Chapter Text
It was warm.
The boy groaned and slowly stirred. Light was shining directly over him, warming him and whatever soft material he was lying in. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that did little to stop the light from tunneling into his eyes, making his head throb even worse than it already was. With great effort, he heaved his arm up and hid his eyes in the crook of his elbow, fully blocking the light out.
Everything hurt. His limbs were sore, heavy, nearly impossible to move. His chest cramped terribly; his other hand was laid across his stomach and he weakly clutched his side where a stitch was spasming between his ribs.
For a moment he tried just focusing on his breathing. In, out, slowly and deliberately, trying to stop his heart from beating so rapidly, trying to quell the nausea curdling in his stomach. The dry, metallic taste of blood bloomed on his tongue, searing the back of his throat.
In, out.
The cramp in his ribs twinged, making him groan and tighten his grip on his side.
In, out.
He grit his teeth, waiting for the muscle spasm to pass, sweat beginning to dampen his brow.
In, out.
His heartbeat eventually calmed to a more tolerable pace. The cramps in his chest mostly subsided, replaced with a dull soreness.
Water. He needed water.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will his body to move. “C’mon, now,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and weak, “sit up and get your canteen.”
His limbs felt heavy and slow, like he was moving underwater. With great effort, he slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position. Whatever he was sitting in was pleasantly soft, crinkly and airy beneath him.
With a trembling hand he unclipped his canteen from his belt. He threw his head back and voraciously downed the water, spilling it down his chin and soaking his handkerchief tied around his neck, only stopping when he needed to breathe.
He looked around. He was sitting in a bed of golden flowers that had cushioned his fall, warm light shining down on him from the crevice above, illuminating the small, empty cavern. Lying next to him was his hat, crumpled and warped. He grabbed it, pushed out some of the larger dents with his thumbs, and placed it back on his head.
He rose to his feet on shaking, unsteady legs. Ahead of him was the only thing in this place besides the bed of flowers and himself: some sort of doorway flanked by crumbling pillars. He looked up again at the crevice above him. It was an impossibly high fall, hundreds of feet. The sight of it made the room sway around him, making him unsteady on his feet. Why, he was so lucky he wasn't—
“Hello? Is someone there?”
He jumped with the suddenness of the voice. His hand darted to the holster at his hip and he glared at the pitch black doorway in front of him. “Who's there?” He tried to sound authoritative, but he couldn't keep his voice from clipping.
“Ah. Please, do not be afraid, my child. I come with only peaceful intentions.” From the darkness, a figure slowly stepped forward.
His breath halted in his throat. So, monsters weren't extinct after all.
She was certainly a sight to see. Towering nearly eight feet tall, adorned with curved horns, her face resembled that of a fanged goat. She wore a faded purple tabard that contrasted sharply with the white fur covering her body. “I am Toriel, caretaker of the ruins. I pass through this place everyday to see if anyone has fallen down.” Well, she was quite a sight to see. Still, her presence gave off nothing but gentle warmth.
The boy removed his hat and held it to his chest as she approached him. “It's mighty fine to meet you, Miss Toriel. I apologize for my earlier demeanor. I was just spooked is all.”
She gave him a warm smile, showing two rows of serrated teeth. “All is well. Come, dear child. I will guide you out of these catacombs.” She held out her hand—a large, fuzzy mitt, really—and he tentatively grabbed hold of it. His fingers sank into the plush, warm fur as she guided him through the doorway, slowing her pace when she noticed the soreness in his movements. They entered a winding corridor lit by several torches lining the walls, whose flames flickered and danced on the surrounding decayed pillars, crumbled walls, and overgrown dead vines. “This place is called the ruins, dear child. The inhabitants here are skittish, but friendly. I do ask that you give them grace, as they are startled easily by new faces. I doubt any will choose to show themselves for at least several hours.”
“Where are we headed, Miss Toriel?”
“We are going to my home, where I will set you a space. It is myself and one other child who fell just a few days ago. I daresay, it is quite the surprise to go nearly one hundred and six years without someone falling, then have two boys fall within three days of each other.”
