Chapter Text
'So... I assume you have a lot of questions, Frisk...'
Frisk said nothing in response. They didn't have to.
'You're wondering what I'm doing here. That's understandable. The answer is simple: someone called my name. And when I heard you call for help... well. How can I ignore the person who SAVED my brother? Who freed my family from that dark prison? Not to mention, I'm now finally free of that place myself, so there's that.'
“... Who called you?” asked Frisk. “And why are you so... chatty?”
'I'm not certain who called me. I only know they are someone very powerful. As to why I'm so talkative now... I imagine it's because the rules of this world are very different than in the Underground. Besides, shouldn't you be glad I'm talking so much? Are you not trying to investigate what might be a part of my past?'
Frisk froze.
'You feel like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. How amusing.'
“... Would you actually be willing to tell me anything?”
'A few things, perhaps. I can't spoil everything for you. Your investigation wouldn't be nearly as fun to watch if I did.'
“Okay, then tell me: are you related to Pat? Or her mother?”
'… It really is interesting, isn't it? How that girl looks so much like me?'
“Answer me!”
'Tsk tsk. So demanding. I'm afraid I can't tell you, Frisk. I will only say that you are on the right track, and nothing more.'
“Why can't you just tell me what I want to know!?” snapped Frisk.
'Now where's the fun in that? I want to see if you can figure out on your own.'
Frisk crossed their arms and pouted. “I'm so sick of how cryptic you are! You acted like this in the Underground, and you're doing it again now!”
'Listen, Frisk. I imagine I'm going to be stuck with you for quite a while, seeing how your soul is the only one that resonates with my spirit. I figured I'd make things more interesting by nudging you in the right direction, as opposed to outright holding your hand like Mom might.'
Frisk recalled being escorted across the spike maze by Toriel in the Ruins. It was wonderful that someone cared about their safety so much, but also sort of annoying that Frisk wasn't permitted to figure it out themselves... or really, ANY of the puzzles in the Ruins. Okay, perhaps they DID see what Chara was trying to do.
'See? I'm not making things harder out of malice. We're just playing a game, Frisk. If I tell you the answer you want now, the game will end, and you'll be satisfied. And where will that leave me?”
Now that sounded familiar...
'Come on, Frisk. Play with me. For old time's sake. It'll be fun...'
Frisk sighed. “Okay, okay... sure. Why not?” They paused. “Although... I'm surprised you're actually okay with me digging into your past.”
'What? Did you really think I was going to be upset about it? Granted, my past is... messy. However, I've grown to trust you. And I trust that you won't tell Mom or Dad about any of it.'
“... Okay, I promise I won't tell.”
'Excellent! Now, why don't you get some rest, okay? You're tired.'
Frisk kicked off their shoes and climbed into their bed. No sooner did their head hit the pillow, they fell asleep.
Meanwhile, downstairs in the kitchen, Asgore had gotten a glass of water for Pat, and was now gently wiping the tears from her face with a handkerchief, kneeling on the floor so that he was closer to her level. She occasionally broke out into a sob between sips of water, making Asgore frown.
“There, there,” said Asgore soothingly. “It will be okay, Pat. I promise your mother will be alright.”
“How do you know?” asked Pat, in a tone that distinctly said, “I don't believe you”.
“Because Toriel will take good care of her. And I trust her wholeheartedly,” Asgore gently replied. He then pocketed the handkerchief.
Pat sighed. “You better be right... if Mom doesn't wake up soon, I don't know what I'm going to do.”
Asgore hummed in thought. “Pat, do you have any relatives close by you can stay with until your mother recovers?”
“Well... my grandma and grandpa live in Ebott City. That's not too far away.”
“Ah, I see. Although... I suppose the only trouble is explaining to them why they need to look after you.”
“Why can't you tell them the truth?”
“Do your grandparents like monsters?”
Pat suddenly looked nervous. “Um... my grandma does. Grandpa... he doesn't really trust monsters at all. Or most humans for that matter. I think Mom called him a bigot once. What does that even mean?”
Asgore took a breath before speaking. “A bigot is someone who isn't accepting of people who are different than they are. Does that make sense?”
Pat nodded slowly. “Yeah... I get it. I don't know why Grandpa is like that. It's funny... he's really nice to me, and Mom, and Grandma. He loves us and we love him. But... Mom and I definitely aren't bigots. We like all kinds of people, even monsters.”
Asgore nodded in understanding. “Of course you love each other. He is your grandfather. Relatives tend to love each other despite their flaws, no matter how big or small they are. Besides, I am certain your grandfather has good qualities.”
Pat smiled. “Yeah, he does. He loves jokes, kind of like Sans does. And he likes telling all kinds of stories, like how he and Grandma met each other. He's also the one who taught me how to play guitar.”
“There, you see? It really is a shame your grandfather is a bigot, but aside from those things, he seems like a good person at heart who loves his family.”
