WARNING:
This story contains graphic content that may not be suitable for viewers of all ages. Of you are squeamish at the thought of blood or violence, then please turn back now. This story contains the following: graphic violence, suggestive themes, drug use, sexual themes, shipping, OC centricness, AU setting, content inappropriate for young audiences, and heavy inspiration from the story "They say a star dies long before we ever see it." which can be found on Archive of our Own. Viewer discretion is advised.

A Long Time Coming

I

"On colder Days"

A long time ago, humans dwelled across the Earth in immense numbers too immeasurable to count. They had built great cities with massive structures dedicated to their culture and history. They had spread across the globe for both the greater good and the bad. They had fought so much that they couldn't stand certain groups. Thousands abused technology to go to war for their own greedy goals. Despite this, humans still thrived and blossomed across the world. For all the horrible atrocities they had committed, there was still a good inside them that constantly fought for control.

Like anything, there were dark intentions and then there were the good intentions. The two constantly fought and clashed, one occasionally defeating the other and racking up a victory. As convoluted as the idea of morals was, it was what ruled their world and made every day worth living to them, regardless of the hardships they faced. Thinking about how life was for them, it was confusing to see why they took it all for granted. Unfortunately, the life of luxury makes one's senses dull, their instincts for survival hidden beneath layers of complexity they also forgot to appreciate. So when the great war came, there was very little humans could do.

They had stripped themselves of every natural instinct that wasn't fight or flight. They fought hard, harder than anyone gave them credit for, too the bitter end some would say. The bitter end wouldn't be the death that many had fantasized about. What was once billions of people scattered across uncountable stretches of land had been withered away to a meager million or so fighting tooth and nail to hold their last home. It resembled castles of old with large walls of white and dozens of people moving along the walls. The irony of such a last bastion of hope did not escape, nor deter, the enemy.

The enemy was something they had never imagined before. A variety of creatures that used abilities that could only be described as magic. There was no technology that cold counter it, no equipment that would allow an equal playing field. They were fighting an enemy they could hardly damage, one that would slaughter them with a flick of their wrists. They were ruthless and spared no one, they were monsters...

It would seem that for all the differences between humans and monsters, both felt some sympathy. The monsters were reluctant to allow humanity a chance to live on; however, they eventually were convinced by only a small margin. Humanity would be locked and caged in the same place the monsters appeared. The survivors of the war were cast into Mt. Ebott with nothing but the few things they could carry. Anything that had been there from monster kind was gone, humans would have to start from nothing down below, far away from the world.

The monsters used some of their most powerful spells and casters to seal any entrance to the mountain. Nothing would be allowed to ever leave the mountain. The monsters rejoiced because they had seen the surface and now ruled over it, triumphing over humanity. They moved into the structures humanity had built, tearing down some and repurposing others. They experienced the exact same prosperity humans had enjoyed and worked so hard for, for so long...

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...

Beneath the surface in the dark depths of the mountain was a different story. While the monsters experienced what many could call peace and they flourished, their problems finally being over, humanity was just beginning its long journey down a path of misery. The cave system beneath Ebott was too small for the thousands that were forced below the surface. There wasn't enough space for everyone to survive. This made the remnants of humanity to fall into what would be called the Great Famine a period in which the survivors endured chaos and anarchy. Murder, theft, and other crimes become normal for most, just another means of surviving. Something that ensured only the strong were capable of surviving.

When the competition become tough for anyone surviving the initial chaos, a group rose above the rest. A group that stopped all of the death, or at least lessened it considerably. They took control through force and brutality, bringing opposition under their boot. It was strange to see how easily they stole control back and reigned the populace in. If you disagreed with them then it was fine, yet if you opposed them you would be executed. Simple, cut, clean, like them.

It wouldn't be until the first generation born inside the underground would something other than control the anarchists need be done. A new generation meant new challenges that were far different from normal survival. Now you had to care for another, someone who couldn't survive without you, someone who was too important for you not to cherish. Humans, by that point had become even rarer than before.

