Archive of Our Own

Everything had been normal at first. Kris opened the fountain, the flowers chose their shapes and ran around in their new bodies. They prepared the castle for Asgore. He was readying himself to meet their caretaker, his best friend. 

But when the ‘heroes’ first appeared, an ever present, ever growing chill began to haunt their dark world.

—

Flowery finishes his drink with one last, big gulp, “Thanks Green! This one’s delicious as well,” he sighs contently, aiming the glass and throwing it neatly into the sink with little clatter. 

Green smiles, a quiet ‘thank you’ in their expression. 

“Anytimes,” Flowery hops out of his stool. He pats Orange on the way out.

“Are you heading out Flowery?” his adorable little sister asks between munches. 

“Yes! It’s about tree I—ah! I mean time I find ol’ Gorey before he gets too lost,” they’ve taken care and time to create this world for Asgore. Everything would be perfect for their King, their kind caretaker. 

“Okay! See you later big bro!” 

Flowery waves on his way out. Once in the castle foyer, he teleports to the gardens in a whirlwind of petals, but upon landing, he notices something off immediately. 

It’s cold. The grass is dying, discoloured and shrivelled. What was once a healthy,  springful pink now drooped a saddening ash-like magenta. Each step echoing with a crunch reveals there’s frost all over the pinkery. That shouldn’t be possible. Asgore always kept the temperature as comfortable as possible for them in the shop. It was never cold, always warm. 

Where did this frost come from? Why is it cold? 

Something’s isn't right.

Flowery can’t help shiver a little. He’s almost tempted to put his jacket on. He has to find Asgore quickly. 

His breath comes out in puffs of visible air. That only happens when it’s very cold, right? Is it cold outside in the light world? What about their light world forms? They would be damaged if it remained this chilly.

Somethings’ really wrong.

Flowery shakes his head. He has no time for such thoughts. Asgore is just up ahead. So Flowery makes his way, heart growing heavier the more of the gardens he sees. The trees barely have any leaves, all of them withered on the ground, crushed under his shoes with a grind that leaves him unsettled. 

The life is completely sucked out of this area. All of its youthful colours are gone, spring turned to winter in the flutter of a petal.

He wonders who exactly could do that and why. The heroes… they were here, weren’t they? He needs to find them soon. 

His thoughts stop when he hears a familiar voice, “... It sure is cold here…” 

Flowery perks up. Finally, something good! “Hey Goregore, oldbuddy, over here!” he waves over as he approaches on running steps. 

Asgore, in all his fluffy and tall glory, turns to greet him. 

Flowery’s smile dims when his best friend’s face narrows in suspicion, “Who are you?”

“I’m your best friend, you roommate from college, remember?” he’d technically never gone, but that was besides the point. They’ve known each other for a long, long time. Many years! And that made them friends, didn’t it? “It’s me, Flowery!” 

Asgore’s stony silence does numbers on Flowery’s preppy mood. His lack of reaction to his voice clip only punctuates the sting felt by the flower, “I do not… recall having an old friend named Flowery.”

Ah, well, this is their first time meeting properly, he supposes, “Sure you do! We’ve been with you since your wedding. We helped you propose to Toriel!” On a beautiful, sunny day; a complete contrast to today.

The goat monster ponders his words, brow furrowing deeply before his eyes widen with some kind of recognition, “Oh… are you perhaps—” 

The chill gets stronger. Something about it leaves his petals standing on edge. Flowery takes Asgore’s hand, ”Worry about that later oldbuddy. Hey, let's keep walking, this area's a little underdone,” it hadn't been earlier, Flowery frowns. He quickly wipes it off for his winningsmile.

Asgore nods agreeably, “Oh, alright. Did you have anything in mind?" The monster's gaze subtly peeks towards the dark fountain. Flowery ignores it. Things don't need to be so serious yet. 

Finding his footing on the plant he'd drafted up, Flowery offers the monster a big grin, “How about some fishing with your best pal? It's been a while since you've gone, right?" 

Asgore's expression turns a little sombre, “I… suppose that's true. That would be nice.” 

"[That's] Great!” The voice clip that follows along seems to startle Asgore, who looks around them for a source. 

"What was that just now?” 

Flowery chuckles, “Oh, just a little magic trick,” another plays, ‘My King’ echoing around them. 

Asgore looks pleasantly surprised, “Wow, that is quite impressive! You did one earlier, did you not?” 

Warmth blooms suddenly from his chest, heart beating a little faster. The heat almost expels the cold hanging in the air. Flowery wonders what this feeling is… he likes it a lot, “Heh, I sure did, and I've got a leafload of others," he winks, drawing a chuckle from Asgore.

Unfortunately, the good mood doesn’t last long as the perfect fishing spot he’d picked out with all the pies in the lake is… completely frozen over, “Oh…” Flowery frowns, shoulders slumping.

Asgore steps up next to him, sporting an awkward smile. “I suppose this lake isn’t supposed to be frozen…” 

“No…” Flowery agrees. He reaches with a foot to experimentally tap the surface of the water. It’s completely solid. Ice crawls up and into the boat he’d prepared in advance. All their fishing equipment is frozen.

This is… really, really wrong. 

Flowery swivels quickly on his feet, “Nevermind that Goregore! How about some drinks at the Diner?” beads of sweat collect on his face. Things are certainly taking a weird root! 

“Oh… alright. That is quite alright with me,” Asgore agrees in the same chipper tone he’s had this entire time, but something about seems off… like it’s cracking. 

Well, Flowery can’t blame Asgore for being a little… thrown off. They were supposed to be having a great time, but with the gardens like this… Hopefully the Diner was still fine. If not, then Flowery would end their hangout and start investigating. Hopefully nothing else would be amiss.                                                  

To his misfortune, his hopes are dashed by an empty diner. No Green or Yellow in sight, which is expected since he’s much earlier than planned, but a few darkners should be milling about… in fact, it's strange that he hasn't seen anyone at all. No Shearys, not Floradinns. They were always milling around the gardens.

Flowery catches a trail of ice crawling towards the swamps.

That’s where… Aqua and Seth were headed.

His chest pangs with something sickening. Flowery turns to Asgore in a rush, “Say! Why don’t you come to the castle instead? It's got everything you could ever wish for! It’s much warmer,” and much safer than whatever is happening here. He needs to investigate, “The others’ll show you around. I’ll followup in a bit.”

Asgore frowns unsurely. He eyes the fountain in the distance flowing from the castle, and seemingly makes a decision right then and there, expression tightening, “... Alright, that sounds like a good idea.” 

Flowery hums happily, flickering a hand of petals Asgore’s way. The monster startles as he’s lifted off the ground, an exclamation of surprise escaping him. Flowery waves as he leaves. His smile drops the moment he knows Asgore is safely deposited within the castle walls. 

Something’s awfully wrong here. This entire area is dead, suffocated by ice of all things. That shouldn't be possible, not without someone causing this. With a heavy mind, he thinks of the heroes that recently arrived. He doesn’t want to blame them. Kris has no magic anyways, so it couldn’t be them. Why would they create this world just to destroy it like this? 

… Aqua and Seth were probably at the shrine by now. They had planned to leave a little bit after him. They were close by, all alone.

A heavy, painful weight settles on his chest. His breaths stutter, sweat collecting as icy dew on his skin, heart alight with a bundle of nerves that hurts. It feels worse than just plain old worry. God, what an awful feeling.

He needs to find them. Now.

—

The swamp is chilly too. Frost stains the beautiful plants growing. He tries touching one but the specks of ice burn him somehow. He thought only hot things burnt? 

This isn’t good. He needs to find Aqua and Seth as soon as possible.

Flowery starts making his way through the familiar path to the shrine where the petal feather resides. Each step leaves a discomforting grating of frost that stretches in the distant dark. His heart beats faster with every sound, shot like a bullet in the silence. Silence that shouldn’t be, not when water always ran in this area. 

He’s shivering more. It’s really cold here. 

Flowery stops dead in his tracks. There’s an icicle before the entrance to the shrine. There’s a silhouette inside, small. It’s hard to see through the ice. He opens his eyes fully; the cold stings then in a way that makes him blink rapidly.

Flowery takes one step forward. His mind starts to run amok with horrifying possibilities. He tries taking another step forward, swallowing nervously. His heart aches, beating so fast, so loud in his ears. The shape of the figure becomes clear—terrifyingly clear. 

She has a ribbon on her head. 

Panic grips him with cold, cold hands. Flowery drops his jacket as he sprints towards the ice. He peers closer, desperately hoping it isn’t who he thinks it is, but the reflection in the ice only confirms his worst fears.

Aqua. Trapped in ice. Dying. 

“A-AQUA!!” he starts banging at the ice to free her. It’s hard, like a solid wall. He bangs his fist over and over, but all that comes of it are bruises staining his knuckles, “Hang on! I’ll get you out!” He starts trying to claw his way through the layers of ice, mind whirling in the silence. 

Who would do this?! Aqua! Who even—How—Why—he needs to get her out right now—he can’t break through the ice—his hands hurt, they’re freezing, they're burning—that doesn’t matter! Aqua!!

Flowery can hear her—just barely feel her feeble voice in the back of his mind.

‘It’s cold… This isn’t fun anymore…’

Her voice is tiny and fragile. It’s fading.

“I—I’ve got you Aqua! Just hang on! Just—leaf it to me!” vines wrap around his hand, thorns digging and picking at the layers of ice. He needs to dig her out before she freezes to death. Her voice keeps getting quieter. He’s not fast enough!! 

Gr-Green! Green could use their fire! He needs to—

Flowery remembers abruptly that Seth should be close by. Did they witness Aqua be—god, they were probably terrified.

Whoever did this is still advancing. They’d find Seth soon.

No no no no no no—

But he can’t just leave Aqua! Flowery looks up at the shrine to see the petal feather missing. 

Whoever did this could move freely. Whoever did this would do it to Seth next. 

He needs to save Seth. 

Flowery steps back, tears pricking his eyes. It’s hard to breathe through the cold, through the terrifying sensation of someone physically gripping his heart, “I’ll—I’ll come back Aqua!” he cries, “I’ll bring Green over! We’ll get you out of there! So just, hang on!”

She doesn’t answer. 

Flowery feels his heart crack. 

He turns away, guilt clawing at him. His hands burn from the discoloured bruises marring his knuckles. Tears stream down his face, warm on his cheeks, yet the cold keeps stinging his eyes.

He needs to get to Seth. Now. 

—

The cliffs are cold too. The setting sun provides him no warmth as he lands in its light. He jumps down the hole leading to another statue when he stops, horror washing over him all over again. 

Another icicle, its silhouette in the shape of Seth. Flowery approaches on shaking steps, reaching for the figure. Walls of ice stop him, cold to touch. So, so cold. 

“S-Seth…” he whispers. He falls to his knees, lifting a hand to hit the ice, “I’ll… I’ll get you out… just, hang on, please!” 

He can barely hear them. They're begging for help. 

Flowery hits and hits the ice prison, over and over, thorns sprouting over his hands and arms. He desperately tries to chip away chunks of ice. Only tiny bits fall off. He gives it a fierce kick. His leg hurts at the impact. He tries whipping with longer vines. 

The ice cracks. Seth’s silhouette breaks with it, frightened expression torn in two. 

Flowery stops, a hand over his mouth. He feels sick. His legs give up and collapse, leaving him heaving for air that’s too cold, too dry. 

Seth is silent. Aqua was too. 

… No, no they can’t be dead. They’d only just gained their new bodies. It’s barely been an hour. They can’t be dead. It’s too cruel. 

Green! Green could fix this! They can melt Seth and Aqua. He needs to bring them over right now—

Flowery flinches upon seeing the castle in the distance. Whoever did this… is advancing to the castle… where the rest of the flowers are… where Asgore is…!

Darn it! He'd just sent Asgore there!!

He looks back at Seth. He can’t leave them like this, but he’d left Aqua behind and—everyone else was in danger. 

“I’m… I’m sorry Seth! I’ll be back, I swear!” 

He never gets the chance to return.

— 

Flowery teleports to the castle. He falls gracelessly onto polished, frost covered floors in his rush.

The ice under his hand sends his stomach plummeting. He stumbles to the cafe first. He wishes he hadn’t.

There, right in front of him, was a tiny icicle. Another one accompanied it, bigger, housing a familiar shape. 

Flowery can't help the scream that rips out of his throat. He falls to Orange, cradling the ice that traps and slowly suffocates her. It burns his hands. He holds her close regardless, sobbing. 

He looks up. Green too. He can't even ask them to help. They've been frozen too. 

Something is breaking. Something in his chest is tearing into pieces. His gut churns and twists. His skin prickles. Flowery curls up, holding Orange close to his shattering heart, sobs turning into gut wrenching coughing. 

Blue and Yellow… They were still in the castle. He needs to find them. Before it’s too late. 

Flowery forces himself up. He places Orange down delicately by Green. He catches a glimpse of her expression and wishes he hadn't, tears burning his eyes all over again. 

He won't forgive whoever did this. He won't let them get away with this. They'll pay. They'll pay. He'll make them pay. 

Flowery sprints to the other side of the castle. He bursts through doors; he shoulders past leftover traps from the flowers; he swallows bile at the ice coating the walls. It gets colder and colder, his shivering turning more volatile even as he runs. 

“Blue!" He slams the last doors open to Blue's dance stage. 

A cry escapes him, a shout, a yell, a scream. 

Yellow, encased in ice in Blue's arms. 

Two figures approaching them. 

Blue's broken, terrified gaze meeting with Flowery's desperate one. 

The silent plea slipping from an open mouth. A hand reaching for him. 

Flowery throws himself forward towards them. He's acres away, but he still reaches with his whole being, as if he could make it if he tried hard enough.

"Snowgrave.” The figures whisper, somehow the most deafening sound in the room.

Snow begins to howl around them in a violent storm. Flowery covers his face as he's pelted. Through his narrowed gaze, he witnesses the column of ice rising high. When it vanishes, all that's left is another icicle, with his friend and dance rival inside. 

Flowery falls to his knees, clutching his hair. His whimpers turn into screams and cries. He crawls to Yellow, to Blue, scratching at impenetrable ice. He uses vines to try and pry it apart, for any reaction at all. 

He knows it's fruitless. He knows he can't do anything. Their voices are fading. It's cold. 

Flowery heaves on all fours. He cradles his head and curls inwards. 

All of them. All the flowers. Their chance. Their news lives. Their new bodies. Their dreams.

Gone. 

In just a few hours… less than that, they lost it all. Their lives ripped from their own hands.

The tears won't stop flowing. It hurts so, so bad. He's hurting inside in a way he doesn't understand. How could something hurt so much when he had no physical wound? Ah, is this… grief? The all consuming pain that Asgore suffered through while losing everyone one by one? The unending gash deep down that bleeds and bleeds and flows, hurting infinitely yet never letting him die…

He wants it to stop. He can't stop sobbing. His throat aches and his heart tears into tinier pieces. His hands sting with mottled bruises all over. His insides twist violently. A gag interrupts his sobbing, but nothing comes out. Nothing but saliva and spit. He feels sick. 

Finally, he looks up at who did this. 

Flowery feels his heart somehow sink further. 

Blue hair and blue skin, a knight with a blank expression, nothing in their red eyes. 

Antlers burrowing into soft, blonde hair. Hand covered in blood, dripping from a ring around her finger; ice crawling from her feet. 

“Why…” Flowery asks them, the ‘heroes.’ "Why are you… why would you…" 

Why make this world just to kill us like this. Why make us suffer? Why? Why. Why. why, why why why. 

Noelle talks as if she hadn't heard him, “It's not enough. I'm not strong enough yet, Kris. I can't change like this, not like you did.” Her voice is devoid of her. Anything that made Noelle Noelle is gone. Her soft, timid nature; her cinnamon-y warmth in her words: all of it turned to ice. 

He can barely recognise her, not with that hungry expression on her face. 

She eyes him like prey. 

Flowery crawls back, limbs quivering, breaths strangled. 

“Make me stronger, Kris. This time, we’ll cross the lake." 

They lift their arm like a puppet. They don't look at him, their eyes remain fixed on the floor, empty. 

“Kris… why did you… why make this fountain if you—" he's always thought about how Asgore's love for his children hurt him; how he would be the one to fix that.

He thought about the roaring: how more fountains would invite such a fate. He wondered how a prophesied hero could contribute to the end they were supposed to stop it  He pondered why a prophesied hero would open fountains like the Knight did. 

He didn't hate Kris, but he also didn't trust them. 

Now he can't even recognise them.

He didn't ever think they were capable of this. Not the tiny, mischievous human child grinning and playing pranks to make everyone laugh.

Kris doesn't respond. 

Flowery feels the air around them shift. They're about to enter a battle. 

He's going to die. 

Fueled by earth-shaking fear, Flowery stumbles up, only to trip over Yellow. Bile crawls up his throat at his sparring partner's expression, distraught and scared and hurt. 

"Yellow…” he whispers, stuck between reaching for his friend and running. 

The ‘heroes’ approach. Flowery crawls back, pulse racing painfully. 

They get closer. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, blood rushing. 

"Flowery, what is going on!? The other flowers—Kris?!”

That's—that’s Asgore! Surely he could—he could stop Kris! Kris wouldn't hurt their father, would they?! 

But, they made this fountain. And the Knight was always going to… 

Flowery looks back at Kris. Even as their father calls for them, their expression is vacant. 

Flowery turns to flick Asgore away in a rush of petals. 

“Wha—Flowery! Stop!!” Asgore's roaring protests fade down the halls. 

Asgore isn't safe either. No one is. 

The ‘heroes’ are going to kill them. 

Flowery stands up, his body wrought by frightened quivers. He faces them, marred by despair. He's terrified, his heart stutters and his fingers shake. It's cold. 

But Asgore is still behind him. He has to stop them. 

He has to avenge the flowers.

They engage in battle. 

Flowery forces their soul straight into bravery. 

Kris startles, just a little. A reaction. 

He has to stop them now. Even if… even if it means forcing a game over. He doesn't want to hurt Kris, but they'll hurt everyone left if he lets them continue. He just had to knock them out. Everything else would come after.

They defend. Flowery charges up his magic. He leaps and hits. 

It hurts them. 

He hesitates, next hit weaker. 

They still don't attack. They defend. They dodge. 

Flowery doesn't understand why. He charges up his Jarona. They're starting to understand the mechanics, charging right back into him.

They still don't attack. No swords, no ice magic.

Flowery watches in horror as their TP bar fills to one hundred. 

He steps back. He feels the air change before the spell is cast, before he even hears it. 

“Snowgrave." 

Noelle lifts her hands, a trickle of blood dripping from her fourth finger. 

The snow—a snowstorm. It's cold. So, so cold. 

He's hit suddenly by a fatal river of ice, completely encasing him. 

*BATTLE WON. You got $4648

*Noelle got stronger.

—

It was dark and cold. He was dying. Slowly, painfully wilting in the frozen cold. 

All he could think about was the other flowers. Encased in the same fate. Aqua had probably already wilted. Seth too. Orange, his little sister… Green, his kitchen partner. Yellow, his sparring partner. Blue, his dance rival. 

All of them, living twenty long years under Asgore's meticulous care, only to be erased in one single afternoon.

Asgore was still in the castle. He wanted to protect Asgore from them. He needed to. Kris would hurt him too. They didn't react to Asgore or to his horror.

He needed to stop them. He wanted to save them all. No matter what, he wanted to save them all. Let him retry, please. He'll get it right this time. He'll save them all. 

If it meant suffering an eternity, he'd suffer it. 

‘Someone, please hear my plea. Let me change our fate.’

A light he’d been searching before he knew it existed glowed. Golden, shaped like a star. He saw it, could feel it so viscerally.

His determination, given shape, given a real, tangible form; not just an emotion that compelled and allowed him to move forward.

He reached out for it despite being frozen. 

It was warm. It was strong. It filled him with something. 

*SAVE FILE CREATED

That was when it started, or rather restarted.

—

Flowery wakes up in the cafe. His drink that Green had made - the last one to taste test - is half full in front of him. 

It's no longer cold, but he shivers. Sweat beads on his face. 

The cafe is filled with jovial chatter. 

Flowery blinks. His breaths shudder.

Green is in the kitchen bustling about. They turn around to wave while smiling. Flowery stares in disbelief. Their smile fades into a frown. He turns slowly to Orange by his side scarfing down a plate of eggs. She stops munching, raising an eyebrow at him, “What's wrong big bro? You want some of my eggs?” 

Flowery reaches out to hold her. His hand grasps onto her, real, warm, alive. Tears burn his eyes, a sob rising up his chest.

Is he… back somehow? Was it a nightmare? Some—some kind of vision?

It doesn't matter. What matters is that Orange is alive. He scoops her up into his arms and presses her in the crook of his neck. 

“Ack! Flowery, you're crushing me!" 

Her protests fall deaf on his ears as he holds her. His shoulders shake with cries whimpered through gritted teeth. He holds her closer, tighter even as she squirms. 

Orange is alive. 

Green comes around to try and pry his arms loose from suffocating Orange in a death grip, their expression painted in concern. Flowery brings them closer as well, his arm locking around their frame. 

"Y-You're both—you’re both okay!” he sobs, relief filling him to his core. He cries into Green's hair. His entire body shakes with immense relief, with fear that slowly leaves him. His heart still aches from the memor—from the nightmare. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. It has to have been. 

Green's hands come up to pat his back gently. They manage to free Orange from his crushing grip and try to lead him away from the cafe where eyes gather on them. Flowery's legs give up before even taking the first step, falling to his knees and hugging Green like a lifeline. He buried his face in their collar, his grip shivering. Green continues patting him soothingly, a hand running through his hair. 

“You're okay. You're okay. You're okay, you're okay, you're okay you're okay you're okay," he mumbles over and over. They’re okay.

“Big bro…?" Orange holds onto his leg. Her face twists in concern, a bit of fear clinging to the edges of her frown, “What are you… talking about?” 

He looks down at her. She's alive. She's okay. Not frozen, not dying. 

It's okay. They're—they’re all okay. 

Flowery's cries die down to sniffles. He leans against the wall Green brought him too, wiping at his face, “Sorry… I… didn't mean to scare you. I'm… I think I had a nightmare… a real awful one at that,” he thinks. He's never slept before. He's never had a dream, let alone a nightmare. Flowers didn't really sleep. Flowers didn't have consciousness. 

