A/N (though not really important): I'm surprised I haven't said this yet, but DISCLAIMER! Undertale and its character's aren't actually mine. Thought I should put that out there just in case 'cause I'd really rather not get sued. Next order of business, sorry for spelling/grammar/I'm an idiot errors. I've been behind schedule for posting, but I plan on going back through to fix some screw-ups in the first couple of chapters...eventually.

1.4 Arrival

Piles of crisp red leaves congregated in the corners of the tunnels. They bunched together like a carefully cut mosaic. Not a single edge lay out of place. Something was missing. Their color was even with thin, black veins reaching out from a bold center stroke. I was no specialist, but I had certainly learned my way around plants in my time. Which mushrooms were edible, which branches burned best, which sap would function as an antiseptic or give me a rash, I had become very good at picking these things out at a cursory glance. These leaves, though, I couldn't recognize. There was just something about them.

I wanted to inspect them closer. Each leaf had fallen in such a way to perfectly crop the stem, leaving them smoothly rounded and tapering to points. Walking for so long had given my mind plenty of time to wander. I thought about the quiet peace of the blood red leaves and if they had ever known green. How big was their mother tree? I wanted to know if the bark was lined and spotted like birch or perhaps vibrant and flaking as a yew. The amount of leaves on the ground could have filled the branches of a forest, but there was no tree. No sticks, no twigs, no branches. No tree. The wide, even expanse of the tunnels only now began to unsettle me. I made an effort to swivel around as we passed pile after pile, still unable to catch sight of a single originating plant.

We moved along together, my hair 'unintentionally' swatting his face as I looked around and my arm slung over his neck. Sudden bouts of weakness had often left me unsteady. More than once on our course I had clumsily stumbled into him as we went along. The first time it happened, back then when we had first started out, he had done something disturbingly unexpected. The fuzzy monster had stuck with me. The way out had been longer than I expected. At first after leaving the blue-sheened tunnels with the twinkling water I could still carry myself with some pride. Two hours later was a different story all together. Just a little farther my foot! Sweat beaded at my temples, yet he showed not the slightest sign of exertion. The contrast was humiliating. I attempted to straighten my back and march ahead just to spite the effortlessness of his gait, but still I could feel the painful tremors cascading down my legs to the tips of my toes. What surprised me, however, was that when I finally fell, I didn't hear him laugh. Not even a guiltily muffled chuckle. I lost, but he wasn't even aware of the game. Instead he caught me before I hit the ground and hoisted me back up. Not only did he accept my weight, but he inched closer and without a word took my arm around his shoulder. It annoyed me at first; yes, I was well aware that I was a sore loser. I slumped low to drape myself more heavily and directed my smirk to the floor, not bothering to fully hide it. Let's see how long he lasts with that. Well, he did last' he bore it all.

Somewhere between the brick cracked into jagged halves and the last batch of wall clinging vines, our pace had slowed. He had given up talking some minutes ago, and his back under my arm curved in a slight, nearly unregistered slump. My hair had kept blowing in my face, stirred by the puffs of his breathing which had before been smooth and easy. The tickling annoyed me, and being, for all intents and purposes, carried had done wonders to refill my stamina. That was the only reason I adjusted my weight to a more even distribution, relaxing slightly off of him. I wasn't listening any closer than I normally would to make sure he wasn't exhausting himself. I didn't care in the slightest how he was holding up.

It is smart to lie to your enemies; necessary to lie to your friends; safer to lie to your superiors; but you should never lie to yourself. Somehow or another, and much to my irritation, I did care. On a little! But that little complicated matters greatly. I had felt this before multiple times on the trip, but I always managed to shake myself out of the unnecessary affections that replenished themselves with every step. I must have missed some of it because I felt a shred of liking grow like a weed in my chest. It was too late to rid myself of it now.