Things like education, clothes, and medicine needed to be developed. More food needed to be produced and civil unrest grew as life become harder once again. The controlling group took pride in prioritizing children over adults, they weren't a threat and could be manipulated into being loyal to them. They shifted into something other than a militarized faction that could stamp out resistance. The molded into a government, if even an imperfect one. The created a workforce, generated labor, and found a way to keep humans alive for a few more years.

Despite things being despairingly grim, humanity persisted and survived underground. These recoveries lead to what was known as the Great Schism in which the old government was replaced. For all the good they had brought, they were founded in the idea of martial law. They came from the remnants of the old world's military. Humanity had moved past the point of chaos and panic, they needed to prosper and grow outside of fear. A long battle occurred between the two factions, one the saviors of humanity(S.O.H.) and the other the human advancement core(H.A.C.) which won the war.

The revolution was short lived for the people of the underground. The promises of enough food to feed everyone crumbled away along with the other promises. Through the ashes rose a terrifying government that resembled the old surface governments. It controlled and knew everything and there was no fighting it. The crime rate was reduced purely from fear and the food shortages grew worse. Medicine had become available, but only to a select few. Less than a hundred years had passed when the third generation appeared and grew into the world, well under the world.

These new souls were few in comparison to previous generations, but the managed to sustain themselves. The population had dropped so drastically that starvation was a rare occurrence. The new generation never grew to the same height or builds that their grandparents had. The lack of nutrients made it impossible for such a thing to happen. By the time humanity had officially started looking for a way out of the Underground, it had been more than one hundred and twenty years.

H.A.C. developed laboratories over the lava zone and near the barrier. The main governing body was with the largest portion of the military might the underground possessed. Two hundred soldiers had been trained in hand-to-hand and close quarter combat. They were given mere knives to fight, gunpowder had become a rare commodity in the Underground of the Great Schism. There were some units permitted access to the remaining firearms and ammunition, but they were only to be used in worst-case scenarios.

The area with running water was where the rich and middle class resided. The lower class was forced to endure the biting winds of winter inside the frozen zone. The furthest area was referred to as the Gates because prisoners would be taken there, but never return. The area was off limits to civilians, but military convoys constantly travel to and from there. The sites were dubbed Castle Alpha, Castle Bravo, Eden, Polaris, and Echo, all of them labeled respectively.

It was in Polaris that we find two young souls, each unique in their own right. One a girl and the other a boy, but neither the same age. The boy was eleven years old and a forth generation human. The girl was also a forth generation human, but she was nine years old. The only other thing that could be said about the children was that they were orphans, both separated from their families by a sick ironic twist of fate...

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...

The trash can lid sitting outside of a brick building fell to the snow covering the ground. The soft crunch was followed quickly by the shifting of paper bags inside the trash can. Someone was rummaging through the trash can, no doubt in search of scraps. Trashcans behind buildings, such as the brick one in Polaris, tended to often hold some food that was still edible. Unfortunately for those that search through the tins, the owner of the establishment had made sure not to dump the food in that trash can anymore. This meant that, like the previous explorers, the current boy sifting through the trash found nothing to eat.

He remained determined to find some sort of food, so they searched through the bags in the trash. He was only a kid, yet he had to resort to sorting through trash to find food. Regardless, when the kid found a paper bag that had the remains of smashed fries their face lit up like a Christmas tree. He grabbed some of the smushed potatoes and shoved them in his mouth. The fries had grown soggy, bland, but it was the most filling thing he'd eaten in a week. The boy heard the soft crunching of approaching food steps and realized he was alone in the open. Using instincts that had formed from too many unfavorable experiences, the boy darted into the nearby trees and hid.

The crunching echoed from around the building until the person causing it stepped into view. They were a little kid, not even ten years old, yet they too were scrounging for food. They cautiously glanced around the back of the building, looking for any others. Scavenging for food was dangerous and the competition was, more often than not, fierce. The small child tentatively approached the garbage can, not caring that it had already be rummaged through.