"But…” Orange says, "You weren't sleeping earlier, were you? Not like Asgore… your eyes were open, and you were staring at your drink until you suddenly startled.” 

He… wasn't? Then what… What was that? What was all that? 

Flowery clutches his head. It hurts, from all the crying, presumably. He's not sure. This is the first time he's cried so much. The first time he's cried ever. His nose is still runny, and his face is wet with tears. 

Orange silently wraps her gloves around him in a hug. Green joins at his other side. Flowery melts into the hold, heart starting to calm. He brings a hand to cradle Orange more gently this time, struck with a twinge of guilt for earlier. 

“... Was it a really scary nightmare?" Orange asks quietly. 

‘The scariest,’ Flowery thinks, but he shouldn't burden her with that. "Mostlys, but… I'm okay now. It's fine, every thing’s okay.” They're all back, aren't they? 

… He needs to see them all again. 

“Green, can you round up the other flowers? Tell them to come here," at their hesitance to leave him, Flowery pleads, “Please. I'll stay with Orange. I just… I need to see them again." 

He needs to make sure he's not hallucinating the flowers or any of this. 

Green nods and walks off. 

In the meantime, Flowery takes a moment to slow his breathing. He cups his hands for Orange to hop into, and holds her much more carefully this time to his chest. She clings to him, an ear against his heartbeat, “Your heart's beating really fast." 

“Yeah…" Flowery agrees. It almost hurts, like the lump in his throat. 

Nightmare doesn’t seem right if he hadn’t fallen asleep earlier. Then, a premonition? A bad omen.

But, Kris… why would Kris do any of this? Without a hint of remorse, a hint of anything? And Noelle… since when was she a part of dark worlds? Why would either of them do that? It didn’t fit them.

They wouldn’t. They’re good kids. They wouldn’t needlessly hurt anyone.

He… He needs to find Asgore. That's what he was going to do, right? He’s late now. 

Flowery doesn’t want to move. It’s warm here. He’s starting to feel warm again. He doesn’t want to let go of Orange. But he has to find Asgore. 

(In the back of his mind, fear whispers ominously. His heart skips a painful beat.)

He places Orange down. She looks up sadly, “Flowery…?” 

He tries putting on a winningsmile, “I’m okay now Orange,” he boops her nose, “Thanks to you and Green.”

Orange beams, “I’ll always be here to make you feel better, big bro! I’ll protect you from anyone who bullies you!” She punches the air in a show of strength. 

His heart melts with fondness. Flowery pats her head, “I’m counting on it.” He finally tries standing up. He feels a bit weak, but he’s up. He wipes at his face a bit more. It feels like the tears stick to his face no matter how much he rubs his cheeks. 

Flowery really needs to get to Asgore, “I’m gonna headout. I need to find Goregore, I’ve made him wait long enough.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Orange asks timidly, “I can… I can go with you!” 

The idea chills him down to his bones, or rather his plant-equivalent anatomy, “No!” he doesn’t mean to snap. The surge of fear burst from his mouth so suddenly. Orange shrinks back, twisting his heart, “I mean—I’m sorry Orange, I didn’t mean to…” he looks away, rubbing his arm, “I’ll go alone. I’ll be fine.”

He hurries out even as Orange calls out to him. 

—

The gardens are still dead. Everything is covered in a layer of frost, crunching under his steps. The sound is discomforting, it scares him. 

His vision… it’s—it’s coming true?! Then, Kris and Noelle—what in the world was happening?! 

He needs to find Asgore. Now. 

Flowery makes his way through the same path as last time. Asgore was nearby, and a bit cold, so Flowery needs to get him to the castle. He needs to get back too, as soon as possible, before the flowers got hurt—

He feels abruptly sick, stomach churning anxiously with nausea. The visions accost him like a brick thrown at him: frozen flowers all horrified, slowly dying, their voices fading in the back of his mind. 

Flowery clutches his stomach as he scuffles into a dead tree, trying to breathe through the sickly feeling. It’s fine. He knows now. He’ll get Asgore and they’ll go back to the castle. He’ll protect them all. He will protect them.

But… he was even later this time. He spent so much time panicking earlier… and last time, the gardens weren’t as dead and frozen… 

Unease wells up in his gut. He pushes off the tree, tripping over his steps. Flowery tries to silence the terrified thoughts filling his head. Asgore is fin—

… 

Flowery slows down to a walk, hands reaching for the large ice crystal, a familiar silhouette of a big and friendly looking goat monster… 

No… this can’t be—no! 

Tears leak from his eyes. He strikes the ice, punching it, smacking it with vines, shaking it, crying, screaming for Asgore. He hits it and kicks it even as his hands begin to bleed. He smacks his head against it, staring through the layers of crystal clear ice.

Oh angel… Asgore looked—

Flowery staggers back, retching. He expels all the drinks he’d had earlier, burning sap spewing onto the floor. The tangy, pungent smell only fuels his nausea. He throws up everything, all the while heaving and crying. 

He was too late… he took too long… now Asgore’s…

… The flowers. The flowers!! He needs to get back!!

Turning away from Asgore hurts; each step he forces himself to take cleaves guilt into his being. He… if he can save them, he’ll bring Green. They can fix this. 

He just needs to save them first!

—

Arriving to the castle housing a chill in the air amplifies his horror. They’re already here. 

Kris and Noelle. 

He—he needs to save them. 

He’s struck with freezing fear. He can’t take another step forward. It’s cold. 

A river of ice engulfing him, crawling up his skin with a burning touch. Suffocating slowly, all their voices fading. 

Flowery shakes the sensations away. The cafe—he needs to go in there—! 

He gets close. He can see into the hallway—feel the ice. His gut drops. There's two crystals of varying but familiar sizes. His shoulders quiver with more cries. His eyes burn from endlessly crying, and yet he still has tears to spill. He falls by Orange, bringing her close, trying to scratch the ice off. His bloody hands only leave behind stains, hiding her terrified expression from him. 

“I'm sorry!” he cries, holding her close, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry I—I couldn't save you!" 

He'd been given a chance… and he still failed. 

Orange's voice cries out weakly for her big bro. It tears Flowery in two. What useless older brother he is. Useless flower, unable to change a thing, even with a premonition. 

He puts her down gently. He turns away. 

He has to find the others.

With one last apology, he runs off. 

—

The castle halls are terrifyingly quiet and cold. He's not used to the cold. Asgore always kept them warm, at just the right temperature. They used to sit on a sunny windowsill when Toriel and Asgore were still married. They've always been warm flowers growing towards the sun, gifted on a sunny, beautiful day.

The cold leaves an unpleasant sting on his skin. He shivers as he makes his way through the hallways, his steps and breaths echoing. 

He finds Yellow on the way, gun pointed, eyes terrified and his mouth twisted into a pained snarl. Flowery leans against his friend’s cage, banging his head, his fists on walls of ice. Why… Why is this happening!? Why would anyone do this!? How could—How could Kris and Noelle do this?!

“Yellow…” he sobs quietly, banging the ice weakly. His hands hurt. They burn with each wound tearing open. He doesn't care. He tries hitting as hard as possible, vines wrapping around his arm. The impact travels up his arm, a painful shockwave reverberating. 

The ice cracks. 

Yellow is silent. 

… He's too late. Again. 

Blue, where's Blue—

Flowery covers his mouth, other hand wrapped around his churning gut. 

He can't stand to look at his dance rival’s tortured expression forever frozen. 

He keeps going forward. Aqua and Seth, Aqua and Seth. They're probably still in the castle, he'd asked Green to round them up before they left. They have to be here, and that means he can save them! 

He can hear them! They're close by! 

Flowery bursts through the foyer, finding it filled with snow. In the distance, he sees the wall of ice, and he sees a silhouette inside. His heart twists with agony. 

“SETH!!!" 

Their voice calls back from the recesses of his mind. 

He sees Aqua, staring at the crystal next to her confused. She pokes it, then flinches back, "... Seth?” 

Flowery's sprints forward. Aqua notices him. Her three eyes wide and lost and confused. Scared. 

Aqua’s never scared: always such a carefree spirit, always joyous. It hurts to see her frightened. 

He scoops her up and runs, “Wait! Wait! Flowery, Seth is—” he cradles her against his neck, tears flowing down his face. It's cold. 

"I know Aqua… I know, but we have to run!" 

Aqua is quiet for a moment, “... Where?" 

… He doesn't know. He runs towards Green and Orange’s rooms. What are they supposed to do? How are they supposed to stop them?! As soon as their TP hits one hundred it's over for them!

“Flowery… What happened to Seth…?" Aqua clutches his vest, refusing to look up. She trembles in his arms. It’s so cold.

He can't bring himself to say it, Seth's voice completely fading in both of their minds. Aqua knows, the stain soaking his vest tells him so. 

He comes to a stop on the balcony, a green sun bathing them in light, but no warmth. Flowery sets Aqua down to pull her into a proper hug, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry I couldn't save them. I'm sorry I couldn't save anyone.” 

So useless, so weak. 

Aqua says nothing. She hiccups, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He cradles her head. 

The wind blows fiercely. A snowflake drifts towards them. Flowery flinches. He grabs Aqua and stumbles back, holding her close. She clings just as tight.

Kris and Noelle proceed forward. 

Flowery takes another shivering step back.

Noelle opens her mouth, "These enemies look strong. They'll give me lots of XP. Let's get rid of them.” Her voice sounds alien. 

Kris says nothing. Their bangs hide their eyes. They simply lift their arm to command. 

A battle begins. 

Flowery won't make the same mistake. He'll keep his distance, he won't force Bravery on them. He has to stop the TP gain somehow.

"Flowery…” Aqua mumbles in a tiny voice. He holds her impossibly tighter, “This isn't fun. I'm scared…” 

His heart shatters, "I… I know. I'm scared too. But—"  he hesitates. He's too weak. They're too strong. No matter how he looks at it, he's too powerless. He's going to lose, and both of them are going to freeze to death. 

But Flowery had looked their fate in the eye and decided he wouldn't stand for it. 

He looks Kris and Noelle in their eyes, determination strengthening briefly, "I won't let us die. I'll keep us safe.” 

Aqua wraps her arms around his neck. Her lips wobble. Flowery combs her hair back with a strained, watery smile, “It'll be okay. Just leaf it to me, alright?" He tries putting her down, but she won't let go. That's fine, he didn't want to let go either. He can use petals and vines from a distance. 

The battle starts, the world shifting around him. Kris and Noelle defend. Just watching their TP rise drags his anxiety up with it. 

He tries attacking them. They dodge so easily, petals caught on a shield; vines ftozen. But every hit he does manage twists him with guilt and even guiltier pleasure deep down. He wants to make them hurt. These things… they couldn't be Kris and Noelle. The two sweet kids he'd watched over on Christmas could never do such a thing. Kris wouldn't hurt their father, not like this. 

These things must be masquerading as Kris and Noelle. It's fine if he hurts them. He has to. It's kill or be killed. He doesn't want Aqua to die. She's counting on him. He doesn't want to die either. 

He makes the attack patterns harder. There's little room to dodge. They take damage. The wounds are showing up on their bodies and it makes Flowery feel sick. 

It's not them, he reminds himself. It can't be! 

They defend. Their TP rises, close to one hundred. 

Flowery's racing heart thunders. 

Aqua peeks at the battle scene. She looks up at him, tears welling in her eyes. 

TP: MAX

Flowery stares in horror. His face falls.

“Flowery?" 

Hearing her wobbly voice, he gazes down at Aqua.

Noelle peers at them with disinterest. Kris doesn’t look.

“... Thank you for playing with me earlier. It was really fun." 

Flowery feels his heartbreak, warmth leaking from his eyes. He holds Aqua close as Kris lifts the arm, the command leaving their lips; a whisper that carries all the way to them like a death sentence.

“... I love you too, Aqua." 

—

Frozen with Aqua in his arms; they were both slowly dying. It was cold. It was so cold, yet he couldn't shiver. He couldn't move. He couldn't wrap his arms tighter around Aqua. 

The light found him again. Or rather he found it, looking without ever knowing it was there. Golden light, shaped in a star that never stopped moving. A powerful heat filled him as he reached for it in the darkness. Strength, warmth, power. 

His determination. 

He'd do it this time. He'd save them. 

RELOAD SAVE? 

   RELOAD                        QUIT

He barely had to think. 

   RELOAD💛                  QUIT

—

Flowery startles awake. Maybe he just startles into focus. He feels like he's woken up from something - like the nightmares Asgore had, but fresh and real. The tears stream down his face in droves. Green drops whatever it is they’re doing and rushes over. Orange jumps onto the table, “Big bro! What’s wrong? Do you have a tummy ache?! Flowery!” 

He doesn’t respond, nor does he register the tiny tugs at his vest. All he can do is cry quietly, shoulders shaking with sobs he can’t bite back. Someone tugs him into a hug. He collapses like a doll, clinging onto Green’s jacket. It feels cold, he’s shivering, but Green is warm. Green is always warm. He melts in their hold. They pat his back gently, rubbing soothing circles. 

By the time his cries fade to hiccups, he hears a rushing stampede of steps approaching, “Flowery!” the flowers all call out to him. 

Yellow skids on his knee to his side, “Who dun it Flowery? Who hurt you?” he asks sincerely, a hand on Flowery’s shoulder, reassuring, strong, comforting. 

Flowery looks at all the other flowers, all alive, breathing, healthy. When his gaze lands on Aqua, he drags her into a tight hug. 

“Uuuu! Hugging game! Hugging game!” she wraps her arms just as suffocatingly snug as he holds her. Hearing her giggle turns the tears of misery into relief. They’re okay again. They’re okay! 

“Flowery, dear, what ails you?” Blue kneels down next to Yellow to ask. His usually closed eyes open, filled to the brim with sadness, with Flowery’s own hurt. 

Flowery sniffles, wiping at his face, “I… I don’t even know where to begin. But…” he shakes himself off. Whatever’s going on, he’s been given another chance. He needs to fix it this time. He needs to get Asgore before it’s too late. 

How much progress have Kris and Noelle made already?

He lets Aqua go once she starts squirming, “Blue, take everyone to the fountain, now,” before Blue can question him, he grips the ballerino’s shoulders with a desperate, pleading look, “Please.”

The further they are, the safer they’ll be. 

Blue relents, “Alright. Will you meet up with us?”

“Soon, after I bring Asgore back.” He gets up, making his way to the exit, “Blue,” he turns around, “Don’t leave the fountain. No matter what.”

They’ll be safe up there. 

Blue’s frown only deepens, “... I understand.” 

Flowery nods, leaving.

—

The path is frosty. Just like the first time. He still remembers it. The crunch of ice. The hollow breeze. The chill in the air. It's cold. He should've brought his jacket. 

“... Where am I? It's quite chilly…” 

Asgore! The relief strikes him overwhelmingly. As he runs, Asgore's figure becomes clearer. A friendly goat monster, fluffy and alive, warm and breathing. Their wonderfully kind caretaker. He can't help but tear up, sprinting faster. 

Asgore startles at his approaching figure, almost manhandling Flowery off when he throws himself at Asgore. But to Flowery's relief, he stops, hands hanging awkwardly in the air. Flowery can't help sniffing, burying his face in Asgore's fur. It's warm. He's warm. He's alive. He's okay. 

He needs to get Asgore out before they make their way over. They're too close. Flowery reluctantly pulls away, snot and tears all over his beautiful face, his winningsmile nowhere to be seen but none of that mattered, “You have to come with me, right now!" 

Asgore blinks down unsurely at him, "I… I don't really know what's going on here—”

"Please Asgore! I—" can't lose you again, can't watch you be frozen by your own child, “I'll… explain everything later, so please. Just, come with me.” 

Something must click for Asgore. He nods, “Alright. I'll follow you. But he warned, if I find out you're tricking me—” 

Flowery cuts him off, just barely finding it in himself to smile, "I could never oldbuddy!” no, he just wants to protect Asgore. He wants them all to be safe. 

With a flourish of his hand, he teleports them through petals. They arrive at the castle top, right by the fountain. It's still warm here. He can physically feel the tension drain from his shoulders, fatigue suddenly barreling into him. 

Fatigue isn't the only thing that rams into him; Orange launches herself the moment she notices him, "Big bro!” he barely catches her, holding on tight. He wants to hold onto all the flowers just as firmly forever. 

“It's Asgore! Asgore!" Aqua happily points out, she skips over to him. Seth follows her, yelling after the cyan flower. 

Yellow seems torn between checking on the shivering Flowery and the confused Asgore. Blue rests a hand on his partner's shoulder, eyeing Flowery through his lashes. Green waddles over to Asgore along with Aqua and Seth, but their eyes fall often on Flowery, who simply tries to breathe normally. 

His mind runs rampant. He paces in place as the thoughts come in one after the other. Orange clambers his vest to his shoulder. 

Everyone is safe. They're safe for now. He's shivering but it isn't cold. The castle is warm, at the ideal temperature. How long will that last? What is he supposed to do? How can he stop Kris and Noelle? He can't win in a fight—as soon as they gain max TP it's over. 

He feels lightheaded. Someone yells at his right. It's giving him a headache. 

How long can they stay up here? How long will they be safe? He looks over to the other flowers. He doesn't want to see them frozen ever again. He doesn't want to see agony and despair on their faces. This was supposed to be good for them, their chance to live as humans, to fulfill their dreams, to make Asgore happy. This was supposed to be their chance. 

The air feels thin. It's getting hard to breathe. Orange tries grabbing his attention. Flowery can only think of how tight his lung feels, a hang grasping at his chest. Why is it so hard to breathe? It hurts! 

“Flowery!" 

His legs give out. He falls on all fours, coughing as something squeezes his lungs. He's suffocating—he can’t breathe! 

"Flowery, you have to breathe!” Someone yells, their voice distorting in and out of his ears. 

He's trying! He can't! He feels really faint. His limbs are weak and shaking under his own weight. He tries grasping at whatever binds his lungs, but there's nothing. He's going to suffocate—he’s dying again! Why?! Kris and Noelle aren't even here! 

The thought of them alone stings his chest, pressing further on the weight caving into his ribs. He starts coughing, choking on the lump in his throat, a trail of saliva dripping to the floor. Hands try to rub his shoulders and pat his back and normally he'd appreciate it but it—it’s all too much. He feels so sick. 

The hands back off. One big, fluffy paw takes one of his hands and places it on fabric. The fabric moves slowly, “Flowery… can you follow my breathing?” 

Flowery looks up through the tears, "A-Asgore! I—I can't breathe! I'm d-dying!" Some clamouring and crying echo somewhere around him, all melted into a cacophony.

Why now of all times?! What is even happening?! Is he poisoned, or maybe another spell—

“Yes, you can. You’re not dying," Asgore reassures firmly, carefully reaching for Flowery. When he doesn't flinch away, he brings Flowery head to his chest, ear right by his beating heart, “Just follow my breathing. You were doing it earlier, weren't you? You can definitely do it." 

Asgore takes deep, deliberate breaths. His lungs fill to the brim and his chest matches it by rising high. His heartbeat is so clear in Flowery's ear, possibly the clearest thing Flowery has heard in a while. A steady, strong beat of someone alive. 

It soothes him, as does the rhythmical rising and falling of Asgore's chest, the hand patting him at a slow tempo that matched it all. 

"Take a deep breath.” Breathe in. 

“And let it out." Breath out. 

Shaky but fuller breaths, less wheezing ones. 

“Again. Another breath." Breathe in. His lungs ache instead of hurting sharply.

“And out." Breath out. That feels a little better. 

Eventually, his pitiful gasps lengthen to full breaths that fill his lungs with enough air. Asgore lets him go once he's sure Flowery is breathing alright. The golden flower keeps focusing on the rhythm, a hand grabbing his shirt. Breathe in, breathe out. 

All the anxious stuttering in his mind, the creeping static in his vision fade. He reluctantly lifts his head to a bouquet of concerned expressions. Orange rushes to his side first, “Big bro! Are you okay?" Her tears threaten to spill over her eyes. 

Flowery manages a slow nod, "I…” 

"What happened?” Seth asks quietly, clutching their book with a death grip. Their fingers shake. 

Guilt churns in his stomach. He's worrying them. He's scaring them. 

"I… I don't know,” Flowery begins, "I just couldn't breathe all of a sudden. It felt like I was going to pass out…" 

“Ah, I see. You are all… not monsters nor humans, are you? You must be unfamiliar with the human body, let alone the human mind, yes?" Asgore hums.

“W-well, we're all trying to figure it out!" Seth responds quickly, flipping through their book, "But we haven't really gotten the chance to study, or do much! Flowery suddenly called for us.” They eye him worriedly. 

The moment he thinks of them the weight on his chest reappears to press down. Flowery starts shivering.

"Remember, keep breathing slow,” Asgore is quick to notice his distress, a hand already on Flowery's back. It's warm, so warm. 

It's not cold up here. They're not here, he reminds himself. 

While Flowery focuses on breathing, Asgore takes the moment to explain, "Human and Monster brains are very complex. We are capable of feeling many emotions, all wonderful, but when an emotion is too high, it can become distressing,” the flowers listen attentively, leaning in like school children, “What I think you had was a panic attack." 

Flowery nods along. His breathing has slowed significantly. He feels exhausted, a headache budding behind his eyes. He feels awful. 

“Panic attack? Is that a new bullet pattern?" Aqua asks curiously, always so innocently playful to a painful degree.

“No!" Seth snaps, “It's something bad! Flowery just had one, when he was choking and suffocating.” 

Aqua's smile falls, "Uuu, they don't sound fun.” 

They're certainly not, Flowery agrees. 

“Um, yes," Asgore picks up where he left off, “When something is overwhelmingly stressful and scary, it can consume the mind and lead to too much panic, so much so the body struggles to regulate.” 

Flowery thinks almost all those words flew over his head, as they did most of the flowers. But the swift page turning tells him a very diligent flower probably did understand, "Aha! I read this earlier too about human brains. It's an extreme and sudden anxiety response." They look up, “Is there… What's stressing you out so badly, Flowery?" 

Flowery looks away. 

“Yer been off since goin’ to the cafe… and now this…" Yellow mumbles, his hat in his hands, nervously fidgeting with it. 

How could he even begin to explain? 

Before he gets the chance to even think about it, the chill that reaches the atmosphere runs down his spine as a violent shiver. His heart constricts almost immediately, the pain aching fiercely. His breaths quicken, hissed through gritted teeth. He knows this feeling, this cold. 

They're here. 

Flowery gets up and rushes towards the exit. 

