A/N: As per the reader's convenience, if there is any interest in the fallen child's general description, I will include a link to my OC's reference document: document/d/1vLZp8WEb4i5UIDI_s2r97-NyWqJIwVbiMKr2P6FQfrc/
The soft crackling of a pleasantly warm fire breaks an otherwise eternal silence. The embers gently flowing about within the confines of a stone fireplace that complements a comfortable living room that doubles as a dining area at its southwest corner. It sufficiently illuminating the bright colors of the hardwood floors and plaster walls. Left of the fireplace sits a contented elderly lady: a woman with the small horns and face of a goat, and a full bodily coat of white hair, garbed in a long purple gown that bears The Kingdom's crest on the bosom. She seats herself in her favorite chair with a pleasant sigh, as she treats herself to a small wealth of knowledge while the newest member of her household lies down for a well-deserved nap. A gentle smile spreads across her lips as she cracks open the cover of a most informative title: 72 Uses for Snails.
Each nugget of information is just one more bit of knowledge that she would surely pass down to her soon-to-be young student. The very thought of being the one to teach the young man things beyond the general workings of the Ruins is not only an exciting one, but a humbling one. Fate, it seems, has blessed her kindly with the arrival of this young man, and she will never soon forget such a generous gift.
Minutes pass, words are read, new things are learned, and the alluring smell of a sufficiently cooled butterscotch cinnamon pie wafts through the air and is raked in through Toriel's sense of smell. The pie is ready to be consumed, and she can hardly wait for her new guest to smile upon his first taste. Perhaps the smell alone will rouse him from his sleep, and they can both finally celebrate his arrival properly. Her smile brightens as she gently closes the book, rises from her seat, and heads to the northwest exit of the living room and straight to the kitchen...
. . .
The soon-to-be motherly figure and teacher cheerfully strides through the small foyer of the house, past the short stairwell and straight to the main hall, where the sleeping Thoren awaits beyond the first door on the left. On the way, she remembers a particular event that happened not so long ago(less than two hours, in fact); the moment that Toriel had shown Thoren the door to his new bedroom. The dark-haired child could hardly utter a sound. His largely expressive blue gaze fixed firmly on the door with his jaw hanging half-open. He was left in a solemn state as Toriel gently ran her palm atop his head. He was in disbelief at the time, but she knew very well that he was undoubtedly thankful at the same time. Toriel stood in front of the door as she held the piece of pie rested among a plate, and she stood in the very same spot that she did when Thoren was introduced to his new living space. Then, after reliving the small but fond memory, she places her hand on the knob, and her expression immediately shifts from cheerful to a worry-filled surprise.
Something is wrong. She is not quite sure why, but there is a measure of certainty within her; as if some sort of instinct is raising a plethora of red flags the second she starts to enter the room... Is Thoren alright?
Any initial fear of entry is immediately brushed aside. If something is troubling him, then it is naturally Toriel's responsibility to deal with it at once! With this, she slowly twists the knob and swings open the bedroom door, only to reveal a darkened room.
No occupants within aside from Thoren that lies dormant in the twin-size bed to the northeast, and now Toriel that slowly approaches from the south as she leaves the door cracked open behind her. With the strange feeling still lingering in the small atmosphere, the goat gently places the piece of pie on the rug a ways away from the boy's bedside, and she promptly approaches him. From a distance, it is easy to see him nestled under the covers with the black hair of his head poking out onto the pillow. His face looking toward Toriel as he's found lying on his side. From a distance, he looks perfectly fine, but Toriel knows better. Slowly, with her hands free, she finally approaches the slumbered figure very quietly, very slowly.
Is he shivering?...
No... That can't be right. In the warmth of his blanket, there's no way he could be cold... Toriel inches closer, until eventually, all is revealed to her.