They dug through what remained in the can, a frown from disappointment stretched across their face when nothing edible was found. Their hands had become covered in the muck from messes unknown, their sweater dirty from the wrists to the elbows. The let out a soft breath of air the turned white in the air. They next thing on their list was checking the bags scattered about on the ground. They managed to peak inside one paper bag before the jiggling of a handle caught their attention.

The owner of the restaurant had stepped outside, a box full of trash in his arms. When he saw the child and the child them, they froze. The owner quickly realized they had been searching their trash can and responded with the typical response. Yelling obscenities and throwing what garbage he was carrying at them. The box, which couldn't have weighed twenty pounds, was heavy enough to throw the child unnervingly far. This did nothing to deter the shop owner as they begin picking up the scattered trash and tossing it at the downed child. He treated them like they were a mangy animal.

The boy, having seen enough, slowly inched closer to the scene. He was conflicted whether he should help the younger child or leave without being noticed. The more he watched trash pile up on the younger kid, the more he wanted to leave. The urge to assist won the battle when the owner chucked a tin can at the child, who had just begun standing, and hit them in the head. He had remembered plenty of times when he was in dire need of help, yet nobody came to his aid. With one last effort to swallow his fears, he grabbed some of the mushy fries he had in the bag and threw them at the face of the owner.

The fries splattered on their cheek, which caused them to recoil in disgust and wipe the food off their face. The smaller child just sat up and stared, eyes wide as can be, at the boy who was distracting the owner. The boy managed to make contact with them, which was enough to convince the younger child the incentive to run while they still had the chance. The man attempted to shout at the fleeing child, but another handful of mushy potatoes pulled his attention away and to the boy. The man had the most murderous look in his eyes he could muster. It was then that the boy regretted his actions. He swallowed a lump of spit before turning and sprinting into the woods.

He ran across what tree roots he could and desperately tried to keep up the pace without tripping. He leaped off each root with fear-fueled adrenaline, quickly rebounding to another to keep going as fast as possible. He could hear the heavy thumps of the many behind them, he feared what would happen should they catch him. He started to zig-zag between trees to throw the adult off, but to no avail, they closed the distance with barely any effort. His breathing hitched as he became more winded, overwhelming his instincts with fear. They were still close and he couldn't outrun them much longer.

He crawled under a fallen tree, using his momentum to slide most of the way. He stood, not caring for the pain in his knees from the rough rocks and dirt. He tried to run and was yanked back to the tree by someone holding onto their collar. With fluency and speed he didn't know he possessed, he spun and let the jacket slide off his arms. The man was right there, holding his jacket with a glare that would make even apples loose their color. The boy spared him one last glance before turning and sprinting off into the rest of the woods, comfortable with the idea of leaving the jacket to escape.

He jogged further into the woods until he was sure that he wasn't followed by the man. He slowed until he stopped, throwing his hands on his knees to brace himself, before gasping for air. His breaths wheezed and were unnaturally quick for someone so young. It took some time for his breathing to settle, but when it did he took a moment to think. He thought about what had just happened and what he just did.

He had helped that kid get away and, in the process, lost what little food he had acquired. Helping them only hurt him, so why did he go out of his way to help? He'd never received help and he turned out fine, more or less. He also lost his jacket too, which he regretted quickly. The cold nipped at his unprotected arms and face, forcing a shiver through his body. When the adrenaline rush faded and he regained feeling, the cold began to encompass his body and freeze him. It was then that he went deathly still, not from the cold, but from his situation dawning in his mind.

He was out in the middle of the woods, just outside of Polaris, in the coldest part of the underground. He had no jacket or anything to give him warmth and he was hungry. He looked back at the way he came from, but soon realized he didn't know the exact path he went from the brick building. His lip shook and he looked upwards at the sky, it would be dark in about an hour, he needed to get back to civilization...

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...

Some time had passed since his meeting with the child and man. He was the boy who saved the kids life; although, he was now huddled away in his bedroom. The bedroom was one of the rooms in a second story house that had been condemned. He was the only one living in it since an accident some years ago. He'd recovered, for the most part, but the scars still show up.