With his own breath returning to its previously easy state the chattering came back as well. That was how we had gotten here, him talking, me listening (but not really), and both of us (though mostly me) leaning ever so slightly on the other.

We grew accustomed to the proximity quickly enough and stepped in sync. My left matched his right, and a single set of footsteps could be heard echoing down the way. We had hobbled at first, adjusting to each other's stride. For some reason, the walk didn't seem quite so tiring like this. It was still boring though.

A little itch inside me insisted I find my fun somewhere. A list of my usual options was discarded. There was nothing to steal, no one to verbally crush, no issue of survival to deal with. I shied away from the thought of directing some of my usual games at my guide and again chose not to look to deeply at the reason why.

Externally, I still nodded and hummed now and then at his talking. A small part of my mind was taking notes on any useful information he divulged, but for the most part I just wanted to indulge him in his descriptions of snail tracking while letting my eyes meander around. Over and over, they returned to the leaves.

Upon closer inspection, their uniformity was even more fascinating. A solid burgundy from stem to tip covered them evenly though it lightened somewhat around the veins. Each one had the same size and the same rounded, bulbous cut tapering steeply to the end. They looked so sturdy and thick, settled there vibrantly over the ground. I hadn't noticed I was nudging us closer until I caught a snippet of questioning tone in his stream of speech.

"You must really like leaves, huh."

I hummed back an absent minded response, my attention still firmly fixated on the exotic picture. What texture did they have? Rough and brittle, or perhaps heavy and soft?

I wanted to touch them. It was not an uncommon urge for me. Sometimes a whim would just lodge itself in my head. I knew the longer I left it there the longer it would fester. I knew by now it was better to just give in when the little voice appeared.

I stooped to pick up a smug looking leaf resting on the very top of its pile. Unfortunately I had severely underestimated my own sense of balance. My feet slipped right from under me, and still clutching one furry hand in my own I went tumbling down into the carefully manicured pile dragging him with me.

The world seemed to burst in a crinkling whoosh of red leaves. They were all we saw, tiny blurs of vibrance all around us. They hung in the air for one final moment of perfect stillness, then time started again. The dry leaves fell down out of place in a scandalous disarray so different from their previous order.

I let my head loll to the left. He twisted right. He and I looked at each other for a moment, lying there covered and surrounded by displaced red with our hair ruffled and eyes widened by in surprise. Simultaneously we burst out laughing. His teaming laughter overflowed with mirth, which added to my own amusement. I couldn't say what had him so tickled, but for me it was the look on his face as he fell. Mouth agape with indignant panic and arms flapping as if he were part chicken instead of goat! It hadn't even occurred to the scatter-brain to just let go when I slipped. It took a momentous effort to even begin reigning in my gasping chortles. We clutched our sides and rolled around in a flurry of crunching leaves.

How ridiculous of us. I stood first, having gotten over my fit of chuckles sooner, and stared down at him still entrapped by the leaves. Slowly I extended my hand.

Come on, it's time to go, and staying here won't do us any good.

I had neither the strength nor the desire to pull him up myself. It was more of an invitation than an offer of assistance. Because I wanted to get moving again, not because I wanted to help or anything! The beckoning gesture had been enough. He grabbed my hand and eagerly followed me to his feet. Ah, it felt so nice to have a loyal follower.

The tunnel began to widen out, imperceptibly at first but gradually becoming more and more obvious with every step. At some point, the dust tunnel walls retreated under a layer of finely crafted brick stacked from floor to ceiling. The previously dirt ground too solidified into a smooth, even flooring that resounded with the solid thumps of our footsteps.

Gawking was beneath me, but I couldn't help but admire the mellow tones of this section of tunnels. Natural bushes of green ivy twined through various sections of wall in stark defiance to the necessity of sunlight for growth. They seemed almost happy climbing up and around the tunnels and clinging to the structure of the brick.