"Oh my..." whispers Toriel. It is true: Thoren is not shivering... but trembling. This fact, combined with the feeling she's had since the second she set foot in this room could only lead her to one conclusion. Not a dream, but a nightmare. The very thought of it sends a look of concern that washes Toriel's expression, coupled with that of a loving compassion as she tenderly rests a hand on Thoren's covered shoulder as he sleeps. The poor thing... Has the underground really terrified him so?
Whatever the case, she resolves to stay with the boy until he finally awakens. That way, the first face he sees will be of none other than the equivalent of a mother tending to her baby.
A stillness plagued the air around him. Very strangely, and very suddenly, Thoren is presented in his physique that he wouldn't obtain until he'd reach his twenties, and now stands dressed in his typical dark and light color scheme as he's thrust into a dimly lit cavern-like structure. His blue eyes having little to no time to process even the large purple door at the end of the room before he's suddenly assaulted by a weave of flame that jets toward him.
All the young man could do is simply react without thinking, as he twirls along with the flow of fiery threads that circle around him and intertwine every few feet, and he winds up between the flowing paths and avoiding certain death. His eyes narrow as he reaches within his long dark coat, and extracts a short shaft of metal that would then unfold two halves of a katana-like blade. His instinct for self-defense kicks in as he inches closer to the source of the flames. The inferno clears as the attack seems to come to a close, and Thoren makes a break for his enemy's fatal opening after having his back to his enemy. What he'd realize in that instant is that the said life-threatening entity was no more than inches away as he twirls around once more with his blade brandished, and at last he would witness steel piercing organic flesh... concealed beneath a long purple gown.
Thoren's eyes widen as he stares where his blade has pierced. His breath hitches as the victim's red fluid runs down the blade to eventually touch his fingers. His widened gaze wandering upward to face his victim...
"You've... become so strong... my child," says the wavering tone of beloved Toriel's voice. She continues to utter, and dares to tenderly smile even within death's grip. "...I'm... I'm so proud of you."
"T...T-Toriel...?" Thoren barely speaks. His shock and disbelief gripping him tightly, while his sudden regret only doubles its strength. "No... No, i-it can't be," he begins to tremble, "Toriel... Please..." his eyes begin to well with tears, as he lets his blade fall from his hand with a loud clang, and he gently lowers the weakening form of Toriel onto her back. "...Please don't go..."
The life in her eyes only continues to gradually decrease. "Whatever you do... do not..." Toriel coughs, "let Asgore... take your soul... Be strong, Thoren. And... thank you... for letting this old woman.. raise you 'till her last breath... I... I love you."
"...I love you too," is all Thoren manages to say before he's condemned to witness his one motherly figure fade to dust in his arms.
The young boy's eyes finally snap open as he gasps awake, and he immediately sits straight in his bed. He could only breathe stunted breaths as the images of Toriel's death are still fresh in his mind. His eyes as wide as they were when he had to witness her culling. Just then, he would feel a warm palm on his right shoulder.
"Fear not, my child... I am here," her all too caring tone chimes in, which rouses a gentle gasp from the little one. His shock shows very clearly as he swings himself over the edge of the bed and reveals to himself the alive and well Toriel smiling down at him. "It's okay... It was just a dream."
Those words would trigger the welling of tears as Thoren is left in disbelief if not for a brief moment. "Toriel..." he softly utters as his teary blue eyes meet hers.
"Yes, Thoren. It is me," she replies, and in the very moment she confirms for him, she would be assaulted by the child's embrace. Admittedly, it takes the mother goat by surprise, and she couldn't help but make a small noise as she's wrapped tightly by the little one. Then, she would easily feel him trembling... along with hearing the subtle sounds of sniffling and feeling the gentle flow of his tears; to which she would naturally migrate to her maternal instincts to properly address him.
"Oh, sweetie..." she breathes gently, and slowly lowers herself onto her knees so that she could wrap Thoren into her own embrace, and let the young boy weep onto her shoulder. "Shhh... It's okay. I'm here."
"I'm... so glad..." Thoren breathes, and in that moment, Toriel felt a true bond forming between she and the boy. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she is finally able to be a true mother... It is a moment that Toriel will never forget.