„Human…"
Your trident materializes in your hand, ready for battle.
"It was nice to meet you."
There is no point in fighting the inevitable.
"Goodbye."
It's always cold in the narrow basement room, no matter how brightly the sun is shining outside. The thick walls of the chamber shut out any light, any warmth, any noise. The bare stonemasonry does nothing to alleviate the aura of mournfulness that pervades the air. A cave in a cave, a mountain under a mountain. Buried, maybe even forgotten, but not dead - not entirely.
The seven coffins are lined up neatly along the wall; one open and empty, six closed and heavy with their burden. You take a glance at each of the silver plates screwed on their lids. Names. Memories. People with hopes and dreams that turned to nothing long ago.
One by one, you take account of the final chapters of their story. How their bare soul was presented to you, they themselves killed beforehand by some frightened resident of the Underground. How they put up a desperate fight, giving you all they had just to live a little more. How they gave up and let you catch them at their weakest, making themselves an easy target. How they cursed you and all of monsterkind in their last moments, struck down by your guards. How they offered their soul for you to take, dying with a serene smile on their face. How, despite everything, they all met their sorrowful fate by the hands of monsters, a species that is said to be kind and compassionate to the core of their very being.
You're not sure if you can believe that anymore. After all, what is the meaning of kindness and compassion if they can drive you to do horrible things? Humans were certainly compassionate to their own kin, perhaps overly so - that's why they decided to get rid of you for good. And you - you, who has been hailed as a beacon of hope among monsterkind, what did you do that wasn't driven by compassion? You look at your subjects - friends, neighbors, comrades - and your soul feels heavy when you think about how all of them deserve better than a life lived in an underground cave. You can't bear to see their children never seeing the open sky. You can't bear to see them slowly dwindle away in the darkness. This is what keeps you going, still after all these years.
Or you're just a coward who's too afraid to go back on his promise, a small voice in the back of your mind whispers. You're too weak to admit that you made a bad decision all those years ago. You're stalling for time, dreading the moment the next human comes because you know that the pain of killing will tear your soul into pieces again. You're giving in to a selfish desire for inner peace while deceiving them with empty words of hope. You're not even strong enough to pick a side and stick with it.
She was right to leave you.
You bow your head as you reach the end of the row of coffins and close your eyes for a moment, trying to push every fleeting thought of Tori out of your mind, concentrating on your immediate surroundings, the stillness of the air, the barely audible sound of your breathing. You spend a lot of time here, certainly more than it would be healthy or normal in any case. Then again, what is healthy or normal about taking a life, you wonder.
You're not sure if your nagging self-doubt stems from the weight of the sins you committed or the fact that deep down, you're still not determined enough to go through with the plan. You're not sure what will happen if you indeed get back to the surface one day. You prefer not to think about it. Even after everything that happened, you can't find it in yourself to feel hatred toward humans. You've tried to remind yourself how countless of your kind perished at their hands in the war; how they had no mercy on you, denying you the hope of a shared future. How, even after centuries of peace and prosperity, they have learned nothing. How, when it came to the choice between fear or kindness, they chose fear. How they have always been and will always be your enemies.
...And on that day, you certainly believed it all. You were staring at the small pile of dust, gray and lifeless in your giant paws, so strong and yet so impotent, so useless. The wailing of Tori barely registered with you as she was trying to hold on to you desperately, crying out to you, begging you to bring your children back, to bring them back somehow, it can't be true, Gori, it can't, please tell me it's not true, please tell me they will come back -
You didn't hold her. You didn't cry. Your soul felt as dead as a piece of rock.
They deserve no mercy.
They will get no mercy.
You stepped away from Tori without a word and headed to the garden. You looked up at the tiny fragment of open sky, a bright and cheerful blue, laughing down at you, mocking your pain. You took one last look at the remains of your son, then opened your palm and let the dust fall softly on the golden flowers that he had used to love so much.
Don't be afraid, my people.
This won't happen again.
We will get back to the surface and get our revenge.