I trailed my fingertips over the purple inlays absentmindedly. I had a rather one track mind when it came to senses, so it caught me off guard when suddenly my fingers felt only thin air where there should have been brick. The wall had ended abruptly over a steeply sloped ledge, and there outstretched before me wasn't a small hub or a modest village, but a grand underground city with proportions I never could have imagined. Elegant turreted towers reached up to scrape a black sky with rows upon rows of tombstone shaped windows lit merrily from within. Did they know how to harvest electricity? Or perhaps the dancing flicker belongs to many small candles' pure and smokeless leaping flames. I thought I heard him mention those at some point and almost regretted not paying more attention. Actually, no I really didn't. Columns and domes and roofs and poles and architecture littered the horizon with the dimensions of civilization.

The city looked like a castle too peaceful to require defenses. It looked like Rome without the blood of the conquered. It looked like a home made by ones who admired beauty, loved harmony, and had a desire to create anew something that was lost. It looked nothing like above ground, and I couldn't tell whether I liked it or not.

He came up beside me and grinned proudly at the view.

"Welcome Home! Do you like it? This is my favorite view of the city. It was a bit out of the way, but I thought taking this path back would be easier, you know, less people, more scenic. Most of the other ways would have led us straight down the main roads, and they're always super crowded. I'm always running into neighbors and getting stopped to chat for a bit or make someone feel better, or wash my hands. Not that I have a problem with that or anything—meeting people or washing my hands—it's my responsibility to know all of my people after all, but I thought we should hurry back so you can get some real rest and dinner. I'm starving by now. You too right?"

He was both more energized and more relaxed by the proximity of the city. I couldn't help but feel exactly the opposite. I felt more tired and tense the closer we got, which made me frustrated and angry. I would like to think so, but it probably wasn't anger that sent blood rushing through my ears and an ache to my gut.

In situations like this, I always fell back on my default defense. I never chose flight as an option when fight was so readily available, so I lashed out at him, the one beaming so proudly at the source of my…not fear, anger. I fixed my face into the image of disgust, which he caught immediately. It was too dark, the buildings looked gloomy, how dilapidated. As he wilted, I grew in strength. The pace of my flurry picked up and culminated in a final decree that maybe I changed my mind and didn't want to go into your stupid city. That hung in the air between us, and I buzzed almost high with the euphoria of domination. I had regained control. Of the situation? Of myself? I didn't know, but it felt so good.

My guide wasn't so cheerful. His deflation was complete at my crafted display of scorn. His floppy ears drooped and his eyes took on the downward cast of a too often kicked puppy's. My acid had done its trick and reigned him in. But my win had required his loss. That was a side of my games I had never thought of before except to revel in. It made me uncomfortable now. Moisture began to dew in the corner of his eyes. I began to second guess that perhaps I cut too deep. My sadistic streak got the best of me sometimes. I did know how to perform some rudimentary damage control at least.

I pulled back my lips, scrunched my brow, and lowered my eyes into a perfect imitation of gentle reassurance. I would not apologize. It was just a joke, see? Then I laughed, patted his arm, and expressed displeasure at his stick in the mud pouting. Perfect, I had predicted his response to the dot; once again, he perked himself up significantly, eager to be in my good graces again. Now let's go, I commanded. I was starving, quite literally, and would kill for a good bed.

Which way was his house? Could he see it from here? He pointed to some building in the distance. Where exactly he was gesturing to I had no idea. A mammoth structure towering in the middle of the city blocked a significant portion of my vision.

"What do you mean? It's right there with the purple shingled roofing and the crest."

Maybe he lived behind it?

"No, that one."

Was he pointing to the left?

"No, there!"

To the right? In front?

"No, silly. That is my house. It's really big right! Since dad's the king, we need a lot of room for guests and visitors and guards to sleep, but I think it looks a lot bigger from the outside anyway. We're almost there, so come on! I'll introduce you to my parents, and we can grab something to eat, and then you can sleep with me in my room!"