Clover would’ve stopped dead in his tracks if Toriel wasn’t gently pulling him along. His head swam. Another human is down here.
She guided him through the ruins, walked him through a few traps and puzzles with brief explanations, until the two came upon a small house perched in the corner of a cavern, the curtains in its windows lit by flickering light.
Toriel escorted him inside a small living room with a crackling fireplace, lined with several book shelves, squashy chairs gathered around it. It was cozy. He hadn’t realized he was cold until he felt the relief of the fire’s warmth. Two staircases led to the bedrooms upstairs. “Welcome to your new home, dear child. Let us meet your other flatmate.” She cupped her furry hands over her mouth. “My dear, I have a surprise for you! Please come here.”
Another boy entered from what Clover assumed was the kitchen, who jumped when he saw Clover. The other boy just stared at him for a moment, clutching the hem of his skirt with tight fists, his dark skin glowing warmly in the light of the fireplace, eyes wide. His braids were pulled into a bun on the back of his head, held in place with a glittering blue butterfly clip. Woven through his braids were pieces of silver thread that glinted delicately in the flickering light of the fireplace.
The other boy took in the appearance of this new stranger. Light skin tanned gold from the blazing sun, dirty blond hair that curled around his ears and spilled down his neck. Burning, tawny eyes, heavy and tired. A plaid handkerchief tied loosely around his neck, a patched leather vest, leather boots, a leather holster, all of which were scuffed up and faded from age.
“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” Toriel asked Clover, unintentionally breaking the tension.
He looked up at her, feeling the other boy’s eyes burning into the side of his face. “No, ma’am. I’m much more fixing for a good sleep, if that’s okay.”
“Of course, love. Here.” She took hold of his hand with her big, plush mitt. “This way, upstairs.” Clover sheepishly waved at the boy, who half-heartedly returned the gesture, still clutching onto his skirt.
She led him into a bedroom as cozy as the rest of the house. “This will be your new room, honey.” He nodded, too tired to explore it. He saw a bed, which was the only thing he cared about. She tugged at the curtains over the window. “We always keep the curtains drawn tight here. Okay, honey?” When Toriel turned around, he was already asleep.
∘₊✧──────────✧₊∘
It was a dreamless sleep, the blank nothingness that comes from absolute exhaustion. He hadn’t even removed his boots or pulled the covers down; Toriel must have covered him with a blanket herself. He yawned and stretched, wincing a bit. Soreness had settled heavily in his body while he slept.
He trudged into the hallway and down the stairs, where Toriel was talking to the other boy in the living room. “You will do just fine,” she said quietly. “I think it—” She stopped when she saw Clover. “I hope you slept well, honey. I must go out for a bit to attend to some other duties. Please make yourself comfortable while I am away.” She turned to the other boy. “Dear, you would not mind showing our new resident around, would you?”
The other boy wrung his hands through his skirt, looking up at Toriel with his dark, glittering eyes. “I could do that, Miss Toriel,” he muttered.
“Excellent. Thank you, dear. Here.” She handed him a small handful of gold coins. “There is a charity bake sale in the eastern wing. Help yourselves to some treats while you explore.”
The boys wordlessly set off into the corridors of the ruins. Clover listened politely as the other boy gave nervous, poor-quality pointers about the area, still wringing his hands through his skirt.
“There are like, trappy things here and there that you need to solve in order to pass. But, they’re simple enough, I think. Like, this one.” He gestured to a row of small spikes blocking their way forward. “It’s easy. We just need to find the switch.”
“I’ll do you one better.” Clover stepped over the spikes with a slightly wider step than usual.
The other boy laughed and followed in-tow. “By the way, I never got your name.”
“Well, my apologies! That’s mighty rude of me. Clover.”
“Clover,” the boy repeated, the name as sweet as honey on his tongue. “I like it a lot. I think it fits you quite nicely.” He gave Clover a graceful curtsy. “I’m Zinny. Short for Zinnia.”
“It’s mighty fine to meet you, Zinny.” Clover removed his hat and extended his hand.
Zinny giggled nervously and gingerly took Clover’s hand, heat rising to his face when Clover gave him a firm handshake, his big tawny eyes fixed on him with a small, polite smile.
