Heya guys. I'm really sorry about the update's consistency (hint, there isn't one). But I had this really neat idea. I mean, have you guys seen an origin story for Asgore? If you have, was it a little...bland? Like, was it taking place before the war? Well, welcome to my Asgore origin story. I think I've done very well so far, but I'd really like some feedback from you guys and gals. Okay? Be sure to leave any constructive criticism or just any comments! Oh, plus if you like it so far, be sure to favorite and follow, okay? All right! Let's do this~! -Bookman Old Style


Prologue

He wasn't always destined to be the almighty king of monsters.

He had four other siblings who were bigger, stronger, and smarter than he was. They all made their father proud when he would have to try to please him by other, more intricate means.

All of his brothers' horns were curling when his were just barely beginning to break the surface of his skin. Their fangs were pointed and no longer dull and loose, unlike his which were. He wasn't the eldest, and he wasn't the youngest, yet all of his siblings were growing faster than he was.

He didn't understand that when he was old enough -and big enough- he would have to stop being an obedient, push-over prince. He didn't like how much his father pressurized him to train relentlessly -commonly making him break his limits- or how he tried to get him to eat the best foods the royal chefs could conjure that might make him grow.

He didn't want to change himself. He liked the way he was, but the voices in the back of his mind -who strangely sounded like his father- would make comments of his everyday activities. His father would push for him to grow, and his brothers brought him standards of sons whom their father respected and praised.

"A Dreemurr must be tough. Cunning, insightful. He mustn't let his mind wander to improper places or fantasies he only wishes upon. You are allowed dreams, but only the ones that you can make reality with your skill and knowledge. Without power, a Dreemurr is unworthy of such desires."

He didn't really like that lecture. He wanted to show his father that he was strong; that he was a worthy Dreemurr. He wanted to be fierce and brace and be the son that was expected of him. He wanted to prove himself.

But he didn't want to change who he was. He wanted to be kind and big-hearted and he wished for his father to accept who he truly was. He wanted to show his family that he was going to be a magnificent prince of the monsters.

The Dreemurr family consisted of the previous King and queen, the current rulers, and the five princes.

Grandfather Leonis and Grandmother Rilua, King Asritine and Queen Rosetta, Agnus the eldest, Aligmite, Argnow, Asgore, and Anigham the youngest.

Asgore was the unusual offspring. At adolescence he was short, scrawny and instead of battle-training, he'd rather be in the Royal garden. He admired all the kinds of flowers there were in the garden, but he loved the buttercups the most by far. The way their petals looked like molten gold in the sunlight, and how sweet they smelled. The palace garden didn't have very many, so on his free days he would trot through the fields they dotted.

The entire civilization of monsters lived in most of Europe and a little bit in Greenland and Iceland. In total there were two royal families, and eight noble. Most of the population was ruled by the Dreemurrs, so the two monarchies never went into combat. The monster's territory was intermingled most in Ireland alongside the humans that dominated the planet.

Sometimes Asgore's father would take the princes into the nearest town, allowing them five gold pieces to spend in the cluttered streets and shops. The larger sons diverted when it came to what they bought every time, but Asgore's purchases were usually consistent. There was a human in the town called the matchmaker, and Asgore would sometimes see his younger brother go inside and come out rather heated.

Anigham was only ten years of age.

Asgore however, would go to the village bakery, get a cup of Golden Flower tea for one piece, and then buy four packets of flower seeds. He would walk back to his father and brothers, the seed packets in his pockets and a small wooden cup in his paws. Rarely would King Asritine's snout frown, but most of the time he wouldn't pay Asgore's purchases any mind.

Agnus almost always got a silver dagger. He so far had forty-tens. He collected them and he said that the Whimsalot's were excellent when it came to forging them. Aligmite saved up his gold from every three or four trips, and then he would splurge his pieces on a new robe or cape that the skeleton family expertly crafted. Asgore knew a lot of the skeleton family. The seemstress' name was Gisha. Her husband's name was Lumos, and he was a cobbler for the humans who lived in the town. Asgore had a friend from the family who was about his age. His name was Wing Dings Gaster, but Asgore would normally call him Dings, or just Gaster.

Asgore also would hear from Aligmite about Gisha's second pregnancy. Gaster usually went quiet when it was mentioned, but sometimes he would whisper in this weird language that Asgore couldn't understand. Asgore didn't know a lot about pregnancy. He'd only witnessed one, and that was before Anigham was born. Basically he knew that baby monsters took a very long time to develop before they were born.

Argnow would buy small trinkets from Looxes and Froggits. The items didn't have significant value, yet Argnow enjoyed learning about the differences in design between lower-class monsters. And finally Anigham would normally use his gold with the matchmaker and the jewelry cart. He'd ask for a diamond encrusted crown, but the merchant always refused. Nowhere in the kingdom -or in the world- would a salesman sell such artisan craft for such little wealth. Anigham would try to argue, stating he was a prince, but princes weren't given discounts anywhere. Only the king and queen and any visiting princesses. Anigham would then huffily save whatever leftover pieces he'd have by the time the family was ready to return to the palace.