He was excited, but I was just barely processing the information he so casually dropped. King of monsters. Monster King. Monster King's son. Monster Prince. Prince of Monsters that lives in a palace at the center of a monster city of monsters, where I will soon be meeting monster royalty, eating with monster royals, and sleeping in the same room as Monster Prince, the prince of the monsters. It struck me only now that I did not even know this kid's name. You're supposed to know someone's name before sleeping with them right! I couldn't ask now, it would be awkward, but what should I do, what should I do? Play it cool. Be chill. Chill like a—um, what's is chill? Hypothermic corpse, chill as a hypothermic corpse.

Luckily I managed to keep my corpse silence and continue trailing down our path with his humming chatter drifting into background noise.

We weaved in and out of streets and along back baths, never running into a single soul. Where were they all? I was sort of grateful, though, because I did not particularly want to run into a big band of monsters in my current condition.

After another twenty minutes of walking, we reached the mammoth structure I saw in the distance. According to him, it wasn't some giant castle, but an amalgamation of many buildings built into one for the purpose of centrality. Inside was a market, playgrounds, a hospital, a lab, the headquarters of the guard, the Library of the Underground, assorted staff residences, and of course, the home of the royal family. The place was a big deal, and we would be entering though one of the side courtyards that led straight to his house.

I felt a prickle of apprehension as we passed the outer and then inner gates. There, towering in front of us, was the scariest tree I had ever seen. While not particularly tall, its bark was charred a deathly black and covered with small beadings of red. Scattered around it in a puddle, as if it had bled out, were the leaves that we had seen scattered throughout the tunnels. How could they have gotten that far, especially without any wind down here? It ranked low on my list of concerns, but occupying my mind with the leaves gave me an excuse to avoid the other plaguing worries the buzzed around like flies.

"There you are, son. Your mother and I nearly had to go out looking for you. It's almost dinner time, you know."

The booming voice nearly sent me a foot in the air with surprise. It seemed my botanical investigation would be short lived. His head was higher up than any grown adult male I had ever seen. I craned my neck back to get a look at his fur covered face. Curved, minotaur-like horns jutted from the top of his head, tapering into points sharp enough to gouge and shred. They were pristine and white and terribly intimidating.

I took a step back out of pure reflex, but the motion drew his eyes to me. They were gently warm and so much like his son's that my tensed muscles. It set me immediately at ease. He stooped down to observe the unknown face in his courtyard with a dopey perplexity, a strange combination of confusion, apologies, and good will that seemed to be a natural arrangement of his features. My presence likely just made it more pronounced. His sheer mass was nothing to sneer at; he could crush me with a toe, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to feel really afraid. Intimidated, yes, but terrified? I tried to conjure up the feeling, but the sight of the lime green, floral printed watering can he held nipped the slightest shiver in the bud.

"And who is this? A new friend?" He didn't even flinch at my obvious human-ness. In fact, I glanced down at myself then back to his open gaze, he didn't seem to notice much at all. Not the blood stains on my clothing, or the tears in the fabric, or the scratches and bruising covering nearly every inch of my visible flesh. He didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at it. This monster was either hardcore or a complete moron. I kind of liked him.

"Hi! Sorry, I didn't mean to return so late, but this is my new friend." I stepped forward and offered a quick shake of the hand, the one not holding the can. "We met in the ruins, and I wanted everyone to meet each other. Mom's not mad, is she?" He looked nervously between the door and his father as if expecting a demon to emerge from the stout door at any moment to take him by the ear. He fiddled with the corner of one bunny-like ear and shot a nervous, conspiring plea with a heavy dose of guilt to the larger figure. He really did not like to upset his mother. I wouldn't be too surprised if he was a mama's boy. He definitely had the feel of one.

"Oh, no. She was just a little worried, but you're not late for dinner yet. Whelp, let's head inside, shall we, Asriel, new friend."