“Hey, cowboy. You headed to the bake sale? Can I hitch a ride?”
Zinny jumped, startled. Both boys looked at each other. “Did you hear that?” Zinny asked. Clover nodded.
“Kids. Down here.”
Both boys looked down to see a little white frog creature the size of a large rat, ogling them with big, vacant eyes.
“Aww, you’re so cute!” Zinny cooed, scooping up the frog creature and cradling it to his chest with one arm. “Of course I’ll carry you to the bake sale.”
“Actually, it was me asking. But Froggit will also take a ride since you offered.”
Clover looked down, but saw nothing but a rock at his feet.
“Psst, it’s me. I’m a large rock the size of a small rock. Pick me up, please.”
“O-oh, yessir. Of course.” Clover heaved the rock into his arms with a slight “oomph” and proceeded to walk down the corridor, Zinny and Froggit in-tow.
“Where are we headed?” Clover asked, his voice a bit strained.
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
The two boys made small-talk as they walked down the corridors. “This is my third day down here. But, to be honest, this is kinda my first time actually leaving the house without Miss Toriel,” Zinny explained. Froggit purred and snuggled into his chest as he petted its head. “She’s really really nice. She’s the first grown-up who’s ever encouraged me to do what I want when I grow up. She even sewed me this skirt on my first day here.”
“She does have a real big heart. What’s the career you’re fixing on?”
“Um, I want to become a master-level danseur and a dance instructor. And I’m going to be so famous and rich that I can give lessons for free.”
“I don’t think that’s stupid, neither. I think that’s a mighty kind thing you wanna do for other folks.”
“Oh, thank you,” he muttered sheepishly. “What about you?”
“Why, I'm gonna be the finest sheriff there ever was. I'm gonna help protect the innocent, keep the peace, and stop any injustices by criminals.”
“Criminells. Criminells,” Zinny repeated slowly with an exaggerated cadence, struggling to suppress his laughter. “Stop the criminells,” he giggled.
Clover seemed to deflate and lowered his gaze to the floor. “You making fun of the way I talk, Zinny?” he asked quietly, kicking the toe of his boot into the ground.
Zinny immediately stopped laughing. “No! No, no. I'm not making fun of you. Sorry if it came off that way. I just, um.” Zinny clutched the hem of his skirt and averted his eyes, heat rising to his face. “I don't know how to say it. I'm just being weird, is all. Sorry that I'm weird.”
“Ain't nothing wrong with that. If being weird is being true, then say it weird.”
“It's just, um,” he twisted the fabric in his hand, “I really like your voice. Like, the way you speak. How you say certain words. I don't know if I'm saying it right.” He cleared his throat and briefly looked at Clover, made eye contact, then immediately averted his gaze again. “Um, actually, forget I said anything.”
It was Clover’s turn to giggle nervously. “Aw, shucks. It don't sound all that complex. You're saying I have a purdy voice is all. And that's a mighty fine compliment comin’ from you.”
“You think so?”
“Of course. If the purdiest boy I know sees something purdy in me, then that’s a thing I can be damn proud of.”
Zinny turned away, unable to hide the grin on his face. “You really know how to flatter someone, Clove.”
“It ain't flattery if it's true.”
“Damn kid, you're smooth as hell,” the rock muttered.
“Shh!” Clover hissed under his breath.
“You two should kiss nasty-style.”
Clover’s face immediately reddened and he dropped the rock, who slammed on the ground in a cloud of dirt with a flat “Ow.” Then, “Oh, hey. Nice eye, kid. We're here.”
Clover stayed quiet, tugging on the handkerchief around his neck, absolutely mortified.
Froggit meowed excitedly and jumped out of Zinny’s grip, hopping over to a spot on the wall covered in cobwebs.
“Oh, interesting.” Zinny followed Froggit and closely examined the dense structure of cobwebs plastered on the wall. “How did you recognize it?”
Clover cleared his throat, still flustered. “Just lucky is all.”
