of course, he is going to take it with him to the surface,” she stated firmly, placing her cup on the table and looking straight into his eyes for the first time. “I trust that won't be a problem.” Not “wanting” to, not “planning” to, “is”; a declaration of inevitability, one she would help make real and that Asgore would have to accept.
“We shall see.” Asgore turned his gaze aside, unable to meet hers.
“Speaking of, how is diplomacy going with humanity?” Ceroba asked, her tone uncertain and guarded. Despite trying to put her old fears behind her, she couldn't help but feel disaster was looming, that another war was inevitable. Especially when (not if) they found out what they did to achieve freedom. A small part of her wondered if her friends would be the ones to start it.
“They are going quite well actually!” Asgore perked up. “The humans have been surprisingly sympathetic to our plight and have been willing to offer whatever aid they can to help monsters return to the surface. Though we are still trying to figure out how to go about that.”
How long will that last when they find out the truth? she thought to herself, but otherwise stayed silent.
“Oh yes, I cannot forget Frisk's contributions.” He practically beamed. Ceroba said nothing, only the slight tremor in her hand betraying boiling emotions inside of her. Frisk the ambassador, Frisk the saviour, Frisk the Angel; no one knows how they managed it, but everyone was all too happy to give them all the credit for monsterkind's freedom. As if the other six may as well have never existed, as if Clover’s sacrifice was completely needless. Now she didn't blame the child for any of that, of course not, but it couldn't help but sting. Why were they the one who got to live and have a childhood and have Asgore dote on them and why would the queen allow him anywhere near them after what he did after what he forced me to do.
“-unable to grasp politics but their actions have helped to break the tension in meetings. Not to mention the antics of our masco- I'm sorry, are you ok?” She was suddenly brought back to reality, and looked at Asgore’s worried expression. Closing her eyes she took a breath in and out before nodding, not trusting herself to speak. “If this is not a good time we can reschedule for another time. In fact it might be for the best, I cannot tear myself away from my diplomatic duties for too lon-”
“Then why did you invite us to tea?” she cut him off, no longer hiding the frustration in her voice, Asgore reacted like he was just slapped. “You wanted to talk to us for a reason, and yet you are dancing around the subject. So let's cut the charades and Tell. Me. What. You. Want,” she demanded, rising from her seat as she did so. Years ago the idea she would talk to her king like this would have been unthinkable, but now she couldn't care less.
“The y-yellow soul,” he stuttered, shrinking into himself in a very unkingly manner “I wish to learn more abo-”
“The yellow soul?” she cut him off again, her voice filled with disbelief. “We told you their name, when we handed their soul to you; did you not listen?”
Asgore hung his head in shame. “I did, but I didn’t wish to think of such things if I didn't need to. Now I find I cannot recall properly.”
Ceroba could only stare at her king dumbfounded, before silently getting up and making for the door.
“Wait! please,” he made to go after her. “You have ever right to be upset with me, but for the sake of your friend’s memor-”
“WHY!” She stopped suddenly before spinning around to face him, her eyes filled with rage and tears. “Why do you care? They served their purpose didn't they? We're free now and you don't need them anymore. Or maybe Frisk did everything like everyone is saying and Clover died for nothing!” She screamed out that last word.
The two stood there, Asgore’s face darkened miserably while Ceroba breathed heavily. Lowering her head she took a moment to compose herself enough to continue. “Th-they were just a child, they were all just children. They died for our freedom and now we're just going to sweep them under the rug! And the worst part is I get why. When the humans find out what we did, they'll fall on us like a pack of wolves and we won't have any souls to defend ourselves with.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “It won't work though, something this big, that the whole kingdom knows; there's no way, it'll come out eventually and when it does-”
“The humans already know,” Asgore interrupted.
She looked back up at him shocked. “Wh-what!?”
“I have… already informed them of my crimes” Asgore spoke with uncertainty. “While we did briefly consider.. concealing the truth we quickly decided against it. As you said it would be impossible for it to stay A secret for long, and attempting to do so would only make us look worse. Any true peace with humanity must be built on trust, one built on a lie will come crashing down in time.”
“And they're fine with that!” Ceroba responded almost fearfully. Were the humans just biding their time, was there an army marching on the mountain as they spoke?
“No one was ‘fine’ with it per se, but when they heard the full story many were…understanding.” Asgore said somberly. “I have offered to turn myself over, though the humans I have spoken to said there were special considerations, that I am a head of state and that the Underground is beyond the jurisdiction of any human nations, to say nothing of the history between our peoples.”
