Disclaimer: I'm merely taking my own interpretation of the fallen humans from the game Undertale. None of this is canon and in no way to I claim to be the creator of any canon characters and circunstances to the game. That would be Toby Fox and lets just say I'm lacking the 'material' to be him and have extra attachments some place else and lets just leave it at that, k?
That being said, enjoy chapter no 1 of The Fallen Ones
(Also notice that, though this could stand as a stand alone piece aside from a minor reference in the last chapter, this is actually a companion fic to Not Alone, found at (remove '*' and add it at the end of the fanfiction site): /*s*/*12883190*/*1*/*Not*-*Alone ) If you are reading Not Alone already, wait until you read chapter 39 to read this one to avoid spoilers.
One final warining, this series isn't puppy dogs ans rainbows so there'll be a few warnings in the end notes so as not to spoil the others. make sure to check the end notes before starting to read, ok?
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Chapter 1: A Warrior's Patience
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Name the fallen human.
Brook|
Is this name correct?
No-Yes
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"Ball" is "Small."
You waited, still, for this opportunity, ...
then dethroned "Ball" with a sharp attack.
Patience
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Your name was Brook.
Your name hadn't always been Brook. You used to have your own before. But then again it did translate from your native language into brook so it would ultimately have the same meaning.
You used to have a family you loved instead of strangers that tried to control every single aspect of your life.
You remember your family. Your brothers, who pretended to be too cool to hang out with a little girl but once in the privacy of your home would play with you and promise to protect you forever. Your mother, who instructed you in the ways of your people. Your father, who taught you how to use a knife to defend yourself from the white skins and to hunt, even if your role on a family wasn't supposed to be that one.
'You never know when you'll end up separated from us and have to do everything on your own' he would say. 'With this war that the white skins brought onto our land has separated a lot of families, little one.' he would say.
So, he taught you how to hunt and make fires.
'Don't get frustrated if the fire won't start right away. Sometimes good things need time.'
'Blend into your surroundings and mask your scent. Your prey won't even realize you're there.'
'Wait for the right moment to strike. Remember, the prey is small. You await still for the opportunity… and then overpower the prey with a sharp attack!'
All you knew about survival you had learned from your father.
And then they came.
They slaughtered everyone in the village. Your mother begging you to remain hidden as your father braved the white skins. He was first to fall. Your brothers, who had promised to protect you so many times before, had followed. Then your mother. But they hadn't simply killed her, just like they hadn't simply killed all the other women. Your young mind couldn't really understand what they were doing. You had never learned about that. But one thing was for sure, that place they were touching a lot should only be offered to husbands and, in not being her husband, they had hurt your mother.
You stayed still where she'd left you. Not out of respect for what she'd ordered of you, but because your shock kept you from moving at all. You could barely comprehend what was going on…
So, you sat still and quiet.
…
They found you. Of course, they would. But upon seeing how young you were they hesitated on doing what they had done to all the others. After a brief discussion among themselves they decided to take you. You offered no resistance. You were still frozen and in denial of all the reality around you.
They forcefully pried your doll from your hands. You wouldn't own such a 'dreadful thing' in your new home. That 'dreadful thing' was a gift handed down from your family on your mother's side for a long time. Thankfully you had your toy knife strapped on your thigh, under your clothes, so at the very least you got to keep that one thing.
Your father had given it to you. You still couldn't own a real knife. You were too young. So, he'd asked the shaman to give you a knife with a blade made of translucent opal. Instead of looking like a precious stone was serving as a blade, it looked like some futuristic material from the gods. The edges were dull, but you were supposed to be protected by the influences of the stone.
You just hoped that opals still worked well in the midst of the white skins.
You managed to snap out of the shock but you were still terrified. You forced yourself to sit still as the men carried you like a parcel. Freaking out right away wouldn't help you at all. So, even though your skin felt like it was crawling with a whole ant hill just by being handled by them, you remained as still as your old doll.
You aren't still quite sure how you are managing to keep so calm and collected. It was more of an instinct. It had to be instinct since your thoughts felt like a mist had fallen on they. You were thankful for those instincts, though.
You held your ground. Somehow you managed to hold your ground against all of your emotions and thoughts. It was a fierce fight but you remembered your father's words.
'Blend into your surroundings and mask your scent. Your prey won't even realize you're there.'
Except you were the prey now, not the hunter. But so long as you blended into your surroundings they hunters might not notice you. So, you quietly observed all those white skins going about their lives, ignorant of your pain, as the man that took it all away from you were cheered on their return.
The one who had wanted to keep you grabbed you and you fought off the instinctual reaction of trying to squirm away. He'd seemed unpredictable enough that you feared how he would react to you squirming.