A large black spider the size of a dinner plate descended from the ceiling, handed Zinny a menu several times larger than itself, then climbed back up. He glanced over it, then read aloud, “Thank you for supporting the spider bake sale, made for spiders, by spiders, from spiders. Spider donut, seven gold. Spider cider, eighteen gold. All proceeds go to the rehoming of displaced spiders in unsuitable climates.” Zinny looked at Clover, who met his eye with an equally disgusted grimace.
“Well, if in it's for charity…” Clover muttered half-heartedly, then trailed off.
“Damn. Froggit and a bit short on cash. D’you think you can spare some gold?”
“Um, sure,” Zinny said. “How short are you?”
“All of it.”
Zinny pulled the coins from his pocket and started counting them on his palm. Clover walked up to him. “How much we got, Zinny?”
“Um, fourteen.”
Clover leaned closer. “Do you really wanna eat spider food for spiders made from spiders?” he muttered.
Zinny shook his head. “Uh-uh.”
“Me neither. Whatcha say about giving them our portions? I reckon that way, we honor Miss Toriel’s request, support a charity, and feed a couple hungry folks. We can go on home and eat food at Miss Toriel’s.”
The boys did just that. Zinny ordered two spider donuts, delivered by a handful of giant spiders. The donuts had an unpleasantly odd texture, bouncy, rubbery, and smelling of ammonia. Froggit downed his in one gulp, purring loudly.
“Just put it on top of me,” the rock said. “I'll handle it from there.”
Clover plopped the bagel onto the rock.
“Thanks, kids. You should start heading home soon.”
Clover tipped his hat and the two set off.
“Hey! Cowboy! Sorry about the nasty-style joke earlier!”
Clover’s ears went scarlet.
“What's he talking about?”
“Uh, nothing—I don't know. C’mon.”
∘₊✧──────────✧₊∘
Luckily for the boys, supper with Toriel was much more appetizing than food for spiders with spiders by spiders from spiders. Roasted vegetables and tomato soup with fresh bread, followed by a dessert of butterscotch pie. They were seated around the small dining table, the fire crackling warmly.
“I must say, it is quite pleasant to have some lively company these past few days. It has been almost one hundred and six years since my last guest.”
“How old are you, Miss Toriel?” Zinny asked through a mouthful of pie.
Her eyes lit up. “Much older than any human!” she said brightly.
“Miss Toriel? Um, what happened to the other folks that fell down here?” Clover’s voice wavered.
“Oh, and how many were there?”
Her smile faded. “Before I answer those questions, I must ask one of my own. Are you boys familiar with the war between humans and monsters?”
Both boys shook their heads.
“Then this is something very important I need to teach you two. Please, listen very carefully.” Toriel leaned forward to be eye level with the two boys, her voice solemn. “Several hundreds of years ago, humanity waged war against monsterkind, and sealed us underground with a powerful spell, a barrier. Living things can enter, but not exit. There is only one way to break that barrier: the collection of seven human souls. It is law: any humans must be presented to the king for execution, and their souls harvested.
“Beyond these ruins is the kingdom of New Home, where other kinds of monsters live. Those monsters are not like the peaceful monsters in the ruins. They will not restrain from violence just because you are children. They will do anything to capture you, and they—Asgore,” the name was like a blister on her tongue, “will kill you in order to take your soul.
“Four. That is the number of humans that have fallen into the underground. Asgore has killed all of them and taken their souls. It did not matter to him that they were children. Children.” Her voice cracked. “I never, ever want to give them the chance to kill more children. I can not. That is why you two must stay here in the ruins. I can protect you here.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Please, boys. I need you to promise me that you will never give them that chance either. You will stay here, and grow big, and grow strong. When you are old enough, when you are ready, then you will consider moving on.”
Clover removed his hat and held it to his chest, his fingers tightly clutching its brim. “I promise, ma'am.”
Zinny gave a slight bow and muttered, “I promise too, Miss Toriel.”
She breathed a small sigh of relief. “Thank you, boys. I promise too, that it will not be forever.”