For Asriel - and for every single monster that have ever perished at the hands of humankind.
From now on…
...it is war.
Oh, how they cheered when they heard your words. As grief-stricken as they were when they heard what happened to your children, they were ecstatic to hear that you decided to not let this atrocity go unpunished and fight for freedom. Some of them were even glad that you finally came to this decision, praising you for your bravery. They were eager to get back what once was, in part, theirs. What for, you could only imagine, given that they were mostly too young to remember the surface. They were too young to know how it feels to lose something that you've always taken for granted. The sky, the wind, the ocean, rain, snowfall (a real one, as delicate and spontaneous as the laughter or a young child), the mountains, the fact that you could walk more than a mile in any direction without coming to a dead end of stone. The warmth of the sun on your face, the vastness of space as it opened up above you at nightfall. Freedom.
After you withdrew for the day and calmed down a little, you decided to set out and see Gerson. You weren't entirely certain why - maybe you just wanted someone you can share nostalgia with, him being the only one besides Tori who fought along you in the war. The old tortoise gave you a small, knowing nod when he opened a door, like he had been waiting for you. So you finally decided to take matters into your own hands, hm?, he grumbled, half to you, half to himself, while he was organizing his wares for the next day. It would certainly be nice to take a swim in the sea before these old bones turn to dust. Watch the sunrise from the porch, like my grandfather used to do back when I was just a wee one. Sure it would be nice to visit his grave. Yes.
Finished with his activity, he dusted off his claws and turned to you, his eyes narrowed slightly, a sly expression on his wrinkly face. The question is... why now, Asgore? Why now, after all these years?
You were standing before him, unable to find an answer that wouldn't leave you ashamed and defeated. You understood the words that didn't even leave his lips.
'Why now, now that your own son is dead?'
You felt like an open book to him. Having lived a long life of hardship and loss, Gerson read your thought like his own. He knew your doubts about yout decision, your stray thoughts that have been echoing in your mind. That if it wasn't for Asriel and Chara, you would have been perfectly happy to live under Mount Ebbott until the end of your days, sentencing your people to an eternity of exile. That if not for your personal loss, you would have abandoned them to their fate. That in that moment, you realized that no matter what you choose, you would be a traitor to one side.
Despite his own personal doubts, Gerson understood and supported you, of course; someone as old as him was bound to empathize with you. But none of this seemed to matter, when the next evening, Tori told you that she was leaving.
At first, you didn't understand. Then again, you didn't understand a lot those days, and it just added fuel to your frustration. Angry and bitter, you asked her what would drive her to do such a thing. You asked her whether she cared at all for your children, for your people.
How could you say such a thing?, she demanded with tears in her eyes. How could you doubt my love for monsterkind? How could you doubt my love for Asriel and Chara?!
Then why, Tori? Why don't you see that this is the only way to finally find peace?
Her fists clenched in fury and disbelief. She wasn't simply mad - she was truly disappointed in you.
This is your solution for peace?! Another war? Don't you remember what war did to our people? It didn't set them free, it destroyed them. And it will destroy us once again. You will lead them to their doom, Asgore. And I will not be an accomplice in that.
You felt a strange chill grab your soul. When you found your voice again, it was flat, cold.
So you aren't even willing to make this sacrifice for us, then. You're rather live in the past than to finally face the truth. Because the truth is that our children are dead, Tori. And no amount of grieving will bring them back. Nothing will bring them back. Do you hear me? Nothing!
And for that, you decided to keep on killing?!, she shouted in your face. You decided to continue this pointless violence? What for? What do you hope to accomplish with all of this? What will happen when we finally win? Then what?
I don't know what the future holds, Tori, you answered, your voice heavy with sorrow and resentment. I don't know what is awaiting us up there. But I will do what I must do. And neither you, nor any monster can prevent me from it.
Toriel stood up tall, then, and for one moment, you felt a pang of shame before her judging eyes.
