Asgore Dreemurr was never meant to be king. It's not that hard to believe. As Papyrus said, he's a big fuzzy pushover. Not necessarily what you want in a king. You'd think he would've gotten at least some kind of training from his father. He would've been taught if he weren't the forgotten third child of the Dreemurr royal family.
With his two older brothers, Donnegan and Samuel, always being the main centeres of attention and his little sister, Charlotte, stole the rest of the praise just by being the only girl. So Asgore was left out most of the time, even by his own parents.
When his relatives first came to visit baby Charlotte all the attention he got was two hellos and head pats. It was really quite jarring at first. Throughout the visit the young prince tried to get at least some interaction but, no matter what he did he wasn't a cute baby anymore. Even though he was only eighty-two years old, about the age of a human four year old, he realized was tossed to the side in favour of his little sister. He stayed determined though! Always trying to impress everybody with things he'd learned, songs he made up, and things he drew. It even worked! But not in the best way.
The young monster had just finished his drawing of a sunny day and it didn't look half bad if he said so himself. With his art in hand he trekked (Yes trekked. Castles are big and he has tiny legs.) over to his parents' chamber room. After knocking thrice he opened the door, and he found his mother sitting at her vanity, rubbing her head. Perfect! Although, she seemed sad… or maybe mad? Asgore didn't quite know. Cautiously, he crept forward and lightly tugged on her gown.
"Uh, mommy I want to show you something!", no response. Maybe he was too quiet. He tugged a little harder and raised his voice. "Mommy I want to show something!", nothing again. Once again he tugged a little harder and raised his voice a bit more. "Mommy I want to―"
"WHAT! WHAT DO YOU WANT!"
Asgore was stunned. His mother almost never raised her voice at him and when she did it was never like that. He was absolutely terrified. Her piercing blue eyes and fangs not helping ease his fright either. The young prince took a step back, nearly shaking with fear. He had seen what happens when mothers get really angry at their children. Not that ever happened to him or he's siblings but, Asgore didn't want to risk it.
Realizing her son's fear, her rage died and swiftly dissolved into her own fear. Had she just yelled at her son like that? Scaring him to the point of him cowering as he distanced himself from her? She was just so tired and stressed from running a kingdom and taking care of a baby so much so that she frightened her son. Oh god, she was a terrible mother.
Queen Clemence tried to reach out and comfort her son but he only flinched and took another step back.
"I-I'm so-sorry. I-I didn't me-mean to annoy you.", he stuttered. The young prince ran out of the room, stumbling a bit, and didn't stop till he reached his room. He quickly shut the door behind him and slid down it. He clutched his sides as tears flowed from his golden eyes. Did he always annoy everybody that much? Was everyone always so close to snapping at him? Even his own mother yelled at him. If she was angry at him everyone else must be too. Right? That's how it works. Right? Yeah.
With only his sobs echoing off the walls, Asgore sat for what felt like forever until a soft knock rang out. The foreign sound in his ears caused him to try to calm himself down. Only getting down to quick breaths he responded with a croaky, "Yes?"
"Asgore? Sweetie? Can you hear me?", it was his mother. Asgore went stiff. As if the slightest movement would mean the difference between life and death. "Sweetie, I am so sorry. I never should've raised my voice at you. A-and I just want you to know I would never ever hurt you. Okay? I would never forgive myself if I did that. Sweetie, may I come in?"
Still plagued with stutter breaths, he stood up and shakily opened the door. He was immediately encompassed by the warmth of his mother who planted kisses all over his face. She then nuzzled his nose with hers. Asgore could tell she was about to cry, her light blue eyes were brightened by the tears threatening to fall. The boy felt bad for making her cry. He wanted her to be happy not angry or sad and if that meant staying quiet and out the way then that's what he'd do.
Clemence stayed with her son for the rest of the evening and kissed him good night and went off to kiss her other children good night. Even though she made sure to remember her third son, it was already too late. The thoughts of him being a nuisance, bothersome and forgettable had already rooted themselves deep into his mind. From that day on he became a bit too compliant. Agreeing to do anything anybody wanted just so he wouldn't upset them. He also became anti-social. Much preferring the company of flowers. Flowers would never ever be annoyed by him. They never got mad or upset. They sat there in all of their glory. He loved flowers so much so he drew them and not in a kiddy kind of way. The young prince would grab paper and charcoal and placed the potted plant in front of him and drew it to the best of his abilities. Which was actually pretty good for his age. By the time he was a hundred and sixty he could draw flowers perfectly. With his refined skills he decided to try to finish what he started almost eighty years ago.