Asgore's mother never went into the town nearby. She had to stay at home to take care of Grandfather Leonis and Grandmother Rilua. They were both very old and it was nearing the time of their "fall." When they fall, soon afterwards they will disintegrate into a monster's purest form: dust. Their Souls would then slip from the ashes and break silently, ending their existence. But during the following days, the remaining Dreemurrs would spread Leonis' ash on his favorite possession, and do the same for Rilua. It is said that when this is done, their consciouses would live on for eternity in the object.

Asgore felt sad whenever he heard his father and mother discussing the ceremonies they'd have to plan when his grandparents fell. It scared him. He loved Grandmother Rilua and his Grandfather Leonis. They would rarely leave their beds, and they were usually asleep when Asgore brought them their dinner, but they talked with him and told him stories on his free days.

Asgore stood up from his room's desk and quietly pushed his chair back in. He wanted to go talk with them, hoping to know more about what was going to happen. She merely answered with that it was all natural, and there was no true need to stress over the fact of it.

"Asgore," Rilua creaked after he explained to her his angst. The curtains in the large chamber were drawn and the only light came from the fireplace. She was wrapped in a large quilt with the Royal family's insignia printed in the fabric. "You worry too much. Have you ever thought of that if Leonis and I never made your father, that you wouldn't exist?"

Asgore shook his head, his long ears flopping. "No, Grandmother."

"When a young one is created, the father and the mother combine one piece of their Souls each to build the new Soul." She took a rattly breath, closing her orange eyes. "Therefore ending their immortality. Though the parents give up their ageless state, they will continue to grow especially slow. This is so the child made will have both parents beside them up until adulthood. Leonis and I have lived long, wonderful lives, and we are ready to go when are bodies are..."

"But, wait, Grandmother. That's only for one baby, right?" Asgore asked, wringing his paws. "What about father and mother?" Rilua's ears twitched, the firelight casting shadows across her face.

"Your parents were taking a great risk when they made five of you princes," she answered gently. "They each took five parts of their Souls to build every one of you. Their lifespan, however has not been depleted too much."

"Then why was there a risk?"

"Ah, little prince," mused Rilua with a croaky laugh. "A Soul can only be separated up to six times. Six parts for each individual. Your mother and your father cannot have another child - unless Asritine wishes to fall and Rosetta does after she expels the newborn. I'm surprised however, that you, Asgore, are considered the runt of your litter and not your younger brother, Anigham."

Asgore huffed. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not that bad! I can be strong, and hardworking!"

"Yet Anigham defeats you in every battle match."

"Well, sure but-"

"He is taller, and his shoulders are broad. His muscles are taut and strong where yours are limp and thin."

Asgore stared at Rilua in horror. Why was she insulting him? Did the entire family really think that he was weak and useless?

He felt tears corner his eyes and he sniffed loudly. Rilua's head turned towards him.

"You weep," she observed.

"Yes! You're being a bully!" shouted Asgore, his paws balled into fists at his sides. "I wanna be strong and powerful, but I like who I am! I don't wanna change myself, not if that's all you guys want! I wanna stay the way I am, but I just want you guys to accept me!"He wiped at his eyes and nose. He heard his grandmother chuckle wetly. His temper flared.

"Why are you laughing at me?!" he cried.

"Because I find that your Soul is hard-willed and gentle at once," she murmured. "Your inner magic flares as brightly as the sun, and your ichor flows in a torrent through your veins. You are fierce Asgore. But that power only shows in ways that your brothers and yourself might not expect." Asgore tilted his head as she reopened her eyes.

"I don't understand..."

"You forget that I am nearly three centuries old," she said. "I have experienced what you feel, what you are going through. I was not a well-formed lass when I was birthed. I was frail, and I could not control my magic very well in my latter years. My brothers and sisters brought expectations that I had to meet to make my own sire smile. And I know one more monster who had to go through the same thing."

Asgore blinked, curiosity bubbling inside of him.

"Who?"

Grandmother Rilua smiled wide and bared her yellowed fangs. She was missing a few.

"Your father," she responded. Asgore gaped at her, his ears raised at their bases.

"My father?" he asked skeptically. "But I don't have any aunts or uncles on that side of my family. He didn't need to compete with anyone for Grandfather's attention!"

"That is true. But he nonetheless only wished for my dear Leonis to give him credit with each deed. You and I both know that there is nothing too sweet beneath his craggly old shell, yet Asritine was determined to prove himself to his father. Do you know how he did?" Rilua's eyes gleamed in the firelight as she looked to her grandson. He thought for a few moments.

I wonder. I bet he killed a beastly dragon, or climbed a mountain as high as the stars. Or maybe he even defeated Leonis in a battle-training match.

But none of those seemed plausible to him as he thought over them more and more.

Asgore finally shook his head, unable to come up with a proper answer. "I'm sorry, Grandmother Rilua, I don't know what he did."

She laughed softly and held out a withered paw. Asgore carefully took it. Her fur was matted and dry, and the pads on her fingers and palm were callused and rough. She grinned at him.

"Little prince," she whispered. "All he did, was be himself."