Pat looked at Asgore curiously. “I'm surprised you think that, considering he doesn't like monsters.”
Asgore smiled. “Just because he doesn't like monsters, it doesn't mean I should return the same hateful sentiment. To do so, I think, would be a waste of time and energy. I believe that, if your grandfather actually spent time with monsters, he'd grow to like us.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so. People can change, Pat. I see no reason your grandfather can't.”
Pat glanced into her water glass thoughtfully. “Maybe you're right...”
“Such things take time however,” said Asgore. “Just try to be patient with your grandfather for now.”
Pat looked up at Asgore and smiled again. “You know, you're a really nice person, Mr. Dreemurr.”
Asgore tried not to look nervous. “I'm... glad you think so, Pat.” Then he grinned. “I think you're a rather nice person yourself.”
Now Pat was the one to look nervous. “I... I try to be. Thanks.”
“Hm? What's the matter, child?” asked Asgore.
“Uh, it's nothing,” said Pat quickly. “Just some random thought that popped into my head.”
“I see.” Asgore decided not to push the matter further. “Pat, why not try to call your grandparents right now? I'm sure we can think of a good story to tell them.”
Pat looked into Asgore's eyes. “Are you sure we shouldn't tell them the--”
Suddenly, Pat froze in place, staring straight at Asgore.
Asgore gave her a worried look. “Pat? Are you alright?”
Pat dropped her water glass on the floor, where it shattered into pieces. Her eyes suddenly began glowing, and her soul appeared before her. Both were a bright orange.
Asgore's eyes widened. “Oh no, not again...! Pat!? Pat, speak to me!” he cried.
Pat continued to stare ahead for a few more seconds. Then, as quickly as it all happened, her body relaxed again. She blinked a few times, her eyes bright, and looked around in confusion.
“Wha... What happened?” She then spotted this mess she'd made on the floor, and a look of fear crossed her face. She backed away slowly, not taking her eyes off the shattered glass. “Mr. Dreemurr... I'm scared...!”
“Pat!” cried Asgore, getting up from the floor. He quickly stepped towards Pat and scooped her into his arms. “Pat, stay calm, I've got you!”
Pat's body began glowing blue all over, and she let out a high-pitched scream of pain. Tears ran from her eyes, and she started sweating heavily. As Asgore panicked, Toriel burst through the kitchen door.
“Asgore, what is going on!?” she cried. She then spotted Pat writhing in Asgore's arms, still screaming. “Oh... oh my god! Give her to me, now!”
Asgore quickly did as Toriel asked. She cradled the shrieking Pat closely in her arms like a baby.
“Pat!” cried Toriel. “Pat, look at me! Look at me, please!”
Pat grit her teeth and shakily looked up at Toriel, her eyes like headlights. “IT... HURTS!”
“I know, my child, I know! Just stay calm!”
All of a sudden, Sans burst into the room. “what's going on? where's the fire?”
Toriel looked at Sans desperately. “Sans, Pat is going through the same thing as her mother!”
Sans' breath stopped short, and his sockets went dark. “oh... oh shit.”
“Sans,” said Toriel, “Frisk helped Emily by distracting her from the pain! I know it is a lot to ask, but can you do the same?”
“what should i do?”
“I... I do not know, maybe tell her jokes!”
“jokes? at a time like this?”
“Sans, please!”
“alright, alright, tori. i got this.”
Sans' sockets lit up again, and he carefully approached Toriel and Pat. A noise rang out, and the world turned black and white. The usual four buttons appeared before Sans, and he quickly chose ACT. His options were as follows:
* Call
* Pun
* Joke
* Panic
Sans selected the “Call” option first.
*i call pat's name, trying to get her attention. she fights the pain to turn her head towards me.
“Sans... it... hurts... so... much!”
“i know, kiddo, i know.” Sans chose to ACT again.
* i tell pat a bad skeleton pun. she looks confused... but then she gives a weak laugh.
“Haha... that's... kinda funny...”
“oh, there's more where that came from.”
* i tell pat another skeleton pun... then another... and another, and another, and another. she's laughing harder and harder!
“You're – haha! – worse than my... my grandpa!”
“lemme switch things up a bit.”
* i tell pat my best (worst?) skeleton jokes. she's laughing hysterically! there are tears in her eyes! … whoa. she suddenly fell asleep, like a narcoleptic. she's also stopped glowing. thank god.
Sans spared Pat, ending the encounter.
Toriel breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Sans!”
“Yes, excellent work, Sans!” said Asgore. “I wish I could have done something to help, too, but I was panicking too much.”
Toriel frowned at Pat's unconscious form. “The poor dear... what on earth is going on, I wonder?”
“well, i sure haven't seen anything like it before,” said Sans.
Something suddenly dawned on Asgore. His mouth hung open for a moment before he spoke. “I... I have.”
Toriel whipped around to stare at him. “What!? What do you mean you have!?”
