Title: FeelingRegret. Universe: AlteredFate (AF)
Fandom: Undertale. Principal Character: Chara Dreemurr.
Genre: Angst/Drama. Wordcounter: 1.369
Disclaimer. Undertale belongs to the caled Toby Fox, and the referenced songs in this fanfic belongs to Lin Manuel Miranda. However, the AlteredFate AU belongs to your loyal servant, me.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Stop.
He let fall his weight over the cold wall, the soft cream color highly contrasted whit his black wearing shillouette.
"..."
Once more. He softly whispered for himself.
Step. Step. Step.
He had a feeling and listened to the conversation by accident.
Stop.
Now, with heart in a fist and shoulders shaking, he wanted to just pretend nothing, as he walked faster and silently as he could through the halls of the old library.
Step. Step. Step. Stop.
Step. Step. Step. Stop.
He felt his jaw –which, despite being artificial, felt and moved in an incredibly real way–became tense, like his shoulders, with that old feeling of suffocation he had felt in his stomach as he remembered the surface after fall.
He knew it. He knew it. And all knew it.
His footsteps were lost as he advanced along the shelves, through the halls, doors, and corridors.
He wanted to get away, get away from each person –human, monsters, all of them–, from each of those beings who habited the subsoil, the place which his brother and himself –themselves, whispered again that voice who keep stucked on his thoughts– had called home. And which, finally, had become because of both on a bettlefield, ofwhat seemed to be centuries –millennia.
Time extended mora and more, and more which each one of their battles, confrontations, souls and beings gainned and lost. Wich every broken family he had saw because of the Fall, because of the Imperial War, The Era of the Rebellion.
The murmurs tormented his mind. He knew it. He knew it, I knew it, I knew it.
They feared him, He terrified them. He was the so called Devil who cames when people called its name. The threath, the enemy, the horrible tyrant.
Rejection.
They call his brother Lord, as the leader He was being their Renegade Prince, Who had withdrawn, Who had renounced and denied making war against the species that had caused so much damage to them, and which had finally returned to his rightful place as the Heir. The Hero.
Because he had accepted his responsibility.
Rejection..
It was nothing he did not deserve.
For the people of the Underground, He was a demon. Terrible. Powerful. Uncontrollable. To be afraid of. The incarnation of their hope being shattered. A Traitor.
And their Prince, their beloved and benevolent Lord, was the god –The Paladin, the Renegade– which held a tight strap around his neck. Keep a tight strap around his neck. The King. The Prince. The leader for whom they had prayed to tears.
He represented his salvation. He was their Savior.
In silence he wanted only to accept the unimaginable.
Shrinking into himself, trying to block any kind of emotion, to stop thinking at least for a moment, He ended up feeling the cold wall against his own back –even covered by the black coat, which did nothing to hide his how his body showed nervousness. Still trembling, he let himself fall slowly, hidden in one of the many rooms with which, blessed were his luck, the great and ancient place counted.
He wipe away his tears, trying to stop thinking.
He deserved it? Yes. Rejection? Yes. The fear? Yes. The distrust? Yes. And a thousand times yes. No matter what Asriel said, he thought so.
He tried to calm himself breathing.
Fallen was a danger.
Of course he knew. Condemned and silly was the person who thought to think otherwise. His damn dark side, with his only corrupted trait, had cursed the kingdom in the worst possible way at the time when he had made his own Father fall.
His corrupted determination. Fear. Negativity. His darkness. u determinación corrupta. Miedo. Negatividad. Su oscuridad./b That damn side that had arisen after Mother sacrifaced herself to let his Brother live. The Brother whom he himself had put in danger with his stupid plan. With his eagerness to return to the Monsters –the only beings who had ever been kind to him– what they deserved.
Light. Happiness. Freedom.
The Surface.
Their Hope.
This was what he had represented at the time. "The hope of humans and monsters," the only hope of that race to escape the suffocating confinement, prison born of fear and rejection. Of fury and lack of understanding.