He was wearing a dirty white shirt and faded blue jeans. He was looking outside at the falling snow. He was looking at the people standing outside. He was staring at the kid, that had somehow managed to find where he lived, standing outside. He was looking at the older kids bullying the little kid...

He let loose a sigh before going down to the first floor of his house. He speed walked into the kitchen and pulled a metal bar out from behind the counter. The metal bar was a piece of a fence at one point, but years of slate and snow had eroded it, allowing him to yank it off the fence he found it on. Since then he'd been using it as a method of defense against criminals invading his house. He supposed it wasn't a good idea leaving it downstairs, but he'd been too tired when he returned to take it up with him.

He made his way to the door and slowly opened it. One of them had shoved the kid to the ground. They were taunting them, but the kid wasn't even fighting back or saying something. He sighed before opening the door completely, allowing the door to slam into the wall. The sound drew their attention away from the kid, he figured it was good. Probably for the kid, but definitely not for him and yet here he was doing so for nothing.

He said nothing, only stepping forward onto the dusty porch. He raised the bar in his hand and pointed it at them. He was thoughtful enough to have tied rags around the handle, so using it wouldn't hurt him. He'd never actually had to use it though, it usually scared off any would be attacks. These people though, there was three of them and they clearly weren't afraid. One of them actually grinned and stepped forward.

He looked average, black hair, white skin, dark brown eyes. He wore dark blue clothing with some padding in it. He stepped forward, leaving his cohorts to harass the kid on the ground. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a makeshift knife. They waved it around in a threatening manner, which slightly discourage the young boy on the front porch. The boy became discouraged and he smiled, turning back to smile at his friends. He started walking towards them at a snail's pace.

"So here's how it's gonna go." The sound of soft crunches echoed. "You're gonna give us your food and valuables, or we're gonna-" He had started to turn back around when his vision went black. The boy had smacked him in the head with the bar, doing a great deal of damage, but the bar remained firm and unyielding. With a spurt of blood, they collapsed to the ground, eyes closed tight and blood dripping from their mouth.

A hard glare set in the boy's eyes when he stared at the two others. They were stunned at their friend being downed so quickly. One of them managed a meager cry of shock. The other took a step back from the scene. A low muffled cry/moan came from the downed teenager but was drowned out by a gurgle. While everyone's eyes were on the gurgling person lying still in the snow, one of the attackers took the opportunity to disarm the young boy.

He grabbed at the boy's arms, trying to wrench the weapon away from the boy. The boy managed to twist out of his grasp and swung the bar at the attacker's knees. A gross snap and pop followed the impact, making the older of the two boys crumble to the ground holding their injured leg. A scream ripped from their throat, which was incentive enough for the last to flee the area. The boy wasted no time and grabbed the kid who had been lying in the snow the whole time and pulled them to his house.

He yanked them inside and slammed the door shut. He locked whatever locks he could before peaking through the boards against the windows. He could make out one of the teenagers crawling away at an abysmal pace, still clutching their knee. He was concerned when he saw the first one he attacked was lying still in the same spot where they dropped. He took a step back and turned, looking for the kid.

The small kid had wandered into his kitchen. They were looking at the counters and, occasionally, they peaked into the cabinets. They ceased their search when they noticed him watching. The two children stared at each other, neither saying anything until the older decided to speak. His voice was soft from lack of food and the cold.

"Heh, you're not gonna find anything in there." He stepped away from the window and looked around the rest of the living room. To his right was another window, but with fewer boards. He had piled one of the couches in front to make up for that problem. He looked straight ahead, back at the kid. "I was smart enough not to leave the food in the most obvious spot." He let a small smile slip out but other than that an awkward silence hung in the air.

He walked to the left of the kitchen and turned around, going up the stairs. There was one window in the stairway, but it was too high for anyone to climb through, just a decoration. He made it to the second floor before stopping. He thought about calling down to them but decided against it. He was just going to his room, it was the only room he kept anything of value in. He walked left of the stairs down the hallway and walked into his room, closing the door behind himself.