"Flowery!!" 

“Where are you going?!" 

“Big bro!!!" 

“Wait there!!” he snaps back at them. His voice echoes, a visceral growl. The flowers flinch back and with it twist his heart, “Just. Stay. Please." 

He won't let them near Kris and Noelle. He won't let those things pretending to be Kris and Noelle near the flowers. 

(Are they really things? What else could they be but the prophesied heroes fated to clash with them?

… He doesn't want to think about it.)

He'll face them alone. There has to be something he can do. 

Flowery can feel the flowers’ apprehension, their fears, the way their hearts race. They've always been so in tune with each other, even as flowers. They were grown separately, but they lived together, always so close.

He tries smiling back at them, “I'll be back. Promise.” 

If he wins here, if he can stop them, if he could just knock them out and tie them up, or if—if he really has to, if he could kill them… then the flowers would be safe. Asgore would be safe. 

This nightmare can end. 

Flowery takes a deep breath to fight the anxious churning at his sternum. He's going to be fine. He can do this. 

He shivers, ice prickling his skin.

And if anyone gets hurt, better him than the flowers. 

Flowery teleports down to the beanstalk.

—

He faces them again. He's terrified to his core. All his bravado shatters in the face of empty eyes. 

The battle starts. 

Flowery can only watch in horror as their TP bar rises. He hits harder, he strikes harder, he tries crushing their soul. 

They heal, and then they defend. 

It's hopeless. He can never stop their TP gain. It's almost maxed out. 

He's going to die… better him than the flowers and Asgore, but if they get past him, then the others will die. 

He doesn't want that. He needs more time. Something else to stop this. Anything. Anything at all. 

The light shines from the depths of his being. Golden light in his hands, pulsating warm and strong, power brimming under his skin, energy prickling the tips of his fingers. 

He knows this power. He's felt it before. When he's been—

RELOAD SAVE? 

    RELOAD                             QUIT

Kris lifts their arm. The whisper carries across the room. 

Flowery's body reacts with old panic. He's frozen before he's even encased in ice, teeth grinding down on each other. His limbs quiver, rivulets of sweat dripping down his horrified face. 

He reaches for that power as Noelle lifts her hands. 

  RELOAD💛                          QUIT

—

That was the first time he used it consciously. The power to reload. He didn't get it, didn't get its existence or why he specifically could, but he didn't question it. 

As long as he could try again. As long as he was determined.

—

He's back. He's always back here at the cafe, with Green and Orange, right before he goes out to find Asgore. 

His breathing stutters. Sweat drips down his face in icy rivulets, plopping on the counter his quivering arms rest on. A hand clutches his drink for life, his grip turning pale.

“Flowery? What's wrong?!" Orange drops her cutlery with a clatter. 

He doesn't answer—can’t get a response out through his chattering teeth, only able to curl in on himself as he shivers. He starts feeling lightheaded, balance wavering on the chair. Green is quick to steady him. Their arms loop around him, tight and steadying. They're warm. He's cold. The cafe is supposed to be warm. Why is he cold!?

Flowery bites back a whimper. He's—he’s panicking again, suffocating under his own brain's stress. It's hard to breathe. 

‘It's fine’, he tries to reassure himself. ‘No one got hurt this time. Noelle didn't freeze himself before he… he… reset? Reload?’ 

Flowery reaches for that power to steady himself—the pulsating warmth hidden within him. A light in his hands, small, a star that always moves, barely holding a shape. It shines gently. Flowery can't help staring at it, mesmerised. This is…

Green taps his shoulder curiously, ‘What is it?’ they point to his hands that cup the star. 

Flowery's wide gaze swivels between it and Green, "You don't… see it?" 

They tilt their head. 

Flowery looks back down at his hands. He definitely sees it. He feels it. His determination. A golden shape filling him with the will to change things, breaking the rules of a world he thought he knew how to work already. 

Green doesn't see it, “It's… It's nothing Green,” Flowery reassures, tucking his hands away. The warmth remains a steady pulse around his heart. His mind starts wondering elsewhere, running back through the last few resets.

He needs to get Asgore before it's too late. He'll be frozen otherwise, and Flowery would have to use his power—to reload. 

His heart lurches at the thought of Asgore being frozen. He really needs to get going. He can't stop shivering even as he warms up in Green's arms. He's taking too long. All his anxieties aggregate to form a sickly feeling in his chest, one that twists a grimace on his face.

Green notices his expression easily. They run their fingers through his hair. It's such a delicate and soothing motion that he relaxes under their touch. For a moment, he lets his rampant worries dissipate to the back of his mind, simply leaning into the chef's hug.  

When he finally pulls away from Green, the other flowers greet him. How long have they been there? 

They're all concerned. He's worrying them again. 

“I'm sorry, guys…” he croaks out a pathetic apology. 

Orange doesn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him, “Don't say sorry! Tell us you bullied chu so we can beat ‘em up!" 

Aqua's knives hang in the air threateningly, "We can make it a game! Game!” The patrons of the cafe all sweat at the multitude of knives. 

Seth shakes their head, “You're scaring the customers Aqua. But she's right,” their face goes from lightly exasperated to determined, eyebrows furrowed angrily on his behalf, “Whoever hurt you, we won't let them get away with it." 

Yellow cheers from behind them, “They's right! Anyone who messes with my sparring pard’ner’ll pay dearly!" 

“Tell us Flowery, what is it that bothers you so?" Blue places a hand on Flowery’s quivering shoulder, “You're pain ails us too. Let us fix it for you.” 

Tears prick his eyes, though this time they're full of love. A lovely bouquet they are: born out of love, grown with love, gifted as love. Truly, down to their core, they are love. He loves them so, so much. He'll do anything for them. He'll die over and over if it means saving them. He'll reload as many times as he needs to.

He's determined to do anything for them. That's the power he's been gifted.

He has to find a good ending for them, no matter what. He has to figure this out for them. No matter what it takes.

Flowery sniffles away the rest of his tears. He rubs at his face, “We need to get Asgore, a-and we need to get away." 

“From what?" Blue asks gently. 

Flowery shakes his head, pulling out of Green's hug, "I–I don't have time to explain. I need to go!" He's wasted so much time again. What if—what if he isn't fast enough!? “All of you head to the fountain, I'll bring Asgore in a bit!” 

Before he can leap ahead, a hand catches his arm. Blue pulls him back, "Wherever it is you are headed, I will accompany you.” 

Flowery almost lashes out, but Blue’s eyes opening stops him immediately. 

"I’m worried about you. We all are. Please allow me to watch over you on their behalf,” the flower’s eyes gleam a concerned shade of blue. Flowery knows he won't let this go. 

Flowery won't let go either. He takes Blue's hand into his, "Fine. But whatever happens, don't let go." 

Blue nods. 

Flowery orders Yellow to get everyone to the fountain. Yellow salutes him before rounding up Aqua and Orange on his shoulders. Green and Seth follow after them after giving Blue and Flowery one more glance. 

Blue offers them a serene, reassuring smile. Flowery tries to as well, but he doesn't really manage it: his winningsmile is nowhere to be seen. 

Once the others are gone from sight, the two of them fly their way to the gardens.

—

The grass is frosted. Flowery shivers the moment they land. He's hit suddenly by a fiery sensation twisting barbed wires around his chest, each pulse of his heart churning his gut with nausea. Flowery grips his aching chest, gritting his teeth. 

Blue makes a disturbed noise, “All the life of the gardens…”

“... It’s always like this. As long as they’re here,” Flowery mumbles under his breath. The cold burrows into him like a plague. His grip on Blue’s hand tightens, even as Blue winces. He won’t let go, no matter what. 

“Flowery.”

He keeps them moving forward, tugging on Blue’s hand. It grows colder. His grip 

tightens. 

“Flowery." 

The winds around them shrivel dry. It's hard to breathe it in, cold stinging his airways-equivalent. His grip tightens. 

"Flowery.” 

They're getting close. There's snowflakes in the atmosphere. A shiver lingers in his skin. It's so cold. The sweat on his face feels like ice. His grip tightens.

A tug backwards frightens him. He turns on his heel, almost expecting an icicle, but it's only Blue, frowning sadly. 

Hand crushed by Flowery's. 

He lets go as if burnt, "Ah! I'm—I’m—Blue I—!" 

The darkened marks of his fingers mar Blue’s beautiful skin, branded by Flowery. Blue retracts his hand. He tries shaking off the pain. 

Flowery can only fight the tears trying to pool at his eyes. Why is he the one crying? He's the one that hurt Blue!

“I'm sorr—”

Saying nothing, Blue simply pulls Flowery into his arms. He rubs his back and he threads his fingers through his hair with a feather-light touch, but his hold on Flowery is firm, “It's alright. I don't hold it against you. Do not be so Blue, alright? Afterall, that's my role, isn't it?” He says with a chuckle.  

It almost makes Flowery laugh with him. Instead he sighs quietly as a few years slip from his eyes, grasping at his friend, “I'm sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you. Everything's so… everything's so overwhelming. I'm… I don't know what to do… I'm so scared, Blue, I'm terrified.” 

“Of what, my friend?” 

How does he explain this? How can he even begin? He'll only seem insane. 

“Whatever it is, you know I will believe you." 

… He trusts Blue. Even if it sounds crazy, he trusts Blue.

“... Kris and Noelle." 

He can feel Blue startle at his response, can hear the disbelief in his silence, "... Kris and Noelle?” 

Flowery nods, "They're the ones killing this dark world. I don't know why but—every time, they hurt us. They kill us." 

Blue flinches, “That… can't be. Kris and Noelle are… not such barbaric people. They're wonderful children.” 

Flowery pulls back, gripping Blue’s arms, "They're supposed to be! Even if I didn't trust Kris, I never thought they'd harm anyone maliciously! Not like this! But they've killed us three times already! Kris froze their own father!! What—what am I supposed to think about that?!” 

His breathing is getting funny again. It hurts to breathe, a dull ache pressing on his lungs. Deep breaths, he needs deep breaths. In, out, in, out. Blue pulls him in again, nearer to his chest rising steadily.

“Flowery," still running his fingers along Flowery's hair, a motion that continues to soothe him, Blue asks, "What do you mean they've… killed us before?” 

…

"We are still here, are we not?” 

… Yes, they are, aren't they? And yet the sensations never go away. The memories don't fade. They're always so fresh, etched onto the ice that encases him each time. 

“... I thought it was a nightmare at first. But Orange said I wasn't sleeping. Then I thought it was a vision or a premonition. But it's happened more than once… I—I remember it, Blue. I remember being frozen alive. And I remember watching you all be frozen. It happens every time.” 

Blue doesn't stop trying to calm Flowery even as his words descend into madness. 

"I… I know I sound insane, but I swear. I'm not lying. I wouldn't lie about this," please believe me. 

“I know you wouldn't, Flowery," Blue says, not a hint of suspicion to his tone, “While I struggle to believe your words, I do not believe you to be a liar. I'm confident you're not lying." 

Angel, he loves his bouquet so much. He's been gifted a life with such wonderful people. He has to fight to keep it. That's why he's here again. 

“Is it possible that it isn't Kris and Noelle?" Blue asks after a moment.

Flowery sighs, leaning more into Blue who holds his weight and his burdens, “I've thought about it. I tried to convince myself it wasn't them. But… they look just like them, and—only the prophesied Heroes are fated to come here. It… it can't be anyone else.” 

“... I see. If we see them, I will make my own judgement. But, I will not discredit yours either, Flowery.” He pulls back and offers his hand again, “Let us move forward, shall we? Asgore is waiting." 

Somehow, in the dark and dying gardens, Blue glows softly, like the moon at night. They’ve only seen it when their windows and the skies align. It was always beautiful. Its softness always reminded Flowery of Blue, of his gentle nature.

Flowery takes his hand, a hint of relief allowing him to relax momentarily. He's scared for Blue. If they meet the ‘heroes’ here, he's terrified Blue will be frozen again. Blue is no fighter; he says it himself all the time, he's a messenger of love. Blue could never hurt Kris and Noelle. Flowery wouldn't want him to. 

But he's also glad Blue is here. He's glad Blue is his friend. 

"Thank you,” he says earnestly, with his whole heart in his voice, “I'm really glad you're here Blue. I'm truly glad you're my friend.” 

An abashed chuckle precedes Blue's words, "As am I, Flowery.” 

If only this warm moment in a sea of ice could last. 

…

But it doesn't. Instead, it's brutally shattered by the column of ice rising high into the sky. Blue flinches back. Flowery feels his stomach drop to the pits of hell.

They… they took too long. Because of Flowery, they took too long. Asgore is—! 

He runs ahead without thinking, deaf to Blue's cries. He reaches the area of foliage he first found Asgore only to be greeted with an ice crystal he never wanted to see again. Asgore’s silhouette reaches for him. 

He reaches back, only to touch burning ice. Flowery doesn't pull his hand away. He leans his ahead against the ice, gazing into Asgore's terrified eyes. The guilt churns in his gut, sickening and nauseating and awful.

He'd failed again. 

Flowery falls to his knees, uselessly banging on ice. 

He’d failed again. 

Blue's steps grow louder behind him. He gasps in horror at the sight. 

The ice in the air almost hones in on them. Behind the crystal, Flowery sees shadows of two teenagers. 

He flinches.

They're here. Blue is with him. They—! 

Flowery turns back and snatches Blue's hand, “Flowery! Asgore is—” he protests. 

"We have to go!! Now!” Flowery snaps back, "We'll bring Green to fix things, but we have to go! We can't stay here!” 

They'll be killed if they do. He knows that fact intimately. 

Despite their efforts, the ‘heroes’ reach them. A battle starts, darkness shaping around them, borders crossing around them. 

Blue’s eyes widen in terror. He stares at the two teenagers that were once happy little children; now emotionless husks that stared them down like mere prey. Flowery feels his lungs collapse in on themselves, struggling to breathe. 

“Kris, dear… your father, you—” Blue’s voice gives out. He can't say it. He doesn't want to believe it. 

Neither does Flowery. But it's happened, and no matter what excuse he can come up with, he can't disprove that it's not Kris and Noelle. They're not darkners. They have a human soul. They're powerful. They look just like them. 

They need to run. Flowery reaches for Blue but a sharp, cold sting strikes his midsection. Flowery grunts as he falls, an arm around the frozen crystals growing at his midriff. 

“Flowery!" Blue flicks a cloud into existence, rain drizzling. It melts the ice and heals his HP. He can still feel where the spell burns him with a chill.

The ‘heroes’ defend. Their TP goes. Flowery feels sick, a hand to his mouth. 

“Kris… Noelle, please heed my words,” Blue - through an expression that speaks of pain, disbelief and heartbreak, yet still clings to a shred of hope, of love - flourishes a hand towards them, “There must be another way than this senseless violence. Neither of you are thorn-bearing flowers.”

They don’t respond. 

“Surely we can come to an agreement? Fighting will get us nowhere. Neither Flowery nor I wish to hurt you both.” Their frigid silence makes Blue hesitate. He continues softly, “We have watched both of you grow: this isn’t like either of you. You are both kind and youthful buds awaiting to bloom beautifully, no matter which path you find yourself on. You can still flourish, even through all this violence. Please, let us give you another chance.” 

Flowery sees it at the same time as Blue: a lone tear slipping from their eyes. Kris grits their teeth, shoulders shaking. The tears keep falling, even as their posture remains painfully robotic.

“Kris… your father, we can still save him. I’m sure of it,” Blue speaks kindly, in low tones that are gentle, “If you would let us take him to our lovely chef, I’m sure we can melt the ice.” 

Flowery keeps an eye on Noelle. Although Kris reacts, their tears still falling, she does not. Her eyes remain apathetic. Her posture is relaxed, and her gaze hones in on them, hungry, “Kris. You can’t stop now. I can still hear your voice. Even now, you’re telling me to proceed. You didn’t let me stop, so I won’t let you either,” her words are bitterly soft, like a loving reprimand, “Help me get stronger. This time, we will cross the lake.”

What? 

He doesn’t get what she’s talking about. It sounds like nonsense. It sounds nothing like Noelle. 

Kris lifts their shield. Noelle builds an ice wall. Their TP goes up. 

Blue’s face falls. Flowery feels like he’s about to throw up his heart. Blue doesn't attack. Flowery hesitates. He can't get Kris’s tears out of his mind. He can't hurt them. 

They defend. TP rises. 

They defend. TP rises. 

They defend. TP rises. 

Flowery shivers more violently. Even without the snow, the atmosphere grows colder. 

Blue meets eyes with him, fear peeking through his lashes. It reminds Flowery of the first time. It hurts. The aching in his chest, the stabbing pain, the ugly twisting, the churning—all of it tangles where his heart beats and hurts. 

It's hard to breathe again. He's not sure if it's panic or if it's the air around them. 

They defend. 

TP: max. 

Kris lifts the arm: points at Blue, and whispers the deafening spell.

Snow picks up, howling furiously. 

Flowery finds it in himself to get up and shove Blue. He isn't fast enough—having spent too much time wallowing on the floor. The spell strikes both of them: ice grows over Flowery's left arm down to his thigh on his left side; Blue's right all the way up to his neck is encased in ice. 

Their HP is dangerously low. 

They're going to die. 

He doesn't want to see Blue die. He won't let Blue die. He can't let his precious friend die again. Never—never again. 

Flowery reaches for the warmth deep within him. The golden light shines in his hand, always so strong.

RELOAD FILE? 

      RELOAD                           QUIT

There isn't a moment's hesitation in his mind. 

      RELOAD💛                     QUIT

—

Kris had cried. They'd cried as their body went through the motions. They were still in there, but not in control. 

What had possessed them? How long? When they first came to Flower King a few days ago, he hadn't noticed much beyond the shift that had occurred years ago: when the grinning, mischievous human suddenly stopped grinning.

It was still them, and that meant he couldn't hurt them. Not in good conscience, not with Asgore in mind. He didn't want to hurt them. They were a good kid. Even if he didn't recognise them anymore, he used to know a good kid. A good kid that probably still existed deep within them. 

He didn't want to hurt them. 

He had no idea what to do. 

He started over, even more lost. 

—

He's at the table again, hand loosely holding his drink. The tears fall automatically. His grip on the cup tightens, so shaky he spills some of it on himself. 

He'd almost died himself. More shamefully, he's almost let Blue die. His HP had been so low, far too close turning a beautiful Blue flower into a wilting one.

“Big bro?!” Orange drops her cutlery in a rush, “What’s wrong?! Are you hurt?!” She tries holding onto his arm and rubbing it, just like he does for her when she gets worked up. 

He’s so cold, he barely feels it. He can’t stop shivering. His teeth chatter in between broken gasps for air.

Green comes around to free the glass from his light-knuckled grip. He lets go in exchange for grabbing onto himself. Green startles at his iron grip on his own arms, fingers dripping deep. They’re quick to recover, rubbing his back while trying to pry his death grip off of himself. It barely hurts—all he wants is to stop the shivering. He only has energy to cry to himself.

He’s so tired. He wants to close his eyes and never wake up. 

But… he can’t. Not until he finds a way for the flowers and Asgore to survive. He has to save them… As long as he’s determined, he has to keep trying. 

“O-Orange,” he calls for her in between sniffles. Green finally unlatches Flowery's fingers to hold himself instead. The cold starts to fade immediately.

His little sister snaps to attention instantly, wiping her own tears away, “W-What is it Flowery?! I’ll do anything you need me to!” 

Blue. He needs to see Blue again, to know he’s okay and not half frozen, not low on HP, “Please… bring Blue over. And-And everyone,” he needs to gather them up, then he needs to get Asgore. 

Orange nods firmly, “O-Okay! Just leaf it to me big bro!” She runs like a bullet, quickly disappearing from view. He doesn’t want her to leave. He doesn’t want to leave the café. Even though he shivers, even though he's starting to feel perpetually cold after each reload, Green is warm.

When they suddenly let go, he instinctively snatches their apron, “Don’t—!” Flowery catches himself. They’re not leaving. They’re not going to disappear just because he lets go. They’re fine here, they’re fine right now, “... Sorry. I…” 

Green waves him off. ‘Few minutes,’ their sign reads. Flowery nods as he wipes his eyes. They’re starting to sting from all the crying. He’s never cried so much. He’s never even seen anyone cry this much, not even Asgore after he first moved into Flower King. Asgore's tears had eventually stopped. Flowery's never seem to run out.

Asgore… How much time did he have? He needs to get to him before Kris and Noelle—

Kris… it really is them. They wouldn’t have cried otherwise. It’s them but not just them. Something must be controlling them. Is it Noelle? But Noelle followed Kris’s orders. It didn’t seem like it would be her. 

He regrets hurting them before. There’s something wrong, but he thinks it’s not their fault. They’re sweet kids: they’d never do something like this, not willingly. 

The sweet smell of cinnamon-butterscotch drags him from his thoughts to the fresh pie Green presents him. Flowery gawks at it. Green makes their way around the counter to stand by his side. They cut him a slice and hold it out until he slowly reaches for it. Then, they wrap an arm around his shoulders and show him a smaller sign.

‘It’ll be okay.’

Green didn’t talk. They had no interest in it, so Flowery would fill in the silences between. He liked talking, he had a voice and he loved using it. He didn’t really like silence. He always talked for them and talked to them. 

But the painted words on a small sign speak louder than anything else, speaking in such a calming, quiet way that reaches him deep down. Green's silence makes their words so much clearer. He tears up again, shoulders shaking; a huge weight loosening around his chest, something like relief or comfort, something that soothes the aching. 

It isn’t okay. It hasn’t been for a while. 

But it will be okay. It has to be. Flowery has to make sure. 

He takes a bite of the pie. It’s warm and rich, cinnamon and butterscotch mixing so nicely. No wonder this is Asgore’s favourite. It might not be the exact one Toriel made; they’ve never tasted it before - there’s no way they could ever recreate it exactly - but Flowery thinks the way the pie soothes him reminds him of how a single slice would calm Kris and Asriel’s tears anytime. 

Green keeps rubbing his arm. 

His heart swells eternally gratefully. Green is the kindest person he’s ever met. He’s so glad he met them, so glad they’re his kitchen partner and friend; so, so grateful they’re a part of the bouquet. He doesn’t know how to express it in words. 

So he takes another slice and chows down enthusiastically. It’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. He hasn’t had much in his short time as human, but he knows this is the best thing ever made. 

‘Good?’ Green asks. Their face relaxes upon seeing Flowery dig in.