Mark my words, Asgore Dreemurr, she said in a low voice. I swear to the stars that I won't let you kill them. I won't let you hurt a single soul, do you hear me? Not one.
You bowed your head and let her go then, knowing that there was no point in further talking. She passed by you quietly, her bare feet making no sound on the stone floor. She turned back from the doorway, her face hard and unforgiving.
You disgust me.
And with that, she left.
She left, along with a few monsters who didn't support your decision and felt it would be better to move to a place where they were left in peace with all the hype about the upcoming destruction of humanity. She left and took the last remnants of your previous life with her. She left, and all of a sudden, you were well and truly alone.
You tried to find comfort in the love and adoration of your subjects, of course. And they loved and adored you; they still do. Your door is always open to them, you take care to pay regular visits and supervise their more important scientific and artistic endeavours. You listen to their woes, their problems, their dreams. You know each and every one of them by name. And it certainly helps you sleep at night, or at least get up in the morning.
But there's no denying it that you are very, very tired now. Those who never have experienced the burden of immortality have no idea how it feels to know that it will be the same for the rest of your days. They don't know how hopeless it sometimes feels to know that even if a war is won, another is bound to come soon enough. None of them to understands, which makes them dangerously careless when it comes to the topic of humanity. You hear it in murmured conversations in back alleys, in the giggles of children, in the whisper of the echo flowers. You see it in the eyes of Undyne when she makes her daily report, stern and dutiful as always. You met her once when she was barely out of her teenage years, wild and eager to try her hands at a real battle. You tried to explain to her why she should strive to find a peaceful solution first, how she should practice mercy, but she was barely listening. Fight me, she yelled in excitement, a sharp-tipped, glowing spear springing up to her hand, ready to be thrown. You said that sometimes, you must return violence with violence. You said that we must keep on fighting until we get back what's ours. Was that all just a stupid speech?!
Given that it was you who had declared war, she had a point there, you mused. She leaped at you with a spear glowing in each hand, flashing her sharp yellow fangs at you. Come at me! Show me that you're strong enough to be my king!
If only it was just about bodily strength, the thought came to your mind. If only it was just about attacks and dodges and magic. Undyne was so young, so idealistic. And idealism makes you short-sighted. The way she fought clearly showed her inexperience. She left herself open and vulnerable; had you been you intent on wounding her, it would have been a simple task. Instead, you made sure to keep her safe while you were dodging her attacks with your usual ease. The more strikes you stepped aside from, the more her fury grew, her movements becoming impatient and hurried. She cried out in frustration, spewing curses through her teeth, giving you everything she had, not even caring about keeping her distance anymore. In the next turn, you stepped forward a little and with a gentle movement of your wrist, tapped her on the shoulder, knocking her off balance.
Undyne fell on her knees ungracefully, dazed and confused by the sudden turn of events, her spears dissipating into thin air. She shook her head and was just about to spring back up, but before she could make any move, you were already in front of her, towering over her lanky form with your trident in hand. She looked up at you, her eyes wide with disbelief and uncertainty. You raised your weapon...
...and lowered it to the side.
Then you smiled and offered her your paw.
She blinked at you for a moment, then took it and stood up without a word. The only sound around you was the noise of your labored breathing. After a long second of awkward silence, Unydne took a sharp breath. She closed her eyes and bowed her head deeply. Forgive me, your Highness, she whispered. You are the strongest monster I have ever met. In every sense of the word. She looked up at you again, her voice laced with pride. From this moment on… I will be striving to be worthy of your service.
You look at the row of coffins now and think about how very, very wrong she was. You're not strong; you never were. Sure, you're quite capable when it comes to fight. You know how to gauge attack patterns; you know when to leap away and when to stay in place. You know how to slowly, measuredly wear out your enemy until they become more vulnerable to your magic or just simply get tired enough to make a mistake. You have plenty of experience, after all. You know what it feels like to kill. You know what it feels like when you must kill.
And you will do it. You will do it even if it feels like killing your own son all over again.
You reluctantly leave the chamber, and the darkness and quiet once again retake their reign as you close the door behind you.