He looked around his room, the place he had been when he spotted the kid again. There was a bed to the right, but it had long since fallen into disrepair. Across from the bed was the sleeping bag he had been using, it had a paper bag next to it with a small piece of bread, just larger than the palm of one's hand. To his left was the closet where he kept what little clothes he had. It wasn't until now that he realized just how barren the place was.

He walked over to the sleeping bag and sat down on it. He unconsciously reached beneath the covers and grasped a small screwdriver he had picked up one day. He never needed it, but it was always better to be safer than sorry. He waited there for five minutes, listening for a door slam to signal them leaving, or anything. It never came, so naturally the boredom overwhelmed his alertness and forced his eyelids to droop. Before he realized it he was sleeping and ignorant to the world around him...

Soft thumps reached him, they were so soothing. They were interrupted by long stretches of quiet. He could almost stay asleep because of how nice those sounds were. Unfortunately, the sounds stopped and were replaced with something much less comforting. A really annoying and loud creaky sound that woke him up.

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and his vision cleared. He could see something was off about the room. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but-*creak*-he... His vision snapped to the door and saw a small tuft of brown hair. That and someone peeking into his room.

"Who?" His brows furrowed before the door slowly opened more to reveal the younger kid. "Oh, it's just you." His eyes still held an air of tiredness. The kid entered the room slowly and cautiously as if expecting someone to jump out and scare them. "You need something?" He stared at them but all they did was sit down and look around. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"*wheeze*" They had opened their mouth but no words came out, only a quiet wheeze came out.

"Something wrong?" They opened their mouth as if they wanted to talk but they just closed their mouth. Sitting in silence wasn't something he was comfortable with, so he broke the ice. "Can you talk?" The kid seemed nervous but managed to shake their head. "Hmmm... Hold on, I might have something that can help..." He slipped the screwdriver into his pocket, he didn't really trust the kid with his back to them, stood up and headed to the closet. He dug through old things like a shoe box and a duffel bag before he found an old notepad with a pine in the spine.

He backed out of the closet and closed it. He gave the kid the notepad and pen before sitting across from them, watching them carefully. The hesitated using, glancing between him and the notepad, before using it. The wrote slowly and carefully like they were struggling to do so. When they finished, they flipped the pad around and showed him their message. The handwriting had been horrible, but somehow legible enough to make sense of.

"WHY HELP"

Well, it wasn't pretty but at least it was straight forward. Now onto the question, which was one he'd asked himself after he'd helped them the first time. It was a question he didn't have a real answer for. He'd lost sleep over it for a few days before ignoring it."I don't know, I try not to think about it because." He starred at them and them him. They went back to writing.

"FRISK"

He stared at the text before figuring it was their name. It was unusual to seem someone with a name like that, he'd never meet or read of anybody with a name like that, but he didn't really care either. "Cool, name's Eran." He stuck his arm out and waited for them to shake it. When they didn't he retracted the offer. "I take you haven't had much in the way of teaching huh?" A small smile broke his lips apart again. They shook their head "no" to prove he was right in his guess. "Would you like to be taught?"

They stared at their hands for a moment before going back to writing. They took longer with this response, he supposed they were writing a longer response than before. He was wrong when the showed him the notepad. There was no long sentence or string of words to convey their feelings or thoughts. What Frisk had written was a simple, yet childishly written...

"YES"

He thought about the effort they had seemed to be putting into writing a response, only for it to be a simple yes. It made him smile and chuckle, which was strange since he hadn't done so in a while. "Man get a hold of yourself, geez. You're acting like a weirdo." His smile shrunk but remained nonetheless.

"Yeah, okay. I'll help, but you gotta help me too." Frisk tilted their head, almost like they didn't understand what he entailed. "You gotta help find food. I already helped you twice, can't go around just given everything away for free eh?" They smiled in response and nodded. "Yeah, don't wanna give people the impression that I'm a charity or nothing." He commented...