Flowery nods. He doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t done anything to be gifted a life with such wonderful flowers. 

It’s all he can do to keep trying for their sake. They mean too much for him to ever even consider giving up. They keep him sane, they’re his lifeline through all this; the birthplace of his determination. 

He manages to finish a good half of the pie. He feels significantly warmer, satiated and calm. 

Flowery gives Green a genuine smile, tear stained and not at all charming, but still mustering all the gratitude in the entire world, “Thanks Green. I really neededs that.”

They smile softly. ‘Anytime’, their sign says. They reach over with their handkerchief to pat his face dry. Flowery can’t help chuckle, reaching to take the handkerchief from them. As he wipes the last of his tears, the rest of the flowers arrive in a stampede. 

“Flowery!” a euphony of their voices call for him. Upon seeing Blue, Flowery leaps from his seat to crush the flower in a hug. 

“Flowery?!” Blue startles but doesn’t pull away. 

He cradles Blue’s head, like Asgore always did when holding Kris and Asriel. Blue lets him, returning the hug a little unsurely. Flowery pulls back to get a good look at his dance rival. He tries to etch Blue’s concern over the terror that gripped him last time as they were both frozen. 

The relief wells up behind his eyes,  Angel, won’t he ever run out of tears? 

“Flowery… What's wrong, friend? You’re… crying.”

Flowery wipes roughly at his eyes, “I-It’s nothing. Everythings okay now,” his voice wobbles, dangerously close to crying, “I’m just… glad you’re okay again.”

Blue’s frown only deepens, but to Flowery’s relief, he doesn’t question him. They don't have the time. Once they're headed for the fountain, Flowery needs to find Asgore a-sap. 

“I'm…” he takes a deep breath when his voice wavers, addressing all the flowers, "I'm going to get Asgore. Please, all of you go to the fountain. I'll meet you all up there in a bit, alright?" 

“Why? why?" Aqua asks, tugging on his pant leg. 

At Flowery’s pinched expression verging on collapsing - possibly snapping desperately - Seth starts to pull Aqua along, “If Flowery says so, let’s just go,” they give him a stern look that he sees through immediately. The crease on their brow gives them away, “You better tell us what’s going, or we’re coming back down for answers.”

He shakes his head at the last sentence, “No—no no no, you can’t,” he says it firmly, maybe bordering on angry, or frustrated. It’s hard to parse out what he’s feeling, “It’s not safe. Just, whatever's happens, don’t come back down.”

The grave, stern tone to his words has the flowers shrinking back a little. 

He doesn't mean to keep scaring them. He doesn't want to. But if it means they won't get hurt then he will be scary if he has to.

He won't let them get hurt. He'll save them. He has to. 

“I'm counting on you, Blue." 

Blue watches Flowery disappear down the hall, eyes trailing sorrowfully, trained after his unsteady gait. 

—

The gardens are terrifyingly cold as they always are. He can't remember what they looked like before, what they felt like. 

Flowery wonders if he'll ever get to see the gardens bloom as beautifully as they once did, if he'd ever get to step on living pink grass ever again. Their dark world will only exist once; he treasures it deeply, he wants to see it develop into its most magnificent self. 

He might not ever get that chance. 

It fills him with a deep sense of misery, of loss. 

"... Where am I? It's quite cold around here…" 

Flowery perks up towards Asgore's voice. He made it in time! He doesn't waste any of it as he sprints towards their caretaker. The sound of his steps - of frost crunching - alerts Asgore to his presence. He narrows his gaze sceptically, and Flowery would surely be hurt by this any other time. 

Asgore is his best friend. To be looked at through such a lens would hurt him. 

But he doesn't care. He's just glad Asgore is alive. 

He takes Asgore's hand in his own, mostly to feel the monster alive, “Asgore, we need to go." 

“Who are you?" He questions gravely, face burrowing deeper into suspicion. Maybe, through the aching always pressing on his chest, through the pain that seems to pulse with his heartbeat, there's a prick of sadness at Asgore's distrust. 

It doesn't matter. He just needs to get Asgore to safety. It doesn't matter what he thinks, “I'll explain later." 

Asgore snatches his hand away, and Flowery flinches, “... I would like an explanation before you drag me anywhere. This is a dark fountain, correct?" 

He reaches for Asgore's hand again; Asgore keeps it out of reach. 

The lack of fur, of warmth under his palms stings his hands. The air is so cold, it feels like holding ice. His harsh breaths form puffs of visible air. It makes his heart clench agonisingly. 

Are they close? It feels like they are. 

It's getting hard to breathe. His lungs stutter, tears prickling his eyes. Angel, hasn't he had enough of crying?

Flowery roughly rubs his face of any tears before they fall. He suppresses the way his shoulder shake, "Please. I-I, I promise I'll explain everything, so please come with me,” he looks Asgore in the face, holding onto his shirt, "It's not safe here!” 

The goat monster startles. Flowery didn't mean to yell. His voice echoes in the now empty gardens. He can hear it through the lack of life in the gardens: hear wobbling words begging pathetically. He's starting to not like the sound of his voice. He prefers it charming and confident.

Asgore looks contemplative, then his face shifts upon seeing Flowery's ugly desperation brimming in his gaze. His expression softens into something so familiar.

A smile. A gentle, kind smile. A bit awkward, but empathetic and patient.

"... I understand,” Asgore pats the hand on his shirt before removing it, "Tell me, what is your name, young one?” 

Seeing his caretaker's warm smile, a sight he held dearly onto as a flower, almost brings him back to better times. His shoulders fall with a weight, chest aching as he longs for a simpler, easier time. He can't help but tear up. He just wants to bury himself in Asgore's arms and never let go. 

“Flowery. I'm…” he wouldn't have told Asgore this before. He'd rather his best friend see him as such; not the useless golden flower that watched helplessly, “... The golden flower… of your wedding bouquet." 

Asgore's face lights up, “Oh! What a pleasant surprise! I did not know you could come to life, little one.” The jovial happiness, the casual joy sounds like heavenly bells to him. 

Flowery's heart soars and hurts all at once. He doesn't like being "little one” to Asgore. He wants to be so much more. That doesn't matter, that's not what he's here for. 

He tries putting on a smile for Asgore, "Yep! That's the powers of a dark fountain for you!” It doesn't last long, so he looks away, "I'll take you to the castle where it's safer. You can meet the others. They're… really excited to meet you," if only the situation were better. Then it would be nice: to hang out with Asgore, to try and make him smile like they'd originally planned, to give him an ideal world. 

It didn't matter when that lovingly hand crafted world was slowly dying.

"... I see. Well, I am quite excited to meet them,” Asgore responds cheerfully. It does lift Flowery's spirits a little. He knows the flowers will be ecstatic—over the moon to finally meet Asgore. 

Flowery puts on another smile that strains the moment it stretches across his face, "I'll follows in a bit,” with the flick of his hand, he sends Asgore far away with a whirlwind of petals, where he'll be safe.

He needs to follow after. He's exhausted. He just needs a moment. It's still so cold. It's hard to breathe, every faint huff he takes is thin, it makes him lightheaded. 

Behind him, a crunch. 

A shiver crawls down his spine. He feels their presence even if turned away. The cold that pricks like ice. The winds that slice like knives. The hunger that makes him feel tiny. 

He should've gone with Asgore. The regret bodies him immediately.

Flowery forces himself to turn around. He's met with the nightmare that haunts him while awake. His heart seizes painfully. Fear scuttles up and down his skin as shivers. 

He hones in on Kris, remembering their tears, “Kris…” they don't respond. They don't look, “Kris, please… tell me it's not you. Tell me you wouldn't do this.” 

The battle hasn't begun yet. Every step they take forward, he takes one back. He needs to run. He's terrified. He needs to escape. He's paralysed. 

He hits a dead tree. 

“Proceed." 

His head rings, sweat trailing down his face. It's cold, so cold. It's hard to breathe: icy air grates on his airways as he gasps, “Kris… your father…" they look up. He sees a flicker of emotion in their eyes. Pained guilt. 

Kris and Noelle approach. 

Flowery's legs give out under him. 

They stare him down, step, step, stepping towards. 

“Please… don't hurt him. Don't hurt the flowers,” if he begs enough—if he pleads enough, will it reach them? 

Noelle never responds. It's as if his voice doesn't exist to her. 

Kris looks away, then screws their eyes shut. They approach, a few steps away. 

Flowery should run. He needs to run. 

He's frozen. 

They're so close. He's going to die again. Why can't he move? Why can't he run?! He's going to die again! And if he dies—the other flowers will too! And so will Asgore! 

The panic finally kicks into gear. He uses the tree to pull himself up, he starts running. 

Very suddenly, a wall of fire rises between the ‘heroes’ and Flowery. To his left is the prophet prince, wide eyes teary behind his glasses. 

“Kris!! What's—where’s Susie?! What's going on—why is Noelle here!?” 

Flowery checks the icon for the prince's name. 

Ralsei. 

Ralsei approaches cautiously. Flames lick his palms as a precaution, “Kris. Noelle. Why… no, it's—” he cuts himself off abruptly. Horror dawns on his face, “The—” he steps back towards Flowery. 

Kris and Noelle approach. 

Flowery snatches Ralsei by the hand and teleports them to the castle. 

—

They land as a crumpled heap of a flower and a darkner. Ralsei scrambles up. Flowery drags himself to his knees, clutching and grasping at his chest that burns. The air is so much warmer here, it feels like he can finally breathe again. 

“Are… are you hurt? Here, let me,” Ralsei clasps his hands together, casting healing prayer. 

It doesn't do much, but it fills him with some warmth. He's already at max HP.

“Um…” Ralsei starts unsurely, “I… If you're hurt, I can… help.”

Flowery's still catching his breath. He shakes his head. 

"Oh… okay." The prince shuffles awkwardly in their shared silence. He looks away with a crumbling expression towards the castle exit, where Kris and Noelle are. His paws reach for his scarf to squeeze and pull. 

Flowery finally feels less faint. He stands up. He eyes Ralsei: the prince of the prophecy; one of the ‘heroes’ fated to fight against them. 

Is this the fate the prophecy ordained them? Is Ralsei in on it too? Is this what the ‘heroes’ fought for?! To cruelly end a precious world!? To hurt them over and over and over again?! To torture him?! 

Flowery clenches his fist. 

He grabs Ralsei by the scarf and glares him down, “You!" It's hard to get his fury out through gritted teeth and a lock jaw, "Is this what your prophecy says will happen?! Is this what the heroes are supposed to do?!” 

"No! No!!!” Ralsei tries prying Flowery's hands off, glasses stained with his tears, "I don't—this isn't what the prophecy said at all! Noelle's not supposed to be here! None of this is normal!” he flinches away from Flowery’s growl, “I'm… I'm not a part of this. I don't get what's going on either. This… this isn't like Kris. Kris wouldn't do such a thing.” 

Well, he agrees with that. And Ralsei had saved him with a wall of fire. 

… He puts Ralsei down gently, letting the darkner’s feet touch the floor before letting go. Ralsei rushes back, watching him apprehensively. 

Flowery feels sick. His head feels hot, too hot. His stomach twists unpleasantly. It's guilt: guilt that churns for lashing out, “... Sorry." Is that all he can offer? A pathetic, mumbled apology? He feels sick. 

Ralsei's hunched shoulders loosen, “I… it's okay. Um, my name is Ralsei… I… I don't know yours yet," at his silence, Ralsei looks off to the side, “I… know this isn't really the best time for introductions…” 

"... Flowery." 

“Uhm, it's… nice to meet you, Flowery.” Ralsei's response hangs awkwardly in the air. Flowery doesn’t bother deigning it with a response, “... Right. Uh…”

Ralsei glances at the castle's entrance. The way his eyes narrow behind his glasses hints that can tell too where they are. His face crumples between stress and terror, twisting into a wobbly frown then settling into smoother, calmer lines. He looks in Flowery's direction, peeking from the corner of his eyes, "Have… have any of the flowers…” 

Flowery shakes his head. 

“I'm… I'm glad." Ralsei says quietly. 

It won't last long. They'll be here soon. The air isn't so warm anymore. It's not cold yet. It will be soon. 

Flowery begins shivering. He holds his shaking arms, digging his nails through his sleeves, “What…”

Ralsei turns to him, hands folded behind his back. His expression sits uncomfortably on the edge of tears, held back only by the prince’s attempt at remaining hopeful.

“What are we supposed to do…? How do we stop them?” 

Ralsei looks away, “I… I don’t know. Only… only Kris can seal fountains. They’re the one that leads the party with ACTs. It’s their choice… that determines everything.”

They were at Kris’s mercy. Whatever possessed them. 

“Why is… Is something possessing Kris?”

The darkner prince flinches at his words, his silence heavy, “You… You know?!” he asks urgently. He steps towards Flowery despite his earlier hesitance. 

Well, Ralsei definitely knows something, “I don’t… know what you’re referring to. I just… can’t bring myself to believe they’re doing this out of their own will. They…” they moved like a puppet, they looked away and they shed tears as their arms lifted, pulled by string, “I’ve watched them grow up, and even though I didn’t trust their intentions when creating the fountain, I never thought they’d… do this.”

Ralsei’s expression schools back to plain nervous, “Right. Of course you wouldn’t… uhm,” he retracts his steps and finds himself looking out at the distant sunset, somehow tinted cold despite its golden colour, “Kris is… possessed.”

Just as he’d thought. He wonders if whatever possessed them created the fountain too. 

“There’s a… greater being on a different plane of existence with incredible power, called the ‘SOUL’. The soul that Kris has is… that.” 

“I thought—” Flowery stutters, "Is that not just their soul?! A human's soul—Kris’s—why wouldn't it be theirs—"  

Ralsei simply continues, glasses hiding his gaze, “Kris is prophesied to cage them. The ‘SOUL’ is supposed to help seal fountains and control the party through ACTs. They’re… meant to be saving the world, but…” paws dig through clumps of fur around the prince’s snout, tangling it, “I don’t… I don’t know why they’re doing this… I tried to make it fun for them, I tried to help them and guide them but… they, they did something like this in CYBER WORLD too…” 

“How did you stop them?" 

"H-huh?” 

He reaches for Ralsei's shoulders, “How did you stop them?! You found a way right!? You had to! So tell me!" 

Is this his chance!? Will he finally be able to put an end to this hellish nightmare?! 

Ralsei's gaze falls to his feet, “I… I didn't do anything. They just… sealed the fountain after they were done. There's… I don't know if there's anything we can do…" 

Flowery's grip on the darkner prince's shoulders quivers. Ralsei tries to pry his hands off. He doesn't let go even as he crumples to his knees, “I can’t just… I can't let them die like that… I don't want that… I don’t want to die… we haven’t even had the chance to make Asgore happy…”

Ralsei lets go.

Flowery buries his hands in his hair, tugging and yanking, head bowed against polished wooden floors. 

Both of them feel it abruptly: cold winds howling, frost permeating the warmth of the castle, two new presences at the castle’s entrance. 

They’re here. It feels like a death sentence deep within Flowery. He tries weakly crawling away. He’s too hopeless to fight. If there’s nothing they can do… 

God, why does he even have the power to reset if he can’t change anything?!

In response, that tiny bud of heat, one that sticks with him even when he's frozen to his core, dims a little. He doesn't notice.

Pitter pattering of steps; voices, young and giggly, squeaking, terrified, panicked, familiar: all from behind him. 

Flowery looks back. To his horror, the flowers are descending the stalk, ”Wha… What are you all doing?!” he screams, “Get back!! It’s dangerous here!”

“Big bro!” Orange cries. She rushes down alongside the other flowers. 

Aqua dodges from Seth’s grasp to fly towards Flowery. He scrambles up to catch, “Aqua!! I thought I told you to stay up!” 

The cyan flower sways side to side in his arms, “It was too boring! We waited so long, but you never came up! So we decided to come get you.”

The ‘heroes’ take a step forward. Flowery stumbles back, holding Aqua tight, “Uuuu, are they new friends?” 

“No! They’re not—they’re going to kill us!!” 

Aqua’s smile dims, “Kill us? Why? Why?” 

He doesn’t know!! They’re at the mercy of some out-of-this-world monster and there’s nothing he can do but reset like a coward!

They’re appraoching.  

They’re too close. Flowery freezes. He checks to see if his feet have been actually frozen, but they’re free. It’s him that’s frozen on the inside, terrified to move. 

Yellow jumps in between them. He raises his gun, beads of sweat dripping down his face, “If yer gonna hurt my friends, then I… won’t let a baddun’ like you hurt anyone!” 

Flowery’s heart sinks to the lowest depths of the ocean, “RUN YELLOW!!”

A battle starts. He hears Blue calling for Yellow. Orange is crying somewhere, Seth is panicking elsewhere—the cacophony of noise crushes his head. All he can do is clench his arms around Aqua who squirms.

Kris and Noelle defend. Yellow shoots, but he hesitates the moment they show a hint of pain. 

Their TP goes up. Ralsei watches in horror, stuck between Kris and the fight, between Flowery and the flowers. 

The bar rises, too close to the top. Yellow still stands bravely, always the face of justice even when his judgement wavers. He softens the more the battle drags, “Kris… yer a good feller, aren’tcha?! You wouldn’t do this! Noelle neither, right?!”

It’s pointless. They’re not the one in control. 

TP: max

The air around them picks up, a howl beginning to form.

Yellow steps back. The others call for him. Flowery flinches as that whisper carries across the foyer. 

“YELLOW!!!” the scream tears out of his throat. 

Yellow looks back, a terrified grimace and silent apology on his face, shattering Flowery’s heart into fluttering petals.

Flowery reaches desperately for the warm light as a fountain of ice strikes his sparring partner.

RELOAD SAVE? 

   RELOAD                        QUIT

   RELOAD💛                  QUIT

—

He couldn’t bear to watch Yellow be frozen again. He vowed he wouldn’t let the flowers be hurt. Only him, only Flowery. He was their leader, it was his responsibility to protect them.

It was also his responsibility to save them, but he was always empty handed. Flowery wasn’t the greatest at plans. He didn’t have an entirely fully formed one against the prophecy. He didn’t like thinking too far ahead, not when their time was limited. 

But now he couldn’t even see a few steps ahead of them. 

Before, their future had been limited, so Flowery planned for the present they had.

Now that same present was in his hands, slipping like soil through the gaps of his fingers. As long as he reset, he could gather up the soil. 

As long as he failed, the soil would keep slipping. 

Still, he tried again. 

—

He reawakens with a flinch big enough the chair tips over and tumbles with him.

Orange and Green drop their activities to immediately clamour around him.

Flowery hacks up spit, grasping at his chest as a cough fit errupts. He wheezes and whimpers, hands reaching for his hair. The tears slip endlessly, dripping into a puddle of more tears and sweat. His reflection looks terrified: dishevelled, messy, nothing like the perfect man he’d idealised.

“Big bro! What’s wrong?!” Orange tugs on his knees. She keeps trying to get his attention, but her voice never makes it past the ringing in his head.

Past the howling of snow.

Green tries rubbing his back as he curls into a ball, shuddering violently. They pull him into his arms. He covers his face as he cries, biting down on his lip in an attempt to silence his sobs. It doesn’t work. He sobs into Green’s shoulder, muffled by their clothes. 

Green makes a motion at Orange. She nods, hesitantly backing away before turning and sprinting at full speed, duty carrying her forward. 

Flowery begins to calm down in Green’s arms. They’re always so warm, and it usually breaks through the layers of cold plaguing him after each reset. His shuddering dies down to regular shivering. He tries burying further into Green’s hold, just to hide a little more from the world.

He wants it all to stop. He wants to stop reawakening so horrifically, haunted by hellish memories. He wants the flowers to stop dying right in front of him. He wants to break free from this torturous loop. He wants to disappear if he can’t escape. Disappear into nothing; cease to exist without being frozen and suffocating slowly. Anything but this cruel fate.

…

… No, he can’t be thinking like that. Not for the flowers, not for Asgore. If he gives up here, they’ll all die. Kris will be their killer, Noelle will walk further in madness. He can’t give up. He’s not allowed to.

… He needs to get Asgore. It’s still cold. Even in Green’s grip, he shivers ever so slightly, as if the cold of past resets follows him. 

“Flowery!!” 

Flowery lifts his head from the crook of Green’s shoulder. He sniffles as the rest of the flowers rush over. Orange stands proudly before him, “We’re here now! We’ve got you!” she assures confidently. It was only hours ago that he was doing the same for her. 

How had he fallen so low? That his own little sister felt the need to comfort him. Shamefully, neither tears nor shivering stops. He can’t bring himself to reassure her, not when he’s certain his voice will only break with more cries. 

Instead, he wordlessly reaches for Yellow, a hand motioning him closer. 

“Me?” Yellow points to himself. Flowery nods. 

The cowboy complies and kneels down by him. Flowery brings him straight into a hug, hooking his arms around the cowboy like a vice.

“Woah—Flowery?! Wha’s the matter pard’ner?” Yellow’s voice softens when Flowery buries his face in his shoulder, hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life. Green moves back so Yellow can properly hold him, “Wha’s got you so down in the dumps?” 

Flowery shakes his head, taking in the warmth of his living friend instead remembering the cold that almost killed him.

“You don’t wanna talk abou’ it?” 

A nod. 

“Okay bud, we don’t hafta do that,” Yellow pats his back, returning the hug. It’s a bit tight, but he likes it. It’s grounding. It’s hard to feel cold when swarmed with heat. Flowery takes a deep, quivering breath in the silence. His sobs have mostly slowed to occasional hiccups, and his hold on Yellow loosens once he’s sure the flower is okay. 

“Feelin’ any better, pal?” 

Flowery nods. Yellow slowly pulls away. 

Flowery can’t bring himself to look at any of them. He’s pathetic. They’re all fine. They’re all alive, he’s alive and he’s scaring the other flowers. He’s supposed to be their leader and older brother. 

He’s nothing but a failure; so weak, so useless.

The disgraceful tears burn his eyes again. Flowery roughly swipes at his eyes. When more come, he turns away from Yellow, covering his face entirely. 

If only he could stop existing, just for a moment. Just for a few minutes. If things could slow down. If he could just sit alone and cry pitifully without a timer and sealed fate over his head. He needs to get Asgore soon. How long has it been?!

Just as he’s about to stand, a hand instead gently tugs him up and away from the rest of the flowers. He gets a glimpse of them - huddled and whispering in urgent tones, their eyes trained on him unsubtly - when strong arms pull him close, pressing his head against a well defined shoulder, hiding the flowers from view, “If something ails you, if something deeply hurts, it is not shameful to weep. Let yourself cry without guilt, Flowery. We would never judge you, nor hold you to such an impossible standard.”

