It hurt when you fell. You tumbled into the crater, hitting the bed of flowers with a distinct thud. You laid there for a moment, alive, but only just. Your head was splitting. You stared up into the rays of light from the world above. You'd fallen so far, and yet, you were still alive. The light outside was blinding; you'd always preferred the dark. You tried to get to your feet, but your legs refused to support you, sending your face back into the flowers. Several attempts went like this, until finally, your legs gave in. At the end of a short hallway was a door. The pillars at its sides were crumbling, overtaken by vines and its stone eaten by rot. You staggered out, meandering through the hallway and through the threshold.
There was another dilapidated door ahead of you, its opulence having long faded. You limped, dragging yourself to it. You found yourself interrupted. Halfway to the doorway was a small patch of grass. From the grass, vines and stems twirled and rose into the air. From them spawned several petals, shifting into a thousand forms before becoming still again. A small yellow flower had sprouted before you. It shot you a cheery smile, from ear to ear.
I watched as the flower raised you into the air with its long, veiny vine. I watched as it brutalized you, tearing your body apart with its creepers and ripping into you with its seeds. It hurt so much. You were dying. You thought back to your days at home. You'd lie awake at night, tears streaming down your eyes, pondering death. You'd always thought that it would hurt, but this was pure agony. The flower's grin was ceaseless, its eyes now black craters in its face. You screamed and cried, swiped at the thing with the stick you'd fallen down with, and struggled to break free. Your vision was blurring, it was becoming dark. Your writhing had slowed to faint wiggling. It was said that none who fell into the mountain had ever returned. You won't be returning either.
You awoke in a bed, covered in bloodied bandages and casts for your broken bones. You stared up at the ceiling, it was an unfamiliar one. You gazed around the room for a moment, it was well-lived in. There were children's clothes and shoes scattered about the room. On the dresser on the far side of the room, there was a small photo frame. You suddenly felt like an intruder. After much struggling, you sat up finally, your entire body screaming from the pain. At the foot of the bed was a slice of pie. Had it not been for the tremors in your stomach, you'd have ignored it. You bit deep into the crust, savoring the sweet cinnamon as it seeped down your throat. It was the best pie you'd ever had. It was the best pie anyone had ever had.
Barely audible, just outside, were the sounds of heavy, lumbering footsteps. You heard them grow louder and louder. Your heart raced, as did your mind. Should you pretend to be asleep? Should you hide? Should you run? Pain shot through your body as you moved your legs, you weren't going anywhere. Whatever it was stopped just outside. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and yet, you sat there, paralyzed. Your torn muscles strained as they tensed with fear. The door slowly creaked open, allowing light to filter in from the outside. In the darkness, all you could see were a pair of red eyes, widening in surprise as they met yours. The door opened fully, a hulking figure entered. You scrambled to the foot of the bed, cowering as the menacing shadow approached. You screamed at it to get away, to leave you alone, but all that came out was a whimper.
In the figure's hand was a candle, casting light to the darkness. In the faint light, you saw her face, she wore a kind, yet concerned face, much unlike the one the flower wore. She was a massive creature, with horns protruding from her crown. Her skin was covered with layers of snow-white fur, and several of her teeth were large and sharp enough to tear through you. She was a monster, like one from the old stories you'd read. They were said to be merciless abominations, murderers. And yet, you were unafraid. Her smile had disarmed you of any notion of fear. She was nothing like them.
"My child, you're awake!" she exclaimed giddily. "I'd feared the worst when I found you."
She was the one who saved you.
"Such an awful creature, terrorizing a poor child such as you," she went on, frowning. She wrapped her arms around you and brought you to her chest. She was so warm, you felt safe. "Are you in much pain? Can I get you anything? What is your name?"
You opened your mouth to speak, only returning to her a whimper, like before.
"Did you like the pie? I can get you more, if you like."
You tried again, but nothing came out.
"Oh, well, that is alright, child. I suppose it's natural that you'd be afraid of me. After all, you must have never seen a monster," she said pleasantly. "Not in the flesh."
Her name was Toriel. Under her care, your wounds healed quickly. Within only a few days, your myriad wounds had quickly healed, the bandages betraying not a single scar. You were perplexed, to say the least. "Magic!" Toriel exclaimed to your confused face as she removed the bandages. You may have been a child, but you understood the world well enough. "Oh, do humans not employ magic anymore, my child?" she asked. "Look!" In her hand free of bandages, wisps gathered, like inflamed dust. They whirled around, spinning until they burst into an inferno in her palm. You were aghast, shocked beyond measure. From nothing, she'd created fire. You thought back to when you first awoke in her home. You understood then that it was not a candle that she had been holding. To celebrate your injuries being healed, Toriel proposed that she bake a cinnamon pie. You were quite fond of her pies, even if you had only had one slice of it. Your mouth watered in anticipation.
I watched as my mother became your mother.