Your garden is your only comfort these days. Plants are almost like monsters, in a sense; they don't care about who you are, but how you treat them. They repay kindness with kindness - in this case, color and scent and an overall sense of freshness that's rare to find elsewhere in the Underground.
Even this small pleasure has soured a little as of late, though. You can't for the life of you say why, but almost every time when you set out to water the flower patches in the early morning, a slight sense of unease comes over you. Looking at the buttercups blooming around the throne doesn't fill you with peace but with apprehension, as if you'd expect them to wilt away and die at any minute, leaving you alone in the darkness forever. Sometimes, you feel as if you have been through these motions a hundred times, stuck in an endless cycle of pointless activities and false hope, lost in the labyrinth of past, present and future, unable to find the exit. Sometimes, a vague sense of dread grabs your soul as pictures of gigantic, thorny vines flash before your eyes for a second, before they disappear again into the realm of uncertainty. And the nights aren't any better - vague nightmares pervaded by despair and death have been haunting you, poisoning your mornings. You've tried every herb, every medicine in the book to get rid of them, all of it in vain. The possibility of your usually sound judgement being influenced by such disquieting phenomena concerns you greatly. You shouldn't let some strange dream or an odd mood throw you off balance.
Finished with the buttercup patch, you lower the watering can and close your eyes against the early sunlight, letting out a deep sigh. Your shoulder pads feel heavy. You feel heavy.
"mornin', asgore. water you doing?"
You look down from your height and spot Sans standing in the doorway, grinning as always. You chuckle softly at the pun, even if it's far from being the first time you heard it. These jokes remind you of Tori, her smile, her laughter, how she was always eager to invent new ones (and rehash old ones, making her entire family cringe). You feel a slight pang of longing in your soul as you realize how much you're still missing her in every waking moment, even after all these years.
Seeing your reaction, Sans closes her eyesockets with a smug expression and shrugs, clearly satisfied with the effect of his words. You wonder why he chose to visit you of all people after such a long time. The skeleton monster has always been one of the friendliest fellows of the Underground, getting along with practically everyone, but lately, he's been said to be all but disappeared from public, presumably staying indoors all day. Your curiosity piqued, you greet him with a warm smile.
„Howdy, Sans! How nice to see you! How's it going?"
„the usual. paps insisted on me giving his thanks to santa when i bump into him. he's been taking the ness figure into bed with him lately, so i'm pretty sure he likes it." He lifts a slippered foot and wiggles his toes. "as for me, thanks for the socks, they're really comfy."
You nod and smile and hum appreciatively, but your heart's not in it, not today. And it looks like you're not the only one. Despite the lightness of his tone, Sans appears to be concerned about something; the dark circles under his eyesockets reveal that much. You pour the last droplets on the patch of daisies and put the watering can down, giving the skeleton your undivided attention.
„Is there something wrong?"
Sans blinks before looking to the side, his tone going flat.
„...heh. it's that obvious, isn't it?"
"Just yesterday, Grillby told me that he hasn't seen you in almost a month. When he paid you a visit, your brother greeted him at the door and told him that you were unavailable for the indefinite future. Now, while I'm glad that you decided to see me despite all of this, I would like to ask - is everything alright, Sans? Are you feeling well?"
"i, uh. i'm fine", he assures you hastily before immediately contradicting himself by letting out a small, weary sigh. "actually… nevermind. thing is, i kinda wanted to have a word with you, if you have the time."
You briefly consider asking him to come back later, when you're finished. With what exactly, you don't know. The next moment, though, you all but give yourself a mental scolding for such self-indulgent thoughts. Enough brooding for the day. It's time to turn your attention outwards.
"Of course. Is it something serious?"
He averts his gaze again and rubs his neck weakly.
"you can say that, yeah. at the very least, it's something you should probably know about. maybe we could talk somewhere a little more private?"
„Sure."