∘₊✧──────────✧₊∘
The next two days with Toriel and Zinny were a fairly easygoing and uneventful time, because Clover slept through most of it, not bothering to remove his boots or hat, only waking up to eat the food left at his door by Toriel or take care of basic needs. Dreamless sleep, which he was grateful for. He was lying in bed, staring vacantly at the glowing plastic stars on the ceiling, the smell of fresh, sweet baking wafting around him. His stomach rumbled, but he wanted to ignore it as long as he possibly could.
There was a timid knock at the door. Clover trudged out of bed, wordlessly opened the door to see Zinny clutching his skirt, staring down to avoid Clover’s eye. “Um, let me know if I’m bothering you, but Miss Toriel made a cinnamon apple pie,” he said quietly. “Um, and I wanted to ask if you’d come down for some.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “This is stupid, sorry. I’m…just kind of worried about you—I don’t know. You seemed fine the other day, but you’re sleeping a lot.” He forced himself to look up at Clover, who stood a head taller than him. A wave of heat rushed to his face when he looked into Clover’s bright, tawny eyes. “Miss Toriel said I should just give you space, but I don’t know. I just wanted to check on you,” he said rapidly, before his nerves completely depleted.
Clover smiled down at Zinny, who looked like he was about to shatter. “I’d love to.”
“Hello, sweetheart,” Toriel said pleasantly when the two boys entered the kitchen. She placed the hot pie in the center of the table, no need for oven mitts. “I am glad you could share this with us.”
Clover removed his hat as he took a seat next to Zinny. The pie was delicious, sweet and gooey, flaky crust and crisp apples. It warmed him to his core.
“Oh, boys. While I have you here, I read the funniest joke in the paper and I want to share it,” Toriel said.
Clover glanced at Zinny, who looked like he was bracing for an impact.
“A mushroom walks into a store, and the owner tells it, ‘You must leave. We do not serve your kind.’ The mushroom,” she chortled, struggling to keep her laughter in, “The mushroom says ‘Why not? I am a fungi!’” Toriel laughed, throwing her head back and revealing both rows of serrated teeth.
Clover chuckled politely. Zinny looked like a dog who just found a pill hidden in its bologna.
“I apologize, dear. My sense of humor can be quite pun-ishing!” she said to Zinny. Clover laughed, too—the first time in a long time. It wasn’t Toriel’s jokes that did it; he found them to be deeply unfunny. It was Zinny’s reaction.
Clover thought for a moment. “Oh! I have one for you, ma’am.” Zinny glanced at him with pleading eyes. Clover met his eye with a devious smirk. “I always wear my leather vest when I go hunting, because it’s made out of hide.”
Zinny groaned and laid his head on the table, looking at Clover with a deep sense of betrayal.
Toriel laughed so hard that she crossed her arms over her middle, doubled over. “Oh! You are wonderful! I must write this one down tonight! Do you have any others you would like to share?”
“A farmer recently lost his best work horse, and he decides to give her a proper funeral with a priest and procession. While there, the man asks the priest to say something. The priest gets up out his chair and says, ‘Plethora,’ and sits back down. The farmer, crying his eyes out, says, ‘Thank you so much, father. That means a lot.’”
Toriel howled with laughter, tears rolling down her face.
Zinny snickered at that one, despite his best efforts.
The doorbell rang. “Excuse me.” Toriel rose from her seat, wiping tears from her eyes. “Stay in the kitchen, boys. I’ll be back soon.”
Toriel opened the door to see a large, fully armored knight of some high ranking, judging by the ridiculous plumage on his helmet. He was flanked by a small handful of knights behind him. “Evening, madame.” His deep, gravelly voice echoed strangely in his helmet. “I am Sir Kappa, captain of the royal guard of His Majesty's Court, second-class magistrate.”
Toriel gave a small nod and a smile. “Good evening, Captain.” Her voice was pleasant but carried no warmth. “I am honored to make your acquaintance. May I offer you a slice of butterscotch pie?”
“No thank you, madam. I am here on a very serious matter. We have received intel that two humans are currently housed in your residence.”
Toriel crossed her arms over her chest. “I apologize, Captain, but the information given to you is incorrect. A human has not passed through these premises in more than a century.”
“I have here an order for an emergency search warrant, signed by the King and co-signed by myself, to search these premises for evidence of humans.”