"Do you like the pie, child?" Toriel asked as you stuffed your mouth with the sweet slice. Your mouth opened, and only a pathetic wheeze could be conjured. You hadn't spoken a single word since you'd nearly died, since you were nearly murdered. You tried again. Nothing. And again. Still nothing. And again. And again. And again. Rivers coursed from your eyes, stopped only by Toriel brushing them from your face. "It's okay, these things take time, I understand," she said with all the patience in the world. "Enjoy your pie!" She left you there in the living room, with your half-eaten slice of pie. The door to her bedroom closed softly behind her. Despite her cheery, kind demeanor, you could hear it in her voice whenever she spoke, you could see it in her eyes as she looked at you, in every movement she made, you could see the sorrow. Your presence meant a lot to her, you could tell, but a mute child couldn't cure her loneliness. Even if you could, you would never bring it up. You desperately wanted to speak with her as well. You had so much to say to her; of the surface, of humans, of you. Even with the salt of your tears, the cinnamon pie was delicious.
You and Toriel lived, however. Life continued, even in the Ruins. She taught you all about the monsters of the Ruins, and of her life down there. She would spend hours recounting the funny and interesting tales of the Underground. One recurring name caught your attention, time and time again. Asgore. When you first asked her about him, Toriel pretended she didn't understand what you were trying to ask her. You brought it up again a few days later, only after the name slipped from her lips. A worried look traversed over her face. Toriel's hands were tightly clenched for the duration of the conversation. The Underground isn't a bastion of peace, she said. Asgore was a powerful monster, a butcher of humans. Outside the Ruins, there were other monsters like him, hateful, powerful monsters that would kill you if they laid their eyes on you. The flower's haunting smile raced through your mind. Seeing your distraught face, Toriel embraced you, her warmth destroying the images in your head. You were safe in her arms. Eventually, the hours turned to days, and days to weeks. You'd found something you could really call a home, someone you could really call family. You have somewhere to be, don't you?
You couldn't quite understand it, why you felt such dissatisfaction in your last days in the Ruins. Everything had been perfect, minus your nonexistent speech. Why was it that you wanted to leave? You couldn't wrap your head around why you wrote to your mother, asking where the exit was. She couldn't understand it either. She'd warned you about Asgore and the monsters that stalked the Underground. She'd given you a home, fed you, clothed you, protected you, loved you… why were you leaving? You met her at the great door to the rest of the Underground. She was going to destroy it. She blocked your way; you wouldn't be passing, not without first proving yourself to her.
Fire groped the walls, turning the room into a scorching hell. This Toriel was one you'd never seen before. She wore fierce eyes and a faint grimace, gone were the kindness and tenderness, only determination. Blazes conjured in her hands and flew towards you. You deftly moved out of the way of the flames. You tried explaining it to her, reasoning with her, but with what voice? Toriel brought her fists together and stretched the flames out in her palms. They'd turned into a whip. She twirled the whip above her head, you could barely keep track of it; suddenly, it came down on you. You rolled out of the way, but the whip struck your leg as you did, searing your skin. You skidded on the ground and retched from the pain. Much of the skin had been seared off. The sound of your skin sizzling filled you with fear. So you ran.
"That is right. Run away. Go to your room," you heard her say as you sprinted down the halls whilst fighting back tears.
This home is not yours.
Just as you reached the stairs, you felt it again. That inexplicable urge rumbled through you. Before you realized it, you were facing Toriel again.
"Already? You have not learned your lesson," she remarked. Her watery eyes betrayed her stoic expression.
Fire rained from above, and you scrambled frantically to avoid being hit. A rogue fireball landed at your feet, blasting you into the fiery wall, where you collapsed once more. Your head reeled. You inspected yourself for bruises or burns, and yet, found none. Toriel snarled as you stood to face her yet again, and launched another fireball at you. You hadn't the strength to dodge. Though you braced for the impact, it never came. Her attack landed just before you, discharging into a column of flames that encircled you. The heat was suffocating.
Fight.
With some force unknown, you staggered to your feet. "Please go to your room, I do not want to harm you any further," Toriel said sharply. "Go,"
Despite her commands, you crept toward her.
"D-Don't look at me like that," Toriel uttered. You stared her, unblinkingly, in her bright red eyes.
The monster began to backpedal as you approached, her eyes widening with a fright you'd only thought a monster could engender.
"Get away!" Toriel shrieked, swiping her hand horizontally to produce a spray of flames.
Still, you pursued, allowing the flames to engulf you, only to find that they were cool. Toriel's back hit the wall, where she began to cower.
You struck once, and only once, with the stick you'd fallen down with. Clumps of dust seeped from the massive slash on her frame and spilled onto the floor. Her expression warped and twisted from what was surely immense pain as she tried to speak, but found her throat filling with dust. You looked on in shock as your mother died before your eyes.
I looked on as my mother died before your eyes.
In the wind that breezed from the cracks in the ancient door, her body slowly deteriorated until it became a powder drifting in the breeze.
You looked down at your hand, covered in a thin layer of dust. What had you done? The tears were flowing now. You should have stayed in your room, you told yourself.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted.
This isn't what you wanted… right?
You pushed open the heavy, decayed door. The flower was there waiting for you, its smile immutable. It laughed at you. It laughed at your suffering, at your naivete. And then it was gone. With your heart in your stomach, you forged onward until you came to another door. You pressed your hand against it, and felt its icy touch sting your nerves. Beyond this door was another world of monsters. Beyond this door was Asgore, who would almost certainly kill you. Through the waterfall of tears, you couldn't help but laugh a bit.
Only if.
Slowly, the door creaked open, allowing the frozen air to pummel your face.
Breathe in, breathe out. Focus. You are filled wit n.
"Heya."