You put away your gardening tools in the small shed in the corner of the garden and invite Sans back to the house. Going to the kitchen, you take out your tallest guest chair for him and make sure the door is locked, then prepare something to drink. Soon enough, you're both sitting at the dining table, a mug of herbal tea steaming in front of each of you. Sans takes a sip, and you briefly wonder if he can taste it at all.
"Now. What's the matter? I'm listening."
„so, uh…"
He scratches his face as if he was wondering how to approach the subject.
„...i wanted to ask if you had... any strange dreams lately."
Upon hearing this rather peculiar conversation starter, you're surprised and somehow not at the same time. Given that you indeed have been bothered by nightmares lately, the question seems ominous all of a sudden. Nevertheless, you decide to err on the side of caution, just in case - it will not do to give the impression that the king of monsters lets himself get shaken by such petty occurrences.
"What do you mean by 'strange'?"
Sans seems somewhat at a loss for words; you wonder whether both of you are just dancing around the issue now.
"uh. how do i say this? recurring dreams, maybe, or odd visions when you were awake... or even just a sense of déjá vu. y'know, when you suddenly feel that all of this has happened before. occasions when you just knew that something was bound to happen a certain way, like you have already gone through it. anything like that."
"Well, I certainly have those sometimes, but doesn't everyone? I thought it was a common occurrence."
Sans lets out a strained chuckle.
"yeah, sure. they are common. a little too much when it comes to the underground, it seems."
"Sans, what are you implying? Why should we be concerned with recurring dreams?"
"'cause looks like that whenever one of us happens to have them, or from time time, feels that a certain situation should play out in a certain way, or anything else i just said… in all probability, it isn't just a dream or gut feeling."
He takes in a deep breath.
„it's a memory."
Flashes of a little yellow flower, his face (face? a flower shouldn't have a face, that much you're sure of) oddly familiar, smiling at you shyly, calling you by your name. A demented cackle echoing in your ears, vines strangling you, turning your body to dust in a matter of seconds. And then - Sans, sitting across from you at this very table, staring at his mug just like he's doing now, lifting it up to his mouth just like he's doing now, curling his fingers just like he's -
An almost imperceptible shudder courses through you. Your head feels light, like your entire world was reeling. You need a moment to pull yourself together. When you break the silence, your voice has taken on a slightly deeper timbre, sounding more like a warning.
"Are you sure that your assumption is correct?"
Sans gives your a sharp look and nods, obviously aware of the sudden shift in your mood.
"I see. Go on."
"so. according to certain… observations, there's been something strange going on in the underground as of late. something of a temporal anomaly that makes time repeat itself."
Observations? Does Sans mean he's been analyzing these phenomena? You feel a little uncomfortable, knowing all too well that science isn't your main area of expertise. You sincerely hope he's not going to start talking about about quantum physics out of the blue, or at least if he does, he takes care to dumb it down enough for you to understand.
„this anomaly", Sans continues, "it's able to influence the way time flows. meaning, it can stop time at any point and, uh, reset it to an earlier point."
"Time-travel, you mean?"
"...sorta. however, there's one catch: they don't just go back in time themselves, they, uh, rewind time itself. meaning that whenever they decide to reset, everything starts all over again from the point they themselves go back to. and we monsters go back with it, too. we retain almost no memory of the previous timeline, at least not consciously. but something still lingers, and certain events cause fragments memories to surface now and then." He pauses, then looks you in the eye. "what i'm saying is - these resets are the likely cause behind our dreams and visions."
You take a small sip from your mug and think for a minute, one paw coming up to stroke your beard. The fact that when speaking about the anomaly, Sans switched halfway from 'it' to 'them' didn't elude you, but you decide to come back to it a little later.
"How frequently do these - these 'resets' occur?"
"at random intervals, it would seem. as for the length of the time period that keeps repeating itself, i'd say maybe about a few months." He shrugs. "but that's just a wild guess. there's no surefire way to determine it, since, well, every physical evidence disappears with the resets, too."
"But that would mean though that for some time now, we have been living through the same time period repeatedly, we just aren't aware of it."
