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Faint light from the sun illuminated the dim, darkened room. It was a space of long ago, marked by the passage of time as seen in the vines that grew along the cracked and crooked pillars. There were a few particles of dust floating in the air; it was clear nobody had been there for a while now.
This was the entrance of the Ruins, and with no one to take care of it now, it lay as only proof of sapient life.
However, one creature remained.
A small flower erected itself from a patch of grass. It had cartoonish-looking eyes and was a golden flower. He looked around, an unreadable face decorating his smile and pupils. The flower reminisced about the countless number of times he had gone through this place. Both in this world and the previous.
Flowey had already done many RESETs, both ones where he hadn’t harmed a single soul and ones where he gained absolute power.
Boredom.
Boredom was the reason for doing all of that. And boredom was what he felt when he scoured the area with his eyes. It reminded him of all those times when Toriel would come here and aid him, thinking of him as another fellow monster.
There were timelines where Flowey had told Toriel of his identity. Moments where he said that he was the long-lost son of the caretaker of the Ruins. In some, the lady would believe him, attempting to do something to not only revert the flower’s state but to nourish him as he used to be. In others, the lady would not—but only because the flower hadn’t pushed with more proof due to the same boredom.
He knew each and every one of them well. All inconspicuous monsters of the Underground, both normal and boss—he knew them all. He got into all of their heads, understanding their problems, the solutions, and the ways to make them worse. Flowey knew how to help them, and Flowey knew how to destroy them as well.
Yet one day, that sluggish feeling that was boredom was over.
One day, he found himself unable to RESET. He couldn’t SAVE, he couldn’t LOAD—useless. The reason? Frisk.
Frisk was the eighth child to fall into the Underground. They couldn’t have been over 12 years old; even so, there was something peculiar about their appearance. The way they spoke, the way they walked—it was like there was a purpose behind it all. It was like they were there to explore the world.
Flowey chuckled at that memory; he reminisced about the first time he gained the RESET. It must’ve felt the same for that kid. Endless possibilities, endless ways to start and end it all.
If so, how—why?
How were they able to resist the temptation of RESETting more than once? Why would they even do that? What was their goal?
The flower knew he had no soul and thus, no real feelings for others. But even then, pride, anger, and hubris were all things that took hold of him at times. If so, how was a child able to fight that?
Never mind that. Flowey had been watching the kid, and he could see those powers of Determination acting up. In the first world, they’d killed most monsters out of self-defense, but in the second, after a humiliating defeat, they had listened to Flowey. But their words put trepidation into Flowey’s nonexistent soul. Frisk’s phrases and actions were flawless. A child knew all of their problems and solutions, being able to sway their pent-up, century-old rage with mere locomotion. Then, it hit him.
There had to be someone helping the child, and that someone knew more than Flowey.
The flower couldn’t be sure what or who it was. He noted that at times, Frisk could be able to hear things that were beyond their earshot or see things in another room. Like an invisible eye in the sky giving him orders.
Without precedent, Flowey was consumed by dread and a paralyzing horror.
Something or someone had control. Someone who wasn’t him, someone that could vanish Flowey’s memories in an instant. Something transcending his understanding of what this world was.
But perhaps he could sway them. Hundreds of people he had interacted with, and he understood how to talk to others. Even if they were unaware idiots, they were sentient monsters, and they had a functioning consciousness. Flowey knew how to have his way with them; he had already done it before with Papyrus, and he almost had killed Frisk for good!
With new-found confidence and panic buried beneath it, he desired to speak with the entity. He prayed they could hear him—or perhaps that would just confirm how powerful they truly were.
“Hi,” he greeted no one. “Seems as if everyone is perfectly happy. Peace and prosperity will rule across the land.” Flowey thought. At first, what people sought most was reassurance of their efforts. “Take a deep breath. There’s nothing left to worry about...”
He wasn’t sure it would work on this eldritch entity. What if their morals went far beyond those of monsters & humans? What if everything he uttered was irrelevant to them?
No, that would be impossible. They did a pacifist route, hurting nobody, surely...
“Well,” Flowey coughed, “there is one thing. One being with the power to erase EVERYTHING... Everything everyone’s been working hard for...” Flowey gulped internally, getting ready for the next words he uttered against this being. “You know who I’m talking about, don’t you? That’s right. I’m talking about YOU. YOU still have the power to reset everything.”
Now, it was time for the follow-up after shifting their emotions. After the reassurance and making them feel comfortable, only then would he attempt to keep them on their toes.
“Toriel, Sans, Asgore, Alphys, Papyrus, Undyne... Everyone will be ripped from this timeline and sent back before all this happened. Nobody will remember anything. You’ll be able to do whatever you want,” Flowey paused. That part slipped out of his tongue; he hadn’t meant to say that. He thought of something else quickly, not wanting to enrage the being’s patience. His mind lit up with an idea: relating to them. “That power, I know that power. That’s the power you were fighting to stop, wasn’t it? The power that I wanted to use. But now, the idea of resetting everything... I don’t think I could do it all again, not after that.”
Now for the final part. The pleading, the morality.
“So please, just let them go. Let Frisk be happy. Let Frisk live their life.” Flowey’s face contorted into one of sadness. Pity from the otherworldly entity was the thing he needed. “But if I can’t change your mind. If you DO end up erasing everything, you have to erase my memories, too.” Flowey’s fear laced the next words, a case that could be true, and if it was, there wasn’t any point in this conversation. “You’ve probably heard this a hundred times already, haven’t you...?”
Finally, with nothing left to say, he adopted a more neutral yet still ‘grief-stricken’ tone.
“Well, that’s all. See you later...”
And so, he burrowed into the ground, with hope that this thing would spare the world from another RESET. Only both would be aware of Flowey’s time-meddling shenanigans beforehand. He wasn’t apologetic for his sins but wept when he reminisced about the feelings he had felt as Asriel. Perhaps this was his final judgement for making the world his plaything.