The words drag everything out of him. Tears, sobs, broken words, incoherent cries. He spills it all like a dam. “I’m tired Blue… I’m so tired and scared, I’m losing count, and I selfishly thought about disappearing to escape it all just now, but I can’t. I can’t do that to any of you; I have to save you all, I want to, but I still keep thinking it.”

“I’m an awful leader. I’m a failure. I can’t even save my friends. My little sister’s comforting me instead of the otherway around.” He chokes on a sob, “I want this to stop already. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop them. I don’t know how to save anyone. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know anything,” he mumbles over and over. Is he broken? A broken mixtape on repeat. 

“Shhh, it’s alright dear, it’s alright.”

It’s not, and he has no idea how to make it okay. 

“You are no failure Flowery,” Blue pulls back to look Flowery in his teary, puffy gaze, “You are no awful leader, and you are a wonderful brother to Orange,” brushing tears from his face with gentle hands, “Whatever it is plaguing you, please tell us. Don’t burden yourself until you break. We’re here for you.”

Flowery nods with a quiet hum. He’s not alone. Even if they don’t remember… they’re always there for him. They’re his reason for all this. It’s better that they don’t remember; he wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

He tries taking a deep breath. Even though it shakes and stutters, the feeling of his lungs’ equivalent filling calms him a little, “I… I will Blue. But first… I need you to take everyone to the fountain with you.”

“Why?” Blue frowns. 

He’ll be honest. He’ll explain everything later, but it’s better that they know the basics, so there won’t be a repeat of last time, “Kris and Noelle… they’re coming.”

Before he can ask, Flowery looks the other flower dead in the eyes, “And they will kill us.”

Blue startles, eyes slipping open in disbelief.

Flowery knows Blue has a lot of questions. He knows his answers are vague and nonsensical. But he’s running out of time. How much has he wasted standing here? He needs to go now. 

“Blue.” 

Blue stares at him. His gaze softens upon locking with Flowery’s. 

“Please.” One word, carrying so much, a weight Blue could never fathom. He hopes his dance rival will understand it nonetheless. He knows he will. 

“Alright Flowery, I’ll bring them up to the fountain,” Blue concedes. Flowery breathes a sigh of relief. He feels a little lighter having gotten some of the weight off his shoulders, “Are you going to see Asgore now?” 

Flowery nods, “I need to hurry up. I’m late.” 

“Then I will see you soon. Be safe, dear.” 

The golden flower smiles, jogging out of the cafe.

—

As soon as he lands, he dashes towards Asgore, magic trailing behind him. It’s already cold. The temperature prickles up his skin, a familiar sensation crawling around him like icy thorns, reaching through his flesh to strangle his heart. He winces at the intense aching around his chest, the way cold air stabs his lungs as he breathes it in. 

None of that matters. None of his pain matters right now. He just needs to get to Asgore before it’s too late. 

The atmosphere grows frigid, bone chillingly so. Fear grows with it. He hasn't seen any ice pillars or any crystal cages; Asgore is fine. Flowery will reach Asgore on time. 

Ah! There! 

Lost, shivering and confused, is their caretaker. He moved further from where Flowery previously met him, further from where he was first frozen. 

Flowery breathes the biggest sigh of relief he's ever felt, “Asgore! Over here,” he waves to gather the monster's attention. 

Asgore turns towards him. He stares him down unsurely as Flowery slows to a stop, but his face softens upon noticing something, "Are you… Alright? Your eyes are quite red and swollen…" 

What?! Flowery covers his eyes and looks away, “They're—!” Red and swollen? From all the crying? “I'm… fine Gorey. Just… got somethings in my eyes!” they need to get out here. It's really cold, “A-Anyways, this place isn't really TheBoys’ hangout is it? Why don't we go somewhere better?” 

‘Say yes. Please say yes. It's cold.’ He's starting to shudder, sweat beading in his forehead. His smile doesn't last when a breeze brushes past his cheek, so cold it trails like sharp ice.

They're… they're near. He can feel it. He knows the shape of their magic, of her hunger for power, the way it crawls up his back and latches with claws. 

Asgore notices the shift in his demeanor, “Young one, are you… alright? You're shivering.” He looks around them at the dead Pinkery, “I suppose it is quite cold around here." 

Flowery tries to calm his shivers by gripping his arms, “Y-yeah. That's why we need to get to the castle. It's much warmer there!" A snowflake drifts by them. Flowery feels abruptly sick, a hand to his mouth. 

“Young one—!” Asgore startles. He puts his hands around Flowery's shoulders to stabilise him when the flower keels over, an arm around his midriff. 

God, they're so close. Why did he take so long?! 

“I—” he swallows roughly, panting puffs of white air too visible for his liking, "I’m okay oldbuddy, I just… don't really like the cold! So let’s go," he tugs Asgore's hand towards the castle, giving the monster a desperate plea with his eyes, "Please.” 

Staring into his watery gaze seems to melt most of Asgore's suspicions away, if only temporarily, "Alright,” he relents, "But I would like an explanation.” 

Flowery finds it in himself to smile a little in relief, "Sure oldbuddy. Soon as we're back I'll give you one.” 

They start walking away from the source of the cold, something that soothes Flowery marginally. Just as he’s about to summon his petals, a new presence enters the fountain, disturbing its balance.

Ralsei. 

He’s nearby. He’s close to them. Flowery can’t leave him behind. He… he can’t do that, no matter how much he wants to run. 

Asgore pauses upon noticing Flowery isn’t by his side, “What is it?” he asks, turning back. 

Flowery stares through the dead foliage. He doesn’t see them. He can only feel them. 

He gives Asgore a wide grin that hurts, “Actuallys, I’ll meet you at the castle in a bit! See you!” He summons his petals to whisk Asgore away to safety, despite his protests. He hopes the other flowers’ will explain on his behalf. 

Flowery needs to hide and wait. Ralsei is nearby, he can pinpoint where the prince’s darkness echoes, but he can’t precisely locate Kris and Noelle. The golden flower finds a tree still somewhat alive, some branches carrying dying blooms of pink petals. It hurts him to witness such springful scenery die out so soon after being made. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to show Asgore any of this…

He shakes his head and hops up into the branches, crouching behind cherry blossoms and peeking through faded pink foliage. Ralsei’s getting closer. It’s getting colder. Tremors run up his arms. 

He just needs to wait until Ralsei is close enough. The prince’s presence pulses each step he takes, yet it’s dampened by the lasting chill clamping on Flowery’s senses. Ralsei’s pulse falters in his mind… He can only sense the general area now, but he’s close. Flowery will have to… he gulps. He'll have to jump from his hiding spot to look. 

The flower’s stare swivels all around the dying tree, wide like a cornered prey. Nothing but vast, shrivelling foliage in the distance. No ominous figures breaking the empty horizons. 

It’s cold though. Very, very cold. It’s hard to tell whether Flowery is overreacting or if they really are that close. 

But Ralsei is even closer. 

Flowery carefully leaps down. He takes some stray petals down with him, one floating into his palm. Withered and frosted, life sucked out of it, he can almost hear its whimpers. They resonate through his flesh to his core. The gardens cry for warmth as ice suffocates them. 

He wonders briefly if the rest of the flower’s Asgore’s shop will end up dead if the fountain is ever sealed. He hopes not, for the sake of his King’s business, even if flowers were better as gifts than being sold.

… that doesn’t really matter if Flowery can’t get them out of this loop. 

He trudges in the direction of pure darkness, one that’s a different shade to their dark world. 

“... enemy…” 

Flowery freezes. Her voice - carried on a sharp gust - eerily caresses his ear, somehow soft despite the lack of Noelle’s cinnamon-y warmth. 

“There hasn't… strong yet." 

Flowery winces. They're getting closer. 

And he's stuck, limbs locked so tense they ache. His heart thuds against his chest. He's paralysed. His locked jaw grinds his teeth to dust. It's so cold. 

"There.” 

Her voice. Right behind him. 

“An enemy. A strong one. I'll definitely get stronger." 

Flowery manages to peek over his shoulder. The silhouettes barely resemble people. 

“I don't like this, but there's no justifying it at this point. I can't let this all go to waste. We can't waste this." 

‘What is she talking about?!’ Flowery backs away one step. 

They approach by one.

He takes another back. 

They take one forward. 

He tries taking another. There's a dead stump behind him based on the dry bark his fingers feel. 

They take one forward. 

He's trapped. 

They take one forward. 

They're going to kill him again. 

They take one forward. 

Why can't he move!? 

They take one forward. 

He should've left when he had the chance. 

They take one forward. 

It's cold… they're so close. 

They take one—

A wall of fire erupts. Flowery makes eye contact with its source; desperate, pink eyes behind a pair of glasses, horrified. The prince grabs Flowery’s hand and runs, dragging him along. 

—

Once far enough away, Flowery summons his petals to fly them to the castle. Flowery falls to his hands and knees; Ralsei catches himself. 

“Are you—are you okay!?” The prince clasps his paws together, murmuring a prayer. Warmth fills him, but only superficially. It can't chase the chill clinging to him.

Flowery shudders on his arms and legs. He heaves wheezy breaths that hurt his throat.

Ralsei looks towards the castle entrance, horrified, “Kris… they wouldn't… why would the… I don't…” he mumbles to himself in low, panicked tones as he paces. His fur stands on end. He looks back at Flowery, “This isn't… Kris wouldn't do this! It's not them, I promise!” 

"I know…" the SOUL…

“They—” Ralsei does a double take, "You… know?" His voice drips disbelief. 

“They…” tears falling from blank, glowing red eyes, "They cried once when freezing Blue. They don't want to do this.” 

Terror starts to quiver in Ralsei's words, "They… they froze someone?” 

“Not yet," Flowery whispers between breaths. 

"... Yet?” 

Flowery doesn't respond. 

Ralsei doesn't seem so sure how to fill the silence, “Uhm… if you're hurt, please show me. I can heal you!” 

Flowery shakes his head, "I'm not hurt… just… in shock," he thinks. He doesn't know what else the paralysing feeling that grabs him is. Well, other than fear.

“Oh, um. I see. I'm Ralsei, by the way." 

A paw enters his vision. Ralsei is so small compared to him that even on his knees, the prince barely stands above him. He takes the hand anyway, letting it pull him up, "Flowery.” 

Ralsei nods, “It's nice to meet you…” his response hangs awkwardly in the air. 

They both know it's not. 

Neither of them know how to chase the quietude between them. It's cold - something that makes Flowery shiver - and it's tense - so thick he can almost physically feel it against his clammy skin. 

What are they even doing? Just waiting for the ‘heroes’ to arrive? Then what? Will Flowery be helplessly frozen again, forced to reload? Will one of the flowers be harmed again? Will he have to bear witness to unimaginable horror over and over and over again, until his will breaks? 

…

What a scary thought. His will breaking. His determination fizzling. His power fading. If he ever gives up, not only will he die here, so will the flowers and Asgore. Maybe even Ralsei. Kris will forever live with what their body has done. Noelle will no longer be recognisable to anyone, truly lost to madness.

The thought is bone chilling. Maybe that's just because it's so cold—

Flowery flinches. 

He knows that cold intimately. He knows the shape of snowflakes brushing along seemingly innocent wind. He knows the sound of metal clacking on wooden floors, echoing like gongs. He knows the crackling of ice left in the wake of her steps. 

Kris and Noelle stand before them. Kris, head bowed, gaze empty, piloted by unseen hands. Noelle, face devoid, only her eyes pertaining to ravenous hunger and something deeper that desperately grasps for a thread of sanity. 

Flowery remembers the cold so well. What it means; grafted into his skin as a fleeting memory that washes over him, imprinted like waves over a sandy beach. He used to never know what it was like, so well cared for by Asgore. 

Now he feels like he knows it better than warmth. 

Flowery steps back, instinctually. The power within him - the small starshine of warmth, the only heat that always lasted through everything like a grounding lifeline - dims a little. He feels it this time. It frightens him.

“Kris!!" Ralsei’s voice strains.

The silent knight’s gaze flicks up briefly: red meets pink behind a pair of foggy lenses, something coming to life before vanishing. 

The prince’s expression crumbles. He lifts his scarf in preparation. Flowery swallows nervously. He's already taken one step back. Any more is too many. 

The flowers, and Asgore, are behind him. If he runs, they'll get caught up in this. He can't back down. 

All that courageous bravado in his mind does nothing to quell his fear. He still wants to take a step back, and with it, his determination threatens to weaken.

A battle begins. 

Kris and Noelle defend.

Their rising TP might as well physically strike him. He clutches his chest where an anxious pang hits him dead centre akin a bullet pattern, teeth clenched painfully. 

“Flowery…?” Ralsei spares him a deeply concerned glance. 

"I'm… " it's just anxiety. Unfathomable, nail biting anxiety, “I'm fine. We need to—to stop them somehow.” The air is really thin around them. It's so cold, so cold his shudders turn into full body jerking. 

He's terrified; shaken to his core; gripped by the frost in the atmosphere. His body reacts like it knows its fate. 

“We… we do,” Ralsei agrees.

Just how were they supposed to do that?

Flowery tries the usual. He forces damage upon them. Vines and petals they can't dodge. 

One cuts Kris on the arm where their armour doesn't protect. The blood that drips stains Flowery's hands. If Asgore were here… he might tear Flowery apart for this. If it were any other situation, Flowery would maybe beat himself up just as bad. 

The guilt keeps twisting. He knows, he knows he has to do this and he knows it's not them. What a cruel fate. What kind of prophecy would force a child to house a soul not theirs? To give up their autonomy to some monster beyond their world? 

He really hates that despicable prophecy. It isn't enough that the flowers were doomed from the get go, reborn to be told they would lose no matter what; now this. 

Ralsei hesitates with every attack. He never uses his scarf directly. The flames from his palm only lightly scorch the SOUL and the heroes. 

It won't be enough. Not like this. 

Their TP rises. Flowery' vines bounce off Kris’s shield. 

Their TP rises. Ralsei's fire rams into Noelle's ice wall. It stands strong even as it melts. 

TP close to one hundred. Flowery tastes sap. He doesn't attack. It's a useless strategy that prolongs nothing. 

They defend. 

TP: max 

The SOUL targets him. Kris' whisper carries all the way to them on a delicate breeze, “Snowgrave." 

Ralsei's face crumples; his gaze widens as the breeze grows into a fierce, howling snowstorm, "FLOWERY!” a hand reaches for him in vain, fire licking his paw as if that would protect either of them. 

He needs to reset—before he's struck. He needs to reset, he just needs to reach for that warmth that's not as warm as usual and isn't that concerning he just needs to grab it like he always does it's so cold snow pelts him and cuts him like little shards and it hurts and it's so cold and it's hard to move and hard to see he just need to reset—

I don't want to. No more. 

Whispers one, traitorous thought. 

In that second - the second that fills his entire body with shame and guilt, that threatens to drown him in selfish desires, to finally let himself disappear after so many failures - he's frozen. 

—

He'd hesitated. He'd hesitated so bad he physically felt his power drain. 

It scared him. How close his will had come to shattering. If the light had been completely snuffed out… they'd have all died. He would have been frozen, and the flowers would have been targeted next. 

He hesitated, and shamefully, he didn't stop hesitating. So terrified he was, so frightened, so powerless, so weak; he wanted to hide. 

RELOAD SAVE?

      RELOAD                           QUIT

…

It took the words of a courageous prince lost in the broken rules he thought he knew to stand up again. 

      RELOAD💛                     QUIT

—

When Flowery wakes this time, he startles off his chair. It clatters somewhere near him, a deafening sound rattling around inside his brain. Just like the last thought he'd had.

He'd almost given up. 

Flowery clutches at his chest. Shame fills him so suddenly it makes him sick. He gasps for air that feels thin, choked by the tightness strangling his lungs. 

He almost gave up. 

Guilt follows sequentially, attached to the shame: a burning, vile feeling rotting his insides; a curse cast by his own selfish desires. He can't bear to carry his own weight anymore, a distant, dull throb erupting around his knees.

He almost gave up. 

Orange. Yellow. Blue. Green. Aqua. Seth. He almost let them all die just because he couldn't take it. He'd promised himself over and over he would never give up on them. He promised he'd suffer an eternity for them to live another day, just to survive. 

Flowery reaches for the warmth. It's still there—it's there and pulsing but it's weak. 

He almost gave up. 

He almost killed them all. He’d taken a step back; he'd hesitated to reset even as he was about to die; he’d thought about it—giving up, letting this nightmare play out to its bitterest end, letting it ravage over their world until not even a single blossom remained. Not a single hint of life remained.

How could he?

It hurts. His guilt hurts. His shame scorches. His fear strangles. All of it punishes him for his sinful wish. The tears that fall are hot iron branding remorse on his face.

How could he? How could he!? What if Yellow had been frozen again!? What if they got to Orange and Green and everyone else!?

Flowery clutches his hair and yanks. Each tug alights his roots with pain. It hurts so much, and he hopes it hurts more than the agony palpitating against his chest, than the revulsion that churns in the vile mixture of self-reproach and disdain. 

Icicles carrying the carcasses of his friends and family, of Asgore—he was about to let it all happen again. To let ice encase him violently and tear his life from his own hands, from the hands of his friends; to let everyone suffocate painfully slowly in the cold. 

He starts to feel numb, a lack of sensation creeping up his fingers and toes. 

The light faded in that moment. He felt it dim: an admission of his selfish weakness and his unforgivable uselessness and his sinful incapability and his feeble will and his disgraceful flaws.

Panic and shame scream in his head. No matter how much he pulls his hair, the sharp stings won't drown anything. Hoarse whimpers spill from his mouth, all on the verge of turning into gut wrenching sobs.

He's shameful he's weak he's a failure he'll let them all down he'll kill them all he can't do anything he's weak he's weak he's weak he's weak! He's weak!! HE'S WEAK—

Just as his thoughts reach a screeching peak, static cuts in. They slow to a stop, head emptying. Suddenly, he blinks, and everything… is quiet.  

The grip on his hair loosens. He looks at his hands. They're right there in front of him, but they don't… they don't feel like his. Are they his? Golden skin, puffy sleeves. They're his. He knows these hands. 

He blinks. Tugging at his right. Shirt pulled a little. His tensed and coiled limbs fall slack. He loosens like a puppet cut from its string, arms hanging from his shoulders.

The sounds around him: of yelling and crying; of stomping and clamouring, enter his ears distorted. All of it registers like distant murmurs passing by him. It's hard to focus on any of it. It's hard to focus on anything at all. Even his gaze feels wrong: looking in a warped glass, everything bent and fuzzy and far away. 

The tears keep falling without much fanfare. He barely feels them.

He blinks again. The noises have faded, or melted into one big mess of sound he can't parse. They're so far away. The darkners are right behind him, aren't they? They were—all of their hushed whispers had hissed so loudly earlier.  

He blinks. He's in Green's arms, head tucked into their shoulder. When did that happen? What is happening? The flowers’ voices… he can't make them out. They flowers are all here. When did they arrive? They're all talking amongst themselves. He thinks he can hear them, maybe even pick out each jumble corresponding to each flower, but all their words never find their way into his brain. Oh, they're speaking to him. 

“—wery! Flowery! C'mon, what's wrong?! Why won't you respond?” 

Were they calling him? 

"... Seth?” Their name feels strange on his lips. It slips out of his mouth rather than being spoken, glued to his tongue like syrup.

Seth startles, "Flowery! Are you responsive? Thank God!” When he doesn't respond, their face furrows right back into a frown, "Hey! No! Come back, don't disappear again!” 

Disappear? He's not disappearing… He's still right here in Green's arms. He's still staring at the flowers, or staring through them. They're all a bit blurry. He wonders why. 

He blinks. Seth's voice fades in again, "—ay okay okay okay. This is fine. I can… I can figure this out.” Figure what out? 

… He's strangely calm after all that. No, not calm. He's not frazzled, but he's not calm either. 

He's… where is the feeling in his body? He's neither cold nor hot. The ache in his chest: the ever present pain is… it's there, but weak. Why does it all feel so… empty? So distant? Green's arms, their warmth… he can't feel much of it, almost as if the touch is buried under layers. But Flowery only has his vest on. Everyone's voices are quiet, they're whispers, mumbles he can't quite catch. No one talks that quiet. Certainly not Orange. 

He doesn't like this. It's weird. It's numb. 

Contact on his face, "Flowery?” 

He looks to its source. It's Seth, their hand cupping his cheek. One by one, the shape of their fingers make it to his skin. 

For the first time in a bit, he looks at Seth. 

They notice as well, "C-can you hear me? Can you feel this?” 

Yes, he—he can. He can feel them, he can hear them. 

“Can you… give me a sign?” 

Flowery tries nodding. The motion feels off, like an old tree branch creaking.

Seth smiles, “Great! Okay, and, uh, uhm… let's try… hearing! What can you hear?” 

He can hear Seth. And the other flowers, though not as clear. 

"Make sure to tell me everything," Seth clarifies. 

So he does just that, “You. And… Orange," he can hear her: his little sister, yelling or crying. It's hard to tell. 

“Uh huh!” Seth encourages, "Keep going keep going!” 

"Uh… Yellow too," yeah, he can hear Yellow's panicking. It sounds clearer. 

“And—and what about stuff you can see? Like me! And the cafe.” 

Flowery nods stiffly, "Uhm… I can see you… the flowers…" he shifts awkwardly to look at the flower holding him, “And Green…” their frown softens into a weary smile. Their grip on him tightens, arms locking more thoroughly. He can feel it better.

"Great!" Seth keeps going. The more they ask, the more he can feel, hear, see. It feels like he's… returning? To himself. Every sensation grows more concrete. He blinks hard - waking from a dream, yet he's been awake this entire time. 

“Oh thank god!" Seth heaves a huge sigh of relief as they sit back. Yellow behind them nervously fiddled with his hat, watching him through distressed eyes.

Flowery shakes his head. A hand reaches for his aching skull, moving through a swamp. 

“Are you back with us, Flowery?" Blue, that's Blue. 

“I think so…" Flowery groans. He leans back into Green, still blinking the fuzz out of his vision. Their hands card through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. God, he's exhausted. He slumps against the chef, letting them carry most of his weight.