Sans' grin wavers for a second.
"that is correct."
Taken slightly aback by his directness, you frown and turn away your gaze. Honestly, you don't know what to say to news like that. When it comes to diplomacy, negotiations or fight, you at least have the necessary means to get the situation under control. But this? What can you do about something like this? You look back at Sans, your voice strained.
"When did you came to this realization?"
The skeleton stays quiet for a second, idly crushing cookie crumbs with his short phalanges, his pupils fixated on the table.
"some time ago."
"I see." Despite the gravity of the situation, your voice softens a little. "Is this why you were so withdrawn lately?"
"...yeah."
"Did you tell anyone else about it?"
"no. i have a hunch that it wouldn't do any good."
You can't help but agree with that.
"In any case, thank you for telling me. I appreciate your effort to look into this matter."
"no problem." He falls silent again, not looking at you. Still, you can see the question written all over his face.
'What now?'
You can't let him go away without an answer. You rest your chin on your large paw and start to think about a possible solution. Maybe you can fix this somehow. If it's a person, as Sans indicated, you can just have a talk with them and find out why they are doing this. There's no harm in a good talk.
Isn't that what we all want after all?
You look up at the skeleton, who's still stubbornly refusing to lift his gaze.
„Do you know anything of the whereabouts of this… anomaly? Or how we could get in contact with them?"
„no. as far as i know, they might have already contacted us on several occasions, but it all becomes nil once a reset occurs. they must be in the underground somewhere, but... heck, i'm not even sure what they are exactly. it's fairly possible though that they're able to do all these time shenanigans with the help of determination, which makes it very likely that they are a human." He frowns slightly, which is no small feat without eyebrows. "still - i have a weird feeling about all of this."
You can't help but agree with him. Firstly, if he's correct, this would mean that a human is running around the Underground, which is, quite frankly, a frightening possibility. Secondly, you can't help but think about those strange premonitions that get hold of you whenever you look at the golden flowers. Those flowers...
"What if they aren't human at all?"
Sans quirks a nonexistent eyebrow at you.
"you mean if they are a monster? that is unlikely." He lets out a brief chuckle. "though when it comes to time travel, 'unlikely' seems to lose some of its meaning."
"What I meant is: the other six humans who fell down didn't seem to possess time-influencing powers, despite their determination. Are you sure the two are related?"
"not sure yet, it's just a theory on my part. determination is a tricky thing, and it's not my - it's not something i've studied extensively. there's a possibility though that the same essence that allows human souls to persist after death allows some of them to have control over time."
You wonder if it has anything to do with Dr. Alphys' latest experiments. When you asked the lizard monster about how her studies were going, she stuttered a barely understandable response and quickly excused herself, looking almost scared. Now that you think of it, you should have been a little more strict with her. You briefly consider asking Sans to look into the matter before you remind yourself that he'd probably say no. As it is, he's been steadily refusing to work as a royal scientist and Alphys' right-hand monster, which is a shame, really – from what little he lets on, he has excellent knowledge of the mechanics of the Core, and he's much more observant and educated than it would seem at first sight. Still, he must have his reasons, and you're not one who would force people to do anything against their will.
So it's just you and the doctor, then. Looks like it's time to pay her another visit and interview her thoroughly about what determination can do. Another, perhaps foolish thought occurs to you.
"Forgive me if this sounds far-fetched, Sans, but if they aren't human and aren't a monster… could they perhaps be a flower?"
You're half expecting him to blink at you in disbelief, but he remains thoughtful, not a shred of confusion on his face.
"a flower, huh? you mean a flower that has determination?"
He looks at you, your expressions mirroring each other. He must have been having the same nightmares as you. He must have. Thorns and vines, the voice of a child begging you, the voice of a madman laughing at your pain. Sensing the tension in the air, you clear your throat.
„In any case, now that we're aware what has been happening all this time... do you have any suggestions as for what we can do about it?"
„honestly... no."
You were afraid that it would come to this in the end.