You were taken to a huge building, far bigger than your old home. The man called it his home. All the rooms were big and filled with things. Things you couldn't even comprehend the use for. Why waste so much space for useless junk?
The man's wife appeared and you briefly wondered if she knew what her husband had been doing, touching other men's wives on the gift that should only be given to the one they were mated with. You decided that either she must not know or that she was very good at pretending not to know.
You wondered if the both of them even liked each other. You weren't a stranger to arranged marriages, though your tribe didn't practice them. Your tribe had been a small insignificant one that only wanted to cultivate their fields in peace…
They mustn't really like each other that much, you decide. Why else would need need so much distance between each other? Why all that empty and cold space that should have been filled with their life together was instead filled with meaningless objects?
The man introduced you to his wife and acted as if you should be impressed by this house, but you weren't feeling much for pretending. He must have decided that your wide eyes at the absolute waste of space must have meant you were admiring it instead of being disgusted by it so he went on to explain something about the meaningless images littering the walls -paintings, he called them-. You didn't really listen to any of his useless blabbering.
The year that followed was absolute hell for you. The wife started to teach you in the ways of the 'civilized people', as she called it. If civilized people would just randomly murder a peaceful village then you wanted nothing to do with it. You were forced to wear constricting clothes with a massive excess of fabric that would have made two or three more outfits that would have been far easier to move in. You considered that maybe this was a way to ensure you couldn't run away, except that the wife wore them too. Maybe they were afraid the wife would run away, just the same as you were set on doing? You didn't really care if the wife would run away, to be honest. In fact, it might help you if she did. They would all be too distracted looking for her to notice you had escaped too until it was too late.
As the year progresses you came to realize that the man and the wife wanted you as their child. Somehow the wife couldn't make babies? Your mother always told you that babies were made with love, hence why you were more and more sure that there was no love between the two.
You were forced to call them father and mother at some point. They didn't actually threaten you, but the look the man gave you the first few time your refused made up for it. You felt like throwing up every time you called them that but you did it anyway. All the while you were planning your escape.
The wife had taken you on enough walks through town for you to know your way around it. You had learned how to read some and stole some maps from the man's office. You had to be really careful while doing those things. If anyone found out too soon you were done for.
Acting hastily would only end badly for you. You were sure of it.
'You await still for the opportunity… and then overpower the prey with a sharp attack!'
You were already 8 years old when such opportunity presented itself. The man had been summoned for a meeting several towns away and would take too long to return. It seemed he had long forgotten where he had gotten you from, if he was foolish enough to believe you wouldn't bolt. Then again, he could have just underestimated you due to your age.
Either way it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time!
Sunnyday was the day for the adoration of some invisible white skin with mystical powers, as far as you had bothered to learn, and the wife always had to confess herself afterwards. Though you still wondered what 'having wandering eyes' and 'touching herself sinfully' meant, and wanted to learn what it was at some point, you figured it might be better to do so far away from there.
You had always behaved yourself very obediently when she'd went to the little wooden cubicle. She had no reason to doubt you would still be waiting there for her when she left. This time you wouldn't, though.
Your choice of dress for the day was still very rich looking -they had to show off their family's wealth, after all-, but it's muted colors would ensure that she wouldn't be noticed much if she sneaked away.
Sneaking away with such heavy clothing wasn't easy but you'd taken hold of one of the dresses the wife had told the servants to discard and practiced a lot of movement with it late at night. You now knew how to best move around in it. You managed to get all the way to the edges of the town before the alarm bell began to ring. You ran to the forest and, once there, you tore off the restraining clothing to pieces.
Using the toy knife you still kept hidden, strapped to your thigh, and that you'd sharpen the tip just in case, you cut your arm a bit, letting blood fall on it. You also left some food. That would attract wild animals and the villagers might think you'd been the victim of one such beast and not look for you.
Feeling far freer in your undergarments, you ran off further into the woods. You knew of the closest Indian village. In the year you had spent stuck in that dreadful mansion, the man had constantly cursed at a tribe living near Mount Ebbot. There were talks of witchcraft that pushed all of the white skins away. The tribe must have very powerful shamans to protect it. Just perfect for you.
You headed that way. The only mementos you had with you was your trusty toy knife made out of opal that your father had given you and a red ribbon. A servant had given you the red ribbon. She'd been the only one to know you wanted to run away. She would have joined you if she could, but the fact that you had been adopted as some messed up child replacement gave you far more liberties than she had access too. She was constantly shackled because of several prior attempts at running. She'd tried to come up with smart plans like you but the injustice of being forced into working until her hands bled wrecked any vestige of patience in her, something you had by the dozen.