Asgore slowly turned to Toriel. “I just remembered. I have have seen this phenomenon before, long ago, before monsters were banished.”
“... You always did have an impeccable memory,” said Toriel. “Well, don't just stand there, Dreemurr, explain!”
Asgore furrowed his brow, doing his best to recall what he knew. He spoke slowly and carefully:
“Back in those days, human magicians had a very risky, though rare, practice. If the situation ever called for it, magicians would take an object – whether inanimate or living – and transfer all of their magic into that object. Magical energy cannot be created, nor can it be destroyed. So if a magician ever needed to rid themselves of their powers, they needed to do a magical transfer.
“However, like I said, the process is incredibly risky. If a magician does a transfer, they needed to drink a lot of water afterwards, for human magicians have less physicality to them than the average human, though they have more than a monster does. If they did not do this, they would severely dehydrate and die.
“Once a magician decided to take their magic back, they had to destroy the object they made the transfer to. Once they did that, the magician's powers would return to them, making them go through a painful physical change, glowing with magical energy and expelling water from their bodies.
“I saw this once for myself when I was a young prince. Unsurprisingly, I was horrified by it back then. It's just as horrifying now.”
Toriel had listened to all this with her mouth agape. “Oh my god... but... that means Emily and Pat are magicians! I thought there were none left! I've met so many humans who never thought magic was real until they saw our kind use it!”
“so, what does this all mean?” asked Sans.
“I'm not sure,” Asgore admitted. “We might be able to get some answers from Emily and Pat when they wake up.”
“Will they wake up?” asked Toriel.
“Yes, eventually. They'll be a little sore, but otherwise they'll be fine.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
Sans' grin seemed to widen. “see, big guy? you helped after all.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Asgore smiled. “I... guess I did, didn't I?”
“Yes,” said Toriel hesitantly. “And... I suppose you can help further. Seeing how you know more than I do about this, I will need you to stick around until Emily and Pat wake up. Maybe even longer, so you can explain everything to them.”
“What shall I do in the meantime?”
“Perhaps you can help me heal Emily and Pat so they are not in as much pain when they wake up. Before you do that, however, I would like to change their clothes. They are soaking wet from sweat, and I do not wish for them to catch cold.”
Asgore nodded. “Smart thinking, Toriel!”
“anything i can do, tori?”
“Yes, there is one thing I need you to do, Sans. When Papyrus comes back, I'll need you to explain everything to him, to get him up to date. I want him to be ready in case we need him for anything.”
Sans nodded. “gotcha. for now, i'll go watch some tv until he comes home. that way i'll be right near the door so I can catch him right away.”
Toriel squinted at him. “Are you sure that is not just an excuse for you to sit around watching television, Sans?”
“hey, after what just happened, i need to wind down. it may not look like it, but i'm kind of shook from all that.”
“I suppose you have a point. Very well, Sans, you are free to relax for now.”
“cool. i'll be in the living room. see ya.”
As Sans left, Toriel began heading out of the kitchen. “Asgore, wait for me down here while I get Emily and Pat changed. My clothes will be a bit big for Emily, but Frisk's clothes should fit Pat just fine. I will call you when I am finished so you can help me heal them.”
“Yes, Toriel,” said Asgore in an obedient tone.
“Oh, and clean up that broken glass, would you? There is a broom over in the corner.”
“Of course, Toriel.”
When Toriel left the room, Asgore let out a huge breath. What a day this was! He then looked for a roll of paper towels and blotted up the water, as well as the puddle of sweat Pat had left behind. Speaking of which, Pat had left a wet spot on his shirt. He tugged at the garment and sighed. Poor Pat. Nobody deserved to go through all that pain.
Asgore then got the broom and began to sweep the glass into the dustpan. As he worked, he recalled the day he'd first seen a magician transfer their powers back.
“Poor Fetch,” he muttered to himself. “I wonder why he even gave up his powers in the first place. Golly, that transfer was brutal.”
Shortly after dumping the glass in the trash, Asgore decided to watch TV with Sans until Toriel called him. He was happy that she was letting him help out... they really were getting along much better these days. But...
“Ah, I shouldn't get my hopes up,” he told himself. “Toriel will probably never forgive me, no matter how much things have improved.”
Just before he opened the door to the kitchen, he had another thought: Pat really did look so much like Chara, didn't she? But she was nothing like them in personality. Chara was quiet, albeit well-spoken like Toriel, and they had a sense of mischief about them. They were also very intelligent and could read books at an adult level. Meanwhile, Pat seemed very outspoken and energetic... and perhaps a bit angry. Asgore seriously wondered what she was thinking when he called her a nice person. Had she, too, done something she wasn't proud of?
His line of thinking was interrupted when he heard Toriel call his name from upstairs. Ah, well. So much for TV. He left the kitchen, wondering if all this excitement would help him find out more about Pat. He was just so curious!