Mount Ebbot - Long ago.

The king stood at the peak, overlooking the countryside. His goat fur was slightly rustled by the cool morning breeze. Only a little over an hour before dawn, he sighed. He loved this mountain, particularly the golden flowers that were indigenous to the area with their unique hue. He personally believed their calming nature could only be truly appreciated at a time like this when the moonlight reflected off the dew drops that rested gently upon the petals in full bloom. Their smell, especially pungent this time of year, seemed to affect the birds as well, whose songs were peaking in musicality. The king would have given almost anything if he could just stay here, on this mountain, and bask in the beauty of the mountain for the rest of his life.

Outstretched before him were the ruins of countless monster villages and the camps of countless native tribes, who, once morning came, would succeed in finally slaughtering the rest of the few remaining monsters under his rule. The King thought of his son. Asgore was barely ten years old and he had already lost his mother. The king, of course, blamed himself, he should've seen this coming, but he knew his guilt could never compare to the amount that his son's future queen, Toriel, was piling on herself. She was only a few months younger than his son, but she had watched all of her friends and family killed in cold blood because of a childish mistake.

Of course no one blamed the Toriel, or her human friend for the situation. They were inseparable, of course, like all best friends. As a result, they traded secrets. It was fine, until the secret Toriel told the human was that she overheard her parents talking about what happens when when a monster absorbs a human soul. It never occured to Toriel that her friend might tell her father, who, just so happened to be the chief of one of the largest tribes in the area. Needless to say he wasn't exactly thrilled to have such a threat so close to his home.

The king's son was with Toriel was was in the meadow near the monster village where she lived when it happened. They were picking flowers when Toriel heard her father yelling. The two goat children ran toward the noise, only stopping when they could see the chief accompanied by a few of his warriors with spears pointed both of Toriel's parents. Asgore had to stop her from running or calling out to them. The two children stood helplessly as they watched the shouting attract more and more people and monster until the whole village had been drawn out of their houses and most of the tribe's warriors were there, forcing them into a circle. Even the children had been drug out quite forcefully. The situation had become exceedingly hostile when the Chief's daughter ran out into the mix screaming at her father in protest, standing between him and Toriel's parents. The Chief pushed his daughter aside with disgust, saying she cared more about the enemy than her own kind. Saying she needed to see how evil they really were, he shoved his spear through the heart of Toriel's mother, who gasped in pain and crumpled to the ground. The chaos that ensued was loud enough to completely bury Toriel's screams as she thrashed against Asgore's hold. Watching as her father reached for her mother, holding her in his arms she disintegrated to dust in his arms, the crowd of goat monsters readied themselves. The men protectively stood as a barrier between the humans and their families, the mother's kissed their children with watery eyes. Toriel's father's sadness turned into a blind rage, causing him to attack the chief in retaliation, only to come to the same fate as his wife, a spear, right through the heart.

Asgore practically had to drag a violently sobbing Toriel to safety.

The king griped his trident tightly. That's how the war started, and it had only gone down hill from there. He knew he shouldn't have let his wife negotiate with them. He only had himself to blame for her death, he knew better, but he let her go anyway. He was a fool to think she would return.

That was just a sliver of what brought him to where he was now, looking the battlefields he had fought on, images of the carnage. He remembered the worst of the battles, like the summer of the year prior, where the slaughter was so horrible, the dust covered the ground so thickly it looked like it was the middle of winter, and they had just gotten the heaviest snowfall of the year. It made him sick, the memory of trudging through the dust, and the sickly soft feeling walking on it brought. His eyes scanned the expanse of land, but now all he could see was the battlefields, and all of the dust that he more or less had on his hands. A voice shook him from his thoughts, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

The gravelly voice startled the king, but it didn't show as he turned to his comrade.

"Ah, Gerson. I wasn't expecting you to be up this early. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

The turtle laughed, he looked young enough, to still be in his courting years, but he had his own losses as well. He had settled down young with a nice girl, they had a daughter. Unfortunately, the war had allotted them amongst the carnage as well. His daughter was only four, he remembered her fiery hair, a trait she got from her mother, he remembered holding her small frame as she turned to dust. He would never admit to anyone how much he bawled as he held on to what he could of the ashes, "You of all people should know what I see everytime I close my eyes."

"All too well my friend."

Gerson sighed, "My question still stands, your highness."

"I didn't think it was necessary to confirm the obvious."

"I wish," Gerson sighed, "I wish there was a way to have avoided all of this."

The king nodded and rested his hand upon his shoulder, "As do all of us who remain." He turned around, scanning the view blankly. "Gerson," he inhaled deeply, "I need you do do me a favor."

"Anything."

He turned around and held out his trident with both hands, "Give this to him, watch over him," His normally steady voice cracked, "and tell him how much his mother and I loved him."

Gerson took the trident solemnly, "...Of course…"

The king turned back around, standing his ground, "You don't have much time," he could see the peak of the sun on the horizon, "Hurry, get them to the safety of the underground."

Gerson nodded, and started to walk away, before stopping to turn back to the king for a moment, "Your highness?"

"Yes?" He watched as the specks of the tribes started to gather.

"It was an honor to fight by you. You did your best. You are truly a great king."

"I hope so, Gerson," He sighed, "I hope so."