No, she had resigned herself to her fate. But that didn't mean she didn't wish you the best of lucks. The ribbon had been crafted from the remains of one of her African traditional outfits. She hoped that, this way, you would always hold a piece of her. This way, at least one tiny bit of her would be free.
You finally reached Mount Ebbot. It had taken you a month to do it. There is only so much walking an 8-year-old could do, especially in paths they hadn't threaded before.
But you hadn't known where to look…
You heard footsteps and tried to hide yourself in a bush, but… the foliage had been hiding a pitfall. You fell into a room filled with red maple tree leaves. And you'd been found by a creature of old.
The gigantic lady of goat-kin welcomed you into her home. Toriel hadn't forced you to wear uncomfortable clothes and spent a lot of time sharing her interests with you, much unlike the wife that merely left your rearing to the servants and chamber lady.
For a while you'd been happy there. You could be yourself and not be afraid that someone was just standing there, waiting to pounce the moment you let your guard down. The moment you failed to keep up with their expectations. You'd loved Toriel in a way you hadn't thought you could ever since the day your mother died…
She would never replace your mother and she seemed fine with that. She told you she didn't want to replace her either. She was also ok with you not calling her mom, even if she filled that role spectacularly.
You had a lot of fun and freedom in the ruins but soon you grew bored of them. You knew by the mentions some of the other monsters made that there was more to the underground than just the ruins. That immediately meant you would want to go there.
But Toriel forbid you.
…
She didn't even bother explaining why, much unlike she did in any other subject. She just shut you down harshly in a way that reminded you too much of the wife. Any time you tried to bring up the issue again she would make up excuses so as not to finish the conversation or harshly shut you up again.
…
Your patience began to run thin.
One day you snapped at Toriel and she snapped right back. That was the first and only fight you two got to have. You did make sure to apologize to her in writing before leaving. You decided to gift Toriel with the gifts you had held most dear. You placed them in her night stand and finally left, as she still slumbered away.
You hadn't been ready for Snowdin's harsh weather or for the monsters' hostility towards humans over there. You'd known from Toriel what had happened and understood where the hostility was coming from but you hadn't been expecting that much of it.
You learned to mask yourself, still intent on exploring more, perhaps finding a way to get out with Toriel. Once you found it you would go back for her. Maybe make peace with the other monsters? Wouldn't it be grand if you and the monster united with the other Indian tribes against the horrifying white skins? No one would have to live in fear anymore. No more little kids watching their families be thorn apart…
You should have known you were dreaming too big…
You tried to keep the monsters from attacking you by setting out traps for anyone that was following you and then threaten them. That was probably one of your biggest mistakes. While it worked, it also drew notice towards you. And while you'd never hurt a monster, the fact that they were still both hostile and fearful managed to reach their king's ears.
He left his palace in search of you. He found you in waterfall in a room whose only illumination was mushroom you needed to tap for light.
You fought and you tried to use mercy on him, just like you had done for so many before. But he refused your mercy every step of the way. He heard you loud and clear and looked conflicted over your pleas. Then he would look at some of the monsters watching you both fight on the sides and his resolve would strengthen.
You fought hard and valiantly. You waited for the right moment to end the fight. But this prey wasn't small. This prey wouldn't be overpowered by you. This prey couldn't afford to return your mercy.
…
You tried so hard…
But one throw of his trident, when you were too exhausted to dodge, and you were impaled in your stomach.
You stumbled to the floor and looked up at the king, feeling as terrified as when you'd seen your family be slain. Only this time you were the one doing the dying. You looked up at him, eyes blurry from the pain and tears and asked why.
He looked haunted…
Good! He should be!
The last thing you saw was your sky-blue soul being engulfed in a glassy tube. Then you were submerged in darkness. It made your thoughts slow and almost nonexistent. Time had no meaning there.
So you did what you had always done best and patiently waited…
…
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
…
You were awoken.
A kid in a blue sweater with dark pink stripes stood before you. Bright stars were all around you.
Yellow…
Purple…
Dark Blue…
Green…
Orange…
And a lot of white ones dotting the darkness like a night sky.
The kid's star was bright red. But the kid's star was outside of the night sky you were in. You watched them save their friends from your night sky.
As your spirit essence was used to break a large magic wall that gave you an ominous feeling you felt in peace at last…
…finally free…
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END NOTES (EN):
This chapter contains: Mentions and implied scenes of genocide the Native American populations, blatant racist behavior, and a classing plot line of trying to 'tame' the wild barbarian girl.