"Mother?"
Asgore opened the door to his parent's chambre room, a book filled with sketches of flowers in his grasp. It took several months for him to fill the pages and it took even longer for him to build up enough courage to show it off. Scanning the room, he found his mother sitting at her vanity. The prince steadied his breath and ignored the butterflies in his stomach as he walked up to his mother. Just before he could show her she asked, "Asgore, darling, would you please bring me my pendent. Pretty please?"
"Okay!", the young monster padded over to his parent's dresser. His paws sifted through the countless pieces of jewelry until he found the golden pendant. Asgore quickly grabbed the necklace and brought it over to his mother. As she took it out of his hands, she said thank you and patted her son's head. With his sketches still in hand, Asgore tugged on his mother's dress. "Uh, mum. I w-want to sh-show you something!"
Clemence gazed over at him and said, "Alright.", and he shakily handed her the book. She flicked through the pages, thoroughly impressed by his drawings. "Well, aren't these just exquisite, Asgore!", yep! There's the silky voice he knew and loved! His mother handed the book back and nudged him towards the door. "Now go get ready. Your relatives will be here soon."
"Who? Might I ask?"
"Grandma Millicent, Grandpa Oswyn, Uncle Ambrose, Aunt Winifred, Aunt Parnell, Uncle Piers, Aunt Florence, and Uncle Gryffen.", she answered. Asgore's breathing hitched. That very name made his blood run cold. Not him! Anyone but him. If there was anytime he was too complaint it would have been that time when―. The boy stopped himself before he relived the rather horrible memory.
"Mom? Do I, uh, h-have to attend the, uh er, gathering. I, uh, rather not.", Asgore stuttered. The queen scooped him up in her arms and placed him on her lap.
"Yes, my darling, you have to attend.", she said while unsuccessfully trying to flatten his cowlick. The prince silently groaned and got up off his mother's lap and trudged off to his room.
Just because he was there doesn't mean he had to actually talk to anyone. Asgore grumpily shoved fork fulls of leafy greens and the odd tomato into mouth as a thousand conversations were going on.
All the normal pleasantries occurred about an hour ago and once again he was mostly ignored for the rest of the event. Not that he minded at all. It meant that he could get away with slipping under the table and doodling for the rest of the visit. Although while he was off in his own world the real world was moving forward.
"Hey! Mommy? Where's Azzy?", everybody turned the youngest Dreemurr when she asked her question. That's when they noticed that there indeed was an empty chair at the table. Donnegan looked over to the seat beside him and suggested, "Maybe he's under the table.", Clemence popped her head under the tablecloth and found her son intently scribbling on a piece of parchment.
"Asgore Dreemurr! What are you doing down here, you silly billy goat!", she said with a smile on her face. The boy in question speedily sat up and climbed back onto his seat. He quickly realized everybody's attention was on him. His face and the tips of his ears turned red as he responded with a guilty 'nothing'.
"Well, you were obviously doing something! What's that?", questioned Samuel. With another 'nothing' he hid the book behind his back. He glanced over at his mother whose eyes were alight with an idea. Oh no.
"Asgore, darling, why don't you show everyone your drawings!"
Asgore Dreemurr, Prince of Monsters, almost imploded. With his face and ears now fully red he absent-mindedly padded over to his father and placed the book in front of him. All the adults got out of their seats and crowded around him. Not wanting to feel claustrophobic, Asgore went back to his seat to re-think all of his life choices. All he wanted to do was just disappear. Well, he did until he heard what his relatives were saying.
"Little Asgore drew these?"
"Yeah, these are amazing you two!"
"Waryn, I think you have a little artist on your hands!"
Their words made him confident enough to look at his father. He was… smiling. He was actually smiling! Well, it was sort of a half smirk. But it was a proud half smirk! King Waryn was happily surprised by son's skills and so was the rest of the Dreemurr clan. Asgore felt his chest swell and a smile grow on his lips.
Being the forgotten child has its perks.