Asriel? Who—I slammed my palm over my face as I trailed along behind them. Right, name. I had forgotten again. I kept making mistakes, one after another. I've been overhasty; I missed important details; I kept letting my impulses get the best of me. What would happen when I failed to see something truly important? All it would take is a second, a moment of faltered attention, and who knew what might happen down here. I had to remain vigilant, at least until I figured out long term what to do.

Just then, Asriel turned around and trotted back to me. I was walking too slowly for his taste. With a smile he reached down and grabbed my hand.

"Come on, let's go!" It was really warm, and he pulled me close to his side as we walked through the remainder of the courtyard up to the tall purple door carved with a simple design of twisting triangles oriented under a small ball with outstretched wings. It swung open easily under the larger monster's hand and we all clambered inside. Asriel refused to drop my hand or be anywhere other than barnacled to my side, so we had to awkwardly squeeze two at a time through the door. He started giggling as we scrunched together, making me roll my eyes at his kiddiness, but I couldn't help but smile a little too. He made me do that a lot. It must've been the sleep deprivation.

Finally, we popped through into a pleasant cream colored entry way. His father seemed to be holding back chuckles of his own upon witnessing our banter. We moved pleasantly along past some stairs and frames of pictures on walls. It struck me how utterly normal the place was. Like an average suburban home, everything had been tidied to neatness with tasteful vases and flower pots scattered here and there and an atmosphere that just reeked of hominess. It was foreign and somehow not, all at the same time.

We rounded a corner into a bright and cozy living room. A fire blazed merrily in a small niche in a wall, casting a gentle light over the thig rug and two ridiculously plush armchairs. I walked over and poked the larger one once, twice. I didn't look like it would bite. I hopped straight up onto it. My feet dangled high off the floor and I kicked them back and forth idly to test the cushiony give before swinging them over the arm. That felt nice. The cushion practically sucked me into its fluffy, squishy warmth. My head lolled back, all my bones having already turned to mush. Now would be the perfect time for some rest.

"I see you like my chair." Oh, this was his? Too bad, not moving. I hummed back in bliss. "Yep, it's my favorite too. Made it myself a couple years back from accumulated items in the Falls' dump." There was obvious pride in his voice, and I totally got it. Most people would turn up their noses at the idea of sitting in a chair made from trash, but I saw it for what it was: thriftiness, skill, and the desire to make the best out of what you got. He certainly managed to, and besides for a trash chair it smelt pretty good, like cinnamon, tea, and cookies. Yum, I would kill for some cookies right now.

I was about to tell him so from the fogginess of my lulled mental capacity when a shuffling clang came from a doorway in the back. We all turned to look at once as a new figure emerged carrying a very big tray of something. She, I assumed from her smaller horns, long Mumu like dress and overall softer demeanor, must not have heard us over the sound of her work because she started slightly upon seeing Asriel and his dad. A frown creased her features as she zeroed in on her son.

"Asriel, where have you been?" The tone alone spelled trouble for them. "You said you would return hours ago, and I have been worried sick about you. And Asgore," he froze mid step with his back to the scene. "Don't think I don't see you trying to edge creep away from this. Why didn't you inform me that you found him!" Asriel's dad stuttered out some whipped response. If her hands hadn't been held up, she would have undoubtedly been whipping around a scolding finger and pulling Asriel into a hug. Instead she let her eyes make the gestures. I could see the maternal fury as well as loving relief battle in her features. "Now come, help me with this tray, won't you dear." The latter won out. Her tone was still stiff, but gentler now and allowed for no argument. By the lack of hesitation in his approach, Asriel obviously seemed happy enough to be of service.

"Hey, mom, can my new friend stay with us for a while? There's that extra bed in my room, and I don't mind sharing, honest! I promised I would show h—"

The tray of slimy mush crashed to the ground. Asriel, who had not quite been ready to grab the tray when it dropped, dived to pick it up with apologies and complaints at his mother's haste. She didn't hear him. For the first time since entering the room, she took notice of my presence draped across her husband's favorite chair in the blood-stained and dirt-covered rags that he hadn't noticed, with scrapes on my knees and a weary look. We stared at each other, and I feigned the relaxed pose I had settle myself in. I don't think I pulled it off.