„I see. What happens, then, if I… get hold of their soul? Provided that they are a human, of course, which you said was the most likely. Does their power dissipate with their death?"
The skeleton shakes his head lightly.
„i'm not sure, asgore. human souls are peculiar in many respects." You nod in agreement - human souls are indeed something of a mystery to your kind. "i have no way of knowing whether or not the state of their determination is influenced by being alive - so, uh, this is pure speculation on my part." He takes in a sharp breath. "but chances are... it won't affect it at all."
You feel yourself tensing up, your grip on your mug tightening.
Not even death...
"But won't the breaking of the barrier destroy their soul as well? Using the souls would surely destroy them, right?"
"well, if we manage to do that before they reset again, then probably. there's, uh… a slim chance we can do that." He flashes you a weak, uneven grin. "if they let us, that is."
If they let us.
If they choose to have mercy on us.
But who would choose to have mercy on a murderer?
When you open your mouth again, you can barely recognize your own voice.
„So what you're saying is that we are stuck living the same days over and over again forever - and we can't do anything about it."
„...yes."
The silence that settles on you is heavy and stifling. Sans is staring into his mug, his eyelights impossibly tiny pinpricks, his grin looking so hollow it barely resembles a facial expression of a living being anymore, reminding you more of an emotionless mask instead. Your chest feels too small, too tight for your soul, as if you could physically sense Mount Ebbott's immeasurable weight pushing you down, crushing you under an infinity of stone and darkness and despair.
"Maybe we can talk with them, perhaps?", you manage to force out.
"maybe."
"Maybe they just want to be understood, Sans. Or they just want some company. A good laugh. A cup of warm tea and a nice conversation."
"sure."
You know that you're grasping at straws, but you feel that you can't lose hope now. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. It's enough that you're in such a dire situation; it would not do to throw in the towel and give into despair. Maybe a common monster could do that, but not you. Sans, of course, could offer no help with this - how could he? He isn't the one who has to be there for his people; he has never been. He has no idea how this feels. No matter how smart he is, he will never understand. Your voice hardens.
„I can't tell them, Sans. I must keep going on. I can't deprive them of their only hope."
„i know."
He finishes his tea and gets off the chair.
"welp, i must be going. my midmorning nap isn't going to do itself."
"Sans."
He stops in the doorway, looking at you with a tired expression. The dark circles look even more prominent under his eyesockets.
"I don't know what will come out of all of this… but in any case - thank you for telling me. Thank you for being honest."
He shrugs.
"...no problem."
You gather your mugs and put them into the sink.
"While we're at it... Can I ask you to do something?"
The skeleton averts his gaze, looking somewhat uncomfortable, even if his smile is still in place.
"that depends on what it is."
„If by any chance, you happen to find this anomaly… whoever they are… please try to show them a good time."
Sans shoots you a long, searching glance, followed by a curt nod.
„i can do that."
"Take care, then. And give my greetings to Papyrus!"
"sure thing."
As you close the door after him, you realize that your paws feel shaky. Not allowing yourself to sit back to the table, you set out to wash the mugs, going through the motions while paying no attention at all. Routine usually helps you calm and order your thoughts, but this time, you don't know what could ever calm you. You have never felt so helpless before.
I wish you were here, Tori. I know it's selfish, but... I wish I had someone to share all this burden with.
I wish I hadn't made that mistake all those years ago.
I wish…
No. There's no point in living in the past. You said that yourself. And you're not one to go back on your word, aren't you?
Finished with the dishes, you lean against the sink, take a look at the clock and sigh softly. No matter how hard it's going to be, you must stay true to what you told Sans. You can't let despair get the better of you. Not now, not ever. You are their king, and you must do your best to serve them, every day, every moment - even if it means an eternity. It's ten o'clock already, and Wells is here to ask your unbiased opinion on the latest Nice Cream flavor he's invented.
They trust you. They shouldn't be disappointed. They won't be disappointed.
You put on your friendliest smile and open the door.
„Howdy!"