“Uuu, what was that?" Aqua asks, “You were all slow, slow!" Even through the playful rhythm of her words, her tone doesn't carry its usual joyful curiosity.

“Big bro! You weren't responding to me!" Orange sniffles. She quickly rushes to him, hopping onto his lap, “I thought you were ignoring me on purpose!" She clings to his waist.

Flowery grimaces, “I'm sorry Orange, I'd never do that to you.” He reaches a hand to cradle her. His arm feels heavy. 

Orange hiccups, "I know… I—I just got worried," she hastily wipes her tears away to focus on him instead, “Are you better now, big bro?" 

Flowery nods. He tries to reassure her with a smile, but it feels off. The edges of it feel dull, “I'm fine. Just a bit uh… tired, I think." He's still feeling… he doesn't know what to call the sensation. Distant. Dazed. Groggy, maybe. 

… He's starting to feel warm in Green's arms again. That's good. Everything's going back to normal. Sorta. 

Oh, he needs to get Asgore soon. Flowery startles. Asgore.

Oh god, how long has he been zoned out for?! 

Flowery jerks up suddenly. Orange falls off his lap and Green's arms loosen their hold, letting him stumble to his feet, “Asgore! I need to get to Asgor—" 

Seth latches onto one of his arms, “Wait! Slow down! You just had a panic moment and weird moment, you can't go suddenly running around!” 

Flowery snatches it out of their grip, perhaps too harshly with how they flinch, "That doesn't matter! I can't stay here! He'll—” 

“Flowery,” Blue cuts in, his tone always a measure softer than everyone else’s even as panic rises among the bouquet, “Please slow down.” The flower’s calm nature instantly soothes the panic welling within him, "Tell us what is going. Let us discuss this together.” 

Flowery eyes the cafe exit. He has no idea how long he's been zoned out for. For all he knows, Asgore is already frozen. But if he leaves without explaining, that might lead to the other flowers being frozen. 

And he will not let that happen. He can't. 

“I—” Flowery swallows nervously, "I need to get Asgore. And I need you all to go to the fountain.” 

"Why? Why?” Aqua tilts her head. 

"Because… we're all in danger here. We can't stay long. We need to get as far as possible.” 

"From who? Why can't we beat them up? We can beat any bullies!” Orange smacks her gloves together. 

Flowery looks at her, remembering the ice that had killed her before, entrapping his poor sister in a crystal prison too big for her, almost mocking her tiny size. He shakes his head, "We can't. We—" he chokes on a lump in his throat, “We can't beat them." 

They can't. He's weak. He doesn't want to hurt Kris and Noelle. He doesn't want to face them. He already almost gave up against them. If he takes too long he'll face them while rescuing Asgore. He needs to go. 

"Wha—why?! You're super strong big bro! You wouldn't let a bully win, would you?!” Orange clamours at his feet with an expression that twists a knife in his heart. 

Before all this, she always looked up at him, literally but also always figuratively. As flowers, they're closely related, enough to be family unlike the other flowers. Siblings, Asgore had called them. Flowery's beautiful golden hue was only possible thanks to the drop of orange in his cultivar - an offshoot of Orange's. He's her big bro and she's his little sis. 

He took up that role graciously when the dark fountain opened. He wanted to be someone she could always go to in trouble; to be someone she could find bravery and strength in when she couldn't by herself; to be the someone that made her feel safe and comforted just by simply being.

He takes a step back, away from her unfaltering admiration for him.

But Flowery now… he isn't any of that.

He isn't her strong big bro. He's her useless, weak and cowardly brother, who would rather run than to keep suffering. He's failed time and time again. He's let them die too many times. He hasn't made any progress in saving them. He took a step back and he almost turned his back on them. He's so weak, so useless. 

He doesn't deserve to be her big bro. 

He's just a failure.

Flowery shakes his head, tears welling, “I…” 

In her gaze, all he sees is a pathetic golden flower. 

Still, she looks at him with brimming confidence in him.

Shame churns in his gut. He has no words. 

Yellow's gaze swivels nervously between the two siblings. 

Orange keeps awaiting reassurance from Flowery. Flowery looks away. He steps further back, his lips wobble in a way uncharacteristic of their leader. Orange’s face starts to fall, “Big bro…?”

“Pard’ner! You wanna’s get Asgore right’n? Let's go then!" Yellow steps in between them to swing an arm around the golden flower. Flowery startles, his balance almost thrown off by Yellow’s weight on his shoulders. 

Ah, right, he needs to get Asgore. He can't be wallowing like this. Hastily, Flowery wipes his eyes. "I-It’s fine Yellow. I can go by myselfs,” he unlatches the lanky arm strapped ‘round him, “You stay here and protect the other flowers." The smile strains his face. 

Yellow chews on his words before looking Flowery in the eyes. His hands take a hold of his sparring partner's, "Flowery, I trust yer judgement more than mine. I knows yer a terrific fighter, but I'd… I'dn feel safer if you let me accompany you." 

Yellow's hands are warm over his. They're warm, because he's alive, and not encased in ice. Flowery shakes his head, “I can't… I can't let you… not again Yellow…” his words won't go above a watery whisper. 

He tries pulling away, but Yellow won't let go, "Please Flowery… we’s all worried about you.” The cowboy furrows brow in a way Flowery knows very well, "You knows you can count on little ol’ me!” the toothy grin with a little gap is a reassuring sight. It's familiar, it's homely. 

Nothing has felt like normal in so long. Flowery misses it. 

The golden flower acquiesces, "Alright. I don't have time to argue. Let's just… go," Yellow’s beam plummets at Flowery's quiet and dull tone of voice. He waves at the rest of the flowers on their way out.

—

“Good gollers! It sure is cold around ‘ere!" Yellow’s exclamation echoes in the dead pinkery. It sounds hauntingly lonely. 

Flowery grunts. He tries suppressing shivers. It's hard, a shudder wracking him as a cold gust blows their way. 

"'s all dead… the pinkgrass and trees…” Yellow flinches back with a yelp upon running his fingers up rotting bark, “It’s freezering my boots off too!” He turns to Flowery, "What happened ‘ere? Do yous know Flowery?" 

Of course he knows; better than anything else he knows. 

The grass crunches under their shoes and boots. 

Yellow hums unsurely in the wake of Flowery's cold silence, “Well… it'll be nice to see Asgore wouldn’ it? We's all been waiting years to finally meet ‘im, I’s wonder what he'll think of us." 

Flowery hums dismissively. He looks back, keeping Yellow in the edges of his gaze. Though it's cold, there's no strong breeze cutting through his clothes. The heroes aren't here yet. They're safe, for now.

Flowery can't suppress the shudders that wrack him. It's not as if it's freezing, yet he's perpetually shivering unless he's in Green's arms. Green is warm. With their fire magic always brimming under their petals, their skin is always warm. Outside of that, Flowery can only shiver in the residual chill of every reset. 

An arm swings around and locks onto his shoulders. "Woah—!” Flowery startles, almost losing his balance. 

The weight that leans on him pulls back up and holds him securely, "If yer so cold, ya should’a brought your jacket Flowery!” Yellow chortles in his ear: a boisterous, belly laugh echoing in the silence; a sound that fights the eerie cold just in tone alone, so warm and so loud it fills the emptiness around them. 

Flowery finds a smile tugging on his lips, one that's natural, an urge he hasn't felt in a while, “Don't be sillys Yellow! That's not what a coat is for,” his petal mantle. He's left it at the cafe ever since the first time… he thinks. He's always forgotten it. He should bring it: it's warm, even if it's not for wearing. 

"What?” Yellow raises an incredulous eyebrow, “Wha’s the point of a coat then? Asgore's always wore his when it got chilly, didn' he?" 

Flowery shrugs, leaning closer in Yellow's grip, “That's for the rain. A coat’s all about hanging off your shoulder in mysterious winds~" the voice clip plays naturally—he pulls on it without thinking. 

Flowery blinks in surprise. He hasn't used voice clips in a while either. He'd forgotten about them… 

"Well, you’s knowin’ best don't you, Flowery?” Yellow tips his hat towards him, "Yer always lookin’ as cool as a cucumber with it on." 

Flowery lets the smile pulling on his face stretch over it. It's small and it's precious, a wonderful feeling blooming from it. He brings arm around Yellow despite being too small to comfortably do so. Yellow simply accommodates by kneeling down, “You're pretty cool too, Cowboy!" 

"But cowboys are a justice! Can a cowboy be a justice n’ cool?" Yellow points at himself enthusiastically.

“Of course you can! You're serving the coolest justice there is Yellow," Flowery playfully flicks his friend's hat. 

Yellow grins as he tucks Flowery into a more gentle hug, "You's look way betters with a smile on Flowery," the golden flower blinks repeatedly as Yellow pulls back, “You feelin’ more like yerself?”

Flowery’s surprise melts into warmth, “Yeah…. I’m alright Yellow,” he places his hands on the cowboy’s arms, taking Yellow’s palm into his own and leading him, like he did with Blue, “Let’s go.” He’s mindful of his grip: tight, but gentle. He doesn’t walk too far ahead of his sparring partner, a hint of Yellow is always in the coner of his gaze. 

At least… Yellow is a strong fighter. As much as he wants to avoid combat completely, he and Yellow make a good team. 

His small smile fades. A good team they are, but… they’re no match still. Who is he kidding? Flowery himself has been frozen one too many times, and he can’t bear the idea of Yellow being frozen again. He—

Flowery’s just a coward who wants to give up. What right did he have to be confident after last time? 

His smile completely falls, and his grip tightens.

“Flowery?” Yellow notices, squeezing back.

The golden flower startles, rushing to force a smile on his face, “Everything’s good here partner!” To his relief, he hears Asgore’s voice nearby, “Oh look! There’s Goregore!” Before Yellow can interrupt, Flowery drags them both along a path of frosty pink grass. 

Asgore’s stern frown breaks into surprise as two tall yellow beings sprint towards him. 

Flowery skids to a stop, “Asgore! You’re okay…” he breathes a deep sigh of relief, strained smile dimming to nothing. God, he's exhausted. 

It's so cold. Almost the same chill that follows the heroes. They're probably close by. Flowery shudders.

Yellow behind him tips his hat up in greeting, “Howdy Asgore!” the grin on his face that shines in comparison to Flowery’s despondent expression.

“Ah—erm, howdy there,” Asgore’s gaze swivels between the two. 

Flowery hesitates reaching for his king’s hand. A part of him worries Asgore will wrench it away, something that’ll only cut deeply from his best friend, but he'd also love the warmth Asgore's fur leaves on his skin, “Ah… howdy,” he only remembers the greeting when his silence starts to awkwardly weigh on them, "We should go…"

Asgore blinks, “Go… where?" 

Flowery doesn't respond, gaze blankly fixated on some frosty grass. 

Yellow’s grin falters, "To the castle! It's a bunch warmer there than ‘ere! I'm freezering my boots off just standin’!” nervous laughter accompanies his words, the cowboy nudging Flowery for a response. 

The golden flower blinks, “Oh. Uh. Yes, it's… not safe here. We should… go.” 

“... I see," Asgore eyes Flowery curiously, “Are you… alright?" His hand settles on the flower’s quivering shoulder. 

Flowery leans into it immediately, tempted to collapse onto Asgore's big and friendly frame, "... I'm okays. I'm alright." 

It's getting colder. The winds only drop by a minor degree, and yet Flowery feels it all the same. He's accustomed to each level of chill marked by the heroes’ distance. They need to go. 

With a flick of his hands, petals swoop in to lift Asgore gently, earning a soft exclamation. He gives Yellow a nod, one returned by his friend, “Right’n this way Asgore!”

Flowery watches them go. The moment they turn into tiny specks in the horizon, the tightness locked around his chest loosens ever so slightly. He looks back. 

The darkness of this world hasn't been disturbed yet. But it will soon. He should wait for Ralsei. 

…

The cold breeze sifting through his clothes glides like ice on his skin. Flowery teleports back to the castle.

—

The flowers surround Asgore at the fountain. Flowery watches them clamour like little buds around the sun. 

He can't bring himself to smile, no matter how happy the sight. He should be happy for them. They'd finally gotten the chance to meet Asgore. 

But maybe that sight had gotten old for Flowery. Maybe it meant nothing if he knew he'd tear it apart with each reload. None if it would matter if he gave up. 

Someone plops a weight on his shoulders, “Normally I'dn do this to Blue, but yer still shivering,” Flowery looks up to be greeted with Yellow's worried face, “Is it real cold out ‘ere? I don' really feels it…” 

Flowery looks away, “It's… it's just me.” It's always cold. He knows cold better than warmth right now. He used to know warmth more than he could ever fathom the cold. 

Yellow hums unsurely. 

“I'll be… I'll be fine Yellow,” Flowery knows his smile isn't very convincing. He also knows Yellow understands it's not meant to be, that it's just a plea. 

Yellow nods and parts hesitantly, leaving his vest. Flowery runs his fingers over it: the fabric is thick and warm. It only covers so much because Yellow’s so tall. He clutches it closer. 

Flowery steps away from the happy reunion behind him, feeling a little lightheaded. He takes a seat by himself and curls into a ball. All he can do is grasp at Yellow’s vest for the meagre warmth it provides. 

His mind runs rampant the more time passes. What is he supposed to do now? Ralsei has appeared. He can’t win. He wants to run. There’s nowhere to run. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to face them. He’s too scared, too hopeless. He’s too weak; he’s a coward. A shameful, repulsive one. 

The longer the self flagellation ravages his mind, the more his chest aches. A hand digs through his scalp to tug at golden petals, shoulders quaking. 

“Big bro?” 

Flowery lets go. The waves of stinging still pulse across his scalp. He lifts his head from his knees, terrified to meet her gaze, “... Orange.”

She doesn’t say anything. She simply sits by his side. 

He hides his face back in his arms, cheeks wet. She shouldn’t have to see him like this, “... Don’t you want to talk to Asgore?” why choose to sit by me.

“I got to say hi to Asgore, and everyone else has things to ask. I wanted to spend time with you anyways,” Orange kicks her little feet. 

Flowery swallows the lump in his throat. He doesn’t deserve her love. He doesn’t deserve her adoration or admiration. He’s not worthy of it, “... I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Orange’s tone dips into incredulous. 

“... For not being a good brother. For being a coward.”

His little sister climbs to her knees in protest, “You’re not a coward! And you’re the coolest brother ever!” 

Her reasoning falls deaf on his ears, “I’m not… I’m not Orange.”

“Yes you are!”

“I’m not,” for a moment, the broiling pain inside him leaks into his words, a harsh cadence he doesn’t mean, “I’m… I’m just a failure. I’m weak and I’m useless. I…” Flowery wipes his tears, looking into the distance of their dying world, “When this fountain opened, I wanted to be a good big brother to you. Someone you could look up to. Someone admirable.”

“... You are though,” Orange looks up sadly, talks so devastated, like she can’t fathom what he’s saying, “I really look up to you.”

“I’m not worthy of it.” 

“... Why?” 

“Because I can’t solve this! I can’t fix anything, I can’t win, I keep losing, I keep failing, I can’t save anyone! If I can’t then what good am I?!” he can’t help tugging at his hair, “I’m just useless! I’m weak! I almost gave up and I can’t forgive myself for it! I still don’t know what to do…”

He’s not being fair to Orange. She didn’t ask for his burdens. He’s still being a bad brother now. 

“... I don’t really get it,” his little sister starts, “I don’t really get what you’re talking about… and I don’t think you’re useless or weak…” 

Flowery shakes his head—covers his ears. 

“When we were still flowers, I always thought your voice was cool,” he remembers being trapped back then. They didn’t have names nor faces but they had voices only they could hear. They didn’t always directly communicate, they couldn’t speak after all, but - maybe through their roots or general closeness - they heard each other, “It was always reassuring. Even if I couldn’t hear it that well, it was confident, like you always knew what was going on, and you were headstreng—headstr—”

“Headstrong?” Flowery offers with a chuckle. 

Orange nods, “Yeah! Headstrong! I thought I could believe you no matter what!” 

Flowery pats her head. His little sister is the sweetest. He really doesn’t deserve her words, “Would you still say that when I’m crying and shivering instead of standing up against the heroes?” He meant it sarcastically. He wasn’t looking for a response, especially not an affirmative one. 

Still, Orange replies without a hint of hesitation, “Of course! We’ve only been in the dark world for a bit, but you’re the coolest Flowery! You can jaronas and voice clips, you’re super strong. You’re just like what I imagined back then—I’m really glad you’re my big bro!”

The pain in his heart, it’s morphing… something softer, something more bearable, molded by Orange’s passionate words.

“You’re the one that taught me that being scared and still fighting is brave. Even if it’s with tears, you’re still brave, Flowery! And even if you… even if you turned your back and ran, I’d still think of you as brave.”

‘How?’

“Because you’d have still tried! Even when you were scared, you tried, didn’t you?” 

He did. Even when it was hopeless.

“You’re the one that taught me that’s still bravery! Even when I get frustrated and feel like giving up, or get scared or upset… you’re still proud of me for trying!”

He is. He always will be. 

“Just cuz you got scared and almost gave up, doesn’t mean you’re useless. You’re still doing it, aren’t you? Whatever you’re doing, you didn’t give up! You’re still tyring!” Orange climbs up his legs to perch atop his knees, “You’re not weak anyways! Whatever bullies you’re facing, I know you can beat them! Because you’ll always keep trying!”

Her faith is misplaced. He doesn’t want it to be. He wants her words to be true. 

“That’s why you my super cool big bro! I wouldn’t have ever asked for anyone else!”

He’ll make sure her words are true. If there’s one thing his little sister is right about, it’s that he hasn’t given up yet. 

Flowery wipes the last of his tears. He cradles Orange in his hands, tucking her in the crook of his neck, “I couldn’t have asked for a better sister either.” 

He’s been blessed with such a precious little sister. He’s been gifted with such a lovely bouquet. He can’t give up here. He has to get up again. He can’t keep wallowing on misery and fear. If he’s terrifed, he’ll be terrified while standing facing his nightmare. 

He carefully lifts her so they can talk face to face, “Mind if I borrow some of your bravery, Orange?” 

His sister’s brow furrows to make a bewildered face, “But you already have all the bravery in the world!”

Flowery giggles fondly, shaking his head, “I’d say you're much braver than me.” 

“Really?!” Orange gapes in awe.

He nods enthusiastically, “And I think I need some of that courage for myself, if you don’t mind.” 

Orange jumps up to nuzzle his cheek, “Of course I don’t mind! I’ll give you as much as you’ll ever need!” Flowery holds her close. Her warmth, her tiny but passionate pulse: all of it serves to calm his racing heart. 

Even when cold winds picks up, Flowery manages steady breaths through the warmth his sister’s love and admiration surrounds him with. He places her down eventually, much to their disappointment. Of course he wants to stay up here, but he’ll be damned if he ever lets his sister be hurt again. 

“Where are you going?” she grabs onto his pant leg. Her whiny concern twists his heart, “You’ve barely spoken with Asgore…”

“I will later,” he lies, “So stay up here and protect him, okay?” while Flowery does his very best to protect them all. 

Orange salutes him, “Yes sir!” 

Flowery salutes her back. On his way down, he turns back to offer her a smile, “Thanks for your bravery Orange!” Thank you for being my sister. 

“No problem! Anytime!!” she waves back. 

Flowery wishes he could come back up after all this. He wants nothing more for things to end peacefully already, to spend time with his oldbuddy and hug the flowers until the cold goes away. Still, he has only two options: to win, or to lose and reload. He knows deep down which option is more likely—the chill in his fingers knows all too well.

Hands cupping the light, he lets it wash over his palms. It glows, only visible to him, and it glows a little brighter. He might be imagining it, but its warmth pulses stronger.

Whatever happens—even if his will weakens briefly, as long as he lets his bouquet strengthen it again, he’ll find a way to stand up again. To keep trying. 

He won’t let his determination fade. 

(It might be his imagination, but the light flows brighter once again.)

—

They're already here by the time he lands. He almost slips on the first that marks their appearance. His heart lurches almost instinctively. A violent shudder wracks him.

Ralsei startles at his sudden advent, “A—ah! Uhm,” the prince fiddles with his scarf, kneading it through nervous paws, “I'm…” 

"Ralsei. I know," Flowery shakes off the chills from his arms, “I'm Flowery." 

Ralsei blinks, "How… how did you know?” 

He doesn't bother deigning the prince with a response. Or rather, it's more like he can't. The wind that howls completely takes away their focus. The words in his mouth shrivel dry on his tongue. 

Ralsei falters in the face of his friend, “Kris…” 

They don't respond. They don't look. 

The battle starts. 

Flowery hesitates on the first move. Ralsei's scarf doesn't hit as hard. His vines don't crush them in a way Flowery knows he can. The fire that burst from the prince’s palms misses Kris entirely and barely grazes Noelle. 

They can't bear to watch the two of them wince and hiss, knowing it's not really them. 

The soul only ever attacks with one big hit. Flowery is on the lookout for their TP. But to his utter confusion, it isn't going up. Or rather, it drains suddenly. The only warning he gets is Kris widening their eyes before he's stuck in the chest. 

Flowery reaches for the light immediately, already accepting his fate and getting his teeth through the pain, but… he's not… he's not encased in ice. It's only his torso that hurts, ice crystals growing on his skin, stabbing and poking at his body. He falls to one knee. His HP has lowered but not considerably. 

“Flowery!" Ralsei panics, clasping his hands together. Warmth fills him as ice melts. 

Flowery can't help but stare at the ‘heroes’. Noelle barely reacts but Kris's face expresses a hint of surprise. They hadn't expected it either. 

He wonders if this sudden change in tactic means anything. It probably doesn't. At the end of the way, their TP continues to rise and he and Ralsei can only hesitate. He won't turn back, but he won't come back either. He's not going to win. He's still powerless. He has nothing figured out, no solution.

Noelle strikes him again with ice magic. Ralsei heals him again. The cold always lingers. 

Again and again. 

They attack. The ‘heroes’ take it in stride and retaliate. Flowery starts to feel like he's made more of ice than organic flesh.

His legs shake, icy sweat drips down his face in rivers. The grip on his knees quivers. He knows it's not just exertion. But he won't turn back. He can't dishonor Orange’s bravery like that. 

Still, he reaches for the light, considering it for a moment. Retreating, starting over. It hurts. He's not used to pain. Asgore cared for them so diligently he'd never felt pain before all this. It's harsh. 