Her eyes narrowed and my fists clenched just out of view. Something about her felt different from the other two. There was an awareness, acknowledgement and a heart stopping assessment that flashed like static between two fingers. It disappeared as quickly too, entirely inconclusive.

"Oh, poor child, what has happened to you? All those wounds…" She rushed over to inspect me closer. Padded hands tugged lightly on my arms, twisting me this way and that. I wanted to flinch away, but she was quick and sure in her movements. She had me sit up straight, take deep breaths, tell her where it hurt and if I had any of these cuts cleaned yet. I obeyed for lack of any other options. She rounded hissing on Asgore again. "Have you been allowing this poor child to sit here covered in muck and festering cuts this entire time without even a thought of giving first-aid?"

"Well, Tori dear, uhh…. I would hardly call them festering—"

She huffed in annoyance and shot him a fiery glare, not having any defense on his part. "Why don't you clean up in here while I take care of the children, who are both obviously in need of a good cleansing." It wasn't a suggestion. She pulled me up and snagged Asriel by the hand. "Honestly, your father can be so airheaded sometimes. Not noticing this…"

Her rant continued as she easily handled the both of us all the way to a bathroom somewhere down the hall. I went along without complaint. This woman was way scarier than Asgore with his mammoth size and kingly role ever could be. One should never underestimate the power of a woman whose maternal instincts have been triggered.

I hopped up on the closed toilet seat while Asriel leaned over the tap to wash his hands and rub some smudges of dirt from his face. There weren't very many, but they stood out starkly against his white fur. His mother insisted he washed till he glistened brighter than a Clorox commercial. No son of hers showed up to dinner with dirt under his nails and his fur a mess. It was a matter of propriety; exploring around is perfectly fine, but he really should return early enough to get himself situated before their meal. She kept up this stream of gentle chides as she deftly pulled a small kit out of a lower cabinet and located the swabs and antiseptic pads.

"I'm sorry dear," she said squeezing my hand. "This may sting a little, but bear with it, alright? I will be done soon."

Her tone was bordering on sickly sweet. I wasn't a baby. The pathetic twinge of alcohol on open cuts didn't even make me flinch. But she and even Asriel winced in sympathy over the swipe. I wanted to roll my eyes at both of them because, really, they were just some tiny cuts, nothing fatal. Asgore had understood. He didn't even blink at my minor injuries, let alone fret about it as if I was still on the verge of death. Asriel seemed to sync his mood with his mother's because his nervous fidgeting, which had decreased significantly since he found me, had started up again.

I put up with their mothering through the rest of the first-aid process. It was annoying, but in the end I walked out with five awesome band aids that made me look very badass and a properly wrapped ankle. My clothes had been pretty thoroughly tattered, but luckily Asriel roughly shared my size and impressive fashion sense, so his mom had him fetch me a wash-shrunken sweater of his.

Neatly clothed and properly bandaged, I returned with them to the living room where Asgore had managed to clean up the spilled mess and heat some kind of leftover stew for dinner. A small part of my mind wondered about their subterranean agriculture, but why was I so focused on plants recently?

The food was utterly delicious. I shoveled it in at a likely disgusting rate, but I was not alone in this. Asgore and Asriel dug in with rivaling enthusiasm under the proudly content gaze of his mother. She muttered some kind of lament about the wasted snails she prepared, but by the sound of it I certainly dodged a bullet there.