Ceroba could only listen on as he continued. “Even so, there might be a trial sometime in the future.” Asgore paused before a look of resolve crossed his face. “I will not run from my sins any longer, and monsterkind will not bear the burden for them.” His face softened once more. “ But that is not the only reason I told them.” He sighed. “We are not sure what exactly happened, but Frisk confirmed that the souls were used to break the barrier; Clover’s sacrifice was not in vain.”
Ceroba blinked, her mouth moving as if to say something, but no words came out. She thought back to that strange event, a flash of light giving way to a seething chaos that seemed to last both forever and a moment. For a brief time she could swear she felt them as well.
Asgore continued “I know that we have not…regarded the fallen with the respect they deserve. That we have celebrated their deaths, and looked upon them as nothing more tools for our cause.” A look of sorrow and self-loathing settled across Asgore’s face, one so heavy and deep that it seemed to seep into his soul. Ceroba could empathize. “I have been told by many that I was a pillar of the kingdom, bearing its hopes and dreams, but that is not true. It was them, and they were crushed under its weight.”
Asgore sighed. He looked so, so tired. “Our bright future came at the expense of theirs, not all willingly given. It is a debt that we can never hope to repay, but the least we can do is to ensure they are not forgotten, to carry their memories into our future.” Asgore composed himself, perhaps looking a little hopeful. “To that end, we are planning to create a memorial on the surface, where they can be laid to rest.”
Ceroba looked confused for a moment. “But wouldn't their families want them to be returned?” She thought back to her time with Clover and how reluctant they were to speak of their Life on the surface. Surely there was someone who would have missed them.
“They don't have any,” Asgore replied bitterly. “We worked with the human authorities to see if we could track them down, only to find the children were either all orphans or otherwise of ‘unknown origin’. It's likely one of the reasons I probably won't face too harsh a punishment.” The tone in his voice made it clear he took no satisfaction in that fact.
Ceroba only nodded, it made sense really. If Clover could find the entrance to the underground while searching for the other children, then any half competent search party could do the same. The fact that no one else did implied no one else was looking, plus children from loving families probably wouldn't want to climb a cursed mountain of no return. She felt her stomach turn, somehow that knowledge made things worse.
She snapped back to attention as Asgore spoke again. “One of the reasons I asked to meet you was to request your aid in building it.” Seeing her shocked expression, he explained further. “The statue that your friends built — we would like to, with your permission, make it part of the memorial. Considering it was made by those who have cared for them.”
Ceroba considered for a moment, Starlo would be ecstatic to have the deputy be recognized and given the long overdue respect they deserve. As for Martlet…well, she would likely be happy for Clover eventually; at least a true memorial could help her grieve and move on. “I'll have to talk with the others, but I don't doubt they would agree.”
“Splendid.” Asgore looked revealed before his expression turned sour again. “As for the other reason…as you could tell, keeping records of the journeys of the children was never a priority. So much has been forgotten, and only now are we trying to piece together what we can of their story's. Of course you and your friends have both met and accompanied Clover through their journeys. I was hoping to invite you for tea so I could learn. Though I fear most of the other children's stories might be lost.”
Ceroba looked at him, truly looked at him without her resentment, and saw someone drowning under the weight of their mistakes. Someone trying to reach out and escape the pit they made for themselves, who perhaps only needed a helping hand to do so. Ceroba reached out and took Asgore’s hand in hers. “I think we might be able to help with that as well. You see, a turtle monster met with us not long after Clover’s death…”
“Do you mean Gerson?” Asgore asked and Ceroba nodded back. “He met the fourth child, ‘Nadine’ I believe her name was. He was my friend, but we had a falling out and he quit the royal guard after her death.” Asgore looked down dejectedly. “I thought about asking him, but I'm not sure he wants anything to do with me anymore.”
For a moment Ceroba was lost in thought. “Whenever he brought you up he seemed more sad than angry; perhaps it is time for you to have a try and speak to him.” Asgore nodded. “When he reached out to us, he wanted to know about Clover’s story. He also got us into contact with the…companions of the other children, at least those who had some. We formed something of a support group with each other, to mourn together when the Underground would celebrate. I'll be honest — I don't think all of them will be happy to work with you, but they will be willing to put animosity aside for the sake of their friends' memories.”
Asgore looked tentatively hopeful as he turned back to the kitchen. “That sounds good. We have much to discuss, if that is alright with you. Would you like me to brew a fresh batch of tea?”
“That would be lovely.” Ceroba followed.