Another hit. One stronger than others, knocking below half his health and almost completely down. He lays on the floor, panting for air that's too cold. He needs to get up. He can't change a thing. He's going to die again. He doesn't want to. He won't give up. He doesn't want to fight like this. He wants everything to be over already. 

Ralsei casts a glance towards him, defending a strike aimed for Flowery. He clasps his hands together in a prayer once again. Even as Flowery feels the life come back to him, he hesitates to get up. His legs quake too much to withstand his own weight. They'll strike him again, or they'll finally cast the fatal spell. 

He's not winning either way. The thought suffocates him. 

“Flowery! Are you still hurt!?" Ralsei tries casting heal prayer again. 

The warmth that fills him lasts a second. He is better. He can get up. He can't. 

“I… I can't hold them off alone!" The prince's fire surrounds them as ice magic tries piercing Flowery again, “Please! You have to get up!" 

“To do what?!" Flowery snaps back. His lungs shudder with each yell, “We can't win! They'll freeze me sooner or later! I… I don't know… but I can't give up, and I won't turn back again… I—” what he is even supposed to do?

He'll be forever trapped like this..fighting and losing and fighting and losing, frozen over and over. He promised he'd suffer such a fate it meant saving his friends. But that won't ever lead anywhere. 

What is he supposed to do? 

He can't even defeat the ‘heroes’. He can't stop anything. He's still too powerless. 

Flowery runs frazzled hands through his hair, shoulders curling in, “I can't do anything…"

He should reload. There's nothing he can do here. He's just going to die. 

(And then what?! Will he gather everyone at the fountain and wait for the heroes?! Will he jump down to face inevitable death again? And again and again and again?!)

What is he supposed to do… 

Ralsei looks caught between checking on Flowery and pleading with Kris, or maybe with the ‘SOUL’. The prince sees a familiar sight: Flowery in the corner of his gaze, small, shivering, (scarf pooled by his feet, magic weaning in his hands and pupils quivering). Something hardens in Ralsei’s stance, “Flowery, I… I don’t know how to solve this either, but… if we can restrain Kris and Noelle, then we can have more time to figure things out. We just need to knock them out,” Flames burst from the prince’s hands, beads of sweat soaking his fur, “If we can beat a titan, then… I want to believe we can stop this!”

Flowery’s eyes widen. 

“I… I want to save Kris from the SOUL! They’re my precious friend and I will save them—I’ll do whatever it takes! So please,” Ralsei offers a warm hand, “Help me save them. Then you can save the flowers and Asgore too.”

Ralsei’s words strike a resonant chord within him somewhere.

What is he doing on the floor? Flowery had decided he wouldn’t stand down even when fate had planned so. 

Orange placed her misguided, unwavering belief in him when he didn't deserve it. He promised he would honor that, make it real, earn that faith. He'd asked for her bravery, he can't waste it by giving up so quickly. 

It feels like eons ago, but he’s still the same Flowery who refuses to go down without a fight. He can… he can do something. There has to be something he can do. Knocking Kris and Noelle out is… it's doable. It'll hurt them but—he can't keep hesitating like this. He'd be saving them too by restraining them.

Flowery isn't the type to give up. That’s what has gotten him so far. That’s what gave him determination. Infinite chances to find a solution, so long as he doesn’t give up. So long as he has the will to change their fate.

Flowery takes Ralsei’s hand and stands up even as his heart races, as he shivers in the cold. He gives Ralsei a tired, but genuine smirk, “Not bad princess. Let’s try it.”

Ralsei’s goes pink in the face, looking away abruptly. An adorable pout sits on his face.

Flowery raises his eyebrows, ‘Oh?’ certainly a curious reaction to being called princess: neither annoyance nor unfiltered joy… he shakes it away. They don’t have time for this. Maybe in another timeline where things weren’t so dire.

Ralsei's fire bursts to life in great walls of flames. Kris's eyes widen. Flowery steps back from the heat licking his legs. As much as he appreciates the warmth, he’d rather not be singed either. A delicate flower like him would burn into crisps in seconds.

The blistering heat of his fire pushes back the icy atmosphere around them. For a moment, Flowery relaxes in warmth instead of shivering in cold. 

The soul tries aiming for Flowery again. He defends himself, vines wrapped around his raised arms. Even if it hurts, he can't grit his teeth through it. Doesn't he have any other effective spells? He can't mercy them, and the others require a different soul mode. One that would only work in the heroes’ favour. 

Noelle’s gaze snaps from her disinterest to Kris, “Kris?” 

Flowery and Ralsei turn their attention to them too. 

Kris grits their teeth, shaking. Their eyes meet with Ralsei's, a desperate plea silently transmitted in a single glance. 

Ralsei nods with watery eyes, “Of course Kris, I won't let your efforts go to waste!" 

Flowery looks between the two, eyes blinking back and forth. He notices then that the heroes aren't attacking. They're not doing anything but dodging Ralsei's fire. 

… Oh. Kris is holding back. Kris is holding back the soul’s options, he assumes. 

"Kris…” He feels an unexpected glimmer of pride. Flowery's opinion of them had been mixed from the moment this fountain had been opened. Fond of the child they used to be, disappointed in their growth towards a darker side, hopeful for them nonetheless. His thoughts had changed purely to stopping them knowing they weren't in control. And now…

No matter what, Asgore would be deeply proud of them. He always would. And so is Flowery. He can't imagine the pain, the guilt they drown in each time their body commands against their will. Yet they still fight. 

Flowery won't let that go to waste either. He strikes harder, faster, ignoring the guilty twinge each time the heroes are knocked down, scrapes and cuts littering their skin. If he can just stop them… 

He knocks Noelle down below 0 HP. His eyes widen, vines retracting. They’re… doing it. They… can do it. They just need to knock Kris down! This is their chan—!

But Kris’s resistance can only last so long. Soon they collapse, each breath an exhausted wheeze. They’re forced back up, string reattached, and they lift their shield. 

Flowery flinches, watching the TP bar rise.

“No!!” Ralsei strains. He casts flames in vain.  

Kris revives Noelle, and in their next, they both defend.

He knows it’s coming. 

TP: max.

Kris whispers the spell. 

Noelle closes her eyes, blood hands summoning a flurry of snow. 

Ralsei reaches for Flowery, a fruitless effort. 

And Flowery cups the golden light. The snow pelts him, stinging his gaze. Still, he sees his determination in all its glory.

RELOAD SAVE?

      RELOAD                           QUIT

When he makes the decision, it feels firm this time. More assured than he’d been a while.

      RELOAD💛                     QUIT

—

Kris had fought back. It was brief, but they had a chance in the moment.

Short-lived as it was, he was hopeful for a moment—hopeful they could stop them, save everyone and finally fix all this. And even when those hopes were dashed - when Kris couldn’t continue, he didn’t let go. 

He could do it. Eventually, he’d do it. Because he wasn’t alone. Even if he never let the flowers get close to the heroes, he had Ralsei and Kris. 

He was up on a knee. He still wasn’t standing as he’d had been before all this, but he was making his way up. 

To a more hopeful future.

—

Flowery blinks his way back into reality. The drink that was in his hand has completely spilled. He finds himself breathing heavily, shivering, sweating. Parts of him burn and parts of him are cold. 

The glove that grabs his sleeve spells danger in frost. Flowery flinches away from its touch, seat clattering behind him; a yell echoing and glass shattering. 

He pays no mind to it, bringing out the light to focus on. He’s still shivering from the lingering cold; only his determination keeps a tiny part of him warm. 

It was brief but they’d managed. Kris resisted. Noelle was down. They could have knocked them out had he been stronger. Had a better strategy. Had been faster. 

But it's doable. Surely it is. He's… he can maybe… actually manage something… 

Flowery chews on his nail, biting harder the faster his mind runs. Thoughts come in droves, rushing his brain like a tidal wave. 

It feels truly like… hope. All consuming, fragile hope, uplifting yet heavy. The idea that not far in the future… he could save them all. A threadbare idea that'll unwind if he doesn't hold on tight. 

Someone keeps yelling around him. Her voice bounces around his head as a headache pulsing behind his eyes. He screws them shut in an attempt to quiet the voice and dull the pain. He needs to think right now. This might finally be his chance. Things could finally look up. 

Flowery runs a hand through his hair, grabbing his chin deep in thought. He needs to grab Asgore a-sap, then he’ll bring the flowers to the fountain. The further they are, the safer. He snatches his hand away from whoever pulls on his sleeves. Ralsei will appear soon after. Then they’ll face them. Thr problem is how long Kris will be able to resist the soul, or if they will be at all…

The thought of them alone brings to life a familiar chill. He knows they’re nowhere near, yet he can’t help shuddering, accosted by memories of ice. Finger scratching on his scalp—lightly tugging his hair soothes him, pushing against the tirade in his head. He shrugs off the hand on his shoulder. He needs to think. 

“Flowery!!”

But he can’t with all the racket around him—!

”What?!” he snaps at Orange, face contorted into a snarl, “Can’t you see I’m thinking!?”

His little sister flinches, thrown back by his yell. 

Flowery stops dead in his tracks. The other flowers stare in shock, jaws hanging, eyes wide as saucers. 

Orange begins sniffling. Tears drip down her face.

Flowery’s face falls instantly, “O-Orange, I—” she recoils away from his outstretched hand. The motion alone drives an icicle through his heart. His gut churns.

“Big bro’s… big bro’s a bully!!!” His little sister wails. She runs past him into Green’s arms, cries muffled by their shoulder. Green eyes him wearily: saddened and disappointed. It feels like a slap to the face.

A horrified hand hovers over his mouth, wishing it could have caught the words before they ever escaped. He… didn’t mean to—how could he yell at his precious sister—

“Flowery, what—what was that for?!” Seth demands incredulously. 

“I… I didn’t mean to—” Tears prick his eyes. His stomach revolts against his actions, guilt and disgust rolling like hot stones in his innards. He clutches his abdomen as he keels, acid at the back of his throat. 

“Flowery!” Someone’s arms, strong and sturdy, wrap themselves around. They rub his back up and down to soothe him, “It’s alright, you’re alright dear.”

Flowery shakes his head, “I… I’m the worst. How could I have snapped at her like that…?” Things were finally going well—what is wrong with him? Just after they’d had such a wonderful talk… she’d helped him find some semblance of strength and this is how he repays her.

He’s trash. 

He looks up to see Orange still curled in Green’s hands. He wants to reach out and hold her close, murmur endless apologies for yelling. He didn’t mean it, he really didn’t, he would never. 

But Flowery abruptly remembers the situation, his thoughts before they arrived at a screeching halt. He needs to get Asgore. 

He needs to apologise to Orange. 

He needs to send the flowers and Asgore to the fountain. 

He needs to meet up with Ralsei. 

He needs to face the heroes again. 

He needs Kris to resist like last time. 

He looks at Orange; she’s still sobbing, still avoiding him. It makes him nauseous—fills him with sickening guilt at himself. The apology sits on the tip of his tongue, “I’m sorry…” he can only whisper, far too quiet to ever reach for Orange.

“What’s wrong, Flowery? What ails so deeply you would snap so harshly?” Blue rubs his shoulders, kindness in each reassuring stroke.

Flowery clutches his head, “I… I need to get Asgore… I was thinking and I couldn’t with all the noise… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry Orange, I’m a bad brother…” a sob rises up his throat, almost escaping his mouth. 

“You are not a bad brother Flowery, I understand it was a moment out of character for you,” Blue guides him to sit on the wall, “I’m sure Orange will understand too if you. In the meantime, we should get Asgore from the gardens, yes?” 

The golden flower nods shakily, readying his trembling legs to stand. Blue pushes him down, “Leave this to us. You should take a few moments to rest. You’re shivering,” the dancer observes somberly.

He is shivering. He always is. It’s always cold somehow. 

“N-no… You can’t—I have to go,” Flowery grabs Blue by the arms, grip quivering yet tightly latched onto the other, “You can’t go.” He can’t risk it. Not again. Not ever. 

“Then Yellow can go,” Blue suggests. 

“No! No one can go! No one but me!” 

“Why’s that?” Yellow tilts his head, frowning, “You’s believe in little ol’ me, don’ you?” the cowboy asks imploringly.

“I—I do, but—” it’s not about whether he believes in them or not… they’re… he doesn’t want to see them hurt. 

Yellow’s frown turns upside down into a big grin, toothgap and all, “Then leaf it to me! I’ll bringin’ Asgore straight home, and I’ll have it done in record time!” The cowboy slings his gun into his belt, offering Flowery a proud thumbs up. 

It almost makes him smile, “Then I’ll… I’ll go with you.” 

“You’s don’ need to! Just rest up like Blue sayse, yer still trembling like a tiny fawl,” Yellow waves his hands. 

So what if he is?! He can’t let them go alone! 

Before he can protest, Orange hops from Green’s arms to clamber up Yellow’s torso, “If Flowery’s not going then I am!” She still won’t look at him. 

“No!” Flowery snaps, reaching for her. 

Orange sticks her tongue out, “Why not?! I can fight, I’m strong! You’re being a bully big bro!” her tone wavers under her big words. 

All he’s doing is making things worse for her, “I know you are Orange, you’re really strong—”

“Then I’m going—”

“I can’t let you! It’s—it’s—”

Orange stomps her foot, “Why?!” 

“It’s too dangerous!” Flowery cries, “I can’t bear the idea of any of you being frozen ever again! I can’t!” an endless supply of tears stream down his face. He cries and cries over and over, tired of it and yet his body never tires. 

They all stare. 

He feels trapped. Insane. Crazy. 

He feels almost… alone. 

They don’t get it. They never will. He’s the only one. 

“What do you mean?” Seth asks. Their voice wavers. Their gaze is confused, maybe pitiful too. It crawls on Flowery’s skin, a physical weight. 

“I… There’s…” his shivers turn to more violent shudders. Flowery tries suppressing by digging his nails into his arms, “Kris and Noelle… They’ll… they’ll kill you all…”

“What?!” 

“Uuuu, is killing fun? Is it a fun game?” 

Seth grabs Aqua by the shoulders, “No! It’s not a game! It’s really bad!”

“Why? Why?”

“We’ll die if we’re killed!”

“Why?” 

Seth groans into their hands. 

“Are you sure, Flowery? That sounds… inconceivable for Kris and Noelle,” Blue frowns. 

“I know… they wouldn’t, but…” Flowery runs his hands through his hair, “It’s… It’s not them but… It is…” he mumbles the words, unable to get them out. He knows he sounds crazy. 

“... I’m not sure I understand,” Blue responds, and Flowery doesn’t blame him.

“I… I’ll explain later. First, I need to get Asgore,” he tries getting up but he’s overwhelmed by a sudden bout of dizziness. Blue helps lower him down on the wall again. 

“Flowery,” he looks over to Yellow’s firm tone of voice, “If we’s see dangers, we’ll leaf a-sap. But you’s gotta stay ‘ere and rest, yer not well.”

Flowery grimaces. Orange’s refusal to look at him still makes his gut churns painfully, hitting him with waves of nausea. 

“Uuuu, it’s boring here! Can I go too? Can I go too?”

Seth digs their fingers further into their face, “No, Aqua, you can’t. None of this is fun.”

Aqua whines impatiently. Green offers her cheese to quell her boredom temporarily. 

Yellow adjusts his hat as he makes his way out, “I’ll see y’all in a jiffy!” Most of the flowers wave back. 

Flowery can only curl up to press against his abdomen, pressing on the anxiety and terror stirring around and bubbling in his stomach. Blue takes notice and returns to gently but firmly rubbing his shoulders, “Try to calm your heart dear. Everything will be alright.”

“Uuuu, do you wanna play Flowery? It’ll cheer you up!” Aqua drapes herself over his legs. 

Flowery shakes his head, just barely finding his voice, “Sorry Aqua… I don’t have the energy.”

“Uuuu, okay!” Aqua remains sprawled over his legs, kicking her own in the air while she waits patiently. Flowery runs a hand through her hair, fingers combing streaks through dark strands. Aqua hums happily. 

Seth plops themselves by Flowery’s side, “You want me to read you a story? It’s not complete yet… and I’ve barely got a plot, but I’ve got something if you’re interested,” they shyly ruffle through the mostly empty pages of their book, “I was gonna do more before all this happened…”

Flowery grimaces, “I’m sorry…” if only none of this had happened… he’s sure their book would be filled to the brim with stories and facts.

“It’s not your fault!” Seth smiles reassuringly, “I don’t really know what happened, but I guess it must have been bad.”

“Yeah…” 

Green appears at his other side with an offering in their hands. The smell of sweet cinnamon and butterscotch would normally cheer him up, but the sight of pie only irritates his queasy stomach. Flowery shakes his head. 

The chef leaves the slice nearby, perching next to him to enjoy Seth’s words. Their warmth stars seeing into Flowery's periodically cold skin.

Blue peers out the cafe on lookout. Flowery tries not to let his anxiety overrun his mind. Blue’s right, he needs to calm down if he’s going to be useful. He just has to trust Yellow. They’ll make it back safely, then Flowery will apologise properly to Orange as he brings them to safety. 

Time passes one second at a time, which wouldn’t be a problem if those seconds didn’t last whole minutes. Seth’s words barely register in his mind under the thrumming of his brain. He wants to listen but he just can’t. The thumping of his heart drowns everything else. He restlessly taps his foot, keeping Blue in the corner of his eye. 

Blue returns.

“Are they here yet?!” Flowery lifts Aqua from his lap as he leans forward eagerly.

The dancer shakes his head, “They will be here soon. It has only been a few minutes.”

Flowery grits his teeth. How is he supposed to sit here and wait?! 

The anxious thrum spikes with a sharp sting around his chest. Nausea climbs up his throat and sits uncomfortably at his mouth. Flowery leans back and pants through the nerves wracking him. 

“Guess the story’s not really working, huh?” 

Seth’s understanding, patient words only serve to make him guilty, “No! It’s great! I’m just… struggling to focus.”

He can tell they all want answers. He’d rather not repeat himself. 

Blue perks up, “Ah, I think they’re here.”

Flowery doesn’t hesitate to force himself up even as his legs quiver a bit. He sprints to the castle foyer to see Yellow, Orange and Asgore all in good health. The painful aching dulls in relief, “You’re all okay!” he can’t help but cry. 

Yellow gives him a blinding smile worth a thousand suns, “Of course we are! I’dn promised, didn’ I?” 

Of course he did. Yellow is really strong. Flowery trusts him. Maybe he should… trust them more. The flowers are strong. He knows that. 

Maybe he could… fight with them. 

…

No no no, that’s too dangerous. He can’t risk it. He won’t. The only person he can take getting hurt is himself. Flowery can take it. It should only be him. 

Orange peeks nervously from Yellow’s collar. Flowery wants nothing more than to reach out for his little sister, but if she flinches again from him he really won’t be able to take it again. 

So he turns his attention to Asgore instead, “Oldbuddy!” The smile on his face is both genuine and still stretched too wide, tugging painfully at his cheeks, “Good to see you doing good!” 

Asgore, to Flowery’s surprise, takes the flower's hand into his own, “You are the golden flower of my bouquet, yes?” 

Flowery nods. 

The rest of the flowers are making their way over, “Uuuu, it’s Asgore!!” Aqua cries in joy, hopping over. 

“Asgore, sir!” Seth stumbles after Aqua. 

Blue and Green follow along quietly.

Asgore smiles at all of them, “You are all the flowers come to life, yes?” 

They nod in sync.

“It is… quite nice to meet you all. Perhaps a bit strange, hoho, but, I am happy to see you all so healthy,” Asgore’s warm rumble of a chuckle washes away almost all the panic building in Flowery’s mind. His fingers, engulfed by Asgore’s paw, curl tightly to hold their caretaker’s hand. It’s so warm, so soft… if only he could hold on forever.

“Uuuu, it’s Asgore!” Aqua’s bouncy steps sound behind them, followed by Seth’s tumbling ones.

“Asgore! Sir!” They straighten before his hulking figure. Asgore releases Flowery to properly greet them all. 

“Will you play with us now that you’re here?” Aqua clings to his shirt and swings side to side. Something in the monster’s gaze softens, a tiny hint of pain visible. 

Asgore’s happiness dims at her request, “As uh, lovely as that would be, I don’t believe we have the time…” he looks to Flowery staring off into space. The golden flower startles back into reality when everyone’s eyes bore into him.

“Right! To the fountain,” he swivels swiftly on the balls of his feet, flourishing a hand to summon a small flurry of petals for Asgore. Seth hops onto their flowerpad while the others all make their way over. 

On the way, he tries to form what to tell the flowers, but also Asgore. His mind always jams at Asgore. It’s his child involved after all, and Flowery doesn’t think Asgore will forgive him for hurting Kris in any way. Then again, he’s not entirely sure how Asgore will react to the news that their child is possessed. 

By the time they arrive at the room before the fountain, Flowery’s heart has already started beating to a wavering, anxious rhythm. The acid had returned, bubbling at the back of his throat, nausea churning with nothing to spew. God, what a truly awful feeling. 

Blue appears by his side. An arm looped through his elbow leads them to the back of the bouquet, leaving Yellow to guide them forth, “You’re still looking quite pale Flowery. What bothers you?”

Flowery finds it in himself to smile just a little at his friend’s concern. If it weren’t for them, he surely would have given up by now. Their love is endless so long as it powers him. He leans into Blue’s touch a little: the dancer’s touch is somewhat warm - not like Green's magic that always thrums through their petals, but enough to put Flowery at ease a little, “I'm… worried about how everyone will react.” 

"About what you wanted to tell us?” Blue pride curiously. 

"Yeah… it… it just sounds insane. It'll make me crazier than I already am,” he tries to speak with a small laugh, but raw pain leaks into his words anyways. 

His bitter smile falls pretty quickly. 

“You are not crazy Flowery," Blue unthreads his arm to card through the golden flower's hair in smooth, stroking motions, “Whatever makes you think so?" 

As kind as his words are, they don't truly reach him, “... You'd struggle to believe me.” 

“While I may struggle to believe your words, I will never cease to doubt my friend. Unless you did something to hurt us,” Blue's smile only widens, a light hearted chortle aimed at his own joke, “But I can't imagine you ever would." 

Flowery remembers Blue saying something similar some reloads ago. He smiles truly this time, “I sure as a bamboo would never. You guys are…" the most precious thing to me, "Everything to me.” 

"As you are to us,” Blue continues. Flowery lets his eyes slip closed, letting his dance rival guide him instead, “So whatever absurd truth it may be, rest assured we will always believe in you Flowery. In your love, and in your will.”