I wanted to eat more. I really did, but within half a bowl an unbearable cramping began in my stomach. The sharp stabs increased with every subsequent bite before I had to put down my fork. I felt sick, and logically I knew why. Having gone so long without food had shrunken my stomach. Feasting on something as rich and plentiful as this was all but guaranteed to make me ill. I knew this before we even began, but the situation was just so surreal that I acted before I though. It wasn't just the food, but the wholesomeness of the scene. Homemade food, a real dining table, a gathered family, and I had somehow landed myself in the middle of it as if I almost belonged. It felt like a dream, one that would only hurt when I woke from, so I was trying to force it to be real. I heard once that people pinched themselves because you can't feel pain in dreams.

I refrained from hunching over or clutching my arms around my middle. I had seen the proclivity for overreacting out of two of the three monsters at the table already. It hurt, but I did not want to make a big deal out of this. I could deal with a little pain if it meant staying here surrounded by the peace of the dancing fire and the quiet happiness of their little family.

I shifted slightly to relieve some of the pain, but the movement triggered a sudden lurch of queasiness that seeped to the back of my throat. It must have shown on my face, or maybe it was just her mother senses tingling, but she had noticed.

"Is the food not good? You've stopped eating. Perhaps you're not feeling well?"

I lied that I was perfectly fine, just taking a quick breath. She saw right through the false smile I put on. It disturbed me how easily she could do that.

"You are looking a bit shakey. I think it is time for bed. You must have had a long day, and a sweet night's rest will do you good. Asriel, my child, you too. Come on, off to bed the both of you. "

Asriel hopped off his chair, grumbling, but not really opposing his mom's decision. Me, however, she took by the hand and led me down a brightly colored hallway with several doors off shooting to closed rooms. We paused at one of the earlier of the doors hung with a playfully painted sign that read "Asriel's Room." Its owner rushed ahead with fresh excitement.

"You'll be sleeping in my room with me, remember! I have an extra bed, and I can show you my drawings and collections, and it will be so much fun! I always wanted someone to...um, well, yeah." He looked down sadly for a moment before his mother cut of whatever train of thought he had been pondering.

"You two can do all that in the morning," she reprimanded gently. "Right now I want you both tucked in tight and the lights off."

Asriel jumped into the plush filled bed, and his mom led me to the one set up on the opposite side. For the first time in my life, someone tried to tuck me in. I stiffened and wiggled uncomfortably under her ministrations. I didn't like having her so close. I didn't take well to the feeling of being trapped. She picked up on this rather quickly, and backed away with a whispered goodnight. She repeated her actions with considerably more intimacy with Asriel, pulling the sheets tightly over his shoulders and nuzzling his nose with her own.

"And goodnight to you too, my little prince," she told him. I chuckled at the pet name. She flicked out the lights on her way out the room, though she turned to give us one final glance before closing the door with a soft click.

Barely five seconds later I heard Asriel "psst" over to me.

"Are you awake?"

Obviously, who fell asleep after not even a full minute of lying down?

"Yeah, heh-heh, right. Well, you know I said I always wanted someone and all, and that probably sounds lame, right? There aren't many kids down here, and there's no one to play with, but then you came, and I started to get kind of excited. Sorry, I know you said you wanted to go back to the surface and all, so you'll probably want to leave as soon as you can, but at least for a little while, could you maybe consider not? It doesn't have to be forever! Just…for a little…please don't leave. If you did, then I'd be all alone."

The room was dark, and I couldn't see him or anything really. But suddenly I wondered why there were two beds in the room. There was something painfully hollow in his tone. It was familiar. I had seen this earlier, hadn't I, in his desperation to remain at my side. He was lonely, and that made him dependent on the first person to come along. Dependent on me. Good. I saw bars click into place. This turn of chance made me happy, and more importantly it made me safe.

Yes, I think I will stay for a little while. Now go to sleep.

I lay awake as I heard his muffled breaths trail into snores, and under that cacophony and the softness of these sheets and a too full stomach, I let myself relax into sleep.

It must have been the thickness of the blanket, but there was a strange warmth budding in my chest that had little to do with plots or plans.