The king Papyrus ending is my favorite...
He sits admits the wilting flowers and watches them die around him.
Some timelines, he bothers to actually tend to them, spending hours on his knees until they hurt so much there is nothing else he can feel.
But this time, Papyrus can't bring himself to put in the effort. The human will reset soon anyway, and the garden will brighten again. Be alive again.
Just like his friends.
It's a perfect analogy in more ways than one.
Because he's here, watching them wither and doing nothing, just like he was then, watching the human destroy everybody in its path.
Except for him.
And it's not fair, he thinks, as he touches the petals and watches them fall limply to the ground. Slipping through his fingers like Undyne's dust did, back at waterfall.
But fairness has stopped being a factor in his life ages ago.
At least he can console himself with the thought that he's being an adequate king.
People are giving up all around him, which means he has to try twice as hard not to lose hope.
That wouldn't be very Papyrus of him.
Losing hope, falling down.
It might be easier, he thinks. Just for a moment, he savors the thought.
It would be quick. Painless.
And then he'd wake up in Snowdin again, without the weight of the world on his shoulders.
But Papyrus knows he can never do that. Because Sans would remember.
Sans, who is already struggling hard enough to keep it together as it is.
Sans, who probably thinks the exact same thoughts from time to time.
Sans, who needs Papyrus to be the cheerful one more than ever now.
So instead of falling, he gets up.
He makes a near endless heap of spaghetti, even if the act of cooking it makes him physically sick with grief.
It's just penance for his negligence.
Papyrus doesn't like wearing the crown, but Sans tells him he must.
Something about it being a symbol of monarchy that inspires hope in their people.
And hope is in such short supply these days, that Papyrus feels like he needs to do anything to offset the balance.
Even if it makes him miserable.
It's a fair trade. His happiness against that of an entire kingdom.
If it were just his brother's happiness, Papyrus would still wear it. The trade would still be equal in his eyes.
He can pretend. He does little else these days.
He's not sure he knows how to be himself anymore.
And sitting in between the golden leaves, Papyrus wonders if he will need to deal with that someday.
If the human will ever stop their ceaseless game of whatever it is they're trying to accomplish, and just leave them be.
Maybe then, he can finally find himself again.
Buried somewhere underneath an endless heap of lies and deceit, suffocating.
Asses the damage and lick the wounds.
Be right again. Not broken.
But of course, Sans always told him it is silly to believe in unobtainable dreams.
He doesn't sit the throne though, not in the literal sense.
They drag the chair over to stand besides it's smaller twin, and cover it with a sheet also.
He makes up some threadbare reason about not liking to sit still, about wanting to move around freely.
Sans buys the excuse, mainly because he barely acknowledges it.
He barely acknowledges Papyrus at all these days, except to lie some more to him about what a great vacation their friends are having.
He tells himself that's ok. His brother is very busy running the kingdom after all. It wouldn't do for Papyrus to be selfish, impose on Sans' time.
He says that if anybody requests an audience, they can can share the flowerbed with him.
Not that anybody ever does.
If they want anything significant, they'll go to his brother. He's the one in charge of pretty much everything.
Papyrus is just here to stand around looking cute. Where had he heard that one before?
The thought twists his none-existent gut, and he dispels the memory quickly. No use thinking about those that have gone.
Especially when they don't stay dead.
So Papyrus sits in the empty throne room, bathed in light and surrounded by golden flowers and silence.
Sometimes, he reads one of Asgore's many books.
Sometimes, he brings a sketchbook and draws the high-arched windows and tiled floors.
Sometimes, he talks to the plants, just so he can hear a voice.
Sometimes, he just spends his time lost in thought.
And always, he is alone.
Let it never be said that Papyrus does not have a sense of humor.
He can appreciate the bitter irony his current predicament has to offer.
Because even in this timeline, where he has technically been appointed the most important monster in the underground, he will still be treated like a child.
More so than ever, in fact.
"Have you called Undyne today?" Sans asks.
Papyrus looks at him, but can't catch his gaze. "Not yet." He answers.
He knows Sans doesn't bring it up out of any particular malice.
On the contrary, the act of clogging up her voicemail with message after message of jumbled insecurities and despair is quite therapeutic. Especially since he knows nobody will ever hear them.
Papyrus always feels lighter afterwards, even if he knows it's a deceptive kind relief, that will come back tenfold afterwards, when the guilt hits.
He shouldn't complain. Not to her. She's dead, and he's alive, and for all the wretchedness that he feels, Undyne doesn't feel anything anymore.
He's so selfish.
But his brother only sees that first part, where Papyrus feels like he can breath again for a little while, and so he encourages the phonecalls from time to time.
Sans doesn't realize that well-meaning lies can do more harm sometimes, than any harsh truth ever could.
Does he really think Papyrus is that ignorant? That he cannot grasp the meaning of death, when it basically happened right in front if his eyes?
Yet, his brother prefers to lie to him.
'Vacation' he says, like a parent trying to explain the absence of a beloved house pet to their 3 year old child.
And it's borderline ridiculous that he thinks Papyrus falls for it.
His friends would never leave without telling him. His friends would never ignore his calls for this long.
He tries to blame it on Sans' depressions.
Surely his brother is just trying to do what he thinks is best for him.
Surely he's only trying to protect him.
Surely he doesn't really think Papyrus is that stupid?
He refuses to consider that possibility, pushing it away and smiling at his brother instead. Just because there is little else he can do.
But the thought lingers in the back of his mind, festering, even after the reset.
And it never quite goes away.
He sits admits the wilting flowers and watches them die around him.
The throne room is filled with light and life, the sound of birds chirping and the barrier softly droning in the distance.
Sometimes Papyrus stands before it and tries to catch a glimpse of the twilight.
Sometimes, he simply can't bring himself to move, lying still in the garden.
He's flat on is back and his vision is framed in gold, petals everywhere. He wishes he could drown in them.
He misses his friends. He misses the human. He misses Sans.
He wants to give up too.
The positions isn't very comfortable. It makes his bones ache, digging into the earth uncomfortably. But the pain is a nice distraction.
"Papyrus, are you alright?"
He sits up. Petals cling to his clothes. Dead flowers everywhere.
"Of course, Sans." He says with a smile. "I'm just thinking about what fun our friends must be having on their trip."
His brother looks at him, nods his head tightly. Still doesn't tell him the truth.
Sans never tells him anything.
"I'm sure they're having a great time." He mumbles.
Papyrus wants to ask him if Sans wishes he'd gone with them, but refrains. That would just be cruel.
Instead, he stares at the garden.
"They're dead." He observes quietly.
His brother stiffens, lingering his gaze on the plants too.
"It's my fault." Papyrus says, then pauses a bit longer than strictly necessary.
It's almost funny, how they can talk like this. About the same thing, yet not about anything at all.
A dialogue of the deaf.
"I forgot to take care of them."
He gets up to get a watering can, notices the relieved little smile on Sans' face.
Papyrus waits until his brother has left, alone in the throne room once more, before breaking down.
As always, thank you for the positive feedback on this fic. It fills my heart with joy.