…

“Oh? Are those tears I sense?" Blue playfully remarks through soft laughter. 

Flowery wipes his face, “I just…" he voice wavers with a crack, “Can't express how much your belief means to me." Even at a time where he doubts himself in almost every way, they don't. They believe in him. Blue believes in him, and if there's anyone's judgement he'll always trust, it's the beautiful blue flower filled to the brim with love. 

Blue pats his head, letting it roll on his shoulder for Flowery to quietly cry on. They're good tears for once. Tears that don't spell despair or fear, no grief attached or weight that comes him. Just relief and warmth. Blue is very warm, his heart steady, pulse strong. 

“I'm really more worried about how Asgore will take it," Flowery admits after a moment. 

“Because it involves both Kris and Noelle?” Blue guesses. 

Flowery nods, "After everything that happened back then… I don't think he'd take it very well.” 

Neither of them would ever doubt Asgore's kind heart: it's the very reason any of them were still alive all these years later. But… they all still did witness what hurting Asgore's loved one entailed: how low he could be brought down when grief and guilt overwhelmed him.

“I'm… a bit worried,” he's not scared; he has no reason to be scared of Asgore at all. Their caretaker is kind, and Flowery and he are best friends!

… Not that they've had much time to converse.

"I suppose… anger has been one of Asgore's vices in the past, has it not?" Blue hums warily, plucking Flowery's concerns right out of his stubborn mouth. 

“Yeah…” 

"Regardless of what happens or what you will tell us, so long as it does not entail foul play or hurting anyone innocent, we will stand by you," his dance rival’s gaze opens a fraction to reveal a pair of soft dark eyes, overfilled with love and trust. 

Flowery lets out a deep breath. The tension in his body loosens with it, “... Thanks Blue." 

Again, it's not that he things Asgore will get mad at his old college pal, but having the flowers’ reassurance is always stunning that soothes him. 

“You twos lookin’ real close together," a gloomy, low voice grumbles right beside them. Flowery lifts his head from Blue’s shoulder to see a pouty Yellow. 

Blue is quick to reassure, "Not at all, darling, I was merely comforting Flowery through the cloudy steps ahead of us," he pats the cowboy affectionately. 

Flowery finds it in himself to chuckle as he peels himself off the dancer, “Don't worry Yellow, I wasn’t stealing Blue from you if that's what you're worried about." 

“You's stealing Bluebell from me?! Yer a criminell then!” Yellow’s shock morphs into wilder fluster at himself, “Ah, wait, I’s shouldn' be talkin’ about Blue like that!" Yellow squeezes his hat in his hands, guilt twisting on his panicked expression, “I'm the real criminell for talkin’ about yous that way!" 

“Fret not Yellow. Are we not each other's? To love, to hold, to dance with?” delicate fingers stroke the taller's chin. Yellow leans into Blue's gentle touch, a blush covering his face. 

"Bleugh!” Orange pops out behind Yellow's colour to stick her tongue out at the couple, "You're always so lovely-dovely with each other!” 

"Orange…" Flowery mumbles. She doesn't ignore him this time, but she still hides behind Yellow’s collar, wearing a petulant pout on her tiny face. 

All he wants to do is smooth it off her face, brush her bristles firm with his fingers, comfort her through reassuring words. 

By the same mouth that snapped so vigorously at her. 

Flowery gnaws on his lip. 

Yellow shrugs the shoulder Orange is perched on towards Flowery, “Go on, didn' yous want to talk to Flowery?” 

The little girl, after moments of turmoil glaring at her feet, hesitantly hops towards her brother. Flowery quickly cups his hands for her to land on, “Orange, I'm so, so sorry," he cradles her close to his chest, a hand holding her safely, "I didn't mean to snap at you. I wasn't angry at you. You didn't do anything, I promise. Your big brother was just being bad.” 

Orange listens to his apologies and pathetic excuses quietly. She taps his chest to get his attention, "... It's, it's okay. Yellow said you… you weren't feeling well. That you didn't mean it." Though her words are understanding, her tone begets her lingering upset. 

Flowery smiles sadly, “It's okay if you're still mad at me. You don't have to forgive me," he probably won't forgive himself anytime soon. 

Orange shakes her head, “I… I don't like being angry at you big bro! And… and I know you'd never be mean to me normally. So, whatever's scaring you… must be really scary," she finally looks up, her face cleared of residual hurt, instead filled with a brave smile, “I forgive you big bro!" 

Oh… he really doesn't deserve his perfect little sister. He can't help the way his lips wobble, eyes pricked by warmth he tries to blink away. He presses a kiss to her head, "... Thanks Orange. You're really growing even though it's only been a few hours. You're so mature already," “his heart is filled to the brim with pride, completely swallowing all his earliest emotions. 

Orange grins, “That's because I'm the strongest human there is!" 

Flowery nods along, “It sure is!" 

They finally make it to the fountain. What a long walk, he was sure they'd all landed pretty close. 

A sting around his chest reminds him of his next plant of action. He takes a deep breath. It'll be okay. The flowers’ll believe him. And Asgore… Asgore would hear him out. Hopefully. Asgore is kind and patient. 

"We're here Flowery,” Seth points out while adjusting their glasses. The light from the fountain hides the nervous sheen in their gaze, "So… what happened?” 

Flowery swallows nervously. Orange climbs up his torso to perch on his shoulder, leaning into the crook of his neck. 

He sighs, anxious heartbeat slowing a little, "It's… about Kris and Noelle." 

Asgore's reaction is immediate: his gaze widens, eyes overflowing with horror from the past; his face twists into a terrified grimace and his fur bristles, “Kris is… is here?! In this darkworld?!”

The panicked roar in their caretaker's words strikes all of them with a flinch. Flowery feels his mouth dry of his words, “Ah… uh…" 

Asgore's panic quickly morphs into fury. He marches over to Flowery, each step a gong of his righteous anger; each one a growing threat to the golden flower who backs away, "Why is Kris here?! What did yo—where is the fountain maker!?” 

Claws grip his arms. Flowery flinches in Asgore's hold, "I… they—" if Asgore was this unsettled by the knowledge of Kris in darkworlds alone; how would he react to Kris being much more involved, being the fountain maker? 

Within Asgore's gaze lies the glint of madness that haunted him for many years, the same twisted of emotions they watched from afar, unable to ever soothe such a storm. Even now, Flowery can do nothing but exacerbate it, "Kris is… they made this fountain…” he swallows a lump in his throat. 

"That's impossible! I won't tolerate such jokes, Flowery!" Asgore roars in his face, lifting off his feet, his nails digging deeper into his arms, drawing a wince from the golden flower.

“Stop it!!” Orange panics. She clings onto her big bro and hides behind his face in the face of Asgore's wrath, "You're hurting big bro!! Asgore, please!!” 

“Asgore, s-sir! Flowery's telling the truth sir! W-we all saw it!” Seth approaches to tug their caretaker back. 

Yellow's hand hovers over his gun, his eyes cross between Flowery and Asgore, heart lodged in his throat. Asgore was being a baddun’ right in front of him! But Asgore would never… he isn't… 

Blue quickly approaches too, an arm on Asgore's, “Please Asgore, calm your heart and listen to Flowery. He would never lie about this, nor do any of us have any I'll will towards Kris and Noelle. We too, care deeply for them, we would never hurt them.” 

Asgore's mad grip loosens a fraction. He's still holding Flowery up, the flower’s shoes dangling an inch above the ground, trying to reach for it desperately. His heart thunders wildly in his ears. Rivulets of sweat drip down his face, “Kris…” he takes Asgore's continued silence as permission to continue, "They made this fountain for reasons I don't know… they're here with Noelle. That's why… the gardens were frozen." 

Yellow startles out of his stupor, “Flowery… how did you knows about the gardens?” 

"... You're saying Kris knows about these dark fountains?” Asgore's question rumbles deep with his fury, a threat hanging over Flowery's head, "How long?”

Flowery hesitates, “I… I don't know exactly… but at least since Thursday…” 

Asgore lets Flowery down. He doesn't let go completely, gaze remaining downcast. Flowery can see the growing horror. 

His next words feel like a gun cocked at their caretaker's heart, "Kris is… they'll,” the words come and shrivel at his tongue. Is he scared? Scared of what Asgore will say—will do?

Asgore is truly kind hearted. 

But he's also capable of terrifying anger. Flowery's arms still sting where claws raked over them. 

“They're going to… they're trying to kill us,” he finishes to utter silence, only the fountain's gushing echoing. 

Flowery stares shakily at his feet. Asgore's silence is deafening. He peeks up, unsure what to expect on the goat monster's face, "It's not exactly them, but… when you see them, they'll… they always try to…” Asgore's continued silence only chokes his words, "... They'll try to freeze us. And when they do… we die…” 

The silence after his words is palatable. 

"Wha—why would they—" Seth stutters through their disbelief, running their hands through their hair. 

“I don't… I can't fathom this,” Blue gasps.

Yellow splutters behind his hat, “Kris and Noelle… criminels!?”  

Green fiddles nervously with their hands. 

“Why? Why?" Aqua asks

"Because…—!” 

Flowery chokes on his next words as he's lifted off the ground again, this time by a hand grabbing his collar. 

"Flowery!” the flowers cry. Orange clings to his shoulder, trembling.

"Flowery… I do hope you know such jokes are very poor in taste,” Asgore starts very quietly, each word underlined in bold by a threat: each word digging a claw at his heart, “To say that Kris and Noelle would ever hurt anyone…" 

“I—” the golden flower splutters in the monster's grasp, “I know! I'd never think that too normally! But it's because they're possessed!" 

“... Possessed?" Asgore's domineering silhouette relaxes a fraction. 

Flowery nods hastily, “I… don't know all the details. But Kris isn't in control, not right now. Because of that they're trying to hurt us…"  

“... And you're sure?" Asgore demands, stern and solemn through the shadow cast over his eyes. 

“Y-yes!" 

Asgore lets him down again—his hands suddenly letting go. Flowery stumbles back, shivering. He risks a glance at their caretaker, expecting a boiling rage about to erupt, only to see a pair of horrified eyes staring at his own hands as if they were coated in blood, "All this time… they've been involved and I… they've been… and I didn't know. I didn't notice.” 

Flowery winces. All this time, Asgore had been doing everything for his family, for Kris. All his research, his suffering to make sure nobody else disappeared… to be hit point blank with such a revelation… while Flowery doesn't think he can even begin to fathom, he almost feels Asgore's pain from the monster's guilt ridden expression alone, "You didn't know.” 

"But I should have," a few tears slip from Asgore's face, “What kind of father am I…?” 

“No! You're a great one! You truly love them from the bottom of your heart! You tried so hard for them!" 

“Please Flowery…” Asgore holds his head in his hands, words spilling from his lips like half formed sobs, "Do not give me any empty platitudes. I do not deserve them, nor do I want them.” 

Flowery looks away. 

The bouquet remains silent, watching in speechless distraught as their caretaker once again falls into a pattern of self-flagellation. Eventually, Asgore wipes his face clean, "Flowery… do you know where they are?” 

The growing chill that finally reaches him lets him know they've arrived at the castle. Ralsei too, from the way the dark world's borders shifted. He can't exactly pinpoint where the prince is though. 

He also knows what Asgore wants, and he won't allow it.

"You can't face them. It's too dangerous," Asgore would never hurt Kris or Noelle. They didn't have the luxury of holding back, "I'm not letting you go.” 

"Please,” Asgore begs, a plea from deep within his broken heart. It almost makes his will waver. But he won't allow it. 

Flowery shakes his head, "I'm sorry Asgore, I can't." He faces the flowers after leaving his oldbuddy with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, “I want you all to stay here. No matter what," his tone leaves no room for argument. Even if Aqua and Orange don't really understand, they do get the undercurrent of authority in his words. He would never order them around like this, not normally. They worked better as a collective that followed their own compass and will, their own hearts, but such a thing didn't have a place in this kind of situation. 

"Ah!” Someone gasps, "Asgore!!” 

Flowery spins on the balls of his feet. In the time he'd looked away, Asgore was already running. Flashes of a large ice prison and an Asgore-shaped silhouette accosts him, cold ice under his palms, horror beating in his heart. Flowery's face falls, dropping along with his stomach, “A-Asgore! You can't!"

He starts sprinting immediately after their caretaker. He is faster with his magic, but he's not stronger. Latching onto his shirt and pulling back—digging his heels in the floor only slows Asgore, "I said it's too dangerous!!” 

“It's too dangerous for me to go see my child!?" Asgore roars as he tries shaking Flowery off. 

"They're not in control! They'll hurt you against their will! Won't that hurt them more!?” They already have! And Flowery doesn't want to see Asgore frozen again!

“They won't! I—” Asgore's voice cracks, "I need to see Kris. I… I need to talk to them." 

His best friend's pain is palpable; Flowery hears it and feels it in his words alone; in the way his voice gives out, in the guilt that drowns each choked sob, but… he can't. It won't work out like Asgore hopes. Even if it did… even if it could, Flowery doesn't want to risk it. The building nausea in tune with the growing cold won't let him. 

Flowery again tries tugging Asgore back. He's never truly experienced Asgore's strength for himself - he's seen it over and over through all these years, yet fighting against it when Asgore was weak is still a herculean task he can't compete with. 

Asgore breaks free. 

Before Flowery can reach for him or yell, a familiar, icy gust howls towards them. It stops both of them. 

There, standing not too far from them, were the heroes. The heroes: faces horrified and confused. 

“Kris…” Asgore takes a step their way. Flowery scrambles up to grab into his arm, holding tight even as Asgore wrenches it away, "Kris I…" 

The human quivers before their father. They look down, teeth gritted so hard their jaw shakes, beads of sweat dripping down their pale pallor. 

Noelle pauses too, a flicker of life appearing in her eyes: a dulled flicker, but one that speaks of her instead of a heartless, power hungry deer monster, “Kris…? That's…” 

“Noelle. Kris,” Asgore takes another step forward despite Flowery’s attempts. To his horror, a battle begins, the world shaping into borders of magenta surrounded by darkness. Asgore gives the changing surroundings a shocked glance before brushing it off, “Kris… Could we talk? Please?”

Kris can only stare in terror. Their eyes plead silently through the tears gathering in the corner of their gaze. They can barely shake their head in response to their dad. 

Asgore’s crestfallen frown deepens, “Kris I… I’m so sorry.”

Like a nightmare blanketing over all of them, Kris’s arm moves against their will. Noelle startles, eyeing Kris in disbelief, “... Kris, that’s… I can’t.” She startles again, looking at them as if they spoke. Flowery doesn’t hear anything, “But… it’s Mr.Dreemur…”

Still, their arm remains up, commanding. Noelle clutches her hands together tight. Her finger bleeds, drops collecting into a tiny pool beneath her, “...” 

The command changes. Defend. 

Flowery pushes Asgore behind him. Vines sprout towards their soul, but a gasp and yell behind him throws him off, “Don’t!!” Asgore quite literally drags him back, causing his attack to miss, “Don’t hurt them!!”

“I won’t hurt seriously, but I have to knock them out!” Flowery explains in desperation. He knows it must be hard for Asgore to see his child hurt, but it’s a necessity. It’s not like he could do it himself. But any chance he gets he—

Kris commands again. Noelle lets out a sharp, shaking breath before casting a spell. It’s not that spell, but it’s aimed at Asgore of all people. Flowery doesn’t hesitate to throw him out of the way. 

“Flowery!!” 

The golden flower stumbles back as he’s struck by ice, crystals growing over his arm. The heroes defend again. Flowery attacks. Asgore begs him to stop. 

“Flowery, let me talk to them!” 

“You’ll get hurt! Please, run!” 

“I can’t leave my child here with you!” Asgore retorts, on his feet again. 

The lack of trust stings, “I won’t hurt them!”

“You already are!”

“Then I won’t kill the—!” he’s cut off by another shock of ice. The spell throws his balance back. Asgore catches him, gaze flicking over the ice growing on Flowery’s body. His HP isn’t low but the effect of ice lingers. Or maybe the way Flowery shakes is his own mind’s frightening memories lingering. 

Asgore steps forward during their turn, “Kris… Please, listen to me.”

Kris’s eyes hesitantly crawl up to meet with their father’s. 

“I’m… so, so sorry I didn’t notice sooner. I’m sorry I was so focused I didn’t pay attention. Not just to this, but… to everything,” Asgore’s face crumbles as his broken heart spills from his mouth, “You deserved so much better than I gave you all. I was so focused on making sure this never happened again I… I let it slip under my nose, and now you’re…” 

The human’s grip on their swords trembles violently. Their armor rattles with th eway they shake. 

“I’m sorry Kris, I’m so sorry Kris,” Asgore’s words waver, “I can’t say it enough.”

A burst of warmth permeartes the frozen atmosphere. With flames that melt the ice growing over Flowery, the prince of the dark makes his flashy and desperate entrance, “Kris!” Ralsei’s strained plea reaches them through the magic clashing around them: ice and fire swirling in the air.

Ralsei takes his place besides Flowery, pushing Asgore out of the fight. He casts a glance at the flower’s HP and quickly clasps his hands together. The magic that fills Flowery soothes almost all the numb stinging left behind by Iceshock, “Hey there little guy, you’re late.”

Ralsei spares him a pout at most before focusing his attention on the heroes, “Kris and Noelle—it’s not their faul—”

“I know I know,” Flowery cuts in casually. 

The prince does a double take, “You—You know?!”

“Not like you. I’ve got my own strange sources,” reloads and all, “We just need to knock them out. Then the SOUL will be temporarily stopped, right?” That's his hope. They don’t really have anything else left. 

“That’s… yeah, that could work,” gathering flames under his palms; straightening his stance, Ralsei steps forward, “Just hold on Kris!”

No, it’s not enough that they just hold on. They’re stronger than that. He knows they can do better, “You have to fight back Kris.”

He looks Kris in the eyes: they stare back, eyes wide, sweat beading on their face, “I know you can. You’ve done it before.”

Ralsei throws Flowery an incredulous glance, “B-before!?” 

He ignores it in favour of focusing on them. On Kris; the mischievous little human Asgore welcomed into his life with open arms; the good kid that grew into a questionable teenager; the prophesied hero that worked with their own antagonist; the human that still fought when they were possessed, “If you want us to sotp you, then fight it! Fight the SOUL’s control! Help us!!”

It’s clear that Flowery and Ralsei alone aren’t enough. As long as Noelle could cast snowgrave, they would systematically destroy everyone and everything. 

Kris’s expression crumples, eyes screwed shut from his words—from his earnest request shining in his gaze. When they open their eyes, there’s a great focus that pierces them. 

“Kris… your voice, it’s… quiet,” Noelle stares unsurely at them, at her hands; her voice wobbles. Kris girts their teeth, their body shaking. They lift their sword even as they resist. Flowery defends, already aware the slash is going his way. But even with the vines wrapped around his arms, the damage to his HP is significantly less than he expected.

A giddy, fluttering feeling pumps through his roots, “Kris… Heh, that’s so human.”

“They’re resisting,” Ralsei notes. Emotion wells up in his words, his expression growing watery.

“Kris…” Asgore whispers in loving awe, their name uttered in pride and hope.

Noelle only falls more distraught, “Why are you… this whole time you made me proceed… you never let me stop.” When ordered, she casts a spell. It doesn’t hit as hard. 

Flowery thinks they actually have a chance. Their attacks drain the heroes’ HP substantially, only countered by healing prayers and the multitude of items. The battle roars on between flames and ice; between two humans. Turn after turn, Kris resists, cutting down the SOUL’s options until only attacking remains. Even then, their slashes are restrained. 

Flowery knocks Noelle down. His hope grows. It’s only Kris. They're exhausted and battered, shaking while they still fight against the being that controls them. Their Greentea heals them. Flowery feels an irk at the thought of his kitchen partner’s food being used by such a callous being. Green’s kindness is wasted on the SOUL. 

The SOUL maneouvers expertly through Kris. Flowery scowls. Downing Noelle was a miracle in itself they need to take advantage of. 

But… as all good things, their momentum never lasts. Flowery notices it during an attack. The surge in power. The way Kris falters, coughing as their exerted body gives in. 

Ralsei calls it out first, “The SOUL! It’s… Kris is—”

“Fight,Kris, fight!” Flowery calls out.

“Please Kris! Keep fighting!” Asgore pleads.

It’s no use. On their next round, Kris uses a Revive mint. Noelle is up, and their TP is practically full. Noelle herself falls back into her apathetic trance, “Your voice… it’s back. That’s right, we have to proceed.”

They defend. It’s over. 

Flowery doesn’t want to accept it. 

But his resistance means nothing when a snowstorm begins to howl. All of his metaphorical fire burns out, snuffed out by the winds slicing the air. 

“Snowgrave.”

He knows who it’s going to. He feels it before it hits him.

“Flowery!”

“Flowery!!” 

Two different voices call out to him, both horrified.

The column of ice strikes him.

—

Despite it all: his best efforts; Ralsei’s magic; Asgore’s words; Noelle’s hesitance; Kris’s resistance… he couldn’t do it. 

He’s back here in the darkness between life and death, frozen in a perpetual state of slowly perishing. He can’t move except for reaching out to his own power. It’s still there; it still shines brightly. 

Perhaps this is the only fate possible for them: an endless uphill battle that’ll always end with a mudslide. He’ll climb and climb for the top and never reach it despite it being in sight, always taunting him. 

RELOAD SAVE?

      RELOAD                           QUIT

If he can’t win then… he wonders if he can stay here forever. If he’s stuck, if time is stuck with him, then everyone else is technically still safe. The flowers are by the fountain. Asgore hasn’t been frozen. The heroes will never take another step forward. 

If he stays like this, he’s neither running nor giving up, right? 

(Of course he is, it’s all a thinly veiled excuse to give up, isn’t it?)

He’s exhausted. It’d be nice to sit in nothing for a while. Maybe forever. 

(The light dims. It’s hard to see it, hard to reach for it, its warmth a flicker on his fingers.)

      RELOAD                           QUIT

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

      RELOAD💛                     QUIT

But it refused. He refused.

The light shines, heat pulses, and—

      RELOAD💛                     QUIT

—

Flowery opens his gaze to the cafe, Green and Orange in his periphery. He shivers with the lingering cold of a reload, panting as his body aclimatises to no longer being frozen.

He’s back, golden flames ignited within him, his determination an endless pool. He won’t give up.

That’s just who he is.