From the prison that he had formed part of when he became that fallen being.
" 'L-Life doesn't discriminate b-between the sinners and the saints...' " He whisper in a broken voice. It only takes and takes, and his duty was to continue living. And wait.
Redemption. And wait.
Forgiveness. And wait.
His fractured soul was covered with a golden aura, just for a moment.
Why his brother, the leader of that kind he had so badly damaged, stubbornly insisted on giving him another chance? Why he just did not take Justice once and for all? For himself, as for them, for all and everything.
Even with all his sins, Asriel still looked at him with a smile.
'Love should not discriminate between saints and sinners.'
It was his explanation. A simple phrase that sounded more like a poem or a song. Every time he looked at him, that affection and willingness to protect was still present. And the frustration that Dreemurr felt, went, in the eyes of the leader of the Rebellion, to a completely different being from his beloved brother. His brother will not lose the force which characterized him, the will which moved mountains even if it was not determinied enough.
'Death does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints.'
Cruel and horrendous truth, stuck in his soul like a dagger in his mechanical body. He had the rejection, he had the contempt, and he also had the appreciation and confidence of who led those who feared them. He? He feared. He was deeply afraid of that black stain that stretched and retreated, always remaining as eternal proof of his crimes. Remembering his connection to the fallen being that terrified his beloved Underground.
'Love does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints.'
There was a reason why they, even by his side, passed through the unimaginable. Even though many people had already passed, and had failed. There was a reason why they lived, though many of them would leave.
Fallen, in all his damned existence and evil, could keep all the hatred and pain of the world. His Soul? His soul was his. He had to move forward. Few things to lose, a lot of value to risk. None of them wondered, What would be like to be in his shoes?
He did not want anyone to know what it was like to be in his place.
At times like this, in which memories and feelings overflowed, focused only on feeling. In giving a momentary end to his personal storm with calm breaths and silent words. Love was not meant to judge saints or sinners. The heat in his soul went, very slowly, appeasing at that humming melody.
Just take, and take, and take. He felt his shoulders shaking, tears of magic and glass soft rolling down his cheeks. And even so, we still love...
He curled up, curling up against the cold wall of the abandoned hallway. "W-We laugh… We cry…" 'We love, we broke.' The inverse heart that represented his soul, red and black, burned strongly with this yellow aura. 'And we keep making mistakes.'
"'If there is a reason, for which I have a second chance ...'" He reach to whisper in a hoarse, worn, hoarse voice. 'Since everyone who has loved me had died, God, damn it-!' "'I-I'm whiling wait or it…'"
Asriel was taking a risk, just like himself, had much to lose, and much to gain. And neither of them could ever afford –permanently–to fail.
'And if there is a reason, for which we have a second chance, since so many have been destined to pray. Then, Damn it-!'
They should wait. Right?
If that was so. He just wanted to wait.
He had never hated the quiet so much...
The dynamics of writing challenges is something really interesting. The previous text came from one of them. A friend and I have been doing this dynamic for quite a while, and it seemed like a good way to create scenarios for small OneShot and publish them.
This, in particular, is from AlteredFate, an alternate universe of Undertale that is my own. Chara is a character with a lot of potential, and I certainly think that making him on a complicated path to redemption can be a good way to exploit his potential. AlteredFate!Chara, in particular, is a version of Chara to which I have much appreciation, regardless of I created him.
Trapped in the shadow of his guilt and repentance, he wants to hide from his brother all that he has to hear, from the mouths of the citizens in his care, how much they fear and distrust him. The pain and hatred he has left impregnated in their hearts. He feels guilty, and all He wants is to feel that He deserves the appreciation that Asriel, in her stubborn esteem for Chara, insists He deserves. He wants redemption. And not to fail his brother, never again.
Redemption, unfortunately, is a long and steep road. You have to be willing to wait for it.
Until next time.
- Kaira.