Toriel’s hackles raised, but she kept her voice steady. “The ruins are not under Asgore’s jurisdiction. Neither he nor anybody of the royal court has legal authority to demand anything from me.”
“Yes madam, you are indeed correct. However, I do ask for your consent to conduct a search nonetheless.”
“No. I now kindly ask you to vacate my property.”
“As is within your rights. May I ask why?”
“Certainly. The previous searches caused damage to my property, damage to the local resources, and subsequent distress to the residents of the ruins. I raised these concerns before the prior search, and they were not honored. It is due to this repeated disrespect and carelessness that I do not grant consent for any further searches.”
“I understand, madam. Have a good evening.”
Toriel gave a slight bow. “Thank you. Have a good evening yourself.” She shut the door and listened carefully. The guards’ heavy armor clanked outside and slowly tapered down as they trudged away. When they were out of earshot, she heaved a big sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, leaning against the door.
“Miss Toriel, who were they?” Zinny asked when she returned to the kitchen, his gentle voice trembling.
The warmth returned to her voice. “Please do not worry, my dear children. “The g—”
CRASH.
The window above them shattered, making both boys yelp. Toriel immediately draped herself over them, getting showered in shards of glass. “Boys.” Her voice was low, deep, dangerous. “Basement. Now.” She released them and turned to face the intruders in the window. She raised her arms, summoning a great wheel of flame, and hurled it towards them. One fell back, another blocked it with his shield and drew his spear.
Clover was sprinting right behind Zinny, dodging the grabbing hands of knights as they poured in through the windows and doors. His handkerchief suddenly tightened around his throat and yanked him back, strangling him. Clover tried to cry out but couldn’t use his voice, unable to pull air into his lungs, his chest burning. The armored hand twisted its handhold and yanked him backwards again, lifting him off his feet, making him retch. His vision blanked; his hands frantically pulled at the fabric tightening around his throat, unable to pry himself loose.
BLAM!
The explosion of the bullet rang out through the entire house. For a split moment, the entirety of the conflict paused, startled by the blast of the gun. Kappa screamed and released Clover, grabbing his foot. Clover collapsed onto the floor, choking, gasping, his ears ringing, and looked up to see Zinny deliver a gracile kick to Kappa, hitting him straight in the chest with a harsh clank, sending him crashing through the handrail and onto the floor below.
“Clover!” Zinny scrambled to pull him to his feet. “Come on. I’ve got you.” Zinny held onto his hand as the two of them rushed towards the last set of stairs. They both skittered to a halt when a knight leapt in front of them, halberd raised, prepared to strike.
Behind them, Toriel snarled and sent a ball of flame towards the knight, knocking him through the wall like it was wet cardboard. “Downstairs. Go ahead.”
She followed them into the basement and shut the door, fastened several locks, and trotted over to the boys standing beneath a ledge leading to a tunnel, lit by faintly glowing mushrooms. “Here. Quickly.” She handed Clover a backpack. She picked up both boys, one in each arm, and hoisted them onto the ledge. “I am going to seal this passage and hold them off as long as I can.” Her voice was thick with tears. She held each boy by the hand. “I can no longer be with you, but you still have each other.” She pulled Zinny in for a kiss on top of his head, followed by a kiss for Clover on his forehead. “Now go. Go!” Her voice cracked. “Run and do not stop!” Toriel raised her hands towards the ceiling and disappeared beneath a flurry of roaring flames, sending a rush of hot air that blew both boys in the face.
Zinny stood there staring at the wall of fire, shaking, wringing his hands through his skirt, unable to move. Clover grabbed his hand, startling him. “C’mon, Zinny,” he said delicately, despite the urgency in his voice. "I've got you." Clover gave him an encouraging tug, which snapped Zinny from his torpor, and the two boys sprinted down the entryway. Behind them, voices shouted, armor clanked. A rush of heat brushed their backs—rocks tumbled, cracked, collapsed in a deafening rumble, spitting up hot clouds of ash that stung their eyes. Everything fell silent, the boys’ footsteps and ragged breathing the only noises left